To mention only by name the sorrows of an Undertaker, will be likely to raise a smile on most faces,--the mere words suggest a solemn stalking parody of grief to the satiric fancy;--but give a fair hearing to my woes, and even the veriest mocker may learn to pity an Undertaker who has been unfortunate in all his undertakings. My Father, a Furnisher and Performer in the funeral line, used to say of me,--noticing some boyish levities--that “I should never do for an Undertaker.” But the prediction was wrong--my Parent died, and I did for him in the way of business. Having no other alternative, I took possession of a very fair stock and business. I felt at first as if plunged in the Black Sea--and when I read my name upon the shop door, it threw a crape over my spirits, that I did not get rid of for some months. Then came the cares of business. The scandalous insinuated that the funerals were not so decorously performed as in the time of the Late. I discharged my mutes, who were grown fat and jocular, and sought about for the lean and lank visaged kind. But these demure rogues cheated and robbed me--plucked my feathers and pruned my scarfs, and I was driven back again to my “merrie men,”--whose only fault was making a pleasure of their business. [Illustration: FAIRY LAND.] Soon after this, I made myself prominent in the parish, and obtained a contract for Parochial Conchology--or shells for the paupers. But this even, as I may say, broke down on its first tressels. Having as my first job to inter a workhouse female--Ætat. 96--and wishing to gain the good opinion of the parish, I had made the arrangements with more than usual decency. The company were at the door. Placing myself at the head, with my best burial face, and my slowest solemnity of step, I set forward, and thanks to my professional deafness,--induced by the constant hammering--I never perceived, till at the church gates, that the procession had not stirred from the door of the house. So good a joke was not lost upon my two Mutes, who made it an excuse for chuckling on after occasions. But to me the consequence was serious. A notion arose amongst the poor that I was too proud to walk along with their remains, and the ferment ran so high, that I was finally compelled to give up my contract.