The following week I heard from him. He went into battle about the time of my vision and was wounded. The same thing happened each time he was wounded—four times. It has always been a mystery to me. Each time the vision was so realistic and he always had the wounded part bandaged. PORTSMOUTH WHEN war broke out my brother was amongst those who answered the call. One night I saw my mother (who died just before the war) standing at the foot of my bed holding out her arms and looking straight past me. I turned my head and saw my brother come through the closed door and walk into my mother’s arms, and they both disappeared. At the time I thought, “How could a living being walk through a closed door.” The next morning I got the news that my brother had been killed in action. WALSALL A CLOSE friend of mine fought throughout the greater part of the late war without receiving a scratch. Some few months previous to the end of hostilities, he was selected for a commission, and was subsequently transferred to England to undergo the necessary training for a second-lieutenant. He was granted the position and, very shortly after, was drafted over to France. One night, when going into action, he was suddenly taken seriously ill and was carried back to hospital. During one evening, I, for some reason had to go to my bedroom, and, when about half-way on the stair-case, I distinctly saw, on the landing, a military officer standing to attention. I thought at first it was mere fancy, but, on going a few steps farther, I was thoroughly convinced that at no time had I seen a soldier so real. Then the vision vanished, as quick as thought, into the bedroom. I followed, but, after switching on the light, I failed to find anyone in the room save myself. Next day we received the sad news that this young officer had died from sickness, three days after Armistice was signed. PORT ERIN IN October, 1916, I returned from Liverpool (where I had been working), for a few weeks holiday at my own home. Early one morning (between two and three o'clock), I was awakened by hearing singing in my bedroom. I knew the voice quite well—it was that of a young man who had been brought up in the same street as I, and had been educated at the same school. He was singing a verse of a hymn, quite loud and heartily. I got no more sleep that night and was very upset, as I knew this boy was fighting in France. A few days after, I met his sister and she told me they had had word to say that her brother was missing. A couple of weeks went by and word came to say that he had been killed. NORWICH