THE news was all over town in
two minutes, and you could see
the people tearing down on the
run from every which way, some
of them putting on their coats
as they come. Pretty soon we
was in the middle of a crowd,
and the noise of the tramping
was like a soldier march. The
windows and dooryards was full;
and every minute somebody would
say, over a
fence:
"Is it THEM?"
And somebody trotting along
with the gang would answer back
and say:
"You bet it
is."
When we got to the house the
street in front of it was packed,
and the three girls was standing
in the door. Mary Jane WAS red-headed,
but that don't make no difference,
she was most awful beautiful,
and her face and her eyes was
all lit up like glory, she was
so glad her uncles was come.
The king he spread his arms,
and Marsy Jane she jumped for
them, and the hare-lip jumped
for the duke, and there they
HAD it! Everybody most, leastways
women, cried for joy to see them
meet again at last and have such
good times.
Then the king
he hunched the duke private
-- I see him do
it -- and then he looked around
and see the coffin, over in the
corner on two chairs; so then
him and the duke, with a hand
across each other's shoulder,
and t'other hand to their eyes,
walked slow and solemn over there,
everybody dropping back to give
them room, and all the talk and
noise stopping, people saying "Sh!" and
all the men taking their hats
off and drooping their heads,
so you could a heard a pin fall.
And when they got there they
bent over and looked in the coffin,
and took one sight, and then
they bust out a-crying so you
could a heard them to Orleans,
most; and then they put their
arms around each other's necks,
and hung their chins over each
other's shoulders; and then for
three minutes, or maybe four,
I never see two men leak the
way they done. And, mind you,
everybody was doing the same;
and the place was that damp I
never see anything like it. Then
one of them got on one side of
the coffin, and t'other on t'other
side, and they kneeled down and
rested their foreheads on the
coffin, and let on to pray all
to themselves. Well, when it
come to that it worked the crowd
like you never see anything like
it, and everybody broke down
and went to sobbing right out
loud -- the poor girls, too;
and every woman, nearly, went
up to the girls, without saying
a word, and kissed them, solemn,
on the forehead, and then put
their hand on their head, and
looked up towards the sky, with
the tears running down, and then
busted out and went off sobbing
and swabbing, and give the next
woman a show. I never see anything
so disgusting.
Well, by and by the king he
gets up and comes forward a little,
and works himself up and slobbers
out a speech, all full of tears
and flapdoodle about its being
a sore trial for him and his
poor brother to lose the diseased,
and to miss seeing diseased alive
after the long journey of four
thousand mile, but it's a trial
that's sweetened and sanctified
to us by this dear sympathy and
these holy tears, and so he thanks
them out of his heart and out
of his brother's heart, because
out of their mouths they can't,
words being too weak and cold,
and all that kind of rot and
slush, till it was just sickening;
and then he blubbers out a pious
goody-goody Amen, and turns himself
loose and goes to crying fit
to bust.
And the minute the words were
out of his mouth somebody over
in the crowd struck up the doxolojer,
and everybody joined in with
all their might, and it just
warmed you up and made you feel
as good as church letting out.
Music is a good thing; and after
all that soul-butter and hogwash
I never see it freshen up things
so, and sound so honest and bully.
Then the king begins to work
his jaw again, and says how him
and his nieces would be glad
if a few of the main principal
friends of the family would take
supper here with them this evening,
and help set up with the ashes
of the diseased; and says if
his poor brother laying yonder
could speak he knows who he would
name, for they was names that
was very dear to him, and mentioned
often in his letters; and so
he will name the same, to wit,
as follows, vizz.: -- Rev. Mr.
Hobson, and Deacon Lot Hovey,
and Mr. Ben Rucker, and Abner
Shackleford, and Levi Bell, and
Dr. Robinson, and their wives,
and the widow Bartley.
Rev. Hobson
and Dr. Robinson was down to
the end of the town
a-hunting together -- that is,
I mean the doctor was shipping
a sick man to t'other world,
and the preacher was pinting
him right. Lawyer Bell was away
up to Louisville on business.
But the rest was on hand, and
so they all come and shook hands
with the king and thanked him
and talked to him; and then they
shook hands with the duke and
didn't say nothing, but just
kept a-smiling and bobbing their
heads like a passel of sapheads
whilst he made all sorts of signs
with his hands and said "Goo-goo
-- goo-goo-goo" all the time,
like a baby that can't talk.
So the king he blattered along,
and managed to inquire about
pretty much everybody and dog
in town, by his name, and mentioned
all sorts of little things that
happened one time or another
in the town, or to George's family,
or to Peter. And he always let
on that Peter wrote him the things;
but that was a lie: he got every
blessed one of them out of that
young flathead that we canoed
up to the steamboat.
