University of Virginia Library

40. CHAPTER XL.
IN WHICH THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER IS AT SECOND-HAND TOLD BY
ONE WHO, WHILE NOT DISAPPROVING THE MORAL, DISCLAIMS THE
SPIRIT OF THE STYLE.

“China Aster was a young candle-maker of Marietta,
at the mouth of the Muskingum—one whose trade would
seem a kind of subordinate branch of that parent craft
and mystery of the hosts of heaven, to be the means,
effectively or otherwise, of shedding some light through
the darkness of a planet benighted. But he made little
money by the business. Much ado had poor China
Aster and his family to live; he could, if he chose, light
up from his stores a whole street, but not so easily
could he light up with prosperity the hearts of his
household.

“Now, China Aster, it so happened, had a friend,
Orchis, a shoemaker; one whose calling it is to defend
the understandings of men from naked contact with the
substance of things: a very useful vocation, and which,
spite of all the wiseacres may prophesy, will hardly go
out of fashion so long as rocks are hard and flints will
gall. All at once, by a capital prize in a lottery, this
useful shoemaker was raised from a bench to a sofa. A
small nabob was the shoemaker now, and the understandings
of men, let them shift for themselves. Not

that Orchis was, by prosperity, elated into heartlessness
Not at all. Because, in his fine apparel, strolling one
morning into the candlery, and gayly switching about
at the candle-boxes with his gold-headed cane—while
poor China Aster, with his greasy paper cap and leather
apron, was selling one candle for one penny to a poor
orange-woman, who, with the patronizing coolness of a
liberal customer, required it to be carefully rolled up
and tied in a half sheet of paper—lively Orchis, the
woman being gone, discontinued his gay switchings and
said: `This is poor business for you, friend China
Aster; your capital is too small. You must drop this
vile tallow and hold up pure spermaceti to the world.
I tell you what it is, you shall have one thousand dollars
to extend with. In fact, you must make money,
China Aster. I don't like to see your little boy paddling
about without shoes, as he does.'

“`Heaven bless your goodness, friend Orchis,' replied
the candle-maker, `but don't take it illy if I call to
mind the word of my uncle, the blacksmith, who, when
a loan was offered him, declined it, saying: “To ply my
own hammer, light though it be, I think best, rather
than piece it out heavier by welding to it a bit off a
neighbor's hammer, though that may have some weight
to spare; otherwise, were the borrowed bit suddenly
wanted again, it might not split off at the welding, but
too much to one side or the other.'”

“`Nonsense, friend China Aster, don't be so honest;
your boy is barefoot. Besides, a rich man lose by a
poor man? Or a friend be the worse by a friend?

China Aster, I am afraid that, in leaning over into your
vats here, this morning, you have spilled out your wisdom.
Hush! I won't hear any more. Where's your
desk? Oh, here.' With that, Orchis dashed off a check
on his bank, and off-handedly presenting it, said:
`There, friend China Aster, is your one thousand dollars;
when you make it ten thousand, as you soon
enough will (for experience, the only true knowledge,
teaches me that, for every one, good luck is in store),
then, China Aster, why, then you can return me the
money or not, just as you please. But, in any event,
give yourself no concern, for I shall never demand payment.'

“Now, as kind heaven will so have it that to a
hungry man bread is a great temptation, and, therefore,
he is not too harshly to be blamed, if, when freely
offered, he take it, even though it be uncertain whether
he shall ever be able to reciprocate; so, to a poor man,
proffered money is equally enticing, and the worst that
can be said of him, if he accept it, is just what can be
said in the other case of the hungry man. In short, the
poor candle-maker's scrupulous morality succumbed to
his unscrupulous necessity, as is now and then apt to be
the case. He took the check, and was about carefully
putting it away for the present, when Orchis, switching
about again with his gold-headed cane, said: `By-the-way,
China Aster, it don't mean anything, but suppose
you make a little memorandum of this; won't do any
harm, you know.' So China Aster gave Orchis his note
for one thousand dollars on demand. Orchis took it, and

