It was in 1858. In the French colony of that city, people were still talking about a singular apparition which had taken place there a few years before. An Alsatian family, consisting of a husband, wife, and little girl, still almost a baby, sailed for Rio de Janeiro, where they were to join some compatriots living in that city. The passage was very long, the wife was taken ill, and lacking proper care and nourishment, did not live to reach there. The day she died she fell into a swoon, remained in that state for some time, and when she recovered her senses, said to her husband, who was watching by her side, "I die happy, for now I am easy about the fate of our child. I have just come from Rio de Janeiro. I found our friend Fritz the carpenter's house and street; he was standing at the door. I showed him our little girl; I feel sure that on your arrival he will recognize and take care of her." That very day, at the same hour, Fritz the Alsatian carpenter, of whom I have just spoken, was standing at the door of the house where he lived in Rio de Janeiro, when he thought he saw one of his compatriots going along the street with a little girl in her arms. She looked at him entreatingly, and seemed to show him the child she was carrying. Her face, notwithstanding its emaciation, reminded him of Latta, the wife of his friend and fellow-countryman Schmidt. Her expression, the singularity of her step, which seemed more like a vision than reality, struck Fritz; and wanting to be sure that he was not the victim of an illusion, he called one of his men who was working in the shop, and who was also an Alsatian from the same locality.
"Look," said he; "do you not see a woman going down the street, holding a child in her arms, and should you not say that it is Latta, our friend Schmidt's wife?"
"I cannot say; I do not see her very distinctly," replied the workman.
Fritz said no more; but the different circumstances of this real or imaginary apparition fixed themselves firmly in his mind, especially the day and hour. Some time after that, Schmidt, his compatriot, arrived, carrying a little girl in his arms. Latta's visit then came into Fritz's mind; and before Schmidt had spoken a word he said to him,—
"I know all, my poor friend: your wife died during the passage. Before she died, she came and showed me her little girl, that I might take care of her. Here is the date and hour."
It was really the day and hour noted by Schmidt on board the boat.
In his work on the Phenomena of Magic, published in 1864, Gougenot des Mousseaux reports the following incident, which he certifies as absolutely authentic:-
Sir Robert Bruce, belonging to the illustrious Scotch family of that name, was mate of a vessel. One day, when sailing near Newfoundland, and while busy with his calculations, he thought he saw the captain seated at his desk, but looked at him attentively, and noticed that it was a stranger, whose cold, fixed look surprised him. He went on deck; the captain noticed his surprise, and asked him what it meant.
"Who is at your desk?" asked Bruce.
"No one."