Suddenly and without warning my light flickered and went out.  For a moment the room was in intense darkness.  I had drawn the curtain before the windows, and the fire in the grate had died down long before.  Just as I was on the point of impatiently rising to relight my lamp, I was nailed to my chair by a strange phenomenon.  Against the opposite wall of my room a faint glow of light began to appear.  In shape it was like the circular patch which is thrown by a camera upon a screen.  It continued to increase in brilliancy until the whole room was in a glare of light equal to moonday.  It was as if a circular window had been cut in the wall admitting the full power of the sun.

For an instant surprise held me dumb and motionless; then I arose, and going to the wall placed my hand upon the patch of light.  I observed that my hand cast no shadow, and that, therefore, the light could not come from behind me.  Puzzled, but by no means alarmed, I went back to my chair, calmly resolved to watch the matter to its conclusion.

For a moment the light remained clear and steady; then a slight mist seemed to over-spread it.  Out of this mist, by slow degrees, a picture was evolved.  There was a wide, deep river, crossed by a railroad bridge, in the foreground, I could see here and there a vessel drifting idly with the tide, for it appeared to be a still, warm day.  In the distance the hills looked blue and hazy.  There were white clouds in the sky, and at a distance the smoke from a town on the river bank rose lazily into the air.

I could note and memorize every detail--the color of the wooden trestle of the railroad bridge; the shape and number of the signal boards; the peculiar arrangement of the telegraph wires.  In fact, I could have sworn that I sat before an open window looking upon material landscape of real sky, earth and water.  I noted, too, particularly, a weak spot near the centre of the bridge.  The bed of the road seemed to have warped and several sleepers were decayed and loosened.  I even said unconsciously;

"There will be a terrible accident at that point some day."

While I was gaping at the apparition with sensations impossible to describe, I observed the smoke of an approaching train.  It rushed swiftly around a curve and upon the bridge with unabated speed.  I was conscious of a feeling of intense interest in it.  I felt very much like a person witnessing a dream with high-wrought emotions, breathlessly watching the action, which is drawing toward the tragic denouement.

On came the train.  I counted the cars; there were sixteen---four of a yellowish color and the remainder of a deep red.  I saw upon their sides the words "Northern New York and Canada R.R."  I saw that the engine's number was 12, and that the engineer, leaning out of the window toward me, had a large red face and heavy black beard.

As the train came upon the bridge there seemed to be a sudden jar and stoppage.  The engine leaped into the air like a frightened horse and rolled off the bridge, followed by six of the cars.  There was an intense movement of alarm and horror, a shower of fire and a cloud of steam which, for a moment, hid everything from sight.

A moment afterward my attention was irresistibly drawn to two figures struggling in the water.  One was a girl, very young and beautiful, attired in a gray travelling suit.  She had lost her bonnet, and her long, fair hair was floating upon the water.

The other figure was that of a man, whose appearance gave me a shock of strange surprise.  I seemed to recognize him, though his face was turned away.  At first he seemed to be making preparations to strike out vigorously toward the shore.  Then he seemed to catch sight of the young girl, for he turned, and swimming toward her, supported her on one arm, while with the other he kept both of them afloat.

At this moment I caught sight of his face.  I started up and uttered a shout of absolute terror.  It was my own face, white and stern with excitement and resolution that I saw before me.

As if my voice had broken the spell, the light, landscape, wrecked train and struggling swimmers disappeared like a flash of lightning.  I rubbed my eyes and looked around.  The light was burning as brightly as before.  The book I had been reading had slipped from my hand to the floor.  I perceived then that I had been merely dreaming a vivid dream.

To say that I was not startled would be untrue.  I was very much moved, but it was neither with superstitious fear nor the slightest faith.  Here, I thought, was a grand opportunity to put my favorite theories into practice.  I had dreamed a dream of such distinctness and detail that it might readily be supposed to be a forewarning.  That it would prove to be nothing of the sort I was perfectly convinced.  I would write down the circumstances, and when the event had proven them wholly false, use the whole as a knock-down argument against all faith in any forewarnings whatsoever.

On further investigation I confessed that I was somewhat perplexed.  I found that there was such a railroad as the Northern New York and Canada, that the cars were of the color seen in my dream.  I found furthermore, on conversing with a person who had travelled over the route, that the road crossed Black river on a trestle bridge, and that, viewed up the river, the landscape would appear as I had seen it.

I was by no means convinced, however.  I might have heard of the railroad in question and forgotten the fact.  The color of the cars was such as is common to railroads.  The landscape may have borne only a general resemblance to the Black river; moreover, my description of the one seen in my dream could at most have given a few salient points, such as hills, water, a distant town and a trestle bridge, common to a hundred other regions in the country.

Moreover, I could imagine no reason why I should travel over the route.  My parents live in Northern New York, but in visiting them my course would be at least a hundred miles east of the Black river.

The winter passed by with no renewal of my strange dream, and the occurrence of no circumstances bearing upon it and the whole matter had passed out of my memory.

One morning I received a telegram from home to the effect that my father had been taken dangerously ill, and that his physician despaired of his life.

Skeptic as I was, I was no infidel in the matter of my family affection.  I made my preparations in haste, and took the night train for my father's home.  On arriving at Utica.  I learned that a freshet had washed out the track of the regular line, and that I should be compelled to take a branch road a core of miles further west.

