patent coffin. 'I say you'll make your fortune, Mr. Sowerberry,'

repeated Mr. Bumble, tapping the undertaker on the shoulder, in a

friendly manner, with his cane.

'Think so?' said the undertaker in a tone which half admitted and

half disputed the probability of the event. 'The prices allowed

by the board are very small, Mr. Bumble.'

'So are the coffins,' replied the beadle: with precisely as near

an approach to a laugh as a great official ought to indulge in.