HUCKLEBERRY FINN By Mark Twain Part 5. CHAPTER XXI. IT was after sun-up now, but we went right on and didn't tie up. Theking and the duke turned out by and by looking pretty rusty; but afterthey'd jumped overboard and took a swim it chippered them up a good deal. After breakfast the king he took a seat on the corner of the raft, andpulled off his boots and rolled up his britches, and let his legs danglein the water, so as to be comfortable, and lit his pipe, and went togetting his Romeo and Juliet by heart. When he had got it pretty goodhim and the duke begun to practice it together. The duke had to learnhim over and over again how to say every speech; and he made him sigh, and put his hand on his heart, and after a while he said he done itpretty well; "only, " he says, "you mustn't bellow out ROMEO! that way, like a bull--you must say it soft and sick and languishy, so--R-o-o-meo!that is the idea; for Juliet's a dear sweet mere child of a girl, youknow, and she doesn't bray like a jackass. " Well, next they got out a couple of long swords that the duke made out ofoak laths, and begun to practice the sword fight--the duke called himselfRichard III. ; and the way they laid on and pranced around the raft wasgrand to see. But by and by the king tripped and fell overboard, andafter that they took a rest, and had a talk about all kinds of adventuresthey'd had in other times along the river. After dinner the duke says: "Well, Capet, we'll want to make this a first-class show, you know, so Iguess we'll add a little more to it. We want a little something toanswer encores with, anyway. " "What's onkores, Bilgewater?" The duke told him, and then says: "I'll answer by doing the Highland fling or the sailor's hornpipe; andyou--well, let me see--oh, I've got it--you can do Hamlet's soliloquy. " "Hamlet's which?" "Hamlet's soliloquy, you know; the most celebrated thing in Shakespeare. Ah, it's sublime, sublime! Always fetches the house. I haven't got itin the book--I've only got one volume--but I reckon I can piece it outfrom memory. I'll just walk up and down a minute, and see if I can callit back from recollection's vaults. " So he went to marching up and down, thinking, and frowning horrible everynow and then; then he would hoist up his eyebrows; next he would squeezehis hand on his forehead and stagger back and kind of moan; next he wouldsigh, and next he'd let on to drop a tear. It was beautiful to see him. By and by he got it. He told us to give attention. Then he strikes amost noble attitude, with one leg shoved forwards, and his arms stretchedaway up, and his head tilted back, looking up at the sky; and then hebegins to rip and rave and grit his teeth; and after that, all throughhis speech, he howled, and spread around, and swelled up his chest, andjust knocked the spots out of any acting ever I see before. This is thespeech--I learned it, easy enough, while he was learning it to the king: To be, or not to be; that is the bare bodkin That makes calamity of solong life; For who would fardels bear, till Birnam Wood do come toDunsinane, But that the fear of something after death Murders theinnocent sleep, Great nature's second course, And makes us rather slingthe arrows of outrageous fortune Than fly to others that we know not of. There's the respect must give us pause: Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Iwould thou couldst; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Theoppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The law's delay, and thequietus which his pangs might take, In the dead waste and middle of thenight, when churchyards yawn In customary suits of solemn black, But thatthe undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler returns, Breathesforth contagion on the world, And thus the native hue of resolution, likethe poor cat i' the adage, Is sicklied o'er with care, And all the cloudsthat lowered o'er our housetops, With this regard their currents turnawry, And lose the name of action. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to bewished. But soft you, the fair Ophelia: Ope not thy ponderous and marblejaws, But get thee to a nunnery--go! Well, the old man he liked that speech, and he mighty soon got it so hecould do it first-rate. It seemed like he was just born for it; and whenhe had his hand in and was excited, it was perfectly lovely the way hewould rip and tear and rair up behind when he was getting it off. The first chance we got the duke he had some showbills printed; and afterthat, for two or three days as we floated along, the raft was a mostuncommon lively place, for there warn't nothing but sword fighting andrehearsing--as the duke called it--going on all the time. One morning, when we was pretty well down the State of Arkansaw, we come in sight of alittle one-horse town in a big bend; so we tied up about three-quartersof a mile above it, in the mouth of a crick which was shut in like atunnel by the cypress trees, and all of us but Jim took the canoe andwent down there to see if there was any chance in that place for ourshow. We struck it mighty lucky; there was going to be a circus there thatafternoon, and the country people was already beginning to come in, inall kinds of old shackly wagons, and on horses. The circus would leavebefore night, so our show would have a pretty good chance. The duke hehired the courthouse, and we went around and stuck up our bills. Theyread like this: Shaksperean Revival ! ! !Wonderful Attraction!For One Night Only! The world renowned tragedians, David Garrick the Younger, of Drury LaneTheatre London, and Edmund Kean the elder, of the Royal HaymarketTheatre, Whitechapel, Pudding Lane, Piccadilly, London, and the RoyalContinental Theatres, in their sublime Shaksperean Spectacle entitled TheBalcony Scene in Romeo and Juliet ! ! ! Romeo. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. Mr. GarrickJuliet. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Mr. Kean Assisted by the whole strength of the company!New costumes, new scenes, new appointments!Also: The thrilling, masterly, and blood-curdlingBroad-sword conflict In Richard III. ! ! ! Richard III. .. .. .. .. .. .. Mr. GarrickRichmond. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . Mr. Kean Also: (by special request) Hamlet's Immortal Soliloquy ! !By The Illustrious Kean! Done by him 300 consecutive nights in Paris!For One Night Only, On account of imperative European engagements!Admission 25 cents; children and servants, 10 cents. Then we went loafing around town. The stores and houses was most allold, shackly, dried up frame concerns that hadn't ever been painted; theywas set up three or four foot above ground on stilts, so as to be out ofreach of the water when the river was over-flowed. The houses had littlegardens around them, but they didn't seem to raise hardly anything inthem but jimpson-weeds, and sunflowers, and ash piles, and old curled-upboots and shoes, and pieces of bottles, and rags, and played-out tinware. The fences was made of different kinds of boards, nailed on at differenttimes; and they leaned every which way, and had gates that didn't generlyhave but one hinge--a leather one. Some of the fences had beenwhite-washed some time or another, but the duke said it was in Clumbus'time, like enough. There was generly hogs in the garden, and peopledriving them out. All the stores was along one street. They had white domestic awnings infront, and the country people hitched their horses to the awning-posts. There was empty drygoods boxes under the awnings, and loafers roosting onthem all day long, whittling them with their Barlow knives; and chawingtobacco, and gaping and yawning and stretching--a mighty ornery lot. They generly had on yellow straw hats most as wide as an umbrella, butdidn't wear no coats nor waistcoats, they called one another Bill, andBuck, and Hank, and Joe, and Andy, and talked lazy and drawly, and usedconsiderable many cuss words. There was as many as one loafer leaning upagainst every awning-post, and he most always had his hands in hisbritches-pockets, except when he fetched them out to lend a chaw oftobacco or scratch. What a body was hearing amongst them all the timewas: "Gimme a chaw 'v tobacker, Hank. " "Cain't; I hain't got but one chaw left. Ask Bill. " Maybe Bill he gives him a chaw; maybe he lies and says he ain't got none. Some of them kinds of loafers never has a cent in the world, nor a chawof tobacco of their