“Every now and then the wind would dash in through the window, scattering the falling rain over my face, causing the lamp to flare up and spatter; then for an instant the feeble light would flicker and struggle as if in the last agonies of dissolution. After an unusual gust had dashed in, bringing with it a copious shower of rain, I was compelled to close the window to prevent the lamp from being totally extinguished. As soon as I had excluded the air, the same feeling of suffocation that had annoyed me so often came upon me with redoubled severity. I could not get enough air into my lungs notwithstanding I was struggling to do so. I felt as I suppose one feels when dying; in fact, I do not believe that the actual pains of dissolution could have increased my sufferings. “Harry made a sign signifying a wish to know the time. I managed to hold the face of the watch so he could see it. “‘9.20,’ he whispered, as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The lamp now began to sing and sputter, spitting the oil up through the chimney, making a dozen different sounds. It would dart a bright blaze nearly to the top of the chimney, then sink down so low that no light could be seen. It would whine like a young child, then sing; at times it would sputter--then pop, pop, pop, like the cracking of a small whip; anon it would whistle--and blaze up, casting a dazzling light all over the seats--then drop back to its usual dim dimensions. After it had performed a dozen such strange freaks, it gave one long shriek and suddenly expired. We were left in total darkness; a darkness as black as blindness itself. A ton’s weight seemed to be pressing on my breast; I felt that my last moment had come. I sank down on the seat without the strength to hold up my head; I was in a swoon. The first sensation I experienced, after my reason returned, was that of the most delicious pleasure. The strangest, but most exquisite, feeling of happiness seemed to steal over me; the most mysterious influence appeared to surround me. The smothering sensation was gone, and a delightful absence of pain was in its stead, and at once the coach seemed to be filled with the most delicious perfume, such as I had so often enjoyed while with Lottie in her flower garden. ‘What does it mean?’ I asked myself. ‘How could the coach be filled with such delightful odor when all the windows were closed?’ “‘Harry, what in Heaven’s good name does this mean?’ I at last managed to ask. “‘Hush, Ed,’ he whispered, ‘some one is in this coach--it is a lady; I felt her skirts brush past my knees!’ “‘Lottie!’ I exclaimed, as I sprang to my feet. “‘What do you mean?’ whispered Harry, as he caught me by the arm, while he was trembling like one in an ague fit. “‘Lottie, darling, is it you?’ I gasped, while Harry still held me by the arm. “‘Are you mad?’ he exclaimed, as he closed his fingers about my arm. ‘Why do you call Lottie? Don’t you know she is dying in Memphis?’