oung gentleman, a
member of one of the learned professions, who was accounted an
intellectual person and was of rather grave demeanor. Though known to
have been the author of occasional verses which gained applause, he would
not have been thought likely to be the subject of any extraordinary
hallucination. He was an intimate friend of our family, and on certain
occasions of unusual excitement, if not danger, in the midst of the
various adventures of young people, had shown a singular firmness of
nerve and presence of mind, and was thought to be in fact insensible to
fear. He had listened to the story of the bold lad who saw the supposed
apparition on the gate-post, and to that of the Topsfield spectre, with
much the same interest as that which Marmion exhibited at Sir David
Lindesay's narrative of the appearance of the beloved Apostle to King
James in Linlithgow. Apparently induced by a similar irresistible impulse
to that which drew from the redoubted warrior of Scott's fascinating poem
the rehearsal of his nocturnal adventure, our guest volunteered a
relation quite as remarkable.

"I will tell you a story," said he, "of something unaccountable which
once happened to me, though the circumstances are still so vivid in my
memory, that I look back upon it with a sort of superstitious dread, and
feel a decided reluctance in appealing to the sympathy of others, in
regard to an incident which seemed exclusively addressed to myself and
was confined to my own sole experience.

"In my senior year at College, now as you know, not many years since, I
was appointed by my class to prepare for delivery, on what is called
Class Day, a literary exercise,--in fact a poem, in anticipation of the
usual Commencement performances, and was at home, during the preceding
long vacation, making ready for this event. The writing of poetry for
public recitation before a critical audience is a rather exacting
occupation, and my ambition was naturally excited to do the best in my
power. Indeed, the work absorbed all my faculties; but I preferred to
write during the still hours of the night, rather than amidst the
ordinary distractions of the day, spending that period, usually,
wandering in the neighboring fields and woods, or in other diversions.
The season was summer, and I was sitting one night at an open window,
committing to paper such thoughts as occurred to me, by the light of a
single candle,--for lamps were then not very common and gas was