An account

They are always marked by a strange sensation. There is no attempt on my part to conjure them up — on the contrary, they come quite suddenly and unexpectedly, binding my thoughts so fixedly to the subject as to render all external influences imperceptible. Whenever I took the trouble to ascertain whether my impressions corresponded to real events, I found them invariably to do so, even in the most minute details. But his cases naturally differ in their evidential force. He tells us, for instance, that on New Year's Eve, 1881, he had a vivid picture of his family circle in Holland, but missed from the group his youngest sister, a child of 14, whose absence from home on such an occasion was most improbable. He wrote at once to ask if this sister was ill ; but the answer was that, contrary to all precedent, she had been away from home. This may plainly have been an accidental coincidence. ' vi.] AND OF MENTAL PICTURES. 257 great sense of oppression, which gradually seemed to assume a distinct impression. It lasted about half an hour, that is the actual impression, but I had a great feeling of uneasiness for several days. I have never had any hallucinations or dreams of death. The following corroboration is from Miss Pritchard's sister : — February 8th, 1834. I recollect my sister telling me of her feeling of being in a sick room with people watching round a bedside. She did not mention it to me till the morning (it occurred during the night). It did not make much impression on me at the time — not till afterwards, when we heard of our sister's dangerous illness. » g jj Pritchard. The next instance is somewhat more definite. It is from Mr. John Hopkins, of 23, King Street, Carmarthen. May 2nd, 1884. (58) One evening, in the early spring of last year (1883), as I was >: retiring to bed, and whilst I was in the full enjoyment of good health and active senses — I distinctly saw my mother and my younger sister crying. I was here in Carmarthen, and they were away in Monmouthshire, 80 miles distant. They distinctly appeared to me to be giving way to grief, and I was at once positive that some domestic bereavement had taken place. I said to myself, 'I shall hear something of this in the morning.' * When the morning came, the first thing which was handed to me was a letter from my father in Monmouthshire, stating that they had, on the day of writing, had intelligence that my nephew had just died. The little boy was the son of my elder sister, living in North Devon. There was no doubt but that my mother and younger sister had both given way to grief on the day of my strange illusion, and it was in some mysterious manner communicated to my mind — together with a certain presentiment that I was on the eve of intelligence of a death in the family. I thought it most probable, though, that the imaginative faculty added — in a purely local manner — the idea of speedy intelligence to the communication which the mind received in some way from Monmouthshire. It was the only occurrence of the sort I have ever experienced.