“I woke with a start, feeling I had a hard blow on my mouth, and a distinct sense that I had been cut under my upper lip, and held my handkerchief to the part as I sat up in bed, and after a few seconds, when I removed it, I was astonished not to see any blood, and only then realized that it was impossible that anything could have struck me, and so I thought it was only a dream. I looked at my watch and saw it was seven, and finding Arthur (my husband) was not in the room, I concluded he had gone out on the lake for a sail as it was fine. “At breakfast (half-past nine) Arthur came in rather late, and I noticed he rather purposely sat farther away from me than usual, and put his handkerchief to his lip in the way I had done. I said: ‘Arthur, why are you doing that? I know you have hurt yourself; but I’ll tell you why afterwards.’ He said: ‘Well, when I was sailing, a sudden squall came, throwing the tiller suddenly around, and it struck me a hard blow in the mouth under the upper lip and it has been bleeding a good deal and won’t stop.’ I then asked: ‘At what time did it happen?’ He answered: ‘It must have been about seven o’clock.’ I then told what had happened to me, much to his surprise and all who were at the table.” Rev. J. M. Wilson, head master of Clifton College (in _J. S. P. R._, March, 1884), presents a fact which, while admitting of telegraphic explanation, may be referred to a higher source: “I was at Cambridge at the end of my second term in full health, boating, football playing, and the like, and by no means subject to hallucinations or morbid fancies. One evening I felt very ill, trembling with no apparent cause; nor did it seem to me at the time to be a physical illness, or chill of any kind. I was frightened; I was totally unable to overcome it. I remember a struggle with myself, resolving that I would go on with my mathematics, but it was in vain. I became convinced that I was dying. I went down to the room of a friend, who was on the same staircase. He exclaimed at me before I spoke. He pulled out a whisky bottle and backgammon board, but I could not face it. We sat over the fire, and he brought some one else to look at me. Toward eleven, after some three hours, I got better, went to bed and after a time to sleep, and next morning was quite well. In the afternoon came a letter stating that my twin brother had died the evening before in Lincolnshire.” Rev. Canon Warburton, Winchester, England (_J. S. P. R._, May 1884), relates the following, which is of interest as an example of transference of thought and of sensation: