Since civilization began, mankind have h_Studies in the Out-Lying Fields of Psychic Science

as precious, and attributed rare qualities to charms, relics and

amulets. We may indulge our mirth over the miraculous qualities ascribed

to the bones of martyrs and the teeth of saints, a bit of wood from the

true cross; but casting aside the rubbish gathered by imposture and

credulity, we discover a great truth. Precious stones and metals have

become so because of the subtile power of their emanations. In a true

relic the sensitive perceives the full expression of the original

owner's life, and feels it reproduced in him. As the phonograph

treasures up the tone, the accent, the quality of the voice, and the

thought of the speaker, so the relic preserves and constantly gives

forth the character of the one it represents.

Shrines and holy places have cause for being regarded as sacred, and

their preservation in purity for the one and only purpose is correct in

science. The church devoted to the worship of Jehovah holds its devotees

with the invisible bonds reaching out from the walls forged from the

psycho-aura of all preceding worshippers. That the members hold their

houses exclusively for certain uses may be the result of superstition,

but they are right in thus doing. A church building given over during

the week to shows and entertainments, and nightly filled with the class

such would draw, would become so saturated with worldly influences as to

be unfit for the promulgation of the highest religious thought on

Sunday. Both audience and minister would feel the depressing effect, and

religious zeal would reach zero.

How strong and enduring the impress stamped on a relic or jewel may be,

is shown in the following story told of Robert Browning by Mr. Knowles

(_Spectator_, Jan. 30, 1869): "Mr. Robert Browning tells me that when he

was in Florence some years since, an Italian nobleman (Count Ginnasi)

was brought to his house. The Count professed to have great mesmeric

powers, and declared in reply to Mr. Browning's avowed skepticism, he

would convince him of his powers. He then asked Mr. Browning whether he

had anything about him then and there, which he could hand him, and

which was in anyway a memento or relic. It so happened by curious

accident, that Mr. Browning was wearing under his coat sleeves some gold

wrist studs to his shirt, which he had quite recently taken into wear in

absence of his ordinary wrist-buttons. He had never before worn them in

Florence, or elsewhere, and found them in an old drawer where they had

lain forgotten for years. One of these he took out and handed to the

Count, who held it in his hand awhile and then said as if much

impressed, 'There is something here which cries out in my ear, Murder!

murder!'

"And truly," said Mr. Browning, "these studs were taken from the dead

body of a great uncle of mine, who was violently killed on his estate in

St. Kitts nearly eighty years ago. They were produced in court as proofs

that robbery had not been the object of the strangler, which was

effected by his own slaves. They were taken out of the night-gown in

which he died and given to me."

Sensitiveness During Sleep.

The _Index_ published the following:

"Recently the youngest child of Warren Wasson (Katie) fell into a well

and was nearly drowned. A day or two since, a letter was received from

Mr. Wasson, who is in Oregon, written before he had heard of the

occurrence. He stated that on the same Sunday, at the time of the

accident, he was taking a nap, and was awakened by a terrifying dream.

He thought he saw little Katie dripping with water, and the little boy

next older than Katie was immersed in the water, and that he was able to

save him only by taking hold of his ears. When he pulled him out, he was

covered with spots like a leopard. Mr. Wasson says that as he awoke he

was covered with cold sweat, and in an agony of mind. This is a very

strange coincidence, and the dream corresponds with the occurrence, save

that the little boy was not in danger. It was the little girl who was

spotted from the chill."

It resembles a wrongly received telegraphic dispatch, in which one word

is substituted for another.

EFFECT OF STRONG MENTAL IMPRESSION.--A strong mental impression carried

into sleep is conducive to impressibility. Inspector Jewett, of the

Brooklyn Police, was so worried about the lost pistol of John Kenny, who

had shot a car-driver, as he wanted the weapon in evidence against the

ruffian, that he dreamed about it. He saw it in a certain saloon, in a

certain place, and the next morning went to the saloon and found the

pistol exactly where he saw it in his dream.

The rescue of the crew of the "Sparkenhoe," November 30, 1875, by Capt.

Adam S. Smalley, as told by him, is a fine illustration of

impressibility in sleep. He sailed from Bordeaux November 24, 1875, in

the brigantine "Fred Eugene," bound for Key West, and soon encountered

stormy weather. When six hundred miles at sea, on the night of the 29th,

he suddenly awoke from sleep, deeply impressed with a dream, in which

he had seen a number of men in great peril. He related this to his wife,

adding that he hoped no shipwrecked crew needed his assistance. At

midnight, he again retired, and again the vision was repeated with more

distinctness, and the men appearing on a wreck needing the utmost

dispatch to rescue them. The Captain went immediately on deck, and

without any assigned reason, changed the course of the ship two points,

and, giving orders to be called at daylight, retired, and slept till the

appointed time.

Going on deck at dawn, and sweeping the horizon with his glass, he

discovered a ship far to the windward, with a signal of distress

displayed. He endeavored to work his vessel up, but with short sail and

heavy sea, most of the forenoon passed, and a long distance remained. He

was resolved to take a long tack, and not change his course until

prompted to do so by the same impulse that bade him do so the night

before. More sail was made, although prudence forbade, in the face of a

gale at any moment threatening to break, and all the men stood at their

posts for over an hour, awaiting the orders for tacking.

At last the prompting came, and going about, the vessel reached a point

two miles to the leeward of the distressed ship, where her three boats,

containing twenty-three men in all, had put off to intercept the brig.

They were taken on board, the boats cut loose, and all sail taken in as

quickly as possible, and in ten minutes a fierce hurricane lashed the

sea to foam. The gale raged four days with unabated fury, so that, had

they not been rescued at the very moment they were, they would have

certainly perished.

We have two explanations. The first is that of thought transference--the

reception on the sensitive brain of Captain Smalley of the intense

thoughts of the perishing crew. As the inductive plate sends its

influence across miles of space, we may suppose that the vibrations from

them would go out across the wide sea interval, and, finding a receiving

instrument, be converted again to thought. The second explanation is

that of the interference of spiritual beings, who impress their thoughts

on the mind of the Captain in the same manner. The prompting as to the

course to steer is beyond and outside of the dream, and proves the

extreme sensitiveness of the commander.

A DREAM SAVES A SHIPWRECKED CREW.--Of precisely similar character is the

impression received by Capt. G. A. Johnson of the schooner "Augusta H.

Johnson." He sailed from Quero for home, encountering a terrible

hurricane. On the second day, he saw a disabled brig, and near by a

barque. He was anxious to reach home, and thinking the barque would

assist the brig, continued on.

But the impression came that he must turn back and board the brig. He

could not shake it off, and at last he, with four men, boarded the brig

in the dory. He found her deserted, and made sail on her. After a time

they saw an object ahead, appearing like a man on a cake of ice. The

dory was again manned, and sent to the rescue. It proved to be the mate

of the bark "Leawood," clinging to the bottom of an overturned boat,

which, being white, appeared in the distance as ice. This premonition

came without seeking, and in direct opposition to the desire of Captain

Johnson, desiring to escape from the storm, and reach home without

delay.

