A. CURIOUS DREAM. 19.? 



tattered and mouldy shroud, whose shreds were flapping about the ribby lattice- 

 work of its person swung by me with a stately stride, and disappeared in the grey 

 gloom of the starlight. It had a broken and worm-eaten coffin on its shoulder and 

 a bundle of something in its hand. I knew what the clack-clacking was then ; it 

 was this party's joints working together, and his elbows knocking against his sides 

 as he walked. I may say I was surprised. Before I could collect my thoughts and 

 enter upon any speculations as to what this apparition might portend, I heard 

 another one coming — for I recognized his clack-clack. He had two-thirds of a 

 coffin on his shoulder, and some foot- and head-boards under his arm. I mightily 

 wanted to peer under his hood and speak to him, but when he turned and smiled 

 upon me with his cavernous sockets and his projecting grin as he went by, I thought 

 I would not detain him. He was hardly gone when I heard the clacking again, and 

 another one issued from the shadowy half-light. This one was bending under a heavy 

 gravestone, and dragging a shabby coffin after- him by a string. When he got to me 

 he gave me a steady look for a moment or two, and then rounded to, and backed up 

 to me, saying : 



" Ease this down for a fellow, will you .'" 



leased the gravestone down till it rested on the ground, and in doing so noticed 

 that it bore the name of "John Baxter Copmanhurst," with "May, 1839," ^s the 

 date of his death. Deceased sat wearily down by me, and wiped his os frbntis 

 with his major maxillary — chiefly from former habit I judged, for I could not see 

 that he brought away any perspiration. 



" It is too bad, too bad," said he, drawing the remnant of the shroud about him 

 and leaning his jaw pensively, on his hand. Then he put his left foot up on his 

 knee and fell to scratching his ankle bone absently with a rusty nail which he got 

 out of his coffin. 



"What is too bad, friend.?" 



*' Oh, everything, everything. I almost wish I never had died." 



"You surprise me. Why do you say this? Has anything gone wrong? What 

 is the matter?" 



" Matter ! Look at this shroud — rags. Look at this gravestone, all battered up. 

 Look at that disgraceful old coffin. All a man's property going to ruin and destruc- 

 tion before his eyes, and ask him if anything is wrong? Fire and brimstone!" 

 13 