looked at it a moment, `Pooh, I told you, friend China
Aster, I wasn't going ever to make any demand.' Then
tearing up the note, and switching away again at the
candle-boxes, said, carelessly; `Put it at four years.'
So China Aster gave Orchis his note for one thousand
dollars at four years. `You see I'll never trouble you
about this,' said Orchis, slipping it in his pocket-book,
`give yourself no further thought, friend China Aster,
than how best to invest your money. And don't forget
my hint about spermaceti. Go into that, and I'll buy
all my light of you,' with which encouraging words, he,
with wonted, rattling kindness, took leave.

“China Aster remained standing just where Orchis
had left him; when, suddenly, two elderly friends,
having nothing better to do, dropped in for a chat.
The chat over, China Aster, in greasy cap and apron,
ran after Orchis, and said: `Friend Orchis, heaven
will reward you for your good intentions, but here is
your check, and now give me my note.'

“`Your honesty is a bore, China Aster,' said Orchis, not
without displeasure. `I won't take the check from you.'

“`Then you must take it from the pavement, Orchis,'
said China Aster; and, picking up a stone, he placed
the check under it on the walk.

“`China Aster,' said Orchis, inquisitively eying him,
`after my leaving the candlery just now, what asses
dropped in there to advise with you, that now you hurry
after me, and act so like a fool? Shouldn't wonder
if it was those two old asses that the boys nickname
Old Plain Talk and Old Prudence.'

“`Yes, it was those two, Orchis, but don't call them
names.'

“`A brace of spavined old croakers. Old Plain Talk
had a shrew for a wife, and that's made him shrewish;
and Old Prudence, when a boy, broke down in an apple-stall,
and that discouraged him for life. No better sport
for a knowing spark like me than to hear Old Plain Talk
wheeze out his sour old saws, while Old Prudence stands
by, leaning on his staff, wagging his frosty old pow, and
chiming in at every clause.'

“`How can you speak so, friend Orchis, of those who
were my father's friends?'

“`Save me from my friends, if those old croakers were
Old Honesty's friends. I call your father so, for every
one used to. Why did they let him go in his old age on
the town? Why, China Aster, I've often heard from
my mother, the chronicler, that those two old fellows,
with Old Conscience—as the boys called the crabbed old
quaker, that's dead now—they three used to go to the
poor-house when your father was there, and get round
his bed, and talk to him for all the world as Eliphaz,
Bildad, and Zophar did to poor old pauper Job. Yes,
Job's comforters were Old Plain Talk, and Old Prudence,
and Old Conscience, to your poor old father.
Friends? I should like to know who you call foes?
With their everlasting croaking and reproaching they
tormented poor Old Honesty, your father, to death.'

“At these words, recalling the sad end of his worthy
parent, China Aster could not restrain some tears. Upon
which Orchis said: `Why, China Aster, you are the

dolefulest creature. Why don't you, China Aster, take
a bright view of life? You will never get on in your
business or anything else, if you don't take the bright view
of life. It's the ruination of a man to take the dismal
one.' Then, gayly poking at him with his gold-headed
cane, `Why don't you, then? Why don't you be bright
and hopeful, like me? Why don't you have confidence,
China Aster?'

“`I'm sure I don't know, friend Orchis,' soberly
replied China Aster, `but may be my not having
drawn a lottery-prize, like you, may make some difference.'

“`Nonsense! before I knew anything about the prize
I was gay as a lark, just as gay as I am now. In fact,
it has always been a principle with me to hold to the
bright view.'

“Upon this, China Aster looked a little hard at Orchis,
because the truth was, that until the lucky prize came
to him, Orchis had gone under the nickname of Doleful
Dumps, he having been beforetimes of a hypochondriac
turn, so much so as to save up and put by a few dollars
of his scanty earnings against that rainy day he used to
groan so much about.

