The New Hampshire Gazette

A HUMOROUS TALE.

Two English noblemen, on their travels, arriving at Paris, put up at a house in which a German Count had died and laid a corpse. In the middle of the night, one of the two not being able to sleep, and growing weary of his bed, arose, in order to amuse himself in the kitchen, where he heard some people talking. He had diverted himself there for some time, when being willing to return from whence he came, he again went upstairs; but, instead of entering his own chamber, went into that of the deceased Count, over whose face they had only thrown a cloth. There is not so much ceremony used in France in the management of their dead as in England and Germany: for they are there satisfied with showing their affection to the living: The Englishman, having put out his candle, laid down boldly by the defunct: when, creeping as close to him as possible, in order to warm himself, and finding his bed-fellow colder than he, began to mutter—What the devil's the matter, my friend? said he, you are as cold as ice. I'll lay a wager, numb as you are, you would have been warm enough if you had but seen the pretty girl that is below stairs. Come, come, you may take my word for it, added he, and pulling him by the arm—come, zounds, sir, I'll engage you shall have her for a guinea.—While he was holding this fine conversation with the dead, who (detached from the things of this world) did not give himself the trouble of making a reply; his chamber door was opened, which made him raise his head from the pillow to see who was coming in: but judge what must be his surprise when he saw a servant lighting in a joiner, who carried a coffin on his shoulders! He thought at first he had been in a dream: but looking about him, and seeing the visage of one who had not spoken a word, a visage overspread with a mortal paleness, he made but one jump from the bed into the middle of the chamber. The joiner and maid, immediately persuaded that it was the corpse, who being unwilling to be shut up in the coffin, was now playing its gambols, their legs were unable to move with swiftness proportionable to their fear, and the joiner, maid, coffin and candlestick rolled one over another, from the top of the stairs down into the kitchen. Zounds, what are you all about? cried the landlord; Is the devil flying away with the dead man? Mercy on us! cried the maid, quite chapfallen, it is rather the dead man that would run away with us. I'll be hanged, said the joiner, if that dead fellow there has any more occasion for a coffin than I have; why he has got into the middle of the room, and has just struck up a hornpipe. He has! cried the landlord—taking a light, faith we'll soon see that. While all the family were trembling and getting ready to follow the master of the house, the English nobleman, who had again found his chamber, had slipped into bed, quite out of breath; and his friend having asked him where he had been, he told him that he had just been lying with a dead body. 'Sblood! a dead body! it had perhaps the plague, cried he, jumping in his turn, out of bed, and running to the door to call for a light—The landlord, the landlady and servants, who were passing through the gallery, no sooner saw him than they imagined that it was the dead who appeared again, and—down they came much faster than they went up, head over heels from top to bottom, with the candlesticks rolling after them: at this confusion, joined with their shrieks and clamours, the Englishman terrified at the hideous noise, soon made for his room, and slipped into bed to his companion, without the least fear of catching the plague. In the mean time an honest country priest, who lodged in the inn, got up and appeared, armed with holy water, and a long broom instead of a little brush; he made his aspersions, and the conjurations prescribed by the Romish church, and conducted by the way of procession, the terrified trembling people into the chamber of the defunct, who, thinking no harm, lay quietly in bed. The priest was instantly regarded as a saint; and they all cried up the miracle of the holy water, which bound the corpse to its good behaviour, and prevented its being refractory.