(213) "When I lived in Bishopsgate, my rooms were at Salvador House. It was a grand old house. Formerly the home of a Spanish Ambassador, it had undergone strange vicissitudes. . . . My apartments consisted of a suite of five rooms, which I occupied with my housekeeper, a middle-aged woman, and her son, a youth of 18, who waited on me. I gave up three of the suite for their use, reserving only two very large rooms, which communicated with each other, for my own.

"Well, one night as I lay asleep, I all at once woke to perfect consciousness, as wide awake as I am now; and there, in the embrasure made by the thickness of the wall, stood a little old woman in her night-dress and cap, with a small black-and-white checked shawl, as far as I could make out, like a duster-pattern, over her shoulders. I want you particularly to remember the shawl. I knew her well, and, as I lay, remarked to myself on the beauty and transparency of her complexion, while a soft lambent light seemed to play over the whole figure, such as you would see on your fingers when you rub a match, or the liquid gleaming phosphorescence one sometimes finds ridging the wavelets at sea. On noting this, the work of an instant, an intense and indescribable feeling took possession of me, beginning somewhere in the region of the feet, and, passing up my spine,1 reached my head, where 'each particular hair did stand on end.' Vexed and annoyed with myself, I turned away from the sight, as the chime of St. Botolph's struck the quarter to 2. When the sounds had died, and after the clock had struck the hour, I fell asleep again, and rested undisturbed till -morning.

"On going downstairs, I met one of our clergy, the Rev. George Wrench, the greatest friend I had in Bishopsgate [since deceased], and said, ' Laugh at me! Here am I, a man supposed to be educated, of average intelligence, at least, living in the very centre of the centre of civilisation, an utter disbeliever in ghosts, and yet last night I saw one.' 'Nonsense!' said he. ' Tis true!' I repeated. 'Well, come, who was it?' 'Mrs. P.,' I answered. 'You don't say so! Do you know she is very ill? ' 'Not I.' ' But she is though,' rejoined he, and we chaffed each other about the strange visitant.

"Well, all that day I went about my work and never gave my ghost a thought, retired to bed as usual, slept well and woke exactly at the same time as on the night previous. This I know by the jingle of the chimes immediately after waking, and the clock striking the succeeding hour of 2. The same intense, indescribable feeling passed over me - that horrid, creepy dread, but I resolutely turned from the side on which the embrasure lay, and reproached myself for being a fool. Nor would I look, and yet I felt assured of her presence.

1 Sec footnote to case 28, p. 153.

"When I got up, I found that she had sent a message, wishing to see me. She was the attendant on the pews at my side of the church, a poor widow woman of quiet, gentle manners, a friend of my housekeeper's, who sometimes came in to help if we had any extra company. Often when I have gone round to the kitchen, she has risen up respectfully, while I used to say, 'How much you remind me of my dear old mother,' and have more than once caressingly stroked her hair. I went to see her. There she lay in her little bed - so clean and tidy - so peaceably passing away in a trance-like calm. She at once recognised my voice, when a pleased smile of restful satisfaction seemed to play over her face. [Mr. Hernaman then read a passage of the Bible to the patient.] As I was leaving the room, on turning to look at her, I noticed how striking were the points of resemblance to the figure in the embrasure, but it was incomplete - the shawl was wanting. So I said to her sister who was nursing her,' Have you ever during her illness had thrown about her a little black-and-white checked shawl? ' I gave no reason for my question. ' No, sir!' was the answer, ' No! We haven't such a thing in the house! ' Then suddenly she exclaimed,' Oh! do you mean a little brown-and-white plaid, like this? ' making a sudden dive behind a box near the bed's head, from which she brought up the identical shawl, a brown-and-white checked, which she at once placed round the shoulders of the invalid, and the picture was complete.

[Next night, a friend of Mr. Hernaman's, Mr. James F. Maule, now residing at 61, Rouel Road, Bermondsey, spent the night with him].

"My rest was sound and undisturbed till the morning, when George, my housekeeper's son, came rushing into the bedroom, after a hasty knock, with a face full of fright, and said, ' If you please, sir, Mrs. P. wants you again!' While I dressed, my friend laughed at me and joked immoderately. George brought me in a cup of coffee, which I hastily swallowed while dressing; but before I could get to her house, which was hard by, she had passed away.

"All I have said with regard to myself is true as it occurred to me and yet my judgment refuses to believe it. I consulted a medical friend, I was so annoyed with myself for thinking the thing possible for a moment. He too laughed at me, but wished George to occupy the spare bed till my holidays came, which were close at hand.

"I did learn some months later that she had saved a little money - not much, about £90 I believe - and was very anxious indeed that I should have charge of it for her two children, who were living at home with her.

"John Hernaman".

In answer to inquiries, Mr. Hernaman adds, on March 7th, 1885: -

"The matter to which you refer occurred some 14 years ago".

We applied to Mr. Francis Tee, of Finsbury Street, E.C., a brother of the Mrs. P. of the narrative, and he sent us a mourning card which showed that Mrs. P. died on Dec. 14th, 1871, aged 53 years.

Mr. Maule, writing to us on Dec. 19, 1886, says that he well recollects the incident, and" never saw anyone in such a state of mind as Mr. Hernaman was about the affair".

Here the shawl is the important detail. Other noteworthy points are the light (p. 359), and the sort of attempt at a repetition on the second night, which may or may not have been a mere recrudescence of the previous impression (see p. 278).

[Omitting case 214,] the next case, from Mr. Rouse, of Jarvis Road, Croydon (agent for Cockerells, coal merchants), is another marked instance of deferred recognition (see § 3). As regards the special point of dress, it is inconclusive; as though the aspect of the agent was at the time actually as represented in the phantasm, it was also probably an aspect familiar to the percipient. Writing to us on the nth of June, 1883, Mr. Rouse explains that in the early part of 1873 he had been a member of a circle which met to investigate spiritualistic phenomena. At each of the seances, which were held in a private house, he sat next to the same lady, Mrs. W., between whom and himself a strong sympathy existed. On one occasion Mr. Rouse had to go to Norwich on the day when the sitting was usually held. Late on the evening of that day he went out for a walk in the outskirts of the town.