“I hereby engage, after my natural decease, to give over my soul to the owner of this book.”
“What!” said I, “this is the old compact; the one you wished me to sign before?”
“The same, my dear friend.”
“Then I’ll be d——d if I sign it.”
“Only think of the consequences,” said he.
“I will abide the consequences rather than sell my soul.”
“Buried alive, my dear sir—only think.”
“I will not sign the compact.”
“Only think of being buried alive,” continued he,—“stifled to death—pent up on all sides—earth above, earth below—no hope—no room to move in—suffocated, stupified, horror-struck—utter despair. Is not the idea dreadful? Only think what your feelings will be, when you come to life in that narrow charnel-house, and know your situation.”