own. They get all their chawing by borrowing; theysay to a fellow, "I wisht you'd len' me a chaw, Jack, I jist this minutegive Ben Thompson the last chaw I had"--which is a lie pretty mucheverytime; it don't fool nobody but a stranger; but Jack ain't nostranger, so he says: "YOU give him a chaw, did you? So did your sister's cat's grandmother. You pay me back the chaws you've awready borry'd off'n me, Lafe Buckner, then I'll loan you one or two ton of it, and won't charge you no backintrust, nuther. " "Well, I DID pay you back some of it wunst. " "Yes, you did--'bout six chaws. You borry'd store tobacker and paid backnigger-head. " Store tobacco is flat black plug, but these fellows mostly chaws thenatural leaf twisted. When they borrow a chaw they don't generly cut itoff with a knife, but set the plug in between their teeth, and gnaw withtheir teeth and tug at the plug with their hands till they get it in two;then sometimes the one that owns the tobacco looks mournful at it whenit's handed back, and says, sarcastic: "Here, gimme the CHAW, and you take the PLUG. " All the streets and lanes was just mud; they warn't nothing else BUT mud--mud as black as tar and nigh about a foot deep in some places, and twoor three inches deep in ALL the places. The hogs loafed and gruntedaround everywheres. You'd see a muddy sow and a litter of pigs comelazying along the street and whollop herself right down in the way, wherefolks had to walk around her, and she'd stretch out and shut her eyes andwave her ears whilst the pigs was milking her, and look as happy as ifshe was on salary. And pretty soon you'd hear a loafer sing out, "Hi! SOboy! sick him, Tige!" and away the sow would go, squealing most horrible, with a dog or two swinging to each ear, and three or four dozen morea-coming; and then you would see all the loafers get up and watch the thingout of sight, and laugh at the fun and look grateful for the noise. Thenthey'd settle back again till there was a dog fight. There couldn'tanything wake them up all over, and make them happy all over, like a dogfight--unless it might be putting turpentine on a stray dog and settingfire to him, or tying a tin pan to his tail and see him run himself todeath. On the river front some of the houses was sticking out over the bank, andthey was bowed and bent, and about ready to tumble in, The people hadmoved out of them. The bank was caved away under one corner of someothers, and that corner was hanging over. People lived in them yet, butit was dangersome, because sometimes a strip of land as wide as a housecaves in at a time. Sometimes a belt of land a quarter of a mile deepwill start in and cave along and cave along till it all caves into theriver in one summer. Such a town as that has to be always moving back, and back, and back, because the river's always gnawing at it. The nearer it got to noon that day the thicker and thicker was the wagonsand horses in the streets, and more coming all the time. Familiesfetched their dinners with them from the country, and eat them in thewagons. There was considerable whisky drinking going on, and I seenthree fights. By and by somebody sings out: "Here comes old Boggs!--in from the country for his little old monthlydrunk; here he comes, boys!" All the loafers looked glad; I reckoned they was used to having fun outof Boggs. One of them says: "Wonder who he's a-gwyne to chaw up this time. If he'd a-chawed up allthe men he's ben a-gwyne to chaw up in the last twenty year he'd haveconsiderable ruputation now. " Another one says, "I wisht old Boggs 'd threaten me, 'cuz then I'd know Iwarn't gwyne to die for a thousan' year. " Boggs comes a-tearing along on his horse, whooping and yelling like anInjun, and singing out: "Cler the track, thar. I'm on the waw-path, and the price uv coffins isa-gwyne to raise. " He was drunk, and weaving about in his saddle; he was over fifty yearold, and had a very red face. Everybody yelled at him and laughed at himand sassed him, and he sassed back, and said he'd attend to them and laythem out in their regular turns, but he couldn't wait now because he'dcome to town to kill old Colonel Sherburn, and his motto was, "Meatfirst, and spoon vittles to top off on. " He see me, and rode up and says: "Whar'd you come f'm, boy? You prepared to die?" Then he rode on. I was scared, but a man says: "He don't mean nothing; he's always a-carryin' on like that when he'sdrunk. He's the best naturedest old fool in Arkansaw--never hurt nobody, drunk nor sober. " Boggs rode up before the biggest store in town, and bent his head down sohe could see under the curtain of the awning and yells: "Come out here, Sherburn! Come out and meet the man you've swindled. You're the houn' I'm after, and I'm a-gwyne to have you, too!" And so he went on, calling Sherburn everything he could lay his tongueto, and the whole street packed with people listening and laughing andgoing on. By and by a proud-looking man about fifty-five--and he was aheap the best dressed man in that town, too--steps out of the store, andthe crowd drops back on each side to let him come. He says to Boggs, mighty ca'm and slow--he says: "I'm tired of this, but I'll endure it till one o'clock. Till oneo'clock, mind--no longer. If you open your mouth against me only onceafter that time you can't travel so far but I will find you. " Then he turns and goes in. The crowd looked mighty sober; nobodystirred, and there warn't no more laughing. Boggs rode off blackguardingSherburn as loud as he could yell, all down the street; and pretty soonback he comes and stops before the store, still keeping it up. Some mencrowded around him and tried to get him to shut up, but he wouldn't; theytold him it would be one o'clock in about fifteen minutes, and so he MUSTgo home--he must go right away. But it didn't do no good. He cussedaway with all his might, and throwed his hat down in the mud and rodeover it, and pretty soon away he went a-raging down the street again, with his gray hair a-flying. Everybody that could get a chance at himtried their best to coax him off of his horse so they could lock him upand get him sober; but it warn't no use--up the street he would tearagain, and give Sherburn another cussing. By and by somebody says: "Go for his daughter!--quick, go for his daughter; sometimes he'll listento her. If anybody can persuade him, she can. " So somebody started on a run. I walked down street a ways and stopped. In about five or ten minutes here comes Boggs again, but not on hishorse. He was a-reeling across the street towards me, bare-headed, witha friend on both sides of him a-holt of his arms and hurrying him along. He was quiet, and looked uneasy; and he warn't hanging back any, but wasdoing some of the hurrying himself. Somebody sings out: "Boggs!" I looked over there to see who said it, and it was that Colonel Sherburn. He was standing perfectly still in the street, and had a pistol raised inhis right hand--not aiming it, but holding it out with the barrel tiltedup towards the sky. The same second I see a young girl coming on therun, and two men with her. Boggs and the men turned round to see whocalled him, and when they see the pistol the men jumped to one side, andthe pistol-barrel come down slow and steady to a level--both barrelscocked. Boggs throws up both of his hands and says, "O Lord, don'tshoot!" Bang! goes the first shot, and he staggers back, clawing at theair--bang! goes the second one, and he tumbles backwards on to theground, heavy and solid, with his arms spread out. That young girlscreamed out and comes rushing, and down she throws herself on herfather, crying, and saying, "Oh, he's killed him, he's killed him!" Thecrowd closed up around them, and shouldered and jammed one another, withtheir necks stretched, trying to see, and people on the inside trying toshove them back and shouting, "Back, back! give him air, give him air!" Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol on to the ground, and turned aroundon his heels and walked off. They took Boggs to a little drug store, the crowd pressing around justthe same, and the whole town following, and I rushed and got a good placeat the window, where I was close to him and could see in. They laid himon the floor and put one large Bible under his head, and opened anotherone and spread it on his breast; but they tore open his shirt first, andI seen where one of the bullets went in. He made about a dozen longgasps, his breast lifting the Bible up when he drawed in his breath, andletting it down again when he breathed it out--and after that he laidstill; he was dead. Then they pulled his daughter away from him, screaming and crying, and took her off. She was about sixteen, and verysweet and gentle looking, but awful pale and scared. Well, pretty soon the whole town was there, squirming and scrouging andpushing and shoving to get at the window and have a look, but people thathad the places wouldn't give them up, and folks behind them was sayingall the time, "Say, now, you've looked enough, you fellows; 'tain't rightand 'tain't fair for you to stay thar all the time, and never give nobodya chance; other folks has their rights as well as you. " There was considerable jawing back, so I slid out, thinking maybe therewas going to be trouble. The streets was full, and everybody wasexcited. Everybody that seen the shooting was telling how it happened, and there was a big crowd packed around each one of these fellows, stretching their necks and listening. One long, lanky man, with longhair and a big white fur stovepipe hat on the back of his head, and acrooked-handled cane, marked out the places on the ground where Boggsstood and where Sherburn stood, and the people following him around fromone place to t'other and watching everything he done, and bobbing theirheads to show they understood, and stooping a little and resting theirhands on their thighs to watch him mark the places on the ground with hiscane; and then he stood up straight and stiff where Sherburn had stood, frowning and having his hat-brim down over his eyes, and sung out, "Boggs!" and then fetched his cane down slow to a level, and says "Bang!"staggered backwards, says "Bang!" again, and fell down flat on his back. The people that had seen the thing said he done it perfect; said it wasjust exactly the way it all happened. Then as much as a dozen people gotout their bottles and treated him. Well, by and by somebody said Sherburn ought to be lynched. In about aminute everybody was saying it; so away they went, mad and yelling, andsnatching down every clothes-line they come to to do the hanging with. CHAPTER XXII. THEY swarmed up towards Sherburn's house, a-whooping and raging likeInjuns, and everything had to clear the way or get run over and trompedto mush, and it was awful to see. Children was heeling it ahead of themob, screaming and trying to get out of the way; and every window alongthe road was full of women's heads, and there was nigger boys in everytree, and bucks and wenches looking over every fence; and as soon as themob would get nearly to them they would break and skaddle back out ofreach. Lots of the women and girls was crying and taking on, scared mostto death. They swarmed up in front of Sherburn's palings as thick as they could jamtogether, and you couldn't hear yourself think for the noise. It was alittle twenty-foot yard. Some sung out "Tear down the fence! tear downthe fence!" Then there was a racket of ripping and tearing and smashing, and down she goes, and the front wall of the crowd begins to roll in likea wave. Just then Sherburn steps out on to the roof of his little front porch, with a double-barrel gun in his hand, and takes his stand, perfectly ca'mand deliberate, not saying a word. The racket stopped, and the wavesucked back. Sherburn never said a word--just stood there, looking down. Thestillness was awful creepy and uncomfortable. Sherburn run his eye slowalong the crowd; and wherever it struck the people tried a little toout-gaze him, but they couldn't; they dropped their eyes and looked sneaky. Then pretty soon Sherburn sort of laughed; not the pleasant kind, but thekind that makes you feel like when you are eating bread that's got sandin it. Then he says, slow and scornful: "The idea of YOU lynching anybody! It's amusing. The idea of youthinking you had pluck enough to lynch a MAN! Because you're braveenough to tar and feather poor friendless cast-out women that come alonghere, did that make you think you had grit enough to lay your hands on aMAN? Why, a MAN'S safe in the hands of ten thousand of your kind--aslong as it's daytime and you're not behind him. "Do I know you? I know you clear through was born and raised in theSouth, and I've lived in the North; so I know the average all around. The average man's a coward. In the North he lets anybody walk over himthat wants to, and goes home and prays for a humble spirit to bear it. In the South one man all by himself, has stopped a stage full of men inthe daytime, and robbed the lot. Your newspapers call you a brave peopleso much that you think you are braver than any other people--whereasyou're just AS brave, and no braver. Why don't your juries hangmurderers? Because they're afraid the man's friends will shoot them inthe back, in the dark--and it's just what they WOULD do. "So they always acquit; and then a MAN goes in the night, with a hundredmasked cowards at his back and lynches the rascal. Your mistake is, thatyou didn't bring a man with you; that's one mistake, and the other isthat you didn't come in the dark and fetch your masks. You brought PARTof a man--Buck Harkness, there--and if you hadn't had him to start you, you'd a taken it out in blowing. "You didn't want to come. The average man don't like trouble and danger. YOU don't like trouble and danger. But if only HALF a man--like BuckHarkness, there--shouts 'Lynch him! lynch him!' you're afraid to backdown--afraid you'll be found out to be what you are--COWARDS--and soyou raise a yell, and hang yourselves on to that half-a-man's coat-tail, and come raging up here, swearing what big things you're going to do. The pitifulest thing out is a mob; that's what an army is--a mob; theydon't fight with courage that's born in them, but with courage that'sborrowed from their mass, and from their officers. But a mob without anyMAN at the head of it is BENEATH pitifulness. Now the thing for YOU todo is to droop your tails and go home and crawl in a hole. If any reallynching's going to be done it will be done in the dark, Southernfashion; and when they come they'll bring their masks, and fetch a MANalong. Now LEAVE--and take your half-a-man with you"--tossing his gun upacross his left arm and cocking it when he says this. The crowd washed back sudden, and then broke all apart, and went tearingoff every which way, and Buck Harkness he heeled it after them, lookingtolerable cheap. I could a stayed if I wanted to, but I didn't want to. I went to the circus and loafed around the back side till the watchmanwent by, and then dived in under the tent. I had my twenty-dollar goldpiece and some other money, but I reckoned I better save it, becausethere ain't no telling how soon you are going to need it, away from homeand amongst strangers that way. You can't be too careful. I ain'topposed to spending money on circuses when there ain't no other way, butthere ain't no use in WASTING it on them. It was a real bully circus. It was the splendidest sight that ever waswhen they all come riding in, two and two, a gentleman and lady, side byside, the men just in their drawers and undershirts, and no shoes norstirrups, and resting their hands on their thighs easy and comfortable--there must a been twenty of them--and every lady with a lovelycomplexion, and perfectly beautiful, and looking just like a gang of realsure-enough queens, and dressed in clothes that cost millions of dollars, and just littered with diamonds. It was a powerful fine sight; I neversee anything so lovely. And then one by one they got up and stood, andwent a-weaving around the ring so gentle and wavy and graceful, the menlooking ever so tall and airy and straight, with their heads bobbing andskimming along, away up there under the tent-roof, and every lady'srose-leafy dress flapping soft and silky around her hips, and she lookinglike the most loveliest parasol. And then faster and faster they went, all of them dancing, first one footout in the air and then the other, the horses leaning more and more, andthe ringmaster going round and round the center-pole, cracking his whipand shouting "Hi!