ep.

"By-the-way!" said she, suddenly, sitting upright on the lounge, "I
won't have the horses from Brown's livery--

"The what, auntie?"

"The horses for the cortege. You know Brown puts that magnificent span
of his in the hearse on account of their handsome action. I'm sure Mrs.
Gaylard would have been frightened to death if she could only have seen
the way they pranced at her funeral last fall. I was determined then
that they should never draw me;" and Aunt Pen shivered for herself
beforehand. "And I can't have them from Timlin's, for the same reason,"
said she. "All his animals are skittish; and you remember when a pair of
them took fright and dashed away from the procession and ran straight to
the river, and there'd have been four other funerals if the schooner at
the wharf hadn't stopped the runaways. And Timlins has a way, too, of
letting white horses follow the hearse with the first mourning-coach,
and it's very bad luck, very--an ill omen; a prophecy of Death and the
Pale Horse again, you know. And I won't have them from Shust's, either,"
said Aunt Pen, "for he is simply the greatest extortioner since old
Isaac the Jew."

"Well, auntie," said Mel, forgetful of her late repentance, "I don't see
but you'll have to go with Shank's mare."

Even Aunt Pen laughed then. "Don't you really think you are going to
lose me, girls?" asked she.

"No, auntie," replied Maria. "We all think you are a hypo."

"A hypo?"

"Not a hypocrite," said Mel, "but a hypochondriac."

"I wish I were," sighed Aunt Pen; "I wish I were. I should have some
hope of myself then," said the poor inconsistent innocent. "Oh no, no; I
feel it only too well; I am going fast. You will all regret your
disbelief when I am gone;" and she lay back among her pillows. "That
reminds me," she murmured, presently. "About my monument."

"Oh, Aunt Pen, do be still," said Mel.

"No," said Aunt Pen, firmly; "it may be a disagreeable duty, but that is
all the better reason for me to bring my mind to it. And if I don't
attend to it now, it never will be attended to. I know what relatives
are. They put down a slab of slate with a skull and cross-bones
scratched on it, and think they've done their duty. Not that I mean any
reflections on you; you're all well-meaning, but you're giddy. I shall
haunt you if you do any thing of the kind! No; you may send Mr. Mason up
here this afternoon, and I will go over his designs with him. I am
going to have carved Carrar