CHAPTER IV.

PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD.

Though I head this chapter "Phantasms of the Dead," it is almost impossible to discriminate between Phantasms of the Dead, _i.e._, the actual earth-bound souls of the people, and Elementals, whose special function it is to impersonate them. In the case of murder, whereas, I think it quite possible that the spirit of the actual murderer appears, I think it highly unlikely that the soul of his victim (save, of course, where the latter has led a vicious life) is equally earth-bound, but that what we see is merely an impersonating Elemental, who, in company with the earth-bound soul of the homicide, nightly (or periodically) re-enacts the tragedy.

In cases of suicide, too, I think the nature of the Phantasms that subsequently appears largely depends on the life led by the suicide--if vicious the hauntings would be due to his earth-bound spirit, if moral to an Impersonating Elemental, but in either case Vice Elementals would in all probability be attached to the spot, when the hauntings would at once become dual (which so frequently happens). Where the suicide is a criminal lunatic or epileptic imbecile, I believe the phenomenon seen is his or her actual spirit--I do not think such people have souls. By spirit, I mean the mere animal side of man's nature--that Force, which is solely directed to the attainment and furtherance of carnal desires; by soul, that Force, which recognizes and strives after all that tends to make the mind pure and beautiful.

With regard to wraithes, _i.e._, apparitions seen shortly after death, I think that in the majority of cases at all events, it is the actual superphysical body of the deceased that appears, prior to its removal to other spheres, and that, except during this interval, the souls of the rational and moral never return to the material world. In all other cases of hauntings the phenomena are due either to the earth-bound spirits of the depraved, to the silly, _i.e._, those who, without being actually cruel or lustful, have no capacity for the culture of mind; to criminal lunatics, and epileptic imbeciles; or else to Elementals, benevolent, neutral and otherwise.

CASES.

Mrs. P., the wife of an Army Medical Officer, living in my neighbourhood, says: "Some years ago I was travelling to Southampton, with my little daughter, a child of four. My nephew, who lived in Mare Street, Hackney, asked me to pass the night at his house. It was a large building, with long passages, out of which many doors opened, and, close to the back of it, there lay a cemetery.

"We arrived, to find no one at home but the servants. My nephew had left a message for me, asking me to make myself thoroughly 'at home' and go to bed, if I felt tired after the journey.

"My little daughter and I shared a big room with a double bed. I did not sleep for some time on account of a curious noise. Though there was no wind, all the doors in the passage rattled on their hinges and bumped about, as if someone was going along trying the handles. The noise lasted for some time, and disturbed me a great deal so that I did not sleep at all well.

"In the morning my nephew said, 'Well, Aunt, I hope you were comfortable and had a good night?' 'Oh, everything was comfortable,' I replied, 'but I did not pass a good night. There is something very strange about the doors in your upstairs passage. They seemed to be kicking about on their hinges for hours.'

"He looked at me in rather a curious way, and said, 'I suppose you did not know that my mother died in the room where you slept--in fact, in the very same bed.'

"'Indeed, I did not,' I answered, 'and, if I had known it, I should never have accepted your hospitality.'

"Well, I went on my journey to India, and thought no more about the matter. But, when I returned, a year or two later, I happened to speak of it to one of my nieces, who instantly gave me her experience in the same house.

"'After our mother died,' she said, 'the room was shut up and it remained so for some time. Then my sister and I decided that we should use it, and we slept there together. The first night we were not disturbed, but the second night I woke and saw our mother sitting in a chair before the large dressing glass. My sister was asleep, but I suppose I must have made some movement which roused her, for she awoke, and, without a word from me, cried out--'There's mother! Mother has come back to us!' Thus, you see, we both saw the apparition plainly and had not the least doubt as to who it was."

The manifestations in this case were, I think, due to a benevolent Elemental that impersonated the dead lady with the object of conveying some message from the soul of the latter to her living relatives and friends. The impression conveyed by the phenomenon to the girls, would be that their mother was still cognisant of them; whilst the Elemental would, in all probability, find some means of communicating the welcome tidings to the mother that her daughters had not forgotten her.

Mrs. P---- narrated to me another case. "My husband," she said, "attended a certain old man and his wife who were very devoted to one another. They were quite elderly people, but sound and sane--not at all fanciful or inclined to be foolish. When the old man died, his wife felt his loss most dreadfully. She never quite got over it, and, when she took to her bed with her last illness, she was constantly saying that she wished she could see her husband again. Her attendants told her that she ought not to say such a thing, but the wish grew upon her, till, one day, being alone, she spoke to him and begged him to come back.

"Immediately he appeared to be sitting in a chair by her bedside. But, though her wish was gratified, she was terrified.

"'Go away, go away!' she cried, 'I don't want you.' The vision vanished. Some few days later, she died. I often used to sit with her, and I am sure that she was quite reasonable and in full possession of her wits."

Here, of course, one has to entirely depend upon the evidence of the deceased who, being ill at the time, might easily have been the victim of an illusion--at least so it seems to me. I merely quote the case to show that I am not always ready to accept as objective the phenomena witnessed by a single individual.

The case of Miss V. St. Jermyn, a lady living in the North of London, is a great deal stronger.

"My father," she says, "was the Rector of an immense parish, which was divided at his death. He had ten curates. The senior curate, who was appointed to succeed him in the more important division, was shortly afterwards made a Canon, so I shall speak of him as Canon Jervis. He owed everything he had to my father, and he was always ready to say this and talk of his obligations to my father. I mention this to show the sort of regard he had for my father. We on our side, my brothers, sisters and I, always looked on him as a very great friend, having known him all our lives. There was never anyone with whose appearance we were more familiar, and he certainly was rather remarkable looking. Standing at least six feet and proportionately broad, he had a square face, rough hewn features and very thick crêpé hair, which was getting grizzled. He was always very well dressed. Everyone was much struck with his appearance and I was constantly being asked who he was.

"Early one January (about the 3rd, I think), some years ago, he died, and we were all so grieved that we at once wrote expressing our sympathy to his family. We certainly thought about him a good deal, though his death was not one of those great sorrows which leave no room in one's mind for the remembrance of anything else.

"About the 13th of February (of that year), my brother, sister and myself went to tea with a friend, a well-known artist at the Pembroke Studios, Kensington. It was a very pleasant party and we stayed late; indeed, we were nearly the last to leave. For about fifteen minutes before we left the Studios, I was talking to our host, who was showing us a curious old French bible with coloured illustrations. I mention this to show how my mind had been engaged.

"After leaving the studio, on our way to the High Street, Kensington, we had to pass along one side of Edwardes' Square. There the houses have little gardens with iron railings and the pathway is very narrow. We were walking one after the other, my brother in front, my sister next, and I last, when, suddenly, I saw Canon Jervis as clearly and plainly as I have ever in my life seen anyone before or since. He passed me on the side next the railings. I cannot in any way explain why I did, or said, nothing at the time, saving that I was too overcome with amazement. We went on and got into an omnibus, which took us to the street where we live. As we walked along the latter, I again saw the Canon coming down a side street and my sister immediately exclaimed: 'There is Canon Jervis! looking just as if he were alive!' My brother, who was a little way in front of us, did not speak--he had seen nothing.

"Looking back on the incident I cannot explain why we neither attempted to look after or follow him. But I think most people at the time of seeing an apparition seem to be in a sense paralysed with astonishment and quite lose their presence of mind."

As the manifestation occurred so soon after the Canon's death, I am inclined to think that in this instance it was a _bona fide_ phantasm of the Dead.

