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Mrs. Lucinda burst into tears, and Monsieur, picking a bud from the bush, placed it in her hand, and led her ten
derly back to the rockaway.

That evening Mrs. Lucinda was telling the affair to old Israel with so much feeling that she did not perceive at all the odd commotion in his face, till, as she repeated the epitaph to him, he burst out with,—”He didn’t say what became o’ the flesh, did he?”—and therewith fled through the kitchen-door. For years afterward Israel would entertain a few favored auditors with his opinion of the matter, screaming till the tears rolled down his cheeks,—

“That was the beateree of all the weddin’-towers I ever heerd tell on. Goodness! it’s enough to make the Wanderin’ Jew die o’ larfin’!”