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Updated: May 16, 2025
And a cremated man may have as big a tombstone as though he had been allowed to become rotten in the orthodox fashion." "What Puddlebrane means is," said another, "that he'd like to have the same chance of living as his ancestors." "If he will look back to his family records he will find that they very generally died before sixty-eight.
I began to fear that presently there would be something to be said, some cause for a quarrel; and as is customary on such occasions, I endeavoured to become specially gracious and communicative. I talked about the ship that had started on its homeward journey, and praised Lord Marylebone, and laughed at Mr Puddlebrane; but it was to no effect.
It has not been suggested that any one shall cremate you while alive." "Because my father and mother were buried. And all the Puddlebranes were always buried. There are they, all to be seen in Puddlebrane Church, and I should like to appear among them." "I suppose it's only their names that appear, and not their bodies, Mr Puddlebrane.
But we have no idea of invading your Parliament and forcing our laws upon you." "Take a glass of wine, Mr President," said Lord Marylebone, "and leave Puddlebrane to his ancestors. He's a very good Slip, though he didn't catch Jack when he got a chance. Allow me to recommend you a bit of ice-pudding. The mangoes came from Jamaica, and are as fresh as the day they were picked."
Crasweller had sat there perfectly silent while Mr Puddlebrane had spoken of his own possible cremation. And yet Crasweller was a declared Fixed-Periodist. On the Friday, at two o'clock, the vessel sailed amidst all the plaudits which could be given by mingled kettle-drums and trumpets, and by a salvo of artillery.
I went back to the other room with Lord Marylebone; and as I took my place at the table, I heard that the assembled cricketers were all discussing the Fixed Period. "I'd be shot," said Mr Puddlebrane, "if they should deposit me, and bleed me to death, and cremate me like a big pig." Then he perceived that I had entered the saloon, and there came a sudden silence across the table.
"What sort of wind will be blowing next Friday at two o'clock?" asked Sir Lords Longstop. It was evident that Sir Lords had only endeavoured to change the conversation because of my presence; and it did not suit me to allow them to think that I was afraid to talk of the Fixed Period. "Why should you object to be cremated, Mr Puddlebrane," said I, "whether like a big pig or otherwise?
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