I caught sight of the widow Walters bustling up and down
between the long tables and shedding tears while she changed her
guests' plates. She heard my message, welcomed me with effusion, and
thrusting a plateful of roast beef under my nose, hurried away to put
on her bonnet for the funeral.
"A fellow on my right paused with his mouth full to bid me eat. 'Thank
you,' I said, 'my only wish is to get out of this as quickly as
possible.'
"He contemplated me for half a minute with an eye like an ox's;
remarked 'You'll be a furriner, no doubt;' and went on with his meal.
"If the feasting was long, the funeral was longer. We sang so many
burying-tunes, and the widow so often interrupted the service to
ululate, that the town clock had struck four when I hurried back from
the churchyard to the inn, and told the ostler to put my horse in the
gig. I had little time to spare.
"'Beg your pardon, sir,' the ostler said, 'but I'm new to this
place--only came here this day week. Which is your horse?'
"'Oh,' I answered, 'he's a brown. Make haste, for I'm in a hurry.
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