It is much more soothing and refined to pass away than to die—unless one happens to be the person most concerned, in which case, perhaps, it may make little difference.
“The Angel of Death,” wrote Mr. Sparrow, “passed through our midst on Tuesday last and called to his reward Captain Marcellus Hall, one of Ostable's most well-known and influential residents.”
A slight exaggeration here. Marcellus had lived in Ostable but five years altogether and, during the last three, had taken absolutely no part in town affairs—political, religious or social. However, “influential” is a good word and usual in obituaries, so Bethuel let it stand. He continued:
“Captain Hall's sudden death—”
Erasure of “death” and substitution of “demise.”
Then:
“—Was a shock to the community at large. It happened on account of—” More erasures and substitutions. “—It was the result of his taking cold owing to exposure during the heavy southeast rains of week before last which developed into pneumonia. He grew rapidly worse and passed away at 3.06 P.M. on Tuesday, leaving a vacancy in our midst which will be hard to fill, if at all. Although Captain Hall had resided in Ostable but a comparatively short period, he was well-known and respected, both as a man and—”
Here, invention failing, Mr. Sparrow called for assistance.
“Hey, Perce,” he hailed, addressing his companion, Mr. Percy Clark, who was busy setting type: “What's a good word to use here? I say Marcellus was respected both as a man—and somethin' else.”
“Hey?” queried Percy, absently, scanning the eight point case. “What d'ye say?”