Lev Smith now awaited the settlement of Uncle Gunter's affairs in grief and solicitude. Another party also awaited the upshot of the matter, with due solemnity and expectation, and that party was Polly Williams, Lev's "intended," and her poor and miserly dad and marm, who knew Lev Smith, as they said, was a lazy, lolloping sort of a feller, but sure to get all that his poor, miserable uncle was worth in the world, and therefore, with more craft and diligence, if possible, than Lev practised, the Williamses set Polly's cap for Lev, and who, in turn, was not unmindful of the fact that Williams "had something" too, as well as his two children, Polly and Peter. Things seemed indeed bright and propitious on all sides. The day came; Lev was on hand at Squire Cornelius's, to hear the will read, and the estate of the deceased settled.
As usual in such cases in the country, quite a number of the neighbors were on hand—old Williams, of course.
"He was a queer old mortal," began the Squire.
"But a good man," sobbed Lev Smith, drawing out his bandanna, and smothering his sharp nose in it. "A good man, 'Squire."
"God's his judge," responded the Squire, and a number of the neighbors shook their head and stroked their beards, as if to say amen.
"Joseph Gunter mout have been a good man and he mout not," continued the Squire; "some thinks he was not; I only say he was a queer old mortal, and here's his will. Last will and testament of Joseph Gunter, &c., &c.," continued the Squire.
"Poor, dear old man," sobbed Lev. "Poor dear old man!"
"Being without wife or children," continued the 'Squire.
"O, dear! poor, dear old man, how I shall miss him in this world of sorrow and sin," sobs Lev, while old Williams bit his skinny lips, and the neighbors again stroked their beards.
"To comfort my declining years—"