Then Mary Jane she fetched
the letter her father left behind,
and the king he read it out loud
and cried over it. It give the
dwelling-house and three thousand
dollars, gold, to the girls;
and it give the tanyard (which
was doing a good business), along
with some other houses and land
(worth about seven thousand),
and three thousand dollars in
gold to Harvey and William, and
told where the six thousand cash
was hid down cellar. So these
two frauds said they'd go and
fetch it up, and have everything
square and aboveboard; and told
me to come with a candle. We
shut the cellar door behind us,
and when they found the bag they
spilt it out on the floor, and
it was a lovely sight, all them
yaller-boys. My, the way the
king's eyes did shine! He slaps
the duke on the shoulder and
says:
"Oh, THIS ain't
bully nor noth'n! Oh, no, I
reckon not! Why, Biljy,
it beats the Nonesuch, DON'T
it?"
The duke allowed it did. They
pawed the yallerboys, and sifted
them through their fingers and
let them jingle down on the floor;
and the king says:
"It ain't no
use talkin'; bein' brothers
to a rich dead man and
representatives of furrin heirs
that's got left is the line for
you and me, Bilge. Thish yer
comes of trust'n to Providence.
It's the best way, in the long
run. I've tried 'em all, and
ther' ain't no better way."
Most everybody would a been
satisfied with the pile, and
took it on trust; but no, they
must count it. So they counts
it, and it comes out four hundred
and fifteen dollars short. Says
the king:
"Dern him,
I wonder what he done with
that four hundred and
fifteen dollars?"
They worried over that awhile,
and ransacked all around for
it. Then the duke says:
"Well, he was
a pretty sick man, and likely
he made a mistake
-- I reckon that's the way of
it. The best way's to let it
go, and keep still about it.
We can spare it."
"Oh, shucks,
yes, we can SPARE it. I don't
k'yer noth'n 'bout
that -- it's the COUNT I'm thinkin'
about. We want to be awful square
and open and above-board here,
you know. We want to lug this
h-yer money up stairs and count
it before everybody -- then ther'
ain't noth'n suspicious. But
when the dead man says ther's
six thous'n dollars, you know,
we don't want to --"
"Hold on," says the duke. "Le's
make up the deffisit," and he
begun to haul out yaller-boys
out of his pocket.
"It's a most amaz'n' good idea,
duke -- you HAVE got a rattlin'
clever head on you," says the
king. "Blest if the old Nonesuch
ain't a heppin' us out agin," and
HE begun to haul out yaller-jackets
and stack them up.
It most busted them, but they
made up the six thousand clean
and clear.
"Say," says the duke, "I
got another idea. Le's go up
stairs
and count this money, and then
take and GIVE IT TO THE GIRLS."
"Good land,
duke, lemme hug you! It's the
most dazzling idea
'at ever a man struck. You have
cert'nly got the most astonishin'
head I ever see. Oh, this is
the boss dodge, ther' ain't no
mistake 'bout it. Let 'em fetch
along their suspicions now if
they want to -- this 'll lay
'em out."
When we got up-stairs everybody
gethered around the table, and
the king he counted it and stacked
it up, three hundred dollars
in a pile -- twenty elegant little
piles. Everybody looked hungry
at it, and licked their chops.
Then they raked it into the bag
again, and I see the king begin
to swell himself up for another
speech. He says:
"Friends all, my poor brother
that lays yonder has done generous
by them that's left behind in
the vale of sorrers. He has done
generous by these yer poor little
lambs that he loved and sheltered,
and that's left fatherless and
motherless. Yes, and we that
knowed him knows that he would
a done MORE generous by 'em if
he hadn't ben afeard o' woundin'
his dear William and me. Now,
WOULDN'T he? Ther' ain't no question
'bout it in MY mind. Well, then,
what kind o' brothers would it
be that 'd stand in his way at
sech a time? And what kind o'
uncles would it be that 'd rob
-- yes, ROB -- sech poor sweet
lambs as these 'at he loved so
at sech a time? If I know William
-- and I THINK I do -- he --
well, I'll jest ask him." He
turns around and begins to make
a lot of signs to the duke with
his hands, and the duke he looks
at him stupid and leatherheaded
a while; then all of a sudden
he seems to catch his meaning,
and jumps for the king, goo-gooing
with all his might for joy, and
hugs him about fifteen times
before he lets up. Then the king
says, "I knowed it; I reckon
THAT 'll convince anybody the
way HE feels about it. Here,
Mary Jane, Susan, Joanner, take
the money -- take it ALL. It's
the gift of him that lays yonder,
cold but joyful."
