cadences in it and chanting inflections, not
unlike the negro preachers or the keeners at Irish wakes.

Then he gave out the hymn, which all joined in singing, rising to their
feet with much trouble. After they had settled down again he took out a
large carefully ironed handkerchief and laid it on the coffin as who
should say, "If you have tears, prepare to shed them now."

The absurdity of all this did not appear to his listeners, though they
well knew he cared very little about the dead man, who was a very
retiring person.

The Elder on his part understood that his audience was before him for
the pleasure of weeping, for the delight of seeing agonized faces and
hearing wild grief-laden wailing. They were there to feel the delicious
creeping thrill of horror and fear, roused by the presence of the corpse
and the near shadow of the hovering angel of death.

The Elder led off by some purely perfunctory remarks about the deceased,
about his kindness, and his honesty. This caused the nieces to wipe away
a sparse tear or two, and he was encouraged as if by slight applause. He
developed as usual the idea that in the midst of life we are in death,
that no man can tell when his time will come. He told two or three
grewsome stories of sudden death. His voice now rose in a wild chant now
sank to a hoarse whisper.

The blowing of noses, low sobbings, and fervent amens from the old men
thickened encouragingly, and he entered upon more impassioned flights.
His voice, naturally sonorous, deepened in powerful song till the men
seated comfortably on their haunches out by the haystack could plainly
hear his words. "Oh, my brethren, what will you do in that last day?"

Sarah's boys, without in the least understanding what it all meant,
began to weep also and to use their handkerchiefs, so smooth and shining
they were useless as so much legal-cap writing paper.

Their misery would have been enhanced had they known that out in the
wagon-shed under cover of the Elder's voice the other boys were having a
game of mummelly peg in the warm, dry ground. Their fresh young souls
laughed at death as the early robins out in the hedge near by defied the
winds of March.

Having harrowed the poor sensation-loving souls as thoroughly as could
be desired, the Elder began the process of "letting them down easy." He
remembered that the Lord was merciful; that the deceased could approach
him with confidence; that there was a life beyond the tomb,