Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches.

by W. H. Rhodes

On the evening of the 12th of December last (1875), the position of the child's bed was temporarily changed to make room for a visitor. The bed was placed against the wall of the room, fronting directly east, with the window opening at the side of the bed next to the head. The boy was sent to bed about seven o'clock, and the parents and their visitor were seated in the front room, spending the evening in social intercourse. The moon rose full and cloudless about half-past seven o'clock, and shone full in the face of the sleeping boy.

Something aroused him from slumber, and when he opened his eyes the first object they encountered was the round disk of her orb. By some oversight the curtain had been removed from the window, and probably for the first time in his life he beheld the lustrous queen of night swimming in resplendent radiance, and bathing hill and bay in effulgent glory. Uttering a cry, equally of terror and delight, he sprang up in bed and sat there like a statue, with eyes aglare, mouth open, finger pointed, and astonishment depicted on every feature. His sudden, sharp scream brought his mother to his side, who tried for some moments in vain to distract his gaze from the object before him. Failing even to attract notice, she called in her husband and friend, and together they besought the boy to lie down and go to sleep, but to no avail. Believing him to be ill and in convulsions, they soon seized him, and were on the point of immersing him in a hot bath, when, with a sudden spring, he escaped from their grasp and ran out the front door. Again he fixed his unwinking eyes upon the moon, and remained speechless for several seconds. At length, having seemingly satisfied his present curiosity, he turned on his mother, who stood wringing her hands in the doorway and moaning piteously, and exclaimed, "I can see the moon yonder, and it is so beautiful that I am going there to-morrow morning, as soon as I get up."

"How big does it look?" said his mother.

"So big," he replied, "that I cannot see it all at one glance—as big as all out of doors."

"How far off from you does it seem to be?"

"About half a car's distance," he quickly rejoined.

It may be here remarked that the boy's idea of distance had been measured all his life by the distance from his home to the street-car station at the foot of the hill. This was about two hundred yards, so that the reply indicated that the moon appeared to be only one hundred yards from the spectator. The boy then proceeded of his own accord to give a very minute description of the appearance of objects which he beheld, corresponding, of course, to his poverty of words with which to clothe his ideas.

His account of things beheld by him was so curious, wonderful and apparently accurate, that the little group about him passed rapidly from a conviction of his insanity to a belief no less absurd—that he had become, in the cant lingo of the day, a seeing, or "clairvoyant" medium. Such was the final conclusion to which his parents had arrived at the time of the visit of the scientific committee. He had been classed with that credulous school known to this century as spiritualists, and had been visited solely by persons of that ilk heretofore.

The committee having fully examined the boy, and a number of independent witnesses, as to the facts, soon set about a scientific investigation of the true causes of of the phenomenon. The first step, of course, was to examine the lad's eye with the modern ophthalmoscope, an invention of Professor Helmholtz, of Heidelberg, a few years ago, by means of which the depths of this organ can be explored, and the smallest variations from a healthy or normal condition instantaneously detected.

The mode of using the instrument is as follows: The room is made perfectly dark; a brilliant light is then placed near the head of the patient, and the rays are reflected by a series of small mirrors into his eye, as if they came from the eye of the observer; then, by looking through the central aperture of the instrument, the oculist can examine the illuminated interior of the eyeball, and perceive every detail of structure, healthy or morbid, as accurately and clearly as we can see any part of the exterior of the body. No discomfort arises to the organ examined, and all its hidden mysteries can be studied and understood as clearly as those of any other organ of the body.