Mother caught her in her arms, her sister Catharine ran to call the doctor; but before they could enter the room, her spirit had taken its flight to the immortal world.
Her tombstone now records her dream, verbatim, in the old cemetery in Sodus.
They directed letters to her husband and friends in Albany, also sent letters to every packet-boat going east and returning. (There were no railroads nor convenient telegraph wires at that time.) They published the sad news in all the papers, and sent them to every place where he would be likely to get them.
He left Albany on Thursday, expecting to reach home on Sunday. At Lyons he left the boat, thinking he could reach home some hours sooner by taking a private conveyance. He met an acquaintance at the hotel, who handed him a paper containing a “special notice” of the sudden death of Mrs. Elizabeth Higgins. He saw no more, but fell prostrated with overwhelming grief. In vain they tried to rouse him until the reaction came. The funeral was appointed for half-past two o’clock P.M. He had twenty miles to ride, and it was nearly one o’clock then; he called for a horse, and started direct for the church, hoping to reach there before the burial. A large concourse had already assembled at the house, which was about two miles distant from the church. All were anxiously looking and waiting for the absent one. The weather was extremely warm, and they would proceed slowly; so it was thought best to start. Several times they halted on the way. Every eye and ear were strained to catch the faintest sight or sound, but all in vain. The church was reached. The mourners moved slowly up the aisle. There was not a single heart in that large assembly which did not thrill with sorrowful emotion. The congregation prayed in silence, and sobs were heard in every part of the house. The minister stood silent for a moment, then slowly and distinctly said—“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord.”
His voice was deep and solemn, and its clear tones penetrated every heart. His eyes beamed with tenderness, as he recounted with touching pathos the scenes of past happiness and this sad reverse. He offered up petitions to the Most High for the bereaved husband and friends. After taking final leave of those dearly loved features, so soon to be closed forever from our mortal vision, we started for the cemetery, distant about a quarter of a mile. Once more we halted. All hearts were high-strung with the hope that Uncle Charles might yet arrive; a prayer was said, the last sad offices were performed, and the friends returned, with aching hearts, to their bereaved home. Just as the family were entering the gateway, a tired, dusty rider came galloping at full speed. He came from the cemetery, where he had been seen to throw himself on the newly made grave, and call, in the bitter anguish of his soul, “My darling, O, my darling, come back to me.” (His sister’s son witnessed the scene.) It was sad to see his manly form so bowed by sorrow. He threw his arms around her sisters and held them in a long embrace; then calling for the child, he clasped it to his heart, crying, “My Bessie’s baby! Oh, my darling child! You are all that is left to me.”
I cannot describe his grief. It can be better imagined, than expressed in language.
PROPHETIC CLAIRVOYANCE.
Another story of my great-grandmother, which not only exists in the family, but which I perfectly remember to have heard from her own lips, illustrates her faculty of what I may call prophetic clairvoyance.
She had a friend and neighbor, named Urie, who had a splendid team of horses, of which he was very fond and proud, but which she had often urged him to get rid of, assuring him that they would cause his death if he did not. Her habitual manifestations of this faculty were during her somnambulic walks in the middle hours of the night; but this I am now to relate occurred about noonday, when she had not been asleep.
She was seated at a window which looked upon the road, engaged in some work of embroidery, when she was seen to start up, rush out to the road and run at her utmost speed about a mile, to a spot where the grassy side of the road sloped up to a fence. At this spot (followed by Mr. Urie’s wife and family), she ran up to the fence, and, taking off her apron, was seen to hold something, seemingly enfolded in it, with every indication of extreme agitation and distress. With her hands clasped together she was seen to rock her body backward and forward in great distress over the something apparently covered by the apron. Exactly one year from that day she did see from her window Mr. Urie’s team running away wildly past the house, dragging him entangled in the lines.