.dt Josiah’s Alarm and Abel Perry’s Funeral, by Mariettta Holley--A Project Gutenberg eBook
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Josiah’s Alarm||AND||Abel Perry’s Funeral
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BY
JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE
❦
ILLUSTRATED
❦
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1895
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JOSIAH’S ALARM
Copyright, 1893, by J. B. Lippincott Company.
ABEL PERRY’S FUNERAL
Copyright, 1887, by J. B. Lippincott Company.
Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia.
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List of Illustrations.
.hr 15%
.ta h:40 r:5
| PAGE
“Before they got it sot up” | #5:i005#
“Raisin’ vegitables and flowers for market” | #9:i009#
“I ketched Josiah a-figgerin’” | #13:i013#
“A-comin’ up from the suller” | #23:i023#
“George Washington’s hired man kicked at it” | #37:i037#
“Josiah killed a fat turkey” | #45:i045#
“A lawyer by perswasion” | #53:i053#
“Alone, and lonesome as a dog” | #66:i065#
“Abel and S. Annie selected one” | #74:i073#
“It lay there by the side of the road, a great white shape” | #84:i083#
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Josiah’s Alarm.
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When we had the furnace put into our
new house, the man who built the house,
and the agent who sold it, acted awful
skairt.
The agent talked dretful skairful. He
said we would be too hot. He said, “In
every other respect it wuz a perfect furnace,
only it would be liable to heat us up too
much.”
By the contract Josiah wuz to give a
big hefty price for the furnace, and this
wuz the one they brung.
Wall, finally the agent talked so much
about the awful amount of heat it would
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throw out that Josiah got skairt, and he
sez,—
“I guess we had better get a smaller
one, Samantha. How it would look to
have a sunstroke in the winter!” sez he.
“It would mortify me to have one myself,
or have you.”
This wuz before they got it sot up.
But I sez,—
“Be calm, Josiah Allen. Don’t let’s
be too hasty in our movements. I dare
persume to say we may suffer from the
heat ofttimes. But you know it is three
or four sizes smaller than the one we laid
out to have.”
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“Before they got it sot up.”
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[Illustration: “Before they got it sot up.”]
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“Yes,” sez Josiah. “But this is such
a heater, Samantha, I s’poze there hain’t
nothin’ like it in the country for pourin’
out the heat in torrents. And it takes
next to nothin’ in coal to run it. I am
sorry I got so much coal,” sez he, dreamily,
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a-lookin’ at the big heaped-up ben.
“It is all onnecessary; it hain’t a-goin’
to take more’n a ton, if it duz that, to
run it all winter.”
“Oh, shaw!” sez I.
“Wall, it won’t take but a few pounds
more, anyway. I know it won’t from
what the agent sez. I am sorry,” sez
he, “that I didn’t get it by the pound as
we needed it. It hain’t likely we shall
ever empty that ben, not if we don’t live
beyond the nateral age of mortals.”
And Josiah looked sad.
But I merely sez ag’in, “Oh, shaw!”
For I didn’t fall in with his idees at all.
And the idee looked silly to me of his
goin’ to Jonesville and bringin’ coal
home a few pounds at a time, like tea, or
suger; and so I sez “Oh, shaw!” to it.
And then he started off on a new tact,
and sez he, “I am afraid it is resky, anyway,
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to have it round. I am afraid it
will burn up the house.”
But I kep’ on a-counselin’ him to keep
calm, and try it, and then he begin on
a new idee, about heatin’ the door-yard
with it from the furnace-room door, and
raisin’ vegitables and flowers for market.
But I sez, “With snow eight or ten
feet deep, and old zero a-goin’ down to
forty, I guess we can’t raise many vegitables
and flowers in the door-yard.”
“Of course we couldn’t without the
furnace,” sez he. “But that furnace,
from what that agent sez, would jest
melt the snow right down and keep it
warm as summer clear to the orchard
fence. And the meltin’ snow would
make the ground moist and rich. Why,”
sez he, “Samantha, I believe we could
make our everlastin’ fortune by it.”
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“Raisin’ vegitables and flowers for market.”
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[Illustration: “Raisin’ vegitables and flowers for market.”]
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And he sot down and crossed his legs,
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and begin to calculate, on the back of
the Almanac, how much string-beans
would fetch in January, and how our lettuce
would be sought for in December,
and how much he ort to have a head for it.
But I looked on this like one of the
many bubbles I had seen him throw up
rosy and gold tinted, to break anon over
his devoted but bald head, and drizzle
down into damp mist and nothin’ness.
And I kep’ on a-tellin’ him to be
mejum, and to go slow. Sez I,—
“Don’t you go to breakin’ up ground
and puttin’ in garden-seeds in November
on the strength of that furnace.”
But sez he, “The heat of it ort to be
utilized. It is not only resky to have so
much heat a-layin’ loose round, but it
seems wicked to waste it.”
And I ketched Josiah Allen that day
a-figgerin’ on a blank page in Fox’s
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Book of Martyrs how he could carry the
waste heat to the barn and heat up the
cattle.
But I kep’ calm through it all. Of
course I knew from the agent’s talk that
we wuz takin’ a great resk onto us, almost
like goin’ to a torrid zone in the fall of
the year. And though I did in my secret
thoughts apprehend sunstrokes and prostrations,
and perused the medical portion
of the Almanac in my hours of leisure,
for directions to fetch folks to when they
wuz prostrated by heat, still I kep’ a calm
demeanor on the outside of me, and
never let on to Josiah that I had a
apprehension.
That is my way, to keep still, and
calm, and do everything I can to avert
danger.
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“I ketched Josiah a-figgerin’.”
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[Illustration: “I ketched Josiah a-figgerin’.”]
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In the same quiet way, I got out three
old palm-leaf fans, and put new bindin’s
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round the edges, and hemmed over the
bottom of my old lawn dress, and I
bought eleven yards of cheese bandage
cloth at a outlay of five cents a yard, and
colored it a soft gray with plum boughs.
If I couldn’t wear calico in the winter, as
I mistrusted I couldn’t from the agent’s
talk, why, I laid out to be prepared.
And if my apprehensions wuz futile, why,
I laid out to make it into a comforter for
my bed. Ten yards would make the
comforter, and the odd yard I needed
for a wipin’-cloth.
