canal boats, horse-hair sofas, top-boots and rag-carpets,--and he
probably saw Abraham Lincoln,--but, for all that, I'd rather be
where I am today than where he is,--and I'm not saying he isn't in
heaven, either."

The older man's eyes twinkled. "I don't think he's any nearer heaven
than he was forty years ago,--and he's been dead just about that
long. He wasn't what you'd call a far-seeing man,--and you've got
to look a long ways ahead if you want to see heaven. Your grandma's
in heaven all right,--and I'll bet she was the most surprised mortal
that ever got inside the pearly gates if she found him there ahead
of her. Like as not she would have backed out, thinking she'd got
into the wrong place by mistake. And if he IS up there, I bet he's
making the place an everlastin' hell for her. Yep, your grandpa was
about as mean as they make 'em. As you say, he didn't know anything
about cigarettes, but he made up for it by runnin' after women and
fast horses,--or maybe it was hosses and, fast women,--and cheatin'
the eye teeth out of everybody he had any dealings with."

"I don't understand how he happened to die young, If all these things
were true about him," said the other, lighting a fresh cigarette
and drawing in a deep, full breath of the pungent smoke. The old
man waited a few seconds for the smoke to be expelled, and then,
as it came out in a far-reaching volume, carrying far on the still
air, his face betrayed not only relief but wonder.

"You don't actually swaller it, do you?" he inquired.

"Certainly not. I inhale, that's all. Any one can do it."