But they are not so separate from the sexton's labours as you think.' 'No!' 'Not in my mind, and recollection--such as it is,' said the old man.
'Indeed they often help it.

For say that I planted such a tree for such a man.

There it stands, to remind me that he died.

When I look at its broad shadow, and remember what it was in his time, it helps me to the age of my other work, and I can tell you pretty nearly when I made his grave.' 'But it may remind you of one who is still alive,' said the child.
'Of twenty that are dead, in connexion with that one who lives, then,' rejoined the old man; 'wife, husband, parents, brothers, sisters, children, friends--a score at least.

So it happens that the sexton's spade gets worn and battered.