his remarkable newspaper headline, but in every town and
city that fell within the limits of the Post's rather metropolitan
circulation, people were startled at the unusual thought of a man
hearing his own funeral. The article in the Post read like this:

The little town of Dobbinsville, snugly tucked away in the peaceful
folds of the far-famed Ozark hills, is coming into its share of
publicity. There has lived for many years in the vicinity of this
village a substantial farmer by the name of Gramps. Until a couple of
days ago Gramps was supposed to have been dead and buried. In fact, a
tombstone in the churchyard near the Gramps homestead plainly states
that Gramps is dead. Though tombstones sometimes say, "They have gone to
rest," the truth is otherwise and Gramps has turned up very much alive.
According to an officer interviewed by a Post correspondent yesterday,
Gramp's story is somewhat on this wise:

A little over a year ago it became known in the neighborhood of
Dobbinsville that Gramps, who for years had been a well-to-do farmer and
a diligent deacon in a local church, was becoming involved in financial
embarrassment. In order to save himself from bankruptcy, the Deacon,
according to his own confession, resorted to very unusual means. Gramps
carried heavy life insurance. About thirteen months ago he burned his
barn and feigned to have burned with it. While his neighbors were at the
church one Sunday he went into his big barn and after depositing in a
pasteboard box his false teeth, his watch, his pocket-knife, and some
pieces of silver coin, he placed the box in the manger and lighted the
hay in the mow with a match. After making sure that the fire was in good
way, he jumped from a window in the barn and ran, without detection, to
his house and hid himself in the attic. Neighbors, missing Gramps, made
a diligent search for him which resulted only in finding the molten
remains of the pocket knife and other articles in the ash-heap where the
barn was burned. Amid much mourning loving hands gathered ashes from the
tragical spot and tenderly laid them in an expensive casket. The next
day at the funeral in the parlor of the Gramps home, a minister from St.
Louis delivered an empassioned eulogy, extolling the manifold
excellencies of the honored dead (?). Through an open stairway door
Gramps heard the eloquent words of the clergyman and the heart-rending
sobs of his own wife and children.

After seeing his funeral d