Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 April 1875 — Job Dowling’s Funeral. [ARTICLE]

Job Dowling’s Funeral.

Many years ago I was one of a party in Washington city, when South and North vied with each other in convivial life. Another of the party was Gen. Dawson, member from Western Pennsylvania, whose homestead was Albert Gallatin’s old home. He was an admirable story-teller. I recall somewhat sadly, now that he is gone, how well he illustrated the laziness of a class of Virginians. The story was a part of his Congressional canvassing. On one occasion he got across the Pennsylvania line into a little village of Virginia. He was in the midst of a group around the tavern. While treating and talking, a procession approached, which looked like a funeral. He asked who was to be buried. “ Job Dowling,” said they. “Poor Job!" sighed the General. He was a good-natured, good-for-nothing, lazy fellow, living on the few fish he caught and the squirrels he killed, but mostly on the donations of his neighbors. “ So poor Job is dead, is he?” “ No, he ain’t dead, zactly,” said they. “Not dead—not dead! Yet you are going to bury him?” “ Fact is, General, he has got too infernal all-fired lazy to live. We can’t afford him any more. He’s got so lazy that the grass began to grow over his shoes—so everlastin’ lazy that he put out one of his eyes to save the trouble of winkin’ when out a-gunnin’.” “ But,” says the General, “this must not be. It will disgrace my neighborhood. Try him a while longer, can’t you?” “Can’t; too late —coffin cost $1.25. Must go on now.” About this time the procession came up and halted, when the General proposed, if they would let Job out, he would send over a bag of corn. On this announcement the lids of the coffin opened and Job languidly sat up; the cents dropped from his eyes as he asked: “ Is the corn shelled, General?” “ No, not shelled.” “Then,” said Job, as he lazily lay down, “go on with the funeral!”— Bon. S. S. Cox, in Harper's Jdagazine.