authorities, Irenaeus and Origen, cited for like distinction between spirit and soul in such a manner as to show that the former must necessarily be regarded as separable from the latter.  In the distinction itself there is of course no novelty for the most moderately well-informed.  It is insisted upon in many modern works, among which may be mentioned Heard’s “Trichotomy of Man” and Green’s “Spiritual Philosophy”; the latter being an exposition of Coleridge’s opinion on this and cognate subjects.  But the difficulty of regarding the two principles as separable in fact as well as in logic arises from the senses, if it is not the illusion of personal identity.  That we are particle, and that one part only is immortal, the non-metaphysical mind rejects with the indignation which is always encountered by a proposition that is at once distasteful and unintelligible.  Yet perhaps it is not a greater difficulty (if, indeed, it is not the very same) than that hard saying which troubled Nicodemus, and which has been the key-note of the mystical religious consciousness ever since.  This, however, is too extensive and deep a question to be treated in this paper, which has for its object chiefly to call attention to the distinctions introduced by ancient thought into the conception of body as the instrument or “vehicle” of soul.  That there is a correspondence between the spiritual condition of man and the medium of his objective activity every spiritualist will admit to be probable, and it may well be that some light is thrown on future states by the possibility or the manner of spirit communication with this one.

—­C.  C. Massey

The Nilgiri Sannyasis

I was told that Sannyasis were sometimes met with on a mountain called Velly Mallai Hills, in the Coimbatore District, and trying to meet with one, I determined to ascend this mountain.  I traveled up its steep sides and arrived at an opening, narrow and low, into which I crept on all fours.  Going up some twenty yards I reached a cave, into the opening of which I thrust my head and shoulders.  I could see into it clearly, but felt a cold wind on my face, as if there was some opening or crevice—­so I looked carefully, but could see nothing.  The room was about twelve feet square.  I did not go into it.  I saw arranged round its sides stones one cubit long, all placed upright.  I was much disappointed at there being no Sannyasi, and came back as I went, pushing myself backwards as there was no room to turn.  I was then told Sannyasis had been met with in the dense sholas (thickets), and as my work lay often in such places, I determined to prosecute my search, and did so diligently, without, however, any success.