Weeks passed away, Mrs. Harris dreamed on, drawing comfort and peace from the nightly visits of her spirit child. The visions became stronger and clearer; other forms than that of her little boy were sometimes seen, and other voices than his mingled in her ears. These voices spoke to the lonely woman of the spirit world, its joys, its home life, and its duties; so vivid did they appear to her that she would remember and repeat them to her husband in her waking hours.
At length the lady began to declare her belief that God had permitted her little one to return to her in her hours of sleep, to comfort her in her sore affliction; and truly did she seem to grow calm and happy in mind, even though her body became more delicate and fragile. Anxious for his wife’s health, and fearful lest her mind was becoming unbalanced, Mr. Harris consulted with his family physician concerning her strange condition. The doctor examined the lady, and pronounced her of sound mind; he declared the nervous system, however, to be shattered, and recommended travel as a means of restoration to health.
About this time, Mrs. Harris received a letter from her sister and husband living in the West, urging her and Mr. Harris to visit them in their far-off home. After mature deliberation on the part of our friends, it was decided to accept the cordial invitation extended by their relatives, the Websters; and they accordingly prepared to leave their home for the West, as soon as the spring should open and render travelling comfortable and easy.
DREAMS THAT APPEARED STRANGE.
One morning—soon after the above decision was made—Mrs. Harris appeared at the breakfast table in a pre-occupied state of mind, which her husband noticed, and which elicited inquiry from him as to its cause.
“I will tell you,” said the lady. “You remember Mrs. Stevens, the seamstress I used to employ to do my plain sewing? Well, the last time she was here I noticed she labored very hard for breath, and fearing that she had taken a violent cold, I paid her her due, and advised her to go home and attend to herself. It was the time Freddie was so very ill, and in my anxiety for him I forgot all about the poor woman; until about six weeks ago I sent for her to come to me, when I learned for the first time of her death at the hospital, which occurred last winter.
“I wondered what had become of her little boy, but supposed he had been taken care of by friends. You remember what a liking our Freddie took to the little fellow, and how he always begged to be allowed to show him some toys and give him cake whenever his mother brought him with her.
“Well, for the last three nights I have seen Mrs. Stevens as plainly as I ever saw her in my life, but with a look of distress on her face that she never wore in my presence. Last night, our Freddie was with her, and I heard him say: ‘Oh, mamma, her Georgie is in trouble, he is not treated well, he is unhappy, and it makes her so too. I like Georgie, and I want you to find him and make him happy, as I am happy in this lovely world.’
“There,” continued the lady, “I have told you my dream. I promised Freddie I would do what I could for the little Stevens boy; but I don’t know where he is, I am sure. However, I am certain I have had a visit from the dead, and I feel that I must keep my promise.”
This occurrence convinced Mr. Harris that his wife’s sanity depended upon his taking her away from home immediately; and so quickly did he push his preparations for departure that the end of another week found them fairly started on their long journey.