University of Virginia Library

8. THE WIDOW'S PROTEST.

One of the saddest things that ever came
under my notice (said the banker's clerk)
was there in Corning, during the war. Dan
Murphy enlisted as a private, and fought
very bravely. The boys all liked him, and
when a wound by-and-by weakened him
down till carrying a musket was too heavy
work for him, they clubbed together and
fixed him up as a sutler. He made money
then, and sent it always to his wife to bank
for him. She was a washer and ironer,
and knew enough by hard experience to
keep money when she got it. She didn't
waste a penny. On the contrary, she
began to get miserly as her bank account
grew. She grieved to part with a cent, poor
creature, for twice in her hard-working life
she had known what it was to be hungry,
cold, friendless, sick, and without a dollar
in the world, and she had a haunting dread
of suffering so again. Well, at last Dan
died; and the boys, in testimony of their
esteem and respect for him, telegraphed to
Mrs. Murphy to know if she would like to
have him embalmed and sent home; when
you know the usual custom was to dump a
poor devil like him into a shallow hole, and
then inform his friends what had become
of him. Mrs. Murphy jumped to the conclusion
that it would only cost two or three
dollars to embalm her dead husband, and
so she telegraphed “Yes.” It was at the
“wake” that the bill for embalming arrived
and was presented to the widow.

She uttered a wild sad wail that pierced
every heart, and said, “Sivinty-foive dollars
for stooffin' Dan, blister their sowls!
Did thim divils suppose I was goin' to start
a Museim, that I'd be dalin' in such expinsive
curiassities!”

The banker's clerk said there was not a
dry eye in the house.