“David Dickey, the subject of this here fun'ral discourse, was born on the fourth day of July, 1810, of pious, godly parents. Dave as a child was always a good boy, who loved his parents, worked diligently and never needed a lickin' in his life”—
“Hold on, Bishop,” said Uncle Davy, rising and protesting earnestly—“this is my fun'ral an' I ain't a-goin' to have nothin' told but the exact facts: Jes' alter that by sayin' I was a tollerbul good boy, tollerbul diligent, with a big sprinklin' o' meanness an' laziness in me, an' that my old daddy,—God bless his memory for it—in them days cleared up mighty nigh a ten acre lot of guv'ment land cuttin' off the underbrush for my triflin' hide.”
Uncle Dave sat down. The Bishop was confused a moment, but quickly said: “Now bretherin, there's another good p'int about preachin' a man's fun'ral whilst he's alive. It gives the corpse a chance to correct any errors. Why, who'd ever have thought that good old Uncle Dave Dickey was that triflin' when he was young? Much obliged, Dave, much obliged, I'll try to tell the exact facts hereafter.”
Then he began again:
“In manner Uncle Dave was approachable an' with a kind heart for all mankind, an' a kind word an' a helpin' han' for the needy. He was tollerbul truthful”—went on the Bishop—with a look at Uncle Davy as if he had profited by previous interruptions.
“Tell it as it was, Hillard,”—nodded Uncle Dave, from the front bench—“jes' as it was—no lies at my fun'ral.”
“Tollerbul truthful,” went on the Bishop, “on all subjects he wanted to tell the truth about. An' I'm proud to say, bretherin, that after fifty odd years of intermate acquantance with our soon-to-be-deceased brother, you cu'd rely on him tellin' the truth in all things except”—
“Tell it as it was, Hillard—no—filigree work at my fun'ral—” said Uncle Dave.
—“Except,” went on the Bishop, “returnin' any little change he happen'd to borry from you, or swoppin' horses, or tellin' the size of the fish he happened to ketch. On them p'ints, my bretherin, the lamented corpse was pow'ful weak; an' I'm sorry to have to tell it, but I've been warned, as you all kno', to speak the exact facts.”
“Hillard Watts,” said Uncle Dave rising hotly—“that's a lie an' you know it!”