I- >7 ccXVII~. W~AT CAN YOU WANT WITH DOMBEY & SON~S?~ ~CTO KNOW' THE WAY THERE, IF YOU PLEASE.~ —P. 4~' C'WHIY, WHAT CAN YOU WANT WITH DOMBEY & SON'S?" " TO KNOW THE WAY THERE, IF YOU PLEASE."-P. 4~ DOMBEY & SON. BY CHARLES DICKENS. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. BARNARD. NEW YORK: THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 39 AND 41 CHAMBERS STREET. PRESS OF EXCHANGE PRINTING Co., 33 WATER STREET, NEW YORK. PREFACE. I~~ff MAKE so bold as to believe that the faculty (or the habit) of correctly observing [! the characters of men is a rare one. I have not even found, within my experience, g. that the faculty (or the habit) of correctly observing so much as the faces of men' is a general one by any means. The two commonest mistakes in judgment that I suppose to arise from the former default are, the confounding of shyness with arrogance-a very common mistake indeed-and the not understanding that an obstinate nature exists in a perpetual struggle with itself. Mr. Dombey undergoes no violent change, either in this book, or in real life. A sense of his injustice is within him all along. The more he represses it, the more unjust he necessari:jy is. Internal shame and external circumstances may bring the contest to a close in a week, or a day; but it has been a contest for years, and is only fought out after a long balance of victory. I began this book by the -Lake of Geneva; and went on with it for some months in France, before pursuing it in England. -The association between the writing and the place of writing is so curiously strong in my mind, that at this day, although I know, in my fancy, every stair in the little Midshipman's house, and could swear to every pew in the church in which Florence was married, or to every young gentleman's bedstead in Doctor Blimber's establishment, I yet confusedly imagine Captain Cuttle as secluding himself from, Mrs. MacStinger among the mountains of Switzerland. Similarly, when I am reminded by any chance ofi'what it was that. the wares were always saying, my remembrance wanders *for a whole winter night about the streets of Paris-as I restlessly did, with a heavy heart, on the night when I had written the chapter in which my little friend and I parted company. CONTENTS. HfAP.'* PAGE C HAP. PAGe I.-Dombey and Son... XXVII.-Deeper Shadows... s0 I1.-In which timely Provision is made for XXVIII.-Alterations..... 203 an Emergency that will sometimes XXIX.-The Opening of the Eyes of Mrs. Chick 209 arise in the best-regulated Families. 6 I ntr fr r w ich Mr. D e as a Ilan aXXX.-The Interval before the Marriage. 215 IL.-I-n which Mlr. Dombey, as a MIan and a Father, is seen at the Head of the XXXI.-The Wedding...223 Home Department..... XXXU.-The Wooden Mlidshipman goes to IV.-In which some more First Appearances Pieces. 232 are made on the Stage of these Ad- XXXJII.-Contrasts..242 ventures 1..... 1 XXXIV. —Another MXother and Daughter. 249 V.-Paul's Progress and Christening. 23 XXXV.-The Happy Pair 255 VI.-Paul's Second Deprivation... 33 XVI.-Housewarming.... 26 VII.-A Bird's-eye Glimpse of Miiss Tox's XXXVI.-Mlre Warnings than One. 267 Dwelling-place; also of the State of.. Miss Tox's Affections. 43 XXXVIII.-M-iss Tox improves an Old AcquaintVIII.-Paul's further Progress, Growth, and ance.. 27 Character4...... 6 XXXIX.-Further Adventures of Captan Edward Cuttle, Mariner..278 IX.-In which the Wooden idshipman-Domestic Relations 2 gets into Trouble... 56 XL.-Domestic Relations. 287 XLI.-Niw Voices in the Waves. 295 X.-Containing the Sequel of the Midship- man's Disaster...'. 64 XLII.-Confidential and Accidental.. 301 XI.-Paul's Introduction to a New Scene 70 LIII.-The Watches of the Night.. 309 XI. —Paul's Education....;8 X'_IV.-A Separation....313 XIII.-Shipping Intelligence and Office Busi- XLV.-The Trusty Agent,.. 318 ness.. -. 87 XLVI.-Recognizant and Reflective 323 XIV. —aul grows more and more Old-fashioned, XLVIl.-The Thunderbolt... 329 and goes Home for the Holidays 94 3 and goes Home fr te Holis - XLVIII.-The Flight of Florence.. 341 XV.-Amazing Artfulness of Captain Cuttle, and a New Pursuit for Walter Gay'. o XLIX.-The Midshipman makes a Discovery. 347 XVI.-What the Waves were always saying. I1S L.-MIr. Toots's Complaint.. 356 XVII.-Captain Cuttle does a little Business LL. —r. Dombey and the WoVrd.. 365 for the Young People... rLII.-Secret Intelligence... 369 XVIII.-Father and Daughter... 122 LIII. —More Intelligence. 378 XIX.-Walter goes away... 133 LIV.-The Fugitives...386 XX.-Mr. Dombey goes upon a Journey. 140 LV.-Rob the Grinder loses his Place.39 XXI —New Faces. 47 LVI.-Several People delighted, and the XXII.-A Trifle of Management by Mr. Carker Game Chicken disgusted. 397 the Manager.. 153 LVIL-Another Wedding... 410 XXIII.-Florence Solitary, and the Midshipman LVIII.-After a Lapse....44 MIysterious.. -...,I63 LIX.-Retribution.....422 XXIV.-The Study of a Loving Heart. 75 LX.-Chiefly Matrimonial.. 433 XXV.-Strange News of Uncle Sol.. 181 LXI.-Relenting.....439 XXVL —Shadows of the Past and Future.. 186 LXII.-Final.. 445 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. " WHY, WHAT CAN YOU WANT WITH DOMBEY AND SON'S?" " TO KNOW THE WAY THERE, IF YOU PLEASE"....... Frontispiece' PAUL ALSO ASKED HIM, AS A PRACTICAL MAN, WHAT HE THOUGHT ABOUT KING ALFRED'S IDEA OF MEASURING TIME BY THE BURNING OF CANDLES;] TO WHICH THE WORKMIAN REPLIED, THAT HE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE THE RUIN OF THE CLOCK TRADE IF IT WAS TO COME UP AGAIN ".. 101 GO AND MEET HER"......... 196 "GO," SAID THE GOOD-HUMOURED MANAGER, GATHERING UP HIS.SKIRTS, AND STANDING ASTRIDE ON THEHEARTA-RUG, "LIKE A SENSIBLE FELLOW, AND LET US HAVE NO TURNING OUT, OR ANY SUCH VIOLENT MEASURES"'...... 239 ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT. PAGE PAGE Vignette. "You respect nobody, Carker, I think," said Mr. "A thorough contrast in all respects to Mr. Dom- Dom e,e e hey" No?" inquired Caiker, with another wide and...... *. * * most feline show of his teeth... 89 "I may be very fond of pennywinkles, Mrs. Richards, hut it don't fo llow that I'm to h "During thisconversation, Walter had looked fiom.ichards, but it don't follow that I'm to have'm for tea"... 16 onebrother to the other with pain and amazement"... 92 "So, here's to Dombey-and- Son-and'DaughSother! s to Dombey-andSo.n-and 24 The Breaking-up Party at Doctor Blimber's.. 04'ter!".,24 "Mr. Dombey dismounting first to help the ladies "Before they had gone very far, they encountered out". 9 a woman selling flowers; when the captain, stopping short, as if struck by ahappy idea, " Florence obeyed as fast as her trembling hands stopping sho, as of the largest bundle in her would allow; keeping', all the while, a fright- basket". ph.r12 ened eye on Mrs. Bron'" *... ened ey e oadSn Mrs. Br " " All this time, the bereaved father has not been Dombey and Soen 48 s even by his attendant; for he sits in a Listeningto the Sea.....57 corer of his own dark room ".' 124 "And, wsen he got there, sat down in a chair, and "It was repeated, often-very often, in the shadowy fell into a silent fit of laughter, with which he solitude; and broken murmurs of the strain was sometimes seized, and which was always still trembled on the keys, when the sweet voice particularly awful".. 68 was hushed in tears".... 128 "When the Doctor smiled auspiciously at his "Took Uncle Sol's snuff-colqured lappels, one-:in author, or knit his brows, or shook his head each hand; kissed him on the cheek," &c.. 136 and made wry faces at him, as much as to say, "Take advice from plain old Joe, and never educate ~ Don't tell me, sir; I know Letter,' it was that sort of people, sir," returned the major. terrific". 77 Damme, sir, it never does! It always fails!"* 144 "Your father's reguarlyrith, ain't he " inquired "Withers the Wan, at this period, handing round Mr. Toots.' \ the tea, Mr. Dombey again addressed himself "Yes, sir," sa.d Paul. "He's Dombey and Son" 8I to Edith".......152 ~~x ~zZ~ILL USTRATIONS. PAGE PACE "Let you alone!" said Mr. Carker. "What! I ",Mr. Toots replies by launching wildly out into have got you, have I? " There was no doubt Miss' Dombey's praises, and by.insinuations of that, and tightly too. "You dog," said'that sometimes he thinkshe should like to blow Mr. Carker, through his set jaws, "I'll strangle his brains out"..; 300 you 1!" ". *. *. *. * 157 " Dombey," says Cousin Feenix, "upon my soul, I " What do you want with Captain Cuttle, I should am very much shocked to see you on such a wish to know?" said Mrs. MacStinger. melancholy occasion ".. 304 "Should you? Then I'm sorry that you won't be "Do you call it managing this establishment, satisfied," returned a Mbiss Nipper 6.D madam," said Mr. Dombey to leave a person,"The flowers were scattered pn the ground like like this at liberty to come and talk to me ". 316 dust, the empty hancds were Pspread upon the " Miss Dombey," returned Mr. Toots,'" if you'll only face; and orphaned Florence, shrinking down' you'll-you' give me an appetite upon the ground, wept long and bitterly". I8 name one you'll-you'll give me an appetite' To which," said Mr. Toots, with some senti" The captain's voice was so tremendous, and he ment, "I have long been a stranger".. 320 came out of his corner with such way on him,, came, ^ out of~ his corner w ^ith such way o^^n him, " "Flung it down, and trod upon the glittering heap" 336 that Rob, retreated before him into another corer: holding out the keys and packet, to " Thrown down in a costl -mass,.upon. the ground prevent himself from being run down "... I84 was every ornament she had had since she had "Th u. I he no d e to rd it," ws been his wife; every dress she had worn; and her answer.1. 192 everything she had possessed"... 340. "A.'' - *..... "' Florence made a motion with her hand towards A child! " said Edith, looking at her. "When him reeled, and fell upon the floor.. 344 -a aI a childi? What chcildhood did you ever <'"When he had filled his pipe in an absolute re' ~leave to me?".''."..'204 yerie of satisfaction, Florence lighted it for him 352 Lucretia Tox's Reverie... 22 " Blessed twilight stealing on, and shading-her so "One of the very tall young men on hire, whose soothingly and gravely as she falls asleep, like organ of veneration was imperfectly developed, a hushed child, upon the bosom she has clu;.g thrusting his tongue into his cheek, for theto ".. *.'.'.. 365 entertainment of the other very tall young man " It appears that he met everybody concerned in the on hire, as the couple turned into the dining- late transaction, everywhere, and said to them, room ".' -.- - 220 Sir,' or' Madam,' as the case was,' why do. you look so pale?' at which each shuddered "' She started, stopped, and looked in"...225 om head to foot, and said, Oh, Perc i and from head to foot, and said, Oh, Perchs!' and " In a firm, free hand the bride subscribes her name ran away"...... 372 in the register".. 228 D. I.J. 0. 1."' 377 "And reading softly to himself, in the little back-.. Still upon her knees, and with her eyes upon the parlour,.and stopping now and then to wipe hise. 385 eyes, the captain, in a true and simple spirit, He saw the face change from its vindictive passion committed Walter's body to the deep"..241 to a faint sickness and terror"... 400 "A certain skilful action of his fingers as' he "After this, he smoked four pipes successively in hummed some bars, and beat time on the seat parlour by himself, and was discovered the little parlour by himself, and was discovered beside him, seemed to denote the musician 245 chuckling at the expiration of as many hours " 404 "She's come back harder than she went!" cried "Wy, it's mean... That; where it is. It's the mother, lqoldng up in her face, and still mean!... 412 holding-to. her knees "' 252 holding- y tow her knees"..... 252 "~~" [ Joe had been deceived, sir, taken in, hoodwinked, "Do you know that there is some one here?" she blindfolded, but was broad awake again, and returned, now looking at him steadily..268 staring".....,. 416 "Withers, meeting him on the stairs, stood amazed Yes, Mrs. Pipchin, it is," replies cook, advancing. at the beauty of his teeth, and at his brilliant And what then, pray?".... 424 smile" -,........272 "Oh, my God, forgive me, for I need it very much!" 432 "Ran sniggering off to get change, and tossed it "No, no!" cried Florence, shriildng back as she away with a pieman".. 280 rose up, and putting out her hands to keep her off.. "Mamma!" 444 "And you're a-going to desert your colours, are C le gives them"am!yPeg. 444'you, my lad?" said the captain, after a long aptain Cutt examination of his face. 284 Tail-piece.. 449 f M DOMBEY AND SON. CHAPTER I. ous in appearance to >be prepossessing. Son was very bald, and very red, an4'though (of DOMBEY AND SON. course) an undeniably fine infant, somewhat crushed and spotted in his general effect as yet.,OMBEY sat in the corner of the On the brow of Dombey, Time and his brother.( darkened' room in the great arm- Care had set some, marks, as on a tree that was ] chair by the bedside, and Son lay to come down in good time-remorseless twins. tucked up warm in~a little basket they are for striding through their human forests,." bedstead, carefully disposed on a notching as they go-while the. countenance of low settee immediately in front of the Son was browsed and recrossed with a thousand. fire, and close to it, as if his constitution little creases, which'the Same deceitful Time'were analogous to that of a muffin, and' would take delight in smoothing out and wearit was essential to toast him brown while he was'ing away with the flat part of his scythe, as'a prevery new. paration of the surface for his deeper operations. Dombey was about eight-and-forty. years of Dombey, exulting in the long-lookedl-for event,. age.'Son'about' ight-and-forty minutes. Dom- jingled and jingled the heavy gold watch-chain bey was rather, bald, rather red, and though a that depended from below his trim blue coat, handsome, well-made man, too stem and pomp- whereof the buttons sparkled phosphorescently DOM1NY AND. SON I, 2' .2.DOMBEY A ND.SOXN in- the'feeble rays of the distant fire.' Son, with able to any woman of common sense.'That the his'little fists, curled up and clenched, seemed, hope-of giving birth to a new partner In such a in his feeble way, to be squaring at existence for house- could; not fail to awlaken a glorious and having come upon him so unexpectedly. stirring ambition in the'breast of~theleabt am-. "The House will once again, Mrs. Dombey" bitious of her sex.,That. Mrs. Iombey had said Mr. Dombey, " be'not only in name, but entered: on that social contract of matrimony: in fact, Dombey and Son' Dom-bey and Son I" almost necessarily part of a genteel, and'wealthy' The words had such a -softening influence, station, even without reference to the perpetuathat he appended a term of endearment to Mrs. tion of family Arms: with her eyes fully open to Dombey's name (though not without some hesi- these advantages. That Mrs. Dombey had had tation, as being a man but little used to that daily practical. knowledge. of his position in form of address): and said, "Mrs. Dombey, my society. That Mrs. Dombey had always sat at -my dear.", the head of his table, and done the honours of A transient flush of faint surprise overspread his house in a remarkablyladylike and becoming. the sick lady's face as she raised her eyes to- manner.,. That Mrs. Dombey must have been wards him. happy.'That she couldn't help it. - "Hewill be christened Paul, my-Mrs. Dom-'. Or, at all events, with one drawback. Yes. bey-of course." That he would have: allowed." With only one; She feebly echoed, "Of course," or rather but that one certainly involving much.. They expressed it by the motion of her lips, and closed had been"married ten years; and, until this preher eyes again. -sent day"on which Mr. Dombey sat jingling and " His father's name, Mrs. Dombey, and his. jingling his heavy gold watch-chain in: the great grandfather's! I wish his grandfather were alive. arm-chair by the side of the bed, had had no this day!" And again he said "Dom-bey and issue. Son,"'in exactly the same tone as before., To speak of; none worth mentioning. Those three words conveyed the one idea of There had been a girl some six years before, Mr. Dombey's life. The earth was made for- and the-child, who had stolen into the chamber Dombey and Son to trade in, and the sun and unobserved, was now crouching. timidly in a moon were. made to give them light. Rivers corner whence'she could see her mother's face. and seas were formed to float their ships; rain- But what was a girl to Dombey and'Son? In bows gave them promise of fair weather; winds the capital of the- House's name and dignity, blew for or against their enterprises; stars and such a child was merely a.piece of base coin planets circled in their orbits, to preserve invio- that couldn't be invested —a bad boy-nothing late a system of which they were the centre. more. Common.abbreviations took new neanings in Mr. Dombey's cup of satisfaction wa' so full his eyes, and had sole reference to them. A.D. ~at this moment, however, that he. flt he could had. no concern with anno Domini, but stood afford a drop. or two of its contents, even to for anno Dombei-and Son; sprinkle on the dust in the by-path of his little He had risen, as his father had before him, in daughter. the course of life and death, from Son to Dom- So he said, " Florence, you may go and look bey, and. for nearly twenty years had been the at your pretty brother, if you like, I dare say. sole representative of the firm. Of those years Don't touch him!-" he had been married ten-married, as -some The child glanced keenly at'thleblue'coat and said, to a lady with no heart to give him; whose stiff white cravat; which, with a pair of creaking happiness was in the past, and who was content boots and a very loud-ticking watch'hembodied.to bind her broken spirit to the dutiful' and. her idea of a father; but her'eyes returned to meek endurancqof the present.'Such idle talk her mother's face immediately, and she neither was little:likely to reichthe ears of Mr. Dom- moved nor answered.'bey, whom' it nearly'concerned; and probably' Next moment, *te lady had opened her eyes no-one in the world would have received.it with and seen the child; and the child had run tosuch..utter incredulity as he, if it had reached wards her; and, standing on tiptoe, the better him."n Dombey and Son had often dealt in hides, to hide her face in her embrace, had clung ablout but never in hearts.. They left that fancy ware her with a desperate'.affection very. much at to boys and, girls, and boarding-schools and variance with her years. books.- Mr. Dombey would-have reasoned:* ".Oh,..Lord:.bless me..!" said Mr. Domlbey,. That a matrimonial'alliance with. himseif ust,' rising testily. - "A. very ill-advised and.feverish in the nature of things, be gratifying and honour- proceeding -this, I am'sure. I had better,ask MRS. DOMBEY'S MEDICAL ATTENDANTS. 3 Doctor Peps if he'll have the goodness to step " See," interposed tlie family practitioner, with up-stairs again, perhaps. I'll go down. I'll go another inclination of the head. down. I needn't beg you," he added, pausing "Quite so," said- Doctor Parker Peps, "which for a moment at the settee before the fire, "to we would rather not-see. It would appear that take particular care of this young gentleman, the system of Lady Cankaby-excuse me: I Mrs. — " should say of Mrs. Dombey: I confuse the "Blockitt, sir?" suggested the nurse, a sim- names of cases " pering piece of faded gentility, who did not pre- "So.very numerous,}' murmured the family sume to state her name as a fact, but merely practitioner-" can't be expected I'm sureoffered it as a mild suggestion. quite wonderful if otherwise-Doctor Parker "Of this young gentleman, Mrs. Blockitt.", Peps's West-end practice " "No, sir, indeed. I remember when Miss "Thank you," said the Doctor,.'quite so. It Florence was born' —" would appear, I was. observing, that the system "Ay, ay, ay," said Mr. Dombey,' bending of our patient has sustained a shock from which over the basket bedstead, and slightly bending it can only hope to rally by a great and his brows at the same time. " Miss Florence strong —" was all very well, but this is another matter. "And vigorous," murmured the family pracThis young gentleman has to accomplish a titioner. destiny. A destiny, little fellow!" As he "Quite so,".,assented the. Doctor-"and thus apostrophized the infant, he raised one of vigorous effort.,'Mr. Pilkins here, who, from his hands to his lips, and kissed it; then, seem- his position.of medical.adviser in this familying to fear that the action involved some cor- no one better.qualifiedtto fill that position, I am promise of his dignity, went, awkwardly enough, sure — -" away. "Oh!" murmured the family practitioner. Doctor Parker Peps, one of the court-physi- "'Praise from Sir Hubert Stanley,"' cians, and a man of immense reputation for "You are good. enough," returned. Doctor assisting at the increase of great families, was Parker Peps, "to.ysay so. Mr.'Pilkins, who, walking up and down the drawing-room with his from his position~ is best acquainted with the hands behind'him, to the-unspeakable admira- patient's constitution in its normal state (an action of the family surgeon, who had regularly quaintance very valuable to us in. forming our puffed the case for the last six weeks, among all opinions on these occasions), is of opinion with his patients, friends, and acquaintances, as one me, that Nature must be called upon to make a to which he was in hourly expectation day and vigorous effort in this instance; and that if our night of being summoned, in conjunction with interesting friend the Countess of Dombey-I Doctor Parker Peps. beg your pardon! Mrs. Dombey-should not "'Well,: si'r"' said Doctor Parker Peps in a be-" round, deep, sonorous voice, muffled for the "Able," said tle family practitioner. occasion, like the knocker; "do you find that "To make that effort successfully," said your dear lady is at all roused by ydur visit?" Doctor Parker Peps,' then a crisis might arise "Stimulated as it were," said.the family prac- which we should both sincerely deplore.". titioner, faintly: bowing at the same. time to With that, they stood for a few seconds lookthe Doctor, as much' as to say, "Excuse my ing at the ground. Tihen,- on,the motionputting in a word, but this is a valuable con- made'in dumb-show-of'Doctor Parker Peps, nection'" - they went up-stairs; the family practitioner Mr. Dombay was quite discomfited by the.ppening the room-door for that distinguished question..He'had. thought so little- of -the professional;. and following him out' with most patient, that he was'not in a. condition to' obsequious politeness. answer it. He said that it-would be a satisfac- To record of Mr. Dombey- that he was not in tion to him if Doctor'Parker Peps would walk his way affected by this intelligence would be to up-stairs again.,do: him an injustice.. He was not a man of "Good!. We. must not disguise.from you, whom it could'properly be said that he was ever sir," said Doctor Parker Peps, "that there.'is a startled, or- shocked'but he certainly had a want' of power in her. Grace.the Duchess-I sense within him,: that if his wife should sicken beg your pardon; I confound:names; 1 should and decay; he'would be very sorry, and that he say, iriyour amiable lady.' That-there is a cer- would find' a. something gone fron among his tain degree of languor, and a general absence of'plate and furniture, and other household posseselasticity, which we would rather-not — " sions which was well worth the having, and 4 DOMBEY AND SON. could not be lost without sincere'iegret. Though she might have been described as the very pink it would be a cool, business-like, gentlemanly, of general propitiation and politeness. From a self-possessed regret, no doubt. long habit of listening admirably to everything His meditations on the subject were soon that was said in her presence, and looking.at interrupted, first by the, rustling of garments on the speakers as if she were mentally engaged in the staircase, and then by the sudden whisking taking off impressions of their images upon her into the room of a lady rather past the middle soul, never to part with the same but with life, age than otherwise, but dressed in a very juvenile her head had quite settled on one side. Her manner, particularly as to the tightness of her hands had contracted a spasmodic habit of bodice, who, running up to him with a kind of raising' themselves of their own accord as in screw in her face and carriage, expressive of iivoluntary admirition. Her eyes were liable suppressed emotion, flung her.arms round his to a similar affection. She had the softest voice neck, and said in a choking voice, that ever was heard; and her nose, stupendously "My dear Paul!'.He's quite a Dombey!" aquiline,'had a little knob in the very centre "'Well, well!" returned her brother-for or keystone of the bridge, whence it tended Mr. Dombey was her brother-" I think he downwards towards her face, as in an inis'like the family. Don't agitate yourself, vincible determination never to turn up at Louisa." anything. /" It's very foolish of me," said Louisa, sitting Miss Tox's dress, though perfectly genteel down, and taking out her pocket-handkerchief, and'good, had a certain character of angularity "but he's-he's such a perfect Dombey! I and scantiness; She was accustomed to wear never saw anything like it in. my life! " odd weedy little flowers in her'bonnets and "But what is this about Fanny herself?" caps. Strange grasses were sometimes persaid Mr. Dombey. "How is Fanny?" t ceived in her hair; and it was observed by the "My dear Paul," returned Louisa,." it's curious, of all her collars, frills, tuckers, wristnothing whatever. Take imy word, it's nothing bands, and'other gossamer articles-indeed, of whatever. There is exhaustion, certainly, but everything she wore.which had two ends to it nothing like what I underwent.myself, either intended to unite-that the two ends were never with George or Frederick. An effort is neces- on good terms, and wouldn't quite meet without sary. That's all.'If dear Fanny were a Dom- a struggle. She had furry articles for winter wear, bey!-But I dare say she'll.make it; I have no as tippets, boas, and muffs, which stood. up on doubt she'll'make it. Knowing;it to be re- end in'a rampant manner, and were not at all quired of her as a duty,' of course she'll make it. sleek. She was much given. to the carrying My dear Paul, it's'-v'ery weak and silly of me, I about, of small bags with snaps'to them, that know, to be so trembly and shaky from head to went off like little pistols when they were shut foot; but.I am so very queer that!I must ask up,; and, when full dressed,. she wore round her you for a glass of wine and a morsel of that neck the barrenest of lockets, representing a cake. I thought I should have fallen out of the fishy old eye, with no approach to speculation staircase window as I came down from seeing in it. These and other appearances of a similar dear Fanny, and that tiddy ickle sing." These nature had served to propagate the opinion, last words originated in a sudden vivid reminis- that Miss Tox was a lady of what is called a cence of the baby. limited independence, which she turned to the They were succeeded by augentle.tap at the best account. Possibly her mincing gait endoor. couraged the belief, and siuggested that' her "Mrs. Chick," said a very bland female voice clipping a step of ordinary compass" to two or outside, \,how are you now, my dear friend?" three, originated in her habit of making the " My dear Paul," said Louisa in a'low voice most of everything. as'she rose from her seat, "it's MisS Tox. - The "I am sure,".said Miss Tox, with a prokindest creature! It never could have got here digious curtsy, "that to have the honour of withbut her! Miss Tox, my brother, Mr. Dom- being presented' to Mr. Dombey is a distinction bey. Paul, my dear, my very particular. friend which I have long sought, but very little exMiss Tox." pected at the present moment. My dear Mrs. The lady thus specially presented was a long, Chick-may I say Louisa? " lean figure, wearing such a faded air that she Mrs. Chick took Miss Tox's hand in hers, seemed not to have been made in what linen- rested the foot of her wine-glass upon it, redrapers call "fast colours" originally, and to pressed a tear, and said,in a low voice, "Bless have, by little and little, washed out. But for this, you 1" ONLY AN EFFORT VANTED. 5 "My dear Louisa, then," said Miss Tox, Miss Tox's hands and eyes expressed how "my sweet friend, howatre you now?" much. "Better," Mrs. Chick returned. "Take some "And as to his property, my dear4"' wine. You have been almost as anxious as I "Ah!" said Miss Tox with deep feeling. have been, and must want it, I am sure." "Im-mense!" Mr. Dombey of course officiated. " But his deportment,.my dear Louisa!" said "AMiss Tox, Paul," pursued,Mrs. Chick, still Miss Tox. "His presence! His dignity! No retaining her hand, "knowing how much I have portrait that I have ever seen of any one has been interested in the. anticipation of the event been half so replete with those qualities. Someof to-day, has been working at a little gift for thing so stately, you know: so uncompromising: Fanny, which I promised to present. It is only so very wide across the chest: so upright. A *a pincushion for the toilet table, Paul; but I do pecuniary Duke of York, my love, and nothing say, and will say, and must say, that Miss Tox short of it!" said -Miss Tox. "That's what I has very prettily adapted the sentiment to the should designate him." occasion. I call' Welcome, little Dombey,' "Why, my dear Paul!" exclaimed his sister poetry, myself!" as he returned, "you look quite pale! There's "Is that the device?" inquired her brother. nothing the matter?" "That is the device," returned Louisa. " I am sorry to say, Louisa, that they tell me "But do me the justice to remember, my dear that Fanny-" Louisa," said Miss Tox in a tone of low and "Now, my dear Paul," returned his sister, earnest entreaty, " that nothing but the-I have rising, "don't believe it. If you have any resome difficulty in expressing myself-the du- liance on my experience, Paul, you may rest biousness of the result would have induced me assured that there is nothing wanting but an to take so great a liberty.'Welcome, Master effort on Fanny's part. And that effort," she Dombey,' would have been much more con- continued, taking off her bonnet, and adjusting genial to my feelings, as I am sure you know. her cap and gloves, in a business-like manner, But the uncertainty attendant on angelic stran- "she must be encouraged, and really, if necesgers will, I hope, excuse what must otherwise sary, urged to make. Now, my dear Paul, come appear an unwarrantable familiarity." Miss Tox up-stairs with me." made a graceful bend, as she spoke, in favour of Mr. Dombey, who, besides being generally inMr. Dombey, which that gentleman graciously fluenced by his sister for the reason already acknowledged. Even the sort of recognition mentioned, had really faith in her as\an experiof Dombey and Son, conveyed in the foregoing enced and bustling matron, acquiesced: and conversation, was so palatable to him, that his followed her, at once; to the\sick ciamber. sister, Mrs. Chick-thdugh he- affected to con- The lady lay upon her bed as he had left her, sider her a weak, good-natured person-had clasping her little daughter to her breast. The perhaps more influence over him than anybody child clung close about her, with the same inelse. tensity as before, and never raised her head, or "Well!" said Mrs. Chick with a-sweet smile, moved her soft cheek from her mother's face, or "after this, I forgive Fanny everything!" looked on those who- stood around, or spoke, It was aideclaration in a Christian spirit, and or moved, or shed a tear. Mrs. Chick felt that it did her good. Not that "Restless without the little girl," the Doctor she had anything particular to forgive in her whispered Mr. Dombey. "We found it best to sister-in-law, nor, indeed, anything at all, except have her in again." her having married her brother-in itself a There was such a solemn stillness round the species of audacity-and her having, in the bed; and the two medical attendants seemed course- of events, given birth to a girl instead of to look on the impassive form with so ruch a boy: which, as Mrs. Chick had frequently ob- compassion and so little hope,. that Mrs. served, was not quite what she had expected of Chick was for the moment diverted from her.her, and was not a pleasant return for all the purpose. But presently summoning courage, attention and distinction she had, met with. and what she called presence of mind, she Mr. Dombey being hastily summoned out of sat down by the bedside, and said in the low, the room at this moment, the two ladies were precise tone of one who endeavours to awaken left alone together. Miss Tox immediately be- a sleeper: came spasmodic. "Fanny! Fanny!" "I knew you would admire my brother. I There was no sound in answer but the loud told you so beforehand, my dear," said Louisa. ticking of Mr. Dombei's watch and Doctor 6 DOMBE Y AAD SON. Parker Peps's watch, which seemed in the silence Thus, clinging'fast to that slight spar within to be running a race. her arms, the mother drifted out upon the dark "Fanny, my dear," said Mrs. Chick with and unknown sea that rolls round all the world. assumed lightness, "here's Mr. Dombey come to see you. Won't you speak to him? They want to lay your little boy-the baby, Fanny, you know; you have hardly seen him yet, I think-in bed; but tiley can't till you rouse CHAPTER II. yourself a little. Don't you think it's time you w TIMELY POVISO I MAD FOR A roused yourself a little? Eh? " -EMERGENCY THAT WILL SOMETIMES ARISE IN She bent her ear to the bed, and listened: at THE BEST-REGULATED FAMILIES. the same time looking round at the-bystanders, and holding up her finger. S SHALL never cease to congratulate "Eh?" she repeated. "-What was it you C_ myself," said Mrs. Chick, "on havsaid, Fanny? I didn't hear you." ing said, when I little thought what No word or sound in answer. Mr. Dombey's J was in store for us,-really as if I watch and Doctor Parker Peps's watch seemed b was. inspired by something,-that I to be racing faster.. forgave poor dear Fanny everything. "Now really, Fanny my dear," said the sister-.| v Whatever happens, that must alwavs be in-law, altering her position, and speaking less a comfort to me!" confidently, and more earnestly, in spite-of her- Mrs. Chick made this impressive observation self, "I shall have to be quite cross with you, in the drawing-room, after having descended if you' don't rouse yourself. It's necessary for thither from the inspection of the mantua-makers you to make an effort, and perhaps a very great up-stairs, who were busy on the family mourning. and painful effort, which you are not disposed She delivered it for the behoof of Mr. Chick, to make; but this is a world of effort you know, who was a stout, bald gentleman, with a very Fanny, and we must never yield, when so much large face, and his hands continually in his depends upon us. Come! Try! I must really pockets, and who had a tendency in his nature scold you if you don't!" to whistle and hum tunes, which, sensible of the The race in the ensuing pause was fierce and indecorum of such sounds in a house of grief, he furious. The watches seemed to jostle, and to was at some pains to repress at present. trip each other-up. "Don't you over-exert yourself, Loo," said "Fanny!, ".said Louisa, glancing round, with Mr. Chick, "or you'll be laid up with spasms, I a gathering. alarm. "Only look at me. Only see. Right tol loor-rul! Bless my soul, I foropen your eyes to show me that you hear and got! We're here one day and gone the next!" understand me; -will you?' Good Heaven, Mrs. Chick contented herself with a glance of gentlemen, what is to be done?" reproof, and then proceeded with the thread of The two medical attendants exchanged a look her discourse. across the bed; and the physician, stooping- "I am sure," she said, "I hope this heartdown, whispered in the child's ear. Not having rending occurrence will be a'warning to all of understood the purport of his whisper, the little us to accustom ourselves to rouse ourselves, creature turned her -perfectly colourless face' and to make efforts in time where they're reand deep dark eyes- towards him; but without quired of us. There's a moral in everything, if loosening her hold in the least. we would only avail ourselves of- it,'It will be The whisper was repeated our own faults if we lose sight of this one., "Mamma!" said the child. Mr. Chick invaded the grave silence which The little voice, familiar and dearly loved, ensued on this remark with the singularly inapawakened some. show of-consciousness, even at propriate air of "'A cobbler there was;" and that- ebb. For' a. moment,'-the closed eyelids checking himself, in some confusion, observed trembled, and the nostril quivered, and the that it was undoubtedly our own faults if we faintest shadow of. a smile was seen. didn't improve such melancholy occasions as the "Mamma!" cried the child, sobbing aloud. present. " Oh, dear mamma! oh, dear mamma!" " Which might be better improved, I should The Doctor gently brushed the scattered. think, Mr. C.," retorted his helpmate after a ringlets of the child aside from the. face and short pause, " than. by the introduction either of mouth of the mother. -Alas, how calm they'lay the College Hornpipe, or'the equally unmeaning there; how little breath there was to stir them! and unfeeling remark of rump-te-iddity, bow MISS: TOX JPtSSRSNTS AN APPLBE-FACED PAAMIL. wow-wow!"-which Mr. Chick had indeed in- them about the ears of Mrs. Chick, and carry dulged in, under his breath, and which Mrs. all before him. Being liable himself to similar Chick repeated in a tone of withering scorn. unlooked-for checks from Mrs. Chick, their little "Merely habit, my dear," pleaded Mr. Chick. contests usually possessed a character of uncer-'INonsense! Habit!" returned his wife. tainty that'was very animating. " If you're a rational being, don't make such Miss Tox had arrived on the wheels just now ridiculous excuses. Habit'! If I was to get a alluded to, and came running into the room in habit (as you call it) of walking on the ceiling, a breathless condition. like the flies, I should hear enough of it, I dare "My dear Louisa," said Miss Tox, is the say." vacancy still unsupplied?" It appeared so probable that such a habit "You good soul, yes," said Mrs. Chick. might be attended with some degree of noto- " Then; my dear. Louisa," returned Miss Tox, riety, that Mr. Chick didn't venture to dispute " I hope and believe — But in one moment, the. position. my dear. I'll introduce the party." "How's the baby, Loo.? " asked Mr. Chick: Running down-stairs again as fast as she had to change'the subject. run up, Miss Tox got the party out of the -" What baby do you mean?" answered Mrs. hackney coach, and soon returned with it under Chick. "I am sure the morning I have had convoy. with that dining-room down-stairs one mass of It then appeared that she had used the word, babies, no one in their senses would, believe.". not in its legal or business acceptation, when it " One mass of babies 1" repeated IMVr. Chick, merely expresses an individual, but as a noun staring with an alarmed expression about him. of multitude, or signifying many; for Miss Tox " It would have occurred to most men," said escorted a plump, rosy-cheeked, wholesome, Mrs. Chick, "that poor dear Fanny being no apple-faced young woman, with an infant in her more, it becomes necessary to provide a nurse." arms; a younger woman not so plump, but "Oh! Ah!" said Mr. Chick.'"Toor-rul- apple-faced. also, who led a plump and applesuch is life, I mean. I'hope you are suited, my. faced child in each hand; another plump and dear."'also apple-faced boy, who walked by himself; "Indeed I am not," said Mrs. Chick; "nor and finally, a plump and apple-faced man, who likely to be, so far a. I can see. Meanwhile, of' carried in his arms another plump and applecourse, the child is —-" faced boy, whom he stood down on the floor, " Going to the very — deuce," said Mr. Chick and admonished, in a husky whisper, to "kitch thoughtfully, " to be sure."' hold of his brother Johnny." Admonished, however, that he had committed " My dear Louisa," said Miss Tox," knowing himself, by the indignation expressed in Mrs. your great anxiety, and wishing to relieve it, I Chick's countenance at the idea of a.Dombey posted off myself to the Queen Charlotte's Royal going there; and thinking to atone for his mis- Married Females, which you had forgot, and put conduct by a bright suggestion, he added: the question, Was there anybody there that they "Couldn't something temporary be done with. thought would suit? No, they said, there was a teapot?".' not. When they gave me that answer, I do If he had meant to bring the subject pre- assure you, my dear, I was almost'.driven to maturely to a close, he could not have done it despair on, your account. But it did so happen more effectually. After looking at him for some that one of the Royal' Married Females, hearing moments in silent resignation, Mrs. Chick walked the inquiry, reminded the matron of another who majestically to the window and peeped through had gone to her own home, and who,'she said, the blind, attracted by the sound of wheels. would in all likelihood be most satisfactory. Mr. Chick, finding that his'destiny was, for the The moment I heard this, and had it corrobotime, against him, said no more, and walked off rated by the matron-excellent references and But it was not always thus with Mr. Chick. He unimpeachable character-I got-the address, my was often in the ascendant himself, and at those dear, and posted off again." times' punished Louisa roundly. In-their matri- Like the dear good" Tox you are!" said monial bickerings. they were, upon the whole, Louisa. a well-matched, fairly-balanced, give-and-take "Not at all," returned Miss Tox.' Don't couple. It would have been, generally speak- say so. Arriving at the house (the cleanest ing, very difficult to have betted on the winner. place, my dear! You might eat your dinner off Often, when Mr. Chick seemed beaten, he would the floor), I'found the whole family sitting at suddenly make a start, turn the tables, clatter table; and feeling that no account of them 8 ~ DOMBSE Y AAtm SONV could be half so comfortable to you and Mr. Miss Tox seemed to be so little enlightened Dombeyi as the sight of them all together, I by this reply as to find a difficulty in pursuing brought them all away. This gentleman," said the subject. But Mrs. Chick relieved her by Miss Tox, pointing out the apple-facel man, "is entering into a close private examination of the father. Will you have the goodness to come Polly, her children, her marriage certificate, a little forward, sir?" testimonials, and so forth. Polly coming out The apple-faced man, having.sheepishly corn- unscathed from this ordeal, Mrs. Chick withdrew plied with this request, stood chuckling and with her report to her brother's room, and as an grinning in a front row. emphatic comment on it, and corroboration of "This is his wife, of course," said Miss Tox, it, carried the two rosiest little Toodles with her, singling out the young woman with the baby. Toodle being the family, name of the apple-faced "How do you do, Polly?" family. "I'm pretty well, I thank you, ma'am," said Mr. Dombey had remained in his own apartPolly. ment since the death of his wife, absorbed in By way of bringing her out dexterously, Miss visions of the youth, education, and destination Tox had made the inquiry as in condescension of his baby son. Something lay at the bottom to an old acquaintance, whom she hadn't seen of his cool heart, colder and heavier than its for a fortnight or so. ordinary load; but it was more a sense of the " I'm glad to hear it," said Miss Tox. " The child's loss than his own, awakening within him other young woman is her unmarried sister, who an almost angry sorrow. That the life and prolives with them, and would take care of her gress on which he built such hopes should be children. Her name's Jemima. How do you endangered in the outset by so mean a want; do, Jemima?"' that Dombey and Son should be tottering for a " I'm pretty well, I thank you, ma'am," -re- nurse, was a sore humiliation. And yet, in his turned Jemima. pride and jealousy, he viewed with so much "I'm very glad to hear it," said Miss Tox. bitterness the thought of being dependent, for "I hope you'll keep so. Five children. Young- the very first step towards the accomplishment est six weeks.'The fine little boy with the of his soul's desire, on a hired serving-woman, blister on his nose is the eldest. The blister, I who would be to the child, for the time, all that believe," said Miss Tox, looking round upon even his alliance could have made his own wife, the family, "is not constitutional, but acci- that in every new rejection of a candidate he dental?"'felt a secret pleasure. The time had now come, The apple-facea man was understood to growl, however, when he could no longer be divided "Flat-iron." between those two sets of feelings. The less so, " I beg your pardon, sir," said Miss Tox, "did as there seemed to be no flaw in the title oof you -" Polly Toodle after his sister had set it forth, " Flat-iron," he repeated. with many commendations on the indefatigable "Oh yes!" said Miss Tox. "Yes! quite true. friendship of Miss Tox. I forgot. The little creature, in his mother's "These children look healthy," said Mr. absence, smelt a warm flat-iron. You're quite Dombey. "But to think of their some:day right, sir. You were going to have the good- claiming a sort of relationship to Paul! Take ness to inform me; when we arrived at the door, them away, Louisa! Let me see this woman that you were by trade a - " and her husband." " Stoker,", said the man. Mrs. Chick bore off the tender pair of Toodles, "A choker!" said Miss Tox, quite aghast. and presently returned with that tougher couple "Stoker," said the man. " Steam-engine." whose presence her brother had commanded. " Oh-h! Yes!" returned Miss Tox, looking "My good woman," said Mr. Dombey, turnthoughtfully at him, and seeming still to have ing round in his easy-chair as one piece, and but a very imoerfect understanding of his mean- not as a man with limbs and joints, " I undering. stand you are poor, and wish to earn money by " And how do you like it, sir?" nursing the little boy, my son, who has been so " Which, mum?" said the man. prematurely deprived of what can never be re"That," replied Miss Tox. "Your trade," placed. I have no objection to your adding to "Oh! Pretty well, mum. The ashes some- the comforts of your family by that means. So times gets in here;" touching his chest: "and far as I can tell, you seem to be a deserving makes a man speak'gruff, as at the present time. object. But I must impose one or two condi. But it is ashes, mum, not crustiness." tions on you before you enter my house in that AMPS. T0oD6L ANd MR. tOOPL0.. capacity. While you are here, I must stipulate Dombey, who was one of those close shaved, that you are always known as-say as Richards close-cut, moneyed gentlemen who are glossy -an ordinary, name and convenient. Have you and crisp like new bank notes, and who seem any objection to be known as.Richards? You to be artificially braced and tightened as by the had better consult your husband." stimulating action of golden shower-baths. As the husband did nothing but chuckle and "You have a son, I believe?' said Mr. grin, and continually draw his right hand across Dombey. his mouth, moistening the palm, Mrs. Toodle, "Four on'em, sir. Four hims anda her. All after nudging him twice or thrice in vain, dropped alive!" a curtsy and replied, "that perhaps, if she was "Why, it's as much as you can afford to keep to be called out of her name, it would be con- them!" said Mr; Dombey. sidered in the wages." "I couldn't hardly afford but one thing in the "Oh, of course," said Mr. Dombey. " I desire world less, sir." to make jt a question of wages altogether. Now,' What is that?" Richards, if you nurse my bereaved child, I wish "To lose'em, sir." you to remember this always. You will receive "Can you read?" asked Mr. Dombey. a liberal stipend in return for the discharge of "Why, not partickler, siri" certain duties, in the performance of which I "Write?" wish you to see as little of your family as pos- "With chalk, sir." sible. When those duties cease to be required "With anything?" and rendered, and the stipend ceases to be paid, "I could make shift to chalk a little bit, I there is an end of all relations between us. Do- think, if I was put to it," said Toodle after some you understand me?" reflection. Mrs. Toodle seemed doubtful about it; and "And yet," said Mr. Dombey, "you are two as to Toodle limself, he had evidently no doubt or three and thirty, I suppose?" whatever that he was'all abroad. "Thereabouts, I1 suppose, sir/" answered "You have children of your own," said Mr. Toodle after more reflection. Dombey. " It is not at all in this bargain that "Then why don't you learn?" asked Mr. you need become attached to my child, or that Dombey. my child need become attached to you. I don't "So I'm a-going to, sit. One of my little expect or desire anything of the kind. Quite boys is a-going to learn me, when he's old the reverse. When you go away from here, you enough, andbeen to school himself." will have concluded what is a mere matter of. "Well!" said Mr. Dombey after looking at bargain and sale, hiring and letting: and will him attentively, and with no great favour, as he stay away. The child will cease to remember stood gazing round the room (principally round you; and you will cease, if you please, to re- the ceiling), and still drawing his hand across member the child." and across his mouth. " You heard what I said Mrs. Toodle, with a little more colour in her to your wife just now." cheeks than she had had before, said "she " Polly heerd it," said Toodle, jerking his hat hoped she knew her place." over his shoulder in the direction of the door, " I hope you do, Richards," said Mr. Dombey. with an air of perfect confidence in his better " I have no doubt you know it very well. In- half. " It's all right." deed, it is so plain and obvious that it could "As you appear to leave everything to her," hardly be otherwise. Louisa, my dear, arrange said Mr. Donmey, frustrated in his intention of with Richards about money, and let her have it impressing his views still more distinctly on the when and how she pleases. Mr. What's-your- husband, as the stronger character, ""I suppose name, a word with you, if you please!" it is of no'use my saying anything to you." Thus arrested on the threshold as he was fol- Not a bit," said Toodle. "Polly heerd it. lowing his wife out of the room, Toodle returned She's awake, sir." and confronted Mr. Dombey alone. He was a "I won't detain you any longer, then," restrong, loose, round-shouldered, shuffling, shaggy turned Mr. Dombey, disappointed. "Where fellow, on whom his clothes sat negligently: have you worked all your life?" with a good deal of hair and whisker, deepened " Mostly underground, sir, till I got married. in its natural tint, perhaps, by smoke and coal- I come to the level then. I'm a-going on one of dust: hard, knotty hands: and a square fore: these here railroads when they comes into full head, as coarse in grain as the bark of an oak. play." A thorough contrast in all respects to Mr. As the last straw breaks the laden eamel's so DOMBEY AND SON. back, this piece of underground.information' " You'll take a glass yourself, sir, won't you? " crushed the sinking spirits of Mr.'Dombey. said Miss Tox as Toodle appeared. He motioned his child's foster-father to the door:" Thankee, mum," said Toodle, " since you who'departed by no means unwillingly: and then, are suppressing." turning the key, paced up and down the room. "And you're very glad to.leave your' dear in solitary wretchedness,' For.all his starched good wife in such a comfortable' home, ain't you, impenetrable dignity and composure, he wiped.sir?" said Miss Tox,.nodding and winking at blinding tears from his eyes as he did so: and him stealthily. often said, with.an emotion of which' he would "No; mum," said Toodle. "Here's wishing not, for. the: iworld, have had a witness, "Poor of her back agin." little fellow.'"' Polly cried more than ever at this.'So Mrs. It may have been characteristic of Mr. Dom- Chick, who had her matronly apprehensions that bey's pride'.that he pitied himself through the this indulgence in grief might be prejudicial to child.. Not poor me. Not poor widower, con- the little Dombey ("acid, indeed," she whispered fiding by constraint in the wife of an ignorant Miss Tox), hastened to the rescue. Hind who has. been working " mostly under- "Your little child will thrive charmingly with ground" all his life, and yet at whose door your sister Jemima, Richards," said Mrs. Chick; Death- has never knocked, and at whose poor "and you have only to make an effort-this is a table four sons daily sit-but poor little fellow! *world of effort, you know, Richards-to be very Those words being on his lips, it occurred to happy indeed. You have been already measured him-and it is an instance of the strong attrac- for your mourning, haven't you, Richards?" tion with which his hopes and fears and all his "Ye-es, ma'am," sobbed Polly. thoughts were tending to one centre-that a "And it'll fit beautifully, I know," said: Mrs. great temptation was being placed in this Chick, "for the same young person has, made woman's way. Her infant was a boy too. me many dresses. The very best materials, Now, would it be possible for her to, change too!" them? "Lor, you'll be so smart," said Miss Tox, Though he was, soon satisfied that h had "that your husband won't know you; will you, dismissed the idea'as romantic and unlikely- sir?" though possible, there was no denying-he "I should know her," said Toodle gruffly, could not help pursuing'it so far as to entertain "anyhows and anywheres." within himself a picture of what his-condition Toodle was evidently not to be bought over. would be, if he should discover such an impos- As to living, Richards, you know," pursued ture when he was grown old. Whether a"nan Mrs. Chick, "why, the very best of everything so situated would be able to pluck away the will be at your disposal. You will order your result of so many years of usage, confidence, little dinner every day; and anything you take and belief from the imposture, and endow a a fancy to, I'm sure will be as readily provided stranger with it? as if you were a lady." As his unusual' emotion subsided, these mis- "Yes, to be sure!" said Miss Tox, keeping givings gradually melted away, though so much up the ball with great sympathy. "And as to of their shadow remained behind, that he was porter!-quite unlimited, will it not, Louisa?" constant in his resolution to look closely after " Oh, certainly! " returned Mrs. Chick in the Richards himself, without appearing to do so. same tone. " With a little abstinence, you know, Being now, in an easier frame of mind, he my dear, in point of vegetables." regarded the woman's station as rather an ad- "And pickles, perhaps," suggested Miss Tox. Vantageous circumstance than otherwise, by " With such' exceptions," said Louisa, "she'll placing, in itself, a broad distance between her consult her choice entirely, and be under no and the child, and rendering their separation restraint at all, my love." easy and natural. "And then, of course,'you know," said Miss Meanwhile, terms were ratified and agreed Tox, " however fond she is of her own dear little upon'between Mrs. Chick and Richards, with child-and I'm sure, Louisa, you don't blame'the assistance of Miss Tox; and Richards being her for being fond of it?' with much ceremony invested with the Dombey " Oh no!" cried Mrs. Chick benignantjy. baby, as if it were an Order, resigned her own, "Still," resumed Miss Tox, "she naturally with many tears and kisses, to Jemima. Glasses must be interested in -her young charge, and of wine were then produced, to sustain -tle must consider it a privilege to see a little cherub, drooping spirits of the family. closely connected with the superior classes, gra MR. DOMBE Y'S RrSIDENCE. x dually unfolding.itself from day to' day at one quiet-tempered. lady,. and the housekeeper had common fountain. Is it not so, Louisa? said it was the..common lot, and the butler had.~ Most — undoubtedly! "- said Mrs. Chick., said whod' have-thought it? and the housemaid "You see,..my-love, she's already quite con' had said she couldn't hardly believe it, and the tented and comfortable, and means to say good- footman had said it seemed exactly like a dream,.bye to her sister Jemima and her little pets, and they had quite.wornthe subject out,.'and began her-good honest husband, with a light heart and to think their-mourning was wearing rusty too. a smile; don't she, my dear?". On Richards, who was established up-stairs in." Oh yes!" cried Miss Tox.' "'.To be sure a state of honourable captivity, the dawn of her she does!" new life seemed to break cold and; grey;...Mr, Notwithstanding. *hich,:however, poor Polly Dombey's house was a large one, on the shady embraced them all. round in great distress, and side of a tall, dark, dreadfully genteel street in finally ran. away'.to avoid any more particular the region between Portladr\Place and Bryanleave-taking between herself and the children. stone Square. It was a corner house, with great But the stratagem hardly succeeded as well as wide areas containing.cellars frowned.upon.by it deserved; for the smallest boy but 6ne, divin- barred windows, and leered-at by crooked-eyed ing her intent, immediately began swarming up- doors leading to' dust-bins.:'It.was.,,a house.of stairs after her-if that word of doubtful etymo- - dismal.state, with a circular back to it,containing logy be admissible-on his arms and legs; while a whole suite of' drawing-rooms looking upon a the eldest (known in the family by the name of gravelled yard,..vhere two' gaunt trees, with Biler, remembrance of the steam-engine) beat blackened trunks.and branches, rattled rather a demoniacal. tattoo with his boots, expressive of than rustled, their leaves. were'so smoke-dried. grief; in which he was joined by the rest of the The summer sun was' never on the"street but in family..the morning about breakfast-time, when it came A quantity of oranges and halfpence, thrust. - with- the water-carts -and. the old-clothes men, indiscrimibately on each young Toodle, checked and the people with geraniums, and the umbrellathe first violence of their regret,.and the family mender, and the man.who trilled the little bell were speedily transported to their own home, by of the Dutch clock as: he. went. along. It was means of the hackney coach kept in waiting for soon gone again, to return no -more that day; that purpose. The children, under the guardian- and the bands of music..and'the straggling ship of Jemima, blocked up the window, and Punch's shows going after it, -left it a prey. to the dropped out oranges and halfpence all the.way most dismal of organs, and white mice.; with along. -Mr. Toodle himself preferred to ride now and then a porcupine, to vary the entertainbehind among the spikes, as being the mode of ments; until the butlers whose families -were conveyance to which he was bestaccustomed. dining out began to stand:at the hou$e-doors in the twilight, and the lamp-lighter made his nightly failure in attemptingh.to brighten up the street with gas; CH —AP TER -^.I. It was as black'a house inside. as outside. HAPTER~ II-~i; When the funeral was over, Mr:.Dombey ordered IN W H I. DOMBEY, AS A MA AND A FATHER the furniture to be covered up-perhaps to pre- Is SEEN AT THE HEAD OF THE HOME DEPART- serve it for the son with wliom his plans were all MENT. - associated-and;.the-rooms to be.ungarnished, saving such as.'he: retaiine.dfor:.himnself on the HE funeralof the deceased lady hav- ground-floor... Accordingly;' mysterious shapes ing been "performed " to the entire were made of'tables and.-chalirs Heaped together,satisfaction. of the undertaker, as in the middle of rooms, and:.covered over with - well as 6f the neighbourhood at greatr winding-sheets.-. Bell-handles, window large; which is. generally disposed blinds, and lookingglasses being papered up in to. be captious on- such a point, and is journals, daily and weekly, obtruded fragmentprone to take offence.at any omissions or ary' accounts of deaths and'dreadful murders. shortcomings in the ceremonies, the va-!Every chandelier or lustre, muffled in. holland, rious members of Mr. Dombey's household sub- looked -like a -monstrous tear depending from sided into their several"places. in the domestic the ceiling's eye. Odours, as from vaults and system. That small world, like' the great one damp places, came out of the chimneys. The out of doors, had the capacity of easily forgetting dead-and-buried lady was awful' in a pictureits dead; and when the cook had said she was a frame'of ghastly bandages. Every gust of wind 12 DOMBEY AND SON. that rose brought eddying round the corner, But the child, instead of advancing, looked from the neighbouring mews, some fragments of her earnestly in the face, and said: the straw that had been strewn before the'house "What have you done with my mamma? " when she was ill, mildewed remains of which "Lord bless the little ~creeter!"- cried were still cleaving to the neighbourhood; and Richards, "what a sad question! I done? these, being always drawn by some invisible Nothing, miss." attraction to the threshold of the dirty house to "What have they done with my mamma?" let immediately opposite, addressed a dismal inquired the child. eloquence to Mr. Dombey's windows. "I never saw such. a melting thing in all my The apartments which Mr. Dombey reserved life!" said Richards, who naturally substituted for his own inhabiting were attainable from the for this child one of her own, inquiring for herhall, and consisted of a sitting-room; a library, self intlike circumstances. "Come nearer here, which was, in fact, a dressing-room, so that the my dear miss! Don't be afraid of me." smell of hot-pressed paper, vellum, morocco, "I am not afraid of you," said the child, and Russia leather contended in it with the drawing nearer. "But I want to know what smell of divers pairs of boots; and a kind of they have done with my mamma." conservatory, or little glass breakfast-room be- "My darling," said Richards, "you wear that yond, commanding a prospect of the trees be- pretty black frock in remembrance of your fore mentioned, and, generally speaking, of a mamma." few prowling cats. These three rooms opened "-I can remember my mamma," returned the upon one another. In the morning, when Mr. child; with tears springing to her eyes," in any Dombey was at his breakfast in one or other of frock." the. two first mentioned of them, as well as in "But people put on black to remember the afternoon when he came home to dinner, a people when they're gone.' bell was rung for Richards to repair to this glass " Where gone?' asked the child. chamber, and there walk to and fro with her " Come and sit down by me," said Richards, young charge. From the glimpses she caught " and I'll tell you a story." of Mr. Dombey at these times, sitting in the With a quick perception that it was intended dark distance, looking out'towards the infant to relate to what she had asked, little Florence' from among the dark heavy furniture-the house laid aside the bonnet she had held in her hand had been inhabited for years by his father, and - until now, and sat down on a stool.at the nurse's si many of its appointments was old-fashioned feet, looking up into her face.'and grim-she began to entertain ideas of him "Once upon a time," said Richards, "there in his solitary state, as if he were a lone prisoner was a lady-a very good lady, and hef little in a cell,.or a strange apparition that was not'to daughter dearly loved her." be accosted or understood. "A very good lady, and her little daughter Little Paul. Dombey's foster-mother had led dearly loved her," repeated the child. this life iherself, and had.carried little Paul'"Who, when God thought it right that it through it, for some weeks; and had returned should be so, was taken ill and died." up-stairs one day from a melancholy saunter The child shuddered. through the- dreary rooms of state (she never "Died, never to be seen again by any one on went out without Mrs. Chick, who called on earth, and was buried in the ground where the fine mornings, usually accompanied by Miss trees grow." Tox, to take her'and Baby for an airing-or, in "The cold giound," said the child, shudderother words, to march them gravely up and ing again. down-the pavement: like a walking funeral); "No! The warm ground," returned Polly, when, as she was sitting in her own room, the seizing her advantage "where the ugly little' door was slowly and quietly opened, and a dark- seeds turn into beautiful flowers, and into grass, eyed little girl looked in. and corn, and I don't know what all besides. "It's, Miss Florence come home from her Where good people turn into bright angels, and aunt's, no doubt," thought Richards, who had fly away to Heaven i" never seen the child before. " Hope I see you The child, who had drooped her head, raised well, miss." it again, and sat looking at her intently. "Is that my brother?" asked the child, "So; let me see," said Polly, not a little pointing to the baby. flurried between this earnest scrutiny, her desire! Yes, my pretty," answered Richards. "Come,to comfort the child, her sudden success, and and kiss him." her very slight confidence in her own powers, MISS SUSAN NIPPER. 13 " So, when this lady died, wherever they took wet face against the expensive mourning that her, or wherever they put her, she went' to Mrs. Richards is a wearing for your' ma!" GOD! and she prayed to Him, this lady did," With this remonstrance, young Spitfire, whose said Polly, affecting herself beyond measure, real name was Susan Nipper, detached.the child being heartily in earnest, "to teach her little from her new friend by a wrench —as if she daughter to be sure of that in her heart:'and to were a tooth. But she seemed to, do it more in know that she was happy there, and loVed her the excessively. sharp exercise of. her. official still: and to hope and try-oh, all her life-to functions than with any deliberate unkindness. meet'her there one day, never,.never, never to "She'll be quite happy, now she has' come part any more." home again," said Polly, nodding to her with an "It was my mamma!" exclaimed the child,. encouraging smile upon her'wholesome face, springing up, and clasping her round the neck. and will be so pleased to see her dear papa "And the child's heart," said Polly, drawing tonight." her to her breast: "the'little daughter's heart "Lork, Mrs. Richards-!" cried Miss Nipper, was so full of the truth of this, that even when taking up her words with a jerk. "Don't. See she heard it from a strange nurse that couldn't her dear papa, indeed! I should like to see her tell it right, but was a poor mother herself, and do it!" that was all, she found a comfort in it-didn't "Won't she, then?" asked Polly. feel so lonely-sobbed' and cried upon her "Lork, Mrs. Richards, no, her pa's a deal too bosom-took kindly to the baby lying in her lap wrapped up in somebody else, and Before there -and-there, there, there!" said-Polly, smooth- was a somebody else to be wrapped up in she ing the child's curls, and dropping tears upon never was a favourite, girls are thrown away in them. "There, poor dear!" this house, Mrs. Richards, I assure you." "Oh well, Miss' Floy! And won't your pa The child looked quickly from one rurse to be angry neither!" cried a quick voice at the the other, as if she understood and felt what was door, proceeding from a short, brown, womanly said. girl of fourteen, with-a little snub nose and black "You surprise me!" cried Polly. "Hasn't eyes like jet beads. "When it was'tickerlerly Mr.-Dombey seen her since —"'given out that you wasn't to go and worrit the "No," interrupted Susan Nipper. "Not once wet-nurse." - since, and he hadn't hardly set his ekes upon "She don't worry me," was the surprised re- her before that for months and months, and I joinder of Polly. "I am very fond of children." don't think he'd have known her for his own "Oh! but begging your pardon, Mrs. Richards, child if he had met her in the streets, or would that don't matter you know," returned the black- know her for his *own child if he was to meet eyed girl, who was so desperately sharp and her in the streets to-morrow, Mrs. Richards, as biting that she seemed to make one's eyes water. to me," said Spitfire with a giggle, "I doubt,if "I may be very fond of pennywinkles, Mrs. he's aweer of my existence." RiFhards, but it' don't follow that I'm to have Pretty dear! "said Richards; meaning, not'em for tea." Miss Nipper, but the little Florence. "Well, it don't matter," said Polly. "Oh! there's a Tartar within a hundred miles "Oh thankee, Mrs. Richards, don't it!" re- of where we're now in conversation, I can tell turned the sharp girl. "Remembering, how- you, Mrs. Richards, present company always ever, if you'll be so good, that Miss Floy's under excepted too," said Susan Nipper; "wish you my charge, and Master Paul's under your'n." good morning, Mrs. Richards, now Miss Floy, " But still we needn't quarrel," said Polly. you come along with me, and don't go hanging "Oh no, Mrs. Richards," rejoined Spitfire. back like a naughty wicked child that judgments "Not at all, I don't wish it, we needn't stand is no example to, don't." upon that footing, Miss Floy being a permanency, In spite of being thus adjured, and in spite Master Paul a temporary." Spitfire made use of.also of some hauling on the part of Susan none but comma pauses;.shooting out what- Nipper, tending towards the dislocation of her ever she had to say in one sentence, and in one right'shoulder,!little Florence broke away, and breath, if possible. - kissed her new friend affectionately "'Miss Florence has just come home, hasn't." Good-bye!" said the child. "God bless she?" asked Polly. you! I shall come to see you again soon, and "Yes, Mrs. Richards, just come home,- and you'll come to see me? Susan will let us. here, Miss Floy, before you've been in the house Won't you, Susan? a quarter of an hour, you go a smearing your Spitfire seemed to bq in the mnain. agood 4 DOMBEY AND SON. natured little body, although a disciple of that Dombey, at that early day, which would not school of trainers of the young idea wvhich holds then have struck him in the end like lightning. Ithat childhobd, like money, must be shaken and But this is from the purpose. Polly only rattled and jostled about a good deal to keep it thought, at that time, of improving on her sucbright. For, being thus appealed to with some,cessfuI propitiation of Miss Nipper, and devising "endearing gestures and caresses, she folded her some meanso'f having little Florence beside her small arms and shook her head, and conveyed lawfully, and without rebellion. * An opening a relenting expression into her very wide-open happened to present itself that very night. black eyes. She had been rung down into the glass room " It ain't right ofypou to ask it, Miss Floy, for as usual, and had walked about and about it a you know I can't refuse you, but Mrs. Richards long time, with the baby in her arms, when, to and me will seeCwhat can be done, if Mrs. her great surprise and dismay, Mr. Dombey Richards likes, I may wish, you see, to take a came out suddenly, and stopped before her. voyage to Chaney, Mrs. Richards, but I mayn't "Good evening, Richards." know how to leave the London Docks." Just the same austere, stiff gentleman as he Richards assented to the proposition. had appeared to her on that first day. Such a "This house ain't so exactly ringing with hard-looking gentleman, that'she involuntarily merry-making," said Miss Nipper, "that one dropped her eyes and her curtsy at the same need be lonelier than one must be.'Your Toxes time. and your Chickses may draw out my two front "How is Master Paul, Richards?" double teeth, Mrs. Richards, but that's no reason "Quite thriving, sir, and well." why I need offer'em the whole set." "He looks so," said Mr. Dombey, glancing This proposition was also assented to by.with great interest at the tiny face she uncovered Richards, as an obvious one. for his observation, and yet affecting to be half * ";So I'm agreeable, I'm sure," said Susan careless of it. "They give you everything you Nipper, "to live friendly,. Mrs.-Richards, while want, I hope?" Master Paulcontinues a permanency, if the means "Oh yes, thank you, sir." can be planned out without going openly against She suddenly appended such an obvious hesiorders, but goodness gracious ME, Miss'Floy, tation to this reply, however, that Mr. Dombey, you haven't got your things off yet, you naughty who had turned away, stopped, and turned child, you haven't, come along." ( round again, inquiringly.'With these words, Susan Nippei, in a trans- "I believe nothing is so good for making port of coercion, made a charge at her young children lively and cheerful, sir, as seeing other ward, and swept her out of the room. children playing about'em," observed Polly, The child, in her grief and neglect, was so taking courage. gentle, so quiet, and uncomplaining; was pos- I think I mentioned to you, Richards, when sessed of so much affection that no one seemed you came here," said Mr. Dombey with a frown, to care to have, and so niuch sorrowful intelli- " that I wished you to see as little of your family gence that no,one seemed to mind or think as possibl. You can continue your walk if you about the wounding of; that Polly's heart was please." sore when she was left alone again. -'In the With that he disappeared into his inner room; simple passage that. had taken. place between and Polly had the satisfaction of feeling that he herself and the motherless little girl; her own had thoroughly misunderstood her object, and motherly hear had been touched no less than that she had fallen into disgrace without the the child's:;. and she felt, as'the child did, that.least'advancement of her purpose. there wassomething of confidence and interest Next night she found him walking about the between' them from that moment. conservatory when she came down. As she -Notwithstanding Mr. Toodle's great reliance stopped at the door, checked by this unusual on Polly, she was perhaps, in point of artificial sight, and uncertain whether to advance or reaccomplishments, very little his superior. But treat, hetcalled her in. she was a good plain sample of a nature that is "If you really tliink that sort of society is ever, in the mass, better, truer, higher, nobler, good for the child/' he said.sharply, as if there quicker to feel, and much more constant to had been no interval since she proposed' it, retain, all tenderness and pity, selfidenial and "where's Miss Florence?" devotion, than the nature of men. And, per- " Nothing could be better than Miss Florence, haps, unlearned as she was, she -cotld have sir," said Polly eagerly, "-but.I understood from brought a dawning knowledge -home to Mr. her little maid that they were not to —" A SLIGHTED CHILD. D. ~Mr. Dbmbey rang the bell, and walked till it' When little Florence timidly presented herwas. answered. self, Mr.,Dombey stopped in his pacing up ahd "Tell them always to let Miss Florence be down, and looked towards her.'Had he looked with Richards when she chooses, and go out with greater interest, and with a father's eye,,he with her, and so forth. Tell them to let the might have read in her keen gla'nce the impulses children be together when Richards wishes it." and fears that made her waver; the passionate The iron was\now hot, and Richards striking desire to run clinging to him, crying,. as she hid on it boldly-it was a good cause, and she was her face in his embrace, " Oh, father, try to love bold in it,'though instinctively afraid of Mr. me! there's no one else-!" the dread of a reDombey-requested that Miss Florence might pulse; the fear of being too bold, and of offendbe sent down' then. and there, to make friends ing him; the pitiable need in which she stood with her little brother. of some assurance and encouragement; and She feigned to be dandling the chifd' as the how her overcharged young heart ivas wandering servant retired on this errand,'but she- thought to, find some natural resting-place for its' sorrow she saw that Mr. Dombey's colour changed; and affection. that the expression of.his face'.quite altered' But he saw nothing of this.'He saw ler that he turned hurriedly, as if.to, gainsay what pause irresolutely at the door, and look towards he had said, or she.had said, or\both.and was him; and'he saw no more. only deterred by very shame. "'Come in," he said, " come in; what is the And she was right.The last time he.had child afraid of?" seen his slighted child, there had'been that. in She.came jn; and,'after glancing round her the sad embrace between her and her dying for a moment.with an uncertain air, stood pressmother which was at once a revelation..and a ing her.small hands hard together, close within reproach to him. " Let him be'. absorbed as he. the door. would in the Son.onwhom he built-.such high " Come here, Florence," said her father coldly. hopes, he could not forget that. closing scene. "Do you know who I am? He could not forget that he had had' no part in " "Yes, papa." >t: That, at the bottom of its clear depths.of " Have you nothing to say to'me?" tenderness and truth,. lay those two figures The tears that stood in her eyes, as she raised clasped in each other's arms, while he stood on them quickly.tohis face, were frozen by the the bank above them, looking down a mere expression it.wore.' She lobked down again.'spectator-not a sharer with them-quite shut, and put out her trembling hand. out..Mr. Dombey took it loosely in his own, and Unable to exclude these things from his re- stood looking down upon her for'a moment as membrance, or to keep his mind free from such' if he'knew as little as the child what to say imperfect shapes of the meaning with which they or do. were fraught as were able to: make themselves "There! Be a good girl," he said, patting visible to him through the mist.of his pride, his.her on the head, and regarding her as it were previous feelings of indifferentce towards little-.by stealth with' a.disturbed arnd doubtful look. Florence changed into:an uneasiness of an ex-. " Go to Richards'! Go "' traordinary kind. He almost felt as if slhe His little daughter hesitated for another inwatched and distrusted him.:-As if.she held.stant, asthough she.would have clung about the clue to something secretin his breast, of the him. still, or had some.. iingering hope that he nature of which he was hardly informed himself. might raise her in' his- arms and kiss her.'She As if she had an innate knowledge of one jarring. looked up in his face once more..'He thought and discordant string within him, and her very v how like her expression was then to what it had breath could sound it. been. when'she looked round at the doctorHis feeling about the child had been negative that night-and instinctively dropped her hand from her birth. He had never conceived an aid turned away. aversion to her; it had'not been worth his while It was not difficult to perceive that Florence or in his humour.' She had never been a posi-'was at a great-.disadvantage in her father's pretively disagreeable object to him. But now he.sence. It was not only a constraint upon the was ill'at. ease about her. She troubled his child's mind, but even upon the natural grace peace.'He-would have'preferred to put her and freedom of her actions. Still Polly perseidea aside. altogether, if he had known. how. vered with all'the better heart for seeing this; PeFhaps-who shall decide on such mysteries? and, judging of.Mr. Dombey by herself, had great -he was. afraid that.he might come to hate her. confidence in' the mute appeal of poor little lx6 DOMBEY AND SON. Florence's mourning dress. " It's hard indeed," as to make it very plain that he was all the thought Polly, "if he takes only to one little livelier for his sister's company. When it was motherless child, when he has another, and that time to withdraw up-stairs again, she would have a girl, before his eyes." sent Florence into the inner room to say good So, Polly kept her before his eyes as long as night to her father, but' the child was timid she could, aid managed so well with little Paul and drew back; and when she urged her again, I f "I MAY BE VERY FOND OF PENNYWINKLES, MRS. RICHARDS, BUT IT DON'T FOLLOW THAT I'M TO HAVE'EM FOR TEA." said, spreading her hands before her eyes, as from the table where he was sitting at his wine, if to shut out her own unworthiness, "Oh what the matter was. no, no! He don't want me. He don't want "Miss Florence was afraid of interrupting, me!" sir, if she came in to say good night," said The little altercation between them had at- Richards. tracted the. notice ofMr. Dombey, who inquired, "It doesn't matter," returned Mr. Dombey. THE LITTLE tVOOPDEN MIDSHIPMAM 17:' You can let her come and go without regard- speeding away full sail to. all parts of the world; ing me."'..outfitting warehouses ready to.pack off anybody The child shrunk'as she listened-and was anywhere, fully equipped, in half an hour; and gone before her humble friend looked round little timber midshipmen in obsolete'naval uniagain. forms, eternally employed outside theshop-doors However, Polly triumphed not a little inthe of nautical instrument-makers in taking. observasuccess of her well-intentioned scheme, and in the tions of the hackney coaches. address with which she had brought it to bear: Sole master and proprietor of one of these whereof she made a full disclosure to Spitfire effigies-of that which might be called, famiwhen she was once more safely entrenched up- liarly, the woodenest-of that which thrust itself stairs. Miss Nipper received that proof of her out above the pavement, right leg foremost, with confidence, as well as the prospect of their free a suavity the least endurable, and had the shoe association for the future, rather coldly, and was buckles and flapped waistcoat the least reconanything but enthusiastic in her demonstrations citable to human reason, and bore at its right of joy. eye the most offensively disproportionate piece "I thought you would have been pleased," of machinery-sole master and proprietor of said Polly. that midshipman, and proud of him too, an "Oh yes, Mrs. Richards, I'm very well pleased,.elderly gentleman in a Welsh wig had paid thank you," returned Susan, who had suddenly house rent, taxes, and dues, for more years than become so very upright that she seemed to have many a full-grown midshipman of flesh and put an additional bone in her stays. blood has numbered in his life; and midship" You don't show it," said Polly. men who have attained a'pretty green old age " Oh! Being- only a permanency I couldn't have not been wanting in the English navy. be expected to show it like a temporary," said'The stock-in-trade of this old gentleman cornSusan Nipper. "Temporaries carries it all be- prised chronometers, barometers, telescopes, fore'em here, I find, but though: there's a excel- compasses, charts, maps, sextants, quadrants, lent party-wall between this house and' the next,: and specimens of every kind of instrument used I mayn't exactly like to go to it, Mrs. Richards, in the working of a ship's course, or the keeping iotwithstanding " of a ship's reckoning, or the. prosecuting of a ship's discoveries. Objects in brass and glass ~were in his drawers and on his shelves, which:none but' the initiated could haye.found the top CHAPTER IV.' of, or guessed the use of, or, having once exa-. IN WHICH SOBME nMORE FIRST APPEARANCES ARE mined, could have ever got back again into their MLADE ON TILE" STAGE OF THESE ADVENTURES. mahogany nests without assistance. Everything ~was jamned into the tightest cases, fitted into HOUGH the offices of Dombey and the narrowest corners, fenced up behind the... Son were within the liberties of the most impertinent cushions, and' screwed into the d1( 1 ~.- ^city of London, and within hearing acutest angles, to prevent its philosophical com"( 2 of Bow Bells, when their clashing posure from being disturbed by the rolling of.: voices were not drowned by the up- -the sea. Such extraordinary precautions were roar in the streets, yet were there hints of' taken in'every instance to save room, and keel) adventurous and romantic story to be ob- the thing compact; and'so'much practical navi-' served in. some of the adjacent'objects. gation was fitted, and cushioned, and screwed Gog and Magog held their state within ten into every box (whether the box was a mere minutes' walk; the Royal Exchange was close slab, as some were, or something between a at hand; the Bank of England, with its vaults. cocked-hat. and a star-fish, as others'were, and of gold and silver " down among the dead men" those quite mild and modest boxes as compared underground, was their magnificent neighbour. with others); that the'shop itself, partaking of Just round the corner stood the rich East India the general infection, seemed almost to become House, teeming with suggestions of precious. a snug, sea-going, ship-shape concern, wanting stuffs and stones, tigers, elephants, howdahs, only good sea-room, in the event of an unexhookahs, umbrellas, palm-trees, palanquins, and pected launch, to work its way securely to any gorgeous princes of a brown complexion sitting desert island in the world. on carpets, with their slippers very much turned - Many minor incidents in the household life of up. at the toes. Anywhere in the immediate the Ships' Instrument-maker, who was proud of' vicinity there might be seen pictures of ships his little midshipman, assisted and bore out this DOM1BEY AND SON, 2. 2 2 I8 DOMBE Y AND SON. fancy. His acquaintance lying chiefly among been making in the City for an hour or more; ship-chandlers and so forth, he had always plenty and the human tide is still rolling westward. of the veritable ships' biscuit on his table. It "The streets have thinned," as Mr. Gills says, was familiar with dried meats and tongues, pos- very much." It threatens to be wet to-night. sessing an extraordinary flavour. of rope yarn. All the weather-glasses in the shop are in low Pickles were produced upon it, in great whole- spirits, and the rain already shines upon the sale jars, with "dealer in all kinds of Ships' cocked-hat of the Wooden Midshipman. Provisions" on the label; spirits were set forth "Where's Walter, I wonder?" said Solomon in case-bottles with no throats. Old prints of Gills, after he had carefully put up the chronoships, with alphabetical references to their various meter again. "Here's dinner been ready half mysteries, hung in frames upon the walls; the an hour, and no Walter!" Tartar Frigate under way was on the plates; Turning round upon his stool behind the outlandish shells, seaweeds, and mosses deco- counter, Mr. Gills looked out among the instrurated the chimney-piece; the little wainscoted ments in the window, to see if his nephew might back-parlour was lighted by a sky-light, like a be crossing the rqad. No. He was not among cabin. the bobbing umbrellas, and he certainly was not Here he lived, too, in skipper-like state, all the newspaper boy in the oil-skin cap who was alone with his nephew Walter: a boy of four- slowly working his way along the piece of brass teen, who looked quite enough like a midship- outside, writing his name over Mr. Gills's name man to carry out the prevailing idea. But there with his forefinger. it ended, for Solomon Gills himself (more gene- "If I didn't know hewas too fond of me to make rally called Old Sol) was far from having a mari- a run of it, and go and enter himself aboard ship time appearance. To say nothing of his Welsh against my wishes, I should begin to be fidgety," wig, which was as plain and stubborn a Welsh said Mr. Gills, tapping two or three weatherwig as ever was worn, and in which he looked glasses with his knuckles. "I really. should. like anything but a Rover, he was a slow, quiet- All in the Downs, eh? Lots of moisture! Well! spoken, thoughtful old fellow, with.eyes as. red it's wanted." as if they had been small suns looking at you "I believe," said Mr. Gills, blowing the dust. through a fog; and a newly-awakened manner, off the glass top of a compass case, "that you such as he might have acquired by having stared don't point more direct and due to the back-parfor three or four days successively through every lour than the boy's inclination does, afteriall. And optical instrumcai in his shop, and suddenly the parlour couldn't bear straighter either. Due came back to the-world again, to find it green. north; Not the twentieth part of a point either The only change ever knowi in his outward way." man was from a complete suit of coffee-colour "Halloa, Uncle Sol!. cut very square, and ornamented with glaring "Halloa, my boy!" cried the instrumentbuttons, to. the same suit of coffee-colour minus maker, turning briskly round. "What! you are -the inexpressibles, which were then of a pale here, are you?" nankeen. He wore averyprecise shirt-frill, and A cheerful-looking, merry boy, fresh'with carried a pair of first-rate spectacles on his fore- running home in the rain; fair-faced, brighthead, and a tremendous chronometer in his fob, eyed, and curly-haired. rather than doubt which precious possession, he "Well, uncle, how have you got on without would have believed in a conspiracy against it me all day? Is dinner ready? I'm so hungry." on the part of all the clocks and watches in the "As to getting on," said Solomon, goodCity, and even of the very Sun itself. Such as naturedly, " it would be odd if I couldn't get on he was, such he had beert in the shop and par- without a young dog like you a great deal better lour behind the little midshipman for years upon than with you. As to dinner being. ready, it's years; going regularly aloft to bed every night been ready this half-hour, and waiting for you. in a howling garret remote from the lodgers. As to being hungry, Iam!" where, when gentlemen of England who lived ",Come along, then, uncle!" cried the' boy. below at ease had little or no-idea of the state of " Hurrah for the admiral!." the weather, it often blew great guns.' "Confound the admiral!" returned Solomon It is half-past five o'clock, and an autumn Gills. "You mean the Lord Mayor." afternoon, when the reader and Solomon Gills " No, I dont! " cried the boy. " Hurrah for become acquainted.' Solomon Gills is in the act the admiral! Hurrah for the admiral! For — of seeing what time it is by the unimpeachable ward!" chronometer. The usual.daily clearance has'At this.. word of command. the'Welsh ivig UNCLE SOL AiND NEPHE W- VALTER. I9 and its wearer were borne without resistance into "Has Mr. Dombey been there to-day?" inthe back-parlour, as at the head of a boarding quired the uncle. party of five hundred men; and Uncle Sol and "Oh yes I n and out all day. his. nephew were speedily engaged on a fried. "He didn't take any notice.f you, I supsole, with a prospect of steak to follow. pose?" "The Lord Mayor, Wally," said Solomon, "Yes, he did.;He walked up to my seat-''for ever! No more admirals..The Lord I wish he wasn't so solemn and stiff, uncle-and Mayor's-your admiral." said,'Oh! you are the son of Mr. Gills, the "Oh, is he, though?" said the boy, shaking Ships' Instiument-maker.' Nephew, sir,' I his head. "Why, the Sword Bearer's better said.'I said nephew, boy,' said he, But I than him. He draws his sword' sometimes." could take my oath he said son, uncle." "And a pretty figure he cuts with it for his "You're mistaken I dare say. It's no matpains," returned the uncle. "Listen to me, ter." Wally, listen to me. Look on the mantel-shelf." "No, it's no matter, but he needn't have been "Why, who has -cocked my silver mug up so sharp, I thought., There was no harm in it, there on a nail?" exclaimed the boy. though he did say son. Then he told me that' I have," said his uncle. " No more mugs you had spoken' to him about me, and that he now. We must begin to drink out of glasses had found me employment in the House acto-day, Walter. We are men of business. We cordingly, and that I was expected to beattenbelong to the City. We started in life this tive and punctual, and then he went away.. I morning." thought he didn't seem to like me much." " Well, uncle," said the boy, ".T'1I drink out " You mean, I suppose," observed the instruof anything you like, so long as I can drink to ment-maker, "that you didn't seem to like him you.. Here's to you, Uncle Sol, and hurrah for much." the ""Well, uncle," returned the boy, laughing, "Lord Mayor," interrupted the old man. "perhaps so; I never thought of that." "For the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, Common Solomon looked a little graver as he finisneet Council, and Livery," said the boy. " Long his dinner, and glanced from time to time at the life to'em!" boy's bright face. When dinner was done, and The uncle nodded his head with. great satis- the cloth was cleared away (the entertainment faction. " And now," he said, "let's hear some- had been brought from a neighbouring eatingthing about the Firm." house), he lighted a candle, and went down be"' Oh r there's not much to be told abgut the low into a little cellar, while his nephew, standFirm, uncle," said the boy, plying his knife ing on the mouldy staircase, dutifully held the and fork. \ " It's a precious dark set of offices, light. After a moment's groping here and there, and in the room where I sit there's a highfen- he presently returned with a very ancient-lookder,\ and an iron safe, and some cards about ing bottle, covered with dust and dirt. ships that are' going to sail, and an almanac, and "Why, Uncle Sol! " said the boy, "what are some desks and stools, and an ink-bottle, and you about? That's the wonderful madeira!some books, and some boxes, and a lot of cob- there's only one more bottle!" webs,:and in one of'em, just over my head, a Uncle Sol nodded his head, implying that he shrivelled-up.blue-bottle that looks as if. it had knew very well what he was about; and having hung there ever so long." drawn the cork in -solemn silence, filled two "Nothing else?" said the uncle. glasses, and set the bottle and a third clean "No,. nothing else, except an old bird-cage glass on the table. (I wonder how that ever came there!) and a "You shall drink the other bottle, Willy," coal-scuttle." he said, "when you come to good for"No bankers' books, or. cheque books, or tune; when you are a thriving, respected, bills, or such tokens!of wealth rolling in from happy man; when the start in life you have day to day?" said old Sol, looking wistfully at made to-day shall have brought you-as I pray,his nephew out of the fog that always seemed Heaven it may!-to a smooth part' of the to hang about him, and laying an unctuous em- cour,. you have to run, my child.. My'love to phasis upon the words. you!" " Oh yes, plenty of that, I suppose," returned Some of the fog that hung about old Sol his nephew carelessly; "but all that sort of seemed to have got into his throat; for he spoke thing's in Mr. Carker's roon, or Mr. Morfin's, or huskily. His hand shook, too, as he clinked Mr. Dombey's." his glass against his nephew's. But, having 20 DOMBE Y AND SON. once got the wine to his lipsi he tossed it off short pause: "not being like the savages who like a man, and smacked them afterwards. came, on Robinson. Crusoe's island, we can't "Dear uncle," said the boy, affecting to make live on a man who asks for change for a sovelight of it, while the tears stood in his eyes, reign, and a woman who inquires the way to "for the honour you have done me, et cetera, Mile-end Turnpike. As I said just now, the et cetera. I shall now beg to propose Mr. world has gone past me. I don't blame it; but Solomon Gills, with three times'three and one I no longer understand it, Tradesmen are not cheer more. Hurrah! and you'll return thanks, the same as they used to be, apprentices are uncle, when we drink the last bottle together; not the same, business is not the same, business won't you?" commodities are not the same. Seven-eighths They clinked their glasset again; and Walter, of my, stock is old-fashioned. I am an oldwho was hoarding his wine, took a sip of it, and fashioned man in an old-fashioned shop, in a held the glass up to his eye with as critical an street that is not the same as' I remember it. air as he could possibly assume. I have fallen behind the time, and am too old to His uncle sat looking at him for some time in catch it again. Even the noise it makes a long silence. When their eyes at last met, he began way ahead confuses me." at once to pursue the theme that had occupied Walter was going to speak, but his uncle held his thoughts aloud, as if he had been speaking up his hand. all the while. "Therefore, Wally-therefore it is that I am - "You see, Walter," he said, "in truth, this anxious you should be early in the busy world, business is merely a habit with' me. I am so and on the world's track, I am only the ghost accustomed to the habit that I could hardly of this business-its substance vanished long.live if' I relinquished it: but there's nothing- ago: and, when I die, its ghost will be laid. doing, nothing doing. When that uniform was As it is clearly no inheritance for you, then, I w9rn," pointing out, towards the little midship- have thought it best to use, for your advantage, man, "then indeed fortunes were to be made, almost the only fragment of the old connection and were made. But competition, competition that stands by me, through long habit. Some -new invention, new invention-alteration, people suppose me to be wealthy. I wish, for alteration-the' world's' gone past me.i I hardly your sake, they were right.. But whatever I know where I am myself; much less where my leave behind me, or whatever I can give you, customers are." you,'in such a house as Dombey's, are in the "' Never mind'em, uncle l" road to use well and make the most of. Be "Since you came home from weekly board- diligent, try to like it, my dear boy, work for a ing-school at Peckham, for instance-and that's\ steady independence, and be happy!" ten days," said Solomon —"I don't remember "I'll do everything I can, uncle, to deserve more than one person that has come into the your affection.'Indeed I will," said the boy shop."' earnestly "Two, uncle, don't you recollect? There "I know it," said Solomon. "I am sure of was the man who came to ask for change for a it;" and he applied himself to a second glass sovereign —" of the old madeira with increased relish. "As "That's the one," said Solomon. to the sea," he pursued, "that's well enough in "Why, uncle! don't you call the woman fiction, Wally, but it won't do in fact: it won't anybody, who came to ask the way to Mile-endl do at all. It's natural enough that you should Turnpike?" think about it, associating it with all these "Oh! it's true," said Solomon, "'I'forgot familiar things; but it won't do, it won't do." her. Two persons.". Solomon Gills rubbed his hands with an air. "To be sure they didn't buy anything,";cried of stealthy enjoyment as he talked of the sea, the boy. though; and looked on the seafaring objects "No. They didn't buy anything," said Solo-' about him with inexpressible complacency..mon quietly.'"Think of this wine, for instance,"' said old " Nor want anything," cried the boy. Sol, "which has been to the East Indies and "No. If they had, they'd gone to another back, I'm not able to say how often, and has shop," said Solomon in the same tone. been once round the world. Think of the pitch"' But there were two of'em, uncle," cried the dark nights, the roaring winds, and rolling boy, as if that were a great triumph. "You said seas-" only one." *" The thunder, lightning, rain, hail, storms of i' Well, Wally," resumed the old man after a all kinds," said the boy. CAPTAINi CUT2TLE. " To be sure," said Solomon,-'; that this wine home.,I'm only a boy. No one waits at home has passed through. Think what a straining for me. Leap down into my place!' and flung and creaking of timbers and -masts: what a himself in the sea!" whistling and howling of the gale through ropes The kindling eye and heightened colour of and rigging —-" the boy, who had risen from his seat in the "What a clambering aloft of men, vying with earnestness of what he said and felt, seemed to each other who shall lie out first upon-the yards remind old Sol of something he had forgotten, to furl the icy sails, while the ship rolls and or that his encircling mist had hitherto shut out. pitches like mad!" cried his nephew. Instead of proceeding with any more anecdotes, "Exactly so," said Solomon,-" has gone on as he had evidently intended but a moment over the old cask that held this wine. Why, before, he gave a short dry cough, and said, when the Charming Sally went- down in "Well! suppose we change the subject." the —" The truth was, that the simple-minded uncle, "'In the Baltic Sea, in the dead of'night, in his secret attraction'towards the marvellous five-and-twenty minutes past twelve, when' the and adventurous-of which he was, in some captain's watch stopped in his pocket; he lying s6rt, a distant relation by his trade-had greatly dead against the mainmast-on the fourteenth encouraged the same attraction in the nephew; of February, seventeen forty-nine!" cried Walter and that everything that had ever been put bewith great animation. fore the boy to deter him from a life cf adven" Ay! to be sure!" cried old'Sol,. "quite ture, had had the usual unaccountable effect of right! Then, there were five hundred casks of sharpening his taste for it. This is invariable. such wine aboard; and all hands (except the It wou'd seem as if there never wa, a book first mate, first lieutenant, two seamen, and a written, or astory told, expressly with the object lady, in a leaky boat), going'to work' to stave of keeping boys oh shore, which'did'not lure the casks, got drunk and died drunk, sin;ng and charm them to the ocean as a matter of'Rule Britannia' when, she settled and went ccurse. down, and ending with one awful scream in But an addition to the little party(>w made chorus." its appearance, in the shape of a gentleman in a " But when the Geo-ge the Second drove wide suit of blue, with a hook instead. of a hand ashore, uncle, on the coast of Cornwall, in a attached to his right wrist; very bushy black dismal gale two hours before daybreak, on the eyebrows; and a thick stick in his left hand, fourth of March,'seventy-one, she had near two covered all over (like his nose) with knobs. He hundred horses aboard; and the horses breaking wore a loose black silk handkerchief round his loose down below, early in the gale, and tearing neck, and such a very large,' coarse shirt collar, to and fro, and trampling each other to death, that it looked like a small sail. He was evimade such noises, and set up such human cries, dently the person for whom the spare wine-glass that'the crew believing the ship to be full of was intended, and evidently knew it; for, having devils, some of, the best men losing heart and taken off his rough outer coat, and hung up,'on head, went overboard' in despair, and only two a particular peg behind. the door, such a hard wre left alive, at last, to tell the tale." glazed hat as,a sympathetic person's head might "And when," said old Sol, "when the Poly- ache at the sight of, and which left a red rim phemus-"' round his own forehead as if he had been wear"Private West India Trader, burden three ing a tight basin, he brought a chair to where hundred and fifty tons, Captain, John Brown the clean glass was, and sat himself down behind of Deptford. Owners, Wiggs and Co.," cried it. He was usually addressed as Captain, this Walter.. visitor;. and had been a pilot, or' a skipper, or a "The same," said Sol,-" when she took fire, privateersman, or all three perhaps; and was a four days' sail with a fair wind out of Jamaica very salt-looking man indeed. Harbour, in the night- -" His face, remarkable for a brown solidity, "There were two brothers'on board," inter- brightened as he shook hands with uncle and posed his nephew, speaking very fast and loud, nephew; but he seemed to be of a laconic dis"and there not being room for both of-them in position, and merely said: the only boat that wasn't swamped, neither of "How goes it?" them would consent to go, until the elder took "All well," said' Mr: Gills, pushing the bottle the younger by the waist and flung him in. And towards him. then' the younger, rising in the boat,: cried out, H~e took it up, and having surveyed and smelt Dear Edward, think of your promised wife at it, said with extraordinary expression; 22 DOMBE Y AND SON. "The?" Nothing short of the wonderful madeira, com" The," returned the instrument-maker. bined with the occasion (which rendered it deUpon that he whistled as he filled his glass, sirable to improve and expand Walter's-mind), and seemed to think they were making holiday could have ever loosened his tongue to the exindeed.' tent of giving utterance to this prodigious ora, " Wal'r!" he said, arranging his hair (which tion. He seemed quite amazed himself at the was thin) with his hook, and then pointing it at manner in which it opened up to view the the instrument-maker, "look at him! Love! sources of the taciturn delight he had had in Honour! And Obey!. Overhaul your cate- eating Sunday dinners in that parlour for ten chism till you find that passage, and when. found years. Becoming a sadder and a wiser man, he turn the leaf down. Success, my boy!" mused and held his peace. He was so perfectly satisfied both with his "Come!" cried the subject of his admiration, quotation and his reference to it, that he could returning. "Before you have your glass of not help' repeating the words again in a low grog, Ned, we must finish the bottle." voice, and saying he had forgotten'em these "Stand by!" said Ned, filling his glass. forty year. "Give the boy some more."' But I never wanted two or three words in "No more, thankee, uncle!" my life that I didn't-know where to lay my hand " Yes, yes," said Sol, "a little more. We'll, upon'em, Gills," he observed. "It comes of finish the bottle, to the House, Ned-Walter's not wasting language as some do." house. Why, it may be his house one of these Therefiection perhaps reminded him that he days, in part.. Who knows? Sir Richard had' etter, like young. Norval's father, " increase Whittington married his master's daughter." his store." At any rate,.he became silent, and "'Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayornof remained so, until. old Sol went out into the London, and when you are old you will never shop to light it up, when he turned to Walter, depart.from it,'"interposed the Captain. "Wal'r! and said, without any introductory remark: Overhaul the book, my lad." "I suppose he could make a clock if'he "And although Mr. Dombey hasn't a daughtried?" ter- " Sol began. "I shouldn't.wonder, Captain Cuttle," re- Yes, yes, he has, uncle," said the boy, redturned the boy. dening and laughing. "And it would go!" said Captain Cuttle, "Has he?" cried the old man.' "Indeed, I making a species of serpent in the air with his think he has, too." hook. "-Lord, how that clock would go!" " Oh! I know he has," said the boy. "Some For a moment or two he seemed quite lost in. of'em were talking about it in the office to-day. contemplating the pace of this ideal time-piece, And they do say, uncle and Captain Cuttle," and sat looking at the boy as if his face were the lowering his voice, "that he's taken a dislike to dial.' her, and that she's left unnoticed among'the "But he's chock-full of science," he observed, servants, and that his mind's so set all the while waving his hook towards the stock-in-trade. upon having his son in the House, that although "Lookye here! Here's a collection of'em. he's only a baby now, he is going to have Earth, air, or water. It's all one. Only say balances struck oftener than formerly, and the where you'll have it. Up in a balloon? There books kept closer than they used to be, and has you are. Down in a bell? There you are. even been seen (when he thought he wasn't) D'ye want to put the North Stan in a pair of walking in the Docks, looking, at his ships and scales, and weigh it? He'll do it for you." property and all that, as if he was exulting like It may be gathered from these remarks that over what' he and his son will possess together. Captain Cuttle's reverence for the stock of in- That's what they say. Of course, I don't struments was profound, and that his philosophy know." knew little or no distinction between trading in " He knows all about her already, you see," it and inventing it. said the instrument-maker. " Ah!" he said, with a sigh, "it's a fine thing "Nonsense, uncle," cried the boy, still redto understand'em. And yet it's a fine thing dening and laughing, boy-like. "How can I not to understand'em. I hardly know which is help hearing what they tell me?" best.. It's so comfortable to sit here, and feel "The son's a little in our way at present, I'm that you might be'weighed, measured, magnified, afraid, Ned," said the old man, humouring the electrified, polarized, played the very devil'with: joke. and never know how." " Very much," said the captain. A GODMOTHER SUGGESTED FOR PA4UL. 23 "Nevertheless, We'll drink him," pursued Sol. then almost sinking behind the closet doorwith So, here's to Dombey and Son." confusion and blushes. "Oh, very well, uncle," said the boy merrily. "Louisa," said Mr. Dombey, one day, to his 4 Since you have introduced the mention -of sister, " I really think I must present yourfriend her, and have connected me with her, and have with some little token on the occasion of Paul's said that I know all about her, I shall make bold christening. She has exerted herself so warmly to amend the toast. So, here's to Dombey- in the child's behalf from the first, and seems to and Son-and Daughter! " understand her position so thoroughly (a very rare merit in this world, I am sorry to say); that it would really be agreeable to me to notice her." Let it be no detraction from the merits of Miss Tox to hint that in Mr. Dombey's eyes, as CHAPTER V. in some others that occasionally see the light, they only achieved that.mighty piece of knowPAUL S'PROGRESS AND CHRISTENING. ledge, the understanding of their own position, who showed a fitting reverence for his. It was W ITTLE Paul, sufferingr no contami — not so much their merit that they knew them-: ll!(,~ nationfromthe blood oftheToodles selves, as that they knew him, and bowed low.l -: grew stouter and stronger every day. before him. -2 Every day, tpo, he was more and.- My dear Paul," returned, his sister, "you do'Aore ardently cherished by Miss Miss Tox but justice, as a man of.your penetraf'' Tox, whose devotion was so far ap- tion was sure, I knew, to do. I believe, if there Vy preciated by Mr. Dombey that he beganto are three words in the English language for Ei regard her as a woman of great natural which she has a respect amounting almost to sense, whose feelings did her credit and veneration, those words are, Dombey and Son." deserved. encouragement. He was so lavish of "Well," said Mr. Dombey, " I believe it. It this condescension, that he not only bowed to does Miss Tox credit." her, in a particular manner, on several occasions, "And as to anything in the shape of a token, but even intrusted such stately recognitions of my dear Paul," pursued his sister, " all I cal say her to his sister as "Pray tell your friend, is, that anything you give Miss Tox will be Louisa, that she is very good," or " Mention to hoarded and prized, I am sure, like a relic. But Miss Tox, Louisa, that I am obliged,to her;" there is a way, my dear Paul, ofshowlng your specialities which made a deep impression.on sense of Miss Tox's friendliness in a still more the lady thus distinguished. flattering and acceptaLle manner, if you should Miss Tog was often in the habit of assuring be so inclined." Mrs. Chick that " nothing could exceed her in- "How is that?" asked Mr. Doinbey. terest in all connected with the development of "Godfathers, of course," continuedMrs, Chick that sweet child;" and an. observer of Miss "are important in point of connection and in-'Tox's proceedings might have. inferred so much fluence." withott declaratory confirmation. She would "I don't know why they should be to my preside over the innocent repasts of the young son," said Mr. Dombeycoldly..- heir with ineffable satisfaction, almost with an "lery true, my dear Paul," retorted Mrs. air of joint proprietorship with- Richards in the Chick, with an extraordinary show of animation, entertainment. At the little ceremonies of the. to'cover the suddenness of her conversion; bath and toilet she assisted with enthusiasm. and spoken like yourself. I might have exThe administration of infantine-doses of physic pected nothing else from you. I might have awakened all the active sympathy of her charac- known that such would have been your opinion. ter; and being on one odcasion secreted in -.a Perhaps "-here Mrs. Chick flattered -again, as cupboard \(whither shg, had fled in modesty) not quite comfortably feeling her way-"perwhen Mr. Dombey was iintroduced into the haps that is a reason why you might have the nursery by his sister, to behold his son, in the less objection to allowing Miss Tox to be godcourse of preparation for..bed, taking a short mother to the dear thing, if it were only as walk uphill over Richards's gown, in a short and deputy and proxy for some one else. That it airy linen jacket, Miss Tox was so transported would be received as a great honour and disbeyond the ignorant present as to be uklable to tinction, Paul, I need not say.". refrain from crying out, "Is he not beautiful, "Louisa," said Mr. Dombey after a short Mr. Dombey?. Is he not a Cupid, sir?"', and pause, "it is not to be supposed —." 24 DOMBEYA AND SON. "Certainly not," cried Mrs. Chick, hastening strong. I have not been quite myself since poor to anticipate a refusal; "I never thought it dear Fanny departed." was." Mr. Dombey glanced at the pocket-handkerMr. Dombey looked at'her impatiently. chief which his sister applied to her eyes, and " Don't flurry me, my dear Paul," said his resumed: sister; "for that destroys me. I am far from "It is not to be supDosed, I say —" t:f'l " SO, HERE'S TO DOMBEY-AND SON-AND DAUGHTER " "And I say," murmured Mrs. Chick, " that I so eloquent,'or so anything as you are. I know never thought it was." that very well. So much the worse for me. But "Good Heaven, Louisa!" said Mr. Dombey. if they were the last words I had to. utter-and "No, my dear Paul," she remonstrated'.with last words should be very solemnl to you and tearful dignity, "I must'really be allowed" to me, Paul, after poor dear Fanny-I should still speak, I am not so clever, or so reasoning, or say I never thought it was, -And what is more," iiV TILE NAURSER Y 25 added Mrs. Chick with increased dignity, as if was from that hour chosen anTd appointed to she had withheld her crushing-argument until office; and Mr. Dombey further signified his now, "I never did think it was." pleasure that the ceremony, already long deMr. Dombey walked to the window and back layed; should take place without further postagain. ponement. His sister, who had been far from "It is not to be supposed, Louisa," he said anticipating so signal a success, withdrew as (Mrs. Chick had nailed her colours to the mast, soon as she could, to communicate it to her and repeated "I know it isn't," but he took no best of friends; and Mr, Dombey was left alone notice of it), "but that there are many persons in his library. who, supposing that I recognised any claim at There was anything but solitude in the nursery; all in such a case, have a claim upon me superior for there Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox were enjoyto Miss Tox's. But I do not. I recognise no such ing a social evening, so much to the disgust of thing. Paul and myself will be able, when the Miss Susan Nipper, that that young lady emtime comes, to hold our own-the House, in braced every opportunity of making wry faces other words, will be able to hold its own, and behind the door. Her feelings were so much maintain its own, and hand down its own of excited on the occasion, that she found it initself, and without any such commonplace, aids. dispensable to afford them this relief, even The kind of foreign help which people usually without having the comfort of any audience or seek for their children I can afford to despise; sympathy whatever. As the knight-errants of being above it, I hope. So that Paul's infancy, old relieved their minds by carving their misand childhood pass away well, and I see him tresses' names in deserts and wildernesses, and becoming qualified, without waste of time, for other savage places where there was no probathe career on which he is destined to enter, bility of there ever being anybody to read them, I am satisfied. He will make what, powerful so did Miss Susan Nipper curl her snub nose friends he pleases in after life, when he is actively into -drawers and wardrobes, put away winks maintaining-and extending, if that is possible of disparagement in cupboards, shed derisive -the dignity and credit of the Firm. Until squints into stone pitchers, and contradict and then, I am enough for him, perhaps, and all in call names out in the passage. all. I have no wish that people should step in The two interlopers, however, blissfully unbetween us. I would much rather show my conscious of the young lady's sentiments, saw sense of the obliging conduct of a)deserving per- little Paul safe through all the stages of undressson like your friend.. Therefore let it be so; ing, airy exercse, supper, and bed; and then and your husband and myself Will do well sat down to tea before:.the fire. The two chilenough for the other sponsors, I dare say." dren now lay, through the good offices of Polly, In the course of these remarks, delivered with in one room; and it was not -until the ladies great majesty and grandeur,' Mr. Dombey had were established at their tea-table that, happentruly revealed the, secret feelings of his breast. ing to look towards the little beds, lthey thought An indescribable distrust of anybody stepping ofFlorence. in between himself and his son; a haughty dread' How sound she sleeps!" said Miss Tox. of having any rival or partner in the boy's re- "Why, you know, my dear, she takesi a great spect and deference; a sharp misgiving, recently deal of exercise in the course of the day," reacquired, that he was not infallible in his power turned 4.rs. Chick, "playing about little Paul of bending and binding human wills.; as sharp a so much." jealousy of any second check or cross; these "She is a curious child," said Miss Tox. were, at that time, the master keys of his soul. "My.dear," retorted Mrs. Chick ini a low In all his life he had never made a friend. His voice: " her mamma all over!" cold and distant nature had neither sought one, "In-deed!" said Miss Tox. "Ah dear me!" nor found one. And now, when that nature A tone of most extraordinary compassion Miss concentrated its whole force so strongly on a Tox said it in, though she had no distinct idea partial scheme of parental interest and ambition, why, except that it was expected of her. it seemed as if its icy current, instead of being "Florence will never, never, never be a Domreleased by this influence, and running clear and bey," said Mrs. Chick, " not if she lives to be a free, had thawed- for but an instant to admit its thousand years old." burden, and then frozen with it into one un- Miss Tox elevated her eyebrows, and was yielding block. again full of commiseration. Elevated thus to the godmothership of little "I quite fret and worry myself about her," Paul, in virtue of her insignificance, Miss Tox said MArs, Chick, with a sigh of. modes merit, 26 DOMBE Y AND SO-N. "I really don't see what is to become of her Florence repeated her supplication, with a when she grows older, or what position she is to frightened look and in a voice broken by sobs take. She don't gain on her papa-in the least. and tears. How can one expect she should, when she is so "I'll not wake him," she said, covering her very unlike a Dombey?" face, and hanging down her head. " I'll only Miss Tox looked as. if she saw no way out of touch him with my hand, and go to sleep. Oh, such a cogent argument as that at all. pray, pray let me lie by my brother to-night, for "And the child, you see," said Mrs. Chick in I believe he's fond of me 1" deep confidence, "has p'oor Fanny's nature. Richards took her without a word, and carryShe'll never make an effort in after life, I'll ing her to the little bed in which the infant was venture to say. Never! She'll never wind and sleeping, laid her down by his side. She crept twine herself about her papa's heart like-" as near him as she could without disturbing his "Like the ivy?" suggested Miss Tox. rest; and stretching out one arm so, that it " Like the ivy," Mrs. Chick assented. "Never! timidly embraced'his neck, and hiding her face She'll never glide and nestle into the bosomof on the other, over which her damp and scattered her papa's affections like-the- " hair fell loose, lay motionless. "Startled fawn?" suggested Miss Tox. "Poor little thing!" said Miss Tox;': she "Like the startled fawn," said Mrs. Chick. has been dreaming, I dare say." " Never! Poor Fanny! Yet how I loved her!" This trivial incident had so interrupted the "You must not distress yourself, my dear," current of conversation, that it was difficult of said Miss Tox in a soothing voice. "Now, resumption; and Mrs. Chick, moreover, had really! You have too much feeling." been so affected by the contemplation of her "We have all our faults," said Mrs. Chick, own tolerant nature, that she was not in spirits. weeping and shaking her head. " I dare say The two friends accordingly soon made an end we have. I never was blind to hers. I never of their tea, and a servant was dispatched to said I was. Far from it. Yet how I loved her!" fetch a hackney cabriolet for Miss Tox. Miss What a satisfaction it' was to Mrs. Chick-a Tox had great experience in hackney cabs, and commonplace piece of folly enough, compared her starting in one was generally a work of time, with whom her sister-in-law had been a very as she was systematic in the preparatory arrangeangel of womanly intelligence and gentleness- ments. to patronise and be tender to the memory of "Have the goodness, if you please, Towlinthat lady: in exact pursuance of her conduct to son," said Miss Tox, " first of all, to carry out a her in her lifetime: and to thoroughly believe pen and ink and take his number legibly." herself, and take herself in, and make herself "Yes, miss," said Towlinson. uncommonly comfortable on the strength of her "Then, if you please, Towlinson," said Miss toleration! What a mighty pleasant virtue tole- Tox, "have the goodness to turn the cushion. ration should be when we are right, tb be so Which," said Miss Tox apart to Mrs. Chick, "is very pleasant when we are wrong, and quite generally damp, my dear.'/ unable to demonstrate how we come to be in- "Yes, miss," said Towlinson.. vested with the privilege of exercising it! "I'll trouble you also, if you please,".said Mrs. Chick was yet drying her eyes and Miss Tox, "with this card and this shilling. shaking her head, when Richards made bold to He's to drive to the card, and he is to undercaution her that Miss Florence was awake and stand that he will not on any account have more sitting in her bed.' She had risen, as the nurse than the shilling." said, and the lashes of her eyes were wet with "No, miss," said Towlinson. tears. But no one saw them glistening save "And-I'm sorry to give you so much trouble, Polly. No one else leant over her, and whis. Towlinson," said Miss Tox, looking at him penpered soothing words to her, or was near enough sively. to hear the flutter of her beating heart. "Not at all, miss," said Towlinson. "Oh!' dear nurse!" said the child, looking "Mention to the man, then, if'you please, earnestly up in her face, "let me lie by my Towlinson," said Miss Tox, "that the lady's brother!" uncle is a magistrate, and that if he gives her "Why, my pet?" said Richards.. any of his impertinence he will be punished "Oh! I think he loves me," cried the child terribly. You can pretend to say that, if you wildly. "Let me lie by him. Pray do!" please, Towlinson, in a friendly way, and beMrs. Chick interposed with some motherly cause you know it was done to another man, words about going to sleep like a dear, but who died." MISS NIPPER IS RA4THER PUT OUT. 27 "Certainly,,miss," said Towlinson. to have a cross word spoken to or of it, is run "And now good night to my sweet, sweet, down, the case is very different indeed. My sweet godson," said Miss Tox, with a soft shower goodness gracious me, Miss Floy, you naughty, of kisses at each repetition of the adjective; sinful child, if you don't shut your eyes this " and Louisa, my dear friend, promise me to minute, I'll call in them hobgoblins that lives in take a little something warm before you go to the cock-loft to come and eat you up alive!" bed, and not to distress yourself!" Here Miss Nipper made a horrible lowing, It was with extreme difficulty that Nipper, the supposed to issue from a conscientious goblin of black-eyed, who/looked on steadfastly, contained the bull species, impatient to discharge the herself at this crisis, and until the subsequent severe duty of his position.' Having further departure of Mrs. Chick. But the nursery being composed her young charge by covering her at length free, of visitors, she made herself some head with the bedclothes, and making three or recompense for her late restraint. four angry dabs at the pillow, she folded her "You might keep me in a strait-waistcoat for arms, and screwed up her mouth, and sat looking six weeks," said Nipper, "and when I gotit off at the fire for the rest of the evening. I'd only be more aggravated, who ever heard - Though little Paul was said, in nursery the like of them two Griffins, Mrs. Richards?" phrase, "to take a deal of notice for his age," "And then to talk of having been dreaming, he took as little notice of all this as of the prepoor dear!" said Polly..parations for his christening on the next day but "Oh you beauties!" cried Susan Nipper, one; which nevertheless went on about him, as affecting to salute the door by which the ladies to his personal apparel, and that of his sister liad departed. "Never be a Dombey, won't and thetwonurses,with great activity. Neither she, it's to be hoped she won't, we don't want did he, on the arrival of the appointed morning, any more such, one's enough." show any sense of its importance;, being, on the "Don't wake the children, Susan dear," said contrary, unusually inclined to sleep, and unPolly. usually inclined to takeit ill in his attendants," I'm very much beholden to you, Mrs. that they dressed him to go out. Richards," said Susan, who was not by any It happened to be an iron-grey, autumnal means discriminating in her wrath, " and really day, with a shrewd east wind blowing-a day in feel it as a honour to receive your commands, keeping with the proceedings. Mr. Dombey being'a black slave and a mulotter. Mrs. represented in himself the wind, the shade, and Richards, if there's any other orders you can the autumn of the christening. He stood in his give me, pray mention'em." library to receive the company, as hard and col4 "Nonsense; orders," said Polly. as the weather; and when he looked out through "Oh! bless your heart, Mrs. Richards," cried the glass room, at the trees in the little garden, Susan, " temporaries always orders permanencies their brown and yellow leaves came fluttering here, ddn't you know that, why, wherever was down, as if he blighted them. you born, Mrs. Richards? But, wherever you Ugh! They were black, cold rooms; and was born, Mrs. Richards," pursued Spitfire, seemed to be in mourning, like the inmates of shaking her head resolutely,. "and whenever, the house. The books, precisely matched as.to and however (which is best known to yourself), size, and drawn up in line like soldiers, looked, you may bear in mind, please, that it's one in their cold, hard, slippery uniforms, as if they thing to give orders, and quite another thing to had but one idea among them, and that was a take'em. A person may tell a person to dive freezer. The bookcase, glazed and locked, reoff a bridgel head foremost into five-and-forty pudiated all familiarities. Mr. Pitt, in bronze feet of water,. Mrs. Richards, but a person may on the top, with no trace of his celestial origin be very far from diving." about him, guarded the unattainable treasure "There now," said PolIy, "you're angry be- like an enchanted Moor. A dusty urn at each cause you're a goodlittle thing, and fond of Miss high comer, dug up from an ancient tomb, Florence; and yet you turn round on me, be- preached desolation tad decay, as from two cause there's ndbody else." pulpits; and the chimney-glass, reflecting Mr. "It's very easy for some to keep their tempers, Dombey and his portrait at one blow, seemed and be soft-spoken, Mrs. Richards," returned fraught with melancholy meditations. Susan, slightly mollified, "when their child's The stiff and stark, fire-irons appeared to made as much of as a prince, and is petted and claim a nearer relationship than anything else patted till it wishes its friends further, but when there to Mr. Dombey, with his buttoned coat, a sweet young pretty innocent, that never ought his white cravat, his heavy gold watch-chain, 28 DOMABEY AND SON. and his creaking boots. But this was before active young constable, Susan. Nipper, brought the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Chick, his lawful up the rear. Though the'whole nursery party relatives, who soon presented themselves. were dressed by this time in lighter mourning " My dear Paul," Mrs. Chick murmured as than at first, there was enough in the appearance she embraced him,"the beginning, I hope, of of the bereaved children to make the day no many joyful days!" brighter. The baby, too-it might have been "Thank you, Louisa," "said Mr. Dombey Miss Tox's nose-began to.cry. Thereby, as it grimly.. " How do you do, Mr. John?" happened, preventing Mr. Chick from the awk"How do you do, sir?" said Chick. ward fulfilment of a very honest purpose he had He gave Mr. Dombey his hand, as if he which was to make much of Florence. For this feared it might electrify him. Mr. Dombey gentleman, insensible to the superior claims of a took it as if it were;a fish, or'seaweed, or some perfect Dombey (perhaps on account of having such clammy substance, and immediately re- the honour to be united to a Dombey himself, turned it to him with exalted politeness and being'familiar with excellence), really liked "Perhaps, Louisa," said Mr. Dombey, slightly her, and showed that he liked' her, and was turning his head in his' cravat, as if it were a about to show it in his own, way'now, when Paul socket, "you would have preferred a fire?" cried, and his helpmate stopped, him short. "Oh, my- dear Paul, no," said Mrs. Chick, Now, Florence child!" said her aunt briskly, who had much ado to keep her teeth from "what are you doing, love? Show yourself to chattering; "not for me." him..Engage his attention, my dear!" "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey,,"you are not The atmosphere became, or might have besensible of any chill?" come, colder and colder when' Mr. Dombey Mr. John, who had already got both his hands stood frigidly watching his little daughter, who, in his pockets over the wrists, and was on the clapping her hands, and standing on tiptoe very threshold of that same canine chorus which before the throne of his son and heir, lured him had given Mrs. Chick so much offence on a to bend down from his high estate, and look at former occasion, protested that he was perfectly her Some honest act of Richards's may have comfortable. aided the effect, but he did look down, and held He added in a low voice, "With my tiddle his peace. As his sister hid behind her nurse, tol toor-rul "-when.he was providentially he followed her with his eyes; and when she stopped by Towlinson; wh'o announced': peeped out with a merry cry to him, he sprang "Miss Tox!" up and crowed lustily-laughing outright when And enter that fair. enslaver, -with a blue nose she ran in upon him; and seeming to fondle and indescribably frosty- face, referable to her her curls with his tiny hands, while she smothered being very thinly clad in~ a maze of'fluttering him with kisses, odds and-ends, to do honour to the ceremony. Was Mr. Dombey'pleased to see this? He "How do you do, Miss Tox?" said Mr. testified no pleasure by the relaxation of a nerve: Dombey. but outward tokens of any kind of feeling were Miss Tox, in the midst of her, spreading unusual with him. If any sunbeam' stole into gauzes, went down altogether like an opera-glass the room to light the children'at their play, it shutting up; she'curtsied so low,' in acknow- never reached his face. He looked on:so fixedly ledgment of Mr. Dombey's advancing a'step or and coldly, that the warm light lvanished even two to meet her. from the laughing eyes of little Florence, when, "I can never forget this' occasion, sir," said at last, they happened to meet his. Miss Tox softly. "'Tis impossible. My dear It was a dull, grey, autumn day indeed, and) Louisa,' I can hardly believe the evidence of my in a minute's pause and silence that took place, senses." the leaves fell sorrowfully. If'Miss.Tox could believe the evidence of one "Mr; John," said Mr. Dombey, referring to of her senses, it was a very cold day. That was his -watch, and assuming his hat and gloves, quite clear. She took an early opportunity of "take my sister, if you please: my arm to-day is promoting the circulation in the tip of her nose Miss Tox's. You had better go first with Master by secretly chafing it with her pocket-handker. Paul, Richards. Be very careful." chief, lest, by its very low temperature, it should In Mr. Dombey's carriage, Dombey and Son, disagreeably astonish the baby when she came Miss Tox, Mrs. Chick, Richards, and Florence. to kiss it. In a little carriage following it, Susan Nipper The baby soon appeared, carried in great glory and the owner, Mr.. Chick.' Susan looking out by Richards; while Florenc., in, custody of that of window without intermission, as a relief from A FROSTY CHRISTEVING1 — 29 the embarrassment of confronting the large face At which instance of parental enthusiasm Miss of that gentleman, and thinking, whenever any- Tox was enchanted. But, exclusive of this incithing rattled, that he was putting up in paper an dent, the chief difference between the christenappropriate pecuniary compliment for herself. ing party and a party in a mourning coach:conOnce upon the road to church Mr. Dombey sisted in the colours of the carriage and horses. clapped his hands for the amusement of his son. Arrived at the church steps, they: were re_ ___________ "._- ~ ~ -.''':a 1 _! - " MR. DOMBEY DISMOUNTING FIRST TO HELP THE LADIES OUT.' ceived by a portentous beadle. Mr. Dombey Miss Tox's hand trembled as she slipped it dismounting first to help the ladies'out, and through Mr. Dombeyls~ arm, and felt herself standing near him at the church-door, looked escorted up the steps, preceded by a cocked-hat like another beadle. A beadle less gorgeous, and a Babylonian collar. It seemed for a mobut more dreadful; the beadle of private life; ment like that other solemn institution, "Wilt the beadle of our business and our bosoms.. thou have this man, Lucretia? ~ "Yes, I will." 3o DOABEY AND SON. "Please to bring the child in quick out of the with a' jug of warm water, and said something, air there," whispered the beadle, holding open as he poured it into the font, about taking the the inner door of the church. chill off; which millions of gallons boiling hot Little Paul might have asked, with Hamlet, could not have done for the occasion. Then "Into my grave?" so chill and earthy was the the clergyman, an amiable and mild-looking place. The tall, shrouded pulpit and reading- young curate, but obviously afraid of the baby, desk; the dreary perspective of empty pews appeared, like the principal character in a ghost st-Itching away under the galleries, and empty story, "a tall figure all in white;" at sight of bcll.ihes mounting to the roof, and lost in. the whom Paul rent the air with his cries, and never shadow of the great grim organ; the dusty left off again till he was taken out black in the matting and' cold stone slabs; the grisly free face. seats in the aisles; and the' damp, corner by the Even when that event had happened, to the bell-rope, where the black trestles used for great relief of everybody, he was heard under funerals were stowed away, along with some the portico, during the rest of the ceremony, shovels and baskets, and a coil or two of now fainter, now louder, now hushed, now deadly-looking rope.; the strange, unusual, un- bursting forth again with' an irrepressible sense Comfortable smell, and the cadaverous light; of his wrongs, This so distracted the attention were all in unison. It was' a cold and dismal of th two ladies, that Mrs. Chick was conscene. stantly deploying into the centre aisle, to send "Thef'es a wedding just oii, sir," said the out messages by the pew-opener, while Miss beadle, " but it'll be over directly, if you'll walk Tox kept her Prayer-book open at the Guninto the Westry here," powder Plot, and occasionally read responses Before'he turned again to lead the. way, he from that service. gave Mr. Dombey a bow and a half-smile of re During the whole of these proceedings Mr. cognition, importing that' he (the beadle). re- Dombey remained as impassive and gentlemanly membered to have had the pleasure of attending as ever, and perhaps assisted in making it so on him when he buried his wife, and' hoped he cold, that the young curate smoked at the had enjoyed himself since. mouth as he read. The only time that he unThe very wedding looked dismal as they,bent his visage in'the least was when the passed in front of the altar. The bride was too clergyman, in delivering (very unaffectedly and old and the bridegroom too young, and a super- simply), the closing exhortation, relative to the annuated beau with'-one eye, and an eye-glass future examination of the child by the sponsors, stuck in its blank companion, was giving away happened to rest his eye on' Mr. Chick; and the lady, while the friends were shivering. In then Mr. Dombey might have been seen to exthe.vestry the fire was smoking; and an over- press,-by a majestic look, that; he.would like to aged and overworked and under-paid attorney's catch him at it.'clerk, "making a'search,'" was'running'his fore- It might- have been well for Mr. Dombey if finger down the parchment pagesof an immense he had thought of' his own dignity a little less; register (one of a long series of similar volumes) and had thought of the great origin and purgorgedwith burials. Over the'fire-place was a pose of the ceremony, in which'he took so ground-plan'of" the vaults underneath the formal and so stiff a part, a little more. Hi.s church; and Mr. Chick, skimming the' literary arrogance contrasted strangely with its history. portion of it aloud, by way of enlivening the When it was all over, he again gave his arm company, read the reference to Mrs. Dombey's to Miss Tox, and conducted her to the vestry, tomb in full, before he.could stop himself. where he informed the clergyman how much After another cold interval, a wheezy little pleasure it would' have given him to have pew-opener afflicted with an asthma, appro- solicited the honour of his company at dinner, priate to the churchyard, if not -to the church, but for the unfortunate state of his household summoned them to the font. Here they waited affairs. The register signed, and the fees paid, some little time while the marriage party en- and the pew-opener (whose cough was very bad rolled thenselves; and meanwhile the wheezy again) remembered, and the beadle gratified, little pew-opener-partly in consequence of her and the sexton (who was accidentally on the infirmity, and partly that the.marriage party door-steps, looking'with great interest at the might not forget her-went about the building weather) not forgotten, they got into the carcoughing like a grampus. riage again, and drove home in tlh same bleak Presently the clerk (the onlyicheerfinl-looking fellowship. object there, and he was an undertaker) came upl There they found Mr. Pitt turning.up his -AND A COOL COLLATION. 3I nose at a cold collation, set forth in a cold now leant across the table, and said to Mrs. pomp of glass and silver, and looking more like Chick softly: a dead dinner lying in state than a social re- "Louisa!" freshment. On their arrival, Miss Tox pro- "My dear," said Mrs. Chick. duced a mug for her godson, and Mr. Chick a "Onerous nature of our position in public knife and fork and spoon in a case. Mr. may - I have forgotten the exact term." Ddmbey also produced a bracelet for Miss " Exose him to," said Mrs. Chick. Tox; and, on the receipt of this token, Miss "Pardon me, my dear," returned Miss Tox, Tox was tenderly affected. "I think not. It was more rounded and flowing. "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey, "will you Obliging disposition of relations and. friends in take the bottom of the table, if you please? private, or onerous nature of position in public What have you got there, Mr. John?" -may —inpose upon him?" "I have got a cold fillet of veal here, sir," "Impose upon him, to be sure," said Mrs. replied Mr. Chick, rubbing his numbed hands Chick. hard together. "What have you got there, Miss Tox struck her delicate hands together sir?" lightly in triumph; and added, casting up her "This/" returned Mr. Dombey, " is some cold eyes,'' Eloquence indeed!" preparation of calf's head, I think. I see cold Mr. Dombey, in the meanwhile, had issued fowls-ham- patties-salad-lobster. Miss orders for the attendance of Richards, who now Tox will do'me the honour of taking some entered curtsying, but without the baby; Paul vine? Champagne to Miss Tox." being asleep after thte fatigues of the morning. There was a toothache in everything. The Mr. Dombey, having delivered a glass of wine wine was so bitter cold that it forced a little to this vassal, addressed her in the following scream from Miss Tox, which she had great words: h.iss Tox previously settling her head difficulty in turning into a "Hem!". The veal on 6ne side, and fnaking other little arrangehad come from such an airy pantry, that the ments for engraving them on her heart. first taste of it had struck a sensation as of cold "During the six months or so, Richards, lead to Mr. Chick's extremities. Mr. Dombey which have seen you an inmate of this house, alone remained unmoved. He might have been you have done your duty. Desiring to connect hung up for sale at a Russian fair as a specimen some little service to you with this occasion, I of a frozen gentleman. considered how I could best effect that object, The prevailing influence was too much even and I also advised with my sister Mrs. — " for his sister. She made no effort at flattery or "Chick," interposed the gentleman of that small-talk, and directed ail her efforts to looking name. as warm as she could. " Oh, hush, if you please!" said Miss Tox. "Well, sir," said Mr. Chick, making a despe- " I was about to say to you, Richards," rerate plunge after a long silence, and filling a sumed Mr. Dombey, with an appalling glance at glass of sherry; "I shall drink this, if you'll Mr. John, "that I was further assisted in my allow me, sir, to little Paul." decision by the recollection of a conversation I "Bless him! " murmured Miss Tox, taking a held with your husband in this room, on the sip of wine. occasion of your being hired, when he disclosed "Dear little Dombey!" murmured Mrs. Chick. to me the melancholy fact that your family, "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey with severe himself at the head, were sunk and steeped in gravity, " my son would feel and express himself ignorance." obliged to you, I have no doubt, if he could Richards quailed under the magnificence of appreciate the favour you have done him. He the reproof. will prove, in time to come, I trust, equal to any "I am far from being friendl," pursued Mr. responsibility that the obliging disposition of his Dombey, "to what is called, by persons of relations and friends in private, or the onerous levelling sentiments, general education. But it nature of our position in public, may impose is necessary that the inferior classes should conl upon him." tinue to be taught to know their position, and The tone in which this was said admitting of to conduct themselves properly. So far I apnothing more, Mr. Chick relapsed into low spirits prove of schools. Having the power of nomiand silence. Not so Miss Tox, who, having nating a child on the foundation of an ancient listened to Mr. Dombey with even' a more em- establishment, called (from a worshipful comphatic attention than usual, and with a more pany) the Charitable Grinders; where not only expressive tendency of her head to one side, is a wholesome education bestowed ulon the 32 DOMBEY AND SON. scholars, but where a dress andl badge is like- took'leave of that gentleman, and presently dewise provided for them; I have (first communi parted under the protection of Mr. Chick; who, cating, through Mrs. Chick, with your family) when they had turned their backs upon the nominated your eldest son to an existing vacancy; houseand.left its.master in his usual solitary and he has this- day, I am informed, assumed state, put his hands in his pockets, threw him; the habit. The number of her son, I believe," self back in the carriage, and whistled "With a said Mr. Dombey, turning to his sister, and hey ho chevy!' all through; conveying into his ~speaking of the child as if he were a hackney face as he did'so, an expression of such gloomy coach, "is.one hundred and forty-seven. Louisa,.and'terrible defiance, that Mrs. Chick dared not you can tell her." protest; or in any way molest him. "One hundred and. forty-seven," said Mrs. Richards, though she had little Paul on'her Chick: " The dress, Richards, is a nice, warm, lap, could not forgeto'her own first-born. She blue baize tailed coat and'cap, turned- up with felt it was ungrateful;' but the influence of the orange coloured binding' red worsted' stock- day fell even on the Charitable Grinders, and'ings,; and very strong leather small-'clothes., she could hardly help regarding his pewter One"imight wear-the articles one's self," said badge, number one hundred arid forty-s ven, as, Mrs. Chick'with enthusiasm, "and be- grate- somehow, a part of its formality and sternness. ful.";' She spoke, too, in the nursery' of his ".blessed - "Therej Richards!" said Miss Tox. "Now, legs," and was again. troubled by his spe.ctre in indeed,.you may be proud.. The Charitable'uniform. Grinders. "'"I don't know what I wouldn't give," said "I am sure I am very much obliged, sir," Polly, " to see the poor little dear before he gets returned Richards faintly, "and take it very used to'em." kind; that you should remember my little ones." "Why,' then, I tell you what, Mrs. Richards," A-'the same time a vision of Biler as a Cha- retorted Nipper, who had been admitted to her ritable Grinder, with his very small legs encased confidence, "see him and make your mind in the serviceable clothing described by Mrs. easy." Chick; swam before Richards's eyes, Lnd made "Mr. Dombey wouldn't like it," said Polly.them water, "Oh wouldn't he, Mrs. Richards!" retorted " I am very glad to see you have so much Nipper, "he'd like it very much, I"think, when feeling, Richards," said Miss Tox. he was asked." "It makes- one almost hope, it really does," "You wouldn't ask him, I suppose, at all?" *said Mrs. Chick, who prided herself on taking said Polly. trustful'views of human nature, "that there may "No, Mrs. Richards, quite..contrairy," reyet be some faint spark of' gratitude and right turned Susan, " and them two inspectors, Tox feeling in the world." and Chick, not intending to be on duty toRichards deferred to these compliments by morrow, as I heard'em say, me and Miss Floy curtsying and murmuring her'thanks; but find- will go along with you to-morrow morning, and ing it quite impossible to recover her spirits welcome, Mrs. Richards, if you like, for we may from the'disorder into which they had been as well walk there as up and down a street, and thrown by the image of her son in his precocious better too." nether garments, she gradually approached the Polly rejected the idea pretty stoutly at first; -door, and was heartily relieved to escape by it. but by little and little she. began to entertain it, Such temporary indications of a partial thaw as she entertained more'and more distinctly the ~as had appeared with her, vanished with her; forbidden pictures of her children and her own and the frost set'in again, as cold and hard as home. At, length, arguing. that there could ever. Mr. Chick was twice" heard to hum a be no great harm in calling for a moment at tufie at the bottom.of the table, but on both the. dbor, she yielded:to the Nipper'proposioccasions it was a fragment of the Dead March tion. in Saul. The party seemed to get colder and The matter being settled thus, little Paul colder, and to be gradually resolving itself into began to. cry. most piteously, as if he had a fore; a congealed and slid state, like the collation boding that no good would come of it. -round which it was assembled. At length Mrs. ".What's the matter with the. child? ". asked'Chick looked al Miss' Tox, and Miss Tox re-. Susan.. turned the look, and they both rgse'and'said it "He's cold, I think," said Polly, walking with was really time to go. Mr,. Domey' receiving him to and fro, and hushing him..; this announcement with perfe'ctequanimity, they It-was a bleak: autumnal'afteroon indeed; STAGGS'S GARDENS. 33 and as she walked, and hushed, and, glancing rusted in something that.had accidentally bethrough the dreary windows, pressed the little come a pond. Everywhere were bridges that fellow closer to her breast, the withered leaves led nowhere; thoroughfares that were wholly imcame showering down. passable; Babel towers of chimneys, wanting half their height; temporary wooden houses and enclosures in the most unlikely situations; carcases of ragged tenements. and fragments of unCHAPTER VI. finished walls and arches, and piles of scaffolding, and wildernesses of bricks, and giant forms PAUL'S SECOND DEPRIVATION. of cranes, and tripods straddling above nothing. There were a hundred thousand shapes and subOLLY was beset by so many mis- stances of incompleteness, wildly mingled out of, givings in the morning, that, but for their places, upside down, burrowing in the. the incessant promptings of her earth, aspiring in the air, mouldering in the: black-eyed companion, she would water, and unintelligible as any dream. Hot have abandoned all thoughts of the springs and fiery eruptions, the usual attendants expedition, and formally petitioned for upon earthquakes, lent their contributions of leave to see number one hundred and confusion to the scene. Boiling water hissed forty-seven under the awful shadow of and heaved within dilapidated walls; whence, Mr. Dombey's roof. But Susan, who was per- also, the glare and roar of flames came issuing sonally disposed in favour of the excursion, and forth; and mounds of ashes blocked up rights who (like Tony Lumpkin), if she could bear the of way, and wholly changed the law and custom disappointments of other people with tolerable. of the neighbourhood. fortitude, could not abide to disappoint her- In short, the yet unfinished and unopened self, threw so many ingenious doubts in the railroad was in progress; and, from the very way of this second thought, and'stimulated the core of, all this dire disorder, trailed smoothly original intention with so many ingenious argu- away upon its mighty course of civilisation and ments, that almost as soon as Mr. Dombey's improvement. stately back was turned, and that gentleman But, as yet, the neighbourhood was shy to was pursuing his daily road towards the City, own the Railroad. One or two bold speculators his unconscious son was on his way to Staggs's had projected streets; and one had built a Gardens. little, but had stopped among the mud and This euphonious locality was situated in a ashes to consider farther of it. A bran-iew~ suburb, known by the inhabitants of Staggs's tavern, redolent,of fresh mortar and size, and Gardens by the name of Camberling Town; a fronting nothing at all, had taken for its sign designation which the Stranger's Map of Lon- the Railway Arms; but that might be rash don, as printed (with a view to pleasant and enterprise-and then it hoped to sell drink to commodious reference) on pocket-handkerchiefs, the, workmen. So, the Excavators' House of condenses, with some show of reason, into Cam- Call had sprung up from a beer-shop; and the den Town. Hither the two nurses bent their old-established Ham and Beef Shop had become steps, accompanied by their charges; Richards the Railway Eating House, with a roast leg of carrying Paul, of course, and Susan leading little pork daily, through'interested motives of a Florence by the hand, and giving her such jerks similar immediate and' popular description. and pokes, from time to time, as she considered Lodging-house keepers were favourable in like it wholesome to administer. manner; and for the like reasons were not to The first shock of a great earthquake had, be trusted. The general belief was very slow just at that period, rent the whole neighbour- There were frouzy fields, and cow-houses, and hood to its centre. Traces of its course were dunghills, and dustheaps, and ditches, and visible on every side. Houses were knocked gardens, and summer-houses, and carpet-beating down; streets broken through and stopped; deep grounds at the very door of the railway. Little pits and trenches dug in the ground; enormous tumuli of oyster shells in the oyster season, and heaps of earth and clay thrown up; buildings of lobster shells in the lobster season, and of that were undermined and shaking propped by broken crockery and faded cabbage-leaves in all great beams of wood. Here, a chaos of carts, seasons, encroached upon its high places. Posts, overthrown and jumbled together, lay topsy- and rails, and old cautions to trespassers, and turvy at the bottom of a steep, unnatural hill; backs of mean houses, and patches of wretched there, confused treasures of iron soaked and vegetation stared it out of countenance. NoDOMBBY AND SON, 3, 293 34 DOMBEY AND SON. thing was the better for it, or thought of being noise they made, and the way in which' they so. If the miserable waste ground lying near it dashed at Polly and dragged her to a low chair could have laughed, it would have laughed it to in the chimney-corner, where her own honest scorn, like many of the miserable neighbours. apple face became immediately the centre of a Staggs's Gardens was uncommonly incredu- bunch of smaller pippins, all laying their rosy lous. It was a little row of houses, with little cheeks close to it, and all evidently the growth squalid patches of ground before them, fenced of the same tree. As to. Polly, she was full as off with old doors, barrel staves, scraps of tar- noisy and vehement as the children; and it was paulin, and dead bushes; with bottomless tin nt' until she was quite out of breath, and her kettles and exhausted iron fenders thrust into hair was hanging all about her flushed face, the gaps.. Here, the Staggs's Gardeners trained and her new christening attire was very much scarlet beans, kept fowls and rabbits, erected dishevelled, that any pause took place in the rotten summer-houses (one was an old boat), confusion. Even then, the smallest Toodle but dried clothes, and smoked pipes. Some were one remained in her lap, holding on tight with of opinion that Staggs's Gardens derived its both arms round her neck; while the smallest name from a deceased capitalist, one Mr. Staggs, Toodle but two mounted on the back of the who had built it for his delectation. Others, chair, and made desperate efforts, with one leg who had a natural taste for the country, held in the air, to kiss her round the corner. that it dated from those rural times when the "Look! there's a pretty little lady come to antlered herd, under the familiar denomination see you," said Polly; " and see how quiet she is! of Staggses, had resorted to its shady precincts. What a beautiful little lady, ain't she? " Be this as it may, Staggs's Gardens was regarded This reference to Florence, who had been by its population as a sacred grove not to be standing by the door not unobservant of what withered by railroads; and so confident were passed, directed the attention of the younger.they generally of its long outliving any such branches towards her; and had likewise the ridiculous inventions, that the master chimney- happy effect of leading to the formal recognition sweeper at the corner, who was understood to of Miss Nipper, who was not quite free from take the lead in the local politics of the Gar- a misgiving that she had been already dens, had publicly declared that on the occasion slighted. of the railroad opening, if ever it did open, two "Oh,, do come in and sit down a minute, of his boys should ascend the flues of his dwell- Susan, please," said Polly.:' This is my sister ing, with instructions.to hail the failure with Jemima, this is. Jemima, I don't know what I derisive cheers from the chimney-pots. should ever do with myself, if it wasn't for To this unhallowed spot, the very name of Susan Nipper; I shouldn't be here now but for which had hitherto been carefully concealed her." from Mr. Dombey by his sister, was little Paul. "Oh, do sit down, Miss Nipper, if you. please," now borne by Fate and Richards. quoth Jemima. "That's my house, Susan," said Polly, point- Susan took the extreme corner of a' chair, with ing it out. a stately and ceremonious aspect. "Is it, indeed, Mrs. Richards?" said Susan "I never was so glad to see'anybody in all condescendingly, my life; now really, I never was, Miss Nipper,"' And there's my sister Jemima at the door, said Jemima, I do declare," cried Polly, "with my own sweet \ Susan relaxing, took a little more of the chair, precious baby in her arms!" and smiled graciously. The sight added such an extensive pair of "Do untie your bonnet strings and make yourwings to Polly's impatience, that she set off self at home, Miss Nipper, please," entreated down the Gardens at a run, and bouncing on Jemima. " I am afraid it's a poorer place than Jemima, changed babies with her in a twinkling; you're used to; but you'll make allowances, I'm to the utter astonishment of that young damsel, sure." on whom the heir of the Dombeys seemed to The black-eyed was so softened by this deferhave fallen from the clouds. ential behaviour, that she caught up little Miss "Why, Polly!" cried Jemima, "You! what Toodle, who was running past. and took her to a turn you have given me! who'd' have thought Banbury Cross immediately. it? come along in, Polly! How well you do "But where's my pretty boy?" said Polly. look to be sure! The children will go half wild " My poor fellow? I came all this way to see to see you, Polly, that they will." him in his new clothes." That they did, if one might judge from the "Ah, what a pity " cried Jemima. "He'll /-UNCHARITABLE 2-EATAMIENT OF A CtiRITABLE GRINDER. 3 break his heart-when he hears his mother has related to Jemima, a summary of everything she been here. He's at school, Polly" knew concerning Mr. Dombey, his prospects, Gone already! family, pursuits, and character. Also an exact "Yes. He went for the first time yesterday, inventory of her personal wardrobe, and some for fear he should lose any learning. But it's account of her principal relations and friends. half-holiday, Polly: if you could only stop tijl Having relieved her mind of these disclosures, he comes home-you and Miss Nipper, least- she partook of shrimps and porter, and evinced ways," said Jemima, mindful in good time of the a disposition to swear eternal friendship. dignity of the black-eyed. Little Florence herself was not behindhand in "And how does he look, Jemima, bless him?" improving the occasion; for, being conducted -altered Polly. forth by the young Toodles to inspect some toad"Well, really he don't look so bad as you'd stools and other curiosities of the Gardens, she suppose," returned Jemima. entered with them, heart and soul, on the forma" Ah!" said Polly with emotion, " I knew his tion of a temporary breakwater across a small legs must be too short." green pool that had collected in a corner. She " His legs is short," returned Jemima; espe- was still busily engaged in that labour when cially behind; but they'll get longer, Polly, every. sought and found by Susan; who, such was her day." sense of duty even under the humanising inIt was a slow, prospective kind of consola- fluence of shrimps, delivered a moral address to tion; but the cheerfulness and good-nature with her (punctuated with thumps) on her degenerate which it was administered gave it a value it nature, while washing. Ier face and hands; and did not. intrinsically possess. After a moment's predicted that she would bring the grey hairs of silence, Polly asked, in a more sprightly manner: her family in general with sorrow to the grave. " And where's father, Jemima dear? "-for by After some delay, occasioned by a pretty long that patriarchal appellation Mr. Toodle was confidential interview above-stairs, on pecuniary generally known in the family. subjects, between Polly and Jemima, an inter" There again!" said Jemima. " What a pity! change of babies was again effected-for Polly Father took his dinner with him this morning; had all this time retained her own child, and and isn't coming home till night. But he's Jemima little Paul-and the visitors took leave. always talking of you, Polly, and telling the'But first the young Toodles, victims'of a pious children about you; and is the peaceablest, fraud, were deluded into repairing in a body to patientest, best-temperedest soul in the world, a-chandler's shop in the neighbourhood, for the as he always was and will be!" ostensible purpose of spending a penny; and, "Thankee, Jemima," cried the simple Polly; when the coast was quite clear, Polly fled: delighted by the speech, and disappointed by Jemima calling after her that, if they could only the absence. go round towards the City Road on their way "Oh, you needn't thank me, Polly," said her back, they would be sure to meet little Biler sister, giving'her a sound kiss upon the cheek, coming from school. and then dancing little Paul cheerfully. " -I say "Do you think that we might make time to the same of you sometimes, and think it too." go a little round in that direction, Susan?" inIn spite of the double disappointment, it was quired Polly when they halted to take breath. impossible to regard in the light of a failure a " Why not, Mrs. Richards?" returned Susan. visit which was greeted with such a reception; "It's getting on towards our dinner-time you so the sisters talked hopefully about family know," said.Polly. matters, and about Biler, and- about all his But lunch had rendered her companion more brothers and sisters::while the black-eyed, hav- than indifferent.to this grave consideration, so ing performed several journeys to Banbury she allowed no weight to it, and they resolved Cross and back, took sharp note of the furni- to go "a little round." ture, the Dutch clock, the cupboard, the castle Now, it happened that poor Biler's life had on the mantel-piece with red and green windows been, since yesterday morning, rendered weary in it, susceptible of illumination by a candle-end by the costume of the Charitable Grinders. The within; and the pair of small black velvet youth of the streets could not endure it. No kittens, each with a lady's reticule in its mouth; young vagabond could be brought to bear its regarded by the Staggs's Gardeners as prodigies contemplation for a moment, without throwing of imitative art. The conversation soon be- himself upon the unoffending wearer, and doing coming general, lest the black-eyed should go him a mischief. His social existence had been off at score and turn sarcastic, that young lady more like that of an early Christian than an 36 DOMBIEY AND SOM. innocent child of the nineteenth century. He "Where are they?" said an old woman, had been stoned in the streets. He had been coming hobbling across as fast as she could from overthrown into gutters; bespattered with the opposite side of the. way. "Why did you mud; violently flattened again'st posts. Entire run away from'em?" strangers to his person had lifted his yellow cap "I was frightened," answered Florence. "I off his head, and cast it to the winds. His legs didn't know what I.did.'I'thought they were had not only undergone verbal criticisms and with me. Where are they?" revilings, but had been handled and pinched. The old woman took her by the, wrist, and That very morning he had received a perfectly said, " I'll show you." unsolicited black eye on his way td the Grinders' She was a very ugly old woman, with red rims establishment, and had been punished forit bythe round her eyes, and a mouth that mumbled and master: a superannuated old Grinder of savage chattered of itself when she was not speaking. disposition, who had, been appointed school- She was miserably dressed, and carried some master because he didn't know anything, and skins over her arm: She seemed to have folasn't'fit for anything, and for whose cruel cane lowed Florence some little way, at all events, all chubby little boys; had a perfect'fascination. for she had lost her breath; and this -made her Thus it fell out that Biler, on his way home, uglier still, as she stood tryingto regain it: sought unfrequented paths; and slunk along by working her. srivellea yellow face and throat narrow passages and|;back-streets, to avoid his into all sorts of contortions. tormentors. Being ompelled to emerge into Florence was afraid of her, and looked, hesith: main road, his ill fortune brought him at tating, up the'street, of which she had almost last where a small party of boys, headed by a reached the bottom. It was a solitary placeferocious young butcer, were lying:in wait for more a back-road than a street-and there was any means of pleasuraile excitement that might no one in it but herself and the old wonan. happen. These, finding a. Charitable Grinder "You needn't be frightened now," said the in the midst' of them -naccountably delivered old woman, still holding her' tight. "Come over, as it were, into their hanids-set up a along with me." general yell and rushed upon him. "I-I don't know you. What's your name?: But it so fell out, likewise, that, at the same asked Florence. time, Polly, looking hopelessly along the road " Mrs. Brown," said the old woman. "Good before her, after. a goo'd- houir's' walk, had said it Mrs. Brown." was, no use going any farther, when suddenly "Are they near here?" asked Florence, beshe. saw this sight.'She no sooner saw it than, ginning to be led away. uttering a-hasty exclamation,' ani giving Master "Susan ain't far off-" said Good Mrs. Brown; Dombey' to'the.black-eyed, she started to the ".and the others are'close to her." rescue of her unhappy little son. "Is anybody hurt?" cried Florence. -Surprises, like misfortunes, rarely come alone. " Not a bit of it," said Good Mrs. Brown. The astonislied'Susan Nipper and her two young The child shed tears of delight on hearing charges.were. rescued by the. bystanders from this, and accompanied the old woman willingly; uinder the very wheelsfofa: passing carriage before though she could not help glancing at her face they knew what had liappened'; and- at that as they went along -particularly at that indusmoment (it was nmarket-day) a thundering alarm trious mouth-and wondering whether Bad Mrs. of'" Mad Bull!" was raised. Brown, if there were such a person, was at all With a wild confusion before her of people like her. running up and down, and shouting, and wheels They had not gone far, but had gone by some running over them, and boys fighting, and mad very uncomfortable places, such as brick-fields bulls coming up,, and the nurse in the midst of' and tile-yVads, when the old woman turned down all these dangers being torn to pieces, Florence a dirty lane, where the mud lay in deep black screamed and ran. She ran till she was ex- ruts in the middle of the road. She stopped hausted, urging Susan to do the same; and then, before a shabby little, house, as closely shut up. stopping and wringing her hands as she, remem- as a house that was full of cracks and crevices bered they had left the other nurse behind, could be. Opening, the door with a key she found, with a sensation of terror not to be de- took out of her bonnet, she pushed the child scribed, that she was quite alone. before her into a back-room, where there was a "Susan! Susan!" cried Florence, clapping great heap of rags of different colours lying on her hands in the very ecstasy of her alarm. the floor, a heap of bones, and a heap of sifted " Oh, where are they? where are they?" dust or cinders; but there was no furniture FLORENCE LOST. 37 at all, and the..walls and ceiling were quite hour," said Mrs. Brown. "'DIye.rttdersthnd black. what I say?" The child became so terrified that she was The chi. answered. with great, difficulty, stricken speechless, and looked as though about "Yes." to swoon. "Then," said Good Mrs.- Brown, taking ler.~ Now don't be a young mule," said Good own seat on the bones, "don't vex me. If ypu Mrs. Brown, reviving her with a shake. " I'm don't, I tell you I won't hurt you. But if you not a-going to hurt you. Sit upon the rags." do, I'll kill you. I could have you'killed at any Florence obeyed her, holding out her folded time-even if you was il your own bed at home. hands in mute supplication. Now let's know who you are, and what you are, "'.I'm not a-going to keep you, even, above an and all about it."'FLORENCE OBEYED AS FAST,AS. HER TREMBLING HANDS WOULD ALLOW; KEEPING, ALL THE WHILE, A FRIGHTENED EYE ON MRS. BROWN." The old woman's threats. and promises; the "Yes, ma'am." dread of giving her-offence; and the habit, un- "I want that pretty frock, Miss Dombey," usual to a child, but'almost natural to Florence said Good Mrs. Brown, "and that little bonnet, now, of being'quiet, and repressing what she and' a petticoat or two,.and anythingelse you felt, and feared, and hoped;; enabled her to do- can spare. Come!. Take'em off." this bidding,. and to tell; her little history, or Florence obeyed as. fast as her trembling what she.knew of it. Mrs. Brown listened at- hands would allow; keeping,. all the while, a tentively until she had finished.. frightened eye on Mrs. Brown. When she had "So your name's Dombey, eh" said Mrs. divested herself of all the articles, of apparel Brown. mentioned by that lady, Mrs. B examined them. 38 DOMBE Y AND SON. at leisure;'and seemed tolerably well satisfied.sumed her seat on the bones, and smoked a with their quality and value. very short black pipe, mowing and mumbling "Humph!" she said, running her eyes over all the time as if she were eating the stem. the child's slight figure, "I don't see anything When the pipe was smoked out, she'-gave the else-except the shoes. I must have the shoes, child a rabbit-skin to carry, that she mihlit' apMiss Dombey." pear more like her ordinary companion, and Poor little Florence took them off with equal' told her that she was now going' to lead her to alacrity, only too glad to have any more means a:public street'whence she could inquire her of conciliation about her. The old woman then way to her friends. But she cautioned her, with produced' some wretched substitutes from the threats of summary and deadly vengeance in case bottom of the heap of rags, which she turned of disobedience, not to talk to strangers, nor to up for that purpose; together with a girl's cloak, repair to her own home (which may have been quite worn out and very old; and the crushed too near for Ait. Brown's convenience), but to remains of a bonnet that had probably been her father's office in the City; also to wait at picked up from some ditch or dunghill. In the street comer where she would be left until this dainty raiment she instructed Florence to the clock struck three. These directions Mrs. dress herself; and, as such preparation seemed'Brown enforced with assurances that there would a prelude, to her release, the'child complied with be potent eyes"and. ears in her employment cogincreased-readiness, if possible. nizant of all she did;.and these directions In hurriedly'putting" on the bonnet, if that Florence promised faithfully and earnestly to maybe called a'bonnet which was more like a observe. pad to carry loads on, she caught it in her hair, At length Mrs. Brown,.issuing.forth, conwhich grew luxuriantly, and could not immedi- ducted her changed and. ragged little friend ately disentangle it. Good Mrs. Brown whipped through:a labyrinth of narrow streets and lanes out a large pair of scissors,. and fell into an un- and alleys, which emerged, after a long time, accountable state of excitement. upon a stable-yard, with a gateway at the end, "Why couldh't you let me' be," said Mrs. whence the roar of'a great thoroughfare made Brown, "when I wvas contented? You little itself audible. Pointing out,this gateway, and fool!" informing. Florence that when.:the clock struck "I beg your pardon.'I don't know what I three she was to go to the left, Mrs. Brown, have done,". panted Florence. " I couldn't after. making a parting grasp at'.her hair which help it." seemed involuntary, and quite beyond her own Couldn't help it! cried Mrs. Brown. control, told her she knew what to do, and "How do you'expect I can help it? Why, bade her go and do it: remembering that she Lord!!" said the old woman, ruffling:her curls was watched. with a furious pleasure," anybody but me would' With a lighter heart, but still sore afraid, have had'em off first of all." Florence felt herself released, and'tripped off to Florence:was so relieved'to find that\it was the corner. When she reached. it, she looked only. her hair, and not her'head, which Mrs; back, and saw the head of Good Mrs. Brown Brown coveted, that she offered no resistance or peeping out of the low ooden passage where entreaty, and merely raised her mild eyes to- she hadlissued her parting injunctions; likewise wards the face of that good soul. the fist of Good Mrs. Brown shaking towards " If I hadn't once had a gal of my own-be- her. But though she often looked back afteryond seas now-that was proud of her-hair," wards-every minute,'at least, in her'nervous said Mrs. Brown, "I'd have had every lock of recollection of. the'old woman-she could not it. She's far away, she's far away. Oho! Oho!" see her again'. Mrs. Brown's was not a..melodious cry;'but; Florence remained there, looking at the bustle accompanied with a wild tossing up of her lean in the street, and more and more bewildered by arms, it was full of passionate grief, and thrilled it; and, in the meanwhile, the clocks appeared to the -heart of Florence, whom it frightened tb have made up their mind never. to strike more than ever. It had its part,-perhaps, in three any more. At last the steeples rang out' saving her curls; for Mrs. Brown, after hover- three o'clock; there was ohe close by, so she ing about her with the scissors for some mo- couldn't be mistaken; and-after often looking ments, like a new kind of butterfly, bade her over her shoulder, and often going a little way, hide them under the bonnet, and let no trace of and as often coming back again, lest the allthem escape to tempt her. Having accom- powerful spies'of. Mrs.. Brown should take plished'this victory over herself, Mrs. Brown re- offence-she hurried off as fast as she could in PL ORENCE To UNiD.:39 her slipshod shoes, holding the rabbit-skin tight The man, who had been strolling carelessly in her hand. towards her, seemed surprised by this reply, All she knew of her father's offices was that and, looking attentively in her face, rejoined: they belonged to Dombey and Son, and that "Why, what can you want with Dombey and that was a great power belonging to. the City. Son's?" So she could only ask the way to Dombey and "To know the way there, if you please." Son's in the City; and as she generally made The man looked at her yet more curiously, inquiry of. children-being afraid to ask grown and rubbed the back of his head so hard in his people-she got very little satisfaction indeed. wonderment, that he knocked his own hat off. But, by dint of asking her way to the City after "Joe!" he called to another man-a labourer awhile, and dropping the rest of her ihquiry for -as he picked it up and put it on again. the present, she really did advance, by slow. "Joe it is!" said Joe., degrees, towards the heart of that great region "Where's that young spark of Dombey's which is governed by the terrible Lord Mayor. who's been watching the shipment of them Tired of walking, repulsed and pushed about, goods?" stunned by the noise and confusion, anxious for " Just gone by the t'other gate," said Joe; her brother and the nurses, terrified by what she " Call him back a minute." had undergone, and the prospect of encounter- Joe ran up an.archway, bawling as he went, ing her angry father in such an altered state; and very soon returned with a blithe-looking perplexed and frightened alike. by what had boy. passed, and what was passing, and what was yet "You're Dombey's. jockey, an't you?" said before her; Florence went upon her weary way the first man. with tearful eyes, and once or twice could not "I'm in Dombey's House, Mr. Clark," rehelp stopping to ease her bursting heart by cry- turned the boy. ing bitterly. But few people noticed hef at " Lookye here, then," said Mr. Clark. those times, in the garb she wore: or, if they Obedient to the indication of Mr. Clark's did, believed that she was tutored to excite hand, the boy approached towards'Florence, compassion, and passed on. Florence, too, wondering, as well he might, what he had to do called to her aid all the firmness and self-reliance with her. But she, who had heard what passed, of a character that her sad experience had prema- and who, besides the relief'bf so suddenly conturely formed and tried; and, keeping the end sidering herself safe and at her journey's end, she had in view steadily before her, steadily felt reassured beyond all measure by his lively pursued it. youthful face and manner, ran eagerly up to It was full two hours later in the'afternoon him, leaving one of the slipshod shoes upon than when she had started on this strange the ground,'and caught his hand in both of adventure, when, escaping from the clash and hers. clangour of a narrow street /full of carts and "I am lost, if you please!" said Florence. waggons, she peeped into a kind of wharf or "Lost!" cried the boy. landing-place upon the'river-side, where there "Yes, I was lost this morning, a long wayi were a great many packages, casks, and boxes from here-and:I have had my clothes taken strewn about; a large pair of wooden scales; away since-and I am not dressed in my own and a little wooden house on wheels, outside of now-and my name' is Florence Dombey, my which, looking at the -neighbouring masts and little brother's only sister-and, oh dear, dear, boats, a stout man stood whistling, with his pen take care of me, if you please!" sobbed Florence, behind his ear, and his hands in his pockets, as giving full vent to the childish feelings she had if his day's work were nearly done. so long suppressed, and bursting into tears. At "Now then!" said this man, happening to the same time, her miserable bonnet falling oil, turn round. "We haven't got anything for you, her hair came tumbling down about her face little girl. Be off!" moving to speechless admiration aid commiseta"If you please, is tlis the City?" asked the tion young Walter, nephew of Solomon Gilk, trembling daugltter of the Dombeys. Ships' Instrument-maker in general. "Ah! it's the City. You know that well Mr. Clark stood rapt in amazement: observenoughj I dare say.. Be off! We haven't got ing under his breath, I never saw such a start anything for you." on this wharf before. Walter picked up the "I don't want anything, thank you," was the shoe, and put it on the little foot as the Prince timid answer. ",Except to know the, way to in the story might have fitted Cinderella's slipper Dombey and Son's," on. He hung the rabbit-skin over his left arm; 40 DOMBEY AND SON. gave the right to Florence; and felt not to say seeming to correct that first impression, he like Richard Whittington-that is a tame com- passed on without stopping. parison-but like St. George of England, with "Why, I think it's Mr. Carker," said Walter. the dragon lying dead before him. "Carker in our House. Not Carker our "Don't cry, Miss Dombey," said Walter in a manager, Miss Dombey-the other Carker; the transport of enthusiasm. "What a wonderful junior. Halloa Mr. Carker!" thing for me that I -am here! You are as safe "Is that Walter Gay?" said the other, stopnow as if you were guarded by a whole boat's ping and returning. "I couldn't believe it, crew of picked men from a man-of-war. Oh, with such a strange companion." don't cry!" As he stood near a lamp, listening with sur"I won't cry any more," said Florence. "I prise to Walter's hurried explanation, he pream only crying for joy." sented a remarkable contrast to the two youth" Crying for joy!" thought Walter; "and ful figures arm-in-arm before him. He was not I'm the cause of it. Come along, Miss Dombey. old, but his hair was white; his body was bent, or There's the other shoe off now. Take mine, bowed, as if by the weight of some great trouble; Miss Dombey." and there were deep lines in his worn and me"No, no, no," said Florence, checking him in lancholy face. The fire of his eyes, the expresthe act of impetuously pulling off his own. sion of his features, the very voice in which he "'These do better. These do very well." spoke, were all subdued and quenched, as if the "Why, to be sure," said Walter, glancing at spirit within him lay in ashes. He was respecther foot; "mine are a mile too large., What ably, though very plainly, dressed in black; but am I thinking about? You never could walk his clothes, moulded to the general character of in mine/ Come along, Miss Dombey. Let his figure, seemed to shrink and abase themme see the villain who will dare molest you selves upon him, and to join in the sorrowful now." solicitation which the whole man from head to So Walter, looking immensely fierce, led off foot expressed, to be left unnoticed, and alone Florence, looking very happy; and they went in his humility. arm-i.-armalong. the streets, perfectly indifferent And yet his interest in youth and hopefulness to any astonishment that their appearance might was not extinguished with the other embers of or did excite by the way. his soul, for he watched the boy's earnest counIt was growing dark and foggy, and beginning tenance as he spoke with unusual sympathy, to rain too; but they cared nothing for this: though with an inexplicable show of trouble and being both wholly absorbed in the late adven- compassion, which escaped into his looks, howtures of Florence, which she related with the ever hard he strove to hold it prisoner. When innocent good faith and confidence of her years, Walter, in conclusion, put to him the question while Walter listened as if, far from the mud he had put to Florence, he still stood glancing and grease of Thames Street, they were rambling at him with the same expression, as if he read alone among the broad leaves and tall trees of some fate upon his face, mournfully atyariance some desert island in the tropics-as he very with its present brightness. likely fancied, for the time, they were. "What do you advise, Mr. Carker?" said "Have we far to go?" asked Florence at Walter, smiling. "You always give me good last, lifting her eyes to her companion's face. advice, you know, when you do speak to me. "Ah! By-the-bye," said Walter, stopping, That's not often, though." "let me see; where are we? Oh! I know. "I think your own idea is the best," he anBut the offices are shut up now, Miss Dombey. swered: looking from Florence to Walter, and There's nobody there. Mr. Dombey has gone back again. home long ago. I suppose we must go home "Mr. Carker," said Walter, brightening with too? Or, stay. Suppose I take you to my a generous thought, " come! Here's a chance uncle's, where I live-it's very near here-and for you. Go you to Mr. Dombey's, and be the go to your house in a coach to tell them you are messenger. of good news. It may do you some safe, and bring you back some clothes. Won't good, sir. I'll remain at home. You shall that be best?" go." "I think so," answered Florence. " Don't "I!" returned the other. you? What do you think?" "Yes. Why not, Mr. Carker?" said the As they stood deliberating in the street, a boy. man passed them, who glanced quickly at Walter He merely shook him by the hand in answer; as he went by, as if he -recogpised him; but he seemed in a manner ashamed and afraid even GREA T EXCITIEMENT]' AT THE WZOODEN MIDSHIPMAN. 41 to do that; and bidding him good night, and man, as he darted about the room attempting to advising him to make haste, turned away. accomplish twenty things at once, and doing "Come, Miss Dombey," said Walter, looking nothing at all. after him as they turned away also, " we'll go to "Here, wait a minute, uncle," he continued, my uncle's as quick as we can. Did you ever catching up a candle, "till I run up-stairs and hear Mr. Dombey speak of Mr. Carker, the junior, get another jacket on, and then I'll be off. I Miss Florence?" say, uncle, isn't this an adventure?" "No," returned the child mildly, " I don't "My dear boy," said Solomon, who, with his often hear papa speak." spectacles on his forehead and the great chrono"Ah! true! mbre shame for him," thought meter in his pocket, was incessantly oscillating Walter. After a minute's pause, during which between Florence on the sofa and his nephew he had been looking down upon tle gentle, in all parts of the parlour, " it's the most extrapatient little face moving on at his side, he be- ordinary — stirred himself with his accustomed boyish ani- "No, but do, uncle, please-do, Miss Flomation and restlessness to change the subject; rence-dinner, you know, uncle." and one of the unfortunate shoes coming off again "Yes, yes, yes," cried Solomon, cutting inl opportunely, proposed to carry Florence to his stantly into a leg of mutton, as if he were uncle's in his arms. Florence, though very catering for. a giant. "I'11 take care of her, tired, laughingly declined the proposal, lest he Wally! I understand. Pretty dear! Famished, should lct her fall; and as they were already of course. You go and get ready. Lord bless near the Wooden Midshipman, and as Walter me Sir Richard Whittington, thrice Lord went on to cite various precedents, from ship- Mayor of London!" wrecks and other moving accidents, wllere Walter was not very long in mounting to his younger boys than he had triumphantly rescued lofty garret and descending from it, but in the and carried off older girls than Florence, they meantime Florence, overcome by fatigue, had were still in full conversation about it when they sunk into a doze before the fire. The short arrived at the instrument-maker's door. interval of quiet, though only a few minutes in " Halloa, Uncle Sol!" cried Walter, bursting duration, enabled Solomon Gills so far to collect into the shop, and speaking incoherently and his wits as to make some little arrangements for out of breath, from that time forth, for the rest her comfort, and to darken the room, and to of the evening. " Here's a wonderful adven- screen her from the blaze. Thus, when the boy ture! Here's Mr. Dombey's daughter lost in returned, she was sleeping peacefully. the streets, and robbed of her clothes by an old "That's capital!" lie whispered, giving Solowitch of a woman-found by me-brought home mon such a hug that it squeezed a new expresto our parlour to rest-look here!" sion into Iis face. "Now I'm off. I'll just "Good Heaven " said Uncle Sol, starting take a crist of bread with me, for I'm very back against his favourite compass-case. "It hungr.y-and-don't wake her, Uncle Sol." can't be! Well, I- " "No, no," said Solomon. " Pretty child " " No, nor anybody else," said Walter, antici- "'Pretty, indeed!" cried Walter. "1i never pating the rest. "Nobody would, nobody saw such a face, Uncle Sol. -Now I'm off:" could, you know. Here! just help me lift the "That's right," said Solomon, greatly relictle sofa near the fire, will you, Uncle Sol?- lieved. take care of the plates-cut some dinner for " I say, Uncle Sol," cried Walter, putting his her, will you, uncle?-throw those shoes under face in at the door. the grate, Miss Florence-put your feet on the' " Here he is again!" said Solomon. fender to dry-how damp they are!-here's an " How does she look now?" adventure, uncle, eh?