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she could be but seventy-nine at last--only our age,' said the sexton.
'Five year older at the very least!' cried the other.'Five!' retorted the sexton. 'Ten. Good eighty-nine. I call to mindthe time her daughter died. She was eighty-nine if she was a day, andtries to pass upon us now, for ten year younger. Oh! human vanity!'The other old man was not behindhand with some moral reflections onthis fruitful theme, and both adduced a mass of evidence, of such |
weight as to render it doubtful--not whether the deceased was of the
age suggested, but whether she had not almost reached the patriarchalterm of a hundred. When they had settled this question to their mutualsatisfaction, the sexton, with his friend's assistance, rose to go. 'It's chilly, sitting here, and I must be careful--till the summer,' hesaid, as he prepared to limp away.'What?' asked old David. |
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