'What reparation could I make? Are there masses
that can be said for the repose of souls that are
abroad such nights as this--spirits "blown about
by the viewless winds"--coming in the storm and
darkness with signs and portents, hints of memory
and presages of doom?
'This is the third visitation. On the first occasion
I was too sceptical to do more than verify by natural
methods the character of the incident; on the sec-
ond, I responded to the signal after it had been
several times repeated, but without result. To-night's
recurrence completes the "fatal triad" expounded
by Parapelius Necromantius. There is no more to
tell.'
When Dampier had finished his story I could
think of nothing relevant that I cared to say, and
to question him would have been a hideous imperti-
nence. I rose and bade him good night in a way to
convey to him a sense of my sympathy, which he
silently acknowledged by a pressure of the hand.
That night, alone with his sorrow and remorse, he
passed into the Unknown.
A PSYCHOLOGICAL SHIPWRECK
IN the summer of 1874 I was in Liverpool, whither
I had gone on business for the mercantile house of
Bronson & Jarrett, New York. I am William Jarrett;
my partner was Zenas Bronson. The firm failed last
year, and unable to endure the fall from affluence to
poverty he died.
Having finished my business, and feeling the lassi-
tude and exhaustion incident to its dispatch, I felt
that a protracted sea voyage would be both agree-
able and beneficial, so instead of embarking for my
return on one of the many fine passenger steamers
I booked for New York on the sailing vessel Mor-
row, upon which I had shipped a large and valuable
invoice of the goods I had bought.
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