The Invalid's Story

by Mark Twain

　　

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I seem sixty and married, but these effects are due to my condition andsufferings, for I am a bachelor, and only forty-one. It will be hard foryou to believe that I, who am now but a shadow, was a hale, hearty mantwo short years ago, a man of iron, a very athlete!--yet such is thesimple truth. But stranger still than this fact is the way in which Ilost my health. I lost it through helping to take care of a box of gunson a two-hundred-mile railway journey one winter's night. It is theactual truth, and I will tell you about it.I belong in Cleveland, Ohio. One winter's night, two years ago, Ireached home just after dark, in a driving snow-storm, and the firstthing I heard when I entered the house was that my dearest boyhood friendand schoolmate, John B. Hackett, had died the day before, and that hislast utterance had been a desire that I would take his remains home tohis poor old father and mother in Wisconsin. I was greatly shocked andgrieved, but there was no time to waste in emotions; I must start atonce. I took the card, marked "Deacon Levi Hackett, Bethlehem,Wisconsin," and hurried off through the whistling storm to the railwaystation. Arrived there I found the long white-pine box which had beendescribed to me; I fastened the card to it with some tacks, saw it putsafely aboard the express car, and then ran into the eating-room toprovide myself with a sandwich and some cigars. When I returned,presently, there was my coffin-box back again, apparently, and a youngfellow examining around it, with a card in his hands, and some tacks anda hammer! I was astonished and puzzled. He began to nail on his card,and I rushed out to the express car, in a good deal of a state of mind,to ask for an explanation. But no--there was my box, all right, in theexpress car; it hadn't been disturbed. [The fact is that without mysuspecting it a prodigious mistake had been made. I was carrying off abox of guns which that young fellow had come to the station to ship to arifle company in Peoria, Illinois, and he had got my corpse!] Just thenthe conductor sung out "All aboard," and I jumped into the express carand got a comfortable seat on a bale of buckets. The expressman wasthere, hard at work,--a plain man of fifty, with a simple, honest, good-natured face, and a breezy, practical heartiness in his general style.As the train moved off a stranger skipped into the car and set a packageof peculiarly mature and capable Limburger cheese on one end of mycoffin-box--I mean my box of guns. That is to say, I know now that itwas Limburger cheese, but at that time I never had heard of the articlein my life, and of course was wholly ignorant of its character. Well, wesped through the wild night, the bitter storm raged on, a cheerlessmisery stole over me, my heart went down, down, down! The old expressmanmade a brisk remark or two about the tempest and the arctic weather,slammed his sliding doors to, and bolted them, closed his window downtight, and then went bustling around, here and there and yonder, settingthings to rights, and all the time contentedly humming "Sweet By and By,"in a low tone, and flatting a good deal. Presently I began to detect amost evil and searching odor stealing about on the frozen air. Thisdepressed my spirits still more, because of course I attributed it to mypoor departed friend. There was something infinitely saddening about hiscalling himself to my remembrance in this dumb pathetic way, so it washard to keep the tears back. Moreover, it distressed me on account ofthe old expressman, who, I was afraid, might notice it. However, he wenthumming tranquilly on, and gave no sign; and for this I was grateful.Grateful, yes, but still uneasy; and soon I began to feel more and moreuneasy every minute, for every minute that went by that odor thickened upthe more, and got to be more and more gamey and hard to stand.Presently, having got things arranged to his satisfaction, the expressmangot some wood and made up a tremendous fire in his stove.This distressed me more than I can tell, for I could not but feel that itwas a mistake. I was sure that the effect would be deleterious upon mypoor departed friend. Thompson--the expressman's name was Thompson, as Ifound out in the course of the night--now went poking around his car,stopping up whatever stray cracks he could find, remarking that it didn'tmake any difference what kind of a night it was outside, he calculated tomake us comfortable, anyway. I said nothing, but I believed he was notchoosing the right way. Meantime he was humming to himself just asbefore; and meantime, too, the stove was getting hotter and hotter, andthe place closer and closer. I felt myself growing pale and qualmish,but grieved in silence and