-God bless my soul, how "Quite happy," said Solomon. hot I am!" "That's famous! Now I'm off." Solomon Gills was quite as hot, by sympathy, " I hope you are," said Solomon to himself. and'in excessive bewilderment. He patted " I say, Uncle Sol," cried Walter, reappearing Florence's lead, pressed her to eat, prcssetl her at the door. to drink, rubbed the soles of her feet witli his " Here he is again!" said Solomon. pocket-handkerchief heated at the fire, followed "We met Mr. Carker the junior in the street, his locomotive nephew with his eyes and ears, queerer than ever. He bade me good-bye, but and had no clear perception of anything except came behind us here-there's an odd thing!that he was being constantly knocked against for when we reached the shop-door, I looked and tumbled over by that excited young gentle- round, and saw him going quietly away, like a 42 DO 0'fMB EY AND SO'N. servant who had seen me home, or a faithfil as he could in his breathless state, and stated dog. How does she look now, uncle?" why he had come alone. "Pretty much the same as before, Wally," "You hear this, girl?" said MIr. Dombey replied Uncle Sol. sternly to the black-eyed. "Take what is neces"That's right. Now I am off!" sary, and return.immediately with this young And this time he really was: and Solomoh man to fetch Miss Florence home. Gay, you Gills, with no appetite for dinner, sat on the will be rewarded to-morrow." opposite side of the fire, watching Florence in "Oh! thank you, sir," said Walter. "You'her slumber, building a great many airy castles are very kind. I'm sure I was not thinking of of the most fantastic architecture; and looking any reward, sir." in the dim shade, and in the close vicinity of all "You are a boy," said Mr. Dombey, suddenly the instruments, like a magician disguised in a and almost fiercely; "and what you think of, Welsh wig and a suit of coffee colour, who held or affect to think of, is of little consequence. the child in an enchanted sleep. You have done well, sir. Don't undo it. Louisa, In the meantime Walter proceeded towards please to give the lad some wine." Mr. Dombey's house at a pace seldom achieved Mr. Dombey's glance followed Walter Gay by a hack horse from the stand; and yet with with sharp disfavour as he left the room under his head out of window every two or three the pilotage.of Mrs. Chick; and it may be that minutes, in impatient remonstrance with the his mind's eye followed him with no greater driver. Arriving at his journey's end, he leaped relish as he rode'back to his uncle's with Miss out, and breathlessly announcing his errand to Susan Nipper. the servant, followed him straight into the There they found that Florence, much relibrary, where there was a great confusion of freshed by sleep, had dined, and greatly imtongues, and where Mr. Dombey, his sister, and proved the acquaintance of Solomon Gills, with Miss Tox, Richards, and Nipper, were all con- whom she was on terms of'perfect confidence gregated together. and ease. The black-eyed (who had cried so " Oh! I beg your pardon, sir," said Walter, much that she might now be called the red-eyed, rushing up to him, " but I'm happy to say it's and who was very silent and depressed) caught all right, sir. Miss Dombey's found." her in her arms without a word of contradiction The boy with his open face, and flowing hair, or reproach, and made a very hysterical meeting and sparkling eyes, panting with pleasure and -of it. Then converting the parlour, for the nonce, excitement, was wonderfully opposed to Mr. into a private tiring-room, sle dressed.her, with Dombev, as he sat confronting him in his library great care, in proper clothes; and presently led chair. her forth, as like a Dohlbey as her natural dis" I told you, Louisa, that she would certainly qualifications admitted of her being made. be found," said Mr. Dombey, looking slightly "Good night " said Florence, running tip to over his shoulder at that lady, who wept in com- Solomon. " You have been very good to me." pany with Miss Tox. "Let the servants know Old Sol was quite delighted, and kissed her that no further. steps are necessary. This boy, like her grandfather. who brings the information, is. young Gay, from "Good night, Walter! Goobl-bye!" said the office. How was my daughter found, sir? Florence. I know how she was lost.". Here he looked "Good-byq,!" said Walter, giving both Jlis majestically at Richards. "But how was she hands. found? Who found her?" "I'll never forget you," pursued Florence. " Why, I believe I found Miss Dombey, sir," " No! indeed I never will. Good-bye, Walter! said Walter modestly; "at least, I don't know In the innocence of her grateful heart, the that I can claim the merit of. having exactly child lifted up her face to his. Walter, bending found her, sir, but I was the fortunate instru- down his own, raised'it again, all red and burnment of —" ing; and looked at Uncle Sol quite sheepishly. "What do you mean, sir," interrupted Mr. "Where's Walter?" "Good night, Walter!" Dombey, regarding the boy's evident pride and "Good-bye,. Walter!" "Shake hands once pleasure in his share of the transaction with an more, Walter!" This was still'lorence's cry, instinctive dislike, "by not having exactly found after she was shut up with her little maid in the my daughter, and by being a fortunate instru- coach. And when the coach at length moved ment? Be plain and- coherent, if you please." off, Walter on the door-step gaily returned the It was quite- out of Walter's power to be co- waving of her handkerchief, while the Wooden herent~'but he rendered himself as explanatory Midshipman behind him.seemed, like hims( PRINCESS'S PLA CE. 43 intent upon that coach alone, excluding all the nurse, the young person,"-here Miss Nipper other passing coaches from his observation. sobbed aloud, —"being so much youngei, and In good time Mr. Dombey's mansion was necessarily influenced by Paul's nurse, may iegained again, and again there was a noise of main. Have the goodness to direct that this tongues in the library. Again, too, the coach woman's coach is paid to"-Mr. Dombey stopped was ordered to wait-" for Mrs. Richards," one and winced-" to Staggs's Gardens." of Susan's fellow-servants ominously whispered, Polly moved towards the door, with Florence as she passed with Florence. holding to her dress, and crying to her in the The entrance of the lost child made a slight most pathetic manner not to go away. It was a sensation, but not much. Mr. Dombey, who dagger in the haughty father's heart, an arrow had never found her, kissed her once upon the in his brain, to see how the flesh and blood he forehead, and cautioned her not to run away could not disown clung to this obscure stranger, again, or wander anywhere with treacherous and he sitting by. Not that he cared to whom attendants. Mrs. Chick stopped in her lamenta- his daughter turned, or from whom turned away. tions on the corruption of human nature, even The swift sharp agony struck through him as he when beckoned to the paths of virtue by a thought of what his son might do. Charitable Grinder; and received her with a His son cried lustily that night, at all events. welcome something short of the reception due Sooth to say, poor Paul had better reason for to none but perfect Dombeys. Miss Tox regu- his tears than sons of that age often have, for lated her feelings by the models before her. he had lost his second mother-his first, so Richards, the culprit Richards, alone poured'out far as he knew-by a stroke as sudden as that her heart in broken words of welcome, and natural affliction which had darkened te beginbowed herself over the little wandering head as ning of his life. At the same blow, his sister if she really loved it. too, who cried herself to sleep so mournfully, "Ah, Richards!" said Mrs. Chick with a had lost as good and true a friend. But that is sigh.. " It would have been much more satis- quite beside the question. Let us waste no factory to those who wish to think well of their words about it. fellow-creatures, and much more becoming in you, if you had shown some proper feeling, in time, for the little child that is now going to be prematurely deprived of its natural nourish- CHAPTER VII. ment." "ut off," said Mis Toin a A BIRD'SEYE GLIMPSE OF MISS TOX'S DWELLINGCut off," said Miss Tox in a plaintive PLACE; ALSO OF THE STATE OF MISS TOX'S AFFECwhisper, "from one common fountain " TIONS.' If it was amy ungrateful case," said Mrs. Chick T solemnly, " and I had your reflections, Richards, S ISS TOX inhabited a dark little I should feel as if the Charitable Grinders' dress'- | house that had been squeezed, at would blight my child, and the education choke J~ some remote period of English Hishim.", tory, into a fashionable neighbourFor the matter of that-but Mrs. Chick didn't hood at the West-end of the town, know it-he had been pretty well blighted by where it stood, in the shade like a the dress already; and as to the education, even poor relation of the great street round its retributive effect might be produced in time, the corner, coldly looked down upon by for it was a storm of sobs and blows, mighty mansions. It was not exactly in a court, "Louisa!" said Mr. Dombey. "It is not and it was not exactly in a yard; but it was necessary to prolong these observations. The in the dullest of No-Thoroughfares, rendered woman is discharged and paid. You leave this anxious and haggard by distant double knocks. house, Richards, for taking my son-my son," The name of this retirement, where grass grew said Mr. Dombey, emphatically repeating these between the chinks in the stone pavement, was two words, "into haunts and into society which Princess's Place; and in Princess's Place was are not to be thought of without a shudder. As Princess's Chapel, with a tinkling bell, where to the accident which befell Miss Florence this sometimes as many as five-and-twenty people morning, I regard that as, in one great sense, a attended service on a Sunday. The Princess's happy and. fortunate circumstance; inasmuch Arms was also there, and much resorted to byas, but for that occurrence, I never could have splendid footmen. A sedan-chair was kept inknown-and from your own lips too-of what side the railing before the Princess's Arms, but you had been guilty. I think, Louisa, the other it had never come out within the memory of 44 DOMBEY A4rND SON. man; and, on fine mornings, the top of every balanced the kettle-holder on opposite sides of rail (there are eight-and-forty, as Miss Tox had the parlour fire-place. The greater part of the often counted) was decorated with a pewter furniture was of the powdered head and pigtail pot. period: comprising a plate-warmer, always IanThere was another privatehouse besides Miss guishing and sprawling its four attenuated bow Tox's in Princess's Place: not to mention an legs in somebody's way; and an obsolete harpimmense pair of gates, with an immense pair of sichord, illuminated round the maker's name lion-headed knockers on them, which were never with a painted garland of sweet peas. opened by any chance, and wtere supposed to Although Major Bagstock had arrived at what constitute a disused entrance to somebody's is called, in polite literature, the grand meridian stables. Indeed, there was a smack of stabling of life, and was proceeding on his journey downin the air of Princess's Place; and Miss Tox's hill with hardly any throat, and a very rigid pair bedroom (which was at the back) commanded a of jaw-bones, and long-flapped elephantine ears. vista of Mews, where hostlers, at whatever sort and his eyes and complexion in the state of of work engaged, were continually accompanying artificial excitement already mentioned, he was themselves with effervescent noises; and where mightily proud of awakening an interest in Miss the most domestic and confidential garments of Tox, and tickled his vanity with the fiction that coachmen and their wives and families usually- she was a splendid woman who had her eye hung, like Macbeth's banners, on the outward on him. This he had several times hinted walls. at the club: in connection with little joculariAt this other private house in Princess's Place, ties, of which old Joe Bagstock, old Joey Bagtenanted by a retired butler who had married a stock, old J. Bagstock, old Josh Bagstock, or so housekeeper, apartments were let, Furnished, to forth, was the perpetual theme: it being, as it a single gentleman, to wit, a wooden-featured, were, the major's stronghold and donjon-keep blue-faced Major, with his eyes starting out of of light humour to be on the most familiar his head, in whom Miss Tox recognised, as she terms with his own name. herself expressed it, "something so truly mili- "Joey B., sir," the major would say, with a tary;" and between whom and herself an oca- flourish of his walking-stick, "is worth a dozen sional interchange of newspapers and pamphlets, of you. If you had a few more of the Bagstock and such Platonic dalliance, was effected through breed among you. sl, you'd be none the worse the medium of a dark servant of the major's, for it. Old Joe. sir, needn't oox)k far for a wife whom Miss Tox was quite content to classify as even now, if he was on the look out; but he's a "native," without connecting him with any hard-hearted, sir, is Joe-he's tough, sir, tough, geographical idea whatever. and de-vilish sly!" After such a declaration Perhaps there never was a smaller entry and wheezing sounds would be heard; and the staircase than the entry and staircase of Miss major's blue would deepen into puirple, while Tox's hou.se. Perhaps, taken altogether, from his eyes strained and started convulsively. top to Lottom, it was the most inconvenient Notwithstanding his very liberal laudation of little house in Et gland, and the crookedest; himself, however, the major was selfish. It may but then, uMiss T'1x said, what a situation! be doubted whether there ever was a more There was very little daylight to be got there in entirely selfish person at heart, or at stomach is the winter: no sun at the best of times: air was perhaps a better expression. seeing that he was out of the question, and traffic was walled out, more decidedly endowed with that latter organ Still Miss Tox said, think of the situation! So than with the former. He had no idea of being said the blue-faced.major, whose eyes were start- overlooked or slighted by anybody; least of all,ng out of his head: who gloried in Princess's had he the remotest comprehension of being Place: and who delighted to turn the conversa- overlooked and slighted by Miss Tox. tion at his club, whenever he could, to some- And yet, Miss Tox, as it appeared, forgot thing connected with some of the great people him -gradually forgot him..She began to forget in the great street round the corner, that he him soon after her discoveryofthe Toodlefamily. might have-the satisfaction of saying they were She continued to forget hiim up to the time of his neighbours the christening. She went on forgetting him The dingy tenemeAt inhabited by Miss Tox with compound interest after that. Something was her own; having been devised and be- or somebody had superseded him as a source of queathed to her by the deceased owner of the interest. fishy eye in the locket, of whom a miniature "Good morning, ma'am,' said the major, portrait, with a powdered head and a pigtail, meeting Miss Tox in Princess's Place, some JOEY BAGSTOCAi, SIR, FORGOQTTEN! 45 weeks after the changes chronicled in the last played ostentatiously; crowned with the Copcnchapter. hagenland Bird Waltzes in a music-book of Miss "Good morning, sir," said Mist Tox;.very Tox's own copying. coldly. Over and above all this, Miss Tox had long "Joe Bagstock,- ma'am," observed the major been dressed with uncommon care and elegance with his usual gallantry, "has not had the hap- in slight mourning. But this helped the major piness of bowing to you at your window for a out of hisdifficulty and he determined within considerable period. Joe has been hardly used, himself that she had come into a small legacy, ma'am. -His sun has been-behind a cloud." and grown proud. Miss Tox inclined her head; but very coldly It was on the very next day after he had indeed. eased his mind by arriving at this decision, that "Joe's luminary has been out of town, ma'am, the major, sitting at his breakfast, saw an appaperhaps?" inquired the major. rition so tremendous and wonderful in Miss'- I? out of town? Oh no, I have not been- Tox's little drawing-room, that he remained for out of town," said Miss Tox. "I have' been some time rooted to his chair; then, rushing much rngaged lately. My time is nearly all into the next room, returned with a doubledevoted to some very intimate friends. I am barrelled opera-glass, through which he surafraid I have none to spare, even now. Good veyed-it intently for some minutes. morning sir! " " It's. a Baby, sir," said the major, shutting up As hiss Tox, with her most fascinating step the glass again, "for fifty thousand pounds! " and cariage, disappeared from Princess's Place, The major couldn't forget it. He could do the majr stood looking after her with a bluer nothing but whistle, and stare to that extent, face thai ever: muttering and growling. some that his eyes, compared with what they now not at- al complimentary remarks. became, had been in former times quite cavern"Wh) damme, sir," said the major, rolling ous and sunken. Day after day, two, three, his lobser eyes round and.round Princess's four times a week, this baby reappeared. Tlle Place, -ad apostrophizing its fragrant air, "six major continued to stare and whistle. To all months sgo, the! woman loved the grournd Josh other intents and-purposes he was alone in PrinBagstoclkvalkedon. What's the meaning of it?" cess's Place.'Miss'Tox had ceased to mind The ijor decided, after some consideration, what he did. He might have been black as that it mknt man-traps; that it meant plotting well-as blue, and it would have been of no conand snarig; that; Miss Tox was digging pitfalls. sequence to her. "'But' yoYwon't catch Joe, ma'am," said the'The perseverance with whicn she walked out major.'He's tough, ma'am, tough, is J. B. of Princess's -Place to fetch this baby and its Tough, a4 de-vilish sly!" over which reflec- nurse, and walked back with. them, and walked tion he ch:kled- for the rest of the day. home with them again, and continually mounted But Stillwhcen that day and many other days guard over, them; and the perseverance, witl were gonetnd past, it seemed that Miss'Fox which she nursed it herself, and fed it, and played took no hel whatever of the major, and thought' with it, and froze its young( blood with airs upon nothing at 1 about him. She had been wont, the harpsichord; was -c.traordinary. At about once upon time, to look out at one of her the same period, too, she was seized with a little dark- sdows by accident, and blushingly passion for looking at a certain bracelet; also return the njor's greeting; but now she never with a passion for looking at the moon, of which gave the mar a chance, and cared nothing at she would take long observations from her all.. whether e' looked over the way or not. chamber window. But whatever she looked at; Other chan! had come -to pass too.' The sun, moon, stars, or'bracelet; she looked no major, staLndsi in the shade of his own apart- more at the major. And the major whistled, ment, could iake out that an air of greater and stared, and wondered, and dodged about smartness hairecently come over Miss Tox's his room, and could make nothing of it. house'; that aew cage with gilded wires had "Yo'll quite win my brother -Paul's heart, been providedlr the ancient little' canary bird; and that's the truth, mliy dear," said Mrs. Chick that divers ornFents, cut put' of coloured card- one day. boards and pai, seemed to decorate the chim- Miss Tox turned pale. ney-piece and tles; that a plant or two had "He grows more like Paul every day," said suddenly sprunlip in the windows; that Miss Mrs. Chick. Tox occasionallpractised on the harpsichord, liss Tox returned no other reply than by whose garland sweet peas was always dis- taking the little Paul in her arms, and making 46 DOMBE Y AND SON. his cockade perfectly flat and limp with her childhood, and became a talking, walking, woncaresses. dering Dombey. "His mother, my'dear," said Miss Tox, On the downfall and banishment of kichards, "whose acquaintance I was to have made the nursery may be said to have been put into through you, does'he at all resemble her?"' commission; as a Public Department is some"Not at all," returned Louisa. times, when no individual Atlas can be found "She was-she was pretty, I believe?" fal- to support it. The Commissioners were, of tered Miss Tox. course, Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox: who devoted " Why, poor dear Fanny was interesting," said themselves to their duties with such astonishing Mrs. Chick after some judicial consideration. ardour, that Major Bagstock had every day sonme "Certainly interesting. She had not that air of new reminder of his being forsaken, While Mr. commanding superiority which one would some- Chick, bereft of domestic supervision, cast himhow expect, almost as a matter of course, to find self upon the gay world, dined at clubs and in my brother's wife; nor had she that strength coffee-houses, smelt of smoke on three dstinct and vigour of mind which such a man requires." occasions, went to the play by himself, aid, in Miss Tox heaved a deep sigh. short, loosened (as Mrs. Chick once told him) "But she was pleasing," said Mrs. Chick, every social bond and moral obligation. "extremely so. And she meant!-oh dear; Yet, in spite of his early promise, al this how well poor Fanny meant! " vigilance and care could not make little?aul a "You angel! " cried Miss Tox to little Paul. thriving boy. Naturally delicate, perhas, lie " You picture of your own papal " pined and wasted after the dismissal of hisluirse, If the major could have known how many and,, for a long time, seemed but to w:it his hopes and ventures, what a multitude of plans opportunity of gliding through their hanes, and arid speculations, rested on that baby head; seeking his lost mother. This dangerous iround and could have seen them hovering, in all their in his steeple-chase towards manhood plased, lie heterogeneous confusion and. disorder, round still found it very rough riding, and wav grievthe puckered cap of the unconscious little Paul; ously beset by all the obstacles in his ourse. he might have stared indeed. Then would he Every tooth was a break-neck fence, onm every have recognised, among the crowd, some few pimple in'the measles a stone wall to hip. He ambitious motes and beams belonging to Miss was down in every fit of the hooping-cogh, and Tox; then would he perhaps have unlderstood rolled upon and crushed by a wholefield of the nature of that lady's faltering investment in snall diseases, that came trooping in each the Dombey Firm. other's heels to prevent his getting L again. If the child himself could have awakened in Some bird of prey got into his throat jstead of the night, and seen, gathered about his cradle the thrush; and the very chickens, turing ferocurtains, faint reflections of the dreams that cious-if they have anything to do rith that other people had of him, they might have scared infant malady to which they lend tihe nanehim, with good reason. But he slumbered on, worried him like tiger-cats. alike unconscious of the kind intentions of Miss The chill of Paul's christening yti struck Tox, the wonder of the major, the early sorrows home, perhaps, to some sensitive irt of his of his sister, and the sterner visions of his father; nature, which could not recover \t'lf ill the and innocent that any spot of earth contained a cold shade of his father; but he wa an unforDombey or a Son. tunate child from that day. Mrs. Wkam often said she never see a dear so put up'. Mrs. Wickam was a waiter's ife-which would seem equivalent to being another man's CHAPTER VIII. widow-whose application for anengagemlent in Mr.. Dombey's service had bei favourably PAUL'S FURTHER PROGRESS, GROWTH, AND considered, on account of the alpreLt impossibility of her having any followwd or any one BENEATH the watching and attentive eyes to follow; and who, from witlinl day or.two of Time&-so far another Major-Paul's of Paul's sharp weaning, had bA.elngaged as slumbers gradually changed. More and more his nurse. Mrs. Wickalm was aneck wolian, light broke in upon them; distincter and dis- of a fair complexion, with her e brows always tincter dreams disturbed them; an accumulating elevated, and her head alwaysrooping; who crowd of objects and impressions swarmed about was always ready to pity herselfr to be pitied,. his rest; and so he passed from babyhood to or to pity anybody else; andho had a sur POOR' LITTLE PA L. 47 prising natural gift of viewing all subjects in an He was a pretty little fellow though there was utterly forlorn and pitiable light, and bringing something wan and wistful in his small face, dreadful precedents to bear upon them, and that gave occasion to many significant shakes of deriving the greatest consolation from the exer- Mrs. Wickam's head, and many long-drawn incise of that talent. spirations of Mrs. Wickam's breath. His temper It is hardly necessary to observe, that no touch'gave abundant promise cf being imperious in of this quality ever reached the magnificent after life;'and he had as hopeful an apprehenknowledge of Mr. Dombey. It would have sion of his own importance, and the rightful been remarkable, indeed, if any had; when no subservience of all other things and persons to one in the house-not even Mrs. Chick or Miss it, as: heart could' desire.: e was childish and Tox-dared ever whisper to him that there had, sportive enough at times, and not of a sullen on any one occasion, been the' least reason for disposition;' but he had a strange, old fashioned, uneasiness in reference to little Paul. He had thoughtful way, at other times, of sitting broodsettled, within himself,'that the child must ing in his miniature arm-chair, when he.looked necessarily pass through a certai"n routine of (and talked): like one of those terrible little minor maladies, and that the sooner he did' so Beings in the Fairy tales, who at a hundred and the better.. If he could have bought him' off, or fifty or two hundred years of age, fantastically provided a substitute, as in the case of an un- represent the children for whom they have been lucky drawing for the militia, he would have substituted. He would frequently be stricken been glad to do so on liberal terms. But, as. with this precocious mood up-stairsin the nurthis was not feasible, he merely wondered, in his sery; andwould sometimes lapse into it sudhaughty manner, now and then, what Nature denly,-exclaiming that'he was tired: even while meant ly it; and comforted himself with the re- playing with Florence,'or driving Miss Tox in flection that there was another milestone passed single harness.- But' at no time did he fall into upon the.road, and that the great end of the' it so surely as hen,'his little chair being carried journey tly so much the nearer. For the feeling down into his father's room, he sat there with uppermost in his.mind, now aid constantly him' after dinner, by the fire.'They. were the intensifyng, and- increasing in it as Paul grew strangest pair;at such'a time that ever fire-light. older, wa.smpatience. Impatience for the time to shone upon. Mr.-Dombey so erect and solemn, come whi' his.vision;s of their united consequence gazing at the blaze; his little-image, with an old. and granl4ur would.f be triumphantly realised. old face, peering into the red perspective with the Some ihilosophers tell us that selfishness is fixed and rapt attention of a sage. Mr. Dombey at the roSt of our best loves.l and affections entertaining complicated worldly schemes'and Mr. Domey's young child was, from the be-..plans; the little image entertaining Heaven ginning, s' distinctly important to him. as a knows what wild fancies, half-forhned thoughts, part oT hisown greatness, or (which is' the same and wandering speculations. Mr. Dombey stiff thing)' of he greatness' of'Dombey and Son,-with: starch and arrogance; the little image by that there is no doubt his parental affection inheritance, and in. unconscious'imitation. The might havi been easily traced, like many a two so very much alike, an'd yet so monstrously goodly supestructure of fair fame, to a very low. contrasted. foundation. But-he loved'his' son with all the On one of these occasions, when they had love he had. If there were a warm place in his both been perfectly quiet for a long time, and frosty heart, fis son occupied it'; if its very hard Mr. Dombey only knew that the child was awake surface.coulW receive the- impression of any by occasionally glancing at his eye, where the image, the irgge- of that son was there lthough'bright fire was sparkling like a jewel,'little Paul,not so much cs an infant, or'. as.a boy,' but as a broke silence thus. grown man-le "Son " of the Firm. Therefore " Papa! what's money?" he was impant. to advance into the future, The abrupt question had such immediate reand to hurry ver the intervening passages of ference to the subject of Mr. Dombey's thoughts, his history. Therefore he had little or no that Mr. Dombey was quite disconcerted. anxiety about tem, in spite of his love;: feeling "What is money, Paul?" he answered. as if'the boy hd a charmed life, and must be-' "Money?" come the man hth whom he held such constant "Yes," said the child, laying his hands communication n his thoughts, and for whom upon the elbows of his little chair, and turning he planned anc projected, as for an existing the old face up towards Mr. Dombey's; "what reality, every da, is money?" Thus Paul grv to be nearly five years old..Mr. Dombey was in a difficulty. He would 48 DOMBE Y AND SON. have liked to give him some explanation in- he answered: "Gold, and silver, and copper. volving the terms circulating medium, currency, Guineas, shillings, halfpence. You know what depreciation of currency, paper, bullion; rates of they are?" exchange, value of precious metals in the mar- "Oh yes, I know what they are!".said Paul, ket, and so forth; but looking down at the little "I don't mean that, papa. I mean what's money chair, and seeing what.- long way down it was, after all?" DOAIBX AND SON Heaven and Earth, how old his face was as "I mean, papa, what,c it do?" returned he turned it up again towards his father's! Paul, folding his arms (the' were hardly long "What is money after all?" said Mr. Dom- enough to fold), and lookin at the fire, and up bey, backing his chair a little, that he might the at him, and at the fire, and;p at him again. better gaze in sheer amazement at the presump- Mr. Dombey drew his chir back to its former tuous atom that propounded such an inquiry. place, and patted him OT the head. " You'll 1HAT IS ifONVE Y, AFTER ALL?' 49 know better by-and-by, my man," he said. ened attentively, and seemed to understand the "Money cal do anything." He took hold of greater part of what was said to him. tlhe little hand, and beat it softly against one of' It can't make me strong and quite wel, his own; as he said so. either, papa; can it?" asked Paul after a short But Paul got his. hand free as soon as he silence: rubbing his tiny hands. crould; and rubbing it gently to and fro on the "Why, you are strong and quite well," re. elbow of his chair, as if his wit were in the palm, turned Mr. Dolnbey. " Are you not?" and he were sharpening it-and looking at the Oh! the age of the face that was turned up fire again, as though the fire had been his ad- again, with an expression half of melancholy, viser and prompter-repeated, after a short half of slyness, on it! pause: " You are as strong and well as such little " Anything,, papa?" people usually are? Elh?" said Mr. Dombey. "Yes. Anything-almost," said Mr. Dombey. " Florence is older than I am, but I'm not as "Anything means everything, don't it, papa?" strong and well as Florence, I know," returned asked his son, not observing, or possibly not the child; "but I believe that, when Florence'understanding the qualification. was as little as me, she could play a great deal "It includes it: yes," said Mr. Dombey. longer at a time without tiring herself.. I am so "Why didn't money save me my mamma?" tired sometimes," said little Paul, warming his returned the'child. " It isn't cruel, is-it?" han-ds, and looking in between the bars of the " Cruel!' said Mr. Dombey,' settling his neck- grate, as if some ghostly puppet-show were percloth, and seeming to resent the idea.." No. forming there, "and my bones ache so (Wickam A good thing can't be cruel." says it's my bones), that I don't know what to "If it's a good thing, and can do anything," do." said the little fellow thoughtfully, as he looked "Ay! But that's atnight," said Mr. Dombey, back at the fire, " I wonder why it didn't save drawing his own chair closer to his son's, and me my mamma." laying his hand gently on his back; " little He didn't ask tne question of his father this people should be: tired at night, for then they time. Perhaps'he had seen, with a child's quick- sleep well." ness, that It had already made his father uncom- "Oh, it's not at night, papa," returned the fortable. But he repeated the thought aloud, child, "it's in the day;. and I lie down in Floas if it were quite an old one to him, and had rence's lap, and she sings to me. At night I troubled him very much; and sat with his chin dream about such cu-ri-ous things!" resting on his hand, still cogitating and looking And he went on warming his hands again, and for an explanation in the fire. thinking about them, like: an old'man or a young Mr. Domibey, having recovered from his sur- goblin. prise, not'to say his alarm (for it was the very first Mr. Dombey was so astonished, and so unioccasion dn which the child had ever'broached comfortable, and so perfectly at a loss how to the subject of his mother to him, though he had pursue the conversation, that he could only sit had him sitting by his side, in this same manner, looking at his son by the light of the fire, with evening'after evening), expounded to him how his hand resting on his back, as if it were dethat money, though a very potent spirit, never tained there by some magnetic attraction. Once to be disparaged on any account whatever, could he advanced his other hand, and turned the connot keep people alive whose time was come to templative face towards his own for a moment. die; and.how that we must all die, unfortunately,' But it sought the fire again as soon as he released even, in'the City, though we were never so rich. it; and remained addressed towards the flickerBut how that money caused us to be honoured, ing blaze until the nurse appeared, to summon feared, respected, courted,-and admired, and him to bed. made us powerful and glorious in the eyes of all "I want Florence to come for me," said. Paul. men; and how that it could, very often, even "Won't you come with your poor nurse keep off death for a long time together. How, Wickam, Master Paul?" inquired that attendant for example, it had' secured to his mamma the with great pathos. services of Mr. Pilkins, by which he, Paul, had " No, I Aon't," replied Paul, composing himoften profited himself; likewise of the great self in his arm-chair again, like the master of Doctor Parker Peps, whom he had never known. the house. And. how it could- do all that could be done. Invoking a blessing upon his innocence, Mrs. This, with morc to the same purpose, Mr. Dom- Wickam withdrew, and presently Florence apbey instilled into the mind of his son, who list- peared in her stead. The child immediately DoBRtYv AND SON. 4. 294 So0D ~ DOMABEY AND SON. started up with sudden readiness and anima- are not undertakers, or mutes, or grave-diggers, tion, and raised towards his father, in bidding I believe." him good night, a countenance so much brighter, "Very far from it," interposed Mrs. Chick, so much younger, and so much more childlike with the same profound expression as before. altogether, that Mr. Dombey, while he felt "Then who puts such things into his head?" greatly reassured by the change, was quite said Mr. Dombey. "Really I was quite disamazed at it. mayed and shocked last night. Who puts such After they had left the room together, he things into his head, Louisa?" thought he heard a soft voice singing; and re- "My dear Paul," said Mrs. Chick after a membering that Paul had said his sister sung to moment's silence, " it is of no use inquiring. I him, he had the curiosity to open the door and do not. think, I will tell you candidly, that listen, and look after them. She was toiling up Wickam is a person of very cheerful; spirit, or the great, wide, vacant staircase, with him in what one would call a -" her arms; his head was lying on her shoulder, "A daughter of Momus," Miss Tox softly one of his arms thrown negligently round her suggested. neck. So they went, toiling up; she singing all " Exactly so," said Mrs. Chick; " but she is the way, and Paul sometimes crooning out a exceedingly attentive and useful, and not at all feeble accompaniment. Mr. Dombey looked presumptuous; indeed, I never saw a more after them until they reached the top of the biddable woman. If the dear child," pursued staircase-not without halting to rest by the Mrs. Chick, in the tone of one who was summing way-and passed out of his sight; and then he up what had been previously quite agreed upon, still stood gazing upwards, until the dull rays of instead of saying it all for the first time, " is a the moon, glimmering in a melancholy manner little weakened by that last attack, and is not in through the dim sky-light, sent him back to his quite such vigorous health as we could wish; own room. and if he has some temporary weakness in his Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox were convoked in system, and does occasionally seem about to council at dinner next day; and when the cloth lose, for the moment, the use of his-" was removed, Mr. Dombey opened the proceed- Mrs. Chick was afraid to say limbs, after ings by requiring to be informed, without any Mr. Dombey's recent objection to bones, and gloss or reservation, whether there was anything therefore waited for.a suggestion from Miss the matter with Paul, and what Mr. Pilkins said Tox, who, true to her office, hazarded " memabout him. bers." " For the child is hardly," said Mr. Dombey, "Members!" repeated Mr. Dombey. " as stout as I could wish."" I think the medical gentleman mentioned " With your usual happy discrimination, my legs this morning, my dear Louisa; did he not?" dear Paul," returned Mrs. Chick, "you have hit said Miss Tox. the point at once. Our darling is not altogether ".Why, of course he did; my love," retorted as stout as we could wish. The fact is, that his Mrs. Chick, mildly reproachful. " How can mind is too much for him. His soul is a great you ask me? You heard him. I say, if our deal too large for his frame. I am sure the way dear Paul should lose, for the moment, the use in which that dear child talks!" said Mrs. Chick, of his legs, these are casualties common to many shaking her head, " no one would believe. His children at his time of life, and not to be preexpressions, Lucretia, only yesterday, upon the vented by any care or caution. The sooner subject of funerals-" you understand that, Paul, and admit that, the "I am afraid," said Mr. Dombey, interrupting better." her testily, " that some of those persons up-stairs "Surely you must know, Louisa," observed suggest improper subjects to the child. He was Mr. Dombey, " that I don't question your natural speaking to ie last night about his-about his devotion to, and natural regard for, the future Boneq," said Mr. Dombey, laying an irritated head of my House. Mr. Pilkins saw Paul this stress upon the word. "What on earth has morning, I believe?" said Mr. Dombey. anybody to do with the-with the-bones of "Yes, he did," returned his sister. "Miss Tox my son? He is not a living skeleton, I sup- and myself were present. Miss Tox and myself pose." are always present. We make a point of it. Mr. " Very far from it," said Mrs. Chick with un- Pilkins has seen him for some days past, and a speakable expression. very clever man. I believe him to be. He says "' I hope so," returned her brother. " Funerals it js nothing to speak of; which I can confirm, again! Who talks to the child of funerals? We if that is any consolation; but he recommended, MRS. PIP CINV RECOllMMENDDED. 51 to-day, sea air. Very wisely, Paul, I feel con- "Do I understand that this respectable matron vinced." keeps an establishment, Miss T ox?" inquired "Sea air," repdated Mr. Dombey, looking at Mr. Dombey condescendingly. his sister. "Why, I really don't know," rejoined that "There is nothing to be made uneasy by in lady, "whether I am justified in calling it so. It that," said Mrs. Chick. "My George and Fre- is not a Preparatory School by any means. derick were both ordered sea air when they were Should I express my meaning," said Miss Tox about his age; and I have been ordered it my- with peculiar sweetness, "if I designated it an self a great many times. I quite agree with you, infantine Boarding-House of a very select dePaul, that perhaps topics may be incautiously scription?" mentioned up-stairs before him, which it would "On an exceedingly limited and particular be as well for his little mind not to expatiate scale," suggested Mrs. Chick, with a glance at upon; but I really don't see how that is to be her brother. helped in the case of a child of his quickness. If "Oh! Exclusion ifself! " said Miss Tox. hewere a common child, there would be nothing There was something in this. Mrs. Pipchin's in it. I must say I think, with Miss Tox, that husband having broken his heart of the Peruvian a short absence from this house, the air of mines was good. It had a rich sound. Besides, Brighton, and the bodily and mental training of Mr. Dombey was in a state almost amounting so judicious a person as Mrs. Pipchin, for in- to consternation at the idea of Paul remaining stance -— " where he was one hour after his removal had "Who is Mrs. Pipchin, Louisa?" asked Mr. been recommended by the medical practitioner. Dombey; aghast at this familiar introduction of It was a stoppage and delay upon the road the a name he had never heard before. child must traverse, slowly at the best, before "Mrs. Pipchin, my dear Paul," returned his the goal was reached. Their recommendation sister, " is an elderly lady-Miss Tox knows her of Mrs. Pipchin had great weight with him; for whole history-who has for some time devoted he knew that they were jealous of any interferall the energies of her mind, with the greatest ence with their charge, and he never for a success, to the study and - treatment of infancy, moment took it into account that they might be and who has been extremely well connected. solicitous to divide a responsibility, of which he ller husband broke his heart in — How did had, as shown just now, his own established you say her husband broke his heart, my dear? views. Broke his heart of the Peruvian mines, I forget the precise circumstances." mused Mir. Dombey. Well, a very respectable "In pumping water out of the Peruvian way of doing it. Mines," replied Miss Tox. "Supposing we should decide, on to-morrow's "Not being a Pumper himself, of course," inquiries, to\send Paul down to Brighton to this said Mrs. Chick, glancing at her brother; and lady, who would go with him?" inquired Mr. it really did seem necessary to offer the explana- -Dombey after some reflection. tion, for Miss Tox had spoken of him as if he "I don't think you could send the child anyhad died at the handle; "but having invested where at present without Florence, my dear money in the speculation, which failed. I believe Paul," returned his sister, hesitating. " It's that Mrs. Pipchin's management of children is quite an infatuation with him. He's very young, quite astonishing. I-have heard it commended you know, and has his fancies." in private circles ever since I was-dear me!- Mr. Dombey'turned his head away, and how high?" Mrs. Chick's eye wandered about going slowly to the bookcase, and unlocking it, the bookcase near the bust of Mr. Pitt, which brought back a book to read. was about ten feet from the ground. "Anybody else, Louisa?" he said, without "Perhaps I should say of Mrs. Pipchin, my looking tip, and turning over the leaves. dear sir," observed Miss Tox with an ingenuous " Wickam, of course. Wickam ould be quite blush, "having been so pointedly referred to' sufficient, I should say," returned his sister. that the encomium which has been passed upon "Paul being in such hands as Mrs. Pipchin's, her by your sweet sister is well merited. Many you could hardly send anybody who would. be ladies and gentlemen, now grown up to be in- a further check upon her. You would go down teresting members of society, have been indebted yourself once a week at least, of course." to her care. The humble individual who ad- "Of course," said Mr. Dombey, and sat'lookdresses you was once under her charge. I be- ing at one page- for an hour afterwards, without lieve juvenile nobility itself is no stranger to reading one word. her establishment." This celebrated Mrs. Pipchin was a marvellous 52 DOMBEY AND SON. ill-favoured, ill-conditioned old lady, of a stoop- challenged competition still more proudly, in ing figure, with a mottled face, like bad marble, the season, in point of earwigs. a hook nose, and a hard grey eye, that looked Mrs. Pipchin's scale of charges being high, as if it might have been hammered at on an however, to all who could afford to pay, and anvil without sustaining any injury. Forty years Mrs. Pipchin very seldom sweetening the equable at least had elapsed since the Peruvian mines acidity of her nature in favour of anybody, she had been the death of Mr. Pipchin; but his was held to be an old lady of remarkable firmrelict still wore black bombazine, of such a ness, who was quite scientific. in her knowledge lustreless, deep, dead, sombre shade, that gas of the childish character. On this reputation, itself couldn't light her up after dark, and her and on the broken heart of Mr. Pipchin, she presence was a quencher to any number of had contrived, taking one year with another, to candles. She was generally spoken of as "a eke out a tolerably sufficient living since her great manager" of children; and the secret of husband's demise. Within three days after Mrs. her management was, to give them everything Chick's first allusion to her, this excellent old that they didn't like, and nothing that they did lady had the satisfaction of anticipating a hand-which was found to sweeten their dispositions some addition to her current redeipts from the very much. She was such a bitter old lady, that pocket of Mr. Dombey; and of receiving Floone was tempted to believe there had been some rence and her little brother Paul as inmates of mistake in the application of the Peruvian the castle. machinery, and that all her waters of gladness Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox, who had brought and milk of human kindness had been pumped them down on the previous, night (which they out dry instead of the mines. all passed at an hotel), had just driven away The castle of this ogress and child-queller was from the door, on their journey home again; in a steep by-street at Brighton; where the soil and Mrs. Pipchin, with her back to the fire, was more than usually chalky, flinty, and sterile, stood, reviewing the new-comers, like an old and the houses were more than usually brittle soldier. Mrs. Pipchin's'middle-aged niece, her and thin; where the small front gardens had good-natured and devoted slave, but possessing the unaccountable property of producing nothing a gaunt and iron-bound aspect, and much afflicted but marigolds, whatever was sown in them; and with boils on her nose, was divesting Master where snails were constantly discovered holding Bitherstone of the clean collar he had worn on on to the street-doors, and other public places parade. Miss Pankey, the only other little they were not expected to ornament, with the boarder at present, had that moment been tenacity of cupping-glasses. In the winter-time walked off to the castle dungeon (an empty the air couldn't be got out of the castle, and in apartment at the back, devoted to correctional the summer-time it couldn't be got in. There purposes), for having sniffed thrice in the prewas such a continual reverberation of wind in it, sence of visitors. that it sounded like a great shell, which the "Well, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin to Paul, "how inhabitants were obliged to hold to their ears do you think you shall like me? " night and day, whether they liked it or no. It " I don't think I shall like you at all," replied was not, naturally, a fresh-smelling house; and Paul. "I want to go away. This isn't my in the window of the front parlour, which was / house." never opened, Mrs. Pipchin kept a collection of " No. It's mine," retorted Mrs. Pipchin. plants in pots, which imparted an earthy flavour " It's a very nasty one," said Paul. of their own to the establishment. However "There's a worse place in it than this, choice examples of their kind, too, these plants though," said Mrs. Pipchin, "where we shut up were of a kind peculiarly adapted to the em- our bad boys." bowerment of Mrs. Pipchin. There were half-a- " Has he ever been in it?" asked Paul: pointdozen specimens of the cactus, writhing round ing out Master Bitherstone. bits of lath, like hairy serpents; another speci- Mrs. Pipchin nodded assent; and Paul had men shooting out broad claws, like a green enough to do, for the rest of that day, in surveylobster; several creeping vegetables, possessed ing Master Bitherstone from head to foot, and of sticky and adhesive leaves; and one uncom- watching all the workings of his countenance, fortable flower-pot hanging to the ceiling, which with the interest attaching to a boy of mysterious. appeared to have boiled over, and tickling people and terrible' experiences. underneath with its long green ends, reminded At one o'clock there was a dinner, chiefly of them of spiders-in which Mrs.. Pipchin's dwell- the farinaceous and vegetable kind, when Miss ing was uncommonly prolific, though perhaps it Pankey (a mild little blue-eyed morsel of a child, MIRS. PIPCHIN S SYSTEAM. 53 who was shampooed every morning, and seemed wouldn't go to sleep without sweetbread) diversiin danger of being rubbed away altogether) was fled the prevailing fragrance of the house, which led in from captivity by the ogress herself, and Mrs. Wickam said was " a smell of building:" instructed that nobody who sniffed before visitors and slumber fell upon the castle shortly after. ever went to Heaven. When this great truth The breakfast next morning was like the tea had.been thoroughly impressed upon her, she overnight, except that Mrs. Pipchin took her was regaled with rice; and subsequently repeated roll instead of toast, and seemed a little more the form of grace established in the castle, in irate when it was over. Master Bitherstone which there was a special clause, thanking Mrs. read aloud to the rest a pedigree from Genesis Pipchin for a good dinner. Mrs. Pipchin's (judiciously selected by Mrs. Pipchin), getting niece, Berinthia, took cold pork. Mrs. Pipchin, over the names with the ease and clearness of a whose constitution required warm nourishment, person tumbling up the treadmill. That done, made a special repast of mutton chops, which Miss Pankey was borne away to be shampooed; were brought in hot and hot, between two plates, and Master Bitherstone to have something else and smelt very nice. done to him with salt water, from which he As it rained after dinner, and they couldn't always returned very blue and dejected. Paul go out walking on the beach, and Mrs. Pipchin's and Florence went out in the meantime on the constitution required rest after chops, they went beach with Wickam-who was constantly in away with Berry (otherwise Berinthia) to the tears-and at about noon Mrs. Pipchin presided dungeon; an empty room looking out upon a over some Early Readings. It being a part of chalk' wall and a water-butt, and made ghastly Mrs. Pipchin's system not to encourage a child's by a ragged fire-place without any stove in it. mind to develop and expand itself like a young Enlivened by company, however, this was the flower, but to open it by force like an oyster, best place, after all; for Berry played with them the moral of these lessons was usually of. a there, and seemed to enjoy a game at romps as violent and stunning character: the hero-a much as they did; until Mrs. Pipchin, knocking naughty boy-seldom, in the mildest catastrophe, angrily at the wall, like the Cock-Lane ghost being finished off by anything less than a lion or revived, they left off, and Berry told them a bear. stories in a whisper until twilight. Such was life at Mrs. Pipchin's. On Saturday For tea there was plenty of milk-and-water, Mr. Dombey came down; and Florence and and bread-and-butter, with a little black teapot Paul would go to his hotel, and have tea. They for Mrs. Pipchin and Berry, and buttered toast passed the whole of Sunday with him, and unlimited for Mrs. Pipchin, which was brought generally rode out before dinner; and on these in, hot and hot, like the chops. Though Mrs. 6ccasions Mr. Dombey seemed to grow, like Pipchin got very greasy outside over this' dish, Falstaffs assailants, and, instead of being one it didn't seem to lubricate her internally at all; man in buckram, to become a dozen. Sunday for she was as fierce as ever, and the hard grey evening was the most melancholy evening in eye knew no softening. the week; for Mrs. Pipchin always made a After tea, Berry brought out a little workbox, point of being particularly:cross on Sunday with the Royal Pavilion on the lid, and fell to nights. Miss Pankey was generally brought working busily; while Mrs. Pipchin, having put back from an aunt's at Rottingdean in deep on her spectacles and opened a great volume distress: and Master Bitherstone, whose relabound in green baize, began to -od. And tives were all in India, and who was required whenever Mrs. Pipchin caught herself falling to sit, between the services, in an erect position, forward into the fire, and woke up, she filliped with his head against the parlour wall, neither Master Bitherstone on the nose for nodding moving hand nor foot, suffered so acutely in his too. young spirits that he once asked Florence on a At last it was the children's bedtime, and Sunday night, if she could give him any idea of after prayers they went to bed. As little Miss the way back to Bengal. Pankey was afraid of sleeping alone in the dark, But it was generally said that Mrs. Pipchin Mrs. Pipchin always made a point of driving was a woman of system with children; and no her up-stairs herself, like a sheep; and it was doubt she was.. Certainly the wild ones went cheerful to hear Miss Pankey moaning long home tame enough, after sojourning for a few afterwards, in the least eligible chamber, and Mrs. months beneath her hospitable roof. It was Pipchin now and then going in to shake her. generally said, too, that it was highly creditable At about half-past nine o'clock the odour of a of Mrs. Pipchin to have devoted herself to this warm sweetbread (Mrs. Pipchin's constitution way of life, and to have made such a sacrifice 54- DOAMBE Y AND SON. of her feelings, and such a resolute stand against From that time, Mrs. Pipchin appeared to her troubles, when Mr. Pipchin broke his heart have something of the same odd kind of attracin the Peruvian mines. tion towards Paul as Paul had towards her. At this. exemplary old lady Paul would sit She would make him move his- chair to her side staring in his little arm-chair by the fire for any of the fire, instead of sitting opposite; and there length of time. He never seemed to know what he would remain in a nook between Mrs. Pipweariness was, when he was looking fixedly at chin and the fender, with all the light of his Mrs. Pipchin. He was not fond of her; he was little face absorbed into the black bombazine not afraid of her; but, in those old moods of drapery, studying every line and wrinkle of her his, she seemed to have a grotesque attraction countenance, and peering at the hard grey eye for him, There he would sit, looking at her, until Mrs. Pipchin was sometimes fain to shut and warming his hands, and looking at her, it, on pretence of dozing. Mrs. Pipchin had until he sometimes quite confounded Mrs. Pip- an old black cat, who generally lay coiled up on chin, ogress as she was. Once she asked him, the centre foot of the fender, purring egotistiwhen they were alone, what he was thinking cally, and winking at the fire until the contracted about. pupils of his eyes were like two notes of admira"You," saia Paui, without the least reserve. tion. The good old lady might have been-not " And what are you thinking about me?' to record it disrespectfully-a witch, and Paul asked Mrs. Pipchin. and the cat her two familiars, as they all sat by "I'm thinking how old you must be," said the fire together. It would have been quite in Paul. keeping with the appearance of the party if "You mustn't say such things as that, young they had all sprung up the chimney in a high gentleman," returned the dame. " That'll never wind one night, and never been heard of any do." more. " Why not?" asked Paul. This, however, never came to pass. The cat, "Because it's not polite," said Mrs.. Pipchin and Paul, and Mrs. Pipchin were constantly to snappishly. be found in their usual places after dark; and " Not polite? " said Paul. Paul, eschewing the companionship of Master " No." Bitherstone, went on studying Mrs; Pipchin, " It's not polite," said Paul innocently, "to and the cat, and the fire, night after night, as.eat all the mutton chops and toast, Wickam if they were a book of necrqmancy, in three says." volumes. "Wickam," retorted Mrs. Pipchin, colouring, Mrs. Wickam put ner own construction on "is a wicked, impudent,.bold-faced hussy." Paul's eccentricities; and being confirmed in "What's that?" inquired Paul. her low spirits by a perplexed view of chimneys " Never you'mind, sir," retorted Mrs. Pipchin. from the room where she was accustomed to sit, " Remember the story of the little boy that was and by the noise of the wind, and by the general gored to death by a mad bull for asking ques- dulness (gashliness was Mrs. Wickam's strong tions." expression) of her present life, deduced the most " If the bull was mad-" said Paul, "how did dismal reflections from the foregoing premises. he know that the boy had asked questions'? It was a part of Mrs. Pipchin's policy to prevent Nobody can go and whisper secrets to a mad her own " young hussy"-that was Mrs. Pipbull. I don't believe that story." chin's'generic name for female servant-from "You don't believe it, sir?" repeated Mrs. communicating with Mrs. Wickam: to which Pipchin, amazed. end she devoted much of her time to concealing'" No," said Paul. herself behind doors, and springing out on that " Not if it should happen to have been a tame devoted maiden, whenever she made an approach bull, you little infidel?" said Mrs. Pipchin. towards Mrs. Wickam's apartment. But Berry As Paul had not considered the subject in was free to hold what converse she could in that that light, and had founded his conclusions on quarter consistently with the discharge of the the alleged lunacy of the bull, he allowed him- multifarious duties at which she toiled incessantly self to be put down for the present. But he sat from morning to night; and to Berry Mrs. turning it over in. his mind, with such an obvious Wickam\unburdened her mind. i -tention of fixing Mrs. Pipchin presently, that "What a pretty fellow he is when he's asleep!" even that hardy old lady deemed it prudent to said Berry, stopping to look at Paul in bed, one retreat' until he should have forgotten the night when she took up Mrs. Wickam's supper. subject. "Ah!" sighed Mrs. Wickam. "He need be." DESPOVNDENT PROSPECTS. 55 "Why, he's.not ugly when he's awake," ob- "Ye, is, is she is alive," returned Mrs. served Berry. Wickam with an air of triumph, for it was evident "No, ma'am. Oh no!'No more was my Miss Berry expected the reverse; and is married uncle's Betsey Jane;" said Mrs. Wickam.'to a silver chaser. Oh yes, miss, SHE is alive," Berry looked as if she would like to trace the said Mrs. Wickam, laying strong' stress on her connection of. ideas between Paul Dombey and nominative case. Mrs. Wickam's uncle's Betsey Jane. It being clear that somebody was dead, Mrs. "My uncle's wife," Mrs. Wickam went on to Pipchin's niece inquired ho it was. say, "died just like his mamma. My itncle's "I wouldn't wish to male you uneasy," rechild took on just as Master Paul do. My turned Mrs. Wickam, pursuing her sapper. uncle's child -made people's blood run cold " Don't ask me." sometimes, she did!" This was the surest way of being asked again. "How?" asked Berry. Miss Berry repeated her question, therefore; "I wouldn't have sat up all night alone with and, after some resistance and reluctance, Mrs. Betsey Jane!" said Mrs. Wickam, " not if yod'd Wickam laid down her knife, and again glancing have put Wickam into business next morning for round the room and at Paul in bed, replied: himself. I couldn't have done it, Miss Berry." "She took fancies to people; whimsical Miss Berry naturally asked, why not? But fancies, some of them; others, affections that Mrs. Wickam, agreeably to the usage of some one might expec to see-ohnly stronger than ladies in her condition, pursued her own branch common. They all died," of the subject without any compunction. This was so very unexpected and awful to "Betsey Jane," said Mrs. Wickam, "was as Mrs. Pipchin's niece, that she sat upright 6n the sweet a child as I could wish to see. I couldn't hard edge of the bedstead, breathing short, and wish to see a sweeter. Everything that a child surveying her informant with looks' of undiscould have in the way of illnesses, Betsey Jane guised alarm, had come through. The cramps was as corn- Mrs. Wickam shook her left forefinger stealthily mon to her," said Mrs. Wickam, " as biles is to towards the bed where Florence lay; then turned yourself, Miss Berry." Miss Berry involuntarily it upside down, and made several emphatic wrinkled her nose. points at the floor; immediately below which "But. Betsey Jane," said Mrs. Wickam, lower- was the parlour in which Mrs. Pipchin habitually ing her voice, and looking round the room, and consumed the toast. towards Paul in bed, "had been minded, in her "Remember my words, Miss Berry," said Mrs. cradle, by her departed mother. I couldn't say Wickam, "and be thankful that Master Paul is how, nor I couldn't say when, nor I couldn't say not too fond of you. I arr that.he's not too fond whether the dear child knew it or not, but Betsey of me, I assure you; though there isn't much to Jane had'been watched by her mother, Miss live for-you'll excuse my being so free-in this Berry! You may say nonsense! I ari't offended, gaol of a house " miss. I hope you.may be able to think in your Miss Berry's emotion might have led to her own conscience that it is nonsense; you'll find patting Paul too hard on the back, or might your spirits all the better for it in this-you'll have produced a cessation of that soothing excuse my being so free-in this burying-ground monotony, but he turned in his bed just now, of a place; which is wearing of me down. and presently awaking, sat up in it with his hair Master Paul's a little restless in his sleep. Pat hot and wet from the effects of some childish his back, if you please." dream, and asked for Florence. "Of course you think," said Berry, gently She was out of her own bed at the first sound doing what she was asked, "that he has been of his voice; and bending over his pillow immenursed by his mother, too?" diately, sang him to sleep again. Mrs. Wickam "Betsey Jane," returned Mrs. Wickam in her shaking her head, and letting fall several tears,,nost solemn tones, "was put upon as that child pointed out the little group to Berry, and turned has been put upon, and changed as that child has her eyes up to the ceiling. changed. I have seen her sit, often and often, "Good night, miss I" said Wickam.softly, think, think, thinking, like him. I have seen "Good night! Your aunt is an old lady, Miss her look, often and often, ofd, old, old, like;him. Berry, and it's what you must have looked for, I have heard.her, many a time, talk just like often." him. I consider that child and Betsey Jane on This consolatory farewell Mrs. Wickam acthe same footilig entirely, Miss Berry." companied with a look of heartfelt anguish; and " Is your uncle's child alive?" asked Berry. being left alone with the two children again? and 56 DOMBE Y AND SON. becoming conscious that the wind was blowing at work, or reading to him, or talking to him, mournfully, she indulged in melancholy-that and the wind blowing on his face, and the water cheapest and most accessible df luxuries-until coming up among the wheels of his bed, he she was overpowered by slumber. wanted nothing more. Although the niece of Mrs. Pipchin did not "Floy," he said one day, "where's India, expect to find that exemplary dragon prostrate where that boy's friends live?" on the hearth-rug when she went down-stairs, "Oh, it's a long, long distance off," said Floshe was relieved to find her unusually fractious rence, raising her eyes from her work. and severe, and with every present appearance "Weeks off?" asked Paul. of intending to live a long time to be a comfort "Yes, dear. Many weeks' journey, night and to all who knew her. Nor had she any symp- day." toms of declining, in the course of the ensuing "If you were in India, Floy," said Paul, after week, when the constitutional viands still con. being silent for a minute, " I should — What tinued to disappear in regular succession, not- is that mamma did? I forget." withstanding that Paul studied her as attentively "Loved me?" answered Florence. as ever, and occupied his usual seat between the " No, no. Don't I love you now, Floy? What black skirts and the fender, with unwavering' is it?- Died. If you were in India, I should die constancy. Floy." But as Paul himself was no stronger, at the She hurriedly put her work aside, and laid her expiration of that time, than he had been on his head down on his pillow, caressing him. And first arrival, though he looked much healthier in: so would she, she said, if he were there. He the face, a little carriage was got for him, in would be better soon. which he could lie at his ease, with.an alphabet "Oh! I am a. great deal better now!" he and other elementary works of reference, and be answered. " I don't mean that. I mean that I wheeled down to the seaside. Consistent in his should die of being so sorry and so lonely, Floy!" odd tastes, the child set aside a ruddy-faced lad' Another time, in the same place, he fell asleep, who was proposed as the drawer of this carriage, and slept quietly for a long time. Awaking and selected instead his grandfather-a weazen,'suddenly, he. listened, started up, and sat listenold, crab-faced man, in a suit of battered oil' ing. skin, who had got tough and stringy from long Florence asked him what he thought he pickling in salt water, and who smelt like a' heard. weedy sea-beech when the tide is out.' I want to know what it says," he answered, With this notable attendant to pull him along, looking steadily in her face. "The sea, Floy, and Florence always'walking by. his side, and what is it that it keeps on saying?" the" despondent Wickam bringing up the rear, She told him that it was only the noise of the he went down to the margin of the ocean every rolling waves. day;,and. there he. would'sit or lie.in his "Yes, yes," he said. "But I know that they carriage for hours together: never so distressed are always saying something. Always the same as by the company of children-Florence alone thing. What place is over there?" He rose excepted, always. up, looking eagerly at the'horizon. " Go away, if you please," he would say to She told him that there was another country any child who came to bear him company. opposite, but he said he didn't mean that; he "Thank you, but I don't want you." meant farther away-farther away! Some small voice, near his ear, would ask him Very often afterwards, in the midst of their how he was, perhaps. talk, he would break off, to try to understand " I am very well, I thank you," he would what it was that the waves were always saying; answer. " But you had better go and play, if and would rise up in his couch to look towards you please." that invisible region far away. Then he would turn his head, and watch the child away, and say to Florence, "We don'twant any others, do we? Kiss me, Floy."'APT He had even a dislike, at such times, to the company of Wickam, and was well pleased when IN WHICH THE WOODEN MIDSHIPMAN GETS INTO she strolled away, as she,generally did, to pick upTROUBLE. shells and acquaintances. His favourite spot HAT spice of romance and love of the marwas quite a lonely one, far away from most 1 vellous, of which there was a pretty strong loungers; and with Florence sitting by his side infusion in the nature of young Walter Gay, and CAPTAIN CUTTLE PURCHASES AN APPROPRIATE BALLAD,. 57 which the guardianship of his uncle, old Solo-'cherished it in his memory, especially that part mon Gills, had" not very much weakened-by the of it with which he had been associated, until it waters of stern practical experience, was the became the spoiled child of his fancy, and'took occasion of his attaching an uncommon and its own way, and did what it liked with it. delightful interest to the adventure of Florence'. The recollection of those incidents, and his with Good Mrs. Brown. He pampered and own share in. them, may have been made the \"''^ ", l, C _'' A LISTENING TO THE SEA. more captivating perhaps, by the weekly dream- chase a ballad of considerable antiquity, that ings of old Sol and Captain Cuttle on Sundays. had long fluttered among many others, chiefly Hardly a Sunday passed without mysterious expressive of maritime sentiments, on a (ldead references being made by one or other of those wall in the Commercial Road: which poetical wortfy chums to Richard Whittington; and the performance set forth the courtship and nupll)tials latter gentleman had even gone so far as to pur- of a promising young coal-whipper with a ccrtain ~~~~~~~".'r\; ~,[ latter gentleman had even gone so far aS'to' pur ofal promlng~ll y'oung coal-whipper with a certinj 58 DOMIBEY AND SON "lovely Peg," the accomplished daughter of the only remembered it better and better. As to its master and part owner of a Newcastle collier. adventurous beginning, and all those little cirIn' this stirring legend Captain Cuttle descried cumstances which gave it a distinctive character a profound metaphysical bearing on the case of and' relish, he took them into account, more as Walter and Florence; and. it excited him so a pleasant story very agreeable to his imaginamuch that on very festive occasions, as birthdays tion, and not to be dismissed from it, than as a and a few other non-Dominical holidays, he part of any matter of fact with which he was would roar through the whole song in the little concerned. They set off Florence very much, back-parlour; making an amazing shake on the to his fancy; but not himself. Sometimes he word Pe-e-eg, with which every, verse con- thought (and then he walked very fast), what a eluded, in compliment to the heroine of the grand thing it would have been for him to have piece. been going to sea on',the day after that first But a frank, free-spirited, open-hearted boy is meeting, and to have- gone, and to have done not much' given to analysing the nature of his wonders there, and to have stopped away a long own feelings, however strong their hold upon time, and to have come back an adfiiiral of all him: and Walter would have found it difficult the colours of the dolphin, or at least a postto decide this point. He had a great affection captain with epaulets of insupportable brightfor the wharf where he had encountered Florence, ness, and have married Florence (then a beauand for the streets (albeit not enchanting in tiful young woman) in spite of Mr. Dombey's themselves) by which they had come home. teeth, cravat, and watch-chain, and borne her The shoes that had so often tumbled off by the away to the blue shores of somewhere or. other way, he preserved in his own room; and, sitting' triumphantly. But these flights of fancy seldom in' the little baek-parlour of an evening, he had burnished the brass-plate of Dombey and Son's drawn a whole gallery of fancy portraits of Good offices into a tablet of golden hope, or shed a Mrs. Brown. It'may be that he became a little brilliant lustre on, their dirty sky-lights; and smarter in his dress after.that memorable occa-, when the captain and Uncle Sol talked about sion; and he certainly.liked in his leisure time Richard Whittington and masters' daughters, to walk towards that quarter of the town where Walter felt that he understood.his true posiMr. Dombey's house was: situated, on the vague tion at Dombey and Son's much better than chance of passing little Florence.in the street. they did. But the sentiment of all this was as b.oyish and' So it was that he went on doing what he had innocent as could be.' Florence was very pretty, to do from day. to day, in a cheerful, painsand it is pleasant to admire a pretty face.'Flo- taking, merry spirit; and saw through the sanrence was defenceless and weak, and it was a guine complexion of Uncle Sol.' and Captain proud' thought that he had been able to render Cuttle; and yet entertained a thousand indisher any protection and assistance. Florence was tinct and visionary fancies of his, own, to which the most grateful little creature in the world, and theirs were work-a-day probabilities. Such was it was delightful to see her bright gratitude beam- his condition at the Pipchin, period, when he ing in her face. Florence was neglected and looked a little older than of yore, but not much; coldly looked upon, and his breast was full of and was the same light-footed, light-hearted, youthful interest for the slighted' child in her light-headed lad as when he charged into the dull, stately home. parlour at the head of Uncle Sol and the imaThus it came about that perhaps some half-a-'ginary boarders, and lighted him to bring up the dozen times in the course of the year Walter madeira pulled off his hat to Florence in the street, "Uncle Sol," said Walter,' I don't think and Florence would stop to shake hands. Mrs. you're well. You haven't eaten any breakfast. Wickam (who, with a characteristic alteration of I shall bring a doctor to you, if you go'on like his name, invariably spoke of him as "Young this." Graves ").was so well used to this, knowing the "He can't give me what I want, my boy," story of their acquaintance, that she took no said Uncle Sol. " At least, he is in good pracheed of it at. all. Miss Nipper, on the other tice if he can-and then he wouldn't." hand, rather looked out for these occasions: " What is it, uncle? Customers?" her sensitive young heart being secretly propi-" Ay," returned Solomon with a sigh. "Custiated by Walter's good looks, and inclining to tomers would do." the belief that its sentiments were responded to. " Confound it,.uncle! " said Walter, putting In this way, Walter, so far from forgetting or down his breakfast-cup with a tlatter, and losing sight of his acquaintance with Florence, striking his hand on the table; "when I see WH[ T DO YOU SUY? 59 the people going up and down the street in you, and keep you in good heart. Here am I, as shoals all day, and passing and repassing loving a nephew as ever was (I am sure I ought, the, shop every minute by scores, I feel half to be!), but I am only a nephew, and I can't be tempted to rush out, collar somebody, bring such a companion to you when you are low and him in, and make him buy fifty pounds' worth of out of sorts as she would have made herself instruments for ready money. What are you years ago, though I'm sure I'd give any money looking in at the door for?" continued Walter, if I could cheer you up. And so I say, when apostrophizing an old gentleman with'a powdered I see you with anything on your mind, that I head (inaudibly to him, of course), who was feel quite sorry you haven't got somebody better staring at a ship's telescope with all his might about you thai a blundering young rough-andand main. "T hat's no use. I could do that. tough boy like me, who has got the will to conCome in and buy it!" sole you, uncle, but hasn't got the way-hasn't The old gentleman, however, having satiated got the way," repeated Walter, reaching over his curiosity, walked calmly away. further yet, to shake his uncle by the hand. i, There he goes!" said Walter. "That's the "Wally, my dear boy,"' said Solomon, "if the way with'em all. But, uncle-t say, Uncle cosy little old lady had taken her place in this Sol "-for the old man was meditating, and had parlour five-and-forty years ago, I never could not responded to his first appeal —" don't be have.been fonder of her than I am of you." cast down. Don't be out of spirits, uncle. When "I know that, Uncle Sol," returned Walter. orders do come, they'll come in such a crowd, "Lord bless you, I know that. But you wouldn't you won't be able to execute'em." have had the whole weight of any uncomfortable' "I shall be past executing'em, whenever they secrets if she had been with you, because she come, my boy," returned Solomon Gills. "They'll would have known how to relieve you of'em, never come to this shop again till I am out of and I don't." it." " Yes, yes, you do," returned the instrument"I say, uncle! You mustn't really, you maker. know!" urged Walter. " Don't!" "Well, then, what's the matter, Uncle Sol?" Old Sol endeavoured to assume a cheery said Walter coaxingly. "Come! What's the took, and smiled across the little table at him as matter? " pleasantly as he could. Solomon Gills persisted that there was nothing " There's nothing more than usual the matter; the matter; and maintained it so resolutely, that is there, uncle?" said Walter, leaning his elbows his nephew had no resource but to make a very on the tea-tray, and bending over, to speak the indifferent imitation of believing him. more confidentially and kindly. " Be open with "All I can say is, Uncle Sol, that if there me, uncle, if there is, and tell me all about it." is " "No, no, no," returned old Sol. " More than "But there isn't," said Solomon. usual? No, no. What should there be the "Very well," said Walter.'"Then I've no matter more than usual?" more to say; and that's lucky, for my time's up Walter answered with an incredulous shake of for going to business. I shall look in by-andhis head. "That's what I want to know," he by, when I'm out, to see how you get on, uncle. said, "and you ask me! I'll tell you what, And mind, uncle! I'll never believe you again, uncle, when I see you like this, I am quite sorry and never tell you anything more about Mr. that I live with you." Carker the junior, if I find out that you have Old Sol opened his eyes involuntarily. been deceiving me! " "Yes. Though nobody ever was happier Solomon Gills laughingly defied him to find than I am, and always have been, with you, I out anything of'the kind; and Walter, revolving am quite sorry that I live with you, when I see in his thoughts all sorts of impracticable ways of you with anything on your mind." making fortunes and placing the Wooden Mid" I am a little dull at such times, I know," ob- shipman in a position of independence, betook served Solomon, meekly rubbing his hands. himself to the offices of Dombey and Son with "What I mean, Uncle Sol," pursued Walter, a heavier countenance than he usually carried bending over a little more to pat him on the there. shoulder, "is, that then I feel you ought to have, There lived in those days round the cornersitting here and pourifrg out the tea, instead of in Bishopsgate Street'Without-one Brogley, me, a nice little dumpling of a wife, you know — sworn broker and appraiser, who kept a shop a comfortable, capital, cosy old lady, who was where every description of second-hand furniture just a match for you, and knew how to manage was exhibited in the most uncomfortable aspect, 60 DOMBE Y AND.SON. and under circumstances and in combinations "No,.no. There's.nothing the matter," sai the most completely foreign to. its purpose. Mr. Brogley. "Don't let'it put you out of th Dozens of chairs hooked on to washing-stands, way." which with difficulty poised themselves on the Walter looked from the broker to his uncle 11 shoulders of sideboards, which; in their turn mute amazement. stood upon the wrong sfle of dining-tables, "The fact is," said Mr. Brogley, "there is: gymnastic with their legs upward on the tops of little payment -on a bond debt-three hundrer other dining-tables, were amorig its most reason- and seventy odd, over-due: and I'm in nos able atrangements. A banquet array of dish- session," covers, wine-glasses, and.decanters was generally "In possession!" crid Walter, looking rounc to be seen spread forth upon the bosom of a at the shop. four-post - bedstead, for the entertainment of "Ah'!" said.Mr. Br9giey in confidential assuch genial company as half-a-dozen pokers and sent, and nodding his head as if he would urge a hall lamp. A set of window curtains, with no the advisability of their all being comfortable windows belonging to them, would be seen grace- together. "It's an execution. That's what it fully draping a barricade of chests of drawers; is. Don't let it put youou t of the way. I come loaded with. little jars from chemists' shops; myself because of keeping it quiet and sociable. while a homeless hearth-rug, severed -from. its You know me.'It's quite private." natural companion the fireside, braved the shrewd. " Uncle Sol! " faltered Walter. east wind in its adversity, and trembled in me- " Wally, my boy," returned his uncle, "it's the tancholy accord with the shrill complainings of fift?time. Such a calamity never happened to a cabinet piano, wasting away, a string a day, me before. I'm an old man to begin.' Pushing and faintly resounding to the noises of the street up his spectacles again (for they were useless iu its jangling and' distracted brain. Of motion-. any longer to conceal his emotion), he covered less clocks that never stirred a finger, and seemed his; face withhis' hand, and sobbed aloud, ind as. incapable of being successfully'wound up as his tears fell down unon his coffee-coloured the pecuniary affairs of their former owners, waistcoat. there was always great.,choice in Mr. Brogleys "Uncle Sol! Pray,! On, don't!" exclaimed shop; and various looking-glasses, accidentally Walter who really felt a thrillof terror in seeing placed at compound interest of reflection and the old man weep, " For God's sake, don't do refraction, presented to the eye an eternal per- that r. Brogley, what shal I do?" spective of bankruptcy and ruin. " Ishould recommen:you looking up a friend Mr. Brogley himself was a moist-eyed, pink- or so,". said Mr. Brogley, and talking it over." complexioned, crisp-haired man, of'a bulky " To be sure!" cried Walter, catching at anyfigure anrd an easy temper-for- that class. of thing. " Certainly! Thankee. Captain Cuttle's Caius Marius, who sits upon the ruins of other the r.n,: uncle.: ait till I run to Captain people's Carthages, can keepup his spirits well Cuttle. Keep your eye upon my uncle, will you, enough. He had looked in at S6olmon's shop':Mr. Brogley, and make'him as comfortable as sometim'es, to ask a question about articles in you can while I am gone?.Don't despair, Uncle Solomon's way..of business; and Walter knew. Sol. Try and keep a good heart there's a dear him sufficiently to give him good d'ay when they'fellow!" met in the street:; but, as- that was the extent of Saying this with great'ervour, and disregardthe broker's acquaintance with Solomor Gills ing the old man's broken remonstrances, Walter also,'Walter was not a little surprised.when he dashed out of the shop. again as hard as he came back in the course of the forenoon, agree- could go; and, having hurried found to the office ably to his promise, to find Mr. Brogley sitting to excuse himself on the plea of his uncle's-sudin the back-parlour with his hands in his pockets, den illness, set off, full speed, for Cantain Cuttle's and his hat hanging up behind the door. residence. ".Well, Uncle Sol!" said Walter. The old Everything seemed altered as he ran along the man was sitting ruefully on the opposite side of streets: There was the usual entanglement and the table, with his spectacles over his eyes, for a noise of carts, drays,'omnibuses, waggons, and wonder, instead of on his forehead. "How are foot-passengers, but the misfortune that had you now?" fallen on,the Wooden Midshipman made it Solomon shook his head, and waved one- hand strange and new. Houses'and shops avere dif towards the broker, as introducing him. ferent from what they useed to hey and bore Mr. "Is there anything the matter'? " asked Wal- Brogley's warrant on their fronts in large chafer, with a catching in his breath. racters. The broker seemed to have got'hold CAPTAIN CUTTLE TO THE RESCUE. 6 of the very churches; for their spires rose into water, replied to the summons with startling the sky with an unwonted air. Even the sky rapidity.. Before she looked at Walter she looked itself was changed, and had an execution in it at the knocker, and then, measuring him with plainly. her eyes from head to foot, said she wondered Captain Cuttle lived on the brink of a little he had left any of it. canal near the India Docks, where there was a "Captain Cuttle's at home, I know," said swivel bridge, which opened.now and then to Walter, with a conciliatory smile. let-'some wandering monster of. a ship come "Is he?" replied the widow lady. "In-deed!" roaming up the street like a stranded leviathan. "He has just been speaking to me," said The gradual change from land to water, on the Walter in breathless explanation. approach to Captain Cuttle's lodgings, was curi- Has he?" replied the widow lady. "Then ous. It began with the erection of flagstaffs, as p'rhaps you'll give him Mrs. MacStinger's re-,appurtenances to public-houses; then came slop- spects, and say that the next time he lowers sellers' shops, with Guernsey shirts, sou'-wester himself and his lodgings by talking out of winder, hats, and canvas pantaloons, at once the tightest she'll thank him to come down and open the and the loosest-of their order,hanging up out- door too." Mrs. MacStinger spoke loud, and side. These were succeeded by anchor and listened for any observations that might.be chain-cable forges, where sledge-hammers were offered from the first floor. dinging upon iron all day long. Then came "I'll mention it," said Walter, "if you'll have rows.of houses, with little vane-surmounted masts the goodness to let me in, ma'am." uprearing themselves from among the scarlet For he was repelled by a wooden fortification beans. Then, ditches'. Then, pollard willows. extending across the doorway, and put there to Then, more: ditches. Then, unaccountable prevent the lttle MacStingers, in their moments patches of dirty water, hardly to be descried for of recreation, from tumbling down the steps. the ships that covered them. Then, the air "A boy that can knock my door down," said was perfumed with chips; and all other trades Mrs. MacStinger contemptuously, " can get over were swallowed up in mast, oaf, and block tha., I should hope!" But Walter, taking this making, and boat building. Then, the ground as a permission to enter, and getting over it, grew marshy and unsettled.. Then, there was Mrs. MacStingerimmediately demanded whether nothing to be smelt but rum and sugar. Then, an Englishwoman's house was her castle or not; Captain Cuttle's lodgings-at once a first floor and whether she was to be broke; in upon by and a top story, in Brig Place-were close before "raff." On these subjects her thirst for inforyou. mation was still very importunate, when Walter, The captain was one. of those timber-looking having made his ways up the litle staircase men, suits of oak as well as hearts, whom it is' through.an artificial fog occasioned by the washalmost impossible for the liveliest imagination to ing, which covered the banisters with a clammy separate from any part of their -dress, however perspiration; entered Captain.Cuttle's room, and insignificant. Accordingly, when Walter knocked found that gentleman in ambush behind'the at the door, and the captain instantly.poked his door. tread out of one of his little front windows, and "Never owed her a penny, Wal'r,".said Caphailed him, with the hard glazed hat already:on tain Cuttle in-a low voice, and with visible marks it, and the shirt collar like a sail, and the.wide of trepidation on his countenance.'.' Done her suit of blue all standing as usual, Walter was as a world of good turns, and the children too. fully persuaded that he was always in'that state Vixen at times, though. Whew!" as if the captain had been a bird, and those had "I should go -away, Captain Cuttle," said been his feathers. Whlter. "Wal'r, my lad!" said Captain Cuttle. "Dursn't do it, Wal'r," returned the captain. "Stand by, and knock again.'Hard!'It's "She'd find me out, wherever I went. Sit down. washing day." How's Gills?" Walter, in -his impatience, gave a prodigious The captain was dining (in his hat) off cold thump with the knocker. loin of mutton, porter, and some smoking hot "Hard it is!" said Captain Cuttle, and im- potatoes, which he had cooked himself, and took mediately drew in his head as if he expected a out of a little saucepan before the fire as he squall. wanted them. He unscrewed his hook at dinnerNor was he mistaken; for a widow lady, with time, and screwed a knife into its wooden.socket her'sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, and her instead, with which he had already begun to peel armsfrothy with soap-suds and smoking with hot one of these potatoes for Walter. His tQQWia 62 6AtfbMAY ANDt Sod were very small, and strongly impregnated with Some five minutes elapsed before Captain tobacco smoke, but snug enough: everything Cuttle could sumimon courage to attempt his being stowed away as if there were an earthquake escape; for Walter waited so long at the street regularly every half-hour. corner, looking back at the house, before there "How's Gills?" inquired the captain were any symptoms of the hard glazed hat. At Walter, who had by this time recovered his length the captain burst out of the door with the breath, and lost his spirits-or such temporary suddenness of an explosion, and coming towards spirits as his rapid journey had given him- him at a great pace, and never once looking over looked at his questioner for a moment, said, his shoulder, pretended, as soon as they were Oh, Captain Cuttle!" and burst into tears. well out of the street, to' whistle a tune. No words can describe the captain's conster- "Uncle rhuch hove down, Wal'r?" inquired nation at this sight. Mrs. MacStinger faded the captain as they were walking along. into nothing before it. He dropped the potato "I am afraid so. If you had seen him this and' the fork —and would have dropped the knife morning, you would never have fotgotten it." too if he could-and sat gazing at the boy, as if " Walk fast, Wal'r, my lad," returned the caphe expected to hear next moment that a gulf had tain, mending his pace; "and walk the same all opened in tle City, which had swallowed up his the days of your life. Overhaul the catechism old friend, coffee-coloured suit, buttons, chroiio- for that advice, and-keep it!" tmeter, spectaclef, and all. The captain. was too biusy with his own But when Walter told him what was really the thoughts of Solomon Gills, mingled, perhaps, matter, Captain Cuttle, after a momnent's reflec- with some reflections on his late escape from tion, started up into full activity. He emptied Mrs, MacStinger, to offer any further quotations out of a little tin canister, on the top shelf of on the way for Walter's moral improvement. the cupboard, his whole stock of ready money They interchanged no other word until they (amounting to thirteen pounds and half-a-crown), arrived at old Sol's door, where the unfortunate which he transferred to one of the pockets of his Wooden Midshipman, with his instrument at his square blue coat: further enriched that reposi- eye, seemed to be surveying the whole horizon tory with the contents of his plate chest, consist- in search of some friend to help him out of his ing of two withered atomies of tea-spoons and difficulty. an obsolete pair of knock-kneed sugar-tongs; "Gills!" said the captain, hurrying into the pulled up his immense double-cased silver watch back-parlour, and taking him by the hand quite from the depths in which it reposed, to assure tenderly. " Lay your head well to the wind, and himself that that valuable was sound and whole; we'll fight through it. All you've got to do," re-attached the hook to his right wrist; and said the captain, with the solemnity of a man seizing the stick covered over with knobs, bade who was delivering himself of one of the most Walter come along. precious practical tenets ever discovered by huRemembering, however, in the midst of his man wisdom, " is to lay your head well to the virtuous excitement, that Mrs. MacStinger might wind, and we'll fight through it!" be lying in wait below, Captain Cuttle hesitated Old Sol returned the pressure of his hand, and at last, not without glancing at the window, as if thanked him. he had some thought of escaping by that unusual Captain Cuttle then, with a gravity suitable to means of. egress, rather than encounter his ter- the nature of the occasion, put down upon the rible enemy. He decided, however, in favour table the two tea-spoons and the sugar-tongs, of stratagem. the silver watch, and the ready money;'and "Wal'r," said the captain with a timid wink, asked Mr. Brogley, the broker, what the damage " go afore, my lad. Sing out,'Good-bye; Cap- was. tain Cuttle,' when you're in the passage, and "Come! What do you make of it?" said shut the door. Then wait at the corner of the Captain Cuttle. street till you see me." "Why, Lord help you! " returned the brolcer; These directions were not issued without a "you don't suppose that property's of any use,.previous knowledge of the enemy's tactics, for do you?" when Walter got down-stairs, Mrs.. MacStinger "Why not?" inquired the captain. glided out of the little back-kitchen like an "Why? The amount's three hundred and avenging spirit. But not gliding out upon the seventy odd," replied the broker. captain, as -she had expected, she merely tade "Never mind," returned the captain, though a further allusion to the knocker, and glided in he was evidently dismayed,by the figures: "all's again. fish that comes to your net, I suppose?" CAPTAIN CUTTLE'S BRIGHT IDEA. 63 "Certainly," said Mr. Brogley. "But sprats and laid it against the back-parlour fire-place an't whales, you know." instead. The philosophy of this observation seemed Captain Cuttle walked up and down the shop to strike the captain. He ruminated for a for some time, cogitating profoundly, and bringminute; eyeing the broker, meanwhile, as a ing his bushy black eyebrows to bear so heavily deep genius; and then called the instrument- on his nose, like clouds, settling on a mountain, maker aside. that Walter was afraid to offer any interruption "Gills," said Captain Cuttle, "what's the to the current of his reflections. Mr. Brogley, bearings of this business? Who's the creditor?" who was averse to being any constraint upon the " Hush!" returned the old man. " Come party, and who had an ingenious cast of mind, away. Don't speak before Wally. It's a matter went, softly whistling, among the stock; rattling of security for Wally's father-an old bond. I've weather-glasses, shaking compasses as if they paid a good deal of it, Ned, but the times are so were physic, catching up keys with loadstones, bad with me that I can't do more just now, looking through telescopes, endeavouring to I've foreseen it, but I couldn't help it. Not a make himself acquainted with the use of the word before Wally, for all the world." globes, setting parallel rulers astride on his nose, "You have got some money, haven't you?" and amusing himself with other philosophical whispered the captain. transactions. "Yes, yes-oh yes-I've got some," returned "Wal'r!" said the captain at last. "I've old Sol, first putting his hands into his empty got it." pockets, and then squeezing his Welsh wig be- "Have you, Captain Cuttle? " cried Walter tween them, as if he thought he might wring with great animation. some gold out of it; " but I-the little I have " Come this way, my lad," said the captain. got isn't convertible, Ned; it can't be got at. I "The stock's one security. I'm another. Your have been trying to do something with it for governor's the man to advance the money." Wally, and I'm, old-fashioned, and behind the "Mr. Dombey?" faltered Walter. time. It's here and there, and-and, in short, The captain nodded gravely. "Look at him," it's as good as nowhere," said the old man, look- he said. "Look at Gills. If they was to sell ing in bewilderment about him. off these things now, he'd die of it. You know He had so much the air of a half-witted person he would. We mustn't leave a stone unturned who had been hiding his money in a variety of -and there's a stone, for you." places, and had forgotten where, that the captain "A stone!-Mr. Dombey! " faltered Walter. followed his eyes, not without a faint hope that he " You run round to the office, first of all, and might remember some few hundred pounds con- see if he's there," said Captain Cuttle, clapping cealed up the chimney, or down in the cellar. him on the back. " Quick!" But Solomon Gills knew better than that. Walter felt he must not dispute the command " I'm behind the time altogether, my dear -a glance-at his uncle would have determinc(e Ned," said Sol in resigned despair; "a long way. him if he had felt otherwise-and disappeared It's no use my lagging on so far behind it. The to execute it. He soon returned, out of breath, stock had better be sold-it's worth more than to say that Mr. Dombey was not there. It w.s this debt-and I had better go and die some- Saturday, and he had gone to Brighton. where on the balance. I haven't any energy I tell you what, Wal'r!" said the captain, left. I don't understand things. This had who seemed to have prepared himself for this better be the end of it. Let'em sell the stock contingency in his absence. "We'll go to and take him down," said the old man, pointing Brighton. I'll back you, my boy. I'll back feebly to the Wooden Midshipman, "and let us you, Wal'r. We'll go to Brighton by the afterboth be broken up together." noon's coach." "And what d'ye mean to do with Wal'r?" If the application must be made.to Mr. Dom.. said the captain. "There, there! Sit ye down, bey at all, which was awful to think of,. Walter Gills, sit ye down, and let me think o' this. If felt that he would rather prefer it alone and I warn't a man on a small annuity, that was unassisted than backed by the personal influence large enough till to-day, I hadn't need to think of Captain Cuttle, to which he hardly thought of it. But you lay your head well to the wind," Mr. Dombey would attach much weight. But said the captain, again administering that unan- as the captain appeared to be of quite another swerable piece of consolation, "and you're all opinion, and was bent upon it, and as his friendright!" ship was too zealous and serious to be trifled Old Sol thanked him from his heart, and went with by one so much younger than himself, he 64 DOMBE Y.AID SON. forbore to hint the least objection. Cuttle, swore he would be the death of the rascal before therefore, taking a hurried leave of Solomon he had done with him: which the dark servant Gills, and returning the ready money, the tea- was more than half disposed to believe. spoons, the sugar-tongs, and the silver watch to At length the major, being released from his his pocket-with a view, as Walter thoughtwith fit, went one Saturday growling down to Brighton, horror, to making a gorgeous impression on Mr. with.the native behind him: apostrophizing Miss Dombey-bore him off to the coach-office with- Tox tall the way, and gloating over the prospect out a minute's delay, and repeatedly assured of carrying by storm the distinguished friend to him, on the road, that he would stick by him to whom she attached so much mystery, and for the last. whom she had deserted him. "Would you, ma'am, would you?" said the maj.or-straining with vindictiveness, and swell~CHAPTER~ X. ing every already swollen vein in his head. "Would you give Joey B. the go-by, ma'am? CONTAINING THE SEQUEL OF THE MIDSHIPMAN'S Not yet, ma'am, not yet! Damme, not yet; sir. DISASTER. Joe is awake, ma'am. Bagstock is alive, sir. T^.^^, I~... - J. B. knows a move or two, ma'am. Josh has i d tJ' AJOR BAGSTOCK, after long and. his weather-eye open, sir. You'll find him tough, frequent observation of Paul, across ma'am: Tough, sir, tough is Joseph. Tough /11 Princess's Place, through his double- and de-vil-ish sly! VA barrelled opera-glass; and after re- And very tough indeed Master Bitherstone ceiving many minute reports, daily, found him, when he took that young gentleman,.ga weekly, and monthly, on that sub- out for a walk. But the major, with his com-' ject from the native, who kept himself in plexion like a Stilton cheese, and his eyes like, constant communication with Miss Tox's a prawn's, went roving about, perfectly indifmaid for that purpose: came to the conclusion ferent to Master Bitherstone'samusement, and that Dombey, sir, was a man t6 be known, and dragging Master Bitherstone along, while he that J. B. was the boy to make his acquaintance. looked about him high and low for Mr. Dombey Miss Tox, however, maintaining her reserved and his children. behaviour, and frigidly declining to understand In good time the major, previously instructed the major whenever he called (which he often by Mrs. Pipchin; spied out Paul and Florence, did) on any little fishing excursion connected and bore down upon them; there being a.stately with this project, the major, in spite of his con- gentleman (Mr. Dombey, doubtless) in their stitutional toughness and slyness, was fain to company. Charging with Master Bitherstone leave the accomplishment of his desire in some into the very heart of the little squadron, it fell measure to chance, " which," as he was used to out, of course, that Master Bitherstone spoke observe with chuckles at his club, "has been to his fellow-sufferers. Upon. that the major fifty to one in favour of Joey B., sir, ever since stopped to notice and admire them; rememhis'elder brother died of Yellow Jack'in the bered with amazement that he had seen and West Indies." spoken to them at his friend Miss Tox's-.in It was some time coming to his aid in the Princess's Place; opined that Paul was a devilish present instance, but it befriended him at last. fine fellow, and his own little friend; inquired if When the.dark servant, with full particulars, re he remembered Joey B. the major; and finally, ported Miss Tox absent on Brighton service, the with a sudden recollection of the conventionmajor was suddenly touched with affectionate alities of, life, turned and apologised to Mr. reminiscences of his friend Bill Bitherstone of Dombey. Bengal, who had written to ask him, if he ever "But my little friend here, sir, said the major, went that way, to bestow a call upon his only "makes a boy of me again. An old soldier, sir son. But when the same dark servant reported -Major Bagstock, at your service-is not Paul at Mrs. Pipchin's, and the major, referring ashamed to confess it." Here the major lifted to the letter favoured by Master Bitherstone on his hat. " Damme, sir," cried the major with his arrival in England-to which he had never sudden warmth, "I envy you." Then he recolhad the least idea of paying any attention-saw lected himself, and added, "Excuse my freethe opening that presented itself, he was made dom." so rabid. by the gout, with which he happened to Mr. Dombey begged he wouldn't mention it. be then laid up, that he threw a footstool at the "An old campaigner, sir," said the major, "a dark servant in return for his intelligence, and smoke-dried, sunburnt, used-up, invalided old JOEY B., SIR, INTRODUCES HIMSELF. 65 dog of a major, sir, was not afraid of being con- live through it, sir, at Sandhurst. We put each demned for his whim by a man like Mr. Dombey. other to the torture there, sir. We roasted the I have the honour of addressing Mr. Dombey, I new fellows at a slow fire, and hung'em out of believe?" a three pair of stairs window, with their heads "I am the present unworthy representative ot downwards. Joseph Bagstock, sir, was held out that name, major," returned Mr. Dombey. of the window by the heels of his boots for "By G —-, sir," said the major, "it's a great thirteen minutes by the college clock." name. It's a name, sir," said the major firmly, The major might have appealed to his counas if he defied Mr. Dombey to contra ict him, tenance incorroboration of this story. It cerand would feel it his painful duty to bully him tainly looked as if he had hung out a little too if he did, " that is known and honoured in the long. British possessions abroad. It is a name, sir, "Bui it made us what we were, sir," said the that a man is proud to recognise. There is major, settling his shirt-frill. "We were iron, nothing adulatory in Joseph Bagstock, sir. His sir, and it forged us. Are you remaining here, Royal Highness the Duke of York observed, on Mr. Dombey?" more than one occasion,' There is no adulation "I generally come down once a week, major," in Joey. He is a plain old soldier, is Joe. He returned that gentleman. "I stay at the Bedis- tough to a fault, is Joseph:' but it's a great ford." name, sir. By the Lord, it's a great name!" "I shall have the honour of calling at the said the major solemnly. Bedford, sir, if you'll permit me," said the major. "You are good enough to rate it higher than "Joey B., sir, is not in general a calling man, it deserves, perhaps, major," returned Mr. but Mr. Dombey's is not a common name. I Dombey. am much indebted to my little friend, sir, for "No, sir," said the major. " My little friend the honour of this introduction." here, sir, will certify for Joseph Bagstock that he Mr. Dombey made a very gracious reply; is a thorough-going, downright, plain-spoken old and Major Bagstock, having patted Paul on the Trump, sir, and nothing more. That boy, sir," head, and said of Florence that her eyes would said the major in a lower tone, "will live in play the devil with the youngsters before longhistory. That boy, sir, is not a common pro- "and the oldsters too, sir, if you come to that," duction. Take care of him, Mr. Dombey." added the major, chuckling very much-stirred Mr. Dombey seemed to intimate that he up Master Bitherstone with his walking-stick, would endeavour to do so. and departed with that young gentleman at a "Here is a boy here, sir," pursued the major kind of half-trot; rolling his head and coughing confidentially, and giving him a thrust with his with great dignity, as he staggered away with cane. "Son of Bitherstone of Bengal, Bill Bither- his legs very wide asunder. stone, formerly of Ours. That boy's father anl In fulfilment of his promise, tne major aftermyself, sir, were sworn friends. Wherever you wards called on Mr. Dombey; and Mr. Dombey, went, sir, you heard of npthing but Bill Bither- laving referred to the Army List, afterwards stone and Joe Bagstock. Am I blind to that called on the major. Then the major called at boy's defects? py no means. He's a fool, Mr. Dombey's house in town; and came down ~ir2" again, in the same coach as MIr. Donbey. In Mr. Dombey glanced at the libelled Master short, Mr. Dombey and the major gpt on unBitherstone, of whom he knew at least as much commonly well together, and uncominonly fast as the major did, and said, in quite a complacent and Mr. Dombey observed of the major, to hi~ manner, "Really?" sister, that besides being quite a military maq, "That is what he is, sir," said the major. he was really something more, as he had a very "He's a fool. Joe Bagstock never.minces admirable idea of the importance of thing~ myatters. The son of my old friend Bill Bither- unconnected with his own profession. stqne of Bengal is a born fool, sir." Here the At length Mr. Dombey, bringing down Miss major laughed till he was almost black. "My Tox and Mrs. Chick to see the children, and little-friend is destined for a public school, I finding the major again at Brighton, invited him presume, Mr. Dombey?" said the major when to dinner at the Bedford, and complimented he had recovered. Miss Tox highly, beforehand, on her neighbour "I am nqt quite decided," returned Mr. and acquaintance. Notwithstanding the palpiDombey. "I think not. He is delicate." tation of the heart which these allusions occa" If he's delicate, sir," said' the major, "you sioned her, they were anything but disagreeable are right. None but the tough fellows could to Miss Toxj as they enabled her to be extrcmc!y )DSBEY AND SON, 5.2 66 DOMBEY ANID SON. interesting, and to manifest an occasional in — coughing and choking that startled the whol coherence and distraction which she was not at house. all unwilling to display. The major gave her IL was on the day after this occasion (beinf abundant opportunities of exhibiting this emo- Sunday) when, as' Mr. Dombey, Mrs. Chick, tion: being profuse in his complaints, at dinner, and Miss Tox. were sitting at breakfast, still of her desertion of him and Princess's Place: eulogising'the. major, Florence came running in: and, as he appeared to derive great'enjoy- her face suffused with a bright colour, and her ment from making them, they all got on very eyes sparkling joyfully: and cried, well. "Papa! Papa'! Here's Walter! and he won't None the worse on account of the major come in." taking charge of the whole conversation, and "Who?" cried Mr. Dombey. "What does showing as great an appetite in that respect as she mean? What is this?" in regard of the various dainties on the table, "Walter; papa," said Florence timidly; senamong which he may be almost said to have sible of having approached the presence with wallowed: greatly to the aggravation of his too much familiarity. "Who found me when I inflammatory tendencies. Mr. Dombey's habitual was lost." silence and reserve yielding readily to this usur- "Does she mean young Gay, Louisa?" inpation, the major felt that he was coming out quired Mr. Dombey, knitting his brows. "Really, and shining: and, in the flow of spirits thus this child's manners have become very boisterous. engendered; rang such an infinite number of She cannot mean young Gay, I think. See what new changes on his own. name that he quite it is, will you?" astonished himself. In a word, they were all Mrs. Chick hurried into the passage, and very well pleased. The major was considered returned with the information that it was young to possess an inexhaustible fund of'conversation; Gay, accompanied by a very strange-looking and when he took a late farewell, after a long person; and that young Gay said he would not rubber, Mr. Dombey again complimented the take the liberty of coming. in, hearing Mr. blushing Miss Tox on. her neighbour and Dombey was at breakfast, but would wait until acquaintance. Mr. Dombey should signify that he might But all the way home to his own hotel, the approach. major incessantly said to himself, and of him- "Tell the boy to come in now," said Mr. self, "Sly, sir-sly, sir-de-vil-ish sly!" And, Dombey. "Now, Gay, what is the matter? when he got there, sat down in a chair, and fell Who sent you down here? Was there nobody into a silent fit of laughter, with which he was else to come?" sometimes seized, and which was always par- " I beg your pardon, sir," returned Walter. ticularly awful. It held him so long on this' "I have not been sent.' I have been so bold as occasion that the dark servant, who stood watch- to come on myrown account, which I hope yeu'll ing him at a distance, but dared not for his life'pardon when I mention the cause." appraach, twice or thrice gave him over for lost. But Mr. Dombey, without attending to what His whole form, but especially his face and head, he said, was looking impatiently on either side dilated beyond all former experience; and pre- of him (as if he were a pillar in his way), at some sented to the dark man's view nothing but a object behind. heaving mass of indigo. At length he burst "What's that?" said Mr. Dombey. "Who into a violent paroxysm of coughing, and, when is that? I think you have made some mistake that was a little better, burst into such ejacula- in the door, sir." tions as the following: "Oh, I'm very sorry to intrude with any one, "Would you, ma'am, would you? Mrs. sir," cried Walter hastily: "but this is-this is Dombey, eh, ma'am? I think not, ma'am. Captain Cuttle, sir." Not while Joe B. can put a spoke in your wheel, " Wal'r, my lad," observed the captain in a ma'am. J. B.'s even with you now, ma'am. deep voice: " stand by!" He isn't altogether bowled out yet, sir, isn't Bag- At the same time the captain, coming a little stock. She's deep, sir, deep, but Josh is deeper. further in, brought out his wide suit of blue, his Wide awake is old Joe-broad awake, and conspicuous shirt collar, and his knobby nose in staring, sir!" There was no doubt of this last full relief, and stood bowing to Mr. Dombey, assertion being true, and to a very fearful extent; and waving his hook politely, to the ladies, with as it continued to be during the greater part of the hard glazed hat in his one hand, and a red tlhat night, which the major chiefly passed in equator round his heacd which- it had newly imsimilar exclamations, diversified with fits of printed there. CAPTAIN CUTTLE'S FINISHI~NG TOUCH. 67. Mr. Dombey regarded this phenomenon with the apprehension of which has weighed very Lmazement and indignation, and seemed by his heavily upon his mind, months and months, as ooks: to appeal to Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox' indeed I know, sir, he has an execution in his tgainst it. Little Paul, who had come in. after house, and is in danger of losing all he has, and Florence, backed towards Miss Tox as the breaking his heart. And'that if you would,~ in:aptain waved his hook, and stood on the your kindness, and in your old knowledge of lefensive. him as a respectable man, do anything to help " Nowv Gay," said Mr. Dombey, twhat have fim out of his difficulty, sir, we never could rou got to say to me? thank you enough for it." Again the captain observed, as ageneral open- Walter's eyes filled.with tears as he spoke ng. of the conversation that could not fail to and so did those of Florence. Her father saw Propitiate all parties, "'Wal'r, stand by! them glistening, though he appeared to look at "I am afraid, sir,." began Walter, trembling, Walter only. md looking down at the ground, "that I take a "It is a very large sum, sir," said Walter. rery great liberty in coming-indeed, I am sure "More than three hundred pounds. NMy uncle [ do. I should hardly have had the courage to is quite beaten down by lis misfortune, it lies tskto see you, sir; even after coming -down, I so heavy on him s arid is quite unable to do anyLm afraid, if I had not overtaken Miss Dombev. thing for his own relief. He doesn't even know md —" yet that I have come to speak to you. You would "Well?" said Mr. Dombey, following his wish me to say, sir," added Walter after a mobyes as he glanced at the attentive Florence, and ment's hesitation, "exactly what it is I want.- I!rowning unconsciously as she encouraged him really don't know,. sir. There is my uncle's.,vith a smile.... " Go on, if yoou please." stock, on which I believe I may say, confidently, " Ay, ay," observed: the captain, Considering there are no other demands, and there is Capit incumbent on him, as a point of good breed-. tain Cuttle, who would wish to.be security too..ng, to support Mr. Dombey. "Well said!' Go I-I hardly like to mention," said Walter, " such n, Wal'r." earnings as mine; but if you would allow them Captain "'uttle ou'ght to have been withered -accumulate-payment - advance-uncle-.y the look which Mr. Dombey bestowed upon. frugal, honourable old man." Walter trailed off him in.:acknowledgment of-his patronage, But, through these broken sentences. into silence; 4uite innocent of this, he closed- one eye in reply, and stood, with downcast head, before his'emnd gave Mr. Dombey to understand, by certain ployer. significant motions of his hook, that Walter was Considering this' a favourable moment for the i little bashful at first, and might be expected to'display of the valuables, Captain Cuttle ad-;ome out shortly. vanced'to tle table; and clearing a space."It is. entirely a prrvate and personal matter among the. breakfast-cups.at Mr. l)ombey's that has brought me here, sir," continued Walter,'elbow,;produced the silver watch, the ready faltering, " and Captain.Cuttle — money, the tea-spoons,. and the sugar-tongs; " Here!'" interposed the captain, as an and piling them up into a heap that they might assurance that he. was at hand, and might be look as precious as possible, delivered himself relied upon. of these words: "-Who -is a very old friend of my poor " Half a loaf's better than no bread, and the uncle's;, and a most'excellent man, sir," pursued same remark holds good with crumbs. Theie's Walters-raising his eyes with a look of entreaty a few. Annuity of one hundred pounds pranin the-..c.aptain's behalf, " was so good as to offer num also ready to-be made over. If there is a to come.:i'with.lme, -which I could hardly refuse." man chock-full of science in the world,-it's old'..:'No,.no,'no,'~ observed the captain compla' Sol Gills.' If there is *a lad of promise-one cently.:'.':'Of course not; No call for refusing. flowing," added the captain, in one of his happy Go on, Wal'r."' quotations, "with milk'and honey-it's his " (And therefore,' sir," said Walter, venturing nevy!" to' meet' Mr.'Doombey's eye, and proceeding The captain'then withdrew to his former with better."courage in the very desperation of place,. where'he stood' arranging his scattered the case, now that-'there wals no avoiding it, locks with the air of a man who had given the "therefore I have come with him, sir, to say that finishing.touch to a difficult performance., my poor old uncle is in very great affliction and When Walter cea'sed to speak, Mr. Dombey's distress. That through the gradual loss of his eyes wvere attracted to little Paul, who, seeing business, and notbeing able to make a payment, his sister hanging down her head and silently 68 DOMBE Y AND SON. weeping in her commiseration for the distress Cuttle's address, which he regarded with loft) she had heard described, went over to her, and indifference, Mr. Dombey again turned his eye, tried to comfort her: looking at Walter and his upon h'is son, and sat steadily regarding the father, ashle did so, with a very expressive face. child, for some moments, in silence. After the momentary- distraction of Captain'What was this debt contracted for?' _ "AND, WHEN HE GOT THERE, -SAT.DOWN IN A CHAIR, AND FELL INTO A SILENT FIT OF LAUGHTER, WITH WHICH HE tWAS SOMETIMES SEIZED, AND WHICH WAS ALWAYS PARTICULARLY AWFUL." asked Mr. Dombey at length. "Who is the pound already. More particulars in vrivate, if creditor?" agreeable." "He don't know," replied the captain, putting "People who have enough to do to hold his hand on Walter's shoulder. "I do. It their own way," said Mr. Dombey, unobservant came of helping a man that's dead now, and of the captain's mysterious signs behind Walter, that's cost my friend Gills many a hundred and still looking at his son, "had better be con PAUL BECOMES ONE OF THE FIRM. 69 tent with their own obligations and difficulties, "Give that," he said, "the first thing toand not increase them by engaging for other morrow morning, to Mr. Carker. He will immen. It is an act of dishonesty, and presump mediately take care that one of my peoplo tion too," said Mr. Dombey sternly; "great releases your uncle from his present position, presumption; for the wealthy could do no more. by paying the amount at issue; and that such Paul, come here!" arrangements are made for its repayment as The child obeyed: and Mr. Dombey took may be consistent with your uncle's circumhim on his knee. stances. You will consider that this is done for " If you had money now —" said Mr. Dom- you by Master Paul." bey. " Look at me!" Walter, in the emotion of holding in his hand Paul, whose eyes had wandered to his the means of releasing his good uncle from his sister, and to Walter, looked his father in the trouble, would have endeavoured to express face. something of his gratitude and joy. But Mr. "If you had money now," said Mr. Dombey, Dombey stopped him short. "as much money as young Gay has talked "You will consider that it is done," he reabout; what would you do?" peated, "by Master Paul. I have explained' Give it to his old uncle," returned Paul. that to him, and he understands it. I wish no "Lend it to his old uncle, eh?" retorted more to be said." Mr. Dombey. "Well! When you are old As he motioned towards the door, Walter enough, you know, you will share my money, could only bow his head and retire. Miss Tox, and we shall use it together." seeing that the captain appeared about to do "Dombey and Son," interrupted Paul, who the same, interposed. had been tutored early in the phrase. - "My dear sir," she said, addressing Mr. "Dombey and Son,' repeated- his father. Dombey, at whose munificence both she and "Would you like to begin to be Dombey'and Mrs. Chick were shedding tears copiously, "I Son now, and lend this money to young. Gay's think you have overlooked something. Pardon uncle?" me, Mr. Dombey, I think, in the nobility of "Oh! if you' please, papa!" said Paul; your character, and its exalted scope, you have "and so would Florence." omitted a matter of detail." " Girls," said Mr. Dombey " have nothing to "Indeed, Miss Tox!" said Mr. Dombey. do with Dombey and Son. Would-you like it?" -"The:gentleman with the- Instrument," "Yes, papa, yes!" pursued Miss Tox, glancing at Captain Cuttle, "Then you shall do it," returned his father.- " has left upon the table at your elbow —" "And you see, Paul," he added, dropping his "' Good Heaven! " said Mr. Dombey, sweepvoice, "how powerful money is, and how ing the captain's property from him, as if it were anxious people are to get it.: Young Gay so much crumb indeed. -"Take these things comes all this way to beg for money, and you, away. I am obliged to you, Miss Tox; it is who are so grand and great, having got it, are like your usual discretion. Have the goodness going to let him have it as a great favour and to ttake these things away, sir!" obligation." - Captain Cuttle felt he had no alternative but Paul turned up the old face for a moment, in to comply. But he was so much struck by the which there was a sharp understanding of the magnanimity of Mr. Dombey, in refusing treareference conveyed in these words;-. but it was sures lying heaped up to his hand, that when he a young'and childish face immediately after- had deposited the tea-spoons and sugar-tongs in wards, when he slipped down from his father's one pocket, and the ready money in another, knee, and ran to tell Florence not to cry any and had lowered the great watch down slowly more, for he was going to let young Gay have into its proper vault, he could not refrain from the money. seizing. that gentleman's right hand in his own Mr. Dombey then turned to a side-table, and solitary left, and while he held it open with his wrote a note and sealed it. During the interval powerful fingers, bringing the hook down upon Paul and Florence whispered to Walter, and its palm in a transport of admiration. At this Captain Cuttle beamed on the three, with such touch of warm feeling and cold iron, Mr. Domaspiring and ineffably presumptuous thoughts as bey shivered all over. Mr. Dombey never could have believed in. Captain Cuttle then kissed his hook to the The note being finished, Mr.,;Dombey turned ladies several times, with great elegance and round to his former place, and held it out to gallantry; and, having taken a particular leave Walter. of Paul and Florence, accompanied Walter out C70 DOMBEYAND SO2V of the'room. Florence was running after them, count of the word Peg invariably rhyming to in the earnestness of her heart, to send some leg (in which personal beauty the original was message to old Sol, when Mr. Dombey, called described as having excelled all competitors), he her back, and bade her stay where she was. hit upon the happy thought of changing it to "Will you never be a Dombey, my dear Fle-e-en; which he accordingly did, with an child?" said Mrs. Chick with pathetic reproach- archness almost supernatural, and a voice quite fulness. vociferous, notwithstanding that the time was " Dear aunt," said Florence, " don't be angry close at hand when he must seek the abode of with me. I am so thankful to papa."' the dreadful 2'-s.' MacStinger. She would have run and thrown her arms about-:his neck if she had dared; but, as she did not. dare, she glanced with thankful eyes towards him as he sat musing; sometimes be- HAPTER XI. stowing an uneasy glance on her, but, for the most part, watching Paul, who walked about the PAUL'S INTRODUCTION TO A NEW SCENE. room with the new-blown dignity of having let young Gay have the money. M iRS. PIPCHIN'S constitution was And young Gay-Walter-what of him? B made of such hard metal, in spite He was overjoyed to purge the old man's ofi its liability to the fleshly weakhearth from bailiffs and brokers, and to hurry d', nesses of standing in need of repose back to his uncle with the good tidings.'He was. after chops, and of requiring to be overjoyed to have it all arranged and settled coaxed to sleep by the soporific agency next day before noon; and to sit down at even- of sweetbreads, that it utterly set at nought ing in the little back-parlour with. old Sol and the predictions of Mrs. Wickam,. and Captain Cuttle-; and to seethe instrument-maker showed no symptoms of decline. Yet, as Paul's already reviving,'and hopeful for the future, and rapt interest in the old lady. continued unabated, feeling that'. the Wooden. Midshipman was his. Mrs. Wickam would not budge an inch from the own again.. But, without the least impeachment position she had taken up. Fortifying and enof his gratitude to Mr. Dombey, it must be con- trenching herself on the strong ground of her fessed. that Walter was humbled and cast down.: uncle's Betsey Jane, she advised Miss Berry, as It is when our budding hopes are nipped beyond. a friend, to prepare herself for the worst; and recovery by some rough wind that we are the forewarned her that her aunt might, at any time,. ~most disposed to picture to ourselves what be expected to go off suddenly, like a powderflowers: they might have borne, if they had mill. flourished; and now, when Walter felt himself Poor Berry took it all in good part, and cut off from that great Dombey height, by.the drudged and slaved away as usual; perfectly depth of a new and terrible tumble, and felt that convinced that'Mrs. Pipchin was one of the all his old wild fancies had been scattered to the' most meritorious persons in the world, and winds in the fall, he began to suspect that they making every day innumerable sacrifices of hermight,have led him on to harmless visions of self upon the altar of that noble old woman. aspiring to.Florence in the remote distance of But all these immolations of Berry were sometime. how carried to the credit of Mrs. Pipchin by The captails viewed the subject in quite a Mrs. Pipchin's friends and admirers; and were different light. He appeared to entertain a made to harmonise with, and carry out, that belief that the interview at which he had assisted melancholy fact of the deceased Mr.. Pipchin was so very satisfactory and encouraging as to having broken his heart in the Peruvian, mines. be only a step or two removed from a regular For example, there was an honest grocer and betrothal of Florence to Walter; and that the general dealer in the retail line of business, belate transaction had immensely forwarded, if not tween whom and Mrs. Pipchin there was a small thoroughlyestablished, the Whittingtonian hopes. memorandum book, with a greasy red.cover, Stimulated by this conviction, and by the im- perpetually. in question, and concerning which provement in the'spirits of. his old friend, and divers secret councils and conferences were conby his own consequent-gaiety, he even attempted, tinually being held between the parties to the in favduring them with the ballad of " Lovely -register, on the mat in the passage, and with Peg" for the third time in one evening, to make closed doors in the parlour.'Nor were there an extemporaneous substitution of the name of. wanting.dark hints from Master Bitherstone "Florence;" but finding this difficult, on ac-, (whose.temper, had been made' revengeful by MR. DOMB~ YI A1ViVO UNCED A T MRS. PIPCHIZNV'S. 71 the solar heats of India acting on his blood), of visitor to Mrs. Pipchin. The population of the balances unsettled, and of a failure, on one occa- parlour was immediately swept up-stairs as on sion within his memory, in the supply of moist the wings of a whirlwind, and after much slamsugar at tea-time. This grocer being a bachelor, ming of bedroom doors, and trampling overhead, and not a man who looked upon the surface for and some knocking about of Master Bitherstone beauty, had once made honourable offers for the by Mrs. Pipchin, as a relief to the perturbation hand of Berry, which Mrs. Pipchin had, with of her spirits, the black bombazine garments of contumely and scorn, rejected. Everybody said the worthy old lady darkened the audiencehow laudable this was in Mrs. Pipchin, relict of chamber where Mr. Dombey was contemplating a man who had died of the Peruvian mines; and the vacant arm-chair of his son and heir. what a staunch, high, independent spirit the old." Mrs. Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, "how do lady had. But nobody said anything about poor you do?" Berry, who cried for six weeks (being soundly "Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin, "I am rated by,her good aunt all the time), and lapsed pretty well, considering." into a state of hopeless spinsterhood. hMrs. Pipchin always used that form of words. Berry's very fond of you, ain't she?". Paul It meant considering her virtues, sacrifices, and once asked, Mrs. Pipchin when they were sitting so forth. by the fire with the cat. "I can't expect, sir, to be very well," said "Yes," said Mrs. Pipchin. Mrs. Pipchin, taking a chair, and fetching her "Why?" asked Paul. breath; " but such health as I have I am grate"Why! " returned the'disconcerted old lady. ful for." "How can you ask such things, sir? Why are Mr. Dombey inclined his head with the satisyou fond of your sister Florence?" fled air of a patron, who felt that this was the " Because she's very good," said'Paul. sort of thing for which he paid so much a quar" There's nobody like Florence." ter. After a moment's silence he went on to " Well 1" retorted Mrs. Pipchin, shortly, " and say: there's nobody like me, I suppose." "Mrs. Pipchin, I have taken the -liberty of "Ain't there really though?" asked Paul, calling, to consilt' you in reference to my son. I leaning forward in his chair, and looking at her have had it in my mind to do so for some time very hard. past; but have deferred it from time to time, in' "'No," said the old lady. order that his health might he thoroughly. re"I am glad of that," observed Paul, rubbing established. You have no misgivings on that his hands thoughtfully. "That's a very good subject, Mrs. Pipchin?" thing." Brighton has proved very beneficial, sir," Mrs. Pipchin didn't dare to ask him why, lest returned Mrs. Pipchin. " Very beneficial inshe should receive some perfectly annihilating deed." answer. But, as a compensation to her wounded "I purpose," said Mr. Dombey, "his remainfeelings, she harassed Master Bitherstone to that ing at Brighton." extent, until bedtime, that he began that very Mrs. Pipchin rubbed her hands, and bent her night to make arrangements for an overland grey eyes on the fire. return to India, by secreting from his supper a "But," pursued Mr. Dombey, stretching out quarter of a round of bread and a fragment of his forefinger, " but possibly that he should now moist Dutch cheese, as the beginning of a stock make a change, and lead a different kind of life of provision to support him on the voyage. here. In short, Mrs. Pipchin, that is the object Mrs. Pipchin had kept watch and ward over of my visit. My son is getting on, Mrs. Piplittle Paul and his sister for nearly twelve months. chin. Really he is getting on." They had been, home twice, but only for a few There was something melancholy in the tridays;' and had been constant in -their -weekly'umphant air with which Mr. Dombey said this. visits to Mr. Dombey at the hotel. By little and It showed how long Paul's childish life had been little Paul had grown stronger, and had become to him, and how his hopes were set upon'a later able to dispense with'his carriage; though he stage of his existence. Pity may appear a strange still:looked thin and delicate; and still remained word to connect with any one so haughty and the same old, quiet, dreamy child that'he had so cold, and yet he seemed a worthy subject for been when first consigned to Mrs. Pipchin's care. it at that moment. One Saturday afternoon, at dusk, great conster- "Six years old!" said Mr. Dombey, settling nation was occasioned in the castle by the un- his neckcloth-perhaps to hide an irrepressible looked-for announcement of Mr. Dombey as a smile that rather seemed to strike uppn the sur 72 DOMBE Y AND SON. face of his face and glance away, as finding no "And it's very expensive, sir," returned Mrs. resting-place, than to play there for an instant. Pipchin, catching at the fact, as if, in omitting "Dear me, six will be changed to sixteen before that, she had omitted one of its leading merits. we have time to look about us." "I have had some communication with the "Ten years," croaked the unsympathetic Pip- Doctor, Mrs. Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, chin, with a frosty glistening of her hard grey hitching his chair anxiously a little nearer to the eye, and a dreary shaking of her bent head, "is fire, " and he does not consider Paul at all too a long time." young for his purpose. He mentioned several "It depends on circumstances," returned Mr. instances of boys in Greek at about the same Dombey; "at all events, Mrs. Pipchin, my son age. If I have any little uneasiness in my own is six years old, and there is no doubt, I fear, mind, Mrs. Pipchin, on the subject of this *that in his studies he is behind many children change, it is not on that head. My son, not of his age-or his youth," said Mr. Dombey, having known a mother, has gradually conquickly answering what he mistrusted was a centrated much-too much-of his childish shrewd twinkle of the frosty eye, " his youth is a affection on his sister. Whether their teparamore appropriate expression. Now, Mrs. Pip- tion- " Mr. Dombey said no more, but sat chin, instead of being behind his peers, my son silent. ought to be before them; far before them. There "Hoity-toity!" exclaimed' -Mrs. Pipchin, is an eminence ready for him to mount upon. shaking out her black bombazine skirts, and There is nothing of chance or doubt in the plucking up all the ogress within her. "If she course before my son. His way in life was clear don't like it, Mr. Dombey, she must be taught and prepared, and marked out, before he existed. to lump it." The good lady apologised immeThe education of such a young gentleman must diately afterwards for using so common a figure not be delayed. It must not be left imperfect. of speech, but said (and truly) that that was the It must be very steadily and seriously under- way she reasoned with'em. taken, Mrs. Pipchin." Q Mr. Dombey waited until Mrs. Pipchin had "Well, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin, "I can say done bridling and shaking her head, and frownnothing to the contrary." ing down a legion of Bitherstones and Pankeys; "( was quite sure, Mrs. Pipchin," returned and then said quietly, but correctively, "He, Mr. Dombey approvingly, "that a person of my good madam, he." your good sense could not, and would not." Mrs. Pipchin's system would have applied "There is a great deal of nonsense-and very much the same mode of cure to any unworse-talked about young people not being easiness on the part of Paul too, but, as the hard pressed too hard at first, and being tempted on, grey eye was sharp enough to see that the recipe, and all the rest of it, sir," said Mrs. Pipchin, however Mr. Dombey might admit its efficacy impatiently rubbing her hooked rose. "It in the case of the daughter, was not a sovereign never'was thought of in my time, and it has no remedy for the son, she argued the point; and business to be thought of now. My opinion is, contended that change, and new society, and'keep'em at it."' the different form of life he would lead at " My good madam," returned Mr. Dombey, Doctor Blimber's, and the studies he would "you have not acquired your reputation unde- have to master, would very soon prove sufficient servedly; and I beg you to believe, Mrs. Pip- alienations. As this chimed in with Mr. Domchin, that I am more than satisfied with your bey's own hope and belief, it gave that gentleexcellent system of management, and shall have man a still higher opinion of Mrs. Pipchin's the greatest pleasure in commending it when- understanding; and as Mrs. Pipchin, at the ever my poor commendation "-Mr. Dombey's same time, bewailed the loss of her dear little loftiness, when he affected to disparage his own friend (which was not an overwhelming shock importance, passed all bounds-" can be of any to her, as she had long expected it, and had not service. I have been thinking of Doctor looked, in the beginning, for his remaining with Blimber's, Mrs. Pipchin." her longer than three months), he formed an "My neighbour, sir?" said Mrs. Pipchin. equally good opinion of Mrs. Pipchin's dis"I believe the Doctor's is an excellent esta- interestedness. It was plain that he had given blishment. I've heard that it's4very strictly con- the subject anxious consideration, for he had ducted, and that there's nothing but learning formed a plan,'which he announced to the going on from morning to night." ogress, of sending Paul to the Doctor's as a "And it's very expensive," added Mr. weekly boarder for the first half-year, during Dombey. which time Florence would remain at the castle, DOCTOR BLIMBER'S ESTABLISfMENT. 73 that she might receive her brother there on Doctor had rather overdone it with young Saturdays. This would wean him by degrees, Toots, and that when he began'to have Mr. Dombey said: probably with a recollection whiskers he left off having brains. of his not having been weaned by degrees on a There young Toots was, at any rate; posformer occasion. sessed of the gruffest of voices and the shrillest Mr. Dombey finished the interview by ex- of minds; sticking ornamental pins into his pressing his hope that Mrs. Pipchin would still shirt, and keeping a ring in his waistcoat pocket remain in office as general superintendent and to put on his little finger by stealth, when the overseer of his son,.pending his studies at pupils went out walking; constantly falling in Brighton; and having kissed Paul, and shaken love by sight with nursery-maids, who had no hands with Florence, and beheld Master Bither- idea of his existence; and looking at the gasstone in his collar of state, and made Miss lighted world over the little iron bars in the leftPankey cry by patting her on the head (in hand corner window of the front three pairs of which region she was uncommonly tender, on stairs, after bedtime, like a greatly overgrown account of a habit Mrs. Pipchin had of sound- cherub who had sat up aloft much too long. ing it with her knuckles, like a cask), he with-'The Doctor was a portly gentleman in a suit drew to his hotel and dinner: resolved that of black, with strings at his knees, and stockings Paul, now that he was getting so old and well, below them. He had a bald head, highly should begin a vigorous course of'education polished; a deepvoice; and a chin so verydouble, forthwith, to qualify him for the position in which that it was a wonder how he ever managed to he was to shine; and that Doctor Blimber shave into the creases. He had likewise a pair should take him in hand-immediately. of little eyes that were always half shut -up, and Whenever a young gentleman was taken in a mouth that was always half expanded into a hand by Doctor Blimber, he might consider grin, as if he had, that moment, posed a boy, himself sure of a pretty tight squeeze. The and were waiting to convict him from his own Doctor only undertook the charge of ten young lips. Insomuch, that when the Doctor put his gentlemen, but he had, always ready, a supply right hand into the breast of his coat, and-with of Itarning for a' hundred, on the lowest esti- his other hand behind him, and a scarcely permate; and it was' at once the business and ceptible wag of his head, made the commonest delight of his life to gorge the unhappy ten observation to a nervous stranger, it was like with it. a sentiment from the Sphinx, and settled his In Tact, Doctor Blimber's establishment was business. a great hothouse, in which there was a forcing The Doctor's was a mighty fine house, frofit apparatus incessantly at work. All the boys ing the sea. Not a joyful style of house within, blew before their time. Mental green peas were but quite the contrary. Sad-coloured curtains, produced at Christmas, and intellectual aspa- whose proportions were spare and lean, hid agus all the year round. Mathematical goose- themselves despondently behind the windows. berries (very sour ones. too) were common at The tables and chairs were put away in rows, untimely, seasons, and from mere sprouts- of like figures in a sum; fires were so rarelylighted bushes, under toctor Blimber's cultivation. in the rooms of ceremony, that they felt like Every description of Greek and Latin vegetable wells, and a visitor represented the bucket; the was got off the driest twigs of boys, under the dining-room seemed the last place in the world frostiest circumstances. Nature was of no con- where any eating or drinking was likely- to sequence at all. No matter what a young occur;' there was no sound through all the gentleman was intended to bear, Doctor house but the ticking of a great clock in the Blimber made him bear' to pattern, somehow hall, which made itself audible in the very garor other. rets; and sometimes a dull crying of young This was all very pleasant and ingenious, but- gentlemen at their lessons, like the murmurings the system of forcing was attended with its usual of an assemblage of melancholy pigeons. disadvantages. There was not the right taste Miss Blimber, too, although a slim and graceabout the premature productions, and they ful maid, did no soft violence to the gravity of didn't keep well. Moreover, oneyoung gentle- the house. There was no light nonsense about man, with'a swollen nose and an excessively large Miss Blimber. She kept her hair short and head (the oldest of the ten, who had "gone crisp, and wore spectacles. She was dry and through "'everything), suddenly left off blowing sandy with working in the graves of deceased one day, and remained in. the establishment a languages. None of your live languages for mere stalk. And people did say that the Miss Blimber. They must be dead-stone dead 7 4 D) UO JIL Y.dVD SON. -and then Miss Blimber dug them up like a'( "Now, Paul," said Mr. Dombey exultirgly, Ghoule. "this is the way indeed to be Dombey and Son, Mrs. Blimber, her mamma, was not learned and have money. You are almost a man herself, but she pretended to be, and that did' already." quite as well..She said, at evening parties, that "Almost," returned the child. if she could have known Cicero, she thought she Even his childish agitation could not master could have died contented. It was the steady the sly and quaint, yet touching look, with which joy of her.life to see the Doctor's young gentle- he accompanied the reply. men go out walking, unlike all other young It brought a vague expression of dissatisfacgentlemen, in the largest possible shirt collars tion -into Mr. Dombey's face; but, the door and the stiffest possible cravats. It was so being opened, it was quickly gone. classical, she said. "Doctor Blimber is at home, I believe? " said As to Mr.' Feeder, B.A., Doctor Blimber's Mr. Dombey. assistant, he was a kind of human barrel-organ, The man said yes; and, as they passed in, with a little list of tunes at which he was con- looked at Paul as if he were a little mouse, and tinually working, over and over again, without the house were a trap. He was a weak-eyed any variation. He might have been fitted up young man, with the first faint streaks of early with a change of barrels, perhaps, in early life, dawn of a grin on his countenance. It was more if his destiny had been favourable; but it had imbecility'; but Mrs. Pipchin took it into her not been; and he had only one; with which, in head that it was impudence, and made a snap a monotonous round, it was his occupation to at him directly. bewilder the young ideas of Doctor Blimber's "How dare you laugh behind the gentleman's young gentlemen. The young gentlemen were back? ".said Mrs. Pipchin. "And what do you prematurely full of carking anxieties. They take me for?" knew no rest from the pursuit of stony-hearted "I ain't a laughing at nobody, and I'm sure I verbs, savage noun-substantives, inflexible syn- don't take you for nothing, ma'am," returned the tactic passages, and ghosts of exercises, that young man in consternation. appeared to them in their dreams. Under the "A pack of idle dogs!" said Mrs. Pipchin, forcing system, a young gentleman usually took "only fit to be turnspits. Go and tell your leave of his spirits in three weeks. He had all master that Mr. Dombey's here, or it'll be worse the cares of the world on his head in three for you!" months. He conceived bitter sentiments The weak-eyed young man went, very meekly, against his parents or guardians in four; he was to discharge himself of this commission; and soon an old misanthrope in five; envied Curtius that came back to invite them to the Doctor's study. blessed refuge in the earth in six; and at the "You're laughing again, sir," said Mrs. Pipend of the first twelvemonth had arrived at the chin, when it came to her turn, bringing up the conclusion, from which' he never afterwards de- rear, to pass him in the hall. parted, that all the fancies of the poets, and " I ain't," returned the young man, grievously lessons of the sages, were a mere collection of oppressed. " I never see such a thing as this!" words and grammar, and had no other meaning "What is the matter, Mrs. Pipchin?" said in the world. Mr. Dombey, looking round. "Softly! Pray!" But he went on, blow, blow, blowing, in the Mrs. Pipchin, in her deference, merely mutDoctor's'hothouse, all the time; and the Doctor's tered at the young man as she passed on, and glory and reputation were great when he took his said, " Oh! he was a precious fellow "-leaving wintry growth home to his relations and friends. the young man, who was all meekness and Upon the Doctor's door-steps, one day, Paul incapacity, affected even to tears by the incident. stood with a fluttering heart, and with his small But Mrs. Pipchin had a way of falling foul of all right hand in his father's. His other hand was meek people; and her friends'said, who could locked in that' of Florence. How tight the tiny wonder at. it, after the Peruvian mines? pressure of tl lt one; and how loose and cold The Doctor was sitting in his portentous the other!. study, with a globe at each knee, l3ooks all IMrs: Pipchin hovered behind the victim, round him, Homer over the door, and Minerva with'her sable plumage and her hooked beak, on the mantel-shelf. "And how do you, sir?" like a bird of ill omen. She was out of breath he said to Mr. Dombey, "and how is my little -for Mr. Dombey, full of great thoughts, had friend?" Grave as an organ was the Doctor's walked fast-and she croaked hoarsely as she speech; and when he ceased, the great clock waited for the opening of the.door. in the hall seemed (to Paul at least) to take. him DOCTOR BLilBER'S LITTLE FRIENrD.. up, and to go on saying, "How, is, my, lit, tle, to some choice little' animal he was going to friend? How, is, my, lit, tie, friend?" over and stuff. " Yes, exactly.' Ha!. We shall impart a over and over again.great variety of information to our little friend, The little friend being something too small to and bring him quickly forward, I dare say. I be seen at all from where the Doctor sat, over dare say. Quite a virgin soil. I believe you'the books. on his table, the Doctor made several said, Mr. Dombey?" futile attempts to get a view of him round the "Except some ordinary preparation at home, legs; which Mr. Dombey perceiving, relieved and from this lady," replied Mr. Dombey, introthe Doctor from his embarrassment by taking ducing Mrs. Pipchin, who instantly communiPaul up in his arms, and sitting him on another cated a rigidity to her whole muscular'system, little table, over against the Doctor, in the and snorted defiance beforehand, in case the middle of the room. Doctor should disparage her; "except so far,!" Ha!" said the Doctor, leaning back in his Paul has, as yet, applied himself to no studies chair, with his hand in his breast. "Now I see at all." my little friend. How do you do, my little Doctor Blimber inclined his head, in gentle friend?" tolerance of such insignificant poaching as Mrs. The clock in the hall wouldn't subscribe..to Pipchin's, and said he was glad to hear it. It this alteration in the form of words, but con- was much more satisfactory, he observed, rubtinued to repeat "How, is, my, lit, tie, friend? bing his hands, to begin at the foundation. And how, is, my, lit, tie, friend?" again he leered at Paul, as if he would have "Very well, I thank you, sir," returned Paul, liked to tackle him with the Greek alphabet on answering the clock quite as much as the Doctor. the spot. "Ha! " said Doctor Blimber. "Shall. we "That circumstance, indeed. Doctor. Blimber," make a man of him?" pursued Mr. Dombey, glancing at his little son, "Do you hear, Paul?" added Mr. Dombey; "and the interview I have already had the Paul being Silent. pleasure of holding with you, render any further "Shall we make a man of him?" repeated explanation, and consequently, any further inthe Doctor. trusion on your valuable time, so unnecessary, " I had rather be a child," replied Paul. that — " "Indeed!" said the Doctor. "Why?" "Now, Miss Dombey,".said the acid Pipchin. The child sat on the table looking at him, / "Permit me," said the Doctor, " one moment. with a curious expression of suppressed emotion Allow me to present Mrs. Blimber and my in his face, and beating one hand proudly on daughter, who will be associated with the dohis knee, as if he had the rising tears beneath it, mestic life of our young Pilgrim to Parnassus. and crushed them. But his other hand strayed Mrs. Blimber,"-for the lady, who had perhaps a little way the while, a little farther-farther been in waiting, opportunely entered, followed fiom him yet-until it lighted on the neck of by her daughter, that fair sexton in spectacles, Florence. "This is why," it seemed to say, -" Mr. Dombey. My daughter Cornelia, Mr. and then the steady look was broken up and Dombey. Mr. Dombey, my love,'. pursued the gone; the working lip was 4oosened; and the Doctor, turning to his wife, " is so confiding as tears came streaming forth. to — Do you see our little friend?" "Mrs. Pipchin," said his father in a que- Mrs. Blimfer, in an. excess of politeness, of rulous manner, "I am really very sorry to see which -Mi. Dombey was the object, apparently this." did not, for she was backing against the little. "Come away. from him, do, Miss Dombey," friend, and very much endangering his position quoth the matron. on the table. But, on this hint, she turned to "Never -mind," said the Doctor, blandly admire his classical and intellectual:lineaments, nodding his head to keep Mrs. Pipchin back. and turning again to Mr. Dombey, said, with a "Ne-ver mind; we shall substitute new cares sigh, that she envied his dear son. and hew impressions, Mr. Dombey, very shortly. "Like a bee, sir," said Mrs. Blimber, with You would still wish my little friend to ac- uplifted eyes, " about to plunge into a garden-of quire —" the choicest flowers, and sip the.sweets for the "Everything, if you please, Doctor," returned first time. Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Terence, PlauMr. Dombey firmly. tus, Cicero. What a world of honey have we "Yes," said the Doctor, who, with his half- here! It may appear remarkable, Mr. Dombey, shut eyes and his usual smile, seemed to survey in one who is a'wife-the wife of such a husPaul with the sort of interest that might attach band-" i6~d ~ DOMBEY AND SON. Hfush, liushl/ said Doctor Blimber. "Fie "If Mr. Dombey will walk up-stairs," said f6r shame!" Mrs. Blimber, " I shall be more than proud to " Mr. Dombey will forgive tile partiality of a show him the dominions of the drowsy god." wife'" said Mrs. Blimber with an engaging With that Mrs. Blimber, who was a, lady of smile. great suavity, and a wiry figure, and who wore a Mr. Domnbey answered "Not at all: " apply- cap composed of sky-blue materials, proceeded ing those words, it is to b'e presumed,, to the up-stairs with Mr. Dombey and Cornelia; Mrs. partiality' and tot to the forgiveness. Pipchin following, and looking out sharp for her " —Arid it ay seem remarkable in one who enemy tie footman. is a mother also; —" resimed Mrs. Blimber. While they were gone, Paul sat upon the table, "And such a mother," observed Mr. Dombey, holding Florence by the hand,. and glancing bowing with some confused idea of being cor- timidly from the Doctor round and round the plimentary to Cornelia. room, while the Doctor, leaning back in his But really," pursued Mrs. Blimber, " I think chair, with his hand in his breast as usual, held if I could have known Cicero, and been his a book from him at arm's lengtl, and read. friend, and talked with him in his retirement at There was something very awful in this manner Tusculum (beau-ti-ful Tusculum!), I could have of'-eading. It was such a determined, unimdied contented." passioned, inflexible, cold-blooded way of going A learned enthusiasm is so very contagious, to WiV'k. It left the Doctor's countenance that Mr. Dombey half believed this was exactly exposed- to view; and when the Doctor smiled his case; and even Mrs. Pipchin, who:was not, asicibusly at. his author, or knit his brows, or as we \have seen, of' an accommodating disposi- - sobliokhis head and made wry faces at him, as tion generally, gave utterance to a little sound rhuch as to say, " Don't tell me, sir; I know between a groan and a sigh, as if she would better," it was terrific. have said that nobody but Cicero could have Toots, too; had' no business to be outside the proved a lasting consolation under that failure door, ostentatiously examining the wheels in his of the Peruvian mines, but that he indeed. would watch, and:cointing "his half-crowns. But that have been a very Davy-lamp of refuge.:' didn't last long; for Doctor Blimber, happening Cornelia looked at Mr. Dombey through her to change the position of his:tight plump legs, as if spectacles, as if she would have liked tcccrack a he were going to get up, Toots swiftly vanished, few quotations with him from the authority in. t nd appeared no more. question.' But this design, if she entertained it, Mr. Dombey and his conductress were soon was frustrated by a knock at the room-door. heard coming down-stairs.again,'talking all the "Who is that?" said the'Doctor. "Oh! way; and presently they re-entered:the Doctor's Come in, Toots^; come in..?Ir. Dombey, sir." study. Toots bowed. "Quite a concidence D, saidI hope, Domey," said the Doctor, Doctor Blimber. " Here we have the beginning laying down his'book, " that the arrangements and the end. Alpha and Omega. Our head meet your approval." boy, Mr. Dombey." "They are excellent, sir," said Mr. Dombey. The Doctor might have called him their head- "Very fair indeed," said!Mrs. Pipchin in a and-shoulders boy, for he was atleast that much low voice; never disposed to give too much taller than any'of' the rest. He blushed very encouragement. much at finding himself among strangers, and "Mrs. Pipchin," said Mr. Dombey, wheeling chuckled aloud. round, "will, with your permission, Doctor: and "An addition to our little Portico, Toots," Mrs. Blimber, visit Paul now and then." said the Doctor; " Mr. Dombey's son." "Whenever Mrs. Pipchin pleases," observed Young Toots blushed again; and finding, the Doctor. from a solemn silence which prevailed, that he "Always happy to see her," said Mrs. Blimber. was expected to say something, said to Paul, "I think," said Mr. Dombey, "I have given "How are you?" in a voice so deep, and a all the trouble I need, and may take my leave. manner so sheepish, that if a lamb had roared it Paul, my child,"-he went close to him as he couldn't have been more surprising. sat upon the table,-" good-bye." "Ask Mr. Feeder, if you please, Toots," said "Good-bye, papa." *the Doctor, "to prepare a few introductory The limp and careless little hand that Mr. volumes for Mr. Dombey's son, and to allot him Dombey took in his was singularly out of keepa convenient seat for study. My dear, I believe ing with the wistful face. But he had no part Mr. Dombey has not seen the dormitories." in its sorrowful expression. It was not ad MR. DOMBEY TAKES LEA VE OF HIS SON. 7 dressed to him. No, no.'lo Florence-all to and made it indistinct to him, his mental vision Florence. may haire been, for that short time, the clearer. If Mr. Dombey, in his insolence of wealth, perhaps. had ever made an enemy, hard to appease and "I shall see you soon, Paul. You are free on cruelly vindictive in his hate, even such an Saturdays and Sundays, you know." enemymight havereceived thepang thatwrunghis "Yes, papa," returned Paul: looking at his proud heart then as compensation for his injury, sister. "On Saturdays and Sundays." He bent down over his boy, and kissed him. " And you'll try and learn a great deal here, If his sight were dimmed, as he did so, by some- and be a clever man," said Mr. Dombey; thing that for a moment blurred the little face, " won't you?" -1 11 1-1 "WHEN THE. DOCTOR SMILED AUSPICIOUSLY AT HIS. AUTHOR, OR KNIT HIS BROWS, OR SHOOK HIS HEAD AND MAbE WRY FACES AT HIM, AS MUCH AS TO SAY.'DON'T TELL ME, SIR; I KNOW BETTER,' IT WAS TERRIFIC." I'll try," returned the child wearily. her part roused Mr. Dombey, whose eyes were "And you'll soon be grown up now!" said fixed on Paul. After patting him on the. head, Mr. Dombey. and pressing his s-mill-hand again, he took-leave "Oh! very soon!" replied the child. Once- of Doctor Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss more the old, old look passed rapidly across his Blimber with his usual polite frigidity, and walked features like a strange light. It fell on Mrs. -out of the study. Pipchin, and extinguished itself in her black Despite his entreaty that'they would not think dress. That excellent ogress stepped forward to of stirring, Doctor Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and take leave and to bear off Florence, which she Miss Blimber all pressed forward to attend him had long been thirsting to do. The move on to the hall; and thus Mrs. Pipchin got into a 78 DOMBEY AVD SOVN. state of entanglement with Miss Blimber ahd'tlhe'spectacles were surveying him, cast down his Doctor, and was crowded out of the study before eyes. she could clutch Florence..' To which happy "How 61d are you,. Dombey?" said Miss accident Paul stood afterwards indebted for the Blimber. dear.remembrance,: that'Florence ran:back to "Six," answered Paul, wondering, as he stole throw her arms round his'neck, and that hers glance g at the.younglady, why.her hair didn't was:.the last.face in the doorway: turned to- grow long like Florence's, and why. she was like wards him with. a smile of encouragement, the a boy. brighter for the tears.through which it beamed.,- " How much. do you know of'your Latin It made his childish bosom heave and'swell Grammar,' Dombey?" said Miss Blimber. when. it was gone; and sent the globes, the "None of it," answered Paul. Feeling that books, blind Homer, -and. Minerva swimming the answer was a shock to Miss Blimber's' sensiround the room. But they. stopped all of a bility, he looked up at the three faces that were sudden; and'then' he heard -the. loud clock in looking down at him, and said: the hall still gravely'inquiring,'f. Howv, is,..my, "I haven't been well. I have been.a. weak lit, tle, friend? how,-is, my, lit, te, friend?" as child.. I.couldn't learn a Latin Grammar when it had done before I was out, every day.with old Giubb.' I wish He sat, with folded hands, upon:his pedestal, you'd tell old Glubb to come and see me, if you silently listening. But he might have answered, please."' "Weary, weary! very lonely, very. sad! "And "What a dreadfully low. name!" said Mrs. there, with an.aching void. in..his young heart, Blimber. " Unclassical to.. a degree! Who is and' all outside so: cold,: and bare, and. strange,' the monster, child?" Paul sat as if.he'had taken life unfurnishld,-and " What monster?" inquired Paul. the upholsterer were:never coming. "Glubb," said Mrs. Blimbei, with a great disrelish. "He's no more a monster than you are," returned Paul. CHAPTER.. XII " What!"'cried the Doctor in a terrible voiced " Ay, ay,.ay! Aha! What'sthat?" PAUL'S -EDUCATION. Paul was dreadfully frightened;: but still',he made a stand' for the absent Glubb, though he FTER the lapse of some'minutes, did it trembling. which appeared an immense tirme to: t He's a:very. nice old man, ma'am," he said. little Paul Dombey'on the, table,'"iHe used to draw my couch. He. knows all Doctor Blimber came back. The about the deep sea, and' the fish' that are in it, Doctor's wa"t was.stately, and.. cal- -and the great monsters that come. and lie.,on culated to impress the juvenile mind rocks in'the sun, and dive. into the whter again with solemn feelings.. It was a sort of'when they're startled, blowing and. splashitg.so, - march; but when the Doctor put out that they can-be heard for miles..There are his:rigt foot, he gravely turned upon his axis, some.creatures," said -Pau,' warming with "his with a semicircular sweep towards the left; and subject, "I don't know how many yards'.long, when he put out his left foot, he turned in the and I forget their.:names, but Florence knows, same manner towards the right. So that, he' that pretend to.be in distress; and when a man seemed, at every stride he took, to look about goes near them, out. of compassion,. they open him as though he were saying, "Can anybody their great jaws, and attack him.: But-all-he have the goodness to -indicate any subject, in has gotto do," said Paul, boldly tendering this any direction, on which I am uninformed?., I information to the very Doctor himself, " is, to rather think not." keep on turning as he runs away, and then,'as.Mrs. Blimber and Miss Blimber came back in they turn slowly, because they are so long,-and the Doctor's company; and the Doctor, lifting can't bend, he's sure to beat them...n Andhough his' new pupil off the table, delivered him over old Glubb don't know why the sea shoulIdmake to Miss-Blimber.:'me think of my. mamma that's dead.or.what it "Cornelia" said the Doctor, " Dombey will is that it is always saying-always sa.ying!-he be your charge at. first. Birig him on, Cornelia, knows a great deal abont it. And: I wish," the briing him on." child concluded, with a sudden. falling of his Mliss Blimber received her young ward from countenance, and failing in his animation, as he the Doctor's hands; and Paul, feeling that the looked like one forlorn upon the. three strange TH~ IVS tW 10 Y IS INRiODUCED. 1..__, ~-. -..........,,~. faces, " that you'd let old Glubb come here to lastly, with the young gentleman in a state of see me, for I know him very well, and he knows stupefaction, who was flabby and quite cold. me." Paul having been already introduced to Toots, "Ha!" said the Doctor, shaking his head; that pupil merely chuckled and breathed hard, "this is bad, but study will do much." as his custom was, and pursued the occupation Mrs. Blimber opined, with something like a in which he was engaged. It was not a severe shiver, that he was an unaccountable child; and, one; for, on account of his having "gone allowing for the difference of visage, looked at through" so much (in more senses than one), him pretty much as Mrs. Pipchin had been used and also of his having, as before hinted, left off to do. blowing in his prime, Toots now had licence to "Take him round the house, Cornelia," said pursue his own course of study,; which. was the Doctor, "and familiarise him with his new chiefly to write long letters to himself from persphere. Go with that young lady, Dombey." sons of distinction, addressed "P. Toots, Esquire, Dombey obeyed; giving his hand to the Brighton, Sussex," and to preserve them in his abstruse Cornelia, aind looking at her sideways, desk with great care. with timid curiosity, as they went away together. These ceremonies passed, Cornelia led Paul For her spectacles, by reason of the glistening up-stairs to the top of the house; which was of the glasses, made her so mysterious that he rather a slow journey, on account of Paul being didn't know where she was looking, and was not, obliged to land both feet on every stair before indeed, quite sure that she had any eyes. at all he mounted another. But they reached their behind them. journey's end at last; and there, in a front room, Cornelia took him first to the schoolroom, looking over the wild sea, Cornelia showed him which was situated-at the back of the hall, and a nice little bed with white hangings, close to was approached through two baize doors, which the window, on which there was already beautideadened and muffled the young gentlemen's filly written on a card in round text-downll voices. Here therewereeight young gentlemen strokes very thick, and up strokes very finein various stages of mental prostration, all very DoMsBEY; while two other little bedsteads in the hard at work, and very grave indeed. Toots, as same room were announced, through like means, an old hand; had a desk to himself in one as respectively appertaining unto BRIGGs and corner: and a magnificent man, of immense age, TSZER. he looked, in Paul's young eyes, behind it. Just as they got down-stairs agai into the hall, Mr. Feeder, B.A., who sat at- another little Paul sawt the weak-eyed young man, who had given desk, had his Virgil stop on, and was slowly that mortal offence to Mrs. Pipchin, suddenly grinding that tune to four young gentlemen. Of seize a very large drum-stick, and fly at a gong the remaining four, two, who grasped their fore- that was hanging up, as if he had gone mad, or heads convulsively, were engaged in solving wanted vengeance. Instead of receiving warnmathematical problems; one with his face like ing, however, or being instantly taken into a dirty window, from inuch crying, was endear custody, the young man left off unchecked, after vouring to flounder through hopeless number having made a dreadful noise. Then Cornelia of lines befoie dinner; and one-sat looking at Blimber said to DIombey that dinner would be his task in stony stupefaction and despair-which ready in a quarter of an hour, and perhaps he it seemed had been his condition ever since had better go into the schoolroom among his breakfast-time. "friends." The appearance of a new boy did not cre- So Dombey, deferentially passing the great ate the sensation that might have been ex- clock, which was still as anxious as ever to pected. Mr. Feeder, B.A. (who was in the know how he found himself, opened the schoolhabit of shaving his head for coolness, and had room door a very little way, and strayed in.like nothing but little bristles on it), gave him a bony a lost boy: shutting it after him with some (9if hand, and told him he was glad to sec him- ficulty. His friendswere all dispersed about the which Paul would have been very glad to have room except the stony friend, who -remained told him, if he could have done so with the least immovable. Mr. Feeder was stretching himsincerity. Then Paul, instructed by Cornelia, self in his grey gown, as if, regardless of exshook hands with the four young gentlemen at pense, he were resolved to pull the sleeves off. Mr. Feeder's desk; then with the trwo young'" Heigh ho hum!" cried Mr. Feeder, shakgentlemen at work on the problems, who were ing himself like a cart-horse. " Oh dear me, very feverish; then with the young gentleman at dear me! Ya-a-a-ah!" work against time, ewho was very inky; and Paul was quite alarmed by' Mr. Feeder's S;O DOMBE Y AND SON. yawning; it was done on such a great scale, "Master Briggs?" inquired Paul. and he was so terribly in earnest. All the boys, "Tozer," said the young gentleman. too (Toots excepted), seemed knocked up, and Paul answered yes; and Tozer, pointing out were getting ready for dinner-some newly the stony pupil, said that was Briggs. Paul had tying their neckcloths, which were very stiff in- already felt certain that it must be either Briggs deed; and others washing their hands, or brush-. or Tozer, though he didn't know why. ing their hair, in an adjoining ante-chamber-as " Is yours a strong constitution?" inquired if they didn't think they should enjoy it at all. Tozer. Young Toots; who was ready beforehand, Paul said he thought not. Tozer repliea-that and had therefore nothing to. do, and had lei- he thought not also, judging from Paul's looks, sure to bestow upon Paul, said. with heavy and that it was a pity, for\it need be. He then good-nature: asked Paul if he were going to begin with "Sit down, DomBey." Cornelia; and, on Paul saying "Yes,"'all the' Thank you, sir," said Paul. young gentlemen (Briggs excepted) gave a. low His endeavouring to hoist himself on to a groan. very high window-seat, and his slipping down It was drowned in the tintinnabulation of the again, appeared to prepare Toots's mind for the gong, which sounding again with great fury, reception of a discovery. there was a general move towards the dining"You're very small chap," said Mr. Toots. room; still excepting Briggs,. the stonv boy, "Yes,,sir, I'm small," returned Paul. "Thank who remained where he was, and as he was; you, sir." and on its way to whom Paul- presently enFor Toots had lifted him into his seat, and countered a round of bread,'genteelly served on done it kindly too. a plate and napkin, and with a silver fork lying "Who's your tailor?" inquired Toots, after crosswise on the top of it. Doctor Blimber was'looking at him for some moments. already in his place in the dining-room, at the "'It's a woman that has made my clothes as top of the table, with Miss Blimber and Mrs. yet," said Paul. "My sister's dressmaker." Blimber on either side of' him. Mr. Feeder, in "My tailor's Burgess and Co.," said Toots. a. black coat, was atthe. bottom. Paul's chair "Fash'nable. But very dear." was next to Miss Blimber; but it being found, Paul had wit enough to shake his head, a~ if when he sat in it, that his eyebrows were not he would have said it was easy to see that; and,'much above the level of the table-cloth, some indeed, he thought so. books were brought in from the Doctors study, "Your father's regularly rich, ain't he? " in- on which he. was elevated, and on which he quired Mr. Toots. always sat from that time-carrying themin and "Yes, sir," said Paul. " He's Dombey and out himself, on after occasions, like a little eleSon." pphant and castle. "And which?" demanded Toots. Grace having been said by the Doctor, dinner "And Son, sir,!>replied Paul.'began. There was some nice soup; also roast Mr. Toots matde c.e or two attempts, in a meat, boiled meat, vegetables, pie, and cheese. low voice, to fix: the firm in his mind; but not Every young gentleman- had a massive silver quite succeeding, said he would get Paul to fork and a napkin;..andi all the arrangements mention the name again' to-morrow morning, as were staely and handsome...: In particular; it was rather important. And, indeed, he pur- there was a butler in a blue coat and bright posed nothing less than writing himself a private buttons, who gave quite a winy flavour to the and confidential letter from Dombey and Son table beer; he poured it out so superbly. immediately. Nobody spoke, unless'spoken to, except By this time the other pupils (always except- Doctor Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Bliming the stony boy) gathered round.'They were ber, who conversed occasionally. Whenever a polite, but pale; and spoke low; and they young gentleman was not actually engaged with were so depressed in their spirits, that, in com- his knife and fork or spoon, his eye, with an irreparison with the general tone of that company, sistible attraction,. sought the eye of Doctor Master'Bitherstone was a perfect Miller, or Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, or Miss Blimber, and complete Jest Book. And yet he had a'sense modestly rested there., Toots appeared to be of injury upon him too, had Bitherstone. the only exception to this rule. He sat next "You sleep in my room, don't you? " asked Mr. Feeder, on Paul's side of the table, and frea solemn young gentleman, whose shirt, collar quently looked behind and biefore the interven. curied up the lobes of his ears. ing boys to catch a glimpse of Paul. SHORT CLASSICAL LECTURE FROM DOCTOR BLIMBER. 81 Only once during dinner was there any con. "It is remarkable, Mr. Feeder,'wlat the versation that included the young gentlemen.'Romans —" It happened at the epoch of the cheese, when At the mention of this terrible people, their the Doctor, having taken a glass of port wine, implacable enemies, every young gentleman and hemmed twice or thrice, said: fastened his gaze upon the Doctor, with an "'YOUR FATHER'S REGULARLY RICH, AIN'T HE?" INQUIRED MR. TOOTS, " YES, SIR," SAID PAUL. "HE'S DOMBEY AND SON." assumption of the deepest interest. One of the'"It'is remarkable, Mr. Feeder," said the number, who happened to be drinking; and who Doctor, beginning again slowly, " that the caught the Doctor's eye glaring at him through Romans, in those gorgeous and profuse enterthe side of his tumbler, left off so hastily that he tainments of which we read in the days of was convulsed for some moments, and in the the Emperors, when luxury had attained a height sequel ruined Doctor Blimber's point. unknown before or since,, and when whole proDOMBEY AND SQN, 6. 206 S2 02~DOM~SY ArD SON. vinces,re' ravaged- to supply the splendid But Johnson, -unable to suppress it any means of one imperial banquet —" longer, burst at that moment into such an over-'-Here the offender, who had. been swelling whelming'fit of coughing, that, although both and straining, and waiting in vain for a full stop, his immediate neighbours thumped him on the broke ouit violently.. back, and Mr. Feeder himself held a glass of r- "Johnson," said Mr. Feeder in a -low re- water to his lips, and the butler walked him up proachful voice, "take some water." and.down several times between his own chair The Doctor, looking very stern, mxade a pause and the sideboard, like a sentry, it was full five until the water-was brought, and then resumed: minutes before he- was- moderately composed,. "And when, Mr. Feeder " and then there was a profound silence. But Mr. Feeder, who saw that Johnson must "Gentlemen," said Doctor' Blimber, "rise for break out again, and who knew that the Doctor Grace! Cornelia, lift Dombey down "-nothing would.never come to a. period before'the young of whom but his scalp was accordingly seen gentlemen until he had finished all he meant to above the-table-cloth. "Johnson will repeat to say, couldn't keep his. eye off Johnson; and me to-moni.w morning before breakfast, without thus was caught-in the fact of not looking at the book, and: from';the -Greek Testament, the first Doctor, who consequently stopped. chapter of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Ephe-'"I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Feeder, sians. We will resume our studies, Mr. Feeder, reddening. "I beg your pardon, Doctor, in half an hour." Blimber." The' young gentlemen bowed and withdrew. "Aid when," said the Doctor, raising his Mr. Feeder did likewise.' During the half-hour, voice, "when, sir, as we read, and: have no rea- the young gentlemen, broken into pairs, loitered son to doubt-incredible as it may appear to the arm-in-arm up and.down a small piece of ground vulgar of our time —the brother of Vitellius pre- behind the house;-or endeavoured to kindle a pared for him a feast, in:which were served, of'spark of animation-in the breast of Briggs. But fish, two' thousand dishes-'' nothing happened so; vulgar as play. Punctually, "Take some water, Johnson-dishes, sir," at the appointed timne, the gong was sounded,. said Mr. Feeder. and the studies, under the joint auspices of "Of various sorts of fowl, five thousand Doctor Blimber and.Mr. Feeder, were edishes —" sumed. "Or try a crust of bread," said Mr. Feeder.. As the Olympic. game of lounging up and "-And one dish,".pursued Doctor Blimber, down had been cut shorter than usual that raising'his voice still higher as he looked all day, oa Johnson's account, they- all went out rouna the table, "called, from its' enormous for a walk-before tea.' Even Briggs (though. he dimensions, the. Shield of Minerva, and made, hadn't begun yet) partook of this dissipation; among other costly ingredients, of the.brains of in the enjoyment of which he looked.over the pheasants-" cliff two or three times darkly. Doctor Blimber Ow, ow, ow!." (from Johnson.) accompanied them; and Paul had the honour "Woodcocks - " of being taken in tow by the Doctor himself: a "Ow, ow, ow!" distinguished state of things, in which he looked "The sounds of the fish called scari-" very little and feeble. "You'll burst some vessel in your head,".said Tea was served in a style no less polite than Mr. Feeder. " Youhad better let it come." the dinner; and after'tea,- the young gentlemen, " And the spawn of the lamprey, brought from rising and bowing as- before;withdrew to fetch the Carpathian Sea," pursued the Doctor in.his up the unfinished tasks of that day, or to get up severest voice; "when we* read of costly enter- the already looming tasks of to-morrow. In the tainments such as these, and still remember that meantime Mr. Feeder withdrew to his own we have a Titus-,.room; and Paul sat in a corner, wondering "What woulcd be your mother's feelings if you whether Florence was thinking of him, and died of apoplexy!" said Mr. Feeder. what they were all. about at Mrs. Pipchin's. "A Domitian " Mr. Toots, who had been detained by an im"And you're blue, you know,' said Mr. Feeder. portant letter. from the Duke.'of. Wellington, " ANero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, a Helioga- found Paul out after a time; and-having looked balus, and many more," pursued- the Doctor; at him for a long while, as before, inquired if he "it is, Mr. Feeder-if you are doing me the'was fond of waistcoats. honour to attend-remarkable; VERY remark-' Paul said "Yes, sir." able, sir —— "' So am," said Toots. MISS BLIZMBER TAKES PAUL IN HAND. 83 No word more spake Toots that night; but said " Bother!" and Tozer, " Oh yes! " he. went he stood looking at Paul as if he liked him; and down, when he was otherwise ready, to the next as there was company in that, and Paul was not story, where he saw a pretty young woman in inclined to talk, it answered his purpose better leather gloves cleaning a stove. j The young than conversation. woman seemed surprised at his appearance, and At eight o'clock or so, the gong sounded again asked him where his mother was..When Paul for prayers in the dining-room, where the butler told her she was dead, she took her gloves off, afterwards presided over a side-table, on which and did what he wanted; and furthermore bread and cheese and beer were spread for such rubbed his hands to warm them; and gave him young gentlemen as desired to partake of those a kiss; and told him whenever he wanted anyrefreshments. The ceremonies concluded by thing of that sort-meaning in, the dressing way the Doctor's saying, " Gentlemen, we will resume -to ask for Melia; which Paul, thanking her our studies at seven to-morrow;" and then, for very much, said he certainly would. He then the first time, Paul saw Cornelia Blimber's eye, proceeded softly on his journey down-stairs, and saw that it was upon him. When the Doctor towards the room in which the young gentlemen had. said these words, " Gentlemen, we will re- resumed their studies, when, passing bya door that sume our studies at seven to-morrow," the pupils stood ajar, a voice from within cried, " Is that bowed again, and went to bed. Dombey?" On Paul replying, "Yes, ma'am:" In the confidence of their own room up-stairs, for he knew the voice to be Miss Blimber's-: Briggs said. his head ached ready to split, and Miss Blimber said, " Come in, Dombey." And that he should wish himself dead if it wasn't for in he went. his mother, and a blackbird he had at home. Miss Blimber presented exactly the appearTozer didn't say. much, but he sighed a good ance she had presented yesterday, except that deal, and told Paul to look out, for his turn she wore a shawl. Her little. light curls were would come to-morrow. After uttering those as crisp as ever, and she had already her specprophetic words, he undressed himself moodily, tacles on, which made Paul wonder whether she and got into bed. Briggs was in his bed too, went to bed in them. She had a cool little and Paul in his bed too, before the weak-eyed sitting-room of her own up there,\ with some young man appeared to take away the candle, books in it, and no fire. But Miss Blimber was when he wished them good night and pleasapt never cold, and never sleepy. dreams. But his benevolent wishes were in vain "Now,'Dombey," said Miss Blimber, " I'm as far as Briggs and Tozer were concerned; for going out for a constitutional." Paul, who lay awake for a long while, and often Paul wondered what that was, and why she woke afterwards, found that Briggs was ridden didn't send the footman out to get it in such by his lesson as a nightmare; and that Tozer, unfavourable weather. But he made no obserwhose mind was affected in his sleep bysimilar vation on the subject; his attention being decauses, in. a minor degree, talked unknown voted to a little pile of new books, on which tongues, or scraps of Greek and Latin-it was Miss Blimber appeared to have been recently all one to Paul-which, in the silence of night, engaged. had an inexpressibly wicked and guilty effect. "These are yours, Dombey," said Miss Paul had sunk into a sweet-sleep, and dreamed Blimber. that he was walking hand-in-hand with Florence " All of'em, ma'am?" said Paul. through beautiful gardens, when they came to a "Yes," returned Miss Blimber; "and Mr. large sunflower which suddenly expanded itself Feeder will look you out some more very soon, into a gong, and began to sound. Opening lis if you are as.studious as I expect. you will be, eyes,,he found that it was a dark, windy morning, Dombey." with a,drizzling rain; and that the real gong " Tlank you, ma'am," said Paul. was giving dreadful note of preparation, down I am going out for a constitutional," resqmed in the hall.. Miss Blimber; "and while I am gone, that is to So he got up directly, and found Briggs with say, in the interval between this and breakfast, hardly. any eyes, for nightmare and grief had Dombey, I wish you to read over what I have made his face puffy, putting his boots on: while marked in these books, and to tell me if you Tozer stood shivering and rubbing his shoulders quite understand what you'have got to learn. in a very bad humour. Poor Paul couldn't Don't lose time, Dombey, for you have none to dress himself easily, not being used to it, and spare, but take them down-stairs, and begin asked them if they would have the goodness to directly." tie some strings for him; but, as Briggs merely "Yes, ma'am," answered Paul. 84.DOMBEY AND SON. There were so many of them, that although Miss Blimber expressed her opinions on the Paul put one hand under,the bottom book, and'subject of Paul's uninstructed state with a gloomy his other hand and his chin on the top book, delight, as if she had expected this result, and and hugged them all closely; the middle book were glad to find that they must be in constant slipped out before he reached the door, and then communication. -Paul withdrew with the top they all tumbled down on the floor. Miss task, as he was told, and laboured away at it Blimber said, "Oh, Dombey,'Dombey, this is down below; sometimes remembering every really very careless!" and piled them up afresh word of it, and sometimes forgetting it all, and for him; and this time, by dint of balancing everything else besides: until at.last he ventured them with great nicety, Paul got out of the room, up-stairs again to repeat* the lesson, when it was and down a few stairs, before two of them escaped nearly all driven out of his head before he began, again. But he held the rest so tight, that he by Miss Blimber's shutting up the book, and only left one more on the first floor, and one in saying, " Go on, Dombey! " a proceeding so the passage; and when he had got the main suggestive of the knowledge inside of her, that body down into the schoolroom, he set off up- Paul looked upon the young lady with consterstairs again to collect.the stragglers,'Having at nation, as a kind of learned Guy Fawkes, or last amassed the whole library, and climbed into artificial Bogle, stuffed full of sholastic straw. his place, he fell to work, encouraged by a remark He acquitted himself very well, nevertheless; from Tozer to the effect that he "was in for it and Miss Blimber, commending him as giving now;" which was the only interruption he re- promise of getting on fast, immediately provided ceived till breakfast-time. At that'meal,, for him with subject B; from which he passed to C, which he had no appetite, everything was quite and even D before dinner. It was hard work,,as solemn and genteel as at the others; and resuming his studies soon after dinner; and he when it was finished, he followed Miss Blimber' felt giddy and confused, and drowsy and dull. up-stairs. But all the other young gentlemen had similar "Now, Dombey," said Miss Blimber, "how sensations, and were obliged to resume their have you got on with those books?" studies too, if there were any comfort in' that. They comprised a little English, and a deal of It was a wonder that the great clock in the hall, Latin —names of things, declensions of articles instead of being constant to. its first inquiry, and substantives, exercises thereon, and preli- never said, " Gentlemen, we will now resume our minary rules-a trifle of-orthographya glance at studies," for that phrase was often enough reancient history, a wink or two at modern ditto, peated in its neighbourhood. The studies went a few tables, two or three weights and measures, round like a mighty wheel, and the young gentleand a little general information. When poor men were always stretched upon it. Paul had spelt out number two, he found he After tea there were exercises again, and;prehad no idea of number one; fragments whereof parations for next day by candle-light. And in afterwards obtruded themselves into number due course there was bed: where, but for that three, which slided into number four,, which resumption of the studies which took place in grafted itself on to.number two. So that dreams, were rest' and sweet forgetfulness. whether twenty Romuluses made a Remus, or Oh, Saturdays! Oh, happy Saturdays, when hic hsec hoc was troy weight, or a verb always Florence always came at noon, and never would, agreed with an ancient Briton, or three times in any weather, stay away, though Mrs. Pipchin four was Taurus a bull, were open questions snarled and growled, and worried her bitterly. with him. Those Saturdays were Sabbaths for at least two "Oh, Dombey, Dombey!" said Miss Blimber, little Christians amongall the Jews, and did the "this is very shocking." holy Sabbath work of strengthening and knitting "If you please," said Paul, "I think, if I up a brother's and a sister's love. might sometimes. talk a little to old Glubb, I - Not even Sunday nights-the heavy Sunday should be able to do better." nights, whose shadow darkened the first waking'"Nonsense, Dombey," said Miss Blimber. burst of light on Sunday mornings-could mar " I couldn't hear of it. This is not the place for those precious Saturdays. Whether it was the Glubbs of any kind. You must take the books great seashore, where they sat and strolled todown, I suppose, Dombey, one by one, andper- gether; or whether it was only Mrs. Pipchin's fect yourself in the day's instalment of subject A, dull back-room, in which she sang to him so before you turn at all to subject B. And now take softly, with his drowsy head upon her arm; Paul away the top book, if you please, Dombey, and never cared. It was Florence. That was all he return when you are master of the theme" thought. of.'. So, on Sunday nights, when the PA LT'S LO VING SISTER. 