742 A. From Proceedings S.P.R., vol. v. p. 437. The account is given by Mrs. Judd.

August 6th, 1885.

My grandmother was a tall, stately, and handsome woman, even at an advanced age. She was one of the Gastrells, an old and aristocratic family. Her latter years were spent with my mother (her daughter), and in her eighty-fourth year she died. She had suffered long; she had attained a great age; therefore, though we missed her, our grief was not of that poignant and excessive kind which produces hallucination.

My sister and myself had always slept in a room adjoining hers, and - for want of space in her apartment - there stood by our bedside a large old-fashioned clock, which had been presented to our grandmother on her wedding-day. More precious than gold was this old clock to her heart; "by it," she often said, "have I hundreds of times watched the slow hours pass in my early married days when my husband had to leave me; by it have I timed the children's return from school"; and she begged us, her grandchildren, to leave our bedroom door unlocked at night that she might consult the old clock when she rose each morning. We have often opened our sleepy eyes at four on a summer morning and smiled to see the stately figure already there. For up to the last illness she retained the habits of her youth, and rose at what we deemed fearfully primitive hours.

About three weeks after her death I awoke one morning in October, and saw distinctly the well-known tall figure, the calm old face, the large dark eyes uplifted as usual to the face of the old clock. I closed my eyes for some seconds, and then slowly reopened them. She stood there still. A second time I closed my eyes, a second time opened them. She was gone.

I was looked upon by my family in those days, and particularly by the sister who shared my room, as romantic. Therefore I carefully kept to myself the vision of the morning and pondered over it alone.

At night, however, when we were once more preparing for rest, my sister - my eminently practical and unromantic sister - spoke to me. "I cannot go to bed without telling you something, only don't laugh, for I am really frightened; I saw grandmamma this morning!" I was amazed. I inquired of her the hour, what the vision was like, where it stood, what it was doing, etc, and I found that in every respect her experience was similar to mine. She had preserved silence all day for fear of ridicule.

I may add that we even now speak of this incident with awe, though twenty long years have since passed over our heads, and we invariably end by saying, each of us, "It was very strange; it is impossible to understand it".

Caroline Judd.

In reply to our request for an account of the incident from the other percipient, Mrs. Judd wrote:-

72 Upper Gloucester Place, Dorset Square. I send you herewith all that my sister, Mrs. Dear, recalls of the vision, doubly seen, of our late grandmother. She objects to the weariness of composition, therefore I took down her reminiscences, and she signed it as true.

Caroline Judd.

Some years ago, a few months after the death of my grandmother, I awoke in the dim light just before dawn, to see an appearance exactly like her standing in the old accustomed place from whence, when alive, she was wont to consult an old clock, her own property, at very early hours. I said nothing to any one till we retired again for the night, when I found to my surprise, my sister, who slept with me, had seen the same appearance at the same time.

Mary Dear.

Mrs. Judd's sister, Miss Harris, confirms the above account as follows:-

Bewel, Alfrick, near Worcester, August 20th [1885]. Both sisters mentioned seeing my grandmother the day of the apparition before father and mother, then alive, and myself. I think she must have died about 1866, but I was then very young, and can't remember exactly. I will find out if it is important, but my sisters have often mentioned it since.

Annie Harris.

743 A. From Phantasms of the Living, vol. i. p. 522, footnote. The account was written down, a few months after the occurrence, from the dictation of the percipient - Sister Bertha, Superior of the House of Mercy at Bovey Tracy, Newton Abbot - who read it through on December 29th, 1885, pronounced it correct, and signed it.

On the night of the 10th of November, 1861 (I do not know the exact hour), I was up in my bed watching, because there was a person not quite well in the next room. I heard a voice, which I recognised at once as familiar to me, and at first thought of my sister. It said, in the brightest and most cheerful tone, "I am here with you." I answered, looking and seeing nothing, "Who are you?" The voice said, "You must n't know yet." I heard nothing more, and saw nothing, and am certain that the door was not opened or shut. I was not in the least frightened, and felt convinced that it was Lucy's [Miss Lucy Gambier Parry's] voice. I have never doubted it from that moment. I had not heard of her being worse; the last account had been good, and I was expecting to hear that she was at Torquay. In the course of the next day (the 11th), mother told me that she had died on the morning of the 10th, rather more than twelve hours before I heard her voice.

The narrator informs us that she has never in her life experienced any other hallucination of the senses. Mrs. Gambier Parry, of Highnam Court, Gloucester, step-mother and cousin of the "Lucy" of the narrative, writes:-

Sister Bertha (her name is Bertha Foertsch) had been living for many years as German governess to Lucy Anna Gambier Parry, and was her dearest friend. She came to us at once on hearing of Lucy's death, and told me of the mysterious occurrence of the night before.