"It is," said Quincy, as he took the paper and read it slowly.
As before, he said nothing when he had finished.
"Mr. Judge," said Alice, "would it be improper, from a judicial point of view, for me to ask you which lines in the song you have just read please you the most? But perhaps," said she, looking up at him, "none of them are worthy of repetition."
"If you will consider for a moment," replied Quincy, "that I am off the bench and am just sitting here quietly with you, I will say, confidentially, that I am particularly well pleased with this;" and he read a portion of the first stanza:
On Great Heaven's beauties,
Gaze the eyes I loved to see,
Done earth's weary duties,
Now, eternity.
"And," continued Quincy, "I think these lines from the second stanza are fully equal to those I have just read."
But my soul, still living,
Speaks its words of comfort sweet,
Grandest promise giving
That again we'll meet.
"I should think," continued Quincy, "that those words were particularly well suited to be sung at a funeral. I shall have to ask my friend Bradley to have his quartette learn them, so as to be ready when I need them."
"Oh! Mr. Sawyer," cried Alice, with a strong tone of reproof in her voice, "how can you speak so lightly of death?"