8$ Doctor's dark doo;. stood agape to swallow him him. At least I want to try. So buy them for up for another week, the time was come -for- me, dear, and I will never forget how kind it was taking leave of Florence; no one else. of you to do it!" Mrs. Wickam had been drafted home to the It must have been a harder heart than Susan house in town, and Miss Nipper, now a smart Nipper's that could have rejected the little purse young woman, had come down. To many a Florence held outwith these words, or the gentle single combat with Mrs. Pipchin did Miss Nipper look of entreaty with which she seconded her gallantly devote herself; and if ever Mrs. Pipchin petition, Susan put the purse in her pocket in all her life had found her match, she had found without reply, and trotted out at once upon her it now. Miss Nipper threw away the scabbard the errand. first morning she arose in Mrs. Pipchin's house. The books were not easy to procure; and the She asked and gave no quarter. She said it answer at several shops was, either that they must be war, and war it was; and Mrs. Pipchin were just out of them, or that they never kept lived from that time in the midst of surprises, them, or. that they had had a great many last harassings, and defiances; and skirmishing month, or that they expected a great many next attacks that came bouncing in upon her from the week. But Susan was not easily baffled in such passage, even in unguarded moments of chops, an enterprise; and having entrapped a whiteand carried desolation to her very toast. haired youth, in a black calico apron, from a Miss Nipper had returned one Sunday night library where she was known, to accompany with Florence, from walking back with Paul' to her in her quest, she led him such a life in going the Doctor's, when Florence took from her up and down, that he exerted himself to the bosom a little piece of paper, on which she had utmost, if it were only to get rid of her; and pencilled down some words. finally enabled her to return home in triumph. "See here, Susan," she said. " These are the With these treasures, then, after her own daily names of the little books that Paul brings home lessons. were over, Florence sat down at night to do those long exercises with, when he is so to track Paul's footsteps through the thorny tired. I copied them last night while he was ways of learning; and being possessed of a writing." naturally quick and sound capacity, and taught' Don't show'em to me, Miss Floy, if you by that. most wonderful of masters, love, it was please,". returned Nipper; "I'd as soon see not long before she gained upon Paul's heels, Mrs. Pipchin." arid caught and passed him. "I want you to buy them for me, Susan, if Not a word of this was breathed to Mrs. Pipyou will, to-morrow morning. I have money chin: but many a night when they were all in enough," said'Florence. bed, and when Miss Nipper, with her hair in "Why, goodness gracious me, Miss Floy," papers and herself asleep in some uncomfortable returned Miss Nipper, "how can you talk like attitude, reposed unconscious by her side; and that, when you' have books upon books already, when the chinking ashes in the grate were cold and mrasterses and misseses a teaching of you and grey; and when the candles were burnt eyerything continual, though my belief is that down and guttering out; Florence tried so hard your pa, Miss Dombey, never would have learnt to be a substitute for one small Dombey, that you nothing, never would have thought of it, her fortitude and perseverance might have unless you'd asked him-when he couldn't well almost won her a free right to bear the name refuse; but'giving consent when asked, and herself. offering whenunasked, miss, is quite two things; And high was her reward, when one Saturday I may not have my objections to a young man's evening, as little Paul was sitting down as usual keeping company with me, and when he puts to "resume his studies," she sat down by his the question, may say' Yes,' but that's not say- side, and showed him all that was so rough, ing,'Would you be so kind as like me?'" made smooth, and all that was so dark, made "But you can buy me the books, Susan; clear and plain, before him. It was nothing but and you will, when you know I want them."' a startled look in Paul's wan face —a flush-a "Well, miss, arid why do you want'em?" smile-and then a close embrace-but God replied Nipper; adding, in. a lower voice, "If it knows how her heart leaned up at this rich paywas to fling at Mrs. Pipchin's head, I'd buy a ment for her trouble. cart-load." "Oh, Fldy!" cried ner brother, "how I love " I think I could perhaps. give Paul some you! How I love you, Flov!" help, Susan, if I had these books," said Florence, "And I you, dear!" "and make the coming week a little easier to Oh! I am sure of that, Floy! " 86 DOMBE,, Y AND SON. He said no more about it, but all that evening'by himself, or sittings on the stairs, listening to sat close by her, very quiet; and in the night he the great clock in the hall. He was intimate called out from his little room within hers, three with all the paper-hanging in the house; saw or four times, that he loved her. things that no one else saw in the patterns; Regularly, after that, Florence was prepared found out miniature tigers and lions running up to sit down with Paul on Saturday night, and the bedroom walls, and squinting faces leering patiently assist him through so much as they in the squares and diamonds of the floor-cloth. could anticipate together of his next week's The solitary child lived on, surrounded by work. The cheering thought that he was labour- this arabesque work of his musing fancy, and no ing on where Florence had just toiled before one understood him. Mrs. Blimber thought him would, of itself, have been a stimulant to him " odd," and sometimes. the servants said Paul in the perpetual resurption of his studies; among themselves that little Dombey "moped;" but, coupled with the actual lightening of his but that was' all. load, consequent on this assistance, it saved Unless young' Toots had some idea-,on the him,' possibly, from sinking underneath the but' subject, to the expression of which he was den which the fair Cornelia Blimber piled upon wholly unequal. Ideas, like ghosts (according his back. to the common notion of. ghosts), must'be It atas not that Miss Blimber nieanlt to be too spoken to a little before they will explain themhard upon him, or that Doctor Blimber meanit selves and Toots had long left off i sking any to bear too heavily on the young gentlemen in questions of his own mind, Some mist there general. Cornelia merely held the faith in which may have been, issuing from that leaden casket, she had been' bred'; and the Doctor, in some his cranium, which, if it could have taken shape partial confusion of his ideas, regarded the young and form, would have become a genie; but it gentlemen as if they were all Doctors, and were could not; and it only-so far followed the exborn grown.up. Comforted by the applause of ample of the smoke in the Arabian story as to roll -the young gentlemen's nearest relations, and out in a thick cloud, and there hang and hover. urged on by their blind vanity and ill-considered But it left a little figare visible upon a lonely haste, it would have been strange if Doctor shore, and Toots was always staring at it.'Blimber had discovered his mistake, or trimmed "How are you?" he would' say to Paul fifty his'swelling sails to any other tack. times a day. Thus in the case of Paul. When Doctor " Quite well. sir, thank you," Paul would Blimber said he made great progress, and was. answer. naturally clever, Mr. Dombey was more bent Shake hands," would be Toots's next adthan ever on, his being forced and crammed/ In vance. the case of Briggs, when Doctor Blimber re- Which Paul, of course, would immediately do. ported that he did not make great progress yet, Mr. Toots generally said again, after- a long and was not naturally clever, Briggs senior was interval of staring and hard.breathing, "How inexorable in the same purpose. In short, how- are you?" To which Paul again replied; ever high and. false the temperature at which Quite well, sir, thank you." the Doctor kept his hothouse, the owners of the One evening Mr. Toots was sitting at fits plants were always ready to lend a helping hand desk, oppressed by correspondence,'when a at the bellows, and to stir the fire. great purpose seemed to flash upon him, He Such spirits as he had in the outset, Paul laid down his pen, and went off to seek Paul, soon lost, of course. But he retained all that whom he found at last, after a long search, was strange, and old, and thoughtful in his cha- looking through the window of tiis little bedracter: and, under circumstances so favourable room. to the development of those tendencies, be- "I say! " cried Toots, speaking the moment.came even more strange, and old, and thought- he entered the room, lest he should forget it.; ful than before. "what do you thin..about?" The only'difference was, that he kept his "Oh! I think about a great many things," character to himself. He grew more thoughtful replied.Paul. and reserved every day; and had no such curi- "Do you, though?" said Toots, appearing to osity in any living member of the Doctor's house- consider that fact in itself surprising. hold as he had had in Mrs. Pipchin. He loved " If you'hacl to die-" said Paul, looking to be alone; and, in those short intervals when up into his face. he was not occupied with, his books, liked Mr. Toots started, and. seemed much disnothing so well as wandering about the house turbed. PAUL CONVERSES WITH MR. TOOTS AGAIN. 87 "-Don't you think you would rather die on The evenings being longer now, Paul stole up a moonlight night, when the sky was quite clear, to his window every evening to look out for and the wind blowing, as it did last night? " Florence. She always passed and repassed at a Mr. Toots said, looking doubtfully at Paul, certain time until she saw him; and their mutual and shaking his head, that he didn't know recognition was a gleam of sunshine in Paul's about that. daily life. Often, after dark,, one other figure "Not blowing, at least," said Paul, "but walked alone before the Doctor's house. He sounding in the air like the sea sounds in the rarely joined them on the Saturday now. He shells. It was a beautiful night. When I had list- could not bear it. He would rather come unened to the water for a long time, I got up and recognised, and look up at the windows where looked out. There was a boat over there, in his son was qualifying for a man; and wait, the full light of the moon; a boat with a sail." and watch, and plan, and hope. The child looked at him so steadfastly, and Oh! could he but have seen, or seen as spoke so earnestly, that Mr. Toots, feeling him- others did, the slight; spare boy above, watchself called upon to say something about this ing the waves-and clouds at twilight with his boat, said, "Smugglers." But, with an impar- earnest eyes, and breasting the window of his tial remembrance of there- being twd' sides to solitary cage when birds, flew by, as if he would every question, he added, "or Preventive." have emulated them, and soared away! "A boat with a sail," repeated Paul, "in the full light of the moon. The sail like an arm, all silver. It went away into the distance, and what do you think it seemed to do as it moved with the waves"CHAPTER XII "Pitch," said Mr. Toots., "It seemed to beckon," said- the child, " to SHIPPING INTELLIGENCE AND OFFICE BUSINESS. beckon me to come!-There she is! There aj she is!"' t. DOMBEY'S offices were in a court Toots was almost beside himself with dismay I(E where th therwas an old-established at this sudden exclamation, after what had gone-,l stall of choice fruit at the corner: before, and cried, "Who?" i ~ where perambulating merchants, of "My sister Florence! " cried Paul, "looking j - both sexes, offered for sale, at any up here, and waving her hand. She seks me- 3 time between the hours of ten and she sees me! Good night, dear, good night, ( five, slippers, pocket-books, sponges, dogs' good night! " eo collars, and Windsor soap; and sometimes His quick transition to a state of unbounded a pointer or an oil-painting. pleasure, as he'stood at his window, kissing and The pointer always.came that way, with a clapping his hands: and the way in which the view to the Stock Exchange, where a sporting light retreated from his features as she'passed taste (originating generally in bets of new hats) out of his view,-and left a patient melancholy is much in vogue. The other commodities were on the little face: were too remarkable wholly addressed to the general public;.but they were to escape even Toots's notice. Their interview never offered by the vendors to Mr. Doribeing interrupted at this moment by a visit from bey. When he appeared, the dealers in those Mrs. Pipchin, who usually brought her black wares fell off respectfully. The principal skirts to bear upon Paul just before dusk, once slipper and dog's-collar man-who considered or twice a week, Toots had no opportunity of himself a public character, and whose portrait improving the occasion: but it left so marked was screwed on to an artist's door in Cheapside an impression on his mind, that he twice re- -threw up his forefinger to the brim of his hat turned, aftei having exchanged the usual saluta- as Mr. Dombey went by. The ticket porter, if tions, to ask Mrs. Pipchin how she did. This he were not absent on a job, always ran the irascible old lady conceived to be a deeply- officiously before, to open Mr. Dombey's office devised and long-meditated insult, originating in door as wide as possible, and hold it open, with the diabolical invention of the weak-eyed young his hat off, while he entered. man down-stairs against whom she accordingly The clerks within were not a whit behindhand lodged a formal complaint with Doctor Blimber in their demonstrations of respect. A solemn that very night; who mentioned to the young hush prevailed as Mr. Donmbey passed through man that if he ever did it again, he should be the outer office. The wit of the Counting-house obliged to part with him. became, in a moment, as mute as the row of 88 DOMBEY AND SON. leathern fire-buckets hanging up behind him. first step; Mr. Morfin, in his own office, was Such vapid and flat daylight as filtered through the second. Each of these gentlemen occupied the ground-glass windows and sky-lights, leaving a little chamber like a bath-room, openingfrom a black sediment upon the panes, showed the the'passage outside Mr. Dombey's door. Mr. books and papers, and the figures bending over Carker, as Grand Vizier, inhabited the room them, enveloped in a studious gloom, and aq that was nearest to. the Sultan. Mr. Marfin, as much abstracted, in appearance, from the world an officer of inferior state, inhabited the room without, as if they were.assembled at the bottom that was nearest to the clerks. of the sea; while a moildy little strong-room in The gentleman last mentioned was' a cheerfulthe obscure -perspective, where a shaded lamp looking, hazel-eyed, elderly bachelor; gravely was always burning, might have represented the attired, as to his upper man, in black; and as to cavern of some ocean monster, looking on with his legs, in pepper-and-salt colour. His dark a red eye at these mysteries of the deep. hair was just touched here and there with specks When Perch, the messenger, whose place was of grey, as though the tread of Time had splashed on a little bracket, like a time-piece, saw Mr. it: and his whiskers were' already white. He Dombey come: in-or rather, when he felt that had a mighty respect for. Mr. Dombey, and renhe was coming, for he had usually an instinctive'dered hitn due homage; but as:he was of a sense of his approach-he hurried into Mr. genial temper himself, and-never wholly at his Dombey's room, stirred the fire, quarried fresh ease in that stately presence, he was disquieted coals from the bowels of the coal-box,-hung the' by no jealousy of the many; conferences enjoyed newspaper to air upon the fender, put the chair by Mr. Carker, and felt a secret. satisfaction in ready, and the'screen in its place, and was round having duties:to discharge'which rarely exposed upon his heel on the instant-of-;Mr. Dombey's him to be singled out for such:distinction. He entrance, to take his great-coat and hat, and was a great musical, amateur in his way —after hang thorm up. Then.Perch took the news- business; and had a paternal: affection for his paper, and gave it a turn or two in his hands violoncello, which: was once in every week transbefore the fire,'and laid it,. deferentially, at ported from Islington, his place of abode, to a Mr. Dombey's elbow. And so.little objection certain club-room hard by the Bank, where had Perch to doing deferential in the last degree, quartets of the most tormenting and excruciating that if he might have laid himself at Mr. Dom- nature were executed every Widnesday evening bey's feet, or might have called him by some bya- private party. Mr. Carker:was a gentleman such title as used to. be- bestowed upon the thirty-eight or: forty years old, f.a florid comCaliph Haroun Alraschid, he would have been plexion, and with.two unbroken rows of glistenall the better pleased, ing teeth, whose regularity and wrhiteness were As this honour would have been- an.innova- quite distressing. It was imipssible to escape tion and an experiment, Perch was fain to con- the observation of them,, for he-shQwed.them tent himself by expressing as well as he could; whenever-he spoke; afd,bore- so wide a smile in his manner, You are the-:Light of my Eyes. upon -his co.untenance (a - snile, however, very You are the Breath of my'Soul. You are the' rarely indeed extending beyond his mouth), that Commander of the Faithful- Perch-! With this there was'something in it: like-the snarl of a cat. imperfect happiness to cheer him, he would shut'Heaffected a stiff, white cravat, afer the example the door softly, walk away on tiptoe, and leave of his principal, and was always closely buttoned il, great chief to be stared at, through:: a dome- up and tightly dressed. His: manner towards shaped window in the leads,"by ugly chimney- Mr. Dombey was deeply conceived and perpots and backs of houses, and especially by the fectly expressed. -He was familiar with him, in bold window of a hair-cutting saloon on a first ihe very extremity of -his sense of the distance floor, where a waxen effigy, bald as a Mussulman -between; them. ":Mr. Dombey, to a man in in the morning, and covered, after eleven o'clock your position from a man in mine, there is no in the day, with luxuriant hair and whiskers in show of subservience, compatible with the transthe latest Christian fashion, showed him the action of business between us, that I should wrong side of its head for ever. think sufficient. I frankly tell you, sir, I give it Between Mr. Dombey and the common world, up altogether. I feel that I could not satisfy as it was accessible through the medium of the my own mind; and Heaven knows, Mr. Dom-,outer office-.to which Mr. Dombey's presence bey, you can afford to dispense with the endeain his own room may be said to have struck like vour." If he had carried these words about damp, or cold' air-there were two degrees of with him, printed on a placard, and had condescent, Mr. Carker, in his own office, was the stantly offered it to Mr. Pombey's perusal on MR. CARKER THE JUNIOR. g9 the breast of his coat, he could not have. been in station. The younger brother's post was on more explicit than he was.. the top of the official ladder;..the elder brother's This was Carker the manager. Mr. Carker at the bottom. The elder brother never gained the junior, Walter's friend, was his brother; two a stave, or raised his foot to mount one. Young or three years older than he, but widely removed. men passed above his head, and rose and rose; I_ I - "YOU RESPECT NOBOIY, CARKER, I THINK," SAID MR. DOAIBEY. "NO?" INQUIRED CARKEA, WITH ANOTHER WIDE AND MOST FELINE SHOW OF HIS TEETH. but he was always at the bottom. He was quite room soon after his arrival one day: with a resigned to, occupy that low condition: never bundle of papers in his hand. complained of it: and certainly.never hoped to " How'do you do, Carker?" said Mr. Dombey, escape from it. rising from his chair, and standing with his back "How do you do this morning?" said Mr. to the fire. " Have you anything there for me?" Carker the tnanager, entering Mr, Dombey's I don't know tliat I need trouble you," re 9p DOMBE Y AND SONAr turned Carker, turning over the papers in his Mr. Dombey shook his head with supreme hand. " You have a committee to-day at three, indifference. you know." "It's no very precious appointment," observed "And one at three, three-quarters," added Mr. Carker, taking up a pen with which to Mr. Dombey. indorse a memorandum oh the back of the paper. "Catch you forgetting anything!" exclaimed "I hope he may bestow it oni some orphan Carker, still turning over his papers. " If Mr. nephew of a musical friend. It may perhaps Paul inherits your memory, he'll be a troublesome stop his fiddle-playing, if he has a gift that way. customer in the House. One of you is enough." Who's that? Come in!" "You have an' accurate memory of your own," "I beg your pardon, Mr. Carker. I didn't know said Mr. Dombey. you were here, sir," answered Walter, appearing "Oh! I" returned the manager. "It's the with some letters in his hand, unopened, and only capital of a man like me." newly arrivedl. "Mr. Carker the junior, sir — Mr. Dombey did not look less pompous, or at At the mention of this nrame, Mr.. Carker the all displeased, as he stood leaning against the manager was, or affected to be touched to the chimney-piece, surveying his (of course uncon- quick with shame and humiliat~in. He cast his scious) clerk from head tofoot. The stiffness eyes full on Mr. Dombey with, an altered and and nicety-of Mr. Carker's dress, and a certain apologetic look, abased them on the ground, arrogance of manner, either natural to him or. and renained for a moment without speaking. imitated from a pattern not far off, gAve great I thought, sir," he said suddenly and angrily, additional effect to his humility. Hei:Semed turning on Walter, "that you had Ibeen before. a man who would contendagainst thpower -reqiiested not to drag Mr. Carker the junior that vanquished him, if he coii]d, but who was into your. conversation." utterly borne down by the greatness and supe-" I bieg your pardon," returned Walter. "I riority of Mr. Dombey. was only going to say that Mr. Carker the junior "Is Morfin here? " asked, Mr. Dombey after had told me he believed you were gone out, or I a short pause, during which Mr. Carker had should not have knocked at the door when you been fluttering his papers, and muttering little were engaged with Mr. Dombey. These are abstracts of their contents to himself. letters for Mr. Dombey,. sir." "Morfin's here," he -ansered:, looking up "ery well,sir," returned' Mr. Carker tne with his widest and most sudden smile; " hum- manager, pluking them sla"ply fr6a his, hand. min, musical recollections —of his last night's "Go about your business;' quartet party, I stppose —through' the walls But, in taking them with so little ceremony, between us, and driving me half mad. I wish Mr. Carker dropped one- 0o the fioor, and did he'd make a bonfire of his violoncello, and burn not see what he had done;, neither did Mr. his music-books init." Dombey observe the letter lying near.his feet. "You respect nobody, Carker, I think," said Walter hesitated. for a moment, thinking that Mr. Dombey. one or other of them would notice it but find"No?" inquired Carker, with another wide ing that neither did, he stopped, came back, and most feline show of his teeth. "Well- Not picked it up, and laid it himself 0on Mr. Dommany people, I believe. I wouldnIt answer, bey's desk. The letters were post letters; and perhaps," he murmured, as if he were onlv think- it happened that the one in question was Mrs. ing it, "for more thani one." Pipchin's regular report, directed as usual-for A dangerous quality, if real; and a not less Mrs. Pipchin was but an indifferent penwomandangerous one, if feigned. But Mr. Dombey by Florence. Mr. Dombey, having his attention hardly seemed to think so, as he still stood with silently called to this letter by Walter, started his back to the fire, drawn up to his full height, and looked fiercely at him, as if he believed that and looking at his head clerk with a dignified he had purposely selected it from all the rest. composure, in which there seemed to lurk a "You can leave the room, sir!" said Mr. stronger latent sense of power than usual. Dombey haughtily.. "Talking of Morfin," resumed Mr. Carker, He crushed the.letter in his hand; and, havtaking out one paper from the rest, "he. reports ing watched Walter out at the door, put it in his a junior dead in' the agency at Barbadoes, and pocket without breaking the seal. proposes to reserve.a passage in the -Son and " You want somebody to send to the West Heir-she'll sail iii a'month or so-for the Indies, you were saying," observed Mr. Dombey successor. You don't care who goes, I suppose? hurriedly. Ve have nobody of that sort here." "Yes," replied Carker. A42 OPiVZWVG (A ZO NG AY O.t P Ti) PORk WALT 2E. "Send young Gay." away too, Walter felt that-'his lingering any "Good, very good indeed. Nothing easier," longer would be an unpardonable intrusionsaid Mr. Carker without any show of surprise, especially as he had nothing to say-and thereand taking up the pen to re-indorse the letter as.fore walked out quite confounded. coolly as he had done before. "'.Send young Going along the passage, with the: mingled Gay."' consciousness and helplessness of a dream, he "Call him back," said Mr, Dombey. heard Mr. Dombey's door shut again as Mr, Mr. Carker was quick to do so, and Walter.Carker came out: and immediately afterwards was quick to return.; that. gentleman called to him. " Gay," said Mr. Dombe, turning a little t " Bring your friend Mr. Carker the junior to look at him over his shoulder, " here is a- " my room, sir, if you please." "An opening," said Mr. Carker, with his Walter went to the outer office, and apprised mouth stretched to the utmost. Mr. Carker the junior of his errand, who accord"In the West Indies. At Barbadoes. I am ingly came out from beind a partition where he going to send you," said Mr. Dombey, scorning sat alone in one corner,.and returned with him tO embellish the bare truth, " t fill a junior to the. toon of- Mr. Carker the manager. Situation in the counting-house at Batbadoest That gentleman was standing *ith his back to Let your uhcle know frdoim me that I have chose' the fire, and his hands under his coat-tails, lookyta.t go to the West Indies." ng over Jis white'cravat, as unpromisingly as. Walters breath twas s completely taken away Mr. Dombey himself could have looked. He by his astonishtent, that he could hardly find received them without anychange in his attitude enough for the repetition of the words " West or softening of his harsh and black expression: Indies"' merely signing to Walter to close the door. "Somebody mlst go," said Mr. Dombey,' John Carker," said the manager, when this Band you' are young and healthy, and your was done, turning suddenly upon his brother, uncle's circumstances are not good. Tell your with his two rows of teeth bristling as if he would uncle' that you are appointed. You will not go have. bitten him, "what is the league between yet. There.will be an interval of a month-or you and this young man, in virtue of which I two, perhaps." am haunted and hunted by the mention of your "Shall I remain there, sir?" inquired Walter. name? Is it not enough for you,'John Carker, "Will you remain there, sir!" repeated Mr. that I am your near relation, and can't detach Dombey, turning a little -more round towards myself from that-"' him. "What do "ou mean? What do'es:he "Say disgrace, James," interposed the other mean, Carker?" in a low voice, finding that he stammered for a "LiVe there, sir?" faltered Walter. word. "You meant it, and have reason. say "Certainly," returned Mr. Dombey. disgrace." Walter bowed. "From that disgrace," assented his brother "That's all," said Mr. Dombey, resumini his withkeen emphasis, "but is the fact to be blurted letters. "You will explain to him in good time out and trumpeted, and proclaimed continually about the usual outfit, and so forth, Carker. of in the presence, of the very House? In moments course. He needn't.wait, Carker." of confidence, too? Do you tlink your name "You. needn't wait, Gay," observed Mr. Car- is calculated to harmonise in this place with ker;. bare to the gums. trust and: onfidence, John Carker?" "Unless," said Mr. Dombey, stopping in his "No," returned the other.'" No, James. God reading without looking off the letter, and seem- knows I have no such" thought." ing to listen-" unless he has anything to say." "What is your. thought, then-?" said his' No, sir," returned Walter, agitated and con- brother, " and why do you thrust yourself in my fused; and almost stunned, as an infinite variety way? Haven't you injured me enough already?" of pictures presented themselves to his mind.; I have never injured you, James. wilfully." among-which Captain Cuttle, in his glazed "You are my brother," said the Iopaeer. hat, transfixed with astonishment at Mrs. Mac- " That's injury enough." Stinger's, and his uncle bemoaning his loss in "I wish I could'undo it, James." the little back-parlour, held prominent places. "I wish you could and would." " I hardly know-!I-I am much obliged, sir." During this conversation, Walter had. looked "He needn't wait, Carker," said Mr. Dombey. from one brother to the other with pain and And as Mr. Carker —again echoed the words, amazement. He who:was the senior in years, and also collected his papers as if he were going and junior in the House, stood, with his eyes 92 DOMBE Y AND SON cast upon the ground, and his head bowed, strong constraint, arid weakened by bodily suf~ humbly listening to the reproaches of the other. fering, he might have stood before the execuThough these were rendered very bitter by the.tioner. tone and look with which they were accom- Generous and.quick in all his emotions, and panied, and by the presence of Walter, whom. regarding himself as the innocent occasion of they so much surprised and shocked, he entered, these taunts, Walter now struck in with all the no other protest against them than by slightly earnestness he felt. raising his right hand in a deprecatory manner, "Mr. Carker," he said, addressing himself to as if he would have said, " Spare me I" So, had the manager, "indeed, indeed, this'is my fault they been' blows, and he a brave man, under solely. In a kind of heedlessness "for:which I UDURING THIS CONVERSATION. WALTER HAD LOOKED FROM ONE BROTHER- TO THE OTHER WITH PAIN AND AMAZEMENT." cannot blame myself enough, I have, I have no felt an interest in Mr. Carker ever since I have doubt, mentioned Mr. Carker the junior'much been here, and have' hardly been able'to help oftener than was necessary; and have allowed speaking of him sometimes, when I have thought, his name sometimes to slip through my' lips,' of him so much!" when'it was against your express wish. But.it Walter said this from his soul, and with the has been my own mistake, sir. We have never'very breath of' honour. For he looked upon exchanged- ore word upon the subject-very the bowed head, and the'downcast eyes,.and few, indeed, on any subject.. And it has not upraised hand, and thought,." I: have felt it; and been," added Walter after a moment's pause, why should I not avow it in. behalf of this. un"all heedlessness on my part, sir; for I have friended, broken man'?" TWO BROTHERS. R3 "In truth, you have avoided me, Mr. Carker," some cruel weapon actually stabbed him as he said Walter, with the tears rising to his eyes; so spoke.: "I imagined all this when he was a boy. true was his compassion. "I know it, to my -I'believedit. Itwas a truth tome. I saw him disappointment and:regret.:When'I first came'lightly walking on- the edge of an unseen gulf here,-and ever since, I am sure I-have tried to where so many others walk with equal gaiety, be as much your friend as one of my age could and from which-" presume to be; but it has been of no use." " The old excuse," interrupted his brother as "t And observe," said the manager, taking him he stirred the fire. "So many.' Go on.. Say, so up quickly, "it-will be of still less use,.Gay, if'many fall." you persist'in' forcing Mr. John, Carker's name " From which ONE traveller fell," returned the on people's attention. That is not the way to other,." who'set forward on his way, a boy like, befriend Mr. John Carker. Ask him if he thinks him; and missed his footing more and more, and it is." slipped a' little and a little lower, and went "It is no service to me," said the brother. on'stumbling still, until he fell headlong, and " It only.leads- to such a conversation as the found himself below, a shattered man. Think present, which I need not say I could have well what I suffered when'I watched:hat' boy." spare'd.:- -No one' can be a: better friend to me:' "You have only; yourself'to thank for it," he. spoke here'very' distinctly' s if he would'i- returned the brother. press it upon Walter: "than' m' forgetting me, "Only myself" he assented with a sigh. I and'leaving me to go my way, unquestioned and don't seek to divide the blame or. shame.'fnmo~tioced-''''i;' " You have divided the shame, James Carker';.'Your: mem'ory:n.'ot -being; retentive, Gay, of'muttered thropgh'.,his teeth. And..through so what. you are told by others,": said Mri. Carker many and such close teeth he.couldmutter well.'the manager warming- himself: with reat and "Ah, James returned his broiter,. speaking iricreased "-satisfaction; "'I-thought it well that for'the first time in'an accenrt of reproach, and you should be.told this from the best authority," seeming,..by the sond of his voice; to have nodding.towards his rotlier.' " You. -are not covered his face with.his hands, I Ihave been, likely to forget it now, I hope. That's ally Gay..since then, a useful foil to you. Yoft have trodYo'ui-cango- " den-. on me freely, in yotr climbing up Don't Walter passed out' at the door,' and' was about spurn me with your heel:to6 close it:after him, when, hearing theyoiCe of. A silence ensued: After a time, Mr. Carker,'~. ~' &,,~;,. wh:.,,;,hearink:,h - ~...:-: a,':o: heirothers again,: and'also the- mentton of his the manager was heard rustling among his papers, own'name"-h ie, stood' irresolutely, withiis Kand as if.he had resolved to. bring the intetview to a ic'poi. thiicik,' and the.:d'oor ajar, u ancrtai conlusion. At the same time'his brother withihetler. to return or go away. In this position drew nearer to thedoor. ie could notIhiep - overhearing what:followed:.. -':-i'" That's- all," he said:'" I- watched -hirf with "' lilnck of' me:more.leiently if you.can such trembiing and such fear, as was some little Jam'ies,"'saii' J.onfi'- C'ar.ker -"whlen tell ment tell u I u' to.me until' he passed the. place have had-hiow. could I help havin'g,- with' my w.'ere I' first fell'; and"' then, though' h had been history written here? " strikinghimself upon the'his' father I' believe I never could havethanked breast-" my whoe'heart a:wakened by my ob: God more devoutly.' I didn t dare to warn him, servation of tdiat boy,; Walter: Gay. I saw in and'advise him: bUt, if -I had see'in direct cause, him..when- hefirst:came ere, almost my other I would have shown him my example. I was self.". afraid to be seen speaking-with. him, lest it "-Your other self!-" repeated the manager should be thought I did him harm, and tefnpted disdainfully. him to evil and corrupted him:' or lest I really "Not as I am, but as I was when I first came should.' There may be such contagion in me; here too; as sanguine, giddy, youthful, inex-' I don't know.- Piece out my history, in conperienced; flushed with the' same restless and nection with young.Walter: Gay; and what he adventurous fancies; and full of the same quali- has made. me feel;. andthink of me more leni' ties,.fraught with'the' same capacity of leading ently, James, if you can." -on to good or evil."., With these.words he came out to where Walter "I' hope not," said his brother, with some' was standing..: He turned a little paler when he hidden and sarcastic meaning in his tone. saw him there, and paler yet when Walter caught "You' strik'e me sharply; and your hand is him by the hand, and said in a whisper: steady,.and' your thrust is very deep," returned "Mr. Carker, pray let me thank you!' Let the other, speaking (or soWalter thought) as if me say how much I feel for you! How sorryI 94 DOM'E~ Y AND SON. am to have been the unhappy cause of all this! bled way. Then, observing him at his work,.HowI-almost look upon you now as my pro- and feeling how resolved he evidently was that tector and guardian! How very, very much I no further intercourse should arise between them, feel obliged to you and pity you!" said Walter, and thinking again and again on all he had seet. squeezing both his hands, and'hardly knowing, and heard that morning in so short a time, in in his agitation, what he did or said. connection with the history of both the Carkers, Mr. Morfin's room being close at hand and Walter could hardly believe that he was under empty, and the door wide open, they moved orders for the West Indies, and would soon be thither by one accord: the passage being seldom lost to Uncle Sol and Captain Cuttle, and to free from some one passing to or fro. When glimpses:few and far between of Florence Domthey were there, and Walter saw in Mr. Carker's bey-no, he meant Paul-and to all he loved, face some traces of the emotion within, he almost and liked, and looked for in his daily life. felt as if he had never seen the face before; it But it was true, and the, news had already was so greatly changed. penetrated to the outer office; for while he sat "Walter," he said, laying his hand on his with a heavy heart, pondering on these things,. shoulder, " I am far removed from you, and may and resting his head upon his arm, Perch, I ever be! Do you know what I am?" the messenger, descending from his mahogany "What you are?" appeared to hang on bracket, and jogging. his, elbow, begged his Walter's lips as he regarded him attentively. pardon, but wished to say in his ear, Did he " It was begun," said Carker, "before my think he could arrange to send home to England twenty-first birthday-led up to long before, a jar of preserved ginger, cheap, for Mrs. Perch's but not begun till near that time. I had robbed own outing, in the course of her recovery from them when I came of age. I robbed them after- her next confinement? wards. Before my twenty-second birthday, it was all found out; and then, Walter, from all imen's society, I died." Again his last few words hung'tremblin upon CHAPTER XIV. Walter's lips, but he could neither utter them, nor any of his own. PAUL GROWS MORE AND MORE OLD-FASHIONED, AND' "The House was very good to me. May GOES HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Heaven reward the old man for his forbearance!' This one, too, his son, who was then newly in H % HEN the Midsummer vacation apthe firm, where I. had held great trust. I was proached, no indecent manifestacalled into that room which is now his-I have f f. tions of joy were exhibited by the never entered it since-and came out what you, e. leaden-eyed young gentlemen asknow. me. For many years I sat in my present sembled at Doctor Blimber's. Any seat, alone as now, but then a known and'such violent expression as "breakrecognised example to the. rest. They were all, ing up " would have been quite inapplimerciful to me, and I lived. Time has altered cable to that polite establishment. The that part of my poor expiation; and I. think, young gentlemen oozed away, semi-annually, to except the three heads of the House, there is no their own homes; but they never broke up. one here who knows my story rightly. Before They would have scorned the action. the little boy grows up, and has it told to him, Tozer, who was constantly galled and tormy. corner. may be vacant. I would rather that mented by a starched white cambric neckerchief, it miight be so! This is the only change to me which he wore at' the express desire of Mrs. since that day, when I left all youth, and hope, Tozer,. his parent, who, designing him for the and good men's company behind me in that Church, was of opinion that he couldn't be in room.. God bless you, Walter! Keep youand that forward state of preparation too'soonall dear to you,'in honesty, or strike them Tozer said, indeed, that choosing between two dead!" evils, he thought he would rather stay where he Some recollection of his trembling from.head was than go home. However inconsistent this to foot, as if with excessive cold, and of-his declaration might appear with that passage in bursting into tears, was all that Walter could'Tozer's Essay on the subject, wherein he had add to this, when he tried to recall exactly what observed " that the thoughts of home, and all had passed between them its recollections, awakened in his mind the most When Walter saw him next, he was bending pleasing emotions of' anticipation and delight," over his desk; in his old silent, drooping, hum-.and had also likened himself to a Roman MRS. PIPCHIN FLIES AT MR. TOOTS. 95 general, flushed with a recent victory over the It was perfectly understood between Paul and Iceni, or laden with Carthaginian spoil, advanc- Mr. Toots that they were intimate friends, noting within a few hours' march of the Capitol, withstanding their distance in point of years and presupposed, for the purposes of the simile, to be station. As the vacation approached, and Mr. the dwelling-place of Mrs. Tozer, still it was very Toots breathed harder and stared oftener in sincerely made.'For it seemed that Tozer had' Paul's society than he had done before, Paul a dreadful uncle, who not only volunteered ex- knew that he meant he. was sorry they were aminations of him, in the holidays, on abstruse going to lose sight of each other, and felt very ppints, but twisted innocent events and things, much obliged to him for his patronage and good and wrenched them to the same fell purpose. opinion. So that if this uncle took him to the play, or, on It was even understood by Doctor Blimber, a similar pretence of kindness, carried him to see Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber, as well as by a'giant, or.a dwarf, or a conjurer, or anything, the young gentlemen in general, that Toots had Tozer knew he had read up- some classical somehow constituted himself protector and allusion to the subject beforehand, and was guardian of Dombey, and the circumstance bethrown into a state of mortal apprehension; not came so notorious, even to Mrs. Pipchin, that foreseeing where he might break out, or' what the good old'creature cherished feelings of bitterauthority he might not quote against him. ness and jealousy against Toots; and, in the As to Briggs, his father made no show of sanctuary of her own home, repeatedly deartifice about it. He never would leave him nounced him as "a chuckle-headed noodle." alone. So numerous and severe were the mental Whereas the innocent Toots had no more idea trials of that unfortunate youth in vacation-time, of awakening Mrs. Pipchin's wrath than he had that the friends of the family (then resident near of any other definite possibility or proposition. Bayswater, London) seldom approached the On the contrary, he was disposed to consider ornamental piece of water in Kensington Gar- her rather a remarkable character, with many dens without a vague expectation of- seeing points of interest about her. For this reason he Master Briggs's hat floating on the surface, and smiled, on her with so much urbanity, and asked an unfinished exercise 4ying on the bank. her how she did so often, in the course of her Briggs, therefore; was not at all sanguine on the visits to little Pa;l, that at last she one night subject of holidays;'and these two sharers of told him plainly she wasn't used to it, whatever little Paul's bedroom were so fair a-sample of he might think; and she could not and she the young gentlemen in general, that the most would not bear it, either from himself or any elastic among them contemplated the arrival other puppy then existing: at which unexpected of those festive periods with genteel resignation., acknowledgment of his civilities, Mr. Toots was It was far otherwise with little Paul.'Thd so alarmed that he secreted himself in a retired end of these first holidays was to witness his spot until she had gone. Nor did he ever again separation from Florence, but who ever looked face the doughty Mrs. Pipchin under Doctor forward to the end of holidays whose beginning Blimber's roof. was not yet come? Not Paul, assuredly. As They were within two or three weeks of the the happy time drew near, the lions and tigers holidays, when, one day, Cornelia Blimber called climbing up the bedroom walls became quite Paul into her room, and said,'; Dombey, I am tame and frolicsome. The grim, sly faces in the going to send home your analysis." squares and diamonds of the floor-cloth relaxed "Thank you, ma'am," returned Paul. and peeped out at him with less Wicked eyes. " You know what I mean, do you, Dombey? The grave old' clock had more of personal in- inquired Miss Blipber, looking hard at him terest in the tone of its formal inquiry; and'the through the spectacles. restless sea went rolling on all night, to the "No, ma'am," said Paul. sounding of a melancholy strain-yet it was "Dombey, Dombey," said Miss Blimber, " I pleasant too-that rose and fell with the waves,, begin to be afraid you are a sad boy..When and rocked him, as it were, to sleep.'you don't know the meaning of an expression, Mr. Feeder, B.A., seemed to think that he, why don't you seek for information?" too, would enjoy the holidays very much. Mr.'M; rs. Pipchin told me I wasn't to ask quesToots projected a life of holidays from that time tions," returned Paul. forth for, as he regularly informed Paul every "I must beg you not to mention Mrs. Pipchin day, it was his " last half" at Doctor Blimber's, to me on any account, Dombey," returned Miss and'he was going to begin to come into his pro- Bliinber. "I couldn't think of allowing it. The perty directly. course of study here is very far removed from 96 DOAMBE Y AND SON. anything of that sort. A repetition of such allu- spectacles towards the little. figure before her: sions would make it necessary for me to request "' that his abilities and inclinations are good, to hearwithout a mistake, before breakfast-time and that he has made as much progress as under to-morrow morning, from Verbum personale down the circumstances could have been expected. to simillima cygno." But it is to be lamented of this young gentleman "I didn't mean, ma'am- " began little that he is' singular (what is usually termed old. Paul. fashioned) in his character and conduct, and "I must trouble you not to tell me that you that, without presenting anything in either which didn't mean, if you please, Dombey," said Miss distinctly calls for reprobation, he is often very Blimber, who preserved an awful politeness in unlike other young gentlemen of his age and her admonitions. " That is a line of argument social position.' Now, Dombey," said Miss BlimI couldn't dream of permitting." ber, laying down the paper, " do you understand Paul felt it safest to say nothing at all, so he that?" only looked at Miss Blimber's spectacles. Miss "I think I do,,ma'am,"'said Paul. Blimber, having shaken her head at him gravely, "This analysis, you see, Dombey," Miss Blimreferred to a paper lying before her. ber continued, " is going to be sent home to "' Analysis of the character of P. Dombey.' your respected parent. It will naturally be very If my recollection serves me," said Miss Blimber, painful to him to find that you are singular in breaking off, "the word analysis, as opposed to your character and conduct. It is naturally synthesis, is thus defined by Walker:'The re- painful to us; for we can't like you, you know, solution of an object, whether of the senses or Dombey, as well as we could wish." of the intellect, into its first elements.' As op- She touched the child upon a tender point. posed.to synthesis, you observe. Now you He had secretly become more and more solicitous know what analysis is, Dombey." from day to day, as the time of his departure Dombey didn't seem to be absolutely blinded drew more near, that all the house should like by the light let in upon his intellect, but he him. For some hidden reason, very imperfectly made Miss Blimber a little bow. understood by himself-if understood at all"'Analysis,'" resumed'Miss Blimber, casting he felt a gradually increasing impulse of affection her eye over the paper,."' of the character of P. towards almost everything and everybody in the Dombey. I find that the natural capacity of place. He could not bear to think that they Dombey is extremely good: and that his general would be quite indifferent to him when he was disposition to study may be stated in an equal gone. He wanted them to remember-him ratio. Thus, taking eight as our standard and kindly; and he had made it his business even to highest number, I find these qualities in Dombey conciliate a great, hoarse, shaggy dog, chained stated each at six three-fourths!" up at the back of the house, who had previously Miss Blimber paused to see how Paul re- been the terror of his life: that even he might ceived this news. Being undecided whether six miss him when he wasino longer there. three-fourths meant six pounds fifteen,'or six-:Little thinking that in this he only showed,pence three farthings, or six foot three, or three- again the difference between himself and his quarters past six, or six somethings that he compeers, poor tiny Paul set it forth to Miss hadn't learnt yet, with three unknown something Blimber as well as he could, and begged her, in elses over, Paul rubbed his h'ands and looked despite of the official analysis, to have the goodstraight at Miss Blimber. It happened to answer ness to try and like him. To Mrs. Blimber, who as well as anything else he' could have done; had joined them, he preferred the same petition: and Cornelia proceeded. and when that lady could not forbear, even in "'Violence two. Selfishness two. Incllna- his presence, from giving utterance to her oftention to low company, as evinced in the case of a repeated opinion, that he was an. odd child, Paul ~person named Glubb,:originally seven, but since told her that he was sure she was quite right; reduced. Gentlemanly demeanour four, and that he thought it must be his bones, but he improving with advancing years.'. Now, what I didn't know; and'that he hoped she would overparticularly wish to call your attention to, Dom- look it, for he was fond of them all. bey,.is the general observation at the close of " Not so fond," said Paul, with a mixture of this analysis." timidity and perfect frankness, which was one of Paul set himself to follow it with great care. the most peculiar'and most'engaging qualities "' It may be generally observed of Dom- of the child, "not so fond as I am of Florence, bey,"' said Miss Blimber, reading in a loud of course; that could never be. You couldn't voice, and at every second word directing her expect that, could you, ma'am?" PAUL'S PRIVILEGES. 97 "Oh! the old-fashioned little soul!" cried ness, consequent on an unsuccessful attempt to Mrs. Blimber in a whisper. smoke avery blunt cigar: one of a bundle which "' But I like everybody here very much," pur- that young gentleman had covertly purchased sued Paul," and I should grieve to go away, and on the shingle from a most desperate smuggler, think that any one was glad that I was gone. or who had acknowledged, in confidence, that two didn't care." hundred pounds was the price set upon his Mrs. Blimber was now quite sure that Paul head, dead or alive, by the Custom House. It was the oddest child in the world; and when was a snug room, Mr. Feeder's, with his bed in she told the D.ctor what had passed, the Doctor another little room inside of it; and a flute, did not controvert his wife's opinion. But he which Mr. Feeder couldn't play yet, but was said, as he had said before, when Paul first came, going to make a point of learning, he said, hangthat study would do much; and he also said, as ing up over the fire-place. There were some books he had said on that occasion, "Bring him on, in it, too, and a fishing-rod; for Mr. Feeder said Cornelia! Bring him on!" he should certainly make a point of learning to Cornelia had always brought him on as vigor- fish when he could find time. Mr. Feeder had ously as she could; and Paul had had a hard amassed, with similar intentions, a beautiful little life of it. But, over and above the getting curly second-hand key-bugle, a chess-board and through his tasks, he had long had another pur- men, a Spanish Grammar, a set of sketching pose always present to him, and to which he materials, and a pair of boxing gloves. The art still held fast. It was, to be a gentle, useful, of self-defence Mr. Feeder said he should unquiet little fellow, always striving to secure the doubtedly make a point of learning, as he conlove and attachment of the rest; and though he sidered it the duty of every man to do; for it was yet often to be seen at his old post on the might lead to the protection of a female in disstairs, or watching the waves and clouds from tress. his solitary window, he was oftener found, too, But Mr. Feeder's great possession was a large among the other boys, modestly rendering them green jar of snuff, which Mr. Toots had brought some little voluntary service. Thus it came to down as a present, at the close of the last vacapass that, even among those rigid and absorbed tion; and for which he had paid a high price, young aichorites who mortified themselves be- as having been the genuine property of the neath the. roof of Doctor Blimber; Paul was an Prince Regent. Neither Mr. Toots nor Mr. object of general interest; a fragile little play- Feeder could partake of this or any other snuff, thing that they all liked, and that no one would even in the most stinted and moderate degree, have thought of treating roughly. But he could without being seized with convulsions of sneeznot change his nature, or rewrite the analysis; ing. Nevertheless, it was their great delight to and so they all agreed that Dombey was old- moisten a boxful with cold tea, stir it up on a fashioned. piece of parchment with -a paper knife, and deThere were some immunities, however, attach- vote themselves to its consumption then and ing to the character' enjoyed by no one else. there. in the course of which cramming of They could have better spared a newer-fashioned their noses, they endured surprising torments child, and that alone was much. When the with the constancy of martyrs: and, drinking others only bowed'to Doctor Blimber and family table beer at intervals, felt all the glories of dission retiring for the night, Paul would stretch out pation. his rhorsel of a hand, and boldly shake the Doc- To little Paul, sitting silent in their company,, tor's;: also Mrs. Blimber's, also Cornelia's. If and by the side of his chief patron, Mr. Toots, anybody was to be begged off from impending there was a dread charm in these reckless occapunishment, Paul was always the delegate. The sions; and when Mr. Feeder spoke of the dark weak-eyed young man himself had once con- mysteries of London, and told Mr. Toots that sulted him, in reference to a little breakage; of he was going to observe it himself closely in all glass and china. And it was darkly.rumoured its ramifications in the approaching holidays, that the butler,-regarding him with favour such and for that purpose had made arrangements to as that stern man had never shown before to board with two old maiden ladies at Peckham, mortal boy, had sometimes mingled porter with Paul regarded him as if he were the hero of his table beer to make'him strong. some book of travels or wild adventure, and was Over and above these extensive privileges, almost afraid of such a slashing person. Paul had free righi of entry to Mr. Feeder's Going into this room one evening ivhen' the room, from which apartment he had twice led holidays were very near, Paul found Mr. Feeder Mr. Toots into the open air in a state of faint- filling up the blanks in some printed letters. -L)OMIBEv ANP $p9N, 7, 7 93 DOMBEY AND SON. while some others, already filled up and strewn that by. little and little it sunk on Mr. Toots's before, him, were being folded aid sealed by knee;and rested there, as if it had no care to be Mr. Toots. Mr. Feeder said,'" Aha, Dombey, ever lifted up again. there you are, are you?"-for they were. always That was no reason why he should be deaf; kind to him, and glad to see him-and then said,' but he must have been, he thought, for,. by-andtossing one of the letters towards hiim, " And'by, he heard Mr. Feeder. calling in his ear, and there you are, too, Dombey. That's yours." gently shaking him to rouse his attention. And "Mine, sir?" said Paul.' when he raised his head, quite scared, and "Your invitation," returned Mr. Feeder. looked about him, he found that Doctor BlimPaul, looking at it, found, in copper-plate ber Jled come into the room;' and that the winprint, with the exception of his own name and dow was open,. and that his forehead'ias wet the date, which were in Mr. FeeAer's penmani- with' sprinkled water; though how all this had ship, that Doctor and Mrs. Blimber requested been done without lis knowledge was very the pleasure of Mr. P.. Dombey's companlaf ap curious indecd. early party on Wednesday evening tlie seven- "Ah! Come, come l That's well! How teenth instant; and that the hour was half-past is my little friend now?" said: Doctor Blimber seven o'clock; and that the object was qua- encouragingly. drilles. Mr. Toots also showed him, by hofding "Oh! quite -well, thank.you, sir," said up a companion sheet of paper, that Doctor and' Paul. Mrs. Blimber requested the pleasure of Mr. But there seemed to be something the matter Toots's company at aAi early party on Wedues- with the floor-. for'he couldn't stand upon it day evening the seventeenth instant, when the steadily; and with the walls too, for they were hour was half-past seven o'clock, and iwhen the -inclined to turn round and round, and could object was quadrilles. He also found, on only be stopped by being looked at very hard glancing at the table where Mr. Feeder sat, that indeed..Mr. Toots's head had the appearance the pleasure of Mr. Briggs's company, and of of being at once bigger and farther off than was Mr. Tozer's company, and of every young gentle- quite natural; and when he took Paul in his r.an's company, was requested.by Doctor and arms, to carry him up-stairs, Paul observed, Mrls. Blimber on the same genteel occasion, with astonishment, that the door was in quite a Mr.'Feeder then told him, to his great joy, different place from that in which he had exthat his sister was invited, and that it was a pected to find it, and almost thought,. at first, hilf-yearly event, and that, as the holidays began that Mr. Toots was going to walk straight up that day, he could go away with his sister after the,chimney.. the party, if he liked, which Paul interrupted It was very kind of Mr. Toots to carry him to him to say he would, like- very much. Mr. the top of the, house so tenderly; and Paul told Feeder then gave him to understand that he him that it was. But Mr. Toots said lie would woutld be expected to inform Doctor and Mrs. do a great deal more than that if he could; and, Blimber, in superfine small-hand, that Mr. P. indeed, he did more as it was: for he helped Dombey would be happy to have the honour of Paul to undress, and helped him to bed, in the waiting on them, in accordance with their polite kindest manner possible, and then sat down by invitation.' Lastly, Mr. Feeder said he had the bedside and chuckled very much; while.better not refer to the festive occasion in the Mr. Feeder, B.A., leaning over the bottom of hearing of Doctor and Mrs. Blimber; as these the bedstead, set.all,the little bristles on his preliminaries, and the whole of the arrangements, head bolt upright with his bony hands, and then were conducted on principles of classicality and made believe to spar at Paul with great science, high breeding; and that Doctor and Mrs. Blim- on account of his being all right again, which ber on the one hand, and the young gentlemen was so uncommonly facetious, and kind too in on the other, were supposed, in their scholastic Mr. Feeder, that Paul, not being able to make capacities, not to have the least idea of what was'up his mind whether it was best to laugh or cry in the wind. at him, did both at once. Paul thanked Mr. Feeder for these hints, and How Mr. Toots melted away, and Mr. Feeder pocketing his invitation, sat down orka stool by changed into Mrs. Pipchin, Paul never thought the side of Mr. Toots, as usual. But Paul's of' asking; neither was-he at all curious to head, which had long.been ailing.,more or less, know; but Wfhen he saw. Mrs. Pipchin standand was sometimes very heavy and painful, felt ing at the bdttom of the bediinstead of Mr. so uneasy that night that he was obliged to sup- Feeder, he'cried out, "Mrs. Pipchin, don't tell port it on his - hand.. And yet it drooped so,'Florence T" ACID9DLDJd Y OLD-VASY'1ONVe. D "Don't tell Florence what, my little Paul?" That, as the little fellow had set his heart on said Mrs. Pipchin, coming round to the bedside, parting with his schoolmates on the seventeenth, and sitting down in the chair. -it would be better to indulge the fancy if he "About me," said Paul. grew no. worse. That he was glad to hear, "No, no," said Mrs. Pipchin. from Mrs. Pipchin, that the little fellow would "What do you think I mean to do when I go to his friends in London on the eighteenth. grow up, Mrs. Pipchin?" inquired Paul, turning That he would write to Mr. Dombey when he his face towards her on his pillow, and resting should have gained a better knowledge of the his chin wistfully on his folded hands. case, and before that day. That there was no Mrs. Pipchin couldn't guess. immediate cause for-what? Paul lost that "I mean," said Paul, "to put my money all word..And that the little fellow'had a fine together in one bank, never try to get any more, mind, but was an old-fashioned boy. go away into the country with my darling What old fashion could that be, Paul wonFlorence, have a beautiful garden, fields, and dered with a palpitating heart, that was so woods, and live there with her all my life." visibly expressed in him; so plainly seen by so "Indeed!" cried Mrs. Pipchin. many people? "Yes," said Paul. That's what I mean to He could neither make it out, nor trouble do, when I —" He stopped and pondered himself long with the effort. Mrs. Pipchin was for a moment. again beside him, if she had ever been away (he Mrs. Pipchin's grey eye scanned his thought- thought she had gone out with the doctor, but ful face. it was all a dream, perhaps), and presently a " If I grow up," said Paul. Then he went on bottle and glass got into her hands magically, immediately to tell Mrs. Pipchin all about the and she poured out the contents for him. After party, Jabout Florence's invitation, about the that, he had some real good jelly, which Mrs. pride he would have in, the admiration that Blimber brought to him herself; and then he would be felt for her by all the boys, about their was so well, tl;at Mrs. Pipchin went home, at being so kind to him and fond of him, about his his urgent solicitation, and Briggs and Tozer being so fond of them, and about his being so came to bed. Poor Briggs grumbled terribly glad of it. Then he tqld Mrs. Pipchin about about his own analysis, which could hardly the analysis, and about his being certainly old: have discomposed him more if it had been a fashioned, and took Mrs.-Pipchin's opinion on chemical process; but he was very good to that point, and whether she knew why it.was, Paul, and so was Tozer, and. so were all the and what it meant. Mrs. Pipchin denied the rest, for they every one looked in before going fact altogether, as the shortest way of getting to bed, and said, "How are you now, Dombey?" out of the difficulty; but Paul was far from "Cheer up, little Dombey!" and so forth. satisfied with that reply, and looked so search- After Briggs had got into bed, he lay awake for ingly at Mrs. Pipchin for a truer answer, that a long time, still bemoaning his analysis, and she was, obliged to get up and look out of the saying he knew it was all wrong,, and they window'to avoid his eyes. couldn't have analysed a murderer worse, and There was a certain calm apothecary, who at- how would Doctor Blimber like it if his pocket tended at the establishment when any of the money depended on it? It was very easy, young gentlemen were ill, and somehow he got Briggs said, to make a galley-slave of a boy all into the room, and appeared at the bedside with the half-year, and then score him up idle; and Mrs. Blimber. How they came there, or how to crib two dinners a week out of his board, and long they had been there, Paul didn't know; then score him up greedy; but that wasn't but, when he saw them, he sat up in bed, and going to be submitted to, he believed, was it? answered all the apothecary's questions at full Oh! Ah! length, and whispered to him that Florence was Before the weak.eyed young man performed not to know anything about it if he pleased, and on the gong next morning, he came up-stairs to that he had set his mind upon her coming to Paul, and told him he was to lie still, which the party. He was very chatty with the apothe- Paul very gladly did. Mrs. Pipchin reappeared cary, and they parted excellent friends. Lying a little before the apothecary, and, a little after, down again with his eyes shut, he heard the the good young woman whom Paul had seen apothecary say, out of the room, and quite a cleaning the stove on that first morning (how long way off-or he dreamed it-that there was long ago it seemed now!) had brought him his a want of vital power (what was that? Paul breakfast. There was another consultation a wondered), and great constitutional weakness. long way off, or else Paul dreamed it again; I 0o jOMB3E y AND SON. and then the apothecary, coming back with gave him an account of that institution; and Doctor and Mrs. Blimber, said: also asked him, as a practical man, what he' Yes, I think, Doctor Blimber, we may release thought about King Alfred's idea of measuring this young gentleman from his books just now; time by the burning of candles; to which the the vacation being so very near at hand." workman replied, that he thought it would be " By all means," said Doctor Blimber.." My the ruin of the clock trade if it was to come up love, you will inform Cornelia, if you please." again. In fine, Paul looked on until the clock " Assuredly," said Mrs. Blimber. had quite recovered its familiar aspect, and reThe apothecary, bending down, looked closely sumed its sedate inquiry; when the workman, into Paul's eyes, and felt his head, and his putting away his tools in a long basket, bade pulse, and his heart, with so much interest and him good day, and went away. Though not care, that Paul said, "Thank you, sir." before he had whispered something on the door-' Our little friend," observed Doctor Blimber, mat to the footman, in which there was the "has never complained." phrase " old-fashioned "-for Paul heard it. "Oh no!" replied the apothecary. " He What could that old fashion be, that seemed was not likely to complain." to make the people sorry? What could it be? " You find him greatly better? " said Doctor Having nothing to learn now, he thought of Blimber.' this frequently; though not so often as he "Oh! He is greatly better, sir," returned might have done, if he had had fewer things to the apothecary. think of. But he had a great many; and was Paul had begun to speculate, in.his own odd always thinking, all day long. way, on the subject that might occupy the First, there was Florence coming to the party. apothecary's mind just at that moment; so Florence would see that the boys were fond of musingly had he answered the two questions of him; and that would make her happy. This Doctor Blia^,cr. But the apothecary happen- was his great theme. Let Florence once be ing to meet his little patient's eyes, as the latter sure that they were gentle and good to him, and set off on that mental expedition, and coming that he. had become a little favourite among instantly out of his abstraction with a cheer- them, and then she would always think of the ful smile, Paul smiled in return, and aban- time he had passed there, without being very doned it. sorry.. Florence might be all the happier, too, He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dream- for that, perhaps, when he came back. ing, and looking at Mr. Toots; but got up on When he came back! Fifty times a day his the next, and went down-stairs. Lo and be- noiseless little feet went up the stairs to his own hold, there was something the matter with the room, as he collected every book, and scrap, great clock; and a workman on a pair of steps and trifle that belonged to him, and put them had taken its face off, and was poking instru- all together there, down to the minutest things, ments into the works by the light of a candle! for taking home! There was no shade of coming This was a great event for Paul, who sat down back on little Paul; no preparation for it, or on the bottom stair, and watched the operation other reference to it, grew out of anything he attentively; now and then glancing at the clock thought or did, except this slight one in connecface, leaning all askew against the wall hard by, tion with his sister. On the contrary, he had to and feeling a little confused by a suspicion that think of everything familiar to him, in his conit was ogling him. templative moods and in his wanderings, about The workman on the steps was very civil; the house, as being to be parted with; and and as he said, when he observed Paul, "How hence the many things he had to think of, all do you do, sir?" Paul got into conversation day long. with him, and told him he hadn't been quite He had to peep into those rooms up-stairs, well lately. The ice being thus broken, Paul and think how solitary they would be when he asked him a multitude of questions about chimes was gone, and wonder through how many silent and clocks: as, whether people watched up in days, weeks, months, and years they would the lonely church steeples by night to make them continue just as grave and undisturbed. He had strike, and how the lIlls were rung when people to think-would any other child (old-fashioned, died, and whether those were different bells from like himself) stray there at any time, to whom wedding bells, or only sounded dismal in the the same grotesque distortions of pattern and fancies of the living. Finding that his new furniture would manifest themselves; and would acquaintance was not very well informed on the anybody tell that boy of little Dombey, who had subject of the curfew bell of ancient days, Paul been there once? PREPARATIONS FOR THE PARTY. 1OI He had to think of a portrait on the stairs, from hour to hour, and from day to day; and which always looked earnestly after him as he little Dombey was caressed by every one. Doctor went away, eyeing it over his shoulder; and Blimber was so particular about him, that he which, when he passed it in the company of requested, Johnson to retire from the dinnerany one, still seemed to gaze at him, and not at table one day, for having thoughtlessly spoken his companion. He had much to think of, in to him as "poor little Dombey;" which Paul association with a print that hung up in another thought rather hard and severe, though he had place, where, in the centre of a wondering flushed at the moment, and wondered why group, one figure that he knew, a figure with a Johnson should pity him. It was the more light about its, head-benignant, mild, and mer- questionable justice, Paul thought, in the Doctor, ciful-stood pointing upward. from his having certainly overheard that great At his own bedroom window. there were crowds authority give his assent, on the previous evenof thoughts that mixed with these, and came on, ing, to the proposition (stated by Mrs. Blimber) one upon another, one upon another, like the that poor dear little Dombey was more oldrolling waves. Where those -wild birds lived, fashioned than ever. And now it was that Paul that were always hovering out at sea in troubled began to think it must surely be old-fashioned weather; where the clouds rose, and first began; to be very'thin, and light, and easily tired, and whence the wind issued on its rushing flight, and soon disposed to lie down anywhere and rest; where it stopped; whether the spot where he for he couldn't help feeling that these were more and Florence had so often sat, and watched, and andtmore his habits every day. talked about these things, could ever be exactly At last the party-day arrive; and Doctor as it used to be without them;'whether it could Blimber said at breakfast, "Gentlemen, we will ever be the same to Florence, if he were in resume our studies on the twenty-fifth of next some distant place, and she were sitting' there month." Mr. Toots immediately threw off his alone. allegiance, and put on'his ring: and mentioning He had to think, too, of Mr. Toots, and-Mr. the Doctor in casual conversation shortly afterFeeder,'B.A.; of all the boys; and of Doctor wards, spoke of him as "Blimber!" This act Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber; of of freedom inspired the older pupils with admirahome, and of his aunt and Miss Tox; of his tion and envy; but the younger spirits were father, Dombey and Son, Walter with the poor appalled, and seemed to marvel that no beam old uncle who had got the money he wanted, fell down and crushed him. and the' gruff-voiced captain with the iron hand. Not the least allusion was made to the cereBesides all this, he had a number of little visits monies of the evening, either at breakfast or at to pay in the course of the day; to the school- dinner-; but there was a bustle in the house all room, to Doctor Blimber's study, to Mrs. day, and, in the course of his perambulations, Blimber's private apartment, to Miss Blimber's, Paul made acquaintance with various strange and to the dog. For he was free of the whole benches and candlesticks, and met a harp in a house now, to range it as he chose; and in his green great-coat standing on the landing outside desire to part with everybody on affectionate the drawing-room door. There was something terms, he attended, in his way, to them all. queer, too, about Mrs.' Blimber's head at dinnerSometimes he found places in books for Briggs, time, as if she had screwed her hair up too who was always losing them; sometimes he tight; and though Miss Blimber showed a gracelooked up words in dictionaries for other young ful bunch of plaited hair on each temple, she gentlemen who were in extremity; sometimes seemed to have her own little curls in paper he held skeins of silk for Mrs. Blimber to wind; underneath, and in a playbill, too; for Paul read sometimes he put Cornelia's desk to rights; "Theatre Royal" over one of her. sparkling sometimes he would even creep into the Doctor's spectacles, and " Brighton " over the other. study, and, sitting on the carpet near his learned There was a grand array of white waistcoats feet, turn.the globes softly, and go round the and cravats in the young gentlemen's bedrooms world, or take a flight among the far-off stars. as evening approached; and such a smell of In those days immediately before the holi- singed hair,.that Doctor Blimber sent up the days, in short, when the other young gentlemen footman with his compliments, and wished to were labouring for dear life through a general know if the house was on fire. But it was only resumption of the studies of the whole half-year, the hairdresser curling the young gentlemen, Paul was such a privileged pupil as had never and overheating his tongs in the ardour of been seen in that house before. He could business. hardly believe it himself; but his liberty lasted When Paul was dressed-which was very soon 102 DOMZBEY AND SOV. done, for he felt unwell and drowsy, and was whom the question seemed perplexing, suggested not able to stand about it very long-he went "Cook'em." But Mr. Baps did not appear to down into the drawing-room; where he found think that would do. Doctor Blimber pacing up and down the room Paul now slipped away from the cushioned full dressed, but with a dignified and uncon- corner of a sofa, which had been his post of cerned demeanour, as if he thought it barely observation, and went down-stairs into the teapossible that one or two people might drop in room to be ready for Florence, whom he had by-and-by. Shortly afterwards Mrs. Blimber not seen for nearly a fortnight, as he had reappeared, looking lovely, Paul thought; and mained at Doctor Blimber's on the previous attired in such a number of skirts that it was Saturday and Sunday, lest he should take cold. quite an excursion to walk round her. Miss Presently she came: looking so beautiful in her Blimber came down soon after her mamnma; a simple ball dress, with her fresh flowers in her little squeezed in appearance, but very charming. hand, that when she knelt down on the ground Mr. Toots and' Mr. Feeder were the next to take Paul round the neck and kiss him (for arrivals. Each of these gentlemen brought his' there was no one there but his friend and another hat in his hand, as if he lived somewhere else; young woman waiting to serve out the tea), lie and when they were announced by the butler, -could hardly make up his mind to let her go Doctor Blimber said, "Ay, ay, ay! God bless again, or take away her bright and loving eyes my soul!" and seemed extremely glad to see from his face. them. Mr. Toots was one blaze of jewellery "But what is the matter, Floy?" asked Paul, and buttons; and he felt the circumstance so almost sure that he saw a tear there. strongly, that when he had shaken hands with "Nothing, darling, nothing," returned Flo. the Doctor, and had bowed to Mrs. Blimber rence. and Miss Blimber, he took Paul aside, and said, Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger " What do you think of this, Dombey?" -and it was a tear. "Why, Floy! " said he. But, notwithstanding this modest confidence "We'll go home together, and I'll nurse you, in himself, Mr. Toots appeared to be involved in a love," said Florence. good deal of uncertainty whether, on the whole, "Nurse me!" echoed Paul. it was judicious to button the bottom button of Paul couldn't understand what that had to do his waistcoat, and whether, on a calm revision with it, nor why the two young women looked of all the circumstances, it was best to wear his on so seriously, nor why Florence turned away wristbands turned up or'turned down. Ob- her face for a moment, and then turned it back, serving that Mr. Feeder's were turned up, Mr. lighted up again with smiles. Toots turned his up; but the wristbands of the "Floy," said Paul, holding a ringlet of her next arrival being turned down, Mr. Toots turned dark hair in his hand, "tell me, dear. Do.yoaz his down. The differences in point of waistcoat- think I have grown old-fashioned? " buttoning, not only at the bottom, but at the' His sister laughed, and fondled him, and told top too, became so numerous and complicated him " No." as the arrivals thickened, that Mr. Toots, was "Because I know they say so," returned continually fingering that article of dress, as if Paul, " and I want to- know what they mean, he were performing on some instrument; and Floy." appeared to find the incessant execution it But a loud double knock coming at the door, demanded quite bewildering. and Florence hurrying to the table, there was All the young gentlemen,'tightly cravatted, no more said between them. Paul wondered curled, and pumped, and with their best hats in again when he saw his friend whisper to Flotheir hands, having been at different times an- rence, as if she were comforting her; but a new nounced and introduced, Mr. Baps,. the dancing- arrival put that out of his head speedily. master, came, accompanied by Mrs. Baps, to It was Sir Barnet Skettles, Lady Skettles, whom Mrs, Blimber was extremely kind and and Master Skettles. Master Skettles was to condescending. Mr. Baps was a very grave be a new boy after the vacation, and Fame had gentleman, with a slow and measured manner been busy, in Mr. Feeder's room, with his father, of speaking; and, before he had stood under the who was in- the House of Commons, and of lamp five minutes, he began to talk to Toots whom Mr. Feeder had said that when he did (who had been silently comparing pumps with catch the Speaker's eye (which he had been him) about what you were to do with your raw expected to do for three or four years), it was materials when they came into your ports in anticipated that he would rather touch up the return for your drain of gold. Mr. Toots, to Radicals. PAUL WTCH.S THE PARTY. I03 ":And what room is this, now, for instance? " that nobody had occupied his place among the said Lady Skettles to Paul's friend,'Melia. pillows; and that, when he' came into the room'"Doctor Blimber's study, ma'am," was the again, they should'all make way for him to go reply. back to it, remembering it was his. Nobody Lady Skettles took a panoramic survey of it stood before him, either, -when they observed through her glass, and said to Sir Barnet that he liked to see Florence dancing, but they Skettles, with a nod of approval, "Very good." left the space in front quite clear, so that he Sir Barnet assented, but Master Skettles looked might follow her with his eyes. They were so suspicious arid doubtful. kind, too, even the strangers, of whom there were "And this little creature, now," said Lady soon a great many, that they came and spoke to Skettles, turning to Paul. "Is he one of him every now and then, and asked him how he the -" was, and if his head achedy and whether, he was "Young gentlemen, ma'am.; yes, ma'am," said tired. He was very much obliged to them for Paurs friend.. all their kindness and: attention, and reclining "And what is your name, my pale child?" propped up in his'corner, with Mrs. Blimber and said Lady Skettles. Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and Florence "' Dormbey," answered Paul. coming and sitting by his side as soon as every Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, dance was ended, he looked on very happily and said that he had had the honour of meeting indeed. Paul's father at a public dinner, and that he Florence would have sat byhim all fight, and hoped he was very well. Then Paul heard him would not have danced at all of her own accord, say'to. Lady Skettles, "City-very rich-most'but Paul made her. by telling her how'much it respectable-Doctor mentioned it." And then pleased him. And. he told her the truth, too; he said to Paul, "Will you tell your'good papa for his small heart swelled, and his face glowed, that Sir Barnet Skettles rejoiced to hear that he when he saw how much they all admired her, was very ivell, and sent him his best compli- and how she was the beautiful little rosebud of ments?" the room. " Yes, sir," answered Paul. From his nest among the pillows; Paul could "That is my brave boy," said Sir Barnet see and hear almost everything that passed, as Skettles. " Barnet," to Master Skettles, who if the whole were being done for his amusement was revenging himself for the studies to. come on Among other little incidents that he observed, the plum-cake, "this is a young gentleman you he observed Mr. Baps the' dancing-master get ought to know.. This is a young gentleman you into conversation' with'Sir Barnet Skettles,-and may know, Barnet," said Sir Barnet Skettles, very soon ask him, as he had asked Mr. Toots, with an emphasis on the permission. what..you were -to do with your raw materials "'What eyes! What hair! What a lovely when they came into your ports'in return for face!" exclaimed Lady Skettles softly, as' she your drain of. gold-which was such a mystery looked at Florence through her glass. to Paul that he was quite desirous to know what " My sister," said-Paul,'presenting her. ought to be done with them. Sir Barnet Skettles The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now had much to say upon the question, and said it; complete. Andas Lady Skettles had conceived, but it did not appear to solve the question, for at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all went up- Mr. Baps retorted, Yes, but supposing Russia.stairs together; Sir Barnet Skettles taking care stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir of Florence, and young Barnet following. Barnet almost dumb, for he could only Shake Young Barnet did not remain long in the his head after that, and say, Why, then you must background after they had reached the drawing- fall back upon your cottons, he supposed. room,'for Doctor Blimber had him out in no Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr. Baps time, dancing with Florence. He did not ap- when he went to cheer up Mrs. Baps (who, being pear to Paul to'be particularly happy, or parti- quite deserted, was pretending to look over the cularly anything but sulky, or to care much what musi6ibook of the' gentleman who played the he was about; but as Paul heard Lady Skettles harp); as if he thought him a remarkable kind of say to Mrs. Blimber, while she beat time with man; and shortly afterwards he said so in those her fan, that her dear boy was evidently smitten words to Doctor Blimber, and inquired if he to death bj that angel of a child, Miss Dombey, might take the liberty of asking who he was, and it would seem'that Skettles junior was in a state whether he had ever been in the Board of Trade. of bliss without showing it. Doctor Blimber answered, No, he believed not; Little Paul thought it a singular coincidence and that in fact he was a professor of To4 DOAOM.BE Y' AND SON.'" Of something connected with statistics, I'll information quite altered Sir Barnet Skettles' swear?" observed Sir Barnet Skettles. opinion of Mr. Baps, and that. Sir Barnet flew "Why, no, Sir Barnet," replied Doctor Blim- into a perfect rage, and' glowered at Mr. Baps ber, rubbing his chin. "No, not exactly." over on the other side of the room. He even "Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet," went so far as to D Mr. Baps to Lady Skettles, said Sir Barnet Skettles. in telling her what had happened, and to say "Why, yes," said Doctor Blimber," yes, but not that it was like his most con-sum-mate and corrof that sort. Mr. Baps is a very worthy sort of foun-ded impudence. man, Sir Barnet, and-in fact, he's our professor There was another thing. that Paul observed. of dancing." Mr. Feeder, after imbibing several custard-cups Paul was amazed to see that this piece of of negus, began to enjoy himself. The dancing Mill "~'"YI"',~, THE BREAKING-UP PARTY AT IICTOR BLIMBER'S. in general was ceremonious, and the music rather whisliered to her!-though not so softly but that solemn-'a little.like church music, in fact: but Paul heard him say this remarkable poetry. after the custard-cups, Mr. Feeder told Mr.,; Had I a heart for falsehood framed, Toots that he was going to throw a little spirit I ne'er could injure You!" into the thing. After that Mr. Feeder not only began to dance as if, he meant dancing, and This Paul heard him repeat to four young, ladies'nothing else, but secretly to stimulate the music in succession. Well might Mr. Feeder say to to perform wild tunes. Further, he became Mr. Toots, that he was afraid he should be the particular in his attentions to the ladies; and worse for it to-morrow! dancing with Miss Blimber, whispered.to.her- Mrs. Blimber was. a little alarmed by this PA UL BREAKS o05 comparatively speaking-'profligate behaviour; present and the absent; what was then, and what and especially by the alteration in the character had been-were blended like the colours in the of the music, which, beginning to comprehend rainbow, or in the plumage of rich birds when the low melodies that were popular in the streets, sun is shining on them, or ifi the softening sky might not unnaturally be supposed to give when the same sun is setting. The many things offence to Lady Skettles. But Lady Skettles he had had to think of lately, passed before himl was so very kind as to beg Mrs. Blimber not to in the music; not as claiming his attention over mention it; and to receive her explanation, that again, or as likely ever more to occupy it, but as Mr. Feeder's spirits sometimes betrayed him peacefully disposed of and gone. A solitary into excesses on these occasions, with the window, gazed through years ago, looked out greatest courtesy and politeness; observing, that upon an ocean, miles and miles away; upon he seemed a very nice sort of person for his its waters, fancies, busy with him only yesterday, situation, and that she particularly liked the un- were hushed and lulled to rest like broken waves. assuming style of his hair-which (as already The same mysterious murmur he had wondered hhinted) was about a quarter of an inch-long. at, when lying on his couch upon the beach, he:Once, when there was a pause in the dancing, thought he still heard sounding through his Lady Skettles told Paul that he seemed very sister's song, and through the hum of voices, fond of music. Paul replied that he was; and and the tread of feet, and having some part in if she was too, she ought to hear his sister Flo- the faces flitting by, and even in the heavy rence sing. Lady Skettles presently discovered gentleness of Mr. Toots, who frequently came that she was dying with anxiety to have that up to shake him by the hand. Through the gratification; and though Florence was at first universal kindness he still thought he heard it, very much frightened at being asked to' sing speaking to him; and even his old-fashioned before so many people, and begged earnestly to; reputation seemed to be allied to it, he knew be: excused, -yet on Paul calling her to him, and nothow. Thus little Paul sat musig, listening, saying, " Do, Floy! Please! For me, ny looking on, and dreaming; and was very happ'. dear!" she went straight to the piano, and Until the time arrived for taking leave: and began.. -When they all drew a little away, that then, indeed, there was a sensationn in theparty. P-aul'-nmight see her; and when he saw her sitting Sir Barnet Skettles broughtup Skettles junior there alone, so young, and good,-and beautiful, to shake hands w ith him, and asked him if he: and:kin.d' t him; and heard her thrilling voice, would remember to tell his good ipa'aa, with his s; natuiral and sweet/ and such a golden link' best compliments, that. he, Sir B arnet Skettles, between him and all his life's love and happiness, had said he hoped the two young gentleinen rising out of'the silence; he turned his face would become intimately acqluainted. Lady away, land lid his tears. Not, as he'told them Skettles kissed him, and parted his hair upon wiVen they spoke to him, not that the music was his brow, aiAd lheld him in her arms; and even too plaintive or. too sorrowful, but it was so Mrs. Baps-poor MXrs. Baps! Paul was glad of' depar to him. that-came over from beside the music-book of:';They all loved Florence! How could they the gentleman who played the harp, andt took ielp sit? Paul had known-beforehand that they leave of him quite as heartily as anybody in the mustf and ould;' and: sitting in his cushioned room. corner,with calmly-folded hands, and one leg "Good-bye, Doctor Blimber," said Paul. loosely doubled under him,' few would have stretching out his hand. thought what triumph and delight expanded his "Good-bye, my little friend," returned the childish bosom while he watched her, or what a Doctor. sweet tranquillity he felt. Lavish encomiums "I'm very much obliged to you, sir," said on " Dombey's sister ".reached his ears from all Paul, looking innocently up into his awful face. the boys: admiration of the self-possessed and "Ask them to take care of Diogenes, if you modest little beauty was on every lip: reports please." of her intelligence and accomplishments floated Diogenes was the dog: who had never in his past him constantly: and, as if borne in upon' life received a friend..into his confidence before the air of the summer night, there was a half- Paul. The Doctor promised that every attenintelligible sentiment diffused around, referring tion should be' paid to Digenes in Paul's abto -Florence and himself, andc breathing snm- sence, and Paul, having again thanked him, and pathy for both, that soothed and touched him. shaken hancfd yith him, bade adieu' to MIrs. He did not know why. For all that tle child.B limber and Cornelia with sucl' heartfelt caro'served, and felt, and thought that night-the nctness, that Mrs.- Blimber forgot from that zo6 DOMEA?'AND SON. moment to mention Cicero to Lady Skettles, quite the last of Mr. Toots, even.; for, before the though she had fully intended it all the evening. coachman could drive off, he as suddenly let Cornelia,. taking both Paul's hands in hers, said, down the other window, and looking in with a " Dombey, Dombey, you have always been my precisely similar chuckle, said in a precisely favourite pupil. God bless you!" And it. similar tone of voice, "Is Dombey.there?" and showed, Paul thought, how easily one might do disappeared precisely as before. injustice to a person;, for Miss Blimber meant How Florence laughed! Paul often irememit-though she was a Forcer-and felt it. bered it, and laughed himself whenever he did A buzz then went round among the young so. gentlemen of " Dombey's going!" "' Little But there was much, soon afterwards-next Dombey's going!" and there was a general day, and after that —which Paiul could only remove after Paul and Florence down the staircase collect confusedly. As, why they stayed at Mrs. and into the hall, in which the whole Blimber Pipchin's days and nights, instead of going family were included. Such a circumstance, Mr.. home; why he lay in bed, with Florence sitting Feeder said aloud, as had never happened in the by his side; whether that had been his father in case of any former young gentleman within his the room, or. only a tall shadow on the wall; experience; but it would be difficult to say if whether he had heard his doctor say, of some this were sober fact, or custard-cups. The ser- one, that if they had removed him before the vants, with the butler at their head, had all an occasion on which he had built up fancies, strong interest in seeing Little Dombey go; and even in proportion to his own weakness, it was very the weak-eyed young man, taking out his books possible he might have pined away. and trunks to the coach that was to carry him He could not even remember whether he had and Florence to Mrs. Pinchin's for the night, often said to Florence, "Oh, Floy, take me melted visibly.. X.home, and never leave me!" but he thought he Not even the influence of the softer passion had. He fancied sometimes he had heard himon the young gentlemen-and they all, to a boy, self repeating, ".Take me homeFloy! take me doted on Florence-could restrain them from home!" takingquite anoisyleaveofPaul; wavinghatsafter But.he could remember, when he got home, him, pressing down-stairs to shake hands with and was carried up the well-remembered stairs, him, crying individually, "Dombey, don't forget that there had been the rumbling of a coach for me!" and indulging in many such ebullitions of. many hours together,-while he lay upon the.seat, feeling, uncommon among those young Chester- with Florence still beside him, and old\Mrs. fields.,. Paul whispered Florence, as she wrapped Pipchin sitting opposite. He remembered his him up before the door was opened, Did she old bed, too, when they laid him down in it;: hear them? Would she ever forget it? Was his aunt, Miss Tox, and.Susan: but there was she glad to know it? And a lively delight was something else, and recent, too, that still per.in his eyes as he spoke to her. plexed him. Once, for a last look, he turned and gazed "I want to speak'to Florence, if you please," upon the faces thus addressed to him, surprised he said. "To Florence by herself, for a moto see how shining and how bright and numerous ment!" " they were, and how they were all piled and She bent down over him, and the others stood heaped up, as faces are at crowded theatres. away. They swam before him as he looked, like faces "Floy, my pet, wasn't that papa. in the' hall in an agitated glass; and next moment he was when they brought me from the coach?" in the dark coach outside, holding close to'. "Yes, dear." Florence. From that time, whenever he thought " He.didn't cry and go into his room, Floy, of Doctor Blimber's, it came back as he had seen did he, when he saw me coming in?" it in this last view; and it never seemed to be ~ Florence shook her head, and pressed her lips a real place again,, but always a dream, full of against his cheek. eyes. "I'm very glad he didn't. cry," said.little This was not quite'the last of Doctor Blim- Paul. "I thought he did.' Don't tell them that ber's, however. There was something else. There I asked." was Mr. Toots. Who%. nexpectedly letting down one of the coach Windows, and looking in, said, with a most egregious chuckle, "Is Dombey there?" and immediately put it up again,. without waiting for an answer. Nor was this HOW 2'0T TELL UNCLE SOL? 107 quite content to live idly on a reduced old man, CHAPTER XV. which stung the boy's generous soul. Determined to assure Mr. Dombey, in so far as it was AMAZING ARTFULNESS OF CAPTAIN CUTTLE, AND A possible to give him the assurance without'ex. NEW PURSUIT FOR WALIER GAY. pressing it invwords, that indeed he mistook his nature, Walter had been anxious to Show even \\ I ALTER could not, for several days;' more cheerfulness and activity-after the West l^A\..ott A decide what to do in'the Barba- Indian interview than he had.shown before:. if J'-~,\:)\ J does business; and even cherished that were possible, in one of his quick. and"zealsome faint hope that Mr. Dombey ous disposition. He was too'young and inex-'x.. —,, might not have meant what he had perienced to think, that possibly this very quwlity -. said, or, that he might change his in him was not agreeable.to. Mr. Dombey, and Gd mind, and tell him he was not to go. But, that it was no stepping-stone to his good opinion as nothing occurred to give, this idea to be elastic and hopeful of pleasing under the (which was sufficiently improbable in itself) any shadow of:his powerful displeasure, whether it touch of confirmation, and as time was slipping were right or wrong. But it may have been-it by, and he had none to lose, he felt that he must may have been-that the great man thought himact, without hesitatingoany longer. self defied in this new exposition of an- honest,Walter's chief difficulty was, how to break the spirit, and purposed to bring it down. change in.his\ affairs to Uncle Sol, So whom he -" Well! at last and at least, Uncle Sol must was sensible^itiwould be aterrible blow. He had be told," thought Walter with a sigh.- And, as the greater.difficulty in-dashin-g Uncle Sol's Walter was apprehensive that his voice might spirits with ^such an astuhding piece of intelli- perhaps- quaver a little, and that his countenance genceii because they;had -lately recovered very might int be quite as hopeful as he could wish much,'and' theroldmanhad become so'cheerful, - it to beif he told the old man himself, and saw that ithe litttle back-parlour.was itself again. the first'effects} of his communication on his Uncle-Sol had paid the first appointed portion wrinkled face, he resolved to avail'himself of the of the.debt to Mr. Dombey, and was hopeful of'ervices of, that powerful mediator, Captain working his way through the rest; and to cast Cuttle. Sunday coming round, le set off, therehiri'j'down afresh, when.he had sprung up so fore,'after breakfast,- once more to beat up Capmanfully from his troubles, was a very distressing tain Cuttlc'squarters necessity. -It was not unpleasant to. remember, on the way;- Yet it:would never do to run away from him. thither, that Mrs.MacStinger;resorted to a great He, must' know of, it beforehand;.and howto,distanc'e.'- every Sund-ayn oringg, to attend the tell him was.the\point< —As to the- question of ministry:f:-he -Reverend'Melchisedech Howler, going or not going, Walter did not consider thait'who,- havin g-een- one: day discharged from he had any power of choice in the matter -Mr. the West' India Docks.on a false suspicion (got Dombey had,-truly told him that he was young, up expressl'-y againsthimby the general enemy) and'i that his uncle's-circumstanc'es were not of screwiniig imlets. intdopuncheons, and applygood;,-and Mr. Donibey:had.plainly-expressed, ing his lips to the orifice, had announced the inls the glance with which- he- had: accompanied destruction of the. liorld'for that'day two years,.that reminder, thatif. he declined to'go he might a ten in the m'orining, and opened a front parstay at home if-lhe-chose, but -not in:'his. count- loui fori th'e reception of ladies and gentlemen of img-house.^His uncle and-lhe lay unader-a great,' the-, Rantin'g'persuasion, upon whom, on the first obligation to-Mr.'Dombey, which'xwas'of Walter's-e.occasion of their assembllge the admonitions of own solicitinig., iHeh mightihavebegun in secret' the'Reverend- Melchisedechl.lhad produced so to6 despaimr ofe ever-,winnmig that' gentlcman s powerful an effect,' that,.in:their' rapturous perfavour,;and might-have thought that he eias now formance of a sacred jig,'hich closed the'-serand, then.disposed'-to put-'a slight upon him, vice the whole flock-broke-through into a kitchen whichl:was hardly just.'. But -at' would have Ibelowand disabled amanigle'belongiig to one been "'uty,'^ithout that, was stillduty with it- of the fold., or:Waltr-thought so-an- dutymust be dont. This the cataiin:a moment of uncommon When'_Mr.DiDombey had, looked at'.him, and conviviality, hadd confided.to WarIer and his told hirnmhe'was young, and that his uncle's cir- uncle, between the repetitions of Lovely Peg, on cumstances'were not good, there had been an the night when Brogley the broker was paid out. expression of disdain in his face; a contemptuous The captain himself was punctual in his dttendand disparaging assumption that he would. be ance at' a church'in his own neighlbourhood, ioS DOMBEY AND SON. which hoisted the union-jack every Sunday uncle, and the relief it would be to him if Capmorning: and where he was good enough-the tain Cuttle, in his kindness, would help him to lawful beadle being infirm —to keep an eye upon smooth it away; Captain Cuttle's infinite conthe boys, over whom he exercised great power, sternation and astonishment at the prospect unin virtue of his mysterious hook. Knowing the folded to him, gradually swallowing that gentleregularity of the captain's habits, Walter made man up, until it left his face quite vacant, and. an the haste he could, that he might anticipate the suit of blue, the glazed hat, and the. hook his going out; and he made such good speed, apparently without an owner. that he had the pleasure, on turning into Brig." You see, Captain Cuttle," pursued Walter, Place, to behold the broad blue coat and waist- "for myself, I am young, as Mr. Dombey said, coat hanging-out of the captain's open window, and not to be considered. I am to fight my to air in the sun way through the world, I know; but there are It appeared incredible that the coat and waist- two points I wasr thinking, as I came along', that coat could be seen by mortal eyes without the I should be very particular about in respect to captain; but he certainly was not in them, my uncle. I don't mean to say that I deserve otherwise his legs-the houses in Brig Place not to be the pride and delight of his life-you bebeing lofty-would have obstructed the street- lieve me, I know-but I am. Now, don't you door, which was perfectly clear. Quite wonder- think I am?" ing at this discovery, Walter gave a single knock. Theaptain seemed to make an endeavour "Stinger," he distinctly heard the captain say, to rise-from the depths of his astonishment, and up in his room, as if that were no business of get back to his face; but the effort being inhis. Therefore Walter gave two knocks. effectual, the glazed hat merely nodded with a "Cuttle," he heard the captain say upon that; mute unutterable meaning. and immediately afterwards the captain, in his "If I live and have my health," said Walter, clean shirt and braces, with his neckerchief "and I am not afraid of that, still, when I leave hanging loosely round his throat like a coil of England, I can hardly hope" to see my uncle rope, and his glazed hat on, appeared at the again. He is old, Captain Cuttle.; and besides window, leaning out over the broad blue coat his life is a life of custom-" and waistcoat. Steady, Wal'r! Of a want of custom?" "Wal'r!" cried the captain, looking down said the captain, suddenly reappearing. upon him in amazement. "Too true," returned Walter, shaking his "Ay, ay, Captain Cuttle," returned Walter, head; "but I meant a life of habit, Captain "only me." Cuttle-that sort of custom. And if. (as you "What's the matter, my lad?" inquired the very truly said, I am sure) he would have died captain withgreat concern. "Gills an't been the sooner for the loss- of the stock, and all and sprung nothing again?" those objects to which he has been accustomed "No, no," said Walter. "My uncle's all for so many years, don't you think he might die right, Captain Cuttle." a littlestooner for the loss of The captain expressed his gratification, and "'Of- his neyy," interposed the captain. said he would come down below and open the "Right!" door, which he did. "Well; then;" said Walter, trying to speak "Though you're early, Wal'r," said the cap- gaily, "we must do our best to make him betain, eyeing him still doubtfully, when they got'lieve that the separation is but a temporary one, up-stairs. after all;' but as I know better, or dread that I " Why, the fact is, Captain Cuttle," said Wal- know better; Captain\ Cuttle, and as I- have so ter, sitting down," I was afraid you would have many reasons for regarding him with affection, gone out, and I want to benefit by your friendly and duty, and honour, I am afraid I should counsel." make but a very poor hand at that, if I tried to "So you shall," said the captain. "What'll persuade him of it. That'smy great reason for you taike? " wishing you to break it-outto'him.;and that's." I want to take your opinion, Captain Cuttle," the first point.", returned Walter, smiling. "That's the only "Keep her off a point or so!" observed the thing)for me." captain in a contemplative voice. "Come on, then," said the captain. "With "What did you say, Captain Cuttle?" ina will, my lad!" quired Walter. Walter related to him what had happened; "Stand by!" returned the captain thoughtand the difficulty in which he felt respecting his fully THE POINT REFERRED TO CAPTAIN CUTTLE. o19 Walter paused to ascertain if the captain had "Turn again, Whittington," muttered the any particular information to add to this, but, as disconsolate captain, after looking at Walter for he said no more, went on. some time. "Now, the second point, Captain Cuttle. 1 "Ay!" replied Walter, laughing, "'and turn am Sorry to say, I am not a favourite with Mr. a great many times, too, Captain" Cuttle, I'm Donmbey. I have always tried to do my best, afraid, before such fortune as his ever turns'up' and I have.always done.it; but he does not like again. Not that I complain," lie added in his me.. He can't help his likings and dislikings, lively,. animated, energetic way. " I have perhaps. I.say nothing of that. I only say nothing to complain of. I am provided for. that I.am certain he does not like me. Hedoes I can live. When I leave my uncle, I leave not send me.to this post asa good one; he dis- him to you; anid I can leave him to no one dains to represent. it as being better than it is; better, Captain Cuttle. I haven't told you all and I doubt very much if it will ever-lead me to this because I despair, not I; it's to convince advancement in the House-whether it. does not, youthat I can't pick and choose in Dombey's on the contrary, dispose of me for ever, and: put House, and that where I amn sent, there I must me out of the way. Now, we must say. nothing* go, and.what I am offered, that I must take. of this to my uncle, Captain Cuttle, but must It's better for my uncle that I should be sent make it out to be as favourable and promising away;'for Mr. Dombey is a. valuable friend to as we can; and when I'tell you what it really him,. as he proved himself, you know when, is, I only do so that, in case any means should Captain Cuttle; and I am persuaded he won't ever arise of lending me a hand so far off, I may be less'valuable when he hasn't me there, every have one friend' at home who -nows my real day, to awaken his dislike. So, hurrah for the situation." West Indies, Captain Cuttle! How does that "Wal'r, my boy," replied the captain; "in the tune go that the sailors sing? Proverbs of Solomon you will find the following' For the Port of Barbadoes, boys'! words,' May we never want a friend.in need, Cheerily! nor a bottle to give him!' When found, make Leaving old England behind us, boys! a note of." Cheerily!" Here'the captain stretched out his hand to Here the captain roared in chorusWalter, with an air of downright good faith that spoke volumes;' at the same time repeating (for. Oh cheiy, cheerily Oh cheer —i —ly I" he felt proud of the accuracy and pointed application of his quotation), "When found, make The last line reaching the quick ears of an a note of." ardent skipper not quite sober, who lodged "Captain. Cuttle," said Walter, taking the im- opposite, and who instantly sprung out of bed, mense fist extended to him by the captain in threw up his window, and joined. in across the both his hands, which it completely filled, "next street, at the top of his voice, produced a fine to my Uncle Sol, I love you. There is no one effect. When it was impossible to sustain the on earth in whom I can more safely trust, I am concluding note any longer, the skipper belsure. As to the mere going away, Captainf lowed forth a terrific "Ahoy f" intended in Cuttle, I don't care for that:.why should I care part as a friendly greeting, and in part to show for that? IfT I were, free to seek my own'for- that he was not at allbreathed.; That done, he tune-if I. were free to go as a common sailor- shut down his window, and went to bed again. if I were free to venture on. my o6n-account to "And now, Captain Cuttle," said Walter, the farthest end of the world-I would gladly handing him the blue coat and waistcoat, and go.! I would have'gladly gone, years ago, and bustling very much, ":if you'll come and. break taken my chance of' what might come of it. the news to Uncle Sol (which he ought to have But it was against my uncle's wishes, and'known days upon days ago, by rights), I'll leave against the.plans he had formed for me; and you at the door, you know, and walk about there was an end of that. But what I feel, Cap- until the afternoon.'-' tain Cuttle, is, that we have been a little mis- The captain, however, scarcely appeared' to. taken: all along, andthat, so far as any improve- relish the commission, or to be by any meansment in my prospects is concerned, I am no confident of his powers of executing it. He iiad better off now than I was when I first entered arranged' the'future life and adventures of Dombey's House —perhaps a little worse, for Walter so very differently, and. so entirely to the House may have, been kindly inclined -to- his own.:satisfaction;' he. had felicitated himself wards me then, and it certainly is not now." so often on' the sagacity:and'foresight displayed iIo DOMBEY AND SON". in that arrangement, and had found it' so c'rn- The exact idea which the captain -at'tcl`sd to plete and perfect in all its parts; that to suffer this concluding piece. of praise'he did, not it to -go to pieces all at once, and even to'assist further elu'cidate' -'neither did Walter seek to' in brealking it up, required a. great effort' of his draw'it forth.'Foronlhis beginning'to review, resolution`', The captain, too;' found it difficult with the vi vacity na'tural to' himself and to his to unload his old ideas upon the subject, and to situation,; the lc.ding points' in his own atffairs, take. a perfectly new.'cargo on board, with that he soon discovered that the captain had relapsed' rapidity which the circumstances required,. or into' his' former profound' stateeof. mind;, and without' jumbling and confounding' thie- two.' that, while he eyed him steadfastly frori beneatth Consequently, instead of putting onhis coat,.his bushy eyebrows, he'evidently, n-eithert saw. and waistcoat with anything like the impetuosity' nor heard him, but remained.iminersed'ili cogithat could alone have kept pace with,Walter's tatiodi.n mood,, he, declined to invest himself' with those Ind-fact, Captain Cuttle',was' labourig' witli garments at all at present;'and informed Walter such gieat designs, that"'far from'being-aiground that, on such a serious' matter, he must be he soon got, off into the deepest'''of- watel.and allowed' to "bite his nails.a bit." could find, no) bottom'to% his..penetration. E;", It's" an old'habit of' mine,,Wal'r," said the degrees it''became perfectly' plaifl to'the'.captain captain, " any time these'fifty yea'r. When yo'u' thllat ther'e' was.some.mistake, herec-;'that'it w'Vas see Ned Cuttle bite his" nails,- Wal'r, then you undoubtedly much'more-likely't b'VWalter's miay know^ that Ned Cuttle'saground. "- mistake thanhis,;that if therewere really-any.Thereupon the-captain put-his iron hook be- West India scheme afoot, it'wasa-very different tween his teeth,-as if it were'a'hand;.'.and with one-from wh'at' Walter',.who wasjouig and -rash, an gir of wisdom and profundity that. was'the' suppo'sed? and.cbuld onrly be somenewi device very-concentration and sublima'tion of all phiilo- for making his fortune with unusual'ceeritv' sophical reflection and grave inquiry, applied "r if.there should be any little"hitch..etvween himself to the consideration of-th e bject though captain, meaning between various branches.? Walter and Mr. Dombey,'.it only'wants a word ",There's a.. friend'of~ mine," murmured the in season, from a friend of both parties, to set it captain in an absent manner, " but he's at pre- right and smooth, and make all-taut. again." senlt coasting round to Whitby, that would deliver Captain Cuttle's deduction from these considerasuch- an opinion on this' subject, or any other tions was, that.as-:he.already.enjoyed the',plea-, that could be named, as would give Parliament sure of' knowing: Mr.' Dombey'- from. having six and beat'em.'Been knocked overboard, spent a, very agreeable half-hour in'his company tlat man," said the captain, "twice,. and.none at Brighton (on tle- morning' when'they borthe worse'. fo. it. Was beat in his ap4prentice- rowed the money); and. that, as acouple of men ship, "for'three wveeks (off'and,'on),. about the of t,he world,'who understood< each..otlier,'and head witli;a' iingbolt.'; And yet a clearer-minded were mutually disposed' to make'-thingsvcorlman don't. walk." fortable, could easilyarrange any little.. difficulty In spite of his respect for Captain, Cuttle, of this sort, and'come' at,the.:real facts,~the Walter could not help in'wardly rejoicing at'the friendly thing. for'him to' do would, beewithout' absence of this sage, and devoutly hoping that saying-anything about it to"Walter'atpresent,'his li',-'.1. intellect might not be brought to bear just to step up to Mr nDombey' s'house-s:ay (to on-his difficulties nti.l they'were quite settled.'; the servant, " Would you' be-so good,/my'.lad, "If you was to take and.show that man the as, to report'Cap'n'Cuttle'.here?.-'meet- Mr. buoyat'the.Nore,"; said, Captain;'Cuttle in the Dombey' in,' a c.nfidentia'spirit- hook h' in. by.same' tone ""'and ask'him'hfs opinion of it, the button-hiole-talkl,it. _over ma ke itall ^riht Wlalr, ^he'd giveyou-anopimnion-that was -no more and come awaytriumphant.'like [that. buoy -than your,:uncle'sbtbuttonis'are., As these reflections presented themselves to Thliere ant,a m-an- thatwalks —certainly not on the captains min'andby slow ondegrees a' twoS legs that can come -near'him. - Not n'ear sumed this; shape. and form,-is visage_: cleared him!, like a - doubtful morning when.it gives place-to ","VW-hat't his"name, Captain Cuttle?." inquired a brightnoon-'His- eyebrows wlhichKcad' been'Walter, deterniined to be interested in the cap-'in'the'highest degree portentous, smoothed their taih's friend.; rugged, bristling'asp'ect, \and'becdamne -serene; "His,name's'tiBunsby,.. said the captain. hiseyes, which "had beei'.nearly-closed in the "'But Lord, it' might be:anything for. thematter severity, of his mental exercise, opened freely; a of thatv, vith. such a.: mind as his!' smile, which had been at first but three'specks WALTER TAKES A W ALK tXr -one at the right-hand corner of his mouth, His way was nowhere in particular;.but he and one at the corner of each eye-gradually thought he would go out into' the fields, where overspread his whole face, and rippling up into he could reflect upon -the unknown life.before his forehead, lifted the glazed hat: as if that, him, and, resting under some tree, ponder too, had been aground with Captain Cuttle, quietly. He knew no better fields than those and were now, like him, happily afloat again. near Hampstead, and no better means of getting.Finally, the captain left off biting his nails, at them than by passing'Mr. Dombey's house. and said, " Now, Wal'r, my boy, you may help It was as stately and as dark as ever; when me on with them slops." By which the captain he.went by and glanced up at its frowning front. meant his coat and waistcoat..The blinds were all pulled down, but the upper Walter little imagined why the captain was so windows' stood wide open, and the pleasant air particular in the arrangement of his cravat as to stirring those curtains, and waving them to and twist the pendent ends into a sort'of pigtail,and fro, was the, only sign of animation in the whole pass them through a massive gold ring with a exterior. Walter wall:d softly as he passed, picture of a tomb upon it, and a neat iron rail- and was glad when he had left the house a door ing, and a tree, in memory of some deceased or two behind. friend. Nor why the captain pulled up his, shirt He looked back then; with the interest he collar to the utmost limits allowed by the Irish had always felt for the place. since'the advenlinen below, and by so doing decorated himself ture of the lost child, years ago; and looked. with a complete p5air of blinkers; nor why he,especially'at those upper windows. While he changed his shoes, and put on an unparalleled was thus engaged, a chariot drove to the door, pair of ankle-jacks, which he only wore on extra- and a portly gentleman in black, with a heavy ordinary occasions. The captain, being at length watch-chain, alighted, and went in. When he attired to his own complete satisfaction, and afterwards remembered this gentleman and hir having glanced at himself from head to foot in a equipage togethdr, Walter-had no doubt he war shaving-glass, which he removed froin a nail for a physician; and then he wondered who was that purpose, took up his knotted stick, and said ill; but the discovery did not occur to him be was ready until he'had walked some distance, thinking The captain's walk was more complacent tutan listlessly of other things. Usual when they got out into the street; but this "- Though still, of what the house had suggested Walter supposed.o- be the effect of the ankle- to him; for Walter pleased himself with thinkjacks, and took little heed of. Before they had ing that perhaps the time might Come when the gone very far, they encountered a woman selling beautiful child who was his old friend, and had flowers; when the':captain, stopping short, as if always been so grateful to him and so glad to struck by a. happyidea made a purchase ofthe see him since, might interest her brother in his largest bundle; in,!her basket; a mostglorious behalf, and influence his fortunes for the better. nosegay, fan-shaped, some two feet and a half He liked to imagine this-more, at that moment, round, and composed of all the jolliest-looking for the pleasure of imagining her continued floweis that blow. remembrance of him than for any worldly profit Armed with thislittle'token, which hedesigned he might gain: but another and more sober *for Mr. Dombey, Captain Cuttle walked on with fancy whispered to him that, if he were alive Walter until they reached the instrument-maker's then, he would be beyond the sea and forgotten; door, before which theybothpaused. she married, rich, proud, happy. There was no *'You're going in?' said Walter. more reason why she should remember him with "Yes," returned the captain, who'felt that any interest in such an altered state of things, Walter must be got rid of before he proceeded than anv plaything she. ever had. No, not so any "further, and that he had better time his much. projected visit somewhat later in the day. YetWalter so idealised the pretty child whomr "And you won't forget anything?". said he had found wandering in the rough streets, alter".'.and so identified her -:h her innocent gratitude " No," returned the captain.of that night, and the simplicity and truth of I'Il go upon my walk at once," said Walter, its expression, that he bl!ished for himself as a' and then I shall be out of the way, Captain libeller when he argued that she could ever grow ~ Cuttle.".,' proud. On the other hand, his meditations "Take a good long'un, my lad!' replied the''were of that fantastic order that it seemed hardly captain, calling after him. Walter waved his less libellous in him to imagine her grown a hand in assent, and went his way. woman: to think of her as anything but'the fiz.'2:~. DOMBEY AND SOVX.. same artless, gentle, winning little creature that do. no better than preserve her image in his she had been in the days of Good Mrs. Brown. mind as something precious, unattainable, unIn a word, Walter found out that to reason with changeable, and indefinite-indefinite in all but himself about Florence at all, was to become its power of giving him pleasure, and restraining Very unreasonable indeed; and that he could him like an angel's hand from anything unworthy..' "BEFORE THEY HAD GONE VERY FAR, THEY ENCOUNTERED A WOMAN SELLING FLOWERS; WHEN, THE CAPTAIN, STOPPING SHORT, AS IF STRUCK.-BY. A HAPPY IDEA, MADE A PURCHASE OF THE LARGEST BUNDLE IN HER BASKET." It was a long stroll in the fields that Walter looking round on the green English grass arid took. that day, listening to the birds, and the the home landscape. But he hardly once thought Sunday bells, and the softened murmur of the even of going away, distinctly; and seemed to town-breathing sweet scents; glancing some- put off reflection idly, frosm hour to hour, and times at the dim horizon beyond which his from minute to minute, while he yet went ovoyage and his place of destination lay; then reflecting all the time. STAGGS'S GARDENS GONE. 1 13 Walter had left the fields behind him, and ran before, inquiring here and there and everywas plodding homeward in the same abstracted where the way to Staggs's Gardens. mood, when he heard a shout from'a man, and There was no such place as Staggs's Gardens. then a woman's voice calling to him loudly by It had vanished from the earth. Where the old name.- Turning quickly in his surprise, he saw rotten summer-houses once had stood, palaces that a hackney coach, going in.the contrary now reared their heads, and granite columns of direction, had stopped at no great distance; gigantic girth opened a vista to the railway world that the coachman was looking back from his beyond. -The miserable waste ground, where box, and making signals to him with his whip; the refuse matter had-been heaped of yore, was and that a young woman inside was leaning out swallowed up and gone; and in its frouzy stead of the window, and beckoning with immense were tiers of warehouses, crammed with rich energy. Ruhning up to this coach, he.found goods.and costly merchandise. The old bythat the young woman was Miss Nipper, and streets now swarmed with passengers and vehicles that Miss Nipper was in such a flutter as to be of every kind: the new streets, that had stopped almost beside herself. disheartened in the mud and waggon-ruts, formed "Staggs's Gardens, Mr. Walter!" said Miss towns within themselves, originating wholesome Nipper; "if you please, oh do!" comforts and conveniences belonging to them"Eh?" cried Walter. "What is the matter?" selves, and never tried nor thought of until they "Oh, Mr. Walter, Staggs's Gardens, if -you sprung into existence. Bridges that had led to please!" said Susan. nothing, led to villas, gardens, churches, healthy "There! " cried the coachman, appealing to public walks. The carcases of houses, and Walter, with a: sort of-exulting despair;-" that's beginnings of new thoroughfares, had started off the way the young, lady's been a-goin' on for upon the line at steam's own speed, and shot up'ards of a mortal hour, and me continivally away into the country in a monster train. backing out:of. no;thoroughfares, where she As to the neighbourhood- which had hesitated would drive up;,. I've had a many fares in this ~ to acknowledge the railroad in' its straggling coach, first and last, but never such a fare as days, that had grown wise and penitent, as any her." Christian might in such a case, and now boasted "Do you want to go to Staggs's Gardens, of its powerful and prosperous relation. There Susan?" inquired Wae' were railway patterns in its drapers' shops, and "Ah! She wants to go there! WHERE IS IT?" railway journals in the windows of its newsmen. growled the coachman. There were railway hotels, coffee-houses, lodging" I don't know where it is!" exclaimed Susan houses, boarding-houses; railway plans, maps, wildly, "Mr. Walter, I was there once, myself, views, wrappers, bottles, sandwich-boxes, and along, with Miss Floy and our poor darling time-tables; railway hackney-coach and cab Master Paul, on the very day when you found stands; railway omnibuses, railway streets and Miss Floy. in the City,.forwe lost her coming buildings, railway hangers-on and parasites, and home, Mrs. Richards and -me, and a mad bull, flatterers out of all calculation. There was even and Mrs. Richards's eldest, and- though I went. railway time observed in clocks, as if the sun there afterwards, I can't remember where it is, itself had givei in. Among the vanquished was I think it's sunk into, the ground. Oh, Mr. the master chimney-sweeper, whilom incredulous Walter, don't desert me, Staggs's Gardens, if you at Staggs's Gardens, who now lived in a stuccoed please! Miss -Floy's darling-all our darlings house three stories high, and gave himself out, -little meek, meek Master Paul! Oh, Mr.. with golden flourishes upon a varnished board, Walter!'". as contractor for the' cleansing of railway chim"Good God!" cried Walter. "Is he very neys by machinery. ~~ill~~ ~~?"'~~ -To and from the heart of this great change, "The pretty flower.!" cried Susan, wringiig all day and night, throbbing currents rushed her hands, " has took the fancy that he'd like and returned incessantly like its life's blood. to see his old nurse, and I've come to bring her Crowds of people, and mountains of goods, to his bedside, Mrs. Staggs's of Polly Toodle's departing and arriving scores upon scores of:Gardens, sonre one pray!" times in every four-and-twenty hours, produced: Greatly moved' by what he heard, and catch- a fermentation in the place that was always in ing Susan's earnestness immediately, Walter, action. The very houses seemed disposed to now that he understood the'nature of her errand, pack up and take trips. Wonderful members of dashed- into it with sucli ardour that the coach- Parliament, who, little more'than twenty years man had enough to do to follow closely as he before, had made themselves merry with the DOMBEY, AND SON, 8, 20Q 14 DOMBS Y AAD SON. wild railroad' theories of engineers, and given tion had relieved her; Walterj who had by thiL them the liveliest rubs in, cross-examination, time no breath of hi own to spare, hurried along went down into the. north with their watches in without asking any moe questions; and they their hands, and sent on messages before by the soon, in their impatience, burst in at a little electric telegraph to say that they were coming. door, and came into a clean parlour full of Night and day the conquering engines rumbled children. at their distant work, or, advancing smoothly to "Where's Mrs. Richards?" exclaimed Susan their journey's end, and gliding like tame dragons Nipper, looking round. " Oh, Mrs. Richards, into the allotted corners grooved out to the Mrs.. Richards, come along with me, my dear inch for their reception, stood bubbling and creetur!" trembling there, making the walls quake, as if "Why, if it ain't Susan!" cried Polry, rising they were dilating with the secret knowledge of with her honest face and motherly figure from great powers yet unsuspected in therp, and among the group, in great surprise. strong purposes not yet achieved. "Yes, Mrs. Richards, it's me," said Susan, But Staggs's Gardens had been cut up root "and I wish it wasn't, though I may not seem and branch. Oh, woe the day! when "not a to flatter when I say so, but little Master Paul rood of English ground "-laid out in Staggs's is very ill, and told his pa to-dar that he would Gardens-is secure.! like to see the face of his old nurse, and him and At last, after much fruitless inquiry, Walter, Miss Floy hope you'll come along with me-and followed by the coach and Susan, found a man Mr. Walter, Mrs. Richards-forgetting what is who had once resided in that vanished land, past, and do a kindness to the sweet dear that and who was no other than the master sweep is withering away. Oh, Mrs. Richards, witherbefore referred to, grown stout, and knocking a ing away!" Susan Nipper crying, Polly shed double knock at his own door. He knowed tears to see her, and to hear what she had said; Toodle, he said, well. Belonged to the Rail- and all the children gathered round (includroad, didn't he? ing numbers of new babies); and Mr. Toodle, " Yes, sir, yes!" cried Susan Nipper from the Nvho'had just come home from Birmingham, and coach window. was eating his dinner out of a basin, laid down Where did he live now? hastily inquired his knife and fork, and put'on his wife's bonnet Walter. and shawl for her, which were hanging up beHe lived in the company's own buildings, hind the door; then tapped her on the back second turning to the right, down the yard, cross and said, with more fatherly feeling than eloover, and take the second on the right again. It quence, " Polly! cut away!" was number eleven; they couldn't mistake it; So they got back to the coach, long before ~but if they did, they had only to ask for Toodle, the coachman expected them; and Walter, putEngine Fireman, and any one would show them ting Susan and Mrs. Richards inside, took his which was his house. At this unexpected stroke seat on the box himself, that there might be no of success, Susan Nipper dismnounted from the more mistakes, and deposited them. safely in the coach with all speed, took Walter's arm, and set hall of Mr. Dombey's house-where, by-the-bye, off at.% breathless pace on foot; leaving the he saw a mighty nosegay lying, which reminded coach there to await their return, him of the one Captain Cuttle had purchased in "Has the little boy been long ill, Susan?" his company that morning. He would have inqluired Walter as they hurried on. lingered to know more of the young invalid, or'Ailing.for a deal of time, but no one knew waited any length of time to see if he could how much," said Susan; adding, with excessive render the least service; but, painfully sensible sharpness, " Oh, them Elimber!" that such conduct would be looked upon by Mr. " Blimbers?" echoed Walter. Dombey as presumlptuous and forward, he turned "I couldn't forgive myself at such'a.time as slowly, sadly, anxiously, away. this, Mr. Walter," said Susan, " and when there's He had not gone five minutes' walk from the so much serious distress to think about, if I door, when a man came running after him, and rested'lard on any one, especially on them that begged him to return. Walter retraced his steps little darling Paal speaks well of, but I may wish as quickly as he could, and entered the gloomy that the family was set to work in a stony soil house with a sorrowful foreboding. to make new roads, and that Miss Blimber went in front, and had the pickaxe!" Miss Nipper then took breath, and went on faster than before, as' if this extraordinary aspira THE COURSE OF TIHE RAPID RIVER. I5 CHAPTER XVI. of the day, the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and re-passing; and would fall WHAT THE WAVES WERE ALWAYS SAYING. asleep, or be troubled with a restless and uneasy sense again-the child could hardly tell whether A AJL, had never risen from his little this were in his sleeping or his waking moments J bed. He lay there, listening to -of that rushing river. " Why, will it never the noises in the street, quite tran- stop, Floy?" he would sometimes ask her. "It,, quilly; not caring much howthe time is bearing me away, I think!" went, but watching it, and'watching But Floy could always soothe and reassure everything about him, with observing him; and it was his daily delight to make her lay eyes. her head down on his pillow, and take some rest. When the sunbeams struck into his "You are'always watching me, Floy. Let me room through the' rustling blinds, and. quivered watch you, now!' They would prop him up on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew with, cushions in a corner of his bed, and, there that evening was coming on, and that' the sky he would recline the while she lay beside him: was red and beautiful. As the reflection died bending forward oftentimes to kiss her, and away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, whispering to fhose who were near that she was he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen into tired, and how she had sat up so many nights night. Then he thought how the long streets beside him. were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful Thus, the flush of the day, in its'heat and stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a light, would gradually decline; and again the strange tendency to wander to the river, which golden water would be dancing on the wall. he knew was flowing through the great city: and He was visited by as many as three grave now he thought' how black it was, and how deep doctors-they used to assemble down-stairs, and it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars-and come up together-and the room was so quiet,'more than all, how steadily it rolled away to and Paul was so observant of them (though he'meet the sea. never asked of anybody what they said), that he As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in even knew the difference in the sound of their the street became so rare that he could hear watches. But his interest centred in Sir Parker them coming, count them as they passed, and Peps, who always took his seat on the side of lose' them in the hollow distance, he would lie the bed. For Paul had heard them say, long and watch the many-coloured ring about the ago, that that gentleman had been with his candle, and wait patiently for day. His only mamma when she clasped Florence in her arms, trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt and died. And he could not forget it, now He forced, sometimes, to try to stop it-to stem it liked him for it. He was not afraid. with his childish hands-or.choke its way with The people round him changed as unaccountsand-and when he saw it coming on, resistless, ably as on that first night at Doctor Blimber'she cried out. But a word from Florence, who except Florence; Florence never changed-and was always at his side, restored him to himself; what had been Sir Parker Peps was now his and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he father, sitting with "his head upon his hand. Old told Floy of his dream, and smiled. Mrs. Pipchin, dozing in an easy-chair, often When day began to dawn again, he watched changed to Miss Tox, or his aunt; and Paul was for the sun; and when its cheerful light began quite content to shut his eyes again, and see to sparkle in the room, he pictured to himself- what happened next without emotion. But this pictured! he saw-the high'church towers rising figure with its head upon its hand returned so up into the morning sky, the town reviving, often, and remained so long, and sat so still and waking, starting into life once more, the river solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, glistening as it rolled (but rlling fast as ever), and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to and the country bright with dew. Familiar wonder languidly if it were real; and in the sounds and cries came by degrees into the street night-time saw it sitting there with fear. below; the servants in the house were roused' "Floy!" he said. "What is that?" and busy; faces looked in at the. door, and "Where, dearest?" voices asked his attendants softly how he was. " There! at the bottom of the bed." Paul always answered for himself; " I am better. " There's nothing there, except papa!" I am a great deal better, thank you. Tell papa The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and so!" coming to the bedside, said: "My own boy! By little and little he got tired of the bustle Don't you know me?" x6 DOMBEY AND SON. Paul looked it in the face, and thought, was "Is she dead, too? Floy, are we all dead, this his father? But the face, so altered to his except you?" thinking, thrilled while he. gazed, as if it were.There was a hurry in the room for an instant in pain; and before he could reach out both longer, perhaps; but it seemed, no morehis hands, to take it between them, and then all was still again;. and Florence, with her draw it towards him, the figure turned away face quite colourless, but smiling, held his head quickly,from the little bed, and'went out at the upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much. door. "Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please!" Paul looked at Florence with a fluttering "She is not here, darling. She shall come heart, but he knew what she was going to say, to-morrow." and stopped her with his face against her lips. " Thank you, Floy!" The next time he observed the figure sitting at Paul closed his eyes with those words, and the bottom of the bed, he called to it. fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was high, "Don't be so sorry for me, dear papa! In- and the broad day was clear and warm. He deed, I am quite happy!" lay a little, looking at the windows, which were His father coming, and bending down to him. open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and -which he did quickly, and without first paus- waving to and frir: then he said, " Floy, is it ing by the bedside-Paul held him round the to-morrow? Is she come?" neck, and repeated those words to him several Some one seemed to go in quest of her. Pertimes, and very earnestly; and Paul never saw. haps it was Susan. Paul thought he heard her him in his room again at any time, whether it telling him, when he had closed his eyes again, were day or night, but he called out, " Don't be that she would soon be back; but he did not so sorry-for meJ Indeed, I am quite happy!". open them to see. She kept her word-perhaps This was the beginning of his always saying in she had never been away-but the next thing the morning that he was a great deal better, and that happened was a noise of footsteps on the that they were to tell his father so. stairs, and then Paul woke-woke, mind and How many. times the golden water danced body-and sat upright in his bed. He saw upon the wall; how many nights the dark, dark them now about him. There was no grey mist river rolled towards the sea in spite of him; before them, as there had been sometimes in the Paul never counted, never sought to know. If night. He knew them every one, and called their kindness, or his sense of it, could have in- them by their names. creased, they were more kind, and he more grate- " And who is this? Is this my old nurse?" ful, every day; but whether they were many days. said the child, regarding with a radiant smile a or few, appeared of-little moment now to the figure coming in. gentle boy. Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed One night he had been thinking of his mother, those tears at sight of him, andcalled him her and her picture in the drawing-room down-stairs dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted and had thought she must have loved sweet child. No other woman would have stooped Florence better than his father did, to have held down by his bed, and taken up his. wasted hand, her in her arms when she felt that she was dying and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had -for even he, her brother, who had such dear some right to fondle it. No other woman would love for her, could have no greater wish than have so forgotten everybody there but him and that. The'train of thought suggested to him to Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity. inquire if he had ever seen his mother: for he "Floy! this is a kind, good face!" said Paul. could not remember whether they had told him "I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old yes or no, the river ruhning very fast, and con- nurse! Stay here!" fusing his mind. His senses were all quickened, and he heard " Floy, did I ever see mamma?" a name he knew. "No, darling: why?" "Who was that who said'Walter?"' he "Did I never see any kind face, like mamma's, asked, looking round. "Some one said'Wallooking at me when I was a baby, Floy?" ter.' Is he here? I should like to see him very He asked incredulously, as if he had some- much." vision of a face before him. Nobody replied directly; but his father soon "Oh yes, dear!" said to Susan, " Call him back, then: let hlm " Whose Floy?" come up!". After a short pause of expectation, "Your old nurse's, Often." during which he looked with smiling interest "And where is my old nurse?" said Paul. and wonder on his nurse, and saw that she had OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEA VEt. 117 not forgotten Floy, Walter was brought into theCHAPTER XVII. room. His open face and manner, and his cheerful eyes, had always made him a favourite cAPTAIN CUTTLE DOES A LITTLE BUSINESS FOR THE with Paul; and when Paul saw him, he stretched YOUNG PEOPLE. out his hand, and said, " Good-bye!" "Good-bye, my child!" cried Mrs. Pipchin, APTAIN CUTTLE, in the exer..hurrying to his bed's head. " Not good-bye? " f cise of that surprising talent for deepFor an instant Paul looked at her with the. laid.and unfathomable scheming wistful face with which he had so often gazed, with which (as is not unusual in upon her in his corer by the fire. "Ah, yes," r men of transparent simplicity) he he said placidly,' good-bye Walter dear,' sincerely believed himself to be engood-bye! "-turning his head to where he stood,, dowed by nature, had gone to Mr. Domand putting' out his hand again. "Where is. bey's house, on the eventful Sunday, papa?" winking all the way as a vent for his superfluous He felt his father's breath upon his cheek sagacity, and had presented himself in the full before the words'had parted from his lips. lustre of'the ankle-jacks before the eyes of " Remember..Walter, dear papa," he whis- Towlinson. Hearing from that individual, to pered, looking in his face. "Remember Walter. his great concern, of the impending calamity, I was fond of Walter!" The feeble hand waved Captain Cuttle, in his delicacy, sheered off again in'the' air as if it cried " Good-bye!" to Walter confounded; merely handing in the nosegay as bnce again. a small mark of his solicitude, and' leaving his "Now lay me down," he said, "and, Floy, respectful compliments for the family in general, come close to me and let me see you!" which he accompanied with an expression 6fhis Sister and brother wound their arms around hope that they would lay their heads well to the each other, and the golden light came streaming wind under existing circumstances, and a friendly in, and.fell upon them, locked together. intimation that he'would "look up again" to" H'w fast the river runs, between its green morrow. banks and the rushes, Floy! But it's very near' The captain's compliments were never heard the sea. I hear the waves! They always said so." of any more. The captain's nosegay, after lying Presently he told her that the motion of the in the hall all night, was swept'into the dust-bin boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. next morning; and the captain's sly arrangeHow green the banks were now, how bright the ment, -involved in one catastrophe with greater flowers growing on them, and how tall the hopes and loftier designs, was crushed to pieces. rushes! Now the boat was out at sea, but glid- So, when an- avalanche bearsdown a mountain ing smoothly on. And now'there was a shore forest, twigs and bushes suffer with the trees, and before him. Who stood on the bank? — all perish together. He put his hands together, as he had been When Walter returned home on the Sunday used to do at his prayers. He did not remove evening from his long walk, and its memorable'his arms to do it; but they saw him fold them close, he was too much occupied at first by the so, behind her neck. tidings he had to give.them, and by the emotions " Mamma is like you,- Floy. I know her by' naturally awakened in his- breast by the scene the face! But tell them that the print upon the through which he had passed, to observe either stairs at school is not divine enough. The light that his uncle was evidently-unacquainted with about the head is shining on me as I go!" the intelligence the captain had undertaken to impart, or that the captain made signals with his The golden ripple on the wall came back hook, warning him to avoid the subject. Not again, and nothing else stirred in the room. that the captain's signals were calculated to have The old, old' fashion! The fashion that came proved very comprehensible, however attentively in with our first garments, and will last un- observed; for, like those Chinese sages who are changed until our race has run its course, and said in their conferences to write certain learned the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll words in the air that are wholly impossible of The old, old fashion-Death! pronunciation, the captain made such-waves and'Oh, thank GOD, all who see it, for that older flourishes as nobody, without a previous knowfashion yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, ledge of his mystery, would have been at all angels of young children, with regards not quite likely to understand. estranged, when the swift river bears us to the Captain Cuttle, however, becoming cognizant ocean! of' what had happened,, relinquished, these at IT8 D9oMS Y AND'SOW. tempts, as he perceived the slender chance that not the least doubt that they were good conclunow existed of his being able to obtain a little sions for the peace of mind of the instrumenteasy chat with Mr. Domnbey before the period of maker. Therefore he availed.himself of so Walter's departure. But in admitting to him- favourable a moment for breaking the'West self, with a disappointed and crest-fallen coun-. Idian intelligence to his old friend as a piece of tenance, that Sol Gills must be told, and that extraordinary preferment; declaring that, for his Walter must go-taking the case for the present part, he would freely give a hundred thousand as he found it, and not having it enlightened or pounds (if he had it) for Walter's gain in the improved beforehand by the knowing manage- long-run, and that he had no doubt such an inment of a friend-the captain still felt an un- vestment would yield a handsome premium. abated confidence that he, Ned Cuttle, was the Solomon Gills was at first stunned by the man for Mr. Dombey; and that, to set Walter's communication, which fell upon the..little backfortunes quite square, nothing was wanted but parlour like a' thunderbolt, and tore up the that'they two should come together. For the hearth savagely. But the captain flashed such captain never could forget how well he and Mr. golden prospects before his dim sight: hinted so Dombey had got on at Brighton; with what mysteriously at Whittingtonian consequences: nicety each of them had put in a word when it laid such emphasis'on what Walter had just now was wanted; how exactly they had taken one told them: and appealed to it so confidently as another's measure; nor how Ned Cuttle had a corroboration of his predictions, and a great pointed out that resource in the first. extremity, advance towards the realisation of the romantic and had brought the interview to the desired legend of Lovely Peg: that he bewildered the termination. On all these grounds the captain old man. Walter, for his part, feigned to be so soothed himself with thinking that though Ned full of hope and ardour, and so sure of coming Cuttle was forced, by the pressure of events, to home again soon, and backed'up the captain " stand by" almost useless for the present, Ned with such expressive shakings of his head and would fetch up with a wet sail in good time, and rubbings of his hands,' that Solomon, looking carry all before him. first at him and then at Captain Cuttle, began to Under the influence of this good-natured de- think he ought to be transported with joy. lusion, Captain Cuttle even went so far as to "But I'm behind the time, you understand," revolve in his own bosom, while he sat looking he observed-in apology, passing his hand nerat Walter, and listening with a tear on his shirt vously down the whole row of bright buttons on collar to what'he related, whether it might not his coat, and then up again, as if they were beads, be at once genteel and politic to give Mr. Dom- and he were telling them twice over: "and I bey a verbal invitation, whenever they should would rather have my dear boy here.' It's an meet, to come and cut his mutton in Brig Place old-fashioned notion, I dare say. He was always on some day of his own naming, and enter on fond of the sea. He's "-and he looked wistthe question of his young friend's prospects over fully at Walter-" he's glad to go." a social glass. But the uncertafn temper of Mrs. "Uncle Sol!" cried Walter quickly, "if you MacStinger, and the possibility of her setting up say that, I won't go. No, Captain Cuttle, I her rest in the passage during such an entertain- won't. If my uncle thinks I could be glad to ment, and there delivering some homily of an leave him, though I was.going to be made uncomplimentary nature, operated as a check on Governor of all the islands in the West Indies, the captain's hospitable thoughts, and rendered that's enough. I'm a fixture." him timid of giving them encouragement. "Wal'r, my lad," said the captain, "steady 1 One fact was quite clear to the captain, as Sol Gills, take an observation of your nevy." Walter, sitting thoughtfully over- his untasted Following with his eyes the majestic action dinner, dwelt on all that hod happened; namely, of the captain's hook,'the old man looked at that however Walter's modesty might stand in Walter. the way of his perceiving it himself, he was, as "Here is a certain craft," said the captain, one might say; a.. member of Mr. Dombey's with a magnificent sense of the allegory into family. He had'been, in his own person, con- which he was soaring, "a-going to put out on a nected with the incident he so pathetically de- certain voyage. W hat name is wrote upon that scribed; he had been by name remembered and craft indelibly? Is it The Gay? or," said the commended in close association with it; and his captain, raising his voice as much as to say, fortunes must have a particular interest in his observe the point of this, " is it The. Gills?" employer's eyes. If the captain had any lurking "Ned," said the old man, drawing Walter to doubt whatever of his own conclusions, he had his side, and taking his arm tenderly through CAPTAIN CUTTLE WAITS ON MR. CARKER- 119 his, "I know. I know. Of course I know that had said; and it would be a deep, shrewd act of Wally considers me more than himself always.?riendship.- He would sound Mr. Carker careT'hat's in my mind. When I say he is glad to fully, and say much or little, just as he read that:go,-I meanT hope he is.. Eh? Look you, gentleman's character, and discovered that they Ned, and you too, Wally, my dear, this is new got on well together or the reverse..and unexpected to me: and I'm afraid my being. Accordingly, without the-fear of Walter before behind the tinle, and poor, is.at the bottom of his eyes (who he knew was at home packing), it. Is it really good fortune for'him, do, you Captain Cuttle again assumed his ankle-jacks tell me now?" said the old man, looking and mourning brooch, and issued forth on this anxiously from one to the other. "Really and second~ expedition. He purchased no propitruly? Is it?' I can reconcile myself to almost tiatory nosegay on the present occasion, as he anything that advances Wally, but. I won't have was going to a place of business; but he put a Wally putting- himself at any disadvantage for small sunflower in his button-hole, to give himme, or keeping anything from me. You, Ned self an agreeable relish of the country; and with Ciuttle.!" said the old man, fastening on the this, and the knobby stick, and the glazed hat, captain, to the manifest confusion of that diplo- bore down upon the offices of Dombey and Son. matist,'"are you dealing plainly by your old After taking a glass of warm rum-and-water at friend? 1 Speak out, Ned Cuttle. Is there any- a tavern close by, to collect his thoughts, the thing behind? Ought he to go? How do you captain made a ruslh down the court, lest its know it first, arid why?" good effects should evaporate, and appeared As it was a contest of affection and self.dcenal, suddenly to Mr. Perch. Walter' struck'in.with infinite effect, to the " Matey," said the captain in persuasive captain's relief; and between them they tolerably accents, "one of your governors is named reconciled old Sol Gills, by continued talking, Carker." to the' project; or rather, so confused him, that Mr. Perch admitted it;. but gave him to nothing, not even the pain of separation, was understand, as in official duty bound, that all distinctly clear to his mind. his governors were engaged, and never expected He had not much time to balance the matter; to be disengaged any more. for, on the very next day, Walter received from " Lookee here, mate," said the captain in his Mt'. Carker the manager the necessary credentials ear; "' my name's Cap'en Cuttle." for lhis passage and outfit,, together with the The- captain would have'hooked Perch gently information that the Son and Heir would sail in to him, but Mr. Perch eluded the attempt; *not a fortnight, or within a day or two afterwards at so much in design, as in starting at the sudden latest. In the hurry of preparation:. which thought that. such a weapon, unexpectedly Walter purposely enhanced as much as possible: exhibited to Mrs. Perch, might,.in her then tlhle old man lost what littl'e self-possession he condition, be destructive to that lady's hopes. ever had: and so the time of departure drew\on. " If you'll be so good as just report Cap'en rapidly. Cuttle here when you get a chance," said the The captain, who did not fail to make himself captain, " I'll wait." acquainted with all that passed, through inquiries'Saying which, the captain took his scat.on of Walter from day to day, found the time still Mr. Perch's bracket, and drawing.out Iis handtending on towards his going away, without any kerchief from the crown of the glazed hat, which occasion offering itself, or seeming. likely to offer he jammed between his knees (without injury to itself, for a better understanding of his position. its shape, for nothing human could bend it), It was after much consideration of this fact, and rubbed his head well all over, and appeared much pondering over such an unfortunate com- refreshed. He subsequently arranged his hair bination of'circumstances, that'a bright idea with his hook, and sat looking round the office, occurred to the captain. Suppose he made a contemplating the clerks with a serene aspect. call on Mr. Carker; and tried to find. out from The captain's equanimity was so impenetrable, hInl how the land really lay? and he was altogether so mysterious a.being, that Captain Cuttle liked tlis idea very much. It Perch the messenger was daunted. came upon him in, a,moment' of inspiration, as "What name was it you. said?" asked Mr. he was smokinrg an early pipe in Brig Place after Pe'c, bending down over him as he sat on the breakfast; and it was worthy of the tobacco.' It bracket. would quiet his'conscience, which'was an honest " Cap'en," in a deep hoarse whisper. one, and' was made a little uneasy by what "Yes," said Mr. Percl, keeping timne with his Walter had confided to him,and what Sol Gills head. 120 DOMBEY AND SON. " Cuttle."'"No, thank you," said the manager, standing, "Oh!" said Mr. Perch in the same tone, for perhaps from the force of winter habit, with his he caught it, and couldn't help it; the captain, back against the chimney-piece, and looking in his diplomacy, was so impressive. "I'll see down upon the captain with an-eye in every if he's disengaged now. I don't know. Perhaps tooth and gum. "You have taken the liberty, he may be for a minute." you were going to say-though it's none —" "Ay, ay, my lad, I won't -detain him longer "Thankee kindly, my lad," returned.-the than a minute," said the captain, nodding with captain. "Of coming here on account of my all the weighty importance that he felt within friend, Wal'r. Sol Gills, his uncle, is a man -of him. Perch, soon returning, said, "Will Captain science, and in science he may be considered a Cuttle walk this way?" clipper; but he ain't what I should altogether Mr. Carker, the manager, standing on the call a able seaman-not a man' of practice. hearth-rug before the empty fire-place, which Wal'r is as trim a lad as ever stepped; but he's was ornamented with a castellated sheet of a little down by the head in one respect, and brown paper, looked at the captain, as he came that is modesty. Now, what I would wish to.put in, with no very special encouragement. to you," said the captain, lowering his voice, and "Mr. Carker?" said Captain Cuttle. speaking in a kind of confidential growl, "in a "I believe so," said Mr. Carker, showing all friendly way, entirely between you and me, and. his teeth. for my own private.reckoning, till your head The captain liked his answering with a smile: governor has wore round a bit, and I can come it looked pleasant. "You see," began the alongside of him, is this.-Is everything right captain, rolling his eyes slowly round the little and coMnfortable here, and is Wal'r out'ard bound room, and taking in as much of it as his shirt with a pretty fair wind? " collar permitted; " I'm a seafaring man myself, "What do you think now, Captain Cuttle?" Mr. Carker, and Wal'r, as is on your books here, returned Carker, gathering up his skirts and is a'most a son of mine." settling himself in his position. " You are a " Walter Gay?" said Mr. Catner, showing all practical man: what do you think? " his teeth again. The acuteness and significance of the captain's "Wal'r Gay it is," replied the captain, eye, as he cocked it in reply, no words short'of "right!" ~ The captain's manner expressed a those unutterable Chinese words before referred warm -approval of Mr. Carker's quickness of to could describe. perception. " I'm a intimate friend of his and "Come!" said the captain, unspeakably enhis uncle's. Perhaps," said the captain, "you couraged, "what do you say? Am I right or may have heard your head governor mention my wrong?" name?-Captain Cuttle." So much had the captain expressed in his eye, "Not!" said Mr. Carker, with a still iwider emboldened and incited by Mr. Carker's smil. demonstration than before. ing urbanity, that he. felt himself in as fair a "Well," resumed the. captain, "I've the condition to put the question as if he. had pleasure of his acquaintance. I waited upon expressed his sentiments with the utmost elahim down on the Sussex coast ther, with my boration. young friend Wal'r, when-in short, lhen there "Right," said Mr. Carker, "I have no doubt.' was a little accommodation wanted." The "Out'ard bound, with fair weather, then, I captain nodded his head in a manner that was say," cried Captain Cuttle. at once comfortable, easy, and expressive. Mr. Carker smiled assent. "You remember, I dare say? " Wind right astarn, and plenty of it," pursued "I think," said Mr. Carker, "I had the honour the captain. of arranging the business." Mr. Carker smiled assent again. "To be sure!" returned the captain. "Right "Ay, ay!" said. Captain Cuttle, greatly again! you had. Now, I've took the liberty of relieved' and pleased. "I knowed how she. coming here-" headed, well enough; I told Wal'r so. Thankee, "Won't you sit down?" said Mr. Car:er, thanllee." smiling. "Gay has brilliant prospects," observed Mr. "Thankee," returned the captain, availing Carker, stretching his mouth wider vet; "all himself of the offer. "A man does get more the world before him," way upon himself, perhaps, in his conversation, " Aii the world and his wife too, as the saying when he sits down, rWon't you take a cheer is," returned the delighted captain, yourself?"? At the word "wife" (which lie had uttered -AND MAKES A VERY DISCREET COIM MUNICATION. $2 without design), the captain stopped, cocked his tific uncle! Nevy of Sol Gills! Wal'r! Wal'r, eye again, and putting the glazed hat on the top as is. already in your business! And,' said the of the knobby stick, gave it a twirl, and looked captain,rising graduallyto a quotation he was presideways at his always smiling friend. paring for a final burst,"' who-comes from Sol "I'd bet a gill of old Jamaica," said the Gills's daily, to your business, and your buzzums." captain, eyeing him attentively, "that I know The captain's complacency as he gently jogged what you're smiling at." Mr. Carker with his elbow, on concluding each Mr. Carker took his cue, and smiled the of the foregoing short sentences, could be surmore. passed by nothing but the exultation with which "It goes no farther?" said the captain, making he fell back and eyed him when he had finished a poke at the door with the knobby stick to assure this brilliant display of eloquence and sagacity; himself that it was shut. his great blue waistcoat -heaving with the throes "Not an inch," said Mr. Carker. of such a masterpiece, and his nose in a state of "You're a thinking of a capital F, perhaps," violent inflammation from the same cause. said the captain.'Am I right?" said the captain. Mr. Carker didn't deny it. "Captain Cuttle," said Mr. Carker, bending "Anything about a L," said the captain, "or down at the knees, for a moment, in an odd a 0?" manner, as if he were falling together to hug the Mr. Carker still smiled. whole of himself at once, " your views in refer"Am I right again?" inquired the captain in ence to Walter Gay are thoroughly and accua whisper, with the scarlet circle on his forehead rately right. I understand that we speak toswelling in his triumphant joy. gether in confidence." Mr. Carker, in reply, still smiling, and now "Honour!" interposed the captain. "Not nodding assent, Captain Cuttle rose and squeezed a word." him by the hand, assuring him, warmly, that " To him or any one?" pursued the manager. they were on the same tack, and that as for him Captain Cuttle frowned and shook his head. (Cuttle), he had laid his course that way all "But merely for your own satisfaction and along. "He knowed her first," said the cap- guidance-and guidance, of course," repeated tain, with all the secrecy and gravity that the Mr. Carker, " with a view to your future prosubject demanded, " in an uncommon manner- ceedings." you remember his finding her in the street, when "Thankee kindly, I am sure," said the capshe was a'most a babbt-he has liked her ever tain, listening with great attention. since, and she him, as much as two such young- "I have no hesitation in saying, that's the sters can. We've always said, Sol Gills and me, fact. You have hit the probabilities exactly." that they was cut out for each other." "And with regard to your head governor," A cat, or a monkey, or a hyena, or a death's said the captain, "why, an interview had better head could not have shown the captain more come about nat'ral between us. There's time teeth at one time than Mr. Carker showed him enough." at this period of their interview. Mr. Carker, with his mouth from ear to ear, "There's a general in-draught that way," ob- repeated, "Time enough." Not articulating served the happy captain. "Wind and water the words, but bowing his head affably, and sets in that direction, you see. Look at his forming them with his tongue and lips. being present t'other day!" "And as I know now-it's what I always said "Most favourable to his hopes," said Mr. -that Wal'r's in a way to make his fortune-" Carker. said the captain. " Look at his being towed along in the wake "To make his fortune," Ar. Carker repeated of that day!" pursued the captain. "Why, in the same dumb manner. what can cut him adrift now?" "-And as Wal'r's going on this little voyage ":Nothing," replied Mr. Carker. is, as I may say, in his day's work, and a part "You're right again," returned the captain, of his general expectations here — " said the giving his hand another squeeze. " Nothing it captain. is. So! steady! There's a son gone: pretty "Of his general expectations here," assented little creetur! Ain't there?" IMr. Carker, dumbly as before: "Yes, there's a son gone," said the acqui — Why, so long as I know that," pursued escent Carker. the captain, " there's no hurry, and my mind's "Pass the word, and there's another ready at ease." for you," quoth the captrain, " Nevy of a scien- Mr. Carler still blandly assenting in the same 122 DOMIBE Y AND SON. voiceless manner, Captain Cuttle was strongly approving glance, and, with a graceful recogniconfirmed in his opinion that he was one of the tion of the clerks as a body, that was full of most agreeable men he had ever met, and that politeness and patronage, passed out into the even Mr. Dombey might improve himself Eri court. Being promptly joinedby Mr. Perch, he such.a model. With great heartiness, there- conveyed that gentleman to.the taverni.,and fore, the captain once again extended his enor- fulfilled his pledge-hastily, for Perch'stinie was mous hand (not unlike an old block in colour), precious. and gave him a grip that left upon his smoother "I'll give you for a toast," said the captain, flesh a proof impression of the chinks and cre- "Wal'r " vices with which the captain's palm wasliberally' Who?" submitted Mr. Perch. tattooed.' " Wal'r!" repeated the captain in a voice of "Farewell!" said the captain. "I ain't a thunder. man of many words, but I take it very kind of Mr. Perch, who seemed to remember having you to be so friendly and above-board. You'll heard in infancy that there was once a poet of excuse me if I've been at all intruding, will that name, made no objection; but he was much you?" said the captain. astonished at the captain's coming into the City " Not at all," returned the other. to propose a poet; indeed, if he had proposed " Thank'e. My berth ain't very roomy," said to put a poet's statue up-say Shakspeare's, for the captain, turning back again, "; but it's tolera- example-in a civic.thorougihfare, he could Ibly snug; and if you was to find yourself near hardly have done a greater outrage to Mr. Brig Place, number nine, at any time-will you Perch's experience. On the whole, he was such make a note of it?-and would come' up-stairs, a mysterious and incorpprehensible character, without minding What was said by the person at that Mr. Perch decided not to mention him to the door, I should be proud to see you."' Mrs. Perch at all, in case of giving rise to any With. that hospitable invitation, the captain disagreeable consequences. said "Good day!" and Walked out and shut the Mysterious and incomprehensible, the captain, door; leaving Mr. Carker still reclining against with that lively sense upon him of having done the chimney-piece. In whose sly look and watch- a little business for the youngsteis, remained all fulmanner; in whose false mouth, stretched, day even to his most intimate friends; and but but not laughing; in whose spotless cravat and that Walter attributed his winks,and grins, and very whiskers: even in whose silent passing of other such pantomimic reliefs of himself, to his his soft hand over his white linen and his snooth satisfaction in the success of their innocent deface; there was something'desperately cat-like. ception upon old Sol Gills, he would assuredly The unconscious captain walked out in a have betrayed himself before night. As it was, state of self-glorification that imparted quite a however, he kept his own secret; and' went new cut to the broad blue.suit. "Stand by, home late from the instrumentlmaker's house, Ned!" said the captain to himself. "You've wearing'the glazed hat so mucl on one side, -done a little business for the youngsters to-day, and carrying such a beaming expression in his my lad " eyes, that Mrs.. MacStinger (who might have In his exultation, and in his familiarity, pre- been brought lip at Doctor Blimber's, she was sent and prospective, with the fIouse,'.the cap- such a Roman matron) fortified herself, at the first tain, when he reached the outer office, could not glimpse of him, behind the open street-door, and refrain from rallying Mr. Perch a little, and refused-to come out to the contemplation of her asking him whether'he, thought everybody was blessed infants until he was'securely-lodged in still engaged. But not to be bitter on a man- his own room. who had done his duty, the captain whispered in his ear, that if he felt disposed for a glass of rum-and-water, and would follow, he would. beCHAPTER XVIII happy to bestow the same upon him. Before leaving the premises, the captain, FATHER AND DAUGHTER. somewhat to the astonishment of the. clerks, looked round from a central point of view, and THERE is', hush through Mr. Dombey's took a general survey of the office, as part and - house. Servants gliding up and down parcel of a project in which his young friend was stairs rustle, but make no sound of footsteps. nearly interested. The strong-room excited his They talk' together constantly; and sit long especial admiration; but, that he might not ap- at'meals; making much of their meat and pear too particular, he limited himself to an drink, and enjoying themseivc ^tf., grim, THE TABLEZT. 2'3,unholy fashion. Mrs.- Wickam, with her eyes coat on again over his fine dress; and his trtdgsiffuse'i with -tears, relates melancholy anec-'ing wife, one-sided with her heavy baby in her dotes; and tells them how she always said'Iarms, loiters to see the companycome out. But *at. Mrs.. Pipchin's that it would be so, and takes closer to her dingy breast she'presses, her baby, more "table ale than usual, and is very sorry, but -when the burden that is so easily carried is borne sociable. Cook's state of mind is similar. She forth; and the youngest of the rosy children at promises a little fry for supper, and struggles the high window opposite needs no restrainifig about equally against her feelings and the hand to check her in her glee, when, pointing onions.'with her dimpled finger;. she looks into her Towlinson begins to think there's a fate in it,.:nurse'sface, and asks, "What's that?" and wants to know if anybody can tell him of: And now, among the knot of servants dressed any goa that ever came of living in a corner inf mouirning, and the weeping women, Mr. Domhouse. It seems to all of. them as:having hap-' bey:passes through the H:ll t the other carpened'a long time ago; though yet the child riage'that is waiting to receive him. He'is not lies, calm and beautiful, upon his little bed; "brought down," these'observers think, by sorAfter dark there come some visitors-noiseless row and distress of mind.'H{is walk is as erect,'visitors, with shoes of felt-who have been there his bearing is as stiff, as everit has'been. He before; and with them comes that lbed of rest hides his face behind no.handkerchief, and looks which is so strange a one for infant sleepers.' before him. But that his face-is:something-sunk All this tiime the bereaved father has not been and rigid, and is pale, it bearsIthe same expresseen evenjby his attendant; for he sits in a sion as of old. He takes his place within the corner of his own.dark: room when:any 0one is carriage, and three other gentlemen follow. Then there, and'never seems to move at' other.times,:the grand funeral moves slowly down the street. except to pace it to and fro. But in the morn- The feathers are yet nodding in the distance, ing it is wiispered among the househoi'thiat he- when the juggler has the'basin spinning on a was heard to go up-stais irs ithe. dead:riiightand cane:and'has the same crowd to admire it.' But that he stayedtheein ther room-untjil'the the juggler's wife is less alert than usual with the sun was shning. money-box, for a child's burial lhas set her thinkAt the offices in the.City, the groundglass ing that'perhaps the baby underneath ler shabby'windows are:made. more dim'nby..slhtters,'and shawl may not grow up to be a man, and wear while the l ghtecl:lamps. unon ithe desks are half a sky-blue fillet round his head, and salmonextinguishedby:i the': d:ay that wanders in,: the colour'edd worsted drawersand tumble in the mud. day is halt tigished by.the lamps, a n The feathers wind their gloomy way along the unusual glom prevails. There.is not much streets, and come within the sound of g church business done..The clerks are indi'sposedto.bell. In this same church the pretty boy rework;'anidthey make assignations to eat cho6ps' ceived all that will soon be left of him on earth ire the afternoon, aind. g.tup-iher.'Pe a nane. All' of" him.:that is dead they lay. the messenger stays lng uipo his':e'rrands;and there, near the perishable substance of his finds himsf'jin b- bars' of public-houses, invited mother.' It is well.. Their ashes lie where Flothither by iis an'holding for on the,:rence in her walks-oh, lonely, lonely walks!-'certainty o'f.uman.affairs.'He goes home'to: may pass them any day. IBalls Pond' e.rier:in, the-.evening..than usua. The. service over, and the clergyman withand treats Mrs.P.iechto a.eal cut-let.and Scot: drawn,.Mr. Dombey' looks round, demanding, in iale. Mr. Carker the -manager treats no. one;.:a.low voice, whether he \person who has been -neither is le treated;but alone in hisowmn roo: requested to attend:to receive instructions for he shows his'teeth all'day; and it'would-seem thetablet is there? that there is something. gone:-from Mr. Carker's''- Some one comes forward, and says " Yes." path-someobte obsa removed'-which -clears his. Mr. Dombey, intimates where he- would have way before him. it placed; and shows him, with his hand upon Now the rosy children living opposite to Mr. the wall,'the shape and size and how it is to Dombey's house peep from their nursery win-'follow the memorial to the mother.' Then, with dows down into the street; for theret are four.his pencil, he writes out the inscription, and black, horses at his door, with feathers on their gives it to him: adding,"'" I wish to have it done heads; and feathers'tremble on the carriage that at once." th.y draw; and these, and an array of men with "It shall be done immediately, sir." scarfs and staves, attract a crowd. The juggler, "There is really nothing'to inscribe but naime who was going to twirl the basin, puts his loose and age; you see," 124 DOSDBE Y AND SOAN The man bows, glancing at the paper, but done immediately, and it may be put in hand appears to hesitate. Mr. Dombey, not observing when I get back-" his hesitation, turns away and leads \towards the " Well?" porch. "Will you be so good as read it over again? "I beg your pardon, sir;" a touch falls gently I think there's a mistake." on hi mourning cloak; "but as you. wish it' Where?" CALL THIS TIME, THE BEREAVED FATHER HAS NOT BEEN SEEN EVEN BY HIS ATTENDANT; FOR HE SITS IN A CORNER OF HIS OWN DARE. ROOM." The statuary gives him back the paper, and The father, with a -hastier step, pursues his points out, with his pocket -ule. the words, "Be- way to the coach. When the other three, who loved and only child." followed closely, take their seats, his face is "It should be' son,' I think, sir?" hidden for the first time-shaded by his cloak. "You are right. Of course. Make the cor- Nor do they see it any more that day. He rection." alights first, and passes immediately into his MRS. CHICK IMPRO VES THE OCCASION. 2 own room. The other mourners (who are only "-You will then," pursued Mrs. Chick, gently Mr.'Chick, and two of the medical attendants) squeezing Miss Tox's band in acknowledgment proceed up-stairs to the drawing-room, to be of her friendly remark; "you will then know that received by Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox. And all grief is unavailing, and that it is,our duty to what the face is, in the shut-up chamber under- submit." neath: or what the thoughts are: what the heart "I will try, dear aunt. I do try," answered is, what thp contest or the suffering: no one Florence, sobbing. knows.. "I am glad to hear it," said trs. Chick, " beThe chief'thing that they know below-stairs,;."cause, myi- ovy as.our dear Miss!Tox-of whose in the kitchen, is, that" it.'seems like Sin:day"isoiind sensse dard excellenit judgment there canThey can hardly persuade. themselves'utthat notpossibly be two'piios there is something unbecoming, if not wickd, in.': y d'ear Lotisa, I shall idally be proud the conduct of the. people: ut of dors, who soon" said Miss Tox pursue their ordinary: occupations, and:wear " Will tell you, and confirmi:niy her experitheir every-day attire. It is'quite ta novelty to ence," pursued' Mrs. Chick,. " e are called upon have the blinds.up,- and thd sutters -en: and on all occasions to make an effort. It is required they make themselves dismally:cotfortable over of tus. If any- - My dear, ti rning to Miss bqttles of wine, which are freely broached as on' Tox, "'I want a word. Mis — -' Ms — "a festival., They are miuch incined t.o mioralise: " "Demneaourt?' suggested'Miss Tox. Mr. Towlinson proposes with; a sighi' Am:end-:'No rio no, said Mrs. Chic'k: "' How can ment to us; all!" for which as cook says wvith: yo'? 6oodness- me, it;sn the end of my another sigh, "Theres robm enough, od knows" tongue. Mis —" In the evening, Mrs. Chickdnd Maiss Toxtake " P^ced affectio? " suggested Miss Tox to needlework again. In the! evening, also,'Mr. timily.: Towlinson goes out to take the air companied: Good gracious, Lucretia!" returned Mrs. by the housemaid, iwho'has not yet' tried her Chick: How very monstrous''Misanthrope mourning bonnet. Triey are veryttederi to each is tie word. want.:Te:idea: Misplaced affecother at dusky; street corners, and Towlinson. hasi ftion; i say, if any misanthrope were to put, in visions of leading ne alteredi and blaeless exist my presence-, te question,; Why wee we born?' ence as a serio greengrocer in kford Maret. i should reply,'To make an effor There is sopi~deeief s Deepadrd: er rest ini: Mr. "Very good indeed," said Miss Tox, much Dombey's housi&tonight than hetei has been:r impre'ssead'y'the' originaliy:of;t'he sentiment: for many nighes Th'Se.-T rnibit surt aWakens the goi old househ6ld,'setted down on.ce more'in thetr:ihappily"j sued'Mrs. Chi e old ways. The i::' children opposiie rn p at warning unde our wn eyes. We have but -with hoops. Theis a spl.ndid'iedditnge in the to'o much o easofi to supipose, my i dear child, that church. Theugglelie uletis tctiie'Hith b iae ffo ti a ed b'ad i ne iame,inthi family money-box in finothier;quarter of the towi. iThe a: trai of6 the most trying -aid distressing circummason siangs and? wehiseasehise's -'ps out P-A-u. stancies:right'hathvoebeen avoided..' Nbthing shall i.... V'': "'' "";''' in the marble -slab'r iihi.:.......:,' e.go."d in the marble slabbeforA him. -:''1, evet persuade me obseryedb the fgood: matron ~And can:wit-be t't in d a d wt res' oe airi, butf thatit t hat effort had busy, the loss ofone weak: reature laki s a 6id b'en made-by oor dear:-Faany- the:poor dear in any heart, so iwie ahd/d'eepthat.fnothi gbii adarling child woiil at'least ave had a stronger the width arid:dielh ofvast eternity cn fil it bostituion." up? Florence, ii ihetin ocenft affiction, nght:Mrs; Click abandoned'heself to her feelings have answered,'.i Oh my brther ohli oh r n deafii fioraifi f a moment - bud as a practical illustration loved and lv:in6br:other't"- IOibfrind-I o erdotieboglherselfup ortin t companion of miy slighitd.childhodd'! ^Cou idide taofa sob, andiwent oni again.' any.less idea- shed te:gt already adawning'o- "' Thetefore,f Florence pray let us see that you your early grave, or give birth to the softened have, some strength of mind, and do-not selfishly sorrow that is springing into life beneath this aggravate the distress in which vour poor papa rain of tears?" is plunged." "lMy dear child," said Mrs. Chick, who held "Dear aunt " said Florence, kneeling quickly it. as.a duty incumbent on her to improve the down before her, that she might the better and occasion, "when you are as old as' I am " more earnestly look' into her face.;" Tell me, "Which will be the prime of life," observec more-about papa. Praytell me about him jlIs MiSs Tox, he quite heart-broken? " X26 DOMBEY AND SON. Miss Tox was of a tender nature, and there loved him like a —-- Where's my pocket. was something in this appeal that moved her handkerchief?" very much. Whether she saw in it a succession, Miss Tox produced one. an the part of the neglected child, to the affec- -":Exceedingly kind notes, proposing that you tionate concern so often expressed by her dead shduld visit them for change of scene. Menbrother-or a love that sought to twine itself tioning to your papa that I thought Miss Tox about the heart that had loved him, and that and myself might now go home (in which he could not bear to be shut out from sympathy quite agreed), I inquired if he had any objection with such a sorrow, in such sad community of to your accepting this invitation. He said, love and grief —or whether she only recognised' No, Louisa, not the least.l'" the earnest and devoted spirit which, although Florence raised her tearful eyes. discarded and repulsed, was wrung with tender- "At the same time, if you would prefer stayness long unreturned, and in the -waste and soli- ing here, Florence, to paying this visit. at pretude of this bereavement cried to him to seek a sent, or to going home with me —" comfort in it and to give some, by some small "I should much prefer it, aunt," was the faint response —whatever may have been her under- rejoinder. standing of it, it moved Miss Tox. For the "Why then, child," said Mrs. Chick, "you moment she forgot the majesty of Mrs. Chick, can. It's a strange. choice, I must say. But and,. patting Florence hastily on the cheek, you always were strange. Anybody else at turned aside and suffered the tears to gush from your time of life, and after what has passedher eyes, without waiting for a lead from that my dear Miss Tox, I have lost my pocket-handwise matron. kerchief again-would be glad to leave here, Mrs. Chick herself lost, for. a moment, the one would suppose." presence of mind on which she so much prided "I should not like to feel," said Florence, herself; and remained mute, looking on the "as if the house was avoided. I should not beautiful young face that had so long, so steadily, like to think that the-his-the rooms up-stairs and patiently been turned towards the little bed. were quite empty and dreary, aunt. I would But recovering her voice-which was synony- rather stay here for the present. Oh, my mous with her presence of mind; indeed, they brother! oh, my brother!" were one and the same thing-she replied with It was a natural emotion, not to be supdignity: pressed; *and it would make way even between' Florence, my dear child, your poor papa is the fingers of the hands with which she covered peouliar at times; and to question me about up her face. The overcharged and heavyhim is to question me' upon a subject which I laden breast'must, sometimes have that vent, or really.do not pretend to understand. I believe the poor- wounded solitary heart within it would I have as much influence with your papa as have fluttered like a bird with broken wings, anybody has. Still, all I can say is, that he has and sunk down.in the dust. said very little to me; and that I have only seen "Well,,child!" said Mrs. Chick after a pause, himn once or twice for a minute at a time, and, "I wouldn't on any account say anything unkind indeed, have hardly seen him'then, for his room to,you, and that I'm sure you know. You will has been dark. I have said tq your papa,' Paul!' remain here, then, and do exactly as you like. -that is the exact expression I used-' Paul! No one will interfere with, you, Florence, or why do you not take something stimulating?' wish to interfere with you, I'm sure." Your papa's reply has always been,'Louisa, Florence shook her head in sad assent. have the goodness to leave me. I want nothing. "I had no sooner begun to advise your poor I am better;by myself.' If I was to be put upon papa that he really ought to seek some distracmy oath',to-morrow, Lucretia, before a magis- tion and restoration in a temporary change," trate," said Mrs. Chick, "I have-no doubt I said Mrs. Chick, "than he told me he had could venture to swear to those identical words." already formed the intention of going into the Miss Tox expressed her admiration by saying, country for a short time, I'm sure I hope he'll'My Louisa is ever methodical!" go very soon. He can't go too soon. But I'In short, Florence," resumed her aunt, suppose there are some arrangements connected'literally nothing has passed between your with his private papersi and so forth, consequent poor papa and myself, until to-day; when I on the affliction that has tried us all so muchmentioned to your papa that Sir Barnet and I can't think-whafs become of mine:. Lucretia, Lady Skettles had''written exceedingly kind lend me yours, nmy.dear-that may occupy him notqe — Qur sweet boy!, Lady Skettles for one or two evenings in hii own room,.- XQ. PItE ROSY CHILDREN'S HOME. 127 papa's a Dombey, child, if ever there was one," assembled twelve, and showed each man his said Mrs. Chick, drying both her'eyes at once brpther, brigh.ened and. unhurt. The image with. great care on opposite corners of Miss conjured up, there soon returned the placid face, Tox's handkerchief. "He'll make an effort. the softened voice, the loving looks, the quiet There's no fear of him." trustfulness and peace; and Florence, though "Is there nothing, aunt,", asked Florence, she wept still, wept more tranquilly, and courted trembling, "I' might do to —" the remembrance. "Lord, my dear child," interposed Mrs. Chick It was not very long before the golden water, hastily, "what are you talking about? If your dancing on the wall, in the old place at the old papa -said to me-I have given you his exact serene time, had her calm eyes fixed upon it as words, Louisa, I want nothing; I am better by it ebbed away. It was not very long before that myself'-what do you think, he'd say to you? room again knew her often; sitting there alone, You mustn't show yourself to him, child. Don't as patient.and as mild as when she had watched dream of such a thing." beside the little bed.'When any sharp sense of "Aunt, said Florence, "I will go and lie its being empty smote upon her, she could kneel down-in my bed.' beside\it, and pray Go —it was the pouring ot Mrs. Chick approved of this resolution, and of her full heart-to let one angel love her and dismissed.her with a kiss. But Miss Tox, on a remember her. faint pretence of looking for the mislaid hand- It was not very long before, in the midst of kerchief, went up-stairs after her; and tried in a the dismal house so wide and dreary, her low few stolen minutes to comfort her, ih spite of -voice in the twilight, slowly, and stopping somegreat discouragement from Susan Nipper. ~ For times, touched the old air to which he had so Miss Nipper, in her burning zeal, disparaged often listened, with his drooping head upon her Miss Tox as a crocodile; yet her sympathy arm. And after that, and when it was quite darl, seemed genuine, arid had at least- the vantage- a little strain of music trembled in the room: so ground of disinterestedness-there was little softlyplayed and sung, that it wa more like the favour to be won by it.' mournful recollection of what- she:had done And.was there no one nearer and._dearer than at his request, on that last night, than the reality Susan to uphold the striving heart in its anguish? repeated. -But it was repeated,'often-very Was there no other -neck to clasp; no other face often, in the shadowy solitude; and broken to turn to? no/one else to say a soothing word- murmurs of the strain still trembled on the keys, to such deep" sorrow? Was Florence so alone /i when the sweet voice was hushed in tears. in the bleak world that nothing else remained to ~ Thus she gained heart to look upon the work her? Nothing.. Striclken motherless and brother-. wth which her fingers had been busy by his side less at once-for, in.'the loss of little Paul, that on the seashore; and thus it was not very long first and greatest loss fell heavily upon her-this before she took to it again-with something of a was the only help she had. Oh, who can- tell. human love for it, as if it'had be'n sentient and how much she needed help at first?. had'known him; and, sitting in a window, near At first,.when.;the house subsided into' its.her mother's picture, in the unused room so long accustomed,.'ourspeand they had all gone away, deserted, wore away the thoughtful hours.. except the servants, and -her father shut-up in Why did the dark eyes turn so often from this his own rooms, Florence could do nothing but work to where the rosy children lived? They weep, and wander up and down, and sometimes,. were not immediately suggestive of her loss; for in a sudden pang of. desolate remembrance, fly they were all girls; four little sisters. ~ But they to her own chamber, wring her hands, lay her were motherless like her-and'had a father. face down on her bed, and know no consolation: It was easy to know when he had gone out nothing but the bitterness and cruelty of grief. and was.expected home, for the elder child was This comnionly ensued upon the recognition of -always dressed and waiting for him at the drawsome spot or object very tenderly associated ing-roor window, or in the balcony; aind when with him; and it made the miserable -house, at he appeared, her.expectant face lighted up with first, a place of agony. joy, while the others at the high window, and But it is not in the nature of pure love to burn always on the watch too, clapped their hands, and so fiercely and unkindly long. The -flame that drummed them on the sill, and called to him. in its grosser composition has the taint of earth, The elder child would come down to the hall may prey upon the breast that gives it shelter; and. put -her hand in his, and lead him up the but the sacred fire from heaven is. as gentle in. stairs; and Florence would see her'afterwards the heart as when it rested on the heads of the sitting by his side, or on his knee, or hanging E29 btOMBE Y AND SO1Y. coaxingly. about his neck and talking to him: into tears, would'hide behind the curtain as if and though they were always gay together, he she were frightened, or would hurfy from the would often watch her face, as if he thought her window. Yet she could not help returning; like her niother that ivas dead. Florence would and her work would soon fall unheeded from her sometimes look no more at this, and, bursting hands again. I | * IT WAS REPEATED, OFTEN-VERY OFTEN, IN THE SHADOWY SOLITUDE; AND BROKEN MURMURS OF THE STRAIN STILL TREMBLED Olt THE-KEYS, WHEN THE SWEET VOICE WAS HUSHED IN TEARS." It was'the house that had been.empty, years old self. But she never thought of the house. ago..It had remained so for a iong time. At The children and their father were all in all. last, and while she had been away from home, When he had dined; she could see them, this family i'ad taken it; and it was repaired and through the open windows, go down with their,inwly pajpted'.and there were birds and flowers governess or nurse, and cluster round the table; iabout it; nd it looked. very different from its and, in the still summer weather, the sound of A VISPO' FOR PLOPRVSt. f. their childish voices and clear laughter would the house that he was very soon going on. his come ringing across the street, into the drooping country journey; but he lived in those rooms, air of the room in which she sat. Then they and lived alone, and never saw her, or inquired would climb and clamber up-stairs with him, and for her. Perhaps he did not even know.that she romp about him on the sofa, or group themselves was in the house. at his knee, a very nosegay of little faces, while One lay, about'a week after the funeral, Flohe seemed to tell them some story. Or they rence was sitting at her work, when Susan apwould come running out into the balcony; and peared, with a face half laughing arid half crying, then Florence would hide herself quickly, lest it to announce a visitor. should cheek them in their joy to see her in her "A visitor!; To me, Susan'" said Florence, black dress,' sitting there alone. looking up in astonishment. The elder child remained with her father when " Well,. it is a. wonder, ain't it, now, Miss the rest had gone away, and made' his tea for Floy?" said Susan; " but I wish you had a him-happy little housekeeper she wazs then!