--hi!" and the clown cracking jokes behind him; and byand by all hands dropped the reins, and every lady put her knuckles onher hips and every gentleman folded his arms, and then how the horses didlean over and hump themselves! And so one after the other they allskipped off into the ring, and made the sweetest bow I ever see, and thenscampered out, and everybody clapped their hands and went just aboutwild. Well, all through the circus they done the most astonishing things; andall the time that clown carried on so it most killed the people. Theringmaster couldn't ever say a word to him but he was back at him quickas a wink with the funniest things a body ever said; and how he everCOULD think of so many of them, and so sudden and so pat, was what Icouldn't noway understand. Why, I couldn't a thought of them in a year. And by and by a drunk man tried to get into the ring--said he wanted toride; said he could ride as well as anybody that ever was. They arguedand tried to keep him out, but he wouldn't listen, and the whole showcome to a standstill. Then the people begun to holler at him and makefun of him, and that made him mad, and he begun to rip and tear; so thatstirred up the people, and a lot of men begun to pile down off of thebenches and swarm towards the ring, saying, "Knock him down! throw himout!" and one or two women begun to scream. So, then, the ringmaster hemade a little speech, and said he hoped there wouldn't be no disturbance, and if the man would promise he wouldn't make no more trouble he wouldlet him ride if he thought he could stay on the horse. So everybodylaughed and said all right, and the man got on. The minute he was on, thehorse begun to rip and tear and jump and cavort around, with two circusmen hanging on to his bridle trying to hold him, and the drunk manhanging on to his neck, and his heels flying in the air every jump, andthe whole crowd of people standing up shouting and laughing till tearsrolled down. And at last, sure enough, all the circus men could do, thehorse broke loose, and away he went like the very nation, round and roundthe ring, with that sot laying down on him and hanging to his neck, withfirst one leg hanging most to the ground on one side, and then t'otherone on t'other side, and the people just crazy. It warn't funny to me, though; I was all of a tremble to see his danger. But pretty soon hestruggled up astraddle and grabbed the bridle, a-reeling this way andthat; and the next minute he sprung up and dropped the bridle and stood!and the horse a-going like a house afire too. He just stood up there, a-sailing around as easy and comfortable as if he warn't ever drunk in hislife--and then he begun to pull off his clothes and sling them. He shedthem so thick they kind of clogged up the air, and altogether he shedseventeen suits. And, then, there he was, slim and handsome, and dressedthe gaudiest and prettiest you ever saw, and he lit into that horse withhis whip and made him fairly hum--and finally skipped off, and made hisbow and danced off to the dressing-room, and everybody just a-howlingwith pleasure and astonishment. Then the ringmaster he see how he had been fooled, and he WAS the sickestringmaster you ever see, I reckon. Why, it was one of his own men! Hehad got up that joke all out of his own head, and never let on to nobody. Well, I felt sheepish enough to be took in so, but I wouldn't a been inthat ringmaster's place, not for a thousand dollars. I don't know; theremay be bullier circuses than what that one was, but I never struck themyet. Anyways, it was plenty good enough for ME; and wherever I run acrossit, it can have all of MY custom every time. Well, that night we had OUR show; but there warn't only about twelvepeople there--just enough to pay expenses. And they laughed all thetime, and that made the duke mad; and everybody left, anyway, before theshow was over, but one boy which was asleep. So the duke said theseArkansaw lunkheads couldn't come up to Shakespeare; what they wanted waslow comedy--and maybe something ruther worse than low comedy, hereckoned. He said he could size their style. So next morning he gotsome big sheets of wrapping paper and some black paint, and drawed offsome handbills, and stuck them up all over the village. The bills said: AT THE COURT HOUSE! FOR 3 NIGHTS ONLY!The World-Renowned TragediansDAVID GARRICK THE YOUNGER!AND EDMUND KEAN THE ELDER!Of the London andContinental Theatres, In their Thrilling Tragedy ofTHE KING'S CAMELEOPARD, OR THE ROYAL NONESUCH ! ! !Admission 50 cents. Then at the bottom was the biggest line of all, which said: LADIES AND CHILDREN NOT ADMITTED. "There, " says he, "if that line don't fetch them, I don't know Arkansaw!" CHAPTER XXIII. WELL, all day him and the king was hard at it, rigging up a stage and acurtain and a row of candles for footlights; and that night the house wasjam full of men in no time. When the place couldn't hold no more, theduke he quit tending door and went around the back way and come on to thestage and stood up before the curtain and made a little speech, andpraised up this tragedy, and said it was the most thrillingest one thatever was; and so he went on a-bragging about the tragedy, and aboutEdmund Kean the Elder, which was to play the main principal part in it;and at last when he'd got everybody's expectations up high enough, herolled up the curtain, and the next minute the king come a-prancing outon all fours, naked; and he was painted all over, ring-streaked-and-striped, all sorts of colors, as splendid as a rainbow. And--but nevermind the rest of his outfit; it was just wild, but it was awful funny. The people most killed themselves laughing; and when the king got donecapering and capered off behind the scenes, they roared and clapped andstormed and haw-hawed till he come back and done it over again, and afterthat they made him do it another time. Well, it would make a cow laugh tosee the shines that old idiot cut. Then the duke he lets the curtain down, and bows to the people, and saysthe great tragedy will be performed only two nights more, on accounts ofpressing London engagements, where the seats is all sold already for itin Drury Lane; and then he makes them another bow, and says if he hassucceeded in pleasing them and instructing them, he will be deeplyobleeged if they will mention it to their friends and get them to comeand see it. Twenty people sings out: "What, is it over? Is that ALL?" The duke says yes. Then there was a fine time. Everybody sings out, "Sold!" and rose up mad, and was a-going for that stage and themtragedians. But a big, fine looking man jumps up on a bench and shouts: "Hold on! Just a word, gentlemen. " They stopped to listen. "We aresold--mighty badly sold. But we don't want to be the laughing stock ofthis whole town, I reckon, and never hear the last of this thing as longas we live. NO. What we want is to go out of here quiet, and talk thisshow up, and sell the REST of the town! Then we'll all be in the sameboat. Ain't that sensible?" ("You bet it is!--the jedge is right!"everybody sings out. ) "All right, then--not a word about any sell. Goalong home, and advise everybody to come and see the tragedy. " Next day you couldn't hear nothing around that town but how splendid thatshow was. House was jammed again that night, and we sold this crowd thesame way. When me and the king and the duke got home to the raft we allhad a supper; and by and by, about midnight, they made Jim and me backher out and float her down the middle of the river, and fetch her in andhide her about two mile below town. The third night the house was crammed again--and they warn't new-comersthis time, but people that was at the show the other two nights. I stoodby the duke at the door, and I see that every man that went in had hispockets bulging, or something muffled up under his coat--and I see itwarn't no perfumery, neither, not by a long sight. I smelt sickly eggsby the barrel, and rotten cabbages, and such things; and if I know thesigns of a dead cat being around, and I bet I do, there was sixty-four ofthem went in. I shoved in there for a minute, but it was too various forme; I couldn't stand it. Well, when the place couldn't hold no morepeople the duke he give a fellow a quarter and told him to tend door forhim a minute, and then he started around for the stage door, I after him;but the minute we turned the corner and was in the dark he says: "Walk fast now till you get away from the houses, and then shin for theraft like the dickens was after you!" I done it, and he done the same. We struck the raft at the same time, and in less than two seconds we was gliding down stream, all dark andstill, and edging towards the middle of the river, nobody saying a word. I reckoned the poor king was in for a gaudy time