ion of souls after death, and whether it was likely that spirits
could communicate, by any transmitted feeling or apparition, the fact
that they had died to their surviving friends. Finally, we made a solemn
promise to each other that whichever of us died first would appear to
the other after death if such was permitted.

"Well, after the fact of his being already married came to light, we
parted. I left him, and he followed me to London on December '87. During
his stay here I once asked if he had ever thought about our agreement as
to who should die first appealing to the other; and he said, 'Oh,
Georgie, you do not need to remind me; my spirit is a part of yours, and
can never be separated nor dissolved even through all eternity; _no,
not even_ though you treat me as you do; even though you became the
wife of another you cannot divorce our spirits. And whenever my spirit
leaves this earth I will appear to you.'

"Well, in the beginning of August '88 he left England for Naples; his
last words were that I would never again see him; I should _see_
him, but not alive, for he would put an end to his life and heart-break.
After that he never wrote to me; still I did not altogether think he
would kill himself. On the 22nd or 23rd of the following November ('88),
I posted a note to him at Sarno post office. No reply came, and I
thought it might be he was not at Sarno, or was sick, or travelling, and
so did not call at the post office, and so never dreamed of his being
dead."

_Its Fulfilment._

"Time went on and nothing occurred till November 27th (or I should say
28th, for it occurred at 12.30, or between 12 and 1 a.m., I forget the
exact time). It was just at that period when I used to sit up night
after night till 1, 2, and 3 o'clock a.m. at home doing the class books;
on this occasion I was sitting close to the fire, with the table beside
me, sorting cuttings. Looking up from the papers my eyes chanced to fall
on the door, which stood about a foot and a half open, and right inside,
but not so far in but that his clothes touched the edge of the door,
stood Irwin; he was dressed as I last had seen him--overcoat, tall hat,
and his arms were down by his sides in his natural, usual way. He stood
in his exact own perfectly upright attitude, and held his head and face
up in a sort of dignified way, which he used generally to adopt on all
occasions of importance or during a controversy or dispute. He had his
face turned tow