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hought I was getting better, and for that reason I refused to take any
more medicine, though really that would have made no difference anyway,
for my time had come.

"Suddenly I felt a strange sensation, as if someone were pouring cold
water into my lungs, and in a few minutes-perhaps seconds-my lungs were
full of water. I was drowning just as much as if I had fallen into the
water. I held my breath for a moment, and when I attempted to breathe it
was impossible to do so. I had a moment of dizziness, and after that I
saw everything about me quite clearly, and I opened my eyes twice more.
Then I felt that if I could only get the water out of my lungs I would
be all right. With one last effort I turned over in bed and tried to let
the water run out, but it was useless, and I said to myself that the
only thing was to get out of my body, for I felt stifling and knew that
if I did not breathe I should succumb. The struggle for breath continued
and I suddenly let go and fell free from my body, and it was quite ten
minutes before I realized that the relief I experienced was because I
was dead. At least, so far as the life I had left was concerned.

"When I did realize it I think my principal sentiment was anger at
myself for my foolishness in trying to get loose from my own body. Death
means to my mind simply that the time allotted to you and your little
needs in this universe has expired, and you must go to the next, which
is this existence where we have not yet been purified of our earthly
dross. I may add a few more words, though they are only thoughts of my
own, based on what I have seen and been told. I believe that all women
who die in motherhood, sailors who are drowned at sea, all who have
lived pure and honest lives, all the oppressed of all peoples, all
little children and many grown persons who never saw or even heard of a
church, are in some way and for reasons beyond our understanding, given
their passports at once. Perhaps the Master who knows the heart's
innermost thoughts knows that-well-I can only say that I wish that all
people know what our bishop has just said: 'It is not so much what a man
believes as what he does that wins heaven for him.'"

At this moment a tall ghost arose at the end of the principal table,
looked around with a pompous air and in the attitude of a Sunday-school
superintendent, addressing the unfortunate children, said in a clear,
strong voice:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here tonight in accordance with
our privilege and in the performance of our duty, and we have banqueted
on the choicest viands."

Here one ghost was heard to mutter that he didn't give shucks for all
their choicest viands, and he would prefer any day in the year a good
dish of baked beans or bean soup to all their boned turkey and pâté de
foie gras, and as for the highfalutin sweets he had rather have a mince
or pumpkin pie." There were some gentle murmurs of approval at this
declaration of faith, but the speaker turned severe eyes upon the
grumblers, whereat they subsided. The tall ghost continued his speech:

"We will now propose a toast to the ladies, and I wish to include our
guest of honor, the Princess Shep, from Egypt. This noble lady has left
her sarcophagus at the Museum of Art for this occasion, and it is our
desire that she be installed in the seat of honor at the head of this
table and afterward at the end of the hall where she can see the dancing
and hear the speeches, and also hear the epitaphs such as are put upon
our graves. This lady has been dead over five thousand years, and has
seen much in that time of which we are entirely ignorant. Permit me,
ladies and gentlemen, to present the Princess Shep, to whose most
marvelous state of preservation we must do honor."

 The Princess Shep.

At this point he led the Princess, who was greatly hampered by her
windings to a chair much higher than the others, and seated her there
with much ceremony, at the same time gallantly lifting one of the little
brown hands to his grinning mouth.

As soon as she was seated the master of ceremonies rapped sharply for
order, and then said:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have several friends from Derby, Conn., and
part of this evening's entertainment will consist of hearing them recite
their remarkable epitaphs, and so allow me to introduce the ladies
first. I have the honor of presenting Mrs. Desire Kimberly, relict of
Mr. Israel Kimberly, who exchanged this life for immortality August
21st, 1794, age 28."

Saying this he took the hand of a small ghost, who arose to her feet,
and stood bashfully, like a child at school examinations. The tall ghost
said:

"Mrs. Kimberly will repeat her own epitaph, and I will say here that in
spite of its length-its very unusual length-she has managed nearly half
of it already."

The lady began in a strident voice and repeated the verses, while the
reporter took surreptitious notes, holding his book under the table
cloth, for he felt just a little delicate about letting them know he was
among them taking notes, but on the other hand he knew that he could
never remember anything that had dates, or verses. He desired to be
absolutely correct about this epitaph, so he took down as she repeated:

"Sacred to the memory of Mrs. Desire Kimberly, who exchanged this life
for immortality, August 21st, 1794, age 28."

As she said this one woman near the newspaper man said to the one on the
other side that she thought it entirely unnecessary for her to go over
all that rigmarole, as the gentleman had just said it. The other lady in
blissful ignorance of this byplay continued with her epitaph. The rest
was the poetry.

"Here she bids her friends adieu,
Some angel calls her to the spheres;
Our eyes the radiant saint pursue,
Through liquid telescope of tears."

She sat down with murmurs of applause all around. The master of
ceremonies took his stand again and said while he waved his hand:

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Mrs. Betsy Pease, who departed this life
May ye 8, 1797, in ye 21st year of her age. Mrs. Betsy Pease was the wife
of Mr. Isaac Pease, daughter of Mr. Thaddeous Bald. Mrs. Pease, ladies
and gentlemen."

The lady began her recital in a very sing-song voice:

"With pangs severe strangling in blood,
She soon became a lifeless clod;
The summons of her God she obeyed,
She closes life and ends her days."

With a low courtesy, not altogether devoid of grace, she sat down,
evidently as much pleased as an elocutionist after she has recited
Curfew shall not ring tonight. The applause was fainter, but she
appeared satisfied. The master of ceremonies again stood up to introduce
Miss Mary Hunter, who died in 1782, aged 17. She arose to her feet, and
as she did so she seemed to stretch out like the gates to a ferry boat
until she reached her full height, which must have been at least six
feet. She had a harsh, rasping voice, and in a slow and impressive
manner she said:

"She is not here, 'tis but a veil of clay
That molders into dust beneath t

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