Twenty years afterward, the two returned to France, in
      the persuasion that time had so greatly altered the lady’s
      appearance that her friends would be unable to recognize her. They were mistaken, however, for, at the first meeting, Monsieur
      Renelle did actually recognize and make claim to his wife. This
      claim she resisted, and a judicial tribunal sustained her in her
      resistance, deciding that the peculiar circumstances, with the
      long lapse of years, had extinguished, not only equitably, but
      legally, the authority of the husband. The “Chirurgical Journal” of Leipsic, a periodical of high
      authority and merit, which some American bookseller would do well
      to translate and republish, records in a late number a very
      distressing event of the character in question. An officer of artillery, a man of gigantic stature and of robust
      health, being thrown from an unmanageable horse, received a very
      severe contusion upon the head, which rendered him insensible at
      once; the skull was slightly fractured, but no immediate danger
      was apprehended. Trepanning was accomplished successfully. He was
      bled, and many other of the ordinary means of relief were
      adopted. Gradually, however, he fell into a more and more
      hopeless state of stupor, and, finally, it was thought that he
      died. The weather was warm, and he was buried with indecent haste in
      one of the public cemeteries. His funeral took place on Thursday. On the Sunday following, the grounds of the cemetery were, as
      usual, much thronged with visitors, and about noon an intense
      excitement was created by the declaration of a peasant that,
      while sitting upon the grave of the officer, he had distinctly
      felt a commotion of the earth, as if occasioned by some one
      struggling beneath. At first little attention was paid to the
      man’s asseveration; but his evident terror, and the dogged
      obstinacy with which he persisted in his story, had at length
      their natural effect upon the crowd. Spades were hurriedly
      procured, and the grave, which was shamefully shallow, was in a
      few minutes so far thrown open that the head of its occupant
      appeared. He was then seemingly dead; but he sat nearly erect
      within his coffin, the lid of which, in his furious struggles, he
      had partially uplifted. He was forthwith conveyed to the nearest hospital, and there
      pronounced to be still living, although in an asphytic condition. After some hours he revived, recognized individuals of his
      acquaintance, and, in broken sentences spoke of his agonies in
      the grave. From what he related, it was clear that he must have been
      conscious of life for more than an hour, while inhumed, before
      lapsing into insensibility. The grave was carelessly and loosely
      filled with an exceedingly porous soil; and thus some air was
      necessarily admitted. He heard the footsteps of the crowd
      overhead, and endeavored to make himself heard in turn. It was
      the tumult within the grounds of the cemetery, he said, which
      appeared to awaken him from a deep sleep, but no sooner was he
      awake than he became fully aware of the awful horrors of his
      position. This patient, it is recorded, was doing well and seemed to be in
      a fair way of ultimate recovery, but fell a victim to the
      quackeries of medical experiment. The galvanic battery was
      applied, and he suddenly expired in one of those ecstatic
      paroxysms which, occasionally, it superinduces. The mention of the galvanic battery, nevertheless, recalls to my
      memory a well known and very extraordinary case in point, where
      its action proved the means of restoring to animation a young
      attorney of London, who had been interred for two days. This
      occurred in 1831, and created, at the time, a very profound
      sensation wherever it was made the subject of converse. The patient, Mr. Edward Stapleton, had died, apparently of typhus
      fever, accompanied with some anomalous symptoms which had excited
      the curiosity of his medical attendants. Upon his seeming
      decease, his friends were requested to sanction a post-mortem
      examination, but declined to permit it. As often happens, when
      such refusals are made, the practitioners resolved to disinter
      the body and dissect it at leisure, in private. Arrangements were
      easily effected with some of the numerous corps of
      body-snatchers, with which London abounds; and, upon the third
      night after the funeral, the supposed corpse was unearthed from a
      grave eight feet deep, and deposited in the opening chamber of
      one of the private hospitals. An incision of some extent had been actually made in the abdomen,
      when the fresh and undecayed appearance of the subject suggested
      an application of the battery. One experiment succeeded another,
      and the customary effects supervened, with nothing to
      characterize them in any respect, except, upon one or two
      occasions, a more than ordinary degree of life-likeness in the
      convulsive action. It grew late. The day was about to dawn; and it was thought
      expedient, at length, to proceed at once to the dissection. A
      student, however, was especially desirous of testing a theory of
      his own, and insisted upon applying the battery to one of the
      pectoral muscles. A rough gash was made, and a wire hastily
      brought in contact, when the patient, with a hurried but quite
      unconvulsive movement, arose from the table, stepped into the
      middle of the floor, gazed about him uneasily for a few seconds,
      and then—spoke. What he said was unintelligible, but words were
      uttered; the syllabification was distinct. Having spoken, he fell
      heavily to the floor. For some moments all were paralyzed with awe—but the urgency of
      the case soon restored them their presence of mind. It was seen
      that Mr. Stapleton was alive, although in a swoon. Upon
      exhibition of ether he revived and was rapidly restored to
      health, and to the society of his friends—from whom, however, all
      knowledge of his resuscitation was withheld, until a relapse was
      no longer to be apprehended. Their wonder—their rapturous
      astonishment—may be conceived. The most thrilling peculiarity of this incident, nevertheless, is
      involved in what Mr. S. himself asserts. He declares that at no
      period was he altogether insensible—that, dully and confusedly,
      he was aware of everything which happened to him, from the moment
      in which he was pronounced dead by his physicians, to that in
      which he fell swooning to the floor of the hospital.