A CLOSE friend of mine fought throughout the greater part of the late
war without receiving a scratch. Some few months previous to the end
of hostilities, he was selected for a commission, and was
subsequently transferred to England to undergo the necessary training
for a second-lieutenant. He was granted the position and, very
shortly after, was drafted over to France. One night, when going into
action, he was suddenly taken seriously ill and was carried back to
hospital. During one evening, I, for some reason had to go to my
bedroom, and, when about half-way on the stair-case, I distinctly
saw, on the landing, a military officer standing to attention. I
thought at first it was mere fancy, but, on going a few steps
farther, I was thoroughly convinced that at no time had I seen a
soldier so real. Then the vision vanished, as quick as thought, into
the bedroom. I followed, but, after switching on the light, I failed
to find anyone in the room save myself.
Next day we received the sad news that this young officer had died
from sickness, three days after Armistice was signed.