716 C. From the Journal S.P.R., vol. v. p. 10. The four incidents which follow were written out for me in 1888 by a lady whom I will term Mrs. V., who has had other experiences somewhat similar, which, for private reasons, she does not wish to give. I am well acquainted with Mrs. V., and with her husband, who has held an important position in India.

I. In 1874 I was in India, at a hill station. On the 7th June, between one and three o'clock in the morning, I woke with the sensation that half my life had been taken from me (I can only describe the feeling in this vague way). I sat up and pressed my side in wonder at what was happening. I then saw most beautiful lights at the end of the room; these lights gave place to a cloud, and after a few moments the face of a dear sister, then living (as I believed), appeared in the cloud, which remained a little while and then gradually faded away. I became much alarmed and at once felt I should hear bad news of my sister, who was living in London and had been very ill, though the last accounts we had received had been better. I told my husband what had happened, and when a telegram was brought by a friend at eight o'clock that morning I knew what its contents must be. The telegram contained the news of my sister's death during the previous night.

II. In 1885 I was present in church at the confirmation of my sister's youngest boy. I was in the left-hand gallery of the church, the boy in the body of the church, on the right side. As I was kneeling, I looked towards the opposite gallery, which was of dark wood. There I saw the half figure of my sister; the head and arms outstretched high above the boy, as if blessing him. For the moment I thought it was impossible, and closed my eyes for a few seconds. Opening them again I saw the same beautiful form, which almost immediately vanished.

III. In India, in the winter of 1881, the husband of an acquaintance was lying dangerously ill at a hotel about five miles from us. Knowing this, I went frequently to inquire after him. One particular evening I remained with his wife some time, as the doctor thought his condition most critical. When I returned home, about ten o'clock that night, I ordered beef essences and jellies to be made to send early the next morning.

The night was perfectly calm and sultry, not a leaf stirring. About twelve o'clock the Venetians in my bedroom suddenly began to shake and knockings were heard, which seemed to proceed from a box under my writing-table. The knocking and shaking of the Venetians went on for half-an-hour or more, off and on.

During this time I heard a name whispered, A--B--, of which the Christian name was unknown to me, the surname being the maiden name of the sick man's wife. I felt so certain that I was wanted at the hotel that I wished to start at once, but I was advised not to do so at that hour of the night. Early the next morning a messenger arrived with a note begging me to go at once to the hotel, as my friend's husband had died at one o'clock. When I reached the hotel, she told me how she had wished to send for me during the night whilst his death was impending. I went at once to stay with her till after the funeral, and found that the Christian name I had heard whispered was the name of her brother who had died seven years previously.

IV. In 1884 we were staying in a villa in the south of France. One night, soon after we arrived, I went from my room upstairs to fetch something in the drawing-room (which was on the ground floor), and saw a slight figure going down the stairs before me in a white garb with a blue sash and long golden hair. She glided on into a room near the hall door. This startled and impressed me so much that I afterwards went to the house-agent and asked if any one had lately died in that house with long golden hair. He replied that an American lady, young and slight, with golden hair, had died there a few months before - in the very room into which I had seen the figure gliding.

I talked over the cases with Mr. V., and noted his remarks.

In Case I. he remembers being told in the morning of Mrs. V.'s vision, though at this distance of time he cannot state whether the telegram announcing the death had arrived before he was told.

In Case II. he was told at once of the incident.

On Case III. he has made and signed the following remarks:-

This noise resembled the shaking of the lid of the tin box. I got up and went to the box, which continued making the noise, to see if there were rats, but there were none. There were no rats in the house, and there was nothing in the box. A night-light was burning in the room. The rattling was continuous - not like what a rat could produce. It went on again after I had investigated it in vain. This incident was unique in my experience.

Mrs. V. added in conversation:"The Christian name whispered was Henry. This brother was not an Indian official, and I had never heard of him." Mrs. V.'s acquaintance with the lady whose husband was dying was not an intimate one.

In Case IV. Mr. V. again informs me that he was told at once of the incident. The name of the villa was La Baronne, of the house-agent, Mr. Taylor.

717 A. From Proceedings S.P.R., vol. vi. p. 20. The following account was received from Miss Pearson, 15 Fitzroy Square, London, W.C.

April 1888.

The house, 19 St. James's Place, Green Park, had been taken on a very long lease by my grandfather, a solicitor, in large county practice, having his offices in Essex Street, Strand. There my father was born and his two sisters, Ann and Harriet. Aunt Ann died in 1858, leaving all she possessed to Aunt Harriet, who remained in the house. They had been devotedly attached to each other. In November 1864 I was summoned to Brighton. My Aunt Harriet was then very ill there. Mrs. Coppinger, the daughter of Mr. Thomas Pearson, my father's brother, was there, and her son, Mr. George James, by her first husband, came up and down. Eliza Quinton was nursing her. She only craved to go back to the old house where she was born, and I made arrangements with the railway company and took her home.

This was in the second week in December. She became worse and worse. Eliza continued to nurse her, and Mrs. Coppinger, Mrs. John Pearson, the wife of a nephew, and myself helped with the night work.

Miss Harriet Pearson slept in a large three-windowed bedroom over the drawing-room. The room behind was occupied by Mrs. Coppinger and myself, though one of us was generally in the patient's room at night. On the night of December 22nd, 1864, Mrs. John Pearson was in the room, Mrs. Coppinger and myself in the back room; the house lighted up on the landings and staircases, our door wide open.

About 1 or 2 a.m. on the morning of December 23rd, both Mrs. Coppinger and myself started up in bed; we were neither of us sleeping, as we were watching every sound from the next room.

We saw some one pass the door, short, wrapped up in an old shawl, a wig with three curls each side and an old black cap. Mrs. Coppinger called out, "Emma, get up, it is old Aunt Ann." I said, "So it is, then Aunt Harriet will die to-day." We jumped up, and Mrs. John Pearson came rushing out of the room and said, "That was old Aunt Ann. Where is she gone to?" I said to soothe her, "Perhaps it was Eliza come down to see how her mistress is." Mrs. Coppinger ran upstairs and found Eliza sleeping in the servants' room. She was very awe-struck but calm, dressed and came down. Every room was searched, no one was there, and from that day to this no explanation has ever been given of this appearance, except that it was old Aunt Ann come to call her sister, and she died at 6 p.m. that day. Emma M. Pearson.

The housekeeper, who is still with Miss Pearson, writes as follows:-

April 3rd, 1888. I was living with Miss Ann and Miss Harriet Pearson, in 19 St. James's Place. After the death of Miss Ann I remained with her sister, and when she became very ill and was ordered change of air, I went with her as nurse to Brighton. Mrs. Coppinger was there and Mr. George James now and then. Miss Emma Pearson was sent for and came down. She brought her aunt back to London. I continued to nurse her. I remember on the early morning of December 23rd being called up by Mrs. Coppinger, who said that she, Miss Emma, and Mrs. John Pearson had seen some one come upstairs and pass into the patient's room. Was it I? I said, no. Mrs. Coppinger said, "They said it was old Aunt Ann." We searched the house and could find no one. Miss Harriet died in the evening of that day, but before that told all of us that she had seen her sister and knew it was her, and she had come to call her.

Eliza Quinton.

In a separate letter of the same date Miss Pearson adds:-

I now remember my aunt saying "her sister had come for her, for she had seen her".