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Portland
BY GOULD & EL’
WELL,
Office 80 Middle, near Corner of Exchange St.
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, NEWS, Se. ee
VOLUME XY.
POETRY.
TWO SONNETS.
BY ELIZABETH B BROWNING.
I. TO MY HUSBAND.
I never gave a lock of hair away
Toa man, dearest, except this to thee,
Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully
I ring out tothe full brown Jengthand say,
“Take it.’ My day of youth went yesterday ; ;
My bair no longer bounds to my foots's glee,
Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle tree,
As girls do, any more. It only may
Now shade on two pale cheeks, the mark of tears,
Taught drooping from the head that hangs aside
Through sorrow’s trick. I thought the funeral shears
‘Would take this first ; but Love is justified ;
Take it thou,—finding pure from all those years,
The kiss my mother Jett here when she died.
Each creature holds an insular point in space ;
Yet what man stirs a finger, breathes a sound,
But all the multitudinous beings round
In all the countless worlds, with time and place
For their condition, down to the central base,
Thrill, haply in vibration and rebound,
Life answering life across the vast profound,
In full antiphony, by a common grace!—
I think, this sudden Joyaunce which illumes
A child’s mouth sleeping, unawares may run
From some soul newly loosened from earth's tombs—
I think, this passionate sigh, which, half begun,
I stifle back, may reach and stir the plumes
Of God’s calm ange! standing in the sun.
reece
THRILLING NARRATIVE.
-BURIED ALIVE. .
FROM THE DIARY OF €. HODGSON, ESQ. DE-
SED, FORMERLY OF BRISTOL, ENG.
The following story, from a European magazine,
will be the more interesting to our readers, as it is
said to be a true account, and unadulterated with a
particle of fiction. It should serve as a fearful
warning to those who hasten to “bury their dead
out of their sight.”
Thad been subject to epileptic fits from my youth
upward, which, though they did not deprive me of
animation in the sight of those about me, complete-
ly annihilated my own consciousness. I used to
be attacked atall times and seasons, but most com-
monly about the full of the moon. I generally had
a warning of a peculiar nature when these attacks
were coming on, that it would be difficult to de-
scribe. It was a sensation that,to be known must be
experienced. My excellent wife Martha, (I mean
my first wife, who has been dead now, for the best
part of forty years,) used to say that she always ob
served an unusual paleness over my complexion,
otherwise ruddy, for a day or two before the fit
came upon me. Bless her soul! she never let me
be one moment out of. her sight, from the instant
she had a suspicion of my approaching malady.
This benevolent caution on her part, was a great
means of enabling her to subdue the violence of
the fit when it came, for which purpose her experi-
ence had pointed out to her several useful applica-
tious. I married again after her decease, because I
was oppressed beyond bearing my loneliness, which
none but. persons in such a. situation—I mean a
widower’s—can tell. My second wife, whom I have
also buried, was not so penetrating ia the faculty
of observation. She. was a woman of an admira-
Die thrift, and to her economy it was that, under
God, I owe my preservation in the terrible event I
am about to detail... Had I been buried in lead, it
would have been all over with me,
Our family burying place in Bristol is in ——
Church, where there is a general vault, in which all
persons who can fee the officials high enough may
be placed until their friends forget them—which,
for that matter, in trading towns, is not a very long
time ; but this is only granted provided they are
buried in lead. I suppose they are turned out of
their metal coffins in the end, as they are in Lon-
don and other places,’ that the old lead’ may buy a
carousal for the church wardens and sexton, and
make room for new tenants to be served in the
Same manner. But to my story—to my’ excellent
wife I owe my preservation.
