Leaves from an English Solicitor s Note Book. the words in my pocketbook. My pocketbook lies open on my desk before me as I write this story. The next morning I took up the law list and found that there was a very old solicitor of the name of Grayson practising in Roch dale. I at once wrote to him asking him whether he had in his office any deeds of property in Mason street which a family of the name of Jackson had once owned; he replied that he had at one time some such deeds and could no doubt trace them. On the nth of October, my wife and I and Margaret, then twelve years old, started for Southport so as to be within easy distance of Liverpool. I discovered the owners of the clipper, and they promised to telegraph me as soon as she was sighted off the coast of Wales, so that I could meet her on her arrival in the Mersey. On the 24th I got a telegram from the owners, that the clipper had been sighted off Point Lynas. I went into Liverpool, and in company with a clerk of the owners, boarded the " Crest of the Wave " as soon as she reached her mooring. The first face I saw on board was the one I had seen in my dream, the ship's surgeon. I accosted him without hesitation. "You are the ship's surgeon; you have had my friend Ralph Jackson on your sick list; you need,not tell me anything, he died on Sunday afternoon, the 22d of September." "Good God! how did you know it? Is your name Borret?" "Yes; let me come into your private cabin." When we were seated there alone he told me the story. "He was ill when he shipped at Adelaide, like a man broken down with trouble; he seemed intensely anxious to reach England, hut I doubted whether he would live the voy age out. He told me he was a widower, and was longing to see his only child before he died; on the voyage he brightened up, and I felt more hopeful. About the time we
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crossed the line I fancied he had a slight sunstroke, and soon after that he was down with a fever which baffled all my skill. He had made his will before he came on board and gave it into the care of the captain, as he said ' In case of anything happening.' He complained to me of loss of memory, and I fancied he had something on his mind which worried him. In 'his delirium he constantly uttered your name, and another name, Ainsworth, and ' Aunt Mary.' Then came the Sunday on which he died." "Stop, now Doctor, and let me take up the story. I will tell you how the end was; he was lying in his berth, the lower of two berths; you and he were alone; it was in the afternoon between three and four; you were feeling his pulse; suddenly he pulled his wrist away, and said something. I have got it all clown in my pocketbook here. Can you re member what he said?" "He called your name twice, and said something about some one having some deeds of property in some street." "Here, Doctor, read this note in my pocketbook." "Mr. Borret, this is indeed marvelous; his very words." "I will finish the story of his death, Doc tor; after he had said these words, there was a rush of blood to his mouth, and he fell back dead." I then told him the story of my visit to Manchester and of my strange dream, which he said was an exact picture of the final scene, adding, " We buried him in the sea the next day. You shall see the captain, he will show you the entry made in the ship's log and give you the will, and a formal cer tificate of the death." Before I left the ship I saw the captain, who gave me the will, which left everything to me as trustee for little Margaret, and made my wife and myself her guardians. I returned to Southport and told the news to my wife, who, after my dream, was quite pre pared for the rest of the story, and we com
