MANY of those who are most familiar with the phenomena of life and death, including celebrated physicians, men of science, and clergymen, knowing that all the ordinary signs of death (referred to in another chapter) have, in practice, sometimes proved delusive, have been a prey to the suspicion that a fatal mistake is possible in their own case. They have, therefore, left precise instructions in their wills for various preventives which experience has shown to be necessary, and in some instances a combination of these, so as to make doubly sure that they shall not be subjected, like thousands of human beings, to the unspeakable horrors of being buried alive. Mr. Horace Welby, in his volume entitled “Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity,” 1861, under the head of “Premature Interment,” p. 114, says:--“How prevalent is the fear of being buried alive may be gathered from the number of instances in which men have requested that, before the last offices are done for them, such wounds or mutilations should be inflicted upon their bodies as would effectually prevent the possibility of an awakening in the tomb. Dr. Dibdin relates that Francis Douce, the antiquary, requested, in his will, that Sir Anthony Carlisle, the surgeon, should sever his head from his body, or take out his heart, to prevent the return of vitality; and his co-residuary legatee, Mr. Kerrick, has also requested the same operation to be performed in the presence of his son.” Bishop Berkeley, Daniel O’Connell, and the late Lord Lytton entertained similar apprehensions. Wilkie Collins had a like fear, for he always left on his dressing-table a letter in which he solemnly enjoined his people that, if he were found dead in the morning, he should at once be carefully examined by a doctor. Hans Christian Andersen had a similar dread, and carried in his pocket a note to the effect that, when the time came, his friends were to make sure that he was really dead before burial. Harriet Martineau left her doctor ten pounds to see that her head was amputated before burial. The dread of being buried alive dictated a clause in the will of the distinguished actress, the late Miss Ada Cavendish, for the severance of the jugular vein; and prompted the late Mr. Edmund Yates to leave similar instructions, with the provision that a fee of twenty guineas should be paid for the operation, which was carried out. Mr. John Rose, of New York, who died in November, 1895, made known his earnest desire that his coffin should not be closed, but laid in the family vault at Roseton, and guarded day and night by two caretakers, who were instructed to watch for signs of reanimation.