“`I tell you what it is, now, friend China Aster,' said
Orchis, pointing down to the check under the stone, and
then slapping his pocket, `the check shall lie there if
you say so, but your note shan't keep it company. In
fact, China Aster, I am too sincerely your friend to take
advantage of a passing fit of the blues in you. You shall
reap the benefit of my friendship.' With which, buttoning

up his coat in a jiffy, away he ran, leaving the
check behind.

“At first, China Aster was going to tear it up, but
thinking that this ought not to be done except in the
presence of the drawer of the check, he mused a while,
and picking it up, trudged back to the candlery, fully
resolved to call upon Orchis soon as his day's work was
over, and destroy the check before his eyes. But it so
happened that when China Aster called, Orchis was out,
and, having waited for him a weary time in vain, China
Aster went home, still with the check, but still resolved
not to keep it another day. Bright and early next
morning he would a second time go after Orchis, and
would, no doubt, make a sure thing of it, by finding him
in his bed; for since the lottery-prize came to him, Orchis,
besides becoming more cheery, had also grown a
little lazy. But as destiny would have it, that same
night China Aster had a dream, in which a being in the
guise of a smiling angel, and holding a kind of cornucopia
in her hand, hovered over him, pouring down
showers of small gold dollars, thick as kernels of corn.
`I am Bright Future, friend China Aster,' said the angel,
`and if you do what friend Orchis would have you
do, just see what will come of it.' With which Bright
Future, with another swing of her cornucopia, poured
such another shower of small gold dollars upon him,
that it seemed to bank him up all round, and he waded
about in it like a maltster in malt.

“Now, dreams are wonderful things, as everybody
knows—so wonderful, indeed, that some people stop not

short of ascribing them directly to heaven; and China
Aster, who was of a proper turn of mind in everything,
thought that in consideration of the dream, it would be
but well to wait a little, ere seeking Orchis again. During
the day, China Aster's mind dwelling continually
upon the dream, he was so full of it, that when Old
Plain Talk dropped in to see him, just before dinnertime,
as he often did, out of the interest he took in Old
Honesty's son, China Aster told all about his vision,
adding that he could not think that so radiant an angel
could deceive; and, indeed, talked at such a rate that
one would have thought he believed the angel some
beautiful human philanthropist. Something in this sort
Old Plain Talk understood him, and, accordingly, in his
plain way, said: `China Aster, you tell me that an angel
appeared to you in a dream. Now, what does that
amount to but this, that you dreamed an angel appeared
to you? Go right away, China Aster, and return the
check, as I advised you before. If friend Prudence were
here, he would say just the same thing.' With which
words Old Plain Talk went off to find friend Prudence,
but not succeeding, was returning to the candlery himself,
when, at distance mistaking him for a dun who had
long annoyed him, China Aster in a panic barred all his
doors, and ran to the back part of the candlery, where
no knock could be heard.

“By this sad mistake, being left with no friend to argue
the other side of the question, China Aster was so
worked upon at last, by musing over his dream, that
nothing would do but he must get the check cashed, and

lay out the money the very same day in buying a good
lot of spermaceti to make into candles, by which operation
he counted upon turning a better penny than he
ever had before in his life; in fact, this he believed
would prove the foundation of that famous fortune
which the angel had promised him.

“Now, in using the money, China Aster was resolved
punctually to pay the interest every six months till the
principal should be returned, howbeit not a word about
such a thing had been breathed by Orchis; though,
indeed, according to custom, as well as law, in such
matters, interest would legitimately accrue on the loan,
nothing to the contrary having been put in the bond.
Whether Orchis at the time had this in mind or not,
there is no sure telling; but, to all appearance, he never
so much as cared to think about the matter, one way or
other.

“Though the spermaceti venture rather disappointed
China Aster's sanguine expectations, yet he made out to
pay the first six months' interest, and though his next
venture turned out still less prosperously, yet by pinching
his family in the matter of fresh meat, and, what
pained him still more, his boys' schooling, he contrived
to pay the second six months' interest, sincerely grieved
that integrity, as well as its opposite, though not in an
equal degree, costs something, sometimes.

