it totter--" and he tottered himself as he said this.

The boy had watched him out of wide eyes, as ponderous and
unwieldy he shuffled back and forth in the dim candlelight; now
shaking his head and muttering, the judge dropped into his chair.

"Well, I'm an old man-the spectacle won't long offend me. I'll
die presently. The Bench and Bar will review my services to the
country, the militia will fire a few volleys at my graveside,
here and there a flag will be at half-mast, and that will be the
end--" He was so profoundly moved by the thought that he could
not go on. His voice broke, and he buried his face in his arms.
A sympathetic moisture had gathered in the child's eyes. He
understood only a small part of what his host was saying, but
realized that it had to do with death, and he had his own
terrible acquaintance with death. He slipped from his chair and
stole to the judge's side, and that gentleman felt a cool hand
rest lightly on his arm.

"What?" he said, glancing up.

"I'm mighty sorry you're going to die," said the boy softly.

"Bless you, Hannibal!" cried the judge, looking wonderfully
cheerful, despite his recent bitterness of spirit. "I'm not
experiencing any of the pangs of mortality now. My dissolution
ain't a matter of to-night or to-morrow--there's some life in
Slocum Price yet, for all the rough usage, eh? I've had my
fun--I could tell you a thing or two about that, if you had hair
on your chin!" and the selfish lines of his face twisted