judgment.

He became as gentle as a woman. Indeed, Mrs. Sherwood, who had hung up
some of his family portraits about his bed, remarked that in his
sickness he very much resembled the astronomer's mother, his sister. He
comforted his friends, and told them his wishes in case he was "caught
in a worse snap," as he put it.

About this time he was stricken with blindness. Mrs. Sherwood was much
affected. She took down her Bible and read to him. And she read the
beautiful litanies of the Episcopal prayer-book. With her boys she knelt
in prayer by his bedside. The blind eyes moistened; for the strong man's
heart and brain still served him well.

Only a few days before the end, when the whole body was apparently
paralyzed, Dr. Mason inquired if there was any business which he wished
attended to, and Robert Palmer replied:

"My affairs are settled; and, Doctor, you will be paid for your
services."

The last day of April had arrived; but the snow banks were still deep in
the canon. Nothing further had been heard from Henry Francis, but the
old man at last seemed reconciled. Perhaps Francis was not well enough
to come through the snow. It was Sunday, and at midnight came the fatal
stroke. He did not regain consciousness, and died peacefully on Tuesday
afternoon, May 2, 1882.

Then strange things happened. Hintzen, a large, heavy man, unused to
exercise, appeared on snow-shoes at Sherwood's house and asked if Mr.
Palmer had said anything about his property. No! And though the dead man
lay within, he turned away and immediately put back to Forest City.
Henry Francis was notified. But Henry Francis did not make his
appearance. And the snow drifts being deep, Robert Palmer was buried by
the side of Scotty, like a pauper.

No, not like a pauper; for there was still twenty-nine dollars standing
to his credit at Hintzen's. And this sum defrayed his funeral expenses.
Out of rough planks, lying about to mend sluices, the Woolsey boys
framed a coffin, for which they procured handles at a neighboring
village. And Mrs. Sherwood, faithful nurse and spiritual adviser, laid
the old man out in his best clothes. The rugged face showed no look of
annoyance. After thirty-three years of honest striving the old
Forty-niner slept the sleep of the just.

The doctor's bill remained unpaid, a circumstance which would have
annoyed Robert Palmer exceedingly, were he further concerned with the
affairs of this world. It would appear that Henry Fran