Miff to
say, about the wedding they are going to have. Mrs Miff is told, that
the new furniture and alterations in the house cost full five thousand
pound if they cost a penny; and Mrs Miff has heard, upon the best
authority, that the lady hasn't got a sixpence wherewithal to bless
herself. Mrs Miff remembers, like wise, as if it had happened yesterday,
the first wife's funeral, and then the christening, and then the other
funeral; and Mrs Miff says, by-the-bye she'll soap-and-water that 'ere
tablet presently, against the company arrive. Mr Sownds the Beadle, who
is sitting in the sun upon the church steps all this time (and seldom
does anything else, except, in cold weather, sitting by the fire),
approves of Mrs Miff's discourse, and asks if Mrs Miff has heard it
said, that the lady is uncommon handsome? The information Mrs Miff
has received, being of this nature, Mr Sownds the Beadle, who, though
orthodox and corpulent, is still an admirer of female beauty, observes,
with unction, yes, he hears she is a spanker--an expression that seems
somewhat forcible to Mrs Miff, or would, from any lips but those of Mr
Sownds the Beadle.

In Mr Dombey's house, at this same time, there is great stir and bustle,
more especially among the women: not one of whom has had a wink of sleep
since four o'clock, and all of whom were fully dressed before six.
Mr Towlinson is an object of greater consideration than usual to the
housemaid, and the cook says at breakfast time that one wedding makes
many, which the housemaid can't believe, and don't think true at all.
Mr Towlinson reserves his sentiments on this question; being rendered
something gloomy by the engagement of a foreigner with whiskers (Mr
Towlinson is whiskerless himself), who has been hired to accompany the
happy pair to Paris, and who is busy packing the new chariot. In respect
of this personage, Mr Towlinson admits, presently, that he never knew of
any good that ever come of foreigners; and being charged by the ladies
with prejudice, says, look at Bonaparte who was at the head of 'em, and
see what he was always up to! Which the housemaid says is very true.

The pastry-cook is hard at work in the funereal room in Brook Street,
and the very tall young men are busy looking on. One of the very tall
young men already smells of sherry, and his eyes have a tendency to
become fixed in his head, and to stare at objects without seeing them.
The very tall young man is conscious of this fa