But in the next example, if we surmise that a sort of waking nightmare of one of the

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


But in the next example, if we surmise that a sort of waking nightmare of one of the three sisters affected the other two, we cannot at all assign their respective shares in the occurrence. The writer of the narrative is well known as an authoress and practical philanthropist.

"1884.

"It was on a Saturday night, the end of October, or early in November, 1848, that I was staying at St. M's Vicarage, Leicester. My two sisters were at home, at H., about 14 or 15 miles from Leicester. The room in which I slept was large and low, opening into a broad, low corridor; the nursery was on the same floor; the rest of the family slept on the one below. I had been asleep for some time, and was not consciously dreaming at all. I was awoke instantaneously, not by any sound, but intensely awake, starting up in a panic — not of fear, but of horror, knowing that something horrible was close by. The room was still dimly lighted by the dying-out fire. I suppose it was seeing the room empty made me at once know that whatever it was, it was still outside the door, for I rushed at once to lock it. The impression I had was so vivid that I can only describe it by speaking of 'It' as objective. 'It' was living, not human, not physically dangerous; I think it was malevolent, but the overpowering consciousness I had was horrible; I did not represent it to myself in any shape even, except as an indefinite blackness, like a cloudy pillar, I suppose. The presence seemed to stay outside the door five minutes (but probably it was a much shorter time), and then it simply was not there. Whilst it was there I knew that it was nearly 2 o'clock, and the church bells chimed 2, about ten minutes, as I suppose, after it ceased. Whilst it was there I was very angry with myself for being so absurd; and I remember wondering whether a young German, who was living there as a pupil, a protege of Chauncey Townsend's, could be mesmerising me. He had been telling us about mesmerism and clairvoyance the day before, but I had not the slightest faith in either, at any rate not in C. H. T.'s accuracy of observation.

"I went home on the following Tuesday, and that night, in talking over my visit with my two sisters, I told them what a strange delusion I had had.

"They were both astonished, and related a similar experience each had had on the same Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, for both agreed their impression at the time had been it was about or near 2. They were sleeping in separate rooms, but next each other.

"R. was awoke in the same sudden manner, with the consciousness that something dreadful or harmful was near, not in her room, but a little way off. Her impression was the same in character, but less vivid than mine.

"E. was awoke suddenly, as I had been, with a sense of intense horror. Some presence, fearful, evil and powerful, was standing close by her side; she was unable to move or cry out; it seemed to her also to be a spiritual presence. Her room was quite dark, so she could see nothing. Her impression was at the time so much more overpowering, and it was so much closer to her, that it seemed to me, on talking it over, to have been the cause of ours. Not one of us for a moment connected it with a ghost. That notion never occurred to us.

"R. and E. had told each other before my return, I believe on the next day. Afterwards we told the strange coincidence to my father and mother. She thought she had also been awoke by a cry, if I remember right, that night; but her recollection was too vague to be relied upon.

"Nothing ever came of it, except that the known date of the commencement of E.'s fatal illness was the Saturday following. But neither she, so far as I know, nor we ever thought of it in this connection. She was very much interested in it afterwards, but not in the slightest degree uneasy or alarmed at it, only eager to find out how the coincidence could be accounted for. I was 28 at the time; E. was just 25."

"January 17th, 1884.

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


"January 17th, 1884.

"My brother and I were travelling together from Cologne to Flushing. We were alone in the carriage when suddenly my brother, who had been half asleep, said to me that he had an odd idea that some one else was in the carriage sitting opposite to me. The very same idea had struck me just before he spoke.

"Though my feet were on the opposite seat, I was certain that some one was there, thoush I was wide awake and never saw the slightest appearance of anything. The impression only lasted for a moment, but it was strange that our thoughts should have been simultaneous.' This happened three years ago."

The first account was given to us by Miss Charlotte E. Squire, then residing at

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


The first account was given to us by Miss Charlotte E. Squire, then residing at Feltham Hill, Middlesex (now Mrs. Fuller Maitland).

"October 6th, 1852.

"There is a curious story that M. Woodley de Cerjat wanted you to know. I believe he wrote it to Dickens to tell you again. However, I may as well repeat it.

