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Updated: June 20, 2025
The mother lay calmly in the dead-house, after the post-mortem examination, "terrible cut and hacked about," said the one gossip who had ventured to go and see her quondam friend. The father was in Maidstone Gaol. The little children were being taken care of by the grandmother until such time as the mother should have been buried, when they would gravitate to the workhouse.
Diana did not seem to feel anything at all. She walked along, singing as she walked. "We's going to the dead-house," she said. "Rub-a-Dub's dead." "You'll never know fear any more, Little dear; Good-by, Rub-a-Dub." "Oh, don't Di! You make me feel so frightened," said Orion. "Why do you talk like that? Can't you 'member nothing?" "Course I 'member," said Diana. "Rub-a-Dub's dead."
One of my comrades there another of those victims of eighteen years of unrequited toil and blighted hopes was one of the gentlest spirits that ever bore its patient cross in a weary exile: grave and simple Dick Baker, pocket-miner of Dead-House Gulch.
"It's most 'citing," she said. "'Fore we does anything else we must 'tend to the funerals there is such a lot of dead 'uns to bury this morning. Come 'long to the dead-house at once, Iris." "I must smell the Scotch roses first," answered Iris. "You can do that afterwards, can't you? There's poor Rub-a-Dub.
"Yes. Children, do be good," said Iris, in her earnest voice. Diana trotted up to her sister and took her hand. "I has something most 'portant to tell you," she said, in a low whisper. "It's an awfu' sorrow, but you ought to know." "What is it, Di?" "Rub-a-Dub has got deaded." "Rub-a-Dub?" "Yes; it is quite true. I found him stark dead and stiff. I has put him in the dead-house."
If not well, there were the little dead-house and the quiet cemetery lying out in the moonlight, and waiting for them when, as poor maddened Edgar Allen Poe wrote, the "fever called living," should be "over at last."
I tell you, mother, there's no arguing away what we saw. They came up out of one of those graves and marched in a procession into the ruined dead-house," said Prudence seriously. "And my mare nearly threw me in her fright." Alice's face had paled at the recollection. Hephzibah nodded complacently. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. "True true. That's just how 'tis.
I suppose that wealth and rank have some privileges; but it is the law that the person having been pronounced dead by the physician shall be the same day brought to the dead-house, and lie there three whole days before interment. There is something peculiar in the obsequies of Munich, especially in the Catholic portion of the population.
He looked over the list of failures, in the "Independent," with something of the interest which a patient in a hospital would feel when overhearing the report from the dead-house. Was there no one of the bald or grizzly-haired gentlemen who smiled so benignly whom he could ask for aid?
Most of them is to be buried pwivate, 'cos they are not our own pets, you know; but Rub-a-Dub is sure to have a public funeral, and an insipcron, and all the rest." Mr. Delaney followed Diana into the small shed which the children called the dead-house. He gazed solemnly at the shelf which she indicated, and on which lay the several dead 'uns.
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