Let us cultivate the undertaker--he does all he can to cultivate us. And he is an unselfish cultivator too--he knoweth full well that what he soweth he cannot reap. Let us cultivate him, therefore, and do our best to repay him for his kindness to humanity. And we may possibly profit thereby, for pleasant associations retard the decay of these mortal frames of ours--the remorseless scythe of time blunts upon those fortunate mortals who are favored by the kindly offices of the skillful undertaker. To them we may not inappropriately say, “How well preserved you are!” How well, indeed! It would seem unnecessary to say that the popular notion regarding the undertaker’s lack of generosity is wrong--the fact should be self-evident. I feel, however, that my whole duty would not be done, did I not say that in my opinion the undertaker is one of the most generous of men. What merchant would ever dismiss a patron without an endeavor to secure his future patronage? None, I fancy. But not so your undertaker--he is willing, aye, even anxious, to let somebody else have his patrons after he has filled their first order. He is often, apparently, very glad to get his customers off his hands--not caring a whit if some professional rival gets their custom. And the social position of his patron seems to make no material difference--indeed, the “higher” the person, the more anxious the undertaker is to see the case fall into some rival’s hands. Some might say that this is due to a disposition to make game of the customer, but I don’t believe it. There is one characteristic that distinguishes the undertaker from the common herd of men with mercantile instincts; he is scrupulously honest. He always gives full measure. This is very comforting to his patrons--especially those who like a comfortable fit. There is not a tailoring establishment in this blessed town that can show such a record as my friend Blank, the undertaker. Why, he has been making underclothing most all his life and never yet had a misfit turned back on his hands. I tell you what, my good friends, the undertaker is the last man in the world with whom we have occasion to find fault. I shall always entertain a high personal regard for some of the members of the undertaking profession. If there is any attribute of man especially to be admired, it is a keen sense of humor. One of my undertaker friends--long since dead and gone to a just reward--one Nathaniel Black, had this faculty developed to a preternatural degree. There was something very impressive in the skillful manner in which Nathaniel used to conceal his humorous impulses while in the presence of death. His air of subdued merriment was, it is true, painful at times,--especially to himself--but this made it all the more impressive, as showing how some spirits can, by exercising will power, rise superior to their immediate surroundings.