They wuz quite a long time a-settin’
up the furnace. It seemed to me to take
a good while, but I wuzn’t used to the
common behavior of furnaces, and didn’t
know but it wuz one of their habits to be
a good while a-bein’ sot up.
Of course, Josiah bein’ a man, and
bein’ round with the workmen more,
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and hearin’ more of the skairful talk of
that agent, about the heat that wuz soon
a-goin’ to pour onto us, it wuz nateral
that he should get skairter than I wuz,
and it wuz on the very afternoon that
they finished settin’ it up, and I s’poze
the agent had acted very skairful, and
also the men that wuz a-helpin’ set it up
(for of course it wuz nateral that they
should all be linked together in their
talk about it).
It wuz that very afternoon, along towards
night, that I overheard Josiah, out
by the gate, a-tryin’ to sell his clothes,
all his thick ones. And I walked right
out bareheaded, and interfered.
But Josiah sez, “What will I ever
want of ’em ag’in?”
And I sez, “You act like a luny.
Hain’t you got to go out any more to
mill or to meetin’?”
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But sez he, “I am only sellin’ them
that I wear round the house winters.”
But I sez, “Do you desist imegiatly,”
sez I. “If the clothes hain’t wanted,
I need ’em for carpet-rags.”
“Carpets!” sez he. “Do you s’poze
we can stand carpets in such a heat? I
am goin’ to buy mattin’, mattin’ of the
very coolest kind.”
Sez I, sternly, “Do you stop sellin’
or buyin’, and wait.”
“Yes,” sez he, bitterly, “wait! till
we all have sunstrokes, and are dead and
buried.”
I see he wuz fearfully worked up, and
all the rest of the afternoon I made
errents for him to keep him away from
that agent and the workmen. I see he
wuz gettin’ completely onstrung. And I,
with my own inward apprehensions, wuz
in no state to string him up ag’in.
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So I kep’ him away from them by
borrowin’ things I didn’t want of Mrs.
Gowdey, and sendin’ home tea I never
had to Miss Bobbitses, and etc. etc.
Yes, to such depths of deceit will a
woman’s devoted love lead her.
Wall, about night they got it sot up,
and Josiah and I proceeded down-stairs
to see it. They had all gone then, for
Miss Bobbit had detained Josiah with a
long story. She mistrusted sunthin’.
Wall, when we went down to see it, it
looked queer enough. The furnace wuz so
very small, and the big pipes a-leadin’ from
it in every direction looked so very big.
I don’t know as I can describe it any
better than to say it looked like a small
teacup sot out in a door-yard, with very
big eave-spouts a-runnin’ from it all over
the yard. Or as a very small infant of a
few weeks of age would look, a-settin’ up
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with a man’s high hat on, and a pair of
number eleven boots.
It looked curious, and strange, so
strange that I sithed, as I looked at it,
and Josiah looked stunted, and he took
out his bandanna handkerchief and wiped
his forward, without words.
Finally he sez, sort o’ dreamily,—
“’Most all great inventions and discoveries
look strange at first.”
And I sez, almost mechanically, “Yes,
that is so, Josiah.”
And he spoke out ag’in, “Napoleon
Boneparte wuz a small man, but what a
generel he wuz! What a leader! How
fiery he wuz!”
And I sez, “Yes,” ag’in.
And he sez, a-brightenin’ up in his
thoughts, and in delicate defference to
me,—
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
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Wall, the next mornin’ the fire wuz
built in the furnace, and, it bein’ hot
weather, it heat the house beautifully.
It wuz about ninety in the shade, so the
furnace heat the house warm, and the
agent and men looked triumphant, and
ag’in Josiah’s apprehensions rose, and he
wondered how he wuz goin’ to get through
the winter with it without meltin’ right
down in our tracts.
But I kep’ cool, or as cool as I could
in dog-days, and didn’t say much.
Wall, it run along, and run along, the
furnace always a-goin’, to dry the plasterin’,
and Josiah’s stock of winter coal
kep’ a-dwindlin’ down.
Whatever else the furnace could do, or
couldn’t do, it could devour coal with
the best of ’em. Like some folks I
have seen, it wuz small in size, but had
a immense appetite.
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Ton after ton vanished like tales that
wuz told, into its insatiable mouth (door
of furnace).
But as the weather wuz still hot, it
heat the house beautifully, so Josiah
didn’t complain. But he lay awake
nights a-worryin’ about the effects of
heat.
But finally there come on a cold snap,
jest as I wuz a-gettin’ the new house
cleaned, and carpets put down, and I
found there wuzn’t a room I could set
down in, it wuz so cold.
It wuz a very cold day when I had the
dinin’-room carpet put down, and I had
hired a stout healthy woman, two hundred
pounds wuz her weight, and her
temperature wuz above normal, it wuz
so good.
I went over to the house that mornin’,
and I shivered imperceptibly as I walked
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through the rooms,—I didn’t venter to
set,—and I met Josiah a-comin’ up from
the suller with his mittens on, and a
comforter round his neck, and his teeth
a-chatterin’.
And I sez to him, “Hain’t you glad
you didn’t sell your mittens and comforter,
Josiah?”
And he sez, real snappish, “I wouldn’t
be a fool!”
And I sez, “I didn’t mean no hurt,
Josiah,” and I added further, as I
clapped my hands together to warm ’em,
“We are both sufferers, Josiah Allen.”
“Wall,” sez he, “when we get into
the house it will be different. Then we
can give it a fair test.”
And I sez, a-glancin’ at the empty
coal-ben,—
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“A-comin’ up from the suller.”
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[Illustration: “A-comin’ up from the suller.”]
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“If four tons of coal hain’t a test, I
don’t know a test when I see it.”
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We had got down in front of the furnace
by this time, and I looked down on
it pityin’ly, it looked so fearful small, and
the cold all round it seemed so intense.
And I sez, “The poor little thing
hain’t to blame: it duz the best it can,
but it has took too hefty a job on it for
its size and constitution.”
He wuz a-leanin’ over the top of the
furnace, a-brushin’ off the icicles from
his whiskers; and he sez, almost mechanically,—
“You know the man said it wuz such
a heater; you know he said it wuz fairly
dangerous.”
