The deacon gave a gulp, as if gasping for breath, at the same time that he clutched the bag.  The next instant he was dead; and there is much reason to believe that the demons who had watched him, and encouraged him in his besetting sin, laughed at this consummation of their malignant arts!  If angels in heaven did not mourn at this characteristic departure of a frail spirit from its earthly tenement, one who had many of their qualities did.  Heavy had been the load on Mary Pratt’s heart, at the previous display of her uncle’s weakness, and profound was now her grief at his having made such an end.

Chapter XXX.

4 Cit.  We ’ll hear the will:  Read it, Mark Antony. Cit.  The will, the will; we will hear Caesar’s will. Ant.  Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.

  Julius Caesar.

There is usually great haste, in this country, in getting rid of the dead.  In no other part of the world, with which we are acquainted, are funerals so simple, or so touching; placing the judgment and sins which lead to it, in a far more conspicuous light than rank, or riches, or personal merits.  Scarfs and gloves are given in town, and gloves in the country, though scarfs are rare; but, beyond these, and the pall, and the hearse, and the weeping friends, an American funeral is a very unpretending procession of persons in their best attire; on foot, when the distance is short; in carriages, in wagons, and on horseback, when the grave is far from the dwelling.  There is, however, one feature connected with a death in this country, that we could gladly see altered.  It is the almost indecent haste; which so generally prevails, to get rid of the dead.  Doubtless the climate has had an effect in establishing this custom; but the climate, by no means, exacts the precipitancy that is usually practised.

As there were so many friends from a distance present, some of whom took the control of affairs, Mary shrinking back into herself, with a timidity natural to her sex and years, the moment her care could no longer serve her uncle, the funeral of the deacon took place the day after that of his death.  It was the solemn and simple ceremony of the country.  The Rev. Mr. Whittle conceived that he ought to preach a sermon on the occasion of the extinguishment of this “bright and shining light,” and the body was carried to the meeting-house, where the whole congregation assembled, it being the Sabbath.  We cannot say much for the discourse, which had already served as eulogiums on two or three other deacons, with a simple subsittution of names.  In few things are the credulous more imposed on than in this article of sermons.  A clergyman shall preach the workings of other men’s brains for years, and not one of his hearers detect the imposition, purely on account of the confiding credit it is customary to yield to the pulpit.