The weather was wonderful on Abrahama White's funeral day.

The air had at once the keen zest of winter and the languor of summer.

One moment one perceived warm breaths of softly undulating pines, the next it was as if the wind blew over snow.

The air at once stimulated and soothed.

One breathing it realized youth and an endless vista of dreams ahead, and also the peace of age, and of work well done and deserving the reward of rest.