“I will tell you what my friend made of it. He gave up his study of mysticism, yet without in any sense condemning that line of thought of which I have spoken. His reasons, which he explained to me after coming to a decision, were that such a visitation might or might not be from God. If it were not from God, then that proved that he had been meddling with high things, and had somehow slipped under some other control. If it were from God, it might be that it was just for that very purpose that he had been brought so far, but that he dared not pursue that path without some distinct further sign. ‘In any case,’ he said, ‘no soul can be lost by following the simple and well-beaten path of ordinary devotion and prayer.’ And so he returned to intellectual forms of meditation, such as most Christians use. He died a few years ago, full of holiness and good works. “But for you there are several opinions open. Either that it was an intensely strong case of hypnotic thought-transference from Lord B. to my friend, and that the latter only spoke mechanically of something that lay in the former’s mind; or you may decide that the whole affair was of the Evil One, and that A. would have been all the better for prosecution, and that an evil being somehow found entrance into the strained nature of my friend, and used it for his own purposes; or that the prophetic gift was bestowed on him, but that the ordeal was too fierce and he too cowardly to claim it. And there are other solutions as well, no doubt possible. “For myself I think I have formed my opinion; but I would prefer, as Herodotus says, to keep it to myself.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ With Dyed Garments ------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Jesu, well ought I love Thee, For Thou me shewest Thy rood-tree, Thy crown of thorns, and nails three, The sharp spear that piercéd Thee.” _Swete Jhesu now wil I Synge._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ With Dyed Garments WHEN the second post came in one morning I saw a letter addressed to the priest, in the trembling large characters of an old man’s hand, lying upon the slab in the hall. When I came in to lunch I found the old clergyman with an open letter in his hand, and his face full of almost childish happiness. “I have heard from my oldest friend,” he said, making a little movement with the letter. “It is months since he has written. I have known him ever since we were boys.” We sat down to lunch, but he kept on referring to his friend, and to the pleasure the letter gave him.