r man, let's do it while he's alive.

"Kind words to the livin' are more than monuments to the dead.

"Come to think about it, but ain't we foolish an' hypocritical the
way we go on over the dead that we have forgot an' neglected whilst
they lived?

"If we'd reverse the thing how many a po' creature that had given up
the fight, an' shuffled off this mortal coil fur lack of a helpin'
han' would be alive to-day!

"How many another that had laid down an' quit in the back stretch of
life would be up an' fightin'! Why, the money spent for flowers an'
fun'rals an' monuments for the pulseless dead of the world would
mighty nigh feed the living dead that are always with us.

"What fools we mortals be! Why, we're not a bit better than the
heathen Chinee that we love to send missionaries to and call all
kinds of hard names. The Chinee put sweet cakes an' wine an' sech on
the graves of their departed, an' once one of our missionaries asked
his servant, Ching Lu, who had just lost his brother an' had put all
them things on his grave, when he thought the corpse 'ud rise up an'
eat them; an' Ching Lu told him he thought the Chinee corpse 'ud rise
up an' eat his sweetmeats about the same time that the Melican man's
corpse 'ud rise up an' smell all the bouquets of sweet flowers spread
over him.

"An' there we are, right on the same footin' as the heathen an' don't
know it.

"David Dickey, the subject of this here fun'ral discourse, was born
on the fourth day of July, 1810, of pious, godly parents. Dave as a
child was always a good boy, who loved his parents, worked diligently
and never needed a lickin' in his life"--

"Hold on, Bishop," said Uncle Davy, rising and protesting
earnestly--"this is my fun'ral an' I ain't a-goin' to have nothin'
told but the exact facts: Jes' alter that by sayin' I was a
_tollerbul_ good boy, _tollerbul_ diligent, with a big sprinklin' o'
meanness an' laziness in me, an' that my old daddy,--God bless his
memory for it--in them days cleared up mighty nigh a ten acre lot of
guv'ment land cuttin' off the underbrush for my triflin' hide."

Uncle Dave sat down. The Bishop was confused a moment, but quickly
said: "Now bretherin, there's another good p'int about preachin' a
man's fun'ral whilst he's alive. It gives the corpse a chance to
correct any errors. Why, who'd ever have thought that good old Uncle
Dave Dickey was that triflin' when he was young? Much obliged, Dave,
much obliged, I'll try to tel