My pardner restrained himself until the others had departed to their couches, but I see that he wuz fearful agitated and excited.
And sez he, the minute they went out—
“I tell you, Samantha, it wuz a excitin’ seen, and,” sez he, “what a excitement it would make in Jonesville if we should have one!” Sez he dreamily—
“Uncle Nate Bentley is over ninety; there might be one arranged easy.”
Sez I, “Josiah Allen, don’t you go to lookin’ forrered to any sech doin’s!”
“Why?” sez he; “if I should leave you, you could probble git the Widder Lummis up to Zoar and Drusilla Bentley to wail for a little or nothin’.”
Sez I, “Josiah Allen, no widder or old maid is a-goin’ to wail over you by my hirin’ ’em to; if they wail, it will be at their own expense.
“You will have one true mourner, Josiah Allen, whose grief will be too deep and heartfelt to display it before a crowd, with whiskey and tobacco as accessories.”
“Oh! I didn’t expect you’d have any drinkin’ or smokin’. I knew your principles too well. They might smoke a little catnip, or sunthin’ of that sort, or pass round some lemonade.”
Sez I, “There will be nothin’ of the kind done, Josiah Allen.”