Bumble, the beadle, striving to undo the wicket of the garden-gate.

Bumble was a fat man, and a choleric; so, instead of responding to this open-hearted salutation in a kindred spirit, he gave the little wicket a tremendous shake, and then bestowed upon it a kick which could have emanated from no leg but a beadle's.

Bumble, grasping his cane, 'to keep the parish officers a waiting at your garden-gate, when they come here upon porochial business with the porochial orphans?

Bumble, that I was only a telling one or two of the dear children as is so fond of you, that it was you a coming,' replied Mrs.

Bumble had a great idea of his oratorical powers and his importance.

Bumble wiped from his forehead the perspiration which his walk had engendered, glanced complacently at the cocked hat, and smiled.

Bumble, waving his right hand in a dignified, but placid manner.

Mann?' inquired Bumble, following with this eyes the interesting process of mixing.

Notwithstanding the most superlative, and, I may say, supernat'ral exertions on the part of this parish,' said Bumble, 'we have never been able to discover who is his father, or what was his mother's settlement, name, or con--dition.'

Bumble from the wretched home where one kind word or look had never lighted the gloom of his infant years.

Bumble walked on with long strides; little Oliver, firmly grasping his gold-laced cuff, trotted beside him, inquiring at the end of every quarter of a mile whether they were 'nearly there.' To these interrogations Mr.

Bumble, who had handed him over to the care of an old woman, returned; and, telling him it was a board night, informed him that the board had said he was to appear before it forthwith.