It must have been on my third or fourth night, and about the middle of it, when I awoke, as it seemed at the sound of my own voice, saying, "I know I have lost my dearest little May." Another voice, which I in no way recognised, answered, "No, not May, but your youngest boy."
The distinctness and solemnity of the voice made such a distressing impression upon me that I slept no more. I got up at daybreak, and went out, noticing for the first time telegraph-poles and wires.
Without delay I communicated with the postmaster at Naples, and by next boat received two letters from home. I opened them according to dates outside. The first told me that my youngest boy was taken suddenly ill; the second, that he was dead.
Neither on his account nor on that of any of my family had I any cause for uneasiness. All were quite well on my taking leave of them so lately. My impression ever since has been that the time of the death coincided as nearly as we could judge with the time of my accident.[233]
In writing to Mrs. Goodall, I called the incident of the voice a dream, as less likely perhaps to disturb her than the details which I gave on reaching home, and which I have now repeated.
My letters happen to have been preserved.
I have never had any hallucination of any kind, nor am I in the habit of talking in my sleep. I do remember once waking with some words of mere nonsense upon my lips, but the experience of the voice speaking to me was absolutely unique.
Edward A. Goodall.
Extracts from letters to Mrs. E. A. Goodall from Ischia:—
Wednesday, August 11th, 1869.