"The morning after his death, Billy S. came to me, and handing me a slip of paper on which was Reed's name, age, etc., asked me to prepare a notice for publication. I fixed it as nearly as I could, as I had seen such things in newspapers. It read: DIED--In Belmont, Dec. 17, Harlow Reed, a native of New Jersey aged twenty-three years. "Billie glanced at the paper and then said: 'Harlow was a good fellow and a good friend of ours, can you not add something to this notice?' "In response I sat down and wrote a brief eulogy of the boy, and closed the article in these words: And for her, the poor woman, who braving the dangers of the pestilence, went and sat at the feet of the man she loved, until he died; for her, though before her garments were soiled, we know that this morning, in the Recording Angel's book it is written "her robes are white as snow." "Billie took the paper to the publisher, and as he went away, I had a secret thought that, all things being considered, the notice was not bad. "Next morning I went into a restaurant for breakfast and took a seat at a small table on one side of the narrow room. Directly opposite me were two short-card sharps. One was eating his breakfast, while the other, leaning back to catch the light, was reading the morning paper. Suddenly he stopped, and peering over his paper, though with chair still tilted back, said to his companion: 'Did you see this notice about that woman who took care of Harlow Reed while he was sick?' "'No,' was the reply. 'What is it?' asked the companion. "'It's away up,' said the first speaker. 'But what is it?' asked the other. "The first speaker then threw down the paper, leaned forward, and, seizing his knife and fork, said shortly: "'Oh, it's no great shakes after all. It says the woman while taking care of Harlow got her clothes dirty, but after he died she changed her clothes and she's all right now.' "Since then I have never thought that I had better undertake a literary career so long as I could get four honest dollars a day for swinging a hammer in a mine; but I have always been about half sorry that I did not kill that fellow, notwithstanding the lesson that he taught me." There was a hearty laugh at Ashley's expense, and then Strong roused himself and said: