One of the books that came out of the revival of spiritualism in the last war was Sir Oliver Lodge's Raymond, named after his promising son who was killed in battle. But what was the nature of the information that Sir Oliver Lodge got through the medium concerning his son? It amounted to this: that he lived in a house that seemed to be brick but was not; that he saw the sun but did not feel it; and that in the world where he found himself there were cats, dogs, horses, birds, but no lions, tigers, or children; that some traveled in Fords and some in airplanes. What possible comfort could one derive from such communications as that? Moreover, even if they did seem to be of a more satisfying nature, there is always the haunting question of delusion and illusion—as in the case of the distracted mother quoted by Sir Oliver Lodge, whose difficulty neither he nor anyone else could solve, who thought she had a communication from her son: "I say from him; but the whole torturing question is, Is it from him, or am I self-deceived?"