Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1872-05-17
A NEVADA FUNERAL.

There was a great time over Buck
Fanshaw when he died. He was rep
resentative citizen. He had killed his
man, not in his own quarrel, it is true,
but in the defense of stranger Beset
by numbers. He had kept sumptaous
saloon. He had been the proprietor OF
dashing helpmeet, whom he could have
discarded without the formality of di-
vorce. He had held high position in
the fire department, and had been a
very Warwick in politics. When he
died there was great lamentation
throughout the town, but especially in
the vast bottom stratum in society.
On the inquest it was shown that Buck
Fanshaw, in the delirium of wasting
typhoid fever, had taken arsenic, shot
himself through the body, cut his throat,
and jdmped out of four-story window
and broken his neck; and, after due de-
liberation, the jury, sad and fearful, but
with intelligence unDlinded by its sor-
row, brought in verdict of death "b by
the visitation of God" What could the
world do without juries.
Prodigious preparations were made
for the funeral. All the vehicles in the
town we're hired, all the saloons were
put in mourning, all the municipal and
fire company flags were hung at half
mast, and all the fremen ordered to
muster in uniform, and bring their ma
chimes duly draped in black.
Regretful resolutions were passed and
various committees appointed, among
others a committee of one appointed to
call on a minister-a fragile, gentle,
spiritual new fledgling from an Eastern
theological seminary, and as yet unac-
quainted with the ways of the mines.
The committee man, "Scotty" Briggs,
made his visit. f.tt
. Being admitted to his presence, he
sat down before the clergyman, placed
his fire hat ON an unfinished manuscript
sermon under the ministers nese, took
from it red silk handkerchief, wiped
his brow, and heaved a sigh of dismal
impressiveness explanatory of his busi-
ness. He choked and even shed tears,
but with an effort he mastered his voice,
and said, in lugubrious tones:
" Are you the duck that runs the gos-
pel-mill next doorY
81 am the-pardon me, l believe l do
not understand W
With another sigh and half sob
Scotty rejoined: fll
why, you see, we are in a bit Of
trouble, and the boys thought maybe
you'd give US 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.
81 am the shepherd in charge of the
flock whose fold is next door"
The which2'
The spiritual adviser Of the little |
company of believers whose sanctuary
adjoins these premises"
Scotty scratched his head, reflected
and then said:
You rather hold over me, pard. |
reckon | can't call that hand. Ante
and pass the buck"
How2 l beg your pardon. What
did understand you to say2"
Well, you've rather got the bugle on
me. Or maybe we've both got the bu-
gle, somehow. You don't smoke me
and don't smoke you You see, one
Of the boys has passed in his checks,
and we want to give him a good send
of, and so the thing I'm now on is to
rout out somebody TO jerk little chin
music for us, and waltz him through
handsome"
Ny friend, seem to grow more and
more bewildered Your observations
are wholly incomprehensible to me.
Cannot you simplify them some way2
At first thought perhaps understood
you, but now / grope Would it not ex-
pedite matters if you restrict yourself to
statements of fact unenoum-
Dered with obstrncting acoumulations Of
and allegory2'
Another pause, and more reflection.
Then Scotiy said:
"Tll have TO pass, judge" |.