NOT WHAT HE WANTED.

Dunstan Times, Issue 682, 14 May 1875, Page 4

NOT WHAT HE WANTED.

——o— Ho came into the office of a City undertaker’s yesterday, with a look of great care on his honest face. His eyes were heavy and slightly bloodshot, telling of nightly vigils and loss of sleep. His hair was unkempt and shaggy. The softhearted man of coffins lucked upon his visitor with a gaze full of pity and thankfulness—pity for the customer’s loss, and thankfulness for his patronage. Ho was so young to bo burdened with the loss of a dear one by death. The manufacturer of burial-cases nodded a silent assent and condoling recognition; the young man from the country said, “ How d’ye ?” Then ensued a grave silence, broken at length by the man of grave business. “ Can I do anything for you to-day •air ?” “Wall, T reckin’ so, stranger.” Another silence. Once more the undertaker began by suggesting, “ Your sister I” Young man stared a moment then as light gradually broke upon his perplexed mind, he smiled more suggestive of sorrow than happiness, and replied : “ No—my wife.” “ Sudden?’’ “ No—expected su’thun of the kind for several months,” “ When did it happen 1” “ ’Bout 4 o’clock this morning.” “ Looks natural ?” “ Rather.” (Spoken carefully and expressive of some doubt). “ About what do you want the cost of it to be 1” “ Don’t care for expense, get it up kinder nice. I’ll treat her handsum, 'cause she is the first one I ever had.” “Very well, my friend,; you’ll have it lined with satin, I suppose?” “ Jest as you say, stranger.” “ Silver-headed screws, too, I suppose ?” “ Y-a-a-s, I s’pose so. An’, stranger, jest put a bully top to’t.” “ Oli, of course ; and you’ll want a glass in it also, I suppose ?” “ Y-a-a-s—oh, certainly—you bet. Get her up sniptious, you know, old ‘fellow. None of your dratted one boss fixins for me. No, sir’ee.” “Just so. Silver handles, of course ?” “Eh ? What’s that you say, stranger—silver han-dles ? Oh, durn it, now, won’t thet be pilin’ it on too hefty like ? I kin stand silver screws and sich, but ther’s no use makin’ the hull tarnation trap of silver. The thing has to be moved, and must have handles, but I aint quite so stuck up «s thet now—not quite stranger.” “ Very well,” acquiesced the man of • obsequies, “ I’ll put ordinary handles •to it then ?” “Eggs-actly—them’s ’em, mister; now yer takin’, or’nary handles ’ll do. But, I say stranger (reflectively) make the wheels glisten like thunder.” “ Wh—wh—wh-eels 1” “Yes, wheels. What’s the matter with you, anyhow ?” “ But, who ever heard of wheels to n coffin ?” “Coffin?” shrieked the dejectedlooking young man. “Coffins! Now, who the dickens said anything about coffins ?” “ Why, don’t you want a coffin?” “ No-o ! I want a cradle—a trap to rock my new baby in,” “ And isn’t your wife dead ?” “ Not by a jugful. Don’t you make cradles for sale ?” “ No, my friend, I am an undertaker.” “ Undertaker of what?” “J make coffins.” “ Oh, let me ketch the fellar that cent me here L” And the grief-stricken youth crammed his hat over his eyes, ran his hands deep down in the pockets of his trousers, and pounced out on the street searching for vengeance.