Text of the Day: "The Day of My Death" by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps (1844-1911).
Excerpt: "The second day of next May," wrote the medium, - she wrote with the forefinger of one hand upon the palm of the other, - "the second of May, at one o'clock in the afternoon, you will be summoned into a spiritual state of existence."
"I suppose, in good English, that means I'm going to die," I replied, carelessly. "Would you be so good as to write it with a pen and ink, that there may be no mistake?"
She wrote it distinctly: "The second of May, at one o'clock in the afternoon."
I pocketed the slip of paper for further use, and sat reflecting.
"How do you know it?"
"I don't know it. I am told."
"Who tells you?"
"Jerusha Babcock and George Washington."
Jerusha Babcock was the name of my maternal grandmother. What could the woman know of my maternal grandmother? It did not occur to me, I believe, to wonder what occasion George Washington could find to concern himself about my dying or my living. There stood the uncanny Jerusha as pledge that my informant knew what she was talking about. I left the office with an uneasy sinking at the heart. There was a coffin-store near by, and I remember the peculiar interest with which I studied the quilting of the satin lining, and the peculiar crawling sensation which crept to my fingers' ends.
Read the Complete Text: Here (see bottom of page).