Upon that couch lay the ghastly spectacle of a
human corse, stiff and cold. It was that of an
old man, and I thought at first that he slept; but,
upon looking closer, I perceived that he had been
dead for at least an hour; and it appeared as if he
had died untended by friend or servant, for the
bedclothes had been nearly tossed from the bed in
his last convulsion, and now lay tumbled about his

[figure description] Page 250.[end figure description]

limbs and the floor, just as they had fallen. His
features were greatly distorted, having an expression
of rage upon them that was highly disagreeable
to look on; yet I had a vague feeling that I had
seen him before.

While I was wondering who he could be, I perceived
a paper clutched in his right hand; and,
taking it to the light, the secret was at once revealed.

It was a letter from my adorable Alicia to her
father, dated that very evening, in which she gave
him to understand, in the most romantic language
in the world, that his opposition to her wishes in
relation to her beloved Dawkins had broken her
heart—that she could never think of marrying any
one else (as if, indeed, the old gentleman ever
wished her)—that she could not live without her
Dawkins, and accordingly had made up her mind
to fly with him afar from parental severity; and
concluded by assuring him that “when he read
those lines, penned by a grieved and determined,
but still dutifully loving heart” (she said nothing
of her fingers), “she would be in the arms of a
lawful husband.” There was appended a postscript,
in which she expressed much contrition, hoped he
would forgive her, and hinted that she would be
of age in two months.

I looked at the old man again, and wondered I
had not known him before. It was old Skinner,
sure enough, and the secret of his death was readily
explained. He had been sick before, and this

[figure description] Page 251.[end figure description]

elegant epistle had finished him—or rather the
necessity, so romantically hinted at in the conclusion,
of settling, two months thereafter, his guardian's
account with her husband, had done his business.
I did not suppose the wound in his parental
feelings had done him much hurt; but there was
more, perhaps, in that, than any one would have
thought that knew the old miser.

And there he lay, then the owner of thousands
and hundreds of thousands, with none to mourn
him—nay, with not even a hand to smooth the bedrobe
over his neglected body. He had squandered
health, happiness, good name, and perhaps self-approbation,
the true riches of man, in the pursuit
of the lucre which cannot purchase back again one
of these treasures; and notwithstanding which lucre
he was now, and indeed had been at his death-hour,
no better off than the beggar in his coffin of
deal. He had heaped up gold for his children,
that they might begrudge him the breath drawn in
pain and infirmity, and rejoice in the moment of
his death. He had— But why should I moralize
over a subject worn just as threadbare as any other.
The old fellow was a miser, and met the miser's
fate. Nobody accused even his children of loving
him; and while I stood by his side, I had a stronger
proof of their regard than spoke in the neglected
appearance of his deathbed. I had scarce entered
the room before I heard, from some of the apartments
below, the sounds of mirth and festivity.
They were not to be mistaken; it was plain that

[figure description] Page 252.[end figure description]

some persons were feasting and making merry in
one of the old fellow's parlours; and I doubted not
they were his two sons, Ralph and Abbot, both of
whom had very bad characters, the latter in particular,
who was a notorious profligate. They were
young men of promise, I had heard; but the avarice
of the parent had ruined them. Their education
neglected from indifference, or a miserable
spirit of parsimony, their minds and morals uncultivated,—
the consciousness of their father's wealth
and their own golden prospects at his decease
stimulated them to excesses, which were perhaps
rendered still more agreeable to their imaginations,
and certainly more destructive to their weal, by
the difficulty of indulging in them, resulting from
the niggardliness of their father.

But the reign of denial was now over; the rattle
and crash of glasses and vessels in the room below,
the tumbling down of chairs and tables, with the
sounds of singing, shouting, and laughter, proclaimed
with what a lusty lyke-wake the abandoned sons
were honouring the memory of their father—with
what orgies of Bacchus they were celebrating their
own deliverance from restraint. Suddenly the sound
of the singing grew louder, as if some door between
the revellers and the dead had been opened; and
a moment after I perceived, from the increase and
direction of the uproar, that the sots were ascending
the stairs, and perhaps approaching the chamber
of death.

