Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1886-07-21
The Undertaker's Story.

Perhaps I am more sensitive to the
horrible than most of my fellow men
am, in fact, more easily wrought upon.
At all events have fancicd that at times,
when have been telling this experience
of mine, | could detect certain indica-
cations that some of my hearers were of
that opinion; but have not yet so far
failed in charity as to wish any of these
scoiIcrs put to Il similar test.
| had run over to Paris, had spent q
couple of weeks in that bright city,
and was on my way home again
| took night train from Dover to Lon
don, and in the compartment which
occupied there was but one other passcn.
gcr--a sharp, intclligcnt-looking man,
with very grave face. We got into
conversation after travelling more than
half the distance in that silence which is
invariably adopted by Englishmen when
they meet. After discussing general
subjects, a remark of my companion'slcd
me to say that he seemed to have had a
very wide experience, and among nearly
all classes of society.
"Ycs," he answered slowly, and with
marked hesitation. eyes, | am an un-
dertaker. have had good deal of cx-
pcricnce, and l have had my share, l
think, of remarkable adventures.
never take this ride from Dover to Lon
don without very painful recollection
of one such.n
We had still nearly a half hours ride
before us, and his manner, as much as
his words, aroused my interest.
"Do you care to tell it," asked.
A quick, involuntary shuddcr gave
to his voice slight trcmor as he
answered, 81 wish l could keep from
thinking of it, but l might as well tell it
as sit here quoking in silence over the
awful memory of it." He paused a
moment drew long shuddcring breath,
and then he commenced:
"a little over Il year ago what I am
about to relate happened to me. | had
established very good business, chiefly
among the upper class of trade people
though, of course, | did not decline any
call upon me that promised a reasonable
profit. | Ireceivcd one day a tclegraphic
despatch from Paris asking me to take
charge of dead body that was to be
sent from Paris to London for burial. |
was to meet it at Dover on the arrival of
the night boat from Calais, and make all
the arrangements for its further trans
portation by rail, and | was referred to
well-known banker as security for my
expenses.
"lhis looked like good business, 50 l
lost no time in getting the necessary per-
mits and went to Dover in the evening.
| had some details to attend to there in
order that everything might be in readi-
ness and no time lost after the boat ar
rived. Then had nothing to do but
wait. set up reading to keep myself
awake.
'It was beautiful still night in the
late fall, with an almost full moon, / re-
member; and the boat got in to time.
l received the box containing the body
and saw it placed in one Of the luggage
vans of the train; and in due course ar
rived withit at Victoria station. One of
my wagons was there waiting to take the
body to my place, where | was instructed
to keep it until the next morning, when
the proper parties would call to make
arrangements about the burial.
So far of course, there was nothing
specially remarkable about the affair. 1t
is II little unusual in such cases not to
find some one connected with the de-
ceased accompany the body: but hardly
gave that matter second thought. |
had no doubt but that the right persons
wonld appear later in the day.
"When | got to my shop it still
lacked two hours of daylight, and, as
felt no slight responsibility, l didn't
think of going home, but made myself
as comfortable as possible in my Office for
the rest of the night. You must bear in
mind that all the sleep I had secured was
a broken, uneasy slumber on the journey
from Dover to London, and when | went
to sleep in my chair after stirring the
fire into blaze, l slept very soundly-
very soundly, that is, for awhile, for it
was still dark when | woke up in a sud,
den and startling way.
'IIave you ever wondered" the under
taker asked, turning his eyes full upon
mine for the first time since he had be.
gun his story, "what mysterious infu,
cncc that is which makes you feel another
presence in the same room as yourself,
though you hear no one and see no onc9
It's a queer feeling at any time, but
don't know of any occasion when it can
seem more queer and awful than when it
comes to man locked up in the dead of
night with nothing but black plumcs
and gravc-clothes and pals and coffins
about him."
He turned his eyes to the floor again,
and cold trcmor crcpt through my own
flesh in the brief and ominous pause lie