The String of Pearls (1850), p. 226

"Ain't it a norrid smell," said the beadle.
Then the plain-looking man who had been at Sweeney Todd's advanced. He was no other than Sir Richard Blunt, and whispering to the churchwarden, he said—
"If what I expect be found here, we cannot have too few witnesses to it. Let the workmen be dismissed. "
"As you please, Sir Richard. Faugh! what an awful—fuff!—stench there is, I have no doubt they won't be sorry to get away. Here, my men, here's half-a-crown for you. Go and get something to drink and come back in an hour."
"Thank yer honour!" cried one of the men, "An' sure, by St. Patrick's
bones, we want something to drink, for the stench in the church sticks in my blessed throat like a marrow bone, so it does."
"Get out," said the beadle ; "I hates low people, and hirish. They thinks no more of beetles than nothink in the world."
The workmen retired, laughing; and when the church was clear of them, the churchwarden said to Sir Richard Blunt—
"Did you ever, Sir Richard, smell such a horrid charnel-house sort of stench as comes up from that opening in the floor of the old church?"
Sir Richard shook his head, and was about to say something, when the sound of a footstep upon the pavement of the church made him look round, and he saw a fat, pursy-looking individual approaching.
"Oh, it's Mr. Vickley, the overseer," said the beadle. "I hopes as yer is
well, Mr. Vickley. Here's a horrid smell."
"God bless me!" cried the overseer, as with his fat finger and thumb he held his snub nose. "What's this ? It's worse and worse?"
"Yes, sir," said the beadle; "talking of the smell, we have let the cat out
of the bag, I think."
"Good gracious! put her in again, then. It can't be a cat."
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Vickley, I only spoke anatomically. If you comes here, sir, you'll find that all the smell comes out of this here opening."
"What! An opening close to my pew! My family pew, where I every
Sunday enjoy my repose—I mean my hopes of everlasting glory? Upon my life, I think it's a piece of—of d—d impudence to open the floor of the church, close to my pew. If there was to be anything of the sort done, couldn't it have been done somewhere among the free sittings, I should like to know?"
"Mr. Vickley," said Sir Richard, "pray be satisfied that I have sufficient
authority for what I do here; and if I had thought it necessary to take up the flooring of your pew while you had been in it, I should have done it."
"And pray, sir," said Mr. Vickley, swelling himself out to as large a size as possible, and glancing at his watch chain, to see that all the seals hung upon the convexity of his paunch as usual—"who are you?"
"Oh, dear—oh, dear," said the beadle. "Conwulsions!conwulsions!
What a thing it is to see authorities a-going it at each other. Gentlemen—gentlemen. Conwulsions!—ain't there lots of poor people in the world? Don't you be a-going it at each other."
"I am a magistrate," said Sir Richard.
"And I am an over-seer. Ah!"
"You may be an overseer or an underseer, if you like. I am going to search the vaults of St. Dunstan's."
The churchwarden now took the overseer aside, and after a while succeeded in calming down his irascibility.
"Oh, well—well," said Mr. Vickley. "Authorities is authorities; and if so be as the horrid smell in the church can be got rid of, I'm as willing as possible. It has often prevented me sleeping—I mean listening to the sermon. Your servant, sir—I shall, of course, be very happy to assist you."
The beadle wiped his face with his large yellow handkerchief as he said—
"Now this here's delightful and affecting, to see authorities agreeing together. Lord, why should authorities snap each other's noses off, when there's lots o'