then sat down again while I struggled up and thrust my nose out at the
same place, and this we kept on doing every now and then--"and next day
he's cut down like the grass, and the places which knowed him then knows
him no more forever, as Scriptur' says. Yes'ndeedy, it's awful solemn
and cur'us; but we've all got to go, one time or another; they ain't no
getting around it."

There was another long pause; then,--

"What did he die of?"

I said I didn't know.

"How long has he ben dead?"

It seemed judicious to enlarge the facts to fit the probabilities; so I
said,

"Two or three days."

But it did no good; for Thompson received it with an injured look which
plainly said, "Two or three years, you mean." Then he went right along,
placidly ignoring my statement, and gave his views at considerable
length upon the unwisdom of putting off burials too long. Then he
lounged off toward the box, stood a moment, then came back on a sharp
trot and visited the broken pane, observing,

"'Twould 'a' ben a dum sight better, all around, if they'd started him
along last summer."

Thompson sat down and buried his face in his red silk handkerchief, and
began to slowly sway and rock his body like one who is doing his best
to endure the almost unendurable. By this time the fragrance--if you may
call it fragrance--was just about suffocating, as near as you can come
at it. Thompson's face was turning gray; I knew mine hadn't any color
left in it. By and by Thompson rested his forehead in his left hand,
with his elbow on his knee, and sort of waved his red handkerchief
towards the box with his other hand, and said,--

"I've carried a many a one of 'em,--some of 'em considerable overdue,
too,--but, lordy, he just lays over 'em all!--and does it easy Cap.,
they was heliotrope to HIM!"

This recognition of my poor friend gratified me, in spite of the sad
circumstances, because it had so much the sound of a compliment.

Pretty soon it was plain that something had got to be done. I suggested
cigars. Thompson thought it was a good idea. He said,

"Likely it'll modify him some."

We puffed gingerly along for a while, and tried hard to imagine that
things were improved. But it wasn't any use. Before very long, and
without any consultation, both cigars were quietly dropped from our
nerveless fingers at the same moment. Thompson said, with a sigh,

"No, Cap., it don't modify him worth a cent. Fact is, it makes him
worse, becuz it appe