…struggled, but with no avail; and all the while I watched the ghastly, hideous terror in my friend’s upturned eyes and the increasing pallor in his cheeks. I saw him clutch and unclutched his fingers as he threw them wildly above his head and clawed the air; and then I beheld him sink sink with one final, blood curdling scream for help that rang and re-rang through my brain as I awoke. The following day, I received a letter from this friend to say that he was in the greatest trouble owing to the illness of his youngest child; the doctors gave no hope of her complete recovery; they had unhesitatingly pronounced her a cripple for life. Often have I been drowning in dreams. The Thames has claimed my immaterial body times without number, and my frantic death-struggles have aroused the sympathy of scores of limb-tied spectators on Waterloo…