“Yes,” sez I, “but I learned long ago
to put not your trust in princes, or
agents,” sez I. “That is Bible, Josiah,
part on’t.”
Wall, he shivered so that I got him
out of the furnace-room as quick as
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I could, and then I went up-stairs,
a-wroppin’ my thick woollen shawl more
closely round my frame, and I looked
round to see what had become of my
hired woman, for I feared the worst; I
feared she had perished.
But no, I found she wuz resusitated.
I found her a-settin’ on the regester in
the dinin’-room floor, the heat turned
on to its utmost capacity, and she wuz
a-sewin’ on the carpet.
But she looked blue, and her frame
shook. And she said she wuz cold,
bitter cold.
And she sez to me, in gloomy axents,—
“How are you a-goin’ to stand it
through the winter?”
My soul wuz racked with the same
agonizin’ apprehensions. But I tried to be
calm; I wuz cool, I know,—freezin’ cool.
Wall, that afternoon I made a voyalent
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effort to have that furnace took out, and
a bigger one put in, and one that had a
warmer circulation and a more healthy
constitution inside of it.
“For,” sez I, “if we enter this house
with that furnace in it, we shall all likewise
perish.”
I thought mebby if I used a skriptural
term the man would hear to me, seein’
he wuz a perfesser.
But no, he stood firm. He said “we
hadn’t tested it sufficient.” And the
rest of the men a-standin’ round with
blue noses, all jined in with him:
“No, we hadn’t tested it.”
Wall, I gin my shawl a closter wrop
round my chilly frame, and pinted my
frigid forefinger towards the empty coal-ben,
and sez,—
“If four tons of coal hain’t a test,
what do you call one?”
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And sez I, “If that hain’t a test, there
is a woman a-perishin’ out there now,
a-settin’ on the regester: bring her in
for a test if you want another.”
But no; one of ’em recommended
givin’ her whiskey to keep her temperature
up till she got the carpet
down.
But Josiah rousted up at that, and
said “he wuzn’t goin’ to stand the expense
of keepin’ folkses heat up with
brandy.” (That man is close.) And I
repudiated the idee, and said, “I put
more faith in soapstuns and woollen
shawls.”
And I sez ag’in, in eloquent axents,
“Take out that furnace, and put in a
bigger one, and I will move in and test
it.”
And then they said “they wouldn’t.”
And we said “we wouldn’t.”
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And then the man threw some hints at
us about the law.
And then Tirzah Ann throwed some
back at him, about its not bein’ a new
furnace.
Such news had come to us, and come
very straight and direct. Miss Deacon
Elikum Peck told she that wuz Hetty
Avery, and she that wuz Hetty told old
Miss Blodgett, and she told the editor of
the Augurses wife, and she told Miss
Preserved Green, and she told Tirzah
Ann. It come straight.
And then the man said that it hadn’t
never been sot up before, and also that it
had all been fixed over sense it wuz sot up.
This wuz very satisfactory to Josiah,
but not to me, and I told him ag’in, impressively,—
“Take out that furnace. My life I
feel is at the stake.”
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But they stood firm. And when one
party stands firm and won’t move, the
other party has got to; that is, if there
is any movement.
So finally, with a forebodin’ mind and
a frosty frame, I took the venter.
I had a large coal stove in the kitchen,
so I knew that part of the house wuz
habitable. So I moved in, accompanied
by a good wood stove, which wuz sot up
in my room.
Wall, the first thing that happened to
me wuz a cold that set my teeth to achin’
so hard it seemed as if they must shatter
the gooms, and my face swelled up almost
enormous. I lay in the most excrutiating
agony for a week. The pain I suffered
every hour wuz costly enough to me to
buy the furnace, pipe and all, if pain
could profit a man or woman.
At last I got easier through the constant
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application of hot poultices, mustard,
catnip, etcetery. And a hot fire in
my wood stove made me comfortable in
frame. I couldn’t sleep, so I could ’tend
to havin’ the wood put in.
One night, the coldest of the season,
worn out with long watchin’ and pain, I
slept sound. So did the one who took
care on me: we slept so sound that my
wood fire languished and went out, and
we wuz left in our weakness, in the
silence and darkness, to the mercy of
that poor little furnace.
Curious little thing, it wuzn’t to blame:
it did the best it could with its circulation
and size.
But in the mornin’ I waked up so cold
that it seemed as if I would have loved
to go to Greenland to have warmed up
some, or Iceland would have been a
grateful change.
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Waked up with a cold ketched there
in my peaceful bed, that brung me down
to the very verge of the grave. Yes, I
went down so close to the dark river that
I could almost hear the mysterious
swashin’ of its waves against the shores
of the Present.
For eight long weeks did I lay there
and suffer, and doctors and nurses a-sufferin’
too; for it wuzn’t only me they
had to take care on, they had to take
constant and broodin’ care of that poor
feeble little furnace: that had to be sot
up with jest as regular as I did. Sometimes
they hired a man to set up with it
regular till two in the mornin’, thinkin’
then it would survive till mornin’.
Sometimes they tried waitin’ on it three
or four times a night, and keepin’ it alive
that way.
Wall, after eight or nine weeks of sufferin’
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almost onexampled, I got better;
but the poor little furnace kep’ on
a-growin’ weaker and more weak, its circulation
more and more clogged up, and
its inward fires a-expirin’ gradual.
And finally consent wuz giv that we
should put in a new furnace. And we
imegiatly and to once bought a big noble-sized
one, with a good healthy circulation,
that makes our house like summer
all the time, day and night.
Why, it fairly fools the house-plants,
makes the silly things think it is summer.
And up stairs and down, in almost every
livin’-room their big green leaves and
dewy blossoms shine out, not mistrustin’
that it hain’t June.
And the red and green parrot sets and
talks and looks wise, and is a-s’pozin’ all
the time that he is in New Mexico.
Wall, the day that the little furnace
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wuz took out of the suller (poor little
weak broken-down creeter, I can’t help
bein’ sorry for it), that very day I paid
my doctor’s bill,—a good hefty one.
The nurse’s bill, and the bills of them
that had sot up with me, and sot up with
the furnace, hadn’t come in yet; but I
knew they would be big, and ort to be,
a-takin’ care on us both.
The doctor had just gone, and I wuz
a-settin’ in my room relapsted into meditation
and a big rockin’-chair,—for I wuz
far from bein’ strong yet,—when all of a
sudden my pardner burst into the room,
all rousted up and agitated to a extreme
degree, and sez he,—
“What do you s’poze we have discovered
now, Samantha? How old do
you think that furnace is, Samantha
Allen?”
And I sez, “I don’t feel like guessin’
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on deep subjects, feelin’ as I do, weak as
a cat.”
“Wall,” sez he, “the body part of it
is the very same old potash-kettle that
George Washington made potash in
before the war of 1812.”
Sez I, “I don’t believe any such
thing,” and sez I, a-leanin’ back in my
copperplate chair,—
“You tire me, Josiah, with your wild
and impassioned skemes and idees. Only
a little while ago you wuz a-tryin’ to sell
your clothes to escape the burnin’ qualities
of that furnace, and now you are
a-tryin’ to make it out older’n the hills.”
“But this is a fact,” sez he. “I
recognized it the minute it wuz oncovered.
I see a picture of it once in
a Life of Washington. It is a peculiar
shape, and I can’t be mistook.”
Sez I, “I don’t believe a word of it.”
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“Wall,” sez he, firmly, “I can prove
it.”
“How?” sez I.
“Wall, there is a big hole in the side
of it where his hired man got mad and
kicked at it. It has been all cemented
up and mended, but you can see the
marks plain.”
“How did you get holt of that idee?”
sez I, sternly.
“History,” sez he. “I read a good
deal that I never told you about.”
“I should think as much,” sez I.
And I sez further,—
“Get that idee out of your head to
once, Josiah Allen. George Washington
never see this furnace: it wuz made sense
his time.”
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“George Washington’s hired man kicked at it.”
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[Illustration: “George Washington’s hired man kicked at it.”]
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But Josiah contended it wuz so, and
left the room mad as a hen to think I
wouldn’t give in with him.
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// 041.png
.pn +1
And in less than ten minutes up he
hurried with another idee in his head.
And sez he the first thing,—
“More proof, Samantha! in takin’ the
furnace apart we have found the old rim
that Washington’s folks used with his
potash-kettle, all broke to pieces and
wired together.”
Sez I, “I don’t believe it. I don’t
believe a word of it.”
“Wall,” sez he, triumphantly, “come
down suller, and I will prove it.”
So I tottered down suller (for what
will not a wife do to please her pardner?),
and there, sure enough, wuz a
iron rim which had been broke long ago
to all appearance, and mended with old
wire. And the big part did indeed look
in shape like a old potash-kettle with
some places in the side that had been
patched up with cement.
// 042.png
.pn +1
I looked down on it pensively and
sez,—
“And that is what we wuz to pay that
big hefty price for. That is what wuz a-goin’
to give us sunstrokes in the winter,
and prostrations from too fervid heat.”
A by-stander a-standin’ by remarked
tersely,—
“All it is good for is old iron.”
But Josiah sez, “Wall, I’ll bet George
Washington made durned good potash in
it. I’ll bet it wuz a good kettle in its
day.”
Sez I, “Josiah Allen, cease such talk.
I should think we had suffered enough
with the little thing, without lyin’ about
it.”
But sez he, firmly, “I believe every
word I say, and I don’t say a thing I
can’t prove. That is George Washington’s
potash-kettle.”
// 043.png
.pn +1
I sithed, and turned silently away, for
I knew words wuz vain.
And though I don’t believe a word on
it, and though I know it wuz made sense
that time, and hain’t nigh so old, I can’t
turn my companion’s mind round the
wedth of a horse-hair.
He will go down to the grave a-thinkin’
that that wuz George Washington’s potash-kettle,
and them mended-up places
he found in it wuz made by the hired
man a-kickin’ at it when he was mad at
George.
// 044.png
.pn +1
.sp 2
.pb
.h2
Abel Perry’s Funeral.
.hr 15%
.sp 2
Josiah Allen and me had visitors,
along the last of the winter,—Abel
Perry’ses folks from ’way out beyond
Loontown.
They come in good sperits and the
mornin’ train, and spent three days and
three nights with us.
You see, they wuz relations of ourn,
and had been for some time, entirely
onbeknown to us, and they come a-huntin’
us up. They said “they thought
relations ort to be hunted up, and hang
together.” They said “the idee of
huntin’ us up had come to ’em after
readin’ my book.”
// 045.png
.pn +1
They told me so, and I said, “Wall.”
I didn’t add nor demenish to that one
“Wall.” For I didn’t want to act too
backward, nor too forward. I jest kep’
kinder neutral, and said, “Wall.”
You see, Abel’s father’s sister-in-law
wuz step-mother to my aunt’s second-cousin
on her father’s side. And Abel
said that “he had felt more and more,
as years went by, that it wuz a burnin’
shame for relations to not know and love
each other.” He said “he felt that he
loved Josiah and me dearly.”
I didn’t say right out whether it wuz
reciprokated or not. I kinder said,
“Wall,” ag’in.
And I told Josiah, in perfect confidence
and the wood-house chamber,
“that I had seen nearer relations than
Mr. Perry’ses folks wuz to us.”
Howsumever, I done well by ’em.
// 046.png
.pn +1
Josiah killed a fat turkey, and I baked it,
and done other things for their comfort,
and we had quite a good time.
Abel wuz ruther flowery and enthusiastick,
and his mouth and voice wuz ruther
large, but he meant well, I should judge,
and we had quite a good time.
She wuz very freckled, and a second-day
Baptist by perswasion, and was
piecin’ up a crazy bedquilt. She went
a-visitin’ a good deal, and got pieces of
the wimmen’s dresses where she visited
for blocks. So it wuz quite a savin’
bedquilt, and very good-lookin’, considerin’.
.if h
.il fn=i045.jpg w=438px id=i045
.ca
“Josiah killed a fat turkey.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: “Josiah killed a fat turkey.”]
.sp 2
.if-
But to resoom and continue on.
