He could see himself falling--the tall, powerful lad standing over him with a grin.
Then, inconsequently, he began to think of his father's death.

He made a good end did the old man.

"Jim, my lad, the Lord's verra merciful," or "Jim, you'll look after Ann." Ann was the only daughter.

Then a sigh or two, and a bit of sleep, and it was done.
And everybody must go the same way, must come to the same stopping of the breath, the same awfulness--in a life of blind habit--of a moment that never had been before and never could be again?
He did not put it to these words, but the shudder that is in the thought for all of us, seized him.

He was very apt to think of dying, to ponder in his secret heart _how_ it would be, and when.