I wish you, gentles, a happy new year, A pocket full of money, and a barrel full of beer! A messenger arrived with a despatch for Mr. Merripall, announcing the demise of Alderman Callipash. There was an immediate movement on the part of the mutes. “Gentlemen,” said the president, “no such violent hurry; the alderman will wait for us. Our parting toast first--_The Dance of Death!_ Come, brother Crape, strike up the tune, and lead the carant.” [Illustration: 0090] Mr. Crape practised an introductory caper, in the process of which he kicked the shins of one Cockolorum, trod upon the gouty toe of another, and then led off, the club keeping the figure with becoming gravity, and chanting in full chorus: Undertakers, hand in hand, Are a jovial merry band; Tho' their looks are lamentable, And their outward man is sable, Who on this side Charon's ferry Are so blythe as those that bury? Hark! hark! the Parish Clerk Tunes his pitch-pipe for a lark! As we gaily trip along Booms the bell's deep, dull ding-dong! Freaking, screaking, out of breath, Thus we dance the _Dance of Death!_ The cricket cries, the owl it hoots, Music meet for dancing mutes! When burns brightly blue the taper, Sextons, 'tis your time to caper. Now our song and dance are done, Home we hasten every one. Messrs. Crape, Crambo, Sable, Shovelton, Hatband, and Stiflegig, joined a pleasant party outside of a hearse that had been doing duty in the neighbourhood; and an empty mourning-coach accommodated Mr. Rasp, Mr. Bluemould, Dr. Dose, and Professor Nogo. Mr. Furnish, and a few, heated with wine, took water; but as the moon had just emerged from behind a black cloud, and shone with mild lustre, we preferred walking, particularly with the jocular companionship of Mr. Bosky and Mr. Merripall. And Death's door was closed for the night. CHAPTER IV. |Had we been inclined to superstition, what a supernatural treat had been the discourse of Mr. Merripall! His tales of “goblins damned” were terrible enough to have bristled up our hair till it lifted our very hats off our very heads. His reminiscences of resurrection men * were extensive and curious; he knew their “whereabouts” for ten miles round London.