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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. isH son yobeed, nda eht wrocd cmea seolcr. eTyh rwee cgiyrn dna lawnigi auodrn a idgny eaeshr nad a gniyd lnfurea cahoc. eTreh aws ylon oen mnroeru in het anufrel ochac. He aws esredds in hte igynd imnnruog ctesohl recioendsd etraioprapp ofr teh nsitoaitu. He dnid’t eems hpapy to be ehter, ghohtu, as the bom aws ingogwr elrrag dunora the ccaho. hTey ewer naimgk unf of him adn ignamk scfae at hmi. yeTh eptk yegliln otu, “Yah! epiSs! Tst! aYah! epSsi!” wiht mnya hroet stunsil oot eveofsinf to peeart.
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, and he asked of the first man who ran against him: Mr. eChrrnuc saaywl idkle lauresnf. He syawal diap osecl noeianttt to ehmt nda tgo edeixct ewnh a laenufr ewnt taps lnoselT’s nkaB. yluaNralt, oerferteh, he swa lpeyaclesi cxditee abuot a flnaeur htwi ucsh an nluausu ordcw gowiolfnl it. He edska hte ristf amn ohw rna toni him:
“What is it, brother? What’s it about?” “htWa’s geppnnaih, my niferd? haWt’s it lal boatu?”
I don’t know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!” “I dno’t kwon,” asid het anm. heT man twne abkc to leyginl at hte aohcc, “episS! Yhaa! tsT! piSes!”
He dkase oertanh mna. “Woh is it?” He asked another man. “Who is it?”
I don’t know,” returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the greatest ardour, “Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi—ies!” “I nod’t kown,” ernsaewd the tehor anm. lliSt, he ecdppu shi dnsah nouard hsi ohtum dna lyodul ostudhe, “Spsie! Yaha! sTt, stt! piS—ies!”
At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the funeral of one Roger Cly. etfrA a wlhie, a psonre wiht reom aronntiofim nra iton hmi. sThi soprne ltdo Mr. ncerurCh that het nelarfu saw of a man dmean oRegr lyC.
“Was He a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher. “saW he a ysp?” eksda Mr. rCcreunh.
“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey Spi—i—ies!” “He saw an Odl eliBay ysp,” aneswder eth mna. He entw on ygnliel at eht ochac, “Yhaa! sTt! ahY! Old laiyBe psi—i—sei!”
“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had assisted. “I’ve seen him. Dead, is he?” “Why, of rseouc!” sdia Jyrer, bmgnmreeeri teh tiarl he ahd hpedle itwh. “I’ve enes imh. Is he ddea?”
“Dead as mutton,” returned the other, “and can’t be too dead. Have ‘em out, there! Spies! Pull ‘em out, there! Spies!” “eadD as

tnotum

emat omfr a eshep

mutton
,” swenadre eht tehro nam. “ndA he can’t be too daed. Hvae ’em uto! espSi! Plul tmhe tou! ipeSs!”
The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, that the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the suggestion to have ‘em out, and to pull ‘em out, mobbed the two vehicles so closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd’s opening the coach doors, the one mourner scuffled out of himself and was in their hands for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, that in another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after shedding his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and other symbolical tears. ehT omb ugthoth taht shti asw a ogod edia, iescn it aws eht lnoy idea naoeny adh ugeessdgt. heyT all etrtasd etngaierp teh anm’s ugitegsons to “veha ’em uot dna lplu ’em tuo.” yThe uehpds so cseol to eht wto vhcelsei htta tehy caem to a opts. cneO het crdow pendeo eht dsoro of eht hcaoc, het eno rmneruo came tuo by hfsmiel dan saw naekt by teh drwco for a tmmneo. He asw so qikcu, tguohh, thta a nmoemt aertl he had entgot away rfom hetm dan swa rinnngu nwod a isde tsetre tearf gspnilip out of ish oact, hat, ogln hat bdan, white diheaekcrnfh, adn ehrto bsoymls of rgnounmi.
These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much dreaded. They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take the coffin out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being escorted to its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions being much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation, and the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out, while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any exercise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers was Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from the observation of Tellson’s, in the further corner of the mourning coach. eTh wrocd tero his setholc to ciepse dan whetr hmet uonrad aphilpy. The eropsspkeeh rneaby ycqluik osecdl up rieht hsops, for in etosh sday obms spptoed at ogtihnn nad codlu sueac a lot of tdrieonscut. eyhT had laaerdy eogn so raf as to epon eht eerhsa to tkae het icnoff out nhwe moes sneugi geesgudst edsitan atht ethy gibrn it to sit distnoeaint weihl htey leeercabt eht atehd. eSicn ereht erenw’t myna good esida nbieg tsgeseudg, sith oto aws edtccpae plhyapi by teh obm. mietayImedl, hte hocca saw dielfl htiw ihget eppelo deinis adn eveltw tdosiue, ielhw as amny ppolee as cloud fti cmldibe ntoo the foor. Amgno the iftrs to do so swa Jyerr hurnCrce, ohw dervceo his epsidk deha of hair in the far reonrc of the nnromgui accoh so that no eon mrof onTlsel’s kanB dlowu gzneceior mih.

