ot reported, as not being a part of the social
lesson. And yet, when the weak and foolish deed was done, and a life,
with its possibilities and responsibilities, had passed out of the
misshapen thing that dangled between earth and sky, the birds sang, the
flowers bloomed, the sun shone, as cheerily as before; and possibly the
Red Dog Clarion was right.

Tennessee's Partner was not in the group that surrounded the ominous
tree. But as they turned to disperse, attention was drawn to the
singular appearance of a motionless donkey-cart halted at the side of
the road. As they approached, they at once recognized the venerable
Jenny and the two-wheeled cart as the property of Tennessee's
Partner,--used by him in carrying dirt from his claim; and a few paces
distant, the owner of the equipage himself, sitting under a buckeye tree,
wiping the perspiration from his glowing face. In answer to an inquiry,
he said he had come for the body of the "diseased," "if it was all the
same to the committee." He didn't wish to "hurry anything"; he could
wait. He was not working that day; and when the gentlemen were done with
the "diseased" he would take him. "Ef thar is any present," he added, in
his simple, serious way, "as would care to jine in the fun'l, they kin
come." Perhaps it was from a sense of humor, which I have already
intimated was a feature of Sandy Bar,--perhaps it was from something
even better than that; but two-thirds of the loungers accepted the
invitation at once.

It was noon when the body of Tennessee was delivered into the hands of
his partner. As the cart drew up to the fatal tree, we noticed that it
contained a rough oblong box,--apparently made from a section of
sluicing,--and half filled with bark and the tassels of pine. The cart
was further decorated with slips of willow, and made fragrant with
buckeye-blossoms. When the body was deposited in the box, Tennessee's
Partner drew over it a piece of tarred canvas, and gravely mounting the
narrow seat in front, with his feet upon the shafts, urged the little
donkey forward. The equipage moved slowly on, at that decorous pace
which was habitual with Jenny even under less solemn circumstances. The
men--half curiously, have jestingly, but all good-humoredly--strolled
along beside the cart; some in advance, some a little in the rear, of
the homely catafalque. But, whether from the narrowing of the road or
some present sense of decorum, as the cart passed on, the company fe