"A young lady, a friend of M. Cerjat's, who had been with her family at Lausanne, was taken ill at Berne with typhus fever. Her doctor found her one day in a lucid interval (she was generally delirious), but no sooner had he touched her hand than she seemed to pass into an extraordinary state, and cried out, 'Oh that poor child! that poor little boy! why did you cut his head open? How is he now? 'The doctor, astonished, replied, 'I left him well; I hope he will recover,' and tried to calm the patient. But when he got out of the room, he said, 'That was the most extraordinary thing I ever knew in my life. I am come from trepanning a boy whose head had been injured, but there was no human means by which Miss could have known it, as I am only this moment come direct from the boy here, and no one knew of the accident, nor had Miss 's nurse ever left the room.' The explanation seems to be that the touch of the doctor's hand threw the young lady into clairvoyance. She is since dead, and M. de Cerjat attended her funeral."

Miss Caroline B. Morse, of Northfield, Vermont.

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


Miss Caroline B. Morse, of Northfield, Vermont.

"April, 1884.

"I early became conscious of a peculiar sensitiveness to the undertones — the unuttered thoughts — of others. Later, this tendency developed into an occasional lightning-like reading of facts that apparently came to me through none of the ordinary sensory channels, and which always, whatever their nature, gave me a shock of surprise. As an instance: About 13 years ago I went with an uncle to a jeweller's shop to see a wonderful clock. I had never met the proprietor of the shop; he was known to my uncle, who introduced him as he came forward and stood with us before the clock. At that instant came a sensation as if every nerve in my body had been struck. The affable jeweller had extended his hand, but with a shudder, that only habitual self-control repressed, I said within myself: 'I cannot touch your hand - there is blood upon it — you are a murderer.' Outwardly, I merely bowed and looked at the clock, as if nothing could interest me so much, thus ignoring the proffered hand. Several weeks after, I learned that the jeweller and a companion, when young men, had been accused of and tried for the murder of a pedlar. They escaped conviction through the garbled testimony of the chief witness, who at the preliminary hearing had made a clear statement strongly against them."

"Caroline B. Morse."

In the next case (which might fairly have been included under the head of

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


In the next case (which might fairly have been included under the head of experiments) we break away altogether from the auditory symbols of thought, and have a transference of an idea pure and simple. For even if the agent was formulating his thought to himself, he would naturally do so in English, while the percipient described his impression in Italian. The account is from Mr. Robert Browning, and was first cited by Mr. James Knowles, in a letter to the Spectator of January 30th, 1869.

"Mr. Robert Browning tells me that when he was in Florence some years since, an Italian nobleman (a Count Giunasi, of Ravenna), visiting at Florence, was brought to his house without previous introduction, by an intimate friend. The Count professed to have great mesmeric or clairvoyant faculties, and declared, in reply to Mr. Browning's avowed scepticism, that he would undertake to convince him, somehow or other, of his powers. He then asked Mr. Browning whether he had anything about him then and there, which he could hand to him, and which was in any way a relic or memento. This, Mr. Browning thought, was, perhaps, because he habitually wore no sort of trinket or ornament, not even a watch-guard, and might, therefore, turn out to be a safe challenge. But it so happened, that by a curious accident, he was then wearing under his coat-sleeves some gold wrist-studs to his shirt, which he had quite recently taken into wear, in the absence (by mistake of a sempstress) of his ordinary wrist-buttons. He had never before worn them in Florence or elsewhere, and had found them in some old drawer, where they had lain forgotten for years. One of these studs he took out and handed to the Count, who held it in his hand awhile, looking earnestly in Mr. Browning's face, and then he said, as if much impressed, 'C'e qualche cosa die mi grida nell' orecchio, " Uccisione, uccisione ! " '[There is something here which cries out in my ear, 'Murder, murder!'"

