His stock in trade was a wash-tub and a neighboring hydrant, a moderate supply of brown sugar, and about six lemons that floated on the sweetened water.

The water from time to time was renewed from the friendly pump, but the lemon "went on forever," and all at two cents a glass.
[Illustration: At the sign of the comet.] But we looked in vain for the man who once sold whisky and coffins in Buenos Aires; the march of civilization had crushed him--memory only clung to his name.

Enterprising man that he was, I fain would have looked him up.

I remember the tiers of whisky-barrels, ranged on end, on one side of the store, while on the other side, and divided by a thin partition, were the coffins in the same order, of all sizes and in great numbers.

The unique arrangement seemed in order, for as a cask was emptied a coffin might be filled.