further interruptions as far as the sentence, “’We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,’”—­when Dooke, the sexton,—­a queer, impetuous fellow,—­who was vainly endeavoring to keep the boys away from the edge of the grave, seized suddenly the rope with which the coffin had just been lowered down, and, stooping forward, laid it like a whip-lash, “cut!” across the shins of a dozen youngsters, making them leap with “Oh! oh! oh!” a foot from the ground, and scatter in short order,—­“’looking for the’”—­(turning to my friend, as he witnessed the successful exploit of his favorite sexton, and whispering in his ear,) “Dooke made ’em hop that time, didn’t he!—­’general resurrection in the last day, and the life of the world to come.’”

Dooke’s mode of dispersing the boys, and the officiating clergyman’s comment upon it, parenthesized into the middle of the most solemn sentence of the burial-service, were too much for the usual stern gravity of my clerical friend, and, under pretence of shedding tears, he buried his face in his handkerchief and his handkerchief in his hat and shook with laughter.

Speaking of funerals reminds me of a congenial subject.—­Nothing in New York astonishes visitors from the country so much as the magnificent coffin-shops, rivalling, in the ostentatious and tempting display of their wares, the most elegant stores on Broadway.  Model coffins, of the latest style and pattern, are set up on end in long rows and protected by splendid show-cases, with the lids removed to exhibit their rich satin lining.  Fancy coffins, decorated with glittering ornaments, are placed seductively in bright plate-glass windows, and put out for baiting advertisements upon the side-walks:  as much as to say, “Walk in, walk in, ladies and gentlemen!  Now’s your chance! here’s your fine, nice coffins!”—­while in ornamental letters upon extensive placards hung about the doors, “IRON COFFINS,” “ROSEWOOD COFFINS,” “AIR-TIGHT COFFINS,” “MAHOGANY COFFINS,” “PATENT SARCOPHAGI,” address the eyes and appeal to the purses of the passers-by.  And I saw in one of these places, the other day, painted on glass and inclosed in an elegant gilt frame, “ICE COFFINS,” which struck me as queer enough.  As though it were not sufficiently cool to be dead!

It seems to me, that, in this matter, the undertakers, digging a little too deep below the surface of the present age, have thrown out some of the mystical and grotesque remains of a very antique religious faith, which look as singular just now to the eyes of common people as would an Egyptian temple with its sacred Apis in Broadway, or a Sphinx on Boston Common.  To the eyes of an old Egyptian, no object could be more grateful than the sarcophagus in which he was to repose at death.  He purchased it as early in life as he could raise the means, and displayed it in his parlor as an attractive and costly ornament.  Indeed, I do not know but it was useful as well, and the children kept their playthings in it, or the young ladies their knitting-work and embroidery.