He was alive, but very weak.
"As I was speaking to those who stood about his bed, we heard a noise as if the house was falling.

In rushed my bedfellow, the brother of the sick lad, half dead with terror.
"'When you got up,' he said, 'I felt a cold hand on my back.

I thought it was you who wanted to waken me and take me to see my brother, so I pretended to be asleep and lay quiet, supposing that you would go alone when you found me so sound asleep.

But when I did not feel you get up, and the cold hand grew to be more than I could bear, I hit out to push your hand away, and felt your place empty--but warm.
Then I remembered the follet, and ran upstairs as hard as I could put my feet to the ground: never was I in such a fright!' "The sick lad died on the following night." Here Carden the elder stopped, and Jerome, his son, philosophised on the subject.
Miss Dendy, on the authority of Mr.Elijah Cope, an itinerant preacher, gives this anecdote of similar familiarity with a follet in Staffordshire.
* * * * * "Fairies! I went into a farmhouse to stay a night, and in the evening there came a knocking in the room as if some one had struck the table.
I jumped up.

My hostess got up and 'Good-night,' says she, 'I'm off'.
'But what was it ?' says I.