“The man is dead,” said the physician, as he turned from the bed where the terrible figure lay.

Dead! thought I, scarcely venturing to look upon the tremendous and revolting spectacle—­dead! without an hour for repentance, even a moment for reflection—­dead! without the rites which even the best should have.  Is there a hope for him?  The glaring eyeball, the grinning mouth, the distorted brow—­that unutterable look in which a painter would have sought to embody the fixed despair of the nethermost hell—­these were my answer.

The poor wife sat at a little distance, crying as if her heart would break—­the younger children clustered round the bed, looking, with wondering curiosity, upon the form of death, never seen before.  When the first tumult of uncontrollable sorrow had passed away, availing myself of the solemnity and impressiveness of the scene, I desired the heart-stricken family to accompany me in prayer, and all knelt down, while I solemnly and fervently repeated some of those prayers which appeared most applicable to the occasion.  I employed myself thus in a manner which, I trusted, was not unprofitable, at least to the living, for about ten minutes, and having accomplished my task, I was the first to arise.  I looked upon the poor, sobbing, helpless creatures who knelt so humbly around me, and my heart bled for them.  With a natural transition, I turned my eyes from them to the bed in which the body lay, and, great God! what was the revulsion, the horror which I experienced on seeing the corpse-like, terrific thing seated half upright before me—­the white cloths, which had been wound about the head, had now partly slipped from their position, and were hanging in grotesque festoons about the face and shoulders, while the distorted eyes leered from amid them—­

“A sight to dream of, not to tell.”

I stood actually rivetted to the spot.  The figure nodded its head and lifted its arm, I thought with a menacing gesture.  A thousand confused and horrible thoughts at once rushed upon my mind.  I had often read that the body of a presumptuous sinner, who, during life, had been the willing creature of every satanic impulse, after the human tenant had deserted it, had been known to become the horrible sport of demoniac possession.  I was roused from the stupefaction of terror in which I stood, by the piercing scream of the mother, who now, for the first time, perceived the change which had taken place.  She rushed towards the bed, but, stunned by the shock and overcome by the conflict of violent emotions, before she reached it, she fell prostrate upon the floor.  I am perfectly convinced that had I not been startled from the torpidity of horror in which I was bound, by some powerful and arousing stimulant, I should have gazed upon this unearthly apparition until I had fairly lost my senses.  As it was, however, the spell was broken, superstition gave way to reason:  the man whom all believed to have been actually dead, was living!  Dr. D——­