I remember distinctly how the little scene would suddenly flash upon me at night, as I lay awake in bed, and I would turn over impatiently, as if to shake off a nightmare; and this so long after the occurrence that I was myself amazed at the persistence of the nightmare.

I had never been reproached by any one for my conduct on Graduation Day.

Why could I not forgive myself?
I studied the matter deeply--it wearies me to remember how deeply--till at last I understood that it was wounded vanity that hurt so, and no nobler remorse.

Then, and only then, was the ghost laid.

If it ever tried to get up again, after that, I only had to call it names to see it scurry back to its grave and pull the sod down after it.
Before I had laid my ghost, a friend told me of a similar experience of his boyhood.