Part 8 (1/2)
Of course, I mentioned my strange experience and all the details connected with it--_except_ the exact hour of the occurrence. It was by a pure oversight (as I supposed) that this fact was omitted. I have had reason since to believe that I was unconsciously impressed to leave out this special detail, in order that I might receive far better evidence than would have been possible under other circ.u.mstances. Had I mentioned the hour of the vision, the imagination of my young friends in Melbourne might have been at work as regards the hour of _their_ experience, which was as follows:--
Several weeks after leaving Dunback I reached Auckland, and received amongst other letters one from Lizzie Maynard in answer to mine. Mr Kitchener had also written, saying what nice girls my friends the Maynards must be, and how kindly they had written to his excellent little housekeeper, sending her welcome gifts, and saying that her place had never been filled in their hearts, and so forth. Lizzie's letter to me began also about the excellences of ”Jane,” and the curious coincidence through which she had been once more put in touch with her; then she went on to say:
”It is indeed very remarkable about your experience, dear Miss Bates, but I think you will consider it much more remarkable when I tell you what _we_ were doing that night. I was spending the week-end with our mutual friends Captain and Mrs Boyle” (in whose house she and I had encountered Mrs Burroughes), ”and Lily Boyle and I were sleeping in the same room, as the house was full.
”On the evening of 31st December there was a little dance arranged, to 'dance the old year out and the new year in,' and at midnight we dispersed, the visitors going home, and those in the house retiring to bed. Lily and I were too much excited to get into bed at once, so I suggested that we should try to compose a letter to Miss Pearl” (this being the lady whose writings they greatly admired. I had allowed them to use my name as an introduction, should they wish to communicate with her at any time).
Lizzie went on to say how nervous they were about writing the letter, fearing that so popular an author might not take any notice of the badly expressed letter of two young colonial girls. However, she did her best, and Lily Boyle did _her_ best, and the result was a hopeless failure!
”Then,” continued Lizzie, ”a happy thought struck me--George Eliot had used my hand to convey her message to you last October; might we not, remembering this, appeal to her to help us in our difficulty? So we gave up trying to write the letter ourselves, took down planchette from its shelf, and started again. In a few moments an excellent letter was written, giving your name as an introduction, with all the little points you had specially begged us to remember in connection with Miss Pearl's probable prejudices. It was so splendidly written, and so quickly, that you can imagine our delight! We could not bear to give up planchette even after both our names had been signed, and I said pleadingly: '_Oh, don't go away! Do stop and tell us something more._'
”In large letters, as you see” (Lizzie enclosed the script), ”was written very decidedly:
”NO, I CANNOT STAY WITH YOU NOW--I HAVE PROMISED TO GO AND SEE STELLA'S DAUGHTER.
”I remembered, dear Miss Bates, that G. Eliot had said your mother's name in spirit life was _Stella_, so, of course, we knew that she meant us to understand that she was going to see _you_.
”Unfortunately, you did not mention the hour of her visit, but we took the time when enclosed message was written--very accurately--in order to tell you about it, and the hour was just twelve-thirty A.M. Do write and tell us that was the time when she appeared to you--we feel sure it must have been--but are longing to have our idea confirmed, etc. etc.”
Now my young friends had evidently entirely forgotten the difference in time between Dunedin and Melbourne, and I must confess to my own amazement when I found that it was considerably over the sixty minutes, which I should have vaguely supposed it to be.
In fact, I was rather disappointed to think there was so wide a margin between the two occurrences, until I casually asked a gentleman, who was staying in my hotel, if he could tell me the difference in time between the two cities.
”Not exactly, I'm afraid, but it is considerably over an hour. Ah, there is a good atlas! I can easily calculate it for you.” He remained silent for a moment, and then raising his head, said: ”As nearly an hour and three quarters as possible.” This was pretty good evidence of the practically simultaneous experience of my friends in Melbourne at twelve-thirty A.M., with my own at two-fifteen A.M. in the neighbourhood of Dunedin.
When I first became acquainted with Mr Myers, shortly after my return from Australia and New Zealand, I told him this story. He was greatly interested, but pointed out that it was useless from the evidential point of view unless I would take the trouble to write one or two letters to the Colonies.
So I wrote to Mr Kitchener for confirmation of the fact that I was staying in his house on the night of 31st December 1887, and had told him of my experience next morning, exactly as here related. Then I had to get Miss Lizzie Maynard's testimony with regard to her letter to me, and finally, I think, the testimony of Lily Boyle and her father that Miss Maynard was their guest in Melbourne on the occasion of the New Year's Eve dance. These letters are presumably still amongst the archives of the Society of Psychical Research, and the story was printed by them in their Proceedings some years ago.
I may add a last evidential touch by saying that when I met Miss Pearl for the first time after my travels, she referred to the letter she had received--under favour of my introduction--and quite spontaneously remarked upon its excellence, adding:
”I could scarcely believe that two young Australian girls, as they described themselves to me, could have written such an admirable letter.”
I did not disclose the real source of the composition, as the popular author thinks that she has no belief in spiritualism.
CHAPTER IV
HONG KONG, ALASKA, AND NEW YORK
The spring months of 1888 found me at Brisbane, _en route_ for China, after spending a pleasant month with old friends on a well-known station belonging to the late Sir Arthur Hodgson, named Eton Vale, and situated on the beautiful and healthy Darling Downs of Queensland.
Before returning to Sydney from New Zealand, my female ”Dr Livingstone” had reappeared upon the scene in the most unexpected manner. Our ”historical meeting” took place in an Auckland hotel, where she suddenly turned up one day, driven back from Samoa by the intense heat. So after some gentle recriminations, she ”having supposed the delay on my part might mean an entire change of plan,”
and I having supposed--from her letters--that Sydney was such a Paradise that she could hardly be dragged from it even by a flaming sword, we agreed to cry ”quits,” and continue our travels together. So Miss Greenlow spent the month of March in Sydney, whilst I paid my visit to Queensland, and we met once more at Brisbane to take steamer for Thursday Island, Cape Darwin, and eventually Hong Kong. Only one small matter of psychic interest occurred during this voyage.
I have mentioned in a previous chapter the little ”swallows,” which I first saw in San Francisco in the year 1886. I had been accustomed to seeing them ever since that date, and had been frequently commiserated for incipient eye trouble in consequence, by more than one sceptical friend.
On the very day we went on board the Hong Kong steamer at Brisbane, a new sign appeared: a single bird, holding in its beak a ring with half hoop of five stones, presumably diamonds. I told my friend about this, but neither she nor I could imagine any significance in it. At that time we had not even met any of our fellow-pa.s.sengers to speak to, for we were all taken up with settling into our cabins and trying to make ourselves as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would permit.
For a whole week the same little bird and the same ring were persistently held up before me. Then an inkling of the possible meaning broke upon me suddenly. Within a fortnight of our sailing this suspicion was confirmed, and the little bird's warning or suggestion amply justified. But ”that is another story!” Curiously enough, the new ”sign in the heavens” was withdrawn as soon as I had grasped its meaning.