- many visitors, I do indeed, for you'd be all the and sat conversing with him, sometimes at the better for it, and it's my opinion that the sooner window, sometimes in the room, until the candles you and me goes even to them old Skettleses, came. He made her his companion, though ~miss, the better for both. I may not wishl to *she was some years younger than'Florence:; and live in crowds, Miss Floy, but still I'm not a she, could be as staid anid pleasantly demure, oyster." with her little book or workbox, as a woman, To do Miss Nipper justice, she spoke more When they had candles, Florence from her own for her young mistress than herself; and her face dark room was not afraid to look.again. But showed. it. when the time came for the child to say, " Good " ut the visitor, Susan," said Florence. night,,papa," nd:go to bed, Florence w-ould sob. Susan, -ith an hysterical explosion that was as and tremble as she raised her face to him, and muclha laulgh: as a sob, and as much a sob as a could look no more.:laugl, answered, Though still 1she would turn, again and again,; " Mr. Toots!" before going to'bed helrself, frOm the simple air Tle:smile that appeared oin Florence's iace that had lulled him to rest so often; long ago, passed from it in a' moment, andt her eyes- filled and from the other low, soft, broken strain of with tears. But, at any rate, it i'as a smile, and.music, back to- tlat house.'But that she ever that gave great satisfaction to.Miss Nipper. thought of it, or watched it, was a secret which" "',My: own feelings exactly, Atiss Floy," said she kept withi.i herrown young breast. Susan, putting her apron.to her, eyes, and shakAnd did ttl;t breast of. Florence-Florence ing. her head. "Immediately I see that Innoso ingenuous and true-so worthy of the love cent in the hall, Miss Floy, I burst out laughing that he had borne her, and had whispered in.his first, and then I choked." last faint words —nwhose guileless heart was mir- Susan Nipper involuntarily proceeded to do rored in.the beauty of her face, and breathed in the'like again on the spot. In the meantime, every accent of her gentle voice-did that young Mr. Toots, who had come upstairs after her, all breast hold any other secret? Yes;, Oinemore. unconscious of the effect he produced, announced When no one in the house ivas. stirring, and himself with his knuckles on the door, and the lights were all extinguished,-she would softly walked in very briskly. leave her own room, and with noiseless feet Lde- "How'd'ye do, Miss Dombey?"' said Mr. scend the staircase, and approach herfather's Toots. "I'm very well, I'thank you; how are door. Against it, scarcely breathing, she would you?" rest her face and'head, and press her lips, in the Mr. Toots-than whom there were few better yearning of her love. She crouched upon. the.fellows in the world, though there may have been cold stone.floor outside it, everynight, to listen one or two' brighter spirits-had laboriously ineven for his breath; and in her one absorbing vented this long burst of discourse with the view wish to be allowed to show. him some affection, of relieving the feelings'both of Florence and to be a consolation to him, to win. him over to himself. But finding that l)e had run.through the endurance of some tenderness from her, his his property, as it were, in an injudicious manner, solitary child, she would have knelt down at his by squandering the whole before taking, a chair, feet, if she had dared, in humble supplication. or before Florence had uttered a word, or before -; Noone knew it. No one thoughtof it. The he had well got in at the door, he deemed it door was ever closed, and he shut up within. advisable to begin again. He went out once or twice, and it was said in "How d'ye do, Miss Dombey?" said l'Ir. DOsABEY AND SON, 9. 299 136 DIOMABE AND SOi. Toots. " I'm very well, I thank you; how are last. I thought you'd like to have him, Perhaps, you?"as a sort of keepsake. You remember his reFlorence gave him her hand, and said she was membering Diogenes?" very well. "Oh yes! oh yes!" cried Florence. " I'm very well indeed," said Mr. Toots, tak- "Poor Dombey! So do I," said Mr. Toots. ing a chair. "Very well indeed, I am.' I don't Mr. Toots, seeing Florence in tears, had great remember," said Mr. Toots after reflecting a difficulty in getting beyond this point, and had little, "that I was ever better, thank you." nearly tumbled into the well again. But a "It's very kind of you to come," said Flo- chuckle saved him on the brink. rence, taking up her work. " I am very glad to "I say," he proceeded, " Miss Dombey! I see you." could have had him stolen for ten shillings, if Mr. Toots responded with a chuckle. Think. they hadn't given him up: and I would: but ing that might be too lively, he corrected it with they were glad to get rid of him, I think. If a sigh. Thinking that might be too melancholy, you'd like to have him, he's at the door. I he corrected it with a chuckle. Not thoroughly brought him on purpose for you. He:ain't a pleasing himself with either mode of reply, he lady's dog, you know," said Mr.' Toots, "but breathed hard. you won't mind that, will you?" "You were very kind to my dear brother," In fact, Diogenes was at that moment, as they said Florence, obeying her own natural impulse presently ascertained from looking down into the to relieve him by saying so. " He often talked street, staring through the window of a hackney to me about you.' cabriolet, into which, for conveyance to that "Oh, it's of no consequence," said Mr. Toots spot, he had been ensnared, on a false pretence hastily.. "Warm, ain't it?" of rats among the straw., Sooth to say, he was "It is beautiful weather," replied Florence. as unlike a lady's dog as dog might be; and, in "It agrees with me!" said Mr. Tqots. " I his gruff anxiety to get out, presented an appeardon't think I ever was so well as I find myself ance sufficiently unpromising, as he gave short at present, I'm obliged to you." yelps out of one side of his mouth, and overAfter stating this curious and unexpected fact, balancing himself by the intensity of every one Mr. Toots fell into a deep well of silence. of those efforts, tumbled down into the strawv' You have left Doctor Blimber's, I think?" and then sprung panting up again, putting out said Florence, trying to help him out. his tongue, as if he had come express to a dis" I should hope so," returned Mr. Toots. pensaly to be examined for his health. And tumbled in again. But though Diogenes was as ridiculous a dog He -remained at the bottom, apparently as one would meet with on a summer's day; a drowned, for at least ten minutes. At the ex- blundering, ill-favoured, clumsy, bullet-headed piration of that period, he suddenly floated, and dog, continually acting on a wrong idea that said, there was an enemy in the neighbourhood, whom "Well! Good morning, Miss Dombey." it was meritorious to bark at; and though he "Are you going?" asked Florence, rising. was far from good-tempered, and certainly was "I don't know, though. No, not just at pre- not clever, and had hair all over his eyes, and a sent," said Mr. Toots, sitting down again most comic nose, and an inconsistent tail, and a gruff unexpectedly. "The fact is — I say, Miss voice.; he was dearer to Florence, in virtue of Dombey!" that parting remembrance of him, and that re" Don't be afraid to speak to me,' said Flo- quest that he might be taken care of, than the rence with a quiet smile; "I should be very most valuable and beautiful. of his kind. So glad if you would talk about my brother." dear, indeed, was this same ugly Diogenes, and "Would you, though?" retorted Mr. Toots, so welcome to her, that she took the jewelled with sympathy in every fibre of his otherwise hand of Mr. Toots, and.kissed it in'her gratiexpressionless face. "Poor Dombey! I'm sure tude. And when Diogenes, released, came tear. I never thought that Burgess and Co.-fashion- ing up the stairs and bouncing into the room able tailors (but very dear), that we used. to talk (such a business as'there was, first, to get him about-would make this suit of clothes for such out of the cabriolet!), dived under all the furnia purpose." Mr. Toots was dressed in mourn- ture, and wound a long iron chain, that dangled ing. " Poor Dombey! I say' Miss Dombey.!" from his neck, round legs of chairs and tables, blubbered Toots. and then tugged at it until.his eyes became un"Yes," said Florence. naturally visible, in consequence of their nearly "There's a. friend he'took.to very much at- starting outof his head; and when he growled IR. TOOTS MAIKES FLORENCE A PRESENT. T31 at Mr. Toots, who affected familiarity; and went ments thereupon that, brought the water to hei pell-mell at Towlinson, morally convinced that eyes. Mr. Dombey, as a part of her reflections, he was the enemy, whom he had barked at may have been, in the association of ideas, conround the corner all his life, and had never nected with the dog; but, at any rate, after seen yet; Florence was as pleased with him as observing Diogenes and his mistress all the if he had been a miracle of discretion. evening, and after exerting herself with much Mr. Toots was so overjoyed by the success of good-will to provide Diogenes a bed in:. an his present, and was so delighted to see Florence ante-chamber outside his mistress's door, she bending down over Diogenes, smoothing his said hurriedly to Florence, before leaving her for coarse.back with her little delicate hand- the night: Diogenes graciously allowing it from the first' "Your pa's a-going off, Miss Floy, to-morrow moment of their' acquaintance-that he felt it morning." difficult to take leave, and would, no doubt, "To-morrow morning, Susan.?" have been a much longer time in making up his " Yes, miss; that's the orders. Early." mind to do. so, if he had not been assisted by "Do.you know," asked Florence,- without Diogenes himself, who suddenly took it into his looking at her, " where papa is going, Susan?'' head to bay Mr. Toots, and to make short'runs "Not exactly, riss. He's going to meet that at him withhis mouthopen. Notexactlyseeing precious major first, and I must say. if I was his, way to the end of these demonstrations, and acquainted with any major myself (which tHeasensible that they placed the panta*ons con- ven forbid), it shouldn't be a blue one!" structed by the art of Burgess and Co. in "Hush, Susan!" urged Florence gently. jeopardy, Mr. Toots, with chuckles,.lapsed out "Well, Miss Floy," returned Miss. Nipper, at. the door: by which, after looking in again. who was full of burning indignation, and minded two or three times, without any object at all, and her stops even less than usual, " I can't help:it,.. being on each occasion greeted with a fresh.run blue he is, and while I was a Christian, althlouli from Diogenes, he finally took himself off; and humble, I would have natural-coloured friends, got away. or none." "Come, then, Di! Dear Di! Make friends It appeared' from what she added and had with your new mistress. Let us love each other, gleaned down-stairs, that Mrs. Chick had proDi " said Florence, fondling his shaggy head. posed the major for Mr. Dombey's companion, And Di, the rough and gruff, as if his, hairy hide and that Mr. Dom.bey, after some hesitation, had were pervious to the tear that dropped upon it, invited him.. and his dog's.heart melted as it fell, put his nose "Talk of him being a change indeed!" obup to her face, and swore fidelity. served Miss Nipper to herself with boundless Diogenes.the.man did not speak plainer to contempt. "If he's a change, give me a conAlexander -the. Great than Diogenes the dog. stancy." spoke to Florence. He subscribed to the offer "Good night, Susan," said Florence. of.his little mistress cheerfully, and devoted him —- "Good night, my darling dear Miss Floy." self to her service. A banquet was immediately Her tone. of commiseration smote the chord provided for him in a corer; and when he had so often roughly touched, but. never listened to eaten and drunk his fill, he went to the window while she or any one looked on. Florence, left where Florence was sitting looking on, rose up alone, laid her head upon her hand, and pressqn his hind-legs, with his awkward fore-paws on ing the other over her swelling heart, held free her shoulders, licked her face and hands, nestled communication with:her sorrows. his, great head, against her heart, and wagged his It was a wet night; and the melancholy rain tail till he was tired.' Finally, Diogenes coiled fell pattering and dropping with a wearied sound. himself up at her.feet, and went to sleep. A sluggish wind was blowing, and went moaning,,:..Although Miss Nipper. was nervous in regard round the house,,as if it were in pain or grief. qf,dogs, and felt it necessary to come into the A shrill noise quivered through the trees. Whileroom with her skirts carefully collected about she sat. weeping, it grew late, and drery midher, as if she were crossing a brook on stepping- night tolled out frpm the steeples. stones; also to utter little screams and stand up.Florence was little more than a child in' years onpchlairs when Diogenes stretched himself; she -not yet fourteen-arid the loneliness and gloom wy!as in her own manner affected by the kindness'of such an hour, in the great house where Death of-,.lr. Toots, and could not see Florence so had lately made its own tremendous devastation, alive to the attachment and society of this rude might have set an older fancy brooding on vague. fi.ed. of little- P.atl',..ith9ut s9ine q!ntgl os-. terrors,:.But her innocent inagination: was: t9 13 DOMBE i AND SON. full of one theme to admit them. Nothing wan- rounding him, there was an appeal to Florence dered in her thoughts'but love-a wandering that struck home. love, indeed, and cast away-but turning always "Papa! papa! Speak to me, dear papa!" to her father. He started at her voice, and leaped "p from There was nothing in the dropping of the his seat. She was'close before him with exrain, the moaning of the wind, the shuddering tended arms, but he fell back. of the trees, the striking of the solemn clocks, "What is the matter?" he said sternly., that shook this one thought, or diriinished its "Why do you come here? What has frightened interest. Her recollections of the dear dead you?" boy-and they were never absent-were itself; If anything had frightened her, it was the face the same thing. And oh, to be shut out: to be he'turned upon her. The glowing love within so lost: never to have looked into her father's the breast of his young daughter froze before it, face, or touched him, since that hour! and she stood and looked at him as if stricken She could not go to bed, poor child, and never into stone. had gone yet, since then, without making her There was not one touch of tenderness or pity nightly pilgrimage to his door. It would have in it. There was not one gleam of interest, been a strange, sad sight to see her now, stealing parental recognition, or relenting in it. There lightly down the stairs through the thick gloom, was a change in it, but not of that kind. The. and stopping at it with a beating heart, and old indifference'and cold constraint had given blinded eyes, and hair that fell down loosely and place to something: what, she never thought unthought of; and touching it outside with her and did not dare to think, and yet she felt it in wet cheek. But the night covered it, and no its force, and knew it well without a name: that one knew. as it looked upon her. seemed to cast a shadow The moment that she touched the door on on her head. this night, Florence found that it was open. For Did he see before mm the successful rival of the first time it stood open, though by but a his son, in health and life? Did he look upon hair's breadth: and there was a light within. his own successful rival in that son's affection? The first impulse of the timid child-and she Did a mad jealousy and withered pride poison yielded to it-was to retire swiftly. Her next, sweet remembrances that should have endeared to go back, and to enter; and this second and made. her precious to him? Could it be impulse held her in irresolution on the stair- possible that it was gall to him to look upon her case. in her beauty and her promise: thinking of his In its standing open, even by so much as that infant boy? chink, there seemed to be hope. There was Florence had no sucn thoughts. But love is encouragement in seeing a ray of light from quick to know whon it is spumed and hopeless: within, stealing through the dark, stern doorway, and hope died out of hers, as she stood looking and falling in a thread upon the marble floor. in her father's face. She turned back, hardly knowing what she did, "I ask you, Florence, are you frightened? but urged on by the love within her, and the Is there anything the matter, that you come trial they had undergone together, but not here?" shared: and, with her hands a little raised and " I came, papa " trembling, glided in. "Against my wishes. Why?" Her father sat at his old table in the middle She saw he knew why: it was written broadly room. He had been arranging some papers, on his face: and dropped her head upon her and destroying others, and the latter lay in fragile hands with one prolonged low cry. ruinsbeforehim. The rain drippedheavilyupon Let him remember it in that room, years to the glass panes in the outer room, where he had come. It has faded from the air before he so often watched poor Paul, a baby; and the breaks the silence.' It may pass as quicklyfrom low complainings of the wind were heard with- his brain, as he believes, but it is there.:Let out. him remember it in that room, years to come! But not by him. He sat with his eyes fixed He took her by the arm. His hand was cold, on the table, so immersed in thought, that a far and loose, and scarcely closed upon her. heavier tread than the light foot of his child "You are tired, I dare say," he said, takingup could make might have failed to rouse him. His the light, and leading her towards the door, face was turned towards her. By the waning " and'want rest. We all want rest. Go, Flolamp, and at that haggard hour, it looked worn rence. You have been dreaming." ad- dejected and, in the utter loneliness sur- The dream she had had was over then, GQod LET XIMX REMEMBER if!133t help her! and sle felt'that it could never more small-clothes to the.beSt advantage, and, abcome back. sorbed in scientific'pursuits, had. no sympathy " I will remain here to light you up the stairs. with worldly concerns. He was so far t~e creaThe whole house is yours, above there," said ture of circumstances, that a dry day covered her father slowly. " You are its mistress now. him with dust, and a misty day peppered him Good night!" with little bits of soot; and a wet day brightened Still covering her face,, she sobbed, and an- up his tarnished uniform for a moment, and a swered, "Good night, dear papa;" and silently as- very hot day blistered him;.but otherwise he was cended. Once she looked back, as if she would a callous, obdurate, conceited midshipman, inhave returned to him, but for fear. It was a mo- tent on his own discoveries, and caring as little mentary thought, too hopeless to encourage; for what went on about him, terrestrially, as and her father stood there with the light-hard, Archimedes at the taking of Syracuse. unresponsive, motionless-until the fluttering Such a midshipman he seemed to be, at least, dress of his fair child was lost in the darkness. in the then position of domestic affairs. Walter Let him remember it in that room, years to eyed him kindly many a time in passing in and come. The rain that falls upon the roof: the out; and poor old Sol, when Walter was not wind that mourns outside'the door: may have: there, would come and lean against the doorforeknowledge in their melancholy sound. Let post, resting his weary wig as' near, the shoehim remember it in that room, years to come! buckles of the guardian genius of his trade and The last time he had watched her, from the shop as he could. But no' fierce idol with a same place, winding up those stairs, she had had mouth from ear to, ear, and a murderous visage her brother in her arms. It did not move his made of parrots' feathers, was ever more indifheart towards her now; it steeled it: but he' ferent to the appeals of its savage votaries than went into his room, and locked his door, and sat was the Midshipman to these marks of attachdown in his chair; and cried for his lost boy. ment. Diogenes was broad awake upon his post, and Walter's heart felt heavy as he looked round waiting for his little mistress. his old bedroom, up among the parapets and "Oh, Di! Oh,dear Di! Love me for his sake!" chimney-pots, and thought that one more night Diogenes already loved her for her own, and already darkening would close his acquaintance didn't care how much he showed it. So he made with it, perhaps for ever. Dismantled of his himself vastly ridiculous by performing a variety little stock of books and pictures, it looked of uncouth bounces in the ante-chamber, and coldly and reproachfully on him for his desertion, concluded,, when poor Florence was at last and had already a foreshadowing upon it of asleep, and dreaming of the rosy children oppo- its coming strangeness. "A few hours more," site, by scratching open her bedroom door: roll- thought Walter, " and no dream I ever had here ing up his bed into a pillow: lying down on the when I was a school-boy will be so little mine as boards at the full length of his tether, with his this old room. The dream may come back in head towards her: and looking lazily at her, up my sleep, and I may return waking to this place, side down, out of the tops of his eyes, until, it may be: but the dream at least will serve no from winking and winking, he fell asleep himself, other master, and the roomb may have a score, and dreamedwith gruff barks, of his enemy. and every one of them may change, neglect, misuse it." _-. But his uncle was not to be left alone in the little back-parlour, where he was then sitting by CHAPTER XIX. himself; for Captain Cuttle, considerate in his WALTER GOES AWAY. roughness, stayed away against his will, purposely ALTE GOES AWAY.that they should have some talk together unobHE Wooden Midshipman at the in- served:'so Walter, newly returned home from.strument-maker's door, like the hard- his last day's bustle, descended briskly to bear hearted little midshipman he was, him company. remained supremely indifferent to "Uncle," he said gaily, laying his hand upon Walter's going away, even when the the old man's shoulder, "what'shall I send you very last day of his sojourn in the back- home from Barbadoes?" parlour was on the decline. With his' "Hope, my dear Wally. Hope that we shall quadrant at his round black knob of an meet again on this side.of the grave. Send me eye, and'his figure' in its old attitude of indomi- as much of thatas you can." tablealacrity, the Midshipman displayed his elfin "So I will, uncle: I have enough and to ,t34 )OM~E y AN S N. spare, and 11ll not be cliary of it! And as to could- not make up my mind, when I was out, lively turtles, and limes for Captain Cuttle's whethetto do it or not; and yet I amn sure it is punch, and preserves for you on Sundays, and the true feeling of my heart, and I should have all that sort of thing, why, I'll send you ship. been quite miserable afterwards if I had not reloads, uncle: wlen I'm rich enough." lieved it." Old Sol wiped his spectacles, and faintly His honest voice and manner corroborated smiled. what he said, and quite established its ingenu-''" That's right, uncle!" cried Walter merrily, ousness. and clapping him half-a-dozen times more upon "So, if you ever see her, uncle," said Walter, the shoulder. "You cheer up me! I'll cheer "I mean Miss Dombey now-and perhaps you up you! We'll be as gay as larks to-morrow maywho knows?-tell her how much I felt for morning, uncle, and we'll fly as high! As to her; how much I used to think of her when I my. anticipations, they are singing out of sight was here; how I.spoke of her, -with the tears in now." my eyes, uncle, on this last night before I went 4 Wally, my dear boy," returned the old man, away. Tell her that I said I never could forget "I'll do my best, I'll do my best." her gentle manner, or her beautiful face, or her " And your best, uncle," said Walter, with his. sweet kind disposition that was better than all. pleasant laugh, " is the best best that I know. And as I didn't take them from a woman's feet, Yot'll not forget what you're to send me, uncle?" or a young lady's: only a little innocent child's," "No, Wally, no," replid the old man; said -Walter: "tell her, if you don't mind, uncle, "everything I hear about Miss Dombey, now that I kept those shoes-she'll remember how that she is left alone, poor lamb,I'll write. I often they fell off, that night-and took them fear it won't be much, though, Wally." away with me as a remembrance!" "Why, I'll tell you what, uncle," saic Walter They were at that very moment going out at after a moment's hesitation; "I have just been the door in one of Walter's trunks. A porter, up there." carrying off his baggage on a truck for shipment "Ay, ay,.ay?" murnured.the old man, raising at.the docks on board the Son and Heir, had his eyebrows, and his spectacles with them. got possession of them: and'wheeled. them " Not to see hter," said Walter, "though I away,, under the very eye of the insensible Mlidcould have seen her, I dare say, if I had asked, shipman, before theii owner had well finished MIr. Dombey.being out of town: but to say a speaking. parting word to Susan. I thought I mightven- But that ancient mariner might have been exture to do that, you know, under the circum- cused his insensibility to the treasure as it rolled stances, and remembering when I saw Miss away. For, under his eye at the same moment, Dombey last." accurately within his range of observation, com"Yes, my boy, yes," replied his uncle, rousing ing full into the sphere of his startled and inhimself from a temporary abstraction. tensely wide-awake look-out, were Florence andl " So I saw her," pursued Walter. "Susan, I Susan Nipper: Florence looking up into his face mean: and I told her I was off and away to- half. timidly, and receiving the whole shock of morrow. And I said, uncle, that you had always his wooden ogling! had an interest in Miss Dombey since that night More than this, they passed int6 the shop; and when she was here, and always wished, her well' passed in at the parlour door, before they were and happy, and always would be. proud and glad observed.by anybody but the Midshipman. And to serve her in the least: I tlought I might say Walter, having his back to the door, would have that, you know, under the circumstances.. Don't. known nothing of their apparition even then, you think so?" but for seeing his uncle spring out of his own "Yes, my boy, yes,"' replied his uncle in the chair, and. nearly tumble over another. tone as before. "Why, uncle!" exclaimed Walter. "What's " And I added," pursued Walter, " that if she'the matter?" -Susan, I mean-could ever let you know, either Old Solomon replied, " Miss Dombey!" through herself or Mrs. Richards, or anybody else " Is it possible?" cried Walter, looking round who. might be coming this way, that Miss Dom- and starting up in his turn. "Here!" bey was well and happy, you would take it very - Why, it was so possible and so actual, that, kindly, and would write so much to rne, and I vwhile the words were on his lips, Florence hurshould take it very kindly too.. There! Upon ried past him; took Uncle Sol's snuff-coloured my word, uncle," said Walter, "I scarcely slept lappels, one in each hand' kissed him on the all last night through thinking of doing this; and. cheek;'.and turning, gave her hand to Walter THE MIDSHIPMAN RECEIVES COMPANY.'35'with a simple truth and earnestness that was heF constant eyes,, and glowed upon: her fair face own, and. no one else's in the world! through the smile'that shaded-for, alas! it was " Going away, Walter!" said Florence. a smile too sad to brighten-it, were not of their - ":Yes, Miss Dombey," he replied, but not so romantic race. They brought back f6 his hopefully as he endeavoured; "I have a voyage thoughts the earlydeath-bed he had seen her before me." tending, and the love the child had borne her; "And your uncle," said Florence, looking and on the wings of such remembrances she' back at Solomon. "He is sorry you are going, seemed to rise up, far above his idle fancies, into I am sure. Ah! I see he is! Dear Walter; I clearer and serener air. am very sorry'too." "I-I am afraid I must call you'Walter's "Goodness knows," exclaimed Miss Nipper, uncle, sir," said Florence to the old man, "if "there's a many we could spare instead, if num- you'll let me." bers is a object, Mrs. Pipchin as a overseer "My dear young lady!" cried old Sol.. "Let would come cheap at her weight in gold, and if you! Good gracious!" a knowledge of black slavery should be required,' "We always knew you by that name, and them Blimbers is the very people for the siti- talked of you," said Florence, glancing round, wation." and sighing gently.. "The nice old parlour! With that Miss Nipper. untied her bonnet Just the same! How well I'recollect it!" strings, and, after looking vacantly for some Old Sol looked first at her, then at his nephew,i moments into a little black teapot that was set and then rubbed his hands, and rubbed his spec-.forth with the usual homely service on the table, tacles, and said below his breath, "Ah! time, shook her head and a tin canister, and began time, time!" unasked to make the tea. There was a short silence; during which Susan In the meantime Florence had turned again Nipper skilfully impounded two extra cups and to the instrument-maker, who was as full of ad- saucers from the cupboard, and awaited the miration as. surprise. "So grown!" said old' drawing of the tea with a thoughtful air. Sol. "So improved! And yet not altered'! " I want to tell Walter's uncle," said Florence, Just the same'!" laying her hand timidly updn the old man's, as "Indeed!" said Florence. it rested on the table, to bespeak his attention, "Ye-yes," returned old Sol, rubbing liis something that I am anxious -about. He is hands slowly, and considering the matter half going.to be left alone, and if he will allow mealoud, as something pensive in the bright eyes not to take Walter's place, for that I couldn't do, looking at him arrested his attention. "Yes,' but p be his true friend, and help him, if I ever that expression wa/ in the younger face too!" can, while Walter is away, I shall be very mnuch "You remnember kme," said Florence with a obliged to him indeed. Will you? May I, smile, "and what a' little creature I was then?" Walter's uncle?" "My dear young lady," returned the instru- The.instrument-maker, without speaking, put ment-maker, " how could I forget you, often as her hand to his lips; and Susan Nipper, leaning I: have thought of you and heard of you since? back with her arms.crossed in the chair of At the very moment, indeed, when you came in, presidency into which she had voted.herself, bit Wally was talking about you to.me, and leaving one end of her bonnet strings, an'd heaved a messages for you, and -'' gentle sigh as she looked up at the sky-light. "Was he?" said' Florence.. "Thank'-you, "You will let me come to see'you," said FloWalter! Oh, thank you, Walter.!. Iwas'fraid rence, "when I can, and you will tell me everyyou might be' going away, arid' hardly thinking thing about'yourself and Walter; and you will of me;" and again she gave him her little hand have no secrets from Susan when she comes and so freely and so faithfully, that Walter held it for I do not, but will confide in us, and trust us, and.some moments in his own, and could not bear rely upon us. And you'll try to let us be a to let it go. comfort to you? Will you, Walter's uncle?" Yet Walter did not hold it as he might have The sweet face looking into his, the gentlyheld it once, nor did'its touch awaken those old pleading eyes; the soft voice, and the light touch day-dreans of his boyhood that had floated past on his arm, made the more winning by a child's him sometiimes even lately, and confused him respect and honour for his age, that gave to all iith their indistinct and broken shapes. The an air of graceful doubt and modest hesitationpurity and innocence of her endearing manner, these, and her natural earnestness, sd overcame and its perfect trustfulness, and the undisguised the poor old instrument-maker, that he only regard for him that lay so deeply seated in her answered: 136 DOiBEY AND SON. "Wally, say a word for me, my dear. I'm must learn to talk'together without you, dear very grateful." Walter." "No, Walter," returned Florence with her The regretful tone in which she said these quiet smile. "Say nothing for him, if you latter words touched Walter more than all the please.- I understand him..very well, and we rest. " Miss Florence," he replied, with an effort to Susan Nipper began upon a new part of her recover the cheerful manner he had preservedbonnet string, and nodded at the sky-light, in while talking with his uncle, " I know no more approval of the sentiment expressed. than my uncle what to say in acknowledgment " Oh! but, Walter," said Florence, " there is of such kindness, I am sure. But what could I something that I wish to say to you before yol say, after all, if I had the power of talking for an o away, and you must call me Florene, if you hour, except that it is like you?" please, and not'speak like a stranger." "REMEMBER WALTER." 37 " Like a stranger " returned Walter. "No; made the tea, engendering the tranquil air that I couldn't speak so. I am sure, at least, I reigned in the back-parlour during its discuscouldn't feel like one." sion. Some counter-influence must surely have "Ay, but that is not enough, and is not what hovered round the hands of Uncle Sol's chroI mean. For Walter," added Florence, bursting nometer, and moved them faster than the Tar.s r into tears, " he liked you very much, and said frigate ever went before the wind. Be this as it before he died that-he was fond of you, and said may, the visitors had a coach in waiting' at a'Remember Walter!' and if you'll be a brother quiet corner not far off; and the chronometer, to me, Walter, now that he is gone and I have on being incidentally referred to, gave such a none on earth, I'll be your sister all my: life, and positive opinion that it had been waiting a long' think of'you like one, wherever we may be! time, that it was impossible to doubt the fact, This is what I wished to say, dear Walter, but I especially when stated. on such unimpeachable cannot say it as I would, because my heart is authority. - If Uncle Sol had been going to be full.". hanged by his own time, he never would have And, in its fulness and its sweet simplicity, allowed that the chronometer was too fast by she held out both her hands to him. Walter, the least fraction of a second. taking them, stooped down and touched the Florence, at parting, recapitulated to the old tearful face that neither shrunk nor turned away, man all that she had said before, and bound him nor reddened as he did so, but looked up at to their compact.' Uncle Sol attended her lovhim with confidence and truth. In that one ingly to the legs of the Wooden Midshipman, moment every shadow of doubt or agitation and there resigned her to Walter, who was ready passed away from Walter's soul. It seemed to to escort her and Susan Nipper to the coach. him that he responded to her innocent appeal, "Walter," said Florence by the way,'" I have. beside the dead child's bed: and, in the solemn been:afraid to ask before your uthcle. Do you presence he had seen there, pledged himself to think you will be abs'ent very long?" cherish and protect her very image, in his banish- "Indeed,'' said Walter, "I don't know. I ment, with brotherly regard; to: garner. up her fear so. Mr. Dombey signified as much,' I simple. faith inviolate; and hold himself. de- thought, when he appointed me." graded if he breathed upon it any thought that' "Is it a favour, Walter?" inquired Florence was not in her own breast when she gave it to after a moment's hesitation, and looking anxhim. -.' iously in his face. Susan Nipper, who had bitten both her bonnet "The appointment? " returned Walter. strings at once,' and imparted a great deal of "Yes." private emotion to the sky-light, during this Walter would have given anything to have transaction, now changed the subject by'inquir-' answered. in the affirmative, but his face an-. ing who took -milk. and: who took sugar; and, swered before his lips could, and Florence was being enlightened on these points, poured out too attentive to it not to understand its reply. the tea. They all four gathered socially about "I am afraid you have scarcely been a fathe'little table, and. took tea under that young vourite with papa," she said timidly. lady's active superintendence; and the presence "There is no reason," replied Walter, smiling, of Florence in the back-parlour brightened the "why I should be."' Tartar frigate on the wall. "No reason, Walter!" Half an hour ago, Walter, for his life, would "There was no reason," said Walter, underhave hardly called her by her name. But he standing what she'meant. "There are many could do so now when she'entreated him., Ie people employed in the House. Between Mr. could think of her. being there, without a lurking Dombey and a young man. like me there's a misgiving that it would have been better if she wide space of separation. If I do my duty, I had not come. "He could calmly think how do what I ought, and do no more than all the. beautiful she was, how full of promise, what a rest." home some happy man would find in such a Had Florence any misgiving of which she was heart one day. He could reflect upon his own hardly conscious: any misgiving that had sprung place in that heart with pride; and, with a brave- into an indistinct and undefined existence sincedetermination, if not. to deserve it-he still that recent night when she had gone. down to thdught thatlar above him-never to deserve it her father's room: that Walter's accidental.inless. terest in her, and early knowledge of her, might Some fairy influence must surely have hovered have involved him in that powerful displeasure round the hands of Susan Nipper when she and dislike? Had Walter any such idea, or any 138 DOAMBEY AND SON. sudden thought that'it was in her mnind at that That shall be opened when Walter comes home moment? Neither of.them hinted at it. Neither again." of them spoke at all for some short time. Susan, "Well said!" cried the captain. "Hear walking on the other side of Walter, eyed them him!" both sharply; and certainly Miss Nipper's "There it lies," said Sol Gills, "down in the thoughts travelled in that direction, and very little cellar, covered with dirt and cobwebs. confidently too. There may be dirt and cobwebs over you and ~' You may come back very soon," said Flo- me, perhaps, Ned, before it sees the light." rence, "perhaps, Walter." "Hear him!" cried the captain. "Good "I may come back," said Walter, "an old morality! Wal'r, my lad. Train up a fig-tree man, and find you an old lady. But I hope for in the way it should go, and when you are old better things." sit under' the shade on it. Overhaul the" Papa," said Florence after a moment, "will. Well," said. the captain on second thoughts, " I -will recover from his grief, and speak more an't quite certain where that's to be found; but freely to me one day, perhaps; and if he should, when found, make a note of. Sol Gills, heave I will tell him how much I wish to see you-back ahead again!" again, and ask him to recall you for my sake." "But there, or somewhere it shall lie, Ned, There was a touching modulation in these until Wally comes back to claim it," said the words about her father that Walter understood old man. " That's all I meant to say." too well. " And well said too," returned the captain; The coach being close at hand, he would "and if we three don't crack that bottle in have left her without speaking, for now he felt company, I'll give you. two leave to drink my vhat parting was; but Florence held his hand allowance!" wlhen she was seated, and -then he found there Notwithstanding the captain's excessive jovi. was a little packet in her own. ality, he made but a poor hand at the smoky "Walter," she said, looking full upon him tongue, though he tried very hard, when anywith her affectionate eyes, "'like you, I hope for body looked at him, to appear as if he were better things. I will pray for them, and believe eating with a vast appetite. He was terribly that they will arrive. I made this little gift for afraid, likewise, of being left alone with either Paul. Pray take it, with my love, and do not uncle or nephew; appearing to consider that look at it until you are gone away. And now, his only chance of safety, as to keeping up apGod bless you, Walter! Never forgetme. You pearances, was in there being always three are my brother, dear! " together. This terror on the part of the captain He was glad that Susan Nipper came between reduced him to such ingenious evasions as them, or he might have left her with a sorrowful running to the door when Solomon went to-put remembrance of him. He was glad, too, that his coat on, under pretence of having seen an she did not look out of the coach again, but extraordinary hackney coach pass: and darting waved the little hand to him instead, as long as' out into the road when Walter went up-stairs to he could see it. take leave of the lodgers, on a feint of smelling In spite of her request, he could not help fire in a neighbouring chimney. These artifices opening the packet that night when he went to Captain Cuttle deemed inscrutable by any uninbed. It was a little purse: and there was money spired observer. in it..Walter was coming cown from his parting Bright rose the sun. next morning, from his expedition up-stairs, and was crossing the shop absence in strange countries, and up rose Walter to go back to the little parlour, when he saw a with it to receive the captain, who was already faded face he knew, looking in at the door, and at the door: having turned out earlier than was darted towards it. necessary, in order to get under way while Mrs. "Mr. Carker!" cried Walter, pressing the MacStinger was yet slumbering. The captain hand of John Carker the junior. "Pray come pretended to be in tiptop spirits, and brought a in!. This is kind of you, to be here so early to very smoky tongue in one of the pockets of the say good-bye to me. You knew how glad it broad-blue coat for breakfast. would make me to shake hands with you once "And, Wal'r," said the captain when they before going away. I cannot say how glad I am took their seats at table " if your uncle's the to have this opportunity. Pray come in." man I think him, he'll bring out the last bottle "i It is not likely that we may ever meet again, of the madeira on the present occasion." Walter," returned the other, gently resisting his "No, no, Ned," returned the old man, ".No! invitation, " and I am glad of this opportunity. ON SOARD THEI SON AND HEIR. i39 too. I may venture to speak to you, and to His fgure crept like a shadow down the take you:by the hand,; on the eve of separation. bright, sun-lighted street, so'cheerful, yet so I shall not have to resist your frank approachies, solemn, in the early summer mnrrning; and Walter, any more." slowly passed away. There:was a melancholy in his smile, as he The relentless chronometer at last announced said'it, that showed he had found some company that Walter must turn his back upon the Wooden and friendship for his thoughts even in that. Midshipman: and away they went, himself, his Ah, Mir. Carker I" returned Walter. "Why uncle;,and the captaii, in a hackney coach, to a did you resist them? You could have done me wharf, where they were to take steamboat for nothing but good, I am very sure." some reach down the river, the name of which, He shook his head. "If there were any as the captain gave it out, was a hopeless mys. good," he said, "I could do on this earth, I tery to the ears of landsmen. Arrived at this would do it, Walter, for you. The sight of you Reach (whither the ship -had repaired by last from day to day has been at once happiness and night's tide), they were boarded by various remorse. to me. But the pleasure has' out- excited watermen, and among others by a dirty weighed'the pain. I know that, now, by know- Cyclops of the captain's acquaintance, who, with ing what I lose.'' his one eye, had made the captain out some "Come in, Mr. Carker, and make acquaint- mile and a half off, and had been exchanging ance with my good old uncle," urged Walter. unintelligible roars with him ever since. Be"I have pften talked to him about you, atid he coming the lawful prize of this personage, who will be glad to tell you all he hears from me. I was frightfully hoarse and constitutionally in want have not," said Walter, noticing his hesitation, of shaving, they were all three put aboard the and speaking with embarrassment himself. " I Son and Heir. And the Son and Heir was in a have not told him anything about our last conver- pretty state of confusion, with sails lying all besation, Mr. Carker; not even him, believe-me." draggled on the wet decks, loose ropes tripping The grey junior pressed his hand, and tears people up, men in red shirts running barefoot to rose ip his eyes. and fro, casks blockading every foot of space, "If I ever make acquaintance with him, and,.in the thickest of the fray, a black cook in Walter," he returned, "it will be that I may a black caboose up to his eyes in vegetables hear tidings of you. Rely on my not wronging and blinded with smoke. your forbearance and consideration. It would The captain immediately drew Walter into a be to wrong it, not to tell him all the truth corner, and with a great effort, that made his'before I sought a word of confidence from him. face very red, pulled up the silver watch, which But I have no friend or acquaintance except was so big, and so tight in his pocket, that it you: and even for your sake am little likely to came out like a'bung. make any."'" Wal'r," said the captain, handing it over, " I wish;" said Walter, "you had suffered me and shaking him heartily by the hand, "a partto be your friend indeed. I always wished'it, ing gift, my lad. Put it back half an hour every'Mr. Carker, as you know; but never half so morning, and about another quarter towards the much as now, when we are going to part." arternoon, and it's a watch that'll do you credit." "It is enough," replied the other, "that you "Captain Cuttle! I couldn't think of it!" have been the friend of my, own breast, and that cried Walter, detaining him, for he was running when I have avoided you most, my heart in- away. "Pray take it back. I have one already." dined the most towards you, and was fullest of "Then, Wal'r," said the captain, suddenly you. Walter, good-bye!" diving into one of his pockets, and bringing up Good-bye, Mr; Carker. Heaven be with the two tea-spoons and the sugar-tongs, with you, sir " cried Walter with emotion. which he had armed himself to meet such an; If," said the other, retaining his hand while objection, " take this here trifle of plate instead." he spoke; ";if, when you come back, you miss "No, no, I couldn't indeed!" cried Walter. me from my old corner, and should hear from "A thousand thanks! Don't throw them away, any one.where I am lying, come and look upon Captain Cuttle!" for the captain was about to my grave. Think that I might have been as jerk them overboard. "They'll be of much honest and as happy as you! And let me think, more use to you than me. Give me your stick. when I know my time is coming on, that some I have often thought that I should like to have one like my former self may stand there, for a it. There! Good-bye, Captain Cuttle! Take moment, and remember me with pity and for- care of my uncle! Uncle Sol, God bless you!" giveness Walter, good-bye i" They were over the side in the confusion, 140 PDOLBEi Y AND SON. before Walter caught another glimpse of.ither; fast with the major, previous to their setting and when'he ran up to the stern, and looked forth on their-trip; and the ill-starred native had after them, he saw his uncle hanging down his already undergone a world of misery arising, out head in the boat, and Captain Cuttle rapping of the.muffins, while, in connection with. the him on the back with the great silver watch (it general question of boiled eggs, life was a burmust have been very painful), and gesticulating den to him. hopefully with the tea-spoons and sugar-tongs. "It is. not for an old soldier of the Bagstock Catching sight of Walter, Captain Cuttle dropped breed," observed the major, relapsing into a mild the property into the bottom of the boat with state, " to deliver himself up, a prey to his own perfect unconcern, being evidently oblivious of emotions; but-damme, sir," cried the major in its existence, and pulling off the glazed hat, another spasm of ferocity, "I condole with you!" hailed him lustily. The glazed hat made quite The major's purple visage deepened in its hue,:a show in the sun with its glistening, and the and the major's lobster eyes stood out in bolder captain continued to wave it until he could be relief, as he shook Mr. Dombey by the hand, seen no longer. Then the confusion on board, imparting to that peaceful action as defiant a which had been rapidly increasing, reached its character as if it had been the prelude to his'height; two or three other boats went away with immediately boxing Mr. Dombey for a thousand a cheer; the sails shone bright and full above, pounds a side and the championship of England. as Walter watched them spread their surface to' With a rotatory motion of his head, and a wheeze the favourable breeze; the water flew in sparkles very like the cough of a horse, the major then from the prow; and off upon her voyage went conducted his visitor to the sitting-room, and the Son and Heir, as hopefully and trippingly as there welcomed him (having now composed his many another son and heir, gone down, had feelings) with the freedom and frankness of a started on his way before her. travelling companion. Day after day, old Sol and Captain Cuttle "Dombey," said the major, "I'm glad to kept her reckoning in the little back-parlour, and see you. I'm proud to see you. There are not worked out her course with the chart spread many men in Europe to whom J. Bagstock would before them'on the round table. At night, when say that-for Josh is blunt, sir: it's his natureold Sol climbed up-stairs, so lonely, to the attic but Joey B. is proud to see you, Dombey." where it sometimes blew great guns, he looked "Major," returned Mr. Dombey, " you are up at the stars and listened to the wind, and very obliging." kept a longer watch than would have fallen to " No, sir," said the major. "Devil a bit his lot on board the ship. The last bottle of That's not my character. If that had been Joe's the old madeira, which had had its cruising character, Joe might have: been, by this time, days, and known its dangers of the deep, lay Lieutenant-General Sir Joseph Bagstock, K.C.B., silently beneath its dust and cobwebs, in the and night have received you in very different meanwhile, undisturbed. quarters. You don't know old Joe yet, I find. But this occasion, being special, is a source of pride, to me. By the Lord, sir," said the. major resolutely, "it's an honour to me!" Mr. Dombey, in his estimation of himself and CHAPTER XX. his money, felt that this'was very true, and therefore did not dispute the point.. But the inxIR. IDOMEIEY GOES UPON A JOURSEY. stinctive recognition of such a truth by the major, and his plain avowal of it, were very agreeable. R. DOMBEY, sir," said Major Bag- It was a confirmation to Mr. Dombey, if he had stock, " Joey B.d is not in general a required any, of his not being. mistaken in the man of. sentiment, for Joseph is major. It was an assurance to him that his. tough. But Joe has his feelings, sir, power extended beyond'his own' immediate and when they ar-e awakened — sphere;'and that the major, as an officer and a Damme, Mr. Dombey," cried the major gentleman, had a no less becoming sense of it with sudden ferocity, "this is weakness, than the beadle of the Royal Exchange. and I won't submit to it!" And if it were ever consolatory to know this,. Major Bagstock delivered himself of these or the like of this, it was consolatory then, when expressions on receiving Mr. Dombey as his, the impotence of his will, the instability of his guest at the head of his own staircase in Prin- hopes, the feebleness of wealth, had been so cess's Place. Mr. Domley had lcome to break- direfully irmpressed upon him. What could it CAWM FARE wim TYLE AAJOR. 14t do?: his boy had asked him. Sometimes, think- and, indeed, ate rather more of rich meats than ing of the baby question, he could hardly for- was good for him, insomuch that his Imperial bear inquiring himself, what could it do indeed: complexion was mainly referred by the faculty to what had it done that circumstance. But these were lonely thoughts, bred late at "You have been looking over the way, sir," night in the sullen despondency and gloom of observed the major. "Have you seen our his retirement, and pride easily found its re- friend?" assurance in many testimonies to the truth, as "You mean Miss Tox," retorted Mr. Domunimpeachable and precious as the major's. Mr. bev. " No." Dombey, in his friendlessness, inclined to the "Charming woman, sir," said the major, with major. It cannot be said that he warmed to- a fat laugh rising in his short throat, and nearly wards him, but he thawed a little. The major suffocating him. had had some part-and not too much-iii the "Miss Tox is a very good sort of person, I days by the seaside. He was a man of the believe," replied Mr. Dombey. world, and knew some great people. He talked The haughty coldness of the reply seemed to much, and told stories; and Mr. Dombey was afford Major Bagstock infinite delight. He disposed to regard him as a choice spirit who swelled and swelled exceedingly: and even laid shone in society, and who had not that poisonous down his knife and fork for a moment, to rub ingredient of poverty with which choice spirits his hands. in general are too much adulterated. His station Old' Joe, sir," said the major, "was a bit of was. undeniable. Altogether the major was a a favourite in that quarter once. But Joe has creditable companion, well accustomed to a life had his day. J. Bagstock is extinguished-outof leisure, and to such places as that they were rivalled-floored; sir. I tell you what, Dombey." about to visit, and having an air of gentlemanly The major paused in his eating, and looked ease about him that mixed well enough with his mysteriously indignant. "That's a de-vilish own City character, and did not. compete with it ambitious woman, sir." at all. If Mr. Dombey had any lingering idea Mr. Dombey said " Indeed!" with frigid inthat the major, as a man accustomed, in the way difference: -mingled, perhaps, with some conof his calling, to make light of the ruthless hand.temptuous incredulity as to Miss Tox having the that had lately crushed his hopes, might uncon- presumption to harbour such a superior quality. sciously impart some useful philosophy to him, "That woman, sir," said the major, "is in and scare away his weak regrets, he hid it from her way, a Lucifer. Joey B. has had his day, himself, and left it lying at the bottom of his sir, but he keeps his eyes. He sees, does Joe. pride, unexamined. His Royal Highness the late Duke of York ob"Where is my scoundrel?" said the major, served of Joey, at a levee, that he saw." looking wrathfully round the room. The major accompanied this with such a look, The native, who had no particular name, but and, between eating, drinking, hot tea, devilled answered to any vituperative epithet, presented grill, muffins, and meaning, was altogether so himself instantly at the door. and ventured to swollen and inflamed about the head, that even come no nearer. Mr. Dombey showed some anxiety for him. "You villain!" said the choleric major, "That ridiculous old spectacle, sir," pursued "iwhere's the breakfast?" the major, aspires. She aspires sky-high, sir. The dark servant disappeared in search of it, Matrimonially, Dombey." and was quickly heard reascending the stairs in " I am sorry for her," said Mr. Dombey. such a tremulous state, that the plates and dishes " Don't say that, Dombey," returned the major on the tray he carried, trembling sympathetically in a warning voice. as he came, rattled again all the way up. "Why should I not, major?" said Mr. Dom" Dombey," said the major, glancing at the bey. native as he arranged the table, and encourag- The major gave no answer but the horse's ing him with an awful shake of his fist when he cough, and went on eating vigorously. upset a spoon, " here is a devilled grill, a savoury "She has taken an interest in your housepie, a dish of kidneys, and so forth. Pray sit hold," said the major, stopping short again, down. Old Joe can give you nothing but camp " and been a frequent-visitor at your house for fare, you see." some time now." "Very excellent fare, major," replied his guest; "Yes," replied Mr. Dombey with great statea and not in mere politeness either; for the major liness, " Miss Tox was originally received there, always took the best possible care of himself, at the time of Mrs. Dombey's death, as a friend 14- J' DO N'B' IA AND SON. of my sister's; and being a well-behaved person, ment for their condescension, you stir the blood and showing a liking for the poor infant, she was of old Joe in his body." permitted-I may say encouraged-to repeat her " Major," said Mr. Dombey, reddening, " I visits, with my sister, and gradually to occupy a hope you.do not hint at anything so absurd on kind of footing of familiarity in the family. I the part of Miss Tox as-" have," said Mr. Dombey, in the tone of a man'" Dombey," returned the major, " I hint at who was making a great and valuable conces- nothing. But Joey B. has lived in the world, sion, "I have a respect for Miss Tox. She has sir: lived in the world with his eyes open, sir, been so obliging as to render many little services and his ears cocked: and Joe tells you, Domin my house: trifling and insignificant services, bey, that there's a de-vilish artful and ambitious perhaps, major, but not to be disparaged on that woman over the way." account: and I hope I have had the good for-. Mr. Dombey involuntarily glanced over the tune to be enabled to acknowledge them by way; and an angry glance he sent in that direcsuch attention and notice as it has.been in my tion, too. power to bestow. I hold myself indebted to "That's all on such a subject that shall pass Miss Tox, major," added Mr. Dombey, with a the lips of Joseph Bagstock," said' the major slight wave of his hand, "for the pleasure of firmly. "Joe is not a tale-bearer, but there are your acquaintance." times when he must speak, when he will speak I "Dombey," said the major warmly; " no! — confound your arts, ma'am," cried the major, No, sir! Joseph Bagstock can never permit again apostrophizing his fair neighbofir, with that assertion to pass uncontradicted. Your great ire-' when the provocation is too strong knowledge of old Joe, sir, such as he is, and old* to admit of his remaining silent." Joe's knowledge of you, sir, had its origin in a The emotion of this outbreak threw the major noble fellow, sir —in a great creature, sir. Dom- into a paroxysm of horse's coughs, which held bey!" said the major, with a struggle which it him for a long time. On-recovering, he added was not very difficult to parade, his whole life "And now, Dombey, as you have invited Joe being a struggle against. all kinds of apoplectic -old Joe, who has no other merit, sir, but that symptoms, "we know each other through your he is tough and hearty-to be your guest and boy." guide at Leamington, command him in any way Mr. Dombey seemed touched, as it is not in- you please, and he is wholly yours. I don't probable the major designed he should be, by knew, sir,".said the major, wagging his double this allusion. He looked down and sighed: and chin with a jocose air, " what it is you people see the major, rousing himself fiercely, again said, in Joe to make you hold him in such great rein reference to the state of mind into which he quest, all of you; but this I know, sir, that if he felt himself in danger of falling, that this was wasn't pretty tough, and obstinate in his refusals, weakness, and nothing should induce him to sub- you'd kill him among you, with your invitations mit to it. and so forth, in double-quick time." " Our friend had a remote connection with Mr. Dombey, in a few words, expressed his that event," said the major, "and all the credit sense of the preference he received over those that belongs to her J. B. is willing to give her, other distinguished members of society who were sir. Notwithstanding which, ma'am," he added, clamouring for the possession of Major Bagraising his eyes from his plate, and casting them stock. But the major cut him short by giving across Princess's Place, to where Miss Tox was him to understand that he followed his own inat that moment visible at her window watering clinations, and that they had risen up in a body, her flowers, "you're a scheming jade, ma'am, and said with one accord, "J. B., Dombey is the and your ambition is a piece of monstrous im- man for you to choose as a friend." pudence. If it only made yourself ridiculous, The major being by this time in a state of ma'am," said the major, rolling his head at the repletion, with essence of savoury pie oozing out unconscious Miss Tox, while his starting eyes at the corners of his eyes, and devilled grill and appeared' to make a leap towards her, "you kidneys tightening his cravat: and the time, might do that to your. heart's content, ma'am, moreover, approaching for the departure of the without any objection, I assure you, on the part railway train to Birmingham, by which they were of. Bagstock." Here the major laughed fright- to leave town: the native got him into his greatfully up in the tips of his cars and in the veins coat with immense difficulty, and buttoned him of his head. "But when, ma'am," said the up until his face looked staring and gasping, major, "you compromise other people, and over the top of that garment, as if he were in a generous, unsuspicious people too, as a repay- barrel. The native then handed him separately, DOM'BEY'S TRA VELLIVG COMlPANVIOV, SIR. 143 and with a decent interval between each supply, He was dressed in a canvas suit abundantly his Wash-leather gloves, his thick stick, and his besmeare with coal-dust and oil, and had hat; which latter article the major wore with a cinders in his whiskers, and a smell of halfrakisl air, on one side of his head, by way of slaked ashes all over him. He was not a bad-. toning down his remarkable visage. The native. looking fellow, nor even what could be fairly called had previously packed, in all possible and im- a dirty-looking fellow, in spite of this; and, in possible parts of Mr. Dombey's chariot, which short, he was Mr. Toodle professionally clothed. was in waiting, an unusual quantity of carpet "I shall have the honour of stokin' of you bags and small portmanteaus, no less apoplectic down, sir," said Mr. Toodle. " Beg your pardon, in appearance than the major himself: and having sir. I hope you find yourself a-coming round?" filled his own pockets with Seltzer water, East Mr. Dombey looked at him, in return for his India sherry, sandwiches, shawls, telescopes, tone of interest, as if a man like that would make maps, and newspapers, any or all of which light his very eyesight dirty. baggage the major might require at any instant "'Scuse the liberty, sir," said Toodle, seeof his journey, he announced that everything was ing he was not clearly remembered, " but my ready. To complete the equipment of this wife Polly, as was called Richards in your unfortunate foreigner (currently believed to be a family —" prince in his own country), when he took his A change in Mr. Dombey's face, which seemed seat in the rumble by the side of Mr. Towlinson, to express recollection of hinm and so it did, but apile of the major's cloaks and great-coats was it expressed in a much stronger degree an angry hurled upon him by the landlord, who aimed at sense of humiliation, stopped Mr. Toodle. short. him from the pavement with those great missiles "Your wife wants money, I suppose," said like a Titan, and so covered him up, that he Mr. Dombey, putting his hand in his pocket, proceeded in a living tomb to the railroad station. ai-. speaking (but that he always did) haughtily. But before the carriage moved -away, and "No, thankee, sir," returned Toodle, "I while the native was in the act of sepulture, can't say she does. I don't." Miss Tox, appearing at her window, waved a'Mr. Dombey was stopped short now in his lily-white handkerchief. Mr. Dombey received turn: and awkwardly: with his hand in his this parting salutation very coldly-very coldly pocket even for him-and honouring her with the'"No, sir," said Toodle, turning his oil-skin slightest possible inclination of his head, leaned cap round and round; "we're a doin' pretty Well, back in the carriage With a very discontented sir; we haven't no cause to complain in the look. His marked behaviour seemed to afford worldly way, sir. We've had four more since the major (who was all politeness in his recog- then, sir, but we rubs on." nition of Miss Tox) unbounded satisfaction; and Mr. Dombey would have rubbed on to his he sat for a long time afterwards, leering and own carriage, though in so doing he had rubbed choking, like an over-fed Mephistophiles. the stoker underneath the wheels; but his. During the bustle of preparation at the attention was arrested by something in con-' railway, Mr. Dombey and the major walked up nection with the cap still going slowly round and down the platform side by side; the former and round in the man's hand. taciturn and gloomy, and the latter entertaining "We lost one. babby," observed Toodle, him, or entertaining himself, with a variety of "there's no denyin'." anecdotes and reminiscences, in molt of which "Lately," added Mr. Dombey, looking at the Joe Bagstock was the principal performer. cap. Neither of the two observed that, in the course " No, sir, up'ard of three years ago, but all of these walks, they attracted the attention of a the rest is hearty. And in the matter o' readin', working-man who was standing near the engine,. sir," said Toodle, ducking again, as if to remind and who touched his hat every time they passed; Mr. Dombey of what. had passed between them for Mr. Dombey habitually looked over the vulgar on that subject long ago, "them boys o' mine, herd, not at them; and the major was looking, they learned me, among'em, arter all.'They've -at the time, into the core of one of his stories. made a wery tolerable scholar of me,. sir, them At length, however, this man stepped before boys." them as they turned round, and pulling his hat "Come, major!" said Mr. Dombey. oft; and keeping it off, ducked his head to Mr. "Beg your pardon, sir," resumed Toodle, Dombey. taking a step before them, and deferentially * Beg your pardon, sir," said the man, "but stopping them again, still cap in hand: "I!:opi).you're a doin' pretty well, sir." wouldn't have troubled you with such - pilnt i44 DOMBEY AND SON, except:as a way of gettin' in the name of'gentlemen," pursued the" father, looking wistany son Biler-christened Robin-him as you fully at both, and evidently taking the major was so good as to make a Charitable Grinder into the conversation with the hope of having on'." his.: sympathy. "He has got into bad ways. "'Well, man," said Mr. Dombey in his severest God send he may come to-again, genelmen, but mannc., " what about him?" he's on the wrong track now.! You could hardly " Why, sir,.'. returned. Toodle, shaking his be off hearing of it somehow, sir," said Toodle, head with a face of great anxiety and distress, again addressing Mr. Dombey individually; "I'm forced- to say, sir, that he's gone wrong." "and it's better I should out and say my boy's "He has' gne wrong, has hei?' said Mr. gone rather wrong. Polly's dreadful down about Dombey, with a hard kind of satisfaction. it, genelmen," said Toodle, with\the same de" He has fell into bad company, you see,, jected look, and another appeal to the major. "TAKE ADVICE FROM PLAIN OLD JOE, AND NEVER EDUCATE THAT SORT OF PEOPLE, SIR," RETURNED THE MAJOR. IDAMBIE, SIR, IT NEVER DOES IT ALWAYS FAILS! "A son of'this man's, whom I caused to be it. as a hound, might not have been educated on.' — MAJOR "DAHIIE; SIR, IT NEVER"DOES! iT ALWAYS FAILS'" educated, major," said Mr. Dombey, giviig: him.quite a right plan in some undiscovered respect, his arm.: " The usual return! " when Mr. Dombey, angrily repeating, " The usual "Take advice-"from plain old Joe, aid never return!" led the major away.,And the major, educate: that sort of people, sir," returned the being heavy to hoist into Mr. Dombey's carriage,. major. " Damme,'sir,.it never does! It always elevated'in mid-air and. having.to stop'and fails " swear that he would flay the native alive, and.The. simple father was beginning to submit break every bone in his skin, and visit other that he hoped his son, the quondam Grindyer. physical torments upon einm, every time he huffed and.cuffed'. nd flogged-and. badged, and couldn't get his foot oni the' step, and fell back taught, s arrots arte, by a brute jobbed into.his on that dark exile, had barely time before they place of schoolmaster.withi as.much fitness-for started to repeat hoarsely that it would never THE TRAIN. 145 do: that it always failed: and that, if he were through the damp earth, booming onin daikness to educate "his own vagabond," he would and heavy air, bursting out again into the sunny certainly be hanged. day so bright and wide; away, with a shriek, Mr. Dombey assented bitterly; but there was and a roar, and a rattle, through the fields, something more in his bitterness, and in his through the woods, through the corn, through moody way of falling back in the carriage, and the hay, through the chalk, through the mould, looking with knitted brows at the changing through the clay; through the rock, among objects without, than the failure of that noble objects close'at hand and almost in the grasp, educational'system administered by the Grinders' ever flying from the traveller, and a deceitful Company. He had seen upon the man's rough distance ever moving slowly within him: like cap a piece of new crape, and he had assured as in the track of the remorseless monster, himself, from his manner and his answers, that Death! he wore it for his son. Through the hollow, on the height, by the So! from high to low, at home or abroad, from heath, by the orchard, by the park, by the garden, Florence in his great house to the coarse churl over the canal, across the river,.where the sheep who was feeding the fire then smoking before are feeding, where the mill. is going, where the them, every one set up some claim or other to a barge is floating, where the dead are lying share in his dead boy, and was a bidder against where. the factory'is smoking, -where the stream him! Could he ever forget how that woman is running, where the village clusters, where the had wept over his pillow, and called him her great cathedral rises, where the bleak moor lies, own child? or how he, Awaking from his sleep, and the wild breeze smooths or ruffles it at its had asked for her, and had ra:sed himself in his inconstant will; away, witli a' shriek, and a bed and brightened when she came in? roar, and a rattle, and no trace to leave behind To think of this presumptuous raker among but dust and vapour: like as in the track of the coals and ashes going on before there, with remorseless monster, Death! his sign of mourning! To think that he dared Breasting the wind and - light, the shower and to enter, even by a common show like that, into sunshine, away, and still away, it rolls'aid roars, the trial and disappointment of a proud gentle- fierce and rapid, smooth and certain, and great man's secret heart! To think that this lost works and massive bridges, crossing up above, child, who: was to have divided with him his fall like a beam of shadow an inch broad upon.riches, and his projects,.and his power, and the eye, and then are. lost..Aay, and.still allied with whom he was to have shut out all the away, onward and onward ever; glimpses of world as with a double door of gold, should cottage homes, of houses, mansions, rich estates, have let in-such a herd to insult him with their of husbandry and handicraft, of peopl, of oid knowledge of his defeated hopes, and their boasts roads and paths that look deserted, small, ami( of'claiming community of feeling with himself, insignificant as they ard Ieft behind; and( so so far removed: if not of having crept into the. they do, and what else is there but such olimpses place wherein he would have lorded it alone! in the track of the indomitable monster, Death? He.found -no pleasure or relief in the Away, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, journey.'Tortured by these thoughts, he carried plunging down into the earth again, and working nonotony wilth him through the rushing land- on in such a storm of energy and perseverance. scape, and hurried headlong, not through a rich that amidst the darkness and whirlwind the and varied country, but a wilderness of blighted motion seems reversed, and -to tend furiously plans and gnawing jealousies. The very speed backward, until a ray of light upon the wet wall at wiich the train was whirled along mocked the shows its surface flying past like a fierce stream. swift course of the young life that had been Away once more into the day; and through the borne away.so steadily and so inexorably to day, with a shrill yell of exultation. roaring, its foredoomed end. The power that forced rattling, tearing on, spurning everything vith itself upon its iron way-its own-defiant of all its dark breath, sometimes pau3ing1 for a minute paths and roads, piercing through the heart of where a crowd of faces are, that in a, minute every obstacle, and dragging living creatures of more are not: sometimcs lapping water greedily, all classes, ages, and degrees behind it, was a and before the spout at which it drinks hatype of the triumphant monster, Death! ceased to drip upon the ground, shrieking, roarAway, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, ing, rattling through the purple distance; from the town, burrowing among the dwellings Louder and louder yet, it shrieks and cries,is of men and making the streets hum, flashing out it comes tearing on resistless to the goal; and into the meadows for a moment, mining-in now its way,. still like the way of Death, is strewn DOMSBEY AND SON, 10.0.O 146 DOABE Y AVND SONV. with ashes thickly. Everything around is black- that life had quite as much to do with his comened. There are dark pools of water, muddy plainings as death. One child was gone, and lanes, and miserable habitations far below. one child left. Why was the object of his-hope There are jagged walls and falling houses close removed instead of her? at hand, and through the battered roofs and The sweet, calm, gentle, presence in his fancy broken windows wretched rooms are seen, moved him to no reflection but that. She had where want and fever hide themselves in many been unwelcome to him from the first; she; was wretched shapes, while smoke and crowded an aggravation of his bitterness now. If his son gables, and distorted chimneys, and deformity had been his only child, and the same blow had of brick and mortar penning up deformity. of fallen on him, it would have been heavy to bear; mind and body, choke the murky distance. As but infinitely lighter than now, when it might Mr. Dombey looks out of his carriage-window, have fallen on her (whom he could have lost, or it is never in his thoughts that the monster who he believed it, without a pang), and had not. has brought him there has let the light of day Her loving and innocent facei rising before him,. in on those things: not made or caused them. had no softening or winning influence. He It was the journey's fitting end, and might have: rejected the angel, and took up with the torIeen the end of everything; it was so ruinous'menting spirit crouching in his bosom. Her and dreary. patience, goodness, youth, devotion, love, were So, pursuing the one course of thought, he had as so many atoms in the ashes upon which he the one relentless monster still before him. All set his heel. He saw her image in the blight things looked black, and cold, and deadly upon and blackness all arouid him, not irradiating, him, and he on them. He found a likeness to but deepening the gloom. More than once upon his misfortune everywhere. There was a re- this journey, and now again as he stood pondermorseless triumph going'on about him, and it ing at this journey's end, tracing figures in the galled rnd stung him in his pride and jealousy, dust with his stick, the thought came into his whatever form it took: though most of all when mind, what was there he could interpose between it divided with him the love and memory of his himself and it? lost boy. The major, who had been blowing and pantThere was a face-he had looked upon it, on ing all the way down, like'another engine, and the previous night, and it on him with eyes that whose eye had often wandered from his newsread his soul, though they were dim with tears, paper to leer at the prospect, as if'there were a and hidden soon behind two quivering hands- great procession of discomfited Miss Toxes that often had attended him in fancy-on this pouring out in the smoke of the train, and flying ride. He had seen it, with the expression of away over the fields to hide themselves in any last night, timidly pleading to him. It was'not -place of refuge, aroused his friend by informing reproachful, but there was something of doubt, him that the post-horses were harnessed and the almost of hopeful incredulity in it, wllich, as he' carriage ready. once more saw that fade away into a desolate cer- "Dombey," said the major, rapping him on tainty of his dislike, was like reproach. It was a the arm with his cane, "don't be thoughtful. trouble to him to think of this face of Florence. It's a bad habit. Old Joe, sir, wouldn't be as Because he felt any new compunction towards tough as you see him, if he had ever encouraged it? No. Because the feeling it awakened in it. You are too great a man, Dombey, to be him-of which he had had someold foreshadow- thoughtful. In your position, sir, you're far ing in older times-was full-formed now, and above that kind of thing." spoke out plainly, moving him too much, and The major, even in his friendly remonstrances, threatening to grow too strong, for his com- thus consulting the dignity and honour of -Mr. posure. Because the face was abroad, in the Dombey, and showing a lively sense of their expression of defeat and persecution that seemed importance, Mr. Dombey felt more than ever to encircle him like the air. Because it barbed disposed to defer to a gentleman possessing so, the arrow of that cruel and remorseless enemy much good sense and such a well-regulated oh which his. thoughts so ran, and put into its mind. Accordingly, he made an effort to listen grasp a double-handed. sword. Because he to the major's stories, as they trotted along the knew full well, in his own breast, as he stood turnpike road; and the major, finding both the there, tinging the scene of transition before him pace and the road a great deal better adapted to with the morbid colours of his own mind. and his conversational powers than the mode of tra. making it a ruin and a picture of decay, instead veiling they had just relinquished, came out for of hopeful change, and promise of better thiigs, his entertainment. 7OIY 2i?, IP, TfRS VUP DOMBS Y 1J47 In this flow of spirits and conversation, only social qualities. At breakfast next morning, he interrupted by his usual plethoric symptoms, and knew the contents of the latest newspapers reby intervals of lunch, and from time to time by ceived; and mentioned several subjects in consome violent assault upon the native, who wore nection with them, on which his opinion had a pair of ear-rings in his dark brown ears, anrd' n recently been sought by persons of such power whom his European clothes sat- with an'ou't- and might, that they were only to be obscurely landish impossibility of adjustment-being of hinted at. Mr. Dombey, who had been so long their own.accord. and without any reference to shut up within himself, and who had rarely, at the tailor's art, long where they ought to be any time,. overstepped the enchanted circle short, short where they ought to be long, tight within which the operations of Dombey and Son where they ought to be loose, and loose where were conducted, began to think this an improvethey ought to be tight —and to which he im- ment on his solitary life: and in place of excusing parted a new grace, whenever the major attacked himself for another day, as he had thought of him, by shrinking into them like a shrivelled nut, doing when alone, walked out with the major or'a cold monkey-in this flow of spirits and arm-in-arm. conversation the major continued all day: so'that when evening came on, and found them trotting through the green and leafy road near CHAPTER XXI. Leamington, the major's voice, what with talking and eating and chuckling and choking, appeared NEW FACES. to be in the box under the rumble, or in some. neighbouring haystack.. Nor did the major im- HE major, more blue-faced and starprove it at the Royal Hotel, where rooms and' ing-more'over-ripe, as it were, than dinner had been ordered, and where he so I Ml ever-and giving vent, every now oppressed-his organs of speech by eating and -j and then, to one of the horse's drinking, thiat when he retired to bed he had no'a t coughs, not so much of necessity as voice at all, except to cough-with, and could? in a spontaneous explosion of importance, only make himself intelligible to the dark servant walked arm-in-arm with Mr. Dombey up by gasping at him.'? the sunny side of the way, with his cheeks He not only rose next morning, however, like swelling over his tight stock, his legs majestically a giant- refreshed, but conducted himself at wide apart, and his great head wagging from breakfast like a giant refreshing. At this meal side to side, as if he were remonstrating within they arranged their daily habits. The major himself for being such a captivating object. was to take the responsibility of ordering every- They had not walked many yards before the thing to.eat and drink; and they were to have a major encountered somebody he knew, nor late breakfast together every morning, and a late many yards farther before the major encountered dinner together'every day. Mr. Dombey would somebody else he knew, but he merely shook prefer remaining in his ownn room, or walking in his fingers at them as Mie passed, and led Mr. the country by himself, on that first day of their Dombey on.: pointing out the localities as they sojourn at Leamington:; but next morning he went, and enlivening the walk with any current would be happy to accompany the major to the scandal suggested by them. Pump-room, and about the town. So they In this manner the major and Mr. Dombey parted until dinner-time. Mr. Dombey retired were walking arm-in-arm, much to their own to nurse his wholesome thoughts in his own way. satisfaction, when they beheld advancing towards The major, attended by the native carrying a them a wheeled chair, in which a lady was seated, camp-stool, a great-coat, and an umbrdlla, swag- indolently steering he? carriage by a'kind of gered up and down through all the public places; rudder in front, while it was propelled by some looking into subscription books to find out who unseen power in the rear.'Although the lady was there, looking up old ladies by whom he was not young, she was very blooming in the' was much admired, reporting i. B. tougher face-quite rosy-and her dress and attitude than ever, and puffing his rich friend Dombey were perfectly juvenile.''Walking by the side of wherever he went. There never was a man who the chair,, and carrying her gossamer parasol' stood by a friend more staunchly than the major, with a proud and weary air, as if so great an when, in puffing him, he puffed himself. cffort must be soon abandoned, and the parasol It was surprising how much new conversation dropped, sauntered a much younger lady, very the major had to let off at dinner-time, and what handsome, very haughty, very wilful, who tossed occasion he gave Mr. Dombey to admire his her head and drooped her eyelids, as though; if 141. DOMBE Y AND SOV. there were anything in all the world worth look- help it. I never can remember those frightful ing into, save a mirror, it certainly was not the names-without having your. whole soul and earth or sky. being inspired by the sight of Nature; by the "Why, what the devil have we here, sir?" perfume," said Mrs. Skewton, rustling a handcried the major, stopping as this little cavalcade kerchief that was faint and sickly with essences, drew near. "of her artless breath, you creature?" " My dearest Edith " drawled the lady in the The discrepancy between Mrs. Skewton's fresh chair, "Major Bagstock!" enthusiasm of words and forlornly faded manner The major no sooner heard the voice than he was hardly less observable than that between her relinquished Mr. Dombey's arm, darted forward, age, which was about seventy, and her dress; took the hand of the lady in the chair, and which would have been youthful for twentypressed it to his lips.'With no less gallantry seven. Her attitude in the wheeled chair (which the major folded both his gloves upon his' heart, she never varied) was one in which she had been and bowed low to the other lady. And now, taken in a barouche, some fifty years before, by the chair having stopped, the motive power be- a then fashionable artist, who had appended to. came visible in the shape of. a flushed page his published sketch the name of Cleopatra: in pushing behind, who seemed to have in part consequence of a discovery made by the critics outgrown and in part outpushed his strength, for'of the time, that it'bore an exact resemblance to when he stood upright he was tall, and wan, and that princess as she reclined on board her galley. thin, and his plight appeared the more forlorn Mrs. Skewton was'a beauty then, and bucks from his having injured the shape of his hat, by threw wineglasses over their heads by dozens butting at the carriage with his head to urge it in her honour. The beauty and the barouche forward, as is sometimes done by elephants in had both passed away, but she still preserved Oriental countries. the attitude, and, for'this reason expressly, main-:" Joe Bagstock," said the major to both ladies, tained the wheeled' chair and the butting page: " is a proud and happy man for the rest of his there being nothing whatever, except the attitude, life." to prevent her from walking. "You false creature!'" said the old lady in "Mr. Dombey is devoted to Nature, I trust?" the chairinsipidly. "Where do you come from? said Mrs. Skewton, settling her diamond brooch. I can't bear you." And by the way, she chiefly lived upon the re"Then suffer old Joe to present a friend, putation of some diamonds, and her family conma'am," said the major promptly, "as a reason nections. for being tolerated. Mr. Dombey, Mrs. Skew- " My friend Dombey, ma'am," returned the ton." The lady in the chair was gracious. " Mr. major, "may be devoted to her in secret, but a Dombey, Mrs. Granger." The lady with the- man who is paramount in'the greatest city'in the parasol was faintly conscious of Mr. Dombey's universe-" taking off his hat, and bowing low. "I am "No onecan be a' stranger," said Mrs. Skewdelighted, sir," said the major, "to have this ton, "to Mr.'Dombey's immense influence." opportunity." As Mr. Dombey acknowledged the compliThe major seemed in earnest, for he looked ment with a bendof his bead, the younger lady, at all the three, and leered in his ugliest manner. glancing at him, met his eyes. "Mrs. Skewton, Dombey," said the major, "You reside here, madam?" said Mr. Dom"makes. havoc in the heart of old Josh." bey, addressing her. Mr. Dombey signified that he didn't wonder "No, we have been to a great many places. at it. To Harrogate, "and Scarborough, and into "You perfidious goblin," said the lady in the Devonshire. We have been visiting, and resting chair, I" have done l How long have you been here and there. Ma-nra likes change." here, bad man? " "Edith, of course, does not," said Mrs. Skew" Oie day," replied the major. ton with a ghastly archness. " And can you be a day, or even a minute," "I have not found that there is any change in returned the lady, slightly settling her false curls such places," was the answer, delivered with and false eyebrows with her fan, and showing supreme indifference. her false teeth,' set off by her false complexion, "They libel me. There is only one change, E' in the garden of what's-its-name- " Mr. Dombey," observed Mrs. Skewton with "Eden, I suppose, mamma," interrupted the a mincing sigh, "for which I really care, younger lady scornfully. and that I fear I shall' never be permitted "My dear Edith," said the other, " I cannot to enjoy. People cannot spare one. But se BY GEORGE, SIR, SHE'S SUPERB/ 149 clusion and contemplation are my what's-his- The last glimpse of the wrinkled face of the name- " mother, with that patched colour on it which the "If you mean Paradise, mamma, you had sun made infinitely more haggard and dismal better say so, to render yourself intelligible," said than any want of colour could have been, and the younger lady. of the proud beauty of the daughter with her " My dearest Edith," returned Mrs. Skewton, graceful figure and erect deportment, engendered "you know that I am wholly dependent upon such an involuntary disposition on the part of you for those'odious names., assure you, Mr. both the major and Mr. Dombey to look after Dombey, Nature intended me for an Arcadian. them, that they both turned at the same moment. I am thrown away in society. Cows are my The page, nearly as much aslant as his own passion. What I have ever sighed for has been shadow, was toiling after the chair, uphill, like to retreat to a Swiss farm, and live entirely sur- a slow battering-ram; the top of Cleopatra's rounded by cows-and china." bonnet was fluttering in exactly the same corner This curious association of objects, suggesting to the inch as before; and the Beauty, loitering a remembrance of the celebrated bull who got by herself a little in advance, expressed in' all by mistake into a crockery shop, was received her elegant form, from head to foot, the same with perfect gravity by Mr. Dombey, who inti- supreme disregard of everything and everybody. mated his opinion that Nature was, no doubt, a "I tell you what, sir," said the major as they very respectable institution. resumed their walk again, " if Joe Bagstock were " What I want," drawled Mrs. Skewton, pinch- a younger man, there's not a woman in the world ing her shrivelled throat, "is heart." It was whom he'd prefer for Mrs. Bagstock to that frightfully true in one sense, if not in that in woman. By George, sir!" said the major, which she used the phrase. " What I want is " she's superb!" frankness, confidence, less conventionality, and " Do you mean the daughter?" inquired Mr. freer play of soul. We are so dreadfully tarti- Dombey. ficial." "Is Joey B. a \turnip, Dombey," said the We were, indeed. major," that.he should mean the mother?" " In' short," said Mrs. Skewton, "I want "You were complimentary to the mother," Nature, everywhere. It would be so extremely returned Mr. Dombey. charming." "An ancient flame, sir," chuckled Major Bag" Nature is inviting us away now, mamma, if stock. "De-vilish ancient. I humour her." you are ready," said the younger lady, curling "She impresses me as being perfectly genher handsome lip. At this hint, the wan page, teel," said Mr. Dombey. who had been surveying the party over the top "Genteel, sir!" said the major, stopping of the chair, vanished behind it, as if the ground short, and staring in his companion's face. had swallowed him up. "The Honourable Mrs. Skewton, sir, is sister "Stop a moment, Withers " said Mrs. Skew- to the late Lord Feenix, and aunt to the preton as the chair.;began to move; calling to the sent lord. The family are not wealthy-they're page with all the languid dignity with which she poor, indeed-and she lives upon a small jointhad called in days of yore to a coachman with a ure; but if you come to blood, sir!" The wig, cauliflower nosegay, and silk stockings. major gave a flourish with his stick, and walked Where are you staying, abomination?" on again, in despair of being able to say what The major was staying at the Royal Hotel, you came to, if you came to that. withl his friend Dombey. " You addressed the daughter, I observed," "You may come and see us any evening when said Mr. Dombey after a short pause, " as Mrs. you are good," lisped Mrs. Skewton. "If Mr. Granger." Dombey will honour us, we shall be happy. "Edith' Skewton, sir!" returned the major, Withers, go on!" stopping short again, and punching a mark iii The major again pressed to.his blue lips the the ground with his cane, to represent her, tips of the fingers that were disposed on the "married (at eighteen) Grangerof Ours;" whom ledge of the wheeled chair with careful careless- the major indicated by another punch. "Granness; after the Cleopatra model: and Mr. ger, sir," said the, major, tapping the last ideal Dombey bowed. The elder lady honoured portrait, and rolling his head emphatically, "was them both with a very gracious smile and a Colonel of Ours: a de-vilish handsome fellow, girlish wave of her hand; the younger lady with sir, of forty-one. He died,. sir, in the second the very slightest inclination of her head that year of his marriage.". The major ran the reprec ommon courtesy allowed, sentative of the deceased Granger through and I50 DOA~BEY AND SON. through the body with his walking-stick, and went meeting them thus three or four times in all, it on again, carrying his stick over his shoulder. became a point of mere civility to old acquaint" How long is this ago?" asked Mr.; Dom- ances that the major should go there one evenbey, making another halt. ing. Mr. Dombey had not originally intended " Edith Granger, sir," replied the major, shut- to pay visits, but, on the major announcing this ting one eye, putting his head on one side, pass- intention, he said he would have the pleasure of ing his cane into -his left hand, and smoothing accompanying him. So the major told the his shirt-frill with his right, "is, at this present native to go round before dinner, and say, with time, not quite thirty. And damme, sir," said his and Mr. Dombey's compliments, that they the major, shouldering his stick once more, and would have the honour of visiting the ladies that walking on again, " she's a peerless woman! same. evening, if the ladies were alone. In "Was there any family?" asked Mr. Dombey answer to which message, the native brought presently. back a very small note with a very large quan"Yes. sir," said the major. "There was a tity of scent about it, indited by the Honourable boy." Mbrs. Skewton to Major Bagstock, and briefly Mr. Dombey's eyes sought the ground, and a saying, "You are a shocking bear, and I have shade came over his face. a great mind not to forgive you, but if you are "' Who was drowned, sir," pursued the major, very good indeed," which was underlined, "you "when a child of four or five years old." may come. Compliments (in which Edith unites) "Indeed?" said Mr. Dombey, raising his to Mr. Dombey." head. The Honourable Mrs. Skewton and her daugh" By the upsetting of a boat in which his nurse ter, Mrs. Granger, resided, while-at Leamington, had no business, to have put him," said the in lodgings that were fashionable enough and major. "That's his history. Edith Granger is dear enough, but rather limited in point of space Edith Granger still; but if tough old Joey B., and conveniences; so that the Honourable Mrs. sir, were a little younger and a little richer, the Skewton, being in bed, had her feet in the winname of that immortal paragon should be Bag- dow and her head in the fire-place, while the stock." Honourable Mrs. Skewton's maid was quartered The major heaved his shoulders and his in a closet within the drawing-room, so extremely cheeks, and laughed more like an. over-fed small, that, to avoid developing the whole of its Mephistophiles than ever, as he said the words, accommodations, she was obliged to writhe in "Provided the lady made no objection, I and out of the door like a beautiful serpent. suppose?" said Mr. Dombey coldly. Withers, the. wan page, slept out of the house "'By Gad, sir," said the major, "the Bagstock immediately under the. tiles at a neighbouring breed are not accustomed to that sort of ob- milk-shop; and' the wheeled chair, which was stacle.' Though it's true'enough that Edith the stone of that young. Sisyphus, passed the minlt have married twen-ty times, but for being night in a shed belonging to the same dairy, proud, sir, proud.".: where new-laid eggs were produced by the'Mr. Dombey seemed, by his face, to think no poultry connected with the establishment, who worse of her for that. roosted on a broken donkey-cart-persuaded, to. a" It's a great quality after all," said the major. all appearance, that it grew there, and was a "By the Lord, it's a high quality! - Dombey! species of tree. You are proud yourself, and your friend, old Joe, Mr. Dombey and the major found Mrs. Skewrespects you for it, sir." ton arranged, as Cleopatra, among the cushions With this tribute to the character of his ally, of a sofa; ery airily dressed; and certainly not which seemed to be wrung from him by the resembling Shakspeare's Cleopatra, whom age force. of circumstances and the irresistible tend- could not wither. On their way up-stairs they ency of their conversation, the major closed the had heard the sound of a harp, but it had ceased subject, and glided into a general exposition of on their being announced, and Edith now stood the extent to which he had been beloved and beside it, handsomer and haughtier than ever. doted on by splendid women and brilliant crea- It was a remarkable characteristic of this lady's tures. beauty that it appeared to vaunt and assert itself On the next day but one, Mr. Dombey and without her aid, and against her will. She knew the major encountered the Honourable Mrs. that she. was beautiful: it was impossible that it Skewton and her daughter in the Pump-room; could' be otherwise: but she seemed with' her on the day after, they met them again very near own pride to defy her very self. the place wher hetheyh met them firt.'After,. Wethr eshe. he.heeatp tractions that could WHY ARE WR NOT MOR~ NAtSUAL? tit only call forth admiration that was worthless to glancing at the major round the screen, "I her, or whether she designed to render them would have my world all heart;. and Faith is so more precious to admirers by this usage of them, excessively charming, that I won't allow you to those to whom they were precious' seldom paused disturb it, do you hear?" to consider. The major replied that it was hard in Cleo"I hope, Mrs. Granger," said Mr. Dombey, patra to require the world to be all heart,'and advancing a step towards her, " we are not the yet to appropriate to herself the hearts of all the cause of your ceasing to play?" world; which obliged Cleopatra to remind him " You? Oh no! "' that flattery was insupportable to her, and that, "Why do you not go on, then, my dearest if he had the boldness to address her in that Edith?" said Cleopatra. strain any more, she would positively send him "I left off as I began-of my own fancy." home. The exquisite indifference of her manner in Withers the Wan, at this period, handing saying this: an indifference quite removed from round the tea, Mr. Dombey again addressed dulness or insensibility, for it was pointed with himself to Edith. proud purpose: was well set off by the careless- "There is not much company here, it would ness with which she drew her hand across the seem?" said Mr. Dombey in his own portent. strings, and came from that part of the room. ous, gentlemanly way. "Do you know, Mr. Dombey," said, her lan-. I believe not. We see none." guishing mother, playing with. a hand-screen, " Why, really," observed Mrs. Skewton from "that occasionally my dearest Edith' and mvself her couch, "there are no people here just now actually almost differ- " with whom we.care to associate." Not quite, sometimes, mamma?" said Edith. "They have not enough heart," said Edith - Oh, never quite, my darling! Fie, fie, it with a smile. The very twilight of a smile: so would break my heart," returned her mother, singularly were its light and darkness blended. making a faint attempt ti* pat her with the "My dearest Edith rallies me, you see!" said screen, which Edith made no movement to her mother, shaking her head: which shook a meet. "-About these cold conventionalities of little of itself sometimes, as if the palsy twinkled manner that are observed in little things? Why now anid then in opposition to the diamonds. are we not more natural? Dear me! With all "Wicked one!" those yearnings, and gushings, and impulsive " You have been here before, if I am not misthrobbings that we have implanted in our souls, taken?" said Mr. Dombey. Still to Edith. and which are so very charming, why are we "Oh, several times. I think we have been not more natural?" everywhere." Mr. Dombey said it was very true, very.true.. " A beautiful country!" "We could be more natural, I suppose, if we "I suppose it is. Everybody says so." tried?" said Mrs. Skewton. "Your cousin Feenix raves about it, Edith," Mr. Dombey thought it possible. interposed her mother from her couch. "Devil a bit, ma'arf," said the major. "We The daughter slightly turned her graceful couldn't afford it. Unless the world was peopled head, and raising her eyebrows by a hair's with J. B.'s-tough and,blunt old Joes, ma'am, breadth, as if her cousin Feenix were of all the plain red herrings with hard roes,, sir —we mortal world the least to be regarded. turned couldn't afford it. It wouldn't do." her eyes again towards Mr. Dombey. "You naughty infidel," said Mrs. Skewton,'" I hope, for the credit'of my good taste, that " be mute.", I am tired of the neighbourhood," she said. "Cleopatra conimmands," returned the major, "You have almost reason to be, madam," he kissing his hand, "and Antony Bagstock obeys." replied, glancing at a variety of landscape dfaw" The man has no sensitiveness," said Mrs. ings, of which he had already recognised several Skewton, cruelly holding up the hand-screen so as representing neighbouring points of view, and as to shut the major out. " No sympathy. And which were strewn abundantly about the room, what do we live for but sympathy? What else "if these beautiful productions are from vopr is so extremely charming? Without that gleam hand." of sunshine on our cold, cold earth," said Mrs. She gave him no reply, but sat in a disdainfi Skewton, arranging her lace tucker, and com- beauty, quite amazing placently observing. the effect of her bare lean "Have they that interest?" said Mr. Domarm, looking upward from the wrist, "how could bey. "Are they yours?" we possibly bear it?- In short, obdurate man!" " Yes," x 52 /DOMBBE. AND SON. "And you play, I already know." dressed her facde, and-so far as she could-her "Yes." manner also, to him; and continued to do so "And sing? when he was silent. "Yes.:' " You have many resources against weariness. She answered all these questions with a strange at least," said Mr. Dombey: reluctance; and with that remarkable air of "Whatever their efficiency may be," she reopposition to herself, already noticed as belqng- -turned, "..ou know them all now. -I have no ing to her beauty. Yet she was not embarrassed, more.",but wholly self-possessed.- Neither did.she seem "Ma I' hope to prove them al?" said Mr. to wish to'avoid the conversation, for she ad- Dombey with solemn gallaintry, laying down a "WITHERS THE WAN, AT THIS PERIOD, HANDING OOUND THE TEA, MR. DOMBEY AGAIN ADDRESSED HIMSELF TO EDITH." drawing he had held, and motioning towards the The major, who was quite forgiven by this harp. time, had wheeled a little table up to Cleopatra, " Oh, certainly! If you desire it!" and was sitting down to play piquet with her. She rose as she spoke, and crossing by her Mr. Dombey, not knowing the game, sat down mother's couch, and directing a stately look to- to watch them for his- edification until Edith wards her, which was instantaneous in its dura- should return. tion, but inclusive (if any one had seen it) of a -' We are going to have some music, Mr. Dom. multitude of expressions, among which that of bey, I hope? "said Cleopatra. the twilight smihe le, witttl self over- Mrs. Granger has been kind enough to proshadowed all the rest,,went out of the room. mise so," said Mr. Dombey. A LI1ZTTZ MUSIC..153 "'.Ah! That's very nice. Do you propose,CHAPTER XXII major?"' "No, ma'am," said the major. "CouIdn't A TRIPLE OF'MANAGEMENT BY MR. CARKER THE db it."'MANAGER. " You're a barbarous being," replied the lady,'and my hand's destroyed. You are fond of. R. CARKER the\ manager sat at music, Mr. Dombey? "f 1 his desk smooth and soft as -usual, "Eminently so,' was Mr. Dombey's answer. reading those letters which.were "Yes. It's very nice,' saict Cleopatra, look- _ reserved for him to open, backing ing at her cards. " So much heart in it-unde-. them occasionally with such memoveloped. recollections of *a previous *state of randa and references as their business existence-and all that-which is so truly charm-, purport required, and parcelling them out ing. Do you know," simpered.Clebpatra;-.re-' into little heaps for distribution through versing the knave of clubs, who had -come info the several departments of the house. The her game with Ihis heels.uppermost, -" that if post had come in heavy that morning, and Mr. anything could tempt me to put "a period tomy Carker the manager had a good deal to do. life, it would be curiosity to find out what it's all -The general action of a man so engaged — about, and what it means; there are so many pausing to look over a bundle of papers in his provoking mysteries, really, that are hidden hand, dealing them round in various portions, from us. Major, you to play " taking up another bundle and examining its The major played: and Mr. Dombey, looking contents with knitted brows and pursed-out lips. on for his instruction, would soon have been in -dealing, and sorting, and pondering by turnsa state bf dire confusion, but that he gave- no would easily suggest some whimsical resemattention to the game whatever, and sat wonder- blance to a player at cards. The face of Mr. ing instead when Edith-would come back. *. Carkei the manager was in good keeping with She came at last, and sat down to her harp,,tch a \fancy. It was the face of'a man who and Mr., Dombey rose and stood beside her, studied his play warily: who made himself listening. He had little taste for music, and no master of all the- strong and weak points of the knowledge of the strain she played,, but he. saw game: who registered the cards in his mind as. her bending 6ver it, and perhaps he heard among they fell about him, knew exactly what -was on the sounding strings some distant music of his them, what they missed, and what they made: own, that tamed the monster of the iron road, who was crafty to find out what-the other players and made it less inexorable. held, and who never betrayed his own hand. Cleopatra had a sharp eye, verily, at piquet. The letters were in various languages, but It glistened like a bird's, and did not fix itself Mr. Carker the manager read them all. If upon the: gam'e, but pierced the room from end there had been anything in the ofices of Dombey to end, and gleamed on harp, performer, listener, and Son that he could not. read, there would everything. have been a card wanting in the pack. He read'When the haughty beauty had- concluded, she almost at a glance, and made combinations of arose, and receiving Mr. Dombey's thanks and' one letter with another and one business with compliments in exactly the same manner as another as he went on, adding new matter to before, went, with -scarcely any pause, to the the- heaps-much as a man would know the piand, and began there; cards at sight, and work out their combinations Edith Granger, any song but that! Edith in his mind after they were turned. Something Granger, you are very handsome, and your touch too deep for a partner, and much too deep for upon the keys is brilliant, and your voice is deep an adversary, Mr. Carker the manager-sat in the and rich; but not the air that his neglected rays of the sun that came down slanting on daughter sang to his deadalson! - "him: through the. sky-light, playing his game:,Alas! he knows. it not.; and if he did,-Ahat. alone. air of hers.would stir him, rigid man? Sleep, And although it is not among the instincts, lonely Florence, sleep! Peace in thy dreams, wild or domestic, of the cat tribe to play at although the' night las turned dark, and the' cards, feline from sole to crown was Mr. Carker clouds are gathering, and threaten to discharge the manager, as he basked in the strip -of summer themselves in hail. light and warmth that shone upon his table and the ground as if they were a crooked dial-plate, and himself the -only figure on it. With hair and'._-^.-*_~-whiskers deficient in colour -at all times, but 154 O6Ar1SYP AAD SOP. feebler than common in the rich sunshine, and'"As sorry for her choice-for what you call more like the coat of a sandy tortoise-shell cat: her choice-as you are angry at it," said the with long nails, nicely pared and sharpened; junior. with.a natural antipathy to any speck of dirt, "Angry?" repeated the other, with a wide which made him pause sometimes and watch the show of his teeth. falling motes of dust, and rub them off his " Displeased. Whatever word you like best. smooth white hand or glossy linen: Mr. Carker You know my meaning. There is no offence in the manager, sly of manner, sharp of tooth, soft my intention." of foot, watchful of eye, oily of tongue, cruel of "There is offence in everything you do," heart, nice of habit, sat with a dainty steadfast- replied his brother, glancing at him with a ness and patience at his work, as if he were sudden scowl, which in a moment gave place to waiting at a mouse's hole. a.wider smile than the last. "Carry those At length the letters were disposed of, except- papers away, if you please. I am busy." ing one which he reserved for a particular His politeness was so much more cutting audience. Having locked the moreconfidential than his wrath, that the junior went to the correspondence in a drawer, Mr. Carker the door. But stopping at it, and looking round, manager rang his bell. he said: " Why do you answer it?" was his reception " When Harriet tried in vain to plead for me of his brother. with you, on your first just indignation, and my'"The messenger is out, and I am the next," first disgrace; and when she left you, James, to was the submissive reply. follow my. broken fortunes, and devote herself, "You -are the next?" muttered the manager. in her mistaken affection, to a ruined brother, "Yes! Creditable to me! There!" because, without her, he had no one, and was Pointing to the heaps of opened letters, he lost; she was young and pretty. I think if you turned disdainfully away in his elbow-chair, and could see her now-if you would go and see broke the seal of that one which he held in his her-she would move your admiration and hand. compassion." "I am sorry to trouble you, James," said the The manager inclined his head, and showed brother, gathering them up, " but-'! his teeth, as who should say, in answer to some " Oh! You have something to say. I ]new careless small-talk, "Dear me! Is that the that. Well?" case?" but said never a word. Mr. Carker the manager did not raise his "We thought in those days: you and I both: eyes or turn them-on his brother, but kept them that she would marry young, and lead a happy on his letter, though without opening it. and light-hearted life," pursued the other. " Oh, "Well?." he repeated sharply. if you knew how cheerfully she cast those hopes I am uneasy about Harriet." away; how cheerfully she has gone forward on "Harriet who? What Harriet? I know the path she took, and never once looked back; nobody of that name." you never could say again that her name was "She is not well, and has changed very much strange in your ears. Never!" of late." Again the manager inclined his head, and "She changed very much a great many years showed his teeth, and seemed to say, " Remarkago," replied the manager; "and that is all I able indeed! You quite surprise me!" And have to say." again he uttered never a word. " I think if you would hear me — "May I go on? " said John Carker mildly.'Why should I hear you, Brother John?" "On your way?" replied his smiling brqther. returned the manager, laying a sarcastic emphasis "If you will have the goodness." on those two words, and throwing up his head, John Carker, with a sigh, was passing slowly but not lifting his eyes. "-I tell you, Harriet out at the door, when his brother's voice detained Carker made her choice many years ago between him for a moment on the threshold. her two brothers. She may repent it, but she "If she has gone and goes her own way must abide by it." cheerfully," he said, throwing the still unfolded i "Don't mistake me. I do not say she does letter on his desk, and putting his hands firmly repent it. It would be black ingratitude in me in his pockets, " you may tell her that I go as to hint at such a thing," returned the other. cheerfully on mine. If she has never once' Though, believe me, James, I am as sorry for looked back, you may tell her that I have, her sacrifice as you." sometimes, to recall her taking part with you, "As I?" exclaimed the manager. "As I?" and that my resolution is no easier to wear ONVE OF THE TWO BROTHERS HAS A SISTER.:5s away "-he smiled very sweetly here-" than asked Mr. Perch, rubbing his hands, and defermarble." entially putting his head on one side, like a man "I tell her nothing of you. We never speak who felt he had no business to hold it up in about you. Once a year, on your birthday, such a presence, and would keep it ax much out Harriet says always,' Let us remember James of the way as possible. by name, and wish him happy,' but we say no "Who wants me?" more." "Why, sir," said Mr. Perch in a soft voice, "Tell it then, if you please," returned the "really nobody, sir, to speak of at present. other, "to yourself.- You can't repeat it too Mr. Gills, the Ship's Instrument-maker, sir, has often, as a lesson to you to avoid the subject in looked in about a little matter of oayment, he speaking to me. I know no Harriet Carker. says; but I mentioned to him, sir, that you was There is no such person. You may have a engaged several deep; several deen." sister: make much of her. I have none." Mr. Perch coughed once behind hii hand, and Mr. Carker the manager took up the letter waited for further orders. again, and waved it with a smile of mock courtesy "Anybody else? " towards the door. Unfolding it as his brother' Well, sir," said Mr. Perch, "I wouldn't of withdrew, and looking darkly after him as he my own self take the liberty of mentioning, sir, left the room, he once more turned round in his that there was anybody else; but that same elbow-chair, and applied himself to a diligent young lad that was here yesterday, sir, and last perusal of its contents. week, has been hangirg about the place; and it It was in the writing of his great chief, Mr. looks, sir," added Mr. Perch, stopping to shut Dombey, and dated from Leamington. Though the door, "dreadful unbusiness-like to see him he was a quick reader of all other letters, Mr. whistling to the sparrows down the court, and Carker read this slowly; weighing the words as making of'em answer him." he went, and bringing every tooth in his head "You said he wanted something to do, didn't to bear upon them. When he had read it you, Perch?" asked Mr. Carker, leaning back in through once, he turned it over again, and his chair, and looking at that officer. picked out these passages. "I find myself " Why, sir,' caid Mr. Perch, coughing behind benefited by the change, and am not yet'inclined his hand again, "his expression certainly were to name any time for my return." " I wish, that he was in wants of a sitiwation, and that he Carker, you would arrange to come down once considered something might be done for him and see re here, and let me know how things about the Docks, being used to fishing with a are going on, in person." "I omitted to speak rod and line; but —" Mr. Perch shook his to you about young Gay. If not gone per Son head very dubiously indeed. and Heir, or if Son and Heir still lying in the "What does he say when he comes? " asked Docks, appoint some other young man, and keep Mr. Carker. him in the City for the present. I am not "Indeed, sir," said Mr. Perch, coughing decided."'" Now that's unfortunate," said Mr. another cough behind his hand, which was Carker the manager, expanding his mouth, as if always his resource as an expression of humility it were made of india-rubber:."for he's far when nothing else occurred to him, "his obseraway!" vation generally air that he would humbly wish Still that passage, which was in a postscript, to see one of the gentlemen, and that he wants attracted his attention and his teeth once more. to earn a living. But you see, sir," added Perch, "I think," he said, "my good friend Captain dropping his voice to a whisper, and turning, in Cuttle mentioned something about being towed the inviolable nature of his confidence, to give along in the wake of that day. What a pity he's the door a thrust with his hand and knee, as if so far away!" that would shut it any more when it was shut He refolded the letter, and was sitting trifling already, "it's hardly to be bore, sir, that a with it, stnding it long-wise and broad-wise on common lad like that should come a prowling his table, and turning it over and over on all here, and saying that his mother nursed our sides —doing pretty much the same thing, per. House's young gentleman, and that he hopes haps; by its contents-when Mr. Perch the our House will give him a chance on that messenger knocked softly at the door, and account. I am sure, sir,1' observed Mr. Perch, coming in on tiptoe, bending his body at every "that although Mrs. Perch was at that time. step as if it were the delight of his life to bow, nursing as thriving a little girl, sir, as we've ever laid some papers on the table. took the liberty of adding to our family, I Yiquld you pIeasS tq b9 ~ngaRcd! sir?" wouldn't have rade so free as drop. hint of 156 IDOMBEY AND SON. - ~ 7. her being capable of imparting nourishment, not "Let you alone!" said Mr. Carker.'' What! if it was ever so!" I have got you, have I?." There was no doubt Mr. Carker grinned at' him like a shark, but of that, and tightly too. " You dog," said Mr. in an absent, thoughtful manner. Carker, through his set jaws, "I'll strangle "Whether," submitted Mr. Perch after a short you!" silence and another cough, "it mightn't be best Biler whimpered, Would he, though? Oh for me to tell him, that if he was seen here any no, he wouldn't-and what was he doing ofmore he would be given into custody; and to and why didn't he strangle somebody of his own keep to it! With respect to bodily fear," said size, and not hitm But Biler was quelled by Mr. Perch, "I'm so timid, myself, by nature, the extraordinary nature of his reception, and, sir, and my nerves is so unstrung by Mrs. as his head became stationary, and he looked Perch's state, that I could take my affidavit the gentleman in the face, or rather in the teeth, easy." and saw him snarling at him, he so far forgot "Let me see this fellow, Perch," said Mr. his manhood as to cry. Carker. "'Bring him in!" "I'haven't done nothing to you, sir," said "Yes, sir. Begging your pardon, sir," said Biler, otherwise Rob, otherwise Grinder, and Mr. Perch, hesitating at the door, " he's rough,.always Toodle. sir, in appearance." "You young scoundrel!" replied Mr. Carker, "'Never mind. If he's there, bring him in. slowly releasing him, and moving back a step I'll see Mr. Gills directly. Ask him to wait!" into his favourite position.. What do you mean Mr. Perch bowed; and shutting the door as by daring to come,here?" precisely and carefully as if he were not coming "I didn't mean no harm, sir," whimpered back for a week,' wenf on his quest among. the Rob, putting one hand to his throat, and the sparrows in the court. While he was gone, Mr. knuckles of the other to his eyes. "I'll'never Carker assumed his favourite attitude before the come again, sir. I only wanted work." fire-place, and stood looking at the door, pre-'"Work,'young Cain that you are!" repeated senting, with his under lip tucked into the smile Mr. Carker,' eyeing him narrowly., "An't you that showed his whole row of upper teeth, a sin- the idlest vagabond in London?" gularly crouching appearance. The impeachment, while it much affected.The messenger was not long in returning, Mr. Toodle junior, attached'to his character so followed by a pair of heavy boots that came justly, that he could not say a word in denial. bumping along the passage like boxes. With He stood looking at the gentleman, therefore, the unceremonious words, "Come along-'with ith a frightened, self-convicted, arnd'remorseful you! "-a very unusual form of introduction air. As to his looking at' him, it may be observed. from his lips, Mr. Perch then ushered into the that he was fascinated by Mr. Carker, and never presence a strong-built lad of. fifteen, with a took his round eyes off him for an instant. round red face, a round sleek head, round black "An't you a thief?" said.Mr. Carker, with eyes, round limbs, and round body, who, to his hands behind him in his pockets. carry out the general rotundity of his appearance, No, sir," pleaded Rob. had a round hat in his hand, without a particle "'You'are i" said Mr. Carker. of brim to it. I an't indeed, sir," whimpered Rob. "I Obedient to a nod from Mr. Carker, Perch never did such a thing as thieve, sir, if yo'i'll had no sooner confronted the visitor withthat believe me. I know I'vebeen' going wrong, gentleman than he withdrew.' The moment sir, ever since I took to bird-catching and walkthey were face to face' alone, Mr.'Carker, with- ing-matching. I'm sure a cove might think," out a word of preparation, took him by the said Mr. 2Toodle junior,' with a.- burst of penithroat, and shook him until his head seemed -tence, " that singing birds was innocent comloose upon his shoulders. pany, but nobody knowsiwhal t harim is in them The' boy, who, in the midst of his astonish- little creeturs, and what they' bings you down ment, could not help staring wildly at the gentle- to." man with so many white teeth, whq was choking They seemed to have Drought him down to a him, and at the office walls, as though deter- velveteen jacket and trousers very much the mined, if he were choked, that his last look worse for wear, a particularly small red waistcoat should be at the mysteries for his intrusion into like a gorget, an interval of blue check, and the which he was paying such a severe penalty, at hat before mentioned. last contrived to utter- "I an't been home twenty times since' them'( Come, sir You lt me alone, willyou?" birds got their will of me" said Rob "a.nl MR.. CARKER TACKLES M,, TOODLE JUNIOR- Iz-5 that's ten months. How. can I go home when. prise at riot.'having achieved this: last scarce pereverybody's miserable. to:see me? I.wonder," formance, the boy said just as i the ieteeth of said Biler, blubbering, outright,; and' smearing M& Carker.drew it out of him, and he had. no his eyes with his coat-cuff/ "' that I haven't been power of: oncealing anything with that battery and drovrided myself over and:over. again."' of attraction i ful play. All of which, including his expression of sur- "You're a nice younl.gntlemin " said Mr. " LET YOU ALONE! " SAID MR. CARKER. "WHAT! I HAVE. OOTYOUT,' AVE I? " THERE WAS NO DOUBT OF THAT, AND TIGHTLY'TOO.'{YOU DOG," SAID' MR; CARKER,. THROUGH HIS SET JAWS, " I'Lt STRANGLE YOU. " Carkers, shaking hiis head at.him. "There's was growed too. My misfortunes all began in hemp-seed sown for yaz. myh fiie fellow! " wagging, sir; Ebut what could I do, exceptins "I'm sure, sir,"' returned the-wretched Biler, wag?." blubbering again, and: gain- having recourse to " Excepting what?" said Mr. Carker. his'coat-cuff, " I shouldn't care; sometimes, if it " Wag, sir. Wagging from school," :58.3DOMBEY AND SOAN. ~. -. "Do you wean pretending to go there, and just now, and it would be obliging me it you not going?" said Mr. Carker.would give one house room for the present. "Yes,.sir, that's. wagging, sir," returned the. No, to be sure," he addea quickly, in anticipaquondam.Grinder, much affected. "I was tion of what the old man was -going to say, chivied through the streets, sir, when. I went "there's not much business doing there, I know: there, and pounded when I got there. So I but you can make himn clean the place.. out, wagged, and hid myself, and that began i'." polish up the instruments; drudge, Mr. Gills. "And you mean to tell me," said Mr. Carker, That's the lad!" taking him by the throat again, holding him out, Sol Gills pulled down his spectacles from his at arm's length, and surveying him in silence for forehead to his eyes, and looked at Toodle some moments, "that you want a place, do junior standing upright in the corner: his' head you?" presenting the appearance (which it always did) "I should be thankful to be tried, sir,"'returned of having been newly drawn out' of a bucket of Toodle junior faintly. cold water; his small waistcoat rising and fall*Mr. Carker the manager pushed him back-:ing quickly in the play of his emotions; and his wards into a corner-the boy submitting quietly, eyes intently fixed on Mr. Carker, without the hardly venturing to breathe, and never once- least reference to his proposed master. removing his eyes from his face-and rang the "Will you give him house room, Mr.'Gills?" hell. said the manager. " Tell Mr. Gills to come here." Old Sol, without being quite enthusiastic on Mr. Perch was too deferential to express sur- the subject,. replied that he was glad of any prise or recognition of the figure in the corner; opportunity, however slight, to oblige' M2r. and Uncle Sol appeared immediately. Carker, whose wish on such a point was a com"Mr. Gills!" said Carker with a smile, "sit mand: and that the Wooden Midshipman would down. How do you doe? You continue to. consider himself happy to receive in his berth enjoy your health, I hope? " -any visitor of Mr. Carker's selecting. "Thank you,. sir," returned Uncle Sol, taking Mr. Carker bared himself to the tops and out his pocket-book, and handing, over. sme bottoms of his gums: making the watchful notes as he spoke. " Nothing ails me in body Toodle: junior tremblemre.and more: and but old age. Twenty-five, sir." acknowledged the instrument-maker's politeness You a are as punctual and exact, Mr. Gills," in.his most affable manner. replied the smiling manager, taking a paper from "I'll dispose. of him so, then, Mr. Gills," he one of his many drawers, and making an endorse-' answered, rising, and shaking the old man by ment on it, while Uncle Sol looked over him' the hand, "until I make up my mind what to "as one of your own chronometers. Quite do with him, and what he deserves. As I conright." sider. myself responsible for him, Mr. Gills,"" The Son and Heir has not been spoken, I,'here' he smiled a wide smile at Rob,-who shook find by the list,' sir," said Uncle Sol, with a slight'before it,-" I shall'be glad if you'll look sharply addition to the usual tremor in his voice.. after him, and report his behaviour to me. I'll." The Son and.Heir has not been spoken," ask a question or two of his parents as I ride returned Carker, "There seems to have been' home' this afternoon-respectable people-to tempestuous weather Mr. Gills, and she has confirm some particulars in his own account of probably been drive;- out of her course.?" himself; and that done, Mr. Gills, I'll send him "She is safe, I: trust in Heaven.!" said old round to you to-morrow morning. Good-bye!" Sol. His smile at parting was so full of teeth, that "She is safe, I trust in Heaven!" assented it' confused old Sol, and- made him vaguely Mr. Carker in that voiceless. manner of his:'uncomfortable. He went home, thinking of which made the observant young Toodle tremble raging seas, foundering ships, drowning men, an again. " Mr. Gills," he added aloud, throwing ancient bottle of madeira never brought to light, himself back in his chair, " you must miss your and other dismal matter. nephew very much? "" Now, boy!".said' Mr. Carker, putting his Uncle Sol, standing byhim, shook his head,'hand on young Toodle's shoulder, and bringing and heaved a deep'sigh. him out into the middle of the room.;".You "Mr. Gills," said C-rker, with his soft hand have heard me?" playing round his mouth,'and looking up into Rob said, ":Yes, sir." the instrument-maker's' face," it'would be con- "Perhaps you understand," pursued his pany to you to have a young fellow in your shop patron, " that if you. ever deceive or play tricks -AND ESTABLISHES AN INFLUENCE OVER HIMf. 159 with me, you had better have drowned yourself hinself along by the elbows after the most ap-'indeed, once for all, before you came here?" proved manner of professional gentlemen who There was nothing.in any branch of mental get over the ground for wagers. acquisition that Rob seemed to understand Ridiculous as this attendance was, it was a better than that. sign of an influence established over the boy, "If you have' lied'to me," said Mr. Carker, and therefore Mr. Cark'er, affecting not to notice "in anything, never come in my way again. If it. rode away into the neighbourhood of Mr. not, you may let me find you waiting for me'oodle's house. On his slackening'his pace somewhere near your mother's house this after- here, Rob appeared before him to point out the noon.'I shall leave this at five o'clock, and turnings; and when he called to a man at a ride there on horseback. Now, give me the neighbouring gateway to hold his horse, pending address." his visit to the Buildings that had succeeded. Rob repeated it' slowly, as Mr. Carker wrote Staggs's Gardens, Rob dutifully held the stirrup it down.'Rob even spelt it over a second time, while the manager dismounted. letter by letter, as if he thought that the omis- " Now, sir," said Mr. Carker, taking him by sion of a dot or scratch' would lead to his de- the shoulder, "come along " struction. Mr. Carker then handed him out of The prodigal son was evidently nervous of the room: and Rob, keeping his round eyes visiting the parental abode: but Mr. Carker fixed upon his patron to -the last, vanished for pushing him on before, he had'nothing for it but the time being. to open the right door, and suffer himself to be Mr. Carker the manager did a great deal of walked into the midst of his brothers and sisters, business in the course of the day, and bestowed mustered in overwhelming force round the family his teeth upon a great many people. In the tea-table. At sight of the prodigal in the grasp office, in the court, in the street, and on'Change, of a stranger, these tender relations united in they glistened and bristled to a terrible extent. a general howl, which smote upon the prodiFive o'clock arriving, and with it Mr. Carker's gal's breast so sharply when he saw his mother bay horse, they got on horseback, and went stand up among them, pale and trembling, with gleaming up Cheapside. the baby in her arms, that he lent his own voice As no one can easily ride fast, even if inclined to the chorus. to do so, through the press and throng of the Nothing doubting now that the stranger, if City at that hour, and as Mr. Carker was not not Mr. Ketch in person, was one of that corn inclined, he went leisurely along, picking his pany, the whole of the young family wailed the way among the carts and carriages, avoiding, louder, while its more infantine members, unable whenever he could, the wetter.and more dirty to control the transports of emotion appertaining places in the over-watered road, and taking to their time of life, threw themselves on their infinite pains to keep himself and his steed clean. backs like young bi'ds when terrified by a hawk, Glancing at the passers-by while he was thus am- and kicked violently.' At length, poor Polly, bling on his way, he ssuddenly encountered the making herself audible, said, with quivering lips, round eyes of the sleek-headed Rob intently "Oh, Rob, my poor boy, what have you done at fixed upon his face as if they had never been last?" taken off, while the boy himself, with a pocket- "Nothing, mother," cried Bob in a piteous handkerchief twiited up like a speckled eel, and voice; "ask the gentleman!" girded round his waist, made a very conspicuous "Don't be alarmed," said Mr. Carker; "I demonstration of being prepared to attend upon want to do him good." him,'at whatever pace he might think proper At this announcement, Polly, who had not to go. cried yet, began to do so. The elder Toodles, This. attention, however flattering, being one who appeared to have been meditating a rescue; of an unusual kind, and attracting some notice unclenched their fists. The younger Toodles from the other passengers, Mr. Carker took ad-, clustered round their mother's gown, and peeped vantage of a clearer thoroughfare and a cleaner from under their own chubby arms at their desroad, and broke into a trot. Rob immediately perado brother and his unknown friend. Everydid'the same.' Mir. Carker presently tried'a body blessed the gentleman'with the beautiful canter; Rob was still in attendance.' Then a teeth, who wanted to do good. short gallop; it was all one to the boy. When- "This fellow," said Mr. Carker to Polly, giving ever Mr. Carker turned his eyes to that side of him a gentle shake, " is your son, eh, ma'am?" the road, he still saw Toodle junior holding his "Yes, sir," sobbed' Polly, with a curtsy; "yes, course, apparently without distress, and working sir." t160 D6OMBIY AND SON. "A bad son, I am afraid?" said Mr. Carker. many sleepless nights on account of this her " Neyer a bad son to me, sir," returned Polly. dissipated first-born, and had not seen him for "To whom, then?" demanded Mr. Carker. weeks and weeks, could have almost kneeled to " He has been a little wild, sir," replied Polly, Mr. Carker the manager, as to a good spirit-in checking the baby, who was making convulsive spite of his teeth. But. Mr. Carker rising to efforts with his arms and legs to launch himself depart, she only thanke4 him with her mother's on Biler, through the ambient air, " and has gone prayers and blessings;' thanks so rich, when with wrong companions; but I hope he has paid out of the heart's mint, especially for any seen the misery of that, sir, and will do well service Mr. Carker had rendered, that he might again." have given back a large amount of change, and Mr. Carker looked at Polly, and tle clean yet been overpaid. room and the clean children, and the simple As that gentleman made his way among the Toodle face, combined of father and mother, crowding children to the door, Rob retreated on that was reflected and repeated everywhere his mother, and took her and the baby in the about him: and seemed to have achieved the same repentant hug. real purpose of his visit. " I'll try hard, dear mother, now. Upon my "Your husband, I take it, is not at home?" soul I will!" said Rob. he said. "Oh, do, my dear boy! I am sure you will, "No, sir," replied Polly. "He's down the for our sakes and your own!" cried Polly, kissline at present." ing him. "But you're coming ba'ck to speak to The prodigal Rob seemed very much relieved me, when you have seen the gentleman away?" to hear it: though still, in the absorption of all "I don't know, mother." Rob hesitated, and his faculties in his patron, he hardly took his looked down. "Father-when's he coming eyes from Mr. Carker's face, unless for a moment home?" at a time to steal'a sorrowful glance at his "Not till two o'clock to-morrovumorning." mother. " I'll come back, mother dear f" cried Rob. "Then," said Mr. Carker, "I'll tell you. how And passing through the shrill cry of his brothers I have stumbled on this boy of yours, and who and sisters in reception of this promise, he folI am, and what I am going to do for him." lowed Mr. Carker out. This Mr. Carker did in his own way: saying "What!" said Mr. Carker, who had heard'that he.at first intended to have accumulated this. "You have a bad father, have you?" nameless terrors on his presumptuous head, for "No, sir!" returned Rob, amazed. "There coming to the whereabout of Dombey and Son. ain't a better nor a kinder father going than That he had relented, in consideration of his mine is." youth, his professed contrition, and his friends. "Why don't you want to see him, then?" That he was afraid he took a rash step in doing inquired his patron. anything for the boy, and one that might expose "There's such a difference between a father him to the censure of the prudent; but that he and a mother, sir," said Rob after faltering for a did it of himself and for himself, and risked the moment. " He couldn't hardly believe yet that consequences single-handed; and that his mo- I was going to do better-though I know he'd ther's past connection with Mr. Dombey's family try to-but a mother-she always believes what's had nothing to do with it, and that Mr. Dombey good, sir; at least, I know my mother does, God had nothing to do with it, but that he, Mr. bless her!" Carker, was the be-all and the end-all of this MVr. Carker's mouth expanded, but he said no business. Taking great credit to himself for his more until he was mounted on his horse, and goodness, and receiving no less from all the had dismissed the man who held it, when, lpokfamily then present, Mr. Carker signified, indi- ing down from the saddle steadily into the rectly, but still pretty plainly, that Rob's implicit attentive and watchful face of the boy, he said: fidelity, attachment, and devotion were-for ever-' "You'll come to me to-morrow morning, and more his due, and the least homage he could you shall be shown where that old gentleman receive. And with this great truth Rob himself lives; that old gentleman who was with me this was so impressed, that, standing gazing on his morning; where you are going, as you heard me patron with tears rolling down his cheeks, he say." nodded his shiny head until it seemed almost as " Yes, sir," returned Rob. loose as it had done under the same patron's- " I have a great interest in that old gentleman, hands that morning. and, in serving him, you serve me, boy, do you Polly, who had passed Heaven knows how understand? Well,' he added, interrupting him, MR. TOOTS SEES.. LIE. 6ri for he saw his round face brighten when he was the humour took him and occasion served..'Was told that;' I see you do. I want to know all there any bird in a cage that came in for a. share about that old gentleman, and' holy he goes on of h's regards? fronm day to day-for I am anxious. to be of "A very young lady!" thought Mr. Carker service to him-and especially who comes there the manager, through his song. " Ay! when I to see him. Do you understand?" saw her last, she was a little child. With dark Rob nodded his steadfast face, and said, eyes and hair, I recollect, and a good face; a "Yes, sir," again. very good face! I dare say she's pretty." " I should like to know that he has friends More affable and pleasant yet, and humming who are attentive to him, and that they don't his song until his many teeth vibrated to it, Mr. desert him-for he lives very much alone now, Carker picked his way along, and turned at last poor fellow; but that they are fond of him, and into the shady street where Mr. Dombey's house of his nephew who has gone abroad. There is stood. He had been so busy, winding webs a very young lady who may perhaps come to see round good faces, and obscuring them with him. I want particularly to know all about her." meshes, that he hardly thought of being at "I'll take care, sir," said the boy. this point of his ride, until glancing downr the " And take care," returned his patron, bending cold perspective of tall houses, he reined'in his forward to advance his grinning face closer to horse quickly within a few. yrds of the door. the boy's, and pat him on the shoulder with the But to explain why Mr. Carker reincd in'his handle of his whip.: "take care you talk about horse quickly, and what he looked at in no small affairs of mine to nobody but me." surprise, a few digressive words are necessary. "To nobody in the world, sir," replied Rob, Mr. Toots, emancipated from the.3Blimbcr, shaking his head. thraldom, and coming into the possession of a " Neither there," said Mr. Carker, pointing to certain portion of his'worldly wealth,' "which," the place they had just left, " nor anywhere else. as he had been wont, during his last half-yetar's I'll try how true and grateful you can be. I'll probation, to communicate to Mr. Feeder every prove you!" Making this, by his display of evening:'as a new discovery, "the executors teeth and' by the action of his head, as much a couldn't keep him out of," had applied himself, threat as a promise, he turned from Rob's eyes, with great diligence, to the science of Life. which were nailed upon him as if he had won Fired with a noble emulation to pursue a brilthe boy by a' charm, body and soul, and rode liant and distinguished career, Mr. Toots had away. But again becoming conscious, after furnished a choice set of apartments; had estatrotting a short distance, that his devoted hench- blished among them a sporting bower, embelman, girt as before, was yielding him the same lished with the portraits of winning horses, in attendance, to the great amusement of sundry which he took no particle of interest; and a spectators,, he reined up, and ordered him off. divan, which made him poorly. In this delicious To insure his obedience, he turned in the saddle abode Mr. Toots devoted himself to the cultiand watched him as he retired. It was curious vation of those gentle arts which refine and to see that even then Rob could not keep his humanise existence, his chief instructor in which eyes wholly averted from his patron's face, but, was an interesting character called the Game constantly turning and turning again to look Chicken, who was always to be heard, of at the after him,' involved himself in a tempest of bar of the Black Badger, wore a shaggy white buffetings and jostlings from the other passengers great-coat in the warmest weather, and knocked in the street: of which, in the pursuit'of the one Mr. Toots about the' head three times a week, paramount idea, he was perfectly heedless. for. the small consideration of ten-and-six per Mr. Carker the manager rode on at a foot- visit. pace, with the easy air-of one who had performed' The Game Chicken, who was quite the Apollo all the business of the day in a satisfactory man- of Mr. Toots's Pantheon, had introduced to him ner, and got it comfortably off his mind. Coin- a marker who taught billiards, a Life Guard who placent and affable as man could be, Mr. Carker taught fencing, a job-master who taught riding, picked his way along the streets, and hummed a a Cornish- gentleman who was up to anything in soft tune as he went. He seemed to purr,: he the athletic line, and two or three other frends was so glad. connected no less intimately with the fine arts. -And in some sort, Mr. Carker, in his fancy, Under'whose auspices Mr. Toots could hardly basked.upon a hearth, too. Coiled upl-sugly fail to inprove apace, and under whose tuition at certain feet, he was ready for a spring, or for he went to work. a tear, or for a scratch, or for a velvet touch, as But, however it came about, it came to pass, DOMIBIY -AND SON, II. I301 ~62 nDQMB~EY AND SON. even while these gentlemen had the gloss of touched; he was in love. He had made a novelty upon them, that Mr. Toots felt, he didn't desperate attempt one night, and had sat up all know how, unsettled and uneasy. There' were night for the purpose, to write an acrostic on husks in his corn, that even. Game Chickens, Florence, which affected him to tears in the concouldn't peck up; gloomy giants in his leisure, ception. But he never proceeded inthe execu. that even Game Chickens couldn't knock down. tion further than the words,'For when I gaze" Nothing seemed to do Mr. Toots so much good -the flow of imagination in.which he had preas incessantly'leaving cards at'Mr. Dombey's viouisly written down the initial letters of the door. No tax-gatherer'in the-British dominions other seven lines deserting hiYn at that point. -that widespread territory on which the'sun Beyond devising that very artful and politic never sets, and where the tax-gatherer never goes measure of leaving a card for Mr. Dombey to' bed-was more regular and persevering in daily, the brain of -Mr. Toots had not worked his calls than Mr. Toots. much in reference to the subject that held his Mr. Toots never went up-stairs; and'always feelings prisoner. But deep consideration at performed. the same ceremonies, richly dressed length assured Mr. Toots that an important step for the purpose, at the hall-door. to gain. was the conciliation of Miss Susan "Oh! Good morning!" would be Mr. Nipper, preparatory to giving her some inkling Toots's first remark to the servant. "For Mr. of his state of mind. Dombey," would. be Mr. Toots's next'remark, A little light.and'playful gallantry towards as he handed. in a card. "For Miss Dombey," this lady seemed "the.:mearis to employ, in that would be his next, as he handed in another. early chapter of the -history, for winning her to Mr. Toots Would then turn round as if to go his interests. Not being able quiteto make up away; but.the. man knew him by this time, and his mind about it, he consulted the Ch'ckenknew he wouldn't. without taking that gentleman into his con-''Oh1, I.beg your pardon," Mr. Toots would fidence; merely informing him that a friend in say, as if a thought had suddenly descended on Yorkshire had written to him (Mr. Toots) for him. "Is the young woman at home?" his opinion on such a question. The Chicken The man would rather think she was, but replying that' his opinion always was, "Go in wouldn't' quite know..Then he would ring a and win," and further," When your man's before bell that rang up-stairs, and would look up the you, and your work cut out, go in and do it," staircase, and would say, Yes, she was at home, Mr. Toots considered this a figurative way of and was coming down. Then'Miss Nipper supporting his own view of the case, and herowould appear, and the man would retire. ically resolved to kiss Miss Nippernext day. "Oh!'How de do?" Mr. Toots wouldsay, Upon'the next day, therefore, Mr. Toots, with a'chuckle and a blush. putting into requisition some of the greatest Susan' would thank him, and say she was very marvels that Burgess and Co. had ever turned well. out, went off to Mr. Dombey's upon this design. "How's Diogenes going on? " would be Mr. But his heart failed him so much as he approached Toots's second interrogation.' the scene of action, that, although he arrived on Very well indeed. Miss Florence was fonder the ground at three o'clock in the afternoon, it and' fonder of him every day.. Mr. Toots was was six before'he knocked at the door. sure to hail this with a burst of chuckles, like Everything happened as usual, down tq.the the opening ot a bottle of some effervescent point when Susan said her young mistress was beverage.- wel, and Mr. Toots said it was of no conse"Miss Florence is quite well, sir," Susan quence. To her amazement, Mr. Toots, instead would add. of going off like a rocket, after that observation, " Oh, it's of no consequence, thankee," was lingered and chuckled. the invariable reply of Toots; and, when he' " Perhaps vou'd like to walk up-stairs,?" had said so, he always went away very fast. said Susan. Ndw, it is certain that Mr. Toots had a filmy' Well I think I will come in!" said'Mr. something in his mind, which led him to con- Toots. elude that if he could aspire successfully, in the But, instead of walking up-stairs, the'bold filness of time.: to the hand. of Florence, he Toots made an awkward plunge at Susan when would be fortunate and blessed. It is certain the door was shut, and embracing that fair crcathat Mr. Toots, by some remote and roundabout ture, kissed her on the.cheek. road, had got to that point, and.that there he''Go along with you!" criea Susan, "or I'll made a stand. His heart was wounded; he was tear your eyes out,' GREAT RECEPTION OF MR. TOOTS AT MR. DOMBE Y'S. 163 "Just' another!" said Mr. Toots. to Mr. Carker: who responds to that courtesy "Go along with you!" exclaimed Susan, by giving him his own, and with that they part. giving him a push. "Innocents like you, too! As Mr. Carker picks his way so softly past Whd'll begin next? Go along, sir!" the house, glancing up at the windows, and trySusan was not in any serious strait, for she ing to make out the pensive face behind the could hardly speak for laughing; but Diogenes, curtain, looking at the children opposite, the on the staircase, hearing a rustling against the rough head of Diogenes came clambering up wall, and a shuffling of feet, and seeing through close by it, and the dog, regardless of all sooththe banisters that there was some contention ing, barks and growls, and makes at him from going on, and foreign invasion in the house, that height, as if he would spring down ana tear formed a different opinion, dashed down to the him limb from limb. rescue, and in the twinkling of an eye had Mr. Well spoken, Di, so near your mistress! Toots by the leg. Another, and another, with your head up, your Susan screamed, laughed, opened the street- eyes flashing, and your vexed mouth worrying door, and ran down-stairs; the bold Toots itself for want of him! Another, as he picks his tumbled staggering out into the street, with way along! You have a good scent, Di,-cats, Diogenes holding on to one leg of his pantaloons, boy, cats! as if Burgess and Co. were his cooks, and had provided that dainty morsel for his holiday entertainment; Diogenes, shaken off, rolled over CHAPTER XXIII. and over in the dust, got up again, whirled round the giddy Toots, and' snapped at him: FLORENCE SOLITARY, AND THE MIDSHIPMAN and all this turmoil, Mr. Carker, reining up his MYSTERIOUS. horse and sitting a little at a distance, saw, to his aniazement, issue from the stately house of LORENCE lived alone in the great Mr. Dombey. H dreary house, and day succeeded Mr. Carker remained watching the discomfited H day, and still she lived alone; and Toots, when Diogenes was called in, and the A the blank walls looked down upon door shut: and while that gentleman, taking E ] her with a vacant stare, as ifthey had refuge in a doorway near at hand, bound up the a Gorgon-like mind to stare her youth torn leg of.his pantaloons with a costly silk and beauty into stone. handkerchief that had formed part of his expen- No magic dwelling-place in magic sive outfit for the adventure. story, shut up in the heart of a thick wood, was "I- beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Carker, ever more solitary and deserted to the fancy riding up, with his most propitiatory smile. "I than was her father's mansion in its grim reality, hiope you are not hurt?'" as it stood lowering on the street: always by "Oh no, thank you," replied Mr. Toots, rais- night, when lights were shining from neighbouring his flushed face; " it's of no consequence." ing windows, a blot upon its scanty brightness; Mr. Toots would have signified, if he could, that always by day a frown upon its never-smiling face. he liked it very much. There were not two dragon sentries keeping "If the dog'# teeth have entered the leg, ward before the gate of this abode, as in magic sir -"began Carker, with a display of his own. legend are usually found on duty oover the " No, thank you," said Mr. Toots; " it's all wronged innocence imprisoned: but besides a quite right. It's very comfortable, thank you." glowering visage, with its thin lips parted "I have the pleasure of knowing Mr. Dombey," wickedly, that surveyed all comers from above observed'Carker. the archway of the door, there was a monstrous " Have you though? " rejoined the blushing fantasy of rusty iron curling and twisting like a Toots. petrifaction of an arbour over the threshold,',And you will allow me, perhaps, to apolo- budding in spikes and cork-screw-points, and gise, in his absence," said Mr. Carker, taking bearing, one on either side, two ominous extin-'offhis hat, "for such a misadventure, and to guishers, that seemed to say, "Who enter here, wonder how it can possibly have happened." leave light behind!" There were no talismanic Mr. Toots A so much gratified by this polite- characters engraven on the portal, but the house ness, and the lucky chanceof making friends was now so neglected in appearance, that boys with a friend of Mr. Dombey, that he pulls out chalked the railings and the pavement-particuhis card-case, which he never loses an oppor- larly round the corner where the side wall was tunity of using, and hands his name and address — and drew ghosts on the stable-door;.and, 1'64 DOMBE Y AND SON. being sometimes driven off by Mr. Towlinson, lord of the place so rarely set his foot,,and by made portraits of him, in return, with his ears which his little child had gone up to Heaven. growing out horizontally from under his hat. There were other staircases and passages where Noise ceased to be, within the shadow of the no one went for weeks together; there were two roof. The brass band that came into the street closed rooms associated with dead members of once a week, in the morning, never brayed a the family, and with whispered recollections of note in at those windows: but all such company, them; and, to all the house but Florence, there down to a poor little piping organ of weak intel- was a gentle figure moving through the solitude lect, with an imbecile party of automaton dancers and gloom, that gave to every lifeless thing a waltzing in and out at folding doors, fell off from touch of present human interest and wonder. it with one accord,'and shunned it as a hopeless For Florence lived alone in the' deserted' place. house, and day succeeded day, and still she The spell'upon it was more wasting than the lived alone, and the cold walls looked down spell that used to set enchanted houses sleeping upon her with a vacant stare, as if they had a once upon a time, but left their waking freshness Gorgon-like mind to stare her youth and beauty unimpaired. into stone. The passive desolation of disuse was'every- The grass began to grow upon the roof, and irn where silently manifest about it. Within doors, the crevices of the basement paving. A scaly, curtains, drooping heavily, lost their old folds crumblingvegetation sprouted round thewindowand shapes, and hung like cumbrous palls. sills. Fragments of mortar lost their hold upon the Hecatombs of furniture, still piled and covered insides of the unused chimneys, and came dropup, shrunk like imprisoned and forgotten men, ping down. The two trees with the smoky trunks and changed insensibly. Mirrors were dim as were blighted high up, and the withered branches with the breath of years. Patterns of carpets domineered above the leaves. Through thewhole faded, and became perplexed and faint, like the building, white had turned yellow, yellow nearly memoryofthose years' trifling incidents. Boards, black; and, since the time when the poor lady starting at unwonted footsteps, creaked and shook. died, it had slowly become a dark gap in the Keys rusted in the locks of doors. Damp started long monotonous street. on the walls, and, as the stains came out, the But Florence bloomed there, like the king's pictures seemed to go in and secrete themselves. fair daughter in the story. Her books, her Mildew and mould began to lurk in closets. music, and her daily teachers were her only real Fungus-trees grew in corners of the cellars. companions, Susan Nipper and Diogenes exDust'accumulated, nobody knew whence nor cepted: of whom the former, in her attendance how; spiders, moths, and grubs were heard of on the studies of her young mistress, began to every -day. An exploratory black-beetle now grow quite learned herself, while the latter, and then was found immovable upon the stairs, softened possibly by the same influences, would or in an upper room, as wondering how he got lay his head upon the window-ledge, and placidly there. Rats began to squeak and scuffle in the open and shut his eyes upon the street, all night-time, through dark galleries they mined through a summer morning; sometimes prickbehind the panelling. ing up his head to look with grea significance The dreary magnificence of the state rooms, after some noisy dog in a cart,'who was barking seen imperfectly by the doubtful light admitted his way along, and sometimes, with an exaspethrough closed shutters, would have answered rated an'd unaccountable recollection of his supwel enough for an enchanted abode. Such as posed enemy in the neighbourhood, rushing to the tarnished paws of gilded lions, stealthily put the door, whence, after a deafening disturbance, out from beneath their wrappers; the marble he would come jogging back with a ridiculous lineaments of busts on pedestals, fearfully reveal- complacency that belonged to him, and lay his ing themselves through veils; the clocks that jaw upon the window-ledge again, with the air never told the time, or, if wound up by any chance, of a dog who had done a public service. told it wrong, arid struck unearthly numbers, So Florence lived in her wilderness of a home, which are not upon the'dial; the accidental within the circle of her innocent pursuits and tinklings among the pendent lustres, more thoughts, and nothing harmed her. She could startling than alarm bells; the softened sounds go down to her father's rooms now, and think of and laggard air that made their way among these him, and suffer her loving heart humbly to apobjects, and a phantom crowd ofothers, shrouded proach him, without fear of repulse. She could and hooded, and made spectral of shape. But, look upon the objects that had surrounded him besides, therewas the great staircase, where the in his sorrow, and could nestle near his chair, A STRANGE STUDY FOR A CHILD. x65 and not dread the glance that she so well re- stancy of purpose. Into her mind, as into all membered. She could render him such little others contending with the great affliction of our tokens of her duty and service as putting every- mortal nature, there had stolen solemn wonderthing in order for him with her own hands, bind- ings and hopes, arising in the dim world'beyond ing little nosegays for his table, changing them the present life, and murmuring, like faint-music, as one by' one they withered and he did not of recognition in the far-off land between her come back, preparing something for him every brother and her mother: of some present conday, and leaving some timid'mark of her pre- sciousness in both of her: some love and comsence near his usual seat. To-day it was a little miseration for her: and some knowledge of her painted stand for his watch; to-morrow she as she went her way upon the earth. It was a would be afraid to leave it, and would substitute soothing consolation to Florence to give shelter some other trifle of her making not so likely to to these thoughts, until one day-it was soon attract his eye. Waking in the night, perhaps, after she had last seen her father in his own she would tremble at the thought of his coming room, late at night-the fancy came upon her, home and angrily rejecting it, and would hurry that, in weeping for his alienated heart, she'down with slippered feet and quickly-beating might stir the spirits of the dead against him. heart, and bring it away. At another time she Wild, weak, dhildish as it may have been to would only lay her face upon his desk, and leave think so, and to tremble at the half-formedl a kiss there, and a tear. thought, it was the impulse of her loving nature; Still no one knew of this. Unless the house- and from that hour Florence strove against the hold found it out when she was not there-and cruel wound in her breast, and tried to think of they all held Mr. Dombey's rooms in awe-it him whose hand had made it only with hope. was as deep a'secret in her breast as what had Her father did not know-she held to it from gone before it. Florence stole into those rooms that time-how much she loved him.' She was at twilight, early in the morning, and at times very young, and had no mother, and had never when meals were served down-stairs. And, al- learned, by some fault or misfortune, how to though they were in every nook the better and express to him that she loved him. She would the brighter for her care, she entered and passed be patient, and would try to gain that art in out as quietly as any sunbeam, excepting that time, and win him to a better knowledge of his she left her light behind. onl child. Shadowy company attended Florence up and This became the purpose of her life. The down the echoing house, and sat with her in the morning sun shone down upon the faded house, dismantled rooms. As if her life were an en- and found the resolution bright and fresh within chanted vision,'there arose out of her' solitude the bosom of its solitary mistress. Through all ministering thoughts, that made it fanciful and the duties of the day it animated her; for Flounreal. She imagined so often what her life rence hoped that the more she knew, and the would have been if her father could have loved more accomplished she became, the more glad her, and she had been a favourite child, that he would be when he came to know and like sometimes, for the moment, she almost believed her. Sometimes she wondered, with a swelling it was so, and, borne on by the current of that heart and rising tear, whether she was proficient pensive fiction, seemed to remember how they enough in anything to surprise him when they had watched her brother in his grave together; should become companions. Sometimes she how they had freely shared his heart between tried to think if there were any kind 6f knowthem;'how they were united in the dear remem- ledge' that would bespeak his interest more brance of him; how they often spoke about him readily than another. Always: at her books, yet; and her kind father, looking at her gently, her music, and her work: in her morning walks, told her of their common hope and trust in God. and in her nightly prayers: she had her engrossAt other times she pictured to herself her mqther ing aim in view. Strange study for a child, to yet alive. And oh, the happiness of falling on learn the road to a hard parent's heart. her neck, and clinging to her with the love and There were many careless loungers through confidence of all her soul! And oh, the deso- the street, as the summer evening deepened into lation of the solitary house again, with evening night, who glanced across the road at the sombre coming on, and no one there! house, and saw the youthful figure at the window, But there was one thought, scarcely. shaped such a contrast to'it, looking upward at the out to herself, yet fervent and strong within her, stars as they began to shinei who'would have that; upheld Florence when she strove, and filled slept the worse if they had known on what deher.true young heart, so sorely tried, with con- sign she mused so steadfastly. The reputation x66 DOMiJY A Y AND SON. of the mansion as a haunted house would not the hall, to have a general reference to Mr. Domhave been the gayer with some humble dwellers bey, and to be expressive of a yearning in Miss elsevwhere, who were struck by its external gloom Nipper to favour that gentleman w ith a piece of in passing and repassing on their daily avoca- her mind. But she never explained it; and it tions, and so named it, if they could have read had, in consequence, the charm of mystery, in its story in the darkenilg lace. But Florence addition to tle advantage of the sharpest exheld her sacred purpose, unsuspected and un- pression. aided: and studied only how to bring her father' How long it is before we have any news of to the understanding that she loved him, and Walter, Susan!" observed Florence after a momade no appeal against him in any wandering ment's silence. thought.s Long indeed, Miss Floy!" replied her maid. Thus F erence l;ved alone in the deserted "And Perch said, when he came just now to see house, and day succeeded day, and still she for letters-but what signifies what he says?" lived alone, and the monotonous walls looked exclaimed Susan, reddening and breaking off. down upon her with a stare, as if they had a "Much he knows about it." Gorgon-like intent to stare her youth and beauty Florence raised her eyes quickly, and a flush into stone. overspread her face. Susan Nipper stood opposite to her young. "If I hadn't," said Susan Nipper, evidently mistress, one morning, as she folded and sealed struggling with some latent anxiety and alarm, a note she had been writing: and showed in her and looking full at her young mistress, while looks an approving knowledge of its contents. endeavouring to work herself into a state of "Better late than never, dear Miss Floy," said resentment with the unoffending Mr. Perch's Susan, " and I do say, that even a visit to them image, "if I hadn't more manliness than that old Skettleses will be a.godsend." insipidest of his sex, I'd never take pride in my "It is very good of Sir Barnet and Lady hair again, but turn it up behind my ears, and Skettles, Susan," returned Florence, witha mild wear coarse caps, without a bit of border, until correction of that young lady's familiar mention death released me from myyinsignificanee, I may of the family in question, "to repeat their in- not be Ha Amazon, Miss Floy, and wouldn't so vitation so kindly." demean myself by such disfigurement, but anyMiss Nipper, who was perhaps the most ways I'm not a giver up, I hope.".thorough-going partisan on the face of the earth, "Give up! What?" cried Florence, with a and who carried her partisanship into all matters, face of terror. great or small, and pe:petually waged war with "'Why, nothing, miss," said'Susan.'"Good ic against society, screwed up her lips and shook gracious, nothing! It's only that wet curl-paper her head, as a protest against any recognition of of a man Perch, that any one might almost make disinterestedness in the Skettlesesi and a plea in away with, with a touch, and really it would be bar that they would have valuable consideration a blessed event for all parties if some one would for their kindness in the company of Florence. take pity on him, and would have the goodness'!" " They know what they're about, if ever people "Does he give up the ship, Susan? " inquired did," murmured Miss Nipper, drawing in her Florence, very pale. breath, "oh! trust them Skettleses for that!" " No, miss," returned Susan; "I should like "I.am not very anxious tb go to Fulham, to see him make so bold as to doit to my face!. Susan, I confess," said Florence thoughtfully; No, miss, but he goes on about some bothering "but it will be right to go. I think it will be ginger that Mr. Walter was to send to Mrs. better." Perch, and shakes his dismal head, and says he " Much better," interposed Susan, with another hopes it may be coming; anyhow, he says, it emphatic shake of her head. can't come now in time for the intended occa"And so," said Florence, " though I would sion, but may do for next, which really," said prefer to have gone when there was no one Miss Nipper, with aggravated' scorn, "puts me there, instead of in this vacation-time, when it out of patience with the man, for though I can seems there are some young people staving in bear a great deal, I am not a camel, neither am the house, I have thankfully said yes." I," added Susan, after a moment's consideration, " For which I say, Miss Floy, Oh be joyful! " "if I know myself, a dromedary neither." returned Susan.' Ah! h-h!" "What else does he say,'Susan " inquired This last ejaculation, with which Miss Nipper Florence earnestly. "Won't you tell me>?" frequently wound up a sentence at about that "As if I wouldn't tell you anything, Mis's Floy, epoch of time, was supposed, below the level of and everything!" said Susan. " Why, miss, he A VISIT TO THE MIDSHIP-MAN. 167 says that.there begins to be a general talk about sky, who, as they looked at him, suddenly tlrust the ship, and that they havenever had a ship on into his capacious mouth two fingers of each that voyage half so.ong unheard of, and that the hand, and, with the assistance of that machinery, captain's wife was at the office yesterday, and whistled, with astonishing'shrillness, to some seemed a little put out about it, but any one pigeons at a considerable elevation in the air. could say that, we knew nearly that before." "Mrs. Richards's eldest, miss!" said Susan, " I must visit Walter's uncle," said Florence "and the worrit of Mrs. Richards's life!" hurriedly, "before I leave home. I will go and As Polly had been to tell Florence of the resee him this morning. Let us walk there directly, suscitated prospects of her son and heir, FloSusan.'" rence was prepared for the meeting. so, a Miss Nipper having nothing to urge against favourable moment presenting itself, they both the proposal, but being. perfectly acquiescent, hastened across, without any Iurtler contemplathey were soon equipped, and in the streets, and tion of Mrs. Richards's bane.\ That sporting on their way towards the little Midshipman. character, unconscious of their approach, again The state of mind in which poor Walter had whistled with his utmost might, and then yelled, gone to Captain Cuttle's on the day when in a rapture of excitement, "Strays! Whoo-oop! Brogley the broker came into possession, and Strays!" which identification had such.an effect when there seemed to him to be an execution ii upon the'conscience-stricken pigeons, that inthe very steeples, was pretty much the same as stead of going direct to some town in the north that in'which Florence now took her way to of England, as appeared to have beeln their oriUncle Sol's; with this difference, that' Florence ginal intention, they began' to wheel and falter; suffered the added pain of thinking that she had whereupon Mrs. Richards's first-born pieroel been; perhaps, the innocent occasion of involving them with another whistle, and again yelled, in Walter in peril, and all to whom he was lear, a voice that rose above the turmoil of the sireet,.herself included, in an agony of suspense. For "Strays! Whoo-oop! Strays!" the rest, uncertainty and danger seemed written From this transport he was abruptly recalled upon everything. ~The weather-cocks on spires to terrestrial objects by a poke from Miss Nipand housetops were mysterious with hints of pr', which sent him into the shop. stormy vind, and,pointed, like so many ghostly " Is this "the way you show your penitence, fingers, out to dangerous seas, where fragments when Mrs. Richards has been fretting for you of great wrecks were drifting, perhaps, and help- months and nonths?" said Susan, following the less' men were rocked upon them into a sleep as poke. W' Where's Mr. Gills?" deep as the unfathomable waters. When Flo- Rob, who smoothed his first rebellious glance rence came into the City, and passed gentlemen at Miss Nipper when he saw Florence following, who were talking together, she dreaded to hear put his knuckles to his haii, in honour of tlie them speaking of the ship, and saying it was latter, and said to the former, that Mr. Gills was lost. Pictures and prints of vessels fighting with out. the rolling.wavsc filled her with alarm. The "Fetch him home," said Miss Nipper with smoke and clouds, thotigh moving gently, moved authority, "and say that my young lady's here." too fast for her apprehensions, and made her " I don't know where he's' gone," said Rob. fear there was a tempest blowing at that mo- -" Is t/ha your penitence?" cried Susan with ment on. the ocean. stinging sharpness. Susan Nipper may or may not have been " Why, how can I go and fetch him when I affected similarly, but having her attention much don't know where to go?" whimpered the baited engaged in struggles with boys, whenever there Rob. "How can you be so unreasonable?" was any press of people-for, between that grade " Did Mr. Gills say when he should' be home?" of humankind and herself tlere, was some'natural asked Florence. animosity, that invariably broke out whenever "Yes, miss," replied Rob, with another applithey came together-it would seem that she had cation of his knuckles to his hair. "lHe. said he not'much leisure on the -road for.intellectual should be home early in the afternoon; in about operations. a couple of hours from now, miss." Arriving in good time abreast of the Wooden "'Is he very anxious about fis nephew?" inMidshipman on the opposite side of the way, quired Susan. and waiting for an opportunity to cross the "Yes, miss." returned Rob, preferring to adstreet, they were a little surprised at first to see, d(res himself to Florence, and slighting Nipper; at the instrunent-maker's door, a round-hteaded " I should say lIe Was, very nuch so. He ain't lad, with his chubby face addressed towards the indoors, miss, not a quarter of an hour together. 168 DOMBE Y AND SON. He can't settle in one place five minutes. He anything, if accidentally lost.; for; long before a goes about like a-just like a stray," said Rob, word was dry, it became as profound a mystery stooping to get a glimpse of the pigeons through to Rob as if he had had no part whatever in its the window, and checking himself, with his production. fingers half-way to his mouth, on the verge of While he was yet busy with these labours, the another whistle.. hackney coach, after encountering unheard-of "Do you know a friend of Mr. Gills called difficulties from swivel-bridges, soft roads, impasCaptain Cuttle?" inquired Florence after a mo- sable canals, caravans of casks, settlements of ment's reflection. scarlet-beans, and little wash-houses, and many "Him with a hook, miss?" rejoined Rob, such obstaclesabounding in that country, stopped with an'illustrative twist of his left hand. "Yes, at the corner of Brig Place. Alighting here, miss. He was here the day before yesterday." Florence and Susan Nipper walked down the " Has he not been here since?" asked Susan. street, and sought out the abode of. Captain "No,' miss," returned Rob, still addressing Cuttle. his reply to Florence. It happened by evil'chance to be one of Mrs. "Perhaps Walter's uncle has gone there, MacStinger's great cleaning days. On these Susan," observed Florence, turning to her. occasions Mrs. MacStinger was knocked up by " To Captain Cuttle's, miss?" interposed Rob. the policeman at a quarter before three in the "No, he's not gone there, miss. Because heleft morning, and rarely succumbed before twelve particular word that, if Captain Cuttle called, I o'clock next night. The chief object of this inshould tell him how surprised he was not to have stitution appeared to be, that Mrs. MacStinger seen hem yesterday, and should make him stop should move all the furniture into the backtill he came back." garden. at early dawn, walk about the house in "'-Do you know where Captain Cuttle lives?' pattens all day, and move the furniture back asked Flo'ence. again after dark. These ceremonies greatly Rob replied in the affirmative, and turning to fluttered those doves the young MacStingers, a greasy parchment book on the shop desk, read who were not.only unable at such times to find the address aloud.. any resting-place for.the soles of their feet, but Florence again turned to her maid, and took generally came in for a good deal of pecking counsel with her in a low yoice, while Rob. the from the maternal bird during the progress of roundveyed, mindful of his patron's secret charge, the solemnities looked on and listened. Florence proposed At the moment when Florence. and Susan that they should go to Captain Cuttle's house; Nipper presented themselves,at Mrs..Machear from his own lips what he thought of the Stinger's door, thatworthybut redoubtable female absence of any tidings of'the Son and Heir; was in the act of conveying Alexander. Macand bring him, if they could, to comfort Uncle Stinger, aged two years and three months, along? Sol.'Susah at first objected slightly, on the the passage for forcible deposition in a sitting score of distance; but a hackney coach being posture on the street pavement; Alexander being mentioned by her mistress, withdrew that oppo- black in the face with holding his breath after sition, and gave in her assent. There were some punishment, and a cool paving-stone being minutes of discussion between them before they usually found to act as a powerful restorative in came to this conclusion, during which the staring such cases. Rob paid close attention to both speakers, and The feelings of Mrs. MacStinger, as a woman inclined his ear to each by turns, as if he were and a mother, were outraged by the look of appointed arbitrator of the arguments. pity for Alexander which shee observed in In fine, Rob was dispatched for a coach; the Florence's face. Therefore, Mrs. MacStinger visitors keeping shop meanwhile; and when he asserting those finest emotions of our nature, in brought it, they got into it, leaving word for preference to weakly gratifying her curiosity, Uncle Sol that they would be sure to call again shook and buffeted Alexander, both before and on their way back. Rob, having stared after the during the application of the paving-stone, and coach until it was as invisible as the pigeons took no further notice of the strangers. had- now become, sat down behind the desk "I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Florence, with a most assiduous demeanour; and, in order when the child had. found his breath again, and that he might forget nothing of what had tran- was using it. "'Is this Captain Cuttle's house?" spired,, made notes of it on various small scraps "No," said Mrs. MacStinger. of paper, with a vast expenditure of ink. There "Not Number Nine?" asked Florence, hesiwas no danger of these documents betraying tating. CAPTAIN CUTTLE'S L.ODGINGS. 169 ".Who..said. it wasn't. Number Nine?." said "Should you? Then Im sorry that you Mrs. MacStinger. won't be satisfied," returned Miss Nipper.,. Susan Nipper instantly struck in, and begged Hush, Susan! If you please.! said Fl'o to inquire what Mrs. MacStinger meant by that, rence.. "Perhaps you can have. the goodness and if she knew whom she was talking.to. to tell us where Captain. Cuttle lives, ma'am; Mrs. MacStinger,.in retort, looked at her all as he don't.live here." over.' " What do.you. want with Captain Cuttle;'"Who says'he don't live here? retorted the I. should wish to -know:?" said. Mrs. Mac- implacable MacStinger.'" I: said it:. Iwasn't Stinger. Cap'en Cuttle's house-and it an't his house4;?........ ~.. ":WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH CAPTAIN CUTTLE, I SHOULD WISH' TO: KNOW?.'' SAID' MRS.' MACSTINGER.' ":SHOULD YOU? THEN I'M SORRY THAT YOU WON'T BE SATISSIED," RETURNED; MISS NIPPER. and forbid it that it ever should be his house- "Since you want Cap'en Cuttle, there he is!" for Cap'en Cuttle don't know how to. keep a said Mrs.'MacStinger, with an angry motion.of house-and don't deserve to have a house-it's her.hand. On Florence nmaking bold to enter myvhouse-ahnd wheh I -let the upper floor to without any more parley, and on Susan followCap'en'Cuttle, oh, I do a thankless thing,'and ing, Mrs. MacStinger recommenced her: pedescast pearls before swine!" trian exercise in pattens, -and Alexander MacMrs..MacStinger pitched her voice for the upper Stinger (still on the paving-stone), who, had windows in offering these remarks, and cracked stopped in his crying to attend; to the conversaoff each clause sharply by itself,,as if from a rifle' tion, began to, wail again, entertaining himself possessinganinfinity ofbarrels.' Afterthlelastshot, during'that dismal performance, which was'quite the captain's voice was heard to say, in feeble re-' mechanical, with a general survey f tlie prospect, iaxhstrance from hi' own'oom, " Steady below!"'terminating:'in the hackney coach. 1 7o DOMBE Y AND SON. The captain in his own apartment was sitting inquired Florence, from whose fice the captain with his hands in his pockets, and his legs (so.enraptured he was with it) could not take drawn up under his chair, on a very small deso- his eyes: while she, in her turn, looked late island, lying about midway in..an ocean of earnestly at him, to. be assured of the sincerity soap-and-water. The captain's windows -had of his reply. been cleaned, the walls had been cleaned, the "No, Heart's Delight," said Captain Cuttle, stove had been cleaned,'and everything, the "I am not'afeard. Wal'r is alad as'll go through stove excepted, was wet, and. shining with soft' a deal o' lard weather.:'Wal'r.'is a -lad'.as'll soap and sand':': the smell of which dry-saltery bring as much success to that'ere brigS as'a'lad impregnated the air. In the midst of the dreary is capable on; Wal'r," said the captain, his eyes scene, the. captain, cast away upon his island, glistening with the praise of his young.friend, looked round on the-waste of waters with a rue- and his hook raised to announce a beautiful ful countenance, and'seemed waiting for some' quotation, "is what you may calL-a out'ard and friendly bark to come that way, and take him visible sign of a in'ard and spirited grasp, and off. when found, make a note of.' But when the captain, directing his forlorn Florence, who did not quite understand this, visage towards the door, saw Florence appear though the captain evidently thought it full of with her maid, no words can describe his asto- meaning, and highly satisfactory, mildly looked nishnient. Mrs. MacStinger's eloquence having to him for something more. rendered all other sounds but imperfectly dis- "I am not afeard, my Heart's Delight," retinguishable, he hadlooked for no rarer visitor sumed the captain. "There's been most unthan the potboy or the milkman; wherefore,,when common bad weather in them latitudes, there's Florence appeared, and, coming to the.confines no denyin','and they have drove and drove, and of the.island, put her hand in his, the captain been beat off, maybe't'other side the world. stoodl,up;: aghast,.as if he supposed her, for the' But the ship's a good ship, and the lad's a good ii;o'imenttoi be;sGe.... young member of the,Fly- lad; aid it ain't easy, thank the Lord," the caping Dutchman's family. tain made a little bow, "to break up hearts of Instantly recovering his self-possession, how- oak,. whether they're ins brigs or buzzums. ever, the captain's first care iwas to place her on iHere' we' have'em both ways, which is bringing dry land, which lhe happily accomplished with it up with a round turn, and so I ain't a bit one motion of his arm. Issuing forth, then, afeard as yet." upon" the main, Captain Cuttle toot. Miss "As yet?" repeated Florence. Nipper round the waist, and bore her to the'- "Not a bit," returned the captain, kissing his island: also. Captain Cuttle, then, with great" iron hand; "and'afore I: begin to be, my respect and admiration, raised the hand of Heart's Delight,. Wal'r will have wrote home Florence to his lips, and standing off a little from the island, or from.some port or another, (for the island was not large enough for three), and made all taut and ship-shape. And with beamed on her from the soap-and-water like' a regard'to' old Sol. Gills," here the captain benew description of Triton. camesolemn,." who'll stand by, and not desert "You are amazed to see us, I am sure," said' until death doe us part, and when the stormy Florence with a smile. winds do blow;do blow, do bloww-overhaul the: The inexpressibly gratified captain kissed his catechism,". said the captain parenthetically, hook in reply, and growled, as if a choice and "and there you'll find them expressions-if it delicate compliment were included in the words,; would console Sol Gills to have the:opinion of "Stand by! Stand by!" a seafaring man as has got a mind equal'to any "But I couldn't rest," said Florence, "'.with- undertaking that he puts it alongside of,'and out coming to ask you what you.:think about as was all but smashed in his'prenticeship, and dear Walter-who::is, may.:brother ":now-and of which the name is. Bunsby,'that'ere man whether there is. anything to fear, and whether shall give him such an opinion.in. his o- wn you will,'not. go and: console his' poor uncle parlour as'll stun him. Ah'!"' said. Captain every day, until we have some intelligence of.Cuttle vauntingly, "as much as if he'd gone and himi? " knocked his head again a door! " At these words Captain: Cuttle, as by an in- "Let us take this gentleman to see him, and voluntary gesture, clapped his hand to his head, let us' hear what he' says," cried - lorence. on which the hard glazed hat was not, andlooked " Will you go with us now? We have a coach discomfited. here." "'Have you any fears for Walter's safety?" Again the captain clapped his hand to his DE VICES OF THE DREAD MACSTINGER. 171 head, on which the hard glazed hat was not, and and offering his arm to Florence, prepared to looked discomfited. But at this instant a most cut hi wvay through the enemy. remarkable phenomenon occurred. The door -It turned out, however, that Mrs. MacStingeropening without any note of preparation, and had already changed her c6urse, and that she applrently of itself, the hard glazed hat in ques- headed, as the captain had remarked she often tion skimmed into the room like a bird, and did, in quite a new direction. For, when they alighted heavily at the captain's feet. The got down-stairs, they found that.exemplary door then shut as violently as it had opened, and vwoian beating the mats on the door-steps, with nothing ensued in explanation of the prodigy. Alexander, still upon the paving-stoie,' dimly Captain Cuttle picked up his hat, and, having looming through a fog of dust; and so absorbed turned it over with a look of interest and wel-'was Mrs. MacStinger in her houselold occupacome, began to polish it on his sleeve. While tion, that when Captain Cuttle andl his visitors'doing so, the' captain eyed his visitors intently, passed, she beat the harder, and neither by word and said in a low voice: nor gesture showed any consciousness.of their "You see I. should have bore down on Sol vicinity.