I'll make ye as pretty a little stone as iver ye saw--what'll last too!--ay, last till th' Almighty comes a' tearin' down in clouds o' glory.

A stone well bedded in, ye unnerstan' ?--one as'll stay upright--no slop work.

An' if ye can't think of a hepitaph for yerself I'll write one for ye--there now! Bible texes is goin' out o' fashion--it's best to 'ave somethin' orig'nal--an' for originality I don't think I can be beat in these parts.

I'll do ye yer hepitaph with pleasure!" "That will be kind!" And Helmsley smiled a little sadly--"What will you say of me when I'm gone ?" Twitt looked at him thoughtfully, with his head very much on one side.
"Well, ye see, I don't know yer history,"-- he said--"But I considers ye 'armless an' unfortunate.

I'd 'ave to make it out in my own mind like.
Now Timbs, the grocer an' 'aberdashery man, when 'is wife died, he wouldn't let me 'ave my own way about the moniment at all.