“From that hour commenced a strange, double existence to and in me. Two instances, perfectly true in all respects, I will relate, either of which forever settled in my mind that some human beings consciously survive the ordeal of death. Not long after my irreparable loss, I, along with several other children, went to bed in the roof chamber of that dark old house. Something had occurred of a merry turn, and we were all brimful of joy and glee, and our mirth was as loud as it dared be for fear of the ogres down stairs, who had a bad habit of enforcing silence through the medium of sundry straps and birch twigs. In the very midst of the uproar the bed-clothes were slowly, carefully lifted from off us by agencies totally invisible. We pulled them back; but again and again they were removed, and the movement was accompanied by a din and clatter, as if fifty cannon balls were rolling on the floor; and it immediately brought the ogres and their straps from down stairs to see what was the matter. So far as terror permitted we explained, whereupon the ogres looked scaredly wise, readjusted the quilts and retreated. No sooner had they left than the cannon balls began again to roll over the floor, and mustering courage to rise and grapple for the coverlet, which had again been pulled from us, I clearly and distinctly saw a female figure calmly standing at the foot of the bed, but not upon the floor, for she floated like a vapor on the air. There was but little, if any, light in the room, save that which surrounded, and appeared to emanate from the spectral figure. She stood in the midst of a silvery or phosphoric haze. It was by no means phantasmal in appearance, but so clear, sharp, well defined did the apparition seem, that to this day I remember distinctly the figures on what appeared to be the dress she wore, which fact involves a mystery no psychologist has yet been able to fathom satisfactorily. The children who also saw this sight were terrified; I was not, for I felt she would not harm me, for the reason that mothers love their offspring, and that figure was my mother. “Some considerable time elapsed after this. I had grown into a stout and active boy, having already drifted for some years up and down the world, and once found myself registered as cabin boy on board the brig Phœbe, of New Bedford, whereof one Alonzo Baker was captain--not of New Bedford--but the brig. “In this vessel I served for several months, to the satisfaction of no one, myself included, being too small, weak and delicate for the arduous duties required of me, and consequently had to pay the usual penalty. “Sailors, to a man, are superstitious, though less so now than in the days whereof I am speaking. Still, at present, it is not hard, in spite of the march of intellect, to find sailors who, between the dog-watch and eight bells, will spin you a yarn under the weather rail that will make a man’s hair stand on end like hairs on an enraged kitten.