The spring months of 1888 found me at Brisbane, en route for China, after spending a pleasant month with old friends on a well-known station belonging to the late Sir Arthur Hodgson, named Eton Vale, and situated on the beautiful and healthy Darling Downs of Queensland.
Before returning to Sydney from New Zealand, my female "Dr Livingstone" had reappeared upon the scene in the most unexpected manner. Our "historical meeting" took place in an Auckland hotel, where she suddenly turned up one day, driven back from Samoa by the intense heat. So after some gentle recriminations, she "having supposed the delay on my part might mean an entire change of plan," and I having supposed--from her letters--that Sydney was such a Paradise that she could hardly be dragged from it even by a flaming sword, we agreed to cry "quits," and continue our travels together. So Miss Greenlow spent the month of March in Sydney, whilst I paid my visit to Queensland, and we met once more at Brisbane to take steamer for Thursday Island, Cape Darwin, and eventually Hong Kong. Only one small matter of psychic interest occurred during this voyage.
I have mentioned in a previous chapter the little "swallows," which I first saw in San Francisco in the year 1886. I had been accustomed to seeing them ever since that date, and had been frequently commiserated for incipient eye trouble in consequence, by more than one sceptical friend.
On the very day we went on board the Hong Kong steamer at Brisbane, a new sign appeared: a single bird, holding in its beak a ring with half hoop of five stones, presumably diamonds. I told my friend about this, but neither she nor I could imagine any significance in it. At that time we had not even met any of our fellow-passengers to speak to, for we were all taken up with settling into our cabins and trying to make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit.
For a whole week the same little bird and the same ring were persistently held up before me. Then an inkling of the possible meaning broke upon me suddenly. Within a fortnight of our sailing this suspicion was confirmed, and the little bird's warning or suggestion amply justified. But "that is another story!" Curiously enough, the new "sign in the heavens" was withdrawn as soon as I had grasped its meaning.
I must hasten over our delightful stay in Japan, because amongst much of extreme interest from artistic, social, and various other points of view, nothing occurred which has any special bearing on my present subject.
Leaving Japan eventually by sailing from Yokohama to Vancouver (Washington territory), the old threads were once more put into my hands.
We made the acquaintance on board the old P. & O. Abyssinia of the late Captain MacArthur, a kindly and genial naval man. He was an Australian by birth, but belonged to our English navy, and was just returning home on his promotion as commander.
He became rather interested in my "queer ideas," and ended by suggesting some experiments with "the table," so he persuaded the ship's carpenter to put together a small rough wooden table. The sittings were held, generally after dinner, in either my cabin or that of my "stable companion" Miss Greenlow. So far as I remember, we three were the only sitters, and I am bound to confess the sittings were sometimes very monotonous, even viewed from the indulgent perspective of a sea voyage. In fact, I can now recall only one incident of any real value.
The dear old nurse, spoken of in my opening chapter, had now been for three or four years on the other side of the veil, but had never given me the slightest sign of her presence. But she came several times during this voyage, and always with the same object--namely, to entreat, and finally implore me, to give up a projected tour in Alaska.
Miss Greenlow and I had been prevented from undertaking this, two years earlier, when visiting Victoria (Vancouver), and she was very keen to go there from Washington territory on this occasion. I was not keen for the expedition, but had made no strong objection to it, and it was understood that we should go together.
This was the tour which my old nurse now pleaded so anxiously should be given up, so far as I was concerned.
"It will ruin your health, my darling," she said more than once. "Don't go there; take my advice." And on one occasion, just before landing, she added: "You will find letters awaiting you which will enable you to make other plans."
This proved true--in a certain way. The first letter opened in the budget which fell to my share, told me of the sudden death of our family solicitor, which would have been a good excuse for a hasty return to England had any such pretext been necessary.
But this was not the case, for my companion, although quite determined to go to Alaska herself, was not in the least inclined to over-persuade me to accompany her. She was a very independent woman, quite accustomed to traveling alone, and I knew that neither her enjoyment nor her convenience would be affected by my decision one way or the other. I had no wish to go myself, and, moreover, thought it quite probable that my dear old nurse's warnings might be amply justified. But there were other grave considerations to be taken into account, and I still feel that I adopted the right, although not the pleasanter course, when I allowed my fellow-passengers to depart East, joking me on my want of faith in the warnings from the spirits, and accompanied my friend, very unwillingly, to Alaska.
