“One day he came down to the station and told me he had had a bad dream the night before, and felt sure that if he went out upon his run he’d meet with an accident. I pooh-poohed at him, but he was terribly depressed and insisted that he’d had a warning and must not go. So finally we hunted one of the boys to go in his place, and he jumped on a passing train to ride up to the street-crossing near his home, standing on the step of the third car from the engine. As the train moved out between the tracks upon which other cars were standing, George leaned out too far, was struck by some projection from a freight car, knocked under the wheels, and killed instantly. “It was a terrible thing. I couldn’t sleep for nights after it happened. And his poor mother—well, she never got over it. It killed her inside of six weeks. “Two or three weeks after George was killed I took a freight train up to the junction, where I was ordered to side-track and wait for the express to pass me. I was some behind time, owing to an accident up the road, when I pulled out onto the switch, and I was slowing up to stop, when the rear door of the caboose was thrown open with a bang, and if you’ll believe me, there stood George Marvin, as natural as life. “‘Nate,’ he said, ‘go back and close your switch.’ Then he jumped off, and the door closed. For a moment I forgot but that George was living. I rubbed my eyes to see if I was awake. I went to the end of the car, and looked out, but no one was in sight. There were four drovers in the car playing cards and laughing. While I was looking at them and wondering what it all meant, the door flew open again and George Marvin once more appeared. ‘Nate,’ he said, very slowly and expressively, ‘go back and close your switch.’ I asked the drovers if they saw any one. They said, ‘Yes, a fellow told you to close your switch.’ ‘That man has been dead two weeks,’ I said. “They urged me to go back and see what it meant, and as the train had stopped, I ran back and found a piece of coal had fallen between the rails and prevented the switch—which worked automatically—from closing. I got it out and closed the switch just as the express came in sight. Otherwise it would have run into us, and another railroad horror would have been recorded. Now how do you account for that?” “Had it not been for the drovers seeing the vision I should think you might have seen, standing in the rear of the car, that the switch did not close; but as you were carrying on another train of thought, perhaps thinking of your friend, you were not conscious of noticing it; and that the other part of your mind warned you. Your imagination supplied the vision.” “But the drovers?” “Well, perhaps it was thought transference. You received the impression passively, scarcely realizing it. The passive mind might have transferred it to their minds. I must confess there is much we cannot understand even in the laws that govern mental telepathy.”