My dream now occurred to me.  I was travelling near the region I had dreamed of.  Once accident had forced me nearer to it than I had any reason to anticipate.  But I was not foolish enough to suppose that any set of circumstances would bring about the fulfillment of my vision.

During the night the train halted at a large town on the line and the passengers were informed that another transfer would be necessary.  The rains which had destroyed the track of the regular line had also thrown down a bridge on the branch.

As I slighted in the dark and made my way to the train in waiting I admit that I was very much startled to read upon the side of the cars the words I had seen in my dream, "Northern New York and Canada R. R."  I counted the cars, they were sixteen in number---four yellow and twelve red.

My philosophy was considerably shaken.  IT seemed as if an irresistible hand were forcing me to the fulfilment of my dream.  But I was still stubborn in unbelief.

I resolved to investigate the matter still further and satisfy myself that I had simply met with a series of coincidences.  Freshets might occur on railroads without the special intervention of destiny.  Cars might be of a certain color and number without proving dreams to be true.

At the earliest peep of dawn I went through every car on the train earnestly scanning the passengers' faces.  I was looking for the young girl in the gray travelling suit.  I was highly elated to discover that no such person was on board.  Here was one point in my favor.

But very shortly this one point was opposed by two others of a very startling kind.

During a halt in the forenoon I alighted and went forward to the engine.  There upon the brass plate on its side was the number 12.  And as the engineer looked from the window I was stunned to recognize the man in the dream, the red face and the black beard.

I went back to my seat in a maze of wonder and dread.  My incredulity was oozing out at my fingers' ends.

Just as the train was about to start a carriage drove furiously up to the station and a late passenger was assisted aboard one of the forward cars as the wheels began to move.  It was a woman, whose face I could not see, for she wore a veil, but her dress was of a light gray color and her figure that of a young girl.

By this time I was thoroughly unnerved.  I dared not go forward and endeavor to catch a glimpse of the girl's face.  I feared to see the face of dream.  I threw myself back into the corner of my seat and fell into a moody reverie.  But, meantime, I gathered from the conversation of two passengers in the seat before me that we were to cross the  Black river before noon on a trestle bridge.

Presently the landscape on either side began to look strangely familiar.  I caught glimpses of hills in the distance that seemed not new to me.  A moment later, as the train passed through a cutting and came in sight of the river, I started up in terror.  I beheld the landscape of my dream.  The wide, deep current, the hazy hills, the trestle bridge, the pale blue sky with its motionless clouds, the drooping sails of the vessels and the distant town with its dun vapor rising into the air--I had seen them all before.

I was prepared for the full realization of my dream.  The last thread of unbelief had broken.  I sprang out upon the platform as the train ran upon the trestle and waited breathlessly for the crash I knew was coming.

The train ran on smoothly until it reached the centre of the bridge, then there was a hideous jar, an explosion, a chaos of shouts, shrieks and crashes, and I found myself in the water swimming for life.

In an instant I remembered the conclusion of my dream.

I turned  about, and there, within a dozen feet of me floated the figure in gray, with her long hair spread out upon the water and her beautiful eyes turned toward me in terrified appeal.  My dream had not told me whether I was to escape or die in the attempt to rescue the girl.  But I never thought of that.  I swam toward her, and passing my arm about her, struck out toward the shore.

It was a long and desperate struggle.  The river was wide and the current swift.  I could make little progress with my inert burden.  I struggled on, growing weaker and weaker with every stroke.  Presently I saw a boat pulling toward us.  I uttered a shout and was answered.  In another moment my companion was drawn into the vessel, and, utterly overcome by my terrible efforts, I sank back into the water insensible.

When I awoke to consciousness I was lying in bed and some one was bending over me.  It was a woman and she was weeping; I could feel her tears falling upoin my forehead as she brushed back my damp hair.  Presently the mist cleared away from my sight, and I recognized the young girl whom I had seen in my dream.

She uttered a cry of joy when she saw that my eyes were open.  She seized my hand and pressed it convulsively.

"Thank heaven!" she said, "you will live."

"Yes," I said, with a feeble smile, "since it is of importance to you."

"I should never be happy again," she sobbed, "if you were to died after what you have done for me."

Being still very ill, yet anxious to reach my father, I resolved to get on at once.  Finding me determined to proceed, my young friend insisted upon accompanying me the short distance I had to go.  It is needless to relate the details of the remainder of my journey; how, when I arrived, I found my father in a fair way to recovery, or how, in the natural course of events, I fell in love with my beautiful nurse.

When I returned to the city with my young wife, my friends discovered that I had left my old skepticism in the depths of the Black river.  I dissolved my connection with the "Anti-Superstition society," not without considerable jeering, which I could afford to give.  I am now convinced that there are things in this world that our raw logic will not account for.  My clearest proof is the dear wife whose life I was led to save for myself by the irresistible hand of fate.

Syracuse Herald, Syracuse, New York - Sunday, October 8 1882   

AS we rush, as we rush in the Train,
The trees and the houses go wheeling back,
But the starry heavens above the plain
Come flying on our track.

All the beautiful stars of the sky,
The silver doves of the forest of Night,
Over the dull earth swarm and fly,
Companions of our flight.

We will rush ever on without fear;
Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!
For we carry the Heavens with us, dear,
While the Earth slips from our feet!

James Thomson, In the Train