"No, you are not," said his companions. "You must come along with us."

"I will not," said the drunkard. "Where should I go? I am dead, and
already in heaven."

"You must come," said the others. "We will get some drink."

"Drink?" said the other. "I shall never drink again; I am dead;" and for
all that his comrades could say or do, they could not get it out of his
head but that he was dead.

The dispute lasted long, and they could not persuade the drunkard to
accompany them; for to all that they said he always replied, "I am
dead".

At last one of them bethought himself, and said,

"Then since you are dead, you must not lie here and be buried like a
beast of the field. Come! come along with us, and we will carry you
in our waggon to the grave-yard of our town as befits a Christian.
Otherwise you will not go to heaven."

When the drunkard heard that he must be buried in order that he might
go to heaven, he was satisfied to obey, so he was soon tucked up in
the waggon, where he was quickly asleep. The waggon was drawn by good
cattle, and they were speedily at Schevingen, where the good drunkard was
put down in front of his house. His wife and servants were called, and
the body given to them, for he slept so soundly that he was carried
from the waggon to the house and put in his bed without ever waking, and