in the course of our life seem
to act in the same manner upon the cells of our brain as did the
history of Stonehenge upon that particle of stone: they establish a
connection with those cells by means of which our mind is put _en
rapport_ with that particular portion of the records, and so we
"remember" what we have seen.

Even a trained clairvoyant needs some link to enable him to find the
record of an event of which he has no previous knowledge. If, for
example, he wished to observe the landing of Julius Caesar on the
shores of England, there are several ways in which he might approach
the subject. If he happened to have visited the scene of the
occurrence, the simplest way would probably be to call up the image of
that spot, and then run back through its records until he reached the
period desired. If he had not seen the place, he might run back in
time to the date of the event, and then search the Channel for a fleet
of Roman galleys; or he might examine the records of Roman life at
about that period, where he would have no difficulty in identifying so
prominent a figure as Caesar, or in tracing him when found through all
his Gallic wars until he set his foot upon British land.

People often enquire as to the aspect of these records--whether they
appear near or far away from the eye, whether the figures in them are
large or small, whether the pictures follow one another as in a
panorama or melt into one another like dissolving views, and so on.
One can only reply that their appearance varies to a certain extent
according to the conditions under which they are seen. Upon the astral
plane the reflection is most often a simple picture, though
occasionally the figures seen would be endowed with motion; in this
latter case, instead of a mere snapshot a rather longer and more
perfect reflection has taken place.

On the mental plane they have two widely different aspects. When the
visitor to that plane is not thinking specially of them in any way,
the records simply form a background to whatever is going on, just as
the reflections in a pier-glass at the end of a room might form a
background to the life of the people in it. It must always be borne in
mind that under these conditions they are really merely reflections
from the ceaseless activity of a great Consciousness upon a far higher
plane, and have very much the appearance of an endless succession of
the recently invented _cinematographe_, or living photographs. Th