_FUNEREAL AND CONJUGAL_.
Mrs. Banger has buried four husbands, and her experience of domestic
life in their company was so satisfactory that she recently married a
fifth, Mr. Banger. The name of her fourth was McFadden. The name of
her first and third was Smyth, while that of her second, oddly enough,
was Smith. Soon after her return from her last wedding-tour she was
visited by Mr. Toombs, the undertaker, who called ostensibly to
correct an error in his last bill. When Mrs. Banger entered the
parlor, Mr. Toombs greeted her cordially and said,
"Ah! Mrs. Smy--Banger, I mean; I hope I see you well? Did you have a
pleasant trip? Nice weather while you were away; a little backward,
maybe, but still comfortable, and likely to make things grow. Cemetery
looks beautiful now. I was out there to-day to a burying. Grass is
coming up charming on your lot, and I noticed a blackberry bush
growing out of Mr. Smyth's grave. He was fond of 'em, I reckon. There
they were lying, Smith and Smyth, and McFadden and the other Smyth,
all four of them. No woman could have done fairer with those men than
you did, ma'am; those mahogany coffins with silver-plated handles were
good enough for the patriarchs and prophets, and the President of the
United States himself daren't ask anything better than a hearse with
real ostrich feathers and horses that are black as ink all over.
"I know when we laid Mr. McFadden out I said to Tim Lafferty, my
foreman, that the affection you showed in having that man buried in
style almost made me cry; but I never fully realized what woman's love
really is till you made me line Mr. Smith's coffin with white satin
and let in a French plate-glass skylight over the countenance. That
worked on my feelings so that I pretty near forgot to distribute the
gloves to the mourners. And Mr. Smith was worthy of it; he deserved
it all. He was a man all over, no difference how you looked at him;
stoutish, maybe, and took a casket that was thick through, but he was
all there, and I know when you lost him it worried you like anything.
"Now, it's none of my business, Mrs. Banger; but casting my eye over
those graves to-day, it struck me that I might fix 'em up a little,
so's they'd be more comfortable like. I think McFadden wants a few
sods over the feet, and Smith's headstone has worked a little out of
plumb. He's settled some, I s'pose. I think I'd straighten it up and
put a gas-pipe railing around Mr. Smyth. And while you're about it,
Mrs. Banger, hadn't you better buy about ten feet beyond Mr. Smith,
so's there won't be any scrouging when you bury the next one? I like
elbow-room in a cemetery lot, and I pledge you my word it'll be a
tight squeeze to get another one in there and leave room for you
besides. It can't be done so's to look anyways right, and I know you
don't want to take all four of 'em out and make 'em move up, so's to
let the rest of you in. Of course it'd cut you up, and it'd cost like
everything, too.
"When a person's dead and buried, it's the fair thing to let him
alone, and not to go hustling him around. That's my view, any way; and
I say that if I was you, sooner than put Mr. Smith on top of McFadden
and Smyth on top of Smith, I'd buy in the whole reservation and lay
'em forty feet apart.
"And how _is_ Mr. Banger? Seem in pretty good health? Do you think we
are to have him with us long? I hope so; but there's consumption in
his family, I believe. Life is mighty uncertain. We don't know what
minute we may be called. I'm a forehanded kind of man, and while his
wedding-suit was being made I just stepped into the tailor's and ran
it over with a tape-measure, so's to get some idea of his size. You'd
hardly believe it, but I've got a black walnut casket at the shop
that'll fit him as exact as if it had been built for him. It was the
luckiest thing. An odd size, too, and wider than we generally make
them. I laid it away up stairs for him, to be prepared in case of
accident. You've been so clever with me that I feel 'sif I ought to
try my best to accommodate you; and I know how women hate to bother
about such things when their grief is tearing up their feelings and
they are fretting about getting their mourning-clothes in time for the
funeral.
"And that's partly what I called to see you about, Mrs. McFa--Banger,
I mean. I've got a note to pay in the morning, and the man's pushing
me very hard; but I'm cleaned right out. Haven't got a cent. Now, it
occurred to me that maybe you'd advance me the money on Mr. Banger's
funeral if I'd offer you liberal terms. How does fifteen per cent.
strike you? and if he lives for six or seven years, I'll make it
twenty. Mind you, I offer the casket and the best trimmings, eight
carriages, the finest hearse in the county, and ice enough for
three days in the swelteringest weather in August. And I don't
mind--well--yes, I'll even agree to throw in a plain tombstone. If
you can do that to accommodate a friend, why, I'll--No? Don't want to
speculate on it? Oh, very well; I'm sorry, because I know you'd been
satisfied with the way I'd have arranged things. But no matter; I
s'pose I can go round and borrow elsewhere. Good-morning; drop in some
time, and I'll show you that casket."
As Toombs was going out he met Mr. Banger at the door. When he was
gone, Banger said,
"My dear, who is that very odd-looking man?"
And Mrs. Banger hesitated a moment, turned very red, and answered,
"That is--that man is--a--a--he is, I believe--a--a--a--a some kind of
a--an undertaker."
