Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 176, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 July 1911 — When He Died [ARTICLE]

When He Died

"Poor old Ganby!" sighed the sen-tlmental-looking man with the thin aide whiskers. "What’s wrong with him?" growled the double-chinned citizen with the shaggy eyebrows. "He don’t need any of your pity, does he?" “Didn’t you hear about it?” asked the sentimental-looking man. "He’s dead. He died last Wednesday. Took pneumonia.” "He’d take anything he could get his hands on if the owner wasn’t looking,” said the double-chinned dtixen. "Well, if he’s dead, he probably is to be pitied.” "He's dead,” remonstrated the sentimental-looking man. "So you told me.” said the doublecbinned dtixen. "It's a long lane that hasn’t any turning. So he died a natural death, eh? I never expected it.” “Why?" "He took out? an aeddent policy for a year less than nlns months ago,” replied the double-chinned man. "He left quite a good deal of money, I heard,” said the sentimen-tal-looking man. "The first thlms in his life,” said the double-chinned man. "I don’t see how he brought himself to do it, at that. He must have lost consciousness at the last.” “Tut, tut!" said the sentimentallooking man. "When a man’s dead we ought to forget his faults and remember his virtues." "I can’t remember any that he had,” said the double-chinned citizen, "and my memory is a pretty good one.” "1 was at the funeral.” said the sentlmetnal-looking man. "The ser ” "Did they give him a funeral?” asked the double-chinned citizen. "Of course they did.” “I didn’t know. I thought perhaps—l beg pardon. Tou were going to say something about the sermon, weren’t you? I think be was a good subject for a sermon. Anybody there besides you?” "The family was there, naturally —and a few of his friends.” ”1 thought he had always lived in Chicago.” "What do you mean?” “Where did his friends then?” asked the double-chinned citizen. / ' “I’m mighty sure he didn’t have any here.” "Well, he wasn’t a man who had many intimates,” admitted the senti-mental-looking man. "I ain’t say I knew him Intimately, myself ” “If you had you wouldn't have attended the funeral,” said the doublechinned citizen. "I knew him fairly well. About S6OO worth, exclusive of attorney's fees. Still, I don’t know that I wouldn’t have gone If I had got an Invitation, Just to make sure. You're positive that he was dead, are you? You aren’t just telling me he is to please me?”

"I should hope that you wouldn’t feel pleasure to hear of the death of any fellow creature,” said the senti-mental-looking man. "I know you are not In earnest, though, when you say things like that. He was a good husband.” "He had to be," said the doublechinned citisen. "You saw his widow, didn’t you? A man would have to be good to her, unless he preferred the society of a trained nurse and the hospital atmosphere. So they preached a funeral sermon t Did. the minister mention his watch?” “No," repleid the sentimentallooking man, woaderingly. "Why should he?” “It’s customary to speak of a man’s good works on such an occasion,” said the double-chinned citisen. “I supposed that he would have to make the most of Qanby’a.” * "You must have disliked the poor fellow,” said the sentimental-look-ing man with the thin whiskers. "What makes you think that?” asked the double-chinned citizen,— Chicago Dally News.