MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT.—DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN.
FROM PHŒNIXIANA.
Mr. Mudge has just arrived in San Diego from Arkansas; he brings with him four yoke of oxen, seventeen American cows, nine American children, and Mrs. Mudge. They have encamped in the rear of our office, pending the arrival of the next coasting steamer.
Mr. Mudge is about thirty-seven years of age, his hair is light, not a "sable silvered," but a yaller gilded; you can see some of it sticking out of the top of his hat; his costume is the national costume of Arkansas, coat, waistcoat, and pantaloons of homespun cloth, dyed a brownish yellow, with a decoction of the bitter barked butternut—a pleasing alliteration; his countenance presents a determined, combined with a sanctimonious expression, and in his brightly gleaming eye—a red eye we think it is—we fancy a spark of poetic fervor may be distinguished.
Mr. Mudge called on us yesterday. We were eating watermelon. Perhaps the reader may have eaten watermelon, if so, he knows how difficult a thing it is to speak, when the mouth is filled with the luscious fruit, and the slippery seed and sweet though embarrassing juice is squizzling out all over the chin and shirt-bosom. So at first we said nothing, but waved with our case knife toward an unoccupied box, as who should say sit down. Mr. Mudge accordingly seated himself, and removing his hat (whereat all his hair sprang up straight like a Jack in a box), turned that article of dress over and over in his hands, and contemplated its condition with alarming seriousness.
"Take some melon, Mr. Mudge," said we, as with a sudden bolt we recovered our speech and took another slice ourself. "No, I thank you," replied Mr. Mudge, "I wouldn't choose any, now."
There was a solemnity in Mr. Mudge's manner that arrested our attention; we paused, and holding a large slice of watermelon dripping in the air, listened to what he might have to say.
"Thar was a very serious accident happened to us," said Mr. Mudge, "as we wos crossin' the plains. 'Twas on the bank of the Peacus river. Thar was a young man named Jeames Hambrick along and another young feller, he got to fooling with his pistil, and he shot Jeames. He was a good young man and hadn't a enemy in the company; we buried him thar on the Peacus river, we did, and as we went off, these here lines sorter passed through my mind." So saying, Mr. Mudge rose, drew from his pocket—his waistcoat pocket—a crumpled piece of paper, and handed it over. Then he drew from his coat-tail pocket, a large cotton handkerchief, with a red ground and yellow figure, slowly unfolded it, blew his nose—an awful blast it was—wiped his eyes, and disappeared. We publish Mr. Mudge's lines, with the remark, that any one who says they have no poets or poetry in Arkansas, would doubt the existence of William Shakspeare:
DIRGE ON THE DEATH OF JEAMES HAMBRICK.
BY MR ORION W. MUDGE, ESQ.
it was on June the tenth
our hearts were very sad
for it was by an awful accident
we lost a fine young lad
Jeames Hambric was his name
and alas it was his lot
to you I tell the same
he was accidently shot
on the peacus river side
the sun was very hot
and its there he fell and died
where he was accidently shot
on the road his character good
without a stain or blot
and in our opinions growed
until he was accidently shot
a few words only he spoke
for moments he had not
and only then he seemed to choke
I was accidently shot
we wrapped him in a blanket good
for coffin we had not
and then we buried him where he stood
when he was accidently shot
and as we stood around his grave
our tears the ground did blot
we prayed to god his soul to save
he was accidently shot
This is all, but I writ at the time a epitaff which I think is short and would do to go over his grave:—
EPITAFF
here lies the body of Jeames Hambrick
who was accidently shot
on the bank of the peacus river
by a young man
he was accidently shot with one of the large size colt's revolver with no stopper for the cock to rest on it was one of the old fashion kind brass mounted and of such is the kingdom of heaven.
truly yourn,
Orion W Mudge Esq