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                |   THE GHOST OF VOLTAIREAlice Bodington in the Open Court. 
					 A 
					very curious instance is given of a strong and undoubtedly 
					subjective impression by Mrs. Pittar, a near connection of 
					the Bishop of Ripon.  Travelling in Switzerland in the 
					year of 1867, Mrs. Pittar stayed at the Chateau de Prangias, 
					near Nyon, with her husband.  They occupied a large, 
					oblong room, overlooking the terrace and Lake Leman, with an 
					old-fashioned black writing table in the middle of it. In 
					the middle of the night Mrs. Pittar woke suddenly from a 
					deep sleep and saw the room was flooded with a brilliant 
					moonlight.  A strange feeling possessed her, a "sort of 
					certainty that a tall, thin old man in a flowered dressing 
					gown was seated and writing at the table in the middle of 
					the room." Not once did she turn her head in that 
					direction, nor did it occur to her at the time how odd it 
					was that she felt the old man was there without seeing him.  
					Her cries woke her husband, who naturally thought she had 
					had a nightmare, and could not understand his wife's 
					persistent assertions that an old man in a flowered dressing 
					gown was in the room.  When at last he persuaded her to 
					look, there was no one there. |  |  
			 "Next morning," says Mrs. Pittar, "my husband mentioned my 
			extraordinary nocturnal terror; the account, to my great surprise, 
			was received as a matter of course, the landlady's married daughter 
			merely remarking, "Ah, you have seen Voltaire!" "It appeared on 
			inquiry that Voltaire, in extreme old age, used often to visit this 
			chateau, and the room in which we slept was known to have been his 
			sitting-room.  Of this neither my husband nor myself knew 
			anything.  I had not been thinking about Voltaire, nor looking 
			at any portrait of him. Syracuse Herald, Syracuse, New York - 
			February 7 
			1892 
			'Tis best the mind should be employed, Indolence leaves a craving void;
 The soul is like a subtle fire,
 Which if not fed must soon expire.
 
 Voltaire (1694-1778)
 
             
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