714 A. From Proceedings S.P.R., vol. v. p. 450. The next case - I have given the percipients the name of Adie - is a curiously complicated one; but its evidential value rests mainly on the similarity between a recognised phantom seen by a mourner (and therefore not in itself evidential) and an unrecognisable appearance observed at about the same time by a near relation, also aware of the death.

This latter phenomenon - a segment of illumination in a room otherwise dark, and closed against light - is undoubtedly rare. Retinal hyperaesthesia will sometimes make a room look light for a moment or two when the eyes are first opened, but the limitation of area seems to make this explanation improbable here.

Miss C. A. writes:-

July 12th, 1888.

About two months before the death of my dear father, which occurred on December 10th, 1887, one night about from 12 to 1 A.M., when I was in bed in a perfectly waking condition, he came to my bedside, and led me right through the cemetery at Kensal Green, stopping at the spot where his grave was afterwards made.

He was very ill at that time and in a helpless condition - so far as his ability to walk up three flights of stairs to my room was concerned. I had at that time never been in that cemetery, but when I went there after his interment the scene was perfectly familiar to me.

He led me beyond his grave to a large iron gate, but my recollection of this part is confused. I there lost sight of him.

In a later letter Miss C. A. adds:-

It was just like a panorama. I cannot say if my eyes were closed or open.

Again, a day or two before his death, somewhere between the 4th and the 10th of December (the day of his decease), when he was lying in an unconscious state in a room on the ground floor, and I sleeping on the second floor, I was awoke suddenly by seeing a bright light in my bedroom - the whole room was flooded with a radiance quite indescribable - and my father was standing by my bedside, an etherealised semi-transparent figure, but yet his voice and his aspect were normal. His voice seemed a far-off sound, and yet it was his same voice as in life. All he said was, "Take care of mother." He then disappeared, floating in the air as it were, and the light also vanished.

About a week afterwards, that is to say, between the 12th and the 17th of December, the same apparition came to me again, and repeated the same words. An aunt, to whom I related these three experiences, suggested to me that possibly something was troubling his spirit, and I then promised her that should my dear father visit me again I would answer him. This occurred a short time afterwards. On this, the fourth, occasion he repeated the same words, and I replied, "Yes, father." He then added, "I am in perfect peace".

Apparently he was satisfied with this my assurance. Since that time I have neither seen nor heard any more.

I have never before or since had any such experience.

(Signed) C. A.

Mrs. Adie writes:-

March, 1889.

Towards the middle of the month of October 1887 [since fixed by letters of that year as Sunday, October 23rd, 1887], in fact, as nearly as I can recall, about the time when C.'s father first appeared to her in a spiritualised form, I had a singular and most vivid impression that the post would bring me bad news. We were then in Switzerland. I could daily from my window, at 11.20 a.m. to a moment, see the train arrive which brought our English letters. These were taken to the post-office close by and sorted; and about twenty minutes after the train came in my letters (if any) were placed upon my table. On Sunday mornings the English Church service began at 10.30, so that by 11.40 the chaplain was well advanced in his sermon. On that one particular Sunday it was, as nearly as I can tell, exactly at that moment of time I suddenly felt much distressed and mentally disturbed, feeling convinced that bad news was awaiting me on my return to the hotel. I had to put considerable force upon myself to refrain from rising from my seat and leaving the church.

My presentiment was only too true; on my writing-table I found a most agonising letter from T. (C.'s elder sister) telling me that their father had had a most alarming attack of illness (this was the first of the three seizures which resulted in his decease on December 10th). One point I would especially notice; apparently this letter conveyed no impression to my mind so long as it was in the train or at the post-office, but took effect upon me so soon as it was put upon my writing-table - came within my surroundings, as it were.

We returned to England on December 1st. After C.'s father's death - during the night of December 12th-13th - I was sleeping in a small back room on the ground floor of a lodging in London, a room which had only one window, closed by shutters and a thick curtain. The gas in the passage was put out when I went to bed, so that, after I had extinguished my candle, the room was shrouded in impenetrable darkness - darkness that could be felt. About 3 a.m. on the morning of the 13th I awoke en sursaut, as the French expression has it (that is to say, I was wide awake, not in a half-dreamy condition), to see the room up to the ceiling, for about the width of my bed, and extending to the fireplace opposite, flooded with a pale golden radiance, an unearthly light - quite unlike any we are acquainted with; it seemed to come from behind the bed; so bright was it that I could distinctly see the design on the wall-paper opposite me, and over the fireplace. This paper was a very pale French grey, of two tints, outlined here and there with a thin line of colour. This effect lasted, as nearly as I can tell, about five minutes, during which I opened and shut my eyes several times, clasped and unclasped my hands, and hit myself to be certain that I was not dreaming.