turbed, and where our own ignorance of many necessary
factors is so profound. This makes it none the less disheartening at
times!

Later I made an attempt with my friend Baroness Rosenkrantz of Rome to
get a message through the other way--_i.e._ from Mr Myers and myself to
Dr Hodgson, _via_ Mrs Piper.

The Baroness and I had a little "sitting" alone, wrote one or two short
messages with a couple of extracts from Mr Myers' own writings, sealed
up the envelope carefully, and I forwarded it to Dr Hodgson.

But the test failed. Two years later Dr Hodgson spoke of the letter as
being still intact.

CHAPTER XIII

A SECOND VISIT TO INDIA, 1903

My second visit to India took place in the early months of 1903, and I
approached it this time from Burmah. Fielding Hall's "Soul of a People"
had thrown its magic spell over me, and Miss Greenlow and I were both
anxious also to see the far-famed Shwe Dagon Temple.

I came to the conclusion from what I saw, and still more from what I
heard, that Mr Fielding Hall must have appealed sometimes to his
imagination for his facts, and allowed an exquisite poetical fancy to
cast its glamour even over these. But the beautiful Golden Temple of
Rangoon defies all powers of exaggeration. We went there again and
again, and wandered amongst its endless small temples, representing
various forms of worship, including even a Chinese joss-house, which is
stamped upon my memory through a disaster, which I have always connected
with this special temple; rank superstition though it be.

We had spent several weeks upon the Irrawaddy River; had wandered
through beautiful, dusty Mandalay; had explored Bhamo and marvelled over
the exquisite visions of fairy-like beauty, painted anew for us morning
and evening, on this most glorious river; and had finally returned to
Rangoon for a few days' rest before starting for Calcutta.

It was an exquisite evening, just before our departure, when we went,
towards sunset, to say farewell to the Shwe Dagon. At that hour it is to
be seen at its best, for the level rays of the Eastern sun, light up the
golden cupola into startling and fairy-like magnificence.

Having watched this glorious spectacle for some minutes, the air grew
chilly, compared with the intense heat of the day, and darkness was
coming on apace as we turned to retrace our steps.

A few days before, we had noticed a Chinese joss-house, standing in one
corner of the huge elevated platform up