The Great Return

turday in June, as I believe — that Llantrisant and all the regions about became possess

two possibilities. The evidence is, no doubt, readily av

the main the evidence of his senses, and is entirely right in doing so. He says that he

that one’s reflection is in a glass; there is an actuality, but is there a reality external to oneself? In any event, it is solidly agreed that, supposing a real existence, this much is certain — it is not in the least like our conception of it. T

that Saturday night, spoke of “seeing” the red light, and it must be said that there is a very tolerable agreement in their tales. All make the time as between midnight of the Saturday and one

navy motor-boat which was developing a rate hitherto unheard of, a hundred or a hundred and fifty knots an hour. And then, in the third instant of the sight, it was clear that this was no earthly speed. At first a red spark in the farthest distance; t

y that there was a red spark on Chapel Head, where the old grey chapel of

and it may be said that nobody minds them. “That sort of thing has always been happening,” as my friend remarked to me. But the men, whether or no the fire had ever been without them, there was no doubt that it was now within them, for it burned in their eyes. They were purged as if they had pas

ar witness to all manner of apparent eversions of laws which we, or most of us, consider far more deeply founded than the ancient hills. They may be justified; but in our hearts we doubt. We cannot wholly believe in inner sincerity that the solid table did rise, without mechanical reason or cause, into the air, and so defy that which we name the “law of gravitation.” I know what may be said on the other side; I know that there is no true question of “law” in the case; tha

iry tales to account for it, I say again, if

“Jobson’s Hole” down by the Cardiff Docks. He was horribly ill; he had crawled up from his bunk for a little fresh air; and in an instant his horrors and his deadly nausea had left him. Another man was almost desperate with the raging

e it. They are amazed, again; they do not in the least profess to know what happened; but there is no more possibility of

I can’t tell how I felt as I touched it. I didn’t know that touching a thing like a mast

act of the external world on his senses is a matter of indifference. The average impact; a harsh scream, the bursting of a motor tyre, any violent assault on the aural nerves will annoy him, and he m

ceive exquisite sensuous impressions. The touch of the rough mast, for example; that was a joy far greater than is the joy of fine silk to some luxurious skins; they drank water and stared

e the rest of us; but that was all over between them that had seen the rosy light; old enemies shook

ppened at all,” said one, “but if you have all the worl

mple of a Welsh parish church, before the

ny rate, the art and craft of church building were executed by wandering guilds of “freemasons,” possessed of various secrets of building and adornment, which they employed wherever they went. If this nonsense were true, the Gothic of Cologne would be as the Gothic of Colne, and the Gothic of A

conostasis and as the origin of the Western rood-screen. A solid wall divided the church into two portions; in the centre was a narrow opening with a rounded a

e rector did his service, the choir being grouped in seats about him. On the i

eyes, not without a certain expectation of they knew not what. The bells stopped ringing, the rector, in his o

f them and streamed through the archway into the nave. They took what places they could f

happened or what was going on there. But somehow the light flamed so brightly from the windows above the altar, those be

ng there,” one man said; and indeed there are a few odds a

who did not hear now and again