5. I next told P. (hypnotised) the story of Robinson Crusoe finding the footprint and fearing savages.

I told T. that Moses Primrose took a cow to the fair and returned with a gross of green spectacles, to the derision of his family.

Awakened and set before the glass of water, P. at once exclaimed: "Why, therés Buffalo Bill! Hés dressed in feathers, and skins round him; almost like a savage. Hés walking about in a waste place." T.: "Is he leading a cow along?" P.: "No, no, hés all alone." T.: "That's a cow, not Buffalo Bill." P.: " I can see something else coming from another part, - it's a blackie." T.: "No, it's a sack, a sack on his back." P.: "Look at them now, how they're arguing! Buffalo Bill and his black man." T.: " I can see them arguing now - hés got into a house - therés four of them." P.: "No, no, only two." T.: " No, four, - look at them roaring! " (i.e., with laughter). P.: " No, they're behind some trees." T.: "They're crying now".

Observe that in P.'s case the footmark, which was the point on which I had chiefly dwelt, was not observed; although I suspect from P.'s insistence on the long pacing about of his Buffalo Bill, that the footmark was in some sense intended to form part of the picture, although too small to be noticed by an observer not aware of its importance. P. had read "Robinson Crusoe; " but Buffalo Bill was plainly fresher in his memory.

T. saw no meaning in his story whatever. He did not know what was in the sack - (a detail of his own adding, as I had not clearly conceived how the spectacles were brought home) - and he saw no reason for the laughter or weeping. The crying was added from his hypnotic self's own conception of the probable effect of such a bargain upon the family, after their first amusement. T. had never read the "Vicar of Wakefield".

6. Observing the attempts made by the two seers to harmonise these divergent stories, I chose two scenes which had a certain similarity, to see whether either seer would be able to persuade the other to accept his version of what was going on.

I told P. briefly that Banquo's ghost had appeared to Macbeth, his murderer, as he sat with warriors and nobles round him at a feast.

I told T. (what he already knew to have happened) that at the North Kilkenny election Mr. Parnell, while addressing the crowd, received a bag of lime in his face from a political opponent. Thus each scene had its central and commanding figure; I wished to see if the two could be combined.

P.: "I see two or three men standing - some sitting - one in a chair on a raised place, like where the head man sits. That's the Mayor, I suppose." [P. is more familiar with municipal government than with military or imperial rule].

T.: "Why, there are a whole lot of men - a town - a lot of cars - not like our carriages".

P. (with a loud whistle): "Oh, here he comes, the bogey-man!" (apparently quoting a song).

T.: "There he is standing up in the middle of them; - I've seen the man at Brighton".

P.: "Look at that chap in the corner! isn't he frightened of him ? The Mayor's quite upset".

T.: "I know the man well enough; he has a beard - about my height I've seen him walk up and down the front (the Parade) with two dogs after him".

P.: "Hés a ghost!"

T.: "Hés no ghost, I say; hés talking to them; look at that stuff all gone into his face; now three or four men are up talking; they've got some sticks - therés a row".

P. (imitating conventional ghostly action): "Look at him! They all stick their swords through him - it doesn't hurt him; hés a ghost!"

T.: " Nonsense; how can he be a ghost? I tell you I've spoken to him in the [telegraph] office; hés a man any one would remember - a stand-off man. Hés all white now; they're all running." " Was his name Parnell?" I asked. "Yes, yes," said T., " Parnell, of course." Here also, it will be observed, as in the case of the hippopotamus, it was the picture framed by the percipient's subliminal self, not the mere name as uttered by me, which was transmitted to his supraliminal consciousness.

These scenes excited the seers; and there was some absurdity in their endeavours to imitate, and to conciliate, the attitudes of hovering ghost and impassioned orator.

7. March 26, 1891. Magnification

I told T. (hypnotised) that he would see in the crystal (a real one) a playbill of " Jack Sheppard," which had recently been acted in Brighton, the large print distinct, but not the small print. Awakened, he saw a girl in man's clothes - something like knickerbockers could make out J C K T H. On looking through a (real) magnifying-glass he easily read JACK SHEPPARD, THEATRE ROYAL, and recognised that the knickerbockers were jack-boots. He said that the letters persisted, but were clearer when the magnifier was applied to the crystal. The picture seen was remembered from an actual poster.

8. Forgotten Memories

T. was told (same conditions) that he would see scenes of his past life. He was greatly interested by seeing a number of old schoolfellows sitting in his old school; some whom he could not identify; some of whom he had scarcely thought since he left school. On being re-hypnotised he did not remember seeing these pictures - only remembered my talking to him about his boyhood. We could not therefore get the hypnotic self to identify the unknown boys.

9. March 27. Test Of Disappearance From Waking Memory Of Words Spoken To Hypnotised Subject

I offered each subject £10 if he could explain to me the next picture which he saw. It was plainly necessary to choose some scenes whose meaning they could not guess, if my description, given to them when hypnotised, was forgotten on awaking. I told P. of the Finding of Brynhild, and T. of the Niblungs' Need. Each saw his picture well (Greyfell, the flickering flame-wall, the Sleepful Thorn, &c), but was completely puzzled as to its meaning.

10. March 28. Magnification

I told T. (hypnotised) that when awakened he would see a telegraph form (he is a telegraphist) in a glass of water; that he would not be able to make out the words, but only to count them; then with a magnifier would make them out. Awakened, he saw a telegraph form so bent that he could only see a fragment of a message, containing seven words which he could not read. Looking in the glass he made out "Met - B'ton (abbreviation used for Brighton) - Hotel - come." We cannot say whether a coherent message in any sense underlay this fragmentary attempt at communication.