"'And truly,' says Mr. Browning, 'those very studs were taken from the dead body of a great-uncle of mine, who was violently killed on his estate in St. Kitts, nearly 80 years ago. These, with a gold watch and other personal objects of value, were produced in a court of justice, as proof that robbery had not been the purpose of the slaughter, which was effected by his own slaves. They were then transmitted to my grandfather, who had his initials engraved on them, and wore them all his life. They were taken out of the night-gown in which he died, and given to me, not my father. I may add that I tried to get Count Giunasi to use his clairvoyance on this termination of ownership, also; and that he nearly hit upon something like the fact, mentioning a bed in a room, but he failed in attempting to describe the room — situation of the bed with respect to windows and door. The occurrence of my greatuncle's murder was known only to myself, of all men in Florence, as certainly was also my possession of the studs.'"

"Ferndene, Abbeydale, near Sheffield.

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."

"Ferndene, Abbeydale, near Sheffield.

"June 22nd.

"I had one day been spending the morning in shopping, and returned by train just in time to sit down with my children to our early family dinner. My youngest child — a sensitive, quick-witted little maiden of two years and six weeks old — was one of the circle. Dinner had just commenced, when I suddenly recollected an incident in my morning's experience which I had intended to tell her; and I looked at the child with the full intention of saying, 'Mother saw a big, black dog in a shop, with curly hair,' catching her eyes in mine, as I paused an instant before speaking. Just then something called off my attention, and the sentence was not uttered. What was my amazement, about two minutes afterwards, to hear my little lady announce, 'Mother saw a big dog in a shop.' I gasped. 'Yes, I did !' I answered; ' but how did you know?' 'With funny hair,' she added, quite calndy, and ignoring my question. 'What colour was it, Evelyn?' said one of her elder brothers; 'was it black? 'She said, 'Yes.'

"Now, it was simply impossible that she could have received any hint of the incident verbally. I had had no friend with me when I had seen the dog. All the children had been at home, in our house in the country, four miles from the town; I had returned, as I said, just in time for the children's dinner, and I had not even remembered the circumstance until the moment when I fixed my eyes upon my little daughter's. We have had in our family circle numerous examples of spiritual or mental insight or foresight; but this, I think, is decidedly the most remarkable that has ever come under my notice."

"Caroline Barber."

The next case, if correctly reported, is of a transitional sort; for though it was a

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."

The next case, if correctly reported, is of a transitional sort; for though it was a distinct idea, and not a mere sound-image, that seems to have been transferred, the transference was probably connected with the fact that the words were actually on the tip of the agent's tongue. This fact, of course, suggests again the chance of unconscious suggestion by actual sound or movement of the lips;

"November 19th, 1884.

"A somewhat curious little incident occurred this morning, which, though not of any value, might be of interest to you.

"Last evening a friend of mine, Mr. F. P., and I, unable to fix upon a suitable name for a new invention of ours, agreed to think it over and communicate the names selected this morning. The only names I could think of at all suitable were three, 'Matchless,' 'Marvel,' and 'Express.'

"We met in the train, and I said to P., 'Have you thought of any name?' he replied ' Yes,' and leant across to mention it, but suddenly stopped short, and said, 'Tell me yours.' I at once commenced, as I thought, to give the three I had selected in the order named; but quite as much to my surprise as that of Mr. P., the first name I mentioned was the word 'Superb, 'a name that had never entered my mind, but strangely enough the actual name that P. had settled on and was about to mention.

"As there was not any reflection whatever, nor time for it, between P.'s question and my rejoinder, it struck me as rather curious. "J. S. Dismork."

We have other cases in which the transferred impression was not of a tune, but of a

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


We have other cases in which the transferred impression was not of a tune, but of a word or phrase, while still apparently of an auditory sort, conveying the sound of the word rather than its meaning. When the two persons concerned have been in close proximity, it is, of course, difficult to make sure that some incipient sound or movement of the lips, on the part of the supposed agent, did not supply an unconscious suggestion. But the following case cannot be so explained. We received it from Mr. J. G. Keulemans, who was mentioned above (p. 196) as having had a number of similar experiences.

