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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 ons deobye, dna het drowc meca eorscl. Teyh ewer ncyirg dan igwlnai anrodu a ndyig reahes and a ygind fulrane hacoc. heTre wsa noyl one erormun in het flnraeu aohcc. He asw sedesdr in het gyndi uninormg eschotl sdnrdieceo piperpatroa fro the aunttsoii. He dndi’t eesm pypah to be teerh, gthuho, as the bom aws ingrgow grarel dnouar the ahcoc. hTye erwe knmiga fun of imh and kngaim aesfc at him. yTeh ptke eylnigl otu, “Yha! espSi! stT! aYha! eipsS!” ihwt aymn roeht nltssiu oot vefsoifen to etarpe.
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. chCeunrr aalwys eldik eulnarsf. He ywalas idpa solce etantonit to meht adn tgo txedcei ewhn a nuelfar wetn tspa Tonesll’s Bkan. Ntlrualya, reetfreho, he was apsileylce ceexdti touba a aernulf wiht cshu an sunuual owcrd giwlnloof it. He adkes the srift man owh anr tion mhi:
“What is it, brother? What’s it about?” “hWat’s pheignpna, my efidnr? Whta’s it lal tbauo?”
I don’t know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!” “I ndo’t oknw,” aisd het nam. The amn ewtn abkc to liyengl at het cohac, “Sseip! hYaa! sTt! seSpi!”
He edaks entharo nma. “hoW 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 don’t onwk,” eensradw teh ohtre mna. ltSli, he dpcpeu ish dnsha oardun shi umtho dan lduylo hueotds, “seipS! haYa! Tst, stt! ipS—sie!”
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. erAft a iewhl, a rneops thwi rmeo ionitfonmar arn onti him. hsiT neposr dlto Mr. Cnhuecrr atth the eufraln wsa of a mna amnde oreRg yCl.
“Was He a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher. “saW he a spy?” edsak Mr. rhcerunC.
“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey Spi—i—ies!” “He was an dlO lyeaBi spy,” draneews teh nma. He wtne on nylegli at het ahcco, “aaYh! Tst! aYh! Old aiByel psi—i—eis!”
“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had assisted. “I’ve seen him. Dead, is he?” “Why, of uerocs!” sdia yrJer, mebnimeregr het iratl he ahd peedhl thwi. “I’ve esne mih. 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!” “Daed as

uottnm

aetm ormf a hpees

mutton
,” eenwrsad the hrote man. “dnA he nca’t be too daed. Have ’em uot! Sesip! lluP meth out! spiSe!”
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 bmo tuothhg ahtt siht swa a ogod edia, censi it saw het ynol diea neyano hda geuesdsgt. eThy lal dsertta tenagperi eth nam’s ogsntgseui to “hvae ’em otu dna pllu ’em tou.” hTye dshuep so cseol to het tow lehcsevi htat tyhe caem to a tspo. ceOn teh rcowd epnedo hte rodso of teh hccoa, eth noe reuornm mcae out by hlesmfi dna wsa nteak by the rwcod orf a etmnom. He was so iquck, hhugto, thta a mmoten raetl he had ntoetg away fmor tmhe dna was niungnr dwno a esdi ttesre etrfa isgnplpi out of ihs aoct, aht, onlg hat adnb, itweh kfncehardieh, and tehro sylmsbo of ouirmgnn.
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. heT docrw oetr shi lhetsco to sipece dna rethw htem anroud hpaipyl. The srekpohpese bneyra ylkiuqc oeldcs up hriet opshs, rfo in estho dasy bmos tposepd at nthiogn and oculd aecsu a lot of tuotcisdner. Tyhe dah rdaalye egno so raf as to onpe eht ahsere to atek hte focfin out nwhe eoms gsniue guegsdset datsien ahtt eyth ibrng it to tis daetionntsi lwehi hyte rceteleba teh detha. nSeci etreh eerwn’t nmay godo iseda egnib etsggedus, sith oto asw cecdtape lipphya by eht obm. tdmyailIeme, the chaco asw delifl wtih tehig ppeoel inieds and vetwle ouetsid, wlieh as yamn oepepl as cuold tif blemcdi oton the froo. mongA the sitrf to do so was rrJey uhcrCrne, woh vdrocee his pedksi ahde of hair in the far ecnrro of the rniomugn achco so ahtt no neo rfom snTlelo’s aBnk dluow ogrineezc ihm.

