"We plunged into the jungle, and had walked on for about an hour without much success, when Cameron, who happened to be next to me, stopped suddenly, turned pale as death, and, pointing straight before him, cried in accents of horror: 'See! see! merciful heavens, look there!' 'Where? what? what is it?' we all shouted confusedly, as we rushed up to him, and looked around in expectation of encountering a tiger—a cobra—we hardly knew what, but assuredly something terrible, since it had been sufficient to cause such evident emotion in our usually self-contained comrade. But neither tiger nor cobra was visible—nothing but Cameron pointing with ghastly haggard face and starting eyeballs at something we could not see.
"'Cameron! Cameron!' cried I, seizing his arm, 'for heavens sake speak! What is the matter?' Scarcely were the words out of my mouth when a low but very peculiar sound struck upon my ear, and Cameron, dropping his pointing hand, said in a hoarse, strained voice, 'There! you heard it? Thank God it's over!' and fell to the ground insensible. There was a momentary confusion while we unfastened his collar, and I dashed in his face some water which I fortunately had in my flask, while another tried to pour brandy between his clenched teeth; and under cover of it I whispered to the man next to me (one of our greatest skeptics, by the way), 'Beauchamp, did you hear anything?' 'Why, yes,' he replied, 'a curious sound, very; a sort of crash or rattle far away in the distance, yet very distinct; if the thing were not utterly impossible, I could have sworn that it was the rattle of musketry.' 'Just my impression,' murmured I; 'but hush! he is recovering.'
"In a minute or two he was able to speak feebly, and began to thank us and apologize for giving trouble; and soon he sat up, leaning against a tree, and in a firm, though low voice said: 'My dear friends, I feel that I owe you an explanation of my extraordinary behavior. It is an explanation that I would fain avoid giving; but it must come some time, and so may as well be given now. You may perhaps have noticed that when during our voyage you all joined in scoffing at dreams, portents and visions, I invariably avoided giving any opinion on the subject. I did so because, while I had no desire to court ridicule or provoke discussion, I was unable to agree with you, knowing only too well from my own dread experience that the world which men agree to call that of the supernatural is just as real as—nay, perhaps even more real than—this world we see about us. In other words, I, like many of my countrymen, am cursed with the gift of second-sight—that awful faculty which foretells in vision calamities that are shortly to occur.
"'Such a vision I had just now, and its exceptional horror moved me as you have seen. I saw before me a corpse—not that of one who has died a peaceful, natural death, but that of the victim of some terrible accident; a ghastly, shapeless mass, with a face swollen, crushed, unrecognizable. I saw this dreadful object placed in a coffin, and the funeral service performed over it. I saw the burial-ground, I saw the clergyman: and though I had never seen either before, I can picture both perfectly in my mind's eye now; I saw you, myself, Beauchamp, all of us and many more, standing round as mourners; I saw the soldiers raise their muskets after the service was over; I heard the volley they fired—and then I knew no more.' As he spoke of that volley of musketry I glanced across with a shudder at Beauchamp, and the look of stony horror on that handsome skeptic's face was not to be forgotten."
Omitting the somewhat long recital of events which followed, I would say that later in the same day the party of young officers and soldiers discovered the body of their commanding officer in the shocking condition so vividly and graphically described by young Cameron. The story proceeds as follows:
"When, on the following evening, we arrived at our destination, and our melancholy deposition had been taken down by the proper authorities, Cameron and I went out for a quiet walk, to endeavor with the assistance of the soothing influence of nature to shake off something of the gloom which paralyzed our spirits. Suddenly he clutched my arm, and, pointing through some rude railings, said in a trembling voice, 'Yes, there it is! that is the burial-ground of yesterday.' And, when later on we were introduced to the chaplain of the post, I noticed, though my friends did not, the irrepressible shudder with which Cameron took his hand, and I knew that he had recognized the clergyman of his vision."
The story concludes with the statement that in all the little details, as well as the main points, the scene at the burial of the commanding officer corresponded exactly with the vision of Cameron. This story brings out the fact that the Scotch people are especially given to manifestations of second-sight—particularly the Highlanders or mountain people of that land. It is hard to find a Scotchman, who, in his heart, does not believe in second-sight, and who has not known of some well authenticated instance of its manifestation. In other lands, certain races, or sub-races, seem to be specially favored (or cursed, as Cameron asserted) with this power. It will be noticed, usually, that such people dwell, or have dwelt in the highlands or mountains of their country. There seems to be something in the mountains and hills which tends to develop and encourage this power in those dwelling among them. The story is also remarkable in the fact that the impression was so strong in the mind of Cameron that it actually communicated itself by clairaudience to those near to him—this is quite unusual, though not without correspondence in other cases. Otherwise, the case is merely a typical one, and may be duplicated in the experience of thousands of other men and women.
George Fox, the pioneer Quaker, had this faculty well developed, and numerous instances of its manifestation by him are recorded. For instance, he foretold the death of Cromwell, when he met him riding at Hampton Court; he said that he felt "a waft of death" around and about Cromwell; and Cromwell died shortly afterwards. Fox also publicly foretold the dissolution of the Rump Parliament of England; the restoration of Charles II; and the Great Fire of London—these are historical facts, remember. For that matter, history contains many instances of this kind: the prophecy of Caesar's death, and its further prevision by his wife, for instance. The Bible prophecies and predictions, major and minor, give us semi-historical instances.
A celebrated historical instance of remarkable second-sight and prevision, is that of Cazotte, whose wonderful prediction and its literal fulfilment are matters of French history. Dumas has woven the fact into one of his stories, in a dramatic manner—but even so he does not make the tale any more wonderful than the bare facts. Here is the recital of the case by La Harpe, the French writer, who was a personal witness of the occurrence, and whose testimony was corroborated by many others who were present at the time. La Harpe says:
"It appears as but yesterday, and yet, nevertheless, it was at the beginning of the year 1788. We were dining with one of our brethren at the Academy—a man of considerable wealth and genius. The conversation became serious; much admiration was expressed on the revolution in thought which Voltaire had effected, and it was agreed that it was his first claim to the reputation he enjoyed. We concluded that the revolution must soon be consummated; that it was indispensible that superstition and fanaticism should give way to philosophy, and we began to calculate the probability of the period when this should be, and which of the present company should live to see it. The oldest complained that they could scarcely flatter themselves with the hope; the younger rejoiced that they might entertain this very probable expectation; and they congratulated the Academy especially for having prepared this great work, and for having been the rallying point, the centre, and the prime mover of the liberty of thought.