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"Four months ago a little boy was born
in Somerville with an unusually large head [hydrocephalus], which has grown constantly
since, until at present it is all out of proportion with the rest of the
body. Yesterday a Globe reporter called to see the child, and was met at the
door by the mother, Mrs. E.C. Dickinson. The family live in a house on
Broadway, a dwelling well known as one of the haunted houses of this
vicinity.
The reporter was,
however, unaware of this fact, and his experience was, consequently, rather
peculiar. Mrs. Dickinson expressed perfect willingness to allow the baby to
be seen, and led the way into a front chamber, where, in a large,
comfortable crib, lay the most astonishing specimen of humanity ever seen by
the writer.
A huge, round head, with full, even
bulging forehead, attached by a slim little neck to as attractive and
perfect body as any baby ever had. There was nothing whatever abnormal about
him anywhere, except at the head.
"He's just as bright a baby as ever
was," said the mother tenderly, "but we hardly expect him to live through
the night. He has been failing seriously today, and my guide said last night
that he was not long for this world."
The reporter looked up with
involuntary surprise, but the mother continued without noticing it. "He has
to be fed and washed and dressed right on his pillow, for his head is so
heavy that we are afraid to lift him up lest it burst a blood vessel. The
head measures 26 1/2 inches in circumference one way and 24 the other. You
may touch him if you like."
The writer felt of the strange head,
and found the skull soft and yielding to the touch, and it seemed as if the
slightest pressure would break through the marrow-like bone. The little
fellow was taking his supper at the time, contentedly sucking from a nursing
bottle, and as the newspaper man leaned over him he looked up with
intelligent expression in his clear blue eyes, and smiled and gurgled as
happily as if he had the head of an ordinary baby.
"This is the baby's grandmother,"
said Mrs. Dickinson, turning to an old lady who had just entered the room,
"and the spirits say that he knows more than she does, [and] she is 75 years
old."
The reporter looked his question [in
facial expression] at this statement, not knowing one word to say, but the
grandmother said—"Oh, he is in spirits' care, and is in constant
communication with them. Only today he was visited by spirits of departed
people."
"You believe, then, that he is really
conscious of spirit presence?"
"I know it. It was George Washington
who came today to talk to us, and oh! he did talk beautifully, telling us to
keep cheerful, and not get discouraged. 'Do not fear,' he said, 'I am George
Washington.'"
The perfect solemnity, candor and
sincerity with which these surprising statements were made, precluded any
idea of aught but the most respectful attention.
"Does the spirit of Washington often
communicate with you?"
"No, I did not remember that he ever
came before, but we have many visitors from the other world who have been
famous, and who have been dead to this world for thousands of years. Oh,
they come during a trance," and Mrs. Dickinson explained that she was
accustomed to enter the trance state, and during that time the spirits came
and spoke. Turning again to baby, she said:
"I had another little boy, a perfect
boy, concerning whom my guide said that he would die in three months, and he
did to a day. That was last September. She says she is coming for this one
soon, and though he looks well now, I hardly expect to keep him more than a
few days at the most."
"See," said the grandmother, "how
happy he is when we are talking about these things. He understands that it
is of spirit friends, and I presume he is surrounded by them now, but that
our eyes cannot discern them."
"When I first came here," continued
Mrs. Dickinson, "I was told that I could not live here. People said it
was a Haunted House, but I said I guessed I could stand it. One of
the first nights I stayed here I awoke, and I saw sitting before the stove,
just where you are now, a very old man, and near him stood a
young woman and a child. There were three figures, clear, distinct and
perfectly lifelike. I rose at once, and, going to them, I asked them who
they were and what they wanted.
The old man said he was too feeble
to talk much and that he used to live here; and then I said, 'Won't you
please go away now, for I am tired and want to sleep?' and they vanished
instantly. For some weeks afterward we used to be aroused by strange noises,
rappings and the like, and they manifested their presence several times
until they were identified by an old lady who was living in Somerville. She
said she used to know the people when they were alive, that the old man used
to sell flowers, and there was some story about a horrible murder connected
with them. After they had been thus recognized they never came again."
"The house, then, is no longer
disturbed?"
"No; you know this old lady did not
actually see the spirits, but my guide described them while I was in trance,
and thus they were identified."
Referring once more to the baby, the
reporter asked if they knew its weight, to which Mrs. Dickinson replied:
"No, we don't dare to weigh him. You
see we have to be very careful of him," and she proceeded to turn him into a
more comfortable position. The great head lay perfectly helpless, regardless
of the position of the body, and it was evident the little neck was wholly
inadequate to support it.
After some further talk about the
baby's spirit guardians, among whom is a personage who lived 4000 years ago,
and now calls himself Dr. Boston during his brief visits to this world, the
reporter left, fearing to disturb the unfortunate little sufferer, for he
had begun to exhibit signs of distress in perfectly natural cries, such as
one hears every day from healthy children.
Every one will agree with the
mother's wish that suffering may be light, and if destined to the early
death she expects for him, that it may come peacefully and without pain. |
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