A LIFE SAVED.--The Biddeford (Me.) _Journal_ thus relates the story of

the narrow escape of a sailor:

"Last week the schooner "Ida May" lay at Government Wharf, near the

mouth of Kennebunk River, with one man on board, Freeman Grove, who was

in the cabin asleep. In the night he was awakened by some one touching

him and saying, 'You will be drowned.' On opening his eyes, no one was

present, but he immediately went on deck, and found the side of the

vessel caught under the wharf by the tide, and shortly it would have

sunk, and cabin and all been under water. With a plank he pried the side

from the wharf, and she came up with the tide. The sleeper, being in the

cabin, must have been drowned had he not been awakened by the voice."

Perhaps no greater disaster was ever accompanied by a greater number of

special premonitions and warnings of coming danger than the "Ashtabula

horror," where a train crowded with passengers plunged into a gulf in a

fearful storm, and, taking fire, was burned. The _Times_ published a

list of the names of those saved by "presentiments." One, in particular,

is related at length, and is thoroughly vouched for. A young lady, by

the name of Hazen, having with her a colored servant, started from

Baltimore for Pittsburg, where she was to be married. She had purchased

tickets at Buffalo for the ill-fated train. During the night previous,

"Aunt Chloe," the colored slave, had a dream, which so impressed her

that when they reached the depot she positively refused to go on that

train. "Auntie" had been as a mother to Miss Hazen, who lost her mother

in infancy. The young lady, perhaps somewhat a believer in the

superstitions of the slaves, humored Auntie's mood, and deferred going

until the next train--in all probability thereby saving the lives of

both.

CLAIRVOYANT DREAM-STATE.--The Oakland (Cal.) _Tribune_ records a

pleasing story, which fully illustrates what may be called a permanent

dream-sensitiveness identical with clairvoyance: "Twenty years ago, a

bachelor in Oakland dreamed of visiting a family consisting of parents

and two little girls, who were unknown to him in his waking hours. From

that time forth, he continued to dream of them for a score of years. He

saw the children grow from childhood to womanhood. He was at the closing

exercises when they graduated. In fact, he shared all the pleasures and

griefs of the family. His friendship to his dreamland friends seemed so

real, he often remarked that he felt certain he would know them in

reality at some future time.

"Two months ago, in a dream, he saw the husband die, and from that time

he ceased to dream of them in a period of twenty years. He received a

letter from New York City, the writer being the widow of a cousin of

his, with whom he had had no intercourse since his boyhood--over thirty

years. She wrote that she wished to make San Francisco her future home,

and it was arranged for him to meet her and her two daughters at the

wharf at Oakland. On their arrival, imagine his surprise to see his

dream friends. They were equally so when he related to them the dreams

in which they had figured. He told them incidents connected with their

past lives which he could not have known under ordinary circumstances.

He described their former home, even to the furniture and household

ornaments, and was correct in every particular. The sequel is that he

married the lady, and they are living happily in this city."

ALLEGORICAL DREAMS.--When important intelligence comes in allegorical

form, it is difficult to give adequate explanation, without calling to

our aid an outside intelligence. The London _News_ has the following:

"Most people remember the terrible railway accident, in which Dickens

himself and his proof-sheets escaped, while so many perished. In the

train there chanced to be a gentleman and lady just returned from India.

The lady said to her husband, 'I see the great wave rolling on; it is

close to us,' and then the crash came, and she was a corpse. The husband

was unhurt, and at a later time explained his wife's strange words. Ever

since they had set sail from India, she had been haunted in sleep by a

dream of a vast silvery wave, and always, just as it was about to break

on her, she had awakened in terror."

Less tragic, but quite odd enough for Mr. Proctor's collection, is the

anecdote of the south-country farmer's dream. The good man awakened from

his first sleep, and aroused his wife to tell her about a startling

vision. He had dreamed that he saw a favorite cow drowning in a pond in

a neighboring common. "There ain't no pond there;" said the wife, with

natural irritation and double-shotted negatives. This was undeniably

true, but the farmer was uneasy. At last he arose, dressed, and walked

up the long lane which led to the common. Everything was quiet, but just

at the top of the lane the farmer heard a sound as of a man digging.

Then a light caught his eye. It glimmered through a hedge that divided

the lane from the fields. The farmer cautiously drew near, till he was

just above the ditch. There he spied a country fellow, with a lantern,

digging a long, straight, deep hole in the ground. An ax lay beside the

hole. At this point the farmer slipped, the hedge rustled, and the

delver fled away. The farmer secured the lantern and made for home. Just

at the entrance of the lane, the time being about two in the morning, he

met one of his servant wenches hurrying in the direction whence he had

come. "What do you want, my lass? No good, I fear," said the

agricultural moralist; and, in short, he made the girl tell him her

story. She was going to an assignation with her "young man," who had

jilted her, and was courting another girl. She had threatened him with

an action for breach of promise of marriage, and the swain had promised

that, if she would but meet him at two in the morning, at the bend of

the lane, he would satisfy her, and remove all jealousy and differences.

"Very well, my lass," said the farmer, "come, and I'll show you what he

had to give you." He led the way, and revealed to the horrified girl the

long, deep, narrow hole and sharp ax which had awaited her. Naturally,

she did not any longer pursue her lover; and here is a dream which even

Mr. Proctor will admit not to have been purposeless. Indeed, the

"machinery" of the drowning cow made the vision appeal directly to the

bucolic mind.

Of the same prophetic character is the following well-authenticated

dream:

Mrs. Jacob Condon, living a few miles from Reed, Pa., dreamed a few

nights ago that her year-old baby was burned to death, and that she sent

word of the casualty to her husband, who was working at a distance from

home, by James Portlewaith, a neighbor. The next morning she told her

husband of her dream, and admitted that it made her despondent. He

laughed at her fears, and went away to his work. Late in the forenoon,

Mrs. Condon left her kitchen to go to the wood-shed, a few steps away.

While she was there she heard her baby screaming. She ran into the house

and found the child lying in front of an open grate, wrapped in flames.

She threw an old coat about the child, and smothered the flames, but it

was so badly burned that it died in a few minutes. Mrs. Condon went to

the door to call for assistance. As she reached the door, James

Portlewaith was passing the gate. She sent him to her husband with the

dreadful news, thus fulfilling her terrible dream to the letter.

Mrs. Howitt, whose veracity no one can dispute, gives the following

experience in the _Psychological Review_, London, which may be taken as

an illustration of thought transference, or as the interposition of a

supreme intelligence:

"I dreamed that I received a letter from my eldest son. In my dream I

eagerly broke open the seal, and saw a closely-written sheet of paper,

but my eye caught only these words in the middle of the first page,

written larger than the rest and underlined, '_My father is very ill_.'

