tay with him for a day or two while I
could look round for other accommodation, though, as it turned out, I
remained at his house during the whole month I was in Edinburgh. I had,
however, never seen his house, which was on the opposite side of the
town to where I had stayed before. I arrived there on a Tuesday, and Mr.
S. and his family at once met me with the question:

"What were you thinking of at ten o'clock on Sunday evening?"

I could not immediately recall this, and also wanted to know the reason
of their question.

"We have something curious to tell you," they replied, "but first try to
remember what you were thinking of at ten o'clock on Sunday
evening--were you thinking about us?"

Then I recollected that about that time I was saying my usual prayers
before going to bed and had asked that, if I could stay only a day or
two with Mr. S., I should be directed to a suitable place for the
remainder of the time.

"That explains it," they replied; and then they went on to tell me that
at the hour in question Mr. S. and his son, a young man of about twenty,
had entered their dining-room together and seen me standing leaning
against the mantel-shelf. They were both hard-headed Scotchmen engaged
in business in Edinburgh, and certainly not the sort of people to
conjure up fanciful imaginings, nor is it likely that the same fancy
should have occurred to both of them; and therefore I can only suppose
that they actually saw what they said they did. Now I myself was in
London at the time of this appearance in Edinburgh, of which I had no
consciousness whatever; at the same time the fact of my being seen in
Edinburgh exactly at the time when my thought, in prayer, was centred
upon Mr. S.'s house (which I had not then seen) is a coincidence
suggesting that in some way my Thought had made itself visible there in
the image of my external personality.

In this case, as I have said, I was not conscious of my psychic visit to
Edinburgh, but I will now relate a converse instance, which occurred in
connection with my first visit there. At that time I had never been in
Scotland, and so far as I knew was never likely to go there. I was wide
awake, writing in my study at Norwood, where I then lived, when I
suddenly found myself in a place totally unknown to me, where stood the
ruins of an ancient abbey, part of which, however, was still roofed over
and used as a place of worship. I felt much interested, and among other
things I