Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

One of the more unusual “death omen” stories appeared in the “Sentinel and Democrat,” April 10, 1844:

Mr. Ponting, a tailor, now residing in Bedfordbury, leading from New street to Chandos street, Covent garden, was in the autumn of the year 1819, accompanied by Mrs. Ponting, at Turnham green, when they called on a friend of the name of Smith, who still resides there. They walked into the garden attached to the house, and their attention was fixed on an apple tree which carried a good show of fruit. Mrs. Ponting was in a thriving way, and, from fatigue or some other cause, was induced to lean against the tree which she and her husband had been looking at., Whether she fell against it, or otherwise shook it with violence. we are not informed, but the tree was shaken, and all the fruit, with the exception of a single apple, was the next moment strewed on the ground. 

Though vexed at the accident, Mr. and Mrs. Ponting attached no vast importance to it, nor did their friends at the moment, but in the course of the day Mrs. Smith took an opportunity of communicating with Mr. Ponting on the subject. The lady spoke to this effect that she was much disturbed at what had happened, and it was her fear that the accident was nothing less than an omen of death. Her impression, which she could not get rid of, was that Mrs. Ponting would not get well through her expected confinement.

From one apple being left on the tree uninjured, she concluded that the child would live, but the mother she mournfully predicted would not recover. A few months set the question at rest. Mrs. Ponting gave birth to an infant and died: the child lived to grow up. But this is not all.

Our informant goes on to add that the tree, though up to that period it had in most years brought a good crop, since the year 1819 has never in any season borne more than a single apple. The tree, which was named “Elizabeth," after the lady whose early departure it was supposed to shadow forth, is still standing, and may be seen by the curious.