P . Are you asleep?

V . Yes—no I would rather sleep more soundly.

P . [After a few more passes. ] Do you sleep now?

V . Yes.

P . How do you think your present illness will result?

V . [After a long hesitation and speaking as if with effort. ] I must die.

P . Does the idea of death afflict you?

V . [Very quickly. ] No—no!

P . Are you pleased with the prospect?

V . If I were awake I should like to die, but now it is no matter. The mesmeric condition is so near death as to content me.

P . I wish you would explain yourself, Mr. Vankirk.

V . I am willing to do so, but it requires more effort than I feel able to make. You do not question me properly.

P . What then shall I ask?

V . You must begin at the beginning.

P . The beginning! but where is the beginning?

V . You know that the beginning is God. [This was said in a low, fluctuating tone, and with every sign of the most profound veneration. ]

P . What then is God?

V . [Hesitating for many minutes. ] I cannot tell.

P . Is not God spirit?

V . While I was awake I knew what you meant by "spirit," but now it seems only a word—such for instance as truth, beauty—a quality, I mean.

P . Is not God immaterial?

V . There is no immateriality—it is a mere word. That which is not matter, is not at all—unless qualities are things.

P . Is God, then, material?

V . No. [This reply startled me very much. ]

P . What then is he?

V . [After a long pause, and mutteringly. ] I see—but it is a thing difficult to tell. [Another long pause. ] He is not spirit, for he exists.