An idea seized upon my mind. I was heartily

[figure description] Page 253.[end figure description]

sick of Mr. I. D. Dawkins's body, being ready at
that moment to exchange it for a dog's, and I was
incensed at the heartless and brutal rejoicings of
the young Skinners. It occurred to me, if I could
get my spirit into old Goldfist's body, I should
avoid all dunning for the future, and give these two
reprobate sons of his such a lesson as would last
them to their dying day.

The idea came to me like a blaze of sunshine; I
remembered in a moment the vast wealth of the deceased,
and I pictured to my imagination the glorious
use I should make of it. I had always hated
and despised the old villain; but a sudden affection
for him now seized upon my soul. I had a strong
persuasion in me, resulting from my two former
adventures, that I possessed the power of entering
any human body which I found to my liking; and I
resolved to exercise it, or, at the worst, to make
proof of its existence, for a third time. Of the
manner of exercising the power I knew but little; I
remembered, however, that, on the former occasions,
I had merely uttered a wish, and the transformation
was instantly completed. I stepped up to the body,
and chuckling with the idea of chousing the unnatural
sons out of their expected inheritance, I said,

“Old Goldfist, if you please, I wish to be in
your body!”

In less than a second of time I found myself
starting up from the bed, as if I had just been roused
from sleep by the noise of some falling body,
and exclaiming “What's that?”

[figure description] Page 254.[end figure description]

I looked over the side of the bed, and saw the
body of I. D. Dawkins lying on the floor on its face.
The transformation was complete, and had been so
instantaneous, that my spirit heard, through the organs
of its new tenement, the downfall of its old. I
felt a little bewildered, indeed posed, and remained
upon my elbow staring about the room; and I may
add, that I was more disconcerted by the bacchanalian
voices now at the chamber door, than by any
thing else.

The door opened, and the young Skinners entered;
I shall remember them to my dying day; they
were both royally drunk, and each armed with a
candle, with which, scattering the tallow over the
floor as they advanced, they came staggering and
hiccoughing into the chamber.

“I say, bravo, dad, and no offence,” said the foremost,
“but don't feel so sorry as I ought; and
here's Ralph a'n't sorry neither.”

“Led us a devilish hard life of it,” grumbled the
other, “but shall have something done for his soul
by the Catholics. I say, Abby, shall buy that black
horse and the buggie.”

“And a tombstone for dad,” said the worthy
Abbot, laying his candle upon the table, and striking
an attitude like a dancing-master, which, however,
he could not keep. “I say, Ralph,” he went
on, “it isn't right to say so, but don't you feel good?
Three hundred thousand apiece, dammee! I say,
Ralph, let us dance.”

And the villains took hands, and attempted a pas

[figure description] Page 255.[end figure description]

de deux, as the theatre people have it; while the
old woman, who had been sleeping below, and was
roused by the fall of my late body, came running
into the room, to see what was the matter. By
this time the dogs had chassé'd up so nigh to the
bed, that, for the first time, they laid their eyes upon
the reanimated countenance of their father.

The effect was prodigious; the moment before
their faces were all drunkenness and triumph—now
they were all drunkenness and horror. The light
of the candle held by Ralph flashed over my visage;
but Abbot was the first to observe me resting
on my elbow, and staring at him with looks of
wrath and indignation.

“Lord love us, Ralph,” said he, “dad's coming
to!”

“Yes, you villains!” said I, “I am coming to;
you unnatural, undutiful rascals, I have come to!”

They looked upon me, and upon one another,
unutterably confounded, and I wondered myself
that I did not laugh at them. Their confusion,
however, only filled me with rage, and I railed at
them with as much emphasis and sincerity as if I
had been their father in earnest.

They dropped on their knees; but their rueful
appearance only added to my fury. I stormed and
I scolded, until, being quite exhausted with the effort,
a film came over my eyes, and I fell back in
a swoon.

p016-265

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