wrapped them up in paper, and placed them with a parcel of other notes, he had forgotten to enter them regularly in the books. No trace could be discovered; at last the magnetized subject was consulted, and after some little time declared that the notes were lying in a certain room, inserted in a certain panel, which she described so accurately that upon search being instituted the missing notes were found, and the clerk's character was cleared. Dr. Barth magnetized, in 1846, a lady who was filled with anxiety about her husband in America, from whom she had not heard for a long time. After having been put into magnetic sleep several times, she once exclaimed: "God be thanked, my poor husband is better. I am looking over his shoulder and see him write a letter addressed to me, which will be here in six or seven weeks. He tells me that he has been ill for three months." Two months afterwards she actually received such a letter, in which her husband informed her of his three months' illness, and regretted the pain he had probably caused her by his protracted silence. A young lady, magnetized by Robert Napier in his house in Edinburgh, not only described her parents' house as it appeared at the moment, but also the home of a Miss B., in New South Wales, where she had never been. In the garden of the house she saw a gentleman accompanied by a lady in black, and a dog of light color with dark spots; upon inquiry it appeared that Colonel B., the father of the young lady, had at that time actually been in the garden with his wife and his dog, although some of the minor details proved to have been incorrect. She also gave a minute and accurate account of the upper stories of Napier's house, where she had never been; but recognizing everything only gradually, and correcting the mistakes which she had at first committed. Thus she spoke of Napier's old aunt as dressed in dark colors; after a while she exclaimed: "Oh, now I see she is dressed in white!" It appeared afterward that the old lady had been sitting in a deep arm-chair, overshadowed by the back of the chair, the gas-light being behind her; just at that moment, however, Napier's wife had come up, the aunt had leaned forward to speak to her, and thus being brought into the light, had revealed her white night-dress. This case is peculiarly interesting as proving that the perceptions of somnambulists are dependent upon conditions similar to those which govern the ordinary senses. (Colquhoun, p. 626.)