A case of a haunting with a purpose was related to me recently by a Mrs. Craven. Whilst visiting at a country house, Mrs. Craven often used to retire to the library for a few minutes' quiet reading, when she invariably found a priest sitting there, in a peculiarly pensive attitude. Wondering who he was, as she never saw him in any other part of the house, but not liking to disturb him, Mrs. Craven used to sit and steal furtive glances at him from over her book, until she felt she could no longer stand being in his presence, when she made her escape as silently as possible from the room. This went on for some days, until determining one morning to brave it out, she remained in her seat till the priest somewhat electrified her by suddenly pointing in a very agitated manner to the book shelves. Thinking him queerer than ever, but attributing his inertness to some possible physical affliction, Mrs. Craven went to the bookcase and after some trouble discovered the book he wanted. But on bringing it to him, he motioned her to turn over the leaves, and to her astonishment the book seemed to open at the place he indicated, where she perceived a loose sheet of paper covered with writing. Obeying his tacit injunctions she threw the document into the fire, whereupon the priest at once vanished.

Much startled, Mrs. Craven related what had occurred to the hostess, who coolly informed her that the library was well known to be haunted by just such an apparition as she had described, which, however, only appeared periodically. So far, Mrs. Craven does not think it has been seen again.

The identity of the priest being unknown, one cannot say for certain whether this phenomenon was a phantasm of the Dead or an Impersonating Elemental, though, from the lives of self-indulgence led by so many priests in the past, I am inclined to believe it was a genuine phantasm of the Dead. I think the incident of the document is quite sufficient in itself to prove the manifestations were objective.

There is a well authenticated story current in Clifton (Bristol) of an apparition appearing (in the home of a well-known professional man) comparatively recently, with a purpose.

Miss Debrett, an artist belonging to one of the Cornish Art Colonies, had a curious experience at Moret, which experience I will tell in her own words:--

"From Paris to Moret-sur-Loing is not a very long run, two hours at the most. My friend, an artist, and myself went there in the month of July. We 'put up' at the Hotel de la Chalette. We had rooms adjoining one another, my friend using hers as a studio in the daytime. My room was very close, the roof sloped horribly and I experienced a queer shrinking sensation the moment I entered it. However, overcoming such feelings I resolved to sleep there and say nothing of my misgivings to my friend. At two o'clock in the morning of my first night there, I was awakened by little tappings and a feeling of terror. I tried in vain to sleep but could not, the presence of some ghost-like creature was strongly about me. I lit my candle and placed it on the stand beside my bed, trying to assure myself that this at least would protect me from apparitions, but the feeling of the invisible presence remained. I was immeasurably relieved when morning came, though I did not mention a word of what had happened to my friend.

"Night after night the sensations were repeated with ever increasing intensity, until I could instinctively feel the presence of a woman who appeared to be enduring the most severe mental and physical pain. I could feel her close to me, bending backwards and forwards and writhing to and fro, and a deadly fear seized me lest she would clutch hold of me in her throes of agony. Once I saw her shadow on the wall. Apart from the unmistakeable likeness it bore to a woman, I am sure it was her shadow, as I looked carefully about the room, removing sundry articles of furniture to assure myself the phenomenon was not due to them. It was not, for whatever I did in no way disturbed it--it still remained plainly and ominously outlined on the wall.

"About the second week of my stay in Moret-sur-Loing, I was taken ill with a violent cold and feverish pains. I could not discover any cause, though my friend attributed it to a night's rowing on the river Loing. For a few days I was confined to my room and my only consolation was to look at a little pot of flowers which I had bought at the local market. The flowers were bright scarlet and in pleasant contrast to the general gloominess of the apartment. At last, however, utterly worn out with my illness and the long succession of harassing nights, I persuaded my friend to leave the hotel, which she reluctantly did, and we returned to England.

"On our way home we met a fellow artist who told us she had also been staying quite recently at Moret, and then it transpired that she, too, had had rooms at the Hotel de la Chalette, but had given them up as they were so depressing. Upon hearing this I related my experiences, whereupon she exclaimed, 'How odd! A girl whom I knew very well used to go very often to the Hotel de la Chalette, and occupied the very room you slept in. She was very much attached to the place and when she was dying in England continually expressed a longing to be there. She died in the very greatest agony--just such agony as that of the woman you describe--and fought against death to the very last. She was most unresigned and rebellious. I wonder if the sensations you experienced were in any way due to her?'"

