I'm eenermost crazy neow. The heouse is
jammed full o' folks, and there ain't nothin, ready. You jes' wait
here, till I git things in shape and I'll cum arter ye".
Micah then departed to complete his arrangements, and Mr. Norton
returned to his post, in the sick-room.
It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon, before a messenger came
to inform him that the hour of burial had arrived.
A strange scene presented itself to his view, as he approached the
grove. A motley company, composed of the settlers of every grade and
condition for miles around, had collected there. Men, women, and
children in various costume--the scarlet and crimson shirt, or tunic,
carrying it high above all other fashions--were standing, or walking
among the trees, conversing upon the event that had brought them
together.
As the missionary approached, the loud indignant voices subsided into
a low murmur, and the people made way for him to reach the centre of
the group.
Here he found the coffin, placed upon a pile of boards, entirely
uncovered to the light of day and to the inspection of the people, who
had, each in turn, gazed with curious eyes upon the lifeless clay it
enclosed.
In the absence of Mrs. McNab, who was still sleeping away the effects
of her late fatigues at the house of Mr. Dubois, the women of the
neighborhood had arrayed Patrick McGrath, very properly, in a clean
shirt of his accustomed wearing apparel, so arranging it that the
folds of the red tunic could be lifted in order to expose to those who
came to look upon him the wound he had received.
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