GHOSTLAND.

Observer, Volume XL, Issue 9, 1 November 1919, Page 23

GHOSTLAND.

ALL men are a little mad. Some are mad enough to believe in ghosts. Many are madder and believe in devils. Time was when ghosts enjoyed a wide and genuine unpopularity. Nowadays they are coming rapidly into public favour. Ere long no family will be considered quite the thing unless it can materialise a full-fledged, high-power, self-starting ghost. One that can semaphore across the border, and put them wise to coming events. Family skeletons will be relegated to the cupboard indefinitely. The family circle that can produce •" a something different" ghost will enjoy the highest social distinction. The latest anecdote from ghostland will command an eager and attentive hearing. ' y It cannot be denied that in the past apparitions have attained considerable celebrity. Shakespeare used a ghost with fine effect in "Hamlet." Dickens also was. a notorious ghost raiser. The spectre of old Jacob Marley, introduced with befitting of grating bolts and clanking chains, is almost a real entity. But why the present unwonted ghostly activity? Is it that our aviators have infringed territorial rights by nosediving into atmospheres that don't concern them? Thus bringing ethereal visitants among us on errands of protest?. Or can it be that our wireless, vibrating noisily, through the spheres, has disturbed the lulled gloom of their ghostly domain? There has* lately been a vigorous rally of local ghost enthusiasts. It will be remembered that a wellknown journalistic gentleman undertook to clear the atmosphere-of this ghostliness. Apparently his sphere sweeping operations wore only partially successful; for hard upon his effort comes an illuminating little book, from the pen of another literary luminary—none other than our virile friend/ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes. The book is entitled "The New Bevelation," and deals .exhaustively with the habits and eccentricities of ghosts. It is brief, candid, and refreshing to the ghost, conveying an emphatic "cheero" to "our fellowpassengers to the grave." In the opening chapter, "The Search," the author delivers some level-headed ideas relative to theism. Even in the materialistic period of his early life Sir Conan's outlook was illumined by the beacon of optimism. . He says: When I had finished my medical education in 1882 I found myself, like many young medical men, a convinced materialist as regard's our personal destiny. Right and wrong I saw as obvious facts, which needed no divine revelation. • But when it came to our little personalities surviving death, it seemed to me that the whole analogy was against it. When the candle burns out the light disappears. When the electric cell as shattered the current stops. When the body dissolves there is an end of the matter. Each man m his egotism may feel that he ought to survive, but let him look, we will say at the average loafer—of high or low degree would anyone contend that there was any obvious reason why that personality should carry on ? It seemed to me a delusion and I was convinced that death did indeed end all, though I saw no reason why that should affect our duty towards, humanity during our transitory existence." "The Search" continued, but it was only "within the last year or two" that the author 'finally declared himself satisfied that the evidence" established the fact of a future life. . , In the interim Sir Conan won the confidence of many communicative "hosts, and secured a detailed description of the thereafter. He continues :—

(Fob the Observes.)

"All agree that life beyond is for a Jlimited period, after which they pass on to higher phases. "The life has a close analogy to that of this world at its best. It is pre-eminently a life of the mind, as this is of'the body. Pre-occupations of food, money, lust, pain, etc., are of the body, and are gone. "Music, the arts, intellectual and spiritual knowledge, and progress, have increased. The people are clothed as one would expect, since there is no reason why modesty should disappear with our new forms. These new forms are the absolute reproduction of the old ones at their bist, the young growing up and the old reverting, until all come to the normal. People live in communities, and the male spirit still finds bis true mate, though there is no sexuality in the grosser sense, and no child birth. Nations are still roughly divided from each other, though language is no longer a bar, since thought has become a medium of conversation. These, roughly speaking, are the lines of the life beyond in its simplest expression, for it is not all simple, and we catch dim glimpses of endless circles below, descending into gloom, and endless circles above, ascending into glory, all improving, all purposeful, all intensely alive. All are agreed that no religion upon earth has any advantage over another, but that character and refinement are everything." There is much more equally enlightening and encouraging. Weill Many aluring descriptions of Heaven have been unfolded, but this is the best ever. It demands no password, neither are there entrance fees, nor early doors. Of course it is unrighteous to be jocular about a matter of this kind, but pious men have joked of funerals ; and this is nobody's funeral. •It is significant that "The New Bevelation" should appear about the time, that the church congress in England, should be deploring "the passing of the belief in a localised Heaven and Hell, and that it could not protend that the belief in the resurrection of the body stood where it did." The fact is the church has designed a heaven which is either too elaborate in ceremonial splendour, or too weird with everlasting anguish. To popularize church a middle course must be adopted. To play a shining seraphim occasionally would be a pleasure, but to sustain the part eternally, would put a strain on the toniest ghost. Give us all a sporting chance. To be desirable Heaven must be made interesting. There is a well known wheeze, of a dying gambler, who manifested no interest in the hereafter, until the padre mentioned the possibility of his becoming an angel with wings. "And will you have wings too? 'asked the gambler. "I hope so, my man," replied the padre. "Then I'll fly you for a quid," said the gambler. Meanwhile ghosts are in the ascendant. When an ill-informed sceptic declared there were no ghosts in America ; the poet Moyes replied: "There are no ghosts, yousay; To haunt her blaze of light; No shadows in her day ; No phantoms in her nights. Columbus' tattered sail Has passed beyond her hail. No ghosts where Lincoln fell ? No ghosts for seeing eyes ? I know an old cracked bell, Shall make ten million rise, When His immortal ghost • Calls to the slumbering host. — Tom Harris-