THE WIDOW'S PROTESTOne of the saddest things that ever came under my notice (said thebanker's clerk) was there in Corning during the war. Dan Murphy enlistedas a private, and fought very bravely. The boys all liked him, and whena wound by and by weakened him down till carrying a musket was too heavywork for him, they clubbed together and fixed him up as a sutler. Hemade money then, and sent it always to his wife to bank for him. She wasa washer and ironer, and knew enough by hard experience to keep moneywhen she got it. She didn't waste a penny.
On the contrary, she began to get miserly as her bank-account grew. Shegrieved to part with a cent, poor creature, for twice in her hard-workinglife she had known what it was to be hungry, cold, friendless, sick, andwithout a dollar in the world, and she had a haunting dread of sufferingso again. Well, at last Dan died; and the boys, in testimony of theiresteem and respect for him, telegraphed to Mrs. Murphy to know if shewould like to have him embalmed and sent home; when you know the usualcustom was to dump a poor devil like him into a shallow hole, and theninform his friends what had become of him. Mrs. Murphy jumped to theconclusion that it would only cost two or three dollars to embalm herdead husband, and so she telegraphed "Yes." It was at the "wake" thatthe bill for embalming arrived and was presented to the widow.
She uttered a wild, sad wail that pierced every heart, and said,"Sivinty-foive dollars for stooffin' Dan, blister their sowls! Did thimdivils suppose I was goin' to stairt a Museim, that I'd be dalin' in suchexpinsive curiassities!"
The banker's clerk said there was not a dry eye in the house.