 poet sat upon a stool in a public place, and mused in the
sight of men. Mr. Cruncher, sitting on a stool in a public place, but not being
a poet, mused as little as possible, and looked about him.
    It fell out that he was thus engaged in a season when crowds were few, and
belated women few, and when his affairs in general were so unprosperous as to
awaken a strong suspicion in his breast that Mrs. Cruncher must have been
flopping in some pointed manner, when an unusual concourse pouring down Fleet
Street westward, attracted his attention. Looking that way, Mr. Cruncher made
out that some kind of funeral was coming along, and that there was popular
objection to this funeral, which engendered uproar.
    »Young Jerry,« said Mr. Cruncher, turning to his offspring, »it's a
buryin'.«
    »Hooroar, father!« cried Young Jerry.
    The young gentleman uttered this exultant sound with mysterious
significance. The elder gentleman took the cry so ill, that he watched his
opportunity, and smote the young gentleman on the ear.
    »What d'ye mean? What are you hooroaring at? What do you want to conwey to
your own father, you young Rip? This boy is a getting too many for me!« said Mr.
Cruncher, surveying him. »Him and his hooroars! Don't let me hear no more of
you, or you shall feel some more of me. D'ye hear?«
    »I warn't doing no harm,« Young Jerry protested, rubbing his cheek.
    »Drop it then,« said Mr. Cruncher; »I won't have none of your no harms. Get
atop of that there seat, and look at the crowd.«
    His son obeyed, and the crowd approached; they were bawling and hissing
round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which mourning coach there was
only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trappings that were considered essential
to the dignity of the position. The position appeared by no means to please him,
however, with an increasing rabble surrounding the coach, deriding him, making
grimaces at him, and incessantly groaning and calling out: »Yah! Spies! Tst!
Yaha! Spies!« with many compliments too numerous and forcible to repeat.
    Funerals had at all times a remarkable attraction for Mr. Cruncher; he
always pricked up his senses, and became excited, when a funeral passed
Tellson's. Naturally, therefore, a funeral with this uncommon attendance excited
him greatly