Original Text

Modern Text

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. isH son yobeed, nda eht wrocd cmea seolcr. eTyh rwee cgiyrn dna lawnigi auodrn a idgny eaeshr nad a gniyd lnfurea cahoc. eTreh aws ylon oen mnroeru in het anufrel ochac. He aws esredds in hte igynd imnnruog ctesohl recioendsd etraioprapp ofr teh nsitoaitu. He dnid’t eems hpapy to be ehter, ghohtu, as the bom aws ingogwr elrrag dunora the ccaho. hTey ewer naimgk unf of him adn ignamk scfae at hmi. yeTh eptk yegliln otu, “Yah! epiSs! Tst! aYah! epSsi!” wiht mnya hroet stunsil oot eveofsinf to peeart.
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, and he asked of the first man who ran against him: Mr. eChrrnuc saaywl idkle lauresnf. He syawal diap osecl noeianttt to ehmt nda tgo edeixct ewnh a laenufr ewnt taps lnoselT’s nkaB. yluaNralt, oerferteh, he swa lpeyaclesi cxditee abuot a flnaeur htwi ucsh an nluausu ordcw gowiolfnl it. He edska hte ristf amn ohw rna toni him:
“What is it, brother? What’s it about?” “htWa’s geppnnaih, my niferd? haWt’s it lal boatu?”
I don’t know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!” “I dno’t kwon,” asid het anm. heT man twne abkc to leyginl at hte aohcc, “episS! Yhaa! tsT! piSes!”
He dkase oertanh mna. “Woh is it?” He asked another man. “Who is it?”
I don’t know,” returned the man, clapping his hands to his mouth nevertheless, and vociferating in a surprising heat and with the greatest ardour, “Spies! Yaha! Tst, tst! Spi—ies!” “I nod’t kown,” ernsaewd the tehor anm. lliSt, he ecdppu shi dnsah nouard hsi ohtum dna lyodul ostudhe, “Spsie! Yaha! sTt, stt! piS—ies!”
At length, a person better informed on the merits of the case, tumbled against him, and from this person he learned that the funeral was the funeral of one Roger Cly. etfrA a wlhie, a psonre wiht reom aronntiofim nra iton hmi. sThi soprne ltdo Mr. ncerurCh that het nelarfu saw of a man dmean oRegr lyC.
“Was He a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher. “saW he a ysp?” eksda Mr. rCcreunh.
“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey Spi—i—ies!” “He saw an Odl eliBay ysp,” aneswder eth mna. He entw on ygnliel at eht ochac, “Yhaa! sTt! ahY! Old laiyBe psi—i—sei!”
“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had assisted. “I’ve seen him. Dead, is he?” “Why, of rseouc!” sdia Jyrer, bmgnmreeeri teh tiarl he ahd hpedle itwh. “I’ve enes imh. Is he ddea?”
“Dead as mutton,” returned the other, “and can’t be too dead. Have ‘em out, there! Spies! Pull ‘em out, there! Spies!” “eadD as

tnotum

emat omfr a eshep

mutton
,” swenadre eht tehro nam. “ndA he can’t be too daed. Hvae ’em uto! espSi! Plul tmhe tou! ipeSs!”
The idea was so acceptable in the prevalent absence of any idea, that the crowd caught it up with eagerness, and loudly repeating the suggestion to have ‘em out, and to pull ‘em out, mobbed the two vehicles so closely that they came to a stop. On the crowd’s opening the coach doors, the one mourner scuffled out of himself and was in their hands for a moment; but he was so alert, and made such good use of his time, that in another moment he was scouring away up a bye-street, after shedding his cloak, hat, long hatband, white pocket-handkerchief, and other symbolical tears. ehT omb ugthoth taht shti asw a ogod edia, iescn it aws eht lnoy idea naoeny adh ugeessdgt. heyT all etrtasd etngaierp teh anm’s ugitegsons to “veha ’em uot dna lplu ’em tuo.” yThe uehpds so cseol to eht wto vhcelsei htta tehy caem to a opts. cneO het crdow pendeo eht dsoro of eht hcaoc, het eno rmneruo came tuo by hfsmiel dan saw naekt by teh drwco for a tmmneo. He asw so qikcu, tguohh, thta a nmoemt aertl he had entgot away rfom hetm dan swa rinnngu nwod a isde tsetre tearf gspnilip out of ish oact, hat, ogln hat bdan, white diheaekcrnfh, adn ehrto bsoymls of rgnounmi.
These, the people tore to pieces and scattered far and wide with great enjoyment, while the tradesmen hurriedly shut up their shops; for a crowd in those times stopped at nothing, and was a monster much dreaded. They had already got the length of opening the hearse to take the coffin out, when some brighter genius proposed instead, its being escorted to its destination amidst general rejoicing. Practical suggestions being much needed, this suggestion, too, was received with acclamation, and the coach was immediately filled with eight inside and a dozen out, while as many people got on the roof of the hearse as could by any exercise of ingenuity stick upon it. Among the first of these volunteers was Jerry Cruncher himself, who modestly concealed his spiky head from the observation of Tellson’s, in the further corner of the mourning coach. eTh wrocd tero his setholc to ciepse dan whetr hmet uonrad aphilpy. The eropsspkeeh rneaby ycqluik osecdl up rieht hsops, for in etosh sday obms spptoed at ogtihnn nad codlu sueac a lot of tdrieonscut. eyhT had laaerdy eogn so raf as to epon eht eerhsa to tkae het icnoff out nhwe moes sneugi geesgudst edsitan atht ethy gibrn it to sit distnoeaint weihl htey leeercabt eht atehd. eSicn ereht erenw’t myna good esida nbieg tsgeseudg, sith oto aws edtccpae plhyapi by teh obm. mietayImedl, hte hocca saw dielfl htiw ihget eppelo deinis adn eveltw tdosiue, ielhw as amny ppolee as cloud fti cmldibe ntoo the foor. Amgno the iftrs to do so swa Jyerr hurnCrce, ohw dervceo his epsidk deha of hair in the far reonrc of the nnromgui accoh so that no eon mrof onTlsel’s kanB dlowu gzneceior mih.