little one-horse town. Well, well, well, I hain’t got time to be
palavering along here–got to nail on the lid and mosey along with’ him;
and if you’ll just give me a lift we’ll skeet him into the hearse and
meander along. Relations bound to have it so–don’t pay no attention to
dying injunctions, minute a corpse’s gone; but if I had my way, if I
didn’t respect his last wishes and tow him behind the hearse, I’ll be
cuss’d. I consider that whatever a corpse wants done for his comfort is
a little enough matter, and a man hain’t got no right to deceive him or
take advantage of him–and whatever a corpse trusts me to do I’m a-going
to do, you know, even if it’s to stuff him and paint him yaller and keep
him for a keepsake–you hear me!”
He cracked his whip and went lumbering away with his ancient ruin of a
hearse, and I continued my walk with a valuable lesson learned–that a
healthy and wholesome cheerfulness is not necessarily impossible to any
occupation. The lesson is likely to be lasting, for it will take many
months to obliterate the memory of the remarks and circumstances that
impressed it.
A ROYAL COMPLIMENT
The latest report about the Spanish crown is, that it will now be
offered to Prince Alfonso, the second son of the King of Portugal,
who is but five years of age. The Spaniards have hunted through all
the nations of Europe for a King. They tried to get a Portuguese in
the person of Dom-Luis, who is an old ex-monarch; they tried to get
an Italian, in the person of Victor Emanuel’s young son, the Duke of
Genoa; they tried to get a Spaniard, in the person of Espartero, who
is an octogenarian. Some of them desired a French Bourbon,
Montpensier; some of them a Spanish Bourbon, the Prince of Asturias;
some of them an English prince, one of the sons of Queen Victoria.
They have just tried to get the German Prince Leopold; but they have
thought it better to give him up than take a war along with him.
It is a long time since we first suggested to them to try an
American ruler. We can offer them a large number of able and
experienced sovereigns to pick from-men skilled in statesmanship,
versed in the science of government, and adepts in all the arts of
administration–men who could wear the crown with dignity and rule
the kingdom at a reasonable expense.
There is not the least danger of Napoleon threatening them if they
take an American sovereign; in fact, we have no doubt he would be
pleased to support such a candidature. We are unwilling to mention
names–though we have a man in our eye whom we wish they had in
theirs.–New York Tribune.
It would be but an ostentation of modesty to permit such a pointed
reference to myself to pass unnoticed. This is the second time that ‘The
Tribune’ (no doubt sincerely looking to the best interests of Spain and
the world at large) has done me the great and unusual honour to propose
me as a fit person to fill the Spanish throne. Why ‘The Tribune’ should
single me out in this way from the midst of a dozen Americans of higher
political prominence, is a problem which I cannot solve. Beyond a
somewhat intimate knowledge of Spanish history and a profound veneration
for its great names and illustrious deeds, I feel that I possess no merit
that should peculiarly recommend me to this royal distinction. I cannot
deny that Spanish history has always been mother’s milk to me. I am
proud of every Spanish achievement, from Hernando Cortes’s victory at
Thermopylae down to Vasco Nunez de Balboa’s discovery of the Atlantic
ocean; and of every splendid Spanish name, from Don Quixote and the Duke
of Wellington down to Don Caesar de Bazan. However, these little graces
of erudition are of small consequence, being more showy than serviceable.
In case the Spanish sceptre is pressed upon me–and the indications
unquestionably are that it will be–I shall feel it necessary to have
certain things set down and distinctly understood beforehand. For