"November, 1882,

"In the summer of the year 1875, about eight in the evening, I was returning to my home in the Holloway Road, on a tramcar, when it flashed into my mind that my assistant, Herr Schell, a Dutchman, who knew but little English (who was coming to see me that evening), would ask me what the English phrase, 'to wit,' meant in Dutch. So vivid was the impression that I mentioned it to my wife on arriving at my house, and I went so far as to scribble it down on the edge of a newspaper which I was reading. Ten minutes afterwards Schell arrived, and almost his first words were the inquiry, 'Wat is liet Hollandsch voor "to wit"? (The words scribbled on the newspaper were not in his sight, and he was a good many yards from it.) I instantly showed him the paper, with the memorandum on it, saying, 'You see I was ready for you.' He told me that he had resolved to ask me just before leaving his house in Kentish Town, as he was intending that evening to do a translation of an English passage in which the words occurred. He was in the habit of making such translations in order to improve his knowledge of English. The time of his resolution corresponded (as far as we could reckon) with that of my impression."

We received the account from Sir Lepel Griffin, K.C.S.I.

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter VI "Transference of Ideas and Mental Pictures."


We received the account from Sir Lepel Griffin, K.C.S.I.

"53a, Pall Mall.

"February 14th, 1884.

"Colonel Lyttleton Annesley, Commanding Officer of the 11th Hussars, was staying in my house some time ago, and one afternoon, having nothing to do, we wandered into a large unoccupied room, given up to lumber and packing cases. Colonel A. was at one end of this long room reading, to the best of my recollection, while I opened a box, long forgotten, to see what it contained. I took out a number of papers and old music, which I was turning over in my hand, when I came across a song in which I, years before, had been accustomed to take a part, 'Dal tuo stellato soglio,' out of 'Mose in Egitto,' if I remember right. As I looked at this old song. Colonel A., who had been paying no attention whatever to my proceedings, began to hum, 'Dal tuo stellato soglio.' In much astonishment I asked him why he was singing that particular air. He did not know. He did not remember to have sung it before; indeed I have not ever heard Colonel A. sing, though he is exceedingly fond of music. I told him that I was holding the very song in my hand. He was as much astonished as I had been, and had no knowledge that I had any music in my hand at all. I had not spoken to him, nor had I hummed the air, or given him any sign that I was looking over music. The incident is curious, for it is outside all explanation on the theory of coincidence."

Finally, the class of collective percipience (G) may be illustrated by an instance

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter V "Specimens of the Various Types of Spontaneous Telepathy."

Finally, the class of collective percipience (G) may be illustrated by an instance which (since visual cases have preponderated in this chapter) I will again select from the auditory group. It was received in the summer of 1885, from Mr. John Done, of Stockley Cottage, Stretton, Warrington.

"My sister-in-law, Sarah Eustance, of Stretton, was lying sick unto death, and my wife was gone over to there from Lowton Chapel (12 or 13 miles off), to see her and tend her in her last moments. And on the night before her death (some 12 or 14 hours before) I was sleeping at home alone, and awaking, heard a voice distinctly call me. Thinking it was my niece, Rosanna, the only other occupant of the house, who might be sick or in trouble, I went to her room and found her awake and nervous. I asked her whether she had called me. She answered, 'No; but something awoke me, when I heard someone calling!'

"On my wife returning home after her sister's death, she told me how anxious her sister had been to see me, 'craving for me to be sent for,' and saying, 'Oh, how I want to see Done once more!' and soon after became speechless. But the curious part was that about the same time she was 'craving,' I and my niece heard the call. "John Done."

In a subsequent letter Mr. Done writes : —

"In answer to your queries respecting the voice or call that I heard on the night of July 2nd, 1866, I must explain that there was a strong sympathy and affection between myself and my sister-in-law, of pure brotherly and sisterly love; and that she was in the habit of calling me by the title of 'Uncle Done,' in the manner of a husband calling his wife 'mother' when there are children, as in this case. Hence the call being 'Uncle, uncle, uncle!' leading me to think that it was my niece (the only other occupant of the house that Sunday night) calling to me.

"Copy of funeral card: 'In remembrance of the late Sarah Eustance, who died July 3rd, 1866, aged 45 years, and was this day interred at Stretton Church, July 6th, 1866.'

"My wife, who went from Lowton that particular Sunday to see her sister, will testify that as she attended upon her (after the departure of the minister), during the night she was wishing and craving to see me, repeatedly saying, 'Oh, I wish I could see Uncle Done and Rosie once more before I go!' and soon after then she became unconscious, or at least ceased speaking, and died the next day; of which fact I was not aware until my wife returned on the evening of the 4th of July.

