The Argosy — page 352: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

330 The Dreams of One’s Own Friends. most special friends. Dark-eyed, vivacious-looking ladies they were, and it seemed from their faces that no amount of seclusion or of antique science is sufficient to suppress a very vigorous female in- dividuality, if it exists by nature. The “dream” we have to relate occurred when the family had begun to scatter. The father was already dead. Three, at least, of the sons were away. My friend of after years, who was one of the younger sons, was a schoolboy in a capital city remote from his native village. Two elder brothers were also absent from their roof- tree, under which they had left their mother, now far advanced in years, in her usual health, and highly satisfied by the recent fulfil- ment of some of her most fondly cherished desires of family love and pride. We will call these two elder sons Y and Z. Y was filling an official post, very far from his home, with a difficult and complicated journey between. Z was much nearer, could traverse the distance on horse-back except for crossing one river, at which there was a regular boat service. One night, Y had a dream which, on waking, he found vividly impressed on his mind. He dreamed that he was in the family burying-place. There he saw his dead father exactly as in life, moving about, carefully scanning and measuring the ground. His mind interpreted this picturesque symbolism to mean that another member of the household was soon to be laid in the grave. Who so likely as the adored mother? With the passionate energy of his race, he instantly resolved to start homeward, and travelled day and night to reach there. He arrived just in time to receive his mothers last words and to close her eyes. It seemed that she had sickened suddenly, a day or two before, the attack being of such a nature that a rapidly fatal termination was in- evitable. The family resolved to send for Z, as he might reasonably hope to reach home in time. But they had resolved of to send for Y, since the message could scarcely be conveyed to him before all must be over, and they thought it best to leave him in peaceful ignorance in the meantime, since information could bear no result. They had not reckoned on some strange, unseen force which had succeeded, without any loss of time in transit, in impressing Y’s slumbers with the truth. For his dream had occurred on the véely night that the old lady sickened. It is remarkable that Z, sent for with hopeful promptitude, yet did not arrive till after the death—till after the funeral. And this through no fault of his own. The moment the news reached him hig horse was saddled. But alas! when he came to the river's brink there was some utterly unforeseen and unprovided-for accident with the boat: service. And he had to wait on the shore chafing and lamenting for two whole days before he could get across. The next story we shall tell is so full of detail and of sweet and CORNICE LOOKS (GO) i