ht towards the workhouse.

_Faith_

A few days after the receipt of the picture I discovered the artist and
went to "beard him in his den." While I was talking with him, he
declared that he had just received a "message" from this spirit to draw
me a picture which, it was inferred, would convey some "recollection"
to me. Sitting at the other side of an ordinary desk, the artist
picked up one piece of chalk after another, making a series of circular
marks over the paper. This went on for nearly an hour-and-a-half.
Occasionally something like a definite design seemed to come out of all
this chaos in chalk, if I may so express it, only to be rubbed out
again immediately, the circular movements still continuing. Then at
last, a few vigorous strokes, and suddenly a definite picture came out,
a picture which was continued until it was finally complete. This
picture represented a tall arch, through which the artist had painted
the most beautiful effect of evening sky--the evening sky when sunset
is fading into blue-green and the first stars are twinkling. And
around this arch was chalked a kind of heavy festoon of drooping
ostrich feathers. The picture when finished was certainly very
beautiful, and I have it in my possession at the present moment. _But
it conveyed absolutely nothing to me_, and certainly brought back no
recollection to my memory of a previous life whatsoever. But the
"medium" so thoroughly believed in his "power to convey" that I felt
quite unhappy about having to confess my unfamiliarity. In fact, I
left the studio--if studio it could be called--convinced by the beauty
of the pictures, but still unconvinced that they were really pictures
painted by a spirit artist. The only belief I did come away with was
the belief that the "medium" thoroughly believed in himself and the
reality behind his belief. And, in a way, I envied him; yes, I envied
him, even though his faith may prove but illusory after all. For I
have reached the age when I realise that I am not at all sure that men
and women do really want _truth_, and that a faith which gives comfort
and happiness is, for the practical purpose of going through life
happily and dying in hope, a far more comforting philosophy. I, alas!
_cannot believe_ what I am not convinced is a scientifically proved
fact; but I am to be pitied far more than envied for my--temperamental
limitation--shall I call it? The man or woman who possesses a blind
fait