In the month of August, 1864, I was visiting at the country residence of
my wife’s mother, in the State of Rhode Island. Her oldest son, Alfred
Nicholas Brown, was at that time staying at the New York Hotel in the
City of New York. His younger sister was the owner of, and had with her
at her mother’s residence, an intelligent little French poodle of a most
affectionate and sensitive nature. He suffered from the effects of the
summer heat and was very much annoyed by the attacks of house flies, and
in order, as far as possible, to avoid both annoyances, spent the
greater part of his time in a dark closet adjoining the sleeping room
occupied by my wife and myself.
“Tommy” was an unusually quiet dog, seldom barking, and had never been
known to howl save when certain notes of the piano were touched. About
three o’clock in the morning of the 12th of August we heard a most
plaintive and sorrowful howl from “Tommy” in his closet, which continued
until he was stopped by being spoken to. At half past seven o’clock, the
same morning, while the family were at breakfast a telegram was handed
to the mother, announcing the death of her son at the New York Hotel at
ten minutes past three o’clock that morning.
The fact of “Tommy’s” howl had been mentioned previously, and I am not
quite certain if it was discussed, but have been informed that at least
one member of the family had insisted that it was the forerunner of bad
news. The bad news undoubtedly followed, but did “Tommy” obtain it in
advance, and if he did, how? Or was his unusual howl an accidental
coincidence?