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Quite to the surprise of Jims, early in the morning appeared John and Polly Tucker at the poor-house, comparatively sober, come to pay their respects to the remains of old aunt Dorothy. It seems that during the night they had fallen into a discussion on the propriety of wearing mourning for her, and as one was in favor, and the other in doubt at least, they came down to discuss the point with their fellow-sufferers, the mourning and bereaved paupers.

It was a self-evident fact that somebody must act the part of mourners for aunt Dorothy, and as she had living no near relations, Captain Bunce and the paupers were in duty bound to pay her this respect.

John and Polly started the subject immediately on their arrival at the poor-house precincts. It was forthwith discussed with considerable animation:

"It is very proper indeed," said the widow Prescott, "and I am glad you have mentioned it. She was an old lady, a citizen of the town, that every body used to know, and she was good to us -- now she is gone, we ought by all means to put on mourning." So thought Mrs. Rice, an old, infirm body, who walked with a staff, and aunt Joanna Dodge, whose husband, once smart and rich, kept the turnpike gate, at the time of his death being poor and friendless! "By all means," said they, "go into mourning. How it would look not to do so!" "Never was any thing more rational," said tall Ebenezer Cowles, who was once a tanner in the town and became poor, and who was considerably intemperate and often very piously inclined and talkative, "she was a good soul with all her failings -- I say mourning for her is duty." So thought Birge the shoemaker -- and Mag said, "mourning will be becoming, because everybody 'goes into it' when a friend dies -- we shan't be singular!"

"That's my opinion," said John Tucker.

"We owe it to the dead," said Mrs. Rice and Mrs. Prescott.

"And to the living," said Birge and Cowles.

"To society of course," said aunt Joanna Dodge. "What would society think of us if nobody here put on mourning for aunt Dorothy?"

"True," said Mrs. Rice, "we ought especially to consult the feelings of the world."

"Why so?" grumbled Dan.

"Because the world has always put on mourning for the departed."

"Well," said the gruff old pauper, "you see if the world puts it on for her, -- "

"That's what I'm thinking," said Polly.

"So was I," said Bill.

"But the point is," said Tucker, '' what we ought to do."

"Well, it is my opinion," said Mrs. Prescott, "that all of us who can, ought to go to the grave, and as far as possible in deep crape."

"That is just what I think," said Mrs. Rice, "it's the way that every body does, and we can't escape our duty because we are here."

"Well now," said Mag, "if we are going into deep mourning, we must all go immediately to work, for the funeral is at one, and there'll be none too much time. You know the bonnets have to be trimmed, and the dresses flounced with crape, and gloves and veils prepared -- it will take all our time and all our efforts to get ready."

All agreed that this was true, but no one moved.

"When my poor man died," said Mrs. Dodge, "we went into mourning of course, and it took the whole time of two days to get ready, and the Lord knows I was in mourning enough without that."

"I think we might borrow a good many things," said Mrs. Prescott. "It's a chastening Providence, Mrs. Dodge, when one loses a friend, and one likes to regard it properly. No doubt the heart is in mourning without crape. But then it's the universal practice to appear in black, you know?"

"Oh, yes, to be sure," said that lady, with a long-drawn sigh.

"Well, I reckon," said Tucker, "mourning for the dead goes a great way to reconcile us to Providence; it seems to look as if one felt it dreadfully."

"At all events it is good for the heart of man, John Tucker," said the widow.

"I think if there's any good in it," said Mag, "it's a pity it wasn't thought of for the town paupers a good while ago."

"Why so?" inquired Polly.

"Because they lose about their full share of friends every year, and it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep them in mourning the year round. It would do their poor souls good!"

Mrs. Prescott was rather ruined at this sarcastic cut of the old hag, and said in reply, "Nobody ever mourned too much."

"The richest people in the world," said Mag, "always get the most good, aunt Prescott, when their friends die, you know!"

"How so?"

"Why, they dress in crape from head to foot, and it's all ordered in 'cap-a-pie' style from the shops, and their attention isn't distracted by sewing, and borrowing, and fitting, and calculating, and so on and so forth -- they've nothing to do but put on their new-made crape fixings when they come, and keep weeping, too, from morning to night."

"Poor souls!" exclaimed Mr. Ebenezer Cowles.

"How much they may mourn!" said Mrs. Polly Tucker.

"What a benevolent example to the poor!" said Mrs. Rice.

"How kind they can be in giving away their mourning things to somebody else," said Mrs. Dodge.