- The captain was so well pleased with Gills yesterday, and this morning; but she-she this easy escape-although the effect of the took it away and kept it. That's the long and door-mats on him was like a copious adminisshort of the subject." tration of snuff, and made him %neeze until the " Who did, for goodness' sake?" asked Susan. tears ran down his face-that he could hardly Nipper.' believe his good fortune; but more than once, "The lady of the house, my dear," returned between the door and the hackney coach, looked the captain in a gruff whisper, and making over his shoulder, with an obvious apprehension signals of secrecy. "We had some words about of Mrs. MacStinger's giving chase yet. the swabbing of these here planks, and( she-in However, they got. to the corner of Brig short," said the captain, eyeing the door, and Place without any molestation from that terrible relieving himself with a long breath, "she stopped fire-ship; and the captain mounting the coachmy liberty." box-for his gallantry would. not allow him,to'" Oh! I wish she had me to deal with!" ride inside with the ladies, though besought to said,Susan, reddening with the energy of the do so-piloted the' driver on his course for wish, " I'd stop her!" Captain Bunsby's vessel, which w as called'"Would you, do.you think, my dear?" the Cautious. Clara, and was lying hard by rejoined the captain, shaking his head doubt- Ratcliff. fully, but regarding the desperate courage of tle Arrived at the wharf off which this great fair aspirant with obvious admiration. " I commander's ship was jammed in among some don't. know. It's difficult navigation. She's five hundred companions, whose tangled rigging very hard to- carry on with, my dear. You looked like monstrous cobwebs half swept down, never can tell how she'll head, you see. Slh's Captain Cuttle appeared at the coach window, full one minute, and round upon you next. and invited Florence and' Miss' Nipper to And when she is a Tartar," said the captain, accompany him on board; observing that with,. the perspiration breaking out upon his Bunsby was to the last degree soft-hearted in forehead — There was nothing but a whistle respect of ladies, and that nothing would soemphatic enough for the conclusion of the sen- much tend to bring his expansive intellect into tence, so the captain whistled tremulously. a state of harmony as their pree;ntation to the After which he again shook his head, and recur- Cautious Clara. nng to his admiration of Miss Nipper's devoted Florence readily consented; aind the captain, bravery, timidly repeated, "Would you, do you taking her little hand in his prodigious palm, led think, my (lear?" her, with a mixed expression of patronage; Susan only replied with a bridling smile, but paternity, pride, and ceremony,thlat was pleathat was. so very full of defiance, that there is sant to see, over several very dirty decks; until, no. knowing.how long Captain Cuttle might coming to the Clara, they found that cautious have stood entranced in its contemplation, if craft (which lay.outsile the tier) with her gangFlorence iln.her anxiety had not again proposed way removed, and half-a-dozen feet of river intheir. imm.ediately resorting to the oracular terposed between herself and her nearest neighBunsby. Thus reminded of his duty, Captain bour. It appcared, from Captain' Cuttle's Cuttle put on the glazed hat firmly, took utl explanation, that the great Bunsby, like himself, anot!er knobby stick, with which he had sup- was cruelly treated by his landlady,. anld that plied the place of that one given to Walter, when her usage of-him for the time: being;as ~t72 tD~iOMBEY AND SONr so hard that he could bear it no longer, he set plied, "Ay, ay, shipmet, how goes it?" At the this gulf between them as a last resource. same time Bunsby's right hand and arm, emerg"Clara a-hoy!" cried the captain, putting a ing from a pocket, shook the captain's, and went hand to each'side of his mouth. back again. "A-hoy!" cried a boy, like the captain's "Bunsby," said the captain, striking home at echo, tumbling up from below, once, "here you are; a man of mind, and a ":Bunsby aboard?" cried the captain, hailing man as can give an opinion. Here's a young the boy in a stentorian voice, as if he were half lady as wants to take that opinion, in regard of a' mile off instead of two yards. my friend Wal'r; likewise my t'other friend, Sol "Ay, ay!" cried the boy in the same tone. Gills, which is a character for you to come within The boy then shoved out a plank to Captain hail of, being a man of science, which is the Cuttle, who adjusted it carefully, and led mother of inwention, and knows no law. Florence across: returning presently for Miss Bunsby, will you wear, to oblige me, and come Nipper. So they stood upon the deck of the along with s?" Cautious Clara, in whose standing rigging divers The great commander, who seemed, by the fluttering articles of dress were curing, in com- expression of his visage, to be always on the panywith a fe.w.tongues and some mackerel. look-out for something in the extremest distance, Immediately there appeared, coming slowly and to have no ocular knowledge of anything un above the bulk-head of the cabin, another within ten miles, made no reply whatever. bulk-head-human and very large-with one "Here is a man," said the captain, addressing stationary eye in the mahogany face, and one himself to his fair auditors, and indicating the revolving one, on the principle of some, light- commander with his outstretched hook, "that houses. This. head was decorated with shaggy has fell down more than any man'alive; that hair, like oakum, which had no governing incli- has had more accidents happen to his own self nation towards the north, east, west, or south, than the Seaman's Hospital to all hands; that bpt inclined to all four quarters of th6 compass, took as many spars and bars and bolts'about and to every point upon it. The head was fol- the outside of his head, when he was young, as lowed by a perfect desert of chin, and by a shirt you'd want a order for on Chatham Yard to collar and neckerchief, and bya dreadnought pilot build a pleasure yacht with; and yet that got coat, and by a pair of dreadnought pilot trousers, his opinions in that way, it's my belief, for there whereof the waistband was so very broad and an't nothing like'em afloat or ashore." high, that it became a succedaneum for a The stolid commander appeared, by a very waistcoat: being ornamented, near the wearer's slight vibration i: his elbows, to express some breast-bone, with some massive wooden buttons, satisfaction in this encomium; but. if his face like backgammon men. As the lower portions had been as distant as his gaze was, it could of these pantaloons became revealed, Bunsby hardly have.enlightened the beholders less in stood confessed.; his hands in their pockets, reference, to anything that was passing in his which were of vast size; and his gaze directed, thoughts. not to Captain Cuttle or the ladies, but' the "Shipmct," said Bunsby Ill of a sudden, and masthead. stooping down to look out under some interThe profound appearance of this philosopher, posing spar, "what'll the ladies drink?" who was bulky and strong, and on whose ex- Captain Cuttle, whose delicacy was shocked tremely red face an expression of taciturnity sat by such an inquiry in' connection, with Florence, enthroned, not inconsistent with his character, drew the sage aside, and seeming to explain in in which that quality was proudly conspicuous, his ear, accompanied him below; where, that he. almost daunted Captain Cuttle, though on might not take offence, the captain diank a dram familiar terms with him. Whispering to Florence himself, which Florence and Susan, glancing that Bunsby had never in his life expressed sur- dcown the olpen sky-light, saw the sage, with prise, and was considered not to know what it difficulty finding room for himself between his meant, the captain watched him as he eyed his berth and a very little brass fire-place,'serve out masthead, and -afterwards swept the.horizon; for self and friend.'IThel soon reappeared on and when the revolving eye seemed to'be com- deck, and Captain Cuttle, triumphing in the ing round in his direction, said rsuccess of his enterprise, conducted Florence' Bunsby, my lad, how fares it?" back to the coach, while Bunsby followed, A deep, gruff, husky utterance, which seemed escorting Miss Nipper, whom he hugged.-upon to have no connection with Bunsby, and cer- the way (much to that young, lady's indignation) tainly hul not the least effect upon his face, re- with his pilot-coated arm, like a blue bear. CAPTAIN B UNSB Y DELI VERS HIS OPINION. 3 The captain put'his oracle inside, and gloried. Before when? Before what?" said Flo.. so much in having secured him, and having got rence, putting her hand upon his arm. that mind into a hackney coach, that he could "Did I say'before?'" replied old Sol. " If not refrain from often peeping in at Florence I did, I must have meant before we should through the little window behind the driver, and have news of my dear boy." testifying his delight in smiles, and also in taps "You are not well," said Florence tenderly. upon his forehead,. to hint to her that the brain "You have been so very anxious. I am -sure of Bunsby was hard at it. In the meantime, you are not well." Bunsby, still hugging Miss Nipper (for his friend " ILam as well," returned the old man, shutthe captain had not exaggerated the softness of ting up his right hand, and holding it out to his heart), uniformly preserved his gravity of show her: " as well and firm as any man at my deportment, and showed no other consciousness time of life can hope to be. See! It's steady. of her or anything. Is its master not as capable of resolution and Uncle Sol, who had come home, received fortitude as many a younger man? I think so. them at the door, and ushered them immediately We shall see." into the little back-parlour, strangely altered by There was that in his manner more than in the absence' of Walter.. On the table, and about his words, though they remained with her too, the room, were the charts and maps on which which impressed Florence so much, that she the heavy-hearted instrument-maker had again would have confided her uneasiness to Captain and again tracked the missing vessel across the Cuttle at that moment, if the captain had not sea, and on which, with a pair of compasses seized that moment for expounding the state of that he still had in his hand, he had been mea- circumstances on which the opinion of the sagasuring, a iminute before, how far she must have cious Bunsby was requested, and entreating that driven, to have driven here or there:'and trying. profound authority to deliver the same. to demonstrate that a long' time must elapse Bunsby, whose eye'continued to be addressed b.efore hope was exhausted. to somewhere about the half-way house between. "Whether shle can have run," said Uncle Sol, London and Gravesend, two or three times put looking wistfully over the chart; "but no,, that's out his rough right arm, as seeking to'wind it, almost impossible. Or whether she can have for. inspiration, round the fair form of Miss been forced by stress of weather-but that's not Nipper; but that young female having ivithreasonably likely. Or whetherthere is any hope drawn herself, in displeasure, to the opposite: she so far changed her course as-but even'I side of the table, the soft heart of the comcan hardly hope that!" With such broken mander of the Cautious Clara. met with no suggestions, poor old Uncle Sol roamed'over response to its impulses. After sundry failures the great sheet before him, and could ndotfind a- in this wise, the commander, addressing himself speck' of hopeful probability in it large enough to nobody, thus spake; or rather,'the voice to, set one small point of the'comnpasses upon. within him said of.its own accord, and quite Florence sawimmediately-it would have been independent of himself, as if he were possessed difficult to help'seeing-that there was a singuilar by' a gruff spirit: indescribable change in the old man, and that, "My name's Jack JBunsby!" while'his manner was far more restless'and "He was christened John, cried the delighted unsettled than usual, there was yet a' curius Captain Cuttle. "Hear him" contradictory decision in it, that perplexed her "And what I says," pursued the voice after very much. She fancied once that he spoke some deliberation, "I stands to." wildly,'and at random; for, on her saying she The captain, with Florence on his arm, regretted not to'have'seen him when she had nodded at the auditory, and. seemed to say, been there before that morning, he at first "Now he's coming out. This is what'I meant replied that he had been to see her, and when I brought him." directly' afterwards seemed to wish to recall that "Whereby," proceeded the voice, "'why not? answer. If so, what odds? Can any man say otherwise? " You have been to see me?"' said Florence. No. Awast then!" "To-day?" When it had pursued its train of argument to "Yes, my dear young lady," returned Uncle this point, the voice stopped and rested. It Sol, looking at her and away from her in a con- then proceeded very slowly thus: fused manner. "I wished to see you with my "Do I believe that this here Son and Heir's own eyes,.and to hear'you with my own ears, gone down, my lads?' Mayhap. Do I say. so? once more before- " There he stopped. Which? If a skipper stands out by Sen' George's X 74 DOABEY AND SON. Channel, making for the Downs, what's right "Look alive! I tell you what, Sol Gills; arter ahead of him? The Goodwins. He isn't forced I've convoyed Heart's Delight safe home,"to run upon the Goodwins, but he may. The here the captain kissed his hook to Florence,bearings of this observation lays in the applica- "I'll come back and take you in tow for the tionon it. That an't no partof my duty. Awast rest of this blessed day. You'll come and eat then, keep a bright look-out for'ard, aid good your dinner along with me, Sol, somewheres or luck to you!" other." The voice here went out of. the back-parlour, "Notto-day, Ned!" said the old man quickly, and into the street, taking the commander of and appearing to be unaccountably startled by the Cautious Clara with it, and accompanying the proposition. " Not to-day: I couldn't do him on board again with all convenient expedi- it!" tion, where he immediately turned in, and re- "Why not?" returned the captain, gazing at freshed his mind with a nap. him in astonishment. The students of the sage's precepts, left to " I-I have so much to do. I-I mean to their own application of his wisdom-upon a think of, and'arrange. I couldn't do it, Ned, principle which was the main leg of the Bunsby indeed. I must go out again, and be alone, and tripod, as it is perchance of some other oracular turn my mind to'many things to-day." stools-looked at one another in a little uncere The captain looked at the instrument-maker, tainty; while Rob the Grinder, who had taken and looked at Florence, and again at the instruthe innocent freedom of peering in, and listening, ment-maker. "To-morrow, then," he suggested through the sky-light in the. roof, came softly at last. down from the leads, in a state of very dense "Yes, yes. To-morrow," said the old man. confusion. Captain Cuttle, however, whose ad- "Think of me to-morrow. Say to-morrow." miration of Bunsby'was, if possible, enhanced "I shall come here early, mind, Sol Gills," by the splendid manner in which he had justified stipulated the captain. his reputation and come through this solemn "Yes, yes. The first thing to-morrow morn*reference, proceeded' to explain that Bunsby ing," said old Sol; "and now'good-bye, Ned meant nothing but confidence; that Bunsby had Cuttle, and God bless you!" no misgivings; and that such an opinion as Squeezing both the captain's hands with unthat man had given, coming from such a mind common fervour as he said it, the old man as his, was Hope's own anchor, and with good turned to Florence, folded hers in his own, and roads to cast it in. Florence endeavoured to put them to his lips;'then hurried her out to the believe that the captain was right; but coach with very singular precipitation. Alto Nipper, with her arms tight folded, shook-her gether, he made'such an effect on CaptaiinCattle head in resolute denial, and had no more trust that the captain lingered behind, and instructed in Bunsby than in Mr. Perch himself. Rob to be particularly gentle and attentive to The philosopher seemed to have left Uncle his master until the morning: which injunction Sol pretty much where he had found him, for he he strengthened with the payment of one shilling still went roaming about the watery world, com- down, and the promise of another sixpenoe passes in hand, and discovering no rest for 4before noon next'day. This. kind office perthem. It was in pursuance of a whisper in his formed, Captain Cuttle, who considered himself ear from Florence, while the old man was ab- the natural and lawful body-guard of Florence, sorbed in this pursuit, that. Captain Cuttle laid mounted the box with a mighty sense of his his heavy hand upon his shoulder. trust, and escorted her home. At parting,' -he "What cheer, Sol Gills?" cried the captain assuredher that he would stand by Sol Gills, heartily. 1'l. Gil heartily. close and true; and once again inquired of "But so-so, Ned," returned the instrument- Susan Nipper, unable to forget her gallant words maker.'I have been remembering, all this in reference to Mrs. MacStinger, "Would you, afternoon, that on the very day when my boy do you think, my dear, though?" entered Dombey's House, and came home late When the desolate house had closed upon the to, dinner, sitting Just there where you stand, we two, the captain's thoughts reverted to the old talked' of storm and shipwreck, and I could instrument-maker, and he felt uncomfortable. hardly turn him from the subject." Therefore, instead of going home, he walked up But meeting the eyes of Florence, which were and down the street several times, and, eking fixed with earnest scrutiny upon his face, the old out his leisure until evening, dined late at a man stopped and s led. certain angular little tavern. in the City, with a Stand by, old friend!" cried the captain. public parlour like a wedge, to which glazed pubi au l ies e g, t whch'gae SIR BARNE.T.SKETTLES. 175 hats much resorted. The captain's' principal good fortune to get hold of a raw recruit, or a intention was to pass Sol Gills's after dark, and country gentleman, and ensnared him to his look in through the window: which he did. hospitable villa,- Sir Barnet would say to him, The parlour door stood open, and he could see on the morning after his arrival, "Now, my his old friend writing'busily and steadily at the dear sir, is there anybody you would like to table within, while the little Midshipman, already know? Who is there you would wish to-meet? sheltered from the night dews, watched him Do you take any interest in writing people, or from the counter; under which Rob the Grinder in painting or sculpturing people, or in acting made his own bed, preparatory to' shutting the people, or in anything of that sort?" Possibly shop. Reassured by the tranquillity'that reigned the patient answered yes, and mentioned somewithin the precincts of the wooden mariner, the body of whom Sir Barnet had no more personal captain headed for Brig Place, resolving to knowledge than of Ptolemy the Great. Sir weigh anchor betimes in the morning. Barnet replied that nothing on earth was easier, as he knew him very well: immediately called on the aforesaid somebody, left his card, wrote a short note,-" My dear Sir-penalty of your eminent position-friend at my house naturally CHAPTER XXIV. desirous-Lady Skettles and myself participate -trust that genius being superior to ceremonies, THE STUDY OF A LOVING HEART, you will do us the distinguished favour of giving ~ca(sf~ ~~~~~~~us the pleasure," &c. &c.-and so killed a brace 6IR BARNET and Lady Skettles, of birds with one stone, dead as door-nails. c-~ ^very good people, resided in a pretty With the snuff-box and-banner in full force, A villa at Fulham, on the banks of the Sir Barnet Skettles propounded his usual inquiry, Thames; which was one of the most to Florence on the first morning of her visit. desirable residences in the world When Florence thanked him, and said there was J when a rowing match happened to no one in particular whom she desired to see, it /~ be going past, but had its little incon- was natural she should think with a pang of' veniences at other times, among which poor lost Walter. When Sir Barnet Skettles, may be enumerated the occasional appearance urging his kind offer, said, "My dear Miss of the river in the drawing-room, and the con- Dombey, are you sure you can remember no one temporaneous disappearance of the lawn and whom your good papa-to whom I beg you to shrubbery. present the best compliments of myself and Lady Sir Barnet Skettles expressed' his personal Skettles when you write-might wish you. to consequence chiefly through an antique gold know?" it was natural, perhaps, that her poor snuff-box, and a ponderous silk pocket-handker- head should droop a little, and that her voice chief, which he had an.imposing manner of should tremble as it softly answered in the drawing out of his pocket like a banner, and negative. using with both hands at once.'Sir Barnet's Skettles junior, much stiffened as to his cravat, object in life was constantly to extend the range and sobered down as to his spirits, was at home of his acquaintance. Like a heavybody dropped for the holidays, and appeared to feel himself into water —not to disparage so worthy a gentle- aggrieved by the solicitude of his excellent man by the comparison-it wvas in the nature mother that he should be attentive to Florence. of things that Sir Barnet must spreadan ever- Another and a'deeper injury under which the widening circle about him, until there was no soul of young Barnet chafed was the company room left. Or, like a sound in air, the vibration of Doctor and Mrs. Blimber, who had been of which, according to the speculation of an invited on a visit to the parental roof-tree, and ingenious modern philosopher, may go on tra- of whom the young gentleman often said he velling for ever through the interminable fields would have preferred their oassing the vacation of space, nothing but coming to the end of his at Jericho. moral-tether could stop Sir Barnet Skettles in "Is there anybody you can suggest, now, his vcyage of discovery through the social Doctor, Blimber?" said Sir Barnet Sketiles. system. turning to that gentleman. Sir Barnet was proud of making people "You are very kind, Sir Barnet," returned acquainted with people.I He liked the thing Doctor Blimber. "Really Iam not aware that for its own sake, and it advanced his favourite there is, in particular. I like to know niylellowobject too. For example, if Sir Barnet had the men in general, Sir Barnet. What does Terence 176 DOMBE Y AND SON. say? Any one who is the parent of. a son is one, and the dew began to dry. upon the flowers interesting to me." and grass, and youthful feet began to move upon "Has Mrs. Blimber any wish to see any'the lawn, Florence, glancing round at'the bright remarkable person?" asked Sir Barnet cour- faces, thought, What was.there she could learn teously. from these children? It was too late.to learn Mrs.. Blimber replied, with a sweet smile and from them; each could approach her father feara shake of her sky-blue cap, that if Sir Barnet lessly, and put up her lips to meet the ready kiss, could have made -her known to Cicero, she and wind her arm about the neck that bent down would have troubled him: but sach an intro- to caress her. She could not begin by being so duction not being feasible, and she already bold. Oh! could it be that there was less and enjoying the friendship of himself and his ami- less hope as she studied more and more?,able lady, and possessing, with the Doctor her She remembered well that even the old woman husband, their joint confidence in regard to their who had robbed her when a little child-whose dear.son-here young Barnet was observed to image and whose house, and all she had said curl. his nose-she asked no more. and done, were stamped upon her recollection,. Sir Barnet was fain, under these circumstances with the enduring sharpness of a fearful impresto content himself.\for the time with the company sion made at that early period of life-had spoken assembled. Florence was.glad of that; for she fondly of her daughter, and how terribly even had a study to pursue among them, and it lay she had cried out in the pain of hopeless separatoo near her heart, and was too precious and tion from her child. But her own mother, she momientous to yield to any other interest. would think again, when she recalled this, had There were some.children staying in the loved her well., Then, sometimes, when. her house. Children who were as frank and happy thoughts reverted swiftly to the void between with fathers and with mothers as those rosy herself and her father, Florence would tremble, faces opposite home. Children who had no and the tears would start upon her face, as she restraint upon their love, and freely showed it. pictured to herself her mother living, on,'and Florence sought to learn their secret; sought to coming also to dislike her, because of her wantfind out what it was she had missed; what ing the unknown grace that should conciliate simple art they knew, and she knew not; how that father naturally, and had never done so she could be taught by them to show her from her cradle. She knew that this imagination father that she loved him, and to win his love did wrong to her mother's memory, andh'ad no again. truth in it, or base to rest upon; and yet she Many a day did Florence thoughtfully observe tried so hard'to justify him, and to find the'whole these children. On many a bright morning did blame in herself, that she could not resist its she leave her bed when the glorious sun rose, passing, like a wild cloud, through the distance and walking up and down upon the river's bank of her mind. before any one in the house was stirring, look There came among the other visitors, soon up at the windows of their rooms, and think of after Florence, one beautiful. girl, three or four them, asleep, so gently tended and affectionately years younger than she, who was an orphan thought of. Florence would' feel'more lonely child, and who was accompanied by her aunt, a th'en than' in the great house all alone; and grey-haired lady,-who spoke much to Florence, would think sometimes that she was better there and who greatly liked (but that'they all did)' to than here,'and that there was greater peace in hear her sing of an evening, and would always hiding herself than in mingling with others of sit near her at that time, with motherly interest. her age, and fiading how unlike them all she They had only been two days'in the house when was.;But attentive to her study, though it Florence, being in' an arbour in the' garden one touched her' to the quick at every little leaf she warm morning, musingly observant of a youthful turned in the hard book, Florence remained group upon the turf, through some intervening among them, and tried, with patient hope, to boughs, and wreathing flowers for the head of gain the knowledge that she wearied for. one little creature among them who was the pet Ah!, how to gain it? how to know the charm and plaything of the rest, heard this same lady in its beginning? There were daughters here and her niece, in pacing up an'd down a sheltered who rose up in the morning, and lay down to nook close by, speak of herself. rest at night, possessed of fathers' hearts already. "Is Florence an orphan like'me, aunt?" said They had no repulse to overcome, no coldness to the child. dread, no frown to smooth away.: As the morn- "No, my love. She has no mother, but her ing advanced, and the windows opened one by father is living." DIFFERENT FROM OTHER CHILDREN. 7tZ "Is she in mourning for her poor mamma were wet, but not with dew; and her face dropped now?" inquired the child quickly. upon her laden hands. "No; for her only brother." "Poor Florence! Dear, good. Florence!" "Has she no other brother?" cried the child. "None." "Do you know why I have. told you this, "No sister? Kate? " said the lady. "None." "That I may be very kind to her, and take "I am very, very sorry!" said the little girl. great care to try to please her. Is that the As they stopped soon afterwards to watch reason, aunt?" some boats, and had b'een silent in the mean- "Partly," said the lady, "but not all. Though time, Florence, who had risen when she heard we see her so cheerful; with a pleasant smile her name, and had gathered up her flowers to go for every one; ready'to oblige us all, and bearand meet them, that they might know of her ing her part in every amusement here: she can being within hearing, resumed her seat and work, hardly be quite happy, do you think she can, expecting to hear no more; but the conversation Kate?" recommenced next moment. " I am afraid not," said the little girl. " Florence is a favourite with every one here, "And you can understand," pursued the lady, and deserves to be, I am sure," said the child "why her observation of children who have earnestly. "Where is her papa?" parents who are fond of them, and proud of them The aunt replied, after a moment's pause, that -like many here just now-should make her she did not know. Her tone of voice arrested sorrowful in secret." Florence, who had started from her seat again; "Yes, dear aunt," said the child, "I underand held her fastened to the spot, with her stand that very well.'Poor Florence " work hastily caught up to her bosom, and her More flowers strayed upon the ground, and two hands saving it from being scattered on the those she yet held to her breast trembled as if a ground, wintry wind were rustling them. "He is in England, I hope, aunt?" said the "My Kate," said the lady, whose voice was child. serious, but very calm and sweet, and had so "I believe so. Yes; I know he is, indeed." impressed Florence from the first moment of her " Has he ever been here?" hearing it, " of all the youthful people here, you "I believe not. No." are her natural and harmless friend; you have " Is he coming here to see her?" not the innocent means, that happier- children I believe not." have —-" "Is he lame, or blind, or ill, aunt?" asked "There are none happier, aunt!" exclaimed the child. the child, who seemed to cling about her. The flowers that Florence held to her breast "-As other children have, dear Kate, of rebegan to fall when she heard those words, so minding her of her misfortune. Therefore I wonderingly spoken. She held them closer; would have you, when you try to be her little and her face hung down upon them. friend, try all the more for that, and feel that the' Kate," said the lady after another moment bereavement you sustained -thank Heaven! of silence, " I will tell you the whole truth about before you knew its weight-gives you claim and Florence as I have heard it, and believe it to be. hold upon poor Florence." Tell no one else, my dear, because it may be' But I am not without a parent's love, aunt, little known here, and your doing so would give and I never have been," said the child,," with her pain." you." "I never will!" exclaimed the child. "However that may be, my dear," returned "I know. you never will," returned the lady. the lady, "your misfortune is a lighter one than " I can trust you as myself. I fear then, Kate, Florence's; for not an orphan in the wide world that Florence's father cares little for her, very can be so deserted as the child who is an outseldom sees her, never was kind- to her in her cast from a living parent's love." life, and now quite shuns her and avoids her. The flowers were scattered on the ground like She would love him dearly if he would suffer her, dust; the empty hands were spread upon the but he will not-though for no fault of hers; face; and orphaned Florence, shrinking down and she is greatly to be loved and pitied by all upon the ground, wept long and bitterly.,gentle hearts." But true of heart, and resolute in her good More of the ifowers that Florence held fell purpose, Florence held to it as her dying mother scattering on the ground; those that remained held by her upon the day that gave Paul life. DOMBEY AND SON, I2. 302 178 DOMBEY AN.D SON. He did not know how much she loved, him. of garden ground before his cottage; and now However long the time in coning, and however tinkered up a miserable old boat that belonged slow the interval, she must try to bring' that to him; or did some job of that kind for a neighknowledge to her father's heart one day or other. bour, as chance occurred. Whatever the man's Meantime, she must be careful in no thoughtless labour, the girl was never employed; but sat, word, or look, or burst of feeling'awakened by when she was'with him, in a listless, moping any chance circumstance, to complain against state, and idle. him, or to give occasion for these whispers to Florence had often wished to speak to this his prejudice. man; yet she had never taken courage to do so, Even in the response she made.the orphan as he made no movement towards her. But one child, to whom she was attracted strongly, and morning when she happened to come upon him whom she had such- occasion to remember, Flo- suddenly, from a by-path among some pollard rence was mindful of him. -If she singled her willows which terminated in the little shelving out too plainly (Florence thought) from among piece of stony ground that lay between his dwellthe rest, she would confirm-in one mind cer- ing and the water, where he was bending over a tainly: perhaps in more-the belief that he was fire he had made to calk the old boat which was cruel and unnatural. Her own delight was no lying bottom upwards close by, he raised his set-off to this.' What she had overheard was a head at the sound of her footstep, and gave her reason, not. for soothing herself, but for saving Good morning, him; and Florence did it, in pursuance of the "Good morning," said Florence, approaching study of her heart. nearer; "you are at work early." She did so always. If a book were read aloud, " I'd be glad to be often at work earlier, miss, and there were anything in the story that pointed if I had work to do." at an unkind father, she was in pain for their "Is it so hard to get?" asked Florence. application of it to him; not for herself. So "I find it so," replied the man. with any trifle of an interlude that was acted, or Florence glanced to where the girl was sitting, picture that was shown, or game that was played, drawn together, with her elbows on her knees, among them. The occasions for such tender- and her chin on her hands, and said: ness towards him were so many, that her mind "Is that your daughter?" misgave her often, it would indeed be better to He raised his head quickly, and looking togo back to the old house, and live again within wards the girl with a brightened face, nodded tothe shadow of its dull walls, undisturbed.. How her, and said "Yes." Florence looked towards few who saw sweet Florence, in her spring of her too, and gave her a kind salutation; the girl womanhood, the modest little queen of'those muttered something in return, ungraciously and. small revels, imagined what a load of sacredcare sullenly. lay heavy iAher breast! How few of those who "Is she in want of employment also?" said. stiffened in her father's freezing atmosphere sus- Florence. pected what-a heap of fiery coals was piled upon The man shook his head. "No, miss," he his head! said, " I work for both." Florence pursued her study patiently, and "Are there only you two, then?" inquired failing to acquire the secret of the nameless Florence. grace she sought among the youthful company " Only us two," said the man. " Her mother who were assembled in the house, often walked has been dead these ten year. Martha..!" (he out alone, in the early morning, among the lifted up his head again, and whistled to her) children of the poor. But still she found them "won't you say a word to the pretty young all too far advanced to learn from. They had lady?" won their household places long ago, and did The girl made an impatient gesture with her not stand without, as she did, with a bar across cowering shoulders, and turned her head another the door. way. Ugly, misshapen, peevish, ill-conditioned, There was one man whom she several times ragged, dirty-but beloved! Oh yes! Florence observed at work very early, and often with a had seen her father's look towards her, and she girl of about her own age seated near him. He knew whose look it had no likeness to. was a very poor man, who seemed to have no "I'm afraid she's worse this morning, my poor regular employment, but now went roaming girl!" said the man, suspending his work, and about the banks of the river when the tide was contemplating his ill-favoured child with a comlow, looking out for bits and scraps in the mud; passion that was the more tender for being and now worked at the unpromising little patch rough. FILORENCE SEES A FATHER NOT LIKE HERS. 1.79 "She is ill, then?" said Florence. make it easy to relate with what emotions she The man drew a deep sigh. " I don't believe had gone out of his room that night; what she my Martha's had five short days' good health," had meant to say if she had had.the.courage; he answered, looking at her still, "in as many and how she had endeavoured, afterwards, to long years." learn the way she never knew in infancy? "Ay! and more than that, John," said a Yes, she thought, if she were dying, he would neighbour, who had come down to help him relent. She thought, that if she lay, serene and with the boat. not unwilling to depart, upon the bed that was " More than that you say, do you?" cried the curtained round with recollections of their darother, pushing back his battered hat, and draw- ling boy, he would be touched home, and would ing his hand across his forehead. "Very like. say, "Dear Florence, live for me, and we will It seems a long, long time." love each other as we might have done, and be "And the more the time," pursued the neigh- as happy as we might have been these many bour, "the more you've favoured'and humoured years " She thought that if she heard such her, John, till she's got to be a burden to herself, words from him, and had her arms clasped and everybody else.' round him, she could answer with a smile, " It "Not to me," said her father, falling to his is too late'for anything but this; I never could work again. "Not to me." be happier, dear fther!' and so leave him, with Florence could feel-who better?-how truly a blessing on her lips. he spoke. She drew a little closer to him, and The golden water she remembered on the would have been glad to touch his rugged hand, wall appeared to Florence, in the light of such and thank' him for his goodness to th:miserable reflections, only as a current flowing on to rest, object that he looked upon with eyes.so different and to a region where the dear ones, gone from any other man's. before, were waiting, hand-in-hand; and often, "Who would favour my poor girl-to call it when she looked upon the darker river rippling favouring-if I didn't?" said the fther. at her feet, she thought with awful wonder, but "Ay, ay," cried the neighbour. "In reason, not terror, of that river which her brother had so John. But you! You rob. yourself to give to often said was bearing him away. her. You bind yourself hand and foot on her The father and his sick daughter were yet account. You make your life miserable along fresh in Florence's mind, and, indeed, that inciof her. And what does she care? You don't dent was not.a week old, when Sir Barnet and believe she knows it " his lady, going out walking' in the lanes one Thefather lifted up his head again, andwhistled afternoon, proposed to, her to bear them comto her. Martha made the same impatient ges- pany, Florence readily consenting, Lady Sketture with her crouching shoulders in reply; and ties ordered out young Barnet'as a matter of he was glad and happy. course. For nothing delighted Lady Skettles so "Only for that, miss," said the neighbour with much as beholding her eldest son with Florence a smile, in which there was more of secret sym- on his arm. pathy than he expressed;" only to get that, he Barnet, to say the truth, appeared to entertain never lets her out of his sight!" an opposite sentiment on the subject, and on such "Because the day'll come, and has been con- occasons frequently expressed himself audibly, ing a long while," observed the other, bending though indefinitely, in reference to " a parcel of low over his work, "when to get half as much girls." Ai it was not easy to ruffle her sweet from that unfort'nate child of mine-to get the temper, howeyer, Florence generally reconciled trembling of a finger, or the' waving of a hair- the young gentleman to his fate after a few would be to raise the dead minutes, and' they strolled on amicably; Lady Florence softly put som money near his hand Skettles and Sir Barnet following, in a state of on the old boat, and left.I. perfect 6omplacency and high gratification. And now Florence began to think, if she were This was the order of procedure on the afterto fall ill, if she were to fade like her dear noon in question: and Florence had- almost brother, would he then know that she had loved succeeded in overruling the present objections him;, would she then grow dear to him; would of Skettles junior to his destiny, when a gentlehe come to her bedside, when she was weak and man on horseback came riding by, lopked, at dim of sight, and take her into his embrace, and them earnestly as he passed, drew in his rein. cancel all the past? Would he so forgive her, wheeled round, and came riding back again, hat in. that changed condition) for not having been in hand. able to lay open her childish heart to him, as to The gentleman had looked particularly at ISo 1DOMBEYr AND SON. Florence; and when the little party stopped, My horse is perfectly quiet, I assure you," on his riding back, he bowed to her before said the gentleman. salutihig A Barnet and his lady. Florence had It was not that, but something in the gentleno remembrance of having ever seen him, but man himself-Florence could not have said she started involuntarilywhen he came near her, what-that made her recoil as if she had been and drew back. stung. ~*THE FLOWERS WERE SCATTERED ON THE GROUND LIKE DUST; THE EMPTY HANDS WERE SPREAD UPON THE FACE; AND ORPHANED FLORENCE, SHRINKING DOWN UPON THE GROUND, WEPT LONG AND BITTERLY." " I have the honour to address Miss Dombey, Florence, sensible of a strange inclination to l believe," said 4he gentleman with a most per- shiver, though the day was hot, presented him suasive smile. On Florence inclining her head, to her host and hostess; by whom he was very he added, " My name is Carker. I can hardly graciously received. hope to be remembered by Miss Dombey "I beg pardon," said Mr. Carker, "a thouexcept by name. Carker." sand times! But I am going down to-morrow SHE SENDS HER LOVE BY MR. CARKER. x8r morning to Mr. Dombey, at Leamington, and up his bed below it, but that the clocks struck if Miss Pombey car intrust me with any corn- six as he raised himself on his elbow, and took mission, need I say how very happy I shall a survey of his little chamber. The captain's be?." eyes must have done severe duty, if he usually Sir Barnet, immediately divining that Florence opened them as wide on awaking as he did that would desire to write a letter to her father, pro- morning; and were but roughly rewarded for posed to return, and besought Mr. Carker to their vigilance, if he generally rubbed them half come home and dine in his riding gear. Mr. as hard. But the occasion was no common one, Carker had the misfortune to be engaged for for Rob the Grinder had certainly never stood dinner, but if Miss Dombey wished to-write, in the doorway.of Captain Cuttle's. bedroom nothing would delight him more than to accom- before, and' in it he' stood then, panting at the pany them back, and to be her'faithful slave in captain, with a flushed'and tousled air of bed waiting as long as she pleased. As he said this about him, that greatly heightened both.his with his widest smile, and bent down close to colour and expression. her to pat his horse's neck, Florence, meeting "Holloa! "' roared the captain. "What's his eyes, saw, rather than heard him say, " There the matter?" is no. news of the ship 1" Before Rob could stammer a word in answer, Confused, frightened, shrinking from him, and Captain Cuttle turned out, all in a heap, and not even sure- that he had said-those words, for covered the boy's mouth with his hand. he seemed to have shown them to her in some "Steady, my lad," said the captain; "don't extraordinary manner through his smile. instead ye speak a word to me as yet " of uttering them, Florence faintly said that she The captain, looking at his-visitor in great was obliged to him, but she would not write; consternation, gently shouldered him into the she had nothing to say. next room, after laying.this injunction upon "Nothing to send, Miss Dombey?" said the him; and disappearing for a few moments, man of teeth, forthwith returned in the blue suit.. Holding "Nothing,"' said Florence, "but my —but my up his hand in token of the injunction not yet dear love-if you please." being taken off, Captain. Cuttle walked'up to Disturbed as Florence was, she raised her the cupboard, and poured himself out; a dram: eyes. to his face with an imploring and expres- a counterpart of which he. handed. to the messive look, that plainly besought him, if he knew senger. The captain then stood himself up in a -which he as plainly. did-that any message corner, against the wall, as if to forestall the between her and her father was an uncommon possibility of being knocked backward by the charge, but that one most of all, to spare her. communication that was. to be made to him; Mr.. Carker smiled and bowed low, and being and having. swallowed his liquor, with his. eyes charged by Sir Barnet with the best compli- fixed on the messenger, and. his face as pale as ments of himself'and Lady Skettles, took his his face could be, requested him. to "heave leave, and rode away; leaving a. favourable ahead." impression, on that worthy couple.. Florence "Do you mean tell you,.- captain?" asked was seized with such a shudder as he went, that Rob, who had been greatly impressed by these Sir Barmet, adopting the popular superstition, precautions. supposed somebody was passing over her grave. "Ay!" said the captain. Mr. Carker, turning a corner on the instant, "Well, sir," said Rob, "I ain't got much to looked back, and bowed, and disappeared, as if tell. But look here!" he rode off to the churchyard straight to do it. Rob produced a bundle of keys.' The captain surveyed them, remained in his corner, and sur-,~~ —r~ ~veyed the messenger. "And look here!"' pursued Rob. CHAPTER XXV. The boy produced a.sealed packet,- which Captain Cuttle stared at as he had stared at the STRANGE NEWS OF UNCLE SOL. keys. "When I woke this. morning, captain," said CAPTAIN CUTTLE, though no sluggard, Rob, " which was about a quarter after five, I did not turn so early on the morning after found these on my pillow. The shop-door was he had seen Sol Gills, through the shop-window, unbolted and unlocked, and Mr. Gills gone." writing in the parlour, with the Midshipman "Gone!" roared the captain. upon the counter, and Rob the Grinder making "Flowed, sir," returned Rob, 182 DOMBEY AND SON. The captain's voice was so tremendous, and on the subject in his own mind, would require he came out of his corner with such way on th6 united genius of all the great men who, dishim, that Rob retreated before him into another carding their own untoward days, have detercorner: holding out the keys and packet, to mined to go down to posterity, and have never prevent himself from being run down. got there. At first the captain was too much "'For Captain Cuttle,' sir," cried Rob, "is confounded and distressed to think of anything on the keys and on the packet too. Upon my but the letter itself; and even when his thoughts word and honour, Captain Cuttle, I don't know began to glance upon the various attendant anything more about it. I wish I may die if I facts, they might, perhaps, as well have occupied do! Here's a sitiwation for a lad that's just got themselves with their former theme, for any a sitiwation," cried the unfortunate Grinder, light they reflected on them. In this state of screwing his cuff into his face: "his master mind, Captain Cuttle having the Grinder before bolted with his place, and him blamed for it!" the court, and no one else, found it a great These lamentations had reference to Captain relief to decide. generally, that, he was an- object Cuttle's gaze, or rather glare, which was full of of suspicion: which the captain so clearly exvague suspicions, threatenings, and denuncia- pressed in his visage, that Rob remonstrated. tions. Taking\ the proffered packet from his "Oh, don't, captain!" cried the Grinder. hand, the -captain opened it, and read as "I wonder how you can! What have I done follows:- to be looked at like that?" "My dear Ned Cuttle. Enclosed is my "My lad," said Captain Cuttle, "don't you will "-the captain turned it over with a doubt- sing out afore you're hurt. And don't you comful look-" and testament —Where's the testa- mit yourself, whatever you do." ment?" said the captain, instantly impeaching "I haven't been and committed nothing, the ill-fated Grinder. "What have you done captain," answered Rob. with that, my lad?" "Keep her free, then," said the captain im-' I never see it," whimpered Rob. " Don't pressively, " and ride easy." keep on suspecting an innocent lad, captain. I With a deep senseofthe responsibilityimposed never touched the testament.' upon him, and the necessityofthoroughly fathomCaptain Cuttle shook his head, implying that ing this mysterious affair, as became a man in somebody must be made answerable for it; and his relations with the parties, Captain Cuttle regravely proceeded:- solved to go down and examine the premises, " Which don't break open for a year, or until and to keep the Grinder with him. Considering you have decisive intelligence of my dear that youth as under arrest at present, the captain Walter, who is- dear to you, Ned, too, I am was in some doubt whether it might not be exsure." The captain paused and shook his head pedient to handcuff him, or tie his ankles toin some emotion; then, as a re-establishment ether, or attach a weight to his legs, but not of his dignity in this trying position, looked being clear'as to the legality of such formalities, with exceeding sternness at the Grinder. " If the. captain decided merely to hold him by the you should never hear of me,.or see me more, shoulder all the way, and knock him down if he Ned, remember an old friend as he will remember- made any objection. you to the last-kindly; and at least until However, he made none, and consequently got the period I have mentioned has expired, keep to the instrument-maker's house without being a home in the old place for Walter. There placed under anymore stringent restraint. - As the are no debts, the loan from Dombey's HIuse is shutters were not yet taken down, the captain's paid off, and all my keys I send with this. first care was to have the shop opened; and, Keep this quiet, and make no inquiry for me; when the daylight was freely admitted, he proit is useless. So no more, dear Ned, from your ceeded, with its aid,.to further investigation. true friend, Solomon Gills." The captain took The captain's first care was to establish hima long breath, and then read these words, written self in a chair in the shop as president of the below: "The boy Rob, well' recommended, as solemn tribunal that was sitting within him; I told you, from Dombey's House. If all else and to require Rob to lie down in his bed under should come to the hammer, take care, Ned, of the counter, show exactly where he discovered the little Midshipman." the keys and packet when he awoke, how he To convey to posterity any idea of the manner found the door when he went to try it, how'he in which the captain, after turning this letter started off to Brig Place-cautiously preventing over and over, and reading it a score of times, the latter imitation from being carried farther sat down in his chair, and held a court-martial than the threshold-and so on to the end of the CAPTAIN CUTTLE'O UT OF SOUNDINGS. 183 chapter. When. all this had been done several own will to go, and so went. The captain had times, the captain shook his head, and seemed next to consider where and why? and, as there to think the matter had a bad look. was no way whatsoever that he saw to the,soluNext, the captain, with some indistinct idea tion of the first difficulty, he confined his mediof finding a body, instituted a strict search over tations to the second. the whole' house; groping in the cellars with a Remembering. the old man's curious manner, lighted.candle, thrusting his hook behind doors, and' the farewell he had taken -of him:unacbringing his head into violent. contact with countably fervent at the time, but quite intellibeams, and covering himself" with cobwebs: gible now: a terrible apprehension strengthened Mounting up to the old man's bedroom, they on the captain,. that, overpowered by his found that he had not been in:bed on the pre- anxieties.ad regrets for Walter, he had been vious night, but had merely lain: dowr, on the driven to commit suicide. Unequal to the wear coverlet, as was evident from the'impression and tear of daily life, as he had often professed yet.remaining there. himself to be, and shaken as he no doubt was "And I think, captain," said Rob, looking by the uncertainty and deferred hope he had round the room, "that when Mr. Gills was going undergone, it seemed no violently-strained misin and out so often, these last few days, he was giving, but only too probable. taking little things away piecemeal, not to attract Free from debt, and with no fear for his perattention." sonal liberty, or the seizure of his goods, what "Ay " said the captain mysteriously "Why else but such a state of madness could have so, my lad?" hurried him away alone and secretly? As to "Why," returned Rob, looking about, "I his carrying some apparel with him, if he had don't see,his shaving tackle. Nor his brushes, really done so-and they were not even sure of captain. Nor no shirts, Nor yet his shoes." that-he might have done so, the captain As each of these articles was mentioned, argued, to prevent inquiry, to distract attention Captain Cuttle took particular notice of the from his probable fate, or to ease the very mind corresponding department of the Grinder, lest that was now' revolving all these possibilities. he should appear to have been in recent use, or Such, reduced into plain language, and conshould proveto be in present possession thereof. densed within a small compass, was the final But Rob had no occasion to shave, certainly result and substance of Captain Cuttle's delibewas not brushed, and wore the clothes he had rations; which took a. long time to arrive at wornr for a long time past, beyond all possibility this pass, and were, like some more public deliof niistake. berations, very discursive and disorderly. " And what should you say," said the captain Dejected and despondent in the extreme, -" notcommitting yourself-about his time of Captain Cuttle felt it just to release Rob from sheeriqg off? Hey?" the. arrest in which he had placed him,. and to " Why, I think, captain," returned,Rob, enlarge him, subject to a kind of honourable in"that he must have gone pretty soon after I spection which he still resolved to exercise; began -to snore." and having hired a man, from Brogley the W' hat o'clock was, that?"' said the captain, broker,.to sit in the sh'op during their absence, prepared to be very particular about the' exact the captain, taking Rob with him, issued forth time; upon a' dismal quest after the mortal remains of " How can I. tell, captain? " answered Rob. Solomon Gills. "'I only know that I'm a heavy sleeper at first, Not'a; station-house or bone-house or workand a light one towards morning;'and if Mr.. house in; the- metropolis escaped a. visitation Gills had come through the shop near daybreak, from the hard glazed hat. Along the wharfs, though ever so much on tiptoe,. I'm pretty sure among the. shipping, on the bank-side, up the I should have heard him shut tlie door at all river, down the river, here, there, everywhere. it events." went gleaming where.men were: tlickest, like On. mature consideration of this evidence, the hero's helmet in an epic battle. For a Captain Cuttle began to think that the instru- whole week the captain read of all the found ment-maker, must have vanished of his own and missing people in all the newspapers.and accord; to which logical conclusion he was handbills, and went forth on expeditions at all assisted by the letter addressed to himself, hours of the day to identify Solomon Gills, in which, as being.unquestionably in the old man's poor little ship-boys who had fallen overboard, handwriting, would seem, with no great forcing, and in tall foreigners with.dark beards who had to bear the construction, that he arranged of his taken poison-"'to make'sure." Cantain Cuttle 184 DOiMBEL V AND SON. said, "that it warn't him." It is a sure thing was that he would keep: house on the premisces tlat its never-was, and that the good captain had of Solomon Gills himself, and would go into the no other satisfaction. instrument business, and see what came of it. Captain Cuttle at last abandoned these at- But, as this step involved the relinquishment tempts as hopeless, and set himself to consider of his apartments at Mrs. MacStinger's, and he what was:to be done next. After several neiv knew that resolute womLan would never hear of perisals of his poor friend's letter, he considered his deserting tlem, the captain took the despethat the maintenance; of'.'a home in the old rate determination of running away. place for Walter" was the primary duty imposed "Now, look ye here, my lad," said the captain upon'him, Therefore, the captain's decision to Rob when he had matured this notable "THE CAPTAIN'S VOICF WAS SO TlrMrNDOL'S, AND HE CAMrO'TT OP HIS CORNER WITH S'CH WAY'ON HIM, THAT ROB RETRIATPD BSI —ORE HIMI NTO ANOHIER CORNER: HOLDING OUT THE KERS AND PACKIaT, TO PREVENT HIMSELF FROM BEING RUN DOWVN." scheme; "to-morrow, I shan't be found in this a wvill. But the moment y'oti hear me knock here roadstead till night-not till arter midnight to-morrow night, whatever time it is, turn-to and p'rhaps. But you keep watch till you hear me show yourself smart with the door." knock, and the momient you do, turn-to and " I'll be sure to do it, captain," rpleied Rob. open the dooi." " Because, you udlerstandl," resule( tle cal)" Very good, captain," said Rob. tain, coming back again to cilforce this charge "You'll continu& to he rated on these lhere upon, his mind,." there may be, for a-lything 1 books," pursued the captain coildescendingly, can say, a chase; and I ni.rght be took while I "aiid I don't say but what o011 may get pro- was w\aiting, if you didn't show yoursclf smart motion, if you alned me slhould pull togetiler vith w ith tile door." 2, CAPTAIN CUTTLE CHANGES HIS RESIDENCE. 185 Rob again assured the captain that he would peared in a swarm, and tore at him with the be prompt and wakeful; and the captain, having confiding trustfulness he so little deserved. The made this prudent arrangement, went home to eye of Alexander MacStinger, who had been his Mrs. MacStinger's for the last time. favourite, was insupportable to the captain; the The sense the captain had of its being the last voice of Juliana MacStinger, who was the picture time, and of the awful purpose hidden beneath of her mother, made a coward of him. his blue waistcoat, inspired him with such a Captain Cuttle kept up appearances, nevermortal dreadof Mrs. MacStinger, that the sound theless, tolerably well, and for an hour or two of that lady's foot down-stairs, at any time of was very hardly used and roughly handled by the day, was sufficient to throw him into a fit the young' MacStingers: who, in their childish of trembling. It fell out, too, that Mrs. Mac- frolics, did a little damage also to the glazed hat, Stinger was in a charming temper-mild and by sitting in it, two at a time, as in a nest, and placid as a house-lamb; and Captain Cuttle's drumming on the inside of the crown with their conscience suffered terrible twinges when she shoes. At length the captain sorrowfully discame up to inquire if she could cook him nothing missed them: taking leave of these cherubs with for his dinner. the poignant' remorse and grief of a man who "A nice small kidney-pudding now, Cap'en was going to execution. Cuttle," said his landlady: "or a sheep's heart. In-the silence of night the captain packed up Don't mind my trouble." his heavier property\in a chest, which he locked, "No, thankee, ma'am," returned the captain. intending to leave it there, in all probability for " Have *a roast' fowl,"-said Mrs. MacStinger, ever, but on:the forlorn chance of one day find-'; with' a bit of weal stuffing and some egg sauce. ing a man sufficiently bold and desperate to Come, Cap'en Cuttle! Give yourself a little come and ask'for it. Of his lighter necessaries treat!" the captain made a bundle; and disposed:his " No, thankee, ma'am," returned the captain plate about his person, ready for flight. At the very humbly. hour of midnight, when Brig Place was buried: in "I'm sure you're out of sorts, and want to be slumber, and Mrs. MacStinger was lulled in stimulated," said Mrs. MacStinger. "Why not sweet oblivion, with her infants around her, the have, for once in a way, a bottle of sherry guilty captain, stealing down on tiptoe in the wine?" dark, opened the door, Closed it softly after him, "Well, ma'am," rejoined the captain, "if and took to his heels. you'd be so good as to take a glass or two, I Pursued by the image of Mrs. MacStinger think- I would,try that. Would you do me the springing out of bed, and, regardless of costume, favour, ma'am," said the captain, torn to.pieces following and bringing him back; pursued also by his conscience, "to accept a quarter's rent by a consciousness of his enormous crime; ahead?" Captain Cuttle held on at a great pace, and "And why so, Cap'en Cuttle?" retorted Mrs. allowed no grass to grow under his feet between MacStinger-sharply as the captain thought. Brig Place and the instrument-maker's door. It The, captain was frightened to death. "'If opened when he knocked-for Rob was on -the you would, ma'am," he said with submission, watch-and, when it was bolted and locked be"it would' oblige me. I can't keep my money hind him, Captain Cuttle felt comparatively safe. very well. It pays itself out.; I should take it "Whew!" cried the captain, looking round kind if you'd comply." him. " It's a breather!" "Well, Cap'en Cuttle,' said the unconscious "Nothing the matter, is there, captain?" cried MacStinger, rubbing her hands, " you can do as the gaping Rob. you please. It's not for me, with my family, to " No, no!" said Captain Cuttle after changing refuse, no more than it is to ask." colour, and listening to a passing footstep in the "And would you, ma'am," said the captain, street. "But' mind ye, my lad;: if any -lady, taking dowo;the tin canister, in which he kept except either of'them two as you see t'other his' cash,;from the top -shelf of the. cupboard, day, ever comes and asks for Captain Cuttle, be "be so'good as offer eighteen-pence apiece sure. to report no person of that name known, to the little family all round? If you could nor never heard of here observe them orders, make it convenient, ma'am, to pass the word will you?" presently for them children to come for'ard in a "I'll take care, captain," returned Rob. body, I shbuld be glad to see'em." "You might say-if you liked," hesitated the These innocent'MacStingers were so many captain, " that you read in the paper that a daggers to the captain's breast, when they ap- cap'en of that name was gone to Australia, 186 DOMBE Y AND SON. emigrating along with a whole ship's comple- count of time, as men do when great changes ment of-people as had all swore never to come come upon them, thought musingly of Walter, back no more." and of Solomon Gills, and even of Mrs MacRob nodded his understanding of these in- Stinger herself, as among the things that had structions; and Captain Cuttle, promising to bef make a man of him if he obeyed orders, dismissed him, yawning, to his bed under the counter, and went aloft to the chamber of CHAPTER XXVI. Solomon Gills. What the captain suffered next day, whenever SHADOWS OF THE PAST AND FUTURE. a bonhet passed, or how often he darted out of the shop to elude imaginary MacStingers, and OUR most obedient, sir," said sought safety in the attic, cannot be told. But, the major. "Damme, sir, a friend to avoid the fatigues attendant on this means of of my friend Dombey's is a friend self-preservation, the captain curtained the glass of mine, and I'm glad to see door of communication between the shop and you. parlour on the inside, fitted a key to it from the "I am infinitely obliged, Carker," bunch that had been sent to him; and cut a explained Mr. Dombey, "to Major Bagsmall hole of espial in the wall. The advantage stock for his company and conversation. of this fortification is obvious. On a bonnet Major Bagstock has rendered me great service. appearing, the captain instantly'slipped into his Carker." garrison, locked himself up, and took a secret Mr. Carker the manager, hat in hand, just observation of the enemy.. Finding'it a false arrived at Leamington, and just introduced to alarm, the captain instantly slipped out again. the major, showed the major his whole double And the bonnets in the.streets were so very range of teeth, and trusted he-might take the numerous, and alarms were so inseparable from liberty of thanking him with all ltis heart'for their appearance, that the captain was almost having effected so great an improvement in incessantly slipping in and out all day long. Mr. Dombey's looks and spirits. Captain Cuttle found time, however, in the "By Gad, sir," said the major in reply, "there midst of this fatiguing service, to inspect the are no thanks due to me, for it's a give-and-take stock; in connection with which he had the affair. A great creature like our friend Dombey, general idea.(very laborious to Rob) that too sir," said the major, lowering his voice, but not much friction could not be bestowed upon it, lowering it so much as to render it inandible to and that it could not be made too bright. Ho that gentleman," cannot help improving and also ticketed a few attractive-looking articles at exalting his friends. He strengthens and ma venture, at prices ranging from ten shillings to vigorates a man, sir, does Dombey, in his moral fifty pounds, and exposed them in the window, nature." to the great astonishment of the public. Mr. Carker snapped at the expression: In After effecting these improvements, Captain his moral nature. Exactly. The very words Cuttle, surrounded by the instruments, began to he had been on the point of suggesting. feel scientific: and looked up at the stars at "But when my friend Dombey, sir," added night through the sky-light, when he was smoking the major, "talks to you of Major Bagstock, I his pipe in the little back-parlour before going to must crave leave to set him and you right. He bed, as if he had established a kind of property means plain Joe, sir-Joey B3.-Josh Bagstock in them. As a tradesman in the City, too, he -Joseph-rough and tough old J., sir. At your began to have an interest in the Lord Mayor service." and the Sheriffs, and in public companies; and Mr. Carker's excessively friendly inclinations felt bound to read the quotations of the Funds towards the major, and Mr. Carker's admiraevery day, though he was unable to make out, tion of his roughness, toughness, and plainness, on any principle of navigation, what the figures gleamed out of every tooth in Mr. Carker's head. meant, and could have'very well dispensed with "And now, sir," said the major, "you and the fractions. Florence the captain waited on, Dombey have the devil's own amount of busi-'with the strange news of Uncle Sol, immediately ness to talk over." after taking possession of the Midshipman; but "By no means, major," observed Mr. Domshe was away from home. So the captain sat bey. himself down. in his altered station of life, with "Dombey," said the major defiantly, "I n company but Rob the Grinder- and losing know better; a man of your mark-the Colossus SPEAKING OF DA UGHITJRS. 187 of commerce-is not to be interrupted. Your in the case of a man like me. I don't come moments are precious. We shall meet at din- into comparison with yo." ner-time. In:;ue- interval old Joseph will be Mr. Dombey put his hand to his neckcloth, scarce. The dinner hour is a sharp seven, Mr. settled his chin in it, coughed, and stood lookCarker." ing at his faithful friend and servant for a few With that, the major; greatly swollen as to moments in silence. his face, withdrew; but immediately putting in "I shall have the pleasure, Ca ker," said, Mr. his head at the door again, said: Dombey at length: making as if hc sw.lowed "I beg your pardon. Dombey, have you something a little too large for his throat: " to any message to'em?" present you to my-to the major's friends. Mr. Dombey, in some embarrassment, and Highly agreeable people." not without a glance at the courteous keeper of "Ladies among them, I Dresume?*' insinuhis business confidence, intrusted the major ated the smooth manager. with his compliments. "They are all-that is to say, they are both "By the Lord, sir," said the major, "you -ladies," replied Mr. Dombey. must make it something warmer than that, or " nly two?" smiled Carker. old Joe will be far from welcome." "There are only two. I have confined my " Regards then, if you will, major," returned visits to their residence, and have made no Mr. Dombey. other acquaintance here." "Damme, sir," said the major, shaking his "Sisters, perhaps? " quoth Carker. shoulders and his great cheeks jocularly: " make "Mother and daughter," replied Mr. Dombey. it something warmer than that." As Mr. Dombey dropped his eyes, and ad"What you please, then, major," observed justed his neckcloth again, the smiling face of Mr. Dombey. Mr. Carker the manager became in a moment, " Our friend is sly, sir, sly, sir, de-vilish sly," and without any stage of transition, transformed said the major, staring round the door at Carker. into a most intent and frowning face, schnning "So is Bagstock." But stopping in the midst his closely, and with an ugly sneer.'As Mr. of a chuckle, and drawing himself up to his full Dombey raised his eyes, it changed back, no height, the major solemnly exclaimed, as he less quickly, to its old expression, and showed struck himself on the chest, "Dombey! I envy him every gum of which it stood possessed. your feelings. God bless you!" and with-' You are very kind," said Carker. " I shall drew. be delighted to know them. Speaking of "You must have found the gentleman a great daughters, I have seen Miss Dombey." resource," said Carker, following him with his There was a sudden rush of blood to Mr. teeth. Dombey's face. "Very great indeed," said Mr. Dombey. "I took the liberty of waiting on her," said "He has friends here, no doubt," pursued Carker, "to inquire if she could charge me with Carker. " I perceive, from what he has said, any little commission. I am not so fortunate that you go into society here. Do you know," as to be the bearer of any but her-but her dear smiling horribly, " I am so very glad that you love." go into society!" Wolfs face that it was then, with even the Mr. Dombey acknowledged this display of hot tongue revealing itself through the stretched interest on the part of his second in command mouth, as the eyes encountered Mr. Dombey's! by'twirliig his'watch-chain, and slightly moving "What business intelligence is there?" inhis. head. quired the latter gentleman after a silence, "You were formed for society," said Carker. during which Mr. Carker had 1produced some "Of. all the men I know, you are the best memoranda and other papers. adapted by. nature and by position for society. "There is very little," returned Carker. Do yout' know, I -have been frequently amazed "Upon the whole, we have not had our usual that you should have held it at arm's length so good fortune of late, but that is of littl"nloment long!" to you. At Lloyd's they give up. the Son and "I have had my reasons, Carker. I have Heir for lost. Well, she was insured from her been alone, and indifferent to it. But you have keel to her masthead." great social qualifications yourself, and are the "Carker," said Mr. Dombey, taking a chair more likely to have been surprised." near him, "I cannot say that young man, Gay, "Oh! II" returned the other with ready ever impressed me favourably —— " self-disparagement. "It's quite another matter "Nor me" interposed the manager. z 88 DOMBEY AND SON. "-But I wish," said Mr. Dombey,. without and shaded for her more luxurious repose, that heeding the'interruption, "he Ta: never gone Withers, who was in attendance'on her, loomed on board that ship.. I wish he had never been like aphantom page. sent out." "What insupportable creature is this coming "It is a pity you didn't say so in good time, in?" saidn Mrs. Skewton. "I cannot bear'it. is it not? " retorted Carker coolly. "However, Go away, whoever you are!"" I think it's all, for the best - I really think it's "You have not the heart to banish J. B.,.all for the best. Did I mention that there was ma'am!" said the major, halting: midway to something like a little confidence between Miss remonstrate, with his cane over his shoulder. Dombey and myself?" "Oh, it's you,'is it? On second thoughts, "No," said Mr. Dombey sternly. you may enter," observed Cleopatra. "I have no doubt,' returned Mr.. Carker The major entered accordingly, and advancafter- an impressive pause, "that, wherever Gay ing to the sofa, pressed her, charming hand. to is, he is much better where he is than at'home his lips. here. If I were, or could be,: in your-place, I " Sit down," said. Cleopatra, listlessly waving should be satisfied of that.: I:am quite satisfied her fan,. "a long way off. Don't come too near of it'myself. Miss Dombey is- confiding and me, for.I am frightfully faint'and sensitive this young-perhaps hardly proud enough for your morning, and.'you smell of the sun. You are daughter-if she have a'fault.' Not that that is absolutely tropical." much, though, I am sure. Willyou check these "By George, ma'am," said the major, " the balances with me?" time has been whetn Joseph Bagstock has been Mr. Dombey leaned back in his chair, instead grilled and blistered by the sun; the time was of bending over the papers that were laid before when he was forced, ma'am, into such full blow, him, and looked the manager steadily, in the by high hothouse heat in the West Indies, that face. The manager, with his eyelids slightly he was known as the Flower.. A' man never raised, affected to beglancing at his figures, and heard of Bagstock, ma'am,:'in those days' he to await the leisure of his principal. He showed heard'of the Flower-the Flower of Ours. The that,le affected this, as if from great delicacy, Flower may have faded; more or less, ma'am, and with a design to spare. Mr. Dombey's feel- observed the. major, dropping into a much ings; and the' latter, as he looked at him was nearer chair than had'been' indicated by his cognizant of his intended consideration, and felt cruel divinity,, "but it is a tough plant yet, and that, but* for it, this confidential Carker would constant as the evergreen." have saltd a great deal more, which- he, Mr. Here the major, under cover of the dark Dombey> was too proud to ask for. It was his room, shut up one eye, rolled his'head like a way in bisiness, often. Little by little, Mr. harlequin,;and, in his great self-satisfaction, Dombey'si gaze relaxed, and his attention be- perhaps, went nearer to the confines of apocame diverted to. the papers'efore him; but, plexy than he had ever gone before. while busy'with the'occupation they afforded "Where is Mrs. Granger?" inquired Cleohim, he frequently stopped',,nd looked at Mr. patra of her page. Carker gain. Whenever he did so, Mr. Carker Withersbelieved she was -in her own room. was demonstrative, as before, in his delicay, "Very well;" said' Mrs. Skewton. "Go away, and impressed it on his great chief more and and shut the door. I am engaged." more. As Withers disappeared', Mrs. Skewton turned While they were thus engaged; and, under her head languidly towards' the major; without the skilful culture of the manager, angry thoughts otherwise moving, and asked''him how:his friend in'reference to lpor Florence brooded and bred was. in.Mr. Dombey's breast, usurping: the place of "Dombey, ma'am," returned the major, with the cold dislike that generally reigned there; a fcetious gurgling in his throat, "':is as-well as Major'Bagstock, much admired by the old a man in his condition can be. His'condition ladies of.Leamington, and followed by the is a desperate one, ma'am. He is-touched' is native, carrying the usual' amount of light bag- Dombey.. Touched!" cried the major. "He gage, straddled along the shady side of the way, is bayoneted through the body." to makea morning call on Mrs. Skewton. It Cleopatra. cast' a sharp look at the major, that being mid-day when the'major reached the contrasted forcibly.with the affe'cted drawl in bower of Cleopatra, he had the good fortune to which she presently said-:find- his princess on her usual sofa,'languishing "Major Bagstock, although I'know but little over a cup of coffee, with the room so darkened of the world,-nor can I really regret my inex .4N ANXIOUS PAlREVT. r8g. perience, for I fear it is a false place: full of friend of yours, my dear major, we were natuwithering conventionalities: where nature is but rally disposed to be prepossessed in his favour; little regarded, and where the music of the and I fancy that I observed an amount of heart heart, and the gushing of the soul, and all that in Mr. Dombey, that was excessively refreshing." sort- of thing, which is so truly poetical, is seldom "There is devilish little heart in Dombeyheard,-I cannot misunderstand your meaning. now, ma'am," said, the major. There is an allusion to Edith-to my extremely " Wretched man! " cried Mrs. Skewton, lookdear child," said Mrs. Skewton, tracing the out- ing at him languidly, " pray be silent." line of her eyebrows with her forefinger, "in "J. B. is dumb, ma'am," said the major. your words, td which the tenderest of chords "Mr. Dombey," pursued Cleopatra, smoothing vibrates excessively!" the rosy hue upon her cheeks, "accordingly * Bluntness, ma'am," returned the major, repeated his visit; and possibly finding some "has ever been the characteristic of the Bag- attraction in the simplicity and primitiveness of stock breed. You are right. Joe admits it." our tastes-for there is always a charm in Nature "And that allusion," pursued Cleopatra, -it is so very sweet-became one of our little "would involve one of the most-if not posi- circle every evening. Little did I think of the tively the most touching, and thrilling, and awful responsibility into which I plunged when sacred emotions of which our sadly-fallen nature I encouraged Mr. Dombey-to -" is susceptible, I conceive." "To beat up these quarters, ma'am," suggested The major.laid his hand upon his lips, and Major Bagstock. wafted a kiss to Cleopatra, as if to identify the "Coarse person! " said Mrs. Skewton, "you emotion in question. anticipate my meaning, though in odious lan"I'feel that I am weak. I feel that I m guage." wanting in that energy which should sustain a Here Mrs. Skewton rested her elbow on the mamma: not to say a parent: on such a sub- little table at her side, and suffering her wrist to ject," said Mrs. Skewton, trimming her lips with droop in what she considered a graceful and the laced edge of her pocket-handkerchief; becoming manner, dangled her fan to and fro, but 1 can hardly approach a topic so exces- and lazily admired her hand. while speaking. sively momentous to my dearest Edith without "The agony I have endured," she said a feeling of faintness. Nevertheless, bad man, mincingly, " as the truth has by degrees dawned as you have boldly remarked upon it, and as it upon me, has been too exceedingly terrific to has occasioned me great anguish:" Mvlrs. Skew- dilate upon. My whole existence is bound up ton touched her left side with her fan: "I will in my sweetest Edith; and to see her change; not shrink from my duty." from day to day-my beautiful pet, who has The major, under cover of the dimness, positively garnered up her heart since the death swelledand swelled and rolled his purple face of that most delightful creature, Granger-is the about, and winked his lobster eye, until he fell most affecting thing in the world." into a fit of wheezing, which obliged him to rise Mrs. Skewton's world was not a very trying and: take a turn or two about the room, before one, if one might judge of it by the influence of his fair friend could proceed. its most affecting circumstance upon her; but "Mr. Dombey," said Mrs. Skewton, when this by the way. she at length resumed, "was obliging enough, "Edith,"' simpered Mrs. Skewton, "who is now many weeks ago, to do us the honour of the perfect pearl of my life, is said to resemble visiting us here; in company, my dear major, me. I believe we are alike." with yourself; I acknowledge-let me be open "There is one man in the world who never -that it is my- failing to be the creature of. will admit that any one resembles you, ma'am," impulse,, and to wear my heart, as it were, said the major; "andl that man's name is old outside. I know my failing full well. My Joe Bagstock." enemy' cannot know it better. -But I am not Cleopatra'made as if she would brain the penitent; I would rather not be frozen by the flatterer with her fan, but relenting, smiled upon heartless world, and am content to bear this him and proceeded': imputation justly." "If my charming girl inherits any advantages Mrs. Skewton arranged her tucker, pinched fr6m me, wicked one!"-the major was the her wiry throat to give it a soft surface, and went wicked one —"she inherits also my foolish on with great complacency. nature. She has great force of- character" It gave me (my dearest Edith too, I am sure) mine has been said to be immense, though I infinite pleasure. to receive Mr, Dombey. As a don't believe it-but once moved, she is sus I90 DOMBE Y AND SON. ceptible and sensitive to the last extent. What tell me, like a dear man, what you would adare my feelings when I see her pining! They vise." destroy me." "Shall we marry him to Edith Granger, The major, advancing his double chin, and ma'am? " chuckled the major hoarsely. pursing up his blue lips into a soothing expres- "Mysterious creature! " returned Cleopatra, sion, affected the profoundest sympathy. bringing her fan to bear upon the major's nose. "The confidence," said Mrs. Skewton, " that "How can we marry him? " has subsisted between us-the free development "Shall we marry him to Edith Granger, ma'am, of soul, and openness of sentiment —is touching I say?" chuckled the major again. to think of. We have been more like sisters Mrs. Skewton returned no answer in words, than mamma and child." but smiled upon the major with so much arci"J. B.'s own sentiment," observed the major, ness and vivacity, that that gallant officer, con" expressed by J. B. fifty thousand times!" sidering himself challenged, would have imprinted "Do not interrupt, rude man!" said Cleopatra. a kiss on her exceedingly red lips, but for her "What are my feelings, then, when I. find that interposing the fan with a very winning and there is one subject avoided by us! That there juvenile dexterity. It might have been in is a what's-his-name-a gulf-opened between modesty; it might have been in apprehension us! That my own artless Edith is changed to of some danger to their bloom. me! They are of the most poignant descrip- "Dombey, ma'am,' said the major, "is a tion, of course." great catch." The major left his chair, and took one nearer " Oh, mercenery wretch!" cried Cleopatra to the little table. with a little shriek, " I am shocked." * From day to day I see this, my dear major," "And Dombey,- ma'am," pursued the major, proceeded Mrs. Skewton. "From day to day thrusting forward'his head, and distending his I feel this. From hour to hour I reproach eyes, "is in earnest. Joseph says it; Bagstock myself for that excess of faith and trustfulness knows it; J. B. keeps him to the mark. Leave which has led to such distressing consequences; Dombey to himself, ma'am. Doimbey is -sae, andalmost from minute to minute I hope that ma'am... Do as you have done; do no more; Mr. Dombey may explain himself, and relieve and trust to J. B. for the end." the torture I undergo, which is extremely wear- "You really think so, my dear major?" ing. But nothing happens, my dear major. I returned Cleopatra, who had eyed him very am the slave of remorse-take care of the coffee- cautiously, and very searchingly, in spite of her cup: you are so very awkward —my darling listless bearing. Edith is analtered being; and I really don't see "Sure of it, ma'am," rejoined the major. what is to be done, or what good creature I can Cleopatra the peerless, and her Antony Bagadvise with." stock, will often speak of this triumphantly, MIajor Bagstock, encouraged, perhaps, by the when sharing the elegance and wealth of Edith softened and confidential tone into which Mrs. Dombey's establishment. Dombey's right-haid Skewton. after several times lapsing into it for a man,.ma'am," said the major, stopping abruptly moment, seemed now to have subsided for good, in a chuckle, and becoming serious, "has stretched out his hand across the little table, and arrived." said with a leer, " This morning?" said Cleopatra. "Advise with Joe, ma'am."" This morning, ma'am," returned the major. "Then, you aggravating monster," said Cleo- " And Dombey's anxiety for his arrival, ma'am, patra, giving one hand to the major, and tapping is to be referred-take J. B.'s word for this,' for his knuckles with her fan, which she held in the Joe is de-vilish sly "-the major tapped his nose, other, "why don't you talk to me? You know and screwed up one of his eyes tight; which what I mean. Why don't You tell me some- did not enhance his native beauty-"to his thing to the purpose?" desire' that what is in the wind should' becime The major laughed, and kissed the hand she known to him, without Dombey's telling And had bestowed upon him, and laughed again consulting him. For Dombey is as prod= immensely. ma'am," said the major, "as Lucifer."' "Is there as much Heart in Mr. Dombey as I "A charming quality," lisped Mrs. Skewton; gave him credit for?" languished Cleopatra "reminding one of dearest Edith." tenderly. " Do you think he is in earnest, "Well, ma'am," said the major, "I have my dear major? Would you recommend his thrown out hints already, and the right-hand being spoken to, or his being left alone? Now man understands'em; and I'll throw out more A NOTE FROM MKR.!DI0MAEY. O, before the day is done. Dombey projected this though of'a.hardy constitution; droooed'bemorning a,ride to. Warwick Castle, and to fore it.'Ke'nilworth, to-morrow, to.be. preceded by a " My darling girl —-" she began again. breakfast with us. I undertook the delivery of - " Not woman yet? " said Edith with a smile. this. inviation. Will you honour us:-so far, "How very odd you are to-day, my dear! ma'am?'" said the major, swelling'with.short- Pray let me say, my love, that Major Bagstock n1ss of breath and slyness, as he produced a. has brought the, kindest of notes from Mr. note, addressed to the Honourable Mrs. Skew- Dombey, proposing that we should breakfast ton, by favour of Major Bagstock, wherein hers with him to-morrow, and: ride to Warwick and everr faithfully, Paul Dombey, besought her and Kenilworth. Will you go, Edith?' her.amiable and accomplished daughter to con- "Will.t go?" she repeated,\turning very red,. sel;t to the proposed excursion; and in a post- and breathing quickly as. she looked round at script unto which, the same ever faithfully Paul her mother. Dnmbeyn entreated to be recalled to the remem-' "I knew you would, my own," observed' the branc.p of Mrs. Granger. latter carelessly.- "It is, as you say, quite a " Hush" said Cleopatra suddenly, "Edith " form to ask. Here is Mr,'Dombey's letter, The loving mother can scarcely be described Edith." as resuming her.insipid and affected air when she "Thank you. I have no'desire to read it," made this exclamation; for she had never cast was her answer. it off; nor was it likely that she ever would or " Then perhaps I had better answer it myself," could, in any other place than in'.the. grave. -:said Mrs. Skewton,' " though' I'had thought of But. hurriedly dismissing whatever shadow. of asking you to be my. secretary,. darling." As earinestress,; or aint "confession of. a purpose,' Edith made no movement and no answer, Mrs. laidable: or wicked, that her face,:or voice or Skewton begged the major to -wheel her little miinner, had^ "fi r the moment, betrayed, she.'table nearer, and to set open..the desk it conlounged upon'h'e couch, her most insiid and tained, and to take out' pen and paper for her; nmot. languid self again, as'Edith entered tl all which congenial offices of gallantiy the major room. discharged with much submission and devotion. Edith, so, beautiful and stately, but so co'3 "Your regards" Edith, my dear?" said Mrs. apo,. so repelling.-::Who, slightly acknowledging.Skewton," pausing,.pen in hand, at the postthQ presence. of Major'Bagstock, and directin- script.' a keen glance at -her mother, drew back te "What you will, mamma," she answered, cgta.in fPm. a window,, and sat down hee, with ingher head, andwithsupreme inlooinig out.,.difference. M.y dh.earest. Ecith," said Mrs, Skewton, Mrs. Skewtoh wrote what she would, without'willhere -: on.earth ihatve you been? I have seeking for any more explicit directions, and'ix.ted you my. love, most.adly." handed her letter to the major,' who, receiving,' YoU said:'tyou were'engaged,' and I stayed it as a precious charge, made a show of laying aay," she answrered, Wiithout turning her head..'it near his heart, but was fain to'put it in the' It was cruel to old Joe, ma'asm,'.said the pocket of his pantaloons. on account of the inmajor in his gallantry. security of his waistcoat. The major then took, It was very cruel,'I.'know," she said, still.a very polished and chivalrous farewell of both looking out-and said with such'calm disdain ladies, which the elder one acknowledged in her thatithe'inajor was discomfited, aid could think usual manner,'while' the younger, sitting with of.nothgin in reply. her face, addressed to the window, bent her head':Major Bagstock,my darling Edith," drawled.so slightly that it would have been a greater heIr "other, ": ho is generally the most useless compliment to the major to have made no sign anid i.sagreealle creature in the world: as you at all, and'to have left him to infer that he had,know-' -'-/=....not been heard or thought of. Itt is surely not worth while, mamma," said "As to alteration in her, sir'" mused the "Edith, looking round, "to observe these forms major, on his way back; on which expeditionof,speech. gWe are quite alone.. We know each the afternoon being sunny and hot-he ordered other.": the native and the light baggage to the. front, E I.he quiet scorn that'sat upon her handsomc and walked in the shadow of that expatriated a:c a, sorn.that evidently lighted, on h:e- prince: "as to alteration, sir, and pining, and self, no lessIthan, tthem-was so.intense and so forth, that won't godown with Joseph Bagdeep, that'her mother's simper, for the instant, stock. Nope of that, sir. It won't do here. 192 DOMBE Y AND SON. But as to there being something of a division The major, by saying these latter words aloud, between'em-or a gulf, as the mother calls.it- in the vigour of his thoughts, caused the undamme, sir, that seems true'enough.. And it's happy native to stop, and turn round, in the odd enough! Well, sir!" panted the major,. belief that he was personally addressed.. Exas"Edith Granger and Dombey are well matched; peratedto the Jast degree by this act of insubor-.let'em fight it out! Bagstock backs the dination, the major (though he. was swelling winner." with enjoyment of his own humour at the mo"THANK YOU. I HAVE NO*DESIRE TO READ IT," WAS HEAR ANSWER. ment of its occurrence) instantly thrust.his cane dressed for dinner, during which operation the among the native's ribs; and continued to stir dark servant underwent the pelting of a shower him up at short intervals, all the way to the of miscellaneous objects, varying in size from a hotel.' boot to a" hair-brush, and including everything Nor was the major less exasperated as. he that came within his master's reach. For the.. "fAg O. a HV ODSRT BEA.rl, A fG AS'~-. J. B. AND MR. CARKER THE MAINAGER. 193 major plumed himself oh having the native in a with his attention disposed to wander," -aid perfect state of drill, and visited the least depar- Carker. ture from strict discipline with ihis kind of "By Jove, sir," cried the major, "there's a:fatigue duty. Add to this that he maintained lady in the case." the native about his person as a counter- "Indeed I begin to believe there really is," irritant against the gout, and all other vexations, returned Carker. "I thought you might be mental as well as bodily; and the native would jesting when you seemed to hint at it- for I.appear to have earned his pay-which was not know you military men- " large. The major gave the horse's cough, and shook At length the major, having disposed of all the his head and shoulders, as much as to say, missiles that were convenient to his hand, and "Well! we are gay dogs, there's no denying." having called the native so many new names as He then seized Mr. Carker. by the button-hole, must have given him great occasion to uarvel at and with starting eyes whispered in his'ear that the resources of the English language, submitted she was a woman of extraordinary charms, sir. to have his cravat put on; and being dressed, That she was a young widow, sir. That she and finding himself in a brisk flow of spirits was of a fine family, sir. That Dqmbey was after this exercise, went down-stairs to enliven' over head and ears in love with her, sir, and "Dombey" and his right-hand man..that it would be a good match on both sides; Dombey. was not yet in the room, but the for she had beauty, blood, and talent, and right-hand man was there, and his dental trea- Dombey haa fortune; and what more could.sures were, as usual, ready for the major. any couple have? Hearing Mr. Dombey's foot" Well, sir!" said the major. " How hkve steps without, the major cut himself short by you'passed the time since I had the happiness saying that Mr. Carker would see her to-morrow of meeting you? Have you walked at all?" morning, and would judge for himself; and be"A saunter of barely half an hour's duration," tween his mental excitement, and the exertion returned Carker. " We have' been so much of saying all this in wheezy whispers, the major occupied." sat gurgling in the throat, and watering at the " Business, eh?" said,the major. eyes until dinner was ready. "A]variety of little matters necessary to lie The major, like some other noble animals, gone through," replied Carker. "But do you exhibited himself to great advantage at feedingknow-this ils quite unusual with me, educated time. On this occasion he. shone resplwehcnt in a distrustful school, arid who am not'gene- at one end of the table, supported by the milder rally disposed to' be communicative," he said, lustre of Mr. Dombey at the other; while breaking off, and speaking, in a charming tone Carker on one side lent his ray to either light, of frankness- but I feel quite confidential with or suffered it to merge into both, as occasion you, Major Bagstock.'arose. "You do me honour, sir," returned the major. During the first course or two the major was "You may be.' usually grave; for the native, in obedience to "Do you/ know, then," pursued Carker, general orders, secretly issued, collected every "that I have not found my friend-our friend,.I sauce and cruet round him, and gave him a great ought ratherito' call him — " deal to' do in taking out the stoppers, and mixing "Meaning Dombey, sir?" cried the major.. up the'contents in his plate. Besides which, "You see. me, Mr. Carker,'standing here! the native. had private zests and flavours on a J. B.?" side-table, with which the major daily scorched He was puffy enough. to see, andblue enough; himself; to say nothing of strange machines out and Mr. Carker intimated that he had that plea- of which he spurted unknown liquors into the sure. major's drink. But on this occasion, Major "T hen you see a man, sir, who would go Bagstock, even amidst these many occupations, through fire, and water to serve Dombey," re- found time to be social; and his sociality conturned Major-Bagstock. sisted in excessive slyness for the behoof of Mr. Mr. Carker smiled, and said he ivas sure of Carker, and the betrayal of Mr. Dombey's state it. "Do you know,.major," he proceeded: "to of mind. resume where I left off: that I have not found "Dombey," said the major, "you don't eat.. cur friend so attentive to business to-day as What's the matter?" Usual?" -' "Thank you," returned that gentleman, " I "No? " observed the delighted major. am doing very well; I have no great appetite;' I have found him a little abstracted, and to-day." DOSBEY AND SON, 13. 303 194 DOMBA ~ AND SON. " Why,'Dombey, what's become of it?" fore, on the removal of the cloth, the major de. asked the major. "Where's it gone? You veloped himself as a choice spirit in the broader haven't left it with our friends, I'll swear, for I and more comprehensive range of narrating can answer for their having none to-day at regimental stories, and cracking regimental luncheon.' I can answer for one of'em, at least:,jokes, which he did with such prodigal exubeI won't saywhich." rance, that Carker was (or feigned to be) quite Then the major winked at Carker, and be- exhausted with laughter and admiration: while came so frightfully sly, that his dark attendant Mr. Dombey looked on over'his starched cravat, was obliged to pat him on the back, without like the major's proprietor, or like, a stately orders, or- he would probably have disappeared showman who was glad to see his bear dancing under the table. well. In a later stage of the dinner: that is to say, When the major was too hoarse with meat when the native stood at the major's elbow, and drink, and the display of his social powers, ready to serve the first bottle of champagne: to render himself intelligible any longer, they the major became still slier. adjourned to. coffee. After which, the major " Fill this to the brim, you scoundrel,"said inquired of Mr. Carker the manager, with little the major, holding up his glass. "Fill Mr. apparent hope of an answer in the affirmative, Carker's to the brim too. And Mr. Dombey's if he played piquet. too.'By Gad, gentlemen," said the major,:" Yes, I play piquet a little," said Mr.I(aTlker.. winking at his new friend, while Mr. Dombey "Backgammon, perhaps?" observed thi majoir, looked into his plate with a conscious air, " we'll hesitating. consecrate this glass of wine to a divinity whom "Yes, I play backgammon a little top," replied Joe is proud to know, and at a distance humbly the man of teeth. and reverently to admire. "Edith," said the "Carker plays at all games, I believe," said major, "is her name; angelic Edith!" Mr. Dombey, laying himself on a sofa like -a "To angelic Edith!" cried- the smiling man of wood without a hinge or a joint in him': Carker. "and plays them well." "Edith, by all means," said Mr. Dombey. In sooth, he played the two in question to Ti 3 entrance of the waiters with new dishes such perfection, that the major wsasatonished, caused the major to be slier yet, but in a more and asked him, at random, if he played chess.,'l serious vein. "'For though, among ourselves, "Yes, I play chess a little," answered, Carker. Joe Bagstock mingles jest and earnest on this "I have sometimes played, and won a gamesubject, sir," said the major, laying his finger on it's a mere trick-without seeing:the board."',. his lips, and speaking half apart to Carker, "he "By Gad,. sir!"'said the: major,, staring, holds that name too sacred to be made the pro- "you're a contrast to Dombey, who plays noperty of these fellows, or of any fellows. Not a thing." word, sir, while they are here,!" "Oh! He!" returned the manager.. - H This was respectful and becoming on the has never had occasion. to acquire such; little major's part, and Mr. Dombey plainly felt it so. arts. To men like me they are sometimes use-. Although embarrassed, in his own frigid way, ful. As at present, Major Bagstock,:when-, tey by the major's allusions, Mr. Dombey had no enable me to take a hand:with you." objection to such rallying,'it was clear, but It might be' only the false mouth, so smooth rather courted it. Perhaps the major had been and wide; and yet there seemed to lurk, beneath pretty near the truth when he had divined, that the humility and subserviency of this- short morning, that the great man who was too speech, a s6mething like a snarl; and, fora haughty formally to consult with or confide in moment, one might have thought that the-white his prime minister on such a matter, yet wished teeth were prone to bite the hand they fawned him to be fully possessed of it. Let this be how upon; But the major thought.nothing about it; it may, he often glanced at' Mr. Carker while and Mr. Dombey lay meditating, with his eyes the major plied his light artillery, and seemed half shut, during the whole of the play, which watchful of its effect upon him. lasted until bedtime. But the major, having secured an attentive By that time, Mr. Carker, though the winner, listener, and a smiler who had not his match in had mounted high into the major's good opinion, all the world-" in short, a de-vilish intelligent insomuch that when he left the major at his pwn and agreeable fellow," as he often afterwards room before going to bed, the major, as;a special declared-was not going to let him off with a attention, sent the native-who always rested on little slyness personal to Mr. Dombey. There- a mattress spread upon the ground at his mas. MR. CA4RKER INDULGES IN A RE VE RIE. 195 ter's door-along the gallery, to light him to his them.-. Some people quoted him, indeed, in roomhin state.: this respect, as a pointed commentary, and not' There vwas a faint blur on the surface of the a flattering one, on his icy patron-but the world ntri hor i'Mn Mr. Carker's chamber, and it's refec- is prone to misconstruction, and Mr. Carker was tidin'wa,'perhaps, a false one. But it showed, not accountable for its bad propensity. thitatnighit, the image of a man who saw, in his Clean and florid: with his light complexion fancy, a crowd of people slumberig on the fading, as it were, in the sun, and his dainty grU'id at'his feet, like the poor native at his step enhancing the softness of the turf: Mr. mais'er's door: who picked his way among them: Carker the manager strolled about meadows and lobiii-'g down maliciously enough: -but trod green lanes, and glided among avenues of trees, upon no upturned face-as yet. until it was time to return to breakfast. Taking a nearer way back, Mr. Carker pursued it, airing:- Ihis teeth, and said aloud as he did so,. "Now to see the second Mrs. Dombey!" CHAPTER) XXVII. He had strolled beyond the town, and reentered it by a pleasant walk, where there was a DEER. SHADOWS. deep shade of leafy trees, and where there were' a few benches here' and there for those who iR. CARKER the manager rose with choseto rest. It not being a place of general: the lark, and went out walking in resort at any hour, and wearing, at that time of -l the summer day. His meditations the still morning, the air of being quite deserted -_J.. — and he meditated with contracted and retired, Mr. Carker had it, or thought he..' brows while he strolled along-'had it, all to himself. So, with the whim of an, hardly seemed to soar as high as idle man, to whom there yet remained twenty EJ. thee-lark, or to mount in that direction; minutes for reaching a destination easily acces-' rathler they kept close' to their nest upon sible in ten, Mr. Carker threaded the great boles the eatth, and looked about among the dust and of the trees, and went passing in and out, before worriis.:;'; B'ut there was not a bird in the air, this one and behind that, weaving a chain of singihg' unseen, farther beyond the reach of footsteps on the dewy ground. _humnriieye' than Mr. Carker's thoughts." He But he found he was mistaken in supposing had- hiis a-ce's'o perfectly under control, that few there was no one in the grove; for, as he softly coul d isay mote; in distinct terms, of its expres- rounded the trunk of one large tree, off which sion, tha ithat it smiled or that it pondered. It the obdurate bark was knotted and overlapped ponidered now, intently. As the larkrose higher. like the hide of a rhinoceros or some kindred he'sanild deeper in thought. As the lark poured monster of the ancient days before the flood, he out her melody clearer and stronger, he fell into saw an unexpected figure sitting on a bench a gr'gaver:and' profounder silence. At length, near at hand, about which, in another moment, when' tihe:lark -came headlong down, with an he would have wound. the chain he was making. accu'mulating stream of song, and dropped among It was that of a lady elegantly dressed and the grelenWheat near him, rippling in the breath very handsome, whose dark proud eyes were of the morning like- a river, he sprang up from fixed upon the ground, and in whom some pashis'ieveriie' and looked round with a sudden sion or struggle was raging. For, as she sat smile,-'as courteous and' soft as if he had had looking down, she held a corner of her under lip numerous observers to propitiate; nor did he within her mouth, her bosom heaved, her nostril relaptse after being thus awakened;'but clearing quivered, her head trembled, indignant tears his fagee' like one who bethought himself that it were on her cheek, and her foot was set upon nm'igh'tio;ther'wise w- rinkle and tell -tales, went the moss as though she would have crushed it smiling oin,as if for practice. into nothing. And yet almost the selfsame PeIrhps'with a eye to first impressions, Mr. glance that showed him this, showed him the' Carkier w:as' very carefully and trimly dressed selfsame lady rising with a scornful air of wearithat morning. Though always somewhat formal ness and lassitude, and turning-away with nothing in'his'dress, in'imitation of the great man whom expressed in face or figure but careless beauty he s':ervedt-he' stopped short'of the extent of Mr. and imperious disdain. Dbiibeysys'stiffness: at once, perhaps, because A withered and very ugly old woman, dressed he'k-h'ew it-to be ludicrous, and because, in doing not so much like a -gipsy as like any of that so,:-h'de found another means of expressing his medley race of vagabonds who tramp about the sefse` of' the difference and distance between country, bogging, and stealing, and tinkering, 96 DOMBEY AND SON. and weaving rushes, by turns, or all together, I crown of her bonnet, lighted it with a match, had been observing the lady too; for, as she and smoked in silence, looking fixedly at her rose, this second figure, strangely confronting questioner. the first, scrambled up from the ground-out of Mr. Carker laughed and turned upon his heel. it, it almost appeared-and stood in the way. "Good! " said the old woman. One child "Let me tell your fortune, my pretty lady," dead, and one child living: one wife dead, and said the old woman, munching with her jaws, as one wife coming. Go and meet her!" if the Death's head beneath her yellow skin were In spite of himself, the manager looked round impatient to get out. again, and stopped. The old woman, who had "I can tell it for myself," was the reply. not removed her pipe, and was munching and "Ay, ay, pretty lady; but not right. You mumbling while she smoked, as. if in converdidn't tell it right when you were sitting there. sation with an invisible familiar, pointed with I see you! Give me a piece of silver, pretty her finger in the direction he was going, and lady, and I'll tell your fortune true. There's laughed. riches, pretty lady, in your face." "What was that you said, Beldamite?" he " I know," returned the lady, passing her with demanded. a dark smile and a proud step. "I knew it The woman mumbled, and chattered, and before." smoked, and still pointed before him; but "What! You won't give me nothing?" cried remained silent. Muttering a farewell that was the old woman. "You won't give me nothing not complimentary, Mr. Carker pursued his to tell your fortune, pretty lady? How much way; but as he turned out of that place, and will you give me not to tell it, then? Give me looked over his shoulder at the root of the old something, or I'll call it after you!" croaked tree, he could yet.see the finger pointing.before the old woman passionately. him, and thought he heard the woman screamMr. Carker, whom the lady was about to pass iug, " Go and meet her! " close, slinking against his tree as she crossed to Preparations for a choice repast were comgain the path, advanced so as to meet her, and pleted, he found, atthe hotel; and Mr. Dombey, pulling off his hat as she went by, bade the old and the major, and the breakfast were awaiting woman hold her peace. The lady acknowledged the ladies. Individual constitution has much to his interference with an inclination of the head, do with the development of such facts, no doubt; and went her \way. but, in this case, appetite carried it hollow, over "You give me something, then, or I'll call it the tender passion; Mr. Dombey being very after her!" screamed the old woman, throwing cool and collected, and the major fretting and up her arms, and pressing forward against his fuming in a state of violent heat and irritation. outstretched hand. "Or come," she added, At length the door was thrown open by the dropping her voice suddenly, looking at him native, and, after a pause, occupied by her earnestly, and seeming in a moment to forget languishing along the gallery, a very blooming, the object of her wrath, " give me something, or'but not very youthful, lady appeared. I'll call it after you!" "'Iy dear Mr. Dombey," said the lady, " I "After me, old lady!" returned the manager, am afraid we are late, but Edith has been out putting his hand in his pocket. already, looking for a favourable point of view "Yes," said the woman, steadfast in her for a sketch, and kept. me waiting for her. scrutiny, and holding out her shrivelled hand. Falsest of majors," giving him her little finger, " I know!" "how do you do?" "What do you know?" demanded Carker, "Mrs. Skewton," said Mr. Dombey, "let me throwing her a shilling. "Do y.4 know who gratify my friend Carker "-Mr. Dombey unconthe handsome lady is?" sciously emphasized the word friend, as saying, Munching like that sailor's wife of yore, who "No, really; I do allow him to take credit for had chestnuts in her lap, and scowling like the that distinction"-" by presenting him to you. witch who asked for some in vain, the old woman You have heard me mention Mr. Carker." picked the shilling up, and going backwards, "I am charmed, I am sure," said Mrs..Skewlike a crab, or like a heap of crabs: for her ton graciously. alternately expanding and contracting hands Mr. Carker was dharmed, of course. Would might have represented two of that species, and he have been more charmed on Mr. Dombey's her creeping face some half-a-dozech more: behalf, if Mrs. Skewton had been (as he at first crouched'on the veinous root of an old tree, supposed her) the Edith whom they had toasted i'ulled out a short black pipe from within th e over.ight? 'ININITE VARIETY OP CLEOPATR4'. 97 "Why, where, for Heaven's sake, is Edith?"' "By the Lord, sir," cried the major, bursting exclaimed Mrs. Skewton, looking round. "Still into speech at sight of the waiter, who was come at. the door, giving Withers orders about the to announce breakfast, "it's an extraordinary mounting of those drawings! My dear Mr. thing to me that no one can have the honour Dombey, will you have the kindness —" and happiness of shooting all such beggars Mr. Dombey was already gone to seek her. through the head without being brought to book Next moment-he returned, bearing on his arm for it. But here's an arm for Mrs. Granger, if the same elegantly-dressed and very handsome if she'll do J. B. the honour to accept it; and lady whom Mr. Carker had encountered under- the greatest service Joe can render you, ma'am, neath the trees. just now, is, to lead you in to table." "Carker —-" began Mr. Dombey. But their With this, the major gave his arm to Edith; recognition of each other was so manifest, that Mr. Dombey led the way with Mrs. Skewton; Mr. Dombey stopped, surprised. Mr. Carker went last, smiling on the party. " I am obliged to the gentleman," said Edith "I am quite rejoiced, Mr. Carker," said the with a stately bend, "for, sparing me some an- lady mother at breakfast, after another approvnoyance from an importunate beggar just now." ing survey of him through her glass,-" that you " I am obliged to my good fortune," said Mr. have tiimed your visit so happily as to go With us Carker, bowing low, "for the opportunity of to-day. It is the most enchanting expedirend'ring so slight a service to one whose ser- tion!" vant I am proud to be." " Any expedition would be enchanting in such'As her eye rested on him for an instant, and society," returned Carker; "but I believe it. is, then lighted on the ground, he saw in its bright in itself, full of interest." and searching' glance a suspicion that he had "Oh!" cried Mrs. Skewton with a faded little. -not come up at the moment of his interference, scream of rapture, "the Castle is charming!but had secretly observed her sooner. As he associations of the middle ages-and all thatsaw that, she saw in/his eye that her distrust was which is so truly exquisite. Don't you dote not without foundation. upon the middle ages, Mr. Carker?"'"'Really," cried Mrs. Skewton, who had taken. Very much indeed," said Mr. Carker. this' opportunity of inspecting Mr. Carker through "Suci charming times!" cried Cleopatra. "So hier glass, and satisfying herself (as she lisped full of faith! So vigorous and forcible! So audibly to the major) that he was all heart; picturesque! So perfectly removed from com"really, now, this is one of the most enchanting monplace! Oh dear! If they would only leave coincidences that I ever heard of. The idea! us a little more of the poetry of existence in My dearest Edith, there is such an obvious des- these terrible days!" tiny in it, that really one might almost be in- Mrs. Skewton was looking sharp after Mr. duced to cross one's arms upon one's frock, and Dombey all the time she said this, who was looksay, like those wicked Turks, there is no What's- ing at Edith: who was listening, but who never his name but Thingummy, and What-you-may- lifted up her eyes. call-it is his prophet " "We are dreadfully real, Mr. Carker," said Edith deigned no revision of this extraor- Mrs. Skewton; "are we not?" dlinary quotation from the Koran, but Mr. Dom- Few people had less reason to complain of bey felt it necessary to offer a few polite re- their reality than Cleopatra, who had as much marks. that was false about her as could well go to the " It gives me great pleasure," said Mr. Dom- composition of anybody with a real individual bey wvith cumbrous gallantry, "that a gentleman existence. But Mr. Carker commiserated our so nearly connected with myself as Carker is, reality nevertheless, and agreed that we were should' have hlad the honour and happiness of very hardly used in that regard. rendering the least assistance,to Mrs. Granger." "Pictures at the Castle quite divine!" said Mr.'Dombey bowed to her.' "But it gives me Cleopatra. "I hope you dote upon pictures?" some' pain, and it occasions me to be really " I assure you, Mrs. Skewton," said Mr. Domenvious of Carker;" he unconsciously laid stress bey, with solemn encouragement of his manager, on these words,.as sensible that they must ap- " that Carker has a very good taste for pictures; pear to involve a'very surprising proposition; quite a natural power of appreciating tiem. I-He ".envious of Carker, that I had not that honour is a very creditable artist himself. He will be and that happiness'myself." Mr. Dombey bowed delighted, I am sure, with Mrs. Granger's taste again. Edith, saving for a curl of her lip, was and skill." motionless.'; Damme, sir!" cried Major Bagstock, "my 198 DOMBEY AND.SON. opinion is, that you're the Admirable Carker, compulsion, or as a matter of traffic.to which and can do anything." she was a reluctant party; again not lost upon "Oh!" smiled Carker with humility, "you that same observer who was smiling round; thle are much too sanguine, Major Bagstock.:.I can board. It set him thinking of her as he had do very little.. But Mr. Dombey is so generous first seen her, when \she had believed.herself.to in his estimation of any trivial accomplishment be alone among the trees. a man like myself may find it almost necessary Mr. Dombey,'having- nothing else to say, proto acquire, and to whieh, in his very different posed-the breakfast. being now.finished, and sphere, he is far superior, that- " Mr. Carker the major gorged, like any boa constrictor-that shrugged hisfshoulders, deprecating further praise, they should start. A barouche being in waiting, and said naomore. according to the orders of that gentleman, the All this time Edith never raised: her eyes, two ladies, the major, and himself took.their:seats unless to glance towards her mother when that in it; the native and the wan'page mounted the lady's fervent spirit shone forth in words. But, box, Mr. Towlinson being left. behind; and Mr. as Carker ceased, she looked at Mr. Dombey for" Carker, on horseback, brought.up the rear.., a moment. For a moment only; but with a Mr. Carker cantered behind the carriage,;at transient gleam of scornful wonder on her face, the distance of a hundred yards or.so, and not lost on one observer, who was smiling round watched it, during all the ride, as if he. were'a the board. cat indeed, and its four occupants mice. Whether Mr. Dombey caught the dark eyelash in its he looked,to one side of the road or to. the descent, and took the opportunity of arresting it. other-over distant landscape, with:its smooth " You have been to Warwick often, unfortu- undulations, windmills, corn, grass,-bean fields, nately?" said Mr. Dombey. wild flowers, farmyards, hayricks, and the spire "Several times." among.the wood-or upward in the sunny.'air, "The visit will be tedious to you, I am where butterflies were sporting round his head, afraid." and birds were pouring- out their songs-.or " Oh no; not at all." downward, where the shadows of -the branches " Ah! You are like your cousin Feenix, my interlaced, and made a trembling carpet on the dearest Edith," said Mrs. Skewton. "He has road-or onward; where the overhanging trees been to Warwick Castle fifty times, if he has formed aisles and arches, dim with the softened been there once; yet if he came to Leamington light.that steeped through leaves-one corner of to-morrow-I wish he would, dear angel!-he his eye was ever on the formal head of Mr. Domwould make his fifty-second visit next day." bey, addressed' towards him, and..the feather in'We are all enthusiastic, are we not, mai- the bonnet, drooping'so neglectfully and scornma?" said Edith with a cold smile. fully between them: much as he had seen the "'Too much so for our peace, perhaps, my haughty eyelids droop; not least so -whenthe dear," returned her mother; "but we won't face met that now fronting it. Once -and once complain. Our own emotions are our recom- only, did his wary glance release these. objects; pense. If, as your cousin Feenix says, the and that was when a leap over a low hedge, and sword wears out the what's-its-name — a gallop across a field, enabled him to anticipate "The scabbard, perhaps," said Edith. the carriage coming: by the road, and,:tp be " Exactly-a little too fast, it is because it is standing ready, at the journey's end, to.hand bright-and glowing, you know, my dearest love." the ladies out. Then, and but then, he met.h.er Mrs. Skewton heaved a gentle sigh, supposed glance for an instant in her first surprise-;:-' but to cast a shadow on the surface of that dagger when he touched her, in alighting, withl hissoft of lath, whereof her susceptible bosom was the white hand, it overlooked- him altogther.-as sheath: and leaning her head on one side, in before. the Cleopatra manner, looked with pensive affec- Mrs. Skewton was bent on taking -charge;of tion on her darling child. Mr. Carker herself, and. showing him:the:beauEdith -had turned her'face towards Mr. Dom- ties of the Castle. She-was determined to have bey when he first addressed her, and had re- his arm, and the'major's too. It would,doq.that mained in that attitude while speaking to her incorrigible creature:: who was the.' most, barmother, and while her mother spoke to her, as barous infidel in.point of poetry:.;g.odi to be in though offering him her attention, if he had any-. such company. -This chance: arrangement, left thing more to say. There was something in the Mr. Dombey at liberty to* escort. Edith:'which manner of this simple courtesy: almost defiant, he did: stalking before-themthirouphthe. apartand giving it the character'of being rendered on ments with a gentlemanly solelnaity. DEGENERATIONi, FAITH, AND PICTURES. I99 " iThose darling bygone times, Mr. Carker," imagined the pictures on the walls around them said Cleopatra, " with their delicious fortresses, startled by the unnatural conjunction, and oband their dear old dungeons, and their delight- servant of it in their several expressions. Grim ful places of torture, and their romantic venge- knights and warriors looked scowling on them. -nces, and their picturesque assaults and sieges, A churchman, with his hand upraised, denounced and everything that makes life truly charming! the mockery of such a couple coming to God's -How dreadfully we have degenerated!" altar. Quiet waters in landscapes, with the sun ~." Yes, we have fallen off deplorably," said Mr. reflected in their depths, asked, if better means Ca.rker.. of escape were not at hand, was there no drown-,..The peculiarity of their conversation was, that ing left? Ruins cried, "Look, here, and see,Mrs..Skewton, in spite of her ecstasies, and Mr. what We are, wedded to uncongenial Time!" Carker, in spite of his urbanity, were both intent Animals, opposed by nature, worried one ano-on watching Mr. Dombey and Ed ith. Witall ther, as a moral to them. Loves and Cupids thei-r.:conversational endowments, they spoke took to. flight afraid, and Martyrdom had. no somewhat distractedly, and at random in conse- such torment in its painted history of suffering. quen:ce. - Nevertheless, Mrs. Skewton was so charmed *'" We have;no faith left, positively," said Mrs. by the sight to which Mr. Carker invoked her Skewton, advancing her shrivelled ear; for Mr. attention, that she could not refrain from sayDombey was.saying something to Edith. "We ing, half aloud, how sweet, how very full of soul have nofaith in the dear old barons, who were it was! Edith, overhearing, looked round, and the most delightful creatures-or in'the dear old flushed indignant scarlet to her hair. priests — who were.the most warlike of men-or "My dearest Edith knows I was admiring even in the days of that inestimable Queen Bess, her!" said Cleopatra, tapping her, almost upon. the wall there, which were so extremely timidly, on the back with her parasol. "Sweet *golden!::Dear:creature! She was all hear! pet!" And- that charming father of hers! I hope you Again Mr. Carker saw the strife he had witdote on Harry the Eighth?" nessed so unexpectedly among the trees. Again''I admire him very much," said Carker.. he saw the haughty languor and indifference rf;o bluff!'" cried Mrs. Skewton, " wasn't he? come over it, and hide'it like a cloud.;So.burly.:- So truly English.:Such a picture, She did not raise her eyes to him; but, with too, he; makes, with' his dear little peepy eyes, a slight peremptory motion of them, seemed to andihis-benevolent chin!" bid her mother come near. Mrs. Skewton.',-Ah; ma'am!" said.Carker, stopping short;, thought it expedient to understand the hint, and "'.fbut'if,,you speak of pictures, there's a compo- advancing quickly with her two cavaliers, kept sition I:!:What gallery in the world can produce near her daughter from that time. the: counterpart of that?" Mr. Carker now, having nothing to distract — As —A.the smiling gentleman thus spake, he his attention, began to discourse upon the picpoinfed -through a doorway to where Mr. Dom- tures, and to select the best, and point them out beya —ndEdith-were standing alone in the centre to Mr. Dombey: speaking with his usual famiofatiother room. liar recognition of Mr. Dombey's greatness, and T:hey' were not interchanging a word or a rendering homage by adjusting his eye-glass for look.::: Standing together, arm-in-arm, they had him, or finding out the right place in his catathe:appearance of being more divided than if logue, or holding his stick, or the like. These seas:'had rolled between them. There was a services did not so much originate with Mr.. difference even in the pride of the two, that re- Carker, in truth, as with Mr. Dombey himself, nmivred.them farther from each other than if one who was apt to assert his chieftainship by sayhad beeh the proudest and the other the hum- ing, with subdued authority, and in an easy way bltst' specimen of hump ity in all creation. He, -for him-" Here, Carker, have the goodness -selfimportant, unbending, formal, austere. She, to assist me, will you?"' which the smiling lovely and graceful in an uncommon degree, but gentleman always did with pleasure. totally regardless of herself and him and every- They made the tour of the pictures, the walls, thin'g around, and' spurning her own attractions crow's nest, and so forth: and as they were still with her haughty brow and lip, as if they were a one little paYty, and the major was rather in the badgeor livery she hated. So unmatched were shade, being sleepy during the process of digesthey, and opposed: so forced and linked to- tion, Mr. Carker became communicative and gether'::by: a chain which adverse hazard and agreeable. At first he addressed himself forthe mischance -had forged: that fancy might have.most part to Mrs. Skewton; but as that sensi 2o6 DOMBEY AND SON. itive, lady was in such ecstasies with the works one tree, greatly resembling, in the general of art, after the first quarter of an. hour, that she character of its situation, the point where his could do nothing but yawn (they were such chain had broken. perfect inspirations, she observed asa reason "Might I venture to. suggest to Mrs. fbr that mark of rapture), he transferred his Granger," said Carker, "that that is an interattentions to Mr. Dombey. Mr. Dombey said esting-almost a curious-point of view?" little beyond an occasional" Very true, Carker," She followed the direction of his riding whip or "Indeed, Carker?" but he tacitly encouraged with her eyes, and raised them quickly to his Carker to proceed, and inwardly approved of face. It was the second glance they had exhis behaviour very much: deeming it as well changed since their introduction; and would that somebody should talk, and thinking that have been exactly like the first, but that its his remarks, which were, as one might say, a expression was plainer. branch of the parent establishment, might amuse "Would you like that?" said Edith to Mr. Mrs. Granger. Mr. Carker, who possessed an Dombey. excellent discretion, never took the liberty of " I shall be charmed," said Mr. Dombey to addressing that lady direct; but she seemed to Edith. listen, though she never looked at h'.n; and Therefore the carriage was driven to the spot once or twice, when he was emphatic in his- where Mr. Dombey was to be chaimed; and peculiar -humility, the twilight smile stole over Edith, without moving from her seat, and openher face, not as a light, bLt as a deep black ing her sketch-book with her usual proud indifshadow. ference, began to sketch. Warwick Castle being at length pretty well "My pencils are all. pointless," she said, exhausted, and the major very much so: to say stopping and turning them over. nothing of Mrs. Skewton, whose peculiar de- "Pray allow me," said Mr. Dombey. "Or monstrations of delight had become very frequent Carker will do it better, as he. understands these indeed: the carriage was again put in requisi- things. Carker, have the goodness to see to tion, and they rode to several admired points of these pencils for Mrs. Granger." view in the. neighbourhood. Mr. Dombey Mr. Carker rode up close to.the carriage door ceremoniously observed, of one of these, that on Mrs. Granger's side, and letting the rein fall a sketch, however slight, from the fair hand of on his horse's neck, took the pencils from her Mrs. Granger would be a remembrance to him hand with a smile and a bow, and sat in the of that agreeable day: though he canted no saddle leisurely mending them. Having'done artificial remembrance, he was sure. (here Mr. so, he begged to be allowed to hold them, and Dombey made another of his bows), which he to hand them to her.as they were required; and must always highly value. Withers the lean, thus Mr. Carker, with many commendations of having Edith's sketch-book under his arm, was Mrs. Granger's extraordinary skill-especially immediately called upon by Mrs. Skewton to in trees-remained close at her side, looking produce the same: and the carriage stopped, over the drawing as she made it. Mr. Dombey, that Edith might make the drawing, which Mr. in the meantime, stood bolt upright in the carDcmbey was to put away among his treasures. riage like a highly respectable ghost, looking on "But I am afraid I trouble you too much," too; while Cleopatra and the major dallied as said Mr. Dombey. two ancient doves might do. ".By no means. Where would you wish it "Are you satisfied with that, or shall I finish taken from?" she answered, turning to him it a little more?" said Edith, showing the sketch with the same enforced attention as before. to Mr. Dombey. Mr. Dombey, with another bow, which Mr. Dombey begged that it might not be cracked 2he starch in his cravat, would beg to touched; it was perfection. leave that to the artist. "It is most extraordinary," said Carker, "I would rather you chose for yourself," said bringing every one of his red gums to bear Edith. upon his praise. " I was not prepared for any"Suppose, then," said Mr. Dombey, " we say thing so beautiful, and so unusual altogether." from here. It appears a good spot for the pur- This might have applied to the sketcherlno pose, or-Carker, what do you think?" less than to the sketch: but Mr. Carker's manThere happened to be in the foreground, at ner was openness itself-not as to. his mouth some little distance, a grove of trees, not unlike alone, but as to his whole spirit. So it conthat in which Mr. Carker had made his chain of tinued to be while the drawing was laid aside footsteps in the. morning, and with a seat under for Mr, Dombey, and while the sketching mate AN APPOINTMENT WITH MRS. GRANGER. 20I rials were put up; then he handed in the pencils Accordingly, she began with the piano. It (which were received with a distant acknow- was the same with the harp; the same with her ledgment of his help, but without a look), and singing; the same with the selection of the tightening his rein, fell back, and followed the pieces that she sang and played. Such frigid carriage again. and constrained, yet prompt and pointed, acquiThinking, perhaps, as he rode, that even this escence with the wishes he inposed upon her, trivial sketch had been made and delivered to and'on no one else, was sufficiently remarkable its;owner as if it had been bargained.for and to penetrate through all the mysteries of piquet, boight.. Thinking, perhaps, that although she and impress itself on Mr. Carker's keen attenhad'assented with such perfect readiness to his tion; Nor did he lose sight of the fact that Mi. request,'her haughty face, bent over the draw- Dombey was evidently proud of his power, and ing, or glancing at the distant objects repre- liked to show it. sented in if, had been the face of a proud Nevertheless, Mr. Carker played so wellwoman, engaged in a sordid and miserable some games with the major, and some with transaction. Thinking, perhaps,. of such things: Cleopatra, whose vigilance of'eye in respect of but smiling certainly, and while he seemed to Mr. Dombey and'Edith no lynx could have look about him freely, in enjoyment of the air surpassed-that he even heightened his position and exercise, keeping always that sharp corner in the lady mother's good graces; and when, of'his'eye upon the carriage. on taking leave, he regretted that he would be "' A stroll. among the haunted ruins of Kenil- obliged to return to London next morning, worth,'and more rides to more points of view: Cleopatra trusted: community of feeling not most of which, Mrs. Skewton reminded Mr. being met with every day: that it was far from Dombey, Edith had already sketched, as he being the last time.they would meet. had seen in looking over her drawings: brought "I hope so," said Mr. Carker, with an exthe day's expedition to a close. Mrs. Skewton pressive look at the couple in the distance, as'aid Edith were driven to their own lodgings; he drew towards the door, following' the major. Mr. Carker was graciously intvited by Cleopatra "I think so." to return thither with'Mr. Dombey and the Mr. Dombey, who had taken a statel1 leave major, in the evening, to hear some of Edith's of Edith, bent, or made some approach to a music; and the three gentlemen repaired to bend, over Cleopatra's couch, and said. in a low their hotel to dinner. voice: The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, "I have requested Mrs. Granger's permission except that the major was twenty-four hours to call on her to-morrow morning-for a purmo re triumphant and less mysterious. Edith pose-and she has appointed twelve o'clock. Was toasted again.'Mr. Dombey was again May I hope to have the pleasure of finding you agreeably- embarrassed. And Mr. Carker was at home, madam, afterwards?" u'll' of interest and praise. Cleopatra was so much fluttered and moved by''There were no other visitors at Mrs. Skew- hearing this, of course, incomprehensible speech, ton's. Edith's drawings were strewn about the that she could only shut her eyes, and shake' too'm a little more'abundantly than usual, her head, and give Mr. Dombey her hand; perhaps; and Withers, the wan page, handed which Mr. Dombey, not exactly knowing what round' a little stronger tea. The harp was to do with, dropped. there; the piano. was there; and Edith sang "Dombey, come along!" cried the major, and played. But even the music was paid by looking in at the door. "Damme, sir, old Joe Edith to Mr. Dombey's order, as it were, in the has a great mind to propose an alteration in the same uncompromising-way. As thus. name of the Royal Hotel, and that it should be "'Edith, my dearest-love," said'Mrs. Skewton, called the Three Jolly Bachelors, in honour of half an. hour after tea, " Mr. Dombey is' dying ourselves and Carker." With this the major to hear you, I know." slapped Mr. Dombey on the back, and winking "Mr. Dombey has life enough left to say' so over his shoulder at the ladies, with a frightful for himself, mamma, I have no doubt." tendency of blood to the head, carried him off. " I shall be immensely obliged," said Mr. Mrs. Skewton reposed on her sofa, and Edith Dombey. sat apart, by her' harp, in silence.'The mother, "'What do you wish?" trifling with her fan, looked stealthily at the " Piano?" hesitated Mr. Dombey. daughter more than once, but the -daughter, "Whatever you please. You have only to brooding gloomily, with downcast eyes, was not choose." to be disturbed. 202 DOMBE Y AND SON. Thus they remained for a long hour, without deserved!-and tell me what has been my life a word, until Mrs. Skewton's maid appeared, for ten'years since." according to custom, to prepare her gradually "We have been making every effort to' en-' for night. At night she should have been a deavour to secure to you a good establishment," skeleton, with dart and hour-glass, rather than a rejoined her mother. "That has been your woman, this attendant; for her touch was as the life, and now you have got it." touch of Death. The painted object shrivelled "There is no slave in a market, there is no underneath her hand; the form collapsed, the horse in a fair, so shown and offered arid exhair dropped off, the arched dark eyebrows afmined and paraded, mother, as I have been, for changet to scanty tufts of grey; the pale lips ten shameful years," cried Edith, with a burning shrunk, the skin became cadaverous and loose; brow, and the same, bitter emphasis oi the' one an old, worn, -yellow, nodding woman, with word. "Is it not so? Have I been made the red eyes, alone remained in Cleopatra's place, by-word of all kinds of men? Have fools, huddled up, like a slovenly bundle, in a greasy have profligates, have boys, have dotards, dangled flannel gown. after me, and one by one rejected me, and fallen The very voice was changed, as it addressed off, because you were too plain, with all your Edith, when they were alone again. cunning-yes, and too true, with all thosalse f "Why don't you tell me," it said sharply, pretences-until we have almost come to'be "that he is coming here to-morrow by appoint- notorious? The licence of look' and touch," ment?" she said with flashing eyes, "have I submitted "Because you know it," returned Edith, to it, in half the places of resort upon the map "Mother." of England? Have I been hawked and vended The mocking emphasis she laid on that one here and there, until the last grain of self-respect word! is dead within me,'and I loathe myself?' Has "You know he has bought me," she resumed. this been my late childhood? I had none "Or that he will to-morrow. He has considered \ before. Do not tell me that I had, to-night, of of his bargain; he has shown it to his friend; all nights in my life!" he is even rather proud of it; he thinks that it "You might have been well married," said will suit him, and may be had sufficiently cheap; her-mother, "twenty times at least, Edith, if and he will buy to-morrow. God, that I have you had given encouragement enough."; lived for this, and that I feel it!" "No! Who takes me, refuse that i am, and Compress into one handsome face the con- as I well deserve to be," she answered, raising scious self-abasement and the burning indigna- her head, and trembling in her energy of shame tion of a hundred women,-strong in passion and and stormy pride, "shall take me, as this man in pride; and there it hid itself with two white does, with no art of mine put forth to lure him. shuddering arms. He sees me at the auction, and he thinks it well "What do you mean?" returned the angry to buy me. Let him I When he came'to'view mother. " Haven't you from a child-" me-perhaps to bid-he required to'see the "A child!" said Edith, looking at her. roll of my accomplishments. I gave it to.' him. "When was I a child? What childhood did you When he would have me show one of them, to ever leave to me? I was a woman-artful, justify his purchase to his men, I require of him designing, niercenary, laying snares for men- to say which he demands, and I exhibit it. I before I knew myself, or you, or even under- will do no more. He makes the purchase of stood the base and wretched aim of every new his own will, and with his own sense of its worth, display I learnt. You gave birth to a woman. and the power of his money; and I hope it may Look upon her. She is in her pride io-night." never disappoint him. I have not vaunted and And, as she spoke, she struck her hand upon pressed the bargain; neither have you, so far her beautiful bosom, as though she would have as I have been able to prevent you." beaten down herself. "You talk strangely toqnight,'Edith,:,tiyOur "Look at me," she said, "who have never own mother." known what it is to have an honest heart, and "It seems so to me;' stranger to me th/an:to love. Look at me, taught to scheme and plot you," said Edith. "But my:eductioin vas when children play, and married in my youth- completed long ago. I am too oid w-hriv;id an old age of design-to one for whom I had have fallen too low, by degrees, to take a'niew no feeling but indifference. Look at me, whom course, and to stop yours, and to help; myself. he left a widow, dying before his inheritance The germ of all that purifies a woman's breast, descended to him-a judgment on you, well and makes it true and good, has never stirred int MISS NIPPEJR ON MR, CARKER. o03 mine, and I have nothing else to sustain me "When I was a child," saidFlorence thoughtwhen I.despise myself."'There had been a fully, and after musing for some moments, " did touching sadness in her voice, but it was gone'youever see that gentleman who has taken the wlhen she went on to say., "So, as we are genteel trouble to ride down here to speak to me, now, and poor, 1 am. content that we should be-made three times-three times I think, Susan?" rich by these means; all I say is, I have kept the "Three times, miss," returned the Nipper. only purpose I.have had the strength to form- "Once when you was out a walking. with fhem I had almost said the power, with you at my side, Sket —" mother-and have not tempted this man on." Florence gently looked at her, and Miss''This man! You'. speak," said her mother, Nipperchecked herself. "as if you hated him." "With Sir Barnet and his lady, I mean to "And you thought I loved him, dia you say, miss, and the young gentleman. And two not:? ". she answered, stopping on her way across'evenings since then." the room, and looking: round. "Shall I tell "When I was a child, and when company you," she continued, with her eyes fixed on used to come to.visit papa, did you ever see her mother, " who already knows us thoroughly, that gentleman at home, Susan?" asked Floand reads us right, and before whom'rI have even rence. less of self-respect or confidence,than before my "Well, miss," returned her maid after conown.inward self: being so much degraded by sidering, "I really couldn't say I ever did. his knowledge of me " When your poor dear ma died, Miss Floy, I; "This is an attack, I suppose," returned her was very new in the family, you see, and my mpther coldly, "on'poor, unfortunate what's- element "-the Nipper'bridled, as opining that his-name-Mr. Carker. Your waht'of self-respect her merits had been always designedly extinand. confidence, my dear,.in -reference.to that guished by Mr. Dombey-" was the floor below person i(who is very agreeable, it.strikes me), is the attics." not likely to have much. effect on:your esta- "To'be sure," said Florence, still thoughtblishment. Why do you took at me so hard?,fully; "you are not likely to have known who Are. y9ouill?'. came to the house- I quite forgot."Edith' suddenly l."et.fall her face as if it had " Not, miss, but what we talked about the been stung, and, while she pressed her hands family and visitors," said Susan, "and but what upon it, a.terrible tremble crept over her whole I heard much said, although. the nurse before frane. Itwas quickly gone; and with her usual Mrs. Richards did make unpleasant remarks step she passed out. of the. room, when I was in company, and hint:at little.^The maid, -who should have been a skeleton, Pitchers, but that could only be. attributed, then,reappeared,: and giving one arm to' her poor thing," observed Susan with composed mistress, who appeared to have taken off her forbearance, "to habits of' intoxication, for manner with her charms, and to have put on which she was required to leave,anid did." paralysis. with her flannel gown, collected'the' Florence, who was seated at her chamber ashes. of. Cleopatra, and'carried' them away, window; with her face resting on her hand, sat ready for to-morrow's revivification'.' looking out, and hardly seemed to hear what Susan said, she was so lost in thought. ~+ ~-*-'" At all events, miss," said Susan, " I remember very well that this same gentleman, Mr. CHAPTER XXVIII. Carker, *as almost, if not quite, as great a gentleman with your papa then as he is now. ALTERATIONS. It used to be said in the house then, miss, that he was at the head of all your pa's affairs in the. the day has come at length, Susan," City, and managed the whole, and that your n said Florence to the excellent Nip- pa minded him more than anybody, which, per, "when we are going back to begging your pardon, Miss Floy, he might easy our qhiet home!" do, for he never minded anybody else. I knew Susan drew in her breath with an that, Pitcher as I might have been." amount of expression not easily de- Susan Nipper, with an injured remembrance c.ribed,'and further relieving her feel- of the nurse before Mrs. Richards, emphasized igs with a smart cough, answered, "Very "Pitcher" strongly. quiiet. indeed, Miss Floy, no doubt. Excessive "And that Mr. Carker has not fallen off, iso...... ~.... miss," she pursued, " but has stood his ground, 004 DOMBE-Y VAND SON. and -kept his credit with your pa, I know from patience with the man, he knows what goes on what is always said among our people by that in the City tolerable well, and says that your PYrch, whenever he comes to the house, and pa does nothing without Mr. Carker, and leaves though' he's the weakest'.weed in. the world, all to Mr. Carker, and acts according to Mr. Miss Floy, and no one can have a moment's Carker, and has Mr. Carker always at his elbow, "A CHILD! SAID EDITH, LOOKING AT HER. ".WHEN WAS I A CHILD? WHAT CHILDHOOD DID YOU'EV:. LEAVE TO ME?" and I do believe that he believes' (that washiest'.'out, but looked at her, and listened wit-h ttenof Perches) that'after your pa, the Emperor of'tion. India is the child unborn to Mr. Carker."'"'Yes, Susan," she said when that young.lady Not a word of this was lost on Florence, who, had concluded.' "He: is in papa's confidence, with an awakened interest in Susan's speech, rno and is his friend, I am sure." longer gazed abstractedly on the prospect with- Florence's mind ran tigh'on this theme, and LONGING FOR IHOO. 5. liad done for some days. Mr. Carker, in the wishing to be at home again. Her lonely life two visits with which he had followed up his was better suited to her course of:timid hope first one, had assumed a confidence between and doubt; and she feared, sometimes, that:in himself and her-a right on his part to be mys- her absence she might miss some hopeful chance terious and stealthy, in telling her that the ship of testifying her affectioni' for' her father. was still unheard of-a kind of mildly-restrained Heaven knows, she might have set-her mind at power and authority over her-that made her rest, poor child! on this last point; but her wonder, and caused her.great uneasiness. She' slighted love was fluttering within her, and, even had no means of repelling it, or of freeing her- in her sleep, it flew away in dreams, and nestled, self from the web he was. gradually. winding like a wandering bird come home, upon her about her; for that would have required. some father's neck. art and knowledge of the world, opposed to Of Walter she thought often. Ah! how such address as his; and Florence had none. often, when the night was gloomy, and the wind True, he had said no more to her than that there was blowing round the house!.'But hope was was no news of the ship, and that he feared.the strong inf'her breast. It is so difficult for.'the worst'; but how he came to know that she: was'' young and ardent, even with such experienQe as interested in the ship, and why he had the right hers, to imagine youth and ardour quenched to signify his knowledge to her so insidiously like a weak flame, and the bright day.-of life and darkly, troubled Florence very much.. merging into night at noon, that hope was strong This conduct on the part of Mr. Carker, and yet. Her tears fell frequently for Walter's sufher habit of often considering it with wonder ferings, but rarely for his supposed death, and and uneasiness; began to invest him with an un- never long. comfortable fascination, in Florence's.thoughts. She had written to the old instrument-maker, A tmore distinct remembrance of his features, but had received no answer. to her note: which, voice, and manner.: which.; she:sometimes indeed,.required. none. -Thus matters stood courted, as a means of reducinghim to.the level with Florence on -the "morning when she was of a real pes.onage, capable of exerting 1:o going home,'gladly, to her old secluded life. greater charm over her: than another: did. not'.; Doctor". and Mrs. Blimber, accompanied remove the vague impression. And yet he never (much against his will) by.their valued charge frowned, or looked upon her with an air'of dis- Master Barhet,.:' were already gone back:, to like oi animosity,-but was always. smiling and Brighton, where that:young gentleman and his. serene. ~ fellow-pilgrims to:.Parnassus; were" then, no Again, Florence, in pursuit'of her strong pur- doubt, in- the continual resumption of their pose with reference to her father, and'her steady studies.' The holiday time was past and over; resolution to believe that she was herself unwit- most o'f the juvenile guests at the villa had taken tingly to blame for their so cold and distant re-.their departure; and Florence's long visit was lations, would recall to mind that this gentleman come to an: end. was his confidential friend, and would.:think, - There: was one guest,. however, albeit not with an anxious heart; could her struggling tend- resident within the house, who; had been <very ency to dislike and fear him be a part of that constant in his attention to tie family, and who misfortune in her which had turned her father's still remained devoted to them.'This was Mr. love adrift, and left her so alone? She dreaded Toots, who, after renewing, some weeks. ago, the that it might be; sometimes believed it was: acquaintance he had had the happiness of formthen she resolved that she would try to conquer ing with Skettles junior,.on-the night when he this wrong feeling; persuaded herself that she burst the Blimberian' bonds and- soared into was honoured and encouraged by the notice of freedom with his ring.on;,called regularly every her father's friend; "and hoped that. patient'ob- ther day, and left a perfect pack of cards at the servation of him and trust in him would lead hall-door; so many, indeed, that the ceremony her bleeding feet along that stony road which was quite a deal on the part of Mr. Toots, and ended in her father's heart.' a hand at whist on' the part of the servant. Thus, with rio one to advise her-for she Mr. Toots likewise,'with the bold and happy could'advise with-no one without seeming to idea of preventing the family from forgetting, complain against him-gentle Florence tossed him (but there is reason' to suppose that this ex-' on.an /uneasy sea of doubt and hope; and Mr. pedient originated in the teeming'brain of the Carker, like a scaly monster of the deep, swam Chicken), had established a six-oared cutter, down. below; and kept his shining eye upon her. manned by aquatic. friends of the Chicken's;'Florence had' a new reason in all this.for and steered by that illustrious character iniper; 206 DOMBRY AND SOW. son, who wore a bright red fireman's coat for Good-bye!" And poor.Mr. Toots, who was the purpose,'and concealed the perpetual black dying to accept the invitation, blut hadn't,.the eye with which he was afflicted beneath a green courage to do it, signed to the Chicken with an shade. Previous to the institution of this equi- aching heart, and away went the Joy, cleaving page, Mr. Toots sounded the Chicken on a hy- the water like an arrow. pothetical-case, as, supposing the Chicken to be The Joy was lying in a state of extraordinary enamoured of a young lady named Mary, and splendour, at the garden steps, on the morning to have conceived the intention of starting a of Florence's departure. When she went do0nboat;of his own, what would he call that boat? stairs to take leave, after her talk with Susan, The Chicken replied, with divers strong asseve-. she found Mr. Toots awaiting.her in the:4raw. rations, that he would either christen it Poll or ing-room. The Chicken's Delight. Improving on this "Oh, how de do, Miss.Dombey?" said,the, idea, Mr. Toots, after deep study and the exer- stricken Toots, always dreadfully disconcerted cise of much invention, resolved to call his boat when the desire of his heart was gainecd and he. The Toots's Joy, as a delicate compliment to was speaking to her. " Thank you, I'm very Floience, of which no man knowing the parties, well indeed, I hope you're the same, so was could possibly miss the appreciation. Diogenes yesterday." Stretched on a crimson cushion in lKis gallant " You are very kind," said Florence. bark, with his shoes in the air, Mr. Toots, in the "Thank you, it's of no consequence," retorted exercise of his project, had come up.\the river Mr. Toots. "I thought perhaps -yu wouldn't day after day,andweek after week, and had flitted mind, in this fine weather, coming home by. to and fro, near Sir Barnet's garden, and had water, Miss Dombey. There's plenty of room caused his crew to cut across and across the in the boat for your maid." river at sharp angles, for his better exhibition to "I am very much obliged to you," said. any loolers-out from-Sir Barnet's windows, and Florence, hesitating. "I really am-but. I had had-such evolutions performed by the would rather not." Toots's.Joy as had filled all the neighbouring "Oh, it's of no consequence," retorted Mr, part of the water-side with astonishment. But, Toots. " Good morning I" whenever he saw any one in Sir Barnet's garden "Won't you wait and see Lady Skettles?" on the brink of the river, Mr. Toots always asked Florence kindly. feigned to be passing there by a combination of,. "Oh no, thank you," returned.Mr. Toots, coincidences of the most singular and unlikely "it's of no consequence at all." description. So shy was Mr. Toots on such occasions, and U" How. are you, Toots?" Sir Barnet would so flurried I But Lady Skettles entering at the say, waving his hand from the lawn, while the moment, Mr. Toots was'suddenly.seized with a attful.. Chicken steered close in shore. passion for asking her how she did, and hoping "How de do, Sir Barnet?" Mr. Toots would she was very well; nor could Mr. Toots by answer. "What a surprising thing that I should any possibility leave off shaking hands with her see yopu. here.." until Sir Barnet appeared: to whom he. immneMr. Toots, in his sagacity, always said"' this, diately clung with the tenacity of desperation. as if, instead of that being Sir Barnet's house, it "We arelosing to-day, Toots,".said Sir -Bar. were:some deserted, edifice on the-banks of the net, turning towards Florence "the-light of our Nile or Ganges. house, I assure you.":"I never was so. surprised!" Mr. Toots would "Oh, it's of no conseq - I mean yes, to exclaim. —" Is Miss Dombey there?" be sure," faltered the embarrassed Toots. Whereupol.Florence would appear, perhaps. "GOOD morning!" "Oh, Diogenes is quite well, Miss Dombey," Notwithstanding the emphatic nature of this Mr. Toots would cry. "I -called to ask this. farewell, Mr. Toots, instead of going away, stood morning." 4,' leering about him vacantly. Florence, to relieve " Thank jou very much!" the pleasant voice him, bade adieu, with many thanks, to Lady of Florence would eply. Skettles, and gave her arm to Sir Barnet.:,." Won't ybotcemeSashore, Toots?" Sir Bar- "May I beg of you, my dear Miss Dombey," net would, say'then. "Come! you're in no said her host as he conducted. her- to.the carhurry. " Come and see us." riage, "to present my best compliments; to your " Oh, it's of no consequence, thank you!" dear papa?" Mr. Toots would blushingly rejoin. " I thought It was distressing to Florence to.receive-t-he. fvMiss Dombey might like to know, that's. alL. commission;,for she felt as if she were iimosing SHADO WS OF COAfING EVENTS. bo7 on Sir' Barnet, by allowing him' to believe that among the tall dark walls, than to carry it abroad a kindness rendered to her was rendered to her ihto the light, and try to hide it from a crowd of father.- As she could not explain, however, she happy eyes.. It was better to pursue the'study,bowed her head and thanked him; and again of her loving heart alone, and find no new disshe thought that the dull home, free from such couragements in loving hearts about her. It emibarrassments, and such reminders of her was easier to hope,: and pray and love on, all. sorrow, was her natural and best retreat. uncared for, yet with constancy and patience, in Such of her late friends and companions as the tranquil sanctuary of such remembrances-:: were yet remaining at the villa came running although it mouldered, rusted, and decayed from within, and from the garden, to say good- about her: than in a new scene,-let its.gaiety bye. They were all attached to her, and very be what it would. She welcomed back her old eatrest in taking leave of her. Even the house- enchanted dream of life,-and longed for the old hold were sorry for her' going, and the servants dark door to close upon her. once again. came nodding. and curtsying round the carriage Full of such thoughts, they turned into: the door. As Florence looked round on the kind long and sombre street. Florence was not on faces, and saw among them those of'Sir Barnet that side of the carriage which was nearest, to and his lady,'and of Mr. Toots, who was chuck- her home, and, as the distance lessened betweenling and staring at her from a distance, she was them -and it, she looked out of her window for reminded of the night when Paul and she had the children over the way. coime: from Doctor Blimber's: and, when the She was thus engaged, when an exclamation carriage drove away, her face was wet with from Susan caused her'to turn quickly round. tears. "Why gracious me!" cried Susan, breathless, Sorrowful tears, but! tears of consolation too; "where's our house?" for all the softer memories connected with the "Our house!" said Florence. dull old house to which she was returning made Susan, drawing in her head fromthe windo it dear to her as they rose up. How long it thrust it out: again, drew it in again as the se:em4ed- since she had wandered through -the carriage stopped; and stared at her mistress in silent rooms: since she had last crept, softly amazement. and afraid,:into those her father occupied:: since There was a labyrinth of scaffolding raised all she had felt the solemn but yet soothing influ- round' the house, from the basement to the roof; ence of the b-elovecd dead in every action of her Loads of bricks and stones, and: heaps of mortar, daily life! This new farewell reminded her, and piles of wood, blocked up half the width beSides, of her parting with poor Walter: of his and length of'thel broad street at the side. looks and words that night: and of.the gracious Ladders were raised against the walls; labourers blendinig she had noticed in him of tenderness were climbing up and down;:men were at work fortthos he left behind, with courage and high upon the steps of the.scaffolding.; painters:and spirit,-: His little history was associated with decorators were busy inside; great rolls of ornatheiold house, too, and gave it a new claim and mental paper were being delivered from a cart hold- upon her heart. at the door; an upholsterer's waggon also stopped Eveh- Susan Nipper softened towards the the way; no furniture was to be seen through home of: so many years as they were on their the gaping and broken windows in any of the way towards it. Gloomy as it was, and rigid rooms; nothing but workmen, and the implejustice as she rendered to its gloom, she forgave ments of their several trades, swarming from the it a' great deal. "I shall be glad to see it kitchens to the garrets.'- Inside and outside again,; I don't deny, miss," said the Nipper. alike: bricklayers, painters, carpenters, masons: "There ain't much in it to boast of, but I wouldn't hammer, hod, brush, pickaxe, saw, and trowel: have it burnt or pulled down neither!" all at work together, in full chorus.'-You'll be-glad to go through the old rooms, Florence descended from I the coach, half Vwon't yoiu, Susan?" said Florence, smiling. doubting if it were, or could be, the right house, " -Well, miss," returned the Nipper, softening until she recognised Towlinson, with a sunburnt more and more towards the house as they ap- face, standing at the door to receive her. proached it nearer, "I won't deny but what I "There is nothing the matter?" inquired shall, though I'shall hate'em again to-morrow, Florence. verylikely.", "Oh no, miss 1I Florence felt that, for her, there was greater "-There are great alterations going on.'" peace' within it than elsewhere. It was better "Yes, miss, great alterations," said Towlinson. and:'easier to keep her secret shut up there, - Florence passed him' as if she were in a dream, 208 DOMIBEY AND SON. and hurried up-stairs. The garish light was in sweetness to the two lady strangers. " He is the, long-darkened drawing-room, and there were only glad to see me, Pray forgive him." steps and'platforms, and men in paper caps, in She saw in the glance they interchanged that the high places.- Her mother's picture was gone the- lady who had screamed, and who was seated, with the rest of'the movables, and on the mark was old; and that the other lady, who stood where it had been was scrawled in chalk, " This near her papa,' was very beautiful, and of an room in panel. Green and gold." The stair- elegant figure. case was a labyrinth of posts and planks like the "Mrs. Skewton," said her father, turning to outside of the house, and a whole Olympus of the first, and holding out his hand, "this is'mv plumbers and glaziers was reclining in various daughter Florence." attitudes on the sky-light. Her own room was "Charming, I am sure," observed the lady, not yet touched within, but there were beams putting up her glass. "So natural! My darand boards raised against it without, balking the ling Florence, you must kiss me, if you please." daylight. She went up swiftly to that other Florence, having done so, turned towards the bedroom, where the little bed was; and a dark other lady, by whom her father stood waiting. giant of a man, with a pipe in his mouth, and "Edith," said Mr. Dombey, "'this is my his head tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, was daughter Florence. Florence,'this lady will staring in at the window soon be your mamma." It was here that Susan Nipper, who had been, Florence started, and looked up at the beauin quest of Florence, found her, and said, would tiful face in a conflict of emotions, among which she: go down-stairs to her papa, who wished to the tears that name awakened struggled for:a speak to her? moment with surprise, interest, admiration, and "At home! and wishing to speak to me!" an indefinable sort of fear.'Then she cried out, cried Florence, trembling. "Oh, papa, may you be happy! may you be Susan, who was infinitely more distraught than very, very happyp all your.life!" and then fell Florence herself, repeated her errand; and Flo- weeping on thi'e'lady's -bosom. rence, pale and agitated, hurried down'again There was a short silence. The beautiful without a moment's hesitation. She thought lady, who at first had seemed to hesitate whether upon the way down, would she dare to kiss him? or no she should advance to Florence, held her The longing of her heart resolved her, and she to her breast, and pressed the hand.with which thought she would. she clasped her, close about her waist, as if to Her father might have heard that heart beat reassure her and comfort her. Not one word when it came into his presence. One instant,. passed the lady's lips. She bent her hieadiiown and it would have. beat against his breast- over Florence, and she kissed her on:the:cheek,.But he was no.Alone. There were two ladies but she said no word. there.; and Florence stopped. Striving so hard "Shall we go on through the rooms," said: with her emotion, that if 1er brute friend Di Mr. Dombey, "and see how our workmen are had not burst in and overwhelmed her with his doing? Pray allow me, my dear madam." caresses as a welcome home-at which one of He said this in offering his arm to Mrs. Skewthe ladies gave a little scream, and that diverted ton, who had been looking at Florence through her attention from herself- she would have her glass, as though picturing to herself what she swooned upon the floor. might be made, by the infusion-from her own "Florence," said her father, putting out his copious storehouse, no doubt-of a little more hand:.so stiffly that it held her off: " how do Heart and Nature. Florence was still sobbing you do?" on the lady's breast, and- holding to her, when Florence took the hand between her own,_and' Mr. Dombey was heard to' say from the conputting it timidly to her lips, yielded to its with- servatory: drawal. It touched the door, in shutting it, "Let us ask Edith. Dearme, where is she? with quite. as much endearment as'it had touched "Edith, my dear!" cried Mrs. Skewton, her.' "where are you? Looking for Mr. Dombey " What dog is that?"" said Mr. Dombey, dis- somewhere, I know. We are here, my love." pleased. The beautiful lady released her hold of Flo"It is a dog, papa, from Brighton."' rece, and pressing her lips once more upon "-Well!" said Mr.'Dombey; and' a cloud her face, withdrew hurriedly, and joined- them. passed.over'his face, for he uniderstood'her. Florence remained standing in the same place: " He is very good-tempered," said Florence, happy, sorry, joyful, and in tears, she. knew. not.addressing herself' with her natural grace and how or' how long, but all at once': when her new FLORENCE A4ND HER-,NET i,lAMtMlfA. 209 mamma came back, and took lher iln her arms 1high-shouldered canary, stricken in' years, and again. \.much rumpled, but a piercing singer, as Prin"Florence," said the laldy hurriedly, and cess's Place well knew; taking, next in. order, looking into her face with great -earnestness, the little china ornaments, paper fly-cages, and. " you will not begin by hating me?" so forth; and coming round, in good time, to " By hating you, mamma!" cried Florence, the plants, which generally required to be snipped winding her arm round her neck, and returning here and there'with a pair of scissors, for somne the look. botanical reason that was very powerful with "Hush! Begin by thinking well of me," said Miss Tox. the beautiful lady. " Begin by believing that I. Miss Tox was slow in coming to the plants will try to make you happy, and that I am pre-.. this morning.' The weather was warm, the pared to love you, Florence. Good-bye. We wind southerly; and there was a sigh of the shall meet again soon. Good-bye!:. Don't stay l summer-time in Princess's Place, that turned here now."' _.,.-.',,. Miss Tox's thoughts upon the country. The Again she pressed her to her breast-she had potboy attached to the Princess's Arms had spoken in a rapid manner, but firmly-and Flo- come out with a can, and trickled water, in a rence saw her rejoin them in the other room. flowing pattern, all over Princess's Place, and And now Florence began to hope that she it gave the weedy ground a fresh scent-quite,i would learn from her new and beautiful mamma growing scent, Miss Tbx said. There was a how to gain her father's love; and in her sleep tiny blink of sun peeping in from the great that night, in her lost old home, her own mamma street round the corner, and the smoky sparrows smiled radiantly upon the hope, and blessed it. hopped over it, and back again, brightening as Dreaming Florence! they passed: or bathed in it like a stream, and became glorified sparrows, unconnected with chimneys. Legends in praise of Ginger Beer, with pictorial representations of thirsty cusCHAPTER XXIX. tomers submerged in the effervescence, or stunned by the flying corks, were conspicuous TIHE OPENING OF TIlE EYES OF MRS. CHICK. in the'window of the Princess's Arms.. They ~______.....__' were making late hay somewhere out of town ISS TOX,'allunconscious of any such and though the fragrance had a long way- to rare appearances, in connectionwith come, and many counter-fragrances to contend Mr. Dombey's house, as scaffoldings with among the dwellings of the poor (may God and ladders, and men with their reward'the worthy gentlemen who stickle for heads tieId up in pocket-handker- the plague as part and parcel of the wisdom of',..-' chiefs, glaring in at the windows like our ancestors, and'who do their little best! flying genii or strange birds, having to keep those dwellings miserable!), yet it was:breakfasted one morning, at about this wafted faintly into Princess's Place, whispering eventful'period of time, on her customary viands'; of N4ature and her wholesome air, as such things to wit, one French roll rasped, one egg new laid will, even unto prisoners and captives, and those (or warranted to be), and one little pot of tea, who are desolate and oppressed. wherein was infused one little silver scoop-full of Miss Tox sat dlown upon the window-seat, that'; herb on behalf of Miss Tox, and one little and thought of her'good, papa deceased-Mr. silver scoop-fill on behalf of the.teapot —a Tox, of the Customs Department of the public -fliglt of fancy in which good housekeepers de- service; and of her childhoc'd, passed at a sealight' went up-stairs to set forth the Bird Waltz port, among a considerable quantity of cold tar, on. ie harp'sichord, to water and arrange the and some rusticity. She fell into a softened plants, to dust the knick-knacks, and, according remembrance of meadows in old, time, gleaming to! hlr daily custom, to make'-her little drawing- with buttercups, like so many, inverted firmaroom the garland of Princess's Place. ments of golden stars; and how she had made; Misr Tox endued herself with the pair of chains of dandelion stalks for youthful vowers ancient; g!oves, like dead leaves, in which she of eternal constancy, dressed chiefly in nankeen; was;accustomed to perform these avocations — and how soon those fetters had withered and hidden. from human sight.at other times in a broken. ta.,ble drawer-and went methodically to work; Sitting on the window-seat, and looking'out I-gipning witli the Bird Waltz; passing, by a upon the sparrows and the blink of sun, Miss nirlaral association of ideas, to her bird-a very Tox thought likewise of her good mamma deDOMBEY AND SON, 14..04 _14- OA~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0. 210 DOMBEY A W.L).SA. ceased —sister to the owner of the powdered "It's nothing," returned Mrs. Chick. " It's head and pigtail-of her virtues, and'her rheu- merely change of weather. We, must expect matism. And when a man with bulgy legs, and change.".a rough voice, and a heavy basket on his head "'Of weather?" asked Miss Tox in her'.imthat crushed his hat into a mere black muffin, plicity. came crying flowers down Princess's Place, "Of everything," returned Mrs. Chick.?Of making his timid little roots of daisies shudder course we must. It's a world of'change.';Any in the vibration of every yell he gave, as though one would surprise me very much, Lucretia, anid he had been.,an ogre hawking little children, would greatly alter my opinion of their undersummer recollections were so strong upon Miss standing, if they attempted to contradict or Tox that she shook her head, and murmured, evade what is so perfectly evident.'Change "' " she would be comparatively old before she excaimed Mrs.'Chick with severe p ilosophy. knew it-which seemed likely..' Why, my gracious me, what is'there thiat doe? I. n her pensive mood, Miss Tox's thoughts not change? Even the silkworm, whNo J am went wandering on Mr. Dombey's track, pro- sure might be supposed- not to trouble:itsef bably because the major had returned home to about such subjects, changes into all sottso' f his, lodgings opposite, and had just. bowed to unexpected things continually." - her from his window. What other reason could My Louisa," said the mild Miss Tox, Miss Tox have for connecting Mr. Dombey ever happy in her illustrtions." with her summer days and dandelion fetters? " You are so kind, Lucretia," returned Mrs. Was he more, cheerful? thought Miss Tox. Chick, a little softened, "as to sayr so, and to Was he reconciled to the decrees of fate? think so,'I believe. I hope neither of us may Would he ever marry again; and if yes, whom? ever have any cause to lessen our opinion of the What sort of person now? other, Lucretia." A flush- it was warm weather-overspread "I am sure of it," returned'Miss Tox. Miss Tox's face as, while entertaining these Mrs. Chick coughed as before, and drew lines meditations, she turned her head, and was sur- on the carpet with the ivory end of her parasol. prised by the reflection of her thoughtful image Miss Tox, who had experience 6f her fair friend, in the chimney-glass. Another flush succeeded and knew that under the pressure of any'slight when she saw a' little carriage drive into Piin- fatigue or vexation she was prone' to a discursive cess's Place, and make straight for her own kind of irritability, availed herself of the pa'ue door. Miss Tox arose, took up her scissors to change the subject. hastily, and. so coming, at last, to the plants, "Pardon me, my dear Louisa,"said'Miss was very busy with them when Mrs. Chick Tox, "but have' I caught sight.of the mi'an1ly entered the room. form of Mr. Chick in the carriage?' "How is my sweetest friend?" exclaimed "He is there,"'said Mrs.'-Chick,-" "bt'pray Miss Tox with open arms. leave him there. He has his newspaper,:aiid A little stateliness was mingled with Miss Tox's would be quite contented for the next' two holrs. sweetest friend's demeanour, but she kissed Miss Go on with your flowers, Lucretia, and' all.o Tox, and said, "'Lucretia, thank you, I am pretty me to sit here and rest." well. -I hope you are the same. Hem!" "My Louisa knows," observed Miss -Tx, Mrs. Chick was labouring under a.peculiar "that, between'friends like ourselves,:ny':'a little monosyllabic cough, a sort of primer, or proach to ceremony would be out of the': queseasy introduction to tle art of coughing. tion. Therefore -" Therefore'Miss Tox "You cali'very early, and'how kind that is, finished the sentence, not in words, but ac'tion; my dear'!" pursued Miss Tox. " Now have and putting on her gloves again, which she had you breakfasted-?' taken off, and arming herself once -more with " Thank you, Lucretia," said Mrs. Chick,'" I her scissors, began to snip and clip among the have. I took an' early breakfast"-the good leaves with microscopic industry. lady seemed curious on the subject of Princess's "Florence has returned home' also," said Place, and' looked all round it as.she spoke- Mrs.- Chick, after sitting silent for some time, "with my brother, who has come home."' with- her head on one side, and her ":paras0ol "He is better, I trust, my love?" faltered sketching on the floor; "and'really Floirence is Miss Tox. a great deal too old now to continue' tbo lead "He is greatly better, thank you. Hem!" that solitary life to which she has been'-accus'My dear Louisa must be careful of tha t tomed. Of course she is. There can be' no cough," remarked Miss Tox. doubt about it. I should - ha'e' viet y: little MlPS. CHICK CALLS ON MISS TOX-..2 I't Tespect, indeed, for anybody who could advo- is, perhaps, no reason why I should express'my-' cite' a different opinion;. Whatever my wishes, self at all, except the intimacy that has:subsisted might be, I could not respect them. We cannot between us, and which I very much hope, cmm'and our' feelings to- such an"'extent as Lucretia —confidently hope-nothing will occur that.".todisturb. Because, why should'I do any-' Miss' Tox assentea, without being particular thing else?: There is no reason; it would be.is to tie'intielligibility of the proposition. ~;, absurd. But I wish to express myself clearly, "If she's a strange girl," said. Mrs. Chick, Lucretia; and therefore, to go back:to that re-' and if my brother Paul cannot.feel perfectly mark, I must beg to say that it was'iot intended comfortable in:her'society,,after all:the sad to relate to Florence in any way." thin1gs that have happened, and all the'terrible " "Indeed!" returned Miss Tox diappoihtments that -have. been undergone,': No," said Mrs. Chick shotly' and decitin, what.isthe reply? Thathem msake sively.. effrt. That he'is bounid tomake an effort. "Pardon me, my dear, rejoind her meek WVe have always.b'een a remar friend;'" but I cannotn ave understoid it. I ffofrt. Paul is:at:thehead.of the family; a:- fear I am dull.". most. the only representative of it left-for what Mrs. Chick looked round the iroom and over.am I?-I am of' noconsequence —" the way; at. the plants, at the birdat the ".My dearest love 1." remonstrated. Miss Tox.' watering-pot, at almosti everything: within view,'Mrs.'Chick- dried'hr eyes, which were,- for except Miss Tox.;and finally dropping er the~ moment byovefiWing; and proceeded':. glance upon Miss Tox; for..a moment,; on. its "-And consequently he is' more than ever: way to the ground. said, looking meanwhlile with bound to make: an effort. And though his elevated eyebrows at the carpet: having done so comes upon me with a sort of' When I speak, Lucretia of -her being worth shock. —for rAinee is a very weak and foolish Of the. name, I, speak of my brother Paul's nture..; which'is.anything but a blessing, I am;second wife.. I' elieve I have aleady said, in ure:; I often wish. my heart was a marble slab,.effect,'if'not'in the very wordst:i now use; that or'a paving-stone —-''it isshis istenttion to' ma"rryascon' wife "ly swveet Louisa':" remonstrated Miss T Miss Tox T left her seat in'a:iurry and reagami'. i. turned,to her plants; clippirg.amopg the stems."-Still, it' is a triumph' to me to know that. and leaves with as liftle faviur s'a;barber workhe: is -so true to himself, and to, his name of ing at so many pauper lheads':fiai'r. Pombey; although, of course, I always knew."Whether shewseill bee 0fthe dishe would be.. I: only hope," said Mrs. Chick tinction conferred upon' her," sai'd"'rs. Chick in:afer a pause, "t hat she may be wrthy a lofty I.tone, "is, quite anothler'iuestion. I nam too."' hope she may be. We are bound to think well'.iss" Tox filled a. little -green.watering-pot of one another. in this world, an3 I hope she fr.m a jug, and happening to look up when she'may be. I have not been advised'with, myself. had done so, was so surprised by the. amount..of If I had been advised with,i have no doubt:my -xpression Mrs..Chick had conveyd into her.advice would have been cavalierly received, anid..fae,.and.was bestowing upon her, that' She put'therefore. it is infinitely beter as it! is. I much.te:flittle watering-pot on the table for the pre- prefer. it as t is, sent, and sat down near it. Mi xwith head bent dwnstill clipped:" M dear. Louisa,"'said Miss Tox, "will it am plants. Mr Chick, wth energetic be.-.the, least, satisfaction to you ifjlI venture tb shakings:,of her own he ad from tinrr to time, ojserve, inreference, to that remark, that I, as' contined to hold forth, as. i.ln defiance. of MMhumble:individual,. think your:sweet:'miece in somebody. every way most. promising?".'"If my brother Paul had consulted with me,:'.4What- do you mean, Lucretia?" returned which he sometimes does-or rather,. sometimes.Mrs- Chick with increased stateliness of manner. used to:do; for he will naturally do that -no I"To:what remark of.mine, my dear, do you more now, and this is a circumstance which.I efer.?:.. regard as a- relief from. responsibility,' said Mrs. i. Her being worthy of her name, my love," Chick hysterically, "for I thank Heaven J. am iephli'ed:,;Miss Tox..'not jealous "'.here'Mrs. Chick again shed. tears::f.r. * i....said,..Mrs. Chick with solemn patience, "if my brother Piml had come to me, and had said, h:' av:: have: not. expressed myself with clearness, Lbuisa, what kincd of qualities would you' adLucretia, the fault;'of course; is mine.. There' vise me to look out for in a wife?' I should "cer 25 2 fDOMBEY AND SON. tainly have answered,'Paul, you must have were highly probable, "but I should have used family, you must have beauty, you must have them. I should have said,' Paul! You. to dignity, you must have-connection.' Those are marry a second time without family! You to the words I should have used. You might marry without beauty! You to marry without have led me to the block immediately after- dignity! You to marry without connection! wards," said Mrs. Chick, as if that consequence There is nobody in the world, not mad, who LUCCkrA'IUX'S KEVERIE.. could dream of daring to entertain such a pre- " I should have adopted this course of arguposterous idea!1 - ment," pursued the discreet lady, "because I Miss Tox stopped clipping; and, with her trust I am not a fool. I make no claim; to: be head among the plants, listened attentively. considered a person of superior intellect-though Perhaps Miss Tox thought there was hope in I believe some people have been textraordinary this exordium, arid in the warmth of Mrs. Chick. enough to consider me so; one so little humoured -EXPECTS TO BE TOLD THAT SHE IS AN ELEPHANT- 213 as I am would very soon be disabused of any window over -the way, who had his double-barsuch notion'; but I trust I am not a downright relied eye-glass in full action, and whose face fool. And to tell ME," said Mrs. Chick with in and figure were dilated with Mephistophilean effable disdain,'" that my brother,'Paul Dombey, joy. could ever contemplate the possibility of uniting Not so the expatriated native, amazed suphimself to anybody-I don't care who "-she porter of Miss Tox's swooning form, who, comwas more sharp and emphatic in that short clause ing straight up-stairs with a pQlite inquiry than in any other part of her discourse-" not touching Miss Tox's health (in exact pursuance possessing these requisites would be to insult of the major's malicious instructions),,ad acciwhat. understanding I hazve got, as much as if I. dentally arrived in the very nick of time to catch was to be told'that I was born and bred an" the delicate burden in his arms,'and to receive elephant. Which I may be told next," said Mrs. the contents of the little watering-pot in his Chick with resignation. "'It wouldn't surprise she; both of' which circumstanes, coupled me at all. I expect it." with his consciousness of beifg'closely watched In i the moment's silence thatl ensued, Miss by the' wrathful major, wo had threatened the Tox's scissors gave a feeble clip or' two;,but usual penalty in regard o i'every bone in his skin Miss Tox's: face' was still invisiblea and Miss in case of any failure?,'c:mbinedto: render him a'Fox's morning gown was agitated. Mrs. Chick'' moving spectacle of rmental and bodily distress. looked sideways at her, through the intervening For some moments this a fflicted; foreigner replants, and went on to say, in a tone of bland mained clasping Miss'Tox to his heart, with an conviction, and as one dwelling on a point of energy of action i remarkable opposition to his fact that hardly requied to be, stated: disconcerted face, while that poor-lady trickled "Therefore, of'course my brother Paul has' slowl down upon him the very last sprinklings done what was to be expected of him, and what'.of the little watering-pot, as if he were a delicate anybody might. have foreseen he would do,'ifhe exotic (which, indeed, he -was), and might be enltered the marriage state again. I confess it almost expected to blow, while. the gentle rain takes me rathler by surprise, however gratifying; descended,' Mrs. Chick, at length recovering because, when Paulw nt out I of town, I had no sufficient presence of mind, to interpose, comidea at all thiat he would form any attachment manded him to drop Miss Tox:upon the sofa out of town,i and he certainly had no attachment and withdraw; and,the exile promptly obeying,' when lie left here.. HoiVever, it seems to be she applied herself to promote Miss Tox's reextremely desirable in every pint of view. I covery. have no doubt the mother is a most genteel'and But none of that gentle concern which usually' elegant creature,,and I have no right whatever'.characterises the daughters of.ve in thei.tendto'dispute the policy of her living with' them: ing of each other; none of' that freemasonry in which is Paul's affair,'not mine': and as to Paul's'ifaiinting, by which thley are generally bound choice, herself, I have only seen her picture yet,' together in a mysterious bond of sisterhood; but that'is beautiful indeed. Her name ibea wasi bsible in Mrs. Chick's deIearour. Rather tiful too," said" Mrs. Chick, shaking her head' like the- executioner who'restotes the victim to. with energy, and arrIaging herself' ii her chair; sensation previous to proceeding with the tor"Editli is at once unconimonas' it strikes me, ture (or was wont to do "so in the good old times and distinguished. Consequently,' Lucretia, I for which all.true meiiwear perpetual mourning) have no:doubt you Will be happy to hear that did Mrs. Chick administer the smelling-bottle,, the marriage is to take place immiediately-of'the slappingon'the hands, the dashing of cold course you will. " great emphasis again: "and water on the face, and the other proved remedies. that you are delihted with this change in the Ard when, atlength,Miss Tox' opened her eyes condition of mny brother, who has shown you a and gradually became restored toanimation and great deal of pleasant attention at various times." consciousness, Mrs. hick, drew o' as from a Miss Tox made no verbal answer, but'took' crimial, and, reversing'the precedent of the up the little watering-pot with a trembling hand,'murdered King of Denmark, regarded her more and looked vacantly round, as if considering in anger than in sorrow. what article of furniture would be improved by' "Lucretia!" said Mrs. Chick. "I will not the, contents. The room-door opening,at this'attempt to disguise what I feel. My' eyes are crisis, of Miss Tox's feelings, she started, laughed opened all at once. I wouldn't have believed aloud, and fell into the arms of the person enter- this, if a saint had told it to me." inr;, happily insensible alike of Mrs. Chick's "I am foolish to give way to faintness," Miss indignant countenance, and of the major'at his Tox faltered, " I shall be better presently." 214 DOMBEY AND SON. " You will be better presently, Lucretia!". She is going to say," said rs.Chick, adrepeated Mrs. Chick with exceeding scorn. -" Do dressing herself to the whole of:tlhe furniture,; in you suppose I am blind? - Do you imagine I'a'comprehensive glance of resignation and lap. am in my second. childhood? No, Lucretia! peal, "she is going to say-i -know it-that 1; I am obliged to you!" have encouraged her!"'. Miss Tox directed an imploring, helpless kind "I don't wish to excliange"' eproaches, dear' of look towards her friend, and put her handker- Louisa," sobbed Miiss T'ox.," Noido I wish; to chief before her face. complain. But, in my own defence -- "' If-atiy one had told me this yesterday," said, " Yes," cried_ Mrs. Chick, looking roundl the Mrs:Chick with majesty, " or -even half an hour. room with a prophetic smile;,'- that's -wha:.Ahe's ago, I should have been tempted, I almost be-. going. to say. I-knew it.; Y6ou:had;:better.say lieve to strike'?them tothe earth. Lucretia Tox, it. Say it openly!..Be open,'Lucrctia Tox," imy eyes are opened to you all at once. The said Mrs. Chick with desperate sternness,'"whiatscales " —here Mrs..Chick cast down an imagi- ever you are." nary pair, such as are commonly used in grocers'. -In myown defence," faltered Miss Tox, shops -"have fallen from-my sight. The blind- "and only in my own- defence against: yoUr, ness of my confidence is past, Lucretia. - It has: iunkind words, my dear Louisa, I would-merely been abused; and played upon, and evasion is' ask you if you.haven't often favoured such p..quite out of the question now, I assure you." fancy, and even said it might happen, for any-." Oh! to what do you allude so cruelly, my thing we could tell?. love?" asked Miss Tox through her tears. "There is a point," said. Mrs. Chick, rising, "Lucretia," said Mrs. Chick, "ask your own not as if she were going to stop at the floor, butheart. I must entreat you not to address me by as if she were about to soar up: high into herany such familiar term as you. have just used, native skies, " beyond which endurance becomesif you please. I have some self-respect left, ridiculous,.if not culpable.'