“In the woods, a man must be all hands and feet.  I like the folks, the plain, ignorant, unpretentious folks; and the youngsters that come and slide on my cellar-door do not disturb me a bit.  I’m different from Carlyle—­you know he had a noise-proof room where he locked himself in.  Now, when a huckster goes by, crying his wares, I open the blinds, and often wrangle with the fellow over the price of things.  But the rogues have got into a way lately of leaving truck for me and refusing pay.  Today an Irishman passed in three quarts of berries and walked off pretending to be mad because I offered to pay.  When he was gone, I beckoned to the babies over the way—­they came over and we had a feast.

“Yes, I like the folks around here; I like the women, and I like the men, and I like the babies, and I like the youngsters that play in the alley and make mud pies on my steps.  I expect to stay here until I die.”

“You speak of death as a matter of course—­you are not afraid to die?”

“Oh, no, my boy; death is as natural as life, and a deal kinder.  But it is all good—­I accept it all and give thanks—­you have not forgotten my chant to death?”

“Not I!”

I repeated a few lines from “Drum-Taps.”

He followed me, rapping gently with his cane on the floor, and with little interjectory remarks of “That’s so!” “Very true!” “Good, good!” And when I faltered and lost the lines he picked them up where “The voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird.”

In a strong, clear voice, but a voice full of sublime feeling, he repeated those immortal lines, beginning, “Come, lovely and soothing Death.”

    “Come, lovely and soothing Death,
    Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
    In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
    Sooner or later, delicate Death. 
    Praised be the fathomless universe
    For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
    And for love, sweet love—­but praise! praise! praise
    For the sure enwinding arms of cool, enfolding Death. 
    Dark Mother, always gliding near with soft feet,
    Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? 
    Then I chant for thee, I glorify thee above all,
    I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. 
    Approach, strong deliveress,
    When it is so, when thou hast taken them
    I joyously sing the death,
    Lost in the loving, floating ocean of thee,
    Laved in the flood of thy bliss, O Death. 
    From me to thee glad serenades,
    Dances for thee I propose, saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee,
    And the sights of the open landscape and the high spread sky are fitting,
    And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night. 
    The night in silence under many a star,
    The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,