"We were playing our favourite game of Golowain, which consisted in dividing into sides at hide-and-seek, the party hiding having the privilege of moving on from place to place until they reached the ' Home,' unless meanwhile caught by the pursuing party.

"As I stood towards the end of the game, as a seeker, in the orchard, I saw you, who belonged to the opposite party, stealing toward me. As your dress was the same as your sister's, and there was the possibility of my mistaking you for her, who was on my side, I shouted her name, and she answered me from the opposite side of the wood. I then gave chase, and you turned, and looked at me laughing, and I saw your face distinctly. But at the same instant, Nina, also my friend, but your enemy, appeared round some corner, and being still nearer to you than I was, I left the glory of your capture to her. She was close upon you as you fled into a cow-yard. I was so sure your fate was sealed that I followed more slowly, and hearing the bell ring, that, according to the rules of our game, recalled us to the ' Home,' I went on there, to find Nina upbraiding you for having so mysteriously escaped her in this cow-yard.

"In astonishment you said you never had been near the place. Of course I supported my little sister in her assertion; whilst our brother supported you, saying he had been hiding with you, and that, being tired, you had both remained hidden in one place until the bell warned you that the game was over - that place being a washhouse in a distinct part of the premises from the cow or fold-yard, into which we believed we had chased you. " G. M. (nee Dickins)".

In answer to inquiries, both Miss Dickins and Mrs. Malcolm say that they have never had any other experience of visual hallucination.

Mrs. Hawkins continues: -

"The second appearance of my ' double ' was in the spring (February or March) of 1847, at Leigh Rectory, in Essex, my father, the Rev. Robert Eden (now Primus of Scotland), being rector of the parish.

"The person who saw it was the nurserymaid. I am not quite sure of her name; but if, as I think, she was a certain 'Caroline,' she has been dead many years, therefore I can only give you my own very vivid recollections of her story, told with tears of agitation.

"But first I should mention that I had the mumps at the time, and was going about with my head tied up, and the only other person in the house who had it was my little brother, nearly 10 years younger than myself, who could not possibly be mistaken for me.

"On the first floor of Leigh Rectory there is a passage which runs the length of the house, terminated at one end by the door of a room that was then the nursery. One morning, about 10.30, 'Caroline' came out of the nursery, and, walking along the passage, had to pass a doorway opening on to the stairs which led down into the front hall. As she passed, she glanced down, and saw me (conspicuous by the white handkerchief round my head, and facing her) come out of the drawing-room door and walk across the corner of the hall to the library. She proceeded along the passage, and, coming to the foot of the attic stairs, met our maid, who said to her, 'Do you know where Miss Eden is? I want to go to her room,' 'Oh yes,' answered Caroline, ' I just saw her go into the library.' So they came together up to my room, which was one of the attics, and found me sitting there, where I had been for at least half an hour, writing a letter. After a moment's pause of astonishment, they fled, though I called to them to come in. When I went downstairs a few minutes afterwards, and reached the passage, I saw in the nursery a group of maids, all looking so perturbed that, instead of proceeding down the front stairs, I went on to the nursery and asked what was the matter.

But as no one answered, and I saw the nurserymaid was crying, I thought they had been quarrelling, and went away, quite unconscious that it was on my account they were so disturbed. "Lucy Hawkins".

The following account is from Mrs. Hawkins' son: -

" June 20th, 1885.

"In the autumn of 1877, I was living at my father's house, Beyton Rectory, Bury St. Edmunds. The household consisted of my father, mother, three sisters, and three maid servants. One moonlight night I was sleeping in my room, and had been asleep some hours, when I was awakened by hearing a noise close to my head, like the chinking of money. My waking idea, therefore, was that a man was trying to take my money out of my trousers pocket, which lay on a chair close to the head of my bed. On opening my eyes, I was astonished to see a woman, and I well remember thinking with sorrow that it must be one of our servants who was trying to take my money. I mention these two thoughts to show that I was not thinking in the slightest degree of my mother. When my eyes had become more accustomed to the light, I was more than ever surprised to see that it was my mother,1 dressed in a peculiar silver-grey dress, which she had originally got for a fancy ball. She was standing with both hands stretched out in front of her as if feeling her way; and in that manner moved slowly away from me, passing in front of the dressing-table, which stood in front of the curtained window, through which the moon threw a certain amount of light. Of course, my idea all this time was that she was walking in her sleep.

On getting beyond the table she was lost to my sight in the darkness. I then sat up in bed listening; but hearing nothing, and, on peering through the darkness, saw that the door, which was at the foot of my bed, and to get to which she would have had to pass in front of the light, was still shut. I then jumped out of bed, struck a light, and instead of finding my mother at the far end of the room, as I expected, found the room empty. I then for the first time supposed that it was an 'appearance,' and greatly dreaded that it signified her death.

"I might add that I had, at that time, quite forgotten that my mother had ever appeared to any one before, her last appearance having been about the year 1847, three years before I was born.

"Edward Hawkins".

In answer to inquiries, Mr. E. Hawkins says: - "I can assure you that neither before nor since that time have I ever had any experience of the sort".