slowness　of　the　departing　train；　and　Harte　had　to　clamber　up　the　steps　of
  the　rearmost　platform。　　His　host　clambered　after；　to　make　sure　that　he
  was　aboard；　which　done；　he　dropped　to　the　ground；　while　Harte　drew　out　of
  the　station；　blandly　smiling；　and　waving　his　hand　with　a　cigar　in　it；　in
  picturesque　farewell　from　the　platform。
  Then　his　host　realized　that　he　had　dropped　to　the　ground　barely　in　time
  to　escape　being　crushed　against　the　side　of　the　archway　that　sharply
  descended　beside　the　steps　of　the　train；　and　he　went　and　sat　down　in　that
  handsomest　hack；　and　was　for　a　moment　deathly　sick　at　the　danger　that　had
  not　realized　itself　to　him　in　season。　　To　be　sure；　he　was　able；　long
  after；　to　adapt　the　incident　to　the　exigencies　of　fiction；　and　to　have　a
  character；　not　otherwise　to　be　conveniently　disposed　of；　actually　crushed
  to　death　between　a　moving　train　and　such　an　archway。
  Besides；　he　had　then　and　always　afterward；　the　immense　super…compensation
  of　the　memories　of　that　visit　from　one　of　the　most　charming　personalities
  in　the　world；
  〃In　life's　morning　march　when　his　bosom　was　young；〃
  and　when　infinitely　less　would　have　sated　him。　　Now　death　has　come　to
  join　its　vague　conjectures　to　the　broken　expectations　of　life；　and　that
  blithe　spirit　is　elsewhere。　　But　nothing　can　take　from　him　who　remains
  the　witchery　of　that　most　winning　presence。　　Still　it　looks　smiling　from
  the　platform　of　the　car；　and　casts　a　farewell　of　mock　heartbreak　from　it。
  Still　a　gay　laugh　comes　across　the　abysm　of　the　years　that　are　now
  numbered；　and　out　of　somewhere　the　hearer's　sense　is　rapt　with　the　mellow
  cordial　of　a　voice　that　was　like　no　other。
  End　o