“The man is said, by long practice, to have acquired the art of holding his breath by shutting the mouth, and stopping the interior opening of the nostrils with his tongue; he also abstains from solid food for some days previous to his interment, so that he may not be inconvenienced by the contents of his stomach, while put up in his narrow grave; and, moreover, he is sewn up in a bag of cloth, and the cell is lined with masonry, and floored with cloth, that the white ants and other insects may not easily be able to molest him. The place in which he was buried at Jaisulmer is a small building about twelve feet by eight, built of stone; and in the floor was a hole, about three feet long, two and a half feet wide, and the same depth, or perhaps a yard deep, in which he was placed in a sitting posture, sewed up in his shroud, with his feet turned inward toward the stomach, and his hands also pointed inward toward the chest. Two heavy slabs of stone, five or six feet long, several inches thick, and broad enough to cover the mouth of the grave, so that he could not escape, were then placed over him, and I believe a little earth was plastered over the whole, so as to make the surface of the grave smooth and compact. The door of the house was also built up, and people placed outside, that no tricks might be played, nor deception practised. “At the expiration of a full month, the walling of the door was broken, and the buried man dug out of the grave; Trevelyan’s moonshee only running there in time to see the ripping open of the bag in which the man had been inclosed. He was taken out in a perfectly senseless state, his eyes closed, his hands cramped and powerless, his stomach shrunk very much, and his teeth jammed so fast together that they were forced to open his mouth with an iron instrument to pour a little water down his throat. He gradually recovered his senses and the use of his limbs; and when we went to see him he was sitting up, supported by two men, and conversed with us in a low, gentle tone of voice, saying that ‘we might bury him again for a twelvemonth, if we pleased.’” A conjuror was exhibiting a mimic swan, which floated on real water, and followed his motions, when the bird suddenly became stationary. He approached it more closely, but the swan did not move. “There is a person in the company,” said he, “who understands the principle upon which this trick is performed, and who is counteracting me. I appeal to the company whether this is fair, and I beg the gentleman will desist.” The trick was performed by magnetism, and the counteracting agency was a magnet in the pocket of Sir Francis Blake Delaval.