excited. At length they stopped, panting, under the lamp-post which
stands in the middle of the market place, and I was once more greeted by
those low, hoarse sounds, which I have already mentioned, and it was
only by dint of the most attentive listening, that I could distinguish
the following words:

We are formed of the mist of the grave,
We bear to the feast of the slain,
There we carry the free and the slave,
The host and his numberless train,
Yonder we carry--to and fro,
Nor end our labours e'er shall know.

At this moment a mist floated before my eyes--I endeavoured to
shout--but although I used the utmost exertion, I could not produce a
sound--I felt as if palsied and enchained--my situation was
desperate--what species of civility could I expect from the spirits,
(for that they were supernatural beings I could no longer doubt) of
those chairmen who during their mortal career are so noted for their
brutality? After a short halt, they recommenced their march at the same
stealthy pace, through how many streets I cannot now tell, for fear
almost deprived me of my senses. We came to the town gate--it
opened--and my conductors bore me directly towards--the churchyard! I
was in a fever of excitement. They no sooner reached this desired spot,
than they stopped, and I heard their accursed voices for the third time.
They opened the door, as if waiting for some one--I endeavoured to
embrace this opportunity to escape, or to call out, but my strength had
totally deserted me; every limb felt paralyzed. And now a whole legion
of similar fiends swarmed around my conductors, and one after another,
sprang in upon me, apparently no more remarking my presence than if I