We may now turn our attention to another class of phenomena of great interest, and that is the visions persons in the ordinary state have of friends who are on the point of death. It would seem that by an extraordinary effort the mind of a person in the waking state might be impressed through a great distance. At the moment of death an almost superhuman mental effort is more likely and possible than at any other time, and it is peculiar that these visions or phantasms are largely confined to that moment. The natural explanation that rises to the ordinary mind is, of course, “Spirits.” This supposition is strengthened by the fact that the visions sometimes appear immediately after death, as well as at the time and just before. This may be explained, however, on the theory that the ordinary mind is not easily impressed, and when unconsciously impressed some time may elapse before the impression becomes perceptible to the conscious mind, just as in passing by on a swift train, we may see something, but not realize that we have seen it till some time afterward, when we remember what we have unconsciously observed. The British Society for Psychical Research has compiled two large volumes of carefully authenticated cases, which are published under the title, “Phantasms of the Living.” We quote one or two interesting cases. A Miss L. sends the following report: January 4, 1886. “On one of the last days of July, about the year 1860, at 3 o’clock p.m., I was sitting in the drawing room at the Rectory, reading, and my thoughts entirely occupied. I suddenly looked up and saw most distinctly a tall, thin old gentleman enter the room and walk to the table. He wore a peculiar, old-fashioned cloak which I recognized as belonging to my great-uncle. I then looked at him closely and remembered his features and appearance perfectly, although I had not seen him since I was quite a child. In his hand was a roll of paper, and he appeared to be very agitated. I was not in the least alarmed, as I firmly believed he was my uncle, not knowing then of his illness. I asked him if he wanted my father, who, as I said, was not at home. He then appeared still more agitated and distressed, but made no remark. He then left the room, passing through the open door. I noticed that, although it was a very wet day, there was no appearance of his having walked either in mud or rain. He had no umbrella, but a thick walking stick, which I recognized at once when my father brought it home after the funeral. On questioning the servants, they declared that no one had rung the bell; neither did they see any one enter. My father had a letter by the next post, asking him to go at once to my uncle, who was very ill in Leicestershire. He started at once, but on his arrival was told that his uncle had died at exactly 3 o’clock that afternoon, and had asked for him by name several times in an anxious and troubled manner, and a roll of paper was found under his pillow.