The centre of the
floor had fallen in, and there was a great, descending slope of
earth, soft-looking, mixed with bits of broken and decayed wood,
from the pews above and the coffins below. I stood gazing down in
horror unutterable. How far the gulf went I could not see. I was
fascinated by its slow depth, and the thought of its possible
contents--when suddenly I knew rather than perceived that something
was moving in its darkness: it was something dead--something
yellow-white. It came nearer; it was slowly climbing; like one dead
and stiff it was labouring up the slope. I could neither cry out nor
move. It was about three yards below me, when it raised its head: it
was my uncle, dead, and dressed for the grave. He beckoned me--and I
knew I must go; I had to go, nor once thought of resisting. My heart
became like lead, but immediately I began the descent. My feet sank
in the mould of the ancient dead, soft as if thousands of graveyard
moles were for ever burrowing in it, as down and down I went,
settling and sliding with the black plane. Then I began to see the
sides and ends of coffins in the walls of the gulf; and the walls
came closer and closer as I descended, until they scarcely left me
room to get through. I comforted myself with the thought that those
in these coffins had long been dead, and must by this time be at
rest, nor was there any danger of seeing mouldy hands come out to
seize me.
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