But, if she was
personally acquainted with a locality, she could, as in the case of
ourselves and the whale-boat, throw its reflection upon the water, and
also, it seems, the reflection of anything extraneous that was passing
there at the time. This power, however, did not extend to the minds
of others. For instance, she could show me the interior of my college
chapel, as I remembered it, but not as it was at the moment of
reflection; for, where other people were concerned, her art was strictly
limited to the facts or memories present to _their_ consciousness at the
moment. So much was this so that when we tried, for her amusement, to
show her pictures of noted buildings, such as St. Paul's or the Houses
of Parliament, the result was most imperfect; for, of course, though we
had a good general idea of their appearance, we could not recall all the
architectural details, and therefore the minutiae necessary to a perfect
reflection were wanting. But Job could not be got to understand this,
and, so far from accepting a natural explanation of the matter, which
was after all, though strange enough in all conscience, nothing more
than an instance of glorified and perfected telepathy, he set the whole
thing down as a manifestation of the blackest magic.
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