The Black Box
At the end of the pilgrimage I came face to face with the Black Box, perhaps the most mysterious instrument in the modern world, if, indeed, it can be called an 'instrument' at all. And in this case I can give you an address:
The De La Warr Laboratories Raleigh Park Road Oxford.
I spent the better part of a year pondering the phenomenon of the Black Box, trying to explain it in terms that would be comprehensible to the average man, in constant correspondence with de la Warr himself. At one time I enlisted the help of a great churchman. Mervyn Stockwood, Bishop of Southwark. Mervyn believes, surely rightly, that a liberal interpretation of the Christian faith must compel a stucity of any form of therapy that may have d"Spiritual inspiration. We went down to Oxford together, and spent a day in the laboratories studying complicated charts and esoteric designs, emanating from the Box. Some of them, I remember, showed the 'radionic patterns' of living flowers, and were strangely beautiful. At the end of the day, when we started for home, Mervyn said to me. "How much of it did you understand?" "Not more than half. How much did you?"
"Perhaps ten per cent." Then he added, "But I don't think that we can question de la Warr's integrity."
Nor do I. What's more, the Box works. Of this, there is quite incontestable proof. Perhaps the most extraordinary example, in my own experience, is of a man — a very famous man — who had been given three weeks to live. We will call him 'D.' In agony, his wife rang me up. "Beverley, do you think that the Box could help D?" I said that it might. "Could you possibly put us in touch?" So I got on to Oxford, and we 'put him on the Box.' Three months later he was on a plane to Greece, beginning a new and exciting phase in his career.
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