The fire was comfortable, and
my cigar was still alight; only a few moments more, and then bed. The
resolution was scarcely formed before my head dropped again and I was
fast asleep.
"How long I slept I know not; a sensation of coldness caused me to
awake, only to find the fire nearly out, my reading-lamp smouldering,
and the moon brightly shining into the room. Imagine, if you can, my
surprise, when, turning round, there, full in the light of the moon, was
a figure writing at my table. It was an old man dressed in old-fashioned
style, just like what was worn two hundred or more years ago. There was
the wig, the coat with square flaps, the shoes with silver
buckles--everything except the sword. The face could not be clearly
defined, but the figure was most distinct.
"My first sensations were, to say the least, peculiar. I was for the
moment frightened, and it was several moments before common sense
asserted itself. A feeling of intense curiosity soon overpowered all
sense of fear. Sitting in my chair I could hear the scratching of his
pen upon the paper. He wrote at a very rapid pace and seemed too intent
upon his labours to notice my presence. I waited for some time in
absolute stillness, but then, becoming weary of the situation,
endeavoured to attract his attention with a cough.
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