d given the
conditions of a certain _rapport_ between two minds, and the result is
the same as that discerned and verified by Marconi, in setting up two
instruments that are attuned to each other.

In the end telepathy will take entire precedence of all other forms of
communication. It will supersede the telegraph, the telephone, the
cable, and wireless telegraphy. It will serve every demand, public and
private. Distance will interpose no obstacle or difficulty, for thought
overcomes space and time.

We are spiritual beings here and now. We are living in a spiritual
universe. We are entering in more and more to the grasp and knowledge of
spiritual appliances, and we can only say, reverently, that "it doth not
yet appear what we shall be."

Is thought, itself, photographed on the ether? Does the vibration of the
spoken word linger in the place where it is uttered? The question cannot
but recur to one after recognizing phenomena that, apparently, point to
this solution,--when, for instance, a caller comes, and, taking the
chair of a preceding guest, repeats, substantially, the same words that
the other had spoken regarding some subject or event. This is something
that frequently occurs. Just what is the explanation? Do thoughts
register themselves magnetically on the air, and is this magnetic
writing perceived, unconsciously, by one sensitive to it? The question
is certainly one of curious interest.

Again, are the daily occurrences of life pre-destined? How far do we
make our own life? How far is it made for us? An individual was led in
dreams one night through rooms that seemed to have granite walls, to be
very bare, cold, and vast. The next evening he was leaving on a journey,
and did start; but after he had taken his seat in the palace car, the
discovery of a mistake caused him hastily to leave the train before it
started, and return. In consequence of the mistake discovered he was
obliged to seek a certain official in a great granite building, whose
interior had, heretofore, been entirely unknown to him. Entering it,
his way led through the same cold, vast, bare rooms that the preceding
night in dreams he had traversed. Now the mistake that delayed his
journey and brought about these results was not even his own mistake,
but one made by another person. Was all this series of events--trifles
of no importance in themselves, but very curious in their
combination--foreordained? and if not, how was it that they were p