The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1885-08-07
A STRANGE STORY.
My Remarkable Dream and It's
Fulf1llment.

Mine is strange story, the story OF
the one event-fraught even now with
a Mounting mystery-in life otherwise
monotonous and uninteresting. What
subtle instinct prompts me to tell my
tale, know not; unless it be the half
unconscious wish to communicate to
others that which must ever be con-
nected in my own mind with so much
that is weird and inexplicable. Even
now, when it all lies behind me like "a
tale that is told, - fast receding and fad
ing away into the outlived past; when
my blood flows coldly through my
veins, and my heart, like a wearied,
wasted thing, drags slowly on till the
chill hand of death shall stay it forever
even now | shrink with shuddering
repugnance, and would fain draw back
from my self-imposed task.
doubt il, under Gods Heaven, two
human souls ever loved each other more
devotedly than did my husband and
myself We had been married but
short twelve months when he came
home one night with a haggard, alb
sorbed look on his face, that told me
instantly something of importance must
have happened. What it was soon
learned. Business of the utmost ur-
gency required him to start at once for
Brazil We were to be separated, he
and |, for six long months-he to jour
-
waters, to drag out the weary days
in lonely waiting and watching for his
return.
Of the desolate weeks that followed
my husbands departure, l will not now
speak. The days dragged slowly on,
one by one, and at last the time arrived
when | might expect to hear from him.
The mail from Brazil the one he had
promised to write by-came in, but the
letter had watched for, longed for and
prayed for through so many weary days
and restless nights, came not, nor had
any tidings of his ship been received. |
went into his office, where | knew they
would hear directly she arrived. They
told me there was no cause for anxiety,
the ship was overdue, but that was
common occurrence; some accident had
probably delayed her; they would tel
egraph directly she was advised
Days grew into weeks and weeks into
months, and yet no news of the Osprey.
How l lived through that awful time,
God only knows. Night after night, /
lay awake thinking, thinking, thinking,
until, utterly exhausted, / fell into
restless, dream-haunted sleep; only
to toss to and fro on a
wild heaving ocean, over which
was wandering in search of my lost
husband Day after day | would shut
myself up in my room to lie PROSTATE
on the floor, sobbing 'Oh, my hus-
band my brave, noble husband! God
give him back to me! give him back to
me-"
l will not weary the reader and
wiring my own heart fresh by dwelling
upon the black misery and hopeless
agony of that fearful time. Two long
years had gone by, and nothing being
heard of the Osprey it was considered
as settled beyond doubt that she had
gone down and all on board persisted
just at this time an old maiden aunt of
my husbands, who had been very ill,
took it into her head that she would
like me to go and stay few days with
her. As the doctors said she could
not possibly live more than month or
two had not the heart to refuse; and
so, for the first time since my marriage,
found myself sleeping under strange
roof 1t was little country farm
house way up in the midland counties.
! had never been there before, and, as
the journey was a long one, and was
very tired, went to bed soon after nv
arrival. That night dreamt a dream
OF sucn intense vividness and reality
that even now l carp recall it to my
mind, fresh and unfading as if it had
happened but yesterday. | found my
self, / know not how, standing alone at
midnight on bare, bleak heath, lit
only by the weird light of low-lying
moon, far away in the starless south.
Across her wan face stretched ragged
skirt of black, angry cloud, on either
side of which the intercepted rays
broke into two long hazy beams of
light-one shooting far across the calm
heavens, the other bending down
toward earth till it was lost in the
shadowy horizon. All around me,
as far as the eve could
reach, spread the wild waste of
moorland, save that away to the right
saw the dark outline of some building
apparently deserted shed or cot
tage. As | stood there, numb and
trembling in the chill night air, a
strange irresistible impulse - / know
not what-seized me, by which l was
lmpelled, as by some unseen power, in
the direction of this object | drew
closer and closer, my heart wrenehing
in wild, uneven effort in my bosom, my
breath coming in short quick gasps,
and my ears so unnaturally strained for
the slightest sound, that l could hear
the blood Kissing and rushing through
the veins in my temples. Suddenly
heard sound as of some human being
in pain, and then a wild, wailing cry:
Harry, Harry, Harry God help mef'
and then low moan again. With one
bound rushed forward, and there in the
shadow of the shed, crouched up against
the wall, saw the form of a woman,
apparently dying. | knelt at her side,
raised her in my arms, and, as
the pale light of the moon
fell on her face, l recognized
the features of my lost husband. re-
collect wild, unearthly cry ringing in
NY ears, whether uttered by myself or
lot, can not say, and them awoke
o find myself lying there in that silent
house, with the cold light of cloudless
moon falling full ON my face through
the uncurtained window. Sleep, with
the recollection of that dream haunting
my mind, was impossible; so l rose,
and, on looking out, found that my
window opened on pair of iron stairs
reaching down to garden. In dull
mechanical way l dressed, slipped a
shawl over my head, and stepped out.
lpassed through the garden, unattached
gate, and found myself in an open
road, bordered on either side by tall
Indigenous. In front the road rose in
kind of hill, until it met the line of
sky, beyond which | could see nothing.
As l stepped hurriedly EDWARDS, the
moon, which, till then, had been shin