Life — December 5, 1896 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

* LIFE: ANNABEL LEE 9 “TWAS Christmas Eve ina brown stone front, In the gloaming, as it should be. That a maiden stood, whom you all may know By the name of Annabel Lee. That wasn’t her name, but it’s all the same To anyone else but me. And over her head, as the maiden stood, Ina manner quite negligentlee, Was a mistletoe branch, not placed there by chance, But rather by Annabel Lee. If you knew her as well as I, you could tell That she did it while waiting for me. \ Her parents at that hour were out of the way ; This she said in her innocent glee, And the place it was free, not only for me, But also for Annabel Lee. Which was not a mishap, but really a snap, UP TO DATE. Of course, in a case like this, which was A case of necessitee, There really was only one thing to do, And I did it incessantlee : Thus constantly kissing, and never once missing The lips of sweet Annabel Lee. "Twas but the beginning, and all things end, As this did eventuallee. Her father was wealthy, while I was broke, Which did not come home to me Until I was shaken, before being taken, By the beautiful Annabel Lee. This happened some time ago, and now, In her kingdom by the sea, Sweet Annabel sits, while her lord has fits, Due to many and many a spree. And I, all alone on my bachelor throne, As you all will doubtless agree. Quite pity sweet Annabel Lee. Tom Masson. BEING A GHOST. A STRANGE INCIDENT IN THE LIFE THE BANGOR SOCIETY OF HENRY or MABERLEY, PSYCHICAL ESQ., RESEARCH. PRESIDENT OF By JOHN KENDRICK BANGS. J never saw a purple cor J never hope to see one, But. I can tell you any I'd rather see than be one. ~O wrote Mr. Gelett Burgess of San Francisco, poet, humorist, and standard authority on purple cows— and I am prepared to assert that, unlike many of our modern poets, Mr. Burgess, in this effort at least, has struck the note of sincerity with no uncertain touch. The directness and simplicity of the statement carries with it the conviction that Mr. Burgess spoke from his inmost heart, but for still other reasons the lines have appealed strongly to me. In a manner, my own relation to the spectral side of life has come to be very much the same as that of Mr. Burgess toward the empurpled kine, as Mr. Stephen Crane might put it in one of his most putting moods. And I hope that whatever statements I may make concerning the supernatural will bear that same impress of truth which is the hall-mark of Mr. Burgess’s purple cow observation. I cannot adapt Mr. Burgess's powerful quatrain entirely to my own situation, however. Candor requires that I shall admit this. For instance, I cannot truthfully say that I never saw a ghost, for I have seen many, and have stood sponsor for not a few. I cannot, with due regard for facts, assert that I never hope to see one, for 1 do hope to see many another, and fortwo very good reasons: first, I find them excellent company ; and second, I need them in my business. But when it comes to the grand climacteric of Mr. Burgess poem, “I'd rather see than be one.” then can I strike with him as truly and as forcibly the note of sincerity. I would, indeed, rather see than be a ghost, and when I say so I speak ex cathedra. I know precisely what I am talking about, for a gentleman of my acquaintance, a friend and a fellow Unnaturalist, if I may so term those who are making a scientific study of the manners and customs of the inhabitants of the spirit world, a man in whom I place the greatest confidence, Mr. Henry Maberley, president of the Bangor Society of Psychical Research; this gentleman, I say, has given me his experience in being a ghost, for which convincing story of woe I ask your attention. I will say here that Mr. Maberley is one of those men who are known as of ‘the old school,” courtly of manner, dignified of mien, the soul of honor, and the very essence of refinement. His story, as contained in a letter to me, is as follows: “It was one of the most curious experiences of my life,” Mr, Maberley writes, ‘tand of an extremely em- barrassing nature. As you know, lam a man of sixty-five years of age, married, a father, and what is even worse, in view of the occurrence about to be narrated, a grand- father; and when I realize that 1 haunted in a most undignified fashion a very charming young woman whose good opinion I was quite anxious to acquire, it makes me almost sick at heart. The young woman was exces-