my mind. I looked and found the pan empty. It is, of course, possible
that the suggestion came from my own subconscious mind. I never saw the
aura of a human being, but I once had a kind of vision of this dog,
which experts have told me was her aura. I was sitting by the fire,
somewhat somnolent, and he was lying on the hearthrug. All at once his
golden brown coat disappeared, and I saw a mass of reddish brown or
perhaps I should say brownish red, and on one side of it was an
irregular patch of fleecy white, bordered with sapphire blue. I was told
that the brownish red represented the dog's animal instincts, the pearly
white his animal innocence, and the sapphire blue his devotional
instinct, in his case directed to me as his deity. Whether any of your
readers have had similar experiences and explain them similarly, I do
not know.

I had to go abroad one summer and my dog was ill with eczema, and as I
did not very much trust the maid I was leaving in charge, I sent him to
the vet's to be treated. As soon as I reached my destination I wrote to
a friend to go and inquire how he was. She replied that the dog was
perfectly miserable, and that he had an enormous wound on his back, that
he had eaten nothing for a week, that he was too weak to stand, and that
if he were hers, she would have him put out of his misery at once. I
wrote at once to the vet, telling him to telegraph "Curable" or
"Hopeless," and to act accordingly. Meanwhile, I sat that afternoon in
the Bürgerpark by myself and imagined the dog upon my lap, and myself
stroking and healing him. After this I found myself fully believing that
he would get better. The telegram I received was "Curable," and my
friend wrote a second letter and said it was a miracle, for the dog was
quite convalescent. He recovered perfectly. Here, again, however, it may
have been that he was breaking his heart for a friend, and that my
friend's visit cheered him. Or may not both causes have had their