My body was sitting in the chair in exactly the same position I had been when I left it, or rather, I should say, _we_ had been when I left it. I bent over and touched it--or him?--he felt warm and natural, but not as if asleep. There was no beating of the heart, no rise or fall of the breast as in breathing, the eyes were opened and fixed but not glassy, the joints appeared to be flexible still, though, of course, I could not have moved one to see--in short, my body presented every appearance of suspended animation. I resolved not to try to get back into it just at present, and was still sitting there speculating upon my double self when the door opened and my sister--the one who brought the letter--came in; she was my favorite, and we were great friends. She glanced at me, and, supposing I was asleep, drew a chair over to the window and waited for me to awaken. The fire was burning brightly in the grate, and, as ill-luck would have it, a bright little coal sprang out and fell on my lap,--that is, the lap of my body. It seemed as if there was yet some sort of a connection between us, because while the coal burnt into the leg of my body, it was I who felt the sensation. I rushed over to myself and attempted to brush it off. Of course I could not. The pain was really unbearable, and, forgetting my state, I called to Mary, my sister; of course she did not hear me! This was a worse dilemma than before. I decided at once to resume my proper condition, when, horror of horrors! I found that I did not know how. It was true! I had been so constantly occupied in endeavoring to get out of myself, as it were, that I had completely omitted to learn the way to get in! This was worse than anything previous. I forgot all about the glowing coal which was still burning me, in the dreadful possibility which rose before me. Suppose they should bury me, would I suffer the pangs of suffocation forever, or at least until my body resolved itself into its primordial elements? I knew, of course, my spirit would never die, and if my body did turn to dust, would my spirit go with those of other departed beings, as the Bible teaches us, or would the fact that I had taken my spirit in my own hands, as it were, condemn me to wander forever in my present state? I certainly felt my spiritual hair turn gray. What would become of Geraldine? Would I ever see her again or, rather, would she ever see me? Would she at last forget me and marry some one else, and force me to stand powerless looking on? I ground my spiritual teeth in rage and clinched my spiritual hand and swore--but what was the use of swearing? I could do nothing. I was too utterly ethereal, too entirely disembodied to even haunt any one, too ephemeral for a ghost even! Oh, horror! I thought my brain would give way. I thought of everything I could to help me out.