The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1872-06-07
A NEVADA FUNERAL.
One of Mark Twain's Best Stories.

A NEVADA FUNEkAIs
One of Mark Twain's Best Stories.
There was a grand time over Buci,
Fanshaw when he died. He was /:
representative citizen. He had "kilIed
his man''-not in his own quarrel, il il
true, but in defense of a stranger besei
by numbers. He had kept q sumptu.
Gus saloon. He had been the proprie-
tor of dashing helpnleet, whom he
could have discarded without the for
mality of a divorce. lie had held 4
high position in the fire department.,
and been Il very Warwick in politics.
When he died there was u great lam
entation throughout the town, but
especially in the vast bottom stratum
of society. z
On the inquest it was shown that
Buck Fanshaw, i'm the delirinm of a
wasting typhoid fever, had taken arse
mic, shot himself through the body,
cut his throat and jumped out of q four
story window and broken his neck !;
and after due deliberatiOn the jury, sad
and fearful, but with intelligence I'M
blinded by its sorrow, brought in Il
verdict of death "by the visitation of
God" What could the world DO with
out juries?
ProdigiOus preparations were made
for the funeral. All The vehicles in
town were hired, and all the saloons
were put in mourning, all the munich
pal and fire company flags were hung
at half mast, and all the fireman or
dered to muster i'm uniform and bring
their machines duly draped in black.
Regretful resolutions were passed
and various committees were appoint
ed (; among others, Il committee of one
was appointed to call on mini>tcr-a
fragile, gentle, spiritual new fiedgling
from an Eastern theological seminary,
and as yet unacquainted with the ways
of the mines. The committeeman,
"ScOtty" Briggs, made his visit.
Being admitted to his presence he
sat down before the clergyman, placed
his fire hat on an unfinished manu-
script sermon under the minister's
nose, took from it red silk haudker-
chief, wiped his brow and heaved a
sigh of dismal impressivcness eXp!ana-
tory of his business. He chOked and
even shed tears, but with an effort he
mastered his voice, and said in lugu-
briOus tones:
care you the duck that runs the Cos
pei mill next dOor?
Gam the-pardon me, l believe /
do not understand Yn
With another sigh and half sob
Scotty rejOined:
"Why, you see, we are in a bit of
trouble, and the boys thought maybe
you'd give us a lift if we'd tackle you,
that is, if I've got the rights of it and
you are the head clerk of the doXOlogy
works next door,"
al am the shepherd in charge of the
flock whose fold is next door,"
"The which?"
1.-the spiritual adviser of the little
company of believers whose sanctuary
adjoins these premises"
| ScOtty scratched his head, reflected a
moment, and then said:
"YOu rather hold me over, pard. l
reckon | can't call that hand. Ante
and pass the buck"
"How? l beg pardon. What did |
understand you to say?"
'Well, you've rather got the bulge
on me. Or may be we've both got the
bulge, somehow. You don't smoke
me and l don't smoke you. You see,
one of the boys has passed in his checks
and we want to give him a good send
off, and so the thing Pm on now is to
rout out somebody to jerk out little
chin music for us, and waltz him
through handsome.
My friend, L seem to grow more
and more bewildered. Your observa-
tions are wholly incOmprehensible to
me. Cannot you simplify them some
way? At first / thought perhaps | un-
derstOOd you, but now grope. Would
it not expedite matters if you restricted
yourself to categorical statements OF
fact unincumbered with Obs!ructing
accumulatiOnS of metaphor and ale
gOry?"
Another pause, and more reflection.
Then ScOtty said:
"Pll have to pass, / judge"
"How%'
you've raised me out, pard."
81 still fail 10 catch your meaning"
"Why, that last lead of yourn is too
many for me-that's the idea; I can't
neither trump nor follow suit"
The clergyman sank back into his
chair perplexed. Scotty leaned his
head on his hand, and gave himself
up to reflection. Presently his face
came up, sorrowful but confident.
"pve got it now, SOS you can saw
wy" said he. "What we want is a
gOspei-sharp. See"'
ga what 2?
"GOspel-sharp, parsOn."
"Oh? why did you not say SO before? :?
L am clergymau-a parsOn."
"NOw you talk! You see my blind,
and straddle it like man. Put it
there W-eXtendiDg brawny paw,
which closed over the minister's small
hand and gave it Il shake indicative of
fraternal sympathy and fervent graft
ficatiOn.
''Now we're all right, pard. Let's
start fresh. Don't you mind me snuff
fling little, becoz we're in Il power of
trouble. You see one of the boys has
gone up the tiume"-
"Gone where?"
"Up the fiume throw'd up the
sponge, you know"
"Thrown up the sponge?"
"YeS-kicked the bucket
"Ah-has departed to that mysteri-
Gus country from whose bourne no
traveller returns"
Return? We'll, reckon not. Why,
pard, he's dead"
"Yes, l understand
ooh, you do? Well L thought may
be you might be getting tangled once
more. Yes, you see he's dead again"
"Again! Why, has he ever been
dead before?"
"Dead before? No. Do you reckon
a man has got as many lives rs a cat ?
But, you bet, he's awfully dead just
now, poor old boy, and | wish Pd
never seen this day. i don't know no
better friend than Buck Fanshaw. |
, knOw'd him by the back; and when |
know a man like him L freeze to him
you hear me. Take him all around,
, pard, there never was a buliier man
in the mines. No man ever knowed
Buck Fanshaw to go back on friend.
, But it's all up you know; it's all up.
1t amt no use. They've scOoped
him ~
'ScOoped him."
"Hes-death has. Well, well, well
we've got 70 give him up. Yes, indeed
It's kind of hard world, after all
+ amt it? But, pard, he was rustler
. You ought to see him get started once
He was Lully boy with glass eye
Just spit in his face and give him room
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