Willing to save as mach money as possible at
my funeral, she had my body, with all the usual
and proper gricf attendant on the ceremony, put
into @ stout fir coffin, the weight of which was in-
PORTLAND, SATURDAY, , AUGUST 30, 1851.
creased by a couple of old hundred weights, placed
one atany head, the other at my fect. Thus the
thing passed off well, and money was saved to my
heirs. Ihereby cast no reflections upon my dear
departed wife’s regard for me. I was convinced, as
I told her, that her motive was good; and well did
it turn out for me that she was so thrifty and con-
siderate. She was a true Bristol woman, and, as
the good citizens there are, pretty keen and close-
fingered ; but it is error on the right side. She was
called Susannah, the daughter of an opulent and
ancient councilman, and I got my freedom of the
city by marrying her. She was plain in her person,
as all Bristol women formerly were—but I wander
again from my story.
I had made a most excellent dinner—of this I
have a perfect recollection. Of more than this I
can recollect nothing until coming out of my fit,
as Isuppose—for I quickly imagined, feeling the
usual sensations, that I was recovering from’ one of |
them. I say that on coming to myself I was. sur-
prised to feel pinioned and in utter darkness. I
had no space to stir if I would, as I soon found,
while struggling to loose a sheet or some such thing
in which I was scantily enveloped. My hand would
not reach my head when I attempted to do so, by
reason of my elbow touching the bottom, and my
hand the top of the enclosure round me. It was
the attempting to do this, and finding myself nak+
ed, except with the aforesaid covering, that struck
me I had been entombed alive.’ The thought rush-
ed suddenly upon me. My first sensations were
those of simple surprise. | I was like a child arous-
out of a deep sleep, and not sufficienjly awake
to recognize its attendants,
When the truth flashed'upon mo in all its fearful
energy, I never can forget the thrill of horror that
struck through me. It wasas if a bullet had pene-
trated my heart and all the blood in my body had
gushed through the wound. Never, never can hell
be more terrible than the sensations of that mo-
ment. Ilay motionless for a time, petrified with
terror. Then a clammy dampness burst forth from
every part of my body. My doom seemed inevita-
ble; andso strong at length became this impress-
ion, so bereft of hope appeared my situation, that I
ultimately recovered from it only to plunge in the
depth of a calm, resolute despair, As not the faint-
est ray of hope could penetrate the darkness around
my soul, resignation to my fate followed.
I began to think of death coolly, and to calculate
how long I might survive before famine closed the
hour of my ixistence. I prayed that I might have
fortitude to die without repining. Calmly as I then
felt, I tried to remember how long man could exist
without food. Thus the tranquility of my despair
made me comparatively easy, if contrasted with the
situation in which I felt myself afterward, when
hope began to glimmer upon me, My days must
in the end be numbered—I must die at last—I was
only perishing a little sooner than I otherwise
must have done. Even from this thought I derived
consolation; and I now think life might have clos-
ed. calmly upon me, if the pangs of hunger had
been at all bearable; and I have been told they are
much more so than is commonly believed.
Jf my memory serves me correctly, this calm
state of mind did not last long. _ Reason soon be-
gan to whisper to me that if Ihad been buried, and
the earth closed around my coffin, I should not be
able to respire, which I could now do with ease,
did not, of course, dream of the vault in which I
was placed, but considered at first I had been ba-
ried in earth. ‘The freedom of respiration gave
me the idea that after all I was not carried forth
for interment, but that I was about to be borne to
the grave, and that there I should be suffocated in-
evitably. Such is the inconsistency of the human
mind, that I, who had just now resigned myself to
die by famine, imagined this momentary mode of
death a hundred times more formidable. The idea
that I was not yet buried increased my anxicty to
be heard from without. I called aloud and strack
the sides and lid of the coffin to no purpose, till I
was hoarse and fatigued, but all in vain. A stilly
silence reigned around me amid the unbroken dark-
ness. I was now steeped in fearful agony. I
shrieked with horror, and plunged my nails into my
sides and wounded them. The coffin was soaked
in my blood ; and by tearing the wooden sides of
my prison with the same manaical feeling, I lacer-
ated my fingers and wore the nails to the quick, and
5
5
soon became motionless from exhaustion.
Iwas myself once more, I called aloud my wife’s
ngme. I prayed, and I fear I blasphemed, for I
kne'y not what I said; aud I thus continued until
my strength left me, and nature once more sought
replenishment in temporary insensibility.
