The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-07-13
0LD.SCH00L UNDERTAKEN
VIRTUES OF AMBROSE BOLIN, A
HOOsIER VILLAGE TYPE.
He Could supply the Usual EuIogy IL
Called UpOE-Strange Case of
Old Toss Bognrtus.

~
Even IN small towns doctors have a way
Of combining their Offices TO one street, and
1t is a very poor town that cannot boast of
a physic row. 'Morgue" was the sign
nailed against a door jamb in a certain
physic row in this State. The word
"morgue" had nothing TO do with the doc
tors signs, for it was on the back door Of
Ambrose Bolin's establishment, which ran
at right angles from another street. Mr..
Bolin was not a physician, although he had
been following the medical profession for
many years-he was an undertaken.
Ambrose Bolin in his profession had fol-
lowed the evolution of progress. and his
business growth was represented by the
growth, CT, rather, the underground, of the
town in which he lived. Many. many years
ago he was in the furniture, queensware
and undertaking business, and ne provided
for both the incoming and outgoing of life
baby carriages and collins. In the old
days there was no such thing as a regular
undertaken, for people would buy only a
coffin and some of the nsighbors would
undertake the laying out-that was how
the regular profession got its name. They
used TO drive into town after a death in
the family with a cornstalk in the bottom
Of the wagon to measure the length of the
coffin. Many people in times gone by had a
horror CT a short coffin, and sometimes
would forget or lose the measurement, and
in going through a stock Of collins they
would find one that they liked. except, in
their opinion, it was not long enough. Here
Bolin's craftsmanship would assert itself,
and he would say: 'Why, he wasn't as tall
a man as me, was hep and the purchaser
would reply: mo, don't guess he was
Then BOlin, in order TO prove that 1t was
a fit, would lie down in the coffin himself.
As the town grew he sold off his furni-
ture and became a regular undertaken and
still later a funeral director. Ambrose b.
lin was made for his business and his bus
mess was made for him, and if undertake
ing had not existed it should have been
invented for his especial benefit. He was
q tall, slim man, with a bald head that
glistened as though he had poured tan
shoe dressing on it and see-sawed a towel
over It. His long whiskers and bald pate
made it appear as though his hair had
slipped down to his chin. He walked with
bent knees, wore rubbers to deaden the
sound and seemed TO fit a hearse and make
a part Of the equipage the same as the
chicken feather plumes and the black fly
net on the horses. Whenever he oficiated
no one stood any show, not even the re
mains"
FINE WORK AT A FUNERAL.
He would stand at the front door of the
house with his head protected from the ele-
ments by a black skull cap and to each
newcomer he would say, at the same time
throwing a hot blast into the visitors ear,
do you wish to look at the remains?' He
would keep this up until it grew as mo-
notonous as the harangue of a sideshow
barker. After asking if the odor of flowers
were offensive, he would seat the friends
accordingly and supply every one with a
palm-leaf fan; in fact, do everything Of an
qflcious nature except serve refreshments.
If for any reason the preacher did not come
there was always an able substitute in
Bolin, and when it came TO the point in the
service where a little eulogy is considered
in good taste would start out by saying, 81
was personally acquainted with the one
called away" all Of which justified the peo-
pie in the belief that Bolin was made for
his business and his bushes was made for
him., and if undertaking had not been es-
tablished it should have been for his special
0NNCA ~ ANN - ~ VI ANU al NAC
head of the casket, when the friends were
taking the last look. and twirling the face
plate by its diagonal corners, and when
any one suggested that the corpse looked
natural, or just asleep, old Bolin took it as
a personal compliment, and would say.
'Ye-ss'-a sort of inhaled yes, as though
he caught his breath in a whisper.
Once a year Mr. Bolin went down to In
/ dfananO1io m q convention, 90 oo~tToDaoa -
his profession, where they all laid off their
gum shoes and skull caps, ceased to walk
with bent knees and had a good time.
Bolin had served as president of the or
ganization several terms, and in one of his
farewell addresses wished "alI the members
a prosperous business for the coming
year"
Once very early in his career Mr.. Bolin
was in love with a certain girl, and. which
is not strange in such cases, the girl was
in love with him and they were engaged
TO be married, but for some unknown rea-
son they gradually drifted apart and both
married in different directions. Years rolled
on. One day Mr.. Bolin was officially sent
for and responded at once. He was ush-
cred into the presence of his first love, now
a widow, who was crying softly into a lace
lIlulLleU uduuhtICilcl over the DOQN OF ler
husband, who had died after a lingering ILL
ness. Mr.. Bolin advanced noiselessly to the
bedside and told her in soft, sepulchral
tones he wished 10 sympathize with her in
the most serious loss that could befall
woman. The widow ceased crying for a
moment, dried her eyes. looked up into his
face and said in a voice trembling with
emotion, Just think. Ambrose, this might
have been YOU"
OLD TOSS BOGARTUS.
An old man named Toss Bogartus died
on a big farm north of town. He hadn't
been active for many years and his boys
looked after the place for him. The old
man had put in many Of the latter years
of his life sitting on the front porch in a
split-bottomed chair, with a long-barreled
squirrel rife, shooting rats. They had sew
eral barns stored with grain. and. Of
course, the pests thrived. Old Mr.. Bo-
gartus would spread a little corn on the
ground at som distance and when the
rats would run from under the porch, the
old man would blaze away. His neighbors
never greeted him with the usual saIuta-
ton, How are you feeling?' or Are you
well?' 1t was always, How many rats
did you kill to-day grandpa and the old
man never counted mice or those he did not
hit squarely in the head. One evening he
,If1 not appaar Of the errDDa~ +,LTo -