Never shall I forget the strange sound of that man’s voice. I suppose, for the reason that I was buried in the earth, it seemed unearthly. I could form no idea of the distance the speaker was from me. His voice seemed to come from some place thousands of miles away—in fact from another world. I was sensible that some mischance had occurred—that I was buried alive, and in great agony; but the voice I heard seemed to proceed from the remotest part of an immense cavern in some planet, far down in the depths of space. It commanded me to come thither: and I thought I was preparing to obey that command, by ceasing to live; but the necessary preparation for another existence appeared to require a long time in being completed.
In my struggles for respiration, I fancied that stones and earth were passing through my lungs; and hours, days and weeks seemed to be spent in this sort of agony. It was real agony—so real as not to beget insensibility. On the contrary, my consciousness of existence remained both clear and active.
I wondered why I did not die of starvation; and tried to discover if there was any principle in nature that would enable a person, when buried alive, to resist the demands of hunger and live for ever without food. It seemed impossible for me to die. One vast world appeared to be compressing me against another; but they could not both crush out the agony of my existence.
At length the thought occurred to me that I was dead; and that in another world I was undergoing punishment for crimes committed in that I had left.
“What have I ever done,” thought I, “that this horrible torture should be inflicted on me?”
Every link in memory’s chain was presented to my mental examination, and minutely examined.
They were all perfect to my view; but none of them seemed connected with any act in the past, that should have consigned me to the torture I was suffering.
My agony at last produced its effect; and I was released from it. I gradually became unconscious, or nearly so. There was still a sensation of pain—of something indescribably wrong; but the keen sensibility of it, both mental and bodily, had now passed away. This semi-unconscious state did not seem the result of the accident that had befallen me. I thought it had arisen from long years of mental care and bodily suffering; and was the involuntary repose of a spirit exhausted by sheer contention, with all the ills that men may endure upon earth. Then I felt myself transferred from this state to another quite different—one of true physical pain, intense and excruciating, though it no longer resembled the indescribable horror I had experienced, while trying to inhale the rocks that were crushing the life out of me.
My head was now uncovered; and I was breathing fast and freely.
Though in great pain, I was now conscious of all that was transpiring.