“Meanwhile, Orchis had gone on a trip to Europe by
advice of a physician; it so happening that, since the
lottery-prize came to him, it had been discovered to Orchis
that his health was not very firm, though he had

never complained of anything before but a slight ailing
of the spleen, scarce worth talking about at the time.
So Orchis, being abroad, could not help China Aster's
paying his interest as he did, however much he might
have been opposed to it; for China Aster paid it to
Orchis's agent, who was of too business-like a turn to
decline interest regularly paid in on a loan.

“But overmuch to trouble the agent on that score was
not again to be the fate of China Aster; for, not being
of that skeptical spirit which refuses to trust customers,
his third venture resulted, through bad debts, in
almost a total loss—a bad blow for the candle-maker.
Neither did Old Plain Talk, and Old Prudence neglect
the opportunity to read him an uncheerful enough lesson
upon the consequences of his disregarding their advice
in the matter of having nothing to do with borrowed
money. `It's all just as I predicted,' said Old Plain
Talk, blowing his old nose with his old bandana. `Yea,
indeed is it,' chimed in Old Prudence, rapping his staff
on the floor, and then leaning upon it, looking with
solemn forebodings upon China Aster. Low-spirited
enough felt the poor candle-maker; till all at once who
should come with a bright face to him but his bright
friend, the angel, in another dream. Again the cornucopia
poured out its treasure, and promised still more.
Revived by the vision, he resolved not to be downhearted,
but up and at it once more—contrary to the
advice of Old Plain Talk, backed as usual by his crony,
which was to the effect, that, under present circumstances,
the best thing China Aster could do, would be to

wind up his business, settle, if he could, all his liabilities,
and then go to work as a journeyman, by which
he could earn good wages, and give up, from that time
henceforth, all thoughts of rising above being a paid subordinate
to men more able than himself, for China Aster's
career thus far plainly proved him the legitimate son of
Old Honesty, who, as every one knew, had never shown
much business-talent, so little, in fact, that many said
of him that he had no business to be in business. And
just this plain saying Plain Talk now plainly applied
to China Aster, and Old Prudence never disagreed with
him. But the angel in the dream did, and, maugre Plain
Talk, put quite other notions into the candle-maker.

“He considered what he should do towards reëstablishing
himself. Doubtless, had Orchis been in the country,
he would have aided him in this strait. As it was, he
applied to others; and as in the world, much as some may
hint to the contrary, an honest man in misfortune still
can find friends to stay by him and help him, even so
it proved with China Aster, who at last succeeded in borrowing
from a rich old farmer the sum of six hundred
dollars, at the usual interest of money-lenders, upon the
security of a secret bond signed by China Aster's wife
and himself, to the effect that all such right and title to
any property that should be left her by a well-to-do
childless uncle, an invalid tanner, such property should,
in the event of China Aster's failing to return the borrowed
sum on the given day, be the lawful possession
of the money-lender. True, it was just as much as
China Aster could possibly do to induce his wife, a careful

woman, to sign this bond; because she had always
regarded her promised share in her uncle's estate as an
anchor well to windward of the hard times in which
China Aster had always been more or less involved, and
from which, in her bosom, she never had seen much
chance of his freeing himself. Some notion may be had
of China Aster's standing in the heart and head of his
wife, by a short sentence commonly used in reply to
such persons as happened to sound her on the point.
`China Aster,' she would say, `is a good husband, but
a bad business man!' Indeed, she was a connection on
the maternal side of Old Plain Talk's. But had not
China Aster taken good care not to let Old Plain Talk
and Old Prudence hear of his dealings with the old
farmer, ten to one they would, in some way, have interfered
with his success in that quarter.

