Mr. C. must be an interesting companion.  The nurse remembers that after the birth of the baby Mrs. C. called Mr. C.’s attention to “the doctor’s necktie,” and heard her say, “Why, I know him by mamma’s description as the doctor she saw in her dreams”. {48}

The only thing even more extraordinary than the dream is Mr. C.’s inability to remember anything whatever “outside of his business”.  Another witness appears to decline to be called, “as it would be embarrassing to him in his business”.  This it is to be Anglo-Saxon!

We now turn to a Celtic dream, in which knowledge supposed to be only known to a dead man was conveyed to his living daughter.

THE SATIN SLIPPERS

On 1st February, 1891, Michael Conley, a farmer living near Ionia, in Chichasow county, Iowa, went to Dubuque, in Iowa, to be medically treated.  He left at home his son Pat and his daughter Elizabeth, a girl of twenty-eight, a Catholic, in good health.  On February 3 Michael was found dead in an outhouse near his inn.  In his pocket were nine dollars, seventy-five cents, but his clothes, including his shirt, were thought so dirty and worthless that they were thrown away.  The body was then dressed in a white shirt, black clothes and satin slippers of a new pattern.  Pat Conley was telegraphed for, and arrived at Dubuque on February 4, accompanied by Mr. George Brown, “an intelligent and reliable farmer”.  Pat took the corpse home in a coffin, and on his arrival Elizabeth fell into a swoon, which lasted for several hours.  Her own account of what followed on her recovery may be given in her own words:—­

“When they told me that father was dead I felt very sick and bad; I did not know anything.  Then father came to me.  He had on a white shirt” (his own was grey), “and black clothes and slippers.  When I came to, I told Pat I had seen father.  I asked Pat if he had brought back father’s old clothes.  He said ‘No,’ and asked me why I wanted them.  I told him father said he had sewed a roll of bills inside of his grey shirt, in a pocket made of a piece of my old red dress.  I went to sleep, and father came to me again.  When I awoke I told Pat he must go and get the clothes”—­her father’s old clothes.

Pat now telephoned to Mr. Hoffman, Coroner of Dubuque, who found the old clothes in the back yard of the local morgue.  They were wrapped up in a bundle.  Receiving this news, Pat went to Dubuque on February 9, where Mr. Hoffman opened the bundle in Pat’s presence.  Inside the old grey shirt was found a pocket of red stuff, sewn with a man’s long, uneven stitches, and in the pocket notes for thirty-five dollars.

The girl did not see the body in the coffin, but asked about the old clothes, because the figure of her father in her dream wore clothes which she did not recognise as his.  To dream in a faint is nothing unusual. {50}

THE DEAD SHOPMAN