S TABLET WAS ERECTED BY SUBSCRIPTION
AMONG HIS SORROWING FRIENDS AND FELLOW CITIZENS
OF THE BOROUGH HE, LIVING, ADORNED WITH HIS WISDOM
AND DYING, ENDOWED WITH HIS WEALTH
AS WITH HIS EXAMPLE.
FORTIBUS ET COELUM PATRIA

He spelled out the inscription slowly, and, turning at the sound of a
footstep in the porch, was aware of a tall figure in the doorway--his
own faithful Scipio.

Least of all was Scipio changed. Ten years apparently had not even
tarnished his livery. It shone in its accustomed scarlet and green
and gold in the rays which, falling through the windows of the south
aisle, lit up his white teeth and his habitual gentle grin.

"Mistah will be studyin' de board--berry fine board. Not so fine
board in Cornwall, dey tell me."

The Major turned his face, avoiding recognition.

"No, not dat; dat's modern trash," went on Scipio, affably, following
his gaze. "Good man, all same, Massa Hymen; lef plenty money.
One hundred fifty pound. Lef Cai Tamblyn fifty. Every person say
remarkable difference. But doan' you look at _him_; he's modern
trash. Massa Hymen lef' me _one_ hundred fifty pound. Dat all go to
board up yonder, you see; 'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish'
in red letters an' gilt twirls. I doan' mind tellin' you. De hull
parish an' Lawyer Chinn has it drafted--Vicar he promises me it shall
go in--'Scipio Johnson, Esquire, _of_ this Parish,' an' twiddles
round de capital letters. Man, I served Mas' Hymen han' an' foot,
wet an' dry, an' look like he las' anudder twenty year."

"You mean to say that I--that you, I mean--"

"Dat's so," put in Scipio, nodding cheerfully, while the
stained-glass windows flung flecks of red and blue on his honest
ebony features. "An' Cai Tamblyn all de while no better'n a fool.
'_Him_,' he'd sneer, not playin' up, but pullin' his cross face.
Dat's a lesson if ebber dere was one. Cai Tamblyn left with fifty,
an' me with three time fifty. 'To my faithful servant, Scipio
Johnson. . . .' And so Miss Marty, when it came to choose, took me
on--Scipio Johnson, Esquire, of this Parish--and Cai Tamblyn no more
than 'Mister,' nor ebber a hope of it."

The Major found himself in the churchyard, staring at a headstone.
He did not remember the stone, yet it seemed by no means a new one.
Weather-stains ran down the lettering and lichen spotted it.

He read the name. It was the name