University of Virginia Library

Chapter XXV

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."

[ILLUSTRATION]

"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 Mary 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 theirselves. Well, when it come
to that, it worked the crowd like you
never see anything like it, and so 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.

[ILLUSTRATION]

leaking.

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 its 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 was 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 or 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 some 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 bob_
bing 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 blatted 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 above-board; 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 yaller-boys, 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 a while, 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 aboveboard,
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.
"Less 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.

[ILLUSTRATION]

making up the "deffisit."

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 leather-headed 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."

[ILLUSTRATION]

going for him.

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 to-morrow we want all to come—everybody; for he respected
everybody, he liked everybody, and so it's fitten that his funeral orgiess h'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 iron-jawed 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 worse 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 girls' 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:

[ILLUSTRATION]

the doctor.

"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 has 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 harelip
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.

[ILLUSTRATION]

the bag of money.