One nation under god cap

He loosened up his hand toward the drapes, yet examined himself in the actual demonstration of undrawing them, turned his back pointedly on the bed, and strolled toward the chimney stack piece, to perceive what things were set on it, and to attempt in the event that he could keep the dead man crazy in that manner. One nation under god cap.  There was a pewter inkstand on the chimney stack piece, with some moldy remaining parts of ink in the container. There were two coarse china adornments of the commonest kind; and there was a square of embellished card, messy and fly-blown, with an assortment of pathetic conundrums imprinted on it, on the whole kinds of crisscross headings, and in differently hued inks. He took the card and disappeared to peruse it at the table on which the light was set, plunking down with his back steadfastly went to the curtained bed. He read the principal conundrum, the second, the third, across the board corner of the card, at that point turned it round anxiously to take a gander at another. Before he could start perusing the puzzles printed here the sound of the congregation clock halted him. Again he took a gander at the card. It was difficult to make out the letters imprinted on it in result of the obscurity of the light which the landowner had left him- – a typical fat flame, outfitted with a couple of weighty older style steel snuffers. Up to this time his psyche had been a lot of involved to think about the light. He had left the wick of the light unsnuffed till it had ascended higher than the fire, and had consumed into an odd confined house shape at the top, from which pieces of the roasted cotton tumbled off every now and then in little chips. He took up the snuffers now and managed the wick. The light lit up straightforwardly, and the room turned out to be less grim.

Again he went to the puzzles, perusing them obstinately and unflinchingly, presently in one corner of the card, presently in another. Every one of his endeavors, notwithstanding, couldn’t fix his consideration on them. He sought after his occupation precisely, determining such an impression from what he was perusing. Maybe a shadow from the curtained bed had got between his brain and the gayly printed letters- – a shadow that nothing could scatter. Finally he surrendered the battle, tossed the card from him anxiously, and took to strolling delicately here and there the room once more. The dead man, the dead man, the secret dead man on the bed! There was the one persevering thought actually frequenting him. Covered up! Was it just the body being there, or was it the body being there disguised, that was going after his psyche? He halted at the window with that question in him, again tuning in to the pattering precipitation, again watching out into the dark haziness. Still the dead man! The haziness constrained his brain back upon itself, and set his memory at work, resuscitating with an agonizingly clear peculiarity the fleeting impression it had gotten from his first sight of the cadaver. After a short time the face appeared to float out in the center of the haziness, defying him through the window, with the pallor more white – with the ghastly dull line of light between the defectively shut eyelids more extensive than he had seen it- – with the separated lips gradually dropping further a lot away from one another – with the highlights becoming bigger and drawing nearer, till they appeared to fill the window, and to quietness the downpour, and to close out the evening.