Mary Jane she went for him,
Susan and the hare-lip went for
the duke, and then such another
hugging and kissing I never see
yet. And everybody crowded up
with the tears in their eyes,
and most shook the hands off
of them frauds, saying all the
time:
"You DEAR good
souls! -- how LOVELY! -- how
COULD you!"
Well, then, pretty soon all
hands got to talking about the
diseased again, and how good
he was, and what a loss he was,
and all that; and before long
a big iron-jawed man worked himself
in there from outside, and stood
a-listening and looking, and
not saying anything; and nobody
saying anything to him either,
because the king was talking
and they was all busy listening.
The king was saying -- in the
middle of something he'd started
in on --
"-- they bein'
partickler friends o' the diseased.
That's why they're
invited here this evenin'; but
tomorrow we want ALL to come
-- everybody; for he respected
everybody, he liked everybody,
and so it's fitten that his funeral
orgies sh'd be public."
And so he went
a-mooning on and on, liking
to hear himself
talk, and every little while
he fetched in his funeral orgies
again, till the duke he couldn't
stand it no more; so he writes
on a little scrap of paper, "OBSEQUIES,
you old fool," and folds it up,
and goes to goo-gooing and reaching
it over people's heads to him.
The king he reads it and puts
it in his pocket, and says:
"Poor William,
afflicted as he is, his HEART'S
aluz right.
Asks me to invite everybody to
come to the funeral -- wants
me to make 'em all welcome. But
he needn't a worried -- it was
jest what I was at."
Then he weaves along again,
perfectly ca'm, and goes to dropping
in his funeral orgies again every
now and then, just like he done
before. And when he done it the
third time he says:
"I say orgies,
not because it's the common
term, because
it ain't -- obsequies bein' the
common term -- but because orgies
is the right term. Obsequies
ain't used in England no more
now -- it's gone out. We say
orgies now in England. Orgies
is better, because it means the
thing you're after more exact.
It's a word that's made up out'n
the Greek ORGO, outside, open,
abroad; and the Hebrew JEESUM,
to plant, cover up; hence inTER.
So, you see, funeral orgies is
an open er public funeral."
He was the
WORST I ever struck. Well,
the ironjawed man he laughed
right in his face. Everybody
was shocked. Everybody says, "Why,
DOCTOR!" and Abner Shackleford
says:
"Why, Robinson,
hain't you heard the news?
This is Harvey
Wilks."
The king he smiled eager, and
shoved out his flapper, and says:
"Is it my poor
brother's dear good friend
and physician? I
--"
"Keep your hands off of me!" says
the doctor. "YOU talk like an
Englishman, DON'T you? It's the
worst imitation I ever heard.
YOU Peter Wilks's brother! You're
a fraud, that's what you are!"
Well, how they all took on!
They crowded around the doctor
and tried to quiet him down,
and tried to explain to him and
tell him how Harvey 'd showed
in forty ways that he WAS Harvey,
and knowed everybody by name,
and the names of the very dogs,
and begged and BEGGED him not
to hurt Harvey's feelings and
the poor girl's feelings, and
all that. But it warn't no use;
he stormed right along, and said
any man that pretended to be
an Englishman and couldn't imitate
the lingo no better than what
he did was a fraud and a liar.
The poor girls was hanging to
the king and crying; and all
of a sudden the doctor ups and
turns on THEM. He says:
"I was your
father's friend, and I'm your
friend; and I warn
you as a friend, and an honest
one that wants to protect you
and keep you out of harm and
trouble, to turn your backs on
that scoundrel and have nothing
to do with him, the ignorant
tramp, with his idiotic Greek
and Hebrew, as he calls it. He
is the thinnest kind of an impostor
-- has come here with a lot of
empty names and facts which he
picked up somewheres, and you
take them for PROOFS, and are
helped to fool yourselves by
these foolish friends here, who
ought to know better. Mary Jane
Wilks, you know me for your friend,
and for your unselfish friend,
too. Now listen to me; turn this
pitiful rascal out -- I BEG you
to do it. Will you?"
Mary Jane straightened herself
up, and my, but she was handsome!
She says:
"HERE is my answer." She hove
up the bag of money and put it
in the king's hands, and says, "Take
this six thousand dollars, and
invest for me and my sisters
any way you want to, and don't
give us no receipt for it."
Then she put her arm around
the king on one side, and Susan
and the hare-lip done the same
on the other. Everybody clapped
their hands and stomped on the
floor like a perfect storm, whilst
the king held up his head and
smiled proud. The doctor says:
"All right; I wash MY hands
of the matter. But I warn you
all that a time 's coming when
you're going to feel sick whenever
you think of this day." And away
he went.
"All right, doctor," says the
king, kinder mocking him; "we'll
try and get 'em to send for you;" which
made them all laugh, and they
said it was a prime good hit.
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