“Madam,--When I was about five years old, my paternal home was one day plunged into a state of great consternation, through the sudden apparent death of my father, who had been sitting up during a part of the previous night occupied with some literary work, without a fire (it was in January), which brought on a death-like numbness, in which he was found the next morning. The family doctor, who was sent for at once, declared life to be extinct, but said he could not tell the cause of death until after the opening of the dead body. My mother, however, who did not see any reason why a young man of thirty-six should have died without any previous illness, caused the body of my father to be rubbed for about two hours, which renewed its circulation and brought it to life again. My father lived thirty-two years after that memorable day. Without the prudence of my mother, he would either have been dissected or buried alive. About twenty years after that occurrence, I visited the cemetery of Père La Chaise (Paris), accompanied by some friends. While inspecting the monuments of some musical celebrities we heard a noise from another part of the cemetery, whereto we proceeded without delay. When we had arrived there we found a strong body of policemen surrounding an open grave. But in answer to our inquiring ‘what had happened,’ we were simply requested to leave the cemetery at once, which, of course, we had to do. Neither the _portier_ nor any other person connected with the burial-ground would give any satisfactory answer to our questions. We left puzzled. But a week after, a young lady, who had been of our party the week before, went again to the Père La Chaise, determined to penetrate the mystery, in which endeavour she succeeded, partly through persuasion and partly through the gift of a twenty-franc piece to a grave-digger, who then told her the following story:--A poor young man of twenty-one years had been buried on the day of our visit. When the mourners had left the cemetery the grave-digger, who was occupied in filling up the grave, heard some noise coming from below. He hastened to the superintendent of the cemetery, imploring him to have the coffin opened, which, however, the superintendent could not do without the permission and the presence of the Commissaire de Police of that district. When the Commissaire appeared at last with his men, all was silent in the grave. But he had the coffin opened, nevertheless, ‘to appease the mind of that poor grave-digger,’ as he mockingly said. But great was the horror of the Commissaire de Police and his followers when the coffin was opened. The unfortunate young man (who was now quite dead) had been buried alive, recovered consciousness in his grave, scratched his face, bitten off the tips of his fingers, and turned around in his coffin, until suffocation put an end to his sufferings, which, if not long, must have been terrible.