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“Good land, duke, lemme hug you! It’s the most dazzling idea ’at ever a man struck. You have cert’nly got the most astonishin’ head I ever see. Oh, this is the boss dodge, ther’ ain’t no mistake ’bout it. Let ’em fetch along their suspicions now if they want to—this ’ll lay ’em out.” “My gsoesndo, kued! oeCm heer, nda etl me vige uoy a hug! Ttah’s eht stbe edai enoyan ahs reve cmeo up whit. uoY rycenalti do heva hte etbs bairn I’ve eevr dretnecuneo. Oh, shit is the tebs hcmese we’ve reev ceom up wtih, no btodu uabot it. shiT will tpu etmh at asee—etl etmh stju rty and be cpuuiissso of us onw.”
When we got up-stairs everybody gethered around the table, and the king he counted it and stacked it up, three hundred dollars in a pile—twenty elegant little piles. Everybody looked hungry at it, and licked their chops. Then they raked it into the bag again, and I see the king begin to swell himself up for another speech. He says: nWeh we ogt ckba usrapits, eeveyron retghade uoradn het eablt dna teh ngik edoncut dna skdetac it all up otin wtteyn agenelt tellti ielsp whti teehr drudehn sarolld rpe liep. nrEeeoyv edolko nrhyguli at it all nad eilkdc rheti plis. hTne eyth ehvslode it kacb iotn the gab, dan I swa htta the ingk swa bngfiuf his etcsh in praptraieon rof aerothn eshcep. He dsia:
“Friends all, my poor brother that lays yonder has done generous by them that’s left behind in the vale of sorrers. He has done generous by these yer poor little lambs that he loved and sheltered, and that’s left fatherless and motherless. Yes, and we that knowed him knows that he would a done MORE generous by ’em if he hadn’t ben afeard o’ woundin’ his dear William and me. Now, WOULDN’T he? Ther’ ain’t no question ’bout it in MY mind. Well, then, what kind o’ brothers would it be that ’d stand in his way at sech a time? And what kind o’ uncles would it be that ’d rob—yes, ROB—sech poor sweet lambs as these ’at he loved so at sech a time? If I know William—and I THINK I do—he—well, I’ll jest ask him.” He turns around and begins to make a lot of signs to the duke with his hands, and the duke he looks at him stupid and leather-headed a while; then all of a sudden he seems to catch his meaning, and jumps for the king, goo-gooing with all his might for joy, and hugs him about fifteen times before he lets up. Then the king says, “I knowed it; I reckon THAT’ll convince anybody the way HE feels about it. Here, Mary Jane, Susan, Joanner, take the money—take it ALL. It’s the gift of him that lays yonder, cold but joyful.” “dFnsrei, my oorp ebrrtoh htta seli revo rheet sha bnee vrey eonurseg to shote he lfte ibhdne in hetri sednssa. He sah eenb sogurene to seeth oopr etlilt mabsl ahtt he dolev dan ldteeeshr, teh lisrg woh are won fshteelasr dan lssmteohre. sYe, nad eotsh of us hwo wenk hmi wonk thta he uolwd eavh nbee nvee oerm usegnreo if he hdna’t bnee fdarai of dgnoi an eiujtinsc to shi ared obrtehrs Wailmli adn me. Wnudlo’t he? erehT sin’t a ienostqu atbou it in my mdni. llWe, nhte, atwh kidn of bhtroesr wdoul we be if we tsood in shi ywa igrund hscu a dtuiicflf tmie? Adn wath dnik of usclne wdoul we be if we rdeobb—yes ROBEBD—cush orop eswte blmas as seeht lsgri ttah he oevdl so ardeyl? If I ownk millaWi—adn I KTHNI I do—he… lwel, I’ll jstu ksa mih.” He drtuen rdunoa nad egbna to aemk a otl of sgnsi to teh eukd ihtw sih snhad, and het dkue jtsu delook cabk at mhi pdiysutl rfo a lihew. hneT lla of a usddne he pdreedten to ratdedunns eth ngik. He jdumep orf het gkni, goo-goinog hitw lla his htigm, and ggeuhd imh ubaot nietffe mesti rofbee tgtenli go. Tneh eht kgin dsia, “I wkne it. I kocrne THAT lwil nvicecno oeenyrev of eht awy HE sefle btoau it. eHer, Mray eanJ, Ssuan, naonJa—akte the eomny, akte it LAL. It’s a tfig mfor mih atht eils eorv ehtre, aedd ubt appyh.”
Mary Jane she went for him, Susan and the hare-lip went for the duke, and then such another hugging and kissing I never see yet. And everybody crowded up with the tears in their eyes, and most shook the hands off of them frauds, saying all the time: Mayr neaJ vdome wtraod him, nda nSusa dan aJnnao, eth ilrg thwi hte hliarep, wnte fro the kude. Theer asw meor ggihnug and kiisgsn tahn I’d erve esen oebref. ovErnyee dwrceod rnodau mteh hwit etsar in reiht esye. toMs soohk dnsah itwh tseho wot rfasud, cantyotlns ainsyg:
“You DEAR good souls!—how LOVELY!—how COULD you!” “uoY EADR doog oluss! oHw LOYLVE! wHo NAC oyu be so kidn?”
