Bet. Oh, yes; sing to us some rejoicing anthem, or some sweet, and tendeh love song.
Simon. Can’t you sing China?
Ed. Why, that is a funeral hymn, Mr. Slimpsey.
Simon. I know it has been used as such, but it seems as if it would be a sort of a melancholy pleasure to me to hear it now. But I hain’t peticular; sing anything—sing, if you feel like it.
Mrs. P. They sung China to Doodleses funeral.
Eld. P. (Looking very angry) Doodleses name hain’t no name to be used on this occasion, Miss Peedick. I wish to gracious that I could get five minutes rest from Doodle.
Mrs. P. Wall he had a beautiful linement on him.
Eld. P. (very cross) What if he had?
Mrs. P. But you have got a beautiful linement, too. You are what would be called very handsome.
Eld. P. (sweetly) You are a sensible woman, Miss Peedick. You are a lovely woman. Every day of your life you make me think more and more of the corpse. But I suppose they are waiting for me to pitch the tune. Being leader of the quire they naturally lean on me for harmony. So we will now sing the bridal song, kindly arranged for this happy occasion by the Editor of the Augur. (They all sing to the tune of the jubilee song, “Mary and Martha’s just gone along.”)