Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1888-01-06
A STRANGE STORY.
Can There Be All, So. II H. AZ r'rsns.
migration OF sou,,-A tAeasaat
and Rabbit
Which Appeared Undnr Very Startling Or
camstances and No Explanation Given
of Very Weird Narrative.
\ ew York sun.

lc5slOu VI ueteCtiVe. SUUo VIII SmllS ana
some will sneer, but l shall have the con-
ISOLATION of knowing that I am honest and
truthful in what say
One night fifteen years ago, while on the
street at q late hour, was accosted by d
stranger who asked for money enough to
pay for lodging. Our instructions were
to arrest every beggar and Vagrant and it
was my duty to run this man in. He
made no protest and had scarcely walked
e block with him when found that my
prisoner was man Of more than Or
binary Intelligence. That he was q little
of in his upper story was PLAIN enough
after few minutes conversation, but
that he was 8 gentleman and scholar
was also just as plain. He was ragged
and penniless, and his hollow cheeks and
glittering eyes proved the presence Of
disease in mis- system. Instead Of taking
him to the station, l conducted him to a
cheap lodging house and restaurant, and
had paid for c meal and a bed for him, and
was going away, when he laid hand on
my arm and whispered:
eff you can wait until l have had bit
to eat can tell you great secret"
That caught me ct once. I hoped for
some revelation regarding an old murder
or robbery case and could hardly retain my
impstielce until he had finished his meal
When | came to see him with his hat of,
l knew that he was 8 professional man
probably doctor. He had high FORE
head, an intelligent face, and would have
been fine looking if he had been in health
He was victim of consumption, and it
would have been safe to wager that be
would not live week. When he had
| Fl nished the meal he seemed imbued with
HEw life. It was warm summer night,
fand at his request we entered public
park and sat down on one of the benches.
DR.. BRINsLY's EXPERIENCE.
"To begin with" he said, as we got
seated, "my name is Richard Brinsly, and
have been physician and surgeon for
the last thirty years. have been out Of
practice for the last five years, and, as to
that, have also been out of home and
money and friends. l spent my time di-
costing medical science and trying expert
ments when should have been attending
on my patients, and, IS consequence,
people soon got to know me for crank,
and was driven out of practice. I am
now speaking of four or five years ago.
Before began to dabble in theory or ex-
pertinent held up my head with the best
of them, and never knew q want"
had frequently heard of the man. At
one time he stood among the highest in
the medical profession in st. Louis. He
had gone daft, people said, on transmit
grafton and other theories, and his
vagrant life and exposure had induced
the disease which was soon to end his
days. The great secret he was to unfold
was not connected with crime, as had
hoped for; but, nevertheless, found my
self feeling anxious to hear what he had
to tell. We got settled down again, and
he continued:
"The first idea of TRANSPORTATION was
very re puguant TO me. We have all been
led TO believe that when man dies the
soul ascends to Heaven to live on, and
with our own eyes we see the body laid
away in the ground. That the soul of
one dying should take possession OF bird,
beast, or reptile instead of returning
to its Creator Is sgainst sentiment and
reason, but still some of our wisest and
best men so believe. As 1 said, the theory
was repugnant to me. argued fiercely
in opposition to it, and at one time /
fit that nothing on earth could bring
sme over to adopt it. You see, among my
best friends were number of believers,
and one night WAS called to the bedside
of one of them, who had been MORALLY
wounded by the accidental discharge OF a
revolver. 1t was plain from the first that
rothipg could be done for him. He SUI
fered but little pain, and was in his senses
to the very last. He knew that he had
got to go and in his very dying hour he
said to me:
&C inh rd r hnjs nfvy $hoyr
ever in the theory Of transm.gration.
Whether l shall take the form of bird or
beast after death do not know, but it is
proach you IN whatever form it is, and
you shall know me. Remember, Richard,
you shall know me-
"He spoke with such earnestness and
under such circumstances that l was
deeply affected, and for the first time l
began to believe there might be something
in the theory.
THE ADVENT OF THE PHEASANT.
"He died within half an hour Of my
leaving the house, and he had been dead
two hours when L returned TO my Office.
l was living then in Chicago, near the
corner of State and Sixteenth streets.
There were only wife and self, and Office
and living rooms were up stairs. It was
dreary, rainy night, and after my wife
had gone 10 bed 1 sat gazing into the fire
in the open CRATE and wondering over the
case. It must have been near mid
night when l rose up to retire to
the bedroom, and as got on my feet I
heard tapping at the window. You'll
think Of Poe's Raven sir. and so did l,
but, nevertheless, there was tapping, |
tapping st the window. 1t was at a win
dow facing State street, and when lifted
the curtain and looked out dlscerned i
black object on the window sill. l eau
tiously raised the sash, land 10! q partridge |
futtered into the room. The bird was |
damp and wet, and it luttered over to the |
fire and dried its feathers while it stead
lastly regarded me. own up to you, sir. |
that l was startled, and that l had no |
douot that the spirit of my friend had
come back to me.
sIt may have been three minutes from |
the time the bird entered the room before |
it spread its wings and alightsd on my
shoulder. Then it put its bill against my
face and caressed me, in dozen ways,
and when I asked il 1t was the spirit Of
my dead friend it uttered notes of delight.
l stroked its feathers, and talked 500 h |
iDgly, but after ten minutes it flew to the
window and plainly intimated its desire
~ dor.rI opoun tho sash and with a |