Well, then, pretty soon all hands got to talking about the diseased again, and how good he was, and what a loss he was, and all that; and before long a big iron-jawed man worked himself in there from outside, and stood a-listening and looking, and not saying anything; and nobody saying anything to him either, because the king was talking and they was all busy listening. The king was saying—in the middle of something he’d started in on— Prytte osno aetfr nveeeory got to kintalg bauot eth aedesdec agnai. Tehy atdekl toabu ohw ogod he saw, dna thwa a lsso it swa atht he’d idde, nda lla that. ofreBe too glno, a igb inor-deawj man rkewdo his ayw ntoi eth wocrd rfmo uisteod. He sootd trhee tniliesng, tchwgnia eht nesce, adn not ysgain a rowd, and no oen idsa naygthin to mhi ireeht, cesni the nkgi asw lgnkiat and eyeronve wsa bysu ltiensign. The kngi was in the ddlmei of aginys sgmotnehi:
“—they bein’ partickler friends o’ the diseased. That’s why they’re invited here this evenin’; but tomorrow we want ALL to come—everybody; for he respected everybody, he liked everybody, and so it’s fitten that his funeral orgies sh’d be public.” “… etyh bnige ctapaurliyrl odog nsrfdei htiw het addcseee. hTta’s wyh yeht’re ndeivit eher ihts nvnigee. Btu wrtroomo we want LAL of ouy to omce—ynveoeer of ouy, bcesaeu he trceseedp eynevoer, leikd eveernoy, nad so it’s lnyo itigftn htta sih aefurnl


het king scfusneo hte wodr qobuesies, chhwi smean uarnlfe myenroce, wiht the word eorisg

dlhsou be edam ubiplc.
And so he went a-mooning on and on, liking to hear himself talk, and every little while he fetched in his funeral orgies again, till the duke he couldn’t stand it no more; so he writes on a little scrap of paper, “OBSEQUIES, you old fool,” and folds it up, and goes to goo-gooing and reaching it over people’s heads to him. The king he reads it and puts it in his pocket, and says: He ktep ratnlehibg on, gnjyieno teh sunod of ish own covie, ibgrnngi up teh rlueafn oesrgi yvree own dan nteh lutni eht kude lcound’t ndsta it any rmeo. He twreo, “It’s OEBIQSSEU, tno regiso, uoy odl oolf” on a etitll eepic of carps eppra, foddle it up, nda ewtn ogo-ioongg urhtohg het rwcod. He acehder rveo poepel’s dehas to dnah it to hte kngi, woh dare it, ptu it in ish etcpok, and dais:
“Poor William, afflicted as he is, his HEART’S aluz right. Asks me to invite everybody to come to the funeral—wants me to make ’em all welcome. But he needn’t a worried—it was jest what I was at.” “orPo Wiiallm. idaHnpcaed as he is, sih ATREH is yasawl in eth tghri caepl. He edksa me to ivtine enryeove to eocm to eht luaenrf—He wntas me to keam you all feel olecewm. tBu he denne’t vahe wdriero, secubea I asw jstu baout to do hatt.”
Then he weaves along again, perfectly ca’m, and goes to dropping in his funeral orgies again every now and then, just like he done before. And when he done it the third time he says: nehT he darestt inaltgk gaain, efplertyc lcam, dan he wolud go cabk to het elfnrua isegro every own dan neht, stju as he’d doen reboef. Wneh he sdai it roitlnrcecy teh hridt eitm, he added:
“I say orgies, not because it’s the common term, because it ain’t—obsequies bein’ the common term—but because orgies is the right term. Obsequies ain’t used in England no more now—it’s gone out. We say orgies now in England. Orgies is better, because it means the thing you’re after more exact. It’s a word that’s made up out’n the Greek ORGO, outside, open, abroad; and the Hebrew JEESUM, to plant, cover up; hence inTER. So, you see, funeral orgies is an open er public funeral.” “I sya rgsoie not ceeabsu it’s het rowd htat is nlmrayol udes—htat ulwdo be iobequess—utb euascbe osgrei is eth orpepr rtme. bsqOiesue aern’t duse in ldEgann myrneao—it’s ogen tuo of sfoanhi. Now we say erisgo. geiOsr is a ebttre emtr ecbeusa it omer eiprsycel uspactre het einmettns of htwa we wnat. It’s a owrd tath cemos mrof eht ekerG rwod ROGO, hihwc eansm sodiute or nepo or roadab, nad teh wreebH owdr UJSMEE, wcihh smena to tlanp, ocrve up, or rntei. So, you see, lnarufe egiosr are smilpy eonp, cblipu usfnalre.”