ookes endured the brunt of the
assault in England."

Miller here interposed with a covert sneer in his voice: "Yes, but
Flammarion has always had the reputation of being more of the romancer
than of the astronomer."

"You scientists do him an injustice," I answered, with some heat, "just
as you have all been ignorantly contemptuous of Crookes. I confess I
used to share in some small degree your estimate of Flammarion; but if
you will read his latest book with attention and with candor, you cannot
but be impressed with his wide experience and his patient, persistent
search for the truth. I am persuaded that he has been a genuine pioneer
all along. I cannot see but that he has examined very critically the
scores of psychics who have come under his observation, and his reports
are painstaking and cautious. His work must be considered by every
student of this subject. It won't do to neglect the words of a man who
has seen so much.--But here we go along lines of controversy when we
should be sitting in quiet harmony. Let us defer our discussion until
after our seance. Have patience, and I believe we can duplicate, if not
surpass, the marvellous doings of even Richet and Lombroso. We may be
able some day to take flash-light photographs of the cone while it is
floating in the air."

"Has that ever been done?" asked Mrs. Miller.

"Oh yes; Flammarion secured photos of a table floating in the air. These
pictures show conclusively that the psychic had nothing to do with
it--at least, not in any ordinary way. Richet succeeded in fixing the
apparition of a helmeted soldier on several plates. Crookes photographed
'Katie King' and her medium once or twice, and Fontenay has succeeded
in getting clear-cut images of the 'spirit' hands which play round the
head of Paladino. But it must be confessed that in Crookes's pictures
there is a lack of finality in the negatives. He never succeeded in
getting the faces of both 'Katie' and Miss Cook at the same time--and
Richet's photographs have a made-up look."

Passing abruptly to a low, humming song, I made the attempt to put our
psychic to sleep. In a few minutes her hands became cold and began to
flutter. At last she threw my fingers away as if she found them
scorching hot. Miller's hand was similarly repulsed. She then seemed to
pass into quiet sleep, and I said: "Withdraw a little, Miller, but keep
your silk thread taut."

Almost immediately faint raps came upon the table, and I asked