The utmost distress seized me, and I suddenly awoke, to find it only a

dream; yet the painful impression of reality was so vivid, that it was

long before I could compose myself. The first thing I did the following

morning was to commence a letter to my husband, relating this

distressing dream. Six days afterwards, on the 18th, an Australian mail

came in and brought me a letter, the only letter I received by that

mail, and not from any of my own family, but from a gentleman in

Australia with whom we were acquainted. This letter was addressed on the

outside, '_Immediate_,' and with a trembling hand I opened it; and true

enough, the first words I saw--and these written larger than the rest,

in the middle of the paper, and underlined, were: '_Mr. Howitt is very

ill_.' The context of these terrible words was, however, 'If you hear

that _Mr. Howitt is very ill_, let this assure you that he is better;'

but the only emphatic words which I saw in my dream, and these,

nevertheless, slightly varying, as, from some cause or other, all such

mental impressions, spirit revelations, or occult, dark sayings

generally do vary from the truth or type which they seem to reflect."

Stainton Moses, M. D., who has given life-long attention to psychic

research, remarks on the apparent discrepancy between the words of the

dream, and the letter as follows:

"It may be permitted to the writer to suggest, that through a fuller

acquaintance with, and deeper observation of, the phenomena of 'spirit

revelation, occult, dark sayings', etc., the truth has forced itself

upon various philosophic minds, that in obedience to a primal law of

spirit's intercourse with spirit--it is always the essence or spirit of

an idea or fact which is sought to be conveyed to the mind, and not the

mere literal clothing of that idea or fact. This essence or spirit of

the idea is the grain of true wheat alone needed; the form is simply the

husk that clothes it for a temporary purpose, and must of necessity fall

away from it as a dead thing. 'In this material, matter-of-fact age,

literal truth,' says the Rev. James Smith, 'the lowest of all truths in

one sense, is generally regarded as the highest. But they are

superficial thinkers who dabble only in literal truth or physical

truth.' This is a knowledge of Law Spiritual, without which progress is

impossible for the student of psychology."

THE IDEA, NOT WORDS, CONVEYED.--If the idea was sent through the

psychic-ether, as a wave of thought, it would translate itself into

language, and the language of the receiving mind would be the one into

which it would be translated. It would pass through space as the essence

of thought, and the sensitive recipient would clothe it with the

garments of words.

Wm. Howitt, on his visit to Australia, had a dream which he regarded as

having great importance as a fact in Mental Science. He says:

"Some weeks ago, while yet at sea, I had a dream of being at my

brother's at Melbourne, and found his house on a hill at the further end

of the town, next to the open forest. The garden sloped a little way

down the hill to some brick buildings below; and there were greenhouses

on the right hand by the wall as you looked down the hill from the

house. As I looked out the windows in my dream, I saw a wood of

dusky-foliaged trees, having a segregated appearance in their heads;

that is, their heads did not make that dense mass like our woods.

'There!' said I, addressing some one in my dream, 'I see your native

forest of Eucalyptus!' This dream I told to my sons, and to two of our

fellow-passengers, at the time, and on landing, as we walked over the

meadows, long before we reached the town, I saw this very wood. 'There!'

I exclaimed, 'is the very wood of my dream. We shall see my brother's

house there.' And so we did. It stood exactly as I saw it, only looking

newer; but there, over the wall of the garden, is the wood exactly as I

saw it and now see it, as I sit at the dining-room window writing. When

I look upon this scene I seem to look into my dream."

This mysterious perception of scenes and events which, after perhaps

years, come before the dreamer or enter into his life, is supported by

ample testimony.

In the _Spiritual Magazine_, 1871, the author, speaking of this dream,

gives further curious details:

"In a vision at sea, some thousand miles from Melbourne, I not only

clearly saw my brother's home and the landscape around it, but also saw

things in direct opposition to news received before leaving England. It

was said that all the men were gone to the gold-fields, and that even

the Governor and Chief-Justice had no men-servants left. But I now saw

abundance of men in the streets of Melbourne, and many sitting on

doorsteps asking employment.... When in the street before my brother's

house, we saw swarms of men, and some actually sitting on steps, seeking

work. All was so exactly as I had described, that great was the

astonishment of my companions."

If we were to regard sleep, after the common usage, as a simple state,

dreams, visions, thought transference, and the appearance of a person

while living at a distance, become a mass of irreconcilable details. But

this is a wholly erroneous view of the character of sleep. It is one of

the most complex and changeful conditions, ranging from the disturbed

doze of the overweary, to the most sensitive clairvoyance. It will be

seen that many of the so-called dreams are really visions received in a

more sensitive condition than is furnished during the waking hours.

Dreams.

SENSITIVENESS DURING SLEEP.--There are dreams and dreams. When greatly

fatigued, mentally or physically, the partially awakened faculties

often become impressed with strangely distorted thoughts. Then there

are the terrible dreams from indigestion, the peculiar interpretations

of bodily discomfort, as dreams of frosts and snows, when chilled during

sleep, or of burning forests when over-heated. Galen gives examples of

such dreams in the case of a man who dreamed that his right leg was

turned to stone, and soon after lost the use of it by palsy; and another

patient who dreamed that he was in a vessel filled with blood, which the

physician accepted as a sign that the man ought to be bled, by which a

serious disease under which he labored was cured.

In perfect sleep dreams do not occur, because all the mental faculties

are dormant. The conjecture that the mind always dreams, but fails to

remember, is not true. A hearty supper, by inducing indigestion, is a

prolific cause of bad dreams.

Derangement of the perfect correlation of the mental faculties, in

sickness or the weakness of age, is a frequent cause of the wildest and

most incoherent visions. All these causes may be well considered, and

after their influences have been eliminated, there remains an order

distinct and inexplicable by known causes. The dreamer may not be

sensitive to psychic influences while awake, but during sleep may become

exceedingly so. Night favors sensitiveness because of its negative

influence. All nervous diseases are aggravated by the coming of

twilight, and midnight is the hour when the most perfect negativeness is

reached, as high noon is that of extreme positiveness.

It would be an easy task to fill volumes with dreams that have been

received as premonitions of future events, or forecasts of desired

information, which was otherwise impossible to obtain. I do not desire

to crowd these pages with any more than will serve to illustrate the

various characters of the true psychic dream, and show how the extra

sensitiveness acquired in sleep explains this subject. It is misleading,

however, to employ the word sleep in this connection, for in sound sleep

there is dreamless rest. Sleep is the repose of the faculties, and

impressions are not recognized. The peculiar condition in which these

dreams occur, is mistaken for sleep, but is nearer trance. The silence

of the night and its soothing negative quality, enhances this state, and

impressions are borne into the receptive mind on the psycho-ether.

Dreams that reach into the future and foretell events concealed from

human ken, and which no reasoning or forethought can predict, are of

interest as revealing glimpses of a new field of thought--that of

prophecy.

In the "Glimpses of the Supernatural," is a dream related by a dignitary

of the Church of England:

"My brother had left London for the country to preach for a certain

society to which he was officially attached. He was in usual health, and

I therefore had no cause to feel anxiety about him. One night my wife

awoke me, finding that I was sobbing in my sleep, and asked me the

cause. I said, "I have been to a small village, and I went up to the

door of the inn. A stout woman came to the door. I said to her: 'Is my

brother here?' She said, 'No, sir; he is gone.' 'Is his wife here?' I

inquired. 'No, sir; but his widow is.'" Then the distressing thought

came to me that my brother was dead. A few days after, I was suddenly

summoned into the country. My brother had been attacked by a fatal

illness, at Caxton. The following day his wife was summoned, and the

next day, while they were seated together, she heard a sigh and he was

gone. When I reached Caxton, it was the very village I had visited in my

dream. I went to the same house, was let in by the same woman, and found

my brother dead and his widow there."

