melling tobacco, was feeling
in his vest pocket for a match. "I should think nice white paper would
be sweeter to light a pipe with than a greasy old match scratched on
your pants," and the boy lighted a taper and handed it to the old man.

"No, don't try any new tricks on me," said Uncle Ike, as he brought out
a match, from his vest pocket, picked off the shoddy that had collected
on it in the bottom of his pocket, and hitched his leg around so he
could scratch it on his trousers leg. "I have tried lighting my pipe
with paper, and the odor of the paper kills the flavor of this 10-cent
tobacco. Now, the brimstone on a match, added to the friction of the
trousers leg, helps the flavor of the tobacco," and he drew the match
across his trousers, and lighted his pipe, and as the smoke began to
fill the room his good old face lighted up as though he had partaken
of a rich wine. "I like to get a little accustomed to brimstone here
on this earth, so, if I get on the wrong road when I die, and go where
brimstone is the only fuel, I won't appear to the neighbors down there
as though I was a tenderfoot. Wherever I go, I always want to appear as
though it wasn't my first trip away from home. Ah, children," said the
old man, as he blew smoke enough out of his mouth to call out a fire
department, and laughed till the windows rattled, "there is lots of
fun in this old world, if your pipe don't go out. Don't miss any fun,
because when you die you don't know whether there is any fun going on or
not."

"I believe, Uncle Ike, that you would have fun anywhere," said the boy,
as he thought of the funny stories the old man had told him for many
years, and listened to the laugh that acted as punctuation marks to all
of Uncle Ike's remarks. "I would hate to trust you at a funeral. Did you
ever laugh at a funeral, Uncle?"

"I came mighty near it once," said the old man, as he put his little
finger in the pipe and pressed down the ashes, and let the smoke out
again like the chimney of a factory.

"O, my! why don't they make you use a smoke consumer on that pipe, or
cause you to use smokeless tobacco?" said the boy, as he coughed till
the tears came to his eyes. "It looks in this room like burning a tar
barrel when Dewey sunk the Spanish fleet. But tell us about your funny
funeral."

"O, it wasn't so funny," said the old man, as he stroked the stubble
on his chin, and a twinkle came all around his eyes. "It was only my
thoughts that come n