. I can bear muh; though you may think otherw:ie.".but not too much. What spell was on me when " Oh, Louisa!" cried Miss Tox. "How can I came into this house this day, I don't.know-; you speak to me hi'ke that..?"' but I had a presentiment-a dark presentiment,' " Howv can I speak to you like that?" re- said Mrs.. Chick with a shiver, " that something torted Mrs. Chick, who, in default of having any was going to happen. Well may I have. had particular argument to sustain herself upon, re- that foreboding, Lucretia, when my confidence lied principally on such: repetitions for her most of many years is destroyed in an.instant, wherl.withering effects. " Like that I.You may well iy eyes are opened all at once, and whene find say like that, indeed i" you revealed in your true colours. Lucretia.: Miss. Tox sobbed pitifully. have been mistaken in you. It is better;fr us ":' The idea!" said Mrs. Chick, "of your hav- both that this subject should.end here. Iwish ing'basked at my brother's fireside like a serpent, you well, and I shall ever wish you well.: But, and wound yourself, through me, almost into his. as an individual who desires to be true to her, confidence, I,ucretia, that-you might, in secret, self in her own poor position, whatever.that entertain. designs upc. him, and dare to aspire position may be, or may -not be-and ars.th to contemplate. the possibility' of his uniting sister of my brother-and as the sister-in-law.of himself to you / Why, it is an idea," said Mrs.'my brother's wife-and as a connection by marChick with sarcastic dignity, " the'absurdity of riage of my brother's wife's motler-may,l be which almost relieves its treachery." permitted to add, as a Dombey?-I can. wish ".Pray, Louisa," urged Miss Tox, "do not you nothing else but good morning." say suich dreadful things." These words, delivered with cutting sua.ity, "Dreadful things!" repeated Mrs. Chick. tempered and chastened by a lofty air of, toral' Dreadful things i Is it not a fact, Lucretia, rectitude, carried the speaker to the door. T:Ihere that you have just now been unable to command she inclined her head in a ghostly and.statuec your feelings even' before me, whose' eyes you like manner, and so withdrew to her.arriage,,ito had so completely closed?" seek comfort and consolation in theiarms of r. "I have made no complaint," sobbed'Miss Chick, her lord. Tox,' -' Ihave said nothing. If I have been a Figuratively speaking, that is to sa/y,; fortthes little'overpowered by'your news, Louisa, and arms of Mr. Chick were full of his, new'spapet;., have ever had any lingering thought that Mr. Neither did that gentleman address his eyes.to~, Dombey was inclined to be particular towards wards his wife otherwise than by stealth. Neithei me, surely you will not condemn me." did he offer any consolation whatever.` In short, — AND FINDS THAT tER COtNIDENCE HAS BEEN ABUSE'. c; he'sat reading, and humming fag-ends of tunes a providence in everything; everything works and sometimes glancing furtively at her without for the best; I have been tried to-day, but,. upon delivering himself of a word, goodi bad, or in; the whole,' I don't regret it." differe.nt.-. In which Christian spirit Mrs. Chick dried In the meantime Mrs. Chick Sat swelling and her'eyes, and smoothed her lap, and sat as bebrdlling, and tossirig her head, as if she were came a person calm under a great wrong.- Mr. still repeating that solemn formula of farewell to Chick, feeling his.unworthiness, no doubt, took Lucreti'a Tox.- At length she said aloud, "Oh an early opportunity of being set down at; a the' eixtent to which her eyes had' been ooened street corner and walking away whistling, with that day!" his -shoulders very much raised, and his hands ~. To which your eyes have been opened, my in his pockets. dear:' ".repeated Mr. Chick. While poor excommunicated Miss Tox, who, ~' Oh, don't talk to me!" said Mrs. Cihick. if she were a fawner and toad-eater, was at least. "If you can bear to see me in this state, and an honest and a constant one, and had ever not ask'me what the matter is, you had better borne a faithful friendship towards. her- imhold.your tongue for ever." peacher, and had been truly absorbed and swal-:' "What is the matter. my dear?" asked Mr. lowed up in devotion to the magnificence of Mr. Chick&'. Dombey-while poor excommunicated Miss Tox.To:think," said.Mrs. Chick in a state of watered her plants with her tears, and felt that soliloquy, "that she should'ever have conceived it was winter in Princess's Place. the base-' idea of connecting herself with our family' by a marriage with Paul! To think that whien' s'he was playing at horses with that dear child Who is now in his grave-I never liked it CHAPTER XXX. at.the time- "she should have been hiding such a duble —faced design! I.Wonder she was never TIE INTERVAL BEFORE THE MARRIAGE. afraid-'ithat something would — happen to her. She:lis fortunate -if nothing does." LTHOUGH the'enchanted house A:-' I'reatlly thought, nmy- dear," said Mr. Chick:'/f: was no more, andthe working world sldowly, after'rubbing the bridge of his nose for..' had broken into it, and was hamsome'.'-time' with his- newspaper, "that you had. ^ji mering and crashing and tramping go-orin t-he same tack yourself, all along, until J up- and down stairs all day long, this: mlorning; and had thought it would be a v keeping Diogenes in an incessant pacbnVenient: thing enough, if it could have been: roxysm of barking from sunrise to sunbrought- about."' a ~ set-evidentlyconvinced that his enemy;rs. Chick-instantly burst into tears, and told had got the better of him at last, and was- then Mr.'Chic.-k;that, if he wished to trample upon sacking the premises in triumphant:defiance — herewith his boots, lie had better do it.' there was, at first, no other great change in- ithe'0:-fBut -with Lucretia Tox I have done," said method of Florence's life. At night, when the Mr'3. Chick, after abandoning herself to her feel- workpeople went away, the house -was dreary and ings- fr' somre minutes, to Mr. Chick's great deserted again; and Florence, listening to their teir.'.-r "'I can bear to resign Paul's confidence voices echoing through the hall and staircase as ii'ti avir of one who, I hope and trust, may be they departed, pictured to herself -the cheerful deservitg of-it, and with whom he has a perfect homes to which they were returning, and the right to replace poor Fanny if he chooses; I children who were waiting for them, and was cati.be'ar tob'be informed, in Paul's cool manner, glad to think that they were merry and'wcll dflUlii.h a chan'gde in his plans, and never to be pleased to go. cd'fsuilfted iuntil all' is settled and determined; She welcomed back the evening silence as an biit- d-6ceit I can not bear, and with Lucretia Tox old friend, but it came now with an altered face' I:'hae idone.- It is better as it-is," said Mrs. and looked more kindly on her. Fresh hope Clkii'lpiously';' -much better. It would have was in it. The beautiful lady who ha: soothed. been a long time before I could have accommo- and caressed her, in the very room in which;hler daled:-:inyself'' comfortably with her, after this.; heart had been so wrung, was a spirit of promise andi-i'-really don't know, as Paul is going to be to her. Soft shadows of the bright life dawningi ve'yigrand;'and'these are people of condition, when her father's affection should be gradual.) thit:tsh'& wouild have been quite presentable, and won, and all, or much,' should be restored of rmght:rint have compromised myself'' There's what she had lost on the dark day-. wlien.i 2i6 DO.MBE Y A4iD SONA mother's love had faded with a mother's last "And these are your rooms," said Edith, breath on her cheek, moved about her in tle looking round. "I was not shown these rooms twilight, and were welcome company. Peeping the other day. We must have them improved, at the rosy children her neighbours, it wa, a new Florence. They shall be made the orettiest in and precious sensation to think that they might the house." soon speak together and know each other: when "If I might change them, mamma," returned she would not fear, as of old, to show herself Florence, "there is one up-stairs I should like before them, lest they should be grieved to see much better." her in her black dress sitting there alone "Is this not high enough, dear girl?" asked In her thoughts of her new mother, and in the Ed:th, smiling. love and trust ovcrflowing her pure heart towards "The other was my brother's room," said her, Florence loved her own dead mother more Florence, "and I'am very fond of it. I would and more.' She had no fear of setting up a rival have spoken to papa about it when' I came in her breast. The new flower, sprang from the home, and found the workmen here, and everydeep-planted and long-cherished root, she knew. thing changing; but —" Every gentle word that had fallen from the lips Florence dropped her eyes, lest the same look of the beautiful lady sounded to Florence like should make her falter again. an echo of the voice long hushed and silent. "-But I was afraid it might distress him; How could she love that memory-less for livings and as you said you would be here again soon, tenderness,-when it was her memory of all pa- mamma, and are the mistress of everything, I rental tenderness and love? determined, to take courage and ask you." Florence was, one day, sitting reading in her Edith, sat looking at her, with her'billiant room, and thinking of the lady a- d her promised eyes intent upon her face, until,'Florence raising visit soon-for her book turritd on a kindred her own, she, in her turn, withdrew'her gaze, and subject-when, raising her eyes,-she, saw her turned it on the ground. It was then that standing in the doorway. Florc-ce thought how different this lady's beauty "Mamma!" cried Florence; joyfully meeting was from what she had supposed.'She had her. "Come again!" thought it of a proud and lofty kind; yet her "Not mamma yet," returned the lady:with a manner was so subdued and gentle, that if she serious smile, as she encircled Florence's neck had been of Florence's own age and character, with her arm. it scarcely could have invited confidence more. ". But very soon to lbe,"! cried Florence.;: Except when a' constrained and singular re-'Very soon now, Florence: very soon." -.scr've crept over her; and then she seemned (but'Edith bent her head a' little so as. to press the Florcnce hardly understood this, though she blooming cheek of Florence against her own, could not choose but notice it, and think'about and for some few moments remained-thus silent. it) as if she were humbled before Florence, and There was something so very tender in her ill at ease. When she hadl said. that she, was manner, that'Florence was even more sensible not her mamma yet, and' when Fiorence'had of it than on'the first occasion of their meeting. called her.the mistress of everything tlhere, this She'led Florence to a chair beside her, and. change in her was (uick and startling; and now, sat down; Florence looking in her face, quite while the eyes of Florence rested on her face, wondering at its beauty, an,d willingly leaving she sat as though she would have shrunk and her hand in hers. - hidden from her, rather than as one about, to "Have you'been alone, Florence, since I was love and cherish her, in right of such a near here last?"'connection. "Oh yes!" smiled Florence hastily..'She gave' Florence her ready promise.'abput She hesitated and cast.down her eyes; for her new room, and said she would give directions her new mamma was very earnest in her look,. about it herself. She then asked some qcuestions and the look was intently and thoughtfully fixed concerning poor Paul; and, when they had sat upon her face. e in conversation for some time, told Florence she " -I —am used to be alone," said Florence.. had come to take her to her own home.'"I don't mind it at all. Di and I pass whole We have come to London now, my mother days together sometimes."'Florence might have and I," said Edith, "and you shall stay with us said whole weeks and months. until. I am married. I wish that we'siould "'Is-Di your maid, love?" know and trust each other, Florence." " My dog, mamma,"- said Florence, laughing. "You.are very kind to me," said Florence, ""Susan is my maid."- "dear mamma. How much I thank you! CLEOPATRA KEEPS UP APPEARANCES. 217 " Let me say now, for it may be the best existed at vari6us times' she set her face against opportunity," continued Edith, looking round to death' altogether, and objected to the mention see that they were quite alone, and speaking in of any such low and "levelling upstart-had a lower voice, "that when I am married, and borrowed a house'in'Brook Street, Grosvenor have gone away. for some weeks, I shall be easier Square, from a stately relative (one of the Feenix at heart if you will come home here. No matter brood), who' was out of town;' and who did not who invites you to stay elsewhere, come home object to lending it, in the handsomest manner, here. It is better to be alone than — What for nuptial purposes, as the loan implied his I"'would say is," she added, checking herself, final release and acquittance from all further.' that I know well. vou are best at home, dear loans and gifts to Mrs. Skewton and her daughFlorence." ter..-It being necessary, for the credit. of the -f I will come home on the very day, mamma." family, to make a handsome appearance' at; such "Do so. I rely on that promise. Now pre- a time, Mrs. Skewton, with the assistance. of..an pare to come with me, dear girl. You will find accommodating tradesman resident in the parish nie. down-stairs when you are ready." of Mary-le-bone, who lent out all sorts of articles Slowly and thoughtfully did Editn wander to the nobility and gentry, from a service! of alone through the mansion of which she was so plate to an army of footmen, clapped into' this soon'to be the lady.: and little heed took she of house a silver-headed butler (who was.charged all thie'elegance and splendgur it began to dis- extra on that account, as having the appearance play. The same indomitable haughtiness of of. an ancient family retainer),-two very tall soul, the same proud scorn expressed in eye young men in'livery, and a select staff of kitchen and lip, the same fierce beauty, only tamed by servants; so that a legend arose, down-stairs, a sense of its own little worth, and of the little that Withers the page, released at once from his worth of everything around it, went through the numerous household duties, and from the progrand saloons and halls, that had got loose pulsion of the wheeled chair (inconsistent with among the shady'trees, and raged and rent the metropolis), had been several times observed themselves. The mimic roses on the-walls and to rub his eyes and pinch his limbs, as if he floors were set round with sharp thorns, that misdoubted his having overslept himself at. the tore her breast; in every scrap of gold, so Leamington milkman's, and being -still; in a dazzling to the eye, she saw some hateful atom celestial dream, A variety of requisites in plate of her purchase-money; the broad high. mirrors and china being also conveyed to the same showed her, at full length, a wonan with a' noble establishment from the same convenient source, quality -yet. dwelling' in her nature, who was too with several miscellaneous articles, including a ialse to her better self, and too debased and neat'chariot and a pair of bays, Mrs. Skewton lost, to'save herself. She believed that all this cushioned herself on the principal sofa, in the was so plain, more or less, to all eyes,. that she Cleopatra attitude, and held her court in fair had no: esource or power.of self-assertion but in state. pride: and with'this pride, which tortured her "And how," said Mrs. Skewton, on the enown.heart night and day, she fought her. fate' trance of her daughter and her charge, "/is my out, braved it, and defied it. charming Florence? You must come and kiss Was this.the woman whom Florence-an.me, Florence, if you please, my love." innocent girl,' strong only in her earnestness and Florence was timidly.stooping to pick out a simple truth-could so impress and quell, that by place in the white part of: Mrs. Skewton's face, her side she was another creature, with her tern- when that lady presented her ear. and relieved pest.of passion hushed, and her very pride itself her of her difficulty. subdued? Was this the woman who now sat "Edith, my dear," said Mrs. Skewton, "posibeside'her in a carriage; with her arms entwined, ti'ely, I — Stand a little more. in. the light,.and who, while she courted and entreated leer my sweetest Florence, for a moment." to love and trust' her, drew her fair head to'Florence blushingly complied. nestle: on' ier breast,. and would have laid down ".You don't"r'emember, dearest Edith," -said life to shield it from wrong or harm? her mother, " what you were when'you were Oh, Edith!it. were well to die, indeed, at' ab ut. the saie. age.as" oiur "exceedingly pre' such-a time!: Better. and. happier far,' perhaps, i c us Florence, dr a few years younger?" to-die so,.Edith, than t6 live -on to the end!' I have long forgotten, mother.. The.'-Honourable Mrs.. Skewton; -who was "For' positively, my dear," said Mrs. Skewthinking.of anything rather than- of such senti-.ton, " I do think that. I see. a decided resemments-for, like many genteel persons who have -blance to what you were then, ih our extremely 2I8 DOMzBEY AND SO-. fascinaitiin young friend. And it shows," said of this agitation, pushed Florence behind'her Mrs. Skewton in a lower voice, which conveyed couch, and dropped a shawl over her, prepara. her opinion that Florence was in a very un- tory to giving Mr. Dombey a rapture of surprise. finished state, "what cultivation will do." It was so quickly done that in a moment Flo" It does, indeed," was Edith's stern reply. rence heard his awful step in the room. Her mother eyed her sharply for a moment, IHe saluted his intended mother-in-lawv and and feeling herself on unsafe ground, said, as a his intended bride. The strange sound of his diversion: voice thrilled through the whole frame of his "My charming Florence, you must come and child. kiss me once more, if you please, my love." "My dear Dombey," said Cleopatra, " come Florence complied, of course, and again im- here and tell me how your pretty Florence is." printed her lips on Mrs. Skewton's ear. "Florence is very well," said Mr. Dombey, "And you have heard, no doubt, my darling advancing towards the couch. pet," said Mrs. Skewton, detaining her hand, "At home?" "ithat your papa, whom we all perfectly adore "At home," said Mr. Dombey. and dote, upon, is to be married to my dearest "My dear Dombey," returned Cleopatra with Ediiththis day week?" bewitching vivacity; "now are you sure you are "':I knew it would be very soon," returned not deceiving me? I don't know what my Florience, "'but not exactly when" dearest Edith will say to me when I Take such "My darling Edith," urged her mother gaily, a declaration, but, upon my honour, I am afraid "is it possible you have not told Florence?" you are the falsest of men, my dear Dombey." 7"Whly should I tell Florence?" she returned, Though he had been; and had been detected so suddenly and harshly, that Florence coull on the spot in the most enormous falsehood scarcely believe it was the same voice. that was ever said or done; he could; hlirdly Mrs. Skcewton then told Florence, as another have been more disconcerted than he was when and safer diversion, that her father was coming Mrs. Skewton plucked the shawl away, and to dinner, and tlat he would no doubt be Florence, pale and- trembling, rose'before him charmingly surprised to see her; as he had like a ghost. He iad not yet recovered; iiS spoken'lst night of dressing in the City, and presence of mind when Florence had; run'up to had known nothing of Editl's design, the exe- him, clasped her hands round his neck- kissed cution of which, according to Mrs. Skewton's his face, and hurried out of the rom.-: HTe expectation, would throw him into a perfect looked round as if to refer the matter to' s6omeecstasy. F1lorence was troubled to hear this; body else, but Edith had gone after'Floreice and heir distress became so keen, as the dinner instantly. hour approached, that if she had known how to "Now, confess, my dear Dombey," said' Mts. frame an entreaty to be suffered to return home, Skewton, giving him her hand, "that you' never: without involving her father in' her explanation, were more surprised and please'd: in your life.:' she would- havelhurried back on foot, bareheaded, "I never was more surprised," said'Mr. - breathless, and alone, rather than incur the risk Dombey. of meeting his displeasure. "Nor pleased, my dearest Dombey'?" reAs the time drew nearer, she could' hardly turned Mrs. Skewton, holding up her fan. breathe. -She dared not approach a'window,' I-yes, I am exceedingly glad to meet Flolest- he should see her from' the street. Se rencehere," said Mr. Dombey. He appeared dared not go up-stairs to hide her emotion, lest, to consider gravely about it for a moment, and in passing out at the door,'she shoull' meet then said, more decidedly, "Yes, I reallv am him'unexpectedly; besides which dread, she very glad indeed to meet Florence here." felt as tho-igh she never could come back again You wonder how she comes here," said Mrs. if she were' summoned to his presence. In this Skewton, " don't you?" co flict of her fears, she was sitting by Cleopatra's "Edith, perhaps — "suggested Mr. Domnbey. coich,.ndeavouring to understand and to reply." Ah! wicked guesser! " replied C'leopatia, to the bald discourse of that lady, when she shaking her head. "Ah! cunning, cunning heard his foot upon the stair. man! -One shouldn't tell these tlings; your " I hear him now-! " cried Florence, starting. sex, my dear Dombey, are so vain; and' so apt' He is coming!" to abuse our weaknesses but, you' know, my Cleopatra, who in her juveiility. was always open soul- Very well:' imlmediately." playflly disposed, and.iwho in her self-engross- This was addressed to one of the very tall ment did iiot trouble herself about the nature young men who announced dinner. 1MR. DOmB EY CONGRA TULATE~S HIMSELF ON TiHE FUTURE. 219." But Edith, my dear Dombey," she continued the days when that most agreeable of creatures, in;a whisper, " when she cannot have you near her papa, was in your situation! " her-annd, as I tell her, sihe cannot expect that " I iav nothing to stggest,. It shall e when always-w*will at least have near her something you please," said Edith, scarcely looking over or somebody belonging to you. Well, how ex- the table at Mr. Dombey.. tremely, natural tlhat is! And, in this spirit, "To-norrow?" suggested Mr. Donbey. nothing would keep her from riding off to-day " If you please." tQ etch ouc darling Florence.- Well, how ex- " Or would next day," said Mr. Dombey, "suit cessively charming that is 1" your engagements better?" -.As. she waited -or an answer, Mr. Dombey "I have no engagements. I am always at answered,t.' Einently so." your disposal. Let t be when you like." "Bless "ot, my dlear Dombey, for that proof' No engagements, my dear Edith!" remnof heart! " cried Cleopatra, squeezing his hand. strated her mother, "when you are in a most'- But I am' growing too serious! Take me. terrible state of flurry all day long, and have a down-stairs, like an angel, and let us see what thousand and one appointments with all sorts of thlse$ people intend. to give us for dinner. Bless tradespeople!" you, dear Domb.ey!.' ". "They are of your making," returned'Editlh, ~Cleopatra skipping off her couch with tole- turning on her, with a slight contraction of her rable briskness after the last benediction, Mr. blrow. "You and Mr. Dombey'can irrange Dombey took her arm inhis, and led her cere- between you." moniouly down-2stairs; one of tle' very tall,. "Very true indeed, my love; and most conyoung men on. h ire, vlose organ of veneration siderate of you " said Cleopatra. "'y'darling was imperfectly developed, thrusting his tongue Florence, you must really come, ard kiss me into.hils cheek, for the entertainrnlent ofthe other once more, if you please, my dear!" ver.ta!l young mail on hire, as' the' couple Singular. coincidence that these gu'shes; of in.turied into the dininig-room. terest in Florence hurried Cleopatr away from,iEOrlenfie and. Editih were already there, and' almost every dialogtue in:whici'"Ethi:'had' a sitting. ide, by: side. Florence would have risen share, however trifling! Florence had certainly w;inea.her.;fa.ther.entered, to resign her chair to' never undere so much embracing, and perhimigbibt huEdithl opcnly' put her hand upon her haps had ilever' been, unconsciously, so useful arm, andi Mr. Domibey took an opposite place in hier life. at';s.e.-und'ta!i c.l'er. DMr. iombey. was far from quarrelling; in lhi.;?e:~copnvers'tion was almost'entirely sustained ovwn' brteast, witl the manne of bis beautiful by' Mrs. Skewton. Florence hardly dared to betrothed. Hel' had that good reason for symraise'er. cyes,. lest. they should reveal the traces pathy with haughtiness and coldness which is of te.;^Trs.;-ar'less dared to speak; and Edith: found in a fellow-feeling. It flattered himn to never }ttered one word, unless in answer to a think how these deferred to him in' Editi's case, queti.on. Verily,. Cleopatra worked hard for and seemed to have no will apart from his.' It the: establishment tlat was so nearly clutched; flattered him to picture to himself this proud and verl!y it. should. have.been a rich onee to and stately woman doing the honours of his reward'ei!. bh. ouse, and chilling his guests after his ovn man~ "n.. dso your preparationsare nearly finished ner. The dignity of Dombeyand Son would at,.lasty,'my, dear Dombey?" said Cleopatra, be heightened and maintained, indeed, in such wieni the,dessert was put upon the table, and hands. tl1e silverl-headed butler had withdrawn. "Even So thought Mr. Dombey when he'was left the lawyer's preparation!" alone at the dining-table, and mused upon his'.-Yes, madam,'" replied Mr. Dombey; "the past and future fortunes: finding no uncondeed of' ettlement, the professional gentlemen geniality in an air of scant and gloomy state infpon., me, is now ready, and, as I was'men- that pervaded the room, in colour a dark rown, tioning to you,,'Edith has only to do us the with black hatchments-of pictures blotching.the f.vour to suggesther own time for its execution." walls, and twenty-four black chairs, with alnost iEdith sat like a handsome statue; as cold, as as many nails in them as so many coffins, waitsil~ent, and as still. ing like mutes upon the threshold of the Turkey ". My dearest love," said Cleopatra, "do you carpet; and two exhausted negroes holding up hear iwhat iMr. Dombey says? Ah, my dc;r two withered branches of candelabra onl the Dombey! "'asiile to that gentleman, " how her sildeboard, and a musty smell prevailing, as if absence, as the time approaches,\rcminds me of the ashes of ten thousand dinners were entombed 220 DOMBEY AND SON. in the sarcophagus below it. The owner of'the attitude,'Mr. Dombey looked down into the house lived much abroad; the air of England dold depths of the Dead Sea of mahogany on seldom agreed long with a member of the Feenix which the fruit -dishes and decanters. lay at family; and the room'had gradually put itself anchor; as if the subjects of his thoughts were into deeper and still deeper mourning for him, rising towards the surface one by one, and until it was become so funereal as to want no. plunging down'again. Edith was there in all thing but a body in it to be quite complete. her' majesty of brow and figure; and close to No bad representation of the body, for the her came Florence,.with her timid head.turnel nonce,"in his unbending form, if not in his. to him, as it.had been, for an instant, when she ] I' V.1. "ONE OF THE VERY TALL YOUNG MEN ON HIRE, WHOSE ORGAN OF SENEKA'IION WAS'mIPERKFE.CT'L DEVELOPED, THRUSTING HIS TONGUE INTO HIS CHEEK, FOR, THE ENTERTAINMENT OF THE OTHER VERY TALL YOUNG MAN ON HIRE, AS THE COUPLE TURNED INTO THE DINING-ROOM." left the room; and Edith's eyes upon her, and his successful wooing, he could stoop to think, Edith's hand put' out protectingly. A little as claiming, at such a time,. to, be no more figure in a low arm-chair came springing next estranged; or whether as a hint to him that the into the light, and looked upon him wonder- mere appearance of caring for his own'blood ingly, with its bright eyes and its old-young face, should be maintained, in his new relations'; he gleaming as in the flickering of an evening fire. best knew. Indifferentlywell, perhaps, at best; Again came Florence close upon it, and absorbed for marriage company and marriage altars, and his.whole attention..Whether as. foredoomed ambitious scenes-still blotted here and there difficulty and disappointment to hi.i, whether with Florence-always Florence-turned up so as a rival who had crossed him inihis way, and fast, and so confusedly, that'he rose,,and went might again; whether as his child, of whom, in up-stairs, to escape them. THE JO YFUL DA YAPPROA CHES. 221 It Was quite late at night before candles were better yet, though she expected to recover perbrought; for at present they made Mrs. Skew- manently to-morrow-were that. lady, Edith, ton's head ache, she complained; and in the and Mr. Dombey. Edith was at her open winmeantime Florence and Mrs. Skewton talked dow, looking out into the street; Mr. Dombey together (Cleopatra being very anxious to keep and Cleopatra were talking softly on the sofa. her close:'t herself), or Florence touched the It was growing late; and Florence, being piano softly-for Mrs. Skewton's delight; to fatigued, had gone to bed. niake no. mention of a few occasions, in the "My dear Dombey," said Cleopatra, "you course of the evening, when that affectionate will leave me Florence to-morrow, when you lady was impelled to solicit another kiss, and deprive me of my sweetest Edith?" which always happened after Edith had said Mr. Dombey said he would with pleasure. anything. They were not many, however, for "To have her about me here while you are Edith sat apart by an. open window during. the both-at Paris, and to think that, at her age, I am whole time (in spite of her mother's fears.that assisting in the formation of her mind, my dear she would take cold), and remained there until Dombey," said Cleopatra, "will be a perfect Mr. Dombey took leave. He was. serenely balm to me in the extremely shatteredtate to gracious ito' Florence when he did so; and which I shall be reduced." Florence went to bed in a room within Edith's, Edith turned her head suddenly. Her listless so. happy and -hopeful, that she thought of her manner was exchanged, in a moment, to one of late self as if it were somne other poor deserted burning interest, and, unseen in the darkness, girl':vwhp, was.to,be pitied for her sorrow; and,' she attended closely to their conversation. in her pity, sobbed herselfto sleep. Mr. Dombey would be delighted to leave The week' fled fast. There were drives to Florence'in such admirable guardianship. millifinersi dressmakers, jewellers, lawyers, florists, "My dear -Dombey," returned Cleopatra, "a pasirycooks;:and-Florence was always of the thousand thanks for your good opiniop. I party.. Floriencewas to go to.the wedding. Flo- feared you were going, with malice aforethought rencwas~ to cast; off her mourning, and to wear as the dreadful lawyers say-those horrid, proses a biAilia.st dress on the occasion. The milliner's -to condemn me to utter solitude." intt:ions'on-:the subject of this dress-the "Why do me so great an injustice,my dear millih'er:.';as."a.Frenchwoman, and greatly re- madam." said Mr. Dombey. se!misM:s.'Skewton-wvere so chaste and."Because my charming Florence tells me so elegnt~ i;that:Mrs. Skewton bespoke one like it positively she must go home to-morrow," retforl'lf'The-noilliner;saidit would become turned Cleopatra, "that I-.began to be afraid, hertIaidratioin, and:that all the world would y dearest Dombey, you were quite a Bashaw." taltihrfor:the young lady's: sister. "I assure you, madam! "said Mr. Dombey,:TheiVeek fled faster. Edith looked at nothing "I have laid no commands on Florence, and if anrdi ared for:nothing.;Her rich dresses came I had, there are no commands likeyour wish. ho.mnejtrdwere tried on, and i',c loudly com-." My dear Dombey," replied Cleopatra,'"what: menldedby Mrs. Skewton and-che milliners, and: acourtieryou are! Though I'll not say so, either; wer'put!:-away without a word from her. Mrs. for courtiers have no heart, and yours pervades' Skewia' made their -plans:for every day, and your charming life and character. And are you, executedi them.''Sometimes Edith sat in the really going so early, my dear Dombey?" carriage when they went, to make purchases;' Oh, indeed! it was late, and Mr. Dombey sometimes, when it was absolutely necessary, feared he must. she went into the shops. But Mrs. Skewton "Is this a fact, or is it all a dream?" lisped Cleoconducted the whole' business, whatever it hap- patra. "Can I believe, my dearest Dombey, that pened to be; and Edith looked. on as.uninter- you are coming back to-morrow morning to deested and with as much apparent indifference as prive meof mysweetcompanion; my own Edith?" if.she. had no concern in it. Florence might Mr. Dombey, who was accustomed to take perhaps have thought she was haughty and list- things literally; reminded Mrs. Skewton that less, but' that she was never so to her. So they were to meet first at the church. Florence quenched her wonder in her gratitude " The: pang," said Mrs. Skewton, " of conwhenever it broke out, and soon subdued it. signing a child, even to you, my dear D.ombey, The week fled faster. It had nearly winged is one of the most excruciating imaginable'; and its flight away.. The last night of the week, the combined with a. naturally delicate'constitution, night before the marriage, was come. In the and the extreme stupidity of the pastrycook who dark room-for Mrs. Skewton's head' was no has undertaken the breakfast, is almost too much 222 DOMBEY AND SON. for my poor strength. But I shall rally, my dear are what we are. I will have no youth and truth Dombey, in the morning; do not fear for me, dragged down to my level. I will have no guileor be uneasy on my account. Heaven bless you! less nature undermined, corrupted, and perverted, My'dearest Edith " she cried archly. "Some- to amuse the leisure of a world of mothers. You body is going, pet." know my meaning. Florence must go home." Edith, who had turned her head again towards "You are an idiot, Edith," cried her angry the window, and whose interest in their conver- mother. "Do you expect there can ever be sation had ceased, rose up in her place, but peace for you in that house till she is married, made no advance towards him, and said nothing. and away? " Mr. Dombey, with a lofty gallantry adapted to "Ask me, or ask yourself, if I ever expect his dignity and the occasion, betook his creaking peace in that house," said her daughter, "and boots towards her, put her hand to his lips, and you know the answer." said, "To-morrow morning I shall have the "And am I to be told to-night, after all my happiness of claiming this hand as Mrs. Dom- pains and labour, and when you are going, bey's," and bowed himself'solemnly out. through me, to be rendered independent," her Mrs. Skewton rang for candles as soon as the mother almost shrieked in her passion, while house-door had closed upon him. With the her palsied head shook like a leaf, " that there candles appeared her maid, with the juvenile is corruption and contagion in me, and that I dress that was to'delude the world to-morrow.. i.m not fit company for a girl? What are you, The dress had savage retribution in it, as such lray? What are you?". dresses ever have, and made her infinitely older " I have put the question to myself," said and more hideous than her greasy flannel gown. Edith, ashy pale,; and pointing to the window, But Mrs. Skewton tried it on with mincing satis- "more than once when I have been- itting faction; smirked at her cadaverous self-in the there, and something in the faded likeness of glass, as' she thought of'its killing effect upon my sex has wandered past outside; and God the major; and suffering her maid to take it off knows I have met with my reply. Oh, mother, again, and to prepare her for repose, tumbled mother, if you had but left me to my natural into ruins like a house of painted cards. heart when I too was a girl-a younger girl, than All this time Edith remained at the dark Florence-how different I might have been!" window, looking out into the street. When she Sensible that any show of anger was useless and' her mother were at last left alone, she here, her mother restrained herself, and fell a moved from it for the first time that evening, and whimpering, and bewailed: that she had lived came opposite to her. The yawning, shaking, too long, and that her only child had cast her peevish figure of the mother, with her eyes off, and that duty towards parents was forgotten raised to confront the proud, erect form of the in these evil days, and that she had heard undaughter, whose glance of fire was bent down- natural taunts, and cared for life no longer. ward upon her, had a conscious air upon it, that "If one is to go on living through continual no levity or temper could conceal. scenes like. this," she whined, "I am sure: it " I am tired to death," said she. " You can't would be much better for me to think of some be trusted for a moment. You are worse than a means of putting an end to my existence. Oh!0child. Child.! No child would be half so ob- The idea of your being my daughter, Edith, and stinate and undutiful." addressing me in such a strain!" " Listen to me, mother," returned Edith, pass- "Between us, mother," returned Edith mourn, ing these words by with a scorn that would not -fully, "the time for mutual reproaches is past." descend to trifle with them. "You must remain "Then why do you revive it?" whimpered alone here until I return." her mother. "You know that you are lacerating "Must remain alone here, Edith, until you me in the cruellest manner. You.know;how return?" repeated her mother. sensitive I am to unkindness. At such a mo" Or in that name upon which I shall call to- ment, too, when I have so.much to thinkof, morrow to witness what I do, so falsely and so and am naturally anxious to appear to the best shamefully, I swear I will refuse the hand of advantage! I wonder at you, Edith; To make this man in the church. If I do not, may I fall your mother a fright upon your wedding-day " dead upon the pavement!" Edith bent the same fixed look upon'her'as The mother answered with a look of quick she sobbed and rubbed her eyes; and said in alarm, in no degree diminished by the look she the same low, steady voice, which had neither met. risen nor fallen since she first addressed her, "'I "It is enough!" said Edith steadily, "that we have said that Florence must go home." THE BRIDAL EVE. 223 ":Let her go!" cried the afflicted and affrighted bed, and put it softly to her neck. Its touch parent. hastily.'" I am sure I am willing she was like the prophet's rod of old upon the rock. should go. What is the girl to me? Her tears sprung forth beneath it, as she sunk. "She is so much to me, that rather tnan com- upon her knees, and laid her aching head and municate, or suffer to be communicated, to her streaming hair upon the pillow by its side. one grain of the evil that is in my breast, mother, Thus Edith Granger passed the night before I Would renounce you, as I would (ifyou gave me her bridal. Thus the sun found her on hex cause) renounce him in the church to-morrow," bridal morning. replied Edith. "Leave her alone. She shall not, while I can interpose, be tampered with and tainted by the lessons I have learned. This is no hard condition on this bitter night." CHAPTER XX " If y6u had proposed it in a filial manner, Edith," whined her mother, "perhaps not; THE WEDDING. very likely not. But such extremely cutting words -" AWN, with its passionless blank face, "They are past and at an end between us steals shivering to the church benow," said Edith. "Take your own. way, neath which lies the dust of little mother; share as you please in what you have' Paul and his mother, and looks in gained; spend, enjoy, make much of it; and be at the windows. It is cold and as happy as'you will. The object of our lives is dark. Night crouches yet upon the won. Henceforth let us wear it silently. My, pavement, and broods, sombre and lips are closed upon the past from this hour. I heayy, in nooks and corners of the forgive you your part in to-morrow's wickedness. building. The steeple clock, perched up. above May God forgive my own!" the houses, emerging from beneath another of Without'a tremor in her voice or frame; and the countless ripples in the tide of time that passing onward with a foot that set itself upon regularly roll and break on the eternal shore, is the neck of every soft emotion, she bade her greyly visible like a stone beacon, recording mother good night, and repaired to her own how the sea flows on; but within doors; dawn room.''' at first, can only peep at night, and see that it is Buit not to rest: for there was no rest in the there. tumiilt of her agitation when alone. To and Hovering feebly round the church, and lookfro, and to and fro, and to and fro again, five. ing in, dawn moans and weeps;for" its:short hunihded times, among the splendid preparations reign, and its tears trickle on the'window' glass, for her adornment on the morrow; with her and the trees against the church wall'bow'.their dark hair shaken down, her dark eyes flashing -heads, and wring their many hands in' sympathy. with'a raging light, her broad white bosom red Night, growing pale before it. gradually fades out with the cruel grasp of the relentless hand with of the church, but lingers in the vaults below, which she spurned it from her, pacing up and and sits upon the coffins. And' now comes down with an averted head, as if she would bright day, burnishing the steeple clock, and avoid the sight of her own fair person, and reddening the spire, and drying up the tears of divorce herself from its companionship. Thus, dawn, and stifling its complaining; and the in the dead time of the night before her bridal, scared dawn, following the night, and chasing it Edith Granger wrestled with her unquiet spirit, from its last refuge, shrinks into the vaults itself, tearless; friendless, silent, proud, and uncom-'and hides, with a frightened face, among the plaining. dead, until night returns, refreshed, to drive it out. At -length it happened that she' touched the And now, the mice, who have been'busier olen.l ldoor which led into the room where Flo- with the Prayer-books than their proper owners, rence lay. and with the hassocks, more worn by their little She started, stopped, and looked in. teeth than by human knees, hide their bright A light was burning there, and showed her eyes in their holes, and gather close:ogether in Florence in her bloom of innocence and beauty, affright at the resounding clashing of the churchfstt asleep. Edith held her' breath, and felt door. For the beadle, that man of power, comes herself drawn on towards her. early this morning with the- sextoin; and'Mrs. -Drawn nearer,' nearer, nearer yet; at last, Miff, the wheezy little pew-ol)cner- amig nhty drawn'so near, that stooping down, she pressed dry old lady, sparely dressed, with'not atin inch her lips to the gentle hand that lay-outside the. of flness anywhere about her-is also here.and 224.DOMBE YAND SON has been waiting at the church-gate half an hour, pany the happy pair to Paris, and who is busy as her place is, for the beadle. packing the new chariot. In respect of this A vinegary face has Mrs. Mif4 and.a mortified personage, Mr. Towlinson admits, presently, bonnet, and eke a thirsty soul for sixpences and that he never knew of any good that ever come shillings. Beckoning to stray people to come of foreigners; and being charged by the ladies into pews has given Mrs. Miff an air of mystery; with prejudice, says, Look at Bonaparte, who and there is reservation in the eye.of Mrs. Miff, was at the head of'em, and see what he was as always knowing of a softer seat, but having always up to! Which the housemaid says is her suspicions of the fee. There is no such -fact very true. as Mr. Miff, nor has there been these twenty:' The pastrycook is hard at work in the funereal years, and Mrs. Miff would rather not allude to room -in Brook, Street, and the very tall young him. He held some bad opinions, it would men are busy looking on..One of the very tall seem, about free-seats; and though Mrs. Miff young men alreadysmells of slherry, and his eyes hopes he may be gone upward, she couldn't have a tendency to become fixed in his head, positively undertake to say so. and to stare at objects without seeing them. Busy is Mrs. Miff this'morning at the church- The very tall young man is conscious of this door, beating and dusting the altar cloth, the failing in himself; and informs his comrade that carpet, and the cushions; and much. has, Mrs. it's his "exciseman.' The very tall young inma! Miff to say about the wedding they are going to w-u'ld say excitement, but.his speech is hazy. have. Mrs. Miff is told that the new furniture The men who play the. bllls have got scent and alterations in the house cost full five thou- of the marriage; and the marrow-bones, anm sand pound, if they cost a,penny; and Mrs. cleavers too;:and a brass band,too. The first Miff has heard, upon the best authority, that the are practising in a -back-settlement near Battle lady hasn't got a sixpence'wherewithal to bless Bridge; the second put tliemselves in commuherself. Mrs. Miff remembers, likewise, as if it nication, through their chjef, with Mr. Towlinhad happened yesterday, the first wife's funeral, -son, to whom they offer terms. to'be bought off; and then the christening, and then the other and. the third, in the person of, an artful tromfuneral; and Mrs. Miff says, By-the-bye, she'll- bone, lurks and dodges round the corner, waiting soap-and-water that'ere tablet presently, against for some traitor tradesman to reveal the place the company arrive. Mr. Sownds, the beadle, and hour of breakfast for a bribe. Expectation who is sitting in the sun upon the church steps anl -excitement extend further, yet, and take; all this time (and seldom does anything else, wider range, From. Balls Pond Mr. Perch except, in cold weather, sitting by - the fire), brings Mrs. Perch to:'spend;the day with Mr. approves of Mrs. Miff's discourse, and asks if Dombey's servants, and,accompany them, surMrs. Miff has heard it said that the lady is un-. reptitiously, to see tile w edling.i In Mr. Toots's common handsome? The-'information Mrs. lodgings, Mr. Toots attires limself as if he were Mliff has received being.of'-this nature, Mr.:at least the bridegroom'determined to behold Sownds the beadle, who, though orthodox and tile sp)ectacle, in'sllendour fr omra secret corner corpulent, is still'an admirer of female beauty, of the gallery, and thither to convey the Chicken. observes, with unction, Yes, he hears she is a For it is Mr. Toots's desperate intent to point spanker-an expression that seems somewhat out Florcnce.,to'the Chiickei, then and thcre, forcible to Mrs. Miff, or would from any lips but andl,openly to' say, " Now, Chicken, I will not those of Mr. Sownds the beadle. deceive you any lcmger;b thefriend I have someIn Mr. Dombey's house, at this same time, times mentioned to youis myself; Miss Duinthere is great stir and bustle, more especially bey is the object of my passion; what are your among the women: not one of whom has had opinions, Chicken, in this state of things, andwhat, a wink of sleep since four o'clock, and all of oni thelspot, do you advise?"'The so-m!luch-towhom were full dressed before six. Mr. Tow- be-astonished. Chicken, in the meanwhilel, dlips linson is an object of greater consideration than his beak into a tankard of strong beer in Mr. usual to the housemaid, ant the cook says at Toots's kitchen; and pecks up two pounds or breakfast-time that one wedding makes many, beef-steaks. In Princess's Place,.Miss Tox.S which the housemaid can't believe, and don't -up and doing.; for she too, though in, sore dlsthink true at all. Mr. Towlinson reserves his tress, is resolved to put a shilling in tlhe Ih ids sentiments on this question; being rendered of Mrs. Miff, and see the ceremony, whic'i has a something gloomy by the engagement of a cruel fascination for her, from sonic loliely, orforeigner with whiskers (Mr. Towlinson is wliis- ncr. The quarters of the Woodcln iMidship lian kerless himself), who has been hired to accom- are all alive,; for Captain Cuttle, in his.ankle CAPTAIN CUTTLE REHEARSES FOR TEWE ~MARRIA GE. 2S jacks and with a huge shirt collar, is seated at witness: for which purpose the- captain gravely his breakfast; listening to Rob the Grinder as he lays injunctions on' his chaplain, from tirne to reads the marriage service to him beforehand, time, to "put about," or to "overhaul that'ere under orders, to the end that the captain may article again," or to.stick to his own. duty, andperfectly understand the solemnity he is about to leave the Amens to him, the captain one of SHE STARTED, STOPPED, AND LOOKED IN." which he repeats, whenever a pause is made by Truly, Mr. Sownds the beadle has good reason Rob the Grinder, with sonorous satisfaction. to feel himself in office, as he suns his portly V3esides all this, and much more, twenty nur- figure on the church ste aitingor the marsery-maids m Mr Dombey's street alone have riage hour. Truly Mrs. Miff has cause to pounce promised twenty families of little women, whose on an unlucky dwarf child, with a giant baby, instinctive, interests in nuptials dates from their who peeps in at the porch, and driye her forth lradtes, that they shall go and see the marriage. with indignation.'DOMBEY AND SON, is. AI'Dom3EV'ANo SON, 1.~.'~' o& 226 DOMBEY AND'SON. Cousin Feenix has come over from abroad -and would-give her ears, and her ear-rings expressly to attend the marriage. Cousin Feenix too, to bein'Edith Granger's place"' was a man about town forty years ago; but he "You are good enough to say so, major," is still so juvenile in figure and in manner, and says Mr. Dornmey. so well got up, that strangers are amazed when "Dombey," returns the major, "you.know it. they discover latent wrinkles in his lordship's Let ushave ro false delicacy. You know it. face, and crows' feet in his eyes; and when they Do you know it, or do you not, Dombey?" says first observe him, not exactly certain, as he walks. the major, almost in a passion. across a room, of going quite straight to where. "Oh, really, major-"'he wants to go. But Cousin Feenix,' getting up'' "Damme, sir,". retorts. the major, "do you at half-past seven o'clock or so, is quite another know that fact, or do you not? Dombey.! Is thing from Cousin Feenix got up: and very dim old' Joe your friend?'Are we on that footing of indeed h6'looks while being shaved at Long's:unreserved intimacy, Dombey, that may' justify Hotel, in Bond Street...a man-a blunt -old Joseph. B.',sir-in speakMr. Dombey leaves his dressing-room; amidst. ing out; or am I to.take'open order, Dombey, a general.whisking away of the women.on the' and to keep my distance, and to stand'.on staircase, who disperse in all' directions; with aa forms?" great rustling of skirts, except.Mrs. Perch, who "My dear Major Bagstock':"says Mr. Dombey'being'(but that she always is) in"an interesting with a gratified air, "you are quite warm." situation, is not nimble, and. is obliged to face."By Gad, sir," says the' major," I am-warm. him,- and is ready to sink:.with confusion as Joseph B. does not deny.it, Dombey.'He is she curtsies;-may Heaven avert all evil conse- warm. This is an occasion, sir, that calls forth quences from the house of Perch! Mr. Dombey all the honest sympathies remaining in an..ld, walks up.to the drawing-room to bide his time. infernal, battered, used-up, invalided J. B.' carGorgeous are Mr. Dombey's new blue coat, case. And I tell you what, Dombey-at such fawn-coloured'pantaloons, and. lilac'waistcoat; a time a man must blurt.'out what he feels, or and a whisper goes about the- house. that Mr. put a muzzle on; and Joseph Bagstock tells you Dombey's hair is curled..to your face, Dombey, as he tells his club behind A double knock announces the arrival of the your back, that he never will be muzzled when major, who is gorgeous too, and wears a whole Paul'Dombey is in question. Now, damme, geranium in his button-hole,. and has his hair sir," concludes' the major with great firmness, curled tight and crisp, as well the native knows.- "what do you make of that?" "Dombey " says the major, putting out both'" Major," says Mr. Dombey,' "I assure you that hands, "how are you?". I am really'obliged to you. I lihad no idea of "Major," says Mr. Dombey, " how are Y checkingour too partial fiendship." "By Jove, sir," says the major, "Joey B. is " Not too partial, sir! exclaims the choleric in such case this morning,- sir," —and here he major. "Dombey, I deny it I" hits himself hard upon the breast,-" in such "Your friendship I will, say, ten)" pursues case this morning, sir, that,damme, Dombey, Mr. Dombey, "on any account. Nor can I forhe has half a mind to make a double marriage get, major, on such an -occasion'as the present,' of it, sir, and take the mother."' how much I am indebted to it."' Mr. Dombey smiles; but faintly, even for " Dombey," says the majo,:witn appropriate him; for Mr. Dombey feels that he. is going to action, " that is -the hand of.Joseph'Ba'gstock; be related to the mother, and that, under those of plain old Joey B., sir, if you like that better! circumstances, she is not to be joked about. That is the hand of'vhich- his.Rdyal.Highness "Dombey,"'says the major, seeing this, "I the late Duke of York did me the honour to give you joy. I congratulate: you,. Dombey, observe, sir, to his Royal.Highness the.late By the Lord, sir,". says the'major, "you are Duke of. Kent, that it was the hand of Josh;'a more to be envied, this, da), than any man in rough and' tough, and possibly an, up-to-snuff, England!" old vagabond. Dombey, may the. present:moHere, again, Mr. Dombey's assent is qualified; ment.be the least unhappy of our lives I1:'God because he is going to confer a great "distinction'- bless you i!... n.a'.lady; and no doubt, she is to be envied.'- Now enters Mr. Carker, gorgeous likewise,:most. and smiling like a wedding-guest.: indeed..':iHe.As to Edith Granger, sir," pursues the major, can scarcely let Mr. Dombey's hand go,' he is so "there is not a woman in all Europe but might congratulatory.; and he'shakes the major's.hand -and would,.sir, you willallow Bagstock to.add so heartily at the same time,'that his- voice ?VERYBODY IS READY. 2? shakes too, in accord with his arms, as it comes Th re is no sign upon her face of last night's sliding from between his teeth. suffering; there is no trace in her manner of the "The very day is auspicious," says Mr. woman on the bended knees, reposing her wild Carker. "The brightest -and -most genial head upon the pillow of tle sleeping girl.- That weather! I hope I am not a moment late? " girl, all gentle and lovely, is at her side-a strik" Punctual to your time, sir," says the major. ing contrast to her own disdainful and defiant " I am. rejoiced, I am sure," says Mr. figure, standing there, composed, erect, inscruCarker. "I was afraid' I might be a' few table of will, resplendent and majestic in the seconds, after the appointed time, for I was',zenith of its charms, yet beating down, and delayed by a procession of waggons; and I treading on, the admiration that it challenges. took: the liberty of riding round.to Brook There is a'pause while Mr. Sownds the beadle Street"-this to Mr.\Dombey-"to leave a glides into the vestry for the clergyman and few.poor rarities of flowers for Mrs. Dombey. clerk. At this juncture, Mrs. Skewton speaks to A man in my position, and so distinguished Mr. Dombey;. more distinctly and emphatically as to be invited here, is proud to offer some than her custom is, and moving, at the same homage in acknowledgment' of his vassalage: time, close to Edith. and, as I. have no doubt Mrs. Dombey is over- "My dear Dombey," says the good mamma, whelmed with what is costly and magnificent," "I fear I must relinquish darling Florence after ~-with a strange glance at his patron,-"I all, and suffer her to go home, as she herself hope the very poverty of my offering may.find proposed. After my loss of to-day, rmy dear favour for it." Dombey, I feel I shall not have spirits, even for'.Mrs. Dombey that is to be," returns Mr. her society." pWy condesc ndingly, " will be very sensible "Had she not better stay with you?" returns of yjr attention, Carker, I am sure." the bridegroom...i' d if she is to be Mrs. Dombey this morn- "I think not, my dear Dombey. No, I think ingt," says the major, putting down his coffee- not. I shall be better alone. Besides, my dearest cupi.d..looking at his watch,." it's high tine Edith will be her natural and constant guardian we'~er; off!'' -' when you return, and I had better not encroach iFt:. in. a' barouche, ride Mr. Dombey, upon her trust; perhaps. She might be jealous.'aJlo:~gstock, and Mr. Carker to the church. Eh, dear Edith?" Mr.' Sinds the beadle has long risen from the The affectionate mamma presses her daughsteps and is in waiting with his cocked-hat in ter's arm as she says this: perhaps entreating his.ip. Mrs. Miff curtsies' and proposes her attention earnestly. -chair i n -the vestry. Mr. Dombey prefers re- "To b serious,.my dear Dombey," she remaimmg'i!in the church. As he looks up at the sumes, "I will relinquish our dear child, and orgn$iMiss Tox in the gallery shrinks behind not inflict my gloom upon her.. We have the'fat-leg of a:cherubim on a monument, with settled that just now. She fully understands, cheeksl like a young Wind. Captain Cuttle, on dear Dombey. jEdith, my dear, she fully: underthe contrry, stands.up, and waves his hook, in stands:" token;o0f.: welcome and encouragement. Mr. Again the good mother presses her daughter's Toots informs the Chicken, behind his hand, that arm. Mr. Dombey offers no additional remon-.the" middle gentleman, he in the fawn-coloured strance; for the clergyman and clerk appear; pantaloons, is the father of. his love. The and Mrs. Miff, and Mr. Sownds the beadle,'Chicken'hoarsely whispers Mr. Toots that he's group the party in their'proper'places at the as -tiff a' cove. as ever he see, but that it is altar rails..wiin the resources of Science' to double him up "Who giveth this woman to be married to.with one: blow in the.waistcoat. this man?".:'M.'i Swnds and.Mrs. Miff are eyeing \Mr. Cousin Feenix does that. He has come from Domibeyfrom a little distance, when the noise Baden-Baden on purpose. "Confound it," of approaching wheelss isheard, and Mr. Sownds\ Cousin. Feenix says-good-natured creature, goes out, Mrs.'Miff meeting Mr. Dombey's Cousin Feenix-"when we do get a rich City eye as.'it.is withdrawn'-from the'presumptuous fellow into the family, let us show him some maniac up-stairs, who:.salutes him with so much attention; let us do something for him." urbahity,;'drops a. curtsy, and informs him that ". give this woman to'be married to this'she believes his "good"lady" is come. Then man,"saith Cousin Feenix,'therefore. Cousin'there is a crowding anda whispering at the door, Feenix, meaning to go in a straight line, but and the good lady enters -with a. haughty step. turning off sideways by reason of his wilful legs, 228 DOMBEY AND SON. ___<*,-,._... —.. _ gives the wrong woman to be married to this So, from that day forward, for'better for worse, man at first-to wit,. a bridesmaid of some con- for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, dition, distantly connected with the family, and to love and to cherish, till death do them part ten years Mrs. Skewton's junior-but Mrs. Miff, they plight their troth to one another, and are interposing her mortified bonnet, dexterously married. turns him back, and runs him, as on casters, full In a firm, free hand the bride subscribes'her at the " good lady;" whom Cousin Feenix giveth name in the register when they adjourn to the to be married to this man accordingly. vestry. "There an't a many ladies comes here," And will they in the sight of Heaven-? Mrs. Miff says with a curtsy-to look at Mrs. Ay, that they will: Mr. Dombey says he will. Miff, at such a season, is to make her mortified And what says Edith? She will. bonnet go' down with a dip-" writes their...; 1 ) IN A FIRM, FREE HAND THE BRIDE SUBSCRIBES HER NAME IN THE REGISTER." names like this good lady!" Mr. Sownds the tactics in reference tQ all the ladies: notwithbeadle thinks it is a truly spanking signature, standing Mrs. Skewton's being extremely hard and worthy of the writer-this, however, between to kiss, and squeaking shrilly in the sacred edifice. himself and conscience. The example is followed by Cousin Feenix, and Florence signs too, but unapplauded, for her even by Mr. Dombey. Lastly, Mr. Carker, with hand shakes. All the party sign;'Cousin Feenix his white teeth glistening; approaches Edith more last: who puts his noble name int6 a wrong as if he meant to bite her tlhn to taste the sweets place, and enrolls himself as having been born.that linger on her lips. that morning. There is a glow upon her proud'cheek, arid The major now salutes the bride right gal- a flashing in her eyes, that may be meant to lantly, and carries. out that'branch of military stay him; but it does not, for he salutes her MARRIED. 229 as the rest have done, and wishes her all happi- they may be happy. She quite admits to herness.. self the beauty of the bride, and her own com"':If:wishes," says he in a low voice, "are not paratively feeble and faded attractions; but the superfluous, applied to such a union." stately image of Mr. Dombey, in his lilac waist"I thank you, sir," she answers, with a curled coat and his fawn-coloured pantaloons, is present lip a an heaving bosom. to her mind, and Miss Tox weeps afresh, behind -But, does Edith feel still, as on the night her veil, on her way home to Princess's Place. when she knew that Mr. Dombey would return Captain Cuttle, having joined in all the amens to offer his alliance, that Carker knows her tho- and responses with a devout growl, feels much roughly, and reads her right, and that she is improved by his religious exercises; and, in a more degraded by his knowledge of her than peaceful frame of mind, pervades the body of the by aught else? Is it for this reason that her church, glazed hat in hand, and reads the tablet haughtiness shrinks beneath his smile, like snow to the memory of little Paul. The gallant Mr. within the hand that grasps it firmly, and that Toots, attended by the faithful Chicken, leaves her imperious glance droops in meeting his, and the building in torments of love. The Chicken seeks the ground? is as yet unable to elaborate a scheme for win"I am proud'to see," says Mr. Carker, with a ning Florence, but his first idea has gained posservile stooping of his neck, which the revela- session of him, and he thinks the doubling up tions making by his eyes and teeth proclaim to of Mr. Dombey would be a move in the right be a lie, "I am proud to see that my humble direction. Mr. Dombey's servants come out of offering is graced by Mrs. Dombey's hand, and their hiding-places, and prepare to rush to Brook permitted to hold so favoured a place in so Street, when they are delayed by symptoms of joyful an occasion.". indisposition on the part of Mrs. Perch, who;? Though she bends her head in answer, there entreats a glass of water and becomes alarming; is.something in the momentary action of her Mrs. Perch gets better soon, howeyerr and, is Ihand, as if she would crush the flowers it holds, borne: away; and Mrs. Miff, and, Mr. Sownds aind ifling them, with contempt, upon the ground. the beadle, sit upon the steps to count what they utjl, she puts the hand through the. armof her have gained by the affair, and talk it over, while new husband, who has been standing near, con- the sexton tolls a funeral. versing with the major, and is proud again, and Now, the carriages arrive at the bride's resimotionless, and silent. -dence, and the players on the bells' begin to:The carriages are once more at'the church- jingle, and the band strikes up, and Mr. Punch, door.; Mr. Dombey, with his bride upon his that model of connubial bliss, salutes his wife. ari,,conducts her through the twenty families Now, the people run and push, and press round oft little women who are on the steps, and every in a gaping throng, while Mr. Dombey, leading:oe:of whom remembers the fashion, and the Mrs. Dombey by the hand, advances solemnly eolour of her every article of dress from that into the Feenix halls. Now, the rest of the momrenit, and reproduces it on her doll, who is wedding-party alight, and enter afterthem. And for! ever being married. Cleopatra and Cousin why does Mr. Carker, passing through the people Feenix enter the same carriage. The major to the hall-door, thimk of the old woman who hands: into a second carriage Florence, and the called to him in the grove that morning? Or bridesmaid who so narrowly escaped being given why does Florence, as she passes, think, with a away by mistake, and then enters it himself, and tremble, of her childhood, when she was lost, is followed by Mr. Carker. Horses prance and and of the visage of good Mrs. Brown? caper; coachmen and footmen shine in fluttering Now, there are more congratulations on this favours, flowers, and new-made liveries. Away happiest of days, and more company, though they dash and rattle through the streets; and, not much; and now they leave the drawingas they pass along, a thousand heads are turned room, and range themselves at table in the'dark to look at them, and a thousand sober moralists brown dining-room, which no confectioner can revenge themselves for not being married too, brighten up, let him garnish the exhausted thatmorning, by reflecting that these people negroes with as many flowers and love-knots as little think such happiness can t last. he will...Miss Tox emerges from behind the cherubim's The pastrycook has done his duty like a man, leg when all is quiet, and comes slowly down though, and a rich breakfast is set forth. Mr. from the gallery. Miss Tox's eyes are red, and Mrs. Chick have joined the party, among and her pocket-handkerchief is damp. She is others. Mrs. Chick admires that Edith should wounded, but not exasperated, and she hopes be, by nature, such a perfect Dombey; and is 230 DOABE YAND SON. affable and confidential to Mrs. Skewton, whose family has had the gratification, t-day, of.conmind is relieved'of a great load, and who takes necting itself, in the person of my lovely and her share of the champagne. The very tall accomplished relative, whom I now see-in young man, who suffered from excitement early, point of fact, present —" is better: but a vague. sentiment of repentance Here there is general applause. has seized upon him, and he hates the other very "Present," repeats Cousin Feenix, feeling tall young man, and wrests dishes from him by that it is a neat point which will bear repetition, violence, and takes a grim delight in disobliging -" with one who-that is to say, with a:man at the company. The company are cool and calm, whom the finger of scorn can never-in fact, with and do not outrage the black hatchments of pic- my honourable friend Dombey, if he will allow tures looking down upon them by any excess of me to call him so." mirth. Cousin Feenix and the major are the Cousin Feenix bows to Mr. Dombey; Mr. gayest there; but Mr. Carker has a smile for the Dombey solemnly returns the bow; everybody whole table. He has an especial smile for the is more or less gratified and affected by this exbride,, who very, very seldom meets it. traordinary, and perhaps unprecedented, appeal Cousin Feenix rises when the company have to the feelings. breakfasted, and the servants have left the room; "I have not," says Cousin Feenix, " enjoyed and wonderfully young he looks, with his white those opportunities which I could have desired, wristbands almost covering his hands (otherwise of cultivating the acquaintance of my friend rather bony), and the bloom of the champagne Dombey, and studying those qualities which do in his cheeks. equal honour to his head,- and, in point of fact, "Upon my honour," says Cousin Feenix, to his heart; for it has been my misfortune to "although it's an unusual sort,of thing in a be, as we used to say in my time in the House private gentleman's house, I must beg leave to of Commons, when it was not the custom to call upon you to drink what is usually called a- allude to the Lords, and when the order of parin fact, a toast." liamentary proceedings was perhaps. better obThe major very hoarsely indicates his ap- served than it is now-to be in-in point of fact," proval. Mr. Carker, bending his head forward says Cousin Feenix, cherishing his joke with great over the table in the direction of Cousin Feenix, slyness; and finally bringing it out with.a jerk, smiles and nods a great many times. "' in another place!'" "A-in fact, it's not a -" Cousin. Feenix The major falls into convulsions, and is rebeginning again, thus, comes to a dead stop. covered with difficulty. " Hear, hear! " says the major in a tone of " But I know sufficient of my friend Dombey," conviction. resumes Cousin Feenix in a graver tonc, as if he Mr. Carker softly claps his hands, and bend- had suddenly become a sadder and awiser man, ing forward over the table again, smiles and nods "to know that he is, in point of fact, what may a great many more times,than before, as if he be emphatically called a-a merchant-a British were particularly struck by this last observation, merchant-and a-and a man. And although and desired personally to express his sense of I have been resident abroad for some years (it the good it has done him. would give me great pleasure to receive my "It is," says Cousin Feenix, "an occasion, in friend Dombey, and everybody here, at Badenfact, when the general usages of life may be a Baden, and to have an opportunity of making little departed from without impropriety; and'em known to the Grand Duke), still I know although I never was an orator in my life, and enough, I flatter myself, of my lovely and acwhen I was in the House of Commons, and complished relative, to know that she possesses had the honour of seconding the address, was every requisite to make a man happy, and that -in fact, laid up for a fortnight with the con- her marriage with my friend Dombey is one of sciousness of failure " inclination and affection on both sides." The major and Mr. Carker are so much de- Many smiles and nods from Mr. Carker. lighted by this fragment of personal history, that "Therefore," says Cousin Feenix, "I conCousin Feenix laughs, and, addressing them gratulate the family of which I am a member on individually, goes on to say: the acquisition of my friend Dombey. I con"And, in point of fact, when I was devilish gratulate my friend Dombey on his union with ill-still, you know, I feel that a duty devolves my lovely and accomplished relative, who; posupon-me. And when a duty devolves upon an sesses every requisite to make a man happy; Englishman, he is bound to get out of it, in my and I take the liberty of calling on you all, in opinion, in the best way he can. Well! our point of fact, to congratulate both my friend THE HAPPY PAIR DEPART. 231 Dombey and my lovely and accomplished rela. foreigners, regarding whom he says they may tive on the present occasion." find favour, sometimes, with weak and incon. The speech of Cousin Feenix is received with stant intellects that can be led away by hair, great applause, and Mr. Dombey returns thanks but all he hopes is, he may never hear of no on behalf of himself and Mrs. Dombey. J. B. foreigner never boning nothing out of no travelshortly afterwards proposes Mrs. Skewton. The ling chariot. The eye of Mr. Towlinson is so breakfast languishes when that is done, the vio- severe and so expressive here, that the houselated hatchments are avenged, and Edith rises maid is turning hysterical, when she and all the to assume her travelling dress. rest, roused by the intelligence that the Bride All the servants, in the meantime, have been is going away, hurry up-stairs to witness her debreakfasting below. Champagne has grown too parture. common among them to be mentioned, and The chariot is at the door; the Bride is deroast fowls, raised pies, and lobster salad have scending to the hall, where Mr. Dombey waits become mere drugs. The very tall young man for her. Florence is ready on the staircase to has recovered his spirits, and again alludes to depart too; and Miss Nipper, who has held a the exciseman. His comrade's eye begins to middle state between the parlour and the emulate his own, and he too stares at objects kitchen, is prepared to accompany her. As without taking cognizance thereof. There is a Edith appears, Florence hastens towards her, general redness in the faces of the ladies; in the to bid her farewell. face of Mrs. Perch particularly, who is joyous Is Edith cold, that she should tremble? Is and beaming, and lifted so far above the cares there anything unnatural or unwholesome in of life, that if she were asked just now to direct a the touch of Florence, that the beautiful form wayfarer to Balls Pond, where her own cares recedes and contracts, as if it could not bear lodge, she would have some difficulty in recall- it? Is there so much hurry in this going away, ing the way. Mr. Towlinson has proposed the that Edith, with a wave of her hand, sweeps happy pair; to which the silver-headed butler on, and is gone? has responded neatly, and with emotion; for he Mrs. Skewton, overpowered by her feelings as half begins to think he is an old retainer of the a mother, sinks on her sofa in the Cleopatra family, and that he is bound to be affected by attitude, when the clatter of the chariot wheels these changes. The whole party, and especially is lost, and sheds several tears. The mnajor, the ladies, are very frolicsome. Mr. Dombey's coming with the rest of the company from table, cook, who generally takes the lead in society, endeavours to comfort her; but she will not be has said, It is impossible to settle down after comforted on any terms, and so the major this, and why not.go, in a party, to the play? takes his leave. Cousin Feenix takes his leave, Everybody (Mrs. Perch included) has agreed to and.Mr. Carker takes his leave. The guests all this; even the native, who is tigerish in his go away. Cleopatra, left alone, feels a little drink, and who alarms the ladies (Mrs. Perch giddy from her strong emotion, and falls asleep. particularly) by the rolling of his eyes. One of Giddiness prevails below-stairs too. The the very tall young men has even proposed a very tall young man, whose excitement came on ball after the play, and it presents itself to no so soon, appears to have his head glued to the one (Mrs. Perch included) in the light of an im- table in the pantry, and cannot be detached possibility. Words have arisen between the from it. A violent revulsion has taken place in housemaid and Mr. Towlinson; she, on the the spirits of Mrs. Perch, who is low on account authority of an old saw, asserting marriages to of Mr. Perch; and tells cook that she fears he be made in heaven: he affecting to trace the is not so much attached to his home as he used manufacture elsewhere; he supposing that she to be, when they were only nine in family. Mr. says so, because she thinks of being married her Towlinson has a singing in his ears, and a large own self; she saying, Lord forbid, at any rate, wheel going round and round inside his head. that she should ever marry him. To calm The housemaid wishes it wasn't wicked to wish these flying taunts, the silver-headed butler that one was dead. rises to propose, the health of Mr. Towlinson, There is a general delusion likewise, in these whom to know is to esteem, and to esteem is to lower regions, on the subject of time; everybody wish well settled in life with the object of his conceiving that it ought to be, at the earliest, choice, wherever (here the silver-headed butler ten o'clock at night, whereas it is not yet three eyes the housemaid) she may be. Mr. Towlin- in the afternoon. A shadowy idea of wickedson returns thanks in a speech replete with ness committed haunts every individual in the feeling, of which the peroration turns on party; and each. one secretly thinks the other a 232 DOMB Y AND SON. companion in guilt, whom it would be agreeable Lord Feenix.' While Cousin Feenix, who ought to avoid. No man or woman has the hardihood to be at Long's, and in bed, finds himself, into hint at the'projected visit to the play. Any stead, at a gaming-table, where his wilful legs one reviving the notion of the ball would be have taken him, perhaps, in his own despite. scouted as a malignant idiot. Night,'like a giant, fills the church, frOm paveMrs. Skewton sleeps up-stairs two hours after- ment to roof, and holds dominion through the wards, and naps are not yet over in the kitchen. silent hours. Pale dawn again comes peeping The hatchments in the,dining-room look down through the windows; and, giving place to day, on crumbs, dirty plates, spillings of wine, half- sees night withdraw into the vaults, and.follows thawed ice, stale discoloured heel-taps, scraps of it, and drives it out, and hides among the dead. lobster, drum-sticks of fowls, and pensive jellies, The timid mice again cower close together when gradually resolving themselves into a lukewarm, the great door clashes, and Mr. Sownds and gummy soup. The marriage is, by this time, Mrs. Miff, treading the circle of their'daily lives, almost as denuded.of its show and garnish as unbroken as a marriage ring, come in..Again the breakfast. Mr. D)ombey's servants moralise the cocked-hat and the mortified bonnet stand so much about it, and are so repentant over in the background at the marriage hour; and their early. tea at home, that, by eight o'clock or again this man taketh this woman, and this so, they settle down into'confirmed seriousness; woman taketh this man, on the solemn terms': and Mr. Perch, arriving at that time from the "To have and to hold, from this day forward, City, fresh. and jocular, with a white' waistcoat for better for worse, for richer for pooet,:in and a comic song, ready to spend the evening, sickness and in health, to love and to.cherish, and prepared for any amount of dissipation, is until death do them part." amazed'to find himself coldly received,. and The very words that Mr. Carker rides into Mrs. Perch'but poorly, and to have the pleasing town repeating, with his mouth'stretched —to the duty of escorting that lady home by the next utmost, as he picks his dainty-way. omnibus. Night closes in. Florence, having rambledthrough the handsome house, from room to room, seeks her own- chamber, where the care CHAPTER XXXII. of Edith has surrounded her with luxuries and comforts; and, divesting herself of her hand- THE WOODEN MIDSHIPMAN GOES TO PIECES. some dress, puts on her old simple mourning for dear Paul, and sits down to rev d, with O.NEST Calptain Cuttle, as the we ks Diogenes winking and blinking on the ground flew over him in. his fortifie'd'retreat beside her. But Florence cannot read to-night. |' by no means abated any of his;pruThe house seems strange and new, and there ^ dent provisions against surprise, are loud echoes in it. There is a shadow on her i - because of the non-appearance' of heart: she knows not why or what: but it is the enemy. The captain.argued'that heavy.- Florence shuts her book, and gruff l his present security was too profound Diogenes, who takes that for a signal, puts his X' and wonderful to endure much longer; paws upon her lap, and rubs his ears against her lie knew that, when the wind stood in a -fair caressing hands. But Florence cannot'see him quarter, the weather-cock was'seldom nailed plainly in a little time, for. there is a mist be- there; and he was too well acquaihted' with tween her eyes and him, and her dead brother the determined and. dauntless character of Mis. and dead mother shine in it like angels.. Walter, MacStinger to doubt that that heroic woman too,.poor, wandering, shipwrecked boy, oh, had devoted herself to the task of his' disobvery where is he? and capture. * Trembling beneath tie Weight of The major don't know; that's for certain; these reasons, Captain Cuttle lived a very dlose and don't care. The major, having chokedand and retired life; seldom stirring abroad': until slumbered all the afternoon, has taken a late after dark;' venturing even then only into the dinner. at his club, and now sits over his pint of obscurest streets; never going forth at all on wine, driving a modest young man, with a fresh- Sundays; and, both within and without the coloured face, at the next table (who would give walls of his retreat, avoiding bonnets, as if they a handsome sum to be able to rise and go away, were worn by raging lions. but cannot do. it) to the verge of madness, by The captain never dreamed that, in the event anecdotes of Bagstock, sir, at Dombey's'wed- of his being pounced upon by Mrs.'MacStinger ding, and old Joe's devilish gentlemanly friend, in his walks, it would be possible to offer reslst CAPTAIN CUTTLE PREPARES IFOR THE WORST. ance. He feltthat it could not be done. He own native alphabet! Go away a bit and comy saw limself, in'his mind's eye, put. meekly in a back again alternate-d'ye understand that.?" hackney coach, and carried off to his old lodg- Yes, captain," said Rob. ings. He foresaw that, once immured there, he "Very good, my lad, then," said the captain, was. a lost.man: his hat gone; Mrs. MacStinger relenting. "Do it.!" watchful of him day. and night; reproaches That he might do it the better, Captain Cuttle heaped' upon' his head before the infant family; sometimes condescended of an evening, after the himself, the guilty object of suspicion and -dis. shop was shut, to rehearse the scene: retiring trust: an ogre: in the children's eyes. and. in into the parlour for the purpose, as into the their motheer's a detected traitor. lodgings of a supposititious MacStinger, and A violent'perspiration and a lowness of spirits' carefully observing the behaviour of his ally, always'came- over the captain as this gloomy from the hole of espial he had cut in the wall. picture presented itself to his imagination.' It Rob the Grinder discharged himself of his duty generally did so previous to his stealing out of with so much exactness and judgment, when thus A;dors, at night for air and exercise. Sensible of put to the proof, that the captain presented him, at the risk: he ran, the captain took leave of Rob, divers times, with seven sixpences, in token of at those times, with the solemnity which became Satisfaction; and gradually felt' stealing over his a: man whbo might never return: exhorting'him, spirit the. resignation-of a man who had made in'.the, event of his'(the captain's) being lost provision for the worst, and taken every reasonsight of for a time," to tread in the paths of able precaution against an unrelenting fate. virtue,:'and'keep the brazen instruments well Nevertheless, the captain did not tempt' illpolished. fortune by being a whit more venturesome than But.otptt thrpw away a chance, and to secure before. Though he considered it a point of to.;hiiNself. a means, in case of the worst, of hold- good-breeding in himself, as a general friend of ing' communication with the external'world, the family, to attend Mr. Dombey's wedding (of Captain Cuttle soon conceived the happy idea which he had heard from Mr. Perch), and to of teaching Rob the Grinder some secret signal, show that gentleman a pleasant and approving by'which'that adherent might make his presence countenance from the gallery, he had repaired to and fidelity known to his commander in the the: church in a. hackney cabriolet, with both hour of adversity. After much cogitation, the windows up; and might have scrupled even to captain'decided in favour of instructing him to make that venture,/in his dread of Mrs. Macwhistle the marine' melody, " Oh" cheerily, Stinger, but that the lady's attendance on the cheeiily:'!,'' and Rob the Grinder attaining a ministryof the Reverend Melchisedech rendered point as, near perfection in that accomplishment it peculiarly unlikely that'she would be found in as.aAlandsman could hbpe to reach, the captain communion with the Establishment. iipressedthese.mysterious instructions on his. The captain got safe home again, and fell mind-: into the'ordinary routine of his new life, without "'Oow, my lad, stand by! If ever I'm encountering any more direct alarm from the took — enemy than was suggested to him by the daily "To0ok, captain! " interposed Rob, with his bonnets in the street. But, other subjects began' rour.d' &eyes wide open. to lie heavier on the captain's mind. Walter's " A'!!' said Captain Cuttle darkly," if ever ship was still unheard of. No news came of old I goes awy, meaing to come back to. supper,' Sol Gills. Florence did not even know of the' and';dpn't come. within hail again twenty-four old man's disappearance, and Captain Cuttle hours arter' my loss, go you to Brig Place, and had not the heart to tell her. Indeed, the capwhistle that'ere tune near my old moqrings- tain, as his Own hopes of the generous, handnot as if you was a' meaning of it, you under- some, gallant-hearted youth whom he had loved, stan,b.ut as if you'd drifted there promiscuous. according to his rough manner, from a child, If' Ianswer in that tune, you. sheer off,' my lad, began to fade, and faded more and more from ande.iqme b/ack four-and-twentyhours arterwards; day to day, shrunk with instinctive pain from if Iansw'er in', another tune, do'you stand off the thought of exchanging a word with Florence, and'i:n, and wait till I throw out further signals. If he had had good news to carry to her, the Doy ou understand them orders, now?" honest captain would have braved the newly"iWhat' am t to'starid off and on of, captain?" decorated house and splendid furniture-though inquired Rob. " The horse road?" these, connected with the lady he had.seen ""Ierer's a smrart lad for you " cried'the cap- at.church, were awful to him-and made his tain, eyeing him sternly,, "as don't know his way intb her presence. With a dark horizon 234 DO.1BE Y ANVD SON. gathering around their common hopes, however, in either. He tried a glass of grog_; but melan. which darkened every hour, the captain almost choly truth was at the bottom of that well, and felt as if he were a new misfortune and affliction he couldn't finish it. He made a turn or two in to her; and was scarcely less afraid of a visit the shop, and looked for Hope among the in. from Florence than from Mrs. MacStinger her- struments; but they obstinately worked out self. reckonings for the' missing ship, in spite of any It was a chill, dark, autumn evening, and opposition he could offer, that ended at the Captain Cuttle had ordered a fire to be kindled bottontof the lone sea. in the little back-parlour, now more than ever The wind still rushing, and the rain still like the cabin of a ship. The rain fell fast, and pattering, against the closed shutters,.the captain the wind blew hard; and straying out on the brought to before the Wooden M'dshipman housetop by that stormy bedroom of his old upon the counter, and thought, as he dried the friend, to take an observation of the weather, the little officer's uniform with his sleeve, how many captain's heart died within him when he saw years the Midshipman had seen, during which how wild and desolate it was. Not that he as- few changes-hardly any-had transpired among sociated' the weather of that time with poor his ship's company; how the changes hadcome Walter's destiny, or doubted that, if Providence all together one day, as it might be; and of had doomed him to be lost and shipwrecked, it what a sweeping kind they were.. Here was the was over long ago; but that beneath an outward little society of the back-parlour broken up, and influence quite distinct from the subject-matter scattered far and wide. Here was no audience of his thoughts, the captain's spirits sank, and for Lovely Peg, even if there hal been anybody his hopes turned pale, as those of wiser men had to sing it, which there was not; for the captain often done before him, and will often do again. was as morally certain that nobody:but he could Captain Cuttle, addressing. his face' to the execute that ballad as he was that he had not snarp wind and slanting rain, looked up at the the spirit, under existing circumstances, to atheavy scud that was flying fast over the wilder- tempt it. There was no.bright face of "Wal'r" ness of housetops, and looked for.something in the house; —here the captain transferred his cheery.there, in vain. The prospect near at sleeve for a moment from the Midshipman's unihand was no better. In sundry tea-chests, and form to his own cheek;-the familiar wig and other rough boxes at his feet, the. pigeons of buttons of Sol Gills were a vision of the past; Rob the Grinder were cooing like so many dis- Richard Whittington was knocked on theahead; mal breezes getting up. A crazy weather-cock and every plan and project, in connection with of a midshipman with a telescope at his eye, the Midshipman, lay drifting, without mast of once.visible from the street, but long bricked rudder, on the waste of waters. out, creaked and complained upon his rusty As the captain, with a dejected face, stood pivot as the shrill blast spun him round and revolving these thoughts, and polishing the Midround, and' sported with him cruelly. Upon the shipman, partly in the tenderness.'of old accaptain's coarse blue vest the cold rain-drops quaintance, and partly in the absence of his started like steel beads; and he could hardly mind, a knocking at the shop-door commruni-, maintain himself aslant against the stiff nor'- cated a frightful start. to the frame of Rob the -wester that came pressing against him, importu- Grinder seated on the counter, whose large eyes nate to topple him over the parapet, and throw had been intently fixed on the captain's face, him on the pavement below. If there were any and who had been debating within himself, for Hope alive that evening, the captain thought, the five hundredth time, whether the'captain as he held his hat on, it certainly kept: house, could have done a murder, that he had' such an and wasn't out of doors; so the captain, shak- evil conscience, and was always running away. ing his head in a despondent manner, went in to " What's that? "' said Captain Cuttle softly. look for it. "Somebody's knuckles, captain," answered Captain Cuttle descended slowly to the little Rob the Grinuer. back-parlour, and, seated in his accustomed The captain, with an abashed and guilty air, chair, looked for it in the fire; but it was not immediately sneaked on'tiptoe to thie little there; though the fire was bright. He took out parlour, and locked himself in.; Rob, opening his tobacco-box and pipe, and, composing him- the door, would have parleyed wi't ithe visitor self to smoke, looked for it in the red glow from on the threshold, if the visitor had come in the bowl. and' in the wreaths of vapour that female guise; but the figure being of the curled upward from his'lips; but there was not male sex, and Rob's orders only. applying. to so much as an atom of the rust of Hope's anchor women. Rob held the door open, and allowed CAPTAIN CUTTLE PARLEYS- VITH fR. TOOTS. 235 it ob enter: which it'did very quickly, glad to With. that, Mr. Toots, repairing to the shopgetout of the driving xain. door, sent a peculiar whistle' into the' night, "'A job for Burgess and Co. at any rate," which produced a stoical gentleman in a shaggy said the visitor, looking over his shoulder cor- white great-coat and a flat-brimmed hat, with passionately at his own legs, which were very very short hair, a broken nose, and a considerve;t, and covered with splashes. "Oh, how de able tract of bare -and sterile country behind do, Mr. Gills?" each ea.. The salutation was addressed to the captain, "Sit down, Chicken," said Mr. Toots. now emerging from the back - parlour with a The compliant Chicken spat out some small tnost transparent and utterly futile affectation of pieces of straw on which he was regaling'himcoming out by accident. self, and took in a fresh supply from a reserve "Thankee," the gentleman went on to say in he carried in his hand. the same breath; "I'm very well indeed myself, "There an't no drain of nothing'short handy, I'm much obliged to you. My name is Toots- is there?" said the Chicken generally. "This MisterToots." here sluicing night is hard lines to a mani as The captain remembered to have seen this lives on his condition." yoJig' gentleman at the wedding, and made him Captain Cuttle proffered a glass of rum, which a bow. Mr. Toots replied with a chuckle; and the Chicken, throwing back his head, emptied being embarrassed, as he generally was, breathed into himself, as into a cask, after proposing the hard, shook hands with the captain for a long brief sentiment,. "Towards us!" Mr. Toots time, and then falling on Rob the Grinder, in and the captain returning then to the parlour, the absence of any other resource, shook hands and taking their seats before the fire, Mr. Toots with him in a most affectionate and cordial began: mannei "Mr. Gills " "I say! I should like to speak a word to "Awast!".said the captain. "'My name's you, Mr. Gills, if you please," said Toots at Cuttle." length''with surprising presence of mind. "I Mr. Toots looked greatly disconcerted, while say! Miss D. O. M., you knw!" the captain proceeded gravely: The captain, with responsive gravity and "Cap'en Cuttle is my name, and England is mystery, immediately waved his hook towards my nation, this here is my dwelling-place, and the little parlour, whither Mr. Toots followed blessed be creation-Job," said the captain, as him. an index to his authority. "Oh! I beg your pardon, though," said Mr. "Oh! I couldn't see Mr. Gills, could I?" Toots, looking up in the captain's face, as he said Mr. Toots;'- because —-" sat down in a chair by the fire, which the captain "If you could see Sol Gills, young gen'lm'n," placed for him; "you don't happen to know the said the captain impressively, and laying'his Chicken at all; do you, Mr. Gills?" heavy hand on Mr. Toots's knee, "old Sol, "The Chicken? " said the captain. mind you-with your own eyes-as you sit there " Te Game Chicken," said Mr. Toots. -you'd be welcomer to me than a wind astarn The captain shaking his head, Mr. Toots ex- to a ship becalmed. Buts you can't see'Sol plained that the man alluded to was the cele- Gills. And why can't you see'Sol Gills?" said brated'public character who had covered him- the captain, apprised by the face of Mr. Toots self and his country with glory in his contest that he was making a profound impression: on with the Nobby Shropshire One; but this piece that gentleman's mind. "Because he's inof information did not appear to enlighten the wisible." captain very much. Mr. Toots, in his agitation,'was going to'"Because he's outside: that's all," said Mr. reply that it was of no consequence at'all. Toots. " But it's of no consequence; he won't But he corrected himself, and said, " Lor bless get very wet, perhaps." me! " "I can pass the word for him in a moment," "That there man," said the captain, "has said the captain. left me in charge here by a piece of writing, but "Well, if you iwould have the goodness to let though he -was a'most as good as my. sworn him sit in the shop with your young' man," brother, I. know no more where he's gone, or chuckled Mr., Toots, "I should be glad; be- why he's gone-if so be to seek his nevy, or if cause, you know, he's easily offended, and the so be along of being not quite settled in his damp's'rather bad for his stamina. I'll call him mind-than you do. One morning, at dayin, Mr. Gills." break, he went over the s ide," said the captain, 236 DOMBE Y AND SOV "without a splash, without a ripple. I have you know, but I happen to-be in the neighbourlooked for that man high and low, and never hood very often; and.when I find myself there, set eyes, nor ears, nor nothing else upon him, why-why, I call." from.that. hour."'Nat'rally,"'observed the captain. "But, good gracious, Miss Dombey don't "Yes," said Mr. Toots. " I caled this afterknow-!Mr. Toots began. noon.. Upon my word and honour, I don't "Why, I ask you, as a feeling heart," said the think it's possible to form an idea of the angel captain, dropping his voice, "why should she Miss Dombey was this afternoon." know? Why should she be made to know The captain answered with' a jerk of his heaa, until such time as there warn't any help for it? implying that it might not be easy to some She took to old Sol Gills, did that sweet creetur, people, but was quite so to him. with a kindness, with a affability, with a — "As I was coming out," said Mr. Toots,. the What's the good of saying so? You know her." young woman, in the most unexpected manner, "I should hope so," chuckled Mr. Toots, took me into the pantry." with a conscious blush that suffused his whole The captain seemed, for the moment, to object countenance. to this proceeding; and leaning. back in his "And you come here from her?" said the chair, looked at Mr. Toots with a distrustful, if captain. not threatening visage. "I should think so," chuckled Mr. Toots. "Where she brought out," said' Mr. Toots, "Then all I need observe is," said the cap- " this newspaper. Shetold me that she had kept tain, "that you know a angel, and are char- it from Miss Dombey all day, on account of tered by a angel." something that was in it, about somebody that Mr. Toots instantly seized the captain's hand, she and Dombey used to' know; and. then she and requested the favour of his friendship, read the passage to me. Very well. Then she " Upon my word and honour," said Mr. Toots said — Wait a minute; what was it she said, earnestly, " I should be very much obliged to though?" you if you'd improve my acquaintance. I should Mr. Toots, endeavouring to concentrate his like to know you, captain, very much. I really mental powers on this question, unintentionally am in want of a friend, I am. Little Dombey fixed the captaif's eye, and was so much dis, was my friend at old Blimber's, and would have composed by its stern expression, that his diffibeen now, if he'd have lived. The Chicken," culty in resuming the thread of his subject was said Mr. Toots in a forlorn whisper, "is very enhanced to a painful extent. well-admirable in his way-the sharpest man, "Oh!" said Mr. Toots after long consideraperhaps, in the world; there's. not a move he tion. "Oh, ah! Yes! She said that she isn't up to; everybody says so-but I don't hoped there was a bare possibility that it know-he's not everything. So she is an angel, mightn't be true; and that as she couldn't very captain. If there is an angel anywhere, it's well come out herself, without surprising Miss Miss Dombey. That's what Itve always said. Dombey, would I go down to Mr. Solomon Really though, you know," said- Mr. Toots, " I Gills the Instrument-maker's in this street, who should be very much obliged to you. if you'd was the party's uncle, and ask whether he becultivate my acquaintance." lieved it was true, or had heard'anything else Captain Cuttle received this proposal in a in the City. She said, if he couldn't speak'to polite manner, but still without committing me, no doubt Captain. Cuttle could. By-thehimself to its acceptance; merely observing, bye!" said Mr. Toots, as the discovery flashed "Ay, ay, my lad. We shall see, we shall see;" upon him, " you, you know!" anf reminding Mr. Toots of his immediate The captain glanced at the newspaper in Mr. mission, by inquiring to what he was indebted Toots's hand, and breathed short and hurriedly. f)r the honour of that visit. "Well," pursued Mr. Toots, "the reasoh why "Why, the fact is," replied Mr. Toots, "that I'm rather late is, because I went up as far as it's the young woman I come from. Not Miss Finchley first, to get some uncommonly fine Dombey-Susan, you know." chickweed that grows there, for' Miss Dombey's The captain nodded his head once, with a bird. But I came on here directly afterwards. grave expression of face, indicative of his regard- You've seen the paper, I suppose?" ing: that young woman with serious respect. The captain, who had become cautious of "And I'll tell you how it happens," said Mr. reading the news, lest he should find himself Toots. "You know, I go and call sometimes advertised at full length by Mrs, MacStinger, on Miss Dombey. I don't go there on purpose, shook his head. CAPTAIN CUTTLE HO VE DO WN B Y MR. TOOTS. 237 "Shall I read the passage to you? " inquired Captain Cuttle, without altering! his position, Mr Toots. signed to Mr. Toots not to mind himl and:: prThe captain making a sign in the affirmative, sently turned round, with his glazed hat thrust Mr. Toots read as follows, from the Shipping back upon his ears, and his, hand'composing. Intelligence: and smoothing his brown face. " Southampton. The bark Defiance, Henry "Wal'r, my dear lad," said the captain, " fareJames, Commander, arrived in this port to-day, well! Wal'r, my child, my boy, and man, I with a cargo of sugar, coffee, and rum, reports loved you! He warn't my flesh and -blood," that, being becalmed on the sixth day of her said the captain, looking at the fire — ";I a.nt passage home from Jamaica, in'-in such and got none —but something of what a father feels such a latitude, you know —" said Mr. Toots, when he loses a son, I feel in losing Wal'r. For after making a feeble dash at the figures, and why?" said the captain. "Because it'an'tone tumbling over them. loss, but a round. dozen. Where's that there "Ay!" cried the captain, striking his clenched young school-boy with the rosy face and -curly hand on the table. "Heave ahead, my lad!" hair, that used to be as merry in this here par"-Latitude," repeated Mr. Toots, with a lour, come round every week, as.a piece of startled glance at the captain, "and longitude music? Gone down with Wal'r. Where's that so-and-so,-' the look-out observed, half an hour there fresh lad, that nothing couldn't tire nor before.sunset, some fragments of a wreck, drift- put out, and that sparkled up and blushed so, ing at about-the distance of a mile. The weather when we joked him about Heart's Delight, that being clear, and the bark making no way, a boat he was beautiful to look at? Gone down with was hoisted out, with orders to inspect the same, Wal'r. Where's that there man's spirit, all afire, when they were found to consist of sundry large that wouldn't see the old man hove down for a spars, and a part of the main rigging of an minute, and cared nothing for itself? Gone English brig, of about five hundred tos burden, down with Wal'r.: It an't one Wal'r. There together with a portion bf the stern, on which was a dozen Val'rs that I knowed, and loved, the words and letters "Son and H — " were all holding round his neck when he went down, yet plainly legible. No vestige of any, dead and they're a holding round mine now I" body was to be seen upon the floating fragments. Mr. Toots sat silent: folding and refolding Log of the Defiance states, that.a breeze spring- the newspaper as small as possible upon his ing:up in the night, the wreck was seen no more. knee. There can be no doubt that all surmises as to "And Sol Gills," said the captain, gazing at the fate of the missing vessel, the Son and Heir, the fire, "poor nevyless. old Sol, where areyo.u port of London, bound for Barbadoes, are now got to? You was left in charge of me; his last set at rest for ever; that she broke up in the last words was,'Take care of my uncle!' What hurricane; and that every soulon board perished."' came over you, Sol, when you went and. gave Captain Cuttle, like all mankind, little knew the go-by to N:ec Cuttle; and what am I to how much hope had survived within him under put in my accounts, that he's a looking.down discouragement, until he felt its death-shock. upon, respecting.you? Sol Gills, Sol Gills!" During the reading of the paragraph, and for a said the captain, staking his head slowly," catch minute or two afterwards, he sat with his gaze sight of.that there.newspaper, away from-home, fixed on the modest Mr. Toots, like a man with no one as knowed Wal'r by to say a word; entranced; then, suddenly rising, and putting and broadside-to you broach, and down you on his glazed hat, which, in his visitor's honour, pitch, head foremost!" he had laid upon the table, the captain turned Drawing a heavy sigh, the captain turned to his back, and bent his head down on the little Mr.Toots, and roused himself to a sustained chimney-piece. consciousness of that gentleman.s presence. "'Oh! upon my word and honour," cried "My lad," said the captain, you. must tell Mr. Toots, whose tender heart was moved by the young woman honestly that. this here fatal the captain's unexpected distress, "this is a news is too correct. They don't. romance, you most wretched sort of affair,. this world.is! see, on such pints. It's entered on the. ship's Somebody's always dying, or going and doing log, and that's the truest book as a man can write. something uncomfortable in it. I'm sure I To-morrow morning," said' the captain, "I'll never should have looked forward so much to step out and make inquiries; but they'll lead to' coming'into my property, if I had known this. no good. They can't do it. If you'll give me I nerver saw such a world. t It's, a great deal a look-in in the forenoon, you shall lknow what worse than Blimber's." I have heerd; but tell the young woman, frorL 238 DOMBEY AND SON. Cap'en Cuttle, that it's over. Over!" And the with energy, "you can't think what a miserable captain, hooking off his glazed hat, pulled his beast I am. The hollow crowd, you know, when handkerchief out of the crown, wiped his they see me with the Chicken, and characters of grizzled head despairingly, and tossed the hand- distinction like that, suppose me to be happy; kerchief in again, with the indifference of deep but I'm wretched. I suffer for Miss Dombey, dejection. Captain Gills. I can't get through my meals; I. a Oh! I assure you," said Mr. Toots, "really have no pleasure in my tailor; I often cry when I am dreadfully sorry. Upon my word I am, I'm alone. I assure you it'll be a satisfaction to though I wasn't acquainted with the party. Do me to come back to-morrow, or to come back you think Miss Dombey will be very much fifty times." affected, Captain Gills-I mean Mr. Cuttle?" Mr. Toots, with these words, shook the cap"Why, Lord love you," returned the captain, tain's hand; and disguising such traces of his with something of compassion for Mr. Toots's agitation as could be disguised on so short a innocence, "when she wam't no higher than notice before the Chicken's penetrating glance, that, they were as fond of one another as two rejoined that eminent gentleman in the shop. young doves." The Chicken, who was apt to be jealous of his " Were they, though!" said Mr. Toots, with ascendancy, eyed Captain Cuttle with anything a considerably lengthened face. but favour as he took leave of Mr. Toots; but "They were made for one another," said the followed his patron without being otherwise captain mournfully; "but what signifies that demonstrative of his ill-will: leaving the captain now?" oppressed with sorrow; and Rob the Grinder "Upon my word and honour," cried Mr. elevated with joy, on account of having had the Toots, blurting out his words through a singular honour of staring for nearly half an hour at the combination of awkward chuckles and emotion, conqueror of the Nobby Shropshire One. " I'm even more sorry than I was before. You Long after Rob was fast asleep in his bed know, Captain Gills, I-I positively adore Miss under the counter, the captain sat looking at the Dombey; —I-I am perfectly sore with loving fire; and long after there was no fire to look at, her;" the burst with which this confession forced the captain sat gazing on the rusty bars, with itself out of the unhappy Mr. Toots bespoke the unavailing thoughts of Walter and old Sol crowdvehemence of his feelings; " but what would be ing through his mind. Retirement to the stormy the good of.my regarding her in this manner, if chamber at the top of the house brought no rest I wasn't truly sorry for her feeling pain, whatever with it; and the captain rose up in the morning was the cause of it? Mine an't a selfish affec- sorrowful and unrefreshed. tion, you know," said Mr. Toots, in the confi- As soon as the City offices were open, the dence engendered by his having been a witness captain issued forth to the counting-house of of the captain's tenderness. "It's the sort of Donbey and Son. But there was no opening thing with me, Captain Gills, that if I could be of the Midshipman's windows that morning. run over or-or trampled upon-or-or thrown Rob the Grinder, by the captain's orders, left off a very high place-or anything of that sort- the shutters closed, and the house was as a house for Miss Dombey's sake, it would be the most of death. delightful thing that could happen to me." It chanced that Mr. Carker was entering the All this Mr. Toots said in a suppressed voice, office as Captain Cuttle arrived at the door. to prevent its reaching the jealous ears of the Receiving the manager's benison gravely and Chicken, who objected to the softer emotions; silently, Captain Cuttle made bold to accompany which effort of restraint, coupled with the inten- him into his own room. sity of his feelings, made him red to the tips of "Well, Captain Cuttle," said Mr. Carker, takhis ears, and caused him to present such an ing up his usual position before the fire-place,, affecting spectacle of disinterested love to the and keeping on his hat, " this is a bad business." eyes of Captain Cuttle, that. the good captain "You. have received the news iLs was in print patted him consolingly on the back, and bade yesterday, sir?" said the captain. aim'cheer up. "Yes," said lMr. Carker, "we have received "Thankee, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, it. It was accurately stated. The underwriters;it's kind of you, in the midst of your own suffer a'considerable loss. We are very sorry. roubles, to say so. I'm very much obliged to No help! Such is life!" tou. As I said before, I really want'a friend, Mr. Carker pared his nails delicately with, a md should be glad to have your acquaintance. penknife, and smiled at the captain, who was Although I am very well off," said Mr. Toots standing by the door looking at him. CAPTAhIN CUTTLE IS TAKEN ABACK. 239 "I excessively regret poor Gay," said Carker, the wind was truly in his sail when he h'isted of " and the crew. I understand there were some it for Barbadoes Harbour. Mr. Carker;" said of our very best men among.'em. It always the captain in the goodness of his nature, "when happens so. Many men with families too. A I was here last, we was very pleasant, together. comfort to reflect that poor Gay had no family, If I an't been altogether so;pleasant myself this Captain Cuttle!" morning, on account of this poor'lad, and if I The captain stood rubbing his chin, and look- have chafed again any observation of yours that ing at the manager. The manager glanced at I might have fended off, my name is Ed'ard the unopened letters lying on his desk, and took Cuttle, and I ask your pardon." up the newspaper. " Captain Cttttle," returned the manager with "Is there anything I can do for you, Captain all possible politeness, " I must ask you to do Cuttle? " he asked, looking off it, with a smiling me a favour." and expressive glance at the door. "And what is it, sir?" inquired the captain. "I wish you could set my mind at rest, sir, "To have the goodness to walk off, if you on something it's uneasy about," returned the please," rejoined the manager, stretching forth captain. his arm, " and to carry your jargon somewhere " Ay!" exclaimed the manager, "what's that? else." Come, Captain Cuttle, I must trouble you to be Every knob in the captain's face turned white quick, if you please. I am much engaged." with astonishment and indignation; even the " Lookee here, sir," said the captain, advanc- red rim on his forehead faded, like a rainbow ing a step. "Afore my friend Wal'r went on among the gathering clouds. this here disastrous voyage-" "I tell you what, Captain Cuttle," said the Come, come, Captain Cuttle," interposed manager, shaking his forefinger at him, and the smiling manager, "don't talk.bout disas- howing him all his teeth, but still amiably trous voyages in that way. We ha, e nothing to smiling, " I was much too lenient with you when do with disastrous voyages here, my good fellow. you came here before. You belong to an artful You must have begun very early on your day's and audacious set of people. In my desire to allowance, captain, if you don't remember that save young what's-his-name from being kicked there are hazards in all voyages, whether by sea out of this place, neck and crop, my: good capor land. You are not made uneasy by the sup- tain, I tolerated you; but for once, and only position that young what's-his-name was lost in once. Now, go, my friend!" bad weather that was got up against him in these The captain was absolutely rooted to the offices-are you? Fie, captain! Sleep, and ground, and speechless. soda water, are the best cures for such uneasi- Go," said the good-humoured manager, ness as that." gathering up his skirts, and standing. astride "My lad," returned the captain slowly,- upon the hearth-rug, "like a' sensible' fellow, "you are a'most a lad to me, and so I don't ask and let us have no turning out, or any such your pardon for that slip of a word,-if you find violent measures. If Mr. Dombey were here, any pleasure in this here sport, you an't the captain, you might be obliged to leave in a more gentleman I took you for, and if you an't the ignominious manner, possibly. I merely say, gentleman I\took you for, maybe my mind has go!" call to be uneasy. Now this is what it is, Mr. The captain, laying his ponderous hand upon Carker.-Afore that poor lad went away, accord- his chest, to assist himself in fetching a deep ing to orders, he told me that he warn't a-going breath, looked at Mr. Carker from head to foot, away for his own good or for promotion, he and looked round the little room, as if he did knowed. It was my belief that he was wrong, not clearly understand where he was, or in what and I told him so, and I come here, your head company. governor being absent, to\ask a question or two "You are deep, Captain Cuttle," pursued of you in a civil way, for my own satisfaction. Carker, with the easy and vivacious frankness of Them questions you answered-free. Now, it'll a man of the world who knewv the world too well ease my mind to know, when all is over, as it is, to be ruffled by any discovery of misdoing, when and iwhen what can't be cured must be endoored it did not immediately concern himself; " but you -for which, as a scholar, you'll overhaul the are not quite out of soundings, either —neither bookdit's in, and thereof make a note-to know you nor your absent friend, captain. What once more, in a word, that I warn't mistaken; have you done with your absent friend, hey?" that I warn't hack'ard in my duty when I didn't Again the captain laid his hand' upon his tell the old man what Wal'r told me; and that chest. After drawing another deep breath, he 240 DOMBE Y AND SON. conjured himself to "stand by!" But in a and to droop and decline beside it. All the whisper, living knaves and liars in the world were nothing "You. hatch nice little plots, and hold nice to the honesty and truth of.one dead friend. little. councils, and make nice little appointments, The only thing the honest captain made out and r.eceive.nice, little visitors, too, captain, clearly, in this state of mind, besides the-loss of hey?" said. Carker, bending his brows. upon Walter, was, that with him almost the whole him,: without showing his teeth any,the. less: world of Captain Cuttle had been drowned. If "but it's. a bold measure.to: come. here after- he reproached himself sometimes, and keenly wards. Not like'your rdiscretion!.You..con- too.for having ever connived at Walter's innospirators, and hiders, and; runners-away; should cent deceit, he thought at least,-as often of the know better than that. Will you oblige me by Mr. Carker whom no sea'could ever render up; going?" and the Mr. Dornbey, whom he now began to "My lad," gasped the captain in a choked perceive was as far beyond human recall; and and trembling voice, and..with a curious action the "Heart's Delight," with:whom'he must going on in.the. ponderous fist;'. there's a many never foregather again; and the-.:Lovely Peg, words, I could wish to say to you, but I don't that teak-built and trim ballad, that had gone rightly know where they're stowed just at pre- ashore upon a rock, and split rito mere planks sent.. My;,young friend Wal'r was- drownded and beams of rhyme. The.captain sat in the only last night, according to my reckoning,.and dark shop, thinking: of these things, to the entire it puts me out, you see. But you. and me will' exclusion f his own injury; and looking with come alongside o' one. another again, my lad," as sad an eye upon the ground as if. icontemsaid..the captain, holding up his hook,-" if we plation of their actual fragments as they floated live." past him. "It will.be anything but shrewd in you, my But the captain was not unmindfui, for all good fellow, if we do," returned the manager that, of such decent and respectful.observances with the same frankness;: "for you may rely, I in memory of poor Walter. as he felt within his give you fair warning, upon my detecting and power. Rousing himself.and rousing Rob the exposing you..I don't pretend fttp be a more Grinder (who in the unnatural twilighti was fast moral man. than my. neighbours, my good cap- asleep), the captain sallied forth with4his attendtain;.but the confidence -of this, House, or of ant at his heels, and the door-key in.hi pocket, any member of this: House, is! not to be abused and repairing to one of those convenient slopand undermined while I hi.ve eyes-and ears. selling establishments of which there ismabundant Good day!" said Mr. Carker, nodding his head; choice at the eastern end of London,-purchased Captain Cuttle, looking at him steadily;(Mr. on the spot two suits of mourning-.-one for Rob Carker looked full as steadily at the captain), the Grinder, which was.immensely topo small, went out of the officer, and left him; standing and one for himself, which was immensely too astride before the fire, as calm and pleasantas large. He also. provided Rob with a species of if there were no more, spots uponl his soul than hat, greatly to be admired for its symmetry and on his pure white linen, an-d his smooth sleek usefulness, as well -as for a happy blending of skin. the mariner with the coalheaver; which is usually The captain glanced, in passing through the termed a sou'-wester; and which was something outer counting-house, at the desk where he knew of a novelty in connection with the instrument poor Walter had been used to sit, now occupied business.': In their several garments, which the by another young boy, with, face almost a vendor declared. to be such a miracle in point of fresh and hopeful as his on the day when they fit as nothing but a rare combinatioin of fortapped the famous last bottle but one of the old tuitous circumstances ever brought about, and madeira, in the little back-parlour. The asso- the fashion of which was unparalleled within the ciation of ideas thus awakened did the caaaaitant aptain a mor of the oldest iabitant, aptain great deal of good; it softened him in the very and Grinder immediately arrayed themselves: heightofhis.anger,. and brought the.tears, into presenting a spectacle fraught with wonder to his eyes. all who beheld it. Arrived at the Wooden Midshipman's again, In this altered form -the captain received Mr. and sitting down.in a corner of the dark shop, Toots. " I'm took aback, my lad, at present,' the captain's indignation, strong as it was, could said the captain,. "and will only confirm..that make no head against his grief..Passion seemed there ill news. Tell the young.woman to break not only to do wrong and violence to the it gentle to the young lady,and for ther of memoryof the dead, but to beinfectedby death,'em never to think of me no more-'speciat memory of' the dead, but to be infected by death,'er never to think of me no more —'special, THE CAPTAIN IN A BETTER FRAME OF MIND. 241 mind you, that is-though I will think of them, The captain reserved, until some fitter time, when night comes on a hurricane and seas is the cohsideration of Mr. Toots's offer of friend. mountains rowling, for which overhaul your ship, and thus dismissed. him. Captain CutDoctor Watts, brother, and when found make a tie's spirits were so low, in truth, tiiat he half note on." determined, that day, to. take no further precau"AND READING SOFTLY TO HIMSELF, IN THE LITTLE BACK-PARLOUR, AND STOPPING NOW AND THEN.TO WIPE WiS 1YES, THE CAPTAIN, IN A TRUE AND SIMPLE SPIRIT, COMMITTED WALTER'S BODY: TO TH DEEP." tions against surprise from Mrs. MacStinger, but incidentally commended. Rob did not blush to to abandon himself recklessly. to chance, and be hear the captain earnest in his praises, lt sat indifferent to what might: happen. As evening staring at him, and affecting to snivel with.ymcame on, he fell into a better' frame of mind, pathy, and: making a feit' of being virtuous,and however; and spoke much of Walter to Rob the treasuriing'up every word he'said (like a young Grinder, whose attention and-fidelity he likewise Ispy as he was) with very: promising deceit. DOMNBY AND SON. i6, G06 242 DOMBEY AND SON When Rob.had turned in, and was fast asleep, form and colour-and no more? Is it that the the captain. trimmed the candle, put on his books have all their gold outside, and that the spectacles-he had felt it appropriate to take to titles of the greater part qualify them to be comspectacles on entering into the Instrument Trade, panions ot'the prints and pictures?.Is it-that though his eyes were like a hawk's-and opened the completeness and the beauty of the place the Prayer-book at the Burial Service. And are here and there belied by an affectation of reading softly to himself, in the little back- humility, in some unimportant:and inexpensir.e parlour, and stopping now and then to wipe regard, whic;' is as false as the face of the toohis eyes, the captain, in a true and, simple spirit, truly-painted. portrait hanging yonderi or its committed Walter's body to the deep, original at breakfast.-in hiseasy-chair- below it? Or is it that, with the daiiyJbreath of that original and master of:all here,there issues forth some subtle portion of: himiself, which gives: a vague CHAPTER XXXIII. expression of himself to' everythng about him? It is Mr. Carker the manager who sits in the CONTRASTS. easy-chair. A g'audy'parrot in a burnished.cage upon the table tear$.at the wires, with her beak, URN we our ees upon two homes; and goes walking,;upside 4own,.i.-i its dome-top, not. lying side by side, but wide apart, shaking her -house and iscree:hing;. but Mr. though both within easy range and Carker is indifferent ti,.tetb rd, iand looks with reach of the great city of London. a musing smile' at. a picture, on the opposite I The first is situated in the green wall. and woQded country near Norwood. It is A most extraordinary accidental likeness, S not a mansion.; it is of no pretensions as certainly," says he. to size; -but it is beautifully. arranged, and Perhap's it is at Juno:. p.e rjaps. a Potiphar's tastefully kept.,Th. lawn, the soft, smooth wife; perhaps some scornfuli:niy ph-according slope, the flower garden, the clumpp of trees as the Picture.-dealers found:tihe. marke't when where graceful.forms of ash and willow are not they christened it..It is the'igireof. a woman, wanting, the conservatory,, the rustic veranda supremely handsome, who, turning:away, but with sweet-smelling creapng plants entwined with her face addressed to the's.ctator, flashes about the pillars, the simple-:exterior of the her proud glnce upon him. house, the well-ordered`ffices, though all upon It is like Edith. the diminutive scale proper. to a mere cottage, With a passing gesture of his- hand -at the bespeak an. amount of elegant comfort within, picture-what! a menace? i yet something that might serve for a palace. This indication likeit. A wave as.of triumpli?. -; *'yet more is not without warrant; for, within.it is a house like that. An iinsolent':sai..wfted from his of refinement and, luxury.' Rich colours, ex- lips? No;, yet like: that tq.o'he.reSumes his cellently blended, meet the eye at every turn; breakfast,. and calls. tom. th.e chafing and imin the.furniture-its'.proportions admirably de- prisoned bird, who, coming dow into a pendent vised to suit. the shaps and sizes of the small gilded hoop thehinth cage,;'like, -agreat weddingrooms; on the walls' upon'the floors; tinin wng r ing,swins it, -for his delg. and subduing. the light that comes in through The secofid home: is o' he other side of the odd glass doors and windows here and there. London, near to, where t:he''risy^great north There are a few'choice prints and pictures, too;' road of bygone days is.silent ad almost dein quaint nooks.ad recesses there is no want of serted, except by w.ayfarers'who; t.il along.on books; and there are games of skill and chance foot. It is a poor,smiall house, barely. and set forth on tables-fantastic chess-men, dice, sparely furnished, but very clean.'.:nd there is backgammon,.'cards, and billiards. even an attempt to decorate it, shown in. the And yet, amidst this opulence of comfe-t, homely flowers trained about the porch and in there is something in the general air that is not the narrow garden. The neighbourhood in well.. Is it that the carpets'and the cushions are which it stands has as little of the country to too, soft and.noiseless, so that those.who move recommend it as it has of the town. It is or repose among them seem to act by stealth? neither of the town nor country., The former, Is it that the prints and pictures do not com- like the' giant in his travelling bots,' has made memorate great thoughts or deeds, or render a stride and passed it, and has set his bricknature in the poetry of landscape, hall, or hut, and-mortar heel a long way in advance:; but but' are of one voluptuous cast-mere shows of the intermediate space between'tie gia'nt's feet, HARRIET C ARKER. 243 as yet, is only blighted country, and not town; better companion to you in speaking about him and here, among a few tall chimneys belching than I may seem now." smoke all day and night, and among the brick- "My dearest sister! Is there anything within fields and the lanes where turf is cut, and where the range of rejoicing or regret,'in which I am the fences tumble'down, and where the dusty not sure of your companionship?"' net'tles grow, and where a scrap or two of hedge " I hope you think not, John, for surely there may yet be seen, and where the bird-catcher still is nothing!" comes occasionally, though he swears every time " How could you be better to me, or nearer tO come no more, the he. to come no more, this second home is to be to me then, than you are in this or anything?" found. said her brother. "I feel that you' did know She who inhabits it is she who left the first in him, Harriet, and that you shared my feelings her devotion to an outcast brother. She with. towards him." drew from that home its redeeming spirit, and She drew the hand which had been resting on from its master's breast his solitary angel: but his shoulder round his neck, and answered with though his liking for her is gone, after this un- some hesitation: grateful slight as he considers it; and though he "No, not quite." abandons her altogether in return,,an old idea "True; true," he said; "you thinklI m!ght of her is not quite forgotten even by him. Let have done him no harm if I had allowai myself her flower garden, in which he never sets his foot, to know him better? " but which is yet maintained, among all his costly "Think! I know it." alterations, as if she had quitted it but yester- Designedly, Heaven knows I would, not," day, bear witness. he replied, shaking his head mournfully'but Harriet Carker has changed since then, and his reputation was too precious to be perifld by on her beauty there has fallen a heavier shade such association. Whether you sehathat knowthan Time of his unassisted self can cast, all- ledge, or do not, my dear-" potent as he is-the shadow of anxiety and "I do not," she said quietly. sorrow, and the daily struggle of a poor exist- "It is still the truth, Harriet, and my mind is ence. But it is beauty still: and still a gentle, lighter when I think of him for that which made quiet, and retiring beauty that must be sought it so much heavier then." He checked himself out, for it cannot vaunt itself; if it could, it in his tone of melancholy, and smiled upon her would be what it is no more. as he said "Good-bye." Yes. This slight, small, patient figure, neatly "Good-bye, dear John! In the evening, at dressed in homely stuffs, and indicating nothing the old time and place, I shall meet you as usual but the dull, household virtues, that have so little on your way home. Good-bye." in common with the received idea of heroism The cordial face she lifted up to his to kiss and greatness, unlescs, indeed, any ray of them' him was his home, his life, is universe, and yet should shine through the lives of the great ones it was a portion of his punishment and grief; for of the earth, when it becomes a constellation, in the cloud he saw upon it-though serene and and is tracked in Heaven straightway-this calm as any radiant cloud at sunset-and in the slight, small, patient figure, leaning on the man constancy and devotion of her life, and in the still young, but worn and grey, is she, his sister, sacrifice she had made of ease, enjoyment, and who, of all the world, went over to him in his hope, he saw the bitter fruits of his old crime, shame, and put.her hand in his, and with a sweet for ever ripe and fresh. composure and determination, led him hopefully She stood at,the door looking after him, with upon his barren way. her hands-loosely clasped in each other as he. " It is early, John," she said., "Why do you made his way over the frouzy and uneven patch. go so early?" of ground which lay before their houise, which ""Not many minutes earlier than usual, Har- had once (and not long ago) been a pleasant riet. If I have the time to spare, I should like, meadow, and was now a very waste, with a disI think —it's a fancy-to walk once by the house orderlycrop of beginnings of mean houses nrsing where I took leave of him." out of the rubbish, as if they had been unslil" I wish I had ever seen or known him, John." fully sown there. Whenever he looked back — "It is better as it'is, my dear, remembering as once or twice he did-her cordial: face his fate." shone like a light upon his heart; but when he " But I could not regret it more, though I had plodded on his way, and saw ier not, the tears known him. Is not your sorrow mine? And were in her eyes as she stood watching him. if -I had, perhaps you would feel that I was a Her pensive form was not long idle at the 244 DOAMBEY AND SON. door. There.was daily duty to discharge, and added, laying his hand gently on her arm for daily:work to do-lfor such commonplace spirits, an instant, "and it contradicts you more and that are not, heroic, often work hard with their more." han4s —.and Harriet was soon busy with her She was somewhat confused and agitated, and household'tasks. These discharged, and the could make no ready answer. poor. house made'quite neat and orderly, she "It is the mirror of truth," said her visitor, counted her little stock of money with an anxious " and gentleness. Excuse my trusting to it, and face, and went out thoughtfully to buy some returning." necessaries for their table, lplanning and contriv- His manner of saying these words divested ing, as she went, how to save. So sordid are them entirely of the character of compliments. the lives of such low natures, who are not only It was so plain, grave, unaffected, and sincere, not heiroic to their valets and waiting,.women, but that she bent her head, as if at once to thank have neither valets nor waiting-women to be him and acknowledge his sincerity. heroic to withal.! "The disparity between our ages," said the While shle Was absent, and there was no one in gentleman, " and the plsinness of my purpose, the house, there approached it, by a different empowerme, I am glad to think, to speak my way from.that the brother had taken, agentle- mind. That is my mind; and so you see me man, a very little past.his prine. of life, perhaps, for the second time." but'of: a' ealthy, florid hue,:an: upright presence, "There is a kind af pride, sir," she returned and a bright clear aspect,.that was gracious and after a moment's silence, "or what may be sup. good-humoured. His eyebrows were still black, posed to be pride, which is mere duty. I hope and so w.as imuciiof his hair';' the spliiikling' of I cherish no other." grey 9bser vable among the latter graced the "For yourself?" he said. former very much, aid' Sho6wed his broad frank " For myself." brow'and honest eyes"f6to great advantage. But-pardon me —" suggested the gentle, After knocking once' at tile:door, aid o')tain- man. " For your brother John?" ing no response, this'gentleman sat down'on a " Proud of his love 1 am," said Harriet, lookbench in the: little prch to' wait.'' A certain ing full'upon her visitor, and changing her skilful'action of his' fingers as he hummed some manner orn the instant-not that it was less combars, and beat time on' the seat beside him, posed and' quiet, but that there was a deep seemed to denote the miusician; and -the' extra- impassioned earnestness in it that made the very ordinary satisfaction he derived- from humming tremble in her voice a part'of her firmness, " and something vern slow and' long, which'had no proud of him. Sir, you who strangely knowthe recognisable tune, seemed to denote thaithe was story of his life, and repeated it to me when you a scientific one. were here last- -" Th'e gentlemian was still twirling a theme, "Merely to make my' way into your con. wliich'seemed to go round and rdund and roind,; fidence,"' interposed the gentleman. " For Hea. and' in and in and in'a:i'td to ihiv61ve itself like a vei's sake, don't suppose-" cork-screw twirled upon: table, without getting "I all sure," she said, " you revived it in my any nearer to anythiing'- hlien'Harriet appeared hearing, with a kind and good purpose. I am returning. He rose up as' she advanced, and quite sure of it." stood with his head uncovered. "I thank you," returned her visitor, pressing''; You are conie agin, sir!" she said, faltering her hand hastily. " I am much obliged to you. "I take that liberty," he alnswered. "May I You do me justice, I assure you. You were ask for five minutes of your leisure?" going to say that I, who know the story of John After a moment's hesitation, she opened the Carker's life-" door, and gave him admission to the little par- "May think it pride in me," she continued, loir.. The gentleman: sat down there, drew his "when I say that I am proud of him? I am. chair to the table over against her, and said, in You know the time was when I was not-when a voice that perfectly corresponded to his ap- I could not be-but that is past. The humility pearance, and with a simplicity that was very of many years, the uncomplaining. expiation, the engaging true repentance, the terrible regret, the pain I "Miss Harriet, you cannot be proud. You know he has even in my affection, which. lie signified:to-'ine, when. I called t'other morning, thinks has cost me dear, though Heaven kinows that you were..Pardon me,'if I say that I I am happy, but for his sorrow!-oh, sir, aftr. look'd' into your face while you spoke, and that what I have seen, let me conjure you, if you.ar.it contradicted you. I look into it again,"'he in any place of power, and are.ever'wronged, IHARRIET CARKER'S VISITOR. 245 never, for. any wrong, inflict..a punishment that "He.was an altered man when he did wrong," cannot be recalled; while there is a GOD above said. Harriet. "He is an altered,-man;again, us to work. changes in the hearts He made." and is his true self now, believe me, sir." "Your brother is an altered man," returned "But we go on," said her visitor, rubbing his the gentleman compassionately. "I assure you, forehead, in an absent manner, with his hand, I don't doubt it." and then drumming thoughtfully on the table,',, i iiti'..... "A CERTAIN SKILFUL ACTION OF HIS FINGERS AS HIE HUMMIED. SOME,BARS, ANDBEAT TI&I'E ON'TIlE.iSEAT BESIDE HIM, SEEMED TO DENOTE THE MUSICIAN." "We go on in our clockwork routine, from day or colleges, and we don't know-how t-oset-;bcuto day, and can't make out, or follow, these it. In. short, we are: so'd —d busihess-like, changes. They-they're a metaphysical sort of said the gentleman, walking to the window/ a'nd thing. We-we haven't leisure for it. We-we back, and. sitting down again, in a state of -,x. havgen t ourage. They're not taught at schools treme dissatisfaction and vexation. 346 DOMBSY AND SON. "I am sure," said the gentleman, rubbing his tion-would be to diminish the comfort it will forehead again, and drumming on the table as be to him and me, when that time comes to before; " I have good reason to believe that a each of us, of which you spoke just now. I jog-trot life, the same from day to day, would thank you better with these tears than any words. reconcile one to anything. One don't see any- Believe it, pray." thing, one don't hear anything, one don't know The gentleman was moved, and put the hand anything: that's the fact. We go on taking she held out to his lips, much as a tender everything for granted, and so we go on, until father might kiss the hand of a dutiful child. whatever we do, good, bad, or indifferent, we do'But more reverently. from habit. Habit is all I shall have to report, " If the day should ever come," said Harriet, when I am called upon to plead to my con- "when he is restored, in part, to the position he science on my death-bed.' Habit,' says I;' I lost —" -was deaf, dumb, blind,. and paralytic to a million "Restored!" cried the gentleman quickly. things, from habit.' Very business-like indeed, "How' can that be hoped for? In whose Mr. What's-your-name,' says Conscience'but hands does the power of any restoration lie?.it won't do here!w: It is no mistake of miner surely, to suppose that The gentleman got up and walked to the his having -gained the priceless blessing of his window again and hack: seriously uneasy, though life is one cause of the animosity shown to him giving his uneasiness this peculiar expression, by his brother." "Miss Harriet," he said, resuming his chair, "You touch upon a subject that is never " I wish you would let me serve you.' Look at breathed between us: not even between us," me; I ought to look honest, for I know I am so said Harriet. at present. Do I?" "I beg your forgiveness," said the visitor. " Yes," she answered with a smile. "I should have known it. I entreat you to for"I believe every word you have said," he get that I have done so inadvertently. Ancl returned. "I am full of self-reproach that'I now, as I dare urge no more-as I am not sure might have known this and seen this, and known that I have a right to do so-though Heaven you and seen you, any time these dozen years, knows even that doubt may be habit," said and that I never have. I hardly know how I the gentleman, rubbing his head,, as despondever got here-creature, that I am, not only of ently as before, "let me; though a stranger, my own habit, but of other people's! But, yet no stranger; ask two favours." having done so, let me do something. I ask it "What are they?" she inquired. in all honour and respect. You inspire me with "The first, that if you should see cause to both, in the highest degree. Let me do some- change your resolution, you will suffer me to be thing." as your right hand, My name, shall.then be at "We are contented, sir." your service;: it is useless now, and always in"No, no, not quite," returned the gentleman. significant." " I think not quite. There are some little com- " Our choice of friends," she' answered, smilforts that might smooth your life, and his. And ing faintly," is not so great that I need any time his!" he repeated, fanying that had mmae some for consideration. I can promise that." impression on her. "I have been in the habit "'The second, that you will allow me someof thinking that there was nothing wanting to be imes, say'every Monday morning, at nine done for him; that it was all settled and over; o'clock-habit again-I must be business-like," in short, of not thinking at all about it. I am said the gentleman, with a whimsical inclination different now. Let me do something for him. to quarrel with himself on that head,," in walkYou too," said the visitor with careful delicacy, ing past, to see you at the door or window. i " have need to watch your health closely, for his don't ask to come in, as your brother will be sake, and I fear it fails." gone out at that hour. I don't ask to speak to "Whoever you may be, sir," answered Harriet, you. I merely ask to see, for the satisfaction taising her eyes to his face, " I am deeply grate- of my own mind, that you are well, and without ful to you. I feel certain that, in all you say, intrusion to remind you, by the sight of me, that you have no object in the world but kindness to you have a friend-an elderly friend, grey-haired us.'But years have passed since we began this already, and fast growing greyer-whom you may life; and.to take from my brother any part of ever command." what has so endeared him to me, and so proved The cordial face looked up in his; confided his better resolution-any fragment of the merit in it; and promised. of his unassisted, obscure, andIforgotten repara- "I understand, as before," said the gentleman,, A VERY DIFFERENT VISI'TOR. 247 rising, "that you purpose not to mention my The chill wind was howling, and the rain was visit to John Carker, lest he should be at all dis- falling, and the day was darkening' moodily, tressed by my acquaintance with his history. I when Harriet, raising her eyes from the work am glad of it, for it is out of the ordinary course on which she had long since been engaged with of things, and-habit again!" said the gentle- unremitting constancy, saw one of these travellers man,'.checking himself impatiently, "as if there approaching. were no better course than the orr'inary A woman. A solitary woman of some thirty course" years of age; tall; well formed; handsome; With, that he turned'to go, and walking, bare- miserably dressed; the soil'-of many country headed; ta the outside of the little porch, took roads'in varied weather —dust, chalk, clay, leave df her with suth a happy mixture of un- gravel-clotted on her grey cloak by the streamconstrained respect and unaffected interest as ing wet; no bonnet on her head, nothing to deno breeding could have taught, no. truth mis- fend her rich black hair from the rain but a torn truited, and nothing but a pure and single heart handkerchief; with the fluttering ends of which expressed. and with her hair, the wind blinded her so that Many half-forgotten emotions were awakened she often stopped to push them back,; and look in,the sister's mind by this visit. It was so very upon the way she was going. long since; ainy: other visitor had crossed their She was in the act of doing so when Harriet threshold'; it.was so verylong since any voice observed her. As her hands, parting on her of sympathy had made sad music in her ears; sunburnt forehead, swept across her' face, and that the stranger's figure remained present to her threw aside the hindrances, that encroached upon hours afterwards, when she sat'at the window, it, there was a reckless and regardless beiuty in plying her needle; and his-words seemed newly it: a dauntless and depraved itidifference to Wpoken, again and again. r He had touched the more than weather: a carelessness of what was spring...that opened her whole life; and if she cast upon her bare head fromt heaven or earth: lost him for'a short space, it was only among the that, coupled with her misery and loneliness, many sapes.of. the,.one. great recollection of touched the heart of her fellow-w oman.:.' She which'thatlife was nmide. thought of all that was perverted- and debased Musing andworking by turns; now constrain- within her, no less than without:: of:' modest ing herself to be steadyfat: her needle for a'long graces.of the mind, hardened and' steeled, like ~timetogether, and nowlietting her work fall, un- these attractions of the person; ot the many regarded;'on her lap,' and straying wheresoever gifts of the Creator flung'to the wiids like the her busi.er-.thoughts led, Harriet Carker found wild hair;' of all the beautiful ruin upcon which the hours. glide by her, and the day steal. on. the storm was beating and the night was coming. The morning'which had been bright and clear, Thinking of this, she did.not turn away with gradually became overcast; a sharp'wind set in; a delicate indignation-too many ofher. own the rain fell heavily; and' a dark mist, drooping compassionate and tender sex too often do —but over the distant town, hid it from the view. pitied her. She often looked.with compassion, at such a Her fallen sister came on, looking far before time, upon.the istragglers: who came wandering her, trying with her eager eyes to perce the mist int- London by the great highway hard by, and in which the city was enshrouded, and glancing, Who, fooitsore and weary,'and'gazing fearfully at' now and then, from side. to side, with the bethe huge town before them, as if foreboding that wildered and uncertain aspect of a st'ranger. their misery there would'be but as a drop of Though her tread was bold and courakeou, she water in the sea, or a a grain of. sea-sand on was fatigued; and, after a moment of iiresolution, the shore, went shrinking: on, cowering before sat down upon a heap of stones; seeking no the'angry weather; and looking as if tlie very shelter from the rain, but lettiin it tail n her elements rejected them:.. Day after day, such as it would. travellers crept past, but always, as she thought, She was now opposite the house. Raising i-: one: direction-always towards the:-o:wn. her head after resting it for a moment on both Iwallowed up in one phase or other of its n- hands, her eyes met those of Harriet. mensity, towards which they seemed; impelled In a moment Harriet was at the" door; and by a desperate fascination, they never retured. the other, rising from her seat at her beck came Food. for the.hospitals, the churchyaids,;the slowly, and with.no conciliatory look, towards prisons, the'river, fever, madness; vice,'!.and her. death,-they passed on to the monster, roaring' Why do you rest in the rain?" said Harriet in the distance, a-id were lost. gently. 248 DOIA~BE Y ANVD SON. " Because, I have no other resting-place," was "Have you been far?" the reply. "Very far. Months upon months over the "But there are many places of shelter near sea, and far away even then. I have been where here. This," referring to the little porch, "is convicts go," she added, looking full upon her better than where you were. You are very wel- entertainer. " I have been one myself." come to rest here." "Heaven help you and forgive you!" was The wanderer looked at her, in doubt and'the gentle answer. surprise, but without any expression of thankful- "Ah! Heaven help me and forgive me!" ness; and sitting down, and taking off.one of she returned, nodding her head at the fire. "If her worn shoes to beat out the fragments of stone man would help some of us a little more, God and dust that were inside, showed that her foot would forgive us all the sooner, perhaps." was-cut and bleeding, But she was softened by the earnest manner Harriet uttering an expression of pity,, the and the cordial face so full of mildness and so traveller looked up with.a contemptuous and free from judgment of her, and said, less hardily incredulous smile. "We may be about the same age, you and I. "Why, what's a torn foot to such as me?" If I am older, it is not above a year or two. Oh. she said. " And what's a torn foot, in such as think of that!" me, to.such as, you?".' She opened her arms, as though the exhibi"Come, in and wash it," answered. Harriet tion of her outward form would show the moral mildly,." and let me give.you something to bind wretch she was; and letting them drop at her it up." sides, hung down her head. The woman. caught her- arm, and drawing it " There is nothing we may not hope to repair; before.her own eyes, hid them against it, and it is never too late to amend," said Harriet. wept.. Not like a woman, but like a stern man sur- "You are penitent -" prised:into that weakness; with a violent heav- "No" she answered. "I am not. I can't ing.of her breast,,and struggle for recovery, that be. I am no such thing. Why should I be showed how unusual the emotion was with her. penitent, and all the world go free? They talk She, submitted,to be led into the house, and, to me of my penitence. Who's penitent for.the evidently more ingratitude than in any care for wrongs that have been done to me?" herself, washe.d.and. bound. the. injured place. She rose up, bound her handkerchief about.Harriet then p.ut before herfragments.of herown her head, and turned to move away. frugal dinner, and when she had eaten of them, "Where are you going?" said Harriet. though.sparingly, besought.fer, before resuming "Yonder," slie answered, pointing with" her her road.(which she shov.ed, her anxiety to do), hand. "To London." to dry.her. clothes before'the. ire. Again, more "Have you any home to go to?" in gratitude,, than with any evidence. of concern " I think I have a mother. She's as much a in her. own.behalf,`she, sat down in front of it, mother as her dwelling is a home," she answered and unbinding the handkerchief abouther he ad, with a bitter laugh..and.letting her thick wet, hair fall down below "Take this," cried Harriet, putting money in her. waist,'.sat. drying.i' it wh: the palms of her her hand. "Try to do well. It is very little, hands, and looking atlthe. blaze.' but for one day it may keep yot fiom harm." " I'daire say you are -thinking," she said, lift- "Are you married'?" said the other faintly, ingber, head suddenly, "that I used to be hand- as she took it. some, once. I believe I was-I know I was. "No. I live here with my brother. We have Look here ". not much to spare, or I would give you more." She held up her hair roughlywith both hands, "Will you let me kiss you?" seizjngit as if she.ould have torn it out; then,, Seeing no scorn or repugnance in her face, threw it down again, and flung it back as though the object of' her charity bent over her as she it were a heap. of serpents. asked the question, and pressed her lips against "Are. you a stranger in this place?" asked her cheek. Once more she caught her arn, Harriet. and covered her eyes with it; and then was gone.' A., stranger.' she returneda stopping. be- Gone into the deepening night, and howling tween.each shortrrely, and lookingat.the fire. wind, and pelting rain; urging her way on to"y'~s.,Ten. r,. adozen.years.a stranger. I wards the mist-enshrouded city,-where'the have had no almanac'w'here' I have been.' Ten blurred lights gleamed; and with her black haii or a-dozen years. I don't know this part. It's and disordered head-gear fluttering round'?her muci altered since I went away." reckless face. A FOND IMzOTHER. 249 IAPTER XXXIV. patiently, to listen afresh. And this time she did not drop it again; for there was a hand upon ANOTHER MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. the door, and a footstep in the room,. "Who's that?" she said, looking over her N an ugly and dark room, an old shoulder. W1i woman, ugly and dark too, sat "One who brings you news," was the answer l_ listening to the wind and rain, and in a woman's voice. J. crouching over a meagre fire. More "News? Where from?" - 2..-~ constant to the last-named occupa- "From abroad." /jo tion than'the first, she never changed "From beyond' seas? " cried the old woman,' v her attitude, unless, when any stray starting up. drops of rain fell hissing on the smoul- "Ay, from beyond seas." dering embers, to raise her head with an awak- The old woman raked the fire together hurenred attention to the whistling and pattering riedly, and going close' to her visitor, wh'oi had outside; and gradually to let it fall again lower entered and shut the door, and who hnoWstood and lower and lower as she sunk into a brood- in' the'middle of'the'room,.put her hand upon ing state of thought, in which the noises of the the drenched cloak, and turned the unresisting night were as indistinctly regarded as is the figure,'so as to have it in the full light'of the monotonous rolling of a sea by one who sits in fire. She did not find what she','had expected, contemplation on its shore, whatever' that might be'; for she let the cloak'.go There was no light in the room save that again, and uttered a querulous cry'of aisapJpiritwhich the fire afforded. Glaring sullenly from ment' and misery. time to time like the eye of a fierce beast half "What is the'matter? " asked her visitor. asleep, it revealed, no objects that needed to be "Oho! Oho!" cried.the old'woman, turnjealous of a better display. A heap of rags, a ing her face upward, with a terrible howl. heap "of bones, a wretched bed, two or three "What is the matter? " asked the visitor mutilated chairs or stools, the black walls and again. blacker ceiling, were all its winking brightness "It's not my gal!"' cried the old woman, tossshone upon. As the old woman, with a gigantic ing up her arms, and dcasping her hands above aihd distorted image of herself, thrown'half upon.herl head. "Where's my Alice Where's my the wall behind her, half upon the roof above, handsome daughter? They'veb'een the death sat ben'ding over the few loose bricks within of her!" which it was pent, on the damp hearth of the "They've-not been the death of her yet, if chimney-for there was no stove-she looked your name's Marwood," said the' visitor. as if she were watching at some witch's altar for "Have you seen my gal, theni? "'cried the'a favourable token: and but that the movement old woman. " Has. she wrote to me'?" -of' her chattering jaws and tremblg cin was "She said you couldn't read,' retiuned the too frequent and too fast fbr the slow flickering other. of'the'fire, it would have seemed an' illusion' No more I can,!" exclaimed the old wo-wrought by the light, as it came and went, upon man, wringing her hands. a face as motionless as the form to which it "Have you no light here?"' said the other, belonged. looking round the. room. If Florence could have stood.within the room, The old woman, mumbling and shaking her and looked upon the original of the shadow head, and muttering to herself about her handthrown upon the wall and roof, as it cowered some daughter, brought -a candle fromn a"cupthus over the fire, a glance might have sufficed board in the.'corner, andl thrusting it inti3 the to' rcall the figure of Good Mrs. Brown; not- fire with a trembling hand, lighted it iit' some withstanding' that her childish recollection. of difficulty,, and set it on the table'. Its dirty thiat terrible old woman was as grotesque arid wick burnt dimly at first, being choked' i its exaggerated a presentment of the truth, perhaps, own' grease; and when the bleated'eyes.and as' th'e shadow on the wall. But Florence Was failing sight of the old woman could dist'tingish not ithere to look on; and Good Mrs. Brown re- anything by its light, her visitor was, sittiing with irifined unrecognised, and sat staring at herfire, her arms folded, her eyes turned doxdiiwards, uinobserved. and a handkerchief she had w'orh upon lier head Attracted by a louder sputtering than usual, lying on the table by her side. as the rain came hissing down the chimney in a "She sent to me by word of mouth, then, my little stream, the old woman raised her head im- gal, Alice? " mumbled the old woman after 250 JDOMSBEY AND SON. waiting for some moments. "What did she "Did you expect to see me return as youthsay?" ful as I went away, mother?" she said at length, "Look," returned the visitor. turning her eyes upon the old woman.. "Did The old woman repeated the word in a scared, you think a foreign life, like mine, was good for uncertain way; and, shading her eyes, looked at good looks? One would believe so to hear the speaker, round the room, and at the speaker you!" once again. "I.t an't that!" cried the rnother. " She "Alice said,' Look again, mother; "' and the knows it! ".speaker fixed her eyes upon her." What is it, then? " returned the daughter. Again the old woman looked round the room, "It had best be something that don't last, and at her visitor, and' round the room once mother, or my way out is easier than my way in." more. Hastily seizing the candle, and rising "Hear that!" exclaimed the mother. "After froni. her seat, she held it'to the visitor's face, all these years she threatens to'desert me in the uttered a loud cry, set down the light, and fell moment of her coming back again!" upon her neck.! "I tell you, mother, for the second time, "It's my gal! It's my Alice! It's my hand- there have been years for me as well as you," some daughter, living and come back!" screamed said Alice. "Come. back harder? Of course the old-woman, rocking herself to and fro upon I have-come back harder. What else did you thebreast that coldly suffered her embrace. "It's expect?" my gal! It's my Alice! It's my handsome "Harder to me! To her own dear mother!" daughter living and come back!" she screamed cried the old woman. again, dropping on the floor before her, clasping "I don't know who began to Harden me, if her knees, laying: her head against them, and my own dear mother didn't," she returned, sitstill rocking herself to and fro with every frantic ting with her folded arms, and knitted brows, demonstration of which her vitality was capable. and compressed lips, as if she were bent on ex"Yes, mother," returned Alice, stooping for- eluding, by force, every softer feeling from her ward for a moment, and kissing her,. but en- breast; "Listen, mother, to a word or two. deavouring, even in the act, to disengage herself If we understand each other now, we shall not from her embrace. " I am here at last. Let fall out any more, perhaps. I went away a go, mother; let go. Get up and sit in your girl, and have come' back a woman. I went chair. What good does this do?" away undutiful enough, and have come back no "She's come back harder than she went!" better, you may swear. But have you been very cried the mother, looking up in her face, and dutiful to me?" still holding to her knees. "She don't care for "I!" cried the old woman. "To my own me I after all these years, and all the,wretched. gal! A mother dutiful to her own child! " life I've led i"' It sounds unnatural, don't it?" returned "Why, mother!" said Alice, shaking her the daughter, looking coldly on her'with her ragged skirts to detach the old woman from stem, regardless, hardy, beautiful face; "but I them, ".there are two sides to that. There have have thought of it sometimes, in the course of been years for me as well as you, and there has my lone years, till I have got'.used to it. I have been wretchedness for me as well as you. Get heard some talk about duty, first and last; but up, get up!" it has.always been of my duty to other people. Her mother. rose, and cried, and wrung her I have wondered now and then-to pass away hands, and stood at a little distance gazing on the' time-whether no one ever owed any duty her. Then'she took the candle again, and to me." going round her, surveyed her from head to Her mother sat mowing, and mumbling, and foot, making a low moaning all the time. Then shaking her head, but whether angrily, or reshe put the candle down, resumed her chair, morsefully, or in denial, or only in her physical and beating her hands together,to a kind of infirmity, did not appear. weary tune, and rolling herself'from'side to "There was a child called Alice Marwood," side, continued moaning and wailing to herself. said the. daughter with a lau'gh, and looking Alice got up, took off her wet cloak, and laid down at herself. in terrible derision of herself, it aside. -That done, she sat down as before, "born among poverty and neglect, and nursed and with her arms folded, and.her eyes gazing in it. Nobody taught her, nobody stepped forat the fire, remained silently: listening with a ward to help her, nobody cared for her." contemptuous face to her old mother's inarticu- "Nobody!" echoed the mother, pointing to late complainings. herself, and striking her breast. SURELY AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 25t "The only care she knew," returned thle "There t I have done, mother," said the daughter, "was to be beaten, and stinted, and daughter, with a motion of her head, as if in abused sometimes; and she might have done dismissal of the subject. "I have said enough. better without that. She lived in homes like Don't let you and I talk of being dutiful, whatthis, and in the streets, with a crowd of little ever we do. Your childhood was like mine, I wretches like herself; and yet she brought good suppose. So much the worse for both of us. looks out of this childhood. So much the worse I don't want to blame you, or to defend myself; for her. She had better have been hunted and why should I? That's all over, long ago. But worried to death for ugliness." I am a woman-not a girl now-and you and I "Go on! go on!" exclaimed the mother. needn't make a show of our history, like the "I am going on," returned the daughter. gentlemen in the court. We know all about it " There was a girl called Alice Marwood. She well enough." was handsome. She was taught too late, and Lost and degraded as she was, there was a taught all wrong. She was too well cared for, beauty in her, both of face and form, which, too well trained, too well helped on, too much even in its worst expression, could not but be looked after. You were very fond of her — recognised as such by any one regarding her with you were better off then. What came to that the least attention. As she subsided into silence, girl comes to thousands every year. It was only and her face, which' had been harshly agitated, ruin, and she was born to it." quieted down; while her dark eyes, fixed upon "After all these years!" whined the old the fire, exchanged the reckless light that had woman. "My gal begins with this." animated them, fot one that was softened by " She'll soon have ended," said the daughter. s obmething like sorrow; there shone through all "There was a criminal called.Alica Marwood — her wayworn- misery and. fatigue a ray of the a girl still, but deserted and an outcast. And departed radiance of the falleni anel. she was tried, and she was sentenced. And Her mother, after watchingher for some time Lord, how the gentlemen in the court talked without speaking, venturedfto steal her withered about it! and how grave the judge was on her hand a little rearer to her across the table; and duty, and on her having perverted the gifts. of finding, that she permitted this, to'touch her nature-as if he didn't know better than any- face and smooth her hair. With the feeling, as body there that they had been male curses to it seemed, that the old woman was at least sin. her!-and how he preached about.the, strong cere in this show of interest, Alice made no arm of the Law-so very strong to save her, movement to check her; soadvancing by dewhen she was an.innocent and helpless little grees, she bound up her daughter's hair afresh, wretch! and how solemn and re'liious it all took off her wet shoes, if they deserved the was! I have thought of that many, times since, name. spread someth ingdry upon her shoulders, to be sure I" an4 hovered humbly about, muttering to herself, She folded her arms tightly on her:breast, as.she recogniised'. eroI featres and expression and laughed in a tone that made the iowl of more and' more. the old woman musical. "Youi are very poor, mother, I see," said "So Alice Marwood.was transporti'd,mother," Alice, looking round, when she had sat thus for she pursued, "and,w,as sent tp learn' her duty some time. where there was twenty tirf.es less duty, and "Bitter poor, my deary;" replied the old more wickedness, and wrong, and infamy, than woman. here. And Alice Marwopd is come back a She admired her daughter, and was afraid of woman. Such a woman.,as she ought to be, her. Perhaps her admiration, such as it was, after all this. In good time there will be more had originated long ago, when she first found solemnity, and more fine talk, and more strong anything that was beautiful appearing in the arm, most likely, and there will be an end of midst of the squalid fight of her existence. Perher; but the gentlemen needn't be afraid of haps her fear was referable, in some sort, to the being thrown out of work. There's crowds retrospect she had so lately heard. Be this as it of little wretches, boy and girl, growing up in might, she stood, submissively and deferentially, any of the.streets they live in, that'll keep them before her child, and inclined her head, as if to it till they've made their fortunes." in a pitiful entreaty to be spared any further The old woman leaned her elbows on the reproach. table, and resting her face upon her two hands, "How have you lived?" made a show of being in great distress-or really " By begging, my deary." was perhaps. "And pilfering, mother?" 2-5 T D9POMPE y ArND SON. " Sbmetimes, Ally-in a very small way. I "Watched?" returned the daughter, looking am old and timid. I have taken trifles from at her. children, now and then, my deary, but not often. " I have hung about afamily, my deary," said I have tramped. about the country, pet, and I the mother, even more humbly and submissively know what I know. I have watched." than before. " What family? " Years ago, my deary," she pursued, glancing " Hush, darling. Don't be angry with me; I timidly at the attentive and stern face opposed did it for the love of you. In memory of my to her,," I came across his little child by poor gal beyond seas." She put out her hand chance." deprecatingly, and drawing it back again, laid it " Whose child? " on her lips. Not his, Alice deary; don't look at me like Xs.,~~~~~~~'!?JL~~~~``,r 1:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ on her lips. " Not his, Alice dleary; don't lool/j.atm//iike. WISHING THEM O JOF OFY THE MARRIAGE. 253 that; not his. How could it be'his? You know she asked;the' question and looked on, as her he has none.".daughter tiok out.of her bosom the little gift "Whose, then?" returned the daughters'( You she had so latelvreceived, told.,almost as much said his." of the history of this parent and child as the "Hush, Ally; you frighten me, deary. Mr. child herselfhad told in words. Dombey's-only Mr. Dombey's. Since then,'Js that all?" said the mother. darling, I have seen them often. I have seer. "I have no more.. I should not have this, him." but for charity." In uttering this last word, the old woman "Bt for' charity, eh, deary?" said the old shrunk and' recoiled, as if with -a sudden fear woman, bending greedily over the table to look that her daughter would strike her. But though at the money, which she. appeared distrustful of the daughter's face was fixed upon her, and ex- her daughter's still retaining in her hand, and pressed the most vehement passion, she remained gazing on. "Humph! six and six is twelve, still: except. that she clenched her arms tighter and six eighteen-so-we must make the most and tighter within each other, on her bosom, as of it I'll go buy something to eat and drink." if to restrain them by that means from doing an With greater alacrity than might have been injury to herself, or some one else, in theblind expected in one of her appearance-for age and fury of the wrath that suddenly possessed her. misery seemed to have made her as decrepit as " Little he thought who I was I" said the old ugly-she began to occupy her trembling hands.woman, shaking her clenched hand. in tying an old bonnet on her head, and fold"Arid little he cared!" muttered her daughter ing a torn shawl about herself: still eyeing the between her teeth, money in her daughter's hand with thei'same "But there we were," said the old woman,sharp desire. "face to face. I spoke to him, and he spoke to "What joy is to come: o us of this marriage, me. I sat and watched him as he went away mother-?" asked the daughter. "You have not down a long grove of trees; and, at every step'told me that." he took, I cursed him soul and body." "The joy,". she replied, attiring herself with "He will thrive in spite of that," returned the fumbling fingers, "of no love at all, and much daughter disdainfully, pride andihate, my deary.' The joy.of confusion "Ay, he is thriving," said the mother. and.strife among'em, proud as they are, and of She held her peace.; for the' face and form- danger-danger, Alice!." before her were unshaped by rage.;It seemed "What danger?" as if the bosom would burst with the emotions'i have' seen. what I have seen.'I know that stidve within it. The effortthat constrained what I know!" chuckled the mothei. "Let and held it pent up was no less formidable than some look to it.- Let some be upon their guard. the rage itself:.io.less bespeaking:the violent My.gal.may keep good company yet!" and dangeroiusi, character of the woman who Then, seeing.:that, in: the wondering earnestmade it;. But.itfsucceeded, and she asked, after ness with which' her daughter regarded: her, her a silence: hand.- involuntarily closed.upon.the: money,. the "Is he married?":.old woman: made more speed to.secure it, and " No, deary," said the mother. hurriedly added, " But I'll go buy something, I'll "Going -to be?" go buy something.' "'Not that I know of, deary. But his master As.she stood: with her: hand stretched out and. friend::is married.'. Oh, we may give him before her daughte- her daughter, glancing again joy! We may give"-em all joy! " cried the old at the money, put it to her lips before Darting woman,. hugging herself with her lean arms in witliit. her exultation. "Nothing but joy to us.will "What, Ally"! Do you kiss it?" chuckled cbme of that marriag&. Mind me!" the old woman. "That's, like me-I often do. The daughter. looked at her for an expla- Oh, it's so good to us!" squeezing her own tarnation. nished halfpence up to her bag of a throat, "' so "But you.are wet'and tired: hungry and good to us in everything but not coming in thirsty," said the old woman;' hobbling.to the heaps!" cupboard: "and'there's little here, and little" "I kiss it, mother," said the daughter, "or I -diving' down into her pocket,' and jingling a did then-I don't know that I ever did beforefew halfpence on the table-" little here. Have for the giver's sake." you any money, Alice deary?" "The giver, eh, deary " retorted the old The covetous,. sharp, eager face with which woman, whose dimmed' eyes glistened as she 2 54 DOMBE Y AND SON~. took it. "Ay'I'll.kiss it for the giver's sake, ventured to'hod dby her skirts; but she venturedc; too, when the giver can make it go farther. But no more, and they travelled on in silence through I'll go spend it,. deary. I'll be back directly." the wet and gloom.. If the mqther now and then "You seem to say you know a great deal, uttered aword of complaint, she stifled it, lest mother," said the daughter, following her to the her daughter should break away from her and door with her eyes., You. have grown very-wise leave her behind; and the daughter was dumb. since-we parted." It was within an hour or so of midniglt wheni ".Know!" croaked. the old. woman, coming they left thek egular streets behind them, and back a step or two.. "I:know more than you enteredon..the. deeper gloom of that neutral think. I know more than he thinks, deary, as ground where the house was situated. The town I'll tell you by-and-by. I know all about him." lay in the distance, lurid and lowering; the'bleakl The daughter smiled incredulously. wind howled over the open space; all-around " I know of his brother, Alice," said the old was black,, wild, desolate, woman, stretching out her neck.with. a leer of This'is a fit place forme,!" said the daughter, malice absolutely frightful, "who.nmiight have stopping to look,.back.'" I thought so, when I been where you have been-:for stealing money was here before,-:to-day." -and who lives with his sister, over`yonder, by "Alice, my 4deary," cried the mother, pulling the north road out of London." her gently by the skirt. "Alice.!" "Where?" " what now, mother?" "By the northroad out ofLondondeary. You. "Don't.give the money —back, my darling; shall see.the house, if you like. It an'tmuch't. please don'.t. We can't afford it.. We waint boast of, genteel as his own is. N6,o, no," supper, deary. Money is money, whoeer. gives cried the old woman, shaking her head';:and it. Say what you will, ibut keep the money." laughing; for her daughter had started up,-'"not'See there!" was all the daughter's answer. now.; it's too far off; it's by the milestone, where' "That is the house I mean. Is that it?"' the stones are heaped;-to-morrow,;.deary, if The old woma'n- nodded in the affirmative; it's fine, and you are in the. humour...But I'll and a few more paes brought them to.the thr~eshgo spend —".old. There was the light of fire and candle in' Stop!" and the daughter flung'herself upon the room where Alice had sat to dry herclothes; her, with her former passion raging like a fire. and, on her knocking at the door, John Carker ".The sister is a fair-faced devil, with brown appeared from that room. hair?" He was surprised to see such visitors at such The old woman, amazed and terrified, nodded an hour, arid asked Alice what she wanted. her head. "I want your sister," she said. " The woman " I see the shadow of him in her face! I t's a who gave me money to-day." red house, standing by itself. Before the door At the sound of her raised voice Harriet came' there is a -small green porch." out. Again the old woman nodded. "Oh!" said Alice. You are here!' Do you " In which I sat to-day! Give me back the remember me?" money.".' Yes," she answered, wondering. "Alice! Deary!" The face that had humbled itself before her "Give me back the money, or you'll be hurt." looked on her now with such invincible hatred She forced it from the' old woman's hand as and defiance; and the hand that had gently she spoke, and, utterly indifferent to her corn- toched'her arm was clenched with such a show plainings and entreaties, threw on the garments of evil purpose, as if it would. gladly.strangle she had taken off, and hurried out with headlong her; that she drew iclose to her brother for p.ro speed. tection.. The mother followed,,limping after her as she " That I could speak with you, and not know could, and expostulating with no more effect you! That I could.come near you, and not upon. her than upon the wind and rain.and dark- feel what blood was running in your veins, by sess that encompassed them. Obultrte and the tingling of -my own! said Alice with a fierce in her own purpose, and indiffent to all menacing gesture. besides, the daughter defied the weather -and the "What do you mean? What have I done?" distance, as if.she had known no travel or fatigue,, "Done!" returned the other. "You lave sat and made for the house where she had been re- me by your fire; you have given me food-. and lieved. After some q.uarter of an hour's walk- money; you have bestowed your compai-inn ing, the old woma,.spent and out. of breath,on me! You! whose name I spit upon'" THE GIFT SPURNED. The old woman, with a malevolence that made lie close together, that the two extremes touch, her ugliness, quiteawful, shook her withered hand and that our journey's end is but our startingat the brother and sister in confirmation of her place? Allowing'for great difference of stuff and daughter, but plucked her' by the skirts again, texture, was the pattern of this woof repeated nevertheless, imploring her to keep the money. among gentle blood at all? "If I dropped a tear upon your hand, may it Say, Edith Dombey! And Cleopatra, best wither it up! If I spoke a gentle word in your of mothers, let us have your testimony! hearing, may it deafen you! If I touched you with rmy lips, may the touch be poison to you! 4.' curse upon this roof that gave me shelter! Sorrow and shame upon your head! Ruin uponCHAPTER XXXV all belonging to you!" " As she'said the words, she threw the money THE HAPPY PAIR. down upon the ground, and spumed it with her.,Ad foot l'.. 1 iHE dark blot on the street is gone. "I tread it in the dust: I wouldn't take it if _ Mr. Dombey's mansion, if it be a it paved my way to Heaven! I wish the bleed- gap among the other.houses any ing foot that brought me here to-day had rotted- longer, is only so because it is not off, before it led me to your house!" to be vied within its brightness, and Harriet, pale and trembling, restrained her haughtily casts them off. The saying is, brother, and suffered her to go on uninterrupted. that home is home, be it never so homely. "It was well that I should be pitied and for- If it hold good in the opposite continl given by you, or any oie of your name, in the gency, and home is home, be it never so stately, first hour of my return.! It was well that yoi what an altar to the Household Gods is raised should act the kind good lady to me! I'll thank up here! you when I die; I'll pray for you, and all your Lights are sparkling in the windows this evenrace, you may be sure ing, and the ruddy glow of fires is warm and With a fierce action of her hand, as if she bright upon the hangings and soft carpets, and sprinkled hatred on the ground, aad with it de- the dinner waits to be served, and the dinnervoted those who were standing there to destruc- table is handsomely set forth, though only for tion, she looked up once at the black sky, and four persons, and the sideboard is cumbrous strode, out into the wild night. with plate. It is the first time that the house The -mother, who had plucked at her skirts has been arranged for occupation since its late aain and again in vain, and had eyed the money changes,. and the happy pair are looked for lying on the threshold with an absorbing greed every minute. that seemed to concentrate her faculties upon it, Only second to the wedding morning, in the would have prowled about until the house was interest and expectation it engenders among the dark, and then groped in the mire on the chance household, is this evening of the coming home. of repossessing herself of it. But the daughter Mrs.' Perch is in the kitchen taking tea; and drew her away, and they set forth straight, on has made the tour of the establishment, and their return.to their dwelling; the old woman priced the silks and damasks by the yard, and Nwhimpering and bemoaning their loss upon the exhausted every interjection in the dictionary, road; and fretfully bewailing, as openly as she and out of it, expressive of admiration and dared, the undutiful conduct of her handsome wonder. The upholsterer's foreman, who has gifrl n depriving her of a supper on the very left his hat, with a pocket-handkerchief in it, first night of their reunion. both smelling strongly of varnish, under a chair'Supperless to bed she went, saving for a few in the hall, lurks about the house, gazing upcoarse fragments; and those she sat mumbling ward at the cornices, and downward at the carnd' nunching over a scrap of fire, long after her pets, and occasionally, in a silent transport of undutiful daughter lay asleep. enjoyment, taking a rule out of his pocket, and skirmishingly measuring expensive objects, with were this miserable mother, and'this mise- unutterable feelings. Cook is in high spirits, and rable daughter, only the reduction to their'lowest says, Give her a place where there's plenty of grade of certain social vices sometimes prevailing company (as she'll bet you sixpence there will higher ip? In this round world of many circles be now), for she is of a lively disposition, and Within circles, do we make a weary journey from she always was from a child, and she don't mind tfe iigh grade to the low, to find at last that they who knows it; which sentiment elicits from the 256 DOMBE Y AND SON. breast of Mrs. Perch a responsive murmur of of dinner. The.maid. who ought to be a skelesupport and approbation. All the housemaid ton, but is in truth a buxom damsel, is, on. the hopes is, happiness for'em-but marriage is a other hand, in a most amiable state; considerlottery, and the more she thinks about it, the ing her quarterly stipend much safer than heremore she feels the independence and the safety of tofore, and foreseeing a great imnrovement in a single life. Mr. Towlinson is saturnine and her board and lodging. grim, and says that's his opinion too, and give Where are the happy pair for whom this him war besides, and down with th6eFrench- brave home is waiting? Do steam, tide, wind, for this young man has a general impression and horses all abate their speed, to linger on that every foreigner is a Frenchman, and must such. happiness? Does the swarm of loves and be by the laws of nature. graces hovering about them retard their.progress At each new sound of wheels..they all stop, by its numbers? Are there so many flowers in whatever they are saying, and listen; and more their happy path, that they can scarcely move than once there is a general starting up and a along, without entanglement in thornless roses cry of "Here. they are!' But here they are not and sweetest brier? yet; and cook begins to mourn over the dinner, They are here at last! The noise of wheels which has been put back twice, and the up- is heard, grows louder, and a carriage drives up holsterer's foreman still goes lurking about the to the door! A thundering knock from the rooms,. undisturbed in his blissful reverie. obnoxious foreigner anticipates the rush of Mr. Florence is ready to receive her father and her Towlinson and party to open it;..and Mr. Domnew- mamma. Whether the emotions "that are bey and his bride alight,and walk in arm-and-arm. throbbing in her breast originate in pleasure or "My sweetest Edith!". cries an agitated voice in pain she hardly knows. But the fluttering upon the stairs. "My dearest Dombey " and heart sends added colour to her cheeks, and the short sleeves-wreath.themselves about the brightness to her eyes; and they say down-stairs, happy couple in turn, and embrace them, drawing their heads together-for they always Florence had come down to the hall.too: but speak softly when they speak of her-how did not advance: reserving her timid welcome beautiful Miss Florence looks to-night, and what until these nearer and dearer transports should a sweet young lady she has grown, poor dear! subside. But the eyes of Edith sought:her put A pause succeeds; and then cook, feeling, as, upon the threshold; and, dismissing -her -sensipresident, that her sentiments are.waited for, tive parent with a slight kiss on her. cheek, she wonders whether-and there stops. The house- hurried on to Florence and embraced her. maid wonders too, and so does Mrs. Perch, who "How do you do, Florence.?" -said, Mr. has the happy social faculty of always wondering Dombey, putting out his hand. when other people wonder, without being at all As Florence, trembling, raised it to. her lips, particular what she wonders at. Mr. Towlin- she met his glance. The look was cold: and son, who now descries an opportunity of bring- distant enough, but it stirred her heart to think ing down'the spirits of the ladies to' his own that she observed in it something more of in~revel, says, Wait and see: he wishes some people terest than he had ever shown before.. -,It even were well out of this. Cook leads a sigh then, expressed a kind of faint surprise, and notia disand a' murmur of "Ah, it's a strange world, —it agreeable surprise, at sight of her. She- dared is indeed!" and, when it has gone round the not raise her eyes to his any more; but she felt table, adds persuasively, "But Miss Florence that he looked at her once again, and. not less can't well be the worse for any change, Tom." favourably. Oh! what a thrill of:joy- shot Mr. Towlinson's rejoinder, pregnant with frightful through her, awakened by even this intangible meaning, is, " Oh, can't she, though!" and sen- and baseless confirmation of her hope that:. she sible that a mere man can scarcely be more pro- would learn to win him through her new and phetic, or improve upon that, he holds his peace. beautiful mamma! Mrs. Skewton, prepared to greet her darling "You will not be long dressing, Mrs. Domdaughter and dear son-in-law with open arms, bey, I presume?" said Mr. Dombey. is appropriately attired for that purpose in a "I shall be ready immediately." very youthful costume, with short sleeves., At "Let them send up dinner in a quarter. ofan present, however, her ripe charms are blooming hour." in the shade.of her own apartments, whence she With that Mr. Dombey stalked away: to.-.his has not emerged since she took possession of own dressing-room, and Mrs. Dombey went upthem a few hours ago, and where she is fast stairs to hers. Mrs. Skewton and Florence:.regrowing fretful, on account of the postponement paired to the drawing-room, where that, excellent A S3'2ATUE.4AT ZTIE PASSZ'. 257' mother considered it incumbent on her to shed of which it was capable. Whether Mr. Dombey, a few irrepressible tears, supposed to'be forced wrapped in his own greatness, was at all aware from her by her daughter's felicity; and which of this, or no, there had not been wanting opshe was still drying, very gingerly, with a laced portunities already for his complete enlightericorner of;her pocket-handkerchief, when her ment; and at that moment it. might have been son-in-law appeared. effected, by the one glance of the dark, eye that -"And how, my dearest Dombey, did you find lighted on him, after it had -rapidly and scornthat? delightfillest of cities, Paris?" she asked, fully'surveyed the theme of his self-glorification. subduing he emotion. He might have read in that one glance that f'.It was cold," returned Mr. Dombey. nothing that his wealth could do, though. it ~"cGay as ever," said Mrs. Skewton, " o were increased ten thousand fold,' could win course." him, for its own sake, one look of softened re-'" "Not particularly. I' thought it dull," said cognition from the defiant woman linked to him, Mr. Dombey. but arrayed with her whole soul against'him. " Fie, my dearest Dombey!" archly; " dull!" He might have read in that one glance that even " It.made that impression upon me, madam," for its sordid and mercenary influence upon hersaid Mr. Dombey with grave politeness. "I be- self she spurned it, while she claimed its utmost lieve Mrs. Dombey found it dull too. She men- power as her right, her bargain-as the base and tioned once or twice that she thought it so." worthless recompense for which she had become "Why, you naughty girl!" cried Mrs. Skew- his wife. He might have read in it that, ever ton, rallying her dear child, who now entered, baring her~ own' head for the lightning "of her wivhat dreadfully heretical things have you been own contempt and pride to strike, the most saying about Paris?" innocent allusion to the power of his riches deEdith raised her eyebrows with. an air of weari- graded her anew, sunk her deeper in her own ness':; and'passing the folding doors, which were respect, and made the blight and waste within thrown open to display the. suite of rooms in her more complete. their new and handsome garniture, and' barely But dinner ivas announced, ard Mr. Dombey glancing at them as she passed, sat down by led down Cleopatra; Edith and his daughter Florence. following. Sweeping past the gold and silver ".i"My dear Dombey," said Mrs. Skeaton,- demonstration on the sideboard as if it were " how charmingly these people have carried out heaped-up dirt, and deigning to bestow no look every idea thatwe hinted!'They have made a upon the elegancies around her, she took her -perfect palace of the house, positively." place at his board for the first time, and sat, "It is handsome," -said;Mr. Dombey, looking like a statue, at the feast.. ound. " I directed that no expense should be Mr. Dombey, being a good deal in the statue Spared; and all that nioney could do has been way himself, was well' enough pleased to see his done, I believe." handsome wife immovable and proud'and cold. ":And what can it not do, dear Dombey?" Her deportment being always elegant and grace-,observed Cleopatra. ful, this as at general behaviour was agreeable -"It i prowerful, madam,", said Mr. Dombey. and congenial to him. Presiding, therefore, He looked- in. his solemn way towards his with his accustomed dignity, and not at all re-'ife, but not ajword said she. flecting on his wife by any warmth or hilarity of "I hope, Mrs. Dombey," addressing her, after his own, he performed his share of the honours: moment's silence, with especial distinctness, of the table with a cool satisfaction; and the':"that these alterations mneet with your ap- installation dinner, though not'regarded downproval " stairs as a great success, or very promising be-':'"They are as'handsome as they can be," she ginning, passed off, above, in a sufficiently polite, returned with haughty carelessness. "They genteel, and frosty manner. should be so, of course..And I suppose they Soon after tea, Mrs. Skewton; who affected to are:" be quite 6vercome and worn out by her.emoAn expression of scorn.was habitual to,the tiorfs of happiness, arising in the contemplation proud' face, and seemed inseparable.from' it: of her dear child united to the man'of her heart, but the contempt' with which -it.received any but whot there is reason, to suppose, found this appeal-to admiration, respect,:or consideration family party somewhat dull, as she yawned for otr;'fh ground of-his riches, no matter how slight. one hour' continually behind her fan, retired to:or ordinary in itself, was..;a new.and different bed. Edith, also, silently withdrew, and came expression,.unequalled in intensity by any other back no more. Thus, it happened- that FloDOMUBEY'AND SON, 17.. 