You would go about your daily avocation
unconcerned and unwarned, and then at the moment appointed by an
inscrutable Providence for your dissolution--phew!--and your clothes
would remain standing for a surprised second, and then fall down in
a heap without a particle of you inside them. If we have to die, why
doesn't Providence employ this simple and sensible method? It would
save such a lot of trouble. It would be so clean, so painless, so
picturesque. It would add to the interest of our walks abroad. Fancy
a stout, important policeman vanishing from his uniform--the helmet
falling over the collar, the tunic doubling in at the belt, the knees
giving way, and the unheard, merry laughter of the disenuniformed spirit
winging its way truncheonless into the Empyrean.
But if you think you are going to get any fun out of dying in the
present inconvenient manner, you are mistaken. Believe one who is
trying.
I will remain on my feet, however, as long as my will holds out. In this
way I may continue to be of service to my fellow creatures, and procure
for myself a happy lot or portion.
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