"May, 1888.
"At Midsummer, 1869, I left London for Naples. The heat being excessive, people were leaving for Ischia, and I thought it best to go there myself.
"Crossing by steamer, I slept one night at Casamicciola, on the coast, and walked next morning into the town of Ischia [Mr. Goodall then describes an accident to his hand, which prevented him from sketching.]
"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.
"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.
"The postman brought me two letters containing sad news indeed. Poor little Percy! I dreamt some nights since the poor little fellow was taken from us...."
"August 14th.
"I did not tell you, dear, the particulars of my dream about poor little Percy.
"I had been for several days very fidgety and wretched at getting no letters from home, and had gone to bed in worse spirits than usual, and in my dream I fancied I said: 'I have lost my dearest little May.' A strange voice seemed to say: 'No, not May, but your youngest boy,' not mentioning his name."
Mr. Myers adds:—
"Mr. Goodall has given me verbally a concordant account of the affair, and several members of his family, who were present at our interview, recollected the strong impression made on him and them at the time."[92]
In the case which follows the agency is difficult to elucidate. The persons who were spectators of the scene represented in the dream can hardly be supposed to have been acquainted with the dreamer, and assuredly would not willingly have revealed the secret. The dream appears to have been of a clairvoyant character. The account is taken from the Proceedings of the Am. S.P.R., pp. 454 et seq.
No. 60.—From MRS. E. J.
"CAMBRIDGE (U.S.A.), Nov. 30, 1886.
"The dream I will endeavour to relate as clearly as possible.
"It occurred during the month of August, last summer, while we were boarding with Mrs. H., in Lunenburg, where I first met the Misses W. I am a perfectly healthy woman, and have always been sceptical as to hallucinations in any one, always before having felt the cause of the experience might be traced.
"In my dream I arrived unexpectedly at the house of the Misses W., in Cambridge, where I found everything in confusion, drawers emptied and their contents scattered about the floor, bundles unrolled, and dresses taken down from the closets. Then, as I stepped into one room, I saw some boys in bed,—three or four, I cannot distinctly remember. I saw their faces distinctly, as they sat up in bed at my approach, but the recollection of their faces has faded from me now. I could not reach the boys, for they disappeared suddenly, and I could not find them; but I thought, These cannot be the people whom the Misses W. trusted to care for their house in their absence; and I was troubled to know whether it was best to tell them when I should return to Lunenburg. This is all there was in the dream.
"Thinking only to amuse them, I related my dream at the breakfast-table the following morning, and I regretted doing so immediately, for anxiety showed itself in their faces, and the elder Miss W. remarked that she hoped my dream was not a forerunner of bad tidings from home. I laughed at the idea, but that morning the mail brought a letter telling them that their house had been entered, and when they went down they found almost the same confusion of which I had been a witness the night before—with everything strewn about the floor. It was a singular coincidence, surely."