For even in his dreams the colonel's sober mind did not stray beyond
the bounds of reason and experience. That all men would ever be equal
he did not even dream; there would always be the strong and the weak,
the wise and the foolish. But that each man, in his little life in
this our little world might be able to make the most of himself, was
an ideal which even the colonel's waking hours would not have
repudiated.
Following this pleasing thread with the unconscious rapidity of
dreams, the colonel passed, in a few brief minutes, through a long and
useful life to a happy end, when he too rested with his fathers, by
the side of his son, and on his tomb was graven what was said of Ben
Adhem: "Here lies one who loved his fellow men," and the further
words, "and tried to make them happy."
* * * * *
Shortly after dawn there was a loud rapping at the colonel's door:
"Come downstairs and look on de piazza, Colonel," said the agitated
voice of the servant who had knocked. "Come quick, suh."
There was a vague terror in the man's voice that stirred the colonel
strangely. He threw on a dressing gown and hastened downstairs, and to
the front door of the hall, which stood open. A handsome mahogany
burial casket, stained with earth and disfigured by rough handling,
rested upon the floor of the piazza, where it had been deposited
during the night. Conspicuously nailed to the coffin lid was a sheet
of white paper, upon which were some lines rudely scrawled in a
handwriting that matched the spelling:
_Kurnell French_:
_Take notis.
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