(32) "On December 18th, 1873, I left my house in Lincolnshire to visit my wife's parents, then and now residing in Lord Street, Southport. Both my parents were, to all appearance, in good health when I started. The next day after my arrival was spent in leisurely observation of the manifold attractions of this fashionable seaside resort. I spent the evening in company with my wife in the bay-windowed drawing-room upstairs, which fronts the main street of the town. I proposed a game at chess, and we got out the board and began to play. Perhaps half an hour had been thus occupied by us, during which I had made several very foolish mistakes. A deep melancholy was oppressing me. At length I remarked; 'It is no use my trying to play, I cannot for the life think about what I am doing. Shall we shut it up and resume our talk? I feel literally wretched'.

"'Just as you like,' said my wife, and the board was at once put aside.

"This was about half-past 7 o'clock; and after a few minutes' desultory conversation, my wife suddenly remarked: 'I feel very dull to-night. I think I will go downstairs to mamma, for a few minutes'.

"Soon after my wife's departure, I rose from my chair, and walked in the direction of the drawing-room door. Here I paused for a moment, and then passed out to the landing of the stairs.

"It was then exactly 10 minutes to 8 o'clock. I stood for a moment upon the landing, and a lady, dressed as if she were going on a business errand, came out, apparently, from an adjoining bedroom, and passed close by me. I did not distinctly see her features, nor do I remember what it was that I said to her.

"The form passed down the narrow winding stairs, and at the same instant my wife came up again, so that she must have passed close to the stranger, in fact, to all appearance, brushed against her.

"I exclaimed, almost immediately, ' Who is the lady, Polly, that you passed just now, coming up? '

"Never can I forget, or account for, my wife's answer. 'I passed nobody,' she said.

"'Nonsense,' I replied; ' You met a lady just now, dressed for a walk. She came out of the little bedroom. I spoke to her. She must be a visitor staying with your mother. She has gone out, no doubt, at the front door'.

"'It is impossible,' said my wife. 'There is not any company in the house. They all left nearly a week ago. There is no one in fact at all indoors, but ourselves and mamma'.

"'Strange,' I said; ' I am certain that I saw and spoke to a lady, just before you came upstairs, and I saw her distinctly pass you;1 so that it seems incredible that you did not perceive her'.

"My wife positively asserted that the thing was impossible. We went downstairs together, and I related the story to my wife's mother, who was busy with her household duties. She confirmed her daughter's previous statement. There was no one in the house but ourselves.

1 In conversation Mr. Bee reiterated to me his certainty as to having seen the two figures simultaneously.

"The next morning, early, a telegram reached me from Lincolnshire; it was from my eldest sister, Julia (Mrs. T. W. Bowman, of Prospect House, Stechford, Birmingham), and announced the afflicting intelligence that our dear mother had passed suddenly away the night before; and that we (i.e., myself and wife) were to return home to Gainsborough by the next train. The doctor said it was heart-disease, which in a few minutes had caused her death".

After giving some details of his arrival at home, and of the kindness of friends, Mr. Bee continues: -

"When all was over and Christmas Day had arrived, I ventured to ask my brother the exact moment of our mother's death.

"'Well, father was out,' he said,' at the school-room, and I did not see her alive. Julia was just in time to see her breathe her last. It was, as nearly as I can recollect, 10 minutes to 8 o'clock'.

"I looked at my wife for a moment, and then said: ' Then I saw her in Southport, and can now account, unaccountably, for my impressions'.

"Before the said 19th of December I was utterly careless of these things; I had given little or no attention to spiritual apparitions or impressions. "Robt. Bee".

In answer to inquiries, Mr. Bee adds: -

"My mother died in her dress and boots; she was taken ill in the street, and had to be taken to a neighbour's house in Gainsborough a few paces from her own house. The figure resembled my mother exactly as to size, dress, and appearance, but it did not recall her to my mind at the time. The light was not so dim that, if my mother had actually passed me in flesh and blood, I should not have recognised her".

We learn from the obituary notice in the Lincolnshire Chronicle that Mr. Bee's mother died on December 19, 1873, in Mr. Smithson's shop, in Gainsborough, of heart-disease; and that her usual health was pretty good.

In answer to the question whether this is the only case of hallucination that he has experienced, Mr. Bee answers " Yes".

He further adds: -

"The gas light over the head of the stairway shone within a frosted globe, and was probably not turned on fully.

"The fact is, there was ample light to see the figure in, but just as the face might have been turned to me, or was turned to me, I could not, or did not, clearly discern it. Many, many times, my regret and disappointment when I recall this fact have been deeply felt".

Mrs. Bee writes to us as follows: -

" January 9th, 1884.

" If anything I can say to you will be of any use, I will willingly give my testimony to all my husband has said. I remember perfectly ten years ago my visit to my mother's, and my husband's unaccountable restlessness on the particular evening mentioned, also Mr. Bee asking me, after I had been downstairs, if I had met a lady on the stairs. I said, 'No, I do not think there is anyone in the house but us.' Mr. Bee then said, ' Well, a lady has passed me just now on the landing; she came out of the small bedroom and went downstairs; she was dressed in a black bonnet and shawl.' I said, ' Nonsense, you must be mistaken.' He said, 'I am certain I am not, and I assure you I feel very queer.' I then went to ask mamma if there was anyone in the house, and she said no, only ourselves; still Mr. Bee insisted someone had passed him on the landing, although we tried to reason him out of it.

" In the morning while we were in bed, we received a telegram stating that Mrs. Bee had died suddenly the night before. I said at once, 'Robert, that was your mother you saw last night,' He said it was. When we got to Gainsborough we asked what time she died; we were told about 10 minutes to 8, which was the exact time; also that she was taken suddenly ill in the street (wearing at the time a black bonnet and shawl) and died in 10 minutes. "Mary Ann Bee".

Mrs. Bourne, a sister of Mr. Bee's, writes to us: -

"Eastgate Lodge, Lincoln.

"October 2nd, 1885.

"My mother died on December 19th, 1873, about 10 minutes to 8 in the evening; it might be a little later or a little earlier. Her attack resembled a fainting fit, and lasted from 30 to 40 minutes. At the commencement of it, she said a few words to my sister, when I was not present; afterwards I believe she never opened her eyes or spoke again, though we tried our utmost to induce her to do so. "Marian Bourne".

If this case is accurately reported, the figure seen cannot be supposed to have been a real person; for - to say nothing of the unlikelihood that a strange lady would be on the upper floor on some unknown errand -Mrs. Bee, who seemed to her husband to come into actual contact with the figure, could hardly have failed to observe that some one passed her on the stairs. The fact that the form did not at the moment suggest Mr. Bee's mother tends, no doubt, to weaken the case as evidence for telepathy, to this extent - that if a person has the one hallucination of his life at the moment that a near relative dies, this singular coincidence may with less violence be ascribed to accident if the hallucination is merely an appearance - an unrecognised figure - than if it is the appearance of that particular relative. The phantasm not being individualised, the conditions for the operation of chance are so far widened. Still, there are two strong evidential points. The coincidence of time seems to have been precise; and the resemblance to the supposed agent "as to size, dress, and appearance" is described as exact. As for any theoretic difficulty that might be felt in the fact of non-recognition, I will make at this point only one remark.

If we are prepared (as experiment has prepared us) to admit that telepathic impressions need not even affect consciousness at all - if it is possible for some of them to remain completely unfelt - it does not seem specially surprising that others should issue on the mental stage with various degrees of distinctness and completeness.