“It has been hinted that the honesty of China Aster
was what mainly induced the money-lender to befriend
him in his misfortune, and this must be apparent; for,
had China Aster been a different man, the money-lender
might have dreaded lest, in the event of his failing to
meet his note, he might some way prove slippery—more
especially as, in the hour of distress, worked upon by
remorse for so jeopardizing his wife's money, his heart
might prove a traitor to his bond, not to hint that it
was more than doubtful how such a secret security and
claim, as in the last resort would be the old farmer's,
would stand in a court of law. But though one inference
from all this may be, that had China Aster been
something else than what he was, he would not have

been trusted, and, therefore, he would have been effectually
shut out from running his own and wife's head
into the usurer's noose; yet those who, when everything
at last came out, maintained that, in this view
and to this extent, the honesty of the candle-maker was
no advantage to him, in so saying, such persons said
what every good heart must deplore, and no prudent
tongue will admit.

“It may be mentioned, that the old farmer made
China Aster take part of his loan in three old dried-up
cows and one lame horse, not improved by the glanders.
These were thrown in at a pretty high figure, the old
money-lender having a singular prejudice in regard to
the high value of any sort of stock raised on his farm.
With a great deal of difficulty, and at more loss, China
Aster disposed of his cattle at public auction, no private
purchaser being found who could be prevailed
upon to invest. And now, raking and scraping in every
way, and working early and late, China Aster at last
started afresh, nor without again largely and confidently
extending himself. However, he did not try his
hand at the spermaceti again, but, admonished by experience,
returned to tallow. But, having bought a
good lot of it, by the time he got it into candles, tallow
fell so low, and candles with it, that his candles per
pound barely sold for what he had paid for the tallow.
Meantime, a year's unpaid interest had accrued on Orchis'
loan, but China Aster gave himself not so much
concern about that as about the interest now due to
the old farmer. But he was glad that the principal

there had yet some time to run. However, the skinny
old fellow gave him some trouble by coming after him
every day or two on a scraggy old white horse, furnished
with a musty old saddle, and goaded into his
shambling old paces with a withered old raw hide. All
the neighbors said that surely Death himself on the
pale horse was after poor China Aster now. And
something so it proved; for, ere long, China Aster
found himself involved in troubles mortal enough.

At this juncture Orchis was heard of. Orchis, it seemed,
had returned from his travels, and clandestinely married,
and, in a kind of queer way, was living in Pennsylvania
among his wife's relations, who, among other
things, had induced him to join a church, or rather
semi-religious school, of Come-Outers; and what was
still more, Orchis, without coming to the spot himself,
had sent word to his agent to dispose of some of his
property in Marietta, and remit him the proceeds.
Within a year after, China Aster received a letter from
Orchis, commending him for his punctuality in paying
the first year's interest, and regretting the necessity
that he (Orchis) was now under of using all his dividends;
so he relied upon China Aster's paying the
next six months' interest, and of course with the back
interest. Not more surprised than alarmed, China
Aster thought of taking steamboat to go and see Orchis,
but he was saved that expense by the unexpected
arrival in Marietta of Orchis in person, suddenly called
there by that strange kind of capriciousness lately characterizing
him. No sooner did China Aster hear of

his old friend's arrival than he hurried to call upon him
He found him curiously rusty in dress, sallow in cheek,
and decidedly less gay and cordial in manner, which
the more surprised China Aster, because, in former
days, he had more than once heard Orchis, in his light
rattling way, declare that all he (Orchis) wanted to
make him a perfectly happy, hilarious, and benignant
man, was a voyage to Europe and a wife, with a free
development of his inmost nature.