The story told by Dean Stanley has been widely circulated. The chiefs of

the Campbells, of Inverawe, gave an entertainment. After the party broke

up, one of the guests returned, claiming protection, which Campbell

pledged himself to give. It afterwards appeared, in a brawl, he had

killed Donald, the cousin of Campbell, and notwithstanding his pledge,

he ordered him away. The murderer appealed to the word of his host, and

was allowed to stay for the night, where Campbell slept. The

blood-stained Donald appeared to him saying: "Inverawe, Inverawe, blood

has been shed; shield not the murderer." Having sent the guilty man

away, the last time the vision came, saying: "Inverawe, Inverawe, blood

has been shed. We shall not meet again until we meet at Ticonderoga."

In 1758, there was a war between France and England, and Campbell,

belonging to the Forty-second Highlanders, went to America. On the eve

of the engagement the general said to the officers, who knew of what

they regarded as Campbell's superstition, that it was best not to tell

him the name of the fortress they were to attack on the morrow, but call

it Fort George. The fort was assaulted in the morning and Campbell

mortally wounded. His last words were: "General, you have deceived me. I

have seen him again. This is Ticonderoga."

Vouched for as this occurrence is by the highest authority, it is of

great significance, not only as a dream, but it shows that death brought

about a sensitive condition like that in which the dream was received,

and enabled Donald to again appear.

Among the news items of the San Francisco _Chronicle_, appeared the

following:

"Yesterday morning W. S. Read, of Oakland, with a companion named Stein,

started out from Long Wharf to reach a yacht upon which they were going

on a fishing excursion. When about two hundred yards from the wharf the

boat was capsized and Read was drowned. He started to swim to the wharf,

but when within fifty feet of it he sank and did not rise again.

Connected with this sad event is a dream: Last Friday night the sister

of the deceased dreamed that her brother had gone out in a boat on

Sunday, that the boat had been upset and he drowned. So vivid was the

impression of the dream, that on Saturday morning she went to her

brother's office, told him of it, and implored him not to go out, but he

laughed at her fears as the result of a disordered mind."

Dr. M. L. Holbrook relates the following instances of dreams, which are

certainly worth recording:

"Over twenty years ago I was subject to attacks of acute bronchitis,

which in Spring gave me great trouble. On one occasion I was so

exceedingly ill I felt I should not recover, and in this mood I fell to

sleep, during which, in a dream, or what appeared to be such, my sister,

who had died when I was a little boy, seemed to come to my bedside and

said: 'Martin, you are not going to die; you have much important work

yet to accomplish, and we have come to cure you.' Then what I can only

describe as a shock of heavenly electricity struck me on the head, and

was intensified over the lungs, where it seemed to almost burn through

my chest, when it passed towards my feet in a delightful glow. The shock

was so great that I awoke, free from the disease, and have never had the

trouble since."

"In 1867 I was alone in my sleeping-room in New York, and dreamed that I

was dying, and in my struggles awoke. There was nothing peculiar in this

experience, it may be truthfully said, for this sensation is quite

common with those who suffer with nightmare. The singularity of the case

was that every night for a succession of nights the same thing happened,

growing more and more intense, until the last night I thought I could

not escape, and died. After it was over, the thought came to me, 'Well,

it is not so bad after all; a rather pleasant experience!' At this

moment my father-in-law, who had been dead several months, appeared to

me. He was the same as when alive, but more spiritual and beautiful. He

said: 'Martin, I have been endeavoring to show myself to you for several

nights. Now I have succeeded, and shall trouble you no more.' That was

the last of my disturbing dreams. My thoughts were not upon him. I have

never been able to convince myself that the vision was not objective,

though I know some may not look at it in the same light."

Dr. A. M. Blackburn, of Cresco, Iowa, a well-known physician of that

town, dreamed that he was called to visit a little girl in the

neighboring town of Ridgeway. On his return he came to a broad river

which it was impossible to cross. While waiting on the banks, an old

friend, long since dead, appeared and assisted him in crossing. When the

doctor arose in the morning he related his dream, and so strongly was he

impressed with its prophetic meaning that he secured a policy on his

life, talked over and arranged his business, and having adjusted all his

affairs, he awaited the fatality he said was sure to overtake him. A day

or two after, he was called to Ridgeway to visit a little girl, and on

his return his horse ran away and he was killed. There is an

allegorical element in this dream, and the presence of a departed friend

who assists him over the stream, gives it a poetic cast. Yet who can say

that it was not realized?

A dream is related by J. Crysler, of Republic City, Kansas, which proved

not only true, but the elements of "the double," or of the appearance of

the dreamer in the place he dreamed about, is introduced. He said, while

from home he dreamed that his wife was sick, and awoke. On falling

asleep again, the dream was repeated, a thing that had never before

occurred to him. He remarked to a friend in the morning, that if he

believed in dreams he would go directly home, as he felt troubled. He,

however, waited and completed his business, reaching home the next day,

when he found his wife just recovering from a severe attack of illness.

Their three-year-old boy lodged with his mother, and became restless.

All at once he asked: "Ma, what man is that standing there?" "Why," she

replied, "I see no one." "Oh!" said he, "it is pa!" and turning over,

contentedly dropped to sleep. The thoughts of the father, intensified by

his solicitude, struck the sensitive brain of his child with such a

force as to produce the impression that the father was an objective

reality.

A prophetic dream must be impressed on the receiving mind, from a source

having more than human intelligence. There must be a _mind_ back of the

impressions, capable of comprehending cause and effect more clearly than

mortals are able to do. The effect cannot rise above its cause.

Laugh at the fantasies of a fevered brain, or the visions produced by a

gorged stomach; the nightmare of the gourmand; the ghost-seeing of the

dyspeptic; but there remain the dreams of the clear head and pure heart

as angel visitants, and these should be treasured. When we rest in the

arms of sleep, she hushes us with hymns sung by angelic voices, and

sweet visions of the morning land.

Sensitiveness Induced by Disease.

Disease, by weakening the physical powers, is often conducive to a

wonderful sensitiveness. In some cases of fever, the senses are wrought

to an astonishing acuteness, especially hearing, the patient being

disturbed by even the ticking of a watch in a remote room. The inner

perception at other times is made equally acute. If the pulsations of

sound become so magnified and painful, the waves of thought in the

psycho-ether may become equally magnified, and reproduce the thoughts

which sent them forth to the mind of the recipient. Many of the facts

given in illustration of other phases of sensitiveness apply equally

well here.

"Mademoiselle N---- was convalescing after a very prolonged illness,

which had reduced her to a state of extreme weakness. All her family had

gone to church, when a violent storm arose. Mademoiselle N---- went to

the window to watch its effects; the thought of her father suddenly

struck her, and, under existing circumstances, she felt much uneasiness.

