The Missing Link In Modern Spiritualism Part 6

They were married, and enjoyed five years of uninterrupted happiness.

The time was drawing near when she expected to become a mother. Uncle Charles was a devoted husband, and regretted that duty called him from home at this time. (He was engaged in Albany on public business.) He could not rest; he must return to his darling little wife, and spend a few days with her, and arrange with his brother, Dr. Higgins, to remain as a protector and physician in his house, until all danger had pa.s.sed.

He came (to her) unexpected, and she was delighted to see him.

The doctor came to remain as long as it was necessary. Her husband had already overstaid his time; and, as it was important for him to be in Albany, he was obliged to leave. There were many anxious hearts that feared, and silently prayed that their hopes of happiness might be realized. (I really do think that she had been reasoned out of belief in _that_ dream.) She rejoiced and was happy when he promised her he would never again accept an office which would take him from home.

It was a bright, lovely morning. The team stood waiting at the gate, to take him to Newark (ten miles), the nearest point from which he could reach the ca.n.a.l packet boat, for Albany. Bessie walked with him to the gate (about two hundred feet from the door), where he tenderly embraced her and kissed her again and again, promising that he would refrain from leaving home on business in the future. He alluded in glowing terms to their prospects of happiness, in the birth of their expected child, and warned her of the danger of yielding to superst.i.tion. He begged her not to repeat her dreams, as they were the result of a disordered condition of health. Then, taking her in his arms, he carried her back to the house, saying: "My darling, I cannot part with you here at the gate; permit me to remember you as seated in your pleasant room, surrounded by loving friends, and happy again." He held her in a long, fond embrace, kissing her with tears and sobs, and gently seating her in her easy-chair, bade her farewell, and rushed to the conveyance, fearing to look back, lest he should see her weeping at the door.

She wept some time after he was gone, but soon felt more cheerful, and frequently repeated what he had promised--that he would never leave home again after that season.

A week had pa.s.sed, and a little voice was heard. She fondly clasped her babe to her breast and called it "My little Charles, my darling baby!

Oh! how happy I am." They were both doing well. Letters were sent to her husband by every mail, which were duly received by him. She wished the child would resemble his father, who was a splendid man in every sense.

She too was perfect in form and feature.

It was the day on which she had attained her age of twenty-seven years, eight months, and twenty-six days, _the age marked on the tombstone she had seen in her dream of about nine years before_. All the family knew of it, though she gave no sign of thinking of it, and seemed entirely cheerful and happy.

The little one was two weeks old; a letter was received that morning saying, "I shall be at home the last of this week. I shall say farewell to Albany." Words cannot express her joy at this unexpected announcement. She directed everything, how to dress the baby, and arranged for them to go after her husband's mother and sister, who had not seen the little one, as they had been absent on a visit. They were delighted to find Bessie and the baby so well, and the little Charles looking "so exactly like his father, except that he had his mother's curly hair." The mother seemed perfectly happy, but there were anxious hearts that silently prayed to G.o.d to avert the fearful calamity, which they feared might now be hanging over them. The day was pa.s.sing away.

She was well and cheerful. Her family were near her, doing all they could to divert her thoughts from _the date_. Her minister, Rev. Mark Johnson, and his wife called to spend an hour with the family. She was pleased to see them, and united with them in prayer. She called Mrs.

Johnson to see how sweetly the infant nestled in her bosom. Then, turning to the minister she said, "Mr. Johnson, we shall have the baby christened Charles Smith Higgins as soon as his father comes home."

The last rays of the setting sun shone on the tree tops. Once more she called attention to the child, smiling on it the while; when suddenly she exclaimed, "Oh!" and placed one hand upon her breast, while with the other pressing the babe closer to her bosom.

Mother caught her in her arms, her sister Catharine ran to call the doctor; but before they could enter the room, her spirit had taken its flight to the immortal world.

Her tombstone now records her dream, verbatim, in the old cemetery in Sodus.