Abel’s folks made us promise on our
two sacred honors, Josiah’s honor and
mine, that we would pay back the visit,
for, as Abel said, “for relatives to live so
clost to each other, and not visit back
// 047.png
.pn +1
// 048.png
.pn +1
// 049.png
.pn +1
and forth, wuz a burnin’ shame and a
disgrace.” And Josiah promised that
we would go right away after sugarin’.
We wouldn’t promise on the New
Testament, as Abel wanted us to (he is
dretful enthusiastick); but we gin good
plain promises that we would go, and
laid out to keep our two words.
So along a week or so after sugarin’,
Josiah beset me one day to go over to
Mr. Perry’ses.
Josiah liked Abel; there wuz sunthin’
in his intense enthusiastick nature and
extravagant methods that wuz congenial
to Josiah.
So I bein’ agreeable to the idee, we
set out after dinner, a-layin’ out to be
gone two nights and one hull day, and
two parts of days, a-goin’ and a-comin’
back.
Wall, we got there onexpected, as they
// 050.png
.pn +1
had come onto us. And we found ’em
plunged into trouble.
Their only child, a girl, who had
married a young lawyer of Loontown,
had jest lost her husband with the typus,
and they wuz a-makin’ preparations for
the funeral when we got there. She and
her husband had come home on a visit,
and he wuz took down bed-sick there and
died.
I told ’em I felt like death to think
I had descended down onto ’em at such
a time.
But Abel said he wuz jest despatchin’
a messenger for us when we arrove, for,
he said, “in a time of trouble, then wuz
the time, if ever, that a man wanted his
near relations clost to him.”
And he said “we had took a load
offen him by appearin’ jest as we did, for
there would have been some delay in
// 051.png
.pn +1
gettin’ us there, if the messenger had
been despatched.”
He said “that mornin’ he had felt so
bad that he wanted to die,—it seemed as
if there wuzn’t nothin’ left for him to
live for; but now he felt that he had
sunthin’ to live for, now his relatives wuz
gethered round him.”
Josiah shed tears to hear Abel go on.
I myself didn’t weep none, but I wuz
glad if we could be any comfort to ’em,
and told ’em so.
And I told Sally Ann, that wuz
Abel’ses wife, that I would do anything
that I could to help ’em.
And she said “everything wuz a-bein’
done that wuz necessary. She didn’t
know of but one thing that wuz likely to
be overlooked and neglected, and that
wuz the crazy bedquilt.” She said “she
would love to have that finished, to
// 052.png
.pn +1
throw over a lounge in the settin’-room,
that wuz frayed out on the edges. And
if I felt like it, it would be a great relief
to her to have me take it right offen her
hands, and finish it.”
So I took out my thimble and needle
(I always carry such necessaries with me,
in a huzzy made expressly for that purpose),
and I sot down and went to
piecin’ up. There wuz seventeen blocks
to piece up, each one crazy as a loon to
look at, and it wuz all to set together.
She had the pieces, for she had been
off on a visitin’ tower the week before,
and collected of ’em.
So I sot in quiet and the big cheer in
the settin’-room, and pieced up, and see
the preparations a-goin’ on round us.
I found that Abel’ses folks lived in a
house big and showy-lookin’, but not so
solid and firm as I had seen.
// 053.png
.pn +1
It wuz one of the houses, outside and
inside, where more pains had been took
with the porticos and ornaments than
with the underpinnin’.
It had a showy and kind of a
shaky look. And I found that that extended
to Abel’ses business arraingments.
Amongst the other ornaments of his
buildin’s wuz mortgages, quite a lot of
’em, and of almost every variety. He
had gin his only child S. Annie (she wuz
named after her mother Sally Ann, but
wrote it this way),—he had gin S. Annie
a showy education, a showy weddin’,
and a showy settin’-out. But she had
had the good luck to marry a sensible
man, though poor.
He took S. Annie, and the brackets,
and piano, and hangin’ lamps, and baskets,
and crystal bead lambrequins, her
father had gin her, moved ’em all into a
// 054.png
.pn +1
good sensible small house, and went to
work to get a practice and a livin’. He
wuz a lawyer by perswasion.
Wall, he worked hard, day and night,
for three little children come to ’em
pretty fast, and S. Annie consumed a
good deal in trimmin’s and cheap lace
to ornament ’em: she wuz her father’s
own girl for ornament. But he worked
so hard, and had so many irons in the
fire, and kep ’em all so hot, that he got
a good livin’ for ’em, and begun to lay
up money towards byin’ ’em a house, a
home.
.if h
.il fn=i053.jpg w=462px id=i053
.ca
“A lawyer by perswasion.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: “A lawyer by perswasion.”]
.sp 2
.if-
He talked a sight, so folks said that
knew him well, about his consumin’
desire and aim to get his wife and children
into a little home of their own, into
a safe little haven, where they could be
a little sheltered from the storms of life
if the big waves should wash him away.
// 055.png
.pn +1
// 056.png
.pn +1
// 057.png
.pn +1
They say that that wuz on his mind day
and night, and wuz what nerved his hand
so in the fray, and made him so successful.
Wall, he had laid up about nine hundred
dollars towards a home, every
dollar on it earned by hard work and
consecrated by this deathless hope and
affection. The house he had got his
mind on only cost about a thousand
dollars. Loontown property is cheap.
Wall, he had laid up nine hundred,
and wuz a-beginnin’ to save on the last
hundred, for he wouldn’t run in debt a
cent anyway, when he wuz took voyalent
sick there to Abel’ses: he and S. Annie
had come home for a visit of a day or
two; and he bein’ so run down, and
weak with his hard day work, and his
night work, that he suckumbed to his
sickness, and passed away the day before
I got there.
// 058.png
.pn +1
Wall, S. Annie wuz jest overcome with
grief the day I got there, but the day
follerin’ she begun to take some interest,
and help her father in makin’ preparations
for the funeral.
The body wuz embalmed, accordin’ to
Abel’ses and S. Annie’s wish, and the
funeral wuz to be on the Sunday follerin’,
and on that Abel and S. Annie now bent
their energies.
To begin with, S. Annie had a hull
suit of clear crape made for herself, with
a veil that touched the ground; she also
had three other suits commenced, for
more common wear, trimmed heavy with
crape, one of which she ordered for sure
the next week, for she said “she couldn’t
stir out of the house in any other color
but black.”
