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202 THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL.
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excavation was completed in a very short time. The
head of the coffin was then knocked off, and the subject
was drawn out bodily towards us. "De profundis
clamavi: his specific gravity is not so great as I thought
it," exclaimed Tom, as he handed up the body. The
excavation was then filled up, and every thing replaced
with the most scrupulous care in its original order. The
corpse, disguised by its hat and cloak, was now placed
astride the horse, and secured by a surcingle passed
around the body of Tom, who was mounted en croupe.
Our despatch had been so great, that not more than
twenty minutes had elapsed since we first came on the
ground.

At this moment the disc of the moon was rolled up
from behind the cincture of clouds that had hitherto
concealed it, and poured a flood of silvery radiance over
the white tomb-stones and through the dusky trees, pro-
ducing a contrast of light and shade altogether inde-
scribable. Near us the open greensward, with its
millions of drops of distilled moisture, looked like the
spangled drapery you have seen thrown over some sacred
altar; while the clustering groups of the tall and grace-
ful forest-trees hard by, with the rich moonlight stream-
ing down here and there as through a chequered arbour,
might be aptly compared to the springing columns and
tessellated pavement of a superb Gothic cathedral.

A fragment of forest glade, about one hundred and
fifty yards from us, was thrown into deep shadow; and
from this spot we soon discovered that we were watched
—for click, clack, flash, whiz, bang, and a rifle-ball
whistled past us and lodged in the beech-tree just over
our heads, the concussion scattering the big globes of
water upon us unholy and scandalous resurrectionists.
The interest of the adventure was now evidently on the
increase, and I was in a fair way of finding that excite-
ment which I came in quest of. As for danger, I was
disposed to regard it as a just and natural consequence
of our daring and nefarious enterprise, and quite com-
mensurate with its rascality. If the bullet had passed
through me, I could not have upbraided the one that
sent it. As you may suppose, in less time than you
could say "Jack Robinson," we were off for the lake,
along the shore of which we proposed to proceed to the
dissecting-room. Arriving there, we found that the
greensward terminated abruptly in a bank shelving
steeply some ten or twelve feet to the margin of the
lake, which was not, in that place, more than four feet
wide. I stood by on the very crest of the bank to re-
ceive the body from Tom. I lowered it away as gently
as possible, but the ground, composed partly of rolled
pebbles, yielded to my pressure—I fell—the old chap
came rolling after me, and his dead weight was near
crushing me in transitu.

"Sturnitur infelix!" cried Tom, from the top of the
bank, "et dulces moriens rem"—ugh—pugh—oigh—
p-b-d-t-k. Several slaps in quick succession from an
unknown hand, knocked the vowel sounds out of poor
Tom into something like the above consonantial arrange-
ment, and the next instant the unlucky fellow came
tumbling down the bank head-foremost. I now found
myself confronted with the stranger, who used his
utmost endeavours to unmask me. I was much vexed
at our bad success, and my blood was "a little up" at
the unfavourable aspect affairs had taken. We were
most essentially minus, and I was not long in resolving
to shew up some interesting results, by resorting to a
new controlling influence. It was high time to "fix
prolonge for flank firing," so I delivered the stranger
into his chops a blow—another, and another, which did-
dled him; and he measured five feet eleven inches or so
on the pure silex. I verily believe I could at that mo-
ment have given a quietus to half a dozen more such
fellows, and if they had been near me I should have
attempted it as a matter of course. I was "fairly in for
it:" the plot had thickened so fast that if the devil
himself had stood before me, it would have created no
additional surprise. The interest of the affair seemed
now to have attained its climax. As for my own excite-
ment it had gone on increasing in a geometrical progres-
sion, and it was now raised to the n-|-1 degree.

[Column 2]
I had now a brief moment to look about me: and—
heavens!—what were my sensations when, instead of
the remains of the boatman, I saw before me those of a
lovely female!—notwithstanding his assurances, the
heedless Tom had carried us to the wrong grave. She
had fallen so that her face was turned upward: the
back of her head was in the water, and reposed upon
some quartz pebbles which sparkled in the bed of the
lake. Her grave-clothes, which were of some linen
fabric of delicate texture, were much discomposed and
soiled; and, being partially unrolled from her person,
exposed a part of her bosom. The tangled tresses of
her dark hair were waving to and fro like sea-grasses in
the clear water, as the waves rolled up and receded in
their gentle undulations—oh!—what a picture! There
she lay with her placid features, as pure, as bright, as
cold, and as beautiful as the Arctic moon when she
shines upon the snows and ices of Greenland. Oh! I
thought if that breast were only animated by a single
spark of living fire, how eloquently would she plead for
protection against such unfeeling usage! How would
that modesty, which is stronger than life, which looks
to the grave as to some holy sanctuary, urge its heaven-
inspired appeal to be respected! And if an informing
soul could again occupy that postrate tenement, with
what calm indignation! with what utter loathing would
she look upon our folly. Quick as the lightning that
rolls by night along the pathway of the weary traveller,
and confounds his vision, did these and many other re-
flections rush in wild chaos through my mind, and, for
the time, my predominant feeling was one of conscious
humiliation, and even of degradation. I would have
given half a year's pay to see that girl snugly coffined
again. Our situation became more and more critical—
every moment was precious, and three years in the pen-
itentiary might be the consequence of our delay. B—,
who had his wits about him all this time, composed the
shroud as decently as possible, took up the precious
burden in his arms, and beckoned to us to follow. Tom
had, by this time, picked himself up, and stood gazing
at the scene in mute surprise. The stranger also
showed signs of recovery when we left the spot. The
horse was cropping the herbage near by, and was left to
shift for himself. B——— had resolved in his own mind
that we should take the body to the dissecting-room, get
to our beds as soon as possible, and, on the following
night, or as soon thereafter as practicable, place the
body where it could be recovered by its friends. Why
it was not left where it had fallen on the shore of the
lake, I do not know; but we had little time for thought.

