The annals of Swedish history (Arndt, _Schwed. Gesch._ p. 317) record a remarkable case of this kind. The scene was the old castle of Gripsholm, near Stockholm, a place full of terrible reminiscences, and more than once made famous by strange mysteries. A great state dinner given to a prince of Baden, had just ended, when one of the guests, Count Frölich, suddenly gazed fixedly at the great door of the dining-hall, and when he regained his composure, declared he had just seen their princely guest walk in, wearing a different uniform from that in which he was actually dressed, as he sat in the place of honor. It was, however, a custom of the prince's to wear one costume one day and another the next day, and thus to change regularly; Count Frölich had seen him in that which he would accordingly wear the next day. The impression was beginning to wear away, and the accident was nearly forgotten, when suddenly a great disturbance was heard without, servants came running in, women were heard crying, and even the officers on guard were seriously disturbed. The report was that "King Eric's ghost" had been seen. On the following day the Prince of Baden was thrown from his carriage and instantly killed; his body was brought back to Gripsholm. Here also we meet again with the exceptional powers granted to Goethe. He had just parted with one of his many loves, the fair daughter of the minister of Drusenheim, Friederike, and was riding in deep thought upon the footpath, when he suddenly saw, "not with the eyes of the body, but of the spirit," his own self in a new light gray coat, laced with gold, riding towards him. When he made an effort to shake off the impression, the vision disappeared. "It is strange, however," he tells us himself, "that I found myself eight years later riding on that same road, in order to see Friederike once more, and was then dressed, by accident and not from choice, in the costume of which I had dreamt" (_Aus Meinem Leben_, iii. p. 84). A kindred spirit, Sir Humphry Davy, had once a vision, which strangely enough was fulfilled more than once. In his attractive work ("Consolations in Travel," p. 63), he relates how he saw, when suffering of jail fever, the image of a beautiful woman, with whom he soon entered into a most interesting conversation. He was at the time warmly attached to a lady, but the vision represented a girl with brown hair, blue eyes and blooming complexion, while his lady-love was pale and had dark eyes and dark hair. His mysterious visitor came frequently, as long as he was really sick, but as his strength returned, her visits became rarer, and at last ceased altogether. He forgot it entirely; but ten years later he suddenly met in Illyria, a girl of about fourteen or fifteen years, who strikingly resembled the image he had seen, and now recalled in all its details. Another ten years passed, and the great chemist met once more in traveling, a person who as