A Ghostly Experience.

Evening Star, Issue 6843, 5 March 1886, Page 4

A Ghostly Experience.

“It is now several years,” said Father Dalamere, “since I was sent on a mission to one of the thinlypeopled parts of Canada.” The Father spoke in low tones, a little tremulous, but perfectly clear and distinct.

“ Often I had to travel through the woods for days, either alone or with a single Indian as a guide. On one of these journeys I was fortunate enough to meet with a friend named Harvey, who hospitably entertained me, and who, on bidding me farewell, gave me a letter of introduction to a family of the name of—let us say Calvert— at whose house he advised me to pass the following night. “‘You might camp out,’ said my friend, ‘but if you push on smartly you will reach their house and be able to spend the night under shelter. They are an old family. They will be delighted to see you, and will give you a wafin welcome.’

“ Camping out is a delightful experience at lirst, but after a few nights of it one appreciates a right spent in bed; so I pushed on as fast as I could, that I might reach Mr Calvert’s house before nightfall. In this I did not succeed. The sun went down, and left me in a cheerless, dismal, and, as far as I could see, waterless forest, and I was forced to struggle on long after I was ready to sink with fatigue. Mr Calvert’s family was retiring to rest when I arrived at his door, as one might say, too fatigued either to eat or to sleep. They wdre very kind to me, got me some supper, and eventually showed me to my room—a large low-ceilinged apartment on the ground iioor. I remember the furniture well —an immense wardrobe ; high-backed, spindle-legged chairs; and a post bedstead of black mahogany. “ I really felt too tired to sleep, so I had recourse to a tonic which I always carry about with me as a restorative under such circumstances. It may be that I was too weak at the moment to take the medicine beneficially, or that I took an overdose—at any rate I felt in a strange, dazed condition, and was glad when I found myself fairly in bed. “ Whether I ever fell asleep I cannot say. My impression is that I had not actually done so, when suddenly I became aware that someone was near mo. In an instant I was sitting bolt upright in bed, and there, at the side of the bed, was a man, a half-breed, standing with his back to the bed, and in the act—the very act—of cutting his throat.”

The priest shuddered, and for an instant covered his face with his hands.

“ I screamed out ‘ Stop ! stop ! stop! for God’s sake, stop !’ at the pitch of my voice, and readied out my hand to seize his arm. I was just beyond my grasp. Perhaps I might have reached it, but I had not courage. I drew back my hand. All this time I was screaming 1 Stop! stop!’ and I remember well clutching lirst the bedpost and then my left arm with my right hand, and saying to myself ‘See! I know I am sleeping.’ Of course it was really one second of time, and yet I saw another stroke given—and another—and, I think, another. Oh, it was horrible ! Then he fell back on the bed, and as he fell the blood gushed out freely over him and over the bedclothes. “ As he fell there were loud knocks at the door of my room, and I heard voices inquiring if I were ill, or if anything had happened, “ S auehow X felt an unconquerable aversion to proclaim at that moment the awful thing I had seen; I felt as if I could never breathe the secret to mortal ear; and merely replied that I had had a very unpleasant dream, and had cried out in my sleep, “ .Next morning at breakfast one of the family said to me—- “ 1 You gave us all a fright, Father Holamore, We thought somebody must have broken Into the house and attacked you.’ “ ‘ No,’ I replied. ‘ The fact is, I thought I saw a dark-colored man in the act of cutting his throat,’ “ Everyone started and changed color as I said these words; and the master of the hoqso pose up hastily, quitted the room, and did not return. Of course I said no more, though no excuse or explanation was offered me. • Kindly as I have been welcomed, I was more than glad when the moment came to bid my entertainers farewell. “I completed my journey, accomplished my mission, and, set pqt an my roturq. Tips time, as you may imagine, I did not stop at Mr Calvert’s house. I paid a visit, however, to my friend Harvey; and on his aslqng ipe whether I had stayqd at the Calverts, I told him of the terrible sight I had witnpssed under their roof. “ The moment the words had passed from my lips—- “ * What sort of man did you say 1 ’ Harvey asked. ‘I hope you said nothing of tips to tho Calverts.' “ ‘ Yes,’ I replied ; ‘ I told them X dreamt I saw a dark-colored man cutting his throat at my bedside,’ “ ‘ My GodC explaimod Harvey. * Calvert’s half-caste brother cut his throat ten years ago ! ’ “ Whether there was any close coincidence either of time or place I had neither the opportunity nor the wish to inquire.” At this point I saw Mrs Vickers sink backward in her seat, and I sprang to her side. Her husband was with I

her in a moment, and raising her head poured a few drops of brandy between her lips, She had not actually swooned, and was able to walk indoors in a minute or two.

“Do you really think you were awake, Father Dolaraere,” I heard Cartwright say shortly afterwards, “ when you saw the man at your bedside !”

“ I remember clutching my arm,” answered the priest, I thought rather coldly, “to assure myself that I was wide awake. But whether I was awake or asleep, the occurrence seems to me equally mysterious.” No more was said on the subject.— ‘ Vanity Fair.’