Her imagination soon persuaded her that her father had perished. In

order to conquer her fears she went into a room in which she was

accustomed to see him in his arm-chair. On entering, she was very much

surprised at seeing him in his place, and in his accustomed attitude.

She immediately approached to inquire how he had come in, and in

addressing him, attempted to place her hand on his shoulder, but

encountered only space. Very much alarmed, she drew back, and turning

her head as she left the room, still saw him in the same attitude. More

than half an hour elapsed from the time she first saw the apparition.

During this time Mademoiselle N----, who was convinced that it was an

illusion, entered the room several times, and carefully examined the

arrangement of the objects, and especially of the chair." (De Boismont,

page 276.)

Nothing had occurred to her father, and the appearance may be adequately

accounted for on psychometric grounds. The chair was vibrant with the

influence of the father, and those vibrations constantly carried out

with them his image.

Mrs. Denton, an extremely sensitive person, relates an experience which

shows how exactly similar the impressibility which may be called normal

in contradistinction to that induced by disease. On entering a car from

which the passengers had gone to dinner, she was surprised to see the

seats occupied.

"Many of them were sitting perfectly composed, as if, for them, very

little interest was attached to this station, while others were already

in motion (a kind of compressed motion), as if preparing to leave. I

thought this somewhat strange, and was about turning to find a seat in

another car, when a second glance around showed me that the passengers,

who had appeared so indifferent were really losing their identity, and,

in a moment, were invisible to me. I had had time to note the personal

appearance of several; and taking a seat I awaited the return of the

passengers, thinking it more than probable I might in them find the

prototypes of the faces and forms I had a moment before so singularly

beheld. Nor was I disappointed. A number of those who returned to the

cars I recognized as being, in every particular, the counterparts of

their late but transient representatives."

Mary Dana Shindler, in the _Voice of Truth_, says:

"An aunt of ours was very ill with fever, and her only brother,

commanding a packet ship between Havana and Charleston, was daily

expected; but we feared he would arrive too late to see his sister in

earth-life. One morning while we were watching at her bedside, she

suddenly sat up, clapped her hands, and exclaimed joyfully, 'Brother

William has come!' We all thought her mind wandering; but in about ten

minutes he arrived at her house, and from that moment she began to

recover. She could not tell us how she discovered that he had arrived,

but only said, 'I knew it; I heard, and _felt_ him.'"

Bishop Bowman, in a sermon delivered in Philadelphia, narrated a

remarkable experience, which shows how near the state of death

approaches trance or clairvoyance. The usual light treatment of the fact

of the result of cerebral disturbance is far from a satisfactory

solution:

"On my return from Japan, I preached in California, and probably

overworked myself. The last Sunday in February, after holding divine

service in my St. Louis Church, I returned home, when I was immediately

taken sick with a lingering fever, which the physicians predicted would

end fatally. At this point I seemed to fall into a kind of ecstasy, and

I did not know whether I was alive or dead. I imagined I was on board a

magnificent ship, and heard the captain say, 'Stop her,' which I

thought to be the voice of my Divine Master, when my young

eighteen-months-old child, who had died twenty years ago, came to me and

said that she had heard that I was coming, and had come to meet me.

After some conversation which I do not recollect, she said, 'Do you

think I have grown, papa?' She then arose in a form of glory I have

never before witnessed, and never again expect to see until I die, and

then returned to her usual state, saying that she came in that shape to

see if I would know her. She said that many other friends had inquired

after me, and that an old gentleman and lady had taken her up and kissed

her, saying that her papa was their boy. I then asked her where her mama

was. 'Oh, she is away doing something for the Lord, but will meet us on

our arrival at the wharf.' It was a season of great preciousness to me.

It seems to me that I have come back from the other world; and although

it is peculiar for me to say I was dead, it seems to me I was not in the

body."

The testimony of those who have approached nearest to death, and have

been brought back to life, favors, if not proves, that at that great

crisis, as the senses fail, spiritual sensitiveness becomes acute, and

the perceptions merge into a universal consciousness. A gentleman while

swimming failed to sustain himself, and before assistance could reach

him, sank, as he supposed, to rise no more.

"Then he saw, as if in a wide field, the acts of his own being, from the

first dawn of memory until the time he entered the water. They were all

grouped and ranged in the order of the succession of their happening,

and he read the whole volume of existence at a glance; nay, its

incidents and entities were photographed on his mind, illumined by

light, the panorama of the battle of life lay before him." ("Sleep,

Memory and Sensation," page 43.)

Clairvoyance has, as thus appears, a retrospection, and is as able to

see the past as the present, or previse the future. The element of time

does not appear to enter into the cognition of events by this faculty.

Everything is in the present, and the past is only distinguished by

order of sequence.

A gentleman in Iowa related to me his experience while insensible from

the effect of cold. He was overtaken by a fearful storm, such as

sometimes sweep across the prairies, and, losing his way after hours of

vain struggling, sank exhausted in a drift of snow. The past events of

his life came in a panoramic show before him, but so rapidly moving,

that from boyhood until that moment was as an instant; then came a sense

of perfect physical happiness, and he began dimly to see the forms of

those whom he had known while living, but were now dead. They grew more

and more distinct, but just as they came near and were, as he thought,

overjoyed to receive him, darkness came suddenly and great pain; the

vision faded, and he became conscious of the presence of his friends who

had rescued him, and were applying every measure to restore him to life.

How near he had reached the boundary line, the "dead line" beyond, from

which there is no return to the body, was shown by his crippled hands

and feet.

It is a singular fact that no one has ever recovered from a near

approach to this line, who does not tell the same tale of an exalted

perception and intensification of the mental faculties. Sometimes this

is exhibited by the recognition of an event then transpiring, with which

the subject is intimately connected, as in the following, wherein the

deaths of near relatives or friends are discerned:

It is a historical fact that Rev. Joseph Buckminster, who died in

Vermont, in 1812, just before his death, announced that his

distinguished son, Rev. J. S. Buckminster, was dead.

The Eaton (O.) _Telegraph_ gives the following parallel case: "On

Wednesday morning last, at four o'clock, Gen. John Quince breathed his

last. But a few minutes after that, Joseph Deem, who also died on the

14th, aroused from his sleep, and said to his son John, who attended

him, 'Gen. Quince is dead.' To this John replied, 'You are mistaken,

father, Gen. Quince is well, and goes by after his mail every day.'

'Yes,' said Father Deem, 'Gen. Quince is dead.' Shortly after a neighbor

came in, and said that Gen. Quince had suddenly died."

Whenever the power of expression is retained, we see the development of

clairvoyance at the approach of death. Sometimes the paralysis of the

muscles prevents vocal expression, but where this is the case, the eyes

show the ecstasy which the lifting of the vail from a new world only can

give.

Mrs. Helen Willmans relates this touching story of the death of her

child:

"From her birth she had been afraid of death. Every fiber of her body

and soul recoiled from the thought of it.

"'Don't let me die!' she said. 'Don't let me die! Hold me fast--I can't

go.'

"'Jenny,' I said, 'you have two little brothers in the other world, and

there are thousands of tender-hearted people over there, who will love

and take care of you.'

