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fundamentally incapable of understanding the nature of work in itself. She must consent to co-
operate with him in the dark. Her self-surrender is, therefore, really self-surrender, whereas with 
him it is 
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rather self-realization. It is true that if a woman persists long enough in the habit, she will 
ultimately find herself therein. For woman is a creature of habit, that is, of solidified impulses. She 
has no individuality. Attached to a strong man who is no longer himself by this work, she may 
become a more or less reliable mood. Otherwise her moods change with her phantasms. But the 
most dominant mood of woman will always be motherhood. Nature itself, therefore, insures that a 
man who relies on a woman to help him is bucking the tiger. At any moment, without warning, her 
interest in him may be swept off its feet and become secondary. Worse --- she will expect her man 
to abandon the whole interest of his life in order to look after her new toy. A bitch does not lose all 
her interest in her master just because she has puppies. 
I found a new climbing companion on Beachy Head in a man named J. S. New. We worked out the 
possible climbs systematically and made a largescale map of the cliff. I ultimately contributed an 
illustrated article on the subject to the Scottish Mountaineering Journal. But with the exception of 
Mr. H. S. Bullock, and one or two others who repeated a few of our climbs and made one or two 
new ones, little work has been done on the Head. Climbers generally seem to have come to the 
conclusion that it was altogether too dangerous. It must be admitted that, at any rate, it is very 
unpleasant. In wet weather the chalk forms a paste which clogs the boots and makes foothold 
impossible. In dry weather the dust takes possession of the eyes and throat. But for all that, may of 
my happiest days have been spent on the face. 
I must record a very strange phenomenon in connection with my adventures on Beachy Head. One 
summer day I went up with my mother and took her down to the grassy slopes (the Grass Traverse) 
which used to extend eastward from Etheldreda's Pinnacle. I say "used to extend", for since that 
time there has been an extensive landslide. It was rather a scramble for an old lady to reach them 
from the top of the cliff, but it could be done by descending a narrow gully called Etheldreda's 
Walk. I put her in a comfortable position where she could make a water-colour sketch, and went off 
to do some climbing on the Devil's Chimney, which is some distance west of the pinnacle. The 
general contour of the cliff is here convex, so that I was entirely out of her sight, besides being a 
quarter of a mile away. Such breeze as there was was blowing from the south-west, that is, from 
me to her. I was trying to make a new climb on the west of the Devil's Chimney and had got some 
distance down, when I distinctly heard her crying for help. At this time I had no acquaintance with 
psychic phenomena, yet I recognized the call as of this type; that is, I had a direct intuition that it 
was so. It was not merely that it seemed improbable that it could be normal audition. I did not 
know at the time for certain that this was impossible, 
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though it was afterwards proved to be so by experiment. I had no reason for supposing the danger 
to be urgent: but I rushed madly to the top of the cliff, along it and down to the Grass Traverse. I 
reached her in time to save her life, though there were not many seconds to spare. She had shifted 
her position to to get a better view and had wandered off the traverse on to steep, dusty, crumbling 
slopes. She had begun to slip, got frightened and done the worst thing possible; that is, had sat 
down. She had been slipping by inches and was on the brink of a cliff when I reached her. She had 
actually cried for help at the time when I heard her, as nearly as I could judge; but, as explained 
above, it was physically impossible for me to have done so. I regard this incident as very 
extraordinary indeed. I have never taken much stock in the regular stories of people appearing at a 
distance at the moment of death and so on; nor does the fact of something so similar having 
actually happened to me make me inclined to believe such stories. I cannot offer any explanation, 
apart from the conventional magical theory that a supreme explosion of will is sometimes able to 
set forces in motion which cannot be invoked in ordinary circumstances.