All Men are GhostsJacks, L. P. (Lawrence Pearsall)
Philosophy
All Men are Ghosts
Jacks, L. P. (Lawrence Pearsall)
Short stories; Supernatural -- Fiction
Had anyone half an hour earlier propounded the statement that a woman
could bear a closer resemblance to a horse than to her own portrait, he
would have treated the proposition as one which no amount of evidence
could make good. So far from the evidence proving the proposition true,
he would have said, it is the proposition which proves the evidence
false. Otherwise, what is the use of the Inflexible Method? But now the
thing was flashed on him with the brightness of authentic revelation,
and there was no gainsaying its truth. Not once during the
five-and-thirty years of his mourning for Ethelberta had anything
happened to bring her so vividly to mind; not even among the dreams that
haunt the borderland of sleep and waking; no, nor even when he listened
to the great singer whose voice had pierced his heart with the sad and
angry music of Heine's bitterest song. Professor Scattergood was a firm
believer in the efficacy of _a priori_ thought; but though by means of
it he had excogitated a system in which the plan of an entire Universe
was sufficiently laid down, there was not one of his principles either
primary or secondary which could have built a niche for the experience
he had just undergone in the horse-dealer's yard.
As he neared his doorstep the confusion of his mind suddenly ranged
itself into form and gave birth to an articulate thought. "I'm sure," he
said to himself, drawing his latch-key out of his pocket and inserting
it in the keyhole--"I'm sure that Ethelberta is not far off. Yes, as
sure as I am of anything in this world."
II
The "horse-sense," which gave Professor Scattergood his reputation in
the stables, was always accompanied by a well-marked physical
sensation--to wit, a continuous tingling at the back of the head,
seemingly located at an exact spot in the cortex of the brain. So long
as the back of his head was tingling, every horse was completely at
Scattergood's mercy; he could do with it whatever he willed. But I have
it on his own authority that at the moment he cast eyes on his new mare
the sensation suddenly ceased and his horse-sense deserted him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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