"But she cried despairingly, 'Don't let me go. They are strangers over

there.'

"But even as she was pleading her little hands relaxed their clinging

hold from my waist, and lifted themselves eagerly aloft; lifted

themselves with such a straining effort that they raised the wasted body

from its reclining position among the pillows. Her eyes filled with the

light of divine recognition. They saw plainly something we could not

see. But even at that supreme moment she did not forget to leave a word

of comfort for those who gladly would have died in her place. 'Mamma!

mamma! they are not strangers. I am not afraid!' And every instant the

light burned more gloriously in her blue eyes, until at last it seemed

as her soul leaped forth upon its radiant waves, and in that moment her

trembling form relapsed among the pillows, and she was gone."

Thus we perceive that sensitiveness, which is first manifested in the

mesmeric state, breaks in at rare intervals, during wakefulness or

sleep, as vivid impressions or dreams, arises to clairvoyance as the

spirit and physical body are separated more and more, and reaches its

most intense expression at the moment of death, when the union between

the two is severed.

It is after this great event that the spiritual being, formed from

attenuated substance, far beyond the horizon of the most ethereal known

to the senses, is free from the environments of the physical body. It

sees, hears, feels, with the organization of its new being, and is

cognizant of a world unknown to the mortal senses.

Thought Transference.

The English Society for Psychical Research have given greater attention

to thought transference than any other subject which has engaged its

attention, claiming that if it be proved, it becomes the foundation for

a working theory, co-ordinating a vast number of related facts and

phenomena. It was the conclusion of the committee after numerous

experiments, that thought reading was an established fact. The adage,

"The devil is near when you talk about him," is proven daily; for when

an individual is going to a certain place expecting to meet certain

ones, his thoughts go before him, and impress themselves. When those

connected by intimate relations think of each other, their thoughts

vibrate in responsive brains. Distance has inappreciable influence on

the transference of thought. It may take place in the same room, or when

the two persons are thousands of miles apart. As a personal experience I

will relate one of many similar incidents which have awakened my

attention to this wonderful phenomenon. Sitting by my desk one evening,

suddenly as a flash of light, the thought came to write an article for

the _Harbinger of Light_, published at Melbourne, Australia. I had by

correspondence become acquainted with the editor, W. H. Terry, but there

had been no letters passed for nearly a year. I had not thought of him

or his journal, for I do not know how long a time, and I was amused at

first with the idea of writing on the subject suggested. But the

impression was so strong that I prepared and forwarded an article.

Nearly two months passed before I received a letter from Mr. Terry

requesting me to write an article on the subject, on which I had

written, and making due allowance for time, the dates of our letters

were the same. In our experience this crossing of letters answering each

other, has twice occurred, the second by Mr. Terry answering a request

of mine.

I have gathered a series of facts illustrative and demonstrative, by

their culminative evidence. If any one statement be questioned as

improbable, we must consider the probabilities increase with each and

every instance corroboratory, and when a constantly augmenting series

continue in the same line, each number adding strength to the others,

the probability becomes a certainty.

Dr. Nicolas, Count de Gonémys, of Corfu, gives his personal experience

in March number, 1885, of the _Journal of the Society for Psychical

Research_:

"In the year 1869 I was officer of health in the Hellenic army. By

command of the War Office I was attached to the garrison of the Island

of Zante. As I was approaching the Island in a steamboat, to take up my

new position, and about two hours distance from the shore, I heard a

sudden inward voice say to me over and over in Italian, 'Go to Voterra.'

I had no association with the name of M. Voterra, a gentleman of Zante,

with whom I was not even acquainted, although I had once seen him, ten

years before. I tried the effect of stopping my ears, and of trying to

distract myself by conversation with the bystanders, but all was

useless, and I continued to hear the voice in the same way. At last we

reached the land; I proceeded to my hotel and busied myself with my

trunks, but the voice continued to harass me. After a time a servant

came and announced to me that a gentleman was at the door who wished to

speak to me at once. 'Who is the gentleman?' I asked. 'M. Voterra,' was

the reply. M. Voterra entered, weeping violently, in uncontrollable

distress, imploring me to follow him at once, and see his son who was in

a dangerous condition. I found a young man in maniacal frenzy, naked in

an empty room, and despaired of by all the doctors of Zante for the past

five years."

By magnetism Dr. Nicolas effected a perfect cure, the maniac becoming in

the mesmeric state clairvoyant.

The following is by C. Ede, M. D., Guilford (_J. S. P. R._, July, 1882).

"Lady G. and her sister had been spending the evening with their mother,

who was in her usual health and spirits when they left her. In the

middle of the night the sister awoke in a fright, and said to her

husband, 'I must go to my mother at once; do order the carriage. I am

sure she is ill.' The husband, after trying in vain to convince his wife

that it was only a fancy, ordered the carriage. As she was approaching

the house where two roads met, she saw Lady G.'s carriage. When they met

each asked the other why she was there. The same reply was made by both.

'I could not sleep, feeling sure my mother was ill, and so I came to

see.' As they came in sight they saw their mother's confidential maid at

the door, who told them when they arrived, that their mother had been

taken suddenly ill, and was dying, and had expressed an earnest wish to

see her daughters."

The daughters having so recently parted from their mother, made them

peculiarly susceptible to her influence.

T. W. Smith, Ealing, W. England (_J. S. P. R._, July, 1882), had this

experience, showing the close bonds which unite husband and wife:

"I left my house, ten miles from London, in the morning as usual, and in

the course of the day was on the way to Victoria Street, when, in

attempting to cross the road made slippery by the water cart, I fell,

and was nearly run over by a carriage coming in an opposite direction.

The fall and the fright shook me considerably, but beyond that I was

uninjured. On reaching home, I found my wife waiting anxiously, and

this is what she related to me: She was in the kitchen when she suddenly

dropped, exclaiming, 'My God, he's hurt!' Mrs. S. who was near her heard

the cry, and both agreed as to the time, etc."

The Rev. P. H. Newham (_J. S. P. R._, Feb. 1887), relates an extended

series of experiments in will power. He was able while in church to draw

the attention of any one in the audience by simply directing his

thoughts to them. He experimented at a series of concerts, selecting

those in front of him so that they could not catch his eye by simply

raising their heads. "It was very interesting," he writes, "to see them

first fidget about in their seats and at last turn their heads around

and look about them, as if to see whence the uncomfortable feeling that

influenced them proceeded."

The London _Spectator_ for Christmas, 1881, contains an interesting

story by A. J. Duffield, of thought transference. The gist of this story

is that a Mr. Strong went to Lake Superior and became foreman of the

Franklin copper mine. He fell sick and would have died but for the care

of a lady whose husband was a director of the mining company. She had

him carried to her own house, and nursed him with kindest care until he

recovered. Seven years after this event, when he had drifted away from

the mines, he was sitting by himself one evening, when he suddenly saw

this kind lady in a room with nothing in it, no fire, no food. She was

calm and quiet, with the same face she had when she nursed him in the

fever. He thereby was made deeply conscious that she was in distress,

and sent her a most liberal amount of money by mail. The day after he

received a letter from the lady, saying that her husband was sick, and

that they were in great suffering, and asking for aid.

