January 4, 1886.

“On one of the last days of July, about the year 1860, at 3 o’clock p.m., I was sitting in the drawing room at the Rectory, reading, and my thoughts entirely occupied. I suddenly looked up and saw most distinctly a tall, thin old gentleman enter the room and walk to the table. He wore a peculiar, old-fashioned cloak which I recognized as belonging to my great-uncle. I then looked at him closely and remembered his features and appearance perfectly, although I had not seen him since I was quite a child. In his hand was a roll of paper, and he appeared to be very agitated. I was not in the least alarmed, as I firmly believed he was my uncle, not knowing then of his illness. I asked him if he wanted my father, who, as I said, was not at home. He then appeared still more agitated and distressed, but made no remark. He then left the room, passing through the open door. I noticed that, although it was a very wet day, there was no appearance of his having walked either in mud or rain. He had no umbrella, but a thick walking stick, which I recognized at once when my father brought it home after the funeral. On questioning the servants, they declared that no one had rung the bell; neither did they see any one enter. My father had a letter by the next post, asking him to go at once to my uncle, who was very ill in Leicestershire. He started at once, but on his arrival was told that his uncle had died at exactly 3 o’clock that afternoon, and had asked for him by name several times in an anxious and troubled manner, and a roll of paper was found under his pillow.

“I may mention that my father was his only nephew, and, having no son, he always led him to think that he would have a considerable legacy. Such, however, was not the case, and it is supposed that, as they were always good friends, he was influenced in his last illness, and probably, when too late, he wished to alter his will.”

In answer to inquiries, Miss L. adds:

“I told my mother and an uncle at once about the strange appearance before the news arrived, and also my father directly he returned, all of whom are now dead. They advised me to dismiss it from my memory, but agreed that it could not be imagination, as I described my uncle so exactly, and they did not consider me to be either of a nervous or superstitious temperament.

“I am quite sure that I have stated the facts truthfully and correctly. The facts are as fresh in my memory as if they happened only yesterday, although so many years have passed away.

“I can assure you that nothing of the sort ever occurred before or since. Neither have I been subject to nervous or imaginative fancies. This strange apparition was in broad daylight, and as I was only reading the ‘Illustrated Newspaper,’ there was nothing to excite my imagination.”

Hundreds of cases of this kind have been reported by persons whose truthfulness cannot be doubted, and every effort has been made to eliminate possibility of hallucination or accidental fancy. That things of this kind do occur may be said to be scientifically proven.

Such facts as these have stimulated experiment in the direction of testing thought transference. These experiments have usually been in the reading of numbers and names, and a certain measure of success has resulted. It may be added, however, that no claimants ever appeared for various banknotes deposited in strong-boxes, to be turned over to any one who would read the numbers. Just why success was never attained under these conditions it would be hard to say. The writer once made a slight observation in this direction. When matching pennies with his brother he found that if the other looked at the penny he could match it nearly every time. There may have been some unconscious expression of face that gave the clue. Persons in hypnotic trance are expert muscle readers. For instance, let such a person take your hand and then go through the alphabet, naming the letters. If you have any word in your mind, as the muscle reader comes to each letter the muscles will unconsciously contract. By giving attention to the muscles you can make them contract on the wrong letters and entirely mislead such a person.

CHAPTER XIII.