University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.
In which the plot thickens, and the tragedy grows deeper.

I supposed that Mr. John Smith had taken himself
away with as much speed as was consistent
with the strength of his horse and the safety of his
bones, and I recovered from the fears I had entertained
on my own account. I crept up to the philanthropist
to give him assistance, if such could be
now rendered. But it was too late; he was already
dead: Mr. John Smith had not taken his degrees
without proper study in his profession; and
I must say that his practice on the present occasion
did not go far to confirm me in the love of benevolence.

Nevertheless, the appearance of the defunct
threw my mind into a ferment. I had been hunting
a body, and now I had one before me; I had
come to believe that, if I wished for happiness, I
must get possession of one whose occupant had
previously been happy; and I had seen enough of
the deceased to know that he had been an uncommonly
comfortable and contented personage.

The end of all this was a resolution, which I instantly
made, to take advantage of the poor man's
misfortune, and convert his body to my own purposes.
I had seen him for the first time that night;

I did not remember ever to have heard his name
mentioned before; and I consequently knew nothing
of him beyond what I had just learned. Where
he lived, who were his connexions, what his property,
&c. &c., were all questions to which I was
to find answers thereafter. It appeared to me that
a philanthropist of his spirit and age (the latter of
which I judged to be about fifty) could not but be
very well known, and that all I should have to do,
after reanimating his body, would be to seek the
assistance of the first person I should find, and so
be conducted at once to the gentleman's house;
after which all would go well enough.

But, in truth, I took but little time for reflection;
or perhaps I should not have been in such a hurry
to attempt a transformation. A little prudence
might have led me to inquire into the consequences
of the change, inferred from the condition of
the body. Suppose his scull should prove to be
broken; who was to stand the woes of trepanning?
I do say, it would have been wiser had I thought
of that—but unluckily I did not: I was in too
great a hurry to think of any thing save the transformation
itself; and the result was, that I had a
lesson on the demerits of leaping before looking,
which I think will be of service to me for the remainder
of my life, as it might be to the reader,
could the reader be brought to believe that that experience
is good for any thing, which costs nothing.

My resolution was quickened by a step which I
heard approaching along the street. “It is a watchman,”

thought I to myself: “I will jump into the
body and run out for assistance.”

I turned to the defunct.

“Friend Longstraw,” said I, “or whatever your
name is, if you are really dead, I wish to occupy
your body.”

That moment I lost all consciousness. The
reader may infer the transfer of spirit was accomplished.

And so it was. I came to my senses a few moments
after, just in time to find myself tumbling
into a hole in the earth beneath the floor of the
hovel, with Mr. John Smith hard by, dragging to
the same depository the mortal frame I had just
deserted. I perceived at once the horrible dilemma
in which I was placed; I was on the point of
being buried, and, what was worse, of being buried
alive!

“I conjure and beseech thee, friend John Smith,”
I cried—but cried no more. The villain had just
reached the pit, dragging the body of the late Abram
Skinner. He was startled at my voice; but it only
quickened him in his labours. He snatched up the
corse and cast it down upon me as one would a
millstone; and the weight, though that was not
very considerable, and the shock together, jarred the
life more than half out of me.

“What! old Slabsides,” said he, “ar'n't you
past grumbling?”

With that, the bloody-minded miscreant seized

upon a fragment of plank, and began to belabour
me with all his strength.

I had entered the philanthropist's body only to be
murdered. I uttered a direful scream; but that was
only a waste of the breath which Mr. John Smith
was determined to waste for me. He redoubled
his blows with a vigour that showed he was in
earnest; nor did he cease until his work was completed.
In a word, he murdered me, and so effectually,
that it is a wonder I am alive to tell it.
He assassinated me, and even began to bury me,
by tumbling earth down from the floor; when, as
my good fate would have it, the scene was brought
to a climax by the sudden entrance of a watchman,
who, running up to the villain, served him the same
turn he had served me, by laying a leaded mace
over his head, and so knocking him out of his
senses.

It seems (for I scorn to keep the reader in suspense,
by indulging in mystery) that this faithful
fellow, having made a shorter nap than was warranted
by the state of the night, had taken a stroll
into the air, to look about him; that he had passed
the hovel, and, seeing the chair standing at the door,
had looked through a crack, and perceived Mr.
Longstraw, with whose person and benevolent character
he was acquainted, and myself—that is, my
late self—warming ourselves by the convict's fire;
and that, after pursuing his beat for a while, he was
about to return by another way, when, to his surprise,
he lighted upon the vehicle at more than a

square's distance from the house; and the horse
being tied to a post, it was evident he had not
strayed thither. This awaking a suspicion that
all was not right, he determined to pay a second
visit to the hovel; and was on the way thither
when I set up the scream mentioned before. Then
quickening his pace, he arrived in time to witness
the awful spectacle of Mr. John Smith thrusting
the two bodies into the pit; which operation the
courageous watchman brought to a close by knocking
the operator on the head, as I have related.

What had brought Mr. John Smith back again,
and why he should have troubled himself to conceal
the victim of his murderous cupidity, must be
conjectured, as well as the amazement with which,
doubtless, he found he had two bodies to bury instead
of one. He perhaps reflected, that the visit
of his patron was known to other persons; who,
upon finding his body, would readily conjecture
who was the murderer; and therefore judged it
proper to conceal the evidence of assassination, and
leave the fate of his benefactor in entire mystery.

As it happened, his return had wellnigh proved
fatal to me, and it was any thing but happy for
himself. It caused him to take up his lodgings for
a fourth time in the penitentiary; and there he is
sawing stone, I believe, to this day, unless pardoned
out by the Governor of Pennsylvania, according to
the practice among governors in general. The
visitation was, however, thus far advantageous to
me, that it caused me to be conducted to the

dwelling of Mr. Longstraw with all due expedition
and care; whereas, had it not happened, I
might have remained lying on the floor of my miserable
tenement until frozen to death; for the
night was uncommonly bitter.

As for my late body, it found its way to Abram
Skinner's mansion; whence, having been handsomely
coffined, it was carried to the grave, which,
but for me, it would have filled three months
before.