of it with the audience, but nothing of the sort; pretty soon he crawls out from under the wigwam, and says: "Well, how'd the old thing pan out this time, duke?" He hadn't beenup-town at all. We never showed a light till we was about ten mile below the village. Then we lit up and had a supper, and the king and the duke fairly laughedtheir bones loose over the way they'd served them people. The duke says: "Greenhorns, flatheads! I knew the first house would keep mum and letthe rest of the town get roped in; and I knew they'd lay for us the thirdnight, and consider it was THEIR turn now. Well, it IS their turn, andI'd give something to know how much they'd take for it. I WOULD justlike to know how they're putting in their opportunity. They can turn itinto a picnic if they want to--they brought plenty provisions. " Them rapscallions took in four hundred and sixty-five dollars in thatthree nights. I never see money hauled in by the wagon-load like thatbefore. By and by, when they was asleep and snoring, Jim says: "Don't it s'prise you de way dem kings carries on, Huck?" "No, " I says, "it don't. " "Why don't it, Huck?" "Well, it don't, because it's in the breed. I reckon they're all alike, " "But, Huck, dese kings o' ourn is reglar rapscallions; dat's jist whatdey is; dey's reglar rapscallions. " "Well, that's what I'm a-saying; all kings is mostly rapscallions, as furas I can make out. " "Is dat so?" "You read about them once--you'll see. Look at Henry the Eight; this 'n's a Sunday-school Superintendent to HIM. And look at Charles Second, and Louis Fourteen, and Louis Fifteen, and James Second, and EdwardSecond, and Richard Third, and forty more; besides all them Saxonheptarchies that used to rip around so in old times and raise Cain. My, you ought to seen old Henry the Eight when he was in bloom. He WAS ablossom. He used to marry a new wife every day, and chop off her headnext morning. And he would do it just as indifferent as if he wasordering up eggs. 'Fetch up Nell Gwynn, ' he says. They fetch her up. Next morning, 'Chop off her head!' And they chop it off. 'Fetch up JaneShore, ' he says; and up she comes, Next morning, 'Chop off her head'--andthey chop it off. 'Ring up Fair Rosamun. ' Fair Rosamun answers thebell. Next morning, 'Chop off her head. ' And he made every one of themtell him a tale every night; and he kept that up till he had hogged athousand and one tales that way, and then he put them all in a book, andcalled it Domesday Book--which was a good name and stated the case. Youdon't know kings, Jim, but I know them; and this old rip of ourn is oneof the cleanest I've struck in history. Well, Henry he takes a notion hewants to get up some trouble with this country. How does he go at it--give notice?--give the country a show? No. All of a sudden he heavesall the tea in Boston Harbor overboard, and whacks out a declaration ofindependence, and dares them to come on. That was HIS style--he nevergive anybody a chance. He had suspicions of his father, the Duke ofWellington. Well, what did he do? Ask him to show up? No--drowndedhim in a butt of mamsey, like a cat. S'pose people left money layingaround where he was--what did he do? He collared it. S'pose hecontracted to do a thing, and you paid him, and didn't set down there andsee that he done it--what did he do? He always done the other thing. S'pose he opened his mouth--what then? If he didn't shut it up powerfulquick he'd lose a lie every time. That's the kind of a bug Henry was;and if we'd a had him along 'stead of our kings he'd a fooled that town aheap worse than ourn done. I don't say that ourn is lambs, because theyain't, when you come right down to the cold facts; but they ain't nothingto THAT old ram, anyway. All I say is, kings is kings, and you got tomake allowances. Take them all around, they're a mighty ornery lot. It's the way they're raised. " "But dis one do SMELL so like de nation, Huck. " "Well, they all do, Jim. We can't help the way a king smells; historydon't tell no way. " "Now de duke, he's a tolerble likely man in some ways. " "Yes, a duke's different. But not very different. This one's a middlinghard lot for a duke. When he's drunk there ain't no near-sighted mancould tell him from a king. " "Well, anyways, I doan' hanker for no mo' un um, Huck. Dese is all I kinstan'. " "It's the way I feel, too, Jim. But we've got them on our hands, and wegot to remember what they are, and make allowances. Sometimes I wish wecould hear of a country that's out of kings. " What was the use to tell Jim these warn't real kings and dukes? Itwouldn't a done no good; and, besides, it was just as I said: youcouldn't tell them from the real kind. I went to sleep, and Jim didn't call me when it was my turn. He oftendone that. When I waked up just at daybreak he was sitting there withhis head down betwixt his knees, moaning and mourning to himself. Ididn't take notice nor let on. I knowed what it was about. He wasthinking about his wife and his children, away up yonder, and he was lowand homesick; because he hadn't ever been away from home before in hislife; and I do believe he cared just as much for his people as whitefolks does for their'n. It don't seem natural, but I reckon it's so. Hewas often moaning and mourning that way nights, when he judged I wasasleep, and saying, "Po' little 'Lizabeth! po' little Johnny! it's mightyhard; I spec' I ain't ever gwyne to see you no mo', no mo'!" He was amighty good nigger, Jim was. But this time I somehow got to talking to him about his wife and youngones; and by and by he says: "What makes me feel so bad dis time 'uz bekase I hear sumpn over yonderon de bank like a whack, er a slam, while ago, en it mine me er de time Itreat my little 'Lizabeth so ornery. She warn't on'y 'bout fo' year ole, en she tuck de sk'yarlet fever, en had a powful rough spell; but she gotwell, en one day she was a-stannin' aroun', en I says to her, I says: "'Shet de do'. ' "She never done it; jis' stood dah, kiner smilin' up at me. It make memad; en I says agin, mighty loud, I says: "'Doan' you hear me? Shet de do'!' "She jis stood de same way, kiner smilin' up. I was a-bilin'! I says: "'I lay I MAKE you mine!' "En wid dat I fetch' her a slap side de head dat sont her a-sprawlin'. Den I went into de yuther room, en 'uz gone 'bout ten minutes; en when Icome back dah was dat do' a-stannin' open YIT, en dat chile stannin' mos'right in it, a-lookin' down and mournin', en de tears runnin' down. My, but I WUZ mad! I was a-gwyne for de chile, but jis' den--it was a do'dat open innerds--jis' den, 'long come de wind en slam it to, behine dechile, ker-BLAM!--en my lan', de chile never move'! My breff mos' hopouter me; en I feel so--so--I doan' know HOW I feel. I crope out, alla-tremblin', en crope aroun' en open de do' easy en slow, en poke my headin behine de chile, sof' en still, en all uv a sudden I says POW! jis' asloud as I could yell. SHE NEVER BUDGE! Oh, Huck, I bust out a-cryin' engrab her up in my arms, en say, 'Oh, de po' little thing! De Lord GodAmighty fogive po' ole Jim, kaze he never gwyne to fogive hisself aslong's he live!' Oh, she was plumb deef en dumb, Huck, plumb deef endumb--en I'd ben a-treat'n her so!" CHAPTER XXIV. NEXT day, towards night, we laid up under a little willow towhead out inthe middle, where there was a village on each side of the river, and theduke and the king begun to lay out a plan for working them towns. Jim hespoke to the duke, and said he hoped it wouldn't take but a few hours, because it got mighty heavy and tiresome to him when he had to lay allday in the wigwam tied with the rope. You see, when we left him allalone we had to tie him, because if anybody happened on to him all byhimself and not tied it wouldn't look much like he was a runaway nigger, you know. So the duke said it WAS kind of hard to have to lay roped allday, and he'd cipher out some way to get around it. He was uncommon bright, the duke was, and he soon struck it. He dressedJim up in King Lear's outfit--it was a long curtain-calico gown, and awhite horse-hair wig and whiskers; and then he took his theater paint andpainted Jim's face and hands and ears and neck all over a dead, dull, solid blue, like a man that's been drownded nine days. Blamed if hewarn't the horriblest looking outrage I ever see. Then the duke took andwrote out a sign on a shingle so: Sick Arab--but harmless when not out of his head. And he nailed that shingle to a lath, and stood