forefathers, who wove their web of life with hardly a single thread of
rose-color or gold, and not on me, who have a tropic-love of sunshine,
and would gladly gild all the world with it, if I knew where to find so
much. That you may believe me, I will exhibit one of the only class of
scenes, so far as my investigation has taught me, in which our ancestors
were wont to steep their tough old hearts in wine and strong drink, and
indulge an outbreak of grisly jollity.

Here it comes, out of the same house whence we saw brave Captain Gardner
go forth to the wars. What! A coffin, borne on men's shoulders, and six
aged gentlemen as pall-bearers, and a long train of mourners, with
black gloves and black hat-bands, and everything black, save a white
handkerchief in each mourner's hand, to wipe away his tears withal. Now,
my kind patrons, you are angry with me. You were bidden to a bridal-
dance, and find yourselves walking in a funeral procession. Even so; but
look back through all the social customs of New England, in the first
century of her existence, and read all her traits of character; and if
you find one occasion, other than a funeral feast, where jollity was
sanctioned by universal practice, I will set fire to my puppet-show
without another word. These are the obsequies of old Governor
Bradstreet, the patriarch and survivor of the first settlers, who, having
intermarried with the Widow Gardner, is now resting from his labors, at
the great age of ninety-four. The white-bearded corpse, which was his
spirit's earthly garniture, now lies beneath yonder coffin-lid. Many a
cask of ale and cider is on tap, and many a draught of spiced wine and
aqua-vitae has been quaffed. Else why should the bearers stagger, as
they tremulously uphold the coffin?--and the aged pall-bearers, too, as
they strive to walk solemnly beside it?--and wherefore do the mourners
tread on one another's heels?--and why, if we may ask without offence,
should the nose of the Rev. Mr. Noyes, through which he has just been