I knew jest how dear crape wuz, and I
tackled her on the subject, and says I,—
// 059.png
.pn +1
“Do you know, S. Annie, those
dresses of yourn will cost a sight?”
“Cost?” says she, a-bustin’ out
a-cryin’. “What do I care about cost?
I will do everything I can to respect his
memory. I do it in remembrance of
him.”
Says I, gently, “S. Annie, you
wouldn’t forget him if you wuz dressed
in white. And as for respect, such a life as
his, from all I hear of it, don’t need crape
to throw respect on it: it commands
respect, and gets it from everybody.”
“But,” says Abel, “it would look
dretful odd to the neighbors if she
didn’t dress in black.” Says he, in a
skairful tone, and in his intense way,—
“I would ruther resk my life than to
have her fail in duty in this way: it
would make talk!” And says he, “What
is life worth when folks talk?”
// 060.png
.pn +1
I turned around the crazed block, and
tackled it in a new place (more luny than
ever it seemed to me), and says I,
mekanickly,—
“It is pretty hard work to keep folks
from talkin’, to keep ’em from sayin’
sunthin’.”
But I see from their looks it wouldn’t
do to say anything more, so I had to set
still and see it go on.
At that time of year flowers wuz dretful
high, but S. Annie and Abel had
made up their minds that they must have
several flower-pieces from the city nighest
to Loontown.
One wuz goin’ to be a gate ajar, and
one wuz to be a gate wide open. And
one wuz to be a big book. Abel asked me
what book I thought would be prefferable
to represent. And I mentioned the Bible.
But Abel says, “No, he didn’t think
// 061.png
.pn +1
he would have a Bible; he didn’t think
it would be appropriate, seein’ the
deceased wuz a lawyer.” He said “he
hadn’t quite made up his mind what book
to have. But anyway it wuz to be in
flowers,—beautiful flowers.” Another
piece wuz to be his name in white flowers
on a purple background of pansies. His
name wuz William Henry Harrison
Rockyfeller. And I says to Abel,—
“To save expense, you will probable
have the moneygram W. H. H. R.?”
“Oh, no,” says he.
Says I, “Then the initials of his given
names, and the last name in full.”
“Oh, no,” he said; “it wuz S.
Annie’s wish, and hisen, that the hull
name should be put on. They thought
it would show more respect.”
I says, “Where Harrison is now, that
hain’t a-goin’ to make any difference;”
// 062.png
.pn +1
and, says I, “Abel, flowers are dretful
high this time of year, and it is a long
name.”
But Abel said ag’in that he didn’t care
for expense, so long as respect wuz done
to the memory of the deceased. He
said that he and S. Annie both felt that
it wuz their wish to have the funeral go
ahead of any other that had ever took
place in Loontown or Jonesville. He
said that S. Annie felt that it wuz all that
wuz left her now in life, the memory of
such a funeral as he deserved.
Says I, “There is his children left for
her to live for,” says I,—“three little
bits of his own life, for her to nourish,
and cherish, and look out for.”
“Yes,” says Abel. “And she will do
that nobly, and I will help her. They
are all goin’ to the funeral, too, in deep-black
dresses.” He said “they wuz too
// 063.png
.pn +1
little to realize it now, but in later and
maturer years it would be a comfort to
’em to know they had took part in such a
funeral as that wuz goin’ to be, and wuz
dressed in black.”
“Wall,” says I (in a quite onassumin’
way I would gin little hints of my mind
on the subject), “I am afraid that will be
about all the comforts of life the poor
little children will ever have,” says I.
“It will if you buy many more flower-pieces
and crape dresses.”
Abel said “it wouldn’t take much
crape for the children’s dresses, they wuz
so little, only the baby’s: that would
have to be long.”
Says I, “The baby would look better
in white, and it will take sights of crape
for a long baby dress.”
“Yes, but S. Annie can use it afterwards
for veils. She is very economical;
// 064.png
.pn +1
she takes it from me. And she feels jest
as I do, that the baby must wear it in
respect to her father’s memory.”
Says I, “The baby don’t know crape
from a clothes-pin.”
“No,” says Abel, “but in after-years
the thought of the respect she showed
will sustain her.”
“Wall,” says I, “I guess she won’t
have much besides thoughts to live on, if
things go on in this way.”
I would give little hints in this way,
but they wuzn’t took. Things went
right on as if I hadn’t spoke. And I
couldn’t contend, for truly, as a bad little
boy said once on a similar occasion, “it
wuzn’t my funeral,” so I had to set and
work on that insane bedquilt and see it
go on. But I sithed constant and
frequent, and when I wuz all alone in
the room I indulged in a few low groans.
// 065.png
.pn +1
Two dress-makers wuz in the house, to
stay all the time till the dresses wuz done;
and clerks would come around, if not
oftener, with packages of mournin’ goods
and mournin’ jewelry, and mournin’
handkerchiefs, and mournin’ stockin’s,
and mournin’ stockin’-supporters, and
mournin’ safety-pins, and etc., etc., etc.,
etc., etc.
Every one of ’em, I knew, a-wrenchin’
boards offen the sides of that house that
Harrison had worked so hard to get for
his wife and little ones.
Wall, the day of the funeral come. It
wuz a wet, drizzly day, but Abel wuz up
early, to see that everything wuz as he
wanted it to be.
As far as I wuz concerned, I had done
my duty, for the crazy bedquilt wuz
done; and though brains might totter as
they looked at it, I felt that it wuzn’t
// 066.png
.pn +1
my fault. Sally Ann spread it out with
complacency over the lounge, and thanked
me, with tears in her eyes, for my noble
deed.
Along quite early in the mornin’, before
the show commenced, I went in to
see Harrison.
He lay there calm and peaceful, with a
look on his face as if he had got away,
at last from a atmosphere of show and
sham, and had got into the great Reality
of life.
.if h
.il fn=i065.jpg w=441px id=i065
.ca
“Alone, and lonesome as a dog.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: “Alone, and lonesome as a dog.”]