They directed letters to her husband and friends in Albany, also sent letters to every packet-boat going east and returning. (There were no railroads nor convenient telegraph wires at that time.) They published the sad news in all the papers, and sent them to every place where he would be likely to get them.

He left Albany on Thursday, expecting to reach home on Sunday. At Lyons he left the boat, thinking he could reach home some hours sooner by taking a private conveyance. He met an acquaintance at the hotel, who handed him a paper containing a "special notice" of the sudden death of Mrs. Elizabeth Higgins. He saw no more, but fell prostrated with overwhelming grief. In vain they tried to rouse him until the reaction came. The funeral was appointed for half-past two o'clock P.M. He had twenty miles to ride, and it was nearly one o'clock then; he called for a horse, and started direct for the church, hoping to reach there before the burial. A large concourse had already a.s.sembled at the house, which was about two miles distant from the church. All were anxiously looking and waiting for the absent one. The weather was extremely warm, and they would proceed slowly; so it was thought best to start. Several times they halted on the way. Every eye and ear were strained to catch the faintest sight or sound, but all in vain. The church was reached. The mourners moved slowly up the aisle. There was not a single heart in that large a.s.sembly which did not thrill with sorrowful emotion. The congregation prayed in silence, and sobs were heard in every part of the house. The minister stood silent for a moment, then slowly and distinctly said--"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord."

His voice was deep and solemn, and its clear tones penetrated every heart. His eyes beamed with tenderness, as he recounted with touching pathos the scenes of past happiness and this sad reverse. He offered up pet.i.tions to the Most High for the bereaved husband and friends. After taking final leave of those dearly loved features, so soon to be closed forever from our mortal vision, we started for the cemetery, distant about a quarter of a mile. Once more we halted. All hearts were high-strung with the hope that Uncle Charles might yet arrive; a prayer was said, the last sad offices were performed, and the friends returned, with aching hearts, to their bereaved home. Just as the family were entering the gateway, a tired, dusty rider came galloping at full speed.

He came from the cemetery, where he had been seen to throw himself on the newly made grave, and call, in the bitter anguish of his soul, "My darling, O, my darling, come back to me." (His sister's son witnessed the scene.) It was sad to see his manly form so bowed by sorrow. He threw his arms around her sisters and held them in a long embrace; then calling for the child, he clasped it to his heart, crying, "My Bessie's baby! Oh, my darling child! You are all that is left to me."

I cannot describe his grief. It can be better imagined, than expressed in language.

PROPHETIC CLAIRVOYANCE.

Another story of my great-grandmother, which not only exists in the family, but which I perfectly remember to have heard from her own lips, ill.u.s.trates her faculty of what I may call prophetic clairvoyance.

She had a friend and neighbor, named Urie, who had a splendid team of horses, of which he was very fond and proud, but which she had often urged him to get rid of, a.s.suring him that they would cause his death if he did not. Her habitual manifestations of this faculty were during her somnambulic walks in the middle hours of the night; but this I am now to relate occurred about noonday, when she had not been asleep.

She was seated at a window which looked upon the road, engaged in some work of embroidery, when she was seen to start up, rush out to the road and run at her utmost speed about a mile, to a spot where the gra.s.sy side of the road sloped up to a fence. At this spot (followed by Mr.

Urie's wife and family), she ran up to the fence, and, taking off her ap.r.o.n, was seen to hold something, seemingly enfolded in it, with every indication of extreme agitation and distress. With her hands clasped together she was seen to rock her body backward and forward in great distress over the _something_ apparently covered by the ap.r.o.n. Exactly one year from that day she _did_ see from her window Mr. Urie's team running away wildly past the house, dragging him entangled in the lines.

At the precise spot where she had stopped before, now lay his dead body, with the b.l.o.o.d.y face so torn and disfigured that she took off her ap.r.o.n to cover it up from sight.

My mother used frequently to receive warning of an approaching death in the family, through a particular dream (it was that of dining with General Washington). The recurrence of that dream always brought with it great distress to her mind, and she used to say (she was the soul of truth and all human goodness) that this warning had never failed her.