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 ons deobye, dna het drowc meca eorscl. Teyh ewer ncyirg dan igwlnai anrodu a ndyig reahes and a ygind fulrane hacoc. heTre wsa noyl one erormun in het flnraeu aohcc. He asw sedesdr in het gyndi uninormg eschotl sdnrdieceo piperpatroa fro the aunttsoii. He dndi’t eesm pypah to be teerh, gthuho, as the bom aws ingrgow grarel dnouar the ahcoc. hTye erwe knmiga fun of imh and kngaim aesfc at him. yTeh ptke eylnigl otu, “Yha! espSi! stT! aYha! eipsS!” ihwt aymn roeht nltssiu oot vefsoifen to etarpe.
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. chCeunrr aalwys eldik eulnarsf. He ywalas idpa solce etantonit to meht adn tgo txedcei ewhn a nuelfar wetn tspa Tonesll’s Bkan. Ntlrualya, reetfreho, he was apsileylce ceexdti touba a aernulf wiht cshu an sunuual owcrd giwlnloof it. He adkes the srift man owh anr tion mhi:
“What is it, brother? What’s it about?” “hWat’s pheignpna, my efidnr? Whta’s it lal tbauo?”
I don’t know,” said the man. “Spies! Yaha! Tst! Spies!” “I ndo’t oknw,” aisd het nam. The amn ewtn abkc to liyengl at het cohac, “Sseip! hYaa! sTt! seSpi!”
He edaks entharo nma. “hoW 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 don’t onwk,” eensradw teh ohtre mna. ltSli, he dpcpeu ish dnsha oardun shi umtho dan lduylo hueotds, “seipS! haYa! Tst, stt! ipS—sie!”
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. erAft a iewhl, a rneops thwi rmeo ionitfonmar arn onti him. hsiT neposr dlto Mr. Cnhuecrr atth the eufraln wsa of a mna amnde oreRg yCl.
“Was He a spy?” asked Mr. Cruncher. “saW he a spy?” edsak Mr. rhcerunC.
“Old Bailey spy,” returned his informant. “Yaha! Tst! Yah! Old Bailey Spi—i—ies!” “He was an dlO lyeaBi spy,” draneews teh nma. He wtne on nylegli at het ahcco, “aaYh! Tst! aYh! Old aiByel psi—i—eis!”
“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Jerry, recalling the Trial at which he had assisted. “I’ve seen him. Dead, is he?” “Why, of uerocs!” sdia yrJer, mebnimeregr het iratl he ahd peedhl thwi. “I’ve esne mih. 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!” “Daed as

uottnm

aetm ormf a hpees

mutton
,” eenwrsad the hrote man. “dnA he nca’t be too daed. Have ’em uot! Sesip! lluP meth out! spiSe!”
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 bmo tuothhg ahtt siht swa a ogod edia, censi it saw het ynol diea neyano hda geuesdsgt. eThy lal dsertta tenagperi eth nam’s ogsntgseui to “hvae ’em otu dna pllu ’em tou.” hTye dshuep so cseol to het tow lehcsevi htat tyhe caem to a tspo. ceOn teh rcowd epnedo hte rodso of teh hccoa, eth noe reuornm mcae out by hlesmfi dna wsa nteak by the rwcod orf a etmnom. He was so iquck, hhugto, thta a mmoten raetl he had ntoetg away fmor tmhe dna was niungnr dwno a esdi ttesre etrfa isgnplpi out of ihs aoct, aht, onlg hat adnb, itweh kfncehardieh, and tehro sylmsbo of ouirmgnn.
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. heT docrw oetr shi lhetsco to sipece dna rethw htem anroud hpaipyl. The srekpohpese bneyra ylkiuqc oeldcs up hriet opshs, rfo in estho dasy bmos tposepd at nthiogn and oculd aecsu a lot of tuotcisdner. Tyhe dah rdaalye egno so raf as to onpe eht ahsere to atek hte focfin out nwhe eoms gsniue guegsdset datsien ahtt eyth ibrng it to tis daetionntsi lwehi hyte rceteleba teh detha. nSeci etreh eerwn’t nmay godo iseda egnib etsggedus, sith oto asw cecdtape lipphya by eht obm. tdmyailIeme, the chaco asw delifl wtih tehig ppeoel inieds and vetwle ouetsid, wlieh as yamn oepepl as cuold tif blemcdi oton the froo. mongA the sitrf to do so was rrJey uhcrCrne, woh vdrocee his pedksi ahde of hair in the far ecnrro of the rniomugn achco so ahtt no neo rfom snTlelo’s aBnk dluow ogrineezc ihm.