the lath up four or fivefoot in front of the wigwam. Jim was satisfied. He said it was a sightbetter than lying tied a couple of years every day, and trembling allover every time there was a sound. The duke told him to make himselffree and easy, and if anybody ever come meddling around, he must hop outof the wigwam, and carry on a little, and fetch a howl or two like a wildbeast, and he reckoned they would light out and leave him alone. Whichwas sound enough judgment; but you take the average man, and he wouldn'twait for him to howl. Why, he didn't only look like he was dead, helooked considerable more than that. These rapscallions wanted to try the Nonesuch again, because there was somuch money in it, but they judged it wouldn't be safe, because maybe thenews might a worked along down by this time. They couldn't hit noproject that suited exactly; so at last the duke said he reckoned he'dlay off and work his brains an hour or two and see if he couldn't put upsomething on the Arkansaw village; and the king he allowed he would dropover to t'other village without any plan, but just trust in Providence tolead him the profitable way--meaning the devil, I reckon. We had allbought store clothes where we stopped last; and now the king put his'non, and he told me to put mine on. I done it, of course. The king'sduds was all black, and he did look real swell and starchy. I neverknowed how clothes could change a body before. Why, before, he lookedlike the orneriest old rip that ever was; but now, when he'd take off hisnew white beaver and make a bow and do a smile, he looked that grand andgood and pious that you'd say he had walked right out of the ark, andmaybe was old Leviticus himself. Jim cleaned up the canoe, and I got mypaddle ready. There was a big steamboat laying at the shore away upunder the point, about three mile above the town--been there a coupleof hours, taking on freight. Says the king: "Seein' how I'm dressed, I reckon maybe I better arrive down from St. Louis or Cincinnati, or some other big place. Go for the steamboat, Huckleberry; we'll come down to the village on her. " I didn't have to be ordered twice to go and take a steamboat ride. Ifetched the shore a half a mile above the village, and then went scootingalong the bluff bank in the easy water. Pretty soon we come to a niceinnocent-looking young country jake setting on a log swabbing the sweatoff of his face, for it was powerful warm weather; and he had a couple ofbig carpet-bags by him. "Run her nose in shore, " says the king. I done it. "Wher' you boundfor, young man?" "For the steamboat; going to Orleans. " "Git aboard, " says the king. "Hold on a minute, my servant 'll he'p youwith them bags. Jump out and he'p the gentleman, Adolphus"--meaning me, I see. I done so, and then we all three started on again. The young chap wasmighty thankful; said it was tough work toting his baggage such weather. He asked the king where he was going, and the king told him he'd comedown the river and landed at the other village this morning, and now hewas going up a few mile to see an old friend on a farm up there. Theyoung fellow says: "When I first see you I says to myself, 'It's Mr. Wilks, sure, and hecome mighty near getting here in time. ' But then I says again, 'No, Ireckon it ain't him, or else he wouldn't be paddling up the river. ' YouAIN'T him, are you?" "No, my name's Blodgett--Elexander Blodgett--REVEREND Elexander Blodgett, I s'pose I must say, as I'm one o' the Lord's poor servants. But stillI'm jist as able to be sorry for Mr. Wilks for not arriving in time, allthe same, if he's missed anything by it--which I hope he hasn't. " "Well, he don't miss any property by it, because he'll get that allright; but he's missed seeing his brother Peter die--which he mayn'tmind, nobody can tell as to that--but his brother would a give anythingin this world to see HIM before he died; never talked about nothing elseall these three weeks; hadn't seen him since they was boys together--andhadn't ever seen his brother William at all--that's the deef and dumbone--William ain't more than thirty or thirty-five. Peter and Georgewere the only ones that come out here; George was the married brother;him and his wife both died last year. Harvey and William's the only onesthat's left now; and, as I was saying, they haven't got here in time. " "Did anybody send 'em word?" "Oh, yes; a month or two ago, when Peter was first took; because Petersaid then that he sorter felt like he warn't going to get well this time. You see, he was pretty old, and George's g'yirls was too young to be muchcompany for him, except Mary Jane, the red-headed one; and so he waskinder lonesome after George and his wife died, and didn't seem to caremuch to live. He most desperately wanted to see Harvey--and William, too, for that matter--because he was one of them kind that can't bear tomake a will. He left a letter behind for Harvey, and said he'd told init where his money was hid, and how he wanted the rest of the propertydivided up so George's g'yirls would be all right--for George didn'tleave nothing. And that letter was all they could get him to put a pento. " "Why do you reckon Harvey don't come? Wher' does he live?" "Oh, he lives in England--Sheffield--preaches there--hasn't ever been inthis country. He hasn't had any too much time--and besides he mightn't agot the letter at all, you know. " "Too bad, too bad he couldn't a lived to see his brothers, poor soul. You going to Orleans, you say?" "Yes, but that ain't only a part of it. I'm going in a ship, nextWednesday, for Ryo Janeero, where my uncle lives. " "It's a pretty long journey. But it'll be lovely; wisht I was a-going. Is Mary Jane the oldest? How old is the others?" "Mary Jane's nineteen, Susan's fifteen, and Joanna's about fourteen--that's the one that gives herself to good works and has a hare-lip. " "Poor things! to be left alone in the cold world so. " "Well, they could be worse off. Old Peter had friends, and they ain'tgoing to let them come to no harm. There's Hobson, the Babtis' preacher;and Deacon Lot Hovey, and Ben Rucker, and Abner Shackleford, and LeviBell, the lawyer; and Dr. Robinson, and their wives, and the widowBartley, and--well, there's a lot of them; but these are the ones thatPeter was thickest with, and used to write about sometimes, when he wrotehome; so Harvey 'll know where to look for friends when he gets here. " Well, the old man went on asking questions till he just fairly emptiedthat young fellow. Blamed if he didn't inquire about everybody andeverything in that blessed town, and all about the Wilkses; and aboutPeter's business--which was a tanner; and about George's--which was acarpenter; and about Harvey's--which was a dissentering minister; and soon, and so on. Then he says: "What did you want to walk all the way up to the steamboat for?" "Because she's a big Orleans boat, and I was afeard she mightn't stopthere. When they're deep they won't stop for a hail. A Cincinnati boatwill, but this is a St. Louis one. " "Was Peter Wilks well off?" "Oh, yes, pretty well off. He had houses and land, and it's reckoned heleft three or four thousand in cash hid up som'ers. " "When did you say he died?" "I didn't say, but it was last night. " "Funeral to-morrow, likely?" "Yes, 'bout the middle of the day. " "Well, it's all terrible sad; but we've all got to go, one time oranother. So what we want to do is to be prepared; then we're all right. " "Yes, sir, it's the best way. Ma used to always say that. " When we struck the boat she was about done loading, and pretty soon shegot off. The king never said nothing about going aboard, so I lost myride, after all. When the boat was gone the king made me paddle upanother mile to a lonesome place, and then he got ashore and says: "Now hustle back, right off, and fetch the duke up here, and the newcarpet-bags. And if he's gone over to t'other side, go over there andgit him. And tell him to git himself up regardless. Shove along, now. " I see what HE was up to; but I never said nothing, of course. When I gotback with the duke we hid the canoe, and then they set down on a log, andthe king told him everything, just like the young fellow had said it--every last word of it. And all the time he was a-doing it he tried totalk like an Englishman; and he done it pretty well, too, for a slouch. I can't imitate him, and so I ain't a-going to try to; but he really doneit pretty good. Then he says: "How are