in Gaelic called Taisha, is a mode of seeing superadded to that which nature generally bestows. This gift, or faculty, which is neither voluntary nor constant, is in general rather troublesome than agreeable to the possessors of it, who are chiefly to be found among the inhabitants of the Highlands of Scotland, those of the Western Isles, of the Isle of Man, and of Ireland. It is an impression made either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by which things distant or future are perceived, and seem as if they were present. A man on a journey far from home falls from his horse; another, who is perhaps at work about the house, sees him bleeding on the ground, commonly with a landscape of the place where the accident befalls him. Another seer, driving home his cattle, or wandering in idleness, or musing in the sunshine, is suddenly surprised by the appearance of a bridal ceremony, or funeral procession, and counts the attendants or mourners, of whom, if he knows them, he relates the names, but if he knows them not, he can describe the dresses. Things distant are seen at the instant they happen.

Of things future, Johnson says that he knows no rule pretended to for determining the time between the sight and the event; but we are informed by Mr Grose, that in general the time of accomplishment bears some relation to the time of the day in which the impressions are received. Thus visions seen early in the morning, which seldom happens, will be much sooner accomplished than those appearing at noon; and those seen at noon will take place in a much shorter time than those happening at night. Sometimes the accomplishment of the latter does not fall out within a year or more.

These visions are not confined to solemn or important events, nor is it true, as is commonly reported, that to the second sight nothing is presented but phantoms of evil. The future visit of a mountebank or a piper, a plentiful draught of fish, the arrival of common travellers, or, if possible, still more trifling matters than these, are foreseen by the seers. A gentleman told Dr Johnson, that when he had once gone far from his own island, one of his labouring servants predicted his return, and described the livery of his attendant, which he had never worn at home, and which had been, without any previous design, occasionally given him.

Dr Beattie of Aberdeen gives the following account of this imaginary gift. The Highlands of Scotland are a picturesque but a melancholy country. Long tracts of mountainous desert, covered with dark heath, and often obscured by misty weather; narrow valleys, thinly inhabited, and bounded by precipices resounding with the fall of torrents; a soil so rugged, and a climate so dreary, as in many parts to admit neither the amusements of pasturage nor the labours of agriculture; the mournful dashing of waves along the friths and lakes that intersect the country; the portentous noises which every change of the wind and every increase or diminution of the waters is apt to raise in a lonely region full of echoes and rocks and caverns; the grotesque and ghastly appearance of such a landscape by the light of the moon; objects like these diffuse a gloom over the fancy, which may be compatible enough with occasional and social merriment, but cannot fail to tincture the thoughts of a native in the hour of silence and solitude. If these people, notwithstanding their reformation in religion, and more frequent intercourse with strangers, do still retain many of their old superstitions, we need not doubt but in former times they must have been much more enslaved to the horrors of imagination, when beset with the bugbears of Popery and Paganism. Most of their superstitions are of a melancholy cast. That of Second Sight, by which some are still supposed to be haunted, is considered by themselves as a misfortune, on account of the many dreadful images it is said to obtrude upon the fancy. It is said that some of the Alpine regions do likewise lay claim to a sort of second sight. Nor is it wonderful, that persons of a lively imagination, immersed in deep solitude, and surrounded with the stupendous scenery of clouds, precipices, and torrents, should dream, even when they think themselves awake, of those few striking ideas with which their lonely lives are diversified; of corpses, funeral processions, and other subjects of terror; or of marriages, the arrival of strangers, and such like matters of more agreeable curiosity.

Let it be observed, also, that the ancient Highlanders of Scotland had hardly any other way of supporting themselves than by hunting, fishing, or war, professions which are continually exposed to fatal accidents; and hence, no doubt, additional horrors would often haunt their solitude, and a deeper gloom overshadow the imagination even of the hardiest native.

A treatise on this subject was published in the year 1762, in which many tales were told of persons whom the author believed to have been favoured, or haunted, with these illuminations; but most of the tales were trifling and ridiculous, and the whole work betrayed, on the part of the compiler, the most extreme credulity.

That any of these visionaries are apt to be swayed in their declarations by sinister views, we will not say; but this may be alleged with confidence, that none but ignorant people pretend to be gifted in this way; and in them it may be nothing more, perhaps, than short fits of sudden sleep or drowsiness, attended with lively dreams, and arising from some bodily disorder, the effect of idleness, low spirits, or a gloomy imagination. For it is admitted, even by the most credulous Highlanders, that as knowledge and industry are propagated in their country, the second sight disappears in proportion; and nobody ever laid claim to the faculty who was much employed in the intercourse of social life. Nor is it at all extraordinary that one should have the appearance of being awake, and should even think one's self so, during those fits of dozing; that they should come on suddenly, and while one is engaged in some business. The same thing happens in persons much fatigued, or long kept awake, who frequently fall asleep for a moment, or for a long space, while they are standing, or walking, or riding on horseback. Add but a lively dream to this slumber, and take away the consciousness of having been asleep, and a superstitious man may easily mistake his dream for a waking vision; which, however, is soon forgotten when no subsequent occurrence recalls it to his memory, but which, if it shall be thought to resemble any future event, excites the poor dreamer into a Highland prophet. This conceit makes him more recluse and more melancholy than ever, and so feeds his disease, and multiplies his visions, which, if they are not dissipated by business or society, may continue to haunt him as long as he lives, and which, in their progress through the neighbourhood, receive some new tinctures of the marvellous from every mouth that promotes their circulation. As to the prophetic nature of this second sight, it cannot be admitted at all. That the Deity should work a miracle in order to give intimation of the frivolous things of which these tales are composed, the arrival of a stranger, the nailing of a coffin, or the colour of a suit of clothes; and that these intimations should be given for no end, and to those persons only who are idle and solitary, who speak Gaelic, or who live among mountains and deserts; is like nothing in nature or providence that we are acquainted with, and must therefore, unless it were confirmed by satisfactory proof, be rejected as absurd and incredible.

To these objections Dr Johnson replies, that by presuming to determine what is fit and what is beneficial, they presuppose more knowledge of the universal system than man has attained, and therefore depend upon principles too complicated and extensive for our comprehension; that there can be no security in the consequence when the premises are not understood; that the second sight is only wonderful because it is rare, for, considered in itself, it involves no greater difficulty than dreams, or perhaps than the regular exercise of the cogitative faculty; that a general opinion of communicative impulses, or visionary representations, has prevailed in all ages and among all nations; that particular instances have been given, with such evidence as neither Bacon nor Bayle has been able to resist; that sudden impressions, which the event has verified, have been felt by more than own or publish them; that the second sight of the Hebrides implies only the local frequency of a power which is nowhere totally unknown; and that where we are unable to decide by antecedent reason, we must be content to yield to the force of testimony. By the pretension to second sight, no profit was ever sought or gained. It is an involuntary affection, in which neither hope nor fear are known to have any part. Those who profess to feel it do not boast of it as a privilege, nor are considered by others as advantageously distinguished. They have no temptation to feign, and their hearers have no motive to encourage the imposture.