Another true story, for the truth of which I am willing to vouch for under oath before a hundred people.
A year or two after my dear and honored mother left me alone in the homestead I received a large sum of money, the payment of a loan, late one Saturday afternoon, and, as there was not a bank within twenty miles, slipped the roll of bills and checks into my pocket with serious misgivings, because some tramps had been seen prowling around the neighborhood. After the man who had paid me had left the house I sat down to my supper, poured a cup of coffee and put some food upon my plate, when I suddenly became aware that there was some one in the room, and hastily looked toward the door, at my right, which led into the hall. Imagine my surprise on seeing a woman, whom I did not recognize at first, standing between my chair and the door above mentioned. She appeared to be enveloped in a cloud of gray mist, but her white face, with its brilliant eyes, was distinctly visible. She seemed to be looking at me intently, and I wondered why she did not speak, for I thought she was a neighbor, and asked:
"How in the world did you get in?" She did not answer, and, knowing that the outside doors were securely locked, I began to feel a little nervous, but asked her to be seated. She did not stir. Then I said to myself, "It is a shadow—my own shade," and laughed to keep up my courage. But at that moment I happened to turn my eyes toward the wall ahead of me and saw my own shadow sharply defined against it, and remembered that the lamp was on a table behind me. Without moving my head I turned my eyes again to the right. The figure was still there, and I knew that it was not my reflection, and sprang from my chair as the truth slowly burned itself upon my inner consciousness that the apparition was nothing of flesh and blood, but the shade of my dear, dead mother! (But was it? Who can tell?)
Something like the shock of an electric battery held me powerless for a moment, then the figure slowly faded into nothingness! I rushed from the room and house, and told my nearest neighbor what I had seen.
She simply laughed and said: "Why, you were napping. You did not see a single thing!" Later in the evening, after my nervous fright had subsided, I returned to my home, but the sight of my untasted supper did not reassure me, but rather convinced me that I had really seen an apparition. "Oh, no, simply a spectral illusion," I concluded, and, with a strong effort of will power, banished the incident from my mind.
The following evening I attended church, but carried my valuable papers, bank books and money with me, for the first time since my bereavement. Imagine my surprise, on reaching home, to find the door which I had carefully locked wide open! The lock had been broken and the house searched by burglars, but the valuables which they had sought—except a gold watch and some silverware which I had securely hidden—were safe in my pocket.
Now, what of spectral illusions as warnings? Will you censure me, kind reader, if I tell you that I shall believe, till myg dying day, that the shade of my sainted mother appeared to me as a warning?
Perhaps my guardian angel wanted to put me on my guard, knowing that an attempt to rob or murder me would be made on the following evening if I remained at home; or, if absent, to burglarize the homestead. If it was simply an imaginary wraith or brain picture, it probably saved my life and money.
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