Much more on this subject of these indications of ancestral mediumship running in our family may be found in Mr. Owen's "Foot-falls," he having taken particular interest in inquiring into the aspect of the subject.

BROTHER DAVID.

Besides ourselves, who have been brought so prominently before the public, my brother David and my other sisters have often given clear proofs of some form or degree of mediumship. David and his wife can, at almost any time, communicate with Spirits; not only by sitting at a table, but by together touching a chair, or any other similar object, the movements of which will signal to them the letters of the alphabet.

UNCLE JOHN.

My mother's only brother, John, was once kicked on the head by a favorite horse, which the blacksmith did not dare to shoe, and which his young master once rashly attempted to handle for the purpose. Uncle John was carried into the hotel unconscious, where he lay all night in that condition. About twelve o'clock that night his sister, Aunt Elizabeth (Mrs. Higgins), at home, about thirty miles distant, both heard and saw him walk across her room, groaning in pain. As he did not answer when she spoke to him, she supposed he had not heard her, and she went into her grandfather's room; who, speaking first before she could do so, said, "What's the matter with John? He has walked past my door several times, holding his hand to his head, and looked into my room; but when I spoke, he went away without answering me."

The next morning word came that he was lying, dangerously injured, at the hotel. His father went immediately to him, but found him unconscious and unable to speak. He eventually recovered, and declared that he had been at home with the family during the night of his injury.

His grandfather, John C. Smith, my great-grandfather, English by birth, was the one who saved me when lost in the woods. (See the curious story related on a future page.) I think he was the very n.o.blest and grandest man I have ever known. He was of unusual stature and strength, of the sweetest temper and character, as well as of superior intellect.

MR. COOK'S DEATH.

A party consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, Mr. Cook--an English gentleman and a partner and intimate friend of Mr. Emerson--mother, her sister Catharine, Ann Emerson and myself (we were little girls at that time), drove to the "Sand Hill burying-ground" to visit the graves of our loved ones. Mr. Cook and my aunt rode in his carriage, while the rest of us rode in the family carriage. They arrived a little before we did, and walked to Mr. E's. plot, where stooping he pulled up a flower and, tossing it at my beautiful Aunt Catharine, said, "I wonder who will lie here next?" After remaining a while we drove home, in Clinton Street, Rochester, where the nurse was standing with the babe Georgie in her arms. (George was an uncommonly lovely boy, named after Mr. Cook.) When taking the child in his arms Mr. Cook said, "O thou angel boy! I must not neglect to will thee thy dower." He remained with us through the evening and bade us good-night. His house was nearly a mile away. I retired with mother and her sister. I slept in a trundle-bed drawn from under their large bed. Our family was then boarding there, father being absent from home much of the time. It was my habit to study my lessons in bed before going to sleep, in which way I was sure to remember them in the morning; and as there was to be a school exhibition next day, it was late before I put out the candle, when mother gave a fearful scream which brought every one to inquire the cause. At first she declined to say anything about it--feeling very sure it must have been Mr. Cook she had seen; and she disliked to say anything more. She however insisted upon having seen a man, and described him as resting upon his hands on the bed, bending over her sister Catharine, and looking her in the face; she recognized the man to be Mr. Cook. They tried to impress her with the belief that it was a dream, but she knew she had not slept.

Early next morning a messenger woke up the household, and announced that Mr. Cook had dropped dead in the mill at 6 A.M. He and Mr. Emerson were the wealthy owners of the princ.i.p.al flouring mills on the Genesee River, at Rochester.

Mr. Cook's body was buried at the spot from which he had plucked the flower.

Mr. Cook was no doubt sleeping quietly at the time they were searching the house to find the apparition just before the midnight hour, as he said to his foreman on entering the mill, in reply to his morning salutation, "I am well, and I think I slept too well, as I intended to be here at five o'clock." He walked a moment longer and fell, to rise no more.