"I hope my niece will answer for me; however, I may state that she reminds me that she thought I was calling her and was coming to me, when she met me in the passage or landing, and I asked her if she called me.

"I do not remember ever hearing a voice or call besides the above case."

The narrator is again the Rev. P. H. Newnham, of whose telepathic rapport with his

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter V "Specimens of the Various Types of Spontaneous Telepathy."

The narrator is again the Rev. P. H. Newnham, of whose telepathic rapport with his wife we have had such striking experimental proof, and who describes himself as "an utter sceptic, in the true sense of the word."

"In March, 1854, I was up at Oxford, keeping my last term, in lodgings. I was subject to violent neuralgic headaches, which always culminated in sleep. One evening, about 8 p.m., I had an unusually violent one; when it became unendurable, about 9 p.m., I went into my bedroom, and flung myself, without undressing, on the bed, and soon fell asleep.

"I then had a singularly clear and vivid dream, all the incidents of which are still as clear to my memory as ever. I dreamed that I was stopping with the family of the lady who subsequently became my wife. All the younger ones had gone to bed, and I stopped chatting to the father and mother, standing up by the fireplace. Presently I bade them goodnight, took my candle, and went off to bed. On arriving in the hall, I perceived that my fiancee had been detained downstairs, and was only then near the top of the staircase. I rushed upstairs, overtook her on the top step, and passed my two arms round her waist, under her arms, from behind. Although I was carrying my candle in my left hand, when I ran upstairs, this did not, in my dream, interfere with this gesture.

"On this I woke, and a clock in the house struck 10 almost immediately afterwards.

"So strong was the impression of the dream that I wrote a detailed account of it next morning to my fiancee.

"Crossing my letter, not in answer to it, I received a letter from the lady in question: 'Were you thinking about me, very specially, last night, just about 10 o'clock? For, as I was going upstairs to bed, I distinctly heard your footsteps on the stairs, and felt you put your arms round my waist.'

"The letters in question are now destroyed, but we verified the statement made therein some years later, when we read over our old letters, previous to their destruction, and we found that our personal recollections had not varied in the least degree therefrom. The above narratives may, therefore, be accepted as absolutely accurate.

The account is from a gentleman of good position, whom I must term Mr. A. Z.

From Phantasms of the Living by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, Chapter V "Specimens of the Various Types of Spontaneous Telepathy."

The account is from a gentleman of good position, whom I must term Mr. A. Z. He is as far removed as possible from superstition, and takes no general interest in the subject. He has given us the full names of all the persons concerned, but is unwilling that they should be published, on account of the painful character of the event recorded.

"May, 1885.

"In 1876, I was living in a small agricultural parish in the East of England, one of my neighbours at the time being a young man, S. B.,^ who had recently come into the occupation of a large farm in the place. Pending the alteration of his house, he lodged and boarded with his groom at the other end of the village, furthest removed from my own residence, which was half a mile distant and separated by many houses, gardens, a plantation, and farm buildings. He was fond of field sports, and spent much of his spare time during the season in hunting. He was not a personal friend of mine, only an acquaintance, and I felt no interest in him except as a tenant on the estate. I have asked him occasionally to my house, as a matter of civility, but to the best of my recollection was never inside his lodgings.

"One afternoon in March, 1876, when leaving, along with my wife, our railway station to walk home, I was accosted by S. B.; he accompanied us as far as my front gate, where he kept us in conversation for some time, but on no special subject. I may now state that the distance from this gate, going along the carriage drive, to the dining and breakfast room windows is about 60 yards; both the windows of these rooms face the north-east and are parallel with the carriage drive.' On S. B. taking leave of us my wife remarked, 'Young B. evidently wished to be asked in, but I thought you would not care to be troubled with him.' Subsequently — about half-an-hour later — I again met him, and, as I was then on my way to look at some work at a distant part of the estate, asked him to walk with me, which he did. His conversation was of the ordinary character; if anything, he seemed somewhat depressed at the bad times and the low prices of farming produce. I remember he asked me to give him some wire rope to make a fence on his farm, which I consented to do. Returning from our walk, and on entering the village, I pulled up at the cross- roads to say good evening, the road to his lodgings taking him at right angles to mine. I was surprised to hear him say, 'Come and smoke a cigar with me to-night.' To which I replied, 'I cannot very well, I am engaged this evening.' 'Do come,' he said. 'No,' I replied, 'I will look in another evening.' And with this we parted. We had separated about 40 yards when he turned around and exclaimed, 'Then if you will not come, good-bye.' This was the last time I saw him alive.

