654 B. From Phantasms of the Living, vol. ii. p. 194. Major W., resident near Conon Bridge, Ross-shire, writes: -

February 9th, 1882. It was the month of August; rather a dark night and very still; the hour, midnight; when before retiring for the night went, as is often my custom, to the front door to look at the weather. When standing for a moment on the step, I saw, coming round a turn in the drive, a large close carriage and pair of horses, with two men on the box. It. passed the front of the house, and was going at a rapid rate towards a path which leads to a stream, running, at that point, between rather steep banks. There is no carriage-road on that side of the house, and I shouted to the driver to stop, as, if he went on, he must undoubtedly come to grief. The carriage stopped abruptly when it came to the running water, turned, and, in doing so, drove over the lawn. I got up to it; and by this time my son had joined me with a lantern. Neither of the men on the box had spoken, and there was no sound from the inside of the carriage. My son looked in, and all he could discern was a stiff-looking figure sitting up in a corner, and draped, apparently, from head to foot in white. The absolute silence of the men outside was mysterious, and the white figure inside, apparently of a female, not being alarmed or showing any signs of life, was strange.

Men, carriage, and horses were unknown to me, although I know the country so well. The carriage continued its way across the lawn, turning up a road which led past the stables, and so into the drive again and away. We could see no traces of it the next morning - no marks of wheels or horses' feet on the soft grass or gravel road; and we never again heard of the carriage or its occupant, though I caused careful inquiries to be made the following day. I may mention that my wife and daughter also saw the carriage, being attracted to the window by my shout. This happened on the 23rd of August 1878.

After a visit to the house in September 1884, Mr. Podmore wrote: -

Major W., on whom I called to-day, is practically satisfied that what he and his family saw was not a real carriage. He showed me the whole scene of its appearance. The spot where the carriage appeared to turn barely leaves sufficient room for the passage of an ordinary carriage, and that a carriage should turn round there seems almost impossible. The carriage went for some distance across the lawn - a mossy and rather damp piece of grass - and stopped in front of the house for more than a minute, while Major W. spoke to the man, but without receiving any reply. His wife, whom I also saw, was attracted to the window by the sound of the wheels, in the first instance, on the gravel. Major W. made many inquiries among his neighbours, but could not find that any one had seen the carriage at all. The house is situated on a peninsula stretching between the Cromarty and Moray Firths, and some three miles from the neck of the peninsula. The locality is very lonely, there being no villages or hamlets, and but few private residences of any kind; and it is difficult to imagine the errand which could bring a strange carriage into such a country at the dead of night.

Major W. has had one other purely subjective hallucination.

655 A. From Phantasms of the Living, vol. ii. p. 103. In the following auditory case the actual word used by the agent was distinguished by the percipient. The account is from Mr. R. Fryer, of Bath, brother of our colleague, the Rev. A. T. Fryer, now of 13 Dumfries Place, Cardiff, who tells us that he "distinctly remembers being told of the occurrence within a few weeks of its happening." He explains that "Rod " was the name by which his brother, the percipient, was called in the family.

January 1883. A strange experience occurred in the autumn of the year 1879. A brother of mine had been from home for three or four days, when, one afternoon, at half-past five (as nearly as possible), I was astonished to hear my name called out very distinctly. I so clearly recognised my brother's voice that I looked all over the house for him; but not finding him, and indeed knowing that he must be distant some forty miles, I ended by attributing the incident to a fancied delusion, and thought no more about the matter. On my brother's arrival home, however, on the sixth day, he remarked amongst other things that he had narrowly escaped an ugly accident. It appeared that, whilst getting out from a railway carriage, he missed his footing, and fell along the platform; by putting out his hands quickly he broke the fall, and only suffered a severe snaking. "Curiously enough," he said, "when I found myself falling I called out your name." This did not strike me for a moment, but on my asking him during what part of the day this happened, he gave me the time, which I found corresponded exactly with the moment I heard myself called.

In answer to an inquiry, Mr. R. Fryer adds: -

I do not remember ever having a similar experience to the one narrated to you; nor should I care to, as the sensation, together with the suspense as to the why and wherefore of the event, is the reverse of pleasant.

In conversation, he explained that he had frequently expostulated with his brother on the latter's habit of alighting from trains in motion; and the automatic utterance of his name, on this occasion, might thus be accounted for by association. The agent's account of the matter is as follows: -

Newbridge Road, Bath, November 16th, 1885.

In the year 1879 I was travelling, and in the course of my journey I had to stop at Gloucester. In getting out of the train I fell, and was assisted to rise by one of the railway officials. He asked if I was hurt, and asked if I had any one travelling with me. I replied "No" to both questions, and inquired why he asked. He replied, "Because you called out Rod." I distinctly recollect making use of the word Rod.

On arriving home, a day or two afterwards, I related the circumstance, and my brother inquired the time and date. He then told me he had heard me call at that particular time. He was so sure of its being my voice that he made inquiries as to whether I was about or not. John T. Fryer.