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‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
. . . Must give us pause. . . .
And in her lively imagination, she pictured to
herself the awful moment when, perhaps, the
nervous system is still alive and suffering, while
the body is physiologically dead—indescribable
sufferings, perhaps, known only by him who has
made the plunge into the great darkness. She
approved very much of cremation, partly because
she was afraid of being buried alive, fancying
how dreadful it would be to awake in the coffin;
and she described the situation so graphically
that it made one shudder. However, her illness
was so short and violent, that, at the last, I do
not think she had any sense of these things.
The only words which seemed to indicate that
she was aware of the approaching end were
spoken on Monday morning, the 9th, scarcely
twenty hours before her death: ‘I shall never
recover from this illness’; and in the evening:
‘I feel as if a change had taken place within
me.’
She was unable to speak much, for she had
violent pains, high fever, and difficulty in
breathing; she was in an agony of fear, and could not
bear being left alone. The last night she said to
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