I saw one once in the Gulf of the St. Lawrence off the island of
Anticosti. We were in the middle of it, and seemed to be looking up
through a great cone of light millions and millions of miles into the
sky. Then we saw it farther off and the pillars of fire stalked up and
down the face of heaven like one of Handel’s great basses.
In front of my room at Montreal there was a verandah from which a rope
was stretched across a small yard to a chimney on a stable roof over the
way. Clothes were hung to dry on this rope. As I lay in bed of a
morning I could see the shadows and reflected lights from these clothes
moving on the ceiling as the clothes were blown about by the wind. The
movement of these shadows and reflected lights was exactly that of the
rays of an Aurora Borealis, minus colour. I can conceive no resemblance
more perfect. They stalked across the ceiling with the same kind of
movement absolutely.