The Sea Lions Part 40

"Both were there, deacon. The hillock must have grown a good deal, by reason of the s.h.i.+fting sand; but, all things considered, the place was well enough described."

"Well--well--well--you opened the hillock, of course!"

"We did, sir; and found the box mentioned by the pirate."

"A good large box, I'll warrant ye! Them pirates seldom do things by halves--he! he! he!"

"I can't say much for the size of the box, deacon--it looked to me as if it had once held window-gla.s.s, and that of rather small dimensions."

"But, the contents--you do not mention the contents."

"They are here, sir," taking a small bag from his pocket, and laying it on the bed, by the deacon's side. "The pieces are all of gold, and there are just one hundred and forty-three of them.--Heavy doubloons, it is true, and I dare say well worth their 16 dollars each."

The deacon gave a gulp, as if gasping for breath, at the same time that he clutched the bag. The next instant he was dead; and there is much reason to believe that the demons who had watched him, and encouraged him in his besetting sin, laughed at this consummation of their malignant arts! If angels in heaven did not mourn at this characteristic departure of a frail spirit from its earthly tenement, one who had many of their qualities did.

Heavy had been the load on Mary Pratt's heart, at the previous display of her uncle's weakness, and profound was now her grief at his having made such an end.

Chapter x.x.x.

4 _Cit_. We 'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony.

_Cit_. The will, the will; we will hear Caesar's will.

_Ant_. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.

_Julius Caesar._

There is usually great haste, in this country, in getting rid of the dead.

In no other part of the world, with which we are acquainted, are funerals so simple, or so touching; placing the judgment and sins which lead to it, in a far more conspicuous light than rank, or riches, or personal merits.

Scarfs and gloves are given in town, and gloves in the country, though scarfs are rare; but, beyond these, and the pall, and the hea.r.s.e, and the weeping friends, an American funeral is a very unpretending procession of persons in their best attire; on foot, when the distance is short; in carriages, in wagons, and on horseback, when the grave is far from the dwelling. There is, however, one feature connected with a death in this country, that we could gladly see altered. It is the almost indecent haste; which so generally prevails, to get rid of the dead. Doubtless the climate has had an effect in establis.h.i.+ng this custom; but the climate, by no means, exacts the precipitancy that is usually practised.

As there were so many friends from a distance present, some of whom took the control of affairs, Mary shrinking back into herself, with a timidity natural to her s.e.x and years, the moment her care could no longer serve her uncle, the funeral of the deacon took place the day after that of his death. It was the solemn and simple ceremony of the country. The Rev. Mr.

Whittle conceived that he ought to preach a sermon on the occasion of the extinguishment of this "bright and s.h.i.+ning light," and the body was carried to the meeting-house, where the whole congregation a.s.sembled, it being the Sabbath. We cannot say much for the discourse, which had already served as eulogiums on two or three other deacons, with a simple subsittution of names. In few things are the credulous more imposed on than in this article of sermons. A clergyman shall preach the workings of other men's brains for years, and not one of his hearers detect the imposition, purely on account of the confiding credit it is customary to yield to the pulpit. In this respect, preaching is very much like reviewing,--the listener, or the reader, being too complaisant to see through the great standing mystifications of either. Yet preaching is a work of high importance to men, and one that doubtless accomplishes great good, more especially when the life of the preacher corresponds with his doctrine; and even reviewing, though infinitely of less moment, might be made a very useful art, in the hands of upright, independent, intelligent, and learned men. But nothing in this world is as it should be, and centuries will probably roll over it ere the "good time" shall really come!

The day of the funeral being the Sabbath, nothing that touched on business was referred to. On the following morning, however, "the friends"

a.s.sembled early in the parlour, and an excuse for being a little pressing was made, on the ground that so many present had so far to go. The deacon had probably made a remove much more distant than any that awaited his relatives.

"It is right to look a little into the deacon's matters before we separate," said Mr. Job Pratt, who, if he had the name, had not the patience of him of old, "in order to save trouble and hard feelings. Among relatives and friends there should be nothing but confidence and affection, and I am sure I have no other sentiments toward any here. I suppose"--all Mr. Job Pratt knew, was ever on a supposition--"I suppose I am the proper person to administer to the deacon's property, though I don't wish to do it, if there's the least objection."

Every one a.s.sented that he was the most proper person, for all knew he was the individual the surrogate would be the most likely to appoint.

"I have never set down the deacon's property as anything like what common report makes it," resumed Mr. Job Pratt; "though I do suppose it will fully reach ten thousand dollars."

"La!" exclaimed a female cousin, and a widow, who had expectations of her own, "I'd always thought Deacon Pratt worth forty or fifty thousand dollars! Ten thousand dollars won't make much for each of us, divided up among so many folks!"

"The division will not be so very great, Mrs. Martin," returned Mr. Job, "as it will be confined to the next of kin and their representatives.

