escaped from purgatory or the grave, to fulfil a definite purpose.
The rarity of such purposeful ghosts in an age like ours, so rich in
ghost stories, must have a cause. That cause is, probably, a
dwindling of the myth-making faculty.

Any one who takes these matters seriously, as facts in human nature,
must have discovered the difficulty of getting evidence at first hand.
This arises from several causes. First, the cock-sure common-sense of
the years from 1660 to 1850, or so, regarded every one who had
experience of a hallucination as a dupe, a lunatic, or a liar. In
this healthy state of opinion, eminent people like Lord Brougham kept
their experience to themselves, or, at most, nervously protested that
they "were sure it was only a dream". Next, to tell the story was,
often, to enter on a narrative of intimate, perhaps painful, domestic
circumstances. Thirdly, many persons now refuse information as a
matter of "principle," or of "religious principle," though it is
difficult to see where either principle or religion is concerned, if
the witness is telling what he believes to be true. Next, some
devotees of science aver that these studies may bring back faith by a
side wind, and, with faith, the fires of Smithfield and the torturing
of witches. These opponents are what Professor Huxley called
"dreadful consequences argufiers," when similar reasons were urged
against the doctrine of evolution. Their position is strongest when
they maintain that these topics have a tendency to befog the
intellect. A desire to prove the existence of "new forces" may beget
indifference to logic and to the laws of evidence. This is true, and
we have several dreadful examples among men otherwise scientific. But
all studies have their temptations. Many a historian, to prove the
guilt or innocence of Queen Mary, has put evidence, and logic, and
common honesty far from him. Yet this is no reason for abandoning the