The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1870-07-01

IuHtOuS LHTtJ-OHU Uttt HOt Oc
Alarmed.
When that versatile genius, Mark
Twain was in this city last winter he
was forcibly struck with the wretched
appearance of the dilapidated old grave
yard on Pine street, which is becoming
an eyesore to everybody. 1t made such
an impression on his mind that he had
a singular dream, which he relates in
the Buffalo Express as follows:
The time of night appeared to be II
or O'Clock, and imagined that was
sitting on a door step in Pine street, Viii.
Transport, Pa, short distance above
the railroad. There was no human
so und in the air, not even footstep.
There was no sound of any kind to en-
| phasizc the dead stiffness, except the
occasional hollow barking of dog in
the distance and fainter answer of q
| further dog. Presently down the street
| / heard bony clack- clacking, and
guessed it was the the castanets Of a
serenading party. In a minute more q
|
tattered and mouldy shroud whose
S hreds were tapping about the ribby
lattice work of its person, swung by
| me with stately stride, and disap-
peared in the gray gloom of the star
| light. 1t had broken and worm. eaten
coffin on its shoulder and something in
its hand. l knew what the clacking
was, then-it was this party's joints
working together, and his elbows
knocking against his sides as he walked.
may say l was surprised. Before
could collect my thoughts and enter up
on any speculations as to what this APP
pari ton might portend, heard anOth-
er one coming-for I recognized his
clacE- clack. He had two-thirds of a
coffin on his shoulder, and some foot and
head boards under his arm. nightly
wanted to peer under his hood and
speak TO him, hut when he turned and
smiled upon me with his cavernous
sockets and his projecting grin as he
went by, thought l would not detain
him. He was hardly gone when heard
the clacking again, and another one is
sued from the shadowy half-light. This
one was bending under a heavy grave
stone, and dragging shabby coffin af
ter him by string. When he got to
me he gave me q steady look for mo,
ment or two, and then rounded to and
backed up to me, saying:
"Ease this down for a fellow, will
you?"
| eased the grave stone down till i
rested on the ground, and in doing 81
N oticed that it bore the name of "Johr
Baxter Copmanhurst," with "May
, 1885," as the date of his death. The
deceased sat wearily down by me ant
wiped his os fronts with his majCl
maxillary-chiefly from former habit
Judge, for l could not see that h,
brought away any perspiration.
at is too bad, too bad" said he, draw
ing the remnant of his shroud abou
him and leaning his jaw pensively oil
his hand! Then he put his left foot VI
on his knee and fell to scratching hi
ankle bone absently with rusty mai
which he got out of his coffin.
"What is too bad i. .friend?"
"Oh, everything, everything / al
: ost wish never had died."
, "You surprise me. Why do you say
8 this ? Has anything gone wrong? Wha
' is the matter ?"
"Matter Look at this shroud-rags
Look at this gravestone, all battered up
Look at that disgraceful old coffin. Al
a mans property going to ruin and de
struction before his eyes and ask him i
# anything is wrong? Fire and brim
n stonew
g "Calm yourself, calm yourself"
said. sit is too bad-it is certainly to
: bad, but then had not supposed tina
you would much mind such matters
situated as you are"
"Well, my dear sir, L do mind them
My pride is hurt and my comfort is i'm
ne paired destroyed, might say. Iwil
;; state my easel will put it to you il
e. such a way that you can comprehen
it, if you will let me-" said the poo
skeleton, fitting the hood of his shrou
back, as if he were clearing for action
and thus unconsclously giving himsel
jaunty and festive air very much g
variance with the grave character {
his position in life-so to speak-and i
prominent contrast with his distressfr
mood.
"Proceed," said /.
81 reside in the shameful old gray
- yard block or two below you here, /
this street, nearly opposite the churcl
II. There, now, just expected that carti
re ege would let go!-Third rib from I'll
70 bottom, friend, hitch the end of it