307 258 DOMBB Y AND SON. rence, who had been up-stairs to have some design, was so adjusted that his-'sight" was'free, conversation with Diogenes, returning to the and that it never wandered from her face an drawing-room with her little work-basket, found instant! That when she looked towards him, no one there but her father, who was walking to in the obscure dark coer, er speakingeyes, and fro in dreary magnificence. more earnest atd pathetic in their voiceless "I beg your pardon. Shall I go awva, papa?" speech than all the orators of all the world, and s'aid Florence faintly, hesitating at the door. impeaching him more nearly in their mute ad-' "No," returned Mr. Dombey, looking round dress, met his, and did not know it! That when over his shoulder; " you can come and go here, she bent her head again over her work, he drer' Florence, as you please. This is not my private his breath more easily, but with.the same attenroom." tion looked upon her still-upon her white brow Florence entered, and sat down at a distant and her falling hair, and busy hands; and, once little iable with her work; finding herself for attracted, seemed to have no power to turn his the first time in her life-for the very first time eyes away! within her memory from her infancy to that hour And what were his thoughts meanwhile? With -alone with her father as his companion. She, what emotions did he prolong the attentive gaze' his natural companion, his only child, who in covertly directed on his unknown daughter? her lonely life and grief had known the suffering Was there reproach to him in the quiet figure of a breaking heart; who, in her rejected love, and the mild eyes? Had he begun to feel her had never breathed his' name to God at night, disregarded claims, and did they touch him home but with a. tearful.blessing, heavier on him than at last, and waken him to some..sense of his a curse; who had prayed.to die young, so she cruel injustice? might only -die in his armps; who had, all There are yielding moments in the lives of through, repaid the agony ofslight and coldness, the sternest and harshest men, though such men and dislike, with patient unexacting love, ex- often keep their secret well. The sight of'her: cusing him, and pleading for him, like his better in her beauty, almost Ichanged into a woman angel! without his knowledge, may have struck'out She trembled, and her eyes were dim.' His some such moments even in his life of- pride. figure seemed to grow in height and bulk before Some passing thought that he had had athappy her as he paced the room: now it was all blurred home within his reach-had had a household and indistinct; now clear again, and plain: and spirit bending at his feet-had overlooked itiri' how she seemed to think that this had hap- his stiff-necked, sullen arrogance, and'wandered pened, just the same, a multitude of'years ago. away and lost himself-may have engendered She yearned towards him, and yet shrunk from them. Some simple eloquence distinctly hea rd, his approach. Unnatural emotion in a child, though only uttered in her eyes, unconscious innocent of wrong! Unnatural the hand that that he read them, as, "By the death-beds'I had directed the sharp plough, which furrowed have tended, by the childhood I have suffered, up her gentle nature for the sowing of its seeds! by our meeting in this dreary house at midnight, Bent upon not distressing or offending him by by the cry wrung from me in the anguish of my her distress, Florence controlled herself, and sat heart, O father, turn to me and seek a refuge in quietly at her work. After a few more turns my love before it is too late!" may have arrested across and across the room, he left off pacing it; them. Meaner and lower thoughts, as that his: and withdrawing into a shadowy corner at some dead boy was now superseded by new ties, -and distance, where there was an easy-chair, covered he could forgive the having been supplanted iii his head with a handkerchief, and composed his affection, may have occasioned them.- The himself to sleep. mere association of her as an ornament, with all It was enough for Florence to sit there watch- the ornament and pomp about him, may:iav-e ing him; turning her eyes towards his. chair from been sufficient. But, as he looked,'he softened' time'to time; watching him with' her thoughts, to her more and: more. As he looked, hshe; be-, when her face was intent upon herwork; and came blended with the child: le had loved, and sorrowfully glad to think that he could sleep he could hardly separate the two.'As'hie looked,-: while she was there, and that.he was not made he saw her for an instant by a clearer' and'' a restless by her strange and long-forbidden pre- brighter light, not bending over that'child's sence. pillow as his rival-monstrous thought! —buitas What would have been.her thoughts if she the spirit of his home, and in the action tending had known that he was steadily regarding her; hinSelf,no. less, as he sat once more with his that the veil upon his face, by accident or:by bowed-down head upon his hand at the foot of THE STATUE MELTS FOR FLORENCE. 259 the,little-bed. He felt inclined.to speak to her, talked together for a long time. Diogenes, who and calli her to him. The words "Florence, was of the party, had at first objected to,the come here'" were rising to his lips-slowly and admission of Edith, and, even in deference to with:difficuity, they were so very strange.-when his mistress's wish, had only-permitted it under they were checked and. stifled by a footstep on growling protest.' But, emerging by little and the stair. little from the ante-room, whither he had retired It was his wife's. She had exchanged her in dudgeon,'he soon appeared to comprehend dinner dress for a loose robe, and-had unbound that, with the. nost. amiable intentions, he had her; h.air, which fell freely about her neck. But made one of those mistakes which will occathis was. notlthe change in her that startled him. sionally arise in the best-regulated dogs' minds; ",Florence dear," she said, "I have *been as a friendly apology for which he stuck' himself loking for you everywhere." up' on end between the two, ina very hot place As she sat down by the side of Florence, she inf' front of the fire, and -sat panting at' it, with stooped aand kissed her hand. He hardly knew his tongue out, and a most imbecile expression his. wife. She was.. so changed. It. was not of countenance, listening to the conversation. merei.y that her smile was new to him-though It turned, at first, on Florence's books' and that he- ha4 never seen; but her manner, the favourite pursuits, and on the manner in which tone of her voice, the'light of her eyes, the in- she had beguiled the interval since the marriage. terest and' confidence, and winning wish to The last theme opened up to her a subject which please, expressed in all-this was not Edith. lay very near her heart, and she said, with the "Softly, dear mamma. Papa is asleep." tears starting to her eyes: It was Edith /ow; She Iqoked towards'the "Oh, mamma! I have had a great sorrow comner where he was, and he knew.that face and since that day." manner.verywell. "You a great sorrow, Florence!" ".I scarcely thought you could be here, Flo- "'Yes. Poor Walter is drowned." rence." Florence spread her hands before her face, ".Again, how altered and how softened in an and wept with all her heart. Many as were the instanf1 secret tears which Walter's fate had cost her, "1 left here early," pursued Edith, "purposely thy flowed yet when she thought or spoke of to sit up-sitairs tand talk with you. But, going him. o.your, room, I found my bird was flown, and I "But tell me, dear,' said Edith, soothing her, cave been waiting there ever since, expecting its "who was Walter? What was he to you?" ret....". "He was my brother, mamma. After dear If it had, been a bird indeed, she could not Paul died, we said we would be brother and have. taken'it more tenderly and gently to her sister. I had known him a long time-from a breast than she did Florence. little child. He knew Paul, who liked him very "Come, dear!" much; Paul said, almost at the last,'Take care "Papa will not expect to find me, I uppose, of Walter, dear papa! I was fond of him'!' when;he wakes?" hesitated Florence. Walter had been brought in to see him, and was,' Do you think he will, Florencei' said there then-in this room." Edith, looking full upon her. "And did he. take care of Walter?" inquired Florence drooped her head, and rose, and put Edith sternly. up her work-basket. Edith.drew her hand "Papa? He appointed him to go abroad. through her arm, and they/.went out of the room He was drowned in shipwreck- on his voyage," like sisters. -Her very step was different and said Florence, sobbing. new to him, Mr. Dombey thought, as. his eyes "Does he know that he is.dead?" asked fo.,wed her to the door. Edith. -He, sat in his shadoy'-cori'er so long, that "I cann-ot tell, mamma. I have no.means of the chuchh clocks struck the hour three times knowing. Dear mamma!" cried Florence, clingbefore he moved tbat- ight. All, that while his ing to her as for help, and.hiding her face upon face-was stil. intent upon tSe spot where Flo- her bosom;" I know that you,.have seen — " renee~had been s'ated. The rocm grew darker "Stay!. Stop, Florence;!"- Edith turned so as the.candles reci d.,nd,ent out; but a dark- pale, and spoke so earnestly, that Florence did n.ss gathered o-1';s ace, exceeding any that not need her'restraining -hand.upon her lips: the nigh.t could cast, and rested there." Tell me all about \Walter first; let me underFlorence.and Edith,'seated before fle fire in stand this history all through." the em9ote room ywhere. little;aFl had died, Florence related it, and-everything belonging 260 DCOMBE Y AND SOXN to it, even down to. the friendship of Mr. Toots, until I saw you, let the undeserved reward. be of whom she could hardly speak in her distress mine in your trust and love. And in this-in without a tearful smile, although she was deeply this, Florence; on the first night of my taking grateful to him. When' she had concluded her up my abodle here; I am led on, as it is best I account, to the whole of which Edith, holding should be, to say it for the first and last time." her hand, listened with close.attention, and when' Florence, without- knowing why':felt- aibost a.silence had succeeded, Edith said: afraid to hear her proceed, but kept'heir eyes "What.is it that you know I' have seen; riveted on the beautiful face so fixed uponi her Florence? " own. "That I am not," said Florence, with the'" Never' seek to find in me," said Edith, laying same mute appeal, and the same quick conceal- her hand upon her breast, "what is not here. ment of her face as before, " that I am not a Never if you can help it, Florence, fall off from favourite child, mamma. I never have been. I me because it is not here. Little bylittle have never known how to be.' I have'ilissed will know me better, and the time'will come the way, and'had no one to show it to me. Oh, when you will know me-as I know myself. let me learn from you how, to become dearer to Then, be as lenient to. me as you can, and, do papa! Teach me!'you, who can so well!" and. not turn to bitterness the only sweet rememclinging closer to her, with some broken, fervent brance I shall have."' words of' gratitude and endearment, Florence, The tears that were visible in her eyes, as she relieved of her sad secret, wept long, but not as kept them fixed on Florence, showed that the painfully as of yore, within the encircling arms composed face was but as a handsome: mask; of her new mother. but she preserved it, and continued Pale,' even to her lips, and with a'face that "I have seen what you say, and know how strove for composure until its proud beauty was true it is. But believe me-you'will soon,iif as fixed as death, Edith looked down upon the you cannot now-there is no one on this earth weeping girl, and once kissed her. Then, gra less qualified to set it right or help.you, Florence, dually disengaging herself, and putting Florence than I. Never ask me why, or speak- to:me away, she said, stately and quiet as a marble about it, or of my husband more..There should image, and in a voice that. deepened as she be, so far, a division and a silence. between.us spoke, but' had-no other. token- of emotion in it: two, like the grave itself." "Florence, you do not know me! Heaven She sat for some time silent; Florence scarcely forbid:that you should. learn from me!" venturing to breathe meanwhile, as dim and im"Not learn from you?" repeated Florence in perfect shadows of the truth,. and- all;its-daily surprise. consequences, chased'each other through.her "That I should teach you how to love, or be terrified, yet incredulous imagination, -Almost loved, Heaven forbid'" said Edith.' "If you as soon as she had ceased to speak, Edith's face could teach me, that were better; but'it is too began to subside from its set composure to that late.'. You are dear to me, Florence. I did not quieter and more relenting aspect which it-usually think that anything could ever be so dear to' me wore when she and Florence were alone together, as you are in this little time." She shaded it, after this change, with her hands; She saw that Florence would have spoken and when she arose, and with an affectionate here, so checked her with her hand, and went on. embrace bade Florence good night, went quickly, "I will be your true friend always. I will- and without looking round. cherish you as much, if not as well, as any one But, when Florence was in bed, and the room in this world could. You may trust in me-I was dark except for the glow of the fire, Edith know it, and I say it, dear —with the whole con- returned,: and saying that she could, not, sIee'p fidence even of your pure heart. There are hosts and that her dressing-room was lonely, dreva of women whom he might have married, better chair upon the hearth, and watched -the: enmbers and truer in all other respects than I am, Flo- as they died away. Florence watched them. r o: rence; but there is not one who could come from her bed, until they, and the noble.fi'gure here, his wife,'whose heart could beat with before them, crowned with its flowing hair, nd greater truth to you than mine does." in its thoughtful eyes reflecting back their light, "I. know it, dear mamma!" cried Florence. became confused and indistinct, and finallywere "From that first most happyday I have. known it." lost in slumber. "Most happy day'!.Edith seemed to repeat In her sleep, however, Florence co:uld- no' the words involuntarily, and went on. "Though lose an undefined impression of what' had's1 the merit is not mine, for I thought little of you recently passed. It formed the subiect of her INVITATIONS TO DINNER. 26t'dreams, and haunted. her; now in one shape, sent'for her or went to her when she came 6w:'in anoher; but always oppressively;- and home from visiting, and would always, go into with -asese of fear. She dreamed of seeking her'room at night before retiring to rest, howerfaherde n wildernesses,of following his track ever late the hour, and never lost an opportu-'hp fearful heights, and down into' deep. mines nity of being with her, was often her silent and and Caverns.; of being charged with something thoughtful companion for a long time together. that would release him from extraordinary stffer- Florence, who had hoped for so much from ing —she knew not what, or why —yet never being this marriage, could not help sometimes comable, to attain the goal and.se. him free.' Then. paring the bright house with, the faded, dreary she; saw.him dead, upon:that very bed, and in place out of which it had arisen, and wondering that'very room, and knew that he had never' when;. in any shape, it would.begin to be a loved her to the last,. and fell upon his cold home; for that it was no home then for any breast,'-passioiately weeping. Then a prospect one, though everything went on luxuriously and opened, and a river flowed, and a plaintive voice regularly, she had. always a secret misgiving. she knew cried, ", It is running on, Floy! It has Many, an hour of sorrowful reflection by day never. stopped! You are moving with it!" And and night, and many a tear of blighted hope, she saw him at a distance stretching out his arms Florence bestowed upon the assurance her new towards her,,while a figure, such as Walter's used mamma. had given her so strongly,, that there to: be, stood near him, awfully serene and still. was no one on the earth more powerless than In every vision Edith came and went, sometimes herself to teaclchher how to win her father's to her jby, sometimes to her sorrow, until they heart.'And soon Florence began to thinkwere-alone upor:the brink of a dark grave, and. resolved to think would be the truer phrase — Edith ipointing down, she looked, and saw- that as no one knew so well how hopeless of what t? —another Edith lying' at the bottom. I being subdued or changed her' father's coldness!n the terror. of this dream, she'cried out, and to. her {ias, so she had given her this warning, awoke, she thought.'A soft'voice seemed to and forbidden the -subject in very compassion. whisper-in her -ear,' Florence, dear Florence, it- Unselfish here, as in her every' act. and fancy, is nothing but a dream'!" and, stretching out'Florence preferred to bear the p'ain of this new her arms, she returned the'caress of her new wound, rattier than encourage —any. faint foremamima, v',ho. then went out' at the' door in the shadowings of the truth as it concerned her light obf the grey morning. In a moment Florence' father; tender of him,'even in.her wandering sat'up, wondering whether this had'really taken thoughts.- As for his home, she hoped, it would place or. not; but she was only certain that it: become a better one, when its state of.:novelty was grey morning indeed, and thai the black- and transition should be over: and, for- herself, ened;ashes of the fire were on the hearth, and thought little and lamented less; that. she was alone. If none of the new family'were particularly So "passed -the night on which the.happy.pair at home in private, it was resolved that MrAs. came home. Dombey-at 4east should be at home'in public., - without delay. A series of entertainments in celebration of the late nuptials, and in cultivat;AJ'PTER XXXVI. tion of.society, were arranged chiefly by Mr. Dombey and Mrs. Skewton; and. it was settled HOUSE-WARMING. that the festive proceedings should commence by Mrs. Dombey's being at, home upon a certain ANY succeeding days. passed in like evening, and by Mr. and Mrs. Dombey's requestmanner:; except that there were ing the honour of the company of a great many inumerous visits received and paid, incongruous people to dinner on the same day. and that Mrs. Skewton held little Accordingly, Mr, Dombey produced a. list of levees in her_ own. apartments, at sundry eastern magnates who were to be bidden whicl' Major' Baggtock was a frequent to this feast'on his behalf; to which.Mrs. Skewton, atendlat, and that Florence'encoun- acting for: her'dearest child, who was haughtily t"red:.no second look' from her father, careless on the subject, subjoined a western list, altJiQloth2. she saw hiin every day. Nor had she comprising Cousin Fecnix, riot yet returned to mi:.1i. ommunication in words'with her.new Baden-Baden, greatly to'the'detriment of his marommn twho was~.iinperiotus annd Proud' to all personal estate; and and avariety of moths of various'the? hoise' but. her- Jflor.ence' fould'not but degrees and ages,'who had,'at va ious times, flutobserve that —tand'who, although' she'always tered round the light of her fair daughter or her 262a ~OtDOMBEY ANiD SO. self without any lasting injury to their wings. Now Mrs. Dombey appeared, beautiful and Florence was enrolled as a member of the dinner- proud, and as disdainful and defiant of thei all party by Edith's command-elicited by a mo- as if the bridal wreath upon her head had been ment's doubt and hesitation on the part of Mrs. a garland of steel spikes put on to force concesSkewton; and Florence, with a wondering heart, sion from her which she would die sooner than and with a quickinstinctive sense of everything yield. With her was Florence. vWl!er they that grated on her father in the least, took her entered together, the shadow of the night of the silent share in the proceedings of the day. return again darkene'd Mr. Dombey's face. But The proceedings commenced by Mr. Dombey, unobserved: for Florence did not venture to in a cravat of extraordinary height and stiffness, raise her eyes to his, and Edith's indifference walking restlessly about the drawing-room until was too supreme to take the least heed of him. the hour appointed for dinner; punctual to which, The arrivals quickly became numerous. More an East India Director, of immense wealth, in a Directors, Chairmen of'public comp4nies,'elderly waistcoat apparently constructed in serviceable ladies carrying burdens on their heads for full deal by some plain carpenter, but really engen- dress, Cousin Feenix, Major Bagstock, friends dered in the tailor's art, and composed of the of Mrs. Skewton, with the' same bright bloom material called nankeen, arrived, and was re- on their complexion, and very precious neckceived by Mr. Dombey alone. The next stage laces on very withered necks. Among these, of the proceedings was Mr. Dombey sending his a young lady of sixty-five, remarkably coo1ly compliments to Mrs. Dombey, with a correct dressed as to. her back and, shoulders, who statement of the time; and the next, the East spoke with an engaging lisp, and whose eyelids India Director's falling prostrate, in a conversa- wouldn't keep up well, without a great deal of tional point of view, and, as Mr. Dombey was trouble on her part, and whose manners ad that not the man to pick him up, staring at the fire indefinable charm which so frequently attaches until rescue appeared in theperson of Mrs. to the giddiness of youthr As the'greater part Skewton; whom the Director, as a pleasant of Mr. Dombey's list were disposed to. be: tacistart in life for the evening, mistook for Mrs. turn, and the greater part of Mrs. Donibey's list Dombey, andigreeted with enthusiasm. were disposed to be talkative, and there was no The next arrival was a Bank Director, reputed sympathy between. them, Mrs. DombSey's list,'by to be able to buy up anything-human Nature magnetic agreement, entered into a bond -of generally, if he should take it in his head to union against Mr. Dombey's list, who, wanfderinfluence the Money Market in that direction- ing about the rooms in a desolate manner, or but who was a wonderfully modest-spoken man, seeking refuge in corners, entangled themselv'es almost boastfully so, and mentioned his "'little with company coming in, and became barricaded place " at Kingston-upon-Thames, *and its just behind sofas, and had doors opened smartly from being barely equal to giving Dombey a bed and without against their heads, and underwent every a chop, if he would come and visit it. Ladies, sort of discomfiture. he said, it was not for a man who lived in his When dinner was announced, Mr. Dombey quiet way to take upon himself to invite-but took down an old lady like a crimson' velvet.if Mrs. Skewton and. her daughter, Mrs. Dombey, pincushion stuffed with bank notes, who might should ever find themselves in that direction, and have been the identical old lady of Threadnieedle would do him the honour to look. at a little bit Street, she was so rich, and looked so unaiccomof a shrubbery they would find there, and a poor modating; Cousin Feenix took down Mrs. D.mlittle flower-bed or so, and a humble apology for bey; Major Bagstock took down Mrs. Skewton; a pinery, and two or three little attempts of that theyoung thing with the shoulders was besAbtowed, sort without any pretension, they would distin- as an extinguisher, upon the East India Director; guish him very much. Carrying. out his cha- and the remaining ladies were left on view "in the racter, this gentleman was very plainly dressed, drawing-room by the remaining gentlemen, itntil in a wisp of cambric for a neckcloth, big shoes, a forlorn hopevolunteered to conduct them:downa coat that was too loose for him, and a pair of stairs, and those brave spirits with their captives trousers that were too spare and mention being blocked up the dining-room door, shutting'out made of the Opera by Mrs. Skewton, he said he seven mild men in the stony-hearted hall. When very seldom went there, for he couldn't afford it. all the rest were got in and were seated, one of It seemed greatly to delight and exhilarate him these mild men still appeared, in smiling'coi-nfuto say so; and he beamed on his audience after- sion, totally destitute and unprovided fort and, wards, with his hands in his pockets, and exces- escorted by the butler, made the complete;c.irsive satisfaction twinkling in his eyes. cuit of the table twice before his'cair' culd' be ANE APPROPR.IATE AND AGREEABLE JOKE. 263 found, which it finally was, on Mrs. Dombey's ward to see the mild man, and smile encourage-'left hand; after which the mild man never held' nent at him down the table, "That was Jack. u'ti is head again.Joe wore " Now the spacious dining-room, with the corn- Tops!" cried the mild man, rising in public pany seated- round the glittering table, busy with estimation every instant. their glittering spoons, and knives and forks, and " Of course," said Cousin Feenix, "you were plates, might have been. taken for a grown-up intimate with'em?" exposition of Tom Tiddler's ground, where chil- "I knew them both," said the mild man. dren. pick up go'l and silver. Mr. Dombey; as With whom Mr. Dombey immediately -took Tiddler,-looked his character to admiration; and wine. the long plateau of precious metal frosted, sepa- "Devilish good fellow, Jack!" said Cousin rating him" from Mrs. Dombey, whereon frosted Feenix, again bending forward, and smiling. Cupids offered scentless flowers to each of them, Excellent," returned the mild man, becoming was allegorical to see. bold on his success. " One of the best fellows I Cousin Feenix was.in great force, and looked ever knew." Astonishingly young. But he was sometimes "No doubt you have heard the story?" said thoughtless in his good-humour-his memory Cousin Feenix. occasionally wandering like his legs-and on "I shall know," replied the bold mild man, this occasion he caused the company to shudder. "when I have heard your Ludship tell it." Wi'h It happened thus. The young lady with the that, he leaned back in his chair and smiled at back, who regarded Cousin Feenix with senti- the ceiling, as knowing it-by heart, and being ments of tenderness, had entrapped the' East already tickled. India Director into leading her to the chair next " In point of fact, it's nothing of a story in himr: in return'for which good office, she imme- itself," said Cousin Feenix, addressing the'table diately abandoned the Director, who, being with a smile, and a gay shake of his head, "and shaded on the.other side by. a gloomy black not worth a word of preface. But it's illustrative velvet hat surmpunting a bony and speechless of the neatness of Jack's humour. The fact is, female with a fan, yielded to a depression of that Jack was invited down to a marriagespirits,:aid'withdrew into himself. Cousin Fee- which I think took place in Barkshire? " nix and the young lady were very lively and "Shropshire," said the bold mild man, finding humorous, and the young lady laughed so much himself appealed to. at something Cousin Feenix related to her, that "Was it? Well! In point of fact, it might Major P.gstock begged leave to inquire, on be- have been in any shire," said Cousin Feenix. ialt oC Mrs. Skewton (they were sitting opposite; "So, my friend being invited down to this mara little lower down), whether that might not be riage in Anyshire," with a pleasant' sense'of the considered public property. readiness of this joke, "goes. Just as'.some of "Why, upon my life," said Cousin Feenix, us, having' had the honour of being invited to "there's. nothing in it: it really is not worth the marriage. of my lovely and accomplished repeating: in point of'fact, it's merely an anec- relative with my friend Dombey, didn't require flote of Jack Adams. I dare say my friend to' be asked twice, and were devilish glad to be Dombey"- for the general attention was con- present on so interesting an occasion.-Goescentrated on Cousin Feenix-"may remember Jack goes. Now, this marriage was, in point of Jack Adams, Jack Adams, not Joe; that was his fact, the marriage of an uncommonly fine' girl brother. Jack-littleackck-man with a cast in with. a man for whom she didn't care a button, his eye, and a slight impediment in his speech but whom she accepted on account- of his pro-man who sat for somebody's borough. We perty, which was immense. When Jack returned iused to call him in my parliamentary time W. P. to town, after the nuptials, a man he knew, meet-.-dams,:in consequence of -his being Warming ing him in the lobby of the House of Commons, Pan. for a young fellow who was in his minority. says,'Well, Jack, how are the ill-matched couple?' Perhaps mv friend Dombey may have known the'I'll-matched!' says Jack..'Not at all. I t's a nain'" perfectly fair and equal transaction. She is regu-:Mr. Dombey, who was as likely to have known larly bought, and you may take your oath he is Guy -awkes, replied in the negative. But one as regularly sold!'" of theb seven mild men unexpectedly leaped into In his full enjoyment of this culminating point distinction by saying he had known him, and of his story, the shudder which had gone all adding-" Always wore Hessian boots!" round the table like an electric spark, struck " Exactly?" p'..d Cousiw -Fcaix, bendingfor- Cousin Feenix, and he stopied, Not a smile. 204 DOMBEY AND SON. occasioned by the only general topic of conver- Florence. had a dread of him, which made his sation broached that day, appeared on' any face. presence in the room a nightmare to her. She A profound silence ensued; and the wretched could not avoid the recollection of it, for.her mild man, who had been as innocent of any real eyes were drawll towards him every now and foreknowledge of the story as the child unborn, then, by an attraction of dislike and distrust that had the exquisite misery of reading in every eye she could not r'esist. Yet her thoughts were busy: that he was regarded as the prime mover of the with other things; -for as she sat apart-not unmischief. admired or unsought, but in the gentleness of Mr. Dombey's face was not a changeful- one, her quiet spirit-she felt how. little -part her.and, being cast in its mould of state that da, father had in what was going on, and saw, with showed little other apprehension of the story, if pain, how ill at ease he seemed to be,-and howv any, than that which he expressed whzn he said little regarded he was as he lingered- about, near. solemnly, amidst the silence, that it was " Very the-door, for those visitors whom he wished to good." There was a rapid. glance from Edith distinguish with particular attention, and took towards Florence, but otherwise she remained, them up to introduce them to his wife, who. reexternally, impassive and unconscious, ceived them with proud coldness, but. showed Through the various stages of rich meats and no interest, or wish to please,: and never, after wines, continual gold and silver, dainties of earth, the bare ceremony of reception, in consultatios air, fire, and water, heaped-up fruits, and that of his wishes, or in welcome of his friends, unnecessary article in Mr. Dombey's banquets- opened her lips. It was not the less perplexing ice-the' dinner slowly made its way; the later or painful to Florence that she, who acted thus, stages being achieved to the sonorous music of treated her so kindly, and with such loving conincessant double knocks, announcing the arrival sideration, that it almost seemed an ungratefu} of visitors, whose portion of the feast was limited return on her part even.'to know of what was to the smell thereof. When Mrs. Dombey rose, passing before her eyes. it was a sight to see her lord, with stiff throat, Happy Florence would have been, might s.he and erect head, hold the door open for the with- have ventured to bear.her father company-by so drawal of the ladies; and to see how she swept much as a look.; and happy Florence was in past him with his daughter on her arm. little suspecting the main cause of his uneasiMr. Dombey was a grave sight, behind the ness. But afraid of seeming to know that he decanters, in a state of dignity; and the East was placed at any disadvantage, lest he should India Director was a'forlorn sight, near the be resentful of that knowledge; and. divided unoccupied end of the table, in a state of soli- between her impulse towards him, and her gratetude; and- the major was a military sight, re- ful affection for Edith; she scarcely; dared to lating stories of the Duke of York to six of the raise her eyes towards either. Anxious and unseven mild men (the ambitious one was utterly happy for them both, the thought stole on her quenched); and the Bank Director was a lowly through the crowd, that it might have beei sight, making a plan of his little attempt at a.better for them if this noise of tongues and pinery, with dessert knives, for a group of ad- tread of feet had' never come there,-if the old mirers; and Cousin Feenix was. a thoughtful dulness and decay had never been replaced, by sight, as- he smoothed his long wristbands and novelty and splendour,-if the neglected -child stealthily adjusted his wig. But all these sights had found no friend in.Edith, but had lived her. were of short duration, being speedily broken up solitary life, unpitied and forgotten. by coffee, and the desertion of the room. Mrs. Chick had some such thoughts too, but There was a throng in the state rooms tp- they were not so quietly developed in her mind. stairs, increasing every minute; but still Mr. This good matron had been outraged, in the first Dombey's list of visitors appeared to have some instance, by not receiving an invitation to dinner. native impossibility. of amalgamation with Mrs. That blow partially recovered, she had gone to Dombey's list, and no one could -have doubted a vast expense to make such a:figure: before which was which. The single exception to this Mrs.. Dombey at home as should dazzle-. the rule, perhaps, was Mr. Carker; who now smiled senses.'f that lady, and. heap mortification, among the company, and who, as he stood in mountains. high, on the head of Mrs. Skewton..the circle that was gathered about' Mrs. Dombey " But I am made," said Mrs. Chick.-to.Mr. -watchful' ofher, of them, his chief, Cleopatra, Chick, "of no more account than Florences. and'the'major, Florence, and everything around Who. takes the smallest notice of me?: No -appeared at ease with both divisions of-guests, one I." and not rmarked as exclusivel;belonging;to either. -No one, my d.ear," assented Mr. Ci;icks-who INCOMAPA TiBILT IES. 2(f was seated by the side of Mrs. Chick against the Cousin Feenix (who went away from the dinnerwall,'and could console himself, even there, by table), conhidentially alleged to thirty or forty softly whistling. friends that she was bored to death. All-the "Does it at -all appear as if I was wanted old ladies-with the burdens on their heads had here?'" exclaimed Mrs. Chick with flashing greater or less cause of complaint against Mrs. eyes. Dombey; and the Directors and Chairmen coin"No, my dear, I ddon't think it does," said cided'in thinking that if Dombey must marry, Mr. Chick. he had better have married somebody.nearer'his "Paul's mad!" said Mrs. Chick. own age, not quite so handsome, and' a.little Mr. Chick whistled, better off. The general opinion among this class "Unless you are a monster, which I some- of gentlemen was, that it was a weak thing in times think you are," said Mrs. Chick with can- Dombey, and he'd live to repent it. Hardly dour, "-don't sit there humming tunes. How anybody there, except'the mild men, stayed, or any one, with the most distant feelings of a man, went away, without considering himself or hercan see that mother-in-law of Paul's, dressed as self neglected and aggrieved by Mr. Domb'ey or she: is, going on like that with. Major Bagstock, Mrs. Dombey; and the speechless female in the for'whom,' among other precious things, we are black velvet hat was found to have been stricken indebted to your Lucretia-Tox — " mute, because the lady in the crimson velvet " My Lucretia Tox, my dear!" said Mr. had been handed down before her. the nature Chick, astounded. even of the mild men got corrupted, either from''Yes," retorted'Mrs. Chick with great severity, their curdling it with too much lemonade, or "your' Lucretia Tox. I say, how anybody can from the general inoculation that prevailed;.and seethatmother-in-law of Paul's, and that-haughty they made sarcastic jokes to one another, and wife of'Paul's, and those indecent old frights whispered disparagement on stairs and in bywith their backs and shoulders, and, in short, places. The general dissatisfaction and discomthis at. home generally, and can hum"-on which fort so diffused itself, that the assembled footmen word Mrs. Chick laid a scornful emphasis that in the hall were as well acquainted with it'as the made Mr. Chick start-",is, I thank Heaven, a coftpany above. Nay, the very linkmen outside mystery to me!" got hold of it, and compared the party to a Mr. Chick screwed his mouth into a form funeral out of mourning, with none of the com-.irreconcilable with humming or whistling, and pany remembered in the will. looked very contemplative. At last the guests were all gone, and the link"But I hope I;know what is due to my- men too; and the street, crowded so long with self," said Mrs. Chick, swelling with indigna- carriages, was clear; and the dying lights showed tion, "though Paul has forgotten what is due to no one in the rooms but Mr. Dombey and Mr. me.: I am not going to sit here, a member of Carker, who were talking together apart, and this family, to be taken- no notice of. I am not Mrs. Dombey and her mother: the former seated the' dirt' under Mrs. Dombey's feet yet'-not on an ottoman; the latter reclining in the Cleoquite yet," said Mrs. Chick, as if she expected patra attitude, awaiting the arrival of her maid.. to become so about the day after to-morrow. Mr. Dombey having finished his communication "And: I'shall go. I will not say (whatever I to Carker, the latter advanced obsequiously to may think) that this affair has been got up solely take leave. to degrade and insult me. I shall merely go. I "I trust," he said, "that the fatigues of this shall not be missed!" delightful evening will not inconvenience Mrs. Mrs.- Chick rose erect with these words, and Dombey to-morrow." took -the arm'of Mr. Chick, who escorted her "Mrs. Dombey," said Mr. Dombey, advancfromii'the room, after half an hour's shady sojourn ing, "has sufficiently spared herself fatigue to there* - And' it is due to her penetration to ob- relieve you from any anxiety of that kind. I servei that she certainly was not missed at all. regret to say, Mrs. Dombey, that I could have But she was not the only indignant guest;for wished you had fatigued yourself a little more Mr-. Dombey's list (still constantly in difficulties) on this occasion. were, as a body, indignant with Mrs. Dombey's. She looked at: him with a supercilious glance, list, for looking at them through eye-glasses, and that it seemed not.worth her while to'protract,. audiblyr wondering who all those people were; and turned away her eyes without' speaking. while Mrs. Dombey's list complained. of weari "I am sorry, madam," said Mr. Dombey, hess, and the young thing with -the shoulders, "that you should not'have thought it'your deprived- of' the: attentions of that gay youth, duty —" 366 DOMBE Y AND SON.. She looked at him, again. attempt to interpose between you at such a "-Your duty, madam," pursued Mr. Dom- time, and. never can much regret, after all, such bey, "to have received my friends with a.little little flashes of the torch of what's-his-namemore deference. Some of those whom you have not Cupid, but the other delightful creature." been pleased to slight to-night in a very marked Therewas a sharpness in the good mother's manner, Mrs. Dombey, confer a distinction upon gliandc at bciq her children, as she spoke, that you, I must tell'you, in any visit they pay you." may have been. expressive of a direct and -wll-" Do you know that there is some one here?" considered purpose hidden between these ramshe returned, now looking at him steadily. bling words.; That purpose, providently to detach "No-! Carker! I beg that you do not. I herself in the beginning from all the clankings of insist that you do not:" cried Mr. Dombeystop- their chain'that were to come, and to shelter ping that noiseless gentleman in his withdrawal. herself with the fiction of her irnocent belief in "Mr. Carker, madam, as you know, possesses their mutual affection; and their adaptationi to my confidence. He is as well acquainted as each other. myself with the subject on which I speak. I "I have pointed out to Mrs. Dombey," said beg to tell you, for your information, Mrs. Dom- Mr. Dombey in his most stately manner, "that bey, that I consider these wealthy and important in her conduct, thus early in our married life, to persons confer a distinction upon me':" and Mr. which I object, and which I request may be Dombey drew himself up, as having now ren- corrected. Carker," with. a nod of disiissal, dered them of the highest possible importance. "good night to you!" "I isk you," she repeated, bending her dis- Mr. Carker bowed to'the imperious form of dainful, steady gaze upon him, "do you know the bride, whose sparkling eye was fixed upon that there is some one here, sir?" her husband; and stopping at Cleopatra's couch "I must entreat," said Mr. Carker, stepping on his way outs raised to.his lips the hand she forward,-" I must beg, I must demand, to be graciously extended to him, in lowly. and adreleased. Slight and unimportant as this dif- miring homage. ference is —" If his handsome wife had- reproached him, or Mrs. Skewton, who had been intent upon her even changed countenance, or broken the silence daughter's face, took him up here. in which she remained by'one word, rn0w that "My sweetest Edith," she said, "and my they were alone (for Cleopatra made off witi'all dearest Dombey, our excellent friend Mr. Carker, speed), Mr. Dombey would have been equal to for so I am sure I ought to mention him —" some assertion of his case against her. But. the Mr.- Carker murmured, "Too much honour." intense, umntterable, withering scorn with which, " -Has used the very words that were in my after looking upon him, she dropped her eyes as mind, and that I have been dying, these ages, if he were too worthless and indifferent; to h'er for an opportunity of introducing. Slight and to be challenged with a syllable-th'e ineffable unimportant! My sweetest Edith, and my dearest disdain and haughtiness in which she sat before Dombey, do we not know that any difference him-the cold, inflexible resolve with which her between you two - No, Flowers; not now." every feature seemed to bear him down, tnd put Flowers was the maid, who, finding gentle- him by-he had no resource against; and he men present, retreated with precipitation. left her, with her whole overbearing beauty con"-That any difference between you two," centrated on despising him. resumed Mrs.'Skewton, "with the heart you Was he coward enough to watch ier, an hour possess in common, and the excessively charm-. afterwards, on the old well staircase, where he ing bond of feeling that there is between you, had once seen Florence in the moonlight, toiling must be slight and unimportant? What words up with Paul? Or was he in the dark'by accicould better define the fact? None. Therefore dent, when, looking up, he saw her coming, with I am glad to. take this slight occasion-this a light, from the room where Florence'lay, and trifling occasion, that is so replete with Nature, marked again.the face so changed, wvhich' he and your individual characters,. and all that-so could not subdue? truly calculated to bring the tears into a parent's But, it could never alter as his own did.' -It eyes-to say that I attach no importance to them never, in its utmost pride and passion, knew'the in the least, except as developing. these minor shadow that had fallen on his, in the dark comrer, elements of Soul; and that, unlike most mammas- on the night of the return and often since:;. an4 in-law (that odious phrase, dear Dombey!) as which deepened on it now as he ioo.d'4 up; they have been represented to me. to exist in this I fear too artificial world, I never ihall. A4 VISIT ON BUSINESS. 267 CHAPTER XXXVII.'But the servant came back after a short absence, and whispered to Withers again, who once MOt. WARNINGS THAN,Oss. more, and not very willingly, vresented himself before Mrs. Dombey. ISLORENCE, Edith, and MAfr. Skew- " If you,pleaSe, ma'am, Mr. Carker sends his E i ton wefe together next day, and the respectful. compliments, and begs you. would. -carriage was waiting at the door to spare hinm' one minute, if yotu.could-for busi-' take them out. For Cleopatra had ness, ma'camif you please." I D.A; her galley again now, and. Withers, Really,.my love," said Mrs. Skewton in her: no-longer the wan, stood upright in mildest manner; for her daughter's face was - a pigeoni-breasted jacket and military threatening; "if you would allow me to offer a. ~ trousers, behind her wheel-less chair at word, I should recommend -" dinner-time, and butted no more. The hair of "Show him this way," said Edith. As Withers Withers was radiant with pomatum in these days disappeared to execute the command, she added, of down, and he wore kid gloves, and smelt of frowning on her mother, "As he comes at your the water of Cologne. recommendation, let him come to your room." They were assembled in Cleopatra's room. "May I-shall I go away?" asked Florence The Serpent of old Nile (not to mention her hurriedly. disrespectfully) was reposing on her sofa, sipping Edith -nodded yes, but, on her way to the her morning chocolate at three o'clock in the door, Florence met the visitor coming in. With. afternoon, and Flowers the, maid was fastening the same disagreeable mixture of familiarity and on her youthful cuffs and frills, and performing forbearance with which he' had first addressed a kind of private coronation ceremony on her her, he addressed her now in his softest manner with a peach-coloured velvet bonnet; the arti -hoped she was quite well-needed not to ask ficial roses in which nodded to uncommon ad- with such'looks to anticipate the answer-lhad vantage, as, the palsy trifled with them like a scarcely had the honour to know her last night, blreeze, she was so greatly changed-and.held the door "'UIthink I am a little nervous this morning, open for her to pass out; with a secret sense of Fiowers," said Mrs. Skewton.. "My hand quite power in her shrinking from him, that all the shakes. deference and politeness of his manner could "You were the life of the party last night, not quite conceal. ma'am, you know," returned Flowers, "and you He then bowed himself for a'moment over suffer for it to-day, you see." Mrs. Skewton's condescending hand, and lastly Edith, who had beckoned Florence to the bowed to Edith. Coldly'returning his salute window, and was looking out, with her back without looking at him, and neither seatingherturne!on the toilet of her esteemed mother, self nor inviting him to be seated, she waited for suddenly withdrew from it, as if it had lightened. him'to speak. "iMrydarling child," cried Cleopatra languidly, Entrenched in her pride and power, and with yi re not nervous? Don't tell me, my dear all the obduracy of her spirit.summoned about Edith, that you, so enviably self-possessed, are her, still her old conviction- that she and her beginning to be a martyr too, like your unfor-: motherhad been known by this man in their tunately-coistituted mother? Withers, some one worst colours from their first acquaintance; that at the.door." every'degradation she had suffered in her own ai Card, ma'am," said Withers, taking it towards eyes was as plain to him as to herself; that he Mrs. Dombey. read- her life as though it were a vile book, and "I am going out," she said, without looking fluttere.d the leaves before her in slight looks at it. and tones of voice which no one else could "'My dear love," drawled Mrs. Skewton, "how detect; weakened and undermined her. Proudly very odd to send that message without seeing as she opposed herself to' him, with her comthe name! Bring it here, Withers. Dear me, manding face exacting his humility, her disdainmy love; Mr. Carker,. too! that very sensible ful lip repulsing him, her bosom angry at his person " intrusion, and the dark lashes of her.eye sullenly "II am going out," repeated Edith in so im- veiling their light, that no ray of it might shine perious.a tone that Withers, going to the door, upon him-and submissively as he stood before imp-riously informed the servant who was ait- her, with an entreating injured manner; but with ing, -' Mr. Dombey is going out. Get along complete submission to her will-she knew, in with you," and shut it on him. her own soul; that the cases were reversed, and 268.DOMBEY AND SON.. that the -triumph and superiority ware his, and lustre-upon his name," said Mr. Carker. "But thatheknew it full well. I entreat thatlady, on my own ehalf tbe just "'I..hav.e;presumed," said Mr. Carker,, "to to a.very humble claimant for justice at:her solicit an interview, and I have ventured to de- hands-a mere dependant of.Mr. Dombey'sscribe it as being'one of business, because —" which is a position of humility;, and: to reflect.' Perhaps you are charged by Mr. Dombey upon my perfect helplessness~ last night, and with some message of reproof," said' Edith. the impossibility'-of my avoiding the.snre You possess Mr. Dombey's confidence in such that.was forced upon me in a very pairful; occaan unusual degree, sir, that you would scarcely sion." surprise me if thatfwere your business." "My dearest Edith," hinted Cleopatra.:in.a "I have.no message to the lady wlho sheds a low voice, as she held her eye-glasi aside,'',-''-~l vie as - seelh- ygas _.e \;~~~~ \ I - I, "Do VOU KNOW THAT THERE IS SOME ONE HERE?" SHE RETURNED, NOW LOOKING AT... HI -.STEADILY. "really very charming of Mr. What's-his-name. herself expressed, with so much truth and feeling.And full of heart! "last night, it is nothing." "For I do," said Mr...arker, appealing to Edith could not look at him, but,she.said. Mrs. Skewton with a look of grateful deference, after a few moments, * "I. do venture to call it. a painful occasion, And your.business, sir —" though merely because it was so to me, who had "Edith, my pet," said Mrs. Skewton,'. "!all.the misfortune to be present. So slight a dif- this time Mr. Carker is standing. My dear Mr. ference, as between. the principals-between Carker, take a seat, I beg." those who love each other with disinterested He offered no. reply to the mother, budt'~fied devotion, and would make any sacrifice of self his eyes on the proud daughter as though hie j such a cau-se-is nothing. As Mrs. Skewton would only be bidden by her, and was resolved MR. CARKER, THE MA'NAGER, MANAGES. 269 to be bidden by her. Edith, in spite of herself, interest in him, if, in its excess, it goes at all sat: dowi, and slightly motioned with her hand astray." to' him. to be seated too. No action could be What a stab to her proud. heart to sit there, colder,-'haughtier, more insolent in its air of face to face with' him, and havre'him'tendering si'premacy-and.disrespect, but she had struggled her false oath at the. altar again and again for against even that concession ineffectually, and it her acceptance, and pressing' it upon her like was.wrest:ed from her. That was enough! Mr. the dregs of a sickening cup:she could not owiVn Garkier:sat down. her loathing of, or turn away fromi How shame, "May I be allowed, madam," said Carker, remorse, and passion raged: within, her, when, turning.his white teeth on Mrs. Skewton like a upright in her beauty before him3nshe knew that light'-' a lady of your excellent sense and quick in her spirit she was down at'his feet:! feeling will give me credit.for good reason, I.am "Miss Florence," said Carker, "left to thl sure-to, address what. I have'to say to Mrs. care-if one, may call. it care-of servants and Dombey, and to leave her to impart it -toyou, mercenary people, in every wayiher inferiors, who are' her best and'dearest friend-next to necessarily wanted some guide and compass iii Mr. iDombey?" her younger days, and, naturally, for want of Mrs.' Skewton wAould have retired, but Edith them, has been indiscreet, and has in some destopped:'her.,. Edith would have stopped him gree forgotten her. station...There was some too, and indignantly ordered him to.-'speak folly about one Walter, a common lad, wholl,is openly, or not at all, but that he said, in a low fortunately dead now: and some very undesirable voicer-, Miss Florence-the young lady'who. association, Iregret to say, with certain.coasting has just left the room — " sailors, of anything but good repute, anda' runEdith suffered him to. proceed. She looked away oldbankrupt." at him now. As he bent forward, to be -nearer, "I have heard the- circumstances, sir,"; said with. the utmost: show of delicacy and respect, Edith, flashing her disdainfull glance upon h.i!, and with his teeth persuasively arrayed in a self- "anrd I know that you pervert them. You may depreciating smile, she felt as if she could have nol know.it; I hope so." struck him dead. ":Pardon me, said Mr. Carker,-" I,believe "Miss Florence's position," he began, "has that nobody knows them: so well as.I. Your been an unfortunate one. I have-a difficulty in generous and ardent nature, madam —the same alluding toit:to you, whose attachment to her nature which is. so nobly imperative. in.vindicafather is naturally watchful and jealous of every tion of your beloved and honoured.-.husband, -word. that applies to' him."\Always distinct-and and which has blessed him: a5: even lhis merits soff ii:speechl, no language\could describe the deserve-I must respect, defer: to, bow. before. extnt':.of.,his distinctness and softness when' he But, as regards the circumstances, which is,.instidithse'iords,; or came.to'any Others- of'a deed, the, business I presumed to solicit:your siail'import.:. But, as one wlio is devoted attention to, I can have no' doubt,sin'ce in the t6'Mr' Dombey' i ihi s different way; and whose execution of my trust as:IMri D'ombey's confilife.,is assed imnadmiration of'i r. Dombey's dential-I presume to say.-friend,-I have fully character,-;may' I say, without offence to your ascertained them. In my.execution'::of that tenderness.as' —a wife- that Miss-. Florence has trust; in my deep concern, W'hich:.you'can'.so unhappily' been neglected-by hher father? May well understand, for everythiiig relating' to him, I say. by. her father? intensified, if you will, (for I fear I labour under Edith replied, " I know it." your displeasure,) by the lower- motive of desire "Yo6tt know.it!" said Mr. Carker, with a to prove my diligence, and make myself- the great appearance of relief. " It removes a moun- more acceptable I have long pursued these tainfrom my breast. - May I hope you-know how circumstances: by myself and trustworthy instru' the neglect originated; in what an amiable phase ments, and have innumerable and most minute of Mr'M-rDombey's pride-character I' mean?" proofs." "You may pass that by, sir," she returned, ~ She.raised her eyes no higher than his mouth,' "and come the sooner to the end of what you but' she saw the means.of mischief vaunted:in have to-'say." every tooth it contained. "' Indeed, I am sensible, madam," replied "Pardon me, madam," he continued, "if, ini Carker-" trust me, I am deeply sensible that my perplexity, I.presume to take counsel'with MAr.-'-Doimbey can -require no justification in you,-and to' consult your pleasure.' I'think I ytHin to: you. But, kindly-' jude of my have observed that you are greatly interested ini breast: by; your own, and you. will forgive my Miss Florence? " 270 DOMBE Y AND SON: Whit was there in her he had not observed, easiness and apprehension on this subject, Iwas and did not know? Humbled and yet mad- summoned by Mr. Dombey to Learmington. dened by the thought, in every new presentment There I saw you. There I could not help of it, however faint, she pressed her teeth upon knowing what relation you would shortly occupy her. quivering lip to force composure on it, and towards him-to his enduring happiness andc distantly inclined her head in reply. yours. There I resolved to await'the time of "'This interest, madam-so touching an evi- your establishment at' home here, and to do as dence of everything associated with Mr. Dombey I have now done. I have at heart no fear that being dear to you-induces me to pause before I shall be wanting in my duty to Mr. Dombey I make him acquainted with these circum- if I bury what I know in your breast; for where stances, which, as yet, he does not know. It so there is but one heart and mind between two far shakes me, if I may make the confession, in persons-as in such a marriage-one almost my:allegiance, that on the intimation of the represents the other. I. can acquit my conleast desire fo that effect from vou, I would science therefore, almost equally, by confidence, suppress them." on such a theme, in you or him. For the Edith raised her head quickly, and starting reasons I have.mentioned, I would select you. back, bent her dark glance upon him. He met May I aspire to the distinction of believing that it with his blandest and most deferential smile, my confidence is accepted, and- that I. am reand vent on. lieved from my responsibility?" "You say that, as I describe them, they are He long remembered the look she gave him perverted. I fear not-I fear not: but let us -who could see it, and forget it?-and the assume that they are. The uneasiness I have struggle that ensued within her. At last she for some time felt on the subject arises in this: said: that the mere circumstance of such association, "I accept it, sir. You will please to conoften'repeated, on the part of Miss Florence, sider'this matter at an end, and that it goes no however innocently and'confidingly, would be farther." conclusive with Mr. Dombey, already predis- He bowed low, and rose. She rose too, and posed against her, and would lead him to take he took leave with.all humility. But Withers,, some step (I know he has occasionally contem- meeting.him on the stairs, stood amazed at the plated it) of separation and alienation of her beauty of his teeth, and at his brilliant smile;from his home. Madam, bear with me, and and, as he rode away upon his white-legged horse, remember my intercourse with Mr. Dombey, the people took him for a dentist, such was the and imy knowledge of him, and my reverence dazzling show he made. The people took her, for him, almost from childhood, when I say that when she rode out in her carriage presently, for if he has a.fault, it is a lofty stubbornness, a great lady, as happy as she was rich and fine,, rooted in that noble pride and sense of power But, they had not seen her, just before,in her which belong to him, and which we must all own room, with no one by; and they had not defer to:; which is not assailable like the obsti- heard her utterance of the three words, " Oh.'nacy of other characters; and which grows upon Florence, Florence!"I itself from day to day, and year to year. Mrs. Skewton, reposing on her sofa, and sipShe bent her glance upon him still; but, look ping her chocolate, had heard nothing but the as steadfast as she would, her haughty nostrils low word business, for which she had a mortal dilated, and her breath came somewhat deeper, aversion, insomuch that she had long banished:and her lip would slightly curl as he described it from her vocabulary, and had gone nigh, in a that in his patron to which they must all bow charming manner and with an immense amount *down. He saw it; and though.his expression of heart (to say nothing of soul), to ruin divers did not change, she knewhe saw it. milliners and others in. consequence. Therefore, "Even so slight an incident as last night's," Mrs. Skewton asked no questions, and showed lie said, "if I might refer- to it once more, no curiosity. Indeed, the peach-velvet bonnet would serve to illustrate my meaning better than gave her sufficient occupation out of doors:, for, a greater one. Dombey and Son know neither being perched on the back of her head, and time, nor place, nor season, but bear them all the day being rather windy, it was frantic to,down;' But I rejoice in its occurrence, for it escape from Mrs. Skewton's company, and would has opened the way for me to approach Mrs. be coaxed into no sort of compromise. When:Dombey with this subject to-day, even if it has the carriage was closed, and the wind shut.out, entailed upon me the penalty of her temporary the palsy played among the artificial roses again, displeasure. Madam, in the midst of my un- like an almshouse full of superannuated zephyrs; c(r.fnpA7 TR? -RR.rFi.TV. C A- WA R'NTAf 2 and altogether Mrs. Skewton had enough to do, better presentation of her complexion to the and got on but.indifferently. faculty; and'as those in the. house who knew She got on no.better towards night; for when her best had no doubt of the correctness of this Mrs. Dombey, in her. dressing-room,. had been opinion; which shle was soon able to establish dressed and waiting for her. half an hour, and for herself, the rose-coloured curtains were added Mr. tombey, in the drawing-room, had paraded to her'bed, and she mended with increased'rahimself into a state of solemn fretfulness (they pidity from that hour: She was soon able to sit were all three going out'to dinner), Flowers the' up, in'cuirls and a laced cap' and nightgown, and maid appeared with a pale face to Mrs. Dombey, to have a little artificial bloom dropped into the saying hollow caverns of her cheeks " Ifyou please, ma'am, I beg your pardon, It was a tremnendous sight to see this old but I can't do nothing with missis." woman in her finery leering. and mincing at "What do.you mean?" asked Edith. Death, and playing off. ier youthful tricks upbn " Well, ma'am," replied the frightened maid, him'as if he had'been the' major.; but' analtera"'I hardly know. She's making faces!" tion in her mind. that ensued on the paralytic Edith. harriedwith her to her mother's room. stroke'was fraught.with as much matter'for Cleopatra wash arrayed in full dress, with the reflection, and was quite as ghastly. diamonds, short sleeves, rouge, curls, teeth, and Whether the weakening of her intellect made other-juvenility all complete; but Paralysis was her more cunning and false than before, or not to be deceived, had known her for the whether it confused her betweei. what she had object' of its errand, and had struck her'at her assumed to be and'.what she really had been, or glass, where she lay like a horrible doll that had whether it had awakened.any glimmering of retumbled down. morse, which could neither struggle into light They took her to pieces in very shame, and nor get back into total darkness, or whether, in put the little of her that was real on a bed. the jumble of her faculties, a combination of Doctors were sent for, and soon came. Powerful these effects. had been shaken up., which is perremedies were resorted to: opinions given that haps the more likely supposition, the result was she would rally from this shock, but would not this:-That she became hugelyexacting inrespect survive another; and there she lay speechless, to Edith'S affection and gratitude and attention and staring at the ceiling, for days: sometimes toher; highly laudatory of herself'as a most making inarticulate. sounds in answer to such inestimable. parent; and very jealous of having questions as, did she'know who were present? any rival in Edith's regard. Further, in place of and the like: sometimes giving no reply, either remembering that compact made between them by sign or gesture, or in her unwinking eyes. for an avoidance.of the subject, she constantly At length she began to recover consciousness, alluded to her daughters marriage as a proof of and in some degree the power of.motion, though her being an incomparable mother; and ail this, not yet of speech. One day the use of her right with the weakness and:peevishness of such a hand returned; and showing it to her maid, who state, always serving. for a sarcastic commentary. was' in -attendance. on her, and appearing very on her levity and youtbfulness., uneasy in her mind, she made signs for a pencil Where is Mrs., Dombey?" she would. say to and some paper. This the maid immediately her maid. provided, thinking she was going to make a will, "Gone out, ma'am." or write some last request; and Mrs. Dombey "Gone out! Does she go out to shun her being from home, the maid awaited the result mamma, Flowers?" with solemn feelings. "La bless you, no, ma'am. Mrs. Dombey After much painful scrawling and erasing, and has only gone out for a ride with Miss FloI putting in of wrong characters, which seemed to rence." tumble out of the pencil of their own accord, the "Miss Florence! Who's Miss Florence? old woman produced this document: Don't tell me about Miss. Florence. What's "t Rose-coloured curtains." Miss Florence to her, compared to me?" The-maid being perfectly transfixed, and with The apposite display of the diamonds, or the tolerable reason, Cleopatra amended the manu- peach-velvet bonnet (she sat in.the bonnet to script by.adding two words more, when it stood receive visitors, weeks before she.could stir.out thus:' of doors), or the dressing. of her up in some''Rose-coloured curtains for doctors." gaud or other, usually. stopped the tears that'The -maid now perceived remotely that she began to flow hereabouts; and she would remain wished:-these artislnq tq e.c. provided for the in a complaisant statq until. g4tih Be to see 2s~7a2 DOMBEY. AND SONr. her; when,at a glance of the proud face, she matter. The. world is coming to such an artiwould relapse again. ficial and ualgrateftil state, that I begin to think "Well, I am sure, Edith!" she would cry, there's no Heart-or anything of that sort —left isaking;her head. in it, positively. Withers is more a child to me "What is the matter, mother?" than you are. He attends to me much more "Matter I really don't know what is the than my own daughter. I almost wish I didn't "WITHERS, MEETING HIM ON THE STAIRS, STOOD AMAZED AT THE BEAUTY OF HIS FETH, AND. AT HIS BRILLIANT SMILE." look so young-and all that kind of thing-and "My own fault! " beginning to whimper. then perhaps I should be more considered." " The parent I have been to you, Edith: making " What would you have, mother?" you a companion from your cradle! And when " Oh, a great deal, Edith," impatiently. you neglect me, and have no more natural " Is there anything you want that you have affection'for me than if 1 was a stranger-not a not? It isyr own if therebe."twentieth part of the affection that you ave fo not? It i:ur on....fa!.o if there'be." twentieth part'of the affection.that~.ir fo. r LEZ' 2T; P4A S'T REST. 273 Florenc~re-but''I am only your mother, and an indistinctness in ler speech, which she turned.shouid corrupt.ter in a day!-you reproach me off with a girlish giggle, and on an occasional with its being my own fault." failing in her memory, that had'no rule in it- but "Mother, mother, I reproach you with no- came and went fantastically, as if' in mockeryof thing.': Why'will you always dwell on this?"' her fantastic self. "'Isinit it natural that I should dwell on this,.But they never blushed uponr a change'in' the when I am all affection and sensitiveness, and. new manner of her thought and speech towards am wounde; in'the cruellest way, whenever you her daughter.- And though that daughter. often look at me?" came within their influence, they never blushed "I do not mean to wound you, mother. Have upon her loveliness irradiated by a smile, or you no remembrance of what has been said be- softened by the light of. filial love,' in its stern tween us? Let the past rest."- beauty. " es, rest! And let gratitude to me rest; -- and let affection for me rest; and let' me rest in my out-of-the-way'room, with no society and no CHAPTER XXXVIII. attention, while. you find new relations to make much of, who have, no earthly claim upon you MISS TOX IMPROVES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. Good gracious, Edith, do. you know what an. elegant establishment you are at the head of?"'. HE forlorn Miss Tox, abandoned by "Yes. Hush!"' her friend Louisa Chick, and bereft "And that gentlemanly creature, Dombey — of Mr. Dombey's countenance-for do you know that you are married'to him, Edith,!?: no delicate pair of wedding-cards, and that you have a settlement, and a position, united by a silver thread; graced the an'd a carriage, and I don't know what.?' chimney-glass in Princess's Place,'or the "Indeed I know it, mother;well.". harpsichord, or any.of those little posts of "As you would. h.aive'had with that delightful Adisplay which Lucretia" reserved for holigood soul-what did they call him?-Granger day occupation —became depressed in her spirits, -if he hadn't died. And who have you to thank and suffered much from mnelancholy. For a for all this, Edith.?" t',' ime the' Bird Waltz was' unheard in Princess's "You, mother; you." Place, the plants. were-neglected, and dust col"Then'put your arms round myneck, and'lected on the miniature of:Miss Tox's ancestor kiss me; -and show me, Edith, that you know with.the powdered liead aid',pigtail. there never was: a:better mamma than I have Miss:Tox, however, was'notfan age or of a been to you. And don't let me become a perfect disposition long to aband6oi hrsehe to unavailing fright with teasing. and.wearing myself at your regrets.'Only two notes' of the' harpsichord ingratitude, or whenI am out again in society were dumb from disuse'when'-the Bird Waltz no soul. will know me,:not even thlat hateful i warbled and trilled'in the'crooked drawanimal, the major." - ing-robm; only one slip of geranium fell a victim But sometimes, when Edith went nearer to to imperfect nursing,.befre shie was gardening her, and, bending down her stately head, put at.her green baskets again; regularly every morn-'her cold cheek to hers, the mother would draw ing'; the powdered-headed' ancestor had not back as if-she were afraid of her, and would fall been.under a cloud for more than six weeks, into a fit of trembling,.and cry out that there when Miss Tox breathed' on his benignant was a wandering in her wits.. And sometimes visage, and. polished him' up with a piece of.she.would..entreat her, with humility, to sit.down wash-leather. on the chair beside, her bed, and would look at Still, Miss Tox was lonely, and at a loss. Her her (as she sat there brooding) with a face that attachments, however ludicrously shown,'were even the rose-coloured curtains: could not make real and strong; and she was, as she expressed otherwise-than seared and'wild. it, "deeply hurt by the unmerited'cont'umiely The rose-coloured curtains blushed, in course she had met with from Louisa." But there was of time,..on Cleopatra's bodily recovery, and on no such thing as anger in Miss Tox's.composihericlre.ss-more juvenile than ever, to repair tion. If she had ambled on through life, in her the.raivaes f illness-and on the rouge, and on soft-spoken way, without any opinions, she had, the tfe,,.eth, and on the curls, and on the diamonds, at least, got so far withotit any harsh passions. anii4the.hhort sleeves, and the whole wardrobe. The mere sight of Louisa Chick in the street one oif:thle: iol -tlhiat had tumbled down before the day, at a considerable'distance, so overpoweret rmirror.'": They -'blushed, too,'now and then, upon her milky nature that she' was fain. to seelk itiDOMEYr AND SON. i8. 308 274 -DOMBEY ANVD SON. mediate refuge in a pastrycook's, and there, in a man Mr. Toodle was in either state. He-seemcd musty little back-room usually devoted to the to have made over all his own inheritance:- o consumpItion of soups, and pervaded by an ox- fuming and fretting to the engines with whichhe tail atmosplere, relieve her feelings by weeping was connected, which panted, andaspe and plentifully. - -chafed, and wore themselves out in a most un. Against Mr. Dombey Miss Tox hardly felt sparing manner, while Mr. Toodle leda t'ilJ that she had any reason of complaint. Her and equable life. sense of that gentleman's nagnificence was such "Polly, my gal," said Mr. Toodle, with i that, once removed from him, she felt as if her young Toodle on each knee, and- t*a: more distance always had' been immeasurable, and as making tea for him, and plenty more scatterec'if he had greatly condescended in tolerating her about-Mr. Toodle was never out'of children at all. No wife could be too handsome or too but always kept a good supply on hand-"-yoi stately for him, according to, Miss Tox's sincere an't seen our Biler lately, have you?" opinion. It was perfectly natural that, in look- "No," replied Polly, " but he's almost certaix ing for one, he should look high. Miss Tox to look in to-night. It's his right evening;, aun with tears laid down this proposition. and fully he's very regular." admitted it twenty times a day. She never re- " suppose, said Mr Toodle, relishing hi! called the lofty manner in which Mr. Dombev meal infinitely, " as our Biler is a doin' nox. had made her subservient to his convenience about as well as a boy can do, eh, Pollyi'" and caprices, and had graciously permitted her "Oh! he's a doing beautiful!- respondec to be one of the nurses of his little son. She Polly. only thought, in her own words, "that she had "He an't got to be at all secret-like —has he passed a great many happy hours in that house, Polly?" inquired Mr. Toodle. - which she must ever remember with gratification, " No!" said Mrs. Toodle plumply.::. and that she could never cease to regard Mr. -"I'mglad han'tgot be at all secret-like Dombey as one of the most impressive and dig- Polly," observed Mr. Toodle in hiis':sd!w an nified of men." measured way, and shovelling in his bread-and. Cut off, however, from the implacable Louisa, butter with a clasp-knife, as if he were stokini and being shy of the' major (whotn she viewed himself, "because that don't look- wellt; do it with some distrust now), Miss Tox found it very Polly? " irksonme to know nothing of what was going on "Why, of course it don't, father.:' ow car in Mr. Dombey's establishment. And, as she you ask?' really had got into the habit of considering You see, myboys and gals," said Mr. Toodle Dombey and Son as the pivot on'which the' looking round upon his family," wotever ybu'r world in general turned, she resolved, rather up to in a honest way, it's my opini'ona' yot than be ignorant of intelligence, which so can't do better than be open. If you fiid'your strongly interested her, to cultivate her old selves in cuttings or in tunnels; don't ypou-pla acquaintance, Mrs. Richards, who she knew, no secret games. Keep your whistles going since her last memorable appearance before Mr. and let's know where vot are." Dombey, was in the habit of sometimes holding The rising Toodles set up a shrill murmur communication with his servants. Perhaps expressive of their resolution to profit' by the Miss Tox,'in seeking out the Toodle family, had paternal advice. the tender motive hidden in her breast of having "But what makes you say this along of' Rob, somebody to whom she could talk about Mr. father?" asked his wife anxiously.: Dombey, no matter how humble that somebody "Polly, old'ooman," said Mr. T'odle, "1 might be. don't know as I said it particular aloing 6' lRob.At all events, towards the Toodle habitation I'm sure.'I starts light with Rob only.-; ICoine Miss Tox directed her steps one evening, what to a branch; I takes on what I finds there; anl time Mr. Toodle, cindery and swart, was re- a whole train of ideas gets coupled:on t him. freshing himself with tea in the bosom of his'. afore I knows where I am, or where tliev cot'me family. Mr. Toodle had only three stages of from. What a Junction a man's tliiughts is,' existence. He was either taking refreshment in said Mr. Toodle, " to-be-sur:e!'' the bosom just mentioned, or he was tearing This profound reflection Mr.'oo.dle,;w.ashec through the country at from twenty-five to fifty down with a pint mug of tea, and proceeded t miles an' hour, or he was sleeping after his solidify with a great weight of breadi-and-'tutter fatigues. He was always in a whirlwind or a charging his young daughters, meanwhile, ti cairn,,and a peaceable, contented, easy-going keep plenty of hot water in the pot, as he'wa THE INJURED GRINDER., 7 uncQmmron dry, and should take the indefinite anything, mother?. Nobody thinks half so bad quanttityof " a sight of mugs," before his thirst of me as my own father does..What a unwas Appeased..,. natural thing! I wish somebody'd take and.n,satisfying himself, however, Mr. Toodle chop my head off. Father wouldn't.mind doing was,...ioft regardless of the.younger branches it, 1 believe, and I'd much rather he did that about him,'who, although they had made their than t'other.". own evening repast, were on the look-out for At these desperate words all -the young irregular morsels, as possessing a relish. These Toodles shrieked; a pathetic effect, which the he:.distributed now and then to the expectant Grinder improved by ironically adjuring them circle, by holding out great wedges of bread-and- not to cry for him, for they ought to hate'him, butter, to be bitten at by the family in lawful they ought, if they was good boys and girls succession, and by serving out small doses of and this so touched the youngest Toodle but tea in like- manner with a sioon; which snacks one, who was easily moved, that it touched him hadsuch a relish in the-mouths of these young not only in his spirit, but in his wind too, Toodles, that, after partaking of the same, they making him so purple that Mr. Toodle, in con; performed private dances of ecstasy among sternation, carried him out to the water-butt,.temselves, and stood dn. one leg apiece, and and would have put him under the tap, but for his hopped, and indulged in- other saltatory tokens being recovered by the sight of that instrument. of gladness. These vents for their excitement Matters having reached this point,. Mr Toodle found,; they gradually closed about Mr. Toodle explained, and the virtuous feelings of his son, again, and eyed him hard as he got through being thereby calmed, they shook hands, and morq bread-and-butter and tea: affecting, how- harmony reigned again. ever, to have no further expectations of their Will you do s I do, Biler, myboy?" inown in reference to those viands, but to be quired his father, returning to his tea with new conversing on foreign subjects, and whispering strength. con4fientially. "No, thankee, father. Master and I had tea Mr. Toodle, in the midst of this family group, together." and setting an awful example to his children in "And how is master, Rob? said Folly. the way: of appetite, was conveying the two "Well, I don't know, mother; not much to you.ng Toodles on his knees to Birmingham by boast on. There ain't no business done, you special engine, and was contemplating the rest see. He don't. know anything about it, the over a barrier of bread-and-butter, when Rob cap'en don't.'.There was a man come into the the. Grinder, in his sou'-wester hat and mourn- shop this very day, and says,' I want a so-anding.slops, presented himself, and was received so,' he says-some hard name or other.'-A with, a general rush of brothers and sisters. which? says the cap'en.'A so-and-so,' says ".?.fWell, mother! said Rob, dutifully kissing the man.'Brother,' says the cap'en,'will you her; "hoW are you, mother?" take a observation round the shop?''Well, " There's my boy!" cried Polly, gfving hir says the man,'I've done it.',' Do you see wot a hug, and a pat on the back. " Secret! Bless you want?' says the cap'en.'No, Idon't,' says you.,father, not he! "the man..' Do you know it wen you do see it?.This_ was:intended for Mr.-Toodle's.private says the cap'en.'No, I don't,' says the man. edification, but Rob. the Grinder, whose withers.'Why, then, I tell you wot, my lad,' says the were. not unwrung, caught the words as they cap'en,'you'd better go back and ask wot it'i were spoken. _ like outside, for no more don't i' W. at! father's been a saying something "That art the way to make money, though, ore again me, has he? cried the injured in- is it?" said Polly.. noent.. "Oh, what a hard thing it is that "Money, mother! He'll never make money...we aa cove has once gone a little wrong, a He has such ways as I never see.' He an't a cove's_ own father should be always a throwing bad master, though, I'll say that for him.. But it. m i.s face behind his back! It's enough," that an't much to me, for I don't think I shall cried i Rob, resorting to his coat-cuff in anguish stop with him long." ofsprit, - " to make a cove go and do something " Not stop in your place, Rob! cried hie out of epite " mother; while Mr. Toodle opened his eyes...My poor boy I" cried Polly, "father didn't "Not in that place, p'raps'" returned -the -'i~e an ythi - Grinder with ia wink. "I shouldn't wonder-'. rliaithei didn't mean anything," blubbered friends at court, you know-but never.you.mina tfieuiijuried Grinder, "why did he go and say mother, just now; I'm all right, that's all." 276 DOMBtY A.N'D SON. r.iindisputable proof afforded in these hints, cried: Miss Tox, looking at. R6b,. " that that is an' in the Grinder's mysterious manner, of his your —"': no6t being subject to that failing which Mr. "Eldest, ma'am;" said Polly.'" Yes,'indeed, Toode had, by implication, attributed to him, it is. That's the' little fellow, ma'am,that was.iiight have led to a renewal of his wrongs, and the innocent cause of so mrch."' ^ of the sensation in the family, but for the oppor- "This here, ma'am," said Toodte.. is hi' n tune'arnival' of another visitor,,who, to Polly's with the short legs-and: they was," said Mr great surprise, appeared at the door, smiling Toodle, with a touch of poetry in his" tone, patronage and friendship on all- there. "unusual short for- leathers-'-as Mr. DomB'y " How do you.do, Mrs. Richards?" said Miss made a Grinder on."' Tox. "I have come to see you. May I come The -recollection almost overpowered: Miss in:?":. Tox. The subject of it had a peculiar interest e-The heery face of Mrs. Richards shone with for her directly. She asked him to shake hands' ia hospitable reply,and'Miss Tox, accepting the and congratulated his mother on his'.frank, ins pro0ered chair, and gracefully recognising Mr. genuous face. Rob, overhearing her, calledup Too0dle on her way to it,' untied her bonnet a look to justify the eulogium, but it was'hardly strin'gs, and said that, in the first place, she must the right look. beg the dear children, one and all, to come and. And now, Mrs. Ricards," said Miss Tox kiss her.. -" and you too, sir,"addressing Toodle,- I'li'The ill-starred youngest Toodle but one, who tell you, plainly and truly, what' I'have come would appear, from the frequency of his domestic here for. You may be aware, Mrs. Richards-. troubles, to have been born under an unlucky and possibly you may be aware too, sir-that a planet, was prevented from performing his part little distance has interposed itself between mein this general salutation by having fixed the and some of my friends, and that where I -used sou'-wester hat- (with which he had been pre- to visit a good deal I do not visit now."_-.':' viously trifling) deep on his head, hind side be- Polly, who, with a woman's. tact, understood fore, and being unable to get it off again; which this at once, expressed as much"in a little look,. accident presenting..to his terrified imagination Mr. Toodle, who had not the faintest idear.what' a dilmal!'picture of his passing the rest of his Miss., Tox. was talking.- about, expressed that. days in darkness, and in hopeless seclusion also, in a stare.,'.. from his friends and family,' caused him to',." Of course,", said Miss.Tox,,' how our little. struggle with great violence, and to utter suffo- coolness has arisen is of no moment, and:does cating cries. Being released, his face was d's- not require to be discussed.' It is sufficient for covered to be very hot, and red, and damp;. me to say that I. have the greatest possible reand Miss Tox took him on her lap, much ex- spect for, and interest in, Mr. Dombey; ";Miss hausted. Tox's voice faltered; "and everything that.re-,' You have almost forgotten.me, sir, I dare lates to him."'.. say.,?" said Miss Tox to Mr. Toodle.'.Mr. Toodle, enlightened, shook his head, and -'No, mia'am, no," said Toodle. "But we've said he had heerld it said, and, for; his own all'on-us got a little older since then." part, he did think, as Mr. Dombey was.:a.diffi-'"And'how do you find yourself, sir?" in- cult subject. -. quired Miss Tox blandly.'"Pray don't say so, sir, if you please," re: "Hearty, ma'am, thankee," replied Toodle. turned Miss Tox. "'Let me entreat you not.,o. " How do you. find yourself, ma'am? Do the say so, sir, either now, or at any future -time. rheumaticks keep off pretty. well, ma'am? We Such observations cannot.but be very, painful to must all expect to grow into'em as we gets me; and to a gentleman, whose mind.is/.conon",. stituted'as I am quite sure yours is, can affQrtd -'"Thank' you," said Miss.Tox. " I have no permanent satisfaction."'. inot felt any inconvenience from that disorder Mr. Toodle, who had'not entertained.the yet." least doubt of offering a'remark.that. would,;be. ~:"'You're' wery fortunate, ma'am," returned received with ac escence wasgreatl Mr. Toodle.: " Many -people' at your time of founded..'., life; ma'am, is martyrs' to it.'There was my.'"All that I wish to say, Mrs. Riclards,"re-. mother -'" But catching his wife's eye here,' sumed Miss Tox,-"and I addressi:,nyselJ' to ir.: —Toodle judiciously'.buried the rest in. you'too, sir,-is this.'That any intelligence of anotler mug of tea.' the proceedings of the family, of the welfare.' of'". You never mean to say, Mrs. Richards,". the. family of the health of the family, that. rmean S th~~~~~te. fa ilyi of n erC rme~tui n~ MISS TOX BECOMES THE. 1IFUIEND OF THE TOODLES. 277 reaches~ you, will be always most acceptable to ~ Miss Tox at the Toodle fireside until it was too me. That I shall be always very glad to chat late'for her to walk":home alone.. The gallant withMrs. Richards about the family, and' about Grinder, however, being still there, politely old times.':,: And as Mrs. Richards and I never offered to attend her to her own door' an'as had the least difference (though I could wish it was something to Miss Tox to be'seen shme now' that we had been better acquainted, but I by a youth whom Mr. Dombey had firSt'ini have.no one but myself to blame for that), I' ducted into thosemanly garments which are hppe she'will notobject to our being very good rarely mentioned by name, she very readily acrniends now,,and to my coming backwards and cepted the proposal. forwards here when I like, without being a'After, shaking hands with Mr. Toodle and stranger.. Now,.I really:hope, Mrs. Richards,"' Polly, and kissing all the:childien Miss T6ox si:d. Miss; Tox -earnestly, " that you will take left the house, therefore, with unlimited poputhisi s I mean it, like a good-humoured creature larity, and carrying away with her so liiht a asy.i' alw.ays were." heart that it might have given Mrs.Chick l,;,l was..gratified,.and showed it. Mr. offence if that good lady could have weighed it..T,..le'.;didn't know whether he was gratified or Rob the Grinder, in his modesty,' uld Jhave not, and preserved a stolid calmness. walked behind, but. Miss' Tox desired him to,~You,see, Mrs,. Richards," said' Miss Tox- keep beside her, for' conversational purposes "and:i hope youa see too, sir-thereare many and,. as she afterwards expressed it to his little ways.in. which''can be slightly useful to' mother, "drew him out" upon the road. you, if you wiill make no stranger of me;;and in He drew out so bright, and clear, and shining, whchi I,shall be delighted to be' so. For in- that Miss Tox was charmed wvith him'. The stance, I can teach -your children something..more Miss Tox' drew him out, the fineir he came Ti.hall::bring a'few little. books if you'll allow -like wire. There never was a better or more,me, and. some. work, and -of an ~evening, now promising youth-a.more affectionate, steady,. an4 then,-they'll le'arn —dear me,:they'll learn a prudent, sober, honest, meek, candid young great!?deal,- I trust, and be' a' credit to their man-than Rob'drew out that night. teac.her?'.[.:.::......''....I'am quite glad," said Miss Tox, arrived gat.;r. Toodle, who had a great respect for learn- her own door, "to know you. I hope you'll ing, jerked his head approvingly at his: wife, and. consider me your friend, and that you'll come moistened his-hands with dawning satisfaction.. and see me as often as you like. Do you keep:',Then, not being. a -stranger, I shall be in a money-box?" nobody's:way," said Miss Tox, "and everything "Yes, mi'am," returned Rob; "I'm saving up will -go -ori. just as if -I were not here;. Mrs,'' against I've got enough to put in theBank,ma'am." Richards:will do her mending,; or her ironing, "Very: laudable, indeed," said Miss Tox. or,:ihernursing, whatever it is, without' minding " I'm glad to hear it. Put this half-crown into me.,:;and you'll- smoke your pipe, too, if you're it, if you please." so disposed, sir: won't you-?"." Qh, thank you, ma'am," replied Rob,"' but "'-'Thankee, mum,'" said Mr. Toodle;.-, "Yes; really I couldn't think of depriving you." Il-.take:my. bit' of backer." "I' commend your. independent' spirit," said'" Very good of you to say so,' sir," rejoined Miss Tox, "but it's no deprivation, I assure you. Miss T:dox,?" and I really do assure you' now, I shall be offended if you don't take it, as'a mark uanfignedly, that it will be a great comfort to of my good-will. Good night, Robin." mei,:and: that whatever good' I may be fortunate " Good night, ma'am," said Rob, "and thank eno'gh:ito' do the children, you willi more than -you " 1.. pay-ba'ck:: to me,- if:you'll'enter into this little'Who ran sniggering off to get change,..and bargain'comfortably,'and easily, and good-'tossed it away with a pieman. But'they never naturedly,; without anothier word about it." taught honour'at the Grinders' School, where the The bargain'was' ratified on the' spot; and system that'prevailed was parficilarl'y strong in Mis.;':x found. herself so much at home the engendering of hypocrisy. Insomuch that alreadythat.witlhout' delay she institute4 a pre- many of the friends and masters of past Grinders liminary examination of the children all'round said, If this were what came of education for the'-whih' d"Mr.. Toodle much "admired-and common people, let us have none. Some more booked their ages, names, and acquirements on rationally said, Let us have a better one.'But, a'pieeofpaper.:This ceremonj, and a little the governing powers of the Grinders' Company attendangossip, prolonged the' time until after were always ready for them, by picking out a few ieir us'ual "hour of going'to bed,' and detained boys who had turned out well.'in aspite of the ?-78 PDOMBE Y AND $SO. system; and roundly asserting that fhey could" -: Self-buried, therefore, among the itrument, have onlyturned ont well because.of it. Which the- captain nevert Went near l r.. ombobey' settled the business of those objectors out of house,'or reported himself in any way. t Flo: hand, and e Itablished the glory of the Grinders' rence or Miss Nipper.,: Heleeven severed himInstitutiton,. - self from Mr. Perch; on the occasion.oif his text visit, by- drily informing that gentleman that he thanked him for his company, but hiAd cut him-: CHIAPTERXXXIX. self. adrift from all such acquaintances, s;he.CA..PTER XXIX. didn't know what magazine he mightnt blow,up, UmTER'ADvENTURBs OP CAPfAN EDWARD CATTtL,'' withOfit meaning of it. In this self itspid'MARINER.. retirement the captain passed whole days and 7.:ure f foot and strongo w. weeks without. interchanging la aword. with ny IME, sure of foot and strong of will,. one but Rob the Grinder,. whom he,esteened had so pressed onward, that the year as a pattern of disinterested attachment and:..tenjoined by the old instrurmcnt- fidelity. In thisretirement, the captain,, gazing _...!'maker, as the term during which his at the packet of an evening wouldsit sit sm inp:: friend should refrain from- opening and thinking of Fldrence and poor Waltir, until' the sealed, packet accompanying the they both seemed to his homely fancy;to, eo it'letfter h'had left for him, was now nearly dead, and to have passed away into eternal..expired, and Captain Cuttle- began to youth, the beautiful and innocent children of his look- at it of an evening with feelings of mystery first remembrance.. and uneasiness.'. The captain did not, however, in' his musings, The captain' -in' his honour, would'as- soon neglect his own improvement, or thel men al have:thought of opening the parcel one hour.culture of Rob the Grinder. That youtg._mvan befare the expiration of the tesm as he would. was generally required to read out of soame book ftave thought of opening:himself, to study his to the captain for one hour every evening- and, own anatomy.' He merely brought it out, at a as the captain implicitly believed that all,bdoks: certain stage of his first evening pipe' laid it on.were true, he accumulated, by this means,.:many the tble, and.sat.gazing at the outlside of it, remarkable facts' On Sunday nights the captain throughb the smoke, in silent gravity, for two or always read for himself, before going to bed, a three hours at a spell. Sometimes, when he certain Divine Sermon once delivered on a had contemplated it thus for a pretty long Mount; and although he was accustomed; to while, the aptain. would hitch.his chair, by quote the.text,.without book, after his' wn degrees, iiitber:and farther off, as if to get manner, he appeared to read it with as reverent beyondtrthange e of its fascination.; but, if this an understanding of its heavenly spirit: as if he -ere his design, hetaever -succeeded: for even had got it. all by heart in Greek, and:had-been wlen he was. brought up by the parlour wall, the able to write any number of fierce theological packet:atll iattra edbirmnf- or' if his eyes, in disquisitions on its every phrase. -'. thoughtl.n'-idering, roved' tothe ceiling or the'Rob the Grinder, whose reverence- for the fire, its'ifhage.immediatelyfbllowed, and posted inspired.writings, under the admirable system of itself conspicuously among the coals, or took up the Grinders' School, had been developed by a an adtantageous positio n the whitewash. perpetual bruising of his intellectualshins against Sin:espect`of' Ieart's Delight, the'captain's all- the proper names of all the tribes of' Judah, parenta regatrd and'admiration knew no change.'and by the monotonous repetition of hard"-verres, BEdt,.ince -his last inteiriew with Mr. Carker, especially by way of punishment,' and by the aptain Cuittle bhad come. to' entertain doubts parading of him at six years old in: leather vwhetherhis forrer interention in behalf of that breeches three- tines a Sunday, very high: up, in young lady'and his dear boy Wal'r had proved a very hot church, with a great organ'buizing altogether so,favourable'as he could have wished, against his drowsy head, like an exceedinglytbusy and as he at the time beleved. The captain bee-Rob the Grinder made al:mighty show of was troubled-with aserious misgiving that he being edified when the captain ceased to read, had- done more harrm than'good, in short'; and, and generally yawned and nodded'while^;'the mn his. remorse and, modesty, he made the best reading was in progress. The latter.'fet being'itnem.ent he couild t'nink of, by putting him-'never so muoh as suspected by the good captain. self oiu of the way of doing any harm to any Captain Cuttle, also, as a man of business, one, and, as it were, throwing himself overboard took'to keeping books.' In theseh. entered %inaitaqng aoros A..Obsenrations on the weather, an94 n9 ti,;cl t COMlPA CT BETWVEEN CAPTAIzV CUTTLE AND MR. TOOTS. 279 of the waggons and other vehicles: which he nodding his head thoughtfully; " and true. Now observed, in that quarter, to set westward in the lookee here. You've made some observations morning and during the greater part of the day, to me, which gives me to understand as you adand eastward towards the evening. Two or mire a certain sweet creetur. Hey?" three stragglers appearing in one week, who "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, gesticulating "spoke him"-so the captain entered it-on violently with the hand in which he held his hat, the subject of spectacles, and who, without "admiration is not the word. Upon my honour, positively purchasing, said they would look in you have no conception what my feelings are. again, the captain decided that the business was If I could be dyed black, and made Miss Domimproving, and made an entry in the day-book bey's slave, I should consider it a compliment. to that effect; the wind then blowing (which he If, at the sacrifice of all my property, I could first recorded) pretty fresh, west and by north; get transmigrated into Miss Dombey's dog-I having changed in the night.. -I really think I should never leave off wagging One of the captain's chief difficulties was Mr. my tail I should be so perfectly happy, Captain Toots, who called frequently, and who, without Gills!" saying much, seemed to have an idea that the Mr. Toots said it with watery eyes, and little back-parlour was an eligible room to pressed his hat against his bosom with deep chuckle in, as he would sit and avail himself of emotion. its accommodations in that regard by the half- "My lad," returned the captain, moved to hour together, without at all advancing in inti- compassion, "if you're in arnest —" tnacy with the captain. The captain, rendered "Captain Gills," cried Mr. Toots, "I'm in cautious by his late experience, was unable quite such a state of mind, and am so dreadfully in to satisfy his mind whether Mr. Toots was the earnest, that if I could swear to it upon a hot mild subject he appeared to be, or was a pro- piece of iron, or a live coal, or melted lead, or roundly artful and dissimulating hypocrite. His burning sealing-wax, or anything of that sort, I Frequent reference to Miss Dombey was suspi- should be glad to hurt myself, as a relief to my cious; but the captain had a secret kindness for feelings." And Mr. Toots looked hurriedly Mr. Toots's apparent reliance on him, and for- about the room, as if for some sufficiently painbore to decide against him for the present; ful means of accomplishing his dread purpose. merely eyeing him, with a sagacity not to be The captain pushed his glazed hat back upon described, whenever he approached the subject his head, stroked his face down with his heavy;hat was nearest to his heart. hand-making his nose more mottled in the " Captain Gills," blurted out Mr. Toots one process-and planting himself before Mr. Toots, lay all at once, as his manner was, "do you and hooking him by the lappel of his coat, adhink you could think favourably of that propo- dressed him in these words, while Mr. Toots ition of mine, and give me the pleasure of your looked up into his face with much attention and icquaintance?" some wonder. "Why, I'll tell you what it is, my lad," re- "If you're in arnest, you see, my lad," said )lied the captain, who had at length concluded the captain, "you're a object of clemency, and )n a course of action; "I've been turning that clemency is the. brightest jewel in the crown of here over." a Briton's head, for which you'll overhaul the "Captain Gills, it's very kind of you," re- constitution, as laid down in Rule Britannia, orted Mr. Toots. " I'm much obliged to you. and, when found, that is the charter as them Jpon my word and honour, Captain Gills, it garden angels was a singing of, so many times vould be a charity to give me the pleasure of over. Stand by! This here proposal o' yourn'ur acquaintance. It really would." takes me a little aback. And why? Because " You see, brother," argued the captain slowly, I holds my own only, you understand, in these'I don't know you." here waters, and haven't got no consort, and " But you never can know me, Captain Gills," maybe don't wish for none. Steady! You hailed eplied Mr. Toots, steadfast to his point, "if me first, along of a certain young lady as you'ou don't give me the pleasure of your acquaint- was chartered by. Now, if you and me is to nce." keep one another's company at all, that there The captain seemed struck by the originality young creetur's name must never be named nor *nd power of this remark, and looked at Mr. referred to. I don't know what harm mayn't'oots as if he thought there was a great deal have been done by naming of it too free afore aore in him than he had expected. now, and thereby I brings up short. D'ye make " Well said, my lad," observed the captain, me out pretty clear, brother?" 2!o~ LDOMBEYAND SON. "Well, you'll excuse me, Captain Gills," re- a dreadful load here "-Mr. Toots pathetically plied Mr. Toots, "if I don't quite follow you, touched his shirt-front with both hands-" that sometimes. But upon my word I — It's a I feel, night and day, exactly as if somebody was hard thing, Captain Gills, not to be able to'sitting upon me." mention Miss Dombey. I really have got such "Them," said the captain "is the.' terms I 1$1'.__.. - o RAN SNIGGERING OFF TO GET CHANGE, AND TOSSED IT AWAY WITH A PIEMAN." offer. If they're hard upon you, brother, as your society than talk about her in almost anymayhap. they are, give'em a wide berth, sheer body else's. Therefore, Captain Gills, if you'll off, and part company cheerily!" give me the pleasure of your acquaintance, I "Captain Gills," returned Mr. Toots, "' I shall be very happy to accept.it on your own hardly know how it is, but after what you told, conditions. I wish to be.'honourable, Captain me when I came here for the first'time,.I-I Gills," -said Mr. Toots,. holding back his exfeel that I'd rater think about Miss Dombey.in tended handfor a moment, "and therefore I am mayhap. hey aregive'e a Wide erth, sher bodyelse's. herefore Captai Gills, f you'l off,~~~~~~~~~~~ an atcman hey!" i e m h pesr fyu cuitne I CAPTAIN CUTTLE IS DESERTED BY THE GRINDER. 281 obliged to say that I can ntot help thinking about "And you're a-going to desert your colours, Miss Dombey. It's impossible for me to make are you, my lad?" said the captain, after a long a promise not to think about her." examination of his face. "My lad," said the captain, whose opinion of "Oh, it's very hard upon a cove, captain," Mr. Toots was much improved by this candid cried the tender Rob, injured and indignant in a avowal, " a man's thoughts is like the winds, and moment, "that he can't give lawful warning, nobody can't answer for'em for certain, any without being frowned at in that way, and called length of time together. Is it a.treaty as to a deserter. You haven't any right to call a poor words?" cove names, captain. It an't because I'm a "As to words, Captain Gills," returned Mr. servant, and you're a master, that you're to go Toots, " I think I can bind myself." and libel me. What wrong have I done? Come, Mr. Toots gave Captain Cuttle his hand upon captain, let me know what my crime is, will it, then and there; and the captain, with a plea- you?" sant and gracious show of condescension, be- The stricken Grinder wept, and put his coatstowed his acquaintance upon him formally. cuff in his eye. Mr. Toots seemed much relieved and gladdened "Come, captain," cried.the injured youth, by the acquisition, and chuckled rapturously "give my crime a name! What have I been during the remainder of his visit. The captain, and done? Have I stolen any of the property? for his part, was not ill pleased to occupy that Have I set the house afire? If I have, why position of patronage, and was exceedingly well don't you give me in charge, and try it? But to satisfied by his own prudence and foresiglht. take away the character of a lad that's been a But rich as Captain Cuttle was in the latter good servant to you, because he can't afford to quality, he received a surprise that same evening stand in his own light for your good, what a from a no less ingenuous and simple youth than injury it is, and what a bad return for faithful Rob the Grinder. That artless lad, drinking service! This is the way young coves is spiled tea at the same table, and bending meekly over and drove wrong. I wonder at you, captain, his cup and saucer, having taken sidelong ob- I do." servations of his master for some time, who was All of which the Grinder howled forth in a reading the newspaper with great difficulty, but lachrymose whine, and backing carefully towards much dignity, through his glasses, broke silence the door. by saying- "And so you've got another berth, have you, "Oh! I beg your pardon, captain, but you my lad?" said the captain, eyeing him intently. mayn't be in want of any pigeons, may you, "Yes, captain, since you put it in that shape, sir?" I have got another berth," cried Rob, backing "No, my lad," replied the captain. more and more; " a better berth than I've got "Because I was wishing to dispose of mine, here, and one where. I don't so much as want captain," said Rob. your good word, captain, which is fort'nate for "Ay, ay?" cried the captain, lifting up his me, after all the dirt you've throw'd at me, bebushy eyebrows a little. cause I'm poor, and can't afford to stand in my " Yes; I'm going, captain, if you please," said own light for your good. Yes, I have got anRob. other berth; and if it wasn't for leaving you un"Going! Where are you going?" asked the provided, captain, I'd go to it now, sooner than captain, looking round at him over the glasses. I'd take them names from you, because I'm poor, "What! didn't you know that I was going to and can't afford to stand in my own light for leave you, captain? " asked Rob with a sneaking your good. Wh) do you reproach me for being smile. poor, and not standing in my own light for your The captain put down the paper, took off good, captain? How can vou so demean yourhis spectacles, and brought his eyes to bear on self? " the deserter. " Look ye here, my boy," replied the peaceful " Oh yes, captain, I am going to give you captain. "Don't vou pay out no more of them warning. I thought you'd have known that words." beforehand, perhaps," said Rob, rubbing his "Well, then, don't you pay in no more of hands, and getting up. " If you could be so your words, captain," retorted the roused innogood as provide yourself soon, \captain, it cent, getting louder in his whine, and backing would be a great convenience to -me. You into the shop. " I'd sooner you took my blood couldn't provide yourself by to-morrow morning, than my character:" I am afraid, captaia,;could you, do you think? " " Because," pursued the captain calmly, "you 282 DOMBEY-.AlD SON.. have heerd, maybe. f such u thing as a rope's trust, treachery, and meanness into the very par, end." lour, which was a kind of sacred place, Captain " b, have r thou.gh;.captain? " cried' the Cuttle felt as if the parlour might have gone aunting'Grinder.,- "No;,-:I haven't. Il never down next, and not surprised him much by its heerd of any suh.'a article!" sinking, or given him any very great concern. "Well,' said the'captain, it's my belief as Therefore Captain Cuttle read the newspaper you'll: know more'about it pretty soon, if you with profound attention and no comprehension, don't keep a bright look-out.,, I-can read your and therefore Captain Cuttle said nothing whatsignals, my lad.._ You may go." ever about Rob to himself, or admitted to him-Oh I I may go at'once, may I, captain?" self that he was thinking about him, or would neridd. ob;iexulting in his success. "But mind! recognise in the most distant manner that Rob Jlnever asked to go at once, captain. You are had anything to do with his. feeling as lonely as nottto take away my character again, because Rqbinson Crusoe. yu.send me off of your own accord.- And In the same composed, business-like way the ybu're not to stop any of my wages, captain! " captain stepped over to Leadenhall Market in His employer settled the last point by pro- the dusk, and effected an arrangement with.a ducing the tin canister, and telling the Grinder's private watchman on duty there, to come and money out in full upon the table. Rob, snivel- put up and take down the shutters of the ling and sobbing, and grievously wounded in his Wooden Midshipman every night and morning. feelings, took up the pieces one by one, with a He then called in at the eating-house to diminish sob and a snivel for each, and tied them up by one-half the daily rations theretofore supplied separately in knots in his pocket-handkerchief; to the Midshipman, and. at the public-house to then he ascended to the. roof of the house, and stop the traitor's beer. " My young man," said filled his hat and pockets with pigeons; then, the captain, in explanation to the young lady at canme down to his bed under the counter and the bar, "my young man having bettered himmade up his bundle, snivelling and sobbing self, miss." Lastly, the captain resolved to take louder, as if he were cut to the heart by old possession of the bed under.the counter, and to associations; then he whined,'" Good night, turn in there o' nights instead of up-stairs, as captain; I leave you without malice!" and sole guardian of the property. then, going out upon the door-step, pulled the From this bed Captain Cuttle aaily rose thencelittle Midshipman's nose as a parting indignity, forth, and clapped on his glazed hat at six o'clock and went away down the street grinning triumph. in the morning, with the solitary air of Crusoe.The captain, left to himself,. resumed his finishing his toilet with his goat-skin cap; and perusal of the news as if nothing unusual or although his fears of a visitation from the savage unexpected had taken place, and went reading tribe, MacStinger, were somewhat cooled, as simion with the greatest assiduity. But never a lar apprehensions on the part of that lone mariner word did Captain Cuttle' understand, though he used to be by the lapse of a long interval without read a vast number, for Rob the Grinder was any symptoms of the cannibals, he still observed scampering up one column and down another a regular routine of defensive operations, and all through the newspaper. never encountered a bonnet without previous It is doubtful whether the worthy captain had survey from his castle of retreat. In the meanever felt himself quite abandoned until now; time (during which he received no call from Mr. but now, old Sol Gills, Walter, and Heart's Toots, who wrote to say he was out of town) his Delight were lost to him indeed, and now Mr. own voice began to have a strange sound in his.Carker deceived and jeered him cruelly. They ears: and he acquired such habits of profound mewere all represented in the false Rob, to whom ditation from much polishing and stowing away he had held forth many a time on the recollec- of the stock, and from much sitting behind the lions that were warm within him; he had be- counter reading, or looking out of window, that lieved in the false Rob, and had been glad to the red rim made on his forehead by the hard believe in him; he had made a companion of glazed hat sometimes ached again with excess of him, as the last of the old ship's company; he reflection. had taken the command of the little Midship- The year being now expired, Captain Cuttle man with him at his right hand; he had. meant deemed it expedient to open the packet; but, to do his duty by him, and had felt almost as as he had always designed doing this in the prekindly towards the.boy as if they had been ship- sence of Rob the Grinder, who had brought it wrecled -and cast upon'a desrt place together. to him, and as he had an idea that it would be. And nowu that- the false Rob had brought dis-'regular and ship-shape to open it in the presence BUNSBY ANID ITHE PACKE T 283 of somebody, he was sadly put to it for want of his pilot coat, and accompanied his friend into the a witness. In this difficulty, he hailed one day back-parlour, where his hand presentlyalighted with unusual delight the announcement in the on the rum-bottle, from which he brewed a stiff Shipping Intelligence of the arrival of the Cau- glass of grog; and presently afterwards on a tious Clara, Captain John Bunsby, from a coast- pipe, which he filled, lighted, and began to smoke. ing voyage; and to that philosopher immediately Captain Cuttle, imitating his visitor in the dispatched a letter by post, enjoining inviolable matter of these particulars, though the rapt and secrecy as to his place of residence, and request- imperturbable manner of the great commander ing to be favoured with an early visit in the was far above his powers, sat in the opposite evening season. corner of the fireside, observing him respectfully, Bunsby, who was one of those sages who act and as if he waited for some encouragement or upon conviction, took some days to get the con- expression of curiosity on Bunsby's part which viction thoroughly into his mind, that he had should lead him to his own affairs, But as the received' a letter to this effect. But, when he mahogany philosopher gave no evidence of being had grappled with the fact and mastered it, he sentient of anything but warmth and tobacco, promptly sent his boy with the message, " He's except once, when, taking his pipe from his lips a-coming to-night." Who, being instructed to to make room for his glass, he incidentally redeliver those words and disappear, fulfilled his marked, with exceeding gruffness, that his name mission like a tarry spirit charged with myste- was Jack Bunsby-a declaration that presentedi rious warning. but small opening for conversation-the captain,, The captain, well pleased to receive it, made bespeaking his attention in a short complimentpreparation of pipes and rum-and-water, and ary exordium, narrated the whole history of awaited his visitor in the back-parlour. At the Uncle Sol's departure, with the change it had' hour of eight, a deep lowing, as of a nautical produced in his own life and fortunes; and conbull, outside the shop-door, succeeded by the cluded by placing the packet on the table. knocking of a stick on the panel, announced to After a long pause Mr. Bunsby nodded his, the listening ear of Captain Cuttle that-Bunsby head. was alongside; whom he instantly admitted, "Open?" said the captain. shaggy and loose, and with his stolid mahogany Bunsby nodded again. visage, as usual, appearing to have no conscious- The captain accordingly broke the seal, and' ness of anything before it, but to be attentively disclosed to view two folded papers, of which he observing something that was taking place in severally read the indorsements, thus: "Last: quite another part of the world. Will and Testament of Solomon Gills." "Letter' Bunsby," said the captain, grasping him by for Ned Cuttle." the hand, "what cheer, my lad, what cheer? " Bunsby, with his eye on the coast of Green"Shipmet," replied the voice within Bunsby, land, seemed to listen for the contents. The.unaccompanied by any sign on the part of the captain therefore hemmed to clear his throat, commander himself, " hearty, hearty." and read the letter aloud. "Bunsby!" said the captain, rendering irre- "' My dear Ned Cuttle. When I left home pressible homage to his genius, "here you are! for the West Indies — ".a man as can give an opinion as is brighter than Here the captain stopped, and looked hard'di'monds-and give me the lad with the tarry at Bunsby, who looked fixedly at the coast of trousers as shines to me like di'monds bright, for Greenland. which you'll overhaul the Stanfell's Budget, and "'-In forlorn search of intelligence of my when found make a note. Here you are, a man dear boy, I knew that, if you were acquainted as gave an opinion in this here very place, that with my design, you would thwart it, or accomhas come true, every letter on it," which the pany me; and therefore I kept it secret. If you captain sincerely believed. ever read this letter, Ned, I am likely to be "Ay, ay!" growled Bunsby. dead. You will easily forgive an old friend's "Every letter," said the captain. folly then, and will feel for the restlessness and "For why?" growled Bunsby, looking at his uncertainty in which he wandered away on such friend for the first time. "Which way? If so, a wild voyage. So no more of that. I have why not? Therefore." little hope that my poor boy will ever read these With these oraculat words-they seemed al- words, or gladden your eyes with the sight of his most to-make the captain giddy; they launched frank face any more.' No, no; no more," said him upon such a sea of speculation and conjec- Captain Cuttle, sorrowfully meditating; "no ture-the sage submitted to be helped off with more. There he lays, all his days —-" 284 DOMBE Y AND SON. Mr. Bunsby, who had a musical ear, suddenly "Ay, ay, to be sure," said the captain; "what's bellowed, "In the Bays of Biscay, O!" which the good o' fhen in. two or three hundred fathom so affected.the good captain, as an appropriate o' water?" Then, returning to the lette), he tribute to departed worth, that he shook him by read on:-"' But if he should be by when it the' hand. in acknowledgment, and was fain to is opened'; " the -captain involuntarily looked wipe his eyes. round,'and shook his head; "'or should know "Well, well " said'the captain with a sigh, as of it at any other time;'" the captain shook his the lament of Bunsby ceased to ring and vibrate head again; "'my. blessing on him! In case in the sky-light. "Affliction sore, long time he the accompanying paper is not legally written, it bore, and let us overhaul the wollume, and there matters very little, for there is no one interested find it." but you and he, and my plain wish is, that if he "Physicians," observed Bunsby, "was in vain." is living he should have what little there may be, "AND YOU'RE A-GOING TO DESERT YOUR COLOURS, ARE YOU, MY LAD?" SAID THE CAPTAIN, AFTER A'LONG EXAMINATION OF HIS FACE. and if (as I fear) otherwise, that you should have' won't come back no more. If so be as he's it, Ned. You will respect my wish, I know.' alive, my opinion is he will. Do I say he will? God bless you for it, and for all your friendli- No. Why not? Because the bearings of this ness, besides, to SOLOMON GILLS.' Bunsby!" obserwation lays in the application on it." said the captain, appealing to him solemnly, "Bunsby!" said Captain Cuttle, who would "what do you make of this? There you sit, a seem to have estimated the value'of his distinman as has had his head broke from infancy guished friend's opinions in proportion'to the up'ards, and.has got a new opinion into it at immensity of the difficulty he experienced'in every seam as has been opened.. Now, what do making anything out of. them; "Bunsby," said you make o' this?" the captain, quite confounded by admiration, "If sot be,". returned Bunsby with unusual "you.carry a weight of mind easy, as'would promptitude, "as he's dead, my opinion is he swamp one of my tonnage soon, But,; in regarid AN ALARMAING SURPRISE. 285 o this here will, I don't mean to take no steps have succeeded, but fo1 the affectiotate dispotowards the property-Lord forbid!-except to sitions of Juliana aff' Chowley, who, pinning keep it for a more rightful owner; and I hope him by the legs —one of thoe -dear children yet as the rightful owner, Sol Gills, is living holding on to each-cl.aited him as their friend and'11 come back, strange as it is that he ain't with lamentable cries. In' the meantimae, Mrs. forwarded no dispatches. Now, what is your MacStinger, who never entered upon any action opinion, Bunsby, as to stowing of these here of importance without previously inverting Alexpapers away again, and marking outside as they ander MacStinger, to bring him within the range was opened, such a day, in Dresence of John of a brisk battery of slaps, and then sitting himn Bunsby and Ed'ard Cuttle?" down to cool as the reader first beheld him, Bunsby, descrying no objection, on the coast performed that-solemn rite, as if on this occasion of Greenland or elsewhere, to this proposal, it it were a sacrifice to the Furies; and having was carried into execution; and that great man, deposited the victim on the floor, made at the bringing his eye into the present for a moment, captain'with a strength of. purpose that appeared affixed his sign-manual to the cover, totally ab- to threaten scratches to the interposing Bunsby. staining, with characteristic modesty, from the The cries of the two elder.MacStingers, and use of capital letters. Captain Cuttle, having the wailing of young Alexander, who may be attached his own left-handed signature, and said to have passed a piebald childhood, foraslocked up the packet fn the iron safe, entreated much as he was black in the face during one his guest to mix another glass and smoke another half of that fairy period of existence, combined pipe; and doing the like himself, fell a musing to make this visitation the more awful. But. over the fire on the possible fortunes of the poor when silence reigned again, and the captain, in old instrument-maker. a violent perspiration, stood meekly looking at And now a surprise occurred, so overwhelm- Mrs. MacStinger, its terrors were'at their height.. ing and terrific that Captain Cuttle, unsupported. "Oh, Cap'en Cuttle, Cap'en Cuttle!"- said by the presence of Bunsby, must have sunk be- Mrs. MacStinger, making. her chin rigid, and neath it, and been a lost man from that fatal shaking it in unison with what, but for the weakhour. ness of her sex, might be described as her fist. How the captain, even in the satisfaction of "Oh, Cap'en Cattle, Cap'en Cuttle, do you dare admitting such a guest, could have only shut the to look me in the face, and not' be struck down door and not locked it, of which negligence he in the herth?" was undoubtedly guilty, is one of those questions The captain, who looked anything but daring, that must for ever remain mere points of specu- feebly muttered, " Stand by!" lation, or vague charges against destiny. But, "Oh, I was a weak and trusting fool when I by that unlocked door, at this quiet moment, took you under my roof, Cap'en Cuttle, I was!" did the fell MacStinger dash into the parlour, cried Mrs. MacStinger. " To think of the benebringing Alexander MacStinger in her parental fits I've showered on that man, and the way in arms, and confusion and vengeance (not to men- which I brought my children up to love and tion Juliana MacStinger, and the sweet child's honor him as if he was a father to'em, when brother, Charles MacStinger, popularly known there an't a'ousekeeper, no, nor a lodger in our about the scenes of his youthful sports as Chow. street, don't know that I lost money by that man, ley) in her train. She came so swiftly and so and by his guzzlings mid his muzzlings " —Mrs.. silently, like a rushing air from the neighbour- MacStinger used the last word for the joint sake' hood of the East India Docks, that Captain of alliteration -and aggravation, rather than for Cuttle found himself in the very act of sitting the expression of any idea-" and when thoy looking at her, before the calm face with which cried out one and all, shame upon him for puthe had been meditating changed to one of ting upon an industrious woman, up early and horror and dismay. late for the good of her young family, and keepBut, the moment Captain Cuttle understood ing her poor place so clean that a individual the full extent of his misfortune, self-preservation might have ate his. dinner, yes, and his tea'too, dictated an attempt at flight. Darting at the if he was so disposed, off any one of the floors little door which opened from the parlour on the or stairs, in spite of all his guzzlings'and his steep little range of cellar steps, the captain muzzlings, such was the care and pains bestowed made a rush, head foremost, at the latter, like a upon him!" man indifferent to bruises and contusions, who Mrs. MacStinger stopped to fetch her breath; only sought to hide himself in the bowels of the and her face flushed with triumph in'this second earth. In this gallant effort he would probably happy introduction of Captain Cuttle's muzzlings. :286 DOMBEY AND SOMV "And he runs. awa-a-a-ay!" cried Mrs. Mac- put his shaggy blue arm round Mrs. MacStinger, Stinger, with a lengthening out of the last syllable and so softened her by his magic way of doiig that made the unfortunate captain regard him- it, and by these few words —he said no moreself as the meanest of men; "and keeps away a that she melted into tears after looking upon him twelvemonth! From a woman! Sitch is his for a few moments, and observed that a child conscience! He hasn't the courage to meet might conquer her now. she was so low in her her hiMi-i-igh;" long syllable again; "but steals courage. away like a felion. Why, if that baby of mine," Speechless and utterly amazed, the captain said Mrs. MacStinger with sudden rapidity, "was saw him gradually persuade this inexorable to offer to go and steal away, I'd do my duty as woman into the shop, return for rulm-and-water a mother by him, till he was covered with wales!" and a candle, take them to her, and pacify her The young Alexander, interpreting this into without appearing to utter one word. Presently a positive promise, to be shortly redeemed, he looked in with his pilot coat on, and said, tumbled over with fear and grief, and lay upon "Cuttle, I'm a-going to act as convoy home;' the floor, exhibiting the soles of his shoes, and and Captain Cuttle, more to his confusion than making such a deafening outcry, that Mrs. Mac- if he had been put in irons himself for safe transStinger found it necessary to take him up in her port to Brig Place, saw the family pacifically arms, where she quieted him, ever and'anon, as filing off, with Mrs. MacStinger at their head. he broke out again, by a shake that seemed He had scarcely time to take down his canister, enough to loosen his teeth. and stealthily convey some money into the hands'"'A pretty sort of a man is Cap'en Cuttle," of Juliana MacStinger, his former favourite, and said Mrs. MacStinger, with a sharp stress on the Chowley, who had the claim upon him that he first syllable of the captain's name, "to take on was naturally of a maritime build, before the Lor-and to 16se sleep for, and to faint along of Midshipman was abandoned by them all; and -and to think dead forsooth-and to go up and Bunsby whispering that he'd carry on smart, and down the blessed town like a madwoman, asking hail Ned Cuttle again before he went aboard, questions after! Oh, a pretty sort of a man! shut the door upon himself, as the last member Ha, ha, ha, ha! He's worth all that trouble of the party. and distress of mind, and much more. That's Some uneasy ideas that he must be walking nothing, bless you! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Cap'en in his sleep, or that he had been troubled with Cuttle," said Mrs. MacStinger, with severe re- phantoms, and not a family of flesh and blood, action in her voice and manner, "I wish to beset the captain at first, when he went back know if you're a-coming home?" to the little parlour, and found himself alone. The frightened captain looked into his hat, as Illimitable faith in, and immeasurable admiration:if he saw nothing for it but to put it on, and give of, the commander of the Cautious Clara, suc-'himself up. ceeded, and threw the captain into a wondering "Cap'en Cuttle," repeated Mrs. MacStinger trance. in the same determined manner, "I wish to Still, as timewore on, and Bunsby failed to know if you're a-coming home, sir?" reappear, the captain began to entertain unThe captain seemed quite ready to go, but comfortable doubts of another kind. Whether faintly suggested something to the effect of " not Bunsby had been artfully decoyed to Brig Place, making so much nise about it." and was there detained in safe custody as hostage "Ay,, ay!" said Bunsby in a soothing for his fiiend; in which case it would become tone. "Awast, my lass, awast " the captain, as a man of honour, to release him "And who may YOU be, if you please?" re- by the sacrifice of his own liberty. Whether he torted Mrs. MacStinger with chaste loftiness. had been attacked and defeated by Mrs. Mac"Did you ever lodge at Number Nine, Brig Stinger, and was ashamed to show himself after Place, sir? My memory may be bad, but not his discomfiture. Whether Mrs. MacStinger, with me, I think. There was a Mrs. Jollson thinking better of it, in the uncertainty of her lived at Number Nine before me, and perhaps temper, had turned back to board the Midshipyou're mistaking me for her. That is my only man again, and Birnsby, pretending to conduct ways of accounting for your familiarity, sir." her by a short cut, was endeavouring to lose the "Come, come, my lass, awast, awast," said family amid the wilds and savage places of the Bunsby. city. Above all, what it would behove him, Captain Cuttle'could hardly believe it, even Captain. Cuttle, to do, in case of his hearing of this great man, though he saw it done with no more either of the MacStingers or of his waking eyes; but Bunsby, advancing boldly, Bunsby, which, in these wonderful and unfore. B.RILLZANT SUCCESS OF C6'A4PTAI S iz2VSBY': 87 seen conjunctions of events, might possibly t little parlour as It'used to be, in case re slould happen. ts.come home.unexpectedly. He likewise, ih his He debated all this'until he.was tired.; and |,thoughtfulness,-took down'a certain little miniastill. no Bunsby. He made. up his bed under'oure of'Walter as a school-boy from its accusthe. counter,- al' ready for turning in; still no' tomred nail, lest it -hould sh.ock the oldman on Bunsby. At length, when the captain had givenl (his return. The captain had his-presentimnents, him up, for that night, at least, and'had.begui,'too;sometimes, that he wvotld come onSsuclha to undress, the sound of approaching wheelsvwa, iday; and one particular Suniday, even ordered heard, and, stopping at the door, was succeeded i- double allowance -of dinner, he was so sanby Bunsby's hail.' -.-ine.'t But come'old.Solomon did. not.'And The captain trembled to think that Mrs. Mac-' silltthe neighbours noticed how thei seafaring Stinger was not to be got rid of, and had been''r-'in the glazed ihat stood at the shop-door oi brought back in a coach. an -vening, looking up ahd down the street. But no. Bunsby'was accompanied by nothing but a large box, which he hauled into the'shop with his own'hands, and as soon as he hadr' hauled in, sat' upon. Captain Cuttle knew it for the chest he. had left at Mrs. MacStinger's CHAPTER XL, house, and looking, candle in hand, at Bunsby more. attentively, believed- that he was three DOMESTIC RELATIONS. sheets in the wind, or, in plain words, drunk. It was difficult, however, to be sure -of this; the.'T. was not in thle nMture of things commander having no trace of expression in his'that a- man of Mr. Dombey's moods face when sober. {iS' } )pposed to such a spirit as he had "Cuttle," said the commander, getting off the', raised against himself, should.be chest, and opening the lid, " are these here your.., softened in the imperious asperity traps?" 9 of his temper; or that the cold; Captain Cuttle looked in and identified his hard armour of pride, in which he lived property. encased, should be made'more'flexible " Done pretty taut and trim, hey, shipmet?" by constant collision with haughty scorn and said Bunsby. defiance. It is the curse- of such a nature-it is The grateful and bewildered captain'grasped a main part of the heavy retribution on itself it him by the hand, and was launching into a reply bears within itself -that while- deference and expressive of his astonished feelings, when Bunsby concession swell.-its evil qualifies, and. are the disengaged himself by a jerk of his wrist, and food it grows upon, resistance, and a questioning seemed to make an effort to wink with his're- of its exacting claims, foster' it too, no less.' The volving eye, the only effect of which attempt, in evil that is in it finds equally its means'of growth his condition, was nearly to overbalance him. and propagation in opposites. It draws support He then abruptly opened the door, and shot and life from sweets and bitters: bowed down away to rejoin the Cautious Clara\with all speed before, or unacknowledged, it'still enslaves the -supposed to be his invariable custom, when- breast in which it has its throne; and, worever he considered'he had made a point. shipped or-rejected, is as hard a master as the As it was not his humour to be often sought, Devil-in dark fables. Captain Cuttle decided not to go or-send to him Towards his first wife, Mr. Dombey, in his next day; or until he should make his gracious cold and lofty arrogance, had borne himself like pleasure known in such wise, or, failing'that, the removed being he ahlost conceived himself until some little-time should have elapsed. The to be. He had been " Mr. Dombey" with her captain, therefore, renewed his solitary life next when she first saw. him, and he was "Mr. Dommorning, and thought profoundly, many morn- bey " when she died. He had asserted his great-' irgs, noons, and nights, of old Sol Gills, and ness during their whole married life, and she had Bunsby's sentiments concerning him, and' the meekly recognised it. He had kept his distant hopes there were of his- return. Much of such seat of state on the top of his throne, and-she thinking strengthened Captain, Cuttle's, hopes; her humble station on its'lowest step; and much! and he humoured'them and himself by watching good''it had' done him, so' to live in solitary for the'instrument-maker at the door, as he ven- bondage to his one idea.' He had imagined that tured to do now, in his strange liberty-and the proud character of his second wife wouldI setting his chair in its plae, and' arranging the have been added to his, own —would have 288 DOMBEI' AND SON merged into it, and exalted his greatness. He life repelled, made a distorted picture of his had pictured himself haughtier than ever, with rights and wrongs, and justified himself with it Edith's haughtiness subservient to his. He had against her. The worthier she promised to be never entertained the possibility of its arraying of him, the greater claim he was disposed to itself against him. And now, when he found it ante-date upon her duty and submission. When rising ill his path at every step and turn of his had she ever shown him duty and submission? daily life, fixing its cold, defiant, and contemptu- Did she grace his life-or Edith's? Had her ous face upon him, this pride of his, instead of attractions been manifested first to him-or withering, or hanging down its head beneath the Edith-? Why, he and she had never been, from shock, put forth new shoots, became more con- her birth, like father and child! They had centrSted and intense, more gloomy, sullen, irk- always been estranged. She had crossed him some, and unyielding, than it had ever been every way and everywhere. She was leagued before. against him now. Her very beauty softened Who wears such armour, too, bears with him natures that were obdurate to him, and insulted ever another heavy retribution. It is of proof him with an unnatural triumph. against conciliation, love, and confidence; against It may have been that in all this there were all gentle sympathy from without, all trust, all mutterings of an awakened feeling in his breast, tenderness, all soft emotion; but, to deep stabs however selfishly aroused by his position of disin the self-love, it is as vulnerable as the bare advantage, in comparison with what she might breast to steel; and such tormenting festers have made his life. But he silenced the distant rankle there as follow on no other wounds, no, thunder with the rolling of his sea of pride. He though dealt with the mailed hand of pride would bear nothing but his pride. And in his itself, on weaker pride, disarmed and thrown pride, a heap of inconsistency, and misery, and down. self-inflicted torment, he hated her. Such wounds were his. He felt them sharply, To the moody, stubborn, sullen demon that in the solitude of his old rooms; whither he now possessed him, his wife opposed her different began often to retire again, and pass long soli- pride in its full force. They never could lave tary hours. It seemed his fate to he ever proud led a happy life together; but nothing could and powerful; ever humbled and powerless where have made it more unhappy than the wilful and he would be most strong Who seemed,at'i to determined warfare of such elements. His pride work out that doom? was set upon maintaining his magnificent supreWho? Who was it wnlo could win his wife as macy, and forcing recognition of it from, l)er. she had won his boy? Who' was it who ha4 She would have been racked to death,. and shown him that new victory, as he sat in the turned but her haughty glance of calm inflexble dark corner? Who was it whose least word did disdain upon him to the last. Such reCgnmiton what his utmost means could not? Who was it from Edith e little knew throug';wlat a who, unaided by his love, regard, or notice, storm and struggle she had been driven onward thrived and grew beautiful when those so aided to the crowning honour of his hand. He little died? Who could it be, but the same child at knew how much she thought she liad conceded whom he had often glanced uneasily in her when she suffered him to call her wife. motherless infancy, with a kind of dread lest he Mr. Dombey was resolved to show her that might come to hate her; and of whom his fore- he was supreme. There must be no will but his. boding was fulfilled, for he DID hate her in his Proud he desired that she should be, but she heart? must be proud for, not against him. As he sat Yes, and he would have it hatred, and he alone, hardening, he would often hear her go out made it hatred, though some sparkles of the and come home, treading the round of London light in which she had appeared before him, on life with no more heed of his liking or disliking, the memorable night of his return home with his pleasure or displeasure, than if he had been her bride, occasionally hung about her still. He groom. Her cold, supreme indifference-his knew now that she was beautiful; he did not own unquestioned attribute usurped-stung him dispute that she was graceful and winning, and'more than any other kind of treatment could' that in the bright dawn of her womanhood she have done; and he determined ro bend her tQ had come upon him. a surprise. But he turned his magnificent and stately will. even this against her. In his sullen and un- He had been long communing with these wholesome brooding, the unhappy man, with a thoughts, when.one night he sought her in her dull perception of his alienation from all hearts, own apartment, after he had heard her return and a vague yearning for what he had all his home late. She was alone, in her brilliant dress, ME'. DOMBE Y IS DISPLEASED) 289 and had but that moment come from her mother's averted her eyes; but she might have spoken room. Her face was melancholy and pensive for an hour, and expressed less. when he came upon her; but it marked him at "I repeat, Mrs. Dombey, does not please me. the door; for, glancing at the mirror before it, I have already taken occasion to request that it he saw immediately, as in a picture-frame, the may be corrected. I now insist upon it." knitted brow and darkened beauty that he knew You chose a fitting occasion for your first so well. remonstrance, sir, and you adopt a fitting manner "Mrs. Dombey,'' le said, entering, " I must and a fitting word for your second. You insist! beg leave to have a few words with you." To me!" "To-morrow," she replied. "Madam," said Mr. Dombey with his most " There is no time like the present, madam," offensive air of state,'" I have made you my wife. he returned. "You mistake your position. I You bear my name. You are associated with my am used to choose my own times; not to have position and my reputation. I will not say that them chosen for me. I think'you scarcely un- the world in general may be disposed to think derstand who and what I am, Mrs. Dombey." you honoured by that association; but I will "I think," she answered, "that I understand say that I am accustomed to'insist' to my conyou very well." nections and dependants." She looked upon him as she said so, and "Which may you be pleased to consider folding her white arms, sparkling with gold and me?" she asked. gecms, upon her swelling breast, turned away her'Possibly I- may think that my wife should eyes. partake-or does partake, and cannot help herIf she had been less handsome, and less stately self-of both characters, Mrs. Dombey." in her cold composure, she might not have had She bent her eyes upon him steadily, and set the power of impressing him with the sense of her trembling lips. He saw her bosom throb, disadvantage that penetrated through his utmost and saw her face flush and turn white. All this pride. But she had the power, and he felt it he could know, and did: but he could not know keenly. I-ie glanced tound the room: saw how that one^word was whispering in the deep recesses the splendid means of personal adornment, and of her heart, to keep herquiet; and that the word the luxuries of dress, were scattered here and was Florence. there, and disregarded; not in mere caprice and Blind idiot, rushing to a preci)ice! He thought carelessness (or so he thought), but in a stead- she stood in awe of him! fast, haughty disregard of costly things: and felt " You are too expensive, madam," said Mr. it more and more. Chaplets of flowers, plumes Dombey. "You are extravagant. You waste a of feathers, jewels, laces, silks and satins; look great deal of money-or what would be a great where he would, he saw riches despised, poured deal in the pockets of most gentlemen-in culout, and made of no account. The very dia- tivating a kind of society that is useless tome, monds —a marriage gift-that rose and feft im- and, deed, that upon the whole is disagreeable patiently upon her bosom, seemed to pant to to me. I have to insist upon a total change in break the chain that clasped theni round her all these respects. I know that, in the novelty neck, and roll down on the floor where she of possessing a tithe of such means as fortune might tread upon them. has placed at your disposal, ladies are apt to He felt his disadvantage, and lie showed it. run into a sudden extreme. There has been Solemn and strange among this wealth of colour more than enough of that extreme. I beg that and voluptuous glitter, strange and constrained Mrs. Granger's very different experiences may towards its haughty mistress, whose repellent now. come to the instruction of Mrs. Dombey." beauty it repeated, and presented all around Still the fixed look, the trembling lips, the him, as in so many fragments of a mirror, he throbbing breast, the face now crimson and now was conscious of embarrassment and awkward- white; and still the deep whisper Florence, Floness. Nothing that ministered to her disdainful rence, speaking to her in the beating of her self-possession could fail to gall him. Galled heart. and irritated with himself, he sat down, rnld His insolence of self-importance dilated as he went on in no improved humour: saw this alteration in her. Swollen no less by " Mr-. Dombey, it is very necessary that her past scorn of him, and his so recent feeling there should be some understanding arrived at of disadvantage, than by her present submission between us. Your conduct does not please me, (as he took it to be), it became too mighty mnalart.z" Ifor his breast, and burst all bounds. Why, She meiyci glanced at him again, and again who could long resist his lofty will anti plea oQMiBEiY AND SON. 1(). 30) 290 DOMBE Y AND SON. sure?. He had resolved to conquer her, and of giving me. no cause of complaint. Mr. Carker," look here said Mr. Dombey, who, after the emotion he had' You will -further please, madam," said Mr. just seen, set great store by this means of reducing Dombey in a tone of sovereigi command, " to his proud wife, and who was perhaps sufficiently understand distinctly, that. I am to be deferred willing to exhibit his power to that gentleman in to an'dobeyed,..That I must have a positive a newv and triumphant aspect, " Mr. Carker being show and qonfession of deference before the in myconfidence, Mrs. Dombey, may very well world, madam.: —I am used'to this. I require it be in yours to -such an extent. 1 hope, Mrs. as my right. In short, I will have it. I. con- Dombey," he continued after a few moments, sider it no unreasonable return for the worldly during which, in his increasing haughtiness, he advancement that has befallen you;.and t be- had improved on his idea, " I may not find it lieve nobody willbe surprised, either at its being necessary ever to intrust' Mr. Carker with an'y required from you, or at your making it.-To message of objection or remonstrance to you; sne-to me!" he added with emphasis. but as it would be derogatory to my position No word from her. No-change in her. Her and reputation to be frequently holding trivial eyes upon him. disputes.with.a lady upon whom I have conI have, larnt from your mother, Mrs. Dom- ferred the highest distinction that it is in my bey,":said Mr. Dombey with magisterial import- power to bestow, I shall not scruple to avail ance, " what no doubt you know, namely, that myself of his services if I see occasion." Brighton is recommended for her health. Mr. "And now," he thbught, rising in his moral Carker has been so good " magnificence, and rising a stiffer and more ilm She changed suddenly. Her face and bosom penetrable man than ever, "she knows me and glowed as if the red light. of an angry sunset my resolution." had' been flung upon them. Not unobservant The hand that had so pressed the bracelet of the change, and putting his own interpreta- was laid heavily upon her breast, but she looked tion upon it, Mr. Dombey resumed: at him still with an unaltered face, and said in a " Mr. Carker has been so good as to go down low voice: and secire a house there for a time. On the "Wait! For God's sake! I must speak to return of the-establishment to London, I shall you." take such steps for its better management as I Why- did she not, and what was the inward consider necessary. One of these will be' the struggle-that rendered her incapable of doing so engagement at Brighton (if it is to be effected), for minutes, while, in the strong constraint she of a very respectable reduced person there, a put upon her face, it was as fixed as any statue's Mrs. Pipchin, formerly employed in a situation -looking upon him with neither yielding nor of trust in my family, to act as housekeeper. An unyielding, liking nor hatred, pride nor humility: establishment like this, presided over but nomi- nothing but a searching gaze? nally, Mrs.'Dombey, requires a competent head." "Did I ever tempt you to seek my hand? She had changed her attitude before he arrived Did I ever use any art to win you? Was I ever it these words, and now sat-still looking at more conciliating to you, when you pursued me, him fixedly-turning a bracelet round and round than I have been since our marriage? Was I upon her arm; not winding it about with a light, ever other to you than I am?" womanly touch, but pressing and dragging it "It is wholly unnecessary, madam," said Mr. over the smooth skin, until the white limb Dombey, "to enter upon such discussions." showed a bar of red. "Did you think I loved you? Did you know "I observed," said Mr. Dombey-" and this I did not? Did you ever care, man! for my concludes what I- deem it necessary to say to heart, or propose to yourself to win the worthyou at present, Mrs. Dombey-I observed a less thing? -Was there any poor pretence of any moment ago, madam, that my allusion to Mr. in our bargain? Upon your side or on mine?" Carker was received in a peculiar manner. On "These questions," said Mr. Dombey,." are the occasion of my happening to point out to all wide of the purpose, madam." you, before that confidential agent, the objection She moved between him and the door to pre I had to-your mode of receiving my-visitors, you vent his going away, and, drawing her majestic were pleased to'object to his presence. You figure to its height, looked steadily upon hin will have. to get the better. of that objection, still. madam, and to accustom yourself to it,.'very - "You answer each of them.'You answer me probably, on many similar occasions; unless you before I speak, I see. How can you help it d1optLthe remedy which is.i;your owan hands, you who know the miserable truth as well as I VNO' TO BE BENT, NOT TO' BE BROKEN. 291 Now, tell me. If I loved you to devotion, could understand, or (so far as your power can go) I do more than render up my'whole will and intend that each of us shall take a separate being to you, as you have jtst demanded? If course; and you expect from me, instead, a my heart were pure and all untried, and you homage you will never have." its idol, could you ask more; could vou have Although her face was still the same, there more?" was emphatic confirmation of this "Never" in " Possibly not, madam," he returned coolly. the very breath she drew. "You know how different I am. You see " I feel no tenderness towards, you; that you me looking on you now, and you can read the know. You would care nothing for it, if I did warmth of passion for you that is breathing in or could. I know as well that you feel none my face." Not a curl of the proud lip, not a towards me. But we are linked together; and flash of the dark eye, nothing but the same in the knot that ties us, as I have said, others intent and searching look, accompanied these are bound up. We must both die; we are both words. "You know my general history. You connected with the dead already, each by a little lave spoken of my mother. Do you think you child. Let us forbear.":an degrade, or'bend or break, me to submis- Mt. Dombey took a long respiration, as if he ion and obedience?" would have said, Oh! was this all? Mr. Dombey smiled, as he might have smiled "There is no wealth," she went on, turning It an inquiry whether he thought he could raise paler as she watched him, while her eyes grew en thousand pounds. yet more lustrous in their earnestness, "that "If there is anything unusual here," she saia, could buy these words of me, and the meaning vith a slight motion of her hand before her brow, that belongs to them. Once cast away as idle vhich did not for a moment flinch from its im- breath, no wealth or power can bring them back. novable and otherwise expressionless gaze, " as I mean them; I have weighed them; and I will know there are unusual feelings here," raising be true to what I undertake. If you will prohe hand she pressed upon* her bosom, and mise to forbear on your part, I will promise to teavily returning it, " consider that there is no forbear on mine. We are a most unhappy pair, ommon meaning in the appeal I am going to in whom, from different causes, every sentiment lake you. Yes, for I am going"-she said it that blesses marriage, or justifies it, is rooted s in prompt reply to something in his face- out; but in the course of time, some friendship, to appeal to you." or some fitness for each other, may arise between Mr. Dombey, with a slightly condescending us. I will try to hope so, if you will make the end of his chin that rustled and crackled his endeavour too; and I will look forward to a;iff cravat, sat down on a sofa that was near better and a happier,use of age than I have im, to hear the appeal. made of youth or prime." "If you can believe that I am of such a Throughout she had spoken in a low, plain ature now,"-he fancied he saw tears glistening voice, that neither rose nor fell; ceasing, she i her eyes, and he thought, complacently, that dropped the hand with which she had enforced e had forced them from her, though none fell herself to be so passionless and distinct, but not a her cheek, and she regarded him as steadily the eyes with which she had so steadily observed ever,-" as would make what I now say almost him. credible to myself, said to any man who had " Madam," said Mr. Dombey with his utmost "come my husband, but, above all, said to you, dignity, "I cannot entertain any proposal of this mu may, perhaps, attach the greater weight to extraordinary nature." In the dark end to which we are tending, She looked at him yet, without the least id may come, we shall not involve ourselves change. >ne (that might not be much), but others." "I cannot," said Mr. Dombey, rising as he Others! He knew atwhom that word pointed, spoke, " consent to temporise or treat with you,.d frowned heavily. Mrs. Dombey, upon a subject as to which you " I speak to you for the sake of others. Also are in possession of my opinions and expectaur own sake; and for mine. Since our mar- tions. I have stated my ultz>ataum, madam, and ige, you have been arrogant to me; and I have only to request your very serious attention ve repaid you in kind. You have shown to to it." X and every one around us, every day and To see the face change to its old expression, ur, that you think I am graced and distin- deepened in intensity! To see the eyes droop ished by your alliance. I do not think so, as from some mean and odious object! To see d have shown that too. It seems you do not the lighting of the haughty brow! To see scorn. 92 DVMBtE D AN7 SOX. anger, indignationl and abhorrence starting into and in general called Mr. Dombey either light, and fhe pale blank earnestness vanish like Grangeby," or "Domber,' br indifferently both. Izmist! He,could not choose but look, although But she was youthful, very youthful, still; and he looked to his dismay. in her youthfulness she appeared at breakfast, "Go, sir!" she said; poiting with an im- before going away, in a new bonnet, made experious hand towards the door. "Our first and press, and a travelling robe that was embroidered last confidence is at an end. Nothing can make and braided like an old baby's. It was not easy us stranger to each other than we are henceforth." to put her into a fly-away bonnet now, or to " I shall take my rightful course, madam," keep the bonnet in its place on the back of her said Mr. Dombey, "undeterred, you may be poor nodding head, when it was got on. In sure, by any general'declamation." this instance, it had not only the extrarteous She turned her back upon him, and, without effect of being always on one side, but of being reply, sat down before her glass. perpetually tapped on the crown by Flowers the " I place my reliance on your improved sense maid, who' attended in the background during of duty,. and more correct feeling, and better breakfast to perform that duty. reflection, madam," said Mr. Dombey. "Now, my dearest Grangeby," said Mrs. She answered not one word.'He saw no Skewton, "you must posively prom," she cut more expression of any heed of him, in the some of her words short, and cut out others mirror, than if he had been an unseen spider on altogether, "come down very soon." the wall, or beetle on the floor, or rather, than "I said just now, madam," returned Mr. if he had been the one or other, seen and crushed Dombey loudly and laboriously, " that I am when she last turned from him, and forgotten coming in a day or two." among the ignominious and dead vermin of tile "Bless you, Domber!" ground. Here the major, who was come to take leave He looked back, as he went out at the door, of the ladies, and who was staring through his upon the well-lighted and luxurious room, the apoplectic eyes at Mrs. Skewton's face, with the beautiful and glittering objects everywhere dis- disinterested composure of an immortal being, played, the shape of Edith in its rich dress said: seated before her glass, and the face of Edith as "Begad, ma'am,. you don't ask old Joe to the glass presented it to him; and he betook come!" himself to his old chan-rber of cogitation, carry- "Sterious wretch, who's he?" lisped Cleoing away with him a vivid picture in his mind patra. But a tap on the bonnet from Flowers of all these things, and a rambling and unac- seeming to jog her memory, she added, "Oh! countable speculation (such as sometimes comes you mean yourself, you naughty creature! " into a man's head)' how they would all look "Devilish queer, sir," whispered the major to when he saw them next. Mr. Dombey. "Bad case. Never did wrap For the rest, Mr. Dombey was very taciturn, up enough;" the major being buttoned to the and very dignified, and very confident of carry- chin. "Why, who should J. B. mean by Joe, ing out his purpose; and remained so. but old Joe Bagstock —Joseph-your slaveHe did not design accompanying the family Joe, ma'am? Here! Here's the man! Here to Brighton; but he graciously informed Cleo- are the Bagstock bellows, ma'am!" cried the patra at breakfast, on the morning of departure, major, striking himself a sounding blow on the which arrived a day or two afterwards, that he chest. might be expected down soon. There was no "My dearest Edith-Grangeby-it's most time to be lost in getting Cleopatra to any place trordinry thing," said Cleopatra pettishly, " that recommended as being salutary; for, indeed, Major-" she seemed upon the wane, and turning of the Bagstock! J. B.!" cried the major, seeing earth earthy. that she faltered for his name. Without having undergone any decided second " Well, it don't matter," said Cleopatra. attack of her malady, the old woman seemed to "Edith, my love, you know I never couldc have crawled backward in her recovery from remember names-what was it? oh!-mosl the first. She was more lean and? shrunken, trordinry thing that so many people want come more uncertain in her imbecility, and made down see me. I'm not going for long. 1'n stranger confusions in her mind and memory. coming back. Surely they can wait till I coilo Among other symptoms of this last affliction. she back! fell into the habit of confounding the names of Cleopatra looked all round the table as sh( her two sons-in-law, the living and the deceased; said it, and.appeared very uneasy. CLEOPATRA GOING DOWNHILL. 293 "I won't have visitors-really don't want Withers the page, was conducted to the carriage, visitors," she said;'f little repose —and all that which was to take her; Florence, and Edith to sort of thing-is what I quire. No odious Brighton. brutes must proach me till I've shaken off this " And is Joseph absolutely banished?" said numbness;" and, in a grisly resumption of her the major, thrusting in his purple face over the coquettish ways, she made a dab at the major with steps. " Damme, ma'am, is Cleopatra so hardher fan, but overset Mr. Dombey's breaktast-cup hearted as to forbid her faithful Antony Bagstock instead, which was in quite a different direction. to approach the presence?" Then she called for Withers, and charged him "Go along!" said Cleopatra; " I can't bear to see particularly that word was left about some you. You shall see me when I come back, if trivial alterations in her room, which must be all you are very good." made before she came back, and which must be "Tell Joseph he may live in hope, ma'am," set about immediately, as there was no saying said the major; " or he'll die in despair." how soon she might come back; for she had a Cleopatra shuddered and leaned back. great many engagements, and all sorts of people "Edith, my dear," she said. " Tell him —" to call upon. Withers received these directions "What?" with becoming deference, and gave his guarantee "Such dreadful words," said Cleopatra. " He Tor their execution; but when he withdrew a uses such dreadful words!" pace or two behind her, it appeared as if he Edith signed to him to retire, gave the word:ouldn't help looking strangely at the major, to go on, and left the objectionable major to rho couldn't help looking strangely at Mr. Mr. Dombey, to whom he returned whistling. Dombey, who couldn't help looking strangelyat "I'll tell you what, sir," said the major, with.leopatra, who couldn't help nodding her bonnet his hands behind him, and his legs very wide )ver one eye, and rattling her knife and fork asunder, "a fair friend of ours has removed to ipon her plate in using them as if she were Queer Street." )laying castanets. " What do you mean, major?" inquired Mr. Edith.alone never lifted her eyes to any face Dombey. It the table, and never seemed dismayed by "I mean to say, Dombey," returned the nything her mother said or did. She listened major, "that you'll soon be an orphan-in-law." o her disjointed talk, or at least turned her Mr. Dombey appeared to relish this waggish lead towards her when addressed; replied in a description of himself so very little that the ew low words when necessary; and sometimes major wound up with the horse's cough as an topped her when she was rambling, or brought expression of gravity. ler thoughts back with a monosyllable to the " Damme, sir," said the major, " there is no:oint from which they had strayed. The use in disguising a fact. Joe is blunt, sir. aother, however unsteady in other things, was That's his nature. If you take old Josh at all, onstant in this-that she was always observant you take him as you find him; and a de-vilish f her. She would look at the beautiful face, in rusty, old rasper, of a close-toothed, J. B. file:s marble stillness and severity, now with a kind you do find him. Dombey," said the major, f fearful admiration; now in a giggling, foolish "your wife's mother is on the move, sir." ffort to move it to a smile; now with capricious " I fear," returned Mr. Dombey with much mars and jealous shakings of her head, as ima- philosophy, "that Mrs. Skewton is shaken." ining herself neglected by it; always with an "Shaken, Dombey!" said the major. ttraction towards it, that never fluctuated like "Smashed! " er other ideas, but had constant posses- "Change, however," pursued Mr. Dombey, ion of her. From Edith she would sometimes "and attention may do much yet." )ok at Florence, and back again at Edith, in a "Don't believe it, sir," returned the major. lanner that was wild enough; and sometimes k'Damme, sir, she never wrapped up enough. ie would try to look elsewhere, as if to escape If a man don't wrap up," said the major, taking om her daughter's face; but back to it she in another button, of his buff waistcoat, " he has:emed forced to come, although it never sought nothing to fall back upon. But some people ers unless sought, or troubled her with one will die. They will do it. Damme, they will ngle glance. They're obstinate. I tell you what, Dombey, it The breakfast concluded, Mrs. Skewton, af- may not be ornamental; it may not be refined; cting to lean girlishly upon the major's arm, it may be rough and tough; but a little of the it heavily supported on the other side by genuine old English Bagstock stamina, sir, would lowers the maid, and propped up behind by do all the good in the world to the human breed," 294 DOMBEY AND SON. After imparting this precious piece of infor- like a distorted shadow of her mother, spoke to mation, the major, who was certainly true blue, the,other earnestly,, and with a pointing:hand whatever, other. endowments he may have pos- towards them: That one seemed inclined to sessed or wantec. coning within. the "genuine turn back, but tke. other, in which Edith recogold English " classification, which has never been nised enough that was like herself to strike her exactly ascertained, took his lobster eyes and his with an unusual feeling, not quite free from fear, apoplexy to the club, and choked there all day. came on; and then they came on together. Cleopatra, at one time fretful, at another self- The greater part of this observation she made complacent, sometimes awake; sometimes asleep, while walking towards them, for her stoppage had at all times.juvenile, reached Brighton the same been momentary.. Nearer observation showed night, fell to pieces as usual, and was put away her that they were poorly dressed; as wanderers in bed; where a gloomhy fancy might have pic- about the country.; that the younger. woman tured a more lpotent skeleton than the maid eiho carried knitted work or some such goods for should have been one, watching at the rose- sale and that the'old' one toiled on emptycoloured curtains, which were' carried down to handed. shed their bloom upon her. And yet, however far removed. she was in It was settled in high council of medical dress, in dignity, in beauty, Edith could not but authority that she should take a carriage airing compare the younger woman with. herself. still every day,.and that itas'I important she should It may have been that she saw upon her face get out every day and'vwalk if she could. Edith' some traces which she knew were lingering in was ready to attend her-always ready to attend her own soul, if not yet written on that index; her, with the same mechanical attention and im- but, as the woman came, on, returning her" gaze, movable beauty-and they drove out alone; fixing her shining eyes upon her, undoubtedly for Edith had an uneasiness in the presence of presenting something of her own air and stature, Florence, now that her mother was worse, and and appearing to reciprocate her own thoughts, told Florence, with a kiss, that she would rather she felt a chill creep over her, as if the day were they two went alone, darkening, and the wind were colder. Mrs. Skewton, on one particular day, was in They had'now come up. The- old woman, the irresolute, exacting, jealous temper that had holding out her hand importunately, stopped to developed itself on lier recovery from her first beg of Mrs. Skewton. The younger one stopped attack. After, sitting silent in the carriage too, and she and Edith looked in one another's watching Edith for some time, she took her eyes., hand and kissed it passionately.'The hand was "What is it that you have to sell?" said neither given nor withdrawn, but simply yielded Edith. to her raising of it, and being released, dropped " Only this," returned the woman, holding out down again, almost as if it were insensible. At her wares without looking at them. " I sold this she began to whimper and moan, and say myself long ago." what a mother she had been, and how she was My lady, don't believe her," croaked the forgotten!.This she continued to do at capri- old worman to Mrs. Skewton; "don't believe cious intervals, even when they had alighted; what she says. She loves to talk like that. She'r when she herself was halting along with the my handsome and undutiful daughter. Sh( joint support of Withers and-a stick, and Editl gives'me nothing but reproaches, my lady, fo: was walking by her side, and the carriage slowly all I have done for her. Look at her now, ml following at a little distance. lady, how she turns upon her poor old mothe It was a bleak, lowering, windy day, and tney with her looks." were out upon' the Downs, with nothing but a As Mrs. Skewton drew her purse out with bare sweep of land between them and the sky. trembling hand, and eagerly fumbled for som. The mother, with a querulous satisfaction in the money; which the other old woman greedil: monotony of her complaint, was still repeating watched for-their heads all but touching ii it in a low voice from time to time, and the their hurry and decrepitude-Edith interposed proud form of her daughter moved beside her "I have seen you," addressing the old womar slowly, when there came advancing over a dark "before." ridge before them two.other -figures, which in "Ye's,- my lady," with a curtsy. " Down i the distance were so like an exaggerated imita-Warwickshire. The morning among the tree tion of their own,- that Edith stopped. When' you wouldn't give me nothing. But tl Almost as she stopped, the two figures stopped; gentleman, he give me something! Oh, blei and that one which to Edith's' thinking was him,, bless him " mumbled the old womal HANDSOME AN D PROUD. 295 holding.up her skinny hand, and grinning fright- With a tender melancholy pleasure, Florence fully at her daughter. finds herself again on the old ground'so sadly " It's of no use attempting to stay me, Edith " trodden, yet so happily, and thinks of him in said Mrs. Skewton, angrily anticipating an ob- the quiet placz, where he and she have many jection from her. "'You know nothing about it. and many a time, conversed together; with the I won't be dissuaded. I am sure this is an water welling up about his couch. And now, as excellent woman, and a good mother." she sits pensive there, she hears, in the wild low " Yes, my lady, yes," chattered the old woman, murmur of the sea, his little story told again, his holding out her avaricious hand. " Thankee, very words repeated; and finds that all her life my lady. Lord bless you, my lady. Sixpence and hopes, and griefs, since-in the solitary more, my pretty lady, as a good mother yourself." house, and in the pageant it has changed to" And treated undutifully enough, too, my have a portion in the burden of the marvellous good old creature, sometimes, I assure you," song. said Mrs. Skewton, whimpering. "There! Shake And gentle Mr. Toots, who wanders at a dishands with me.; You're a very good old crea- tance, looking wistfully towards the figure that ture-full of what's-his-name -and all that. he dotes upon, and has followed there, but canYou're all. affection and et cetera. an't you?" not in his delicacy disturb at such a time, like"Oh yes, my lady!" wise hears the requiem of little Dombey on the "Yes, I'm sure you are and so's that gentle- waters, rising and falling in the lulls of their manly creature Grangeby. I must really shake eternal madrigal in praise of Florence. Yes! hands with you again. And now you can go, and he faintly understands, poor Mr. Toots, that you know; and I hope," addressing the daugh- they are saying something of a time when he was ter, "that you'll show more gratitude, and sensible of being brighter and not addle-brained; natural what's-its-name, and all the rest of it- and the tears rising in his eyes when he fears but I never did remember names-for there that he is dull and stupid now, and good for never was a better mother than the good old little but to be laughed at, diminish his satisfaccreature's been to you. Come, Edith!" tion in their soothing reminder that he is relieved As the ruin of Cleopatra trotted off whimper- from present responsibility to the Chicken, by ing, and wiping its eyes with a gingerly remem- the absence of that game head of poultry in the brance of rouge in their neighbourhood, the old country, training (at Toots's cost) for his great woman hobbled another way, mumbling and mill with the Larkey Boy. counting her money. Not one word more, nor But Mr. Toots takes courage when they whisone other gesture, had been exchanged between per a kind thought to him; and by slow degrees, Edith and the younger woman, but neither had and with many indecisive stoppages on the way, removed her eyes from the other for a moment. approaches Florence. Stammering and bushThey had remained confronted until now, when ing, Mr. Toots affects amazement when he comes Edith, as awakening from a dream, passed slowly near her, and says (having followed close on the on. carriage in which'she travelled, every inch of " You're a handsome woman," muttered her the way from London, loving even to be choked. shadow, looking after her; "but good looks by the dust of its wheels) that he never was so won't save us. And you're a proud woman; surprised in all his life. but pride won't save us. We had need to know "And you've brought Diogenes, too, Miss each other when we meet again!" Dombey!" says Mr. Toots, thrilled through and through by the touch of the small hand so plea* —~-9-~ -santly and frankly given him. No doubt Diogenes is there, and no doubt CHAPTER XL. Mr. Toots has reason to observe him, for he comes straightway at Mr. Toots's legs, and NEW VOICES IN THE WAVES. tumbles over himself in the desperation with which he makes at him, like a very dog of MonALL is going on as it was wont. The waves targis. But he is checked by his sweet mistress. are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; "Down, Di, down. Don't you remember the dust lies piled upotn the shore; the sea birds who first made us friends, Di? For shame!" soar and hover; the winds and clouds go forth Oh! Well may Di lay his loving cheek agains. upon their trackless flight; the white arms her hand, and run off, and run back, and run beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible round her, barking, and run headlong at anycountry far away. body coming by, to show his devotion., Mr. 29b DOM EY 4AND SON. Toots would run headlong at anybody, too. A once. I think we have no new disciples in our military gentlerrmn goes past, and Mr. Toots little portico, my dear," says Doctor Blimber to'would like nothing better than to run at: him, Cornelia, "since Mr. Toots left us." full tilt. " Except Bitherstone," returns Cornelia. "Diogenes is quite in his native air, isn't he, "Ay, truly," says the Doctor. "Bitherstone Miss Dombey?" says Mr. ToOts. is -ew to Mr. Toots." Florence assents with a grateful smile. New to Florence, too, almost; for. in the "Miss Dombey," says Mr. Toots, "beg your schoolroom, Bitherstone-no longer Master pardon, but if you would like to walk to Blim- Bitherstone of Mrs. Pipchin's-shows in collars ber's, I-I'm going there." and a neckcloth, and wears a watch. But Floren.ce puts her arm in that of Mr. Toots Bitherstone, born beneath some Bengal star of without a word, and they walk away together, ill omen, is extremely inky; and his lexicon has with Diogenes going on before. Mr. Toots's got so dropsical from constant reference, that it legs shake under him; and though he is splen- won't shut, and yawns as if it really could not didly dressed, he feels misfits, and sees wrinkles, bear to be so bothered. So does Bitherstone in the masterpieces of Burgess and Co., and its master, forced at Doctor Blimber's highest wishes he had put on that brightest pair'of pressure; but in the yawn of Bitherstone there boots. is malice and snarl, and he has been heard to Doctor Blimber's house, outside, has as say that he wishes he could catch " old Blimscholastic and studious an air as ever; and up ber " in India. He'd precious soon find himself there is the window where she used to look for carried up the country by a few of his (Bitherthe pale face, and where the pale face brightened stone's) coolies, and handed over to the Thugs: when it saw her, and the wasted little hand he can tell him that! waved kisses as she passed. The door is opened Briggs is still grinding in the mill of knowby the same weak-eyed young man, whose im- ledge; and Tozer too; and Johnson too; and all becility of grin at sight of Mr. Toots is feeble- the rest; the older pupils being principally enness of character personified. They are shown gaged in forgetting, with prodigious labour, into the Doctor's study, where blind Homer and everything they knew when they were younger. Minerva give them audience as of yore, to the All are as polite and pale as ever; and among sober ticking of the great clock in the hall; and them, Mr. Feeder, B.A., with his bony hand and where the globes stand still in their accustomed bristly head, is still hard at it: with' his Heroplaces, as if the world were stationary too, and dotus stop on just at present, and his other nothing-in it ever perished'in obedience to the barrels on a shelf behind him. universal law, that, while it keeps it on the roll, A mighty sensation is created, even among calls everything to earth. these grave young gentlemen, by a visit fiom And here is Doctor Blimber, with his learned the emancipated Toots; who is regarded with a legs; and here is Mrs. Blimber, with her sky- kind of awe, as one who has passed the Rubicon, blue cap; and here is Cornelia, with her sandy and is pledged never to come back, and conlittle row of curls, and her bright spectacles, still cerning the cut of whose clothes, and fashion of working like a sexton in the graves of languages. whose jewellery, whispers go about behind Here is the table upon which he sat.f6rlor and hands; the bilious Bitherstone, who is not of strange, the "new boy" of the school; and Mr. Toots's time, affecting to despise the latter hither comes the distant cooing of the old boys, to the smaller boys, and saying he knows better, at their old lives in the old room on the old and that he should like to see him coming that principle! sort of thing in Bengal, where his mother has "Toots!" says Doctor Blimber, " I am very got an emerald belonging to him, that was taken glad to see you, Toots." out of the footstool of a rajah. Come now! Mr. Toots chuckles in reply. Bewildering emotions are awakened also by "Also to see you, Toots, in such good com- the sight of Florence, with whom every young pany," says Doctor Blimber. gentleman immediately falls in love again; exMr. Toots, with a scarlet visage, explains that cept, as aforesaid, the bilious Bitherstone, whc he has met Miss Dombey by accident, and that declines to do so, out of contradiction. Black Miss Dombey wishing, like himself, to see the jealousies of Mr. Toots arise, and Briggs is o old place, they have come together. opinion that he an't so very old after all. Bu "You will like," says Doctor Blimber,; to this disparaging insinuation is speedily mad, step among our young friends, Miss Dombey, nought by Mr. Toots saying aloud to Mr. Feeder no doubt. All fellow-students of yours, Toots, B.A., " How are you, Feeder?" and asking hin BLIMBER'S RE VISITED. 297 to come and dine with him to-day at the Bed- "Miss Dombey," says Mr. Toots, who feels ford; in right of which feats he might set up as that he is in for it now, " I really am in that Old Parr, if he chose, unquestioned. state of adoration of you that I don't know what There is much shaking of hands, and much to do with myself. I am the most deplorable bowing, and a great desire on the part of each wretch. If it wasn't at the corner of the square young gentleman to take Toots down in at present, I should go down on my knees, and Miss Dombey's good graces; and then, Mr. beg and entreat of you, without any encourageToots having bestowed a chuckle on his old ment at all, just to let me hope that I maydesk, Florence and he withdraw with Mrs. Blim- may think it possible that you " ber and Cornelia; and Doctor Blimber is heard " Oh, if you please, don't " cries Florence, foi to observe behind them, as he comes out last, the moment quite alarmedand distressed. "Oh, and shuts. the door, "Gentlemen, we will now pray don't, Mr. Toots!. Stop, if you please. resume our studies." For that and little else is Don't say any more.. As a kindness and a what the Doctor hears the sea say, or has heard favour to me, don't." it saying all his life. Mr. Toots is dreadfully abashed, and his Florence then steals away, and goes up-stairs mouth opens. to the old bedroom with Mrs. Blimber and Cor- "You have been so good to me," says Floielia; Mr. Toots, who feels that neither he nor rence, " I am so grateful to you, I have such anybody else is wanted there, stands talking to reason to like you for being a kind friend to me, the Doctor at the study door, or rather, hearing and I do like you so much;" and here the ingethe Doctor'talk to him, and Wondering how he nuous face smiles upon him with the pleasantest ever thought the study a great sanctuary, and look of honesty in the world; "that I am sure the Doctor, with his round turned legs, like a you are only going to say good-bye!' clerical pianoforte, an awful man. Florence "Certainly, Miss Dombey," says Mr. Toots, soon comes down and takes leave; Mr. Toots "I-I-that's exactly what I mean. It's of no takes leave; and Diogenes, who has been worry- consequence." ing the weak-eyed young man pitilessly all the " Good-bye!" cries Florence. time, shoots out at the door, and barks a glad' "Good-bye, Miss Dombey!" stammers Mr. defiance down the cliff; while'Melia, and another Toots. "I hope you won't think anything of the Doctor's female domestics, look out of an about it. It's-it's of no consequence, thank upper window, laughing "at that there Toots," you. It's not of the least consequence in the and saying of Miss Dombey, " But really, world." though, now-ain't she like her brother, only Poor Mr. Toots goes home to his hotel in a prettier? " state of desperation, locks himself into his bedMr., Toots, who saw when Florence came room, flings himself upon his bed, and lies there down that there were tears' upon. her face, is for a long time; as if it were of the greatest con-.desperately anxious and uneasy, and at first sequence nevertheless. But Mr Feeder, B.A., fears that he did wrong in proposing the visit. is coming to dinner, which happens well for' Mr. But he is soon relieved by her saying she is very Toots, or there is no knowing when he might get glad to have been there again, and by her talk- up again. Mr. Toots is obliged to get up to ing quitecheerfully about it all, as they walked receive him, and to give.him hospitable enteron by the sea. What with the voices there, and tainment. her swveet voice, when they come near Mr. Dom- And. the generous influence of that social bey's house, and Mr. Toots must leave her, he is virtue, hospitality (to make no mention of wine so enslaved that' he has not a scrap of free-will and good cheer), opens Mr. Toots's heart, and left; when she gives him her hand at parting, he warms him to conversation. He does not'tell cannot let it go. Mr. Feeder, B.A., what passed at the corner of "Miss Dombey, I.beg your pardon," says the square; but when Mr. Feeder asks him Mr. Toots, in a sad fluster, "but if you would "when it is to come off," Mr. Toots replies " that allow me to —to —" there are certain subjects"-which brings Mr. The smiling and unconscious look of Florence Feeder down a peg or two immediately. Mr. brings him to a dead stop. Toots adds, that he don't know what.right "If you.would allow me to-if you would not Blimber had to notice his being in Miss Domconsider it a liberty, Miss Dombey, if I was to- bzy's company, and that, if he thought he meant without any encouragement at all, if I was to impudence by it, he'd have him out, Doctor or hope, you know," says Mr. Toots. no Doctor; but.he supposes it's only his igno. Florence looks at him inquiringly. rance. Mr. Feeder says he has no doubt of it.. t98 -DOMBE 4.Y AND SON.i Mr. Feeder, however, as an intimate friend, is tions live again, the figure which in grim reality not excluded from the subject. Mr. Toots is substituted for the patient boy's on the same merely requires that it should be mentioned theatre, once more to connect it —but how difmysteriously, and with feeling. After a few ferently l-with decay and death, is stretched glasses of wine, he gives Miss Dombey's health, there, wakeful and complaining. Ugly and observing, "Feeder, you have no idea of the haggard it lies upon its bed of unrest; and by sentiments with which I propose that toast." it, in the terror of her unimpassioned loveliness Mr. Feeder replies, " Oh yes, I have, my dear — for it has terror in the sufferer's failing eyesToots; and greatly they redound to your honour, sits Edith What do the waves say in the stillold boy." Mr. Feeder is then agitated by friend- ness of the night to them? ship, and shakes hands; and says, if ever Toots Edith, what is that stone arm raised to strike wants a- brother, he knows where to find him, me? Don't you see it?" either by post or parcel. Mr. Feeder likewise "There is nothing, mother, but your fancy." says that if he may advise, he would recommend "But my fancy! Everything is my fancy. Mr. Toots to learn the guitar, or, at least, the Look! Is it possible that you don't see it?" flute; for women like music, when you are pay- "Indeed, mother, there is nothing. Should ing your addresses to'em, and he has found the I sit unmoved if there were any such thing advantage of it himself. there? " This brings Mr. Feeder, B.A., to the con- "Unmoved?" —looking wildly at her-"it's fession that he has his eye upon Cornelia Blim- gone now-and why are you so unmoved? That ber. He informs Mr. Toots that he don't ob- is not my fancy, Edith. It turns me cold to see ject to spectacles, and that if the Doctor were vou sitting at my side." to do the handsome thing and give up the busi- I am sorry, mother." ness, why, there they are-provided for. He "Sorry! You seem always sorry. But it is says it's his opinion that when a'man has made not for me!" a handsome sum by his business, he is bound to With that she cries; and, tossing her restless give it up; and that Cornelia would be an assist- head from side to side upon her pillow, runs on ance in it which any man might be proud of. Mr. about neglect, and the mother she has been, and Toots replies by launching wildly out into Miss the mother the good old creature was whom Dombey's praises, and by insinuations that they met, and the cold return the daughters of sometimes he thinks he should like to blow his such mothers make. In the midst of her incobrains out. Mr. Feeder strongly urges that it herence, she stops, looks at her daughter, cries would be a rash attempt, and shows him, as a out that her witz. going, and hides her face reconcilement to existence; Cornelia's portrait, upon the bed. spectacles and all. Edith, in compassion, bends over her and Thus these quiet spirits pass the evening; and speaks to her. The sick old woman clutches when it has yielded place to night, Mr. Toots her round the neck, and says with a look of walks hoine with Mr. Feeder, and parts with horror, him at Doctor Blimber's door. But Mr. Feeder "Edith! we are going home soon; going only goes up the steps, and, when Mr. Toots is back. You mean that I shall go home again?" -gone, comes down again, to stroll upon the "Yes, mother, yes." beach alone, and think about his prospects. Mr. "And what he said-what's-his-name-I never Feeder plainly hears the waves informing him, could remember names-Major-that dreadful as he loiters along, that Doctor Blimber will give word, when we came away-it's not true'?.up the business; and he feels a soft romantic Edith!" with a shriek and a stare, "it's not that pleasure in looking at the outside of the house, that is the matter with me." and thinking that the Doctor will first paint it, Night after night the light burns in the, winand put it into thorough repair. dow, and the figure lies upon the bed, and Mr. Toots is likewise roaming up and down Edith sits beside it, and the restless'waves are outside the casket that contains his jewel; and calling to them both the whole night long. in a deplorable condition of mind, and not un- Night after night the waves are hoarse with suspected by the police, gazes at a window repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled where he sees a light, and which he has no upon the shore; the sea birds soar and hover; doubt is Florence's. But it is not, for that is the winds and clouds' are on their trackless Mrs. Skewton's room; and while Florence, sleep- flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight ing in another chamber, dreams lovingly, in the to the invisible country far away. midst of the old scenes, and their old associa- And still the sick old woman looks into tht CLEOPATRA'S OBSEQ UfLE. 2 9 corner, where the stone arm-part of a figure of and clouds.'Draw the rose-coloured curtains some tomb, she says-is raised to strike her. close! At last it falls; and then a dumb old woman Intelligence of the event is sent to Mr. Domlies upon the bed, and she is crooked, and bey in town, who waits upon Cous.k1 Feenix shrunk up, and half of her is dead. (not yet able to make up his mind for -BadenSuch is the figure, paint, d and patched for Baden), who has just received it too. A goodthe sun to mock, that is drawn slowly through natured creature like Cousin Feenix is the very the crowd from day to day; looking, as it goes, man for a marriage or a funeral, and his position for the good old creature who was such a in the family renlers it right that he should be mother, and making mouths as it peers among consulted. the crowd in vain. Such is the figure that is " Dombey," says Cousin Feenix, "upon my often wheeled down to the margin of the sea, soul, I am very much shocked to see you on and stationed there; but on which no wind can such a melancholy occasion. My noor aunt! blow freshness, and for which the murmur of the She was a devilish lively woman." ocean has no soothing word. She lies and listens Mr. Dombey replies, " Very much so." to it by the hour; but its speech is dark and "And made up," says Cousin Feenix, "really gloomy to her, and a dread is on her face, and young, you know, considering. I am sure, on when her eyes wander over the expanse, they the day of your marriage, I thought she was. see but a broad stretch of lesolation between good for another twenty years. In point of fact, earth and heaven. I said so to a man at Brooks's-little Billy Florence she seldom seez, and when she does, Joper- you know him, no doubt-man with a is angry with and mows at. Edith is beside her glass in his eye? " always, and keeps Florence away; and Flo- Mr. Dombey bows a negative. " In reference rence, in her bed at night, trembles at the to the obsequies," he hints, " whether there is thought of death in such a shape, and often any suggestion —" wakes and listens, thinking it has come. No "Well, upon my life," says Cousin Feenix, one attends on her but Edith. It is better that stroking his chin, which he has just enough of few eyes should see her; and her daughter hand below his wristbands to do,' I really don't watches alone by the bedside. know. There's a Mausoleum down at my place, A shadow even on that shadowed face, a in the park, but I'm afraid it's in bad repair, sharpening even of the sharpenod features:and and, in point of fact, in a devil of a state. But a thickening of the veil before the eyes into a for being a little out at elbows, I should have pall that shuts out the dim world, is come. Her had it put to rights; but J believe the people wandering hands upon the coverlet join feebly come and make picnic parties there inside the palm to palm, and move towards her daughter; iron railings." and a voice not like hers, not like any voice that Mr. Dombey is clear that this won't do. speaks our mortal language-says, " For I nursed "There's an uncommon good church in the you!" village," says Cousin Feenix thoughtfully; "pure Edith, without a tear, kneels down to bring specimen of the Anglo-Norman style, and adher voice closer to the sinking head, and mirably well sketched, too, by Lady Jane Finchanswers: bury-woman with tight stays-but they've "Mother, can you hear me?" spoilt it with whitewash, I understand, and it's Staring wide, she tries to nod in answer. a long journey." " Can vou recollect the night before I mar- " Perhaps Brighton itself," Mr. Dombey sugried?" gests. The head is motionless, but it expresses some- " Upon my honour, Dombey, I don't think how that she does. we could do better," says Cousin Feenix. " It's "I told you then that I forgave your part in the spot, you see, and a very cheerful place." it, and prayed God to forgive my own. I told "And when," hints Mr. Dombey, " would it you that the past was at an end between us. I be convenient?" say so now again. Kiss me, mother." "I shall make a point," says Cousin Feenix, Edith touches the white lips, and for a mo- "of pledging myself for any day you think best. ment all is still. A moment afterwards, her I shall have great pleasure (melancholy pleasure, mother, with her girlish laugh, and the skeleton of course)in following my poor aunt to the conof the Cleopatra manner, rises in her bed. fines of the —in point of fact, to the grave," Draw the rose-coloured curtains. There is says Cousin Feenix, failing in the other turn of something else upon its flight besides the wind speech, 300 DOMBE Y AND SON. "Would Monday do for leaving town?" says At the appointed time Cousin Feenix and Mr. Dombey. Mr. Dombey meet, and go down to Brighton, "Monday would suit me to perfection," re- and'representing, in their two selves, all the plies Cousin Feenix. Therefore Mr. Dombey other mourners for the deceased lady's loss, arranges to take Cousin Feenix down on that attend her remains to their place of rest. Cousin day, and presently takes his leave, attended to Feenix, sitting in the mourning coach, recognises the stairs by Cousin Feenix, who says, at part- innumerable acquaintanceson the rdad, but takes iag, "I'm really excessively sorry, Dombey, that no other notice of them, in decorum, than checkyou should havc uv mauch trouble about it;" to ing them off aloud, as they go by, for Mr. Domwtaichi Ml_. ljuibAcy uLbU t No0 at all." bey's information, as "Tom Johnson. Man sn"N "MR. TOOTS REPLIES BY LAUNCHING WILDLY OUT INTO MISS DOMBEY'S PRAISES, AND BY INSINUATIONS THAT SOMETIMES HE THINKS HE SHOULD LIKE TO BLOW HIS BRAINS OVT."' with cork leg, from White's. What, are you did wrap up enough; while,the young lady here, Tommy? Foley on a blood mare. The with the back, who has so much trouble with Smalder girls "-and so forth. At the ceremony her eyelids, says, with a little scream, that she Cousin Feenix is depressed, obse g, tahave been enormously old, and that she are the occasions to make a man think, in point died of all kinds of horrors, -and you mustn't of fact, that he is getting shaky; and his eyes mention it. are really moistened when it is over. But he So Edith's mother lies unmentioned of her soon recovers: and so do the rest of Mrs. dear friends, who are deaf to the waves that are Skewton's relatives and friends, of whom the hoarse with repetition of their mystery, and blind major continually tells the club that she never to the dust that is piled upon the shore, and to ~i5[ 11]:11'~,(i?i(// Iiij i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...';;Q BBninreiQgl~ltlti lit,~~~~~~~~~~~ " sex}~~~3+Z~~~~T%~_;~~'~s major continually tells the club that she never to the dust that is piled upon the shore, and to ROB THE GRINDERR UN.DER THE HARROW. 