In the meantime, the clergyman, and the schoolmaster with his scholars, proceeded to the entrance of the village to meet the corpse; and, as the funeral came along the meadow in this array, the grave-digger stepped up to the clergyman, pulled him by the gown, pointed with his finger to it, and said not a word.
Such was the tale, with all its circumstances, as related by the clergyman. I was well acquainted with the good man: he was incapable of telling an untruth, much less in a matter which contradicted all his principles.
Another history of this kind, for the truth of which I can vouch, was related to me by my late father and his brother, both very pious men, and to whom it would have been impossible to have told a falsehood.
Both of them had business, on one occasion, in the Westphalian provence of Mark, when they were invited to dinner at the protestant preacher’s. During the repast, the subject of second-sight was likewise brought upon the carpet. The minister spoke of it with acrimony, because he had also a grave-digger who was afflicted with that evil; he had often and repeatedly forbidden him from mentioning it, but all to no purpose. On one occasion, the prognosticator came to the minister and said, “I have to tell you, sir, that in a short time there will be a funeral from your house, and you will have to follow the coffin before all the other funeral attendants.” Terror, anger, and displeasure, got so much the better of the good pastor, that he drove the thoughtless fellow out of the door; for his wife was near her confinement: and, notwithstanding every rational view which he took, he passed a melancholy time of it, till at length his wife was safely delivered and out of danger. He now reproached the grave-digger most bitterly, and said, “See, now, how unfounded thy reveries have been!” But the corpse-seer only smiled and said, “Sir, the matter is not yet finished.”
Immediately afterward the preacher’s servant-maid died of an apoplexy. Now, it is the custom there for the master of the house, on such occasions, to immediately follow the coffin, before the next relatives; but this time the preacher endeavored to avoid it, in order to confound the corpse-seer. He did not venture, however, to offend the parents of the deceased, which he would have done most grossly if he had not followed the coffin. He found, therefore, a suitable excuse in the circumstance that his wife—who, according to the custom prevalent there, was then to go to church for the first time after her confinement—should take his place, and he would then accompany the schoolmaster and his scholars, as was usual.
This was discussed and agreed upon, and the parents were likewise satisfied with it. On the day the funeral was to take place, the company assembled at the parsonage. The coffin lay on a bier in the porch; the schoolmaster with his scholars stood in a circle in front of the house and sang;—the minister was just going out to his appointed place; his wife stepped behind the coffin, and the bearers laid hold of the bier, when that very moment the minister’s wife fell down in a fit; she was taken into a room, and brought again to herself, but was so ill that she could not go to church; and the minister was so terrified by this accident, that it no longer occurred to him to make the grave-digger into a liar, but he stepped very quietly behind the coffin, as the prognosticator would have it.
EXTRAORDINARY FOREWARNING,
AS IT REALLY OCCURRED IN LORD TYRONE’S
FAMILY, IN IRELAND.
Lord Tyrone and Lady Beresford were born in Ireland; they were both left orphans in their infancy, to the care of the same person, by whom they were both educated in the principles of Deism. When they were each of them about fourteen years of age they fell into very different hands. The persons on whom the care of them now devolved, used every possible endeavor to eradicate the erroneous principles they had imbibed, and to persuade them to embrace the revealed religion, but in vain; their arguments were insuffient to convince them, but they were powerful enough to stagger their former faith. Though now separated from each other, their friendship continued unalterable, and they seemed to regard each other with a sincere and fraternal affection. After some years had elapsed, and they were each of them grown up, they made a solemn promise to each other, that whoever should first die, would, if permitted, appear to the other to declare what religion was most approved of by the Supreme Being. Lady Beresford was shortly after addressed by Sir Marcus Beresford, to whom, after a few years; she was married; but no change in condition had power to alter her friendship; the families frequently visited each other, and often spent more than a fortnight together. A short time after one of those visits, Sir Marcus Beresford remarked when his lady came down to breakfast in the morning, that her countenance was unusually pale, and bore evident marks of terror and confusion; he inquired anxiously after her health, she assured him she was well, perfectly well; he repeated his inquiries, and begged to know if anything had disordered her; she replied no, she was as well as usual. “Have you hurt your wrist, have you sprained it?” said he, observing a black ribbon bound round it. She replied no, she had not; but added, “let me conjure you, Sir M. never to inquire the cause of my wearing this ribbon, you will never more see me without it; if it concerned you as a husband to know it, I would not for a moment conceal it from you. I never in my life denied a request, but of this I must entreat you to forgive my refusal, and never to urge me further on the subject.” “Very well, my lady, (said he, smiling) since you so earnestly desire me, I will inquire no further.” The conversation here ended; but breakfast was scarcely over when Lady B. inquired if the post was come in? she was told it was not. In a few minutes she again rang the bell for her servant, and repeated the inquiry, “Is not the post yet come?” she was told it was not. “Do you expect any letter, (said Sir M.) that you are so anxious concerning the coming of the post?” “I do, (she answered) I expect to hear that Lord Tyrone is dead: he died last Tuesday, at four o’clock.” “I never in my life, (said Sir M.) believed you superstitious, but you must have had some idle dream which has thus alarmed you.”
At that instant a servant opened the door, and delivered to them a letter, sealed with black. “It is as I expected, (exclaimed Lady B.) he is dead.” Sir M. opened the letter, it came from Lord Tyrone’s stewart, and contained the melancholy intelligence that his master died the Tuesday preceding, at the very time that Lady B. had specified. Sir M. entreated her to compose her spirits, and to endeavor as much as lay in her power not to make herself unhappy. She assured him that she felt much easier than she had for some time past; and added, “I can inform you of something which I know will prove welcome. I can assure you beyond the possibility of a doubt, that I am with child of a son.” Sir M. received the intelligence with that pleasure that might be expected, and expressed in the strongest terms, the felicity he should experience from such an event, which he had so long ardently desired.