Originally published in Terrific Register (Sherwood, Jones, and Co.; 1825) vol.2.
Dr. Dobbs, who was a physician of eminence at Younghall, a seaport town in the county of Cork, used frequently to take a walk on the strand by the seaside to collect shells, coral, &c. He happened one morning, on passing by the door of a hut, to observe a large concourse of people assembled for the purpose of attending to the grave the remains of a poor woman, who had (apparently) died the day before. This doctor pursuing his walk, soon got at a considerable distance from the house, but was stopped by a great uneasiness of mind, attended with a strong conviction that the person about to be interred was not dead.
For a while he resisted the impulse as a matter of caprice, vague supposition, or whim, but his increasing uneasiness at last determined him to try if his feelings were right on not, and for that purpose he hastened back to the cottage. The coffin was nailed and placed under a large table, around which several of the relations and friends of the deceased were seated, circulating the parting glass amidst noise and uproar. The doctor having begged their attention to what he had to say, informed them of the extraordinary uneasiness with which he had been affected, as also of the consequent opinion that the person, to attend whose funeral they had assembled, was not dead, and therefore desired that he might see the body.
At this unexpected address some laughed heartily, whilst others were displeased, and insisted that as the time fixed for moving the corpse was arrived, it should be immediately taken out; upon which the doctor finding but little was done by gentle means, had immediate recourse to another expedient. He told them that several there knew him to be a medical man, that men of his profession had an undoubted right to see for themselves in such cases, and, in short that if they moved the corpse he would call them to a severe account at some future time. This remonstance having had the proper effect, the coffin was opened, and the doctor, putting his hand under the small of her back, declared that the woman was not dead; he then ordered her to be taken out of the coffin and put into a warm bed, which was immediately done, and in a short time there appeared evident signs of returning life.
The doctor attended her closely for several hours, and had the pleasure, before he left the house, to see his patient in a fair way of recovery. In a few days she was able to wait upon the doctor at his own house in Younghall, and, after the first infusions of gratitude were over, made him the tender of a fee; but he told her that as what he had done was from a sudden impression and sense of duty, he would not take it. The poor woman was quite distressed by his refusal, and signified she could not be happy without he permitted her to make some return for the trouble he had experienced on her account; upon which the doctor consented that (as he knew she was a good knitter) she should every year bring him a pair of knit woollen gloves on the anniversity of her deliverance; this proposal the poor woman gladly acceded, and (I have the pleasure to add) made the annual offering of gratitude many times.