The Lamoille news. (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1877-1881, 1879-08-13

lie then began to measure me Tor my
coffin. | had heard that undertakers
whistled joyfuny when they got meas
ure. l believed it 10 be only joke on
the craft; but Sowerby actually struck
up the air "Pull Down the Blinds in q
subdued, thrilling whistle, while he
measured me,
A nobby casket and one hundred
hacks, eh, Mr.. Mullins? Must make big
thing of it. The cuss left lots of money,
and remember he was to be your Pris-
cilla's husband. Must make a splurge,
Mr.. Mullins, said the worthy undertaken.
with an eye to his own pocket.
"Well, l don't mind if the coffin is a
little knobby-looking; but one hundred
hacks! The deuce! Just send one or
two for the mourners, and the rest who
come to attend the funeral can furnish
their own rigs or hoof it, whichever
suits them"
They covered my face again and left
me to my own reflections. | had often
heard it remarked that meditation was
good for the soul, and this was the best
chance ever had of trying it.
An hour must have passed, and the
door was again opened, and two persons
came whispering along to where lay,
and the voice of my promised wife fell
on my ear.
Il dread to look at him, Mr.. Howard,
he was so homely when living, he must
be frightfui when dead"
i ground my teeth in rage as l remem-
bered how often she had gone into rap
lures, or pretended to, over my noble
brow and expressive mouth, and would
solemnly declare that if l were taken
from her she would enter convent, take
the veil and never more behold the sun.
One of them raised the cloth; l knew
they were looking at me. Howard was
the chap she was spooney on, whom her
father had mentioned.
''Seems to me you don't feel very bad
about his dying, Miss Mullins, " exclaimed
Howard, deliberately.
"Well, to tell the truth" said my be-
trothed, 81 don't care very much about
it. If he had lived l suppose l should
have married him, because he was rich !;
but l was getting about sick of my bar
gain, for l know I should always be
ashamed of him."
"But you loved him." remarked How
ard.
"No, I didn't My affections were
wasted long ago on one who never re-
turned my love" And my fast-fading
idol sighed heavily They had now cov-
cred my face again, and were standing
within few feet of where lay.
about how long ago, Miss Mullins" P"
asked Howard.
ooh, about a year or So" with another
sigh.
about the time went awayp" inter
rupted the cautious Howard, coughing a
little.
"Well, yes, about that length of time, :"
assented my dear affianced.
% Now, Miss Mu-Muf- Muffins-you-
oh! you don't mean to insinuate that
LII, oh! oh! oh! too much bliss-am
the lucky"
"Now, see here-Pris-p pris- cilla-oh! I!
let me call you by that melodious name
See here! l always loved you; not for
your beauty, but for your artlessness !;
'pon my soul l did, and would have pro-
posed to you only l heard you were en-
gagged to the chap that is stretched there" ."
"Oh! Mr.. Howard!''' said Mrs. Smith
that was to be, giving little squeal.
"Don't Mr.. Howard me. If you re-
turn my affection you must call me by
some pet names. Call me Harry; call
me Lovey: but for Heavens sake don't
Mr.. Howard me, my own Priscilla!" said
Howard, in Il quavering voice. Then /
heard movement of feet, accompanied
by loud lip explosion How mad / got.
| tried to grip or CRATE my teeth, but
never kick or CRATE could | raise. /
was obliged to grin and bear it. Bear it
had to; but grin | couldn't.
Soon my company left, and was again
entertained by own pleasant thoughts,
until l again felt the cloth gently remov-
ed from my face. A soft, warm palm
was laid on my forehead, and the low,
sweet voice of Minnie Rivers whispered
well, no matter what.
Night came-so did the neighbors to
my wake, and from two old crones who
sat near me I learned to my horror that
l was to be buried next day.
"Of course you are coming to the
funeral tomorrow, Mrs. Frizzlebaum ?'
said one of them.
"Oh! dear, yes, surely. hope it may
turn out fine day, for | want to enjoy
the ride to the cemetery"
| then lost consciousness, and the next
l heard were the grating voices of Pris
ella, my fiancee, and her mother. Ap
parently they were brushing, busting ant
giving the room a general Sticking up be
fore the funeral.
"Is Howard to be one of the pail
bearersp" asked the voice of my mother
in-law that might have been.
"He would be gladly, but he hasn't
suit of black Clothes" said my sweetest
"Why, Priscilla! my child, don't yo1
remember Smiths black broadcloth; tn
, suit is brand new. l know it will fl
, Howard. Call him in, he's sitting in th
kitchen, and let him try them on"
7 Now, this black suit was a particula
e favorite of mine, a perfect fit, that Sc
|
a made by blood boil to hear them talk S
: coolly of transferring it to my rival, to b
e worn at my own funeral. I was gettin
: very mad now. I felt the crisis ws
near, and that should either die or e1
e tplode if they meddled with my blac
h suit. Priscilla took it down from I'll
IS peg--I know it, for heard the buckl,
It jingle-and made for the door. / trie
to shake nv fist, and veil at her, but a