you on the deef and dumb, Bilgewater?" The duke said, leave him alone for that; said he had played a deef anddumb person on the histronic boards. So then they waited for asteamboat. About the middle of the afternoon a couple of little boats come along, but they didn't come from high enough up the river; but at last there wasa big one, and they hailed her. She sent out her yawl, and we wentaboard, and she was from Cincinnati; and when they found we only wantedto go four or five mile they was booming mad, and gave us a cussing, andsaid they wouldn't land us. But the king was ca'm. He says: "If gentlemen kin afford to pay a dollar a mile apiece to be took on andput off in a yawl, a steamboat kin afford to carry 'em, can't it?" So they softened down and said it was all right; and when we got to thevillage they yawled us ashore. About two dozen men flocked down whenthey see the yawl a-coming, and when the king says: "Kin any of you gentlemen tell me wher' Mr. Peter Wilks lives?" they givea glance at one another, and nodded their heads, as much as to say, "Whatd' I tell you?" Then one of them says, kind of soft and gentle: "I'm sorry sir, but the best we can do is to tell you where he DID liveyesterday evening. " Sudden as winking the ornery old cretur went an to smash, and fell upagainst the man, and put his chin on his shoulder, and cried down hisback, and says: "Alas, alas, our poor brother--gone, and we never got to see him; oh, it's too, too hard!" Then he turns around, blubbering, and makes a lot of idiotic signs to theduke on his hands, and blamed if he didn't drop a carpet-bag and bust outa-crying. If they warn't the beatenest lot, them two frauds, that ever Istruck. Well, the men gathered around and sympathized with them, and said allsorts of kind things to them, and carried their carpet-bags up the hillfor them, and let them lean on them and cry, and told the king all abouthis brother's last moments, and the king he told it all over again on hishands to the duke, and both of them took on about that dead tanner likethey'd lost the twelve disciples. Well, if ever I struck anything likeit, I'm a nigger. It was enough to make a body ashamed of the human race. CHAPTER XXV. THE news was all over town in two minutes, and you could see the peopletearing down on the run from every which way, some of them putting ontheir coats as they come. Pretty soon we was in the middle of a crowd, and the noise of the tramping was like a soldier march. The windows anddooryards was full; and every minute somebody would say, over a fence: "Is it THEM?" And somebody trotting along with the gang would answer back and say: "You bet it is. " When we got to the house the street in front of it was packed, and thethree girls was standing in the door. Mary Jane WAS red-headed, but thatdon't make no difference, she was most awful beautiful, and her face andher eyes was all lit up like glory, she was so glad her uncles was come. The king he spread his arms, and Mary Jane she jumped for them, and thehare-lip jumped for the duke, and there they HAD it! Everybody most, leastways women, cried for joy to see them meet again at last and havesuch good times. Then the king he hunched the duke private--I see him do it--and then helooked around and see the coffin, over in the corner on two chairs; sothen him and the duke, with a hand across each other's shoulder, andt'other hand to their eyes, walked slow and solemn over there, everybodydropping back to give them room, and all the talk and noise stopping, people saying "Sh!" and all the men taking their hats off and droopingtheir heads, so you could a heard a pin fall. And when they got therethey bent over and looked in the coffin, and took one sight, and thenthey bust out a-crying so you could a heard them to Orleans, most; andthen they put their arms around each other's necks, and hung their chinsover each other's shoulders; and then for three minutes, or maybe four, Inever see two men leak the way they done. And, mind you, everybody wasdoing the same; and the place was that damp I never see anything like it. Then one of them got on one side of the coffin, and t'other on t'otherside, and they kneeled down and rested their foreheads on the coffin, andlet on to pray all to themselves. Well, when it come to that it workedthe crowd like you never see anything like it, and everybody broke downand went to sobbing right out loud--the poor girls, too; and every woman, nearly, went up to the girls, without saying a word, and kissed them, solemn, on the forehead, and then put their hand on their head, andlooked up towards the sky, with the tears running down, and then bustedout and went off sobbing and swabbing, and give the next woman a show. Inever see anything so disgusting. Well, by and by the king he gets up and comes forward a little, and workshimself up and slobbers out a speech, all full of tears and flapdoodleabout its being a sore trial for him and his poor brother to lose thediseased, and to miss seeing diseased alive after the long journey offour thousand mile, but it's a trial that's sweetened and sanctified tous by this dear sympathy and these holy tears, and so he thanks them outof his heart and out of his brother's heart, because out of their mouthsthey can't, words being too weak and cold, and all that kind of rot andslush, till it was just sickening; and then he blubbers out a piousgoody-goody Amen, and turns himself loose and goes to crying fit to bust. And the minute the words were out of his mouth somebody over in the crowdstruck up the doxolojer, and everybody joined in with all their might, and it just warmed you up and made you feel as good as church lettingout. Music is a good thing; and after all that soul-butter and hogwash Inever see it freshen up things so, and sound so honest and bully. Then the king begins to work his jaw again, and says how him and hisnieces would be glad if a few of the main principal friends of the familywould take supper here with them this evening, and help set up with theashes of the diseased; and says if his poor brother laying yonder couldspeak he knows who he would name, for they was names that was very dearto him, and mentioned often in his letters; and so he will name the same, to wit, as follows, vizz. :--Rev. Mr. Hobson, and Deacon Lot Hovey, andMr. Ben Rucker, and Abner Shackleford, and Levi Bell, and Dr. Robinson, and their wives, and the widow Bartley. Rev. Hobson and Dr. Robinson was down to the end of the town a-huntingtogether--that is, I mean the doctor was shipping a sick man to t'otherworld, and the preacher was pinting him right. Lawyer Bell was away upto Louisville on business. But the rest was on hand, and so they allcome and shook hands with the king and thanked him and talked to him; andthen they shook hands with the duke and didn't say nothing, but just kepta-smiling and bobbing their heads like a passel of sapheads whilst hemade all sorts of signs with his hands and said "Goo-goo--goo-goo-goo"all the time, like a baby that can't talk. So the king he blattered along, and managed to inquire about pretty mucheverybody and dog in town, by his name, and mentioned all sorts of littlethings that happened one time or another in the town, or to George'sfamily, or to Peter. And he always let on that Peter wrote him thethings; but that was a lie: he got every blessed one of them out of thatyoung flathead that we canoed up to the steamboat. Then Mary Jane she fetched the letter her father left behind, and theking he read it out loud and cried over it. It give the dwelling-houseand three thousand dollars, gold, to the girls; and it give the tanyard(which was doing a good business), along with some other houses and land(worth about seven thousand), and three thousand dollars in gold toHarvey and William, and told where the six thousand cash was hid downcellar. So these two frauds said they'd go and fetch it up, and haveeverything square and above-board; and told me to come with a candle. Weshut the cellar door behind us, and when they found the bag they spilt itout on the floor, and it was a lovely sight, all them yaller-boys. My, the way the king's eyes did shine! He slaps the duke on the shoulder andsays: "Oh, THIS ain't bully nor noth'n! Oh, no, I reckon not! Why, Billy, itbeats the Nonesuch, DON'T it?" The duke allowed it did. They pawed the yaller-boys, and sifted themthrough their fingers and let them jingle down on the floor; and the kingsays: "It