At this time I had a vision of a most. undefina-
ble character, if it was one, and not a glance, as I
am jyrduccd to think it was between the portals of
deat into the world of spirits. It was all shape-
less and formless. Images of men and women,
often ‘numberless, in a sort of shadowy outline,
came.beforéand around me. They seemed as if
limbs fropi decay. Their feature-less heads mov-
éd uggn trunks hideously vital, in figure like bodies
that have seen drawn forth from burning dwell-
jugs,’ each being rather a hideous misshapen mass,
thag human resemblance. Thick darkness and si-
lenck suceceded, the darkness and silence of @ too
hegriblo reality. If, as Isuspected, I slept about
this time from weakness, it was but to awaken
again to a more fearful consciousness of my dread-
fal situation.
} Fresh but vain efforts to make myself heard were
Now reiterated as far as my strength would allow.
I found with great difficulty I could turn on my
side, and then over on my belly. I tried by lifting
my back and by a violent strain, to burst open the
coffin lid,bnt the screws resisted my utmost stren, gth.
I could not, beside, draw up my knees ‘sufficiently
high to afford a tenth part of the purchase I should
otherwise have made to bear upon it. I had no
help but to turn again to the position of the dead,
an; relucjsntly gain a little agonizing repose from
my exertions. J was conscious how weak my cf-
forts had made me, yet I resolved to repeat them.
While thus at rest,—if inactive torture could be de-
nominated rest—I wept like a child when I thought
of the sunshine and blue skies and fresh air which
Ishould never more enjoy,—how living beings
thronged the streets, and thousands round me were
joyous or busy, while I was doomed to perish in
tortures. Why was my fate differently marked out
to that of others? Ihad no monstrous crimes to
repent of. Mundreds of criminal men were in the
full revelry of life. I fancied I heard the toll of a
bell. Breathless I listened. It was a clock strik-
ing the hour. The sound was new life to me.
am not inhumed at least, but perhaps am unwatch-
ed. Such were my thoughts, Interment will take
place. My coffin will be moved. I shall easily
make myself heard then. This was balm to me. I
shouted anew, ‘struck my prison boards with all the
power left me, and ceased only when exertion was
no longer possible.
Men may fancy how they would find themselves
under similar circumstances, and on the like trying
occasions, but it is seldom a correct judgment can
be previously formed on such matters. : It was onl:
at intervals that I was so fearfully maddened by
my dreadful situation, as to lose the power of ra-
tional reflection, or so overcome as to be debarred
the faculty of memory.
Stretched in a position where my changes con-
sisted only of a turn on my side upon hard boards
the soreness of my limbs was excruciatingly pain-
fol. When I drew my feet up. a few inches, my
knees pressed the cover, so that the slight shift of
position brought no relief. My impatience of the
restraint in which I was kept, began at length to
drive me well nigh into madness. I was fevered.
My temples burned and throbbed, my tongue be-
came dry, light flashed across my eyes, and my
brain whirled round. ~ I am sure that my existence
was preserved solely by the diminished strength
and subsequent feebleness which I experienced,and
which, from its rendering me insensible to the in-
ereasing exacerbation of my brain’s heat, allowed
nature to resume her wonted temperature. But.
alas! this was only that I might revive to encoun-
ter once more irremidable horror. Who could
depict the frenzy, the unspeakable anguish of my
situatien ? I thought my eyes would start from my
head. Burning tears flowed from my checks. My
heart was swollen almost to bursting. I became
restless in focling, without finding space for a fan-
cied relief in a new change of position. In my
mental anguish, at times however, I forgot my mo-
tionless bodily suffering, my rack of immovable
agony. .
Cransevipt.
TERMS: $150 PER
YEAR, .
