the priest is still
watched by the high priest from the tabernacle itself, and only on great
and solemn occasions does he make himself manifest by action. When he
does, the other three yield to his authority, and then we say the man
'speaks with his whole soul' and 'from the bottom of his heart.' But
even now the Shekinah is upon the mercy-seat within the Holy of holies,
and the high priest knows it."

The latest word[4] of the French psychologists is thus stated by M.
Foueillee:--

"Contemporary psychology deprives us of the illusion of a definitely
limited, impenetrable, and absolutely autonomous I. The conception of
individual consciousness must be of an idea rather than of a substance.
Though separate _in_ the universe, we are not separate _from_
the universe. Continuity and reciprocity of action exist everywhere.
This is the great law and the great mystery. There is no such thing as
an isolated and veritably monad being, any more than there is such a
thing as an indivisible point, except in the abstractions of geometry."

[4] 1891.

Whatever may be the true theory, it is evident that there is enough
mystery about personality to make us very diffident about dogmatising,
especially as to what is possible and what is not.

Whether we have one mind or two, let us, at least, keep it (or them)
open.

PART II.

THE THOUGHT BODY, OR THE DOUBLE.

"And as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came to hearken,
named Rhoda. And when she knew Peter's voice, she ran in and told how
Peter stood before the gate. And they said unto her, Thou art mad. But
she constantly affirmed that it was even so. Then said they, It is his
angel (or double)."--Acts xil. 13-15.

Chapter I.

Aerial Journeyings.

I began to write this in the autumn of 1891 in a small country-house
among the Surrey hills, whither I had retreated in order to find
undisturbed leisure in which to arrange my ideas and array my facts. It
was a pleasant place enough, perched on the brow of a heath-covered
slope that dipped down to a ravine, at the head of which stands
Professor Tyndall's house with its famous screen. Hardly a mile away
northward lies the Devil's Punch Bowl, with its memorial stone erected
in abhorrence of the detestable murder perpetrated on its rim by
ruffians whose corpses slowly rotted as they swung on the gibbet
overhead; far to the south spreads the glorious amphitheatre of hills
which constitute the High