He was dressed by this time, and, going to the dining-room, kissed his mother, and, seating himself at the table, looked at the letters lying by his plate. There were two,—one a bill from his tailor, which gave him no concern, as he had money enough to pay it.
“Ball is in a hurry for his cash. I must see to it to-day,” he said, and took up the second letter, which bore in a corner the address of Sanders & Brown, Attorneys, Denver. “I don’t know Sanders & Brown, nor any one else in Denver,” he said, breaking the seal and beginning to read:
“Denver, December 18, 18—.
“Mr. Alexander Marsh—Dear Sir: It is our duty to inform you that your great-uncle, Amos Marsh, for many years our client, died suddenly at his ranch two weeks ago.”
Here Alex. stopped reading and said: “Great-uncle, Amos Marsh! I didn’t know I had one. Have I or had I a great-uncle Amos?”
He was speaking to his mother, who had torn off the envelope of a Denver paper received with Alex.’s letter, and was intent upon a marked column, which read as follows:
“It is with keen regret that we record the death of our old and highly esteemed citizen, Amos Marsh, who was found dead in his bedroom at his ranch, where he was spending a few days. Heart failure was the cause of his death.”
The article then went on to enumerate the many virtues of the deceased, who was noted for his kindness to every one and his charities to the poor, and his great activity for one of his age. A few of his peculiarities were mentioned, and among them his living alone when in town, with no other company than a dog and a cat, and no one to care for him but a Chinaman. His reticence with his friends and his habit of talking to himself were spoken of, and the notice closed with a second eulogy upon him as a good and upright man, who would be greatly missed.
Mrs. Marsh read the article through before she replied to her son.
“Yes, you did have an uncle Amos, but he is dead. There is quite a long obituary of him in this paper.”