all parts, the teeth and hair; and at length these also are dissolved, and nothing distinguishes the dust of men from the surrounding soil, in which the worm has its habitation.

All this, in some soils, is accomplished with an amazing rapidity. In Yucatan, it is the custom to collect, after some months, the bones of the dead, and place them with those of their neighbours who have gone before, all in one heap, exposed to public view; and as they are buried without coffins, the decay is so speedy that only a few months need intervene. At the great burial-place in Naples, where the vaults are three hundred and sixty-five, and one is opened every day of the year, quick-lime is thrown in; and at the expiration of the year, scarcely the least relic of the human frame is apparent. But, in other circumstances, not only has the skull of Whitefield, seventy years from his death, been handled by a careless traveller; not only has that of Milton, at the end of a century, been dragged to the light of day; but the lineaments of kings who had been buried for centuries have been seen once more. The almost gigantic body of William the Conqueror, after it had been entombed four hundred and fifty years, was found almost entire. When the tombs of the French princes at St. Denys were rifled by the Revolutionary populace, the features of Henry the Fourth were perfect, while the body of his son, Louis the Thirteenth, was dry, like a mummy; for both had beer: embalmed. Of King Pepin, after a thousand years, there remained then but a handful of dust. It is It is very common to disinter human bones from spots where they have not been known to have been buried within the memory of man; but when ancient mounds have been opened, which had indisputably been raised over the

dead in distant ages, nothing has remained, or nothing but what crumbled at a touch.

The most common and natural mode of disposing of a body which must so soon be reduced to earth, has been that of depositing it in the bosom of the earth itself. To dig a cave, or to use one which had been prepared by nature, was but an enlargement of the grave; and the costliest sepulchre is but a more spacious coffin. Mausoleums and pyramids could do no more. Some savage tribes, however, have exposed the bodies. of the dead to the sun and the air, upon scaffolds or on the shore. Thus, the Parsees at Bombay even leave them to the vultures. The practice of burning the corpse prevailed, to some extent, amongst the classic nations of antiquity, and has found place in other regions, as amongst the Aztecs and the Brahmins. It is well known that the body of Shelley was burned by Lord Byron. The ashes were collected by the ancients into urns, which were deposited in sepulchres; and thus the earth enclosed them at last. Human bodies, too, have been devoured by wild beasts; and many have been swallowed up by the deep; but it is probable that very seldom can the substance have been so dissipated that the bones, at least, have not found a place in the earth, or upon its surface.

There, for the mortal eye and terrestrial history, closes the scene. Of the body, once so strong, so beautiful, so expressive, no trace is left, except it be such as superior intelligences alone can follow. But the skill of Egypt did succeed in preserving the very skin and integuments, shrivelled, blackened, but identical in feature. It is but a mere chemical resistance to the course of nature; and, since the very Pyramids are searched at the end of ages, it has only postponed the issue; that

mummies might at last be scattered in museums, or burned for fuel. "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," was the original decree; and on all the strong and the lovely forms of every generation, it has passed into its fulfilment, except on One, and two besides.

XXXIII.

Che Mind in Death.

«E'en at the parting hour, the soul will wake,
Nor like a senseless brute its unknown journey take."

PERCIVAL.

WHILE the body yields to the sentence of decay and dissolution, the mind is not falling with it, but only loosens its own hold, and prepares for another destiny. It is only when disease impedes the functions of the brain, that we observe even an appearance of mental disturbance or inability. That appearance indicates no decay of the mind itself; for the same or similar appearances may be produced by sleep, by intoxication, by inhalation of gases, and by other causes, from the operation of which the mind arises as fresh as before. Through such causes, it only forbears, for a time, the use of its organs, whether of sense or of conscious recollective thought, and retires into a state in which its connection with the outward world is interrupted. There are not wanting, in those aged persons who take no note of passing occurrences, and do not recognise their nearest friends, some signs of an inward communion with a world of older recollections. When the chord is touched, the life of the soul reveals itself; that chord is the distant past; and we perceive that the inner man only lacks the power of fastening its own operations to the chain of external events. But commonly, not even this power is lacking, as the life of the

body ebbs away. That kind of languor which is but to be compared with common drowsiness is indeed often witnessed; and often some lightness of head, or partial deliriousness. This is not decay; and very often, up to the last sigh, up to the very instant and act of departure, all perception, consciousness, recollection, and mental action is as clear, as strong, as vivid, as in the happiest moments of bodily vigour. Indeed, in many dying persons, the mind is unquestionably quickened by the partial release from many encumbrances of the flesh, and by the intensity of its own feelings. The senses themselves disclose more than their natural keenness; or else, there is an appearance as if of some new sense, or some state resembling clairvoyance, so that things otherwise imperceptible are known to be near. A dying person has perceived the arrival of a friend in the house, before it could be ascertained by any of the bystanders. Another has seemed, even when sight and hearing had failed, to be conscious of the presence or approach of an intimate associate. Delirium, and even long insanity, has yielded, as if before the light of a higher sphere. Unusual powers of utterance have appeared; a flow of thought and expression, such as characterizes other states, in which the mind is freest from the influences of the body. But, aside from any such extraordinary phenomena, it is certain that many die in the complete possession of every mental power at the very instant of the separation. The physician Haller, conversing calmly to the last, felt his own pulse: The artery, my friend," said he, "ceases to beat;" and he expired.

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So far as the consciousness of the dying can furnish proof, it is clear that they have no sensations which would forewarn them of any death of their inward