ain't no use talkin'; bein' brothers to a rich dead man andrepresentatives of furrin heirs that's got left is the line for you andme, Bilge. Thish yer comes of trust'n to Providence. It's the best way, in the long run. I've tried 'em all, and ther' ain't no better way. " Most everybody would a been satisfied with the pile, and took it ontrust; but no, they must count it. So they counts it, and it comes outfour hundred and fifteen dollars short. Says the king: "Dern him, I wonder what he done with that four hundred and fifteendollars?" They worried over that awhile, and ransacked all around for it. Then theduke says: "Well, he was a pretty sick man, and likely he made a mistake--I reckonthat's the way of it. The best way's to let it go, and keep still aboutit. We can spare it. " "Oh, shucks, yes, we can SPARE it. I don't k'yer noth'n 'bout that--it'sthe COUNT I'm thinkin' about. We want to be awful square and open andabove-board here, you know. We want to lug this h-yer money up stairsand count it before everybody--then ther' ain't noth'n suspicious. Butwhen the dead man says ther's six thous'n dollars, you know, we don'twant to--" "Hold on, " says the duke. "Le's make up the deffisit, " and he begun tohaul out yaller-boys out of his pocket. "It's a most amaz'n' good idea, duke--you HAVE got a rattlin' clever headon you, " says the king. "Blest if the old Nonesuch ain't a heppin' usout agin, " and HE begun to haul out yaller-jackets and stack them up. It most busted them, but they made up the six thousand clean and clear. "Say, " says the duke, "I got another idea. Le's go up stairs and countthis money, and then take and GIVE IT TO THE GIRLS. " "Good land, duke, lemme hug you! It's the most dazzling idea 'at ever aman struck. You have cert'nly got the most astonishin' head I ever see. Oh, this is the boss dodge, ther' ain't no mistake 'bout it. Let 'emfetch along their suspicions now if they want to--this 'll lay 'em out. " When we got up-stairs everybody gethered around the table, and the kinghe counted it and stacked it up, three hundred dollars in a pile--twentyelegant little piles. Everybody looked hungry at it, and licked theirchops. Then they raked it into the bag again, and I see the king beginto swell himself up for another speech. He says: "Friends all, my poor brother that lays yonder has done generous by themthat's left behind in the vale of sorrers. He has done generous by theseyer poor little lambs that he loved and sheltered, and that's leftfatherless and motherless. Yes, and we that knowed him knows that hewould a done MORE generous by 'em if he hadn't ben afeard o' woundin' hisdear William and me. Now, WOULDN'T he? Ther' ain't no question 'bout itin MY mind. Well, then, what kind o' brothers would it be that 'd standin his way at sech a time? And what kind o' uncles would it be that 'drob--yes, ROB--sech poor sweet lambs as these 'at he loved so at sech atime? If I know William--and I THINK I do--he--well, I'll jest ask him. "He turns around and begins to make a lot of signs to the duke with hishands, and the duke he looks at him stupid and leather-headed a while;then all of a sudden he seems to catch his meaning, and jumps for theking, goo-gooing with all his might for joy, and hugs him about fifteentimes before he lets up. Then the king says, "I knowed it; I reckon THAT'll convince anybody the way HE feels about it. Here, Mary Jane, Susan, Joanner, take the money--take it ALL. It's the gift of him that laysyonder, cold but joyful. " Mary Jane she went for him, Susan and the hare-lip went for the duke, andthen such another hugging and kissing I never see yet. And everybodycrowded up with the tears in their eyes, and most shook the hands off ofthem frauds, saying all the time: "You DEAR good souls!--how LOVELY!--how COULD you!" Well, then, pretty soon all hands got to talking about the diseasedagain, and how good he was, and what a loss he was, and all that; andbefore long a big iron-jawed man worked himself in there from outside, and stood a-listening and looking, and not saying anything; and nobodysaying anything to him either, because the king was talking and they wasall busy listening. The king was saying--in the middle of something he'dstarted in on-- "--they bein' partickler friends o' the diseased. That's why they'reinvited here this evenin'; but tomorrow we want ALL to come--everybody;for he respected everybody, he liked everybody, and so it's fitten thathis funeral orgies sh'd be public. " And so he went a-mooning on and on, liking to hear himself talk, andevery little while he fetched in his funeral orgies again, till the dukehe couldn't stand it no more; so he writes on a little scrap of paper, "OBSEQUIES, you old fool, " and folds it up, and goes to goo-gooing andreaching it over people's heads to him. The king he reads it and puts itin his pocket, and says: "Poor William, afflicted as he is, his HEART'S aluz right. Asks me toinvite everybody to come to the funeral--wants me to make 'em allwelcome. But he needn't a worried--it was jest what I was at. " Then he weaves along again, perfectly ca'm, and goes to dropping in hisfuneral orgies again every now and then, just like he done before. Andwhen he done it the third time he says: "I say orgies, not because it's the common term, because it ain't--obsequies bein' the common term--but because orgies is the right term. Obsequies ain't used in England no more now--it's gone out. We sayorgies now in England. Orgies is better, because it means the thingyou're after more exact. It's a word that's made up out'n the GreekORGO, outside, open, abroad; and the Hebrew JEESUM, to plant, cover up;hence inTER. So, you see, funeral orgies is an open er public funeral. " He was the WORST I ever struck. Well, the iron-jawed man he laughedright in his face. Everybody was shocked. Everybody says, "Why, DOCTOR!" and Abner Shackleford says: "Why, Robinson, hain't you heard the news? This is Harvey Wilks. " The king he smiled eager, and shoved out his flapper, and says: "Is it my poor brother's dear good friend and physician? I--" "Keep your hands off of me!" says the doctor. "YOU talk like anEnglishman, DON'T you? It's the worst imitation I ever heard. YOU PeterWilks's brother! You're a fraud, that's what you are!" Well, how they all took on! They crowded around the doctor and tried toquiet him down, and tried to explain to him and tell him how Harvey 'dshowed in forty ways that he WAS Harvey, and knowed everybody by name, and the names of the very dogs, and begged and BEGGED him not to hurtHarvey's feelings and the poor girl's feelings, and all that. But itwarn't no use; he stormed right along, and said any man that pretended tobe an Englishman and couldn't imitate the lingo no better than what hedid was a fraud and a liar. The poor girls was hanging to the king andcrying; and all of a sudden the doctor ups and turns on THEM. He says: "I was your father's friend, and I'm your friend; and I warn you as afriend, and an honest one that wants to protect you and keep you out ofharm and trouble, to turn your backs on that scoundrel and have nothingto do with him, the ignorant tramp, with his idiotic Greek and Hebrew, ashe calls it. He is the thinnest kind of an impostor--has come here witha lot of empty names and facts which he picked up somewheres, and youtake them for PROOFS, and are helped to fool yourselves by these foolishfriends here, who ought to know better. Mary Jane Wilks, you know me foryour friend, and for your unselfish friend, too. Now listen to me; turnthis pitiful rascal out--I BEG you to do it. Will you?" Mary Jane straightened herself up, and my, but she was handsome! Shesays: "HERE is my answer. " She hove up the bag of money and put it in theking's hands, and says, "Take this six thousand dollars, and invest forme and my sisters any way you want to, and don't give us no receipt forit. " Then she put her arm around the king on one side, and Susan and thehare-lip done the same on the other. Everybody clapped their hands andstomped on the floor like a perfect storm, whilst the king held up hishead and smiled proud. The doctor says: "All right; I wash MY hands of the matter. But I warn you all that atime 's coming when you're going to feel sick whenever you think of thisday. " And away he went. "All right, doctor, " says the king, kinder mocking him; "we'll try andget 'em to send for you;" which made them all laugh, and they said it wasa prime good hit.