said nothing.Soon I noticed that the "Sweet By and By" was gradually fading out; nextit ceased altogether, and there was an ominous stillness. After a fewmoments Thompson said,"Pfew! I reckon it ain't no cinnamon 't I've loaded up thish-yer stovewith!"He gasped once or twice, then moved toward the cof--gun-box, stood overthat Limburger cheese part of a moment, then came back and sat down nearme, looking a good deal impressed. After a contemplative pause, he said,indicating the box with a gesture,"Friend of yourn?""Yes," I said with a sigh."He's pretty ripe, ain't he!"Nothing further was said for perhaps a couple of minutes, each being busywith his own thoughts; then Thompson said, in a low, awed voice,"Sometimes it's uncertain whether they're really gone or not,--seem gone,you know--body warm, joints limber--and so, although you think they'regone, you don't really know. I've had cases in my car. It's perfectlyawful, becuz you don't know what minute they'll rise up and look at you!"Then, after a pause, and slightly lifting his elbow toward the box,--"But he ain't in no trance! No, sir, I go bail for him!"We sat some time, in meditative silence, listening to the wind and theroar of the train; then Thompson said, with a good deal of feeling,"Well-a-well, we've all got to go, they ain't no getting around it. Manthat is born of woman is of few days and far between, as Scriptur' says.Yes, you look at it any way you want to, it's awful solemn and cur'us:they ain't nobody can get around it; all's got to go--just everybody, asyou may say. One day you're hearty and strong"--here he scrambled to hisfeet and broke a pane and stretched his nose out at it a moment or two,then sat down again while I struggled up and thrust my nose out at thesame place, and this we kept on doing every now and then--" and next dayhe's cut down like the grass, and the places which knowed him then knowshim no more forever, as Scriptur' says. Yes'ndeedy, it's awful solemnand cur'us; but we've all got to go, one time or another; they ain't nogetting around it."There was another long pause; then,--"What did he die of?"I said I didn't know."How long has he ben dead?"It seemed judicious to enlarge the facts to fit the probabilities; so Isaid,"Two or three days."But it did no good; for Thompson received it with an injured look whichplainly said, "Two or three years, you mean." Then he went right along,placidly ignoring my statement, and gave his views at considerable lengthupon the unwisdom of putting off burials too long. Then he lounged offtoward the box, stood a moment, then came back on a sharp trot andvisited the broken pane, observing,"'Twould 'a' ben a dum sight better, all around, if they'd started himalong last summer."Thompson sat down and buried his face in his red silk handkerchief, andbegan to slowly sway and rock his body like one who is doing his best toendure the almost unendurable. By this time the fragrance--if you maycall it fragrance--was just about suffocating, as near as you can come atit. Thompson's face was turning gray; I knew mine hadn't any color leftin it. By and by Thompson rested his forehead in his left hand, with hiselbow on his knee, and sort of waved his red handkerchief towards the boxwith his other hand, and said,--"I've carried a many a one of 'em,--some of 'em considerable overdue,too,--but, lordy, he just lays over 'em all!--and does it easy Cap., theywas heliotrope to HIM!"This recognition of my poor friend gratified me, in spite of the sadcircumstances, because it had so much the sound of a compliment.Pretty soon it was plain that something had got to be done. I suggestedcigars. Thompson thought it was a good idea. He said,"Likely it'll modify him some."We puffed gingerly along for a while, and tried hard to imagine thatthings were improved. But it wasn't any use. Before very long, andwithout any consultation, both cigars were quietly dropped from ournerveless fingers at the same moment. Thompson said, with a sigh,"No, Cap., it don't modify him worth a cent. Fact is, it makes himworse, becuz it appears to stir up his ambition. What do you reckon webetter do, now?"I was not able to suggest anything; indeed, I had to be swallowing andswallowing, all the time, and did not like to trust myself to speak.Thompson fell to maundering, in a desultory and low-spirited way, aboutthe miserable experiences of this night; and he got to referring to mypoor friend by various titles,--sometimes military ones, sometimes civilones; and I noticed that as fast as my poor friend's effectiveness grew,Thompson promoted him accordingly,--gave him a bigger title. Finally hesaid,"I've got an idea. Suppos' n we buckle down to it and give the Colonel abit of a shove towards t'other end of the car? --about ten foot, say. Hewouldn't have so much influence, then, don't