blackness, just the one to be chosen for such a dark mission. We were now nearing the Jersey shore and could hear the lap of the waves on the piling in the slip. A blaze of light astern showed that one of the boats was on its return trip. The hands of the clock on the ferry building pointed to midnight.

Out of the inky blackness suddenly loomed a great battleship which struck as much terror to our hearts as if it had been the Flying Dutchman. Had it been a merchantman we should have thought it was indeed the famous phantom ship, for it displayed no lights and the decks were deserted. Our captain signalled to reverse engines, but the order came too late. The two vessels collided with a mighty crash. There was a rending of timbers, an inrushing of water, a cry of despair from the passengers, then a stampede for the life preservers.

I had no sooner got a cork belt properly adjusted, as I thought, than the ferryboat sank. The suction drew me down and down and down; then I shot up to the surface again, feet foremost. I expected that the life belt would right me as soon as I came to the surface, but as I continued to hang head downward, the awful truth flashed over me—the belt had not been sufficiently tightened under my arms and had slipped down. Convulsively I struggled, but in the effort only succeeded in swallowing more water. The blur[Pg 9] of a thousand lights danced before my eyes in the floating bubbles of the phosphorescent water, a roar as of a mighty artillery thundered in my ears—then all became a blank; in newspaper parlance, I had ceased to be “live matter.”

[Pg 9]

That sinking fund with which I had provided myself before leaving the mundane earth must have carried me a long distance downward, for when I opened my eyes I was upon the banks of the River Styx. Presently Charon’s yacht came in sight. There was no one on board but Captain Charon himself, for with the exception of Lazarus, John Kendrick Bangs, and myself, no round trip tickets have ever been issued to Hades.

“Step lively, please,” yelled Charon, who had evidently been a Broadway trolley conductor earlier in his career. His success in knocking down fares had prompted Satan to employ him to transfer “fares” over the River Styx. The American invasion has extended downward as well as outward. To hear the motto of New York on the banks of the Styx made me feel quite at home, especially when Charon added: “Plenty of room up front.”

A number of shades had stepped aboard the yacht. I was following them 

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