few yeahs. An' I reckon," continued the undertaker
solemnly, his glance unconsciously seeking a
row of fine caskets standing against the wall,--"I
reckon he'll soon be goin' de way er all de earth.
`Man dat is bawn er 'oman hath but a sho't time
ter lib, an' is full er mis'ry. He cometh up an' is
cut down lack as a flower.' `De days er his life
is three-sco' an' ten'--an' de ole jedge is libbed
mo' d'n dat, suh, by five yeahs, ter say de leas'."

"`Death,'" quoted Warwick, with whose mood
the undertaker's remarks were in tune, "`is the
penalty that all must pay for the crime of
living.'"

"Dat 's a fac', suh, dat 's a fac'; so dey mus'--
so dey mus'. An' den all de dead has ter be buried.
An' we does ou' sheer of it, suh, we does ou' sheer.
We conduc's de obs'quies er all de bes' w'ite folks
er de town, suh."

Warwick left the undertaker's shop and
retraced his steps until he had passed the lawyer's
office, toward which he threw an affectionate glance.
A few rods farther led him past the old black
Presbyterian church, with its square tower, embowered
in a stately grove; past the Catholic church, with
its many crosses, and a painted wooden figure of
St. James in a recess beneath the gable; and past
the old Jefferson House, once the leading hotel of