One Dollar for Eight Months, in advance
NUMBER 20. +
How many bours I lay in this state of active and
passive torture, I cannot tell. My thirst, however
soon became intolerable.’ My mouth” seemed full
of hot ashes. I heard again the hollow sound’ of a
clock bell, of no small magnitude judging from its
deep intonation. No cranny which I had hitherto:
observed in my prison let in light—though I well
knew there must be some fissure for fresh air,for the
continuance of life so far. How else had I existed?
It was night, perhaps, when I first came to myself
in my prison of “six dark boards.” I groped in:
vain over every part of their wooden surface which
I could reach, I could find no chink, could see no:
ray. Again I heard the hollow knell, which tended
to increase my fearful agony. O, what were my
feelings ! 9
For a long time after this, Ilay steeped in my,
sufferings—or at least, for a long time,as it seemed
tome. My head was bruised all over—my limbs
were excessively sore—the skin rubbed off in many
places with my struggling—my eyes aching with
pain.. I sought relief by turning on my right side—
Thad never before turned but on my lcft—when I
felt under mea hard substance which I had not
perceived before. I grasped it with some difficulty,
and soon found it was a knot from the coffin plank
which had been forced inwards in all probability af-,
ter Iwas placed there. I saw also a dim light thro *
a hole, about as large as a half crown piece, just be-
low where my chin came. I put my hand to it and
found it covered with cloth,which I easily imagined
was the lining of my coffin. I soon contrived to force
my finger through this cloth, though not without
considerable difficulty. Faint enough was the light
it revealed, but it was a noonday sun of joy to me,
By au uneasy strain of my neck I could sce oblique- ,
ly through the opening, but everything was con-—
fased in my brain. My sight wag cloudy, heavy
and thick. I at first could only perceive there was
light, but could distinguish no object. My senses,
however, seemed to sharpen as new hopes arose. I‘
closed my eyes for a minute together and then op-
ened them to restore their almost worn out power |
of vision, Atleagth I could distinguish that im-
mediately opposite to me there was a small window:
crossed by massive iron bars, through which the
light I saw streamed in upon me like joy inthe soul '
of misery. Inow cried with delight. I thought Iwas
anong men again, for the pitchy darkness around
me was dispersed. I forgot for a moment my suf-”
ferings. Even the fearful question, how I should *
get free from my dnrance before famine destroyed t
me, Was a long time absent trom my mind, and did
not recur until I could look through the fissure no !
longer, from the giddiness cansed by a too earnest
fixedness of gaze, 5
I soon ¢oncluded, from the massy stones on each
side of the opening, and the strength of the bars,that J ® *
Iwas ina church vault; and this was confirmed
when I came to distingnish the ends of two or three?
coffins which partly interposed between me and the
light.» I watched the window until the light began.
to grow dim,with feelings no language can deseribe }
and no tongue can tell. . . '
As the gloom of night approached, my heart be-
‘an to beat fainter,and my former agonies returned’;
with ten-fold weight, notwithstanding which, Tim. *
agined I must have slept some. Iwas sensible of ~
anoise like the grating of a heavy door upon its. .
hinges when I revived or awoke—I cannot say :
which; and I saw the light of a candle stream -
across the fissure in my coffin. I cried out, “For: ,
the love of your soul, release me! I am buried
alive!” : So
The light vanished ina moment.’ Fear seemed:
tohave palsicd the hand that held it, for T hearda |
rongh voice desiring the holder of it to return,
“If there be any one here he is soldered: up. Tom
hand me the light’ The dead never speak, Jim,. :
the snatcher, is not to be scared by rotten flesh.” —
Again I called as loud as Tcould—*I am buried
alive! Save me}” Deep
“Tom, the axe,” cried the undaunted body-snateh: -
er. “The voice comes from this box. ‘The under-
takers made too great haste I suppose.” !
In a few minutes Iwas sitting upright in my. coffin. .
[Here, after detailing his reception at home, and *
the surprise of his friends, Mr. Hodgson says, he!
his parish church, and that ever afterwards he cher-
ished a strong regard for resurrection . .<
: ™ a
never asked a guinea of him in vain.} Sor who.
had public thanks for his deliverance returned‘ in.
