A WELL-ATTESTED GHOST STORY

Northland Age, Volume IV, Issue 49, 27 July 1908, Page 8

A WELL-ATTESTED GHOST STORY

Mr. Allan Fe&, in his delightful “Noote and Corners of Old England" records the following “best authentic cated ghost story of modern times." Dr. Jessop, chaplain to His Majesty,! visited Mannington Hall in October, 1879, and recounted in the “Athenaeum" of the following January the strange experiences of his visit. After the rest of the household had retired to rest the doctor sat up till after one o'clock in an apartment adjoining the library making extracts g* from rare books. “I was just begin- ▼ ning to think that my work was drawing to a close when, as I was actually writing, I saw a large white hand within a foot of my elbow* Turning my head I saw a figure of s somewhat large man sitting with his back to the fire, bending slightly over the table, and apparently examining the pile of books that I had been at work upon. The man’s face wai turned away from me, but I saw his closely-cut reddish-brown hair, his ear and shaved cheek, the eyebrow, the corner of the right eye, the side of the forehead, and the large high cheek-bone." SURE OF HIS REALITY. K “He was dressed in what I can describe only as a kind of ecclesiastical habit of thick corded silk, qr some such material, close up to the throat, and a narrow rim or edging of about an inch broad of satin or velvet, serving as a stand-up collar and fitting close to the chin. The right hand which had first attracted my attention was clasping, without any great pressure, the left hand, both hands being in purfect repose, and the large blue veins of the right being conspicuous. I remember thinking the hand was like the hand of Velasquez's magnificent ‘Dead Knight' in the National Gallery. I looked at my visitor for some seconds and was perfectly sure that he was a reality. A thousand thoughts came crowding upon me, but not the least feeling of alarm or even of uneasiness." AFRAID TO SPEAK. “Curiqsity and a strong interest were uppermost. For an instant I felt eager to make a sketch of my friend, and I looked at a tray on my right for a pencil. Then I thought, ‘Upstairs 1 have a sketchbook ; shall I fetch it ?' There he sat, and I was fascinated, afraid not of his staying, but lest he should go. . Stapping in my writing, I lifted jjiy left hand from the paper, stretched it out to a pile of books, and moved the top one. 1 cannot explain why ' I did this. My arm passed in front of the figure, and it vanished. Much astonished, I went on with my writing perhaps for another five minutes, and had actually got to the last few words of the extract when the figure appeared again, exactly in the satno place and attitude as before. I «aw the hand close to my own. 1 turned again to examine him more closely, and I was turning a sentence to ad” dress 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 J. 1 turned my head again to my work and finished the two or three words still remaining to bo written. The paper and my notes are at this moment before me, and exhibit not tho slightest tremor or nervousness. I could point out the words I was writing when the phantom came and when he disappeared. Having finish* ed my task, I shut the book ami threw it on the table* It made a slight noise as it fell—the figure van* ished."