A few years ago (i.e. before 1894) a curious incident occurred in a public school in connection with the belief in the Banshee.  One of the boys, happening to become ill, was at once placed in a room by himself, where he used to sit all day.  On one occasion, as he was being visited by the doctor, he suddenly started up from his seat, and affirmed that he heard somebody crying.  The doctor, of course, who could hear or see nothing, came to the conclusion that the illness had slightly affected his brain.  However, the boy, who appeared quite sensible, still persisted that he heard some one crying, and furthermore said, “It is the Banshee, as I have heard it before.”  The following morning the head-master received a telegram saying that the boy’s brother had been accidentally shot dead.[G]

That the Banshee is not confined within the geographical limits of Ireland, but that she can follow the fortunes of a family abroad, and there foretell their death, is clearly shown by the following story.  A party of visitors were gathered together on the deck of a private yacht on one of the Italian lakes, and during a lull in the conversation one of them, a Colonel, said to the owner, “Count, who’s that queer-looking woman you have on board?” The Count replied that there was nobody except the ladies present, and the stewardess, but the speaker protested that he was correct, and suddenly, with a scream of horror, he placed his hands before his eyes, and exclaimed, “Oh, my God, what a face!” For some time he was overcome with terror, and at length reluctantly looked up, and cried: 

“Thank Heavens, it’s gone!”

“What was it?” asked the Count.

“Nothing human,” replied the Colonel—­“nothing belonging to this world.  It was a woman of no earthly type, with a queer-shaped, gleaming face, a mass of red hair, and eyes that would have been beautiful but for their expression, which was hellish.  She had on a green hood, after the fashion of an Irish peasant.”

An American lady present suggested that the description tallied with that of the Banshee, upon which the Count said: 

“I am an O’Neill—­at least I am descended from one.  My family name is, as you know, Neilsini, which, little more than a century ago, was O’Neill.  My great-grandfather served in the Irish Brigade, and on its dissolution at the time of the French Revolution had the good fortune to escape the general massacre of officers, and in company with an O’Brien and a Maguire fled across the frontier and settled in Italy.  On his death his son, who had been born in Italy, and was far more Italian than Irish, changed his name to Neilsini, by which name the family has been known ever since.  But for all that we are Irish.”

“The Banshee was yours, then!” ejaculated the Colonel.  “What exactly does it mean?”

“It means,” the Count replied solemnly, “the death of some one very nearly associated with me.  Pray Heaven it is not my wife or daughter.”