Another circumstance which strengthened this resolution occurred soon after. With a party of friends at a summer hotel in the Berkshires we went to see a “crystal gazer,” just for the excitement, and without any serious thought regarding it. The woman was one of the most beautiful I ever saw, with lovely white hair, and the saddest eyes. There were no “stage settings,” just an ordinary living room, and this great glass globe, perfectly clear. Each person went in separately, a lady from Boston, wife of a professor at Harvard, first—then I. She came out looking very sober, but said nothing.

As I went in, the woman glanced up, then looked at me intently, and said, “Come here, please, and tell me what you see.” I was about to tell her I came to see what she saw, but the manner was such that I looked where she pointed, and the entire globe was darkly clouded, then showed a definite scene—a street, crowded and in great confusion. I was so frightened I at once turned to get out as quickly as possible. But the woman called me back and asked me to close my eyes and tell her just what I saw.

I did so and she said. “I knew you could ‘see.’ Send in the other young girl, and then you come back.”

The daughter of the Boston woman was gone only a short time, and when I went back in as directed, the woman said, “That girl has no future. Please go, all of you!”

After returning to the hotel and thinking it over, it seemed best to forget it as soon as possible, or to consider it some trick. But the next week, upon leaving the South Station in Boston, the girl was instantly killed in a street accident.

Sometimes the impression is not definite—just a feeling of great unrest and depression, with some one person or condition