you reckon?"I said it was a good scheme. So we took in a good fresh breath at thebroken pane, calculating to hold it till we got through; then we wentthere and bent over that deadly cheese and took a grip on the box.Thompson nodded "All ready," and then we threw ourselves forward with allour might; but Thompson slipped, and slumped down with his nose on thecheese, and his breath got loose. He gagged and gasped, and flounderedup and made a break for the door, pawing the air and saying hoarsely,"Don't hender me! --gimme the road! I'm a-dying; gimme the road!"Out on the cold platform I sat down and held his head a while, and herevived. Presently he said,"Do you reckon we started the Gen'rul any?"I said no; we hadn't budged him."Well, then, that idea's up the flume. We got to think up somethingelse. He's suited wher' he is, I reckon; and if that's the way he feelsabout it, and has made up his mind that he don't wish to be disturbed,you bet he's a-going to have his own way in the business. Yes, betterleave him right wher' he is, long as he wants it so; becuz he holds allthe trumps, don't you know, and so it stands to reason that the man thatlays out to alter his plans for him is going to get left."But we couldn't stay out there in that mad storm; we should have frozento death. So we went in again and shut the door, and began to sufferonce more and take turns at the break in the window. By and by, as wewere starting away from a station where we had stopped a moment Thompson.pranced in cheerily, and exclaimed,"We're all right, now! I reckon we've got the Commodore this time. Ijudge I've got the stuff here that'll take the tuck out of him."It was carbolic acid. He had a carboy of it. He sprinkled it all aroundeverywhere; in fact he drenched everything with it, rifle-box, cheese andall. Then we sat down, feeling pretty hopeful. But it wasn't for long.You see the two perfumes began to mix, and then--well, pretty soon wemade a break for the door; and out there Thompson swabbed his face withhis bandanna and said in a kind of disheartened way,"It ain't no use. We can't buck agin him. He just utilizes everythingwe put up to modify him with, and gives it his own flavor and plays itback on us. Why, Cap., don't you know, it's as much as a hundred timesworse in there now than it was when he first got a-going. I never didsee one of 'em warm up to his work so, and take such a dumnation interestin it. No, Sir, I never did, as long as I've ben on the road; and I'vecarried a many a one of 'em, as I was telling you."We went in again after we were frozen pretty stiff; but my, we couldn'tstay in, now. So we just waltzed back and forth, freezing, and thawing,and stifling, by turns. In about an hour we stopped at another station;and as we left it Thompson came in with a bag, and said,--"Cap., I'm a-going to chance him once more,--just this once; and if wedon't fetch him this time, the thing for us to do, is to just throw upthe sponge and withdraw from the canvass. That's the way I put it up."He had brought a lot of chicken feathers, and dried apples, and leaftobacco, and rags, and old shoes, and sulphur, and asafoetida, and onething or another; and he, piled them on a breadth of sheet iron in themiddle of the floor, and set fire to them.When they got well started, I couldn't see, myself, how even the corpsecould stand it. All that went before was just simply poetry to thatsmell,--but mind you, the original smell stood up out of it just assublime as ever,--fact is, these other smells just seemed to give it abetter hold; and my, how rich it was! I didn't make these reflectionsthere--there wasn't time--made them on the platform. And breaking forthe platform, Thompson got suffocated and fell; and before I got himdragged out, which I did by the collar, I was mighty near gone myself.When we revived, Thompson said dejectedly,--"We got to stay out here, Cap. We got to do it. They ain't no otherway. The Governor wants to travel alone, and he's fixed so he canoutvote us."And presently he added,"And don't you know, we're pisoned. It's our last trip, you can make upyour mind to it. Typhoid fever is what's going to come of this. I feelit acoming right now. Yes, sir, we're elected, just as sure as you'reborn."We were taken from the platform an hour later, frozen and insensible, atthe next station, and I went straight off into a virulent fever, andnever knew anything again for three weeks. I found out, then, that I hadspent that awful night with a harmless box of rifles and a lot ofinnocent cheese; but the news was too late to save me; imagination haddone its work, and my health was permanently shattered; neither Bermudanor any other land can ever bring it back tome. This is my last trip; Iam on my way home to die.

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