Voices

Oldbank, Enniskillen. December, 1885. I was staying in a country house, but not with (at that time) very intimate freinds, and 1 cannot feel sure that I mentioned the circumstance. I shall be writing to one of them soon, and will ask if she remembers my speaking of it at all. The recollection, except as to precise date, is as vivid in my mind as ever — the tone of the voice, as of one not stationary, but leaving the room by the door,i which was on the left side and near the head of my bed ; and likewise the words, distinctly spoken. I left France in 1857, and my friend died in 1858. It was the year before my marriage, and I was then a girl of 20. I had no terror, or even surprise ; but equally little when I heard of her sudden death, which I seemed to have foreknown. As to the hour, I gathered that it must have been tolerably simultaneous with the death. We did not go to our rooms till 11 ever in that house. I had the sensation of being awoke out of my first sleep. My friend was found dead and cold (in her house in Alsace) between 4 and 5 in the morning. Having led a wandering life since my marriage, I have kept no letters of so long ago. The circumstances of the loss of my beloved friend, and my jirin belief in her desire to take leave of me, are both indelibly impressed on my memory. I wish, for the sake of science, my details were more satisfactory. I was a parlour boarder from '55 to '57 (inclusive) at the Chateau Giron, then a large and well-known school. Mme. H. was one of the principals ; the friendship between us was of a very close and unusual kind. She was just the sort of woman whose ' will ' once more to see a dear friend would triumph over almost any difficulties, as I always believe it did. a Agnes Evens. In reply to further inquiries, Mrs. Evens adds : — In my own mind I always associate the hearing of the voice with a Sunday night. You will say this is unreliable, and so it is, but I find that in the recollection of my domestic events, births, deaths, &c., my recollection of the day of the week, with its associations, is more reliable than that of the date. As to any other [auditory] hallucinations, the only one I can remember is the sound of music unusual in character, &c., but it took place when I was worn out with nursing and grief, and I have always assigned it to an abnormal condition of the nervous system, associated with a time of such sorrow that I can hardly bear to go back upon it. I seemed not so much to be awoke hy the voice as to wake to hear it. I had no doubt as to