Miscellaneous
Ax and written word “Ax,” Box—open, Box—with three crosses, Butterfly-net, Flag, Flag—Japanese, fringed, on staff, Fleur-de-lis, Gate, Gibbet and Noose, Globe—world, Hearts—two, pierced by arrow, Hill—with birds above, Hill—with sun above, Hoe, Hook—in hasp, Hose—end, with water, Hourglass—with running sand, Hydrant, Ladder, Machine—scraper (?), Mail Bag, Money—five-cent piece, Mortuary monument (?), Police Billy, Rake—head, Rule, Screw, Shovel, Sun, Telegraph Wires and Pole, Trowel, Volcano, Wheel.
EPILOGUE
Such was the end of Dr. Prince’s study; as careful and precise a piece of scientific investigation as I have ever come upon. She did not fail to appreciate it, and to thank him. He died a couple of years later.
Craig survived him by a quarter of a century; but she did no more experimenting. She had satisfied herself, her husband, and such authorities as Dr. Prince, Prof. McDougall, and Albert Einstein, and that was enough. Her mind went on to speculate as to the meaning of such phenomena; to psychology, philosophy, and religion. What was the source of the powers she possessed and had demonstrated? What was the meaning of the mystery called life? Where did it come from, and what became of it when it left us, or appeared to? She filled a large bookcase with works on these subjects, studied them far into the night, and discussed them with a husband who would have preferred to wait and see.
At the age of seventy she had her first heart attack, and from that time on was never free of pain. For eight years I had her sole care, because that was the way she wished it. Her death took many weeks, and to go into details would serve no good purpose. I mention only one very curious circumstance: During her last year she had three dreadful falls on a hard plastone floor, and I had taken these to be fainting spells. A few days after her death I received a letter from a stranger in the Middle West, telling me that he had just had a séance with Arthur Ford and had a communication from Mary Craig Sinclair, asking him to inform me that her supposed fainting spells had been light strokes. I called the doctor who with two other doctors had performed an autopsy; I did not mention the letter, but asked him the results, and he told me that the brain lesions showed she had had three light strokes.
I tell this incident for what it may be worth. I myself have no convictions that would cause me to prejudge it, to say nothing of inventing it.
Ford has promised me a visit.
[1]. Oliver Wendell Holmes was a poet and novelist, but as the Encyclopedia Britannica says: “In 1843 he published his essay on the Contagiousness of Puerperal Fever, which stirred up a fierce controversy and brought upon him bitter personal abuse, but he maintained his position with dignity, temper and judgment, and in time was honored as the discoverer of a beneficent truth.” It was about the same time that Semmelweiss was making similar observations, but he did not take preventive measures until 1847, and Lister came still later.