if impelled to stare at the water straight before me.  Gradually a black cloud seemed to rise, and in the midst of it I saw a tall man, in a tweed suit, jump into the water, and sink.  In a moment the darkness was gone, and I again became sensible of the heat and sunshine, but I was awed, and felt eerie.  This happened about June 25, and on July 3 a Mr.——­, a bank clerk, committed suicide by drowning himself in the lake.[8]”

[Footnote 8:  Proceedings S.P.R., x. 332.]

The following incident occurred in the United States, but, as it is closely connected with this country, it will not seem out of place to insert it here.  It is sent by Mr. Richard Hogan as the personal experience of his sister, Mrs. Mary Murnane, and is given in her own words.

“On the 4th of August 1886, at 10.30 o’clock in the morning, I left my own house, 21 Montrose St., Philadelphia, to do some shopping.  I had not proceeded more than fifty yards when on turning the corner of the street I observed my aunt approaching me within five or six yards.  I was greatly astonished, for the last letter I had from home (Limerick) stated that she was dying of consumption, but the thought occurred to me that she might have recovered somewhat, and come out to Philadelphia.  This opinion was quickly changed as we approached each other, for our eyes met, and she had the colour of one who had risen from the grave.  I seemed to feel my hair stand on end, for just as we were about to pass each other she turned her face towards me, and I gasped, ’My God, she is dead, and is going to speak to me!’ but no word was spoken, and she passed on.  After proceeding a short distance I looked back, and she continued on to Washington Avenue, where she disappeared from me.  There was no other person near at the time, and being so close, I was well able to note what she wore.  She held a sunshade over her head, and the clothes, hat, etc., were those I knew so well before I left Ireland.  I wrote home telling what I had seen, and asking if she was dead.  I received a reply saying she was not dead at the date I saw her, but had been asking if a letter had come from me for some days before her death.  It was just two days before she actually died that I had seen her.”

CHAPTER VII

BANSHEES, AND OTHER DEATH-WARNINGS

Of all Irish ghosts, fairies, or bogles, the Banshee (sometimes called locally the “Boh[-e][-e]ntha” or “Bank[-e][-e]ntha”) is the best known to the general public:  indeed, cross-Channel visitors would class her with pigs, potatoes, and other fauna and flora of Ireland, and would expect her to make manifest her presence to them as being one of the sights of the country.  She is a spirit with a lengthy pedigree—­how lengthy no man can say, as its roots go back into the dim, mysterious past.  The most famous Banshee of ancient times was that attached to the kingly house of O’Brien,