the German writer and teacher, is a peculiarly honorable and
unimpeachable witness. What he affirms, as of his own knowledge, we have
no right to disbelieve. Many of us have read the marvelous account given
by him of his sudden discovery, that he possessed the power in regard to a
few people--by no means in regard to all--of knowing, when he came near to
them, not only their present thoughts, but much of what was in their
memories. The details will be found in his Autobiography, which, being
translated, has become a common book among us. When, for the first time,
while conversing with some person, he acquired a sense of power over the
secrets of that person's past life, he gave, of course, little heed to his
sensation. Afterward, as from time to time the sense recurred, he tested
the accuracy of his impressions, and was alarmed to find that, at certain
times, and in regard to certain persons, the mysterious knowledge was
undoubtedly acquired. Once when a young man at the table with him was
dismissing very flippantly all manner of unexplained phenomena as the
gross food of ignorance and credulity, Zschokke requested to know what he
would say if he, a stranger, by aid of an unexplained power, should be
able to tell him secrets out of his past life. Zschokke was defied to do
that; but he did it. Among other things he described a certain upper room,
in which there was a certain strong box, and from which certain moneys,
the property of his master, had been abstracted by that young man; who,
overwhelmed with astonishment, confessed the theft.

Many glimmerings of intuition, which at certain times occur in the
experience of all of us, and seem to be something more than shrewd or
lucky guesses, may be referred to the same power which we find, in the
case just quoted, more perfectly developed. Nothing supernatural, but a
natural gift, imperceptible to us in its familiar, moderate, and healthy
exercise, brought first under our notice when some deranged adjustment of
the mind has suffered it to grow into excess--to be, if we may call it so,
a mental tumor.

We may now come to a new class of mysteries--which are receiving, for the
first time in our own day, a rational solution.

The blind poet, Pfeffel, had engaged, as amanuensis, a young Protestant
clergyman, named Billing. When the blind poet walked abroad, Billing also
acted as his guide. One day, as they were walking in the garden, which was
situated at a distance from the t