XLV 
  
THE CEMETERY AND THE SHOOTING-
GALLERY 
  
  
GRAVEYARD View Hotel! “Singular an-
nouncement,” said the stroller to himself, “but 
well calculated to produce thirst. Sure enough, 
the master of this inn must appreciate Horace 
and the poets of the school of Epicurus; per-
haps even he knows the refinement of the old 
Egyptians, who held no festival without a 
skeleton or some other emblem of the short-
ness of life.” 
In he went, drank a glass of beer opposite 
the tombstones, and slowly smoked a cigar. 
Then the fancy took him to go into the ceme-
tery whose grass was so tall and so inviting, 
and where so rich a sun held sway. 
In effect, the light and the heat were revel-
ling there, and one would have said that the 
drunken sun was wallowing at all its length 
upon a carpet of magnificent flowers nourished 
upon destruction. An immense rustle of life 
filled the air; the life of things infinitely small, 
which was interrupted at regular intervals by