In this instance the mind of Capt. Strong was bound to his preserver

with strong bonds, love, gratefulness and expectation of some time

repaying his great obligation. It was in proper condition for the

reception of such thoughts, while, on the other hand, under the pressure

of suffering, the lady's mind was in a condition to give force to the

emanating thoughts.

The _Springfield Homestead_ published what it called an odd

circumstance, but so far from being odd is of proverbially common

occurrence. A Mrs. A. and her daughter called on their relative, Mrs.

B., of Central Street. On their way thither they remarked how pleased

they would be if Mrs. B.'s daughter, Mrs. L., of Hartford, could only be

there too. This remark was repeated to Mrs. B., and she replied that her

thoughts were similar. Then one of them recalled the old saying that the

combined thoughts of three women can bring any one from any place, and

the reply was made that if wishing would bring Mrs. L. she would surely

come. Mrs. B. prepared strawberry cake, saying her daughter, Mrs. L.,

was fond of it, and that she was going to lay a plate for her just as

though she were there. As they were sitting down to tea, the door bell

rang and in came the much wished for Mrs. L., greatly to their surprise.

When asked how she happened to come, she replied that she did not intend

to do so until that day, and decided to do so because tormented with the

impression that some one wanted to see her. She is not accustomed to

come to Springfield, not having visited her sister before in a year.

Henry Watson, of Mill Village, Pa., was suddenly impressed that his

services were needed at a certain point on French Creek. There was no

assignable cause for his going, and he resisted it as a vagary. The

impression, however, grew so strong that he yielded as to a charm. When

within a short distance of the spot cries for help reached his ears. In

the creek he found George Dowler and wife struggling for their lives.

They had attempted to ford the creek, and missing the way were

submerged. He was holding on to the horse while the swift current was

carrying his wife to her death. Taking a boat, Watson rescued her from

certain death. Had he not arrived at that very moment, she would have

been inevitably drowned.

L. M. Hastings of Osceola, Iowa, had a son murdered near Grand Island,

Neb. The night after the crime was committed he awoke about midnight

with his attention fixed on an apparition at the foot of the bed. He saw

the representation of two men with great distinctness, and something

told him that they were the pictures of the murderers of his son. He

studied them carefully until they faded out of sight, and then arose and

wrote a description which was forwarded to the prosecuting attorney. It

was found to be a thoroughly accurate description of the men who were

then under arrest and who were, without doubt the guilty parties. Mr.

Hastings had never seen these men nor received any description of them.

TRANSFERENCE OF THOUGHT AND PAIN.--Mrs. Arthur Severn, the distinguished

landscape painter (_J. S. P. R._, March, 1884), writes of an accident to

her husband which at once impressed itself on her:

"I woke with a start, feeling I had a hard blow on my mouth, and a

distinct sense that I had been cut under my upper lip, and held my

handkerchief to the part as I sat up in bed, and after a few seconds,

when I removed it, I was astonished not to see any blood, and only then

realized that it was impossible that anything could have struck me, and

so I thought it was only a dream. I looked at my watch and saw it was

seven, and finding Arthur (my husband) was not in the room, I concluded

he had gone out on the lake for a sail as it was fine.

"At breakfast (half-past nine) Arthur came in rather late, and I noticed

he rather purposely sat farther away from me than usual, and put his

handkerchief to his lip in the way I had done. I said: 'Arthur, why are

you doing that? I know you have hurt yourself; but I'll tell you why

afterwards.' He said: 'Well, when I was sailing, a sudden squall came,

throwing the tiller suddenly around, and it struck me a hard blow in the

mouth under the upper lip and it has been bleeding a good deal and won't

stop.' I then asked: 'At what time did it happen?' He answered: 'It must

have been about seven o'clock.' I then told what had happened to me,

much to his surprise and all who were at the table."

Rev. J. M. Wilson, head master of Clifton College (in _J. S. P. R._,

March, 1884), presents a fact which, while admitting of telegraphic

explanation, may be referred to a higher source:

"I was at Cambridge at the end of my second term in full health,

boating, football playing, and the like, and by no means subject to

hallucinations or morbid fancies. One evening I felt very ill, trembling

with no apparent cause; nor did it seem to me at the time to be a

physical illness, or chill of any kind. I was frightened; I was totally

unable to overcome it. I remember a struggle with myself, resolving that

I would go on with my mathematics, but it was in vain. I became

convinced that I was dying. I went down to the room of a friend, who

was on the same staircase. He exclaimed at me before I spoke. He pulled

out a whisky bottle and backgammon board, but I could not face it. We

sat over the fire, and he brought some one else to look at me. Toward

eleven, after some three hours, I got better, went to bed and after a

time to sleep, and next morning was quite well. In the afternoon came a

letter stating that my twin brother had died the evening before in

Lincolnshire."

Rev. Canon Warburton, Winchester, England (_J. S. P. R._, May 1884),

relates the following, which is of interest as an example of

transference of thought and of sensation:

"I went from Oxford to stay a day or two with my brother, then a

barrister at 10 Fish Street, Lincoln's Inn. When I reached his chambers

I found a note on the table apologizing for his absence, and saying he

had gone to a dance, and intended to be at home soon after one o'clock.

Instead of going to bed, I dozed in an arm-chair, but started up wide

awake exactly at one, ejaculating, 'By Jove, he's down!' and seeing him

coming out of the drawing room into the brightly illuminated landing,

catching his foot in the edge of the top stair and falling head-long,

just saving himself by his elbows and hands. (The house was one I had

never seen, and I did not know where he was.) I again fell adoze for

half an hour, and was awakened by my brother suddenly coming in and

saying: 'Ah! there you are! I have just had as narrow an escape of

breaking my neck as I ever had in my life. Coming out of the ballroom, I

caught my foot and tumbled full length down stairs.'"

The following is vouched for by Miss Millicent Ann Page, sister of the

Rev. A. Shaw Page, Vicar of Lesly, England, to whom it was related by

Mrs. Elizabeth Broughton, Edinburgh:

"Mrs. Broughton aroused her husband, telling him something dreadful had

happened in France. He begged her to go asleep again. She assured him

that she was not asleep when she saw what she insisted in then telling

him. First, a carriage accident, which she did not see, but she saw the

result: a broken carriage, collected crowd, a figure gently raised and

carried into the nearest house, and then a figure lying on the bed,

which she recognized as the Duke of Orleans. Gradually friends collected

around the bed, among them several members of the royal family--the

Queen, then the King--all tearfully, silently watching the dying Duke.

One man, she could see his back, but did not know who he was, was a

doctor. He stood bending over the Duke, feeling his pulse with his watch

in his other hand. Then all passed away. In the morning she wrote down

in her journal all she had seen. It was before the days of the

telegraph, and two or more days passed before the _Times_ announced the

death of the Duke of Orleans.

"A short time after, she visited Paris, recognized the place of the

accident, and received an explanation of her impression. The doctor who

attended the Duke was an old friend of hers; and as he watched by the

bed he said his mind was constantly occupied with her and her family.

