88 CHOICE BITS FROM MARK TWAIN.
presence of the passenjare !' Sleep ? Not a singla
wink! I was almost a lunatic when I got to
Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did
the best I could, but every solemn individual
sentence was meshed and tangled and woven in
and out with ' Punch, brothers, punch with care,
punch in the presence of the passenjare.' And the
most distressing thing was that my delivery dropped
into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing
rhymes, and I could actually catch absent-minded
people rodding time to the swing of it with their
stupid heads. And, Mark, you ma}' believe it or
not, but before I got through, the tntire assemblage
were placidly bobbing their heads in solemn unison,
mourners, undertakers, and all. The moment I
had finished, I fled to the ante-room in a state
bordering on frenzy. Of course it would be my
luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of
the deceased there, who had arrived from Spring¬
field too late to get into the church. She began
to sob, and said,—
"' Oh, oh ! he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't
see him before he died !'
" ' Yes ! ' I said, ' he is gone, he is gone, he is
gone—oh, will this suffering never cease !'
" * You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved
" ' Loved him ! Loved who F'