I think so without a doubt, and that the phantasm Miss Debrett saw is either that of the earth-bound spirit of the unhappy girl who, when dying, wished herself at the Hotel de la Chalette, or that of an impersonating Elemental;--let us hope it is the latter. Death wishes are, I am sure, frequently fulfilled, and, consequently, cannot be regarded both by utterer and audience with too much seriousness. The strong desire of the girl to cling to life--on this earth--proving that her spiritual aspirations were strictly limited--was almost a sufficient guarantee that her spirit would remain earth-bound.

Miss Viola Vincent, a well-known Society beauty, has furnished me with an account of a house presumably haunted by a Phantasm of the Dead. It is a large country house not very far from London, and the case was reported to Miss Vincent by an old servant of the name of Garth. Garth, who had no idea at the time that the house was haunted, was taking a short nap on her bed one afternoon when she heard the door slowly open and on looking up, saw to her astonishment a little sinister old man, who tiptoed up to her bed and, leaning over her, placed his finger on his lips as if to enjoin silence (an unnecessary precaution as Garth was far too terrified either to utter a sound or to move). On perceiving her fright, a subtle smile of satisfaction stole over the man's face, which Garth describes as yellow and wizened. He left the bed and, turning round, glided surreptitiously through the open doorway. Greatly mystified, Garth mentioned the affair to the other servants, who, instead of laughing at her, at once exclaimed, "Why, you've seen old S----. He committed a murder, just outside the door of your room, many years ago, and is frequently seen about the house and grounds. If you examine the boarding in the passage carefully, you will see the bloodstains." As Garth refused to sleep in the room again, a valet of one of the visitors was put there, and he experienced precisely the same phenomenon.

Garth constantly saw the phantasm of the man in various parts of the building. Sometimes she would meet him face to face on a staircase, sometimes he would creep stealthily after her, down one of the numerous, gloomy corridors. Indeed, she never seemed to be free from him, and, in the end, her nerves became so upset that, although the situation was an excellent one, she was obliged to relinquish it. When in the orchard, Garth, on several occasions, heard the sound of galloping horses and saw the misty figures of two people engaged in earnest conversation. On approaching them, however, they invariably melted into fine air. Miss Vincent enquired into the case, and, eventually, got into communication with other people who had witnessed the same phenomena.

I think it is highly probable that the apparition of the old man, at any rate, was a phantasm of the dead, that is to say, the earth-bound spirit of the murderer; for despite the tendency there is nowadays for pseudo-humanitarians to sympathise with the perpetrators of revolting and cruel murders, it is very certain that the Higher Occult Powers hold no such erroneously lenient views, and that he who spills human blood is bound by that blood to the earth. Hence murderers--or at least such murderers as are not genuinely repentent--are chained for an unlimited time to the scenes of their crimes, which they are compelled willy-nilly to re-enact nightly.

Another case of haunting by the phantasm of a murderer, or murderers, was told me by Miss Dalrymple, aunt of the famous singer, T.C. Dalrymple. Her experiences began the night of her arrival at "The Lichens," the house her nephew was then renting, near Felixstowe.

On retiring to rest she found the servants had made a very big fire in her room, and growing somewhat apprehensive about it, she got out of bed and took some of it off. Then, thinking that her alarm was rather foolish, and that, as there was a proportionately large fender, no danger could possibly arise, she put the coal on again and got back into bed. A few minutes afterwards the room was pervaded with a current of icy cold air, that blew over the bed and rustled through her hair. The next instant, she felt a cold, heavy hand laid on one of her shoulders, and she was steadily and mercilessly pressed down and down. Her terror was now so intense that she could neither move nor articulate a sound, and she could almost hear the violent palpitation of her heart. After what seemed to her an eternity, but which was, in all probability, only a few seconds, the hand was removed, and Miss Dalrymple then heard seven loud thumps on the table at the foot of the bed, after which there was silence, and the manifestations ceased. Miss Dalrymple, however, was too upset to sleep, and lay awake all night in a great agony of mind, lest there should be any further disturbances. When the maid brought her some tea in the morning, the latter immediately exclaimed, "Oh, madam, how dreadfully ill you look!" to which Miss Dalrymple replied, "Yes! I have been feeling very ill, but do not, on any account, tell your master or mistress, as it will only worry them."