.sp 2
.if-
It wuz a good face, and the worryment
and care that folks told me had been on
it for years had all faded away. But the
look of determination, and resolve, and
bravery,—that wuz ploughed too deep in
his face to be smoothed out, even by the
mighty hand that had lain on it. The
resolved look, the brave look with which
he had met the warfare of life, toiled for
// 067.png
.pn +1
// 068.png
.pn +1
// 069.png
.pn +1
victory over want, toiled to place his
dear and helpless ones in a position of
safety,—that look wuz on his face yet, as
if the deathless hope and endeavor had
gone on into eternity with him.
And by the side of him, on a table,
wuz the big high flower-pieces, beginnin’
already to wilt and decay.
Wall, it’s bein’ such a oncommon bad
day, there wuzn’t many to the funeral.
But we rode to the meetin’-house in
Loontown in a state and splendor that I
never expect to ag’in. Abel had hired
eleven mournin’-coaches, and the day
bein’ so bad, and so few a-turnin’ out to
the funeral, that in order to occupy all
the coaches, and Abel thought it would
look better and more popular to have ’em
all occupied, we divided up, and Josiah
went in one, alone, and lonesome as a
dog, as he said, afterwards to me. And
// 070.png
.pn +1
I sot up straight and uncomfortable in
another one of ’em, stark alone.
Abel had one to himself, and his wife
another one, and two old maids, sisters
of Abel’ses who always made a point
of attendin’ funerals, they each one of
’em had one. S. Annie and her children
of course had the first one, and then the
minister had one, and one of the trustees
in the neighborhood had another: so we
lengthened out into quite a crowd, all
a-follerin’ the shiny hearse, and the casket
all covered with showy plated nails.
I thought of it in jest that way, for Harrison,
I knew, the real Harrison, wuzn’t
there. No, he wuz far away,—as far as
the Real is from the Unreal.
Wall, we filed into the Loontown
meetin’-house in pretty good shape,
though Abel hadn’t no black handkerchief,
and he looked worried about it.
// 071.png
.pn +1
He had shed tears a-tellin’ me about it,
what a oversight it wuz, while I wuz
a-fixin’ on his mournin’ weed. He took
it into his head to have a deeper weed at
the last minute, so I fixed it on. He had
the weed come up to the top of his hat
and lap over. I never see so tall a weed.
But it suited Abel; he said “he thought
it showed deep respect.”
“Wall,” says I, “it is a deep weed,
anyway,—the deepest I ever see.” And
he said, as I wuz a-sewin’ it on, he
a-holdin’ his hat for me, “that Harrison
deserved it; he deserved it all.”
But, as I say, he shed tears to think
that his handkerchief wuzn’t black-bordered.
He said “it wuz a fearful
oversight; it would probably make talk.”
But I says, “Mebby it won’t be noticed.”
“Yes, it will,” says he. “It will be
// 072.png
.pn +1
noticed.” And says he, “I don’t care
about myself, but I am afraid it will reflect
onto Harrison. I am afraid they
will think it shows a lack of respect for
him. For Harrison’s sake I feel cut
down about it.”
And I says, “I guess where Harrison is
now, the color of a handkerchief-border
hain’t a-goin’ to make much difference to
him either way.”
And I don’t s’pose it wuz noticed
much, for there wuzn’t more’n ten or a
dozen folks there when we went in. We
went in in Injin file mostly, by Abel’ses
request, so’s to make more show. And
as a procession we wuz middlin’ long,
but ruther thin.
The sermon was not so very good as to
quality, but abundant as to quantity. It
wuz, as nigh as I could calkerlate, about
a hour and three-quarters long. Josiah
// 073.png
.pn +1
whispered to me along about the last that
“we had been there over seven hours,
and his legs wuz paralyzed.”
And I whispered back that “seven
hours would take us into the night, and
to stretch his feet out and pinch ’em;”
which he did.
But it wuz long and tejus. My feet
got to sleep twice, and I had hard work
to wake ’em up ag’in. The sermon
meant to be about Harrison, I s’pose;
he did talk a sight about him, and then
he kinder branched off onto politics, and
then the Inter-State bill; he kinder
favored it, I thought.
Wall, we all got drippin’ wet a-goin’
home, for Abel insisted on our gettin’
out at the grave, for he had hired some
oncommon high singers (high every way,
in price and in notes) to sing at the
grave.
// 074.png
.pn +1
And so we disembarked in the drippin’
rain, on the wet grass, and formed a
procession ag’in. And Abel had a long
exercise right there in the rain. But the
singin’ wuz kinder jerky, and cur’us, and
they had got their pay beforehand, so
they hurried it through. And one man,
the tenor, who wuz dretful afraid of
takin’ cold, hurried through his part, and
got through first, and started on a run
for the carriage. The others stood their
grounds till the piece wuz finished, but
they put in some dretful cur’us quavers.
I believe they had had chills: it sounded
like it.
.if h
.il fn=i073.jpg w=600px id=i073
.ca
“Abel and S. Annie selected one.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: “Abel and S. Annie selected one.”]
.sp 2
.if-
Take it altogether, I don’t believe anybody
got much satisfaction out of it,
only Abel. S. Annie sp’ilt her dress and
bonnet entirely—they wuz wilted all
down; and she ordered another suit jest
like it before she slept.
// 075.png
.pn +1
// 076.png
.pn +1
// 077.png
.pn +1
Wall, the next mornin’ early two men
come with plans for monuments. Abel
had telegrafted to ’em to come with
plans and bid for the job of furnishin’
the monument.
And after a good deal of talk on both
sides, Abel and S. Annie selected one
that wuz very high and p’inted.
The men stayed to dinner, and I said
to Abel, out to one side,—
“Abel, that monument is a-goin’ to
cost a sight.”
“Wall,” says he, “we can’t raise too
high a one. Harrison deserved it all.”
Says I, “Won’t that, and all these
funeral expenses, take about all the money
he left?”
“Oh, no,” says he. “He had insured
his life for a large amount, and it all goes
to his wife and children. He deserves a
monument, if a man ever did.”
// 078.png
.pn +1
“But,” says I, “don’t you believe that
Harrison would rather have S. Annie and
the children settled down in a good little
home, with sunthin’ left to take care of
’em, than to have all this money spent in
perfectly useless things?”
“Useless!” says Abel, turnin’ red.
