third, fourth, fifth hand stories told by "a soldier," by "an
officer," by "a Catholic correspondent," by "a nurse," by any number
of anonymous people. Indeed, names have been mentioned. A lady's name
has been drawn, most unwarrantably as it appears to me, into the
discussion, and I have no doubt that this lady has been subject to a
good deal of pestering and annoyance. She has written to the Editor of
_The Evening News_ denying all knowledge of the supposed miracle. The
Psychical Research Society's expert confesses that no real evidence
has been proffered to her Society on the matter. And then, to my
amazement, she accepts as fact the proposition that some men on the
battlefield have been "hallucinated," and proceeds to give the theory
of sensory hallucination. She forgets that, by her own showing, there
is no reason to suppose that anybody has been hallucinated at all.
Someone (unknown) has met a nurse (unnamed) who has talked to a
soldier (anonymous) who has seen angels. But _that_ is not evidence;
and not even Sam Weller at his gayest would have dared to offer it as
such in the Court of Common Pleas. So far, then, nothing remotely
approaching proof has been offered as to any supernatural intervention
during the Retreat from Mons. Proof may come; if so, it will be
interesting and more than interesting.



But, taking the affair as it stands at present, how is it that a
nation plunged in materialism of the grossest kind has accepted idle
rumours and gossip of the supernatural as certain truth? The answer is
contained in the question: it is precisely because our whole
atmosphere is materialist that we are ready to credit anything--save
the truth. Separate a man from good drink, he will swallow methylated
spirit with joy. Man is created to be inebriated; to be "nobly wild,