And that _was_ he. For if Mr. George Washington Gildersleeve prided himself on anything, it was on being free from "airs," and independent as a hog on ice--a comparison, it must be confessed, not particularly happy, and that conveyed an entirely unintended impression. However, it came pat to him, and he flung it defiantly in the teeth of the world. Mook had heard those sentiments before, hence he was not vividly impressed by them, nor altogether pleased with the diatribe against his present patrons. Still, he was not prepared for their sakes to remonstrate, and perhaps offend a future customer, for the undertaker, "thankful for past favors," as he stated in his advertisement in the _Belton Sentinel_, "and soliciting a continuance of the same," seemed to think himself exempt from the common lot of humanity, and set apart to take under all Belton forever. So he gave a non-committal shake of the head, as he contemplated the pavement, and then, profiting by a pause in Gildersleeve's harangue to escape, glided with soft steps away to his avocations. * * * * * The funeral was an imposing one. Many of the mills were closed--all, in fact, that could conveniently stop working. The Archimedes Works, though, remained in full blast, as the proprietor, true to his independence, did not feel himself any more called upon to close his shops for old John Peter Obershaw's death, than for that of any other mere acquaintance. Gildersleeve, however, as a concession, was at the interment, with his coat on too, somewhat subdued, perhaps, in tone and demeanor, but keeping up, nevertheless, an animated political discussion with a fellow-citizen as they stood in the churchyard. Nine-tenths of the population of the town gathered to witness the funeral. There had not been so much excitement in the place since the day of the "Grand Triumphal Entrée" of "Peabody's Combination Menagerie and Hippodrome." The people lined the streets through which the procession passed, and filled St. Jude's, where the services were held. No less than three ministers were in attendance, and a bishop extolled the virtues and success of the decedent in a way to persuade the auditors that they mourned a well-spent life. Then the church bell tolled a requiem knell as to the family vault the corpse was borne along, attended by pall-bearers, who had been consistently selected from among the wealthiest acquaintances of the family. The Hon. Rufus Heath followed as chief mourner, with his young daughter; then came his son and daughter-in-law; and lastly, a multitude of relatives and friends. * * * * * So passed away this old man, leaving behind a vast fortune, that had brought him but the gambler's joy--but the arid pleasures of the gold glutton, subsisting on the fumes of money; the odorless fumes whose cold astringency withers the emotions, dries the heart, and leaves man with but the instincts of the vulture and fox.