The reason, therefor, was the remarkable likeness between the members of

her family and those of the royal family then present. 'I spoke of you

and yours when I reached home, and thought of you many times that

evening,' said the doctor. 'The likeness between yourself and the royal

family was never so strong. Here was a link between us, you see.'"

Certain dreams may be explained by thought-transference, which is liable

to take place during the varying moods of slumber as while awake. Rev.

J. C. Learned writes (_J. S. P. R._): "It was in 1883 that I took charge

of the Unitarian Church in Exeter, N. H. Five miles away, Rev. A. M.

Bridge was preaching at Hampton Falls, with whom I sometimes exchanged

pulpits. After a year or so he gave up the work in this little parish,

and somewhat later entered upon an engagement in the town of East

Marshfield, Mass., as the railroad runs, eighty miles from Exeter.

"On Wednesday, Dec. 13th, 1865, on waking in the morning, I remarked to

my wife upon the very vivid and singular dream which I had had, and

related it fully. I had seen Mr. Bridge taken suddenly and violently

ill. He seemed to be in a school-room. He sank down helpless and was

borne away by friendly hands. I was by him, and assisted others in

whatever way I could. But he grew worse; the open air did not revive

him; a leaden pallor soon spread over his features; peculiar spots which

I had never seen before, like moles or discoloration of the skin,

appeared upon his face, and after much suffering he died. Immediately

after breakfast, and while we were still speaking of the dream, a ring

at the door admitted Mr. Wells Healy, an old parishioner of Mr. Bridge,

at Hampton Falls. I guessed the nature of his message. He had come to

ask me to attend the funeral services of his former minister.

"I attended the funeral as requested. I learned from the family the

particulars of his death, which coincided remarkably in several points

with the dream already repeated to my wife, and when I looked at the

dead man in his coffin, my attention was fixed by the peculiar spots on

his face to which I have alluded, and which were stamped on my memory."

DOUBLE PRESENCE.--APPEARANCE OF LIVING PERSONS AT A DISTANCE.--It would

appear that this projection of thought to distant localities may be so

strong as to carry the appearance of the projector with it. This may be

explained by the aid of psychometry, or by the actual projection of the

psychic individuality, so as to give the impression of identity, and not

only that, but to receive and retain impressions on the part of the

projector. The double presence which has so perplexed the student of

these mysteries thus admits of solution, and becomes a part of the

fabric created by sensitiveness to thought impressions. These

appearances of living persons as apparitions or ghosts, have been

repeatedly employed as evidence of the subjectiveness of ghostly

apparitions of the dead; that as one must be unreal so must the other.

But this conclusion is unwarranted, as by the principles here advocated

the apparitions of the living are under the same law as those of the

dead.

It is possible for the independent clairvoyant at any time, in spirit,

to visit distant localities and persons, and if the latter are

sufficiently sensitive, they will recognize the clairvoyant's presence.

The phenomenon of "double presence," in this manner can be produced, as

somnambulism may be, by artificial means; that is through mesmerism or

hypnotism.

Many remarkable stories are recorded of the double, some of which are

unbelievable unless the principles heretofore stated are understood.

Josiah Gilbert, in the _London Speculator_, gives the following pleasing

narrative:

"A son of a family named Watkinson, residing in Lancashire, had gone to

America. One summer Sunday afternoon, they were attending services and

occupying a large square pew near the pulpit. It was hot, the door of

the small building was wide open, and one of the party who sat looking

down the aisle could see out into the meeting-house yard, which was

shaded by tall trees. Suddenly, to his intense surprise, he saw the

absent brother approaching through the trees, enter at the chapel door,

walk up the aisle, come to the very door of the pew itself, and lay his

hand upon it as though he would take a seat with them. At that moment

others of the family saw him also, but at that instant he vanished.

"This strange occurrence naturally raised sad forebodings, but in course

of time a letter arrived, and it appeared that the brother was alive and

well. He was then written to and asked if anything peculiar had happened

on that Sunday. He replied that it was odd that he should remember

anything about a Sunday so long passed, but certainly something had

happened on that Sunday. He had come in overpowered with heat and had

thrown himself on his bed, fallen asleep and had a strange dream. He

found himself among the trees of a country chapel; service was going on;

he saw them all, the door being open, sitting in their pews; he walked

up the aisle and put his hand on the pew door to open it, when he

suddenly, and to his great chagrin, awoke."

S. F. Deane, M. D., of Carlton, Neb., had a remarkable experience which

he relates as follows:

"After my arrival in Nebraska, I made my home with my daughters. At the

time I left Wisconsin, my wife was not well and I hesitated to leave

her. After I had been absent about three weeks, I had retired to my

room, which had a door opening into the street. About two o'clock in

the morning while awake, with sufficient light from a partially obscured

moon to see distinctly any person in the room, fully conscious of all my

surroundings, and with my face toward the door, I saw it open and a

person step into the room, which I at once recognized as the exact image

of my wife. She came directly across the room, knelt at my bedside, put

her arms about my neck, kissed me and said she had been very sick but

was better now. Then she said she must go and see Adelaide, and arose

and passed across the room, to the door of our daughter's room. She was

gone a few minutes when she again came through the open bedroom door

into my room, looked at me, as much as to say good-bye, passed out at

the door, and was gone.

"While she was present a peculiar calmness came over me; but when she

was gone a great anxiety took possession of me, and could I have taken a

train, I should have at once started for home. But I at last resolved to

await a letter, which came in due time from my son. He wrote: 'Mother is

quite sick, though better than night before last, when about half-past

two or three o'clock in the morning we thought for twenty or thirty

minutes she was dead. She lay insensible, pulsation ceased, or only

fluttered at intervals, and respiration seemed suspended, but she

rallied and is now in a fair way to recover.' She did recover and

enjoyed a fair degree of health."

There is no limit to the facts of this class which might be collected.

Enough have been here produced to show that coincidence offers a poor

apology as an explanation. The student will observe also, that however

carefully the facts are selected bearing on this one point of thought

transference, it is impossible, so intimately related are the branches

of psychic science, to have them entirely free from the possibility of

other explanations. Granting that thought may be transferred from one

mortal to another, admits that a spirit may transfer its thoughts to a

mortal also, and hence a spirit seeing a friend in distress may act as a

messenger. But in such a case thought is transferred, and in the same

manner. The sensitive on one side receives the pulsations of thought

from the other, through and by means of the psychic ether.

It will be thus seen that there is no mystery in one mind becoming

cognizant of the thoughts of another mind, for if in sympathy, such a

result is sure to follow. As a lamp gives light, because it is able to

set the light medium in motion, or give off waves therein, so the brain

gives off waves, or is a pulsating center in the psychic-ether. These

waves go outward and form the sphere of the individual, as the waves of

light go out and form the sphere of light around an incandescent body.

To be recognized, they must strike against a sensitive or sympathetic

brain, wherein they may be reproduced. By sympathetic, we mean one

which, for want of a better term, we will say is similarly attuned.

Thus, when two musical instruments are placed at some distance from each

other, and one is played, if they are not attuned in harmony the other

will give no response; but if they are, then when one is touched, the

Since civilization began, mankind have held certain stones and metals