“Suddenly I felt a strange sensation, as if someone were pouring cold water into my lungs, and in a few minutes—perhaps seconds—my lungs were full of water. I was drowning just as much as if I had fallen into the water. I held my breath for a moment, and when I attempted to breathe it was impossible to do so. I had a moment of dizziness, and after that I saw everything about me quite clearly, and I opened my eyes twice more. Then I felt that if I could only get the water out of my lungs I would be all right. With one last effort I turned over in bed and tried to let the water run out, but it was useless, and I said to myself that the only thing was to get out of my body, for I felt stifling and knew that if I did not breathe I should succumb. The struggle for breath continued and I suddenly let go and fell free from my body, and it was quite ten minutes before I realized that the relief I experienced was because I was dead. At least, so far as the life I had left was concerned. “When I did realize it I think my principal sentiment was anger at myself for my foolishness in trying to get loose from my own body. Death means to my mind simply that the time allotted to you and your little needs in this universe has expired, and you must go to the next, which is this existence where we have not yet been purified of our earthly dross. I may add a few more words, though they are only thoughts of my own, based on what I have seen and been told. I believe that all women who die in motherhood, sailors who are drowned at sea, all who have lived pure and honest lives, all the oppressed of all peoples, all little children and many grown persons who never saw or even heard of a church, are in some way and for reasons beyond our understanding, given their passports at once. Perhaps the Master who knows the heart's innermost thoughts knows that—well—I can only say that I wish that all people know what our bishop has just said: ‘It is not so much what a man believes as what he does that wins heaven for him.’” At this moment a tall ghost arose at the end of the principal table, looked around with a pompous air and in the attitude of a Sunday-school superintendent, addressing the unfortunate children, said in a clear, strong voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here tonight in accordance with our privilege and in the performance of our duty, and we have banqueted on the choicest viands.” Here one ghost was heard to mutter that he didn’t give shucks for all their choicest viands, and he would prefer any day in the year a good dish of baked beans or bean soup to all their boned turkey and pâté de foie gras, and as for the highfalutin sweets he had rather have a mince or pumpkin pie.” There were some gentle murmurs of approval at this declaration of faith, but the speaker turned severe eyes upon the grumblers, whereat they subsided. The tall ghost continued his speech: