800 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP
thoug-ht of raeaeles, scarlet-fever, thrush, hoopingf-cough, and a good many other sources of consolation beside.
" In this happy frame of mind, Gabriel strode along, returning a short, sullen growl to the good-humoured greetings of such of his neigh- bours as now and then passed him, until he turned into the dark lane which led to the churchyard. Now Gabriel had been looking forward to reaching the dark lane, because it was, generally speaking, a nice gloomy mournful place, into which the towns-people did not much care to go, except in broad day-light, and when the sun was shining; conse- quently he was not a little indignant to hear a young urchin roaring out some jolly song about a merry Christmas, in this very sanctuary,- which had been called Coffin Lane ever since the days of the old abbey, and the time of the shaven-headed monks. As Gabriel walked on, and the voice drew nearer, he found it proceeded from a small boy, who was hurr}'ing along, to join one of the little parties in the old street, and who, partly to keep himself company, and partly to prepare himself for the occasion, was shouting out the song at the highest pitch of his lungs. So Gabriel waited till the boy came up, and then dodged him into a corner, and rapped him over the head with his lantern five or six times, just to teach him to modulate his voice. And as the boy hurried away with his hand to his head, singing quite a diff'erent sort of tune, Ga- briel Grub chuckled very heartily to himself, and entered the church- yard, locking the gate behind him.
" He took off his coat, set down his lantern, and getting into the unfi- nished grave, worked at it for an hour or so, with right good will. But the earth was hardened with the frost, and it was no very easy matter to break it up, and shovel it out ; and although there was a moon, it was a very young one, and shed little light upon the grave, which was in the shadow of the church. At any other time, these obstacles would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and miserable, but he was so well pleased with having stopped the small boy's singing, that he took little heed of the scanty progress he had made, and looked down into the grave when he had finished work for the night, with grim satisfaction, murmuring as he gathered up his things —
Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, A few feet of cold earth, when life is done ; , A stone at the head, a stone at the feet, A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat ; Eank grass over head, and damp clay around. Brave lodgings for one, these, iu holy ground I
" * Ho ! ho ! * laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself down on a flat tombstone which was a favourite resting place of his ; and drew forth his wicker bottle. * A coffin at Christmas — a Christmas Box. Ho I ho! ho!'
- ' * Ho ! ho ! ho ! repeated a voice which soituded close behind
him.
" Gabriel paused in some alarm, in the act of raising the wicker bottle to his lips, and looked round. The bottom of the oldest grave about him, was not more still and quiet, than the churchyard in the pale