"I spent the evening in my dining-room in writing, and for some hours I may say that probably no thought of young B. passed through my mind. The night was bright and clear, full or nearly full moon, still, and without wind. Since I had come in slight snow had fallen, just sufficient to make the ground show white.

"At about 5 minutes to 10 o'clock I got up and left the room, taking up a lamp from the hall table, and replacing it on a small table standing in a recess of the window in the breakfast-room. The curtains were not drawn across the window. I had just taken down from the nearest book- case a volume of 'Macgillivray's British Birds' for reference, and was in the act of reading the passage, the book held close to the lamp, and my shoulder touching the window shutter, and in a position in which almost the slightest outside sound would be heard, when I distinctly heard the front gate opened and shut again with a clap, and footsteps advancing at a run up the drive; when opposite the window the steps changed from sharp and distinct on gravel to dull and less clear on the grass slip below the window, and at the same time I was conscious that someone or some- thing stood close to me outside, only the thin shutter and a sheet of glass dividing us. I could hear the quick panting laboured breathing of the messenger, or whatever it was, as if trying to recover breath before speaking. Had he been attracted by the light through the shutter. Suddenly, like a gunshot, inside, outside, and all around, there broke out the most appalling shriek — a prolonged wail of horror, which seemed to freeze the blood, it was not a single shriek, but more prolonged, com- mencing in a high key, and then less and less, wailing away towards the north, and becoming weaker and weaker as it receded in sobbing pulsations of intense agony. Of my fright and horror I can say nothing — increased tenfold when I walked into the dining-room and found my wife sitting quietly at her work close to the window, in the same line and distant only 10 or 12 feet from the corresponding window in the breakfast-room. She had heard nothing. I could see that at once; and from the position in which she was sitting, I knew she could not have failed to hear any noise outside and any footstep on the gravel. Perceiving I was alarmed about some- thing, she asked, 'What is the matter?' 'Only someone outside,' I said. Then why do you not go out and see? You always do when you hear any unusual noise.' I said, 'There is something so queer and dreadful about the noise. I dare not face it. It must have been the Banshee shrieking.'

"Young S. B., on leaving me, went home to his lodgings. He spent most of the evening on the sofa, reading one of Whyte Melville's novels. He saw his groom at 9 o'clock and gave him orders for the following day. The groom and his wife, who were the only people in the house besides S. B., then went to bed.

"At the inquest the groom stated that when about falling asleep, he was suddenly aroused by a shriek, and on running into his master's room found him expiring on the floor. It appeared that young B. had undressed upstairs, and then came down to his sitting-room in trousers and night- shirt, had poured out half-a-glass of water, into which he emptied a small bottle of prussic acid (procured that morning under the plea of poisoning a dog, which he did not possess). He walked upstairs, and on entering his room drank off the glass, and with a scream fell dead on the floor. All this happened, as near as I can ascertain, at the exact time when I had been so much alarmed at my own house. It is utterly impossible that any sound short of a cannon shot could have reached me from B.'s lodgings.

"Having to leave home by the early train, I was out very soon on the following morning, and on going to examine the ground beneath the window found no footsteps on grass or drive, still covered with the slight sprinkling of snow which had fallen on the previous evening.

"The whole thing had been a dream of the moment — an imagination, call it what you will; I simply state these facts as they occurred, without attempting any explanation, which, indeed, I am totally unable to give. The entire incident is a mystery, and will ever remain a mystery to me. I did not hear the particulars of the tragedy till the following afternoon, having left home by an early train. The motive of suicide was said to be a love affair."