ffice, for in neither case had
the person who saw ever been in the place of which they had a vision.
One desperate resource, the convenient theory of pre-existence, is
useless here. The fact seems to be that there is a kind of invisible
camera obscura in Nature, which at odd times gives us glimpses of things
happening or existing far beyond the range of our ordinary vision. The
other day when in Edinburgh I climbed up to the Camera Obscura that
stands near the castle, and admired the simple device by which, in a
darkened room upon a white, paper-covered table, the whole panorama of
Edinburgh life was displayed before me. There were the "recruities"
drilling on the Castle Esplanade; there were the passers-by hurrying
along High Street; there were the birds on the housetops, and the
landscape of chimneys and steeples, all revealed as if in the crystal of
a wizard's cave. The coloured shadows chased each other across the
paper, leaving no trace behind. Five hundred years ago the owner of that
camera would have been burned as a wizard; now he makes a comfortable
living out of the threepennypieces of inquisitive visitors. Is it
possible to account for the phenomena of clairvoyance other than by the
supposition that there exists somewhere in Nature a gigantic camera
obscura which reflects everything, and to which clairvoyants habitually,
and other mortals occasionally, have access?

_Seen and Heard at 150 Miles Range._

The preceding incidents simply record a prevision of places subsequently
visited. The following are instances in which not only places, but
occurrences, were seen as in a camera by persons at a distance varying
from 150 to several thousand miles. Space seems to have no existence for
the clairvoyant. They are quoted from the published "Proceedings of the
Psychical Research Society":

On September 9th, 1848, at the siege of Mooltan, Major-General R----,
C.B., then adjutant of his regiment, was most severely and dangerously
wounded; and supposing himself to be dying, asked one of the officers
with him to take the ring off his finger and send it to his wife, who at
the time was fully 150 miles distant, at Ferozepore.

"On the night of September 9th, 1848," writes his wife, "I was lying on
my bed between sleeping and waking, when I distinctly saw my husband
being carried off the field, seriously wounded, and heard his voice
saying, 'Take this ring off my finger and send it to my wife.' All the
next day I coul