XI.THE TESTS.
The effect left upon me when I found myself alone was not exactly that of alarm, but rather a determination to test, if it might be possible, this appearance or delusion, or whatever it might be; and, instantly turning from the spot, I walked back to the house. The presence of persons in the room, the light, the furniture itself, had an influence to calm whatever of perturbation I was sensible of from the strange interview through which I had so rapidly passed. I debated now in my mind with regard to the test I should apply. Was it a ghost? That was in part the question, but not the entire inquiry; for I could not come all at once to the conclusion that it was an undoubted visitant from the dead man’s realm. While pondering over these doubts, an adventure of my youth came vividly back to my recollection, and seemed to offer itself as a means by which I should judge of my present experience; and, thinking it may amuse my reader, I see no reason why I should not add it to my narrative.
A goodly number of years ago, I was a student at a college in the State of Maryland, not far from the townof Gettysburg. From the plateau of the mountain, at the base of which the college was situated, I have been told, the smoke as it actually poured from the guns, not after it floated miles away, was seen during the progress of the great and inexplicable battle that has made the town one of historic importance.
Upon a certain occasion, it being a holiday, I went over to the neighboring village of ——, intending to have a free-and-easy time with smuggled cigars,—smoking being a virtue unrecognized by the dignitaries of the college, and forbidden under heavy pains and penalties within the sacred and unfumigated precincts. I had other objects, perhaps, justifiable to youth, and unnecessary to dilate upon now. At all events, I was away from college, and away I remained until the advancing evening warned me that I had somewhat of a walk before I could get back. There were two ways by which I could return,—one by the common county road, and a shorter but more difficult route by a narrow path leading partially over and along the mountain ridge. I chose the latter. So I bade adieu to the village and its barber, who was our contraband chief in the cigar smuggle, and at whose house I had enjoyed a comfortable but uncollegiate dinner, and with whose pretty daughter (all girls are pretty to college boys) I had taken a precious lesson in flirtation, almost engaging myself to marry her after I had graduated and seenmy way clearly to parental acquiescence. Poor barber’s daughter! I wonder how many other lads made innocent love to her and vaguely hinted similar magnificent proposals? But away I went up the mountain, under the trees, in and out with the path, by the rocks, by the torrent, and ere I had advanced a mile, the moon (did you ever see a Middle States’ moon?) had stolen into the skies. The wind rose gently with the moon, as if it would make soft music for her, and the clouds accompanied her in muslin toilets; and so with the moon and the wind and the misty clouds I pursued my walk, smoking the last cigar of that blissful holiday.
My path led by the church, belonging to the college, half way up the mountain, and afterward by the old graveyard, walled in,—a crumbling and a neglected wall, over which you could step easily into the silent city. Arrived at this graveyard, I stopped and looked down upon the college. The lights were gleaming there; and, upon the fatal theory that a pleasure enjoyed under ban is sweeter than pleasure permitted, I resolved to finish my cigar before I made the final descent. But where could I smoke so near the college and be free from detection? Lingering on the path I might be detected and reported, and that would be fatal. In the graveyard? Who ever ventured there except the dead and the mourners, or a law-breaker? The very place I thought; and so I crossed over the shattered wall, and,selecting an entablature that was a sort of mortuary dining table supported by four brick legs, I stretched myself and fell into that luxurious enjoyment which only a true smoker can realize,—and of that class I was then, and am now.