Then Banger looked gloomy and went up stairs to ponder. But Mrs.
Banger felt that she had a duty to perform in taking care that the lot
in the cemetery should not fall into such disorder as Mr. Toombs had
indicated, and she resolved to call upon Mr. Mix, at his monumental
marble-works, to get him to attend to the matter for her. Mr. Mix did
not know her, and his ignorance of her past history turned out to be
unfortunate. The following conversation occurred between them:
_Mrs. Banger_. "Mr. Mix, I am anxious to have my cemetery lot fixed
up--to put in new tombstones and reset the railing; and I called to
see if I could make some satisfactory arrangement with you."
_Mix_. "Certainly, madam. Tell me precisely what it is you want done."
_Mrs. B_. "Well, I'd like to have a new tombstone put over the grave
of John--my husband, you know--and to have a nice inscription cut in
it, 'Here lies John Smyth,' etc., etc. You know what I mean; the usual
way, of course, and maybe some kind of a design on the stone like a
broken rosebud or something."
_Mix_. "I understand."
_Mrs. B_. "Well, then, what'll you charge me for getting up a
headstone just like that, out of pretty good white marble, and with a
little picture of a torch upside down or a weeping angel on it, and
the name of Thomas Smith cut on it?"
_Mix_. "John Smyth, you mean."
_Mrs. B_. "No, I mean Thomas."
_Mix_. "But you said John before."
_Mrs. B_. "I know, but that was my first husband, and Thomas was my
second, and I want a new headstone for each of them. Now, it seems to
me, Mr. Mix, that where a person is buying more than one, that way,
you ought to make some reduction in the price--throw something off.
Though, of course, I want a pretty good article at all the graves. Not
anything gorgeous, but neat and tasteful and calculated to please the
eye. Mr. Smyth was not a man who was fond of show. Give him a thing
comfortable, and he was satisfied. Now, which do you think is the
prettiest, to have the name in raised letters in a straight line over
the top of the stone, or just to cut the words 'Alexander P. Smyth' in
a kind of a semicircle in sunken letters?"
_Mix_. "Did I understand you to say Alexander P.? Were you referring
to John or Thomas?"
_Mrs. B_. "Of course not. Aleck was my third. I'm not going to neglect
his grave while I'm fixing up the rest. I wish to make a complete
job of it, Mr. Mix, while I am about it, and I'm willing for you to
undertake it if you are reasonable in your charges. Now, what'll you
ask me for the lot, the kind I've described, plain but substantial,
and sunk about two feet I should think, at the head of each grave?
What'll you charge me for them--for the whole four?"
_Mix_. "Well, I'll put you in those three headstones--"
[Illustration: A TOMBSTONE CONTRACT]
_Mrs. B. "Four_ headstones, Mr. Mix, not three."
_Mix_. "Four, was it? No; there was John and Thomas and Alexander P.
That's all you said, I think. Only three."
_Mrs. B_. "Why, I want one for Adolph too, as a matter of course, the
same as the others. I thought you knew I wanted one for Adolph, one
made just like John's, only with the name different. Adolph was my
fourth husband. He died about three years after I buried Philip, and
I'm wearing mourning for him now. Now, please give me your prices for
the whole of them."
_Mix_. "Well, madam, I want to be as reasonable as I can, and I tell
you what I'll do. You give me all your work in the future, and I'll
put you in those five headstones at hardly anything above cost; say--"
_Mrs. B_. "_Four_ headstones, not five."
_Mix_. "I think you mentioned five."
_Mrs. B_. "No; only four."
_Mix_. "Less see: there was John, and Thomas and Aleck, and Adolph and
Philip."
_Mrs. B_. "Yes, but Aleck and Philip were the same one. His middle
name was Philip, and I always called him by it."
_Mix_. "Mrs. Banger, I'll be much obliged to you if you'll tell me
precisely how many husbands you have planted up in that cemetery lot.
This thing's getting a little mixed."
_Mrs. B_. "What do you mean, sir, by saying planted? I never 'planted'
anybody. It's disgraceful to use such language."
_Mix_. "It's a technical term, madam. We always use it, and I don't
see as it's going to hurt any old row of fellows named Smyth. Planted
is good enough for other men, and it's good enough for them."
_Mrs. B_. "Old row of--What d'you mean, you impudent vagabond? I
wouldn't let you put a headstone on one of my graves if you'd do it
for nothing."
Then Mrs. Banger flounced out of the shop, and Mix called after her as
she went through the door,
"Lemme know when you go for another man, and I'll throw him in a
tombstone for a wedding-present He'll want it soon."
Mrs. Banger subsequently procured the services of a person in the
city, and she regards Mr. Mix with something like detestation.
But Mrs. Banger herself is not universally beloved. Colonel Coffin
knows of one woman who despises her methods and desires her complete
repression. A short time after the election of the colonel to the
Legislature a lady called to see him at his law-office. When she had
closed the door, she sat down and said,
"Colonel, my name is Mooney. I am unmarried--a single woman. I called
to see you in reference to pushing a bill through the Legislature
for the benefit of maiden ladies such as myself. Let me direct your
attention to some extraordinary facts. Statistics tell us that in the
entire population of the world there are one-fourth more women than
men. In this country the proportion of women to men is slightly
larger. In this State there are two and one-eighth women to every man.
