he died in the early hours of this morning at a hospital in England.” Why he appeared to me as he did I do not know, nor do I know what he was looking for in the drawer, but I have always chided myself that I took his place, for I feel somehow that I was partly responsible for his untimely end. The Sinking of the “Aboukir” ON the night of September 22nd, 1914, I was sleeping with my daughter, whose husband was serving on H.M.S. “Aboukir.” During the night we heard a noise such as would be caused by the dragging of heavy chains. I sat up with a start and my daughter gasped. “Oh, mother! what is it?” I got out of bed and called the only man in the house. He searched all over the house and the yard outside, from whence the sound appeared to come. But all was silent. We all went back to bed and, within a few minutes of our return, we heard again the dreadful clanking—weird and unmistakable. Again a vain search was made. The following morning the papers announced the sinking of the “Aboukir” and my son-in-law went down with it. “On Leave” I was engaged to a soldier, during the War, and received notice that he was coming home “on leave.” The day before he was expected I was “spring-cleaning” a bedroom, with a friend, when she suddenly exclaimed: “Look, there is ——— on his bicycle,” and pointed out of the window. As I was busy at work (and not too clean) knowing that I should see him within an hour, I drew back, that I might not draw his attention to me, and told her to do the same, until I had dressed properly. I was not surprised he was a day early. We watched him from the window, and saw him speak to the gardener, who was sweeping, and then we hurried up. Having dressed, I went to the gate, but saw no sign of him, so I asked the gardener which direction he took. The man said he enquired if I still worked at this house, but he did not notice which way he went. Thinking he had probably gone to my home (ten minutes distant), but wondering he had not called for me, I went home. No one, excepting my friend, myself and the gardener had seen him. Next day I learnt that on the day, at the actual time I saw him, and the gardener spoke to him, he was killed in France. The Three Figures IT was during the Great War, March, 1918, my only brother was in France; he had just returned after fourteen days’ leave. I was awakened one night by three figures entering the bedroom—one in white between two soldiers in khaki. I drew my husband’s attention to it, but he could not see anything, and said: “Now, it’s just fancy; try to get off to sleep.” I was going over when they entered a second time. I shall never forget it, for I knew there must be something coming concerning my much-loved brother. Three weeks later, I had a letter from his officer saying my brother had been killed in action on the night of my vision. To-day (Armistice Day) recalls sad memories. “Good-Bye”