that his hold on life was loosening and I answered, "Your wishes shall
be carried out."

He did not feel like going up to the club that night, and so we played
cards with him. Wilson Irvine, a landscape painter, who was visiting us
chose Constance as a partner against Mary Isabel and her grandsire. Luck
was all in Constance's favor, she and Irvine won, much to the veteran's
chagrin. "You little witch," he said, "what do you mean by beating your
granddad?" He was very proud of her skill, for she was only six years
old.

To end the evening to his liking, we all united in singing some old war
songs and he went away to his bed in better spirits than he had shown
for a week or more.

He was at the breakfast table with me next morning, but seemed not quite
awake. He replied when I spoke to him, but not alertly, not as he
should, and a few minutes later rose with effort. This disturbed me a
little, but a few minutes later he left the house as if to do some work
at the barn, and I went to my writing with a feeling that he was quite
all right.

It was a glorious October morning and from my desk as I looked into the
yard I could see him standing in the gate, waiting for the man and team.
He appeared perfectly well and exhibited his customary impatience with
dilatory workmen. He was standing alertly erect with the sunshine
falling over him and the poise of his head expressed his characteristic
energy. He made a handsome figure. My eyes fell again to my manuscript
and I was deep in my imaginary world when I heard the voice of my uncle
Frank calling to me up the stairs:

"Hamlin! Come quick. Something has happened. Come, quick, quick!"

There was a note in his voice which sent a chill through my blood, and
my first glance into his eyes told me that he had looked upon the
elemental. "Your father is lying out on the floor of the barn. I'm
afraid he's gone!"

He was right. There on the rough planking of the carriage way lay the
old pioneer, motionless, just as he had fallen not five minutes before.
The hat upon his head and his right hand in his pocket told that he had
fallen while standing in the door waiting for the drayman. His eyes were
closed as if in sleep, and no sign of injury could be seen.

Kneeling by his side I laid my hand on his breast. It was still! His
heart invincible through so many years had ceased to beat. His breath
was gone and his empty left hand, gracefully lax, lay at his side. The
veteran pioneer ha