"I don't complain at the seven dollars," said he, in a voice broken by emotion, "but ain't the forty-five cents rather crowding the mourners?"
This undertaker is an awful lazy man. The neighbors say he was born with his hands in his pockets, and they go so far as to say that 'twould have been a good thing for his wife and family if he'd been still born. But I think this is going too far.
I don't think he ever got over the death of his brother, about a year ago. It was very sudden. Without thinking what he was doing, he sat down on a keg of powder with a lighted pipe in his mouth, and we have no authentic information of his whereabouts since.
The neighbors heard him when he went off, and, amusements being scarce in that section, they proposed to regale themselves with an inquest.
Twenty active boys volunteered to scour the neighborhood in search of a piece of the unfortunate man. Nineteen came back empty-handed.
The twentieth brought a button-hole, and over this the inquest was held.
His brother never took on much, but I know he felt it, for he always calculated to have that pipe when JOHN died. It was rather rough, if you examine it critically.
P.S. What'll you charge to publish a little editorial in your paper, saying that I am as genial and polished a gentleman as you ever met, and 'twould be perfectly safe to lend me any amount? I want it for circulation among new acquaintances.