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"Now that corpse," said the undertaker, patting the folded hands of
deceased approvingly, “was a brick--every way you took him he was a brick.
He was so real accommodating, and so modest-like and simple in his last
moments. Friends wanted metallic burial-case--nothing else would do.
I couldn't get it. There warn't going to be time--anybody could see
that.
"
Corpse said never mind, shake him up some kind of a box he could stretch
out in comfortable, he warn't particular 'bout the general style of it.
Said he went more on room than style, anyway in a last final container.
"Friends wanted a silver door-plate on the coffin, signifying who he was
and wher' he was from. Now you know a fellow couldn't roust out such a
gaily thing as that in a little country-town like this. What did corpse
say?
"
Corpse said, whitewash his old canoe and dob his address and general
destination onto it with a blacking-brush and a stencil-plate, 'long with
a verse from some likely hymn or other, and p’int him for the tomb, and
mark him C. O. D., and just let him flicker. He warn't distressed any
more than you be--on the contrary, just as ca(,)'m and collected as a
hearse-horse; said he judged that wher' he was going to a body would find
it considerable better to attract attention by a picturesque moral
character than a natty burial-case with a swell door-plate on it.
"
Splendid man, he was. I'd druther do for a corpse like that 'n any I've
09
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