Okolona messenger. (Okolona, Miss.) 1900-current, 1909-12-15
THE LITTLE
FUNERAL


able hotel, brushing persistent file
from his food, sitting his nostril
as best he could against the more per
sistent doors of the kitchen, perfume
torily answering the amiable imam
tiles OF the country waitress, and fee
ing at last the garrulity of the ancien
landlord.
AS he gazed up and down the stree
outside, the perspective at either enc
was lost in the uninspiring fiat prai
RE, where, mile after mile, the In
dian corn nodded fatuously in the In
dian summer calm.
woman in calico dress and blue
sun-bonnet crossed from the store CD.
posite, entered her yard and disap-
peared. No one else was in sight.
One lazy dog drowsed at the foot of
a poplar tree, stretched, yawned
snapped at fallen leaf, and drowsed
again. The Stranger in Town sighed
hopelessly.
He strolled down the uncurbed
street. Everything appeared desert
ed. Only cobbler's shop, with door
opened to the street, seemed occu-
pied He crossed; and accosted the
cobbler, bending over a last.
Good day" he began.
The cobbler did not unbend.
"Howdy," he replied, his mouth full
of tacks.
"How's business?" inquired the
Stranger in Town.
Such as you see," without looking
up.
The Stranger in Town counted five
shoes half-soled, ten more to be
mended
You seem to be busy enough" He
looked outside and added: "And the
only person in town who has to
work"
early and late. Early and late"
the cobbler replied in a sing-song
monotone.
The Stranger in Town eyed the
cobbler curiously. He noted the mass
i've, stopped shoulders, strong arms
and hands and shriveled legs, the
gray hair and the near-sighted eyes
OF the typical member of shoes.
You've a good deal of work for
such small town. There can't be
800 people all told here. can there?"
Don't know" said the cobbler as
he drew deft line around the shoe
with his knife and cut out a new
sole.
"Oh, see, you haven't been here
long"
"Fifty-one years"
Why, you aren't much older than
that"
Born here" and he pierced the
holes for the thread.
We'll, this place is about the same
size at Charlotte. How many has
it?"
Never there, can't say"
Never there! Three miles AWAY.
and never there?"
Said it. Said it said"
May I ask whereabouts in the town
you were born?"
Next ROOM
Lived In this house all your lifeY,
This room'
"Cobbler always?"
Always" and the thread knitted
Witty from hole to hole.
The Stranger in Town sighed again
ne strolied outside and looked up
nd down the empty street. From his
ew point of vantage he saw at the
urther end on the right a frame
hurch, with square cupola sur
it.
An old man appeared round the cor
er, opened the church door and went {
]. The bell began to toll. A man
clerical black left the house next {
COR, black book in his hand, and Y
ntered the church. A white hearse. 6
18th white plumes, drawn by white 4
orses, drove slowly up the street ?
The two men on the fcat carried p
burden indoors. Pillow horses drew Il
iggies to the door, stopped, and
savy, slow women in black dis. n
ounted and climbed the church Il
cps. h
The Stranger in Town leaned his "
ok to the cobbler's door and
atched. In a half hour the doors Vi
ened. The bell began again to
The men in black bore their a
rden outside, the minister follow. 81
3, the women following him. it
The white horses moved down the
'eet and the buggies fell In sedately 70
hind. At the end of the street the w
ocession turned, leaving the prai- lie
horizon unbroken. The bell ceased
ling, the dust settled, and the dog. M
% had howled all the while the bell
led, turned idly again to sleep. gh
The Stranger In Town turned again m,
the cobbler, who had begun on an.
Ter shoe. The thread few faster wi
N before, as the cobbler bent
ser to his last he
Such a little funeral" said the mi
anger in Town. afr
he cobbler nodded and reached hu
his wax. ths
A child, Judge, from the white.
you know whose 1t wasp !
he cobbler nodded again. and cut moi
last stitch. ~,
inquired the Stranger in
IN.
he cobbler's hands rested nat ON ons
knees as he stared at the dusty ~ !
ct. Then he reached for another "