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{{Style P-HPB SB. Title continued |An Antiquary's Ghost History|10-214}} | {{Style P-HPB SB. Title continued |An Antiquary's Ghost History|10-214}} | ||
{{Style P-No indent|appeared again, exactly in the same place and attitude as before. I saw the hands close to my own: I turned my head again, to examine him more closely, and I was framing a sentence to address to him, when I discovered that I did not dare to speak. ''I'' ''was afraid of the sound of my own voice. ''There he sat, and there sat I. I turned my head again to my work, and finished writing the two or three words I still had to write. The paper and my notes are at this moment before me, and exhibit not the slightest tremor or nervousness. I could point out the words I was writing when the phantom came and when he disappeared. Having finished my task, I shut the book and threw it on the table; it made a slight noise as it fell—the figure vanished.}} | |||
Throwing myself back in my chair, I sat for some seconds looking at the fire with a curious mixture of feeling, and I remember wondering whether my friend would come again, and if he did whether he would hide the fire from me. Then first there stole upon me a dread and a suspicion that I was beginning to lose my nerve. I remember yawning; then I rose, lit my bedroom candle, took my books into the inner library, mounted the chair as before, and replaced five of the volumes; the sixth I brought back and laid upon the table where I had been writing when the phantom did me the honour to appear to me. By this time I had lost all sense of uneasiness. I blew out the four candles and marched off to bed, where I slept the sleep of the just or the guilty; I know not which, but I slept very soundly. This is a simple and unvarnished narrative of facts. Explanation, theory, or inference I leave to others. | |||
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Revision as of 15:32, 18 September 2024
Legend
< An Antiquary's Ghost History (continued from page 10-214) >
appeared again, exactly in the same place and attitude as before. I saw the hands close to my own: I turned my head again, to examine him more closely, and I was framing a sentence to address to him, when I discovered that I did not dare to speak. I was afraid of the sound of my own voice. There he sat, and there sat I. I turned my head again to my work, and finished writing the two or three words I still had to write. The paper and my notes are at this moment before me, and exhibit not the slightest tremor or nervousness. I could point out the words I was writing when the phantom came and when he disappeared. Having finished my task, I shut the book and threw it on the table; it made a slight noise as it fell—the figure vanished.
Throwing myself back in my chair, I sat for some seconds looking at the fire with a curious mixture of feeling, and I remember wondering whether my friend would come again, and if he did whether he would hide the fire from me. Then first there stole upon me a dread and a suspicion that I was beginning to lose my nerve. I remember yawning; then I rose, lit my bedroom candle, took my books into the inner library, mounted the chair as before, and replaced five of the volumes; the sixth I brought back and laid upon the table where I had been writing when the phantom did me the honour to appear to me. By this time I had lost all sense of uneasiness. I blew out the four candles and marched off to bed, where I slept the sleep of the just or the guilty; I know not which, but I slept very soundly. This is a simple and unvarnished narrative of facts. Explanation, theory, or inference I leave to others.
How Best to Become a Theosophist
...
Editor's notes
- ↑ How Best to Become a Theosophist by unknown author, Spiritualist, The, January 16, 1880