but all in vain; he could recollect nothing that suited such an occasion. A suppressed titter all over the room admonished him that he must proceed with something, and in the agony of desperation, he began:
“Know all men by these presents, that I—” here he paused and looked up to the ceiling, while an audible voice in a corner of the room was heard to say:
“He’s drawing up a deed to a tract of land,” and they all laughed.
“In the name of God, Amen!”—he began a second time, only to hear another voice in a loud whisper say:
“He’s making his will now. I thought he couldn’t live long, he looks so powerful bad.”
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord—”
was the next essay, when some erudite gentleman remarked:
“He is not dead, but sleepeth.”
“O yes! O yes!” continued the Squire.