“Upon China Aster's stating his case, his rusted
friend was silent for a time; then, in an odd way, said
that he would not crowd China Aster, but still his
(Orchis') necessities were urgent. Could not China
Aster mortgage the candlery? He was honest, and
must have moneyed friends; and could he not press
his sales of candles? Could not the market be forced
a little in that particular? The profits on candles
must be very great. Seeing, now, that Orchis had
the notion that the candle-making business was a very
profitable one, and knowing sorely enough what an
error was here, China Aster tried to undeceive him.
But he could not drive the truth into Orchis—Orchis
being very obtuse here, and, at the same time,
strange to say, very melancholy. Finally, Orchis
glanced off from so unpleasing a subject into the most
unexpected reflections, taken from a religious point
of view, upon the unstableness and deceitfulness of
the human heart. But having, as he thought, experienced
something of that sort of thing, China Aster
did not take exception to his friend's observations,

but still refrained from so doing, almost as much for
the sake of sympathetic sociality as anything else.
Presently, Orchis, without much ceremony, rose, and
saying he must write a letter to his wife, bade his
friend good-bye, but without warmly shaking him by
the hand as of old.

“In much concern at the change, China Aster made
earnest inquiries in suitable quarters, as to what things,
as yet unheard of, had befallen Orchis, to bring about
such a revolution; and learned at last that, besides traveling,
and getting married, and joining the sect of
Come-Outers, Orchis had somehow got a bad dyspepsia,
and lost considerable property through a breach of
trust on the part of a factor in New York. Telling
these things to Old Plain Talk, that man of some
knowledge of the world shook his old head, and told
China Aster that, though he hoped it might prove otherwise,
yet it seemed to him that all he had communicated
about Orchis worked together for bad omens as to
his future forbearance—especially, he added with a
grim sort of smile, in view of his joining the sect of
Come-Outers; for, if some men knew what was their
inmost natures, instead of coming out with it, they
would try their best to keep it in, which, indeed, was
the way with the prudent sort. In all which sour notions
Old Prudence, as usual, chimed in.

“When interest-day came again, China Aster, by the
utmost exertions, could only pay Orchis' agent a small
part of what was due, and a part of that was made up
by his children's gift money (bright tenpenny pieces

and new quarters, kept in their little money-boxes), and
pawning his best clothes, with those of his wife and
children, so that all were subjected to the hardship of
staying away from church. And the old usurer, too,
now beginning to be obstreperous, China Aster paid
him his interest and some other pressing debts with
money got by, at last, mortgaging the candlery.

“When next interest-day came round for Orchis, not
a penny could be raised. With much grief of heart,
China Aster so informed Orchis' agent. Meantime, the
note to the old usurer fell due, and nothing from China
Aster was ready to meet it; yet, as heaven sends its
rain on the just and unjust alike, by a coincidence not
unfavorable to the old farmer, the well-to-do uncle, the
tanner, having died, the usurer entered upon possession
of such part of his property left by will to the wife
of China Aster. When still the next interest-day for
Orchis came round, it found China Aster worse off than
ever; for, besides his other troubles, he was now weak
with sickness. Feebly dragging himself to Orchis'
agent, he met him in the street, told him just how it
was; upon which the agent, with a grave enough face,
said that he had instructions from his employer not to
crowd him about the interest at present, but to say to
him that about the time the note would mature, Orchis
would have heavy liabilities to meet, and therefore the
note must at that time be certainly paid, and, of course,
the back interest with it; and not only so, but, as Orchis
had had to allow the interest for good part of the
time, he hoped that, for the back interest, China Aster

would, in reciprocation, have no objections to allowing
interest on the interest annually. To be sure, this was
not the law; but, between friends who accommodate
each other, it was the custom.

“Just then, Old Plain Talk with Old Prudence turned
the corner, coming plump upon China Aster as the
agent left him; and whether it was a sun-stroke, or
whether they accidentally ran against him, or whether
it was his being so weak, or whether it was everything
together, or how it was exactly, there is no telling, but
poor China Aster fell to the earth, and, striking his head
sharply, was picked up senseless. It was a day in July;
such a light and heat as only the midsummer banks of
the inland Ohio know. China Aster was taken home
on a door; lingered a few days with a wandering mind,
and kept wandering on, till at last, at dead of night,
when nobody was aware, his spirit wandered away into
the other world.

