"Yes," persisted my father; "the poor boy was in love with a maid whose
father is my enemy. I objected to his marrying her, as did also the
girl's father, who wishing to save his daughter from my son sent her
away to live at the house of an aunt in the village of H---- in
----shire. As my son knew nothing of this, I told him, thinking to make
him forget her, that the maid was dead, but the poor boy took on so
dreadful about it, that it has been his death, and I--yes I am his
murderer!" and I thought his sobs would choke him. "It was very wrong and foolish of you," said the doctor, "to tell him
so, when you saw him so weak and ailing, yet you did it with a good
intent, and I do not see that you can justly accuse yourself of being
his murderer." "Yes, yes," sobbed my father, bitterly, "I have killed him--my son, my
_only_ son!" Now I had discovered a secret. Molly was not dead, but living at her
aunt's. I knew her address; if I could but be restored to life, I might
see her once again. I longed to be able to call out: "Father, I am not
dead--comfort yourself," but my tongue refused utterance. I tried to
move my limbs, and did all that was in my power to show signs of life,
but I still lay powerless--paralysed, for I was in a trance. Oh! the
agony I suffered! How long would it last? Should I be really nailed up
in a coffin and buried alive? Oh, horror! Some of my friends the neighbours were called in to see me and mourned
over my corpse. "Poor Jack!" one of them said; "if lads of his kidney are not proof
against the epidemic, who may hope to escape?" The next day an undertaker was sent for to measure me for my coffin. "Where will all this end?" thought I. "Shall I awake before the coffin
is made?" This was my only hope; but if not, all was lost. Once nailed down,
nailed down for ever. The thought was agony. Here I was, struck down in the flower of my youth, to all appearances
dead, yet with my mind keenly alive to all that was going on around me. Oh, that I could become insensible! I knew not how long this dreadful
trance would last; all I knew was that if it lasted more than a day or
two longer it would be all up with me. I was laid out in state, and all
that day and the next friends poured in to gaze upon my corpse. As the time grew nearer for my funeral the more despairing I got. At
length the coffin arrived. I shuddered. Had my last moment actually
come? What could I do? Nothing. "Oh, Heaven!" I cried within myself, "for what fell crime am I doomed to
bear this agony of soul?" Two undertakers now lifted me from my bed, one of them seizing me by the
shoulders, the other by the feet, and I felt myself placed within a
leaden coffin supported upon trestles. I did my utmost now to make one
last desperate effort to rouse myself out of my trance, but in vain. "Oh, if they should nail me up!" I thought. Then I was left alone all day, and remember a great bustle and
whispering going on in the house. All were talking of my funeral. At
length the fatal hour arrived! The undertakers entered my room again. Good Heavens! they were actually going to solder me down. The next
instant the leaden lid was down upon me, and I was soon tightly secured. Then commenced the knocking in of the nails of the outer coffin. How
painfully distinct was the sound of the hammer! I remember counting each
nail as it was driven in. At length the task was completed, and I only
awaited the hearse to carry me to my last home. Then there was more bustle, the meeting of friends, etc., when after
waiting a little longer, I heard the footsteps of the bearers. I felt
myself lifted upon the shoulders of the men and carried downstairs. A
crowd had evidently collected round the door, for I heard the muffled
sound of voices gossipping, but could not distinguish what they said. Only the tolling of the church bell jarred upon my ears. Then the
procession began. How slowly it moved along! "Oh! if I could even now awake!" thought I, "it might not be too late. If I could make sufficient movement with my limbs to overturn the
coffin, or even had strength to call out, I should even now be saved." But all in vain--rigid, motionless as ever, in spite of my earnest
prayers to be restored to life. I felt myself borne leisurely
on--whither? Oh, horror! to the cold and narrow grave--to the abode of
the dead. My last hope died within me when I felt the procession stop,
and I knew that it was already arrived at the cemetery. I remember
hearing faintly the tones of the parson's voice as he read the ceremony
for the burial of the dead. The coffin was now lowered into the grave,
and I heard with awful distinctness the words "earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust," followed by the rattling of the three handfuls of
earth upon my coffin lid. My last hope was now gone. In another moment I
should be covered up with mould and left alone to die miserably. "Oh!" groaned I, in spirit, "it is all over with me!" as I heard the
mould tumbling heavily upon me. I knew that the grave was now covered up, for the voices of my friends
were quite inaudible, and all was silent. What a terrible feeling of isolation was mine! Cut off completely from
the rest of the world by some feet of earth, alive, yet supposed to be
dead, deserted by friends and doomed at length to awaken only to suffer
a death of all deaths most horrible! Had I still believed Molly to be
dead, it would have been some consolation to me to die; nay, how gladly
would I have welcomed death that I might meet her in a better land. But,
alas, I knew that Molly still lived, and after death I should be further
away from her than ever. This thought was agony to me. One thing,
however, somewhat consoled me, though it was but poor consolation. "We must all die," I thought. Molly must die, too. It might be years before she left this earth,
still I should see her again sooner or later. But then came another,
thought which, do all I could, I was unable to banish from my mind. In
the meantime Molly might marry someone else, and rear up a large family
of children, and what could I be to her then if I ever chanced to meet
her in the other world? If ever human soul knew agony, mine knew it
then. I longed for no eternity without Molly, and I remember praying
that my spirit might be utterly annihilated and become as insensible as
the clay that I was about to leave behind me. It was a dreadful and an
impious prayer, but when during life, one dear idol has monopolised the
heart and there reigns supreme, even the fear of eternal damnation is
insufficient to drive it from its throne. "Oh, that I could die quickly and be at rest for ever!" Then I prayed fervently a long, heartfelt, earnest prayer, after which I
felt more calm, more resigned to my fate. I had no hopes of being
rescued and being brought back to life--that hope had quite left me. I
now only wished for a speedy and peaceful death. Many weary hours I lay
on my back within my narrow prison--rigid--immovable--a living soul
amongst the dead.