Windfalls 189 



phrey say that " Tolly Woodward would 'a* 

 been a big 'un among 'em if the British had 

 got the best of it, for he wasn't a man like 

 the common run of 'em ;" and then he would 

 give his head a mournful shake, his eyes lose 

 their lustre, and the man would wilt like 

 grass before the fire, and become the strange, 

 quiet gleaner again, who lived all his life on 

 the little his neighbors left behind them. 

 Very taciturn now, except with children, 

 yet a great talker when a young man, so re- 

 port goes. Perhaps he had told too much 

 in early days, for his old mother remarked 

 on one occasion, " Yer tongue's big enough 

 to scoop out all yer wits at once." It is a 

 pity he had not been carefully interviewed ; 

 but as it was his tales gained no credence, 

 and are nearly all forgotten now. This 

 often happens. The jewels slip through our 

 fingers and we are happy with empty caskets. 

 Humphrey Pagan died, as I always put it, 

 decently and in order. He was weeding 

 radishes in my neighbor's garden when 

 Death plucked him as a weed that had long 

 enough encumbered this prosy corner of the 

 earth. 



In the distance I see the west end of a 