Unless a will should be found--and, by all I can learn, there is _none_"--emphasizing the last word with point--"unless a will be found, the whole estate, real and personal, must be divided into just five shares; which, accordin' to my calculation, would make about two thousand dollars a share. No great fortin, to be sure; though a comfortable addition to small means. The deacon was cluss (Anglice, close); yes, he was cluss--all the Pratts are a little given to be cluss; but I don't know that they are any the worse for it. It is well to be curful (careful) of one's means, which are a trust given to us by Divine Providence."

In this manner did Mr. Job Pratt often quiet his conscience for being as "curful" of his own as of other person's a.s.sets. Divine Providence, according to his morality, made it as much a duty to transfer the dollar that was in his neighbour's pocket to his own, as to watch it vigilantly after the transposition has been effected.

"A body should be curful, as you say, sir," returned the Widow Martin; "and for that reason I should like to know if there isn't a will. I _know_ the deacon set store by me, and I can hardly think he has departed for another world without bethinking him of his cousin Jenny, and of her widowhood."

"I'm afraid he has, Mrs. Martin--really afraid he has. I can hear of no will. The doctor says he doubts if the deacon could ever muster courage to write anything about his own death, and that he has never heard of any will. I understand Mary, that she has no knowledge of any will; and I do not know where else to turn, in order to inquire. Rev. Mr. Whittle thinks there is a will, I ought to say."

"There _must be_ a will," returned the parson, who was on the ground again early, and on this very errand; "I feel certain of that from the many conversations I have held with the deceased. It is not a month since I spoke to him of divers repairs that were necessary to each and all of the parish buildings, including the parsonage. He agreed to every word I said--admitted that we could not get on another winter without a new horse-shed; and that the east end of the parsonage ought to be s.h.i.+ngled this coming summer."

"All of which may be; very true, parson, without the deacon's making a will," quietly, and we may now add _patiently_, observed Mr. Job.

"I don't think so," returned the minister, with a warmth that might have been deemed indiscreet, did it not relate to the horse-shed, the parsonage, and the meeting-house, all of which were public property, rather than to anything in which he had a more direct legal interest. "A pious member of the church would hardly hold out the hopes that Deacon Pratt has held out to me, for more than two years without meaning to make his words good in the end. I think all will agree with me in that opinion."

"Did the deacon, then, go so far as to promise to do any thing?" asked Mr.

Job, a little timidly; for he was by no means sure the answer might not be in the affirmative, in which case he antic.i.p.ated the worst.

"Perhaps not," answered Minister Whittle, too conscientious to tell a Downright lie, though sorely tempted so to do. "But a man may promise indirectly, as well as directly. When I have a thing much at heart, and converse often about it with a person who can grant all I wish, and that person, listens as attentively as I could wish him to do, I regard that as a promise; and, in church matters, one of a very solemn nature."

All the Jesuits in the world do not get their educations at Rome, or acknowledge Ignatius Loyola as the great founder of their order. Some are to be found who have never made a public profession of their faith and zeal, have naver a.s.sumed the tonsure, or taken the vows.

"That's as folks think," quietly returned Mr. Job Pratt, though he smiled in a manner so significant as to cause Mrs. Martin a new qualm, as she grew more and more apprehensive that the property was, after all, to go by the distribution law. "Some folks think a promise ought to be expressed, while others think it may be understood. The law, I believe, commonly looks for the direct expression of any binding promise; and, in matters of this sort, one made in writing, too, and that under a seal, and before three responsible witnesses."

"I wish a full inquiry might be made, to ascertain if there be no will;"

put in the minister, anxiously.

"I'm quite willing so to do," returned Mr. Job, whose confidence and moral courage increased each instant. "Quite willing; and am rather anxious for it, if I could only see where to go to inquire."

"Does no one present know of any will made by the deceased?" demanded Minister Whittle, authoritatively.

A dead silence succeeded to the question. Eye met eye, and there was great disappointment among the numerous collaterals present, including all those who did not come in as next of kin, or as their direct representatives.

But the Rev. Mr. Whittle had been too long and too keenly on the scent of a legacy, to be thrown out of the hunt, just as he believed the game was coming in sight.

"It might be well to question each near relative directly," he added. "Mr.

Job Pratt, do _you_ know nothing of any will?"

"Nothing whatever. At one time I did think the deacon meant to make his testament; but I conclude that he must have changed his mind."

"And you, Mrs. Thomas," turning to the sister--"as next of kin, I make the same inquiry of you!"

"I once talked with brother about it," answered this relative, who was working away in a rocking-chair as if she thought the earth might stop in its...o...b..t, if she herself ceased to keep in motion; "but he gave me no satisfactory answer--that is, nothin' that I call satisfactory. Had he told me he _had_ made a will, and given me a full shear (share), I should have been content; or, had he told me that he had _not_ made a will, and that the law would give me a full shear, I should have been content. I look upon myself as a person easily satisfied."

This was being explicit, and left little more to be obtained from the deacon's beloved and only surviving sister.

"And you, Mary; do you know anything of a will made by your uncle?"

Mary shook her head; but there was no smile on her features, for the scene was unpleasant to her.

"Then no one present knows of any paper that the deacon left specially to be opened after his death?" demanded Rev. Mr. Whittle, putting the general question pretty much at random.