with fire blazing from his wings, slay a thousand of them with the
mere shaking of a pinion, those who were left alive would either say
that a tremendous dynamite explosion had occurred, or that the
square was built on an extinct volcano which had suddenly broken out
into frightful activity. Anything rather than believe in angels--the
nineteenth century protests against the possibility of their
existence. It sees no miracle--it pooh-poohs the very enthusiasm
that might work them.

"Give a positive sign," it says; "prove clearly that what you say is
true, and I, in spite of my Progress and Atom Theory, will believe."
The answer to such a request was spoken eighteen hundred years and
more ago. "A faithless and perverse generation asketh for a sign,
and no sign shall be given unto them."

Were I now to assert that a sign had been given to ME--to me, as one
out of the thousands who demand it--such daring assurance on my part
would meet with the most strenuous opposition from all who peruse
the following pages; each person who reads having his own ideas on
all subjects, and naturally considering them to be the best if not
the only ideas worth anything. Therefore I wish it to be plainly
understood that in this book I personally advocate no new theory of
either religion or philosophy; nor do I hold myself answerable for
the opinions expressed by any of my characters. My aim throughout is
to let facts speak for themselves. If they seem strange, unreal,
even impossible, I can only say that the things of the invisible
world must always appear so to those whose thoughts and desires are
centred on this life only.