Before returning to Sydney from New Zealand, my female "Dr Livingstone" had reappeared upon the scene in the most unexpected manner. Our "historical meeting" took place in an Auckland hotel, where she suddenly turned up one day, driven back from Samoa by the intense heat. So after some gentle recriminations, she "having supposed the delay on my part might mean an entire change of plan," and I having supposed--from her letters--that Sydney was such a Paradise that she could hardly be dragged from it even by a flaming sword, we agreed to cry "quits," and continue our travels together. So Miss Greenlow spent the month of March in Sydney, whilst I paid my visit to Queensland, and we met once more at Brisbane to take steamer for Thursday Island, Cape Darwin, and eventually Hong Kong. Only one small matter of psychic interest occurred during this voyage.
I have mentioned in a previous chapter the little "swallows," which I first saw in San Francisco in the year 1886. I had been accustomed to seeing them ever since that date, and had been frequently commiserated for incipient eye trouble in consequence, by more than one sceptical friend.
On the very day we went on board the Hong Kong steamer at Brisbane, a new sign appeared: a single bird, holding in its beak a ring with half hoop of five stones, presumably diamonds. I told my friend about this, but neither she nor I could imagine any significance in it. At that time we had not even met any of our fellow-passengers to speak to, for we were all taken up with settling into our cabins and trying to make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit.
For a whole week the same little bird and the same ring were persistently held up before me. Then an inkling of the possible meaning broke upon me suddenly. Within a fortnight of our sailing this suspicion was confirmed, and the little bird's warning or suggestion amply justified. But "that is another story!" Curiously enough, the new "sign in the heavens" was withdrawn as soon as I had grasped its meaning.
I must hasten over our delightful stay in Japan, because amongst much of extreme interest from artistic, social, and various other points of view, nothing occurred which has any special bearing on my present subject.
Leaving Japan eventually by sailing from Yokohama to Vancouver (Washington territory), the old threads were once more put into my hands.
We made the acquaintance on board the old P. & O. Abyssinia of the late Captain MacArthur, a kindly and genial naval man. He was an Australian by birth, but belonged to our English navy, and was just returning home on his promotion as commander.
He became rather interested in my "queer ideas," and ended by suggesting some experiments with "the table," so he persuaded the ship's carpenter to put together a small rough wooden table. The sittings were held, generally after dinner, in either my cabin or that of my "stable companion" Miss Greenlow. So far as I remember, we three were the only sitters, and I am bound to confess the sittings were sometimes very monotonous, even viewed from the indulgent perspective of a sea voyage. In fact, I can now recall only one incident of any real value.
The dear old nurse, spoken of in my opening chapter, had now been for three or four years on the other side of the veil, but had never given me the slightest sign of her presence. But she came several times during this voyage, and always with the same object--namely, to entreat, and finally implore me, to give up a projected tour in Alaska.
Miss Greenlow and I had been prevented from undertaking this, two years earlier, when visiting Victoria (Vancouver), and she was very keen to go there from Washington territory on this occasion. I was not keen for the expedition, but had made no strong objection to it, and it was understood that we should go together.
This was the tour which my old nurse now pleaded so anxiously should be given up, so far as I was concerned.
"It will ruin your health, my darling," she said more than once. "Don't go there; take my advice." And on one occasion, just before landing, she added: "You will find letters awaiting you which will enable you to make other plans."
This proved true--in a certain way. The first letter opened in the budget which fell to my share, told me of the sudden death of our family solicitor, which would have been a good excuse for a hasty return to England had any such pretext been necessary.
But this was not the case, for my companion, although quite determined to go to Alaska herself, was not in the least inclined to over-persuade me to accompany her. She was a very independent woman, quite accustomed to traveling alone, and I knew that neither her enjoyment nor her convenience would be affected by my decision one way or the other. I had no wish to go myself, and, moreover, thought it quite probable that my dear old nurse's warnings might be amply justified. But there were other grave considerations to be taken into account, and I still feel that I adopted the right, although not the pleasanter course, when I allowed my fellow-passengers to depart East, joking me on my want of faith in the warnings from the spirits, and accompanied my friend, very unwillingly, to Alaska.
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