STRANGE OCCURRENCES PRIOR TO GRANDFATHER'S DEATH.

My sister Maria (Mrs. Smith) from her childhood has, at certain times, been able, by gently touching her fingers to the lightest of tables, to make it impossible for a strong man to lift it from the spot without danger of breaking it.

My sister, Mrs. Osterhout, was also remarkable for intuitive knowledge, dreams, and visions. Some fifteen or sixteen years ago some singular manifestations occurred around the lingering death-bed of her husband.

About a week before his death my sister was called off to a room in the house, five rooms distant from the one he occupied, where some sewing women were at work, really in preparation for his fast-nearing end. On her return he told her he had heard all the directions she had been giving, and repeated them to her. The following extract is from a letter from my niece Helen, one of his children. It speaks for itself:

"A few days afterward we were all in the room, and he said, 'Do you see?' We all looked in the same direction he was looking, and saw a coffin being carried out of the house. I shall never forget the look he gave us; Emma, Ben, Nannie, and myself were in the room. We all saw it.

Three days before he died the boys were in the barn. It being Sunday, we were busy doing the morning work, when we were startled by what we thought to be the report of a gun. A second time we heard the same report. Father said, 'The boys have got the gun in the barn,' and wanted them to be called into the house; but they had heard the second report, which they thought was in the house, and came in to see what was the matter. We were now all gathered in father's room, when a third report sounded still louder and seemed to be in the same room with us. Mother was very much affected, and father said, 'Don't be frightened, my darling, it is only a warning of the near approach of my death.' There were a great many things at that time transpiring which were very mysterious. Lights were seen in the house and door-yard, barn, etc., which could not be accounted for; and sounds were heard as of sawing, driving of nails, etc."

MY OWN CHILDREN.

All my children grew up into Spiritualism naturally. Lillie, once, while lying awake in bed with her sister Lizzie, the gas being at half-light, saw a lady standing in the corner of the room who then walked about it, pa.s.sed out, and then re-entered it. She wore a dress resembling her sister's wrapper, with its peculiar large flowered pattern. The bed being a wide one, she was not in contact with her sister, and supposed the figure to be Lizzie, and called to her to ask what she was about, but she perceived that it was _not_ her sister, who was asleep by her side, and whom she waked. They turned up the light, and the figure was no more there. Both were frightened, and kept the light burning brightly for the rest of the night.

Lillie used often to say to me, "Mamma, put out the light. My guardian Spirit will take care of me." She had no fear of them. Georgie, on the contrary, was somewhat afraid, and would say, "Leave a little light, mamma, 'cause the Spirits are rapping." Leah would come flying down-stairs, pale and almost breathless, at the least indication of the presence of Spirits. Still they all knew and believed in them, and loved to sit in dark circles in our family alone and witness the different forms of manifestations.

Lillie has an abnormal faculty which often gives entertainment to her friends. She goes out of the room, and any member of the company may hide any small object wherever he may please--such as a key or coin or anything convenient. All the rest of the company are requested to fix their thoughts on the object and its place of concealment, while careful not to do or say anything to suggest a clue. On her entrance she takes his hand and applies it to her forehead, still holding on to it and keeping her eyes shut. She will then lead him to the spot where it is concealed. She moves by starts, he accompanying her pa.s.sively. She very rarely fails to find the article concealed.

MUSICAL MEDIUMSHIP.

I might tell much of the indications of the mediumistic character which have run through the children of the generation following our own; that is to say, those of my brother and sisters and myself, including my nephew's little son of five years, who plays on a child's harmonica with astonishing accuracy and beauty, accompanying any musical performance and following every variation with whatever rapidity, with his face kindled with excitement and delight; the whole being spontaneous, without ever having had any instruction. He is (I have no doubt) a musical medium, of whom the world has seen several; the most remarkable one being the idiot boy known as "Blind Tom." It is indeed evident enough that this mysterious gift, or whatever it may be called, is not destined to die out with the present generation.