Practice Typing

I thought his memory was like the other memories of the dead that accumulate in every mans life a vague impress on the brain of shadows that had fallen on it in their swift and final passage; but before the high and ponderous door, between the tall houses of a street as still and decorous as a well kept alley in a cemetery, I had a vision of him on the stretcher, opening his mouth voraciously, as if to devour.