The Editor of the _Every-Day Book_ now relates an appearance to himself.
One winter evening, in 1821, he was writing in a back room on an upper
floor of the house No. 45, Ludgate-hill, wherein he now resides. He had
been so closely engaged in that way and in reading during several
preceding days, that he had taken every meal alone, and in that room,
nor did he usually go to bed until two or three o’clock in the morning.
In the early part of the particular evening alluded to, his attention
had become wearied. After a doze he found himself refreshed, and was
writing when the chimes of St. Paul’s clock sounded a quarter to two:
long before that dead hour all the family had retired to rest, and the
house was silent. A few minutes afterwards he moved round his chair
towards the fire-place, and opposite to a large pane of glass which let
the light from the room into a closet otherwise dark, the door of which
opened upon the landing-place. His eye turning upon the glass pane, he
was amazed by the face of a man anxiously watching him from the closet,
with knit inquiring brows. The features were prominent and haggard, and,
though the look was somewhat ferocious, it indicated intense curiosity
towards the motions of the writer, rather than any purpose of immediate
mischief to him. The face seemed somewhat to recede with a quick motion
when he first saw it, but gazing on it with great earnestness it
appeared closer to the glass, looking at him for a moment, and then with
more eager anxiety bending its eyes on the writing-table, as though it
chiefly desired to be acquainted with the books and papers that lay upon
it. The writer shut and rubbed his eyes, and again the eyes of the face
were intently upon him; watching it, he grasped the candlestick, strode
hastily towards the room door, which is about two feet from the pane,
observed the face as hastily draw back, unlatched the closet door on the
landing, was in an instant within the closet, and there to his
astonishment found nothing. It was impossible that the person could have
escaped from the closet before his own foot was at its door, yet he
examined nearly every room in the house, until reflecting that it was
folly to seek for what, he was convinced, had no bodily existence, he
returned up stairs and went to bed, pondering on the recollection of the
spectre.