It may be well to describe to you the dissecting-room.
This was a species of cell or hypogeum, situated on the
western shore of the strait which connected the two
lakes. This stream has worn itself a bed, leaving on
either side precipitous banks of rocks nearly one hun-
dred feet high, composed of argillaceous slate resting
upon compact carbonate of lime—veined here and there
with gneiss and mica-slate. The cell or cavern in ques-
tion was not far below the top of the precipice. It had
been made by simply detaching several successive strata
of slate, and allowing them to slide into the bed of the
torrent—the excavation thus formed was covered over
with the trunks and branches of trees, after which a
coating of moss, dry leaves and decayed shrubbery was
cast over all. The room was entered through a small
wicker door inserted in one of the lower corners, to
which you were conducted by a winding pathway.
B———, who was a great tinker, had rendered the place
as secure as the robbers' cave in "Gil Blas." It was so
ingeniously arranged, and its wildness harmonized so
well with the adjacent solitude, that the nicest observa-
tion would not have detected any uncommon appearance
in that vicinity. If one could set aside all idea of the
uses to which this spot was appropriated, it might be
considered a grotto pretty enough for a Naiad to dwell
in. When we arrived there, the moon was riding high
in the heavens—her rays reached nearly to the bottom
of the abyss, throwing into strong relief the jutting
spurs and cliffs, while around you might see chrystals of
sulphate of strontian, gypsum or quartz, twinkling and

[Column 3]
gleaming into intense brightness. It was here that we
left our charge, proposing to return on the morrow night.

Great and peculiarly social was the fermentation in
town the next day. The poor horse was seized and con-
victed; but not so with his owner, who was the student
that declined going with us. The brother of the
accused testified that, to the best of his knowledge, he
had not left his room during the night. The footsteps
at the grave were carefully measured and compared with
the pedal dimensions of Tom and Dr. B———, but their
over-shoes saved them. As for myself, I do not know
that I was suspected.

The parties concerned in this transaction were so
closely watched that it was not possible for them to visit
the dissecting-room, until the third night after the
occurrences detailed above. It was near the hour of
midnight when we all assembled and repaired to the
cavern. The position of it was indicated by a blasted
oak, the gigantic arms of which, after some searching,
we could at last discern projecting a faint outline against
a sky charged with clouds of almost inky blackness.
Reader! have you ever been on the Mexican Gulf? If
so, you may have heard on a perfectly tranquil morning
before a September gale, a distant sound of surging
billows. At one moment loud, harsh, and fearful; in the
next whispering as softly as a summer breeze in a pine
forest. Such was the hollow roar and such the lulling
sound that the rushing torrent sent up from its rocky
bed far below us, as the night wind rolled in fitful and
threatening gusts through the deepening gloom. A
solitary screech-owl made night horrible from an oppo-
site cliff; while a poor whip-poor-will uttered its plain-
tive note in singular contrast. Every thing was in
perfect harmony: time, place, circumstance, and my
own feelings. But it was a harmony of horrors! After
some difficulty we descended to the cavern, and, groping
about in the darkness, I placed my hand upon that icy
face!—What a thrill rushed through me at that instant.
I soon recovered myself, however. We now removed
the body, and conveyed it to the lake in the immediate
neighbourhood of a farm-house, from which we knew it
would be observed in the morning. We left it there
moored by means of a large stone in some two feet of
water.

About this time the day broke; the clouds were rolled
away from the heavens, the hushed wind was as soft and
gentle as a sister's kiss, and soon every thing stood re-
vealed in the blessed light of morning. It was like
Michael Angelo's painting of the rising of the sun,
where the blue skies and seas, the green shores, and the
white temples of Greece seem just to have thrown off
the livery of night. When I saw the yesty waves sport-
ing and purifying the stained shroud of that lovely girl,
I experienced a feeling of satisfaction to which I had
been a stranger for some days.

On a morning in the next spring after these occur-
rences, as an idle angler was lounging along the banks
of the strait, he found his left leg sinking under him.
He endeavoured to recover himself with his right leg,
but that sank too; and the attraction of gravitation
soon launched him into the floor of the dissecting-room.
On looking about he saw some hieroglyphics and Chinese
characters which Tom had, in former times, made upon
the walls, with some red fluids used for injecting veins,
and naturally concluded he was in the den of a necro-
mancer, or some worse place. He soon made the best of
his way out, and related his adventure, which brought
many admiring crowds to look at the curious cavern. I
speak the truth, dear reader, when I assure you that if
you take the trouble to go there you may see the same
spot.

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THE ACTOR AND THE MINSTRELS.—Bartley, the
eminent actor, was called upon by the midnight min-
strels on the morning of Boxing Day. "We are the
parish waits, an' please you," said the spokesman, "we
played before your door last night." "You did, in-
deed," was his reply, in mournful tones; and he looked
upon his visitors with the air of a man who knew not
their errand. "We have come to hope, sir," went in
the clarionet, "for your kind contribution." "O, dear,"
said Bartley, with affected surprise, "I thought you
had come to apologize!"
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