Whether her face was ashy pale and looked as if it might crumble at the touch, and the border of her white cap trembled in the June wind that blew, I cannot say, for I tell you I did NOT see her.But Iknow she was there, spinning yarn that had been knit into hose years and years ago by our fireside.For I was in full possession of my faculties, and never copied more neatly and legibly any manuscript than I did the one that night.And there the phantom (I use the word out of deference to a public prejudice on this subject) most persistently remained until my task was finished, and, closing the portfolio, I abruptly rose.Did I see anything? That is a silly and ignorant question.Could I see the wind which had now risen stronger, and drove a few cloud-scuds across the sky, filling the night, somehow, with a longing that was not altogether born of reminiscence?
In the winter following, in January, I made an effort to give up the use of tobacco,--a habit in which I was confirmed, and of which Ihave nothing more to say than this: that I should attribute to it almost all the sin and misery in the world, did I not remember that the old Romans attained a very considerable state of corruption without the assistance of the Virginia plant.
On the night of the third day of my abstinence, rendered more nervous and excitable than usual by the privation, I retired late, and later still I fell into an uneasy sleep, and thus into a dream, vivid, illuminated, more real than any event of my life.I was at home, and fell sick.The illness developed into a fever, and then a delirium set in, not an intellectual blank, but a misty and most delicious wandering in places of incomparable beauty.I learned subsequently that our regular physician was not certain to finish me, when a consultation was called, which did the business.I have the satisfaction of knowing that they were of the proper school.I lay sick for three days.
On the morning of the fourth, at sunrise, I died.The sensation was not unpleasant.It was not a sudden shock.I passed out of my body as one would walk from the door of his house.There the body lay,--a blank, so far as I was concerned, and only interesting to me as I was rather entertained with watching the respect paid to it.My friends stood about the bedside, regarding me (as they seemed to suppose), while I, in a different part of the room, could hardly repress a smile at their mistake, solemnized as they were, and I too, for that matter, by my recent demise.A sensation (the word you see is material and inappropriate) of etherealization and imponderability pervaded me, and I was not sorry to get rid of such a dull, slow mass as I now perceived myself to be, lying there on the bed.When Ispeak of my death, let me be understood to say that there was no change, except that I passed out of my body and floated to the top of a bookcase in the corner of the room, from which I looked down.For a moment I was interested to see my person from the outside, but thereafter I was quite indifferent to the body.I was now simply soul.I seemed to be a globe, impalpable, transparent, about six inches in diameter.I saw and heard everything as before.Of course, matter was no obstacle to me, and I went easily and quickly wherever I willed to go.There was none of that tedious process of communicating my wishes to the nerves, and from them to the muscles.
I simply resolved to be at a particular place, and I was there.It was better than the telegraph.
It seemed to have been intimated to me at my death (birth I half incline to call it) that I could remain on this earth for four weeks after my decease, during which time I could amuse myself as I chose.
I chose, in the first place, to see myself decently buried, to stay by myself to the last, and attend my own funeral for once.As most of those referred to in this true narrative are still living, I am forbidden to indulge in personalities, nor shall I dare to say exactly how my death affected my friends, even the home circle.
Whatever others did, I sat up with myself and kept awake.I saw the "pennies" used instead of the "quarters" which I should have preferred.I saw myself "laid out," a phrase that has come to have such a slang meaning that I smile as I write it.When the body was put into the coffin, I took my place on the lid.
I cannot recall all the details, and they are commonplace besides.
The funeral took place at the church.We all rode thither in carriages, and I, not fancying my place in mine, rode on the outside with the undertaker, whom I found to be a good deal more jolly than he looked to be.The coffin was placed in front of the pulpit when we arrived.I took my station on the pulpit cushion, from which elevation I had an admirable view of all the ceremonies, and could hear the sermon.How distinctly I remember the services.I think Icould even at this distance write out the sermon.The tune sung was of--the usual country selection,--Mount Vernon.I recall the text.
I was rather flattered by the tribute paid to me, and my future was spoken of gravely and as kindly as possible,--indeed, with remarkable charity, considering that the minister was not aware of my presence.
I used to beat him at chess, and I thought, even then, of the last game; for, however solemn the occasion might be to others, it was not so to me.With what interest I watched my kinsfolks, and neighbors as they filed past for the last look! I saw, and I remember, who pulled a long face for the occasion and who exhibited genuine sadness.I learned with the most dreadful certainty what people really thought of me.It was a revelation never forgotten.
Several particular acquaintances of mine were talking on the steps as we passed out.
"Well, old Starr's gone up.Sudden, was n't it? He was a first-rate fellow.""Yes, queer about some things; but he had some mighty good streaks,"said another.And so they ran on.
Streaks! So that is the reputation one gets during twenty years of life in this world.Streaks!
