was that he should go there to hear.’  It was about a quarter to twelve (midnight), and, having searched the field in vain, he was returning home, when, as he crossed the plank, he espied the heifer browsing peacefully in the aforementioned part of the field which was near the creamery.  He gave her the fodder and—­Heavens! was he suffering from delusions?  Surely his ears were not deceiving him—­from the creamery funnel there arose a dense volume of smoke mingled with the sharp hissing of steam and the rattling of cans, all as if the creamery were working, and it were broad daylight.  His heifer became startled and bellowed frantically.  O’Dwyer, himself a man of nerves, yet possessing all the superstitions of the Celt, was startled and ran without ceasing to his home near by, where he went quickly to bed.

“O’Dwyer is not the only one who has seen this, as I have been told by several of my friends how they heard it.  Who knows the mystery surrounding this affair!”

The second story relates to a certain railway station in the south of Ireland; again we use Mr. Ryan’s own words:  “A near relative of mine” (he writes) “once had occasion to go to the mail train to meet a friend.  While sitting talking to O’Dwyer, whom he met on the platform, he heard talking going on in the waiting-room.  O’Dwyer heard it also, and they went to the door, but saw nothing save for the light of a waning moon which filtered in through the window.  Uncertain, they struck matches, but saw nothing.  Again they sat outside, and again they heard the talking, and this time they did not go to look, for they knew about it.  In the memory of the writer a certain unfortunate person committed suicide on the railway, and was carried to the waiting-room pending an inquest.  He lay all night there till the inquest was held next day.  ’Let us not look further into the matter,’ said O’Dwyer, and my relative having acquiesced, he breathed a shuddering prayer for the repose of the dead.”

The following story, which has been sent as a personal experience by Mr. William Mackey of Strabane, is similar in many ways to an extraordinary case of retro-cognitive vision which occurred some years ago to two English ladies who were paying a visit to Versailles; and who published their experiences in a book entitled, An Adventure (London, 1911).  Mr. Mackey writes:  “It was during the severe winter of the Crimean War, when indulging in my favourite sport of wild-fowl shooting, that I witnessed the following strange scene.  It was a bitterly cold night towards the end of November or beginning of December; the silvery moon had sunk in the west shortly before midnight; the sport had been all that could be desired, when I began to realise that the blood was frozen in my veins, and I was on the point of starting for home, when my attention was drawn to the barking of a dog close by, which was followed in a few seconds by the loud report of a musket, the echo of which had scarcely died away in the silent night, when several musket-shots went off in quick succession; this seemed to be the signal for a regular fusillade of musketry, and it was quite evident from the nature of the firing that there was attack and defence.