Miss Dalrymple then took one of the older servants into confidence, and asked her if the house was haunted.

"Well, madam," was the reluctant response, "people do say that there is a house in this village that is haunted by the ghost of a murdered lady, but I am not quite sure which house it is"--an answer which implied much.

Miss Dalrymple did not have any further experiences there herself, but some time afterwards one of her great-nieces remarked to her, "Did you know, auntie, 'The Lichens' was haunted?" and went on to say that on one occasion, when going upstairs, she had seen the figure of a woman in a grey dress bending over the basin in the bath-room as if engaged in rinsing her hands. Thinking it was the head nurse, she was going on her way unconcernedly when she saw the nurse coming towards her from quite a different part of the house. Greatly astonished, she at once made enquiries, in reply to which the nurse assured her that she had not been in the bath-room for at least an hour. The figure in grey was repeatedly seen, always in or near the bath-room, and always appearing as if rinsing her hands. Once, too, when one of the children was alone in a downstairs room that opened on to the lawn, a hideous, trampish old man, carrying a sack, approached the window, and, after peeping in at the child with an evil smile, placed his fingers knowingly alongside his nose and glided noiselessly away into the shrubbery. The child ran out at once and asked the gardener to look for the man, but despite a vigorous search, no such person could be found.

Another inmate of the house, on going one day to her bedroom, heard something behind her, and, turning round, perceived, to her unmitigated horror, the luminous trunk of a man, which had apparently been dismembered. The body, which was bobbing up and down in mid-air, approached her rapidly, and, moving aside to let it pass, she saw it vanish through the door of the room Mrs. Dalrymple had occupied. After this ghastly manifestation, T.C. Dalrymple, Esq., fearing, for the sake of his family, to remain any longer in such a place, left "The Lichens," part of which has since been pulled down and rebuilt. Miss Dalrymple's heart has never been sound since she felt the ghostly hand on her shoulder, the horror of which phenomenon, as any of her friends can testify, turned her hair white.

As to the cause of the hauntings, that must be entirely a matter of conjecture, since, with regard to the former history of the house, nothing definite is known. A very vague rumour is current that many years ago it was the _rendezvous_ of all manner of rips and _roués_, and, strange though it may seem, the fact that the phantasm of the woman, seen there, was wearing a modern costume, does not preclude the idea that the said phantasm belonged to a bygone period. Such an anachronism is by no means uncommon in cases of haunting, but it renders the task of theorising on ghostly phenomena all the more difficult.

It may be asked with regard to this case--had the phantasm of the woman any connection with that of the tramp, the mutilated body and the hand; and my answer to that question is, that all four phenomena were, in all probability, closely allied with one another. Very possibly an old man had been murdered there by his paramour, who, after cutting up his body, had bribed a tramp to dispose of it, in which case the house would, of course, be haunted by the earth-bound spirits of both the victim and agents of the crime. But it is quite possible, supposing the phenomena are genuine phantasms of the dead, that the tragedy did not take place in that house at all, but was enacted in some far-away spot, one or more of the principals being in some way connected with "The Lichens." However, as I have already said, it is one of those cases that must, by reason of the uncertain history of the house, always remain a mystery.

