but three carriages. My children may want a dozen--I say but _three_;
put that down. A very plain coffin; pine, stained will do, and no
ornaments, hark ye. A cheap grave. I would be buried on one of my farms,
but then the coach-drivers would charge so much to carry me out! Now,
what will you ask for the job?"

"About thirty dollars, sir," said the almost horrified undertaker.

"Thirty dollars! why, do you want to rob me? Say fifteen dollars--give
me a receipt--_and I'll pay you the cash down!_"

Poor wretch! by the time he had uttered this, his soul had flown to its
resting-place in another world.

In the upper part of Boston, on what is called "the Neck," there lived,
some years ago, a wealthy old man, who resorted to sundry curious
methods to live without cost to himself. His house--one of the
handsomest mansions in the "South End," in its day--stood near the road
over which the gardeners, in times past, used to go to market, with
their loads of vegetables, two days of each week. Old Gripes would be up
before day, and on the lookout for these wagons.

"Halloo! what have you got there?" says the miser to the countryman.

"Well, daddy, a little of all sorts; potatoes, cabbages, turnips,
parsnips, and so on. Won't you look at 'em?"

At this, the old miser would begin to fumble over the vegetables, pocket
a potato, an onion, turnip, or--

"Ah, yes, they are good enough, but we poor creatures can't afford to
pay such prices as you ask; no, no--we must wait until they come down."
The old miser would sneak into the house with his stolen vegetables, and
the farmer would drive on. Then back would come the miser, and lay in
ambush for another load, and thus, in course of a few hours, he would
raise enough vegetables to give his household a dinner. Another "dodge"
of this artful old dodger, was to take all the coppers he got (and, of
course, a poor creature like him handled a great many), and then go
abroad among the stores and trade off six for a fourpence, and when he
had four fourpences, get a quarter of a dollar for them, and thus in
getting a dollar, he made four per cent., by several hours' disgusting
meanness and labor.

But one day the old miser ran foul of a snag. A market-man had watched
him for some time purloining his vegetables, and on the first of the
year, sent in a bill of several dollars, for turnips, potatoes,
parsnips, &c. The old miser, of course, refused to pay the bill, denying
ever having had "th