But what a fine fellow Joe is; nothing will make him neglect
his work!"
"I tried to get him to stop, sir, saying he had done quite enough last
night for all next day; but he told me it was his business to get the tire
put on Farmer Wheatstone's cart-wheel to-day just as much as it was his
business to go in the life-boat yesterday. So he would go, and Aggy
wouldn't stay behind."
"Fine fellow, Joe!" I said, and took my leave.
As I drew near the village, I heard the sound of hammering and sawing, and
apparently everything at once in the way of joinery; they were making the
coffins in the joiners' shops, of which there were two in the place.
I do not like coffins. They seem to me relics of barbarism. If I had my
way, I would have the old thing decently wound in a fair linen cloth, and
so laid in the bosom of the earth, whence it was taken. I would have it
vanish, not merely from the world of vision, but from the world of form, as
soon as may be. The embrace of the fine life-hoarding, life-giving mould,
seems to me comforting, in the vague, foolish fancy that will sometimes
emerge from the froth of reverie--I mean, of subdued consciousness
remaining in the outworn frame.
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