Now, this outrageous condition of affairs--"
"Excuse me for a moment, madam," said the colonel. "Really, the
Legislature can do nothing to improve the matter. It cannot regulate
the proportion of the sexes by law."
"I know it," replied Miss Mooney. "That is not what I am coming at. I
say that this condition of affairs is grossly unjust. If I had had the
management of it, and had been compelled to arrange that there should
be more women than men, I certainly should not have had any fractions.
There are not only two women for every man, but an eighth of a woman
besides, so that ever so many of us women would each belong to eight
different men if a fair distribution were made. How do I know, for
instance, that an eighth of me does not belong to you? Why, I don't
know it; and I say it's awful."
"If such is the case, madam," said the colonel, "I surrender all my
rights without waiting for a legislative enactment."
"Excuse me," replied Miss Mooney, "but you do not catch the drift of
my remarks. Of course, while the laws against bigamy are in existence,
some of those women can never be married, although for my part, when a
man has two wives and an eighth of another wife, I call it polygamy.
Well, now, the point I want to make is this: When more than half of us
can't marry, it's only right that the other half should have a fair
chance. There are not men enough to go round, any how, and for
gracious' sake let's make them go as far as they honestly will. Well,
then, how'll we do it? How'll we make an equitable distribution of
those men?"
"Hanged if I know, madam. The Legislature daren't meddle with them."
"I'll tell you how to do it. Listen to me. Shut down on the widows.
You hear me! Suppress the widows. Make it death for any widow to marry
again. That's my remedy; and there'll never be any justice till it's
the law. Just look at it! When a woman has been married once, she's
had more than her share of the male population; she's had her own
share and the share of another woman and an eighth. Is it right, is it
honorable, for that woman to go and marry another man, and take the
share of two more women and an eighth? I say, is it just the thing?"
"Well, on the surface it does look a little crooked."
"Crooked is not the word. Colonel Coffin, I know these widows. I
have had my eye on them. They've got a way of bursting into a man's
feelings and walking off with his affections that fills a modest woman
like me with gall and bitterness. You know Mrs. Banger? No? Well, now,
look at her, f'r instance. First she married Mr. Smyth, although what
on earth he ever saw to admire about _her_ I cannot imagine. That was
her allowance. Having obtained Smyth, oughtn't she to have stood back
and given some other woman a chance--now, oughtn't she?"
"Really, madam, I am hardly able to express an opinion."
"But no. After a while Smyth succumbed. He died. She entombed him,
crying, mind you, all the time, as if, having lost Smyth, she wanted
to die and join Smyth in the grave and in Paradise. But no sooner was
he well settled than she began to flirt with Mr. Smith, and what does
he do but yield to her blandishments and marry her? Took her, and
seemed to glory in it.
"Now, you'd've thought that she'd've been satisfied with that, when
she'd got the share of four women and a quarter. But pretty soon, as
luck would have it, Smith, died and she hustled _him_ into the grave.
And in less than a year afterward I was amazed to hear that she was
going to marry another Smyth. I was never more astonished in my life.
Positively going to annex a third man, when the supply was too short
anyway. Did you ever hear of such impudence? Did you, now?"
"I'll think it over and see if I can remember."
"Well, then, I thought for certain _now_ that woman would knock off
and give the rest of us some kind of a chance; and when Smyth was
killed by cholera and interred, it never entered my head that that
widow'd go after _another_ man. But, bless your soul! she'd hardly got
into second mourning before she began to pursue Mr. McFadden, and
got him. Now, look at it. One woman, no better'n I am, has had the
property of eight women and a half, and here I am single and getting
on in life, with the chances growing absurdly small. No civilized
country ought to tolerate such a thing. It's worse than piracy. You
may scuttle a ship or blow her up or run her against the rocks, and no
great harm is done, because timber's plenty and you can build another
one. But when one woman scuttles three men and then ties to a fourth,
what are you going to do about it? You can't go out into the woods and
chop down trees and saw them up and tack them together and build a
man. Now, can you?"
"That seems to be the common impression, anyway."
"Just so. And I want you to pass a bill through that Legislature to
make it a felony for a widow to marry again. I've drawn up a draft of
a bill and I'll leave it with you. I've made it retroactive, so that
it'll bring that woman Banger up with a short turn and send her after
Smith and the others. I don't care to marry, myself, but I want
justice. Are you married?"
"Madam, leave the bill with me and I will examine it."
"I say are you married?"
"I--I--married did you say? Oh yes. I've been married for ten years."
"Very well, then; good-morning;" and Miss Mooney withdrew.
"Thunder!" exclaimed the colonel as he shut the door. "If I'd've been
single, I believe she'd've proposed on the spot."
It is not considered likely that the Mooney anti-widow bill will be
pushed very hard in the Legislature next session.