Produced by David Widger
SOME RAMBLING NOTES OF AN IDLE EXCURSION
by Mark Twain
I.
All the journeyings I had ever done had been purely in the way of
business. The pleasant May weather suggested a novelty namely, a trip
for pure recreation, the bread-and-butter element left out. The Reverend
said he would go, too; a good man, one of the best of men, although a
clergyman. By eleven at night we were in New Haven and on board the New
York boat. We bought our tickets, and then went wandering around here
and there, in the solid comfort of being free and idle, and of putting
distance between ourselves and the mails and telegraphs.
After a while I went to my stateroom and undressed, but the night
was too enticing for bed. We were moving down the bay now, and it was
pleasant to stand at the window and take the cool night breeze and watch
the gliding lights on shore. Presently, two elderly men sat down
under that window and began a conversation. Their talk was properly
no business of mine, yet I was feeling friendly toward the world and
willing to be entertained. I soon gathered that they were brothers, that
they were from a small Connecticut village, and that the matter in hand
concerned the cemetery. Said one:
“Now, John, we talked it all over amongst ourselves, and this is what
we've done. You see, everybody was a-movin' from the old buryin'-ground,
and our folks was 'most about left to theirselves, as you may say. They
was crowded, too, as you know; lot wa'n't big enough in the first place;
and last year, when Seth's wife died, we couldn't hardly tuck her in.
She sort o' overlaid Deacon Shorb's lot, and he soured on her, so to
speak, and on the rest of us, too. So we talked it over, and I was for
a lay out in the new simitery on the hill. They wa'n't unwilling, if
it was cheap. Well, the two best and biggest plots was No. 8 and No.
9--both of a size; nice comfortable room for twenty-six--twenty-six
full-growns, that is; but you reckon in children and other shorts, and
strike an average, and I should say you might lay in thirty, or maybe
thirty-two or three, pretty genteel--no crowdin' to signify.”
“That's a plenty, William. Which one did you buy?”
“Well, I'm a-comin' to that, John. You see, No. 8 was thirteen dollars,
No. 9 fourteen--”
“I see. So's't you took No. 8.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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