Page:SermonsFromTheLatins.djvu/139

 moment and  laid  on  my  death-bed — dying. My heart ceases  to  beat,  my  breath  stops,  my  eyes  are fixed and  glassy,  and  my  whole  body  is  rigid  and  cold. The doctor  bends  over  me  and  says:  "  He  is  dead," and my  sobbing  friends  cry:  "  Lord  have  mercy  on his  soul." But now  suppose  I  am  not  dead  at  all  but only in  a  trance,  conscious  of  all  going  on  around  me but  unable  to  move  a  muscle. I feel  them  prepare my body  and  lay  me  in  state,  and  friends  come  and weep over  me,  and  they  talk  of  me  and  they  pray  for my soul  and,  my  God! they never  dream  that  I am  still  alive. And now  the  coffin  comes  and  they lift me  into  it  and  they  bid  me  a  last  farewell  and  oh, horror! the coffin  lid  closes  above  me  and  still  I  cannot move. They bring  me  to  church  and  lay  me before  the  high  altar,  and  I  hear,  as  though  afar  off, the pealing  of  the  organ  and  the  priest's  voice  faintly intoning: "  Requiem  aeternam  dona  ei,  Domine." Ah! now, we  are  in  the  cemetery  and  I  hear  the  grating of  the  ropes  as  they  lower  me  into  the  grave,  and then comes  the  awful  rattle  as  fast  and  furious  they shovel in  the  earth. Oh, horror  of  horrors! In a frenzy  of  anguish,  with  one  last  supreme  effort  I  cast off my  lethargy,  and  commence  to  struggle  with  the blind fury  of  despair. Oh God! it is  too  late,  I  am lost;  fainter  and  fainter  grows  the  noise  of  the shovels, and  soon  all  is  silent  and  I  am  left  alone  in my  living  tomb. But still  I  struggle  in  my  narrow cell. My hands  and  feet  are  bound  fast,  but  I  hammer my  head  against  my  coffin  lid,  and  I  plunge wildly, and  turn  round  and  round  and  bite  and  gnaw