sermon, saying ‘Angcore, angcore!’ at the
good places, and making him scratch out every bit
of brag about him, and all the hifalutin; and then
he made them trot out the choir, so’s he could
help them pick out the tunes for the occasion, and
he got them to sing ‘Pop Goes the Weasel,’
because he’d always liked that tune when he was
downhearted, and solemn music made him sad; and when
they sung that with tears in their eyes (because they
all loved him), and his relations grieving around,
he just laid there as happy as a bug, and trying to
beat time and showing all over how much he enjoyed
it; and presently he got worked up and excited, and
tried to join in, for, mind you, he was pretty proud
of his abilities in the singing line; but the first
time he opened his mouth and was just going to spread
himself his breath took a walk.
“I never see a man snuffed out so sudden.
Ah, it was a great loss—a, powerful loss
to this poor little one-horse town. Well, well,
well, I hain’t got time to be palavering along
here—got to nail on the lid and mosey along
with him; and if you’ll just give me a lift we’ll
skeet him into the hearse and meander along.
Relations bound to have it so—don’t
pay no attention to dying injunctions, minute a corpse’s
gone; but, if I had my way, if I didn’t respect
his last wishes and tow him behind the hearse I’ll
be cuss’d. I consider that whatever a corpse
wants done for his comfort is little enough matter,
and a man hain’t got no right to deceive him
or take advantage of him; and whatever a corpse trusts
me to do I’m a-going to do, you know, even if
it’s to stuff him and paint him yaller and keep
him for a keepsake—you hear me!”
He cracked his whip and went lumbering away with his
ancient ruin of a hearse, and I continued my walk
with a valuable lesson learned—that a healthy
and wholesome cheerfulness is not necessarily impossible
to any occupation. The lesson is likely to be
lasting, for it will take many months to obliterate
the memory of the remarks and circumstances that impressed
it.
CONCERNING CHAMBERMAIDS
Against all chambermaids, of whatsoever age or nationality,
I launch the curse of bachelordom! Because:
They always put the pillows at the opposite end of
the bed from the gas-burner, so that while you read
and smoke before sleeping (as is the ancient and honored
custom of bachelors), you have to hold your book aloft,
in an uncomfortable position, to keep the light from
dazzling your eyes.
When they find the pillows removed to the other end
of the bed in the morning, they receive not the suggestion
in a friendly spirit; but, glorying in their absolute
sovereignty, and unpitying your helplessness, they
make the bed just as it was originally, and gloat in
secret over the pang their tyranny will cause you.
Always after that, when they find you have transposed
the pillows, they undo your work, and thus defy and
seek to embitter the life that God has given you.
Copyrights
Sketches New and Old from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