“Why,” says he, “if you wuzn’t a near
relation I should resent that speech bitterly.”
“Wall,” says I, “what do all these
flowers, and empty carriages, and silver-plated
nails, and crape, and so forth,—what
does it all amount to?”
“Respect and honor to his memory,”
says Abel, proudly.
Says I, “Such a life as Harrison’s had
them; nobody could take ’em away, nor
demenish ’em. Such a brave, honest
life is crowned with honor and respect
anyway. It don’t need no crape, nor
// 079.png
.pn +1
flowers, nor monuments, to win ’em.
And at the same time,” says I, dreamily,
“if a man is mean, no amount of crape,
or flower-pieces, or flowery sermons, or
obituries, is a-goin’ to cover up that meanness.
A life has to be lived out-doors,
as it were: it can’t be hid. A string of
mournin’ carriages, no matter how long,
hain’t a-goin’ to carry a dishonorable
life into honor, and no grave, no matter
how low and humble it is, is a-goin’ to
cover up a honorable life.
“Such a life as Harrison’s don’t need
no monument to carry up the story of
his virtues into the heavens: it is known
there already. And them that mourn
his loss don’t need cold marble words to
recall his goodness and faithfulness. The
heart where the shadow of his eternal
absence has fell, don’t need crape to
make it darker.
// 080.png
.pn +1
“Harrison wouldn’t be forgot if S.
Annie wore pure white from day to day.
No, nobody that knew Harrison, from
all I have hearn of him, needs crape to
remind ’em that he wuz once here and
now is gone.
“Howsomever, as far as that is concerned,
I always feel that mourners must
do as they are a mind to about crape,
with fear and tremblin’,—that is, if they
are well off, and can do as they are a
mind to; and the same with monuments,
flowers, empty coaches, etc. But in this
case, Abel Perry, I wouldn’t be a-doin’
my duty if I didn’t speak my mind.
When I look at these little helpless souls
that are left in a cold world with nothin’
to stand between them and want but the
small means their pa worked so hard for
and left for the express purpose of takin’
care of ’em, it seems to me a foolish
// 081.png
.pn +1
thing, and a cruel thing, to spend all that
money on what is entirely onnecessary.”
“Onnecessary!” says Abel, angrily.
“Ag’in I say, Josiah Allen’s wife, that
if it wuzn’t for our close relationship
I should turn on you. A worm will
turn,” says he, “if it is too hardly
trampled on.”
“I hain’t trampled on you,” says I,
“nor hain’t had no idea on’t. I wuz
only statin’ the solemn facts and truth of
the matter. And you will see it some
time, Abel Perry, if you don’t now.”
Says Abel, “The worm has turned,
Josiah Allen’s wife! Yes, I feel that I
have got to look now to more distant relations
for comfort. Yes, the worm has
been stepped on too heavy.”
He looked cold, cold as a iceickle,
almost. And I see that jest the few
words I had spoke, jest the slight hints I
// 082.png
.pn +1
had gin, hadn’t been took as they should
have been took. So I said no more.
For ag’in the remark of that little bad
boy came up in my mind, and restrained
me from sayin’ any more.
Truly, as the young male child observed,
“it wuzn’t my funeral.”
We went home almost immejiately
afterwards, my heart nearly a-bleedin’
for the little children, poor little creeters,
and Abel actin’ cold and distant to the
last.
And we hain’t seen ’em sense. But
news has come from them, and come
straight. Josiah heerd to Jonesville, all
about it.
The miller at Loontown wuz down to
the Jonesville mill to get the loan of some
bags, and Josiah happened to be there to
mill that day, and heerd all about it.
Abel had got the monument. And
// 083.png
.pn +1
the ornaments on it cost far more than he
expected. There wuz a wreath a-runnin’
round it clear from the bottom to the
top, and verses a kinder runnin’ up it at
the same time. And it cost fearful.
Poetry a-runnin’ up, they say, costs far
more than it duz on a level.
Anyway, the two thousand dollars that
wuz insured on Harrison’s life wuzn’t
quite enough to pay for it. But the sale
of his law library and the best of the
housen stuff paid it. The nine hundred
he left went, every mite of it, to pay the
funeral expenses, and mournin’ for the
family.
And, as bad luck always follers on in a
procession, them mortgages of Abel’ses
all run out sort o’ together. His creditors
sold him out, and when his property
was all disposed of it left him over fourteen
hundred dollars in debt.
// 084.png
.pn +1
The creditors acted perfectly greedy,
so they say,—took everything they
could; and one of the meanest ones
took that insane bedquilt that I finished.
That wuz mean. They say Sally Ann
crumpled right down when that wuz
took. Some say that they got holt of
that tall weed of Abel’ses, and some
dispute it; some say that he wore it on
the last ride he took in Loontown.
But, howsomever, Abel wuz took sick,
Sally Ann wuzn’t able to do anything for
their support, S. Annie wuz took down
with the typus, and so it happened the
very day the monument wuz brought to
the Loontown Cemetery, Abel Perry’ses
folks was carried to the county house for
the winter, S. Annie, the children, and
all.
.if h
.il fn=i083.jpg w=600px id=i083
.ca
“It lay there by the side of the road, a great white shape.”
.ca-
.if-
.if t
.sp 2
[Illustration: “It lay there by the side of the road, a great white shape.”]
.sp 2
.if-
And it happened dretful cur’us, but
the town hired that very team that
// 085.png
.pn +1
// 086.png
.pn +1
// 087.png
.pn +1
drawed the monument there, to take the
family back.
It wuz a good team.
The monument wuzn’t set up, for they
lacked money to pay for the underpinnin’.
(Wuzn’t it cur’us, Abel Perry
never would think of the underpinnin’
to anything?) But it lay there by the
side of the road, a great white shape.
And they say the children wuz skairt,
and cried, when they went by it,—cried
and wept.
But I believe it wuz because they wuz
cold and hungry that made ’em cry. I
don’t believe it wuz the monument.
.sp 2
.pb
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.sp 2
.dv class=tnbox // TN box start
.ul
.it Transcriber’s Notes:
.ul indent=1
.it Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a\
predominant form was found in this book.
.if t
.it Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
.if-
.ul-
.ul-
.dv- // TN box end
\_