and a half ago, John Hinckman was dangerously ill in this very room. At
one time he was so far gone that he was really believed to be dead. It
was in consequence of too precipitate a report in regard to this matter
that I was, at that time, appointed to be his ghost. Imagine my
surprise and horror, sir, when, after I had accepted the position and
assumed its responsibilities, that old man revived, became convalescent,
and eventually regained his usual health. My situation was now one of
extreme delicacy and embarrassment. I had no power to return to my
original unembodiment, and I had no right to be the ghost of a man who
was not dead. I was advised by my friends to quietly maintain my
position, and was assured that, as John Hinckman was an elderly man, it
could not be long before I could rightfully assume the position for
which I had been selected. But I tell you, sir," he continued, with
animation, "the old fellow seems as vigorous as ever, and I have no idea
how much longer this annoying state of things will continue. I spend my
time trying to get out of that old man's way. I must not leave this
house, and he seems to follow me everywhere. I tell you, sir, he haunts
me."

"That is truly a queer state of things," I remarked. "But why are you
afraid of him? He couldn't hurt you."

"Of course he couldn't," said the ghost. "But his very presence is a
shock and terror to me. Imagine, sir, how you would feel if my case were
yours."

I could not imagine such a thing at all. I simply shuddered.

"And if one must be a wrongful ghost at all," the apparition continued,
"it would be much pleasanter to be the ghost of some man other than
John Hinckman. There is in him an irascibility of temper, accompanied
by a facility of invective, which is seldom met with. And what would
happen if he were to see me, and find out, as I am sure he would, how
long and why I had inhabited his house, I can scarcely conceive. I have
seen him in his bursts of passion; and, although he did not hurt the
people he stormed at any more than he would hurt me, they seemed to
shrink before him."

All this I knew to be very true. Had it not been for this peculiarity of
Mr. Hinckman, I might have been more willing to talk to him about his
niece.

"I feel sorry for you," I said, for I really began to have a sympathetic
feeling toward this unfortunate apparition. "Your case is indeed a hard
one. It reminds me of those persons who have had doubles, and I