A haunting of a similar nature occurred quite recently at a house near Leeds. The place, which had stood empty for a very long while, was eventually taken on a lease by my informants, Mr. and Mrs. Urquhart. Neither of the latter had had any previous experience with the superphysical, at which both were more or less inclined to scoff. One evening, shortly after their arrival, Mrs. Urquhart was alone in the study, and, looking up from her needlework, saw what at first sight appeared to be a luminous disc--but which speedily developed into a head--emerge from the wall opposite, and, bobbing up and down in mid-air, slowly approach her. It was a woman's head, the woman having obviously been decapitated, the expression in the wide open staring eyes showing every indication of a cruel ending. The hair was long and matted, the skin startlingly white. Mrs. Urquhart was at first far too terrified to move or utter a sound, but as the ghastly object floated right up to her, the revulsion she experienced was so great that the spell of her inertness was broken and she fled from the room.

When she told her husband what had occurred, he exclaimed laughingly, "Why, my dear, I never knew you had such a vivid imagination! You will soon be asking me to believe in hobgoblins and pixies." Whereupon Mrs. Urquhart bit her lips and was silent.

However, after dinner Mrs. Urquhart, hearing a great commotion in the study, ran to see what was happening, and discovered her husband and his friend, looking ghastly white, thrashing the air with walking-sticks. Catching sight of her, they both cried out, "We've seen the head--the beastly thing came out of the wall, as you described, and floated towards us!"

On hearing this, Mrs. Urquhart recoiled in horror, nor could she be persuaded ever again to enter the room. Her husband, whom the experience had effectually cured of scepticism, at once fell in with her proposal that they should immediately quit the house, and soon after their removal they learned that the place had been pulled down. From the fact, revealed by subsequent enquiries, that some years previously an old woman had been murdered there, it is quite evident to my mind that what the Urquharts and their friend saw was both objective and superphysical; but whether the apparition was a phantasm of the dead, or an impersonating elemental, can only be decided by an adequate knowledge of the character of the murdered person in whose likeness the phenomenon appeared.

Hauntings of a very disturbing nature go on (or, at least, did so a short while ago) at a house in Rugeley, where dreadful groans are frequently heard proceeding from a room on the ground floor. My informant, however, would not say whether or not the house was the one in which the notorious Palmer poisoned his victims; but here again it seems more than probable, that the sounds are due to the presence of an Elemental attached to the spot by the sacrifice of human blood.

I am hoping, at no great future date, to make a series of investigations in houses that have been the scenes of unsolved mysteries, since I believe it quite possible that I should experience such superphysical demonstrations as would give me the direct clue to the identity of the perpetrators of the crimes.

VISIONS AND DREAMS.

The Baroness Von A----, in a recent letter to me, says:--"I wonder if it would interest you to hear of a rather strange occurrence that once befell my husband. He was staying in town at the time, and was asked to tea at the house of some friends of ours in Westminster. The name of the friends is Howard, and their house, which is very old, is in one of the old squares behind the Abbey. My husband, an absolute sceptic himself, knew that the Howards were interested in Psychical Research, but had never heard of any legend in connection with their house. One evening, after tea, which took place in a back room, my husband, more in a teasing spirit than anything else, suddenly exclaimed, 'Look here! Shall I tell you what I can see in this room?' (He is most insistent that at the time he spoke he saw nothing, but was preparing to make the whole thing up, and meant to tell the Howards so afterwards.) 'I seem to be standing in a small garden. It is a dark night, and I see two men, dressed in the fashion of Charles II.'s time, just finishing digging a small grave, near the edge of which another man is standing holding in one hand a lantern of antique design. The two men have finished, the third waves his lantern slowly, and the door of the house which faces me (I feel it is this house, albeit somewhat different, though how I cannot say) opens, and out of it comes a fourth man, also dressed according to the Charles II. period, though in a very much richer costume. There is an expression of diabolical satisfaction in his eyes as they dwell on the face of the child he is carrying in his arms, and which, to my horror, I see has been murdered. The villain approaches the grave, into which he ruthlessly drops the body, and the diggers at once cover it with shovels full of earth. That is all I can see.'