The moon, by this time, was nearly above me, and so bright that a woman could have threaded her needle by its wonderful effulgence. I had not been many seconds on the table-like slab, before I heard a sound that somewhat startled me; but, after a moment’s reflection, I concluded it was the wind moaning round the old church that was at the upper end of the cemetery. Quieting myself with this belief, I pulled away at my cigar, now nearly at its last gasp, when I heard a repetition of the sound; but this time it seemed to proceed directly from underneath the slab! The affair was getting peculiar, and my nervous system was undergoing that singular process so well expressed by the phrase goose-fleshy; for if the sound did come from under the slab it could not be the wind, for it was not like anything the wind could do with such materials. But while I debated the question, the utterance struck upon my ear again, and this time it was an unmistakable groan, as if human or inhuman lips had given it expression. The goose-flesh arrangement continued to develop itself, but not to such an enormous wrinkle as to prevent my peeping over the side of the stone to see if I could catch a sight of thegroan or the groaner. I feel convinced, though I did not test it, that the extraordinary phenomena so often alluded to by novelists did occur, and that my hair did stand on end, when I saw directly under me, out in the moonlight, a battered, withered leg covered by a dingy, mould-soiled piece of cloth, with a boot attached, but such a boot that no human ingenuity of St. Crispinism could repair. The boot looked like the skeleton of a boot, as the pantaloons looked like a skeleton of pantaloons. They were to all intent and purposes supernatural fractures. While I looked, the groaning was repeated, and simultaneously another leg, another piece of mould-stained cloth, another tattered boot was thrown out of the deep shadow and softly placed crosswise over the other, following the example of knight-errantry sculpture. I had stretched myself, supported by my hands, to the edge of the slab, and could see distinctly these movements and appearances; and my mind was so completely divided between the physical results and the naturally suggestive idea of the supernatural, as to leave me in a medium state of amused courage and inherent superstition.
But it was necessary for me to act, and so, without further hesitation, I supported my body on my arms reversed, and made a long leg of it, stretching myself entirely free, of course, from a contact with the mouldy-looking arrangement that protruded into the moonlight.Having established my position at a proper distance of observation, I at first hesitated whether to go away or not,—a vague and not unnatural fear suggesting the idea of flight; a positive but artificial conviction determining me to remain and see the matter out. One of the greatest and best lessons, and for which there should be a professorship established in every college in the country, is the lesson of self-command. Make it at the commencement of your life a speciality, and it will serve you in after years as a guardian of your honor, and sometimes of your life itself. It makes you well behaved, careful of the feelings of others, tolerant and independent, and is the safeguard of a woman’s virtue and the potent spear by which truth may be distinguished from error. By a strong effort I reached the point of self-command, and so my legs were as firmly fixed to the spot, as those limbs of mystery peeping out from the entablature of the tomb. My next act was to catch hold of the feet and pull at them,—pull the whole affair into the light and determine what it was. When I had drawn this moaning body forth, I lifted it by a vigorous effort, and stood it against the tomb. The head fell backward and the moon shone full upon the face. The face was swollen with a livid kind of puffiness, and the eyes closed fast. I placed my hand upon the forehead and felt the moisture, clammy and revolting. The hands fell heavily by the sides, and a tremor ran overand shook the figure as if with palsy, and groans and moans came quick, and as they came I shook the thing by its shoulders; but there was no awakening as yet of the closed orbs and apparently dead brain. I worried myself no longer, but drew the loathsome figure away from the grave-stone and commenced an advance toward the broken wall. It moved heavily, but at last we reached the boundary, and with difficulty got over it. The mass was passive; I was very positive. I went down the mountain, passed the college, and, reaching a cottage, I rapped upon the door. A woman opened it, and, giving my ghost a push, he staggered or fell into her arms, or upon the floor, I know not which, and this dingy spectre was no more nor less than the hard-drinking husband of one of the college outside servants. Here, then, was the test case which came back to me, with all its vivid incidents and extraordinary suggestions, to help me out of my present dilemma? In the adventure of my youth there was at first a large supply of the ghostly element, and, had I fled the investigation, perhaps nothing would have disabused my mind of its supernatural character. The man would in all probability have been left until early morning in undisturbed possession of his unique apartment, and, when restored to his senses, would have been the very last to initiate a revelation. It would have been a confession fraught with serious consequences,—in the first place with regardto his situation under the college,—and it would not have contributed largely to his domestic felicity. To peach on me would have been to implicate himself, and, as drunkenness is morally a worse crime than the smoking of a cigar, he would have been the first to have suffered decapitation. It was my self-possession alone that turned one of the most reliable ghost incidents into a tale of beastly absurdity. If I was so near seeing a ghost’s legs on that night, which turned out to be no ghost’s legs at all, why might there not be some chance of my visitor on the brow of the hill to-night turning out to be some vagrant more wildly drunk than the drunken college-phantom?