{"product_id":"2940013691247","title":"Mr Gray's Strange Story","description":"I am a minister of the Presbyterian Church of Canada, fifty years old,\u003cbr\u003ein sound health of body and mind. I have never had any belief in\u003cbr\u003espiritualism, clairvoyance or any similar psychical delusions. My\u003cbr\u003efavourite studies at college were logic and mathematics, and no one\u003cbr\u003ewho knew me could suspect me of belonging to that class of enthusiasts\u003cbr\u003ein which ghosts and other preternatural manifestations have their\u003cbr\u003eorigin. Yet I have had one strange experience in my life which\u003cbr\u003eapparently contradicts all my theories of the universe and its laws,\u003cbr\u003enor have I ever been able to explain it on any rational hypothesis.\u003cbr\u003eThat there is some reasonable explanation I believe, and as there is\u003cbr\u003eno one living now, except myself, whom the facts concern, I have\u003cbr\u003edetermined to give them to the world for the benefit of those who are\u003cbr\u003einterested in abnormal phenomena.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwenty-five years ago I was minister of a newly built church, in a\u003cbr\u003evillage on the shore of Lake Erie. The village had sprung up round the\u003cbr\u003esaw mills of Mason and Company, lately erected to turn the giant pines\u003cbr\u003ethat grew on the sandy borders of the lake into lumber. When the pines\u003cbr\u003ewere all worked up, the great saw mills and lumber yards sought\u003cbr\u003eanother locality, and the village which had never had any\u003cbr\u003eindividuality of its own dropped out of existence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was no manse, and I boarded in the house of the chief member of\u003cbr\u003emy congregation, Mr. Michael Forrest, who owned a fine farm of four\u003cbr\u003ehundred acres dose to the village.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Red House Farm, as it was called from the colour of the paint\u003cbr\u003eMichael Forrest liberally bestowed on his buildings and fences, was in\u003cbr\u003ethose days a pleasant place. There peace and plenty reigned, and\u003cbr\u003eeverything within and without testified to good management, order and\u003cbr\u003ecomfort.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy story opens in the parlour of the Red House, where, in the early\u003cbr\u003eafternoon of a splendid Indian summer day, a young man was writing at\u003cbr\u003ea desk placed under an open window that looked into a spacious\u003cbr\u003everandah enclosed by cedar posts round which climbing plants were\u003cbr\u003etwined in picturesque profusion. This \"best room\" was never used by\u003cbr\u003ethe family except on Sundays and festal occasions, and at other times\u003cbr\u003ewas given up to the minister, the Rev. Gilbert Gray, who writes this\u003cbr\u003enarrative.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47083066097904,"sku":"2940013691247","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013691247","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}