The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1880-06-05

InlS lie ulu, thinking 10 all;ly my nefV-
Gus excitement, which he fully believed
to be the result of the fevered dream.
At an early hour DR.. Daniel Swan, one
of my physicians, came to my bedside.
He expressed his disappointment at find
ing my pulse accelerated, and asked the
cause.
then, though not without great ex-
haustion, repeated to him what l had
seen, my husband being present, Mrs.
Buffers (the lady already referred to),
and a woman who had lived in my fami-
ly for years.
In the course of week several per-
sons were made acquainted with these
facts, though, from the fear lest they
should reach the ears of the parents, they
were told under an injunction of secrecy.
In the mean time listened eagerly to
my sons daily bulletins from his school
mate.
Fred is coming SOON" Mother has
his clothes all ready" FEATHER says he
he may be here any day now
"The Sophia Walker is due this week"
1t was two weeks before the ship az
rived in port; but | was so far conva les
cent that was permitted to sit up wrap
ped in blankets. for an hour or two each
day.
On one of these occasions, while Mr..
Baker and the family were at dinner, the
bell rang, and presently | heard my hus-
band, in answer to the summons of the
servant, hurry to the door.
1t was scarcely minute before he en-
tered my chamber, pale, and evidently
trying to conceal his emotion. He had
an open letter in his hand, upon which
his eyes were fastened.
"You have Captain Codmans letter."
said.
YES" he answered, land in almost
The words you repeated to me-
| held out my hand for the sheet. and
my tears fell fast as read the following
lines, evidently written in great haste:
"Rer Mr. Baker:
My DEAR SIR must beg you to per-
form a painful duty. Poor Frederick
was lost overheard in Il gale on the 10TH
You must tell his father. can not.
| | never had anything occur that has
| given me SO much pain. He was every
thing that could desire; and can truly |
say that | never had occasion to reprove |
him, and that his uniform good conduct
won the esteem and love of us all. There
was this satisfaction-that no one of us
was 50 well prepared for death.
| | will detail the circumstances at more
leisure: but enough to say now, he was
lost from the foretopsail yard in gale of
wind, and human eXertion could not save
| him. You can best administer consola-
ton to his distressed parents. Show
them the sermon preached on the Sab
bath following his death, which accom-
| panies this, and assure them of my heart |
felt sympathy. Yours truly,
J. GOODMAN.
| March p, 1884,"
While my eyes glanced over the lines,
familiar as if penned by myself, Mr..
Baker was making hurried preparations
| to go to Mr.. Stetson's.
young Hall brought it out he ex-
planned. Captain Goldman wished me
| to have the letter at once lest the parents |
should hear the sorrowfuI tidings i'll an
| abrupt manner"
The sad scenes which followed are too
sacred to be even touched upon here
Mr.. Baker did not return home for hours, |
| having offered to so to Cambridge and |
convey the sad intelligence to Merriam
Stetson, the second son, who was men,
| Der of Harvard College.
81 am to go into Boston to see Capt. |
| Goldman in the morning." he said. ''Mr. |
Stetson is anxious to see him, and | shall |
| ask him to return with me-
recalled the last scene on board the |
| Sophia Warner and said: Il thought he |
| himself went in. 1t is the first thing |
not exactly in accordance with my vision"
l called it 'vision," for | was not |
asleep, and therefore it could not be a |
dream.
The next morning, when Mr.. Baker |
called at Mr.. Stctson's house to take any |
| additional messages, he learned that, |
father had found it impossible to wait,
and had taken the earliest conveyance to |
Boston, where Il scene occurred like what |
| had witnessed.
There was no longer need of secrecy
in regard to my prescience or foresight, |
if so it may be called, and it speedily |
came to the parents ears. Persons of
intelligence of both sexes specialized and
puzzled over these remarkable mental |
phenomena, unlike most recorded by |
philosophers in the fact, already stated. |
of the mind not only recognizing what
was passing at the moment at Il distance
of hundreds of miles, but going forward
in advance of events and foreteling
them with minute accuracy.
make no effort to explain my mental
state, which | am entirely unable to do;
but may be pardoned for quoting from
a philosopher of the present century,
who, speaking of visions and dreams, re-
marks 1t is vain to attempt an explana-
ton of them. They scarcely appear re-
ferable to any principle with which we
are at present acquainted
| Priestly, another metaphysician, adds,
IF the nerves and brain be vibrating
substance all sensations and ideas are
vibrations in that substance; and all that
is properly unknown in the business is
the power of the mind to perceive OF be
affected by these vibrations"
The following case, somewhat analo-
gous to the one narrated above, is from
AbercromJie on the Intellectual Po,rers
which says, 81 relate this without any
attempt at explanation, and without any
other comment than that its accuracy
may be relied on in all its PARTICULARS
''Two ladies', sisters, had been for sew
eral days in attendance upon their
brother. who was i'll of common sore
throat, severe and protracted, but not
considered as attended with danger
At the same time one of them had bor-
rowed watch from a friend in conse-
quence of her own being under repairs
This watch was one to which particular
value was attached. on account of some
family associations. and anxiety was ex-
pressed that it might not meet with any
injury. The sisters were sleeping to-
gether in Il room communicating with
IL IL q