"To my husband's astonishment the Howards were wildly excited, and told him that the legend connected with the house (and which they believed was only known to one or two people besides themselves) tallied detail for detail with the vision he had just witnessed. It was quite in vain that he protested he had seen nothing at all, but had invented the story just to 'have them on'--they would not believe him. It appears that in the time of Charles II., another house had occupied the site of the present one, though the garden was practically the same. A child had been murdered there for its inheritance, and had been buried in the garden where its bones had been subsequently found, after which the house had been pulled down and the present one built. I am sure my husband honestly thought he was inventing the vision. Could it have been a case of suggestion?"

Yes, I am inclined to believe it was a case of suggestion, but of suggestion due to some superphysical objective presence that actually put the words of the story into the mouth of the narrator. I do not think the story was a chance invention, a mere coincidence, any more than I think the suggestion was telepathic.

My next case deals with a dream, a lady, of the name of Carmichael, had whilst staying in an old house in the Punjab. She dreamed she was awakened by a lovely Hindoo lady, who came to her bedside, and by signs implored her to follow her. This Mrs. Carmichael at once did, and the Hindoo led her down winding passages and through numerous rooms, until they at length arrived in a courtyard with a well at the far end of it. The Hindoo silently and mournfully approached the well, and, pointing down it, wrung her hands and disappeared.

Mrs. Carmichael then woke to find herself bathed in perspiration; and the dream made such an impression on her that when she went to stay with some friends the next day, she told them about it. To her astonishment they were intensely excited. "Why!" they exclaimed, "we know the place well, and you have described exactly the winding passages in that part of the house that has never been used since a Hindoo lady was murdered there for her jewels some years ago. Neither the murderer nor his booty was ever found."

It was now Mrs. Carmichael's turn to be amazed, and she readily agreed to go with them to the house to see if she could find the well she had seen in her vision. Accordingly they all set out, and, on reaching the house, appointed Mrs. Carmichael as guide. Without any hesitation she at once made for the disused wing, and, leading the party through the rooms and down the passages she had seen in her dream, eventually brought them to the well in the courtyard. The well was then dug, and at the bottom lay a number of valuable diamond and pearl necklaces, rings and ear-rings! No body, however, was found, but when Mrs. Carmichael slept in the house again she dreamed no more of the Hindoo lady.

I unhesitatingly vouch for the truth of this story. The question now arises--to what cause could the vision be attributed? Was it due to a telepathic communication from some living brain acquainted with the story, or did Mrs. Carmichael's superphysical body leave her material body and visit the scene she witnessed, or was it all suggested to her by some objective superphysical presence, presumably that of an impersonating and benevolently disposed Elemental? I am inclined to think the last theory the most feasible.

An account of another interesting dream has been sent me by Miss Featherstone, several of whose other psychic experiences I have already related. "In a dream," she says, "which occurred twenty-three years ago, I thought I was very much upset and worried, and was running up and down passages which I had never seen before, looking for something (I am not sure that I knew in my dream what I was looking for), and being unable to find it, I exclaimed, 'Oh! I do wish Arthur was here!' I woke up saying this. Some months afterwards I was staying with a cousin in Worcestershire, when she had an epileptic fit. All the servants were out excepting two young girls. The doctor came and ordered brandy, and I could not find the key of the cellar anywhere. I had never explored the downstairs of my cousin's house before, and as I raced down a long succession of passages in my search for the cellar key, I instantly recognised and identified the passages with those I had seen in my dream. Moreover, to make the resemblance still more striking, my cousin Arthur, who alone knew where the key was kept, was away, and I kept saying to myself, 'I would give anything if only Arthur were here!' Later in the day he returned with the key in his pocket."

In this instance I think the superphysical body of Miss Featherstone, under the guidance of an Elemental, separated itself from her material body whilst the latter was asleep, and visited the actual spot where the incident of the key took place. As to why the Elemental should then have initiated Miss Featherstone into the trivial details only of an incident of the future, it is impossible to explain. One can only surmise that the act was an inconsequent one on the part of the Elemental, or that it would have revealed more to her had not some unexpected interruption recalled Miss Featherstone's superphysical self.