Amongst the many dreadful calamities incident to human nature, none surely is more horrid, nor can the thought be more appalling, than even in idea to be buried alive;—the very soul sickens at the thought. Yet terribly frightful as the imagination paints such a dire event, these things have been. Historical record clearly demonstrates the melancholy truth, and many a valuable member of society, has, I am fully persuaded, times past, been prematurely consigned to the grave before the vital spark has been extinct. To prevent, if possible, such deplorable events from ever again happening, is my principal motive in forming the present volume. The substance of a motto, I have somewhere seen, several years since, on a silver medal, whereon is prettily displayed the figure of a boy blowing with his mouth at a piece of lighted charcoal nearly extinguished, in hopes of again re-invigorating the flame, has ever since been indelibly impressed on my mind. “Who knows,” says the motto, “but one spark, may yet remain alive.” And I would recommend a similar impression to be deeply fixed on the minds of every person, as a standing criterion in all doubtful cases between life and death. It is a duty incumbent on ourselves, our friends and relatives, and the community at large, to be thus particular in such a momentous affair. Who amongst us, give me leave to ask, that has the least pretensions to common humanity, would hesitate for a single moment to perform so generous, though painful a duty, as that of carefully attending to the sad expiring moments of a departing friend? The duty must be reciprocal to every benevolent being, as sooner or later, the dreadful trial must be our own. From a sad mistaken humanity, surrounding friends are sometimes apt to persuade the nearest relatives that nothing more can be done for the dying person, and therefore prevent them from performing those kind offices of closing the eyes, and other marks of attention, which can only be expected from those who are deeply interested. Surely such a bounden duty as this, ought not to be left (as is too often the case) to some wretched mercenary nurse, or greedy hireling? forbid it humanity! I would recommend it to all surviving relatives, and others, who are interested, and have been attending with the kindest assiduity on the sick, not to desert their post, the moment the nurse has reported the death of her patient, but in this trying hour, if grief has not too much overpowered them, to exert every necessary recollection, to calm their feelings as much as human nature will permit, and if possible, not be persuaded to quit the room too hastily, (unless contagion is apprehended) nor suffer the poor departed friend to be stripped and pulled about, until indubitable signs clearly demonstrate life is no more. Many of the stories in this volume, well attested by regular bred professional gentlemen, of the highest respectability, expatiates largely on this humane, and interesting subject, and I would fain flatter myself, such necessary advice as they impart on so very important a subject, will cause in future in every family, a more than usual care and examination of their friends in the hour of death, and prior to interment. Were we but to bear in our minds the following animated lines from a celebrated poet, our attention to dying friends would be unremitting.
“Spirits fly swift (our friend’s) perhaps is gone
A thousand leagues beyond the sun,
Or twice ten thousand more twice told,
Ere the forsaken clay is cold.
“And yet, who knows; the friends we lov’d,
They may not be so far remov’d;
Only the veil of flesh between,
May oft glide by us, tho’ unseen.
“While we (their loss lamenting) say,