“Old Plain Talk and Old Prudence, neither of whom
ever omitted attending any funeral, which, indeed, was
their chief exercise—these two were among the sincerest
mourners who followed the remains of the son of
their ancient friend to the grave.

“It is needless to tell of the executions that followed;
how that the candlery was sold by the mortgagee; how
Orchis never got a penny for his loan; and how, in the
case of the poor widow, chastisement was tempered with
mercy; for, though she was left penniless, she was not left
childless. Yet, unmindful of the alleviation, a spirit of
complaint, at what she impatiently called the bitterness

of her lot and the hardness of the world, so preyed upon
her, as ere long to hurry her from the obscurity of
indigence to the deeper shades of the tomb.

“But though the straits in which China Aster had left
his family had, besides apparently dimming the world's
regard, likewise seemed to dim its sense of the probity
of its deceased head, and though this, as some thought,
did not speak well for the world, yet it happened in this
case, as in others, that, though the world may for a time
seem insensible to that merit which lies under a cloud,
yet, sooner or later, it always renders honor where honor
is due; for, upon the death of the widow, the freemen
of Marietta, as a tribute of respect for China Aster, and
an expression of their conviction of his high moral
worth, passed a resolution, that, until they attained maturity,
his children should be considered the town's
guests. No mere verbal compliment, like those of some
public bodies; for, on the same day, the orphans were
officially installed in that hospitable edifice where their
worthy grandfather, the town's guest before them, had
breathed his last breath.

“But sometimes honor may be paid to the memory of
an honest man, and still his mound remain without a
monument. Not so, however, with the candle-maker.
At an early day, Plain Talk had procured a plain stone,
and was digesting in his mind what pithy word or two
to place upon it, when there was discovered, in China
Aster's otherwise empty wallet, an epitaph, written,
probably, in one of those disconsolate hours, attended
with more or less mental aberration, perhaps, so frequent

with him for some months prior to his end. A memorandum
on the back expressed the wish that it might be
placed over his grave. Though with the sentiment of
the epitaph Plain Talk did not disagree, he himself being
at times of a hypochondriac turn—at least, so many
said—yet the language struck him as too much drawn
out; so, after consultation with Old Prudence, he decided
upon making use of the epitaph, yet not without verbal
retrenchments. And though, when these were made,
the thing still appeared wordy to him, nevertheless,
thinking that, since a dead man was to be spoken about,
it was but just to let him speak for himself, especially
when he spoke sincerely, and when, by so doing, the
more salutary lesson would be given, he had the retrenched
inscription chiseled as follows upon the stone.

“This inscription raised some talk in the town, and
was rather severely criticised by the capitalist—one of a

very cheerful turn—who had secured his loan to China
Aster by the mortgage; and though it also proved
obnoxious to the man who, in town-meeting, had first
moved for the compliment to China Aster's memory,
and, indeed, was deemed by him a sort of slur upon the
candle-maker, to ihat degree that he refused to believe
that the candle-maker himself had composed it, charging
Old Plain Talk with the authorship, alleging that
the internal evidence showed that none but that veteran
old croaker could have penned such a jeremiade—yet,
for all this, the stone stood. In everything, of course,
Old Plain Talk was seconded by Old Prudence; who,
one day going to the grave-yard, in great-coat and overshoes—for,
though it was a sunshiny morning, he
thought that, owing to heavy dews, dampness might
lurk in the ground—long stood before the stone, sharply
leaning over on his staff, spectacles on nose, spelling out
the epitaph word by word; and, afterwards meeting Old
Plain Talk in the street, gave a great rap with his stick,
and said: `Friend, Plain Talk, that epitaph will do
very well. Nevertheless, one short sentence is wanting.'
Upon which, Plain Talk said it was too late, the
chiseled words being so arranged, after the usual manner
of such inscriptions, that nothing could be interlined.
`Then,' said Old Prudence, `I will put it in
the shape of a postscript.' Accordingly, with the
approbation of Old Plain Talk, he had the following
words chiseled at the left-hand corner of the stone, and
pretty low down: