Tempo:
194 THE BEGINNINGS OF SEERSHIP.
window on the edge of the pavement stands an ordinary street lamp, the light of which pene- trates into my office. My window is covered half-way up by paper to represent stained glass ; the room is well lit by three electric lights sus- pended from the centre of the ceiling. As I sit at my desk, the door is in the left-hand corner of the wall at my back. I mention all this so as to do away with all possible suggestion of shadows. Now as near as I can judge it must have been between eleven-thirty and twelve o'clock (I had some time since watched the man extinguish the street lamp, which he usually does at about eleven o'clock). While writing I became conscious of some one being present, and turned round expecting to find my wife (who beside myself was the only one not yet retired for the night) standing in the doorway of my room. You can imagine my surprise to see a shadowy ethereal form, which I was able to recognize as yourself. I waited for some sign or impression, but got neither; but watched the form disappear, as it seemed to me, in the dark- ness of the hall. I went to my wife, who I found sewing in another part of the house, and told her what I had seen. We both agreed to say nothing about it, but wait to hear if you had consciously endeavoured to make your presence known to me on that particular evening, or rather night. As we have not heard from you, I thought it would prove of interest to you. Yours sincerely, F, T. BLAKE.
window on the edge of the pavement stands an ordinary street lamp, the light of which pene- trates into my office. My window is covered half-way up by paper to represent stained glass ; the room is well lit by three electric lights sus- pended from the centre of the ceiling. As I sit at my desk, the door is in the left-hand corner of the wall at my back. I mention all this so as to do away with all possible suggestion of shadows. Now as near as I can judge it must have been between eleven-thirty and twelve o'clock (I had some time since watched the man extinguish the street lamp, which he usually does at about eleven o'clock). While writing I became conscious of some one being present, and turned round expecting to find my wife (who beside myself was the only one not yet retired for the night) standing in the doorway of my room. You can imagine my surprise to see a shadowy ethereal form, which I was able to recognize as yourself. I waited for some sign or impression, but got neither; but watched the form disappear, as it seemed to me, in the dark- ness of the hall. I went to my wife, who I found sewing in another part of the house, and told her what I had seen. We both agreed to say nothing about it, but wait to hear if you had consciously endeavoured to make your presence known to me on that particular evening, or rather night. As we have not heard from you, I thought it would prove of interest to you. Yours sincerely, F, T. BLAKE.
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