MR. PROCTOR’S GHOST.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume I, Issue 161, 19 June 1884, Page 2

MR. PROCTOR’S GHOST.

I had on one evening, while at Cambridge and shortly after the death of my mother, been particularly, I may say unreasonably low spirited. I had sat brooding for hours over dismal thoughts. These thoughts had followed me to bed, and I went to sleep under their influence. I cannot remember my dreams—l did dream, and my dreams were melancholy—but, although I had a perfectly clear rememberance of their tenor on first waking, they had passed altogether from my recollection the next morning. It is to be noted, however, that I was under the influence of sorrowful dreams when I awoke. At this time the light of a waning moon was shining into the room* I opened my eyes and saw without surprise or any conscious feeling of fear —my mother standing at the foot of the bed. She was not “ in her habit as she lived,” but “ clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.” Her face was pale, though not with the pallor of life; her expression sorrowful, and tears which glistened in the moonlight stood in her eyes. And now a strange mental condition followed. My reason told me that I was deceived by appearances i that the figure I saw was neither my mother’s spirit nor an unreal vision. I felt certain I was not looking at “ a phantom of the brain which would show itself without;” and I felt equally certain that no really existent spirit was there before me. Yet the longer I looked, the more perfect appeared the picture. I racked my memory to recall any objects in mv bedroom which could be mistaken for a ghost, but my memory was busy recalling the features oi the dead, and my brain (against the action of my will) was tracing these features in the figure which stood before me. The deception grew more and more complete until I could have spoken aloud as to a living person. Meantime, my mind had suggested, and at once rejected, the idea of a trick played me by one of my college friends. I felt a perfect assurance that whatever it was which stood before me, it was not a breathing creature self-restrained into absolute stillness. How long I remained gazing at the figure I cannot remember; but I know that I continued stedfastly looking at it until I had assured myself that (to my mind in its probably unhealthy condition) the picture was perfect in all respects. At last I raised my head from the pillow, intending to draw nearer to the mysterious figure. But it was quite unnecessary. I had not raised my head three inches before the ghost was gone, and in its place—or rather, not in its place, but five or six feet farther away, hung my college surplice. It was quite impossible to restore the illusion by resuming my former position. The mind which a moment before had been so completely deceived, rejected completely the idea of resemblance. There was nothing even in the arrangement of the folds of the surplice to justify in the slightest degree an illusion which nevertheless, had been perfect while it lasted Only one feature of the apparition was accounted for. I have soid that the eyes shone with tears ; the explanatiog was rather common-place; over my hung a rowing belt, and the silvered buckles (partly concealed by the folds of the surplice) shone in the moonlight.—l?. A. Proctor.