301 the white arms that are beckoning, in the' moon- command over him, and power of doing any, light, to the invisible country far away. But all thing with him, he would stand watching his goes on as it was wont upon the margin of the pleasure, and trying to anticipate his orders, in unknown sea; and Edith standing there alone, a state of mental suspension as to all other and listening to its waves, has dank weed cast things. up at her feet, to strew her path in life withal. Rob had not informed himself, perhaps-in his then state of mind it would have been an act of no common temerity to inquire-whether he yielded so completely to this influence in any CHAPTER XLII part, because he had floating suspicions of his patron's being a master of certain treacherous CONFIDENTIAL AND ACCIDENTA.. arts in which he had himself been a poor scholar at the Grinders' School But certainly Rob TTIRED no more in Captain Cut- admired him, as well as feared him. Mr. te's sable slops and sou'-west t Carker, perha ps, was better acquainted with the but dressed in a substantial suit of sources of his power, which lost nothing by his brown livery, which, while it affected management of it. to be a very sober and demure On the very night when he left the captain's livery indeed, was really as self-satisfied service, Rob, after disposing of his pigeons, and and confident a one as tailor need de- even making a bad bargain, in his hurry,.ad sire to make, Rob the Grinder, thus gone straight down to Mr. Carker's house, and transformed as to his outer man, and all regard- hotly presented himself before his new master less within of the captain and the Midshipman, with a glowing face that seemed to expect comexcept when he devoted a few minutes of his mendation. leisure time to crowing over those inseparable "What, scapegrace " said Mr. Carker, glancworthies, and recalling, with much applauding ing at his bundle. " Have you left your situamusic from that brazen instrument, his con- tion and come to me?" science, the triumphant manner in which he had "Oh, if you please, sir," faltered Rob, "you disembarrassed himself of their company, now said, you know, when I come here last —" served his patron, Mr. Carker. Inmate of Mr. " said! returned Mr. Carker. "What did Carkers house, and serving about his person, I say? " Rols kept his round eyes on the white teeth "If you please, sir, you didn't say nothing at with fear and trembling, and felt that he had all, sir," returned Rob, warned by the mannfer need to open them wider than ever. of this inquiry, and very much disconcerted. He could not have quaked more, through his His patron looked at him with a wide display whole being, before the teeth, though he had of gums, and shaking his forefinger, observed: come into the service of some powerful en- You'll come to an evil end, my vagabond chanter, and they had been his strongest spells. friend, I foresee. There's ruin in store for The boy had a sense of power and authority in you." this patron of his that engrossed his whole "Oh, if ou please, don't, sir!" cried,Rob, attention, and exacted his most implicit sub- with his legs trembling under him. " I'm sure, mission and obedience. He hardly considered sir, I only want to work for you, sir, and to wait himself safe in thinking about him when he was upon you, sir, and to do faithful whatever I'm absent, lest he should feel himself immediately bid, sir." taken by the throat again, as on the morning " You had better do faithfully whatever you when he first became bound to him, and should are bid," returned his patron, " if you have anysee every one of the teeth finding him out, and thing to do with me." taxing him with every fancy of his mind. Face Yes. I know that, sir," pleaded the submis, to face with him, Rob had no more doubt that sive Rob; " I'm sure of that, sir. If you'll only Mr. Carker read his secret thoughts, or that he be so good as try me, sir! And if ever you find could read them by the least exertion of his will me out, sir, doing anything against your wishes, if he were so inclined, than he had that Mr. I give you leave to kill me." Carker saw him when he looked at him. The "You dog!" said Mr. Carker, leaning back ascendancy was so complete, and heldl him in in his chair, and smiling at him serenely. "That's such enthralment. that. hardly daring to think nothing to what I'd do to vou. if you tried to at all, but with his mind filled with a constantly deceive me." dilating impression of his patron's irresistible " Yes, sir," replied the abject Grinder, "I'm 302 DOMBE Y AND SON. sure you would be down upon me dreadful, sir. This was the manner of Rob the Grinder's I wouldn't attempt for to go and do it, sir, not engagement by Mr. Carker, and his awe-stricken if I was bribed with golden guineas." devotion to that gentleman had strengthened Thoroughly checked in his expectation of and increased, if possible, with every minute of commendation, the crest-fallen Grinder stood his service. looking at his patron, and vainly endeavouring It was a service of some months' duration, not to look at him, with the uneasiness which a when early one morning Rob opened the gardencur will often-manifest in a similar situation. gate to Mr. Dombey, who was come to breakfast ",So you have left your old service, and come with his master by appointment. At the same here to ask me'to take you into mine, eh? " said moment his master himself came hurrying forth Mr. Carker. to receive the distinguished guest, and give him "Yes, if you please, sir," returned Rob, who, welcome with all his teeth. in doing so, had acted on his patron's own in- "I never thought," said Carker when he hac structions, but dared not justify himself by the assisted him to alight from his horse, "to see you least insinuation to that effect. here, I'm sure. This is an extraordinary day in "Well! " said Mr. Carker. "You know me. my calendar. No occasion is very special to a boy?" man like you, who may do anything; but, to a "Please; sir, yes, sir," returned Rob, fumbling man like me, the case is widely different." with his hat, and still fixed by Mr. Carker's eye, "You have a tasteful place here, Carker," said and fruitlessly endeavouring to unfix himself, Mr. Dombey, condescending to stop upon the Mr. Carker nodded. " Take care, then!" lawn to look about him. Rob expressed in a number of short bows his "You can afford to say so," returned Carker, lively understanding of this caution, and was "Thank you." bowing himself back to the door, greatly relieved "Indeed," said Mr. Dombey in his lofty by the prospect of getting on the outside of it, patronage, " any one might say so. As far as it when his patron stopped him. goes, it is a very commodious and well-arranged " Halloa!" he cried, calling him roughly back. place-quite elegant." "You have been- Shut that door." " As far as it goes, truly," returned Carker Rob obeyed as if his life had depended on his with an air of disparagement. "It wants that alacrity. qualification. Well! we have said enough about "You have been used to eavesdropping. Do it; and though you can afford to praise it, I you know what that means? " thank you none the less. Will you walk in?" "Listening, sir?" Rob hazarded, after some Mr. Dombey, entering the house, noticed, as embarrassed reflection. he had reason to do, the complete arrangement.His patron nodded. " And watching, and so of the rooms, and the numerous contrivances for forth." comfort and effect that abounded there. Mr. "I wouldn't do such a thing here, sir," an- Carker, in his ostentation of humility, received swered Rob; "upon my word and honour, I this notice with a deferential smile, and said he wouldn't, sir, I wish I may die if I would, sir, for understood its delicate meaning, and appre; anything that could be promised to me. I ciated it, but in truth the cottage was good should consider it as much as all the world was enough for one in his position-better, perhaps, worth to offer to do such a thing, unless I was than such a man should occupy, poor as it was. ordered, sir." " But perhaps to you, who are so far removed, "You had better not. You have been used, it really does look better than it is," he said, with too, to babbling and tattling," said his patron his false mouth distended to its fullest stretch. with perfect coolness: "Beware of that here, "Just as monarchs imagine attractions in the or you're a lost rascal," and he smiled again, lives of beggars." and again cautioned him with his forefinger. He directed a sharp glance and a sharp smile The Grinder's breath came short and thick at Mr. Dombey as he spoke, and a sharper glance with consternation. He tried to protest the and a sharper smile yet, when Mr. Dombey, purity of his intentions; but could only stare at drawing himself up before the fire, in the attitude the smiling gentleman in a stupor ofsubmission, so often copied by his second in command, with which the smiling' gentleman seemed well looked round at the pictures on the walls. Cur' enough satisfied, for he ordered him down-stairs, sorily as his cold eye wandered over them, after observing him for some moments, in silence, Carker's keen glance accompanied his, and.kept and gave him to understand that he was retained pace with his, marking exactly where it went, in his employment and what it saw. As it rested on one picture in 'MRS. DOMBEY HAS SOMETHING TO LEA1PI. 3o3 particular, Carker hardly seemed to breathe, his "Why, he is a young rip, I am afraid," residelong scrutiny was so cat-like and vigilant, turned Carker with a shrug. "He bears that but the eye of his great chief passed from that, character. But the truth is, I took him into my as from the others, and appeared no more im- service because, being able to get no other empressed by it than by the rest. ployment, he conceived (had been taught at Carker looked at it-it' was the picture that home, I dare say) that he had some sort of resembled Edith-as if it were a living thing, claim upon you, and was constantly trying to and with a wicked, silent laugh upon his face, dog your heels with his petition. And although that seemed in part addressed to it, though it my defined and recognised connection with your was all derisive of the great man standing so affairs is merely of a business character, still I unconscious beside him. Breakfast was soon have that spontaneous interest in everything beset upon the table: and, inviting Mr. Dombey longing to you, that —" to a chair which had its back towards this He stopped again, as if to discover whether picture, he took his own seat opposite to it as he had led Mr. Dombey far enough yet. And usual. again, with his chin resting on his hand, he Mr. Dombey was even graver than it was his leered at the picture. custom to be, and quite silent. The parrot, "Carker," said Mr. Dombey, "I am sensible swinging in the gilded hoop within her gaudy that you do not limit your —-" cage, attempted in vain to attract notice, for "Service," suggested his smiling entertainer. Carker was too observant of his visitor to heed "No; I prefer to say your regard," observed her; and the visitor, abstracted in meditation, Mr. Dombey; very sensible, as he said so, that looked fixedly, not to say sullenly, over his stiff he was paying him a handsome and flattering neckcloth, without raising his eyes from the compliment, "to our mere business relations. table-cloth. As to Rob, who was in attendance, Your consideration for my feelings, hopes, and all his faculties and energies were so locked up disappointments, in the little instance you have in observation of his master, that he scarcely just now mentio-ed, is an example in uoint. I ventured to give shelter to the thought that the am obliged to you, Carker." visitor was the great gentleman before whom he Mr. Carker bent his head slowly, and very had been carried as a certificate of the family softly rubbed his hands, as if he were afraid by health in his childhood, and to whom he had any action to disturb the current of Mr. Dombeen indebted for his leather smalls.. bey's confidence. "Allow me," said Carker suddenly, "to ask "Your allusion to it is opportune," said Mr. how Mrs. Dombey is?" Dombey after a little hesitation, " for it prepares He leaned forward obsequiously as he made the way to what I was beginning to say to you, the inquiry, with his chin resting on his hand; and reminds me that that involves no absolutely and, at the same time, his eyes went up to the new relations between us, although it may inpicture, as if he said to it, "Now see how I will volve more personal confidence on my part than lead him on " I have hitherto- " Mr. Dombey reddened as he answered: " Distinguished me with," suggested Carker, "Mrs. Dombey is quite well. You remind bending his head again. " I will not say to you me, Carker, of some conversation that I wish to how honoured I am; for a man like you well have with you." knows how much honour he has in his vower " Robin, you can leave us," said his master, at to bestow at pleasure." whose mild tones Robin started and disappeared, " Mrs. Dombey and myself," said Mr. Domwith his eyes fixed on his patron to the last. bey, passing this compliment with august self" You don't remember that boy, of course?" he denial, "are not quite agreed upon some points. added when the immeshed Grinder was gone. We do not appear to understand each other "No," said Mir. Dombey with magnificent yet. Mrs. Dombey has something to learn." indifference. " Mrs. Dombey is distinguished by many rare "No; likely that a man like you would. attractions; and has been accustomed, no doubt, Hardllr possible," murmured Carker. " But he to receive much adulation," said the smooth, is one'of that family from whom you took a sleek watcher of his slightest look and tone. nurse. Perhaps you may remember having "But where there is affection, duty, and respect, generously charged yourself with his education?' any little mistakes engendered by such causes " Is it that boy?"' said Mr. Dombey with a are soon set right..' frown. "He does little credit to his education, Mr. Dombey's thoughts instinctively flew back I believe." to the face that had looked at him in his wife's 304 DOMBEY AND SON'. dressing-room, when an imperious hand was on the evening when you were at our-at my stretched towards the door: and remembering house." the affection, duty, and respect expressed in it, " When I so much regretted being present," he felt the blood rush to his own face quite as said the smiling Carker. "Proud as a man in plainly as the watchful eyes upon him saw it my position necessarily must be of your familiar there. notice-though I give you no credit for it; jou "Mrs. Dombey and myself," he went on tc may do anything you please without losing caste say, "had some discussion, before Mrs. Skew- -and honoured as I was by an early presentaton's death, upon the causes of my dissatisfac- tion to Mrs. Dombey, before she was made tion; of which you will have formed a general eminent by bearing your name, I almost regretted understanding from having been a witness of that night, I assure you, that I had been the What passed between Mrs. Dombey and myself object of such especial good fortune." -;. x "DOMBEY," SAYS COUSIN FEENIX, "UPON tMY SOUL, I ASM VERY MUCH SHOCKED TO SEE YOU ON SUCH A MELANCHOLY OCCASION." That any man could, under any possible cir- so well-may not easily forgive my innocent part cumstances, regret the being distinguished by in that conversation. Your displeasure is no his condescension and patronage was a moral light matter, you must remember; and to be phenomenon which Mr. Dombey could not corn- visited with it before a third party —" prehend. He therefore responded, with a con- "Carker," said Mr. Dombey arrogantly; * I siderable accession of dignity, " Indeed! And presume that I am the first consideration? " why, Carker?" "Oh! Can there be a doubt about it?" " I fear," returned the confidential agent, replied the other, with the impatience of a man "that Mrs. Dombey, never very much disposed admitting a notorious and incontrovertible fact. to regard me with favourable interest-one in "Mrs. Dombey becomes a secondary conmy position could not expect that from a lady sideration when we are both in question, I naturally proud, and whose pride becomes her imagine," said Mr. Dombey. "Is that so?" A MESSAGE TO MRS. DOMBEY. 305 "Is it so?" returned Carker. "Do you know understand," said Mr. Dombey forcibly, "that better than any one that you have no need to the idea of opposition to Me is monstrous and ask?" absurd." "Then I hope, Carker," said Mr. Dombey, " We, in the City, know you better," replied "that your' regret in the acquisition of Mrs. Carker, with a.smile from ear to ear. Dombey's displeasure may be almost counter- "You know me better," said Mr. Dombey. balanced by your satisfaction in retaining my "I hope so. Though, indeed, I am bound to confidence and good opinion." do-Mrs. Dombey the justice of saying, however "I have the misfortune, I find," returned inconsistent it may seem with her subsequent Carker, "to have incurred that displeasure. Mrs. conduct (which remains unchanged), that on my Dombey has expressed it to you? " expressing my disapprobation and determination "Mrs.Dombeyhas expressedvarious opinions," to her, with some severity, on the occasion to said Mr. Dombey with majestic coldness and in- which I have referred, my admonition appeared difference,' in which I do not participate, and to produce a very powerful effect." Mr, Dombey which I am not inclined to discuss, or to recall. delivered himself of those words with most porI made Mrs. Dombey acquainted, some time tentous stateliness. "r wish you to have the since, as I have already told you, with certain goodness, then, to inform Mrs. Dombey, Carker, points of domestic deference and submission on from me, that I must recall our former converwhich I felt it necessary to insist. I failed to sation to her remembrance in some surprise that convince Mrs. Dombey.,f the expediency of her it has not yet had its effect, That I must insist *immediately altering' her conduct in those re- upon her regulating her conduct by the injuncspects, with a view to her own peace and welfare, tions laid upon her in that conversation. That and my dignity; and I informed Mrs. Dombey I' am not satisfied with her conduct. That I am that if I Should find it necessary to object or greatly dissatisfied with it. And that I shall be remonstrate again, I should express my opinion under the very disagreeable necessity of making to her through yourself, my confidential agent." you the bearer of yet more unwelcome and exBlended with the look that Carker bent upon plicit communications, if she has not the good him was a devilish look at the picture over his sense and the proper feeling to adapt herself to head, that struck upon it like a flash of lightning. my wishes, as the first Mrs. Dombey did,-and, I "Now, Carker," said Mr. Dombey, " I do not believe I may add, as any other lady in her place hesitate to say to you that I will carry my point. would." I am not to be trifled with. Mrs. Dombey must "The- first Mrs. Dombey lived very happily," understand that my will is law, and that I cannot said Carker. allow of one exception to the whole rule of my' "The first Mrs. Dombey had great good life. You will have the goodness to undertake sense," said Mr. Dombey in a gentlemanly this charge, which, coming from me, is not unac- toleration of the dead, "and very correct ceptable to you, I hope, whatever regret you may feeling." politely profess-for which I am obliged to you " Is Miss Dombey like her mother, do you on behalf of Mrs. Dombey; and you will have think?" said Carker. the goodness, I am persuaded, to discharge it as Swiftly and darkly Mr. Dombey's face changed. exactly as any other commission." His confidential agent eyed it keenly. "You know," said Mr. Carker, " that you-have " I have approached a painful subject," he only to command me." said in a soft regretful tone of voice, irrecon"I know," said Mr. Dombey with a majestic cilable with his eager eye. "Pray forgive me. indication of assent, " that I have-only to com- I forget these chains of association in the interest mand you. It is necessary that I should proceed I have. Pray forgive me."` in this. Mrs. Dombey is a lady undoubtedly But, for all he said, his eager eye scanned Mr. highly qualified, in many respects, to- " Dombey's down6ast face none the less closely; " To do credit even to your choice," suggested and then it shot a strange triumphant look at Carker, with a fawning show of teeth. the picture, as appealing to it to bear witness "Yes; if you please to adopt that form of how he led him on again, and what was coming. words," said Mr. Dombey in his tone of state; "Carker," said Mr. Dombey,:looking here "and at present I do not conceive that Mrs. and there upon the table, and speaking in a Dombey does that credit to it to which it is somewhat altered and more' hurried voice, and entitled. There is a principle of opposition in with a paler'lip, " there is' no occasion'for Mrs. Dombeythat must be eradicated; that must apology. You mistake. The association is with be overcome: Mrs. Dombey does not appear to the matter in.hand, and not with any recollecDOMBEY AND SON, 20. 0IO 30&,DOMBE Y AND SOMo tion, as you suppose. I do not approve of Mrs. X and softly laying his velvet hand, as a cat might Dombey's behaviour towards my daughter." have laid its sheathed claws, on Mr. Dombey's " Pardon me " said Mr. Carker, "I don't quite arm; "if I perfectly understanid what is in your understand. mind, I am so much more likely to be useful, " Understand, then," returned Mr. Dombey, and to have the happiness of being effectually "that you may make that-that you will make employed. I think I do understand. I have not that, if you please-matter of direct objection the honour of Mrs. Dombey's good opinion. In from me to Mrs. Dombey. You will pleas. my position I have no reason to expect it; but to tell her that her show of devotion for ny I take the fact to be, that I have not got it?" daughter is disagreeable to me. It is likely to "Possibly not," said Mr. Dombey. be noticed. It is likely to induce people to "Consequently," pursued Carker, "your makcontrast Mrs. Dombey in'her relation towards ing these communications to Mrs. Dombey my daughter, with Mrs. Dombey in her relation through me is sure to be particularly unpalatable towards myself. You will have the goodness to to that lady? " let Mrs. Dombey know, plainly, that I object to "It appears to me," said Mr. Dombey with it; and that I expect her to defer, immediately, haughty reserve, and yet with some embarrassto my objection. Mrs. Dombey may be in ment, "that Mrs. Dombey's views upon the earnest, or she may be pursuing a whim, or she subject form no part of it as it presents itself to may be opposing me; but I object to it in any you and me, Carker. But it may be so." case, and in every case. If Mrs. Dombey is in "And-pardon me-do I misconceive you," earnest, so much the less reluctant should she said Carker, " when I think you descry in this a be to desist; for she will not serve my daughter likely means of humbling Mrs. Dombey's pride by any such display. If my wife has any super- -I use the word as expressive of a quality fluous gentleness and duty over and above her which, kept within due bounds, adorns and proper submission to me, she may bestow them graces a lady so distinguished for her beauty where she pleases, perhaps; but I will have and accomplishments- and, not to say of submission first!-Carker," said. Mr. Dombey, punishing her, but of reducing her to the subchecking the unusual emotion with which he mission you so naturally and justly require? " had spoken, and falling into a tone more like " I am not accustomed, Carker, as you know," that in which he was accustomed to assert his said Mr. Dombey, "to give such close reasons greatness, "you will have the goodness not to for any course of conduct I think proper to omit or slur this point, but to consider it a very adopt, but I will gainsay nothing of this. If nmportant part.of your instructions." you have any objection to found upon it, that is Mr. Carker bowed his head, and rising from indeed another thing, and the mere statement the table, and standing thoughtfully before the that you have one will be sufficient. But I have fire, with his hand to his smooth chin, looked not supposed, I confess, that any confidence I down at Mr. Dombey with the evil slyness of could intrust to you would be likely to degrade some monkish carving, half human and half brute; you " or like a leering face on an old water-spout. "Oh! I degraded!" exclaimed Carker. "In Mr. Dombey, recovering his composure by de- your service " grees, or cooling his emotion in his sense of "-Or to place you," pursued Mr. Dombey, having taken a high position, sat gradually stiff- "in a false position." ening again, and looking at the parrot as she "I in a false position t" exclaimed Carker. swung to and fro in her great wedding-ring. "I shall be proud-delighted-to execute your "I beg your pardon,",said Carker after a trust. I could have wished, I own, to -have silence, suddenly resuming his chair, and draw- given the lady at whose feet I would lay my ing it opposite to Mr. Dombey's, "but let me humble duty and devotion-for is she not your understand. Mrs. Domnbey-is aware of the pro- wife?-no new cause of dislike; but a wish from bability of your making me the organ of your you is, of course, paramount to every other condispleasure?" sideration on earth. Besides, when Mrs. Dombey " Yes," replied Mr. Dombey. " I have said is converted from these little errors of judgment, so." incidental, I would presume to say, to the novelty "Yes," rejoined Carker quickly, "but why?" of her situation, I shall hope that she will per"Why!" Mr. Dombey repeated, not without ceive, in the slight part I take, only a grain-my hesitation. "Because I tpld her." removed and different sphere gives room for little "Ay," replied Carker. "But why did you more-of the respect for you, and sacrifice of all tell her? You see," he continued with a smile, considerations to you, of which it will be her NO ANS WER REQ UIRED. 3o7 pleasure and privilege to garner up a great store from the head and'face, was carried by certain every-day." menders of the road; under Carker's directions Mr. Dombey seemed, at the moment, again to to the nearest public-house, which was not far see her with her hand stretched out towards the off, and where he was soon attended by divers! door, and again to hear through the mild speech, surgeons, who arrived in quisk succession fromi of his confidential agent an echo of the words, all parts, and who seemed to come by some "Nothing can make us stranger to. each other mysterious instinct, as vultures are said to gather than we are henceforth 1" But he shook off the abo.b a, camel who dies in the desert. After fancy, and did not shake in his resolution, and being at some pains to restore him to conscioussaid, " Certainly, no doubt." Tess- these gentlemen examined into the nature ",There is nothing more?", quoth Carker, of his injuries. One surgeon who lived hard by drawing his chair back to its old place-for was strong for a compound fracture of the leg, they had taken little breakfast as yet-and which was the landlord's opinion-also; but two pausing for an answer before he sat down. surgeons who lived at a distance, and were only "Nothing," said Mr. Dombey," butthiss You in that neighbourhood by accident, combated will bd good enough to-observe, Carker,, that no this opinion so disinterestedly, that it was demessage to Mrs. Dombey with which yAouare or cided at last that the patient, though severely may be charged admits of reply., You will be cut and bruised, had broken no bones but a good enough tobring me no reply. Mrs. Dombey lesser rib or so, and might be carefully taken is informed that it does not become me to tem- home before night. His injuries being dressed porise or treat upon any matter that is at issue and bandaged, which was a long operation, and between us, and that what I say is final." he at'length left'to repose, Mr. Carker mounted Mr. Carker signified his understanding of these his horse again, and rode away to carry the incredentials, and they fell to breakfast with what teiligence home. appetite they might. The Grinder also, in due Crafty and cruel as his face was at the best time, reappeared, keeping his eyes upon his of times, though it was a sufficiently fair face as master without a moment's respite, and passing to form and regularity of feature, it was at its the time in a reverie of worshipful terror. Break- worst when he set forth on this errand; animated fast concluded, Mr. Dombey's horse was ordered by the crhft and cruelty of thoughts within him, out again, and Mr. Carker mounting his own, suggestions of remote possibility rather than. of they rode off for the City together. design or plot, that made him ride as"if he Mr. Carker was in capital spirits; and talked hunted men and women. Drawing rein at much. Mr. Dombey received his conversation length, and slackening in his speed, as he came with the sovereign air of a man who had a right into the more public roads, he checked his whiteto be. talked to, and occasionally condescended legged lxorse into picking his way along as usual, to throw in a few words to carry on the con- and hid himself beneath his sleek, hushed, versation. So they rode on characteristically crouching manner, and his ivory smile, as he enough. But Mr. Dombey, in his dignity, rode best could. with very long stirrups, and a very loose rein,'He rode direct to Mr. Dombey's house, and very rarely deigned to look down to see alighted- at the door, and begged to see Mrs. where his horse went. In consequence of which Dombey on an affair of importance. The serit happened that Mr. Dombey's horse, while vant who showed him to Mr. Dombey's own going at a round trot, stumbled on some loose room soon returned to say that it was not Mrs. stones, threw him, rolled over him, and lashing' Dombey's hour for receiving visitors, and that out with his iron-shod feet, in his struggles to he begged pardon for not having mentioned it get up, kicked him. before. Mr. Carker, quick of eye, steady of hand, and Mr. Carker, who was quite prepared for a cold a good horseman, was afoot, and had the strug- re'ception, wrote upon a card that he must take gling animal upon his legs and by the bridle, in the liberty of pressing for an interview, and thai a moment. Otherwise that morning's confidence he would not be so bold as to do so, for the would have been, Mr. Dombey's last. Yet even second time (this he underlined), if he were not with the flush and hurry-of this action red upon equally sure of the occasion being sufficient for him, he bent over his prostrate chief with every his justification. After a trifling delay, Mrs. tooth disclosed, and muttered as he stooped Dombey's maid appeared, and conducted him down, " I have given good cause of offence to to a morning room up-stairs, where Edith and Mrs. Dombey now, if she knew it!"'Florence were together. Mr. Dombey being insensible, and bleeding He-had never thought Edith half so beautiful :308 DOMBE Y AND SON. before. Much as he admired the graces of her that she was another slight of Mr. Dombey's on face and' form,, and freshly as they dwelt within his wife. his sensual remembrance, he had never thought "-May be informed that Mr. Dombey wishes her half so beautiful. to have his bed prepared in his own apartments Her glance fell haughtily upon him in the down-stairs, as he prefers those rooms to any doorway; but he looked at Florence-though other. I shall return to Mr. Dombey almost only in the act of bending his head, as he.came immediately. That every possible attention has in-with some irrepressible expression of the been paid to his comfort, and that he is the new power he held; and it was his' triumph to object of every possible solicitude, I need not see the glance droop and falter, and to see that assure you, madam. Let me again say, there is Edith half rose up to receive him. no cause for the least alarm.- Even you may be He was very sorry, he was deeply grieved; quite at ease, believe me." he couldn't say with what unwillingness he came He bowed himself out with his extremest to prepare her for the intelligence of a very slight show of deference and conciliation, and having accident. He entreated Mrs. Dombey to com- returned to Mr. Dombey's room, and there pose herself.. Upon his sacred word of honour, arranged for a carriage being sent after him to there was dio cause of alarm. But Mr. Dom' the City, mounted his horse again and rode bey- slowly thither. He was very thoughtful as he Florence uttered a sudden cry. He did not went along, and very thoughtful there, and very look at her, but at Edith. Edith composed and thoughtful in the carriage on his way back to the reassured her. She uttered no cry of distress. place where Mr. Dombey had been left. It was No, no. only when. sitting by that gentleman's couch Mr. Dombey had met with an accident'in tfat he was quite himself again, and conscious riding. His horse had slipped,'and he had of his teeth. been thrown. About the time of twilight, Mr. Dombey, Florence wildly exclaimed'that he was badly grievously afflicted with aches and pains, was hurt; that he was killed! helped into his carriage, and propped with cloaks No. Upon his honour, Mr. Dombey, though and pillows on one side of it, while his confistunned at first, was soon recovered, and, though dential agent bore him company upon the other. certainly hurt, was in no kind of danger. If As he was not to be shaken, they moved at little this were not the truth, he, the distressed in- more than a foot-pace; and hence it was quite truder, never could have had the courage to dark when he was brought home. Mrs. Pipchin, present himself before Mrs. Dombey. It was bitter and grim, and not oblivious of the Peruthe truth indeed, he solemnly assured her. vian mines, as the establishment in general had All this he said as if he were answering Edith, good reason to know, received him at the door, and not Florence, and with his eyes and his and freshened the domestics with several little smile fastened on Edith. sprinklings of wordy vinegar, while they assisted He then went on to tell her where Mr. Dom- in conveying him to his room. Mr. Carker rebey was lying, and to request that a carriage might mained in attendance until he was safe in bed, be placed at his disposal to bring him home. and then, as he declined to receive any female "Mamma," faltered Florence in tears, "if I visitor but the excellent Ogress who presided might. venture to go.!" over his household, waited on Mrs. Dombey once Mr. Carker, having his- eyes'on Edith when more, with his report on her lord's condition. he heard these words, gave her a secret look, He again found Edith alone with Florence, and slightly shook his head. He saw how she and he again addressed the whole of his soothbattled.with herself before she answered him with ing speech to Edith, as if she were a prey to the her handsome eyes, but he wrested the answer liveliest and most affectionate anxieties..So from her-he showed her that he would have it, earnest he was in his respectful sympathy, that, or that he would speak and cut Florence to the on taking leave, he ventured-with one more heart-and she gave it to him. As he had glance towards Florence at the moment-to looked at the picture in the morning, so he take her hand, and bending over it, to touch it looked at her afterwards, when she turned her with his lips. eyes away. Edith did not withdraw the hand, nor did "I am directed to request," he said, "that she strike his fair face with it, despite the flush the new' housekeeper-Mrs. Pipchin, I think, is upon her cheek, the bright light in her eyes, and the name " the dilation of her whole form. But when she Nothing escaped him. He saw, in an instant,, was alone in her own room,,she struck it on the A SECRET vFROM FLORENCE. 309 marble chimney-shelf, so that. at one blow, it that she loved one who was set in opposition to was bruised, and bled; and held it from her, her father, and that her father, knowing of it, near the shining fire, as if she could have thrust must think of her in his solitary room as the it 7n, and burned it.. unnatural child who added this wrong to- the Fars into the night she sat alone, by the sink- old fault. so much wept for, of never having won ingblaze, in dark and threatening beauty, watch- his fatherly affection fiom her birth. The next ing the murky shadows looming on the wall, as kind word from Edith, the next kind glance, if her thoughts were tangible and cast them would shake these thoughts again, and make there. Whatever shapes of outrage and affront, them seem like black ingratitude; for who but and black foreshadowings of things that might she had cheered the drooping heart of Florence, happen, flickered, indistinct and giant-like, be- so lonely and so hurt, and been its best of comnfore her, one resented figure marshalled them forters? Thus, with her gentle nature yearnagainst her. And that figure was her husband. ing lo them both, feeling the misery of both, and whispering doubts of her own duty to both, Florence in her wider and expanded love. and by the side of Edith, endured more than when CHAPT.iER IIXT. 1she had hoarded up her undivided secret in the mournfiul house, and her beautiful mamma had THE WATCHES 01 THli NIGHTI. iever idawned upon it. ^y^~ M~.^"^^-Ol1ne exquisite unhappiness, that would have ta LORENCE, long sinceawakened friom fa r outweighed this. Florence w-as spared. She her dream, mournfully observed the never had the least suspicion that: Edith, by her. estrangement between her fathelr anld tenderness for her, widened the separation from.;",;1;. Edith, and saw it widen more and her father. or gave him new cause of dislike. If jm ore, and knew that there was Florence had conceived the possibility of such o greaterbitterness beitwen them every an effect being wrought by such a cause, what, day. Each day's added knowledge deep- grief she would have felt, what sacrifice she ened the shade upon her love and hope, would have tried to make, poor loving girl, how roused up the old sorrow that had slumbered for fast and sure her quiet passage might have been a little time, and made it even heavier to bear beneath it to the presence of that higher Father than it had been before - who does not reject his children's love, or spurn It had been hard-how hard may none but their tried and broken hearts, Heaven knows Florence ever know''-to have the natural affec- But it was otherwise, and that was well. tion of a true and earnest nature turned to No word was ever spoken between Florence agony; and slight, or stern repulse, substituted and Edith, ow, on these subjects. Edith had for the tenderest protection and the dearest care. said there ought to be between them, in that It had been hard to feel in her deep heart what wise, a division and a silence like the grave she had felt, and never know the happiness of itself: and Florence felt that she was right. one touch of.response. But it was much more In this state of affairs her father was brought hard to be compelled to doubt either her father home suffering and disabled: and gloiomrily reor Edith, so affectionate and dear to her. and to tired to his own rooms, where he was tended by think of her love for each of them, by turns, servants, not approached by Edith, and had no with fear, distrust, and wonder. friend or companion but Mr. Carker, who withYet Florence now began to do so; and the drew near midnight. doing of it was a task imposed upon her by the " And nice company he is, Miss Floy," said very purity of her soul, as one she could not fly Susan Nipper. "Oh, he's a precious piece of from. She saw her father cold and obdurate to goods! If ever he wants a character don't let Edith, as to her; hard, inflexible, unyielding. him come to me whatever he does, that's all I Could it be, she asked herself with starting tears, tell him." that.her own dear mother had been made un- "Dear Susan," urged Florence, "don't!" happy by such treatment, and had pined away " Oh it's very well to say' don't' Miss Floy," and-died? Then she would think how proud returned the Nipper, much exasperated; "but and stately Edith was to every one but her, with raly begging your pardon we're coming to such what disdain she treated him, how distantly she passes that it turns all the blood in a person's kept apart from him, and what she had said on body into pins and needles, with their pints all the night when she came home; and quickly it ways. Don't mistake me, Miss Floy, I don't would come on Florence, almost as a crime, mear- nothing again your ma-in-law who has 3x0 DOMBEY AND SON. always treated me as a lady should though she "Ah, Miss Floy!' returned the-Nipper, "I'm is rather high I must say, not that I have any sure I often wish for them old times when'I sat right to object to that particular, but when we up with you hours later than this'and fell asleep come to Mrs. Pipchinses and having them put through being tired out when you was as broad over us and keeping guard at your pa's door awakeas'spectacles, but you've ma's-in-law to like crocodiles (only make us thankful that they come and sit with you now Miss Floy and I'm lay no eggs!) we are a growing too outrageous " thankful for it I'm sure. I've not a word to say " Papa thinks well of Mrs. Pipchin, Susan," against'em." returned Florence, " and has a right to choose "I shall not forget who was my old compahis housekeeper, you know. Pray don't!" nion when I had none, Susan," returned Flo"Well, Miss Floy," returned the Nipper, rence gently, "never!" And looking up, she "when you say'don't,' I never do I hope, but put her arm round the neck of her humble Mrs. Pipchin acts like early gooseberries upon friend, drew her face down to hers, and bidding me miss, and nothing less." her good night, kissed it; which so mollified Susan was unusually emphatic and destitute of Miss Nipper, that she fell a sobbing. punctuation in her discourse on this night, which "Now my dear Miss Floy," said Susan, "let was the night of Mr. Dombey's being brought me go down-stairs again and see how your pa is, home, because, having been sent down-stairs by I know you're wretched about him, do let me Florence to inquire after him, she had been go down-stairs again and knock at his door my obliged to deliver her message to her morlal own self." enemy, Mrs. Pipchin, who, without carrying it "No," said Florence, "go to bed. We shall in to Mr. Dombey, had taken upon herself to hear more in the morning. I will inquire myreturn what Miss Nipper called a huffish answer, self in the morning. Mamma has been'down, on her own responsibility. This Susan Nipper I dare say;" Florence blushed, for she had no construed into presumption on the part of that such hope; (' or is there now, perhaps. Good exemplary sufferer by the Peruvian mines, and a night!" deed of disparagement upon her young lady that Susan was too much softened to express her was not to be forgiven; and so far her emphatic private opinion on the probability of Mrs. Domstate was special. But she had been in a con- bey's being in attendance on her husband; and dition of greatly increased suspicion and distrust silently withdrew. Florence, left alone, soon ever since the marriage; for like most persons of hid her head upon her hands, as she had often her quality of mind, who form a strong and sin- done in other days, and did not.: rtrain the cere attachment to one in the different station tears from coursing down her face. The misery which Florence occupied, Susan was very jealous, of this domestic discord and unhappiness; the and her jealousy naturally attached to Edith, withered hope she cherished now, if hope it who divided her old empire, and came between could be called, of ever being taken.to her them. Proud and glad as Susan Nipper truly father's heart; her doubts and fears' between was that her young mistress should be advanced the two.; the yearning of her innocent breast to towards her proper place in the scene of her old both; the heavy disappointment and regret'. of neglect, and that she should have her father's such an end as this to what had been a vision of handsome wife for her companion and protec- bright hope and promise to her; all crowded on tress, she could not relinquish any part of her her mind, and made her tears flow fast. Her own dominion to the handsome wife, without a mother and her brother dead, her father ungrudge and a vague'feeling of ill-will, for which moved towards her, Edith opposed to him and she did not fail to find a disinterested justifica- casting him away, but loving her, and loved by tion in her sharp perception of the pride and her, it seemed as if her affection could never passion of the lady's character. From the back- prosper, rest where it would.'That weak thought. ground to which she had necessarily retired was soon hushed, but the thoughts in which it somewhat since the marriage, Miss Nipper looked had arisen were too true' and strong to be dison, therefore, at domestic affairs in general, with missed with it; and they made the night desolate. a resolute conviction that no good would come Among such reflections there rose up, as there of Mrs. Dombey: always being very careful to had risen up' all day, the image of her'father, publish, on all possible occasions, that she had wounded and in pain, alone in his own room, nothing to say against her. untended by those who should be nearest to " Susan," said Florence, who was -sitting him, and passing the tardy hours in lonely sufthoughtfully at her table, " it is very late. I shall fering. A frightened thought which made her want nothing more to-night." start and clasp her hands-though it was not a PLORENCE LOOKS UPON HER SLEEPING FATHIER. 31 new one in her mind-that he might die, and to sleep, for anything she saw' there, blessing never see her or pronounce her name, thrilled her. her whole frame. In her agitation she thought, Awake unkind father! Awake now, sullen and trembled while she thought, of once more man! The time is flitting by; the hour is comstealing down-stairs, and venturing to his door. ing with an angry tread. Awake'! She listened at her own. The house was There was no change upon his face; and as quiet, and all the lights were out. It was a long, she watched it, awfully, its motionless repose long time, she thought, since she used to make recalled the faces that were gone. So they her nightly pilgrimages to his door! It was a looked, so would he; so she, his weeping child, long, long time, she tried to think, since she had who should say when? so all the world of love entered his room at midnight, and he had led and hatred and indifference around them! her back to the stair-foot! When that time should come, it would not be With the same child's heart within her as of the heavier to him for this that she was going to old: even with the child's sweet timid eyes and do; and it might fall something lighter upon clustering hair: Florence, as strange to her her. father in her early maiden bloom as in her nur- She stole close to the bed, and, drawing in sery time, crept down the staircase, listening as her breath, bent down, and softly kissed him on she went, and drew near to his room. No one the face, and laid her own for one brief moment was stirring in the house. The door was partly by its side, and put the arm, with which she open to admit air; and all was so still within, dared not touch him, round about him on the that she could hear the burning of the fire, and pillow. count the ticking of the clock that stood upon Awake, doomed man, while she is near! The the chimney-piece. time is flitting by; the hour is coming with an She looked in. In that room the house- angry tread; its foot is in the house. Awake!'keeper, wrapped in a blanket, was fast asleep in' In her mind she prayed to God to bless her an easy-chair before the fire. The doors be- father, and to soften him towards her, if it might tween it and the next were partly closed, and a be so; and if not, to forgive him if he was wrong, screen was drawn before them; but there was a and pardon her the prayer, which almost seemed light there, and it shone upon the cornice of his impiety. And doing so, and looking back at bed. All was: so very still that she could hear him with blinded eyes, and stealing timidly from his breathing that he was asleep. This gave away, passed out of his room, and crossed the her courage to pass round the screen, and look other, and was gone: into his chamber. He may sleep on now. He may sleep on It was as great a start to come upon his sleep- while he may. But let him look for that slight ing face as if she had not expected to see it. figure when he wakes, and find it near him when Florence stood arrested on the spot, and, if he the hour is come! had'awakened then, must have remained there. Sad and grieving was the heart of Florence as There was a cut upon his forehead, and they she crept up-stairs. The quiet house had grown had been wetting his hair, which lay bedabbled more dismal since she came down. The sleep and entangled on the pillow. One of his arms, she had been looking on, in the dead of night, resting outside, the bed, was bandaged up, and had the solemnity to her of death and life in he was very white. But it was not this that, one. The secrecy and silence of her own proiafter the first quick glance, and first assurance of ceeding made the. night secret, silent, and ophis sleeping quietly, held Florence rooted to the pressive. She felt unwilling, almost unable, to ground. It was something very different from go on to her own chamber; and turning into the this, and more than this, that made him look so drawing-rooms, where the clouded moon was!solemn in her eyes. shining through the blinds, looked out into the She had never seen his face in all her life, but empty streets. there had been upon it-or she fancied so- The wind was blowing drearily. The lamps'some disturbing consciousness of her. She had looked pale, and shook as if they were cold. never seen his face in all her life, but hope had There was a distant glimmer of something that sunk within her, and her timid glance had was not quite darkness, rather than of light, in drooped before its stern, unloving, and repelling the sky; and foreboding night was shivering and harshness. -As she looked upon it now, she saw restless, as the dying are who make a troubled it, for the first time, free from the cloud that had end. Florence remembered how, as a watcher darkened her childhood. Calm, tranquil -night by a sick bed, she had noted this bleak times was reigning in its stead. He might have gone and felt its influence, as if in some hidden 31 ~Z~ DOMBE YAND SOi.r natural antipathy to it; and now it was vey, " Nothing," she replied. very gloomy. "Are you sure of that? Can it never be. Her mamma had not come to her room that If I speak now of what is in my thoughts, in night, which was one cause of her having sat spite of what we have agreed," said Florence, late out of her bed. In her general uneasiness, "you will not blame me, will you? " no less than in her ardent longing to have some- " It is useless," she replied, " useless. I have body to speak to, and to break this spell of told you, dear, that I have had bad drearhs. gloom and silence, Florence directed her steps Nothing can change them, or prevent their towards the chamler where she slept. coming back." The door was not fastened within, and yielded " I do not understand," said Florence, gazing smoothly to her hesitating hand. She was sur- on her agitated face, which seemed to darken as prised to find a bright light burning; still more she looked. surprised, on looking in, to see that her mamma, "I have dreamed," said Edith in a low voice, but partially undressed, was sitting near the ashes "of a pride that is all-powerless for good, allof the fire, which had crumbled and dropped away. powerful for evil; of a pride that has been galled Her eyes were intently bent upon the air; and in and goaded, through many shameful years, and their light, and in her face, and in her form, and has never recoiled except upon itself; a pride in the grasp with which she held the elbows of that has debased its owner with the consciousher chair as if about to start up, Florence saw ness of deep humiliation, and never helped its such fierce emotion that it terrified her. owner boldly to resent it or avoid it, or to say, " Mamma!" she cried, " what is the matter?"' This shall not be!' a pride that, rightly guided, Edith started; looking at her with such a might have led perhaps to better things, but strange dread in her face, that Florence was which, misdirected and perverted, like all else more frightened than before. belonging to the same possessor, has been self"Mamma!" said Florence, hurriedly ad- contempt, mere hardihood and ruin." vancing. "Dear mamma! what is the matter?" She neither looked nor spoke to Florence now, "I have not been well," said Edith, shaking, but went on as if she were alone. and still looking at her in the same strange way. "I have dreamed," she said, "of such indif"I have had bad dreams, my love." ference and callousness, arising from this self" And not yet been to bed, mamma?" contempt; this wretched, inefficient, miserable " No," she returned. " Half-waking dreams." pride; that it has gone on with listless steps Her features gradually softened; and suffering even to the altar, yielding to the old, familiar, Florence to come close to her, within her em- beckoning finger,-oh, mother, oh, mother!brace, she said in a tender manner, " But what while it spurned it; and willing to be hateful to does my bird do here? What does my bird do itself for once and for all, rather than to be stung here?" daily in some new form. Mean, poor thing!"' I have been uneasy, mamma, in not beeing And now, with gathering and darkening emoyou to-night, and in not knowing how papa was; tion, she looked as she had looked when and I " Florence entered. Florence stopped there, and said no more. "And I have dreamed," she said, "that in a "Is it late?" asked Edith, fondly putting first late effort to achieve a purpose, it has been back the curls that mingled with her own dark trodden on, and trodden down by a base foot, hair, and strayed upon her face. but turns and looks upon him. I have dreamed "Very late. Near day." that it is wounded, hunted, set upon by dogs, " Near day!" she repeated in surprise but that it stands at bay, and will not yield; no, "Dear mamma, what have you done to your that it cannot if it wourd;. but that it is urged hand?" said Florence. on to hate him, rise against him, and defy Edith drew it suddenly away, and, or a him!" moment, looked at her with the same strange Her clenched hand tightened on the trembling dread (there was a sort of wild avoidance in it) arm she had in hers, and, as she looked down as before; but she presently said, "Nothing, on the alarmed and wondering face, her own nothing. A blow." And then she said, "My subsided. "Oh, Florence!." she said, "I think Florence!" And then her bosom heaved, and I have been nearly mad to-night " and humbled she was.weeping passionately. ler proud head upon her neck, and wept again. "Mamma!" said Florence. "Oh, mamma, "Don't leave me! be near me I have nc what can I do, what should I do, to make us lhope but in you!" These words she said happier? Is there anything?" score of times. AMISS NIPPER FORMS A DETERMINATION- 313 Soon she grew calmer, and was full of pity for and an aspiring one: it being nothing less than the tears of Florence, and for her waking at such this —to penetrate to Mr. Dombey's presence, untimely hours. And the day now dawning, and have speech of that gentleman alone.. "I Edith folded her in her arms and laid her down have often said I would," she remarked, in a upon her bed, and, not lying down herself, sat threatening manner, to herself, that morning, by her, and bade her try to sleep. with many twitches of her head,." and now'I "For you are weary, dearest, and unhappy, will!" and should rest." Spurring herself on to the accomplishment of "I am indeed unhappy, dear mamma, to- this desperate design with a sharpness that was night," said Florence. " But you are weary and peculiar to herself, Susan Nipper haunted the unhappy too." hall and staircase during the whole forenoon, " Not when you lie asleep so near me, sweet." without finding a favourable opportunity for the They kissed each other, and Florence, worn assault. Not at all baffled by this discomfiture, out, gradually fell into a gentle slumber; but, as which, indeed, had a stimulating effect, and put her eyes closed on the face beside her, it was so her on her mettle, she diminished nothing of sad to think upon the face down-stairs, that her her vigilance; and at last discovered, towards hand drew closer to Edith for some comfort; evening, that her sworn foe, Mrs. Pipchin, under yet, even in the act, it faltered, lest it should be pretence of having sat up all night, was dozing deserting him. So, in her sleep, she tried to in her own room, and that Mr. Dombey was reconcile the two together, and to show them lying on his sofa unattended. that she loved them both, but could not do it, With a twitch-not of her head merely, this and her waking grief was part of her dreams. time, but of her whole self-the Nipper went on Edith, sitting by, looked down at the dark tiptoe to Mr. Dombey's door, and. knocked. eyelashes lying wet on the flushed cheeks, and "Come in!" said Mr. Dombey. Susan enlooked with gentleness and pity, for she knew couraged herself with a final twitch, and went in. the truth. But no sleep hung upon her own Mr. Dombey, who was eyeing the fire, gave eyes. As the day came on she still sat watching an amazed look at his visitor, and raised himand waking, with the placid hand in hers, and self a little on his arm. The Nipper dropped a sometimes whispered, as she looked at the curtsy. hushed face, " Be near me, Florence; I have no "What do you want?" said Mr. Dombey. hope but in you!"; If you please, sir, I wish to speak to you," said Susan. +_, —_~~FIMr. Dombey moved his lips as if he were repeating the words, but he seemed so lost in CHAPTER XLIV. astonishment at the presumption of the young woman as to be incapable of giving them utterA SEPARATION. ance. " I have been in your service, sir," said Susan ITH the day, though not so early Nipper with her usual rapidity, "now twelve as the sun, uprose Miss Susan year a waiting on Miss Floy my own young lady k / Nipper. Therewasa heaviness in who couldn't speak plain when I first come this young maiden's exceedingly here and I was old in this house when Mrs. sharp black eyes, that abated some- Richards was new, I may not be Meethosalem, what of their sparkling, and sug- but I am not a child in arms." gested-which was not their usual cha- Mr. Dombey, raised upon his arm, and looking racter - the possibility of their being at her, offered no comment on this preparatory sometimes shut. There was likewise a swollen statement of facts. look about them, as if they had been crying over- "There never was a dearer or a blesseder night. But the Nipper, so far from being cast young lady than is my young lady, sir," said down, was singularly brisk and bold, and all her Susan, "and I ought to know a great deal better energies appeared to be braced up for some than some for I have seen her in her grief and I great feat. This was noticeable even in her have seen her in her joy (there's not been much dress, which was much more tightnd trim than of it) and I have seen her with her brotheand usual; and in occasional twitches of her head as I have seen her in her loneliness and some have she went about the house, which were mightily never seen her, and I say to some and all-I expressive of determination. do!" and here the black-eyed shook her head, In a word, she had formed a determination, and slightly stamped her foot: "that she's the 3 I4 DOMBE Y AND SON. blessedest and dearest angel is Miss Floy that Which was rendered no less clear by the exever drew the breath of life, the more that I was pression of Susan Nipper's countenance than by torn to pieces sir the more I'd say it though I her words. may not be a Fox's Martyr."'There an't a person in your service, sir," Mr. Dombey turned yet paler than his fall had pursued the black-eyed, " that has always stood made him with indignation and astonishment; more in awe of you than' me and you may think and kept his eyes upon the speaker as if he how true it is when I make so bold as say that accused them, and his ears too, of playing him I have hundreds and hundreds of times. thought false. of speaking to you and never been able to make ".No one could be anything but true and my mind up to it till last night, but last night Tfithful to Miss Floy, sir," pursued Susan, " and decided of me." I take no merit for my service of twelve year, Mr. Dombey, in a paroxysm of rage, made for I love her-yes, I say to some and all I do!" another grasp at the bell-rope that was not there, — and here the black-eyed shook her head again, and, in its absence, pulled his hair rather than'and slightly stamped her foot again, and checked nothing. a sob; "but true and faithful service gives me "I have seen," said Susan Nipper, "Miss right to speak I hope, and speak I must and Floy strive and strive when nothing but a child will now, right or wrong." so sweet and patient that the best of women "What do you mean, woman.?" said. Mr. might have copied from her, I've seen her sitting Dombey, glaring at her. "How do you dare?" nights together half the night through to help " What I mean, sir, is to speak respectful and her delicate brother with his learning, I've seen without offence, but out, and how I dare I know her helping him and watching him at other times not but I do I" said Susan. "Oh! you don't -some well know when-I've seen her, with no know my young lady sir you don't indeed, you'd encouragement and no help, grow up to be a never know so little of her, if you did." lady, tfiank God! that is the grace and pride of Mr. Dombey, in a fury, put his hand out for every company she goes in, and I've always seen the bell-rope; but there was no bell-rope on her cruelly neglected and keenly feeling of it-I that side of the fire, and he could not rise and say to some and all, I have!-and never said cross to the other without assistance. The quick one word, but ordering one's self lowly and eye of the Nipper detected his helplessness im- reverently towards one's betters, is not to be a mediately, and now, as she afterwards observed, worshipper of graven images, and I will and she felt she had got him. must speak " "Miss Floy," said Susan Nipper, "is the "Is there anybody there?" cried Mr. Dommost devoted and most patient and most dutiful bey, calling out. " Where are the men? where and beautiful of daughters, there an't no gentle- are the women? Is there no one there?" man, no sir, though as great and rich as all the " I left my dear young lady out of bed late greatest and richest of England put together, but last night," said Susan, nothing checked, " and might be proud of her and would and ought. If I knew why, for you was ill sir and she didn't he knew -her value right, he'd rather lose his know how ill and that was enough to make her greatness and his fortune piece by piece and beg wretched as I saw it did-I may not be a peahis way in rags from door to door, I say to some cock; but I have my eyes-and I sat up a little and all, he would!" cried Susan Nipper, burst- in my own room, thinking she might be loneing into tears, "than bring the sorrow on her some and might want me, and I saw her steal tender iheart that I have seen it suffer in this down-stairs and come to this door as if it was a house!" guilty thing to lq k at her own pa,, and then "Woman," cried Mr. Dombey, cleave the steal back again and go into them lonely drawroom!" ing-rooms, a crying so, that I could hardly bear ".Begging yor pardon, not even if I am to to hear it. I can not bear hear it," said Susan leave the!situation,:sir," replied the steadfast Nipper, wiping her black eyes, and fixing them Nipper,';inmS.whioh 7I'have been so many years undauntedly on Mr. Dombey's infuriated face. and seen:'sornudh —although I hope you'd never "It's not the first time I have heard it, not by have tthie'heart ito-send me from Miss Floy for many and many a time you don't know your such.'a cause-will I go nowtill I have said the own daughter, sir, you don't know what you're rest, I may not beda Indian widow sir and I am doing, sir, I say to some and all," cried Susan not and I would not so become but if I once Nipper, in a final burst, "that it's a sinful made up my mind to burn myself alive, I'd do shame! " it!.. Ajid'I've made my mind up to go on." "Why, hoity-toity!" cried the voice of Mrs, - lICH R ESULTS IN HER DISCHARGE. 31 5 Pipchin, as the black bombazine garments of this day which ought to have been told long that fair Peruvian Miner swept into the room. before and can't be told too often or too plain "What's this, indeed?" and that no amount of Pipchinses-I hope the Susan favoured Mrs. Pipchin with a look she number of'em mayn't be great" —(here Mrs. had invented expressly for her when they first Pipchin uttered a very sharp "Go along with became acquainted, and resigned the reply to you!" and Miss Nipper repeated the look)Mr. Dombey. "can unsay what I have said, though they gave " What's this?" repeated Mr. Dombey, alL.ost a whole year full of warnings beginning at ten foaming. "What's this, madam? You who are o'clock in the forenoon and never leaving off till at the head of this household, and bound to twelve at night and died of the exhaustion which keep it in order, have reason to inquire. Do would be a Jubilee " you know this woman?" With these words'Miss Nipper preceded her "' I know very little good of her, sir," croaked foe out of the room; and walking up-stairs to Mrs. Pipchin. " How dare you come here, you her own apartment in great state, to the choking hussy? Go along with you!" exasperation of the ireful Pipchin, sat down'But the inflexible Nipper, merely hono;ring among her boxes and began to cry. Mrs. Pipchin with another look, remained' From this soft mood she was soon aroused, "Do you call it managing this establishment, with a very wholesome and refreshing effect, by madam," said Mr. Dombey, " to leave a person the voice of Mrs. Pipchin outside the door. like this at liberty to come and talk to eme? A "Does that bold-faced slut," said the fell gentleman-in his own house-in his own room Pipchin, "intend to take her warning, or does -assailed with the impertinences of women she not?" servants!" Miss Nipper replied from within that the per" Well, sir," returned Mrs. Pipchin, with venge- son described did not inhabit that part of the ance in her hard grey eye, "I exceedingly de- house, but that her name was Pipchin, and she plore it: nothing can be more irregular; nothing was to be found in the housekeeper's room. can be more out of all bounds and reason; "You saucy baggage!" retorted Mrs. Pipbut I regret to say, sir, that this young woman chin, rattling at the handle of the door. " Go is quite beyond control. She has been spoiled along with you this minute! Pack up your by Miss Dombey, and is amenable to nobody. things directly! How dare you talk in this way You know you're not," said Mrs. Pipchin sharply, to a gentlewoman who has seen better days? " and shaking her head at Susan Nipper. " For To which Miss Nipper rejoined, from her shame, you hussy! Go along with you!" castle, that she pitied the better days that had " If you find people in my service who are seen Mlrs. Pipchin; and that, for her part, she not to be controlled, Mrs. Pipchin," said' Mr. considered the worst days in the year to- be Dombey, turning back towards the fire, "you about that lady's mark, except that they were know what to do with them, I presume. You much too good for her. know what you are here for? Take her away!" "But you needn't trouble yourself to make a " Sir, I know what to do," retorted Mrs. Pip- noise at my door," said Susan Nipper, " nor to chin, "and of course shall do it. Susan Nipper," contaminate the keyhole with your eye; I'm snapping her up particularly short, "a month's packing up and going you may take your affiwarning from this hour." davit." "Oh indeed!" cried Susan loftily. The dowager expressed her lively satisfaction "Yes," returned Mrs. Pipchin, " and don't at this intelligence, and with some general opismile at me, you minx, or I'll know the reason nions upon young hussies as a race, and espewhy! Go along with you this minute!" cially upon their demerits after being spoiled by " I intend to go this minute, you may rely Miss Dombey, withdrew to prepare the Nipper's upon it," said the voluble Nipper. "I have wages. Susan then bestirred herself to get her been in this house waiting on my young lady a trunks in order, that she might take an immedozen year, and I won't stop in it one hour diate and dignified departure; sobbing heartily under notice from a person owning to the name all the time as she thought of Florence. of Pipchin, trust me, Mrs. P." The object of her regret was not long in " A good riddance of bad rubbish!" said that coming to her, for the news soon spread over wrathful old lady. " Get along with you, or I'll the house that Susan Nipper had had a disturbhave you carried out! " ance with Mrs. Pipchin, and that they had both " My comfort is," said Susan, looking back at appealed to Mr. Dombey, and that there had Mr. Dombey, "that I have told a piece of truth been an unprecedented piece of work in Mr. 316 DOMBE Y ANLD SON. Dombey's room, and that Susan was going. and I wouldn t have'em see me cry Miss Floy The latter part of this confused rumour Florence for worlds!" found to be so correct, that Susan had locked "Susan!" said Florence. "My dear girl, my the last trunk, and was sitting upon it with her old friend! What shall I do without.you? Calu bonnet on, when she came into her room. you bear to go away so?" " Susan!" cried Florence. " Going to leave "No-n-o-o, my darling dear Miss Floy, I can't me! You!" indeed," sobbed Susan. " But it can't be helped, " Oh for goodness gracious sake, Miss Floy," I've done my duty, miss, I have indeed. It's said Susan, sobbing, "don't speak a word to me or no fault of mine. I am quite resi-igned. I I shall demean myself before them Pi-i-pchinses, couldn't stay my month or I could never leave 1*II "DO YOU CALL IT MANAGING THIS ESTABLISHMENTMADAM," SAID MR. DOMBE, "'T LEAVE A PERSON LIKE THIS AT LIBERTY TO COME AND TALK TO ME?" you then my darling and I must at last as well and so God bless you my own precious and foras at first, don't speak to me Miss Floy, for give me any harm I have done or any temper I though I'm pretty firm I'm not a marble door- have showed in all these many years! " post, my own dear." With which entreaty, very heartily delivered "What is it? Why is it?" said Florence.Susan hugged her mistress in her arms. Won't you tell me?" For Susan was shaking "My darling there's a many that may come her head. to serve you and be glad to serve you and who'll " No -n - no? my darling," returned Susan. serve you well and true," said Susan,- "but there Don't ask mie, for I mustn't, and whatever can't be one who'll serve you so affectionate as you do don't put in a word for me to stop, for me ve e you half as dearly, that's my comfort. it couldn't be and you'd only wrong yourself, Go-ood-bye, sweet Miss Floy!" 'MR. TOOTS0 R'ECI VES A COMMISSIOVN FROM FL'ORENCE. 17 VWhere will you go, Susan?"'lasfed lier'Towlinson, outside the door-with the boxes, weeping mistress. addressing. Florence, "but Mr. Toots is in the ".I've got a brother down'in the country miss dining-room,' and sends his compliments, and.-a farmer in Essex,"< said the. heart-broken begs to know how Diogenes and master is." INipper, "that'keeps ever so many co-o-ows and Quick as "thought, Florence' glided out and pigs and I shall go down there by the coach and hastened down-stairs, where.Mr.'Toots, in. the sto-op with him, and don't mind me, for I've most splendid, vestments, was breathing very got money in the Savings Banks my dear, and hard with doubt and agitation on the subject needn't take another service just yet, which I of her coming.. couldn't, couldn't, couldn't do, my heart's own " Oh, how de do, Miss -Dombey?" said: Mr. mistress! " Susan finished with a burst of sor- Toots. " God bless my soul!" row, which was opportunely broken by the-roice This last ejaculation was' occasioned by Mr. of Mrs. Pipchin talking down-stairs: on hering Toots's deep concern at the distress he saw ii which, she dried her red and swollen eyes, and Florence's face: which caused him to stop short made a melancholy feint of calling jauntily to in a fit of chuckles, and become an image oi Mr. Towlinson to fetch a cab and carry down despair. her boxes. "Dear Mr. Toots," said Florence, "you are Florence, pale and hurried and distressed, so friendly to me, and so honest, that' I am sure but Withheld' from tseless'interference, even I may'ask a favour of you." here, by her' dread of causing any new division Miss Dombey,"' returned Mr. Toots, "if between her father and his wife (whose stern, you'll only name one, you'll-you'll give me an indignant face had been a warning to her a few appetite. To which," said Mr. Toots, with montnts since), and by her apprehension of some sentiment, " I have long been a stranger." being in some. way unconsciously connected "Susan, who is an old friend of mine, the already with the dismissal of her old; servant oldest friend I have," said Florence, " is about and friend, followed,.weeping; down-stairs to to leave here suddenly, and quite alone, poor Edith's dressing-room, "whither Susan betook girl. She'is going home, a little way into the herself to make her parting curtsy. country..'Might I ask you to take care of her "' Now, here'sithe cab, and here's the boxes, until she is in the coach?" get'along withfyou, do! " said Mrs'.'Pipchin, "Miss Dombey," returned Mr. Toots, "you presenting. herself. at the same moment. "I really do me an honour and a kindness. This beg your pardoin, ma'am, but'Mr. Dombey's proof of your confidence, after the manner in orders are' iperative." which I was Beast enough to conduct myself, at Edith;.sitting under the hands of her. maid- Brighton " she was going out to dinner-preserved her "Yes," said Florence hurriedly-" no-don't haughty face, and took not the least notice. think of that. -Then would you have the kind"There's your money," said Mrs. Pipchin, ness to-to go?"and. to be ready to meet her who, in pursuance of her system, and in recol- when she comes out? Thank you a thousand lection of the Mines, was accustomed to rout times'! You ease my mind- so much.'She the servants about, as she had routed her young doesn't seem so desolate..You cannot think Brighton boarders; to the everlasting acidula- how grateful I feel to you, or what a good friend tion of Master Bitherstone, "and the sooner I am sure you are!" And Florence, in her this house sees your back the better." earnestness, thanked him -again and again; and Susan had, no spirits even for the look that Mr. Toots, in his earnestness, hurried awaybelonged.to' Mrs. Pipchin\ by right; so. she but backwards, that.he might'lose no'glimpse dropped her curtsy. to Mrs. Dombey (who in- of her. dined- her head without one word, and. whose'Flofence had not the courage to go out when eye avoided every one but Florence),'and gave. she saw poor Susan in the hall, with. Mrs: Pipone last parting hug" to her young mistress, and chin'driving her forth, and Diogenes jumping received her parting embrace in- return. - Poor about her, and terrifying.Mrs. Pipchin to the Susan's face at this crisis, in the intensity of her last degree by making snaps at her bombazine feelings and the'determined suffocation of her skirts, and howling with anguish at the sound of sobs, lest ofe should become audible and be a her voice-for the good duenna was the dearest triumph to Mrs. Pipchin,;presented a series of and most'cherished aversion of his breast.':- But, the most:. extraordinary physiognomical phe- she saw'Susan shake hands with the servants all! nomena ever witnessed. round, and turn once to look at her old hoime "I beg your pardon, miss, I'm sure'" said and she saw Diogenes bmund out after the cab 31s DJOMBE y A ND SOV. and want to follow it, and testify an impossi- cabriolet, with Mr. Toots inside, as before, and bility of conviction that he had no longer any the Chicken on the box, who, whatever distincprbperty in the fare; and the door was shut, tion he conferred on the little party by the and tie hurry over, and her tears flowed fast for moral weight and heroism of his character, was the loss of ai old friend, whom no one could scarcely ornamental to it, plhysically speaking, replace. No one.. No one. on account of his plasters; which were numeMr. Toots, like the leal and -trusty soul he rous. But the Chicken had registered a vow, was, stopped the cabriolet in a twinkling, and in secret, that he would never Ieave Mr. Toots told Susan Nipper- of his commission, at which (who was secretly pining to get rid of him) for she cried more than before. any less consideration than the good-will and " Upn my soul and body.!" said Mr. Toots, fixtures of a public-house; and being ambitious taking his seat beside her, "I feel for you. to go into that line and drink himself to death Upon my word and honour, I think you can as soon as possible, he felt it his cue to make hardly know your own feelings better than I his company unacceptable. imagine them. I can conceive nothing more The night coach by which Susan was to go dreadful than to have to leave Miss Dombey." was on the point of departure. Mr.'oots, Susan abandoned herself to her grief now, having put her inside, lingered by the window and it really was touching to see hler. irresolutely until the driver was about to mount; "I say," said Mr. Toots, " now, don't! At when, standing on the step, and putting in a least, I mean now do, you know " face that by the light of the lamp was anxious "Do what, Mr. Toots?" cried Susan. and confused, he said abruptly: "Why, come home to my p)lace, and have "I say, Susan Miss Dombey, you some dinner before vou start," said Mr. Toots. know — " My cook's a most respectable woman-one of " Yes, sir." the most motherly people I ever saw-and she'll " Do you think she could —you know-eh?' be delighted to make you co!mfortable. Her " I beg your pardon, Mr. Toots," said Susan, son," said Mr. Toots as an additional recoim- but I don't hear you." mendation, "was educated in the Blue-coat'I)o you think she could be brought, you School, and blown up in a powder-mill." know —not exactly at once, but in time —in a Susan accepting this kind offer, Mr. Toots lonl time-to-to love me, you know?'There!" conducted her to his dwelling, where they were saidl poor Mr. Toots. received by the matron in question, lwho fully "Oh dlear no "' returned Susan, shaking her justified his character of her, and by the Chicken, head.' I should say nevcr. Ne-ver i who at first supposed, on seeing a lady in the "'Thankee I " said Mr. Toots. " It's of no vehicle, that Mr. Dombey had been doubled consequence. Good night. It's of no conseup, agreeably to his old recommendation, and quence thankee!' Miss Dombeyabducted, This gentleman awakened in Miss Nipper some considerable astonish — ment; for, having been defeated by the Larkey Boy, his visage was in a state of sucl great CHAPTER XLV. dilapidation as to be hardly presentable in society with comfort to the beholders. The THE TRUSTY AGENT. Chicken himself attributed this punishment to his having had the misfortune to get into \1B. DITT-Iwent out alone that day, and Chancery early in the proceedings, when he was:[ returned homre early. It was but a severely fibbed by the Larkey One, and heavily few minutes \after ten o'clock when grassed. But it appeared, from the published (\' her carriage rbiled along the street records-of that great contest, that the Larkey in which she lived. Boy had had it all his own way from the begin- A There was the same enforced comi ning,-and that the Chicken had been tapped,' posure on her face that there had -been and bunged, and had received pepper, and had - when she was dressing; and the wreath been made groggy, and had come up piping, upon her head encircled the same cold and and had endured a complication of similar steady brow. But it would have been better to strange inconveniences, until he had been gone have seen its leaves and flowers' reft,into fraginto and finished, ments by her passionate hand, or. rendered After a good repast, and much ho-,pitality, shapeless by the fitful searches of a throbbing Susan set out for the coach-office iI. another and bewildered brain for any resting-place, than THE MESSENGER IS CONFIDENTIAL. 319 adorning such tranquillity. So obdurate, so un- by the fire; and Mr. Carker, with his hat in his: approachable, so'.unrelentingi one; would have hand, and his eyes bent upon the carpet, stood thought that nothing could soften such a wo- before her, at some little distance. man's' nature, and that everything in life had "Before I hear you, sir," said Edith when the hardened it. door was closed, " I wish you to hear me." Arrived at her own door, she was alighting, "To be addressed by Mrs. Dombey," he rewhen some one, coming quietly from the, hall, turned, "even in accents of unmerited reproach, and standing bareheaded, offered her his arm. is an honour I so greatly esteem, that, although The servantl being thrust aside, she had no I were not her servant in all things, I should choice but to touch it; and she then knew defer to such'a wish most readily." whose arm it was. "If you are charged by the-man whom you "How is rour patient, sir?" she said with a have just now left,'sir,"-Mr. Carker raised his curled lip. eyes, as if he were going to counterfeit surprise, "He is better," returned Carker. "He is but she met them, and'stopped him, if such were doing very well. I have left him for the night." his intention,-" with any niessage to me, do not She bent her head, and was passing up the attempt to deliver it, for I willnot receive it. I staircase, when he followed and -said, speaking need scarcely ask you if you are come on such at the bottom: an errand. I have expected you. some time." "Madam! May I beg the favour of a "It is my misfortune," he replied, "to be minute's audience? " here, wholly against my will, for such a purpose. She stopped and turned her eyes back. " It Allow me to say that I am here for two puris an unseasonable time, sir, and I am. fatigued. ppses. That is one." Is your business urgent? " That one, sir," she returned, "is ended. Or, " It is very urgent," returned Carker. " As I if you return, to it —! am so fortunate as to have met you. let me press "Can Mrs. Dormbey believe," said Carker, my petition." coming nearer, "that I would return to it in the She looked down -for a moment at his glisten- face of her prohibition'? Is it possible'that Mrs. ing mouth, and he Iboked up at her, standing Dombey, having no regard to my unfortunate above him in her stately dress, and thought again, position, is so determined to consider me inhow beautiful she;'as. separable from my instructor a's to do me great "Where is Miss Dombey?" she askeu the and'wilful injustice;?." servant aloud. " Sir," returned;Edith, bending her dark gaze " In the morning room, ma'am." full upon him, and speaking, with a rising'passion "Show the way, tlere!" Turning her eyes that inflated her proud nostril and her swelling again on the attentive gentleman at the bottom neck, and stirred the delicate white down upon of the stairs, and informing him, with a slight a robe she wore, thrown oosely over shoulders motion of her head, that he was at liberty to that coula bear its snowy neighbourhood, "why follow, she passed on. do you present yourself to med as you have done, " I beg your pardon! madam! Mrs. Dombey!" and speak to me of love and duty to my huscried the soft and rnimble Carker, at her side in band, and pretend to think. that I am happily a moment. "May I be permitted to entreat that married, and that I honour hitn? How dare Miss Dombey is not present?" you venture so to affront me, when you knowShe confronted him with a quick look, but I do not know better, sir: I have seen it in with the same self-possession and steadiness. your every glance, and:iheard it in your every "I would spare.JMiss Dombey," said Carker word-that, in place of affection between us; in a low voice, "the knowledge of what I have there is aversion and contempt, and that I to say. At least, madam, I would leave it to you despise him hardly less than I despise'myself to decide whether she shall know of it or not. I for being his? Injustice! If I haA done justice owe that to you. It is my bounden duty to you. to the torment you have made me feel, and to After our former interview, it would be monstrous my sense of the insult you have put upon me, I in me if I did otherwise." should have slain you!" She'slowly withdrew her eyes from his face, She had asked him why he did this. Had she and turning to the servant, said, "Some other not been blinded by her pride and wrath, and "room." He led the way to a drawing-room, self-humiliation,-which she was, fercely as she which he speedily lighted up, and then left bent her gaze upon him,-she would have seen them. While he remained, not -a word was the answer in his face. To bring her to this spoken, Edith enthroned herself upon a couch declaration, 320 DOMBEY AND SON She saw it not, and cared not whether it was she plucked,the feathers from a pinion of some there or no. She saw only the indignities and rare and beautiful bird, which hung from her struggles she had undergone, and had to un- waist by a golden thread, to serve her as a fan, dergo, and was writhing under then. As she and rained them on the ground. sat looking fixedly at them, rather than at him, He did not shrink beneath her gaze, but MiSS DOMBEY," RETURNED MR. TOOTS, IF YOU'LL ONLY NAME ONE, YOU'LL-YOU'LL GIVE ME AN APPETITE. TO WHICH," SAID MR. TOOTS, WITH SOME SENTIMENT, "c I HAVE LONG BEEN A STRANGER." stood, until such outward signs of her anger as to-day, that I have found no favour with you; had escaped her control subsided, with the air and I knew'why. Yes. I knew why. You have of a man who had his sufficient reply in reserve, spoken so openly to me; I am so relieved by and would presently deliver it. And he then the possession of your confidence " spoke, looking straight into her kindling eyes. " Confidence! " she repeated with disdain, " Madams" he said, "I know, and knew before He passed it over, 'THE.YE SSNG'ER7.1sWATCHFUL'AVD DEFERENTIAL z -THE.'A fLSSE _zV/W, -. _.i _ o. "-That I wvill make no pretence of'conceal- feasible to -change her hiusband's; character-ir1 ment. I dird see, from' the first, that' there was - some respects, and mould him to a lbetter-forimi'no affection on your part for Mr. Doimdbev-how " It.was not natural to mZe, sir," she rejoined. could it possibly -exist between such. different " I had never any expectation or. intention.of subiects? And I hz7aec seen, since, that stronger that kind.". feelings than indifference have been- engendered The proud, undaunted face showed him it was in your breast-how- could that possibly be resolute to wear no mask he offered, but was set otherwise, either, circumstanced as you, have upon a reckless disclosure of itself, indifferent'4a been? But was it for me to presume to avow any aspect in which it'mlight present jitself, t this knowledge to you in so many words'?" such as he. "Was it for you, sir," she' replied,' to feign "At least it Was natural,"s he.resumed, "that that other belief, and audaciously to thrust i' on you-should deem it quite possible to live with me day by day?" Mr. Dombey as his -wife, at once without subh < Madam, it was," he eagerly retorted; -_':I If mitting to him, and without coming into''such had done less, if I had done anything but that, I violent collision with him.. But, madam, you did should not be speaking to you thus; and I fore-. not know Mr. Dombey (as you have since ascea; saw —who could better foresee, for who has had tained), when you tliought tlato L You did'not greater experience of Mr. Dombey than myself? know how exacting and how proud' he is, or how — that unless your character should prove to be he is, if I may say so, the. slave of his own greatas yielding and obedient as that of his first sub- ness, and goes yoked to his own triumphal car missive lady, which I did not believe-" like a beast of burden, with no ide' on earth but A haughty smile gave him reason to observe that itis behind him, aid is to be-drawn on. over that he might repeat this. everything and through everything."' "I say,which I did not believe,-the time'> His teeth gleamed through his malicous relish was likely to come when such an understanding of this conceit as he went on talking.as we have now arrived at would be serviceable." " Mr. Dombey is Teally. capable of noi-.more "Serviceable to whom, sir?" she demanded true consideration for-you, madaml than' for -me scornfully. The comparison is an extreme one; I intend it to " To you. I will not add to myself, as wvarning be so; but quite just- Mr. Dombey, in the plenimre to refrain even from that limited commenda- tude of his power, asked me- I had it from tion pf Mr. Dombey, in which I can honestly his own lips yesterday morning-to:be his goindutlge, in order that I may not have the mis- between to you, because he knows I am not fortune of saying anything distasteful to one agreeable to you, and because he intends that I whose aversion and contempt," with great ex- shall be a punishment for your contumacy; and, pression, " are so keen." besides that, because he really does consider that "It is honest in you, sir," said Edith,'t to I, his paid servant, am an ambassador whom it confess to your'limited commendation,' and to is derogatory to the dignity-not of the lady to speak in that tone of disparagement, even of whom. I have the, happiness of speaking;: she him: being his chief counsellor and flatterer." - lias no existence in his mind-but of his wife,-a "Counsellor-yes," said Carker-. "Flatterer part of himself, to receive.:-_ You may imagine -no. A little reservation I fear I must confess how regardless of me,:how obtuse:to, Ihe-posto. But our interest and convenience commonly sibility of my having any individual./sentiment oblige many of us to make professions that we':r o pinion he is, when he tells me, openlly-that cannot feel. We have partnerships of interest I amso employed.-;You know how:perfectly in' and convenience, friendships of interest and con-''diferent to your feelings he is when he threatens venience, dealings of interest and convenience. you with such a messengere.- As yoi'0icou rseo marriages of interest and convenience, every have not forgotten that he did.',( day.":' e She watched himi still'attentively:.'But he She bit her blood-red lip; but without waver- watched herP too; and he sati.that. this' indicaing ini the dark, stern watch she kept upon tion of a knowledge, on' his par, of something him. that had passed- between: herself'and her hus. " adam,'" said Mr. Carker, sitting down in a band, rankled and smarted in her haughty breast chair that was near her, with an air of the most' like a poisoned arrowsf profound and most considerate respect,,"[why - "I do not recall all, this to widen the breaclh should' I hesitate now, being altogether-devoted'.-between yourself andMr.' Domnbey;- mladamto your service, to speak plainly? It was natural. Haven' forbid! what vould it profit me?L-but that a lady endowred as you. are should think it. as an example of the hopelessness of impressingl'DO'"sO;y AN OeNo 2S1o.. 3 322 DOMBEY AND SON..Mr. Dombey with a sense that anybody is to be second object of this interview I must not forconsidered when he is in question. We who are get. I must recommend you, I must entreat about him have, in our various positions, done you in the most earnest manner, for sufficient our- part, I dare say, to confirm him in his way reasons that I have, to be cautious in your de-: of thinking; but, if we had not done so, others monstrations of regard for Miss Dombey." would-or they would not have been about him; " Cautious! What do you mean? " and it has always been, from the beginning, the "To be careful how you exhibit too much very staple of his life. Mr. Dombey has had to affection for that young lady."' deal, in short, with none but submissive and de- "Too much affection, sir? " said Edith, knitpendent persons, who have bowed the knee, and ting her broad brow and rising. "Who judges bent the neck, before him. He has never known my affection, or measures it out? You?" what it is to have angry pride and strong resent- "It is not I who do so." He was, or feigned ment opposed to him." to be, perplexed. "But he will know it now!" she seemed to " Who then?" say; though her lips did not part, nor her eyes "Can you not guess who then?" falter. He saw the soft down tremble once "I do not choose to guess," she answered. again, and he saw her lay the plumage of the "Madam," he said after a little hesitation';. beautiful bird against her bosom for a moment; meantime they had been, and still were, regardand he unfolded one more ring of the coil into ing each other as before; " I am in a difficulty which he had gathered himself. here. You have told me you will receive no "Mr. Dombey, though a most honourable message, and you have forbidden me to return gentleman," he said, "is so prone to pervert to that subject; but the two subjects are so even facts to his own view, when he is at all closely entwined, I find, that, unless you will opposed, in consequence of the warp in his accept this vague caution from one who has now mind, that he-can I give a better instance the honour to possess your confidence, though than this?-he sincerely believes (you will ex- the way to it has been through your displeasure, cuse the folly of what I am about to say; it not I must violate the injunction you have laid upon being mine) that his severe expression of opinion n me." to his present wife, on a certain special occasion "You know that, you are free to do so, sir,", she may remember, before the lamented death said Edith. "Do it." of Mrs. Skewton, produced a withering effect, So pale, so trembling, so impassioned! He' and for the moment quite subdued her 1" had not miscalculated the effect, then! Edith laughed. How harshly and unmusi- "His instructions were," he said in a low cally need not be described. It is enough that voice, " that I should inform you that your dehe was glad to hear her. meanour towards Miss Dombey is not agreeable "Madam," he resumed, " I have done with to him. That it suggests comparisons to him this. Your own opinions. are so strong, and, I which are not favourable to himself. That he am persuaded, so unalterable," he repeated those desires it may be wholly changed; and that, if words. slowly and with great emphasis, " that I you are in earnest, he is confident it will be; for am almost afraid to incur your displeasure anew your continued show of affection will not benefit when I say that, in spite of these defects and my its object." tull knowledge of them, I have become habituated "That is a threat," she said. to Mr. Dombey, and esteem him. But when I "That is a threat," he answered in his voicesay so, it is not, believe me, for the mere sake of less manner of assent: adding aloud, " But not vaunting a feeling that is so utterly at variance directed against you." with your own, and for which you can have no Proud, erect, and dignified, as she stood consympathy"-oh, how distinct, and plain, and fronting him; and looking through him, as she emphasized this was! —" but to give you an did, with her full bright flashing eye; and smilassurance of the zeal with which, in this un- ing, as she was, with scorn and bitterness; she happy matter, I am yours, and the indignation sunk as if the ground had dropped beneath her, with which I -regard the part I am required to and in an instant would have fallen on the floor, fill!" but that he caught her in his arms. As instanShe sat as if she were afraid to take her eyes taneously she threw him off, the moment that'from his face. he touched her, and, drawing back, confronted And now to unwind the last ring of the coil. him again, immovable, with her hand stretched " It is growing late," said Carker after a pause, out. l and you are, as you said, fatigued, But the " lease to leave me. Say no more to-night" THE MESSENGER IS FORGIVEN, AND HAS EXPLAINED. 323 (' I feel the urgency of this," said Mr. Carker,CHAPTER XLVI "because it is impossible to say what unforeseen consequences might arise, or how soon, from RECOGNIZANT AND REFLECTIVE. your being unacquainted with his state of mind.' 1 understand Miss Dombey is concerned, now, MONG sundry minor alterations in at the dismissal of her old servant; which is Mr. Carker's life and habits that likely to have been a minor consequence in began to take place at. this time, itself. You don't blame me for requesting that none was more remarkable than the Miss -Dombey might not be present. May I extraordinary diligence with which hope so?"'' he applied himself to business, and the "1. do not. Please to leave me, sir." closeness with which he investigated "I knew that your regard for the young lady, every detail that the affairs of the which is very sincere and strong, I am well per- House laid open to him. Always active and suaded. would render it a great unhappiness to penetrating in such matters, his lynx-eyed vigiyou ever to be. a prey to the reflection that you lance now increased twenty-fold. Not only did had injured her position and ruined her future his weary watch keep pace with every present hopes," said Carker hurriedly, but eagerly. point that every day presented to him in some " No more to-night. Leave me, if you please." new form, but, in the midst of these engrossing I: I shall be here constantly in my attendance occupations, he found' leisure-that is, he made upon him, and in the transaction of business it-to review the past transactions of the Firm, matters.' You will allow me to see you again,.and his share in them, during a long series of and to consult what should be done, and learn years., Frequently, when the clerks were all your wishes?" gone, the offices dark and empty, and all similar She motioned him towards the door. places of business shut up, Mr. Carker, with the " I cannot even decide whether to tell him'I whole anatomy of the iron room laid bare before have spoken to you yet; or to lead him to sup- him, would explore the mysteries of books and pose that I have deferred doing so, for want of papers, with the'patient progress of a man who opportunity, or for any otherreason. It will be was dissecting the minutest. nerves and fibres of necessary that you should enable me to consult his subject. Perch, the messenger,.who usually with you very soon.' remained on these occasions, to entertain him-' At any time but now," she answered. self with the perusal of the Price Current by the ".You will. understand, when I wish-to see light of'one candle, or to doze. over the fire in you, that Miss Dombey is' not to' be present; the'outer office at the imminent risk every:moand that I seek an interview as one who has the ment of diving head foremost into the coal-box, happiness to possess your confidence, and who could not withhold the tribute of his admiration comes to render you every assistance in: his from, this zealous conduct, although.it much power, and,'perhaps, on many occasions, to ward contracted his domestic enjoyments; and again off evil from her? " and again expatiated to Mrs. Perch (now' nursLooking at him still with the same apparent ing twins) on the industry and acuteness of their dread of releasing him for a moment from the managing gentleman in the City. influence of her steady gaze, whatever that might The same increased and sharp attention that be, she answered, "Yes'" and once more bade Mr. Carker bestowed on the business of the him'go. House he applied to his own personal affairs. He bowed, as if in compliance; but, turning Though not a partner in the concern-a disback when he hall nearly reached the door, tinction hitherto reserved solely to inheritors of said: the great name of Dombey-he was in the re" I am forgiven, and have explahned my fault. ceipt of'some per-centage on its dealings; and, May I-for Miss Dombey's sake, and for my' participating in all- its facilities. for. the employown-take your hand before I go?" ment of.money to. advantage, was' considered, by She. gave him the gloved hand she had the minnows among the tritons of'the East, a maimed. last night.. He took it in one of his, rich man. -It began to be. said, among these and kissed it and withdrew. And when he had shrewd observers, that.Jem Carker, of Dombey's, closed the door, he waved the hand with which was looking about him to see what he was worth; he had taken. hers, and thrust it in his breast. and that he was calling in his money at a good time; like the long-headed fellow he was; and,....._... -bets were even offered on the Stock Exchange that Jem was going to marry a rich widow, Yet these caresldid'n.ot irr'tne least interfere -after hiri'aga'in, she m ade"a hastggesture with with Mr." Carker's watching of his chief, or with. her hand when the old woman began to reply, his cleanness, neatness, sleekness, or any cat-like as if -her, view could be obstructed by mere quality he possessed.!-It was not s6 -much that sound.:~.:Her mother watching her, and not him, there was a change in him in reference to any of remained silent; until her kindling glance sub. ris habits, as that the whole man was intensified., sided, and she drew a long breath, as if in the IEverything that had been observable in him be- relief of his being gone. fore was observable now, but v'with a greater' " "Deary!" said the old woman then.'" Alice. amount of concentration. He did each single'Handsome gal! Ally!" She gently shook her thing as if he did nothing else-a pretty certain sleeve to arouse her attention. " Will you let indication, in a man of that range of ability and him go like that, when you can wring money purpose, that he is doing something which from him? -.Why, it's,a wickedness,.my sharpens-and keeps alive his keenest powers. -' daughter." XThe only decided alteration in him was, that " Haven't I told you that I'will not have as he rode to and fro along the streets, he would money from him? " she returned. "And don't fall into deep.fits of musing, like that in which you yet believe me? Did I take his sister's he had come away from Mr. Dombey's house on money? Would I touch a penny, if I knew it, the morning of that gentleman's disaster. At that had gone through his white hands-unless such times he would keep clear of the obstacles it was, indeed, that I could poison it, and send in his way mechanically; and would appear to it back to him? Peace, mother, and come see and hear nothing until arrival at-his desti- away." nation, or some sudden chance or effort roused "And him so rich?" murmured the old wohim. man. " And us so poor! Walking his white-legged horse thus to the "Poor in not being able to pay him any of counting-house of Dombey and Son one day, he the harm we owe him," returned her daughter. was as unconscious of the observation of two "Let him give me that sort of riches, and I'll pairs of women's eyes, as of the fascinated orbs take them from him and use them. Come away. of Rob the Grinder, who, in waiting a street's It's no good looking at his horse. Come away, length from the appointed place, as a demon- mother!" stration of punctuality, vainly touched and re- But the old woman, for whom the spectacle of touched his hat to attract attention, and trotted Rob the Grinder returning down the street, along on foot by his master's side, prepared to leading the riderless horse, appeared to' have hold his stirrup when he should alight. some extraneous interest that it did not possess "See where he goes!" cried one of these two in itself, surveyed that young man with the utwomen, an old creature, who stretched out her most earnestness; and seeming to have whatever shrivelled arm to point him out to her com- doubts she entertained resolved as he drew panion, a young woman, who stood close beside nearer, glanced at her daughter with brightened her, withdrawn, like herself, into a gateway. eyes, and with her finger on her lip, and emergMrs. Brown's daughter looked out at this ing from the gateway at the moment of his bidding on the part of Mrs. Bro.vn; and there passing, touched him on the shoulder. were wrath and vengeance in her face. "Why, where's my sprightly Rob been all "I never thought to look at him again," she this time? " she said as he turned round. said in a low voice; " but it's well I should, The sprightly Rob, whose sprightliness was perhaps. -:I see..I see!" very much diminished by the salutation, looked "Notchanged! " said the old woman, with a exceedingly dismayed, and said, with the water look of eager malice. rising in his eyes: " He changed!" returned the other. " What " Oh! why can't you leave a poor cove alone, for? What has he suffered? There is change Misses Brown, when he's getting an honest liveenough for twenty in me.: Isn't that enough?' lihood and conducting himself respectable? — "See where he goes!" muttered the old What do you come and. deprive a cove of his woman,'watching "her.daughter with her red -character..for, by talking to him in the streets, eyes; " so easy and so trim, a-horseback, while when he's taking his master'shorse to a honest,we are in the mud — " stable-a horse you'd go and sell for cat's and "And of it," said her daughter impatiently. dog's meat. if you had your way?'Why; I "We are mud underneath his horse's feet. What thought," said the Grinder, producing his conshould we be?" cluding remark as if it were the climax of all his In the intentness with which she looked injuries, "that you was dead long.ago!" INGRATITUDE OF THE GRINDER. 325 ",This is the way," cried the old woman, ap- "What! "- croaked the old. woman, putting pealing to her daughter, " that he talks to me, her face close to his, with a malevolent grin who knew him weeks and months together, my upon it that puckered up the loose skin down in deary, and have stood his friend many and many her very throat. "Do you deny your old chum? a time among the pigeol-fancying tramps and Have you lurked to my house fifty times, and bird-catchers." slept sound in a corer when you had no other " Let the birds be, will you, Misses Brown?" bed but the paviig-stones, and do you talk-to retorted Rob in a tone of the acutest anguish. me like this? Have I bought and sold with " I think a cove had better have to do with lions you. and helped' you in my way of business, than them little creeturs, for they're always school-boy, sneak, and what' not, and do you flying back in your. face when you least expect tell me to go along? Could I raise a crowd of it. Well, how d'ye do, and what do you want?" old company about you to-morrow morning that These polite inquiries the Grinder uttered as it would follow you to ruin like copies of your own were under protest, and with great exasperation shadow, and do you turn onl me with your bold and vindictiveness. looks? I'll go. Come, Alice." "Hark how he speaks to an old friend, my " Stop, Misses Brown! " cried the distracted deary!" said Mrs. Brown, again appealing to Grinder. "What are you doing of? Don't put her daughter. "But there's some of his old yourself in a passion! Don't let her go, if you friends not so patient as me. If I was to tell please. I haven't meant any offence. I said some that he knows, and has sported and cheated'How d'ye do' at first, didn't I? But you with, where to find him — " wouldn't answer. How do you do? Besides," "Will you hold your tongue, Misses Brown r" said Rob piteously, "look here! How can a interrupted the miserable Grinder, glancing cove stand talking in the street with his master's quickly round, as though he expected to see his prad a wanting to be.took to be rubbed down, master's teeth shining at his elbow. "What do and his master up to everyindividgle thing that you take a pleasure in ruining a cove for? At happens?" your" time of life, too! when you ought to be The old woman made a show of being partially thinking of a variety of things'!" appeased, but shook her head, and mouthed and "What.a gallant horse! " said' the old woman,' muttered still. parting the animal's neck. " Come along to the stables, and have a glass "Let him alone,- will you, Misses Brown?" of something that's good for you, Misses Brown, cried Rob, pushing away her hand. "You're can't you," said'Rob, "instead of going on like enough to drive a penitent cove mad!'! that, which is no good to you, nor anybody "Why, what hurt do I do him, child?" re- else? Come along with her, will you be so turned the old woman.. kind?" said Rob. "I'm sure I'm-delighted to "Hurt!" said Rob. "He's got a master see her, if it wasn't for the horse!." that would find it out if he was touched with a With'this apology, Rob turned away, a rueful straw." And he blew upon the place where the picture of despair, and walked his charge down old woman's hand had rested for a moment, and a by-street. The old woman, mouthing' at her smoothed- it gently with his finger, as if he daughter, followed close upon him. The. daughseriously believed what he said. ter followed. The old woman, looking back to mumble and Turning into a silent little square or courtmnouth at her daughter, who followed, kept close yard that had a great church tower rising above to Rob's heels as he walked on with the bridle it, and a packer's warehouse and a bottle-maker's in his hand; and pursued the conversation. warehouse for its. places of business, Rob the "A good place, Rob, eh?" said she. " You're Grinder delivered the white-legged horse to the in luck, my child."'hostler'of a quaint stable at the corner; and "Oh, don't talk about luck, Misses Brown," inviting Mrs. Brown and her daughter to seat returned the wretched Grinder, facing round themselves upon a stone bench at the gate of and stopping. " If you'd never cople, or if that establishment, soon reappeared from a you'd go away, then indeed a. cove might be neighbouring public-house with a pewter measure. considered tolerable lucky. Can't you go along, and a glass. Misses Brown', and not foller me?" blubbered "Here's master-Mr. Carker, child " said Rob with sudden defiance. " If the young the old woman slowly, as her sentiment before woman's a friend of yours, why don't she take drinking. a-Lord bless him!" you away, instead of letting you make yourself "'Why, I didn't tell you who he was,' ohb so disgraceful?" served Rob with staring eyes. '326 DOMBE YVAND -SON.. "We know him by sight,' said Mrs. Brown,. "I don't know,' said Ro6blooking round himwhose working mouth and nodding head stopped again. ".I suppose so. -Howicurious yolu re, for the moment, in the fixedness of her atten- Misses Brown! Least said, soonest mended..'. tion.'.' We saw him pass this morning,'afore' "Why, there's no harm in it'l "- exclaimed the he got off his horse; when you were ready to old woman, with a laugh an'd'aclap of her take it." hands. " Sprightly Rob has growntame since "Ay, ay? " returned Rob, appearing to wish he has been well off!. There's no harm in it." that his readiness had carried him to any other "No, there's no harm in it, Iknow," returned place.-" What's the matter with her? Won't Rob, with the same distrustrl'glance at the she drink?" packer's and the bottle-maker's; and the church; This inquiry had reference to Alice, who, "but blabbing, if.it's only about the number of folded in her cloak, sat a little apart, profoundly buttons on my masters coat, won't do.:I tell inattentive to his offer of the replenished glass. you it won't do with him.' A cove had better The old woman shook her head. -" Don't' drown himself. He says so. I shouldn't have mind her," she said;'she's a strange creetur, so much as told you what his name was, if if you knowed her, Rob. But Mr. Carker " you hadn't known it. "'Talk about somebody "Hush!" said Rob, glancing cautiously up else." at the packer's and at the bottle-maker's, as if,. As Rob took another cautious survey of the from any one of the tiers of warehouses, Mr. yard, the old woman made a secret motion to Carker might be looking down. "Softly." her daughter. It was momentary, but the. "Why, he ain't here!" cried Mrs. Brown. daughter, with a slight look of intelligence, "I don't know that," muttered Rob, whose.withdrew her eyes from'the boy's face, and sat glance even wandered to the church tower, as if folded in her cloak as before.' he might be there, with a supernatural power of "Rob, lovey!" said the old woman, beckonhearing. ing him to the other end of the bench. "You " Good.master?" inquired Mrs. Brown. were always a pet and favourite of mine.' Now, Rob nodded; and added, in a low voice, weren't you? Don't you know you were?", Precious sharp." "Yes, Misses Brown,"', replied the Grinder. " Lives out of town, don't he, lovey?" said with a very bad grace.' the old woman. "And you could leave-me!" said the old "When he's at home," returned Rob; "but woman, flinging her arms. about -his'neck.' we don't live at home just now." "You -could go away, and grow almost out of' Where then? "' asked the old woman. knowledge, and never come to tell your poor "Lodgings; up near Mr. Dombey's," returned old friend how fortunate.'vou:were, proud lad! Rob. Oho, oho!" The younger woman fixed her eyes so search- "Oh; here's a dreadful go for.a cove that's got ingly upon him, and so suddenly, that Rob was a master wide awake in the "neighbourhood!" quite confounded, and offered the glass again, exclaimed'the wretched.Grinder.-".'To' be but with no more effect upon her than before. howled over like this here!, "Mr. Dombey-you and I used to talk about "Won't' you. come. and- see me, Robby?' him sometimes, you know," said Rob to Mrs. cried Mrs. Brown.':-" Oho..won't. Qouevercolme Brown. "You used to get me to talk about and see me?" him." "' "Yes, I tell you! YesI;will "4returned the The old woman nodded. Grinder.' "Well, Mr. Dombey, he's had a fall from his "That's my own Rob!' That's my lovey! horse," said Rob unwillingly " and my master said Mrs.' Brown, drying the tears.upon her has to be up there more than usual, either with shrivelled face, and giving him a tendecisqueeze. him, or Mrs. Dombey, or some of'em; and so." At the old place, Rob?". we've come to town.",t " Yes," returned the Grinder., "Are they good friends, lovey.?" asked'the' " Soon, Robby dear??T cried - Mrs.Brown., old woman. "and often?"'"Who.?" retorted Rob.' - "Yes,. yes, yes," replied -Rob.'<".Iwilllin" He. and she.". deed,'upon my soul and body." "What, Mr. and Mrs. Dombey??" said. Rob. "And then," said Mrs. Brown, with her arms "How should I know?" uplifted towards the sky,' and- her head- thrown" "Not them-master and Mrs. Dombey, back and shaking, " if he's true'to his word, I'll chick," replied the old woman coaxingly. never come.a-near himr though I know where CR 0 I7iTERL Y DSC'O URSE. 3 7 he is,' and- never breathe a syllable about him! fraught, in the Grinder's imaginatiol, with dismal Nevei!" warningi and threats; and more powerful with This ejaculation seemed a drop'of comfort to him than any words. the miserable Grinder, who shook Mrs. Brown Alone again in his- own room, Mr. Carker by the hand upon it, and implored her, with applied himself to work, and worked all day. tears in his eyes, to leave a cove, and not destroy He saw many visitors; overlooked a number of his prospects. Mrs. Brown, with another fond documents; went in and out, to and from, embrace, assented; but, in the act of following sundry places of mercantile resort; and indulged her daughter, turned back, with her finger in no more abstraction until the day's business stealthily raised, and asked in a hoarse whisper was done. But, when the usual clearance of for some money. papers from his table was made at last, he fell " A shilling, dear!" she said, with her eager, into his thoughtful mood once more. avaricious face, "or sixpence! For old ac- He was standing in his accustomed place and quaintance' sake. I'm so poor. Andmyhand- attitude, with his eyes intently fixed upon the some gal "-looking over het shoulder-" she's ground, when his brother entered to bring back my gal, Rob-half starves me." some letters that had been taken out in the But, as the reluctant Grinder put it in her course of the day. He put them quietly on the hand, her daughter, coming quietly back, caught table, and was going immediately, when Mr. the hand in hers, and twisted out the coin. Carker the manager, whose eyes had rested on "What," she said, " mother! always money! him, on his entrance, as if they had all this time money from the first, and to the last! Do you had him for the subject of their contemplation, mind so little what I said but now? Here. instead of the office floor, said: Take it! "" Well, John Carker, and what brings you The old woman uttered a moan as the money here?" was restored, but without in any other way op- His brother pointed to the letters, and was posing its restoration, hobbled at her daughter's again withdrawing. side out of the yard, and along the by-street " I wonder," said the manager, "that you can upon which it opened. The astonished and come and go without inquiring howourmaster is." dismayed Rob,' staring after them, saw that they "We had word this morning, in the countingstopped, and fell to earnest conversation very house,. that Mr. Dombey was doing well." resoon; and more than once observed a darkly- plied his brother. threatening action of the younger woman's hand "You are such a meek fellow," said the (obviously having reference to some one of whom manager with a smile,-" but you have grown so, they spoke), and a crooning, feeble imitation of in the course of years,-that if any harm came it on the part of Mrs. Brown, that made him to him, you'd be miserable, I dare swear now." earnestly hope he might not be the subject of "I should be truly sorry,. James," returned their discourse. the other, With the present consolation that they were "He would be sorry! " said the manager, gone, and with the prospective comfort that pointing at him, as if there were some other Mrs. Brown could not live for ever, and was not person present to whom he was appealing. " He likely to live long. to trouble him, the Grinder, would be truly sorry! This brother of mine! not otherwise regretting his misdeeds than as This junior of the place, this slighted piece of they were attended with such disagreeable in- lumber, pushed aside with his face to the wall, cidental consequences, composed his ruffled like a rotten picture, and left so, for Heaven features to a more serene expression by thinking knows how many years; he's all gratitude and of the admirable manner in which he had dis- respect, and devotion' too, he would have me posed of Captain Cuttle (a reflection that seldom believe! " failed to put him in a flow of spirits), and went "I would have you believe nothing, James," to the. Dombey counting-house to receive his returned the other. "Be as just to me as you master's orders. would to any other man below you. You ask a There his master, so subtle and vigilant of question, and I answer it." eye that Rob quaked before him, more than half "And have you nothing, spaniel,' said the expecting to be taxed with Mrs. Brown, gave manager, with unusual irascibility, "'to complain him the usual morning's box of papers for Mr. of in him?- No proud treatment to resent, no Dombey, and a note for Mrs. Dombey: merely insolence, no foolery of state, no exaction of nodding his head as an enjoinder to be careful, any sort? What the devil! are you man or and to use dispatch-a mysterious admonition, mouse?" 328 POMni'BE Y AN D SO"It would be strange if any two persons could den anger. " You're a: hypocrite; John Carker, be.together for so many years, especially as and you lie!" superior and inferior, without each having some- "James! " cried the other, flushing ini'his thing lo complain of.in the other-as he thought, turn. "What do you mean by these insulting at all events," replied John Carker. "But, words?- Why do you so basely use them to apart from my history here- " me, unprovoked?" " His history here " exclaimed the manager. "'I tell you," said the manager, " that your "Why, there it. is. The very fact that makes hypocrisy and meekness-that all the' hypocrisy him an extreme case puts him out of the whole and meekness of this place-is not worth that chapter. Well?" to me," snapping his thumb and finger, "and "Apart from. that which, as you hint, gives that I see through it as if it were air! - There is me a reason to be thankful that I alone (happily not a....man employed here, standing between for all the rest) possess, surely there is no one in myself and the lowest in place (of whom you are the house who would not say and feel at least very considerate, and with reason, for he is not as much. You do not think that anybody here far off), who wouldn't be glad at heart to'see would be indifferent to a mischance or misfor- his master humbled: who. does not hate him tune happening to the head of the House, or secretly: who -does not wish him evil rathei anything than truly sorry for it?" than good: and who would not turn upon him, ".You have good reason to be bound to him'if he had the power and boldness. The nearer too!' said the manager contemptuously. "Why, to his favour, the nearer to his insolence; the don't you believe that. you are kept here as' a closer to. him, the farther from him.'That's the cheap example, and a famous instance of the creed here!" clemency of Dombey and Son, redounding to "I don't know," said his brother, whose the credit of the illustrious House?" roused feelings had soon yielded to surprise, "No," replied'his brother mildly, "I have "who may have abused your ear with such relong believed that I am kept here for more kind presentations; or why you have chosen to try and disinterested reasons." me, rather'than another. But that you have " But you were going," said the manager, with been trying me, and tampering with me, I' am. the snarl of a tiger-cat, "to recite some Christian now sure. You have a different manner and a precept, I observed." different aspect from any that I ever saw in you. "Nay, James," returned the other, "though I will only.say to you, once more, you are dethe tie of brotherhood between us has'been long ceived." broken, and thrown.away —" - "I know I am," said the manager. "I have " Who broke it, good sir? said. the manager. told you so." " I, by my misconduct.. I do not charge it "Not by me," returned his brother. "By upon you."'your informant, if you have'one. If not, by The manager replied, with- that mute action of your own thoughts and suspicions." his. bristling mouth,'Oh, you don't charge it "I have no suspicions," said the manager. upon me!" and bade him go on. "Mine are certainties. You pusillanimous,'"I say, though there is'not that tie between abject, cringing dogs! All making the same us, do not, I entreat, assail me with unnecessary show, all canting the same story, ail whining taunts, or misinterpret what I say, or would say. the same professions, all harbouring the same I was only going to suggest to you that it would.transparent secret." be a mistake to suppose that it is only you, who His brother withdrew without saying more, have been'selected here, above all others, for and shut the door as he concluded. Mr. advancement, confidence, and distinction (se- Carker the manager drew a chair close before lected, in the beginning, I know, for your great the fire, and fell to beating the coals softly with ability and trustfulness), and who communicate the poker. more freely with Mr. Dombey than any one, "Tlhe faint-hearted, fawning knaves!' he and stand, it may be saidi on equal terms with muttered, with his two shining rows of teeth him, and have been favoured and enriched by laid bare. " There's not one among. them him-that it would be a mistake to suppose that -who wouldn't feign to. be so shocked and out it is only you.who are tender of his welfare and raged- Bah! There's not one among them reputation. There is no one in the house, from but, if he had at once the power, and the wit and yourself down to the lowest, I sincerely believe; daring to usb it, would scatter Dombey's pride,' who does not participate inthat feeling." and lay it low, as ruthlessly as I rake out these "Ybu lie!" said, te manager, red with sud- ashes." APTERNOOr RIDE WITH.A Pi4AN-2 TOM.2 As he broke them up; and.strewed them in once:and'shuddered at- and never seen again, the grate, he looked on with a' thoughtful smile would have been.sufficient stain-upon her soul.. at what he was'doing. " Without the same. Did the phantom of such a woman flit about queen' beckoner," too!'" he added presently; him on his ride; true to-the reality, and obvious " and there is a pride there not to be forgotten to him? -witness our own acquaintance!" With that Yes. He saw her. in his mind, exactly as she he fell into a- deeperreverie,. and sat pondering'was. She'bore him company with her. pride, over the blackening grate, until he rose up like resentment, hatred, all as plain to- him'as her a man. who had been absorbed in a book, and, beauty; with. nothing; plainer to him than her looking round him, took'his hat and gloves, hatred of him. He saw her sometimes haughty went to where his horse was waiting, mounted, and repellent at his side, and sometimes.'down and rode away through the lighted.streets; for * among his horse's fejst, fallen and.. in the dust. it was evening. But he always -saw her as. she was, without disHe rode. near Mr.' Dombey's.' house'; and, guise, and watched her'on the -dangerous way falling into a walk as he approached it, looked that she was going. up at the windows.. The window where he had And when his ride was' over, and.b'.was once seen Florence sitting with her. dog at- newly dressed, and came into the light of her tracted his attention first, though there was no bright room with his bent head, soft voice, and light in it; but he smiled as he carried his eyes' soothing smile, he saw her yet as plainly..'He. up the tall front'of the. house, and seemed to even suspected the mystery of the gloved hand, leave that object superciliously behind. and held it all the longer:in his own for that "Time was," he said, "when it was well to suspicion. Upon the- dangerous. way that she watch' even your rising little star, and know in was going, he was still; and not a footprint did what quarter there were clouds, to'shadow you she mark upon it, but. he set his'own'there if needful.. But a planet has arisen, and you are straight. lost in its light.". He turned the white-legged norse round the street, corner, and sought one shining windowCHA:PTER XLVII from among those at the back of the house, Associated with- it was a certain' stately pre- THE THUNDERBOLT. sence, a gloved hand; the remembrance how the feathers of a beautiful bird'; wing had been HE barrier between Mr: Donbey.and showered down upon the floor, and how the., his wife was not weakened by time. light white down upon a robe had stirred and I Ill-assorted coupl, unhappyinthemrustled, as in the rising of a distant storm. These'_ selves and in each other, bound were the things he carried with him as he turned'together by no tie but the manacle away again, and rode through the darkening and that joined their fettered hands,- and.deserted parks at a quick rate., straining that so harshly, in their shrinkIn fatal truth, these were associated-with a ing asunder, that it wore and chafed to woman, a proud woman, who hated him,'but the b)ne, Time, consolerofaffliction and softener who by slow and sure'degrees had been led on of arger, could do nothing to help them.'Their by his craft, and her pride and resentment, to pride, however different in kind and object, was endure his company, and little by little to re- equal in degree; and, in their ginty opposiceive him as one who had the privilege to talk tion, struck out fire between them which might to her of her own defiant disregard of her own' smoulder or might blaze, as circumstances were, husband, and her abandonment of high con- but burned. up everything within their' mutual sideration for herself.. They'were associated reach,' and made their marriage way a road of with a woman who hated him deeply, and. E ho ashes. knew him, and who mistrusted him because she. Let us be justFto him. In the-rnonstrous knew him, and because he knew her; but who delusion of his life, swelling with' every grain of fed her fierce resentnient by suffering him to sand that shifted in its'glass, he urged her on, draw nearer and yet nearer to her every day, in he little thought to what, or considered how; spite of the hate she cherished for him.' In spite but still'his feeling towards her, such as it. was, of it! For that very reason; since its depths, remained as at first. " She had the grand' demerit too far down for her threatening eye to pierce, of unaccountably putting herself in opposition though she could.see into them. dimly, lay the to the recognition of liis vast importance, and dark retaliation,'whose faintest shadow, seen to the acknowledgment of her complete submis 533<^il ij~DOMB~EY AND SON. sion to it, and so far it was necessary to correct forth on its unnatural sinfulness, and lament its and reduce her; but otherwise he still considered being, so early, far away from Heaven-but her, in his cold way, a lady capable of doing think a little of its having been conceived, and honour, if she would, to his choice and name, born and bred in Hell! and of reflecting credit on his proprietorship. Those who study the physical sciences, and Now she, with all her might of passionate and bring them to bear upon the health of man, tell proud resentment, bent her dark glance from day us that if the noxious particles that rise from to day, and hour to hour-from that night in her vitiated air were palpable to the sight, we should own chamber, when she had sat gazing at the see them lowering in a dense black cloud above shadows on the wall, to the deeper night fast such haunts, and rolling slowly on to corrupt coming —upon one figure directing a crowd of the better portions of a town. But if the moral humiliations and exasperations againsther; and pestilence that rises with them, and, in the that figure still her husband's. eternal laws of outraged Nature, is inseparable Was Mr. Dombey's master-vice, that ruled him from them, could be made discernible too, how so. inexorably, an unnatural characteristic? It terrible the revelation I Then should we see demight be worth while, sometimes, to inquire pravity, impiety, drunkenness, theft, murder, and what Nature is, and how men work to change a long train of nameless sins against the natural her, and whether, in the enforced distortions so affections and repulsions of mankind, overhangproduced, it is not natural to be unnatural. ing the devoted spots, and creeping on, to blight Coop any son or daughter of our mighty mother the innocent and spread contagion.among the within narrow range, and bind the prisoner to pure. Then should we see how the same poisoned one idea, and foster it by servile worship of it fountains that flow into our hospitals and lazaron the part of the few timid or designing people houses, inundate the gaols, and make the constanding round, and what is Nature to the will-. vict ships swim deep, and roll across the seas, ing captive who has never risen up upon the and overrun vast continents with crime. Then wings of a free mind-drooping and useless soon should we stand appalled to know that where -to see her in her comprehensive truth? we generate disease to strike our children down, Alas! are there so few things in the world, and entail itself on unborn generations, there about us, most unnatural, and yet most natural also we breed, by the same certain process, inin being so?. Hear the magistrate or judge fancy that knows no innocence, youth without admonish the unnatural outcasts of society modesty or shame, maturity that is mature in unnatural in brutal habits, unnatural in want; o izothing but in suffering and in guilt, blasted old decency, unnatural in losing and confoundrhg. Sge that is a -scandal on the form we bear. all distinctions between good and evil,; unnatural Unnatural humanity! When we shall gather in ignorance, in vice, in recklessness, in con- grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles; when tumacy, in mind, in looks, in everything. But fields of grain shall spring up from the offal in follow the good clergyman or doctor, who, with the by-ways of our wicked cities, and roses his life imperilled at every breath he draws, goes bloom in the fat churchyards that they cherish down into their dens, lying within the echoes of then we may look for natural humanity, and find our carriage wheels and daily tread upon the it growing from such seed. pavement stones. Look round. upon the world Oh for a good spirit who would take the houseof odious sights-millions of immortal creatures tops off, with a more potent and benignant hand have no other world on earth-at the lightest than the lame demon in the tale, and show a mention of which humanity revolts, and dainty Christian people what dark shapes issue from delicacy, living in the next street, stops her ears, amidst their homes, to swell the retinue of the and lisps, "I don't believe itl" Breathe the Destroying Angel as he moves forth among polluted air, foul with every impurity that is them! For only one night's view of the pale poisonous to health and life; and have every phantoms rising from the scenes of our too-long sense, conferred upon our race for its delight and neglect; and, from the thick and sullen air where happiness, offended, sickened, and disgusted, Vice and Fever propagate together, raining the and made a channel by which misery and death tremendous social retributions which are ever alone can enter. Vainly attempt to think of any -pouring down, and ever coming thicker! Bright simple plant, or flower, or wholesome weed that,'and blessed the morning that should rise on such set in this fetid bed, could have its natural growth, a night: for men, delayed no more by stumblingor put its little leaves forth to the sun as GoD blocks of their own making, which are but specks designed it. And then, calling up some ghastly of dust upon the path between themand eterchild, with stunted form and wicked face, hold nity, would then apply themselves. like creatures EDITIT WIT'DRA WS HERSELF FROM FLORENCE. 33I of one common origin, owning one duty to thei The change, if it may.be called one, had Father of one family, and tending to one corn- stolen on her like the change from childhood to mon end, to make the world a better place! womanhood, and had. come with it. Florence Not the less bright and blessed would that was almost seventeen when, in her lonely muslay be for rousing some who never have looked ings, she was conscious of these thoughts. out upon the world of humani life around them, She was often alone now, for the old associato a knowledge of their own relation to it, and tion between her arid her mamma was greatly for making them acquainted with a perversion changed. At the time of her father's accident, of Nature.in their own contracted sympathies and when he was lying in his room down-stairs, and estimates; as great, and yet as natural in Florence had first observed. that Edith avoided its development when once begun, as the lowest her. Wounded and shocked, and yet unable to degradation known:; reconcile this with.her affection when they did But no such day had ever dawned on Mr. meet, she sought her in her own room at night Dombey, or his wife; and the course of each once more. was taken. "Mamma,' said Florence, stealing softly to Through six months that ensued upon. his her side, " have I offended you?" accident, they held the same -relations one to- Edith answered " No." wards the other. A marble rock could not have "I must have done something," said Florence. stood more obdurately in his way than she; and "Tell me what it is. You have changed your no chilled spring, lying uncheered by any ray of manner to me, dear mamma. I cannot say how light in the depths of a deep cave, could be instantly I feel the least change; for I love you more sullen or more cold than he. with my whole heart." The hope that had fluttered within her, when " As I do you," said Edith. " Ah, Florence, the promise of her new home dawned, was quite believe me, never more than now!" gone from the heart of Florence now. That " Why do you go away from me so often, and i-.ome was nearly two years.old, and even the keep away?" asked Florence., "And why do patient trust that was in her could not'survive you sometimes look so strangely on me' dear the daily blight of such experience. If she had mamma? You do so, do you not?" any lingering fancy in the nature of. hope left, Edith signified assent with her dark eyes. that Edith' and her father might be happier "Why?"returnedFlorence imploringly. "Tell together in some distant time, she had, none, me why, that I may know how to please you now, that her father would ever lovoher. - The better.; and tell me this shall not be so any little interval in which she had imagined that more." she saw some small relenting in him was. for- "My Florence," answered' Edith, taking the gotten in the long remembrance of his'coldness hand that embraced her neck, and looking into since and before, or only remembered as a sor- the eyes that looked into hers so lovingly, as rowful delusion. Florence knelt upon the ground.before her Florence loved him still, but by degrees had "why it is I cannot tell you. It is neither for come to love him rather as some dear one who me to say, nor you to hear,; but that it is, and had been, or who might have been, than as the that it must be, I know. Should I do-it if I did hard reality before her eyes. Something of the not?" softened sadness -with which she loved the "Are we to be estranged, mamma?-" asked memory of little Paul, or her mother, seemed Florence, gazing at her like one frightened. to enter now into her thoughts of him, and to Edith's silent lips formed " Yes." make-t6em, as it were, a dear remembrance.'Florence looked at her with increasing fear Whether it was that he was dead to her, and and wonder, until she -could see her no more that partly for this reason, partly for his share through the blinding tears that ran down her face. in those old objects of her affection, and partly. "Florence! my life!" said Edith hurriedly, for the long association of him with hopes that " listen to me. I cannot bear to see this grief. were withered and tendernesses he had frozen, Be calmer. You see that.I am composed, and she. could not have told; but the father whom is it nothing to me?" she loved began to be a vague and dreamy idea She resumed her steady voice and manner as to her; hardly more substantially connected vith she said the latter words, and added presently: her real life than the image she would some- "Not wholly estranged.. partially: and only times conjure up of her dear brother yet'.live, that in appearance, Florence, for. in my own and growing to be a man, who would protect breast I am still the same to you, and ever will and cherish her. be. But what I do is not done for myself.' 332 DOM'EBY AND SON' i Is it for me, mamma? " asked Florence. indignant passions that now claimed her for their "It is enough," said Edith after a pause, " to own, and set their seal upon her brow. know what it is: why, matters little. Dear From that hour- Florence and she were, as Florence, it' is better-it is necessary-it must they had been,-no more. For days together, they be-that our association should be less frequent, would seldom meet, except at table, and' when The confidence there has been between us must Mr. Dombey was present. Then Edith, imbe broken off." perious, inflexible, and silent, never looked at "When?" cried Florence. "Oh,. mamma, her. Whenever Mr. Carker was of the party, aswhen?' he often was during the progress of Mr. Dom"Now," said Edith. bey's recovery, and afterwards, Edith held herself " For all time to come?" asked Florence. more removed from her, and was more distant " I do not say that," answered Edith. "I do towards her, than at other times. Yet she and. not know that. Nor will I say that companion- Florence never encountered, when there was no, ship between us is, at the best, an ill-assorted one by, but she would embrace her as affectionand unholy union, of which I might have known atelyas of old, though not with the same relenting no good could come.. My.way here has been of her proud aspect; and often, when she had through paths that you will never tread, and my been out late, she would steal up to Florence's way henceforth may lie-God knows-I do not room, as she had been used to do, in the dark, see it —" and whisper "Good'night" on her pillow. When Her voice died. away into silence; and she unconscious, in her slumber, of such visits,.Flsat, looking at Florence, and almost shrinking rence would sometimes awake, as from a dream from her, with the same strange dread and wild of those words,. softly spoken, and would seem avoidance that Florence had noticed once before. to feel the touch oflips upon her face. But less The same dark pride and rage succeeded, sweep- and less often as the months went on. ing over her form and features like an angry And now the'void in Florence's own heart chord across the strings of a wild harp. -But no began again indeed to make a solitude around softness or humility ensued on that. She did her; As the image of the father whom she loved not lay her head down now, and weep, and say had insensibly become a mere abstraction,. so that she had no hope but in Florence. She held Edith, following the fate of all the rest about it up as if she were a beautiful Medusa, looking whom her affections had entwined.themselves, on him, face to face, to strike him dead..Yes, was fleeting, fading, growing paler in the disand she would have done it, if she had had the' tance, every day. Little by little, she receded charm. from Florence, like the retiring ghost of what "Mamma," said Florence anxiously,." there she had been; little by little, the chasm between -is a change- in you, in more. than what you say them widened and seemed deeper; little by'little, to me, which alarms me. Let me stay with you. all the power of earnestness and tenderness she a little.", lad shown was frozen up in the bold, angry "No,".said Edith, "no, dearest. I am'best hardihood with which she stood upon the brink left alone now, and I do best to. keep apart from of a deep precipice unseen by Florence,' daring you, of all else.'Ask me no, questions, but to look.down. believe that what I am when' I seem fickle or There was but one consideration to set against capricious to you, I am not of my own will; or the heavy loss of Edith, and though it was slight for myself. Believe, though we are stranger to comfort.to her burdened heart,'she tried to think each other than we have been, that I am un- it some relief. No longer divided between her changed to you within. Forgive me for having affection and duty to the two, Florence could ever darkened your dark home-I am'a shadow love both, and do no injustice to.'either. As. on' it, I know well-and let us never speak of this shadows of her fond imagination, she could'give again." them'equal place in her own bosom, and -wrong; "'Mamrima," sobbed Florence, "we are not to them with no doubts. part?" So she tried to do.'At times, and often too,' "We do this that we may not part," said wondering speculations on the -cause of this Edith. " Ask no more. Go, Florence! My change in Edith would. obtrude themselves love and my remorse. go with you!" upon her mind and frighten her; but, in the She embraced her, and dismissed her; and,' calm of its abandonment once more to silent as Florence passed out of her room, Edith looked grief and loneliness, it was not a curious mind. on the -retiring figure, as if her good angel went Florence had only to remember that *her star oQ1 in that form, and left her to the haughty and of promise was clouded in the general gloom AN ANNIVERSARY DINNER-PARTY PROJECTED- 333 that hung upon the house, and to weep and be occasions, hardly knew'who Florence was, and resigned. said, going home, "Indeed! was that Miss Thus living, in a dream wherein the over- Dombey in the corner? Very pretty, but a flowing love of her young heart expended itself little delicate and thoughtful in appearance! " on airy forms, and in a real world where she None the less so, certainly, for her life of the had experienced little but the rolling back of last six months, Florence took her seat at the that strong tide upon itself, Florence grew to be dinner-table, on the day before the second anniseventeen. Timid and retiring as her solitary versary of her father's marriage to Edith (Mrs. life had made her, it had not embittered her Skewton had been lying stricken with paralysis sweet temper, or her earnest nature. A child when the first came round), with an uneasiness in innocent simplicity; a woman in her modest amounting to dread. She had no other warrant self-reliance, and her deep intensity of feeling; for it than the occasion, the expression of her both child and woman seemed at once expressed father's face, in the hasty glance she caught ol in her fair face and fragile delicacy of shape, and it, and the presence of Mr. Carker, which; always gracefully to mingle there: as if the spring should unpleasant to her, was more so on this day than be unwilling to depart when summer came, and she had ever felt it before. sought to blend the earlier beauties of the flowers Edith was richly dressed, for she and Mr. with their bloom. But in her thrilling voice, in Dombey were engaged in the evening to some her calm eyes, sometimes in a strange ethereal large assembly, and the dinner hour that day light that seemed to rest upon her head, and was late. She did not appear until they were always in a certain pensive air upon her beauty, seated at table, when Mr. Carker rose and led there was an expression such as had been seen her to her chair. Beautiful and lustrous as she in the dead boy; and the council -in the Ser- was, there was that in her face and air which vants' Hall whispered so among themselves, and seemed to separate her hopelessly from Flo. shook their heads, and ate and drank the more, rence, and from every one, for evermore. And in a closer bond of good-fellowship. yet, for an instant, Florence saw a beam of kind. This observant body had plenty to say of Mr. ness in her eyes, when they were turned on her, and Mrs. Dombey, and of Mr. Carker, who ap- that made the distance to which she had withpeared to be a mediator between them, and drawn herself a greater cause of sorrow and who came and went as if he were trying to regret than ever. make peace, but never could. They all deplored There was very little said at dinner. Florence the uncomfortable state of affairs, and all agreed heard her father speak to Mr. Carker sometimes that Mrs. Pipchin (whose unpopularity was not on business matters, and heard him softly reply, to be surpassed) had some hand in it; but, upon but she paid little attention to what they said, the whole, it was agreeable to have so good a and only wished the dinner at an end. When subject for a rallying-point, and they made a the dessert was placed upon the table, and they great deal of it, and enjoyed themselves very were left alone, with no servant in attendance, much. Mr. Dombey, who had been several times clearThe general visitors who came to"the house, ing his throat in a manner that augured no good, and those among whom Mr. and Mrs. Dombey said: visited, thought it a pretty equal match as to "Mrs. Dombey, you know, I suppose, that I haughtiness, at all events, and thought nothing have instructed the housekeeper that there will more about it. The young lady with the back be some company to dinner here to-morrow?" did not appear for some time after Mrs. Skew- "I do not dine at home," she answered. ton's death; observing to some particular friends, "Not a large party," pursued Mr. Dombey, with her usual engaging little scream, that she with an indifferent assumption of not having couldn't separate the family from a notion of heard her; "merely some twelve or fourteen. tombstones, and horrors of that sort; but, when My sister, Major Bagstock, and some others she did come, she saw nothing wrong, except whom you know but slightly." Mr. Dombey's wearing a bunch of gold seals to " I do not dine at home," she repeated. his watch, which shocked her very much, as an " However doubtful reason I may have, Mrs. exploded superstition. This youthful fascinator Dombey," said Mr. Dombey, still going majesticonsidered a daughter-in-law objectionable in cally on, as if she had not spoken, "to hold the principle; otherwise, she had nothing to say occasion in very pleasant remembrance just now, against Florence, but that she sadly wanted there are appearances in these-things which must " style "-which might mean back, perhaps. be maintained before the world. If you have Many, who only came to the house on state no respect for yourself, Mrs. Dombev —" 334 DOMBEY AND SON. "I have none," she said. that moment, and they would have been as dull "Madam," cried Mr. Dombey, striking his as lead. hand upon the table, " hear me, if you please. Carker listened, with his eyes cast down. I say, if you have no respect for yourself —" "As to my daughter, madam," said Mr. "And I say I have none," she, answered. Dombey, resuming. the thread of his discourse, He looked at her;:but the face she showed "it is by no means inconsistent with her duty him in return would not have changed, if death to me that she should know what conduct- to itself had looked. avoid.. At present you are a very strong " Carker," said Mr. Dombey, turning more example to her of this kind, and I. hope she may quietly to that gentleman, "as you have been profit by it." my medium of communication with Mrs. Dom-' I would not stop you now," returned his bey on former occasions, and as I choose to wife, immovable in eye, and voice, and attitude; preserve the decencies of life, so far as' I am "I would not rise and go away, and save you individually concerned, I will trouble you to the utterance of one word, if the room were have the goodness to inform Mrs. Dombey that burning." if she has no respect for herself, I have some. Mr. Dombey moved his head, as if inl a sarrespect for myself, and therefore insist on my castic acknowledgment of the attention, and arrangements for to-morrow." resumed. But not with so much self-possession " Tell your sovereign master, sir," said Edith, as before; for Edith's quick uneasiness in refers " that I will take leave to speak'to him on this ence to Florence, and Edith's indifference to subject. by-and-by, and that I will speak to him him and his censure, chafed and galled him like alone." a stiffening wound. "Mr. Carker, madam," said her husband, "Mrs. Dombey," said he, "it may not be " being in possession of the reason which obliges inconsistent with my daughter's improvement to me to refuse you that privilege, shall be absolved know how very much to be lamented, and how from the delivery of any such message." He saw necessary to be corrected, a stubborn disposiher eyes move while he spoke, and followed them tion is, especially when it is indulged in-unwith his own thankfully indulged in, I will add-after the grati"Your daughter is present, sir," said Edith. fication of ambition and interest. Both of which, "!My daughter will remain present," said Mr. I believe, had some share in inducing you to Dombey. occupy your present station at this board." Florence, who had risen,. sat down again, "'No!.I would not rise and go away, and hiding her face in her hands, and trembling. save you the utterance of one word," she re" My -daughter, madam -" began Mr. peated, exactly as before, " if the room were Dombey.'burning." But Edith stopped him, in'a'voice which, "It may be natural enough, Mrs. Dombey," although not raised in the least, was so clear, he pursued, " that you should be uneasy in the emphatic, and distinct, that it might have been' presence of any auditors of these disagreeable heard in a whirlwind. truths; though why"-he, could not hide his " I tell you I will speak to you alone," she real feelings here; or keep his eyes from glancing said. "If you are not mad, heed what I say." gloomily at Florence-" why any one' can give " I have authority to speak to you, madam," them greater force and point than myself, whom returned her husband, "when and where I they so nearly concern, I do not pretend to please; and it is my pleasure to speak here and understand. It may be natural enough that, now." you should object to hear, in anybody's. preShe rose up as if to leave the room; but sat "sence, that there is'a rebellious principle within down again, and looking at him with all outward you which you cannot curb too soon; which composure, said,' in the same voice: you'must curb, Mrs; Dombey; and which, I You shall i" regret to say, I remember to have seen mani"I must tell you, first, that there is a threat- fested-with' some doubt- and' displeasure, on enig appearance in your manner, madam," said more than one occasion before our marriageMr. Dombey, "which does not become you." towards your deceased mother, But you have She laughed. The shaken diamonds in her the remedy in your own hands. I by no means hair started and trembled. There are fables of forgot, when I began, that my daughter was precious stones that would turn pale, theirwearer present,'Mrs.. Dombey. I beg you will. not being in: danger. Had these been. such, their' forget, to-morrow, that there are several persons imprisoned rays of light would have taken flight present; and that, with some regard to appear ~-B U A LTOGETHIER.DE CZZV'D. 33 ances, you will receive your company in a ".you will not conciliate me, or turn me from becoming manner." any purpose, by this course of conduct." "So it is not enough," said Edith, " that you "It is the only true although it is a faint know what has passed between yourself and me; expression of what is within me," she replied. it is not enough that you can look here," point- "But if I thought it would conciliate you, I ing at Carker, who still listened, with his eyes would repress it, if it were repressible by any cast down, "and be reminded of the affronts you human effort. I will do nothing that you ask." have put. upon me; it is not enough that you "I am not accustomed to ask, Mrs. Dombey," canl look here," pointing to Florence with a hand he observed; "I direct." that slightly trembled for the first and only time, " I will hold no place in your house to" and think of what you have done, and of the morrow, or on any recurrence of to-morrow. I ingenious agony, daily, hourly, constant, you will be exhibited to no one as the refractory have made me feel in doing it; it is not enough slave you purchased such a time. If I kept my that this day, of all others in the year, is memo- marriage-day, I would keep it as a day of shame. rable to me for a struggle (well deserved, but Self-respect! appearances before the world! not conceivable by such as you) in which I what are these to me? You have done all you wish I had died! You add to all this, do you, can to make them nothing to me, and they are the last crowning meanness of making her a nothing." witness of the depth to which I have fallen; "Carker," said Mr. Dombey, speaking with when you know that you have made me sacrifice knitted brows, and after a moment's considerato her peace the only gentle feeling and interest tion, "Mrs. Dombey is so forgetful of herself of my life; when you know that, for her sake, and me in all this, and places me in a position I would now, if I could-but I can not, my soul so unsuited to my, aracter, that I must bring recoils from' you too much -submit myself this state of matters to a close." wholly to your will, and be'the meekest vassal "Release me, then," said Edith, immovable that you have!" in voice, in look, and bearing, as she had been. This was not the way to minister to Mr. throughout, "from the chain by' which I am Dombey's greatness. The old feeling was bound. Let me go." roused, by what she said, into a stronger and "Madam! " exclaimed Mr. Dombey. fiercer existence than it had ever had. Again "Loose me! Set me free!" his neglected child, at this rough passage of his " Madam!" he repeated. " Mrs. Dombey!" life, put forth, by even this rebellious woman, as "Tell him," said Edith, addressing her proud powerful where he was powerless, and every- face to Carker, "that I wish for a separation bething where he was nothing! tween us. That there had better be one. That He turned on Florence, as if it were she who I recommend it to him. Tell him it may take had spoken, and bade her leave the room. place on his own terms-his wealth is nothing Florence, with her covered face obeyed, trem- to me-but that it cannot be too soon." bling and weeping as she went. "Good Heaven, Mrs. Dombey!" said her "I understand, madam," said Mr. Dombey husband with supreme amazement, "do you with an angry flush of triumph,' the spirit of imagine it possible that I could ever listen.to opposition that turned your affections in that such a proposition? Do you know who I am, channel, but they have been met, Mrs. Dombey; madam? Do you know what I represent? they have been met, and turned back!" Did you ever hear of Dombey and Son? People'"The worse for you!" she arswered, with to say that Mr. Dombey-Mr. Dombey!-was her voice and manner still unchanged. "Ay!" separated from his' wife! Common people to -for he turned sharply when she said so- talk of Mr. Dombey and his domestic affairs? "what is the worse for me is twenty million Do you seriously think, Mrs. Dombey, that I times the worse for you.. Heed that, if you would permit my name to be handed about in heed nothing else." such connection? Pooh, pooh, madam! Fie The arch of diamonds spanning her dark hair for shame! You're absurd." Mr. Dombey flashed and glittered like a starry bridge. There absolutely latghed. -was no warning in them, or they would have But not as she did. She had better have been turned as dull and dim as tarnished honour. dead than laugh as she did, in reply, with her Carker still sat and'listened, with his eyes cast intent look fixed upon him. He had better doYvn. have been dead than sitting'there, in his magni" Mrs. Dombey," said Mr. Dombey, resuming ficence, to hear her.' as much as he could of his arrogant composure, "No, Mrs. Dombey," he resumed, "no, 336 DOMBEY-AND SON. madam- There is no possibility of separation time, now raised'his.eyes, in which there.was a between you and me,. and' therefore I the more bright, unusual light. adviseiyou to be awakened to a sense of duty. " —As.I was about to say to yqu," resumed: And,'Carker, as I was about to say. to: Mr. Dombey, "'I must. beg. you, now.that you " matters have come.to this, to. inform. Mrs.;Mr. Carker, who had sat and. listened all this Dombey that it is not the rule' of. imy.life to body,.Carker-or to suffer anybody to. be Whether my daughter is in actual concert with paraded' as..a stronger motive for. obedience -in Mrs. Dombey, I do not know, and do not care; those -who owe obedience to me'than I am my- but after'what. Mrs. Dombey has said to-day,: self..'The mention that.. has' been made of my and my daughter' has heard to-day,'I beg you'to daughter, and the use that is made of my.. make known to Mrs. Dombey. that if she'con-i R.t CARKER> MISiTATES HIS POSIJYO. 3 tinues to makethis house the scene'of conten- Slhe hiad better lhave turned hideous, and tion-it has become, I shall consider my daughter dropped dead, than have'stood up with such a responsible in some degree, on that lady's own smile upon,her.face, in such a fallen spirit's avowal, and shall visit her with my severe dis- majesty of scorn and' beauty. She lifted. her pleasure.? Mrs. Dombey has asked.' vwhether it hand to the tiara of bright jewels radiant on her is not enough that she had done this and that head,: and,' plucking it off with a force that 1ou' will please -to -answer, No,:-it. is'not dragged and strained her rich black hair with enough." heedless cruelty, and brought it tumbling wildly ".A moment! " cried Carker, interposing,: on her sloulders, cast the gems upon the ground.''-permit meP! Painful as my position is at the From each arm she unclasped a diamond bracebest, and unusually painful in seeming. to enter- let, flung it: down, and trod upon the glittering tain a different opinion from you,"-addressing heap.', Without a word, without a shadow on Mr. Dombey, " I must ask, had you'not better re- the fire of her bright eye, without abatement of consider the question of a separation.? I know iher awful smile, she looked on Mr. Dombey hlow. incompatible'- it appears' with-. your high to the last, in moving to: the: door; and'left'publicpposition/'and' I know how determined him.'you'are when you,give Mrs. Ddmbey to under..>- Florence had' heard enough, before quitting stand "-the light in his eyes fell upon her as he the room, to know that Edith' loved her' yet; separated his words:.each from each, with the that she had suffered.for her sake; and that she distinctness of so many bells-" that nothing had kept her sacrifices quiet, lest they should but death.can' ever part: you.'' Nothing else. trouble her peace. She did not want to speak But-when you consider that Mrs. Dombey, by- to her of this-she could not, remembering to living in this house, and making it, as you have whom she was opposed-but she wished, in one said, a scene'of contention, not only has her part silent and affectionate embrace, to assure her in that contention, but compromises Miss Dom-.that she felt it all, and thanked her. ibey every day (for I know how determined you Her father went out alone that evening, and are), will you not relieve'her from a continual' Florence, issuing from her own chamber soon irritation -of spirit, and a continual sense of afterwards, went about the house in search of being unjust' to another; almost intolerable? Edith, but unavailingly.' She was in her own Does this not seem like-I do not say it is- rooms, where Florence had long ceased to go, sacrificing Mrs. Dombey to the preservation of and did:not dare to venture now, lest.she your pre-enmnent and unassailable position?"- should unconsciously engender new trouble..Again' the light in his eyes fell upon her, as Still Florence, hoping to-meet her before going she stood looking at her husband'L now with an to bed, changed from room to room, and wanextraordinary and awful smile.upon her face. dered through the house, so splendid and. so "Carker," returned Mr.'Dombey with a super-:dreary, without remaining anywhere. cilious. frown, and in a tone that was intended to Sloe was crossing a gallery of communication be final, ":you mistake your position. in offering. that opened at some'little dista'nce on the stairadvice to me on such a -point,. and you mistake case, and was only lighted on great occasions, me (I am surprised to find) in the character of wvhen she saw, through the opening, which was your advice. I have no more to say." an arch, the figure of a man coming down some " Perhaps," said Carker with an unusual and few stairs opposite. - Instinctively apprehensive indefinable taunt in his air, "yoa mistook my of her father, whom she supposed it -was, she position when you honoured me with the nego- stopped in the dark, gazing through the arch tiations in which I have been engaged here "- into the light. - But it was Mr. Carker coming with a motion of his hand towards Mrs.Dombey. down alone, and looking over the railing into the X"Not at all, sir, not at all," returned the othel hall. -No bell was rung to announce his. dehaughtily..'"You were employed-'" parture, and no servant was in attendance..- He " Being an inferior person, for the humiliation went down quietly, opened the door for himself, of Mrs. Dombey. - I forgot. - Oh yes, it was ex- glided out, and shut it softly after him. pressly. understood'" said- Carker. "I beg Her invincible repugnance to this man, and your pardon!" perhaps. the stealthy act. of watching any one,,A's he bent his head to" Mr.'.Dombey with an xVhich, even under such innocent circumstances air of deference that atcorded ill with his words, is-in a manner guilty and oppressive, made Flo-'though-.they were'humbly spoken,.he moved it ren'ce shake from:head to foot. Herblood round towards her, and kept his watching eyes'seemed to run cold. -As soon as she could-!or at that way. first she felt an insurmountable dread of moving.)oMUEiY AND Sow, i2.. r' 833~8 B~itDOMBE9YAND SON -she went quickly to her own room and locked'Without promising obedience, but on the plea her door; but even then, shut in with her dog of desiring to be very quiet, Florence disengaged beside her, felt a chill sensation of horror, as if herself, as soon as she could, from the ministrathere were danger brooding somewhere near tion of Mrs. Pipchin and her attendants. Left her. alone, she thought of what had happened on the It invaded her dreams and disturbed the staircase, at first in doubt of its reality i then whole night. Rising in the morning -unre- with tears; then with an indescribable and terfreshed, and with a heavy recollection of the rible alarm, like that she had felt the night bedomestic unhappiness of the preceding day, fore. she sought Edith again in all the rooms, and She determined not to go to bed until Edith did so, from time to time, all the morning. But returned, and, if she could not speak to her, at she remained in her own chamber, and Florence least to be sure that she was safe at home. saw nothing of her. Learning, however, that What indistinct and shadowy dread moved Flothe projected dinner at home was put off, Flo- rence to this resolution she did not know, and rence thought it likely that she would go out in did not dare to think. She only knew that, the evening to fulfil the engagement she had until Edith came back, there was no repose for spoken of: and resolved to try and meet her her aching head or throbbing heart. then, upon the staircase. The evening deepened into night; midnight When the evening had set in, she heard, from came; no Edith. the room in which she sat on purpose, a foot- Florence could not read, or. rest a moment. step on the stairs that she thought to be Edith's. She paced her own room, opened the door and Hurrying out, and up towards her room, Flo- paced the staircase gallery outside, looked out rence met her immediately, coming down alone. of the window on the night, listened to the wind What was Florence's affright and wonder blowing and the rain falling, sat down and when, at sight of her, with her tearful face and watched the faces in the fire, got up and watched outstretched arms, Edith recoiled and shrieked! the moon flying like a storm-driven ship through " Don't come near me!" she cried. " Keep the sea of clouds. away! Let me go by!" All the house was gone to bed, except two "Mamma! " said Florence. servants who were waiting the return.of their "Don't call me by that name! Don't speak mistress down-stairs. to me! Don't look at me!-Florence!" shrink- One o'clock. The carriages that rumbled in ing back as Florence moved a step towards her, the distance turned away, or stopped short, or "don't touch me!" went past; the silence gradually deepened, and As Florence stood transfixed before the hag- was more and more rarely brokeni save by a rush gard face and staring eyes, she noted, as in a of wind or sweep of ratn.r KTwo- o'clock..: No dream, that Edith spread herahands over them, Edith. and shuddering through all her form, and Florence, more' agitated, paced her room; crouching down against the wall, crawled by and paced the gallery outside; and looked out her like some lower animal, sprang up, and fled at the night, blurred and wavy with the rainaway. drops on the glass, and the tears in her own Florence dropped upon the stairs in a swoon; eyes; and looked up at the hurry in the sky, so and was found there by Mrs. Pipchin, she sup- different from the repose below, and yet so tranposed. She knew nothing more until she quil and solitary. Three o'clock! There was found herself lying on her own bed, with Mrs. a terror in every ash that dropped out of the Pipchin and some servants standing round her. fire. No Edith yet. " Where is mamma? " was her first question. More and more agitated, Florence paced her " Gone out to dinner," said Mrs. Pipchin. room, and paced the gallery, and looked out at " And papa? the moon with a new fancy of her likeness to a "Mr. Dombey's in his- own room, Miss pale fugitive hurrying away and hiding herguilty Dombey,' said Mrs. Pipchin, "and the best face. Four struck! Five' No Edith yet. thing you can do is to take off your things and But now there was some cautious stir in the go to bed this minute." This was the sagacious house; and Florence found that-Mrs. Pipchin woman's remedy for all complaints, particularly had been awakened by one of those who sat, lowness of" spirits, and. inability to sleep; for up, had risen, and had gone down*to ker father's which offences-mnany young victims in the days door. Stealing lower down the- stairs, and obof the Brighton Castle'had been committed to serving what passed, she saw- her father come bed at ten o'clock in the morning. out in his morning gown, and start when he was ELOPED. 339 told his wife had not come home. He dispatched \as dishonoured. He read that she had fled, a messenger to the stables to inquire whether the upon her shameful wedding-day, with the man coachman was there; and, while the man was whom he had chosen for her humiliation and gone, dressed himself very hurriedly, he tore out of the room, and out of the house, I'he man came back in great haste, bringing with a frantic idea of finding her yet, at the the coachman with him, who said he had been place to which she had been taken, and beating at home and in bed since ten o'clock. He had all trace of beauty out of the triumphant face driven his mistress to her old house in Brook with his bare hand. Street, where she had been met by Mr. Carker — Florence, not knowing what she did, put on a Florence stood upon the very spot where she shawl and bonnet, in a dream of running through had seen him coming down. Again she shivered the streets until she found Edith, and then, claspwith the nameless terror of that sight, and had ing her in her arms, to save and bring her back. hardly steadiness enough to hear and understand But when she hurried out upon the staircase, and what followed. saw the frightened servants going up and down -Who had told him, the man went on to with lights, and whispering together, and falling say, that his mistress would not want the car- away from her father as he passed down, she riage to go home in; and had dismissed awoke to a sense of her own powerlessness him. and hiding in one of the great rooms that had She saw her father turn white in the face, and been made gorgeous for this, felt as if her heart heard him ask, in a quick, trembling voice, for would burst with grief. Mrs. Dombey's maid. The whole house was Compassion for her father was the first disroused; for she was there in a moment, very tinct emotion that made head against the flood pale too, and speaking incoherently. of sorrow which overwhelmed her. Her conShe said she had dressed her mistress early- stant nature turned to him, in his distress, as full two hours before she went out-and had fervently and faithfully as if, in his prosperity, been told, as she often was, that she would not he had been the embodiment of that idea which be wanted at night. She had:ust come from had graduallybecome so faint and dim. Although her mistress's rooms, but she did not know, otherwise than through the'' But what? What was it?" _ orence heard suggestions of a shapeless fear, the full extent her father demand like a madman. of his calamity, he stood before her wronged "-But the inner dressing-room was locked, and deserted; and again her vearning love imand the key gone." pelled her to his side. Her father seized a candle that was flaming He was not long away:.or Florence was yet on the ground-some one had put it down weeping in the great room, and nourishing these there, and forgotten it-and came running up- thoughts, when she heard him come back. He stairs with such fury, that Florence, in her ordered the servants to set about their ordinary fear, had hardly time to fly before him. She occupations, and went into his own apartheard him striking in the door as she ran on, ment, where he. trod so heavily, that she could with her hands wildly spread, and her',hair hear him walking up. and down from end to streaming, and her face like a distracted ber- end. son's, back to her own room. Yielding, at once, to the impulse of her affecWhen the door yielded, and he rushed in, tion, timid at'all. other times, but bold in its what'did he see there? No'one knew. -But truth to him in his adversity,'and undaunted thrown down in a costly mass upon the ground by past repulse, Florence, dressed as she was, was every ornament she had had since she had hurried down-stairs. As she set her light foot been his wife; every'dress she had worn; and in the hall, he came out of his room. She everything she had possessed.:This was the hastened towards him unchecked, with her arms room in which he had-seen, in yonder mirror, stretched out, and crying,. "Oh, dear, dear the proud face discard him. This was the room papa!" as if she would.have clasped him round in which he'had wondered, idly, how these the neck. things would look when he should'see them And so she would have done. out, in lis next! frenzy, he lifted up his cruel arm, and struck Heaping them back into the drawers, and her, crosswise, with that heaviness, that she totlocking them'up in a rage of haste, he saw some tered on the marble floor; and, as he dealt the -papers-on the table. The deed of settlement he blow, he told her what Edith was, and bade had' executed on their marriage, and a letter. her follow her, since they had always been. in He read that she was gone. He read that he league. 34o DOABEL Y AND SOn.o She did not sink down at his feet; she did idea to which she had held in spite of him. not shut out the sight of him with her trembling She saw his cruelty, neglect, and hatred dornihands; she did not weep; she did not utter one nant above it, and stamping it down. She saw word of reproach. But she'looked at him, and she had no father upon earth, and ran out, a cry of desolation issued from her heart. For, orphaned, from his house. as she looked, she saw him murdering that fond Ran out of his house. A moment, and her "THROWN DOWN IN A COSTLY 3MASS UPON THE GROUND WAS EVERY ORNAMENT SHE HAD HAD SINCE SHE HAD PY.EN HIS WVIFE; EVERY DRESS SHE HAD WORN; AND EVERYTHING SHE HAD POSSESSED." hand was on the lock, the cry was on her lips, shut-up house (forgotten to be opened, though his face was there, made paler by the yellow it was long since day) yielded to the unexpected candles hastilyput down and guttering away, glare and freedom of the morning; and Florence, and by the daylight coming in above the door. with her head bent down to hide her agony of Another moment, and the close darkness of the tears, was in the streets, A 2'EFUGE Ni.,HE~ MiDSHZPM1N'S.A,7? 3 ATyou come ihere? Hw o-oudI i liemm Yg.u, CHAPTER XXLVIII. you come nere iw oa ve e-!Di, ~'who-would neeverAleave nezm'e;#V,THE-FLIGHT OF FLORENCE. Florence bent:downi n tlhelpavenre ira i laid his rough,'old,' ilin, fooblish liead aihst N the wildness of her sorrow;shame, her'breast, and they got ippetogether, andl.went -^.jik~' and terror, the forlorn girl hurried on together; Di, mo-e pff tle groundithan on xi through the sunshine of Pa\ bright it endeavouring to kiss"lhis'mistress flying,.tum-. morning as if it were the- darkness bling over and getting up again without the least of a.winter night. Wringing. her concern, dashing at big dogs il a jocose defiance, sib ~hands and weeping bitterly,; insen-'i of his species, terrifying with touches of his nose' sible to everything but the deep wound young housemaids who were cleaning door-steps, in her breast, stunned by the loss of all and continually stopping, in the mlidst of a thoushe loved, left like the sole sftmivor on a lonely sand extravagances, to look:back at Florence, shore' from the wreck of'a. great vessel, she fled-'and bark until all the' dogss?-withinihearings without a thought, without a hope,"'without a' answered, and all the dogs who could come out purpose, but to fly somewhere-anywhere. came out to stare at him.:_The cheerful vista of the long street, burnished:; With this last adherent, Floreice iurried away, by the morning light, the sight of the blue sky in the advancing morning and the strengtheningi and airy clouds, the vigorous freshness of the sunshine, to the City.'.The roar, soon grew more day, sooflushed and rosy in its conquest of the' loud, the passengers more numerous the shops night, awakened no responsive feelings in her nmore busy, until she was carried onwardLin-a so hurt bosom. Somewhere, anywhere, to hide stream of life setting that'way, and flowing iny, her head I Somewhere, anywlere, for.refuge, differently'past marts. and mansions,, prisons, never more to look upon the place from which churches,'market-places, wealth,'poverty, go'od she fled and evil, like the broad river, side by side with! But there were people going to and fro; there it,' awakened from its dreams of rushes, willows' were opening shops, and servants at'the'doors'of and'green:' moss, and rolling on,.. turbid and houses; there was the rising clash' and roar of troubled, among the works and'cares of men, to the day's struggle. Florence saw surprise and the deep sea.: curiosity in the faces flitting past her'; -saw long -i.^ At length the quarters of the litle Midshipshadows coming back upon the pavement; and man arose in- view. Nearer yet,' and the little hearfdvoices that were strange to her asking her 1 Midshipman. himself was seen upon his'post, where she went, and what the matter was; and' intent as'ever on his- observations. Nearer though these frightened her the more at first,' yet, and the door stood open, inviting' her'to and made her hurry on the faster, they did her.enter.' Florence, who had' again' quickened. the good service of recalling her in some degreei, her. pace, as she approached the.end' ofiher to'herself, and reminding her of the necessity of journey,, ran across,-the road (closely followed greater composure. by Diogenes, whom the bustle had somewhat Where to go? Still somewhere,'anywhere! confused), ran..in, and sank upon the.threshold still going on; but where?. She thought of the of the well-remembered little parlour. only other time she had been lost in the wide The captain, in' his glazed hat, was standing wilderness of London-though not lost as now over the fire, making his morning's cocoa, with -and went that way. To the home of Walter's that elegant trifle, his watch, upon the chimneyuncle.. piece, for easy reference' during-the. progress of Checking her sobs, and drying her'swollen' the cookery.'Hearing a footstep and the rustle eyes, and endeavouring to calm the agitation of of a dress, the captain turned with'a palpitating her manner, so as to avoid attracting notice, remembrance'of the dreadful'Mrs.'MacStinger, Florence, resolving to keep to the more quiet at the. instant when': Florence made a-motion streets as long as she could, was going on more' with her hand towards him, reeled, and fell upQon quietly herself, when a familiar little shadow the floor. darted past upon the sunny pavement, stopped The captain;'pale as-Florence,'pale.in the short,.wheeled about, came close to her, made very knobs'upon his face, raised her.like a 6aby3 off again, bounded'round and round her, and and laid her on the' same old sofauponwhicli Diogenes, panting for' breatl,' and yet making se had slumbered long ago. the street' -ring' with his: glad, bark, was- at; her "It's Heart's -Delight!"- said thle caplai feet. looking intently in' her face. " It's thewsXeee "Oh, Di! oh, dear, true,.faithful Di, how did creetur growed a woman!" 342 DOMiEY AND SOaI Captain Cuttle was so respectful of her, and "Is Walter's uncle here?" asked Florence. had such a reverence for her, in this new cha- "Here, pretty!" returned the captain.'He racter, that he would not have held her in his an't been here this many a long day. He an't arms, while she was unconscious, for a thousand been heerd on since he sheered off arter poor pounds. Wal'r. But," said the captain as a quotation, "My Heart's Delight " said the captain, with- "though lost to sight, to memory dear, and drawing to a little distance, with the greatest England, Home, and Beauty!" alarm and sympathy depicted on his counte- "Do you live here?' asked Florence. nance. " If you can hail Ned Cuttle with a "Yes, my lady lass," returned the captain. finger, do it!"; Oh, Captain Cuttle!" cried Florence, putting But Florence did not stir. her hands together, and speaking wildly. " Save "My Heart's Delight!" said the trembling me! keep me here! Let no one know where I captain. "For the sake of Wal'r, drownded in am! I'll tell you what has happened by-and-by, the briny deep, turn to and h'iste up something when I can. I have no one in the world to go or another, if able!" to. Do not send me away!" Finding her insensible to this impressive ad- "Send you away, my lady lass! " exclaimed juration also, Captain Cuttle snatched from his the captain. " You, my Heart's Delight! Stay breakfast-table a basin of cold water, and a bit! We'll put up this here dead-light, and sprinkled some upon her face. Yielding to the take a double turn on the key!" urgency of the case, the captain then, using his With these words, the captain, using his one immense hand with extraordinary gentleness, hand and his hook with the greatest dexterity, relieved her of her bonnet, moistened her lips got out the shutter of the door, put it up, made and forehead, put back her hair, covered her it all fast, and locked the door itself. feet with his own coat, which he pulled off for When he came back to the side of Florence, the purpose, patted her hand-so small in his, she took his hand and kissed it. The helplessthat he was struck with wonder when he touched ness of the action, the appeal it made to him, it-and seeing that her eyelids quivered, and the confidence it expressed, the unspeakable that her lips began to move, continued these sorrow in'her face, the pain of mind she had too restorative applications with a better heart. plainly suffered, and was suffering then, his' Cheerily!" said the captain. "Cheerily!' knowledge of her past history, her present Stand by, my pretty one, stand by! There! lonely, worn, and unprotected appearance, all You're better now. Steady's the word, and so rushed upon the good captain together, that steady it is. Keep her so! Drink a little drop he fairly overflowed with compassion and geno' this here," said the captain. "There you are! tleness. What cheer now, my pretty, what cheer now?" "My lady" lass," said the captain, polishing At this stage of her recovery, Captain Cuttle, the bridge of his nose with his arm until it shone with an imperfect association of a Watch with a like burnished copper, " don't you say.a word Physician's treatment of a patient, took his' own to Ed'ard Cuttle until such times as you finds down from the mantel-shelf, and holding it out yourself a riding smooth and easy; which won't on his hook, and taking Florence's hand in his, be to-day, nor yet to-morrow. And as to giving looked steadily from one to the other, as ex- of you up, or reporting where you are, yes, pecting the dial to do something. verily, and by God's help, so I won't, Church "What cheer, my pretty? " said the captain. catechism, make a note on!" "What cheer now? You've done' her some This the captain said, reference and all, in good, my lad, I believe," said the captain under one breath, and with much solemnity itaking his breath, and throwing an approving glance off his' hat at " yes, verily," and puttilg it on upon his watch. " Put you back half an hour again when he had quite concluded. every morning, and about another quarter to- Florence could do but one thing more to wards the afternoon, and you're a watch as can thank him, and to show him how she trusted in be ekalled by few, and excelled by none. What him; and she did it. Clinging to this rough cheer, my lady lass?" creature as the last asylum of her bleeding "Captain Cuttle! Is it you?" exclaimed heart, she laid her head upon his honest shoulder Florence, raising herself a little. and clasped him round his neck, and would' Yes, yes, my lady lass," said the captain, have kneeled down to bless him, but that he hastily deciding in his own mind upon the divined her purpose, and held her up like a true superior elegance of that form of address, as the man. most courtly he could think of. "Steady!" said the captain.' "Steady,' APPARENTL Y D17IOENES HAS NO MIEANING. 343 You're too weak to stand, you see, my pretty, to it with a very doubtful air; and was off and must lie down here again.. There, there!" again, in another paroxysm,'before touching a To see the captain lift her on the sofa, and morsel. cover her with his coat, would have been worth " If there should be some one listening and a hundred state sights.. "And now," said the watching," whispered Florence. "Some one captain, "you must take some breakfast, lady who saw me come-who followed me, perhaps." lass, and the dog shall' have some too. And' "It an't the young woman, lady lass, is it?"' arter that you shall go aloft to old Sol Gills's said the captain, taken with a bright idea. room, and fall asleep there like a angel." ".Susan?" -said'Florence, shaking her head. Captain Cuttle patted Diogenes when he "Ah, no! Susan has been gone from me -a made allusion to him, and Diogenes met that long time." overture graciously, half-way. During the ad- ".Not deserted, I hope?" said the captainii ministration of the restoratives he had clearly "' Don't say that there young woman's run; my been in two minds whether to fly at the captain pretty!" or to offer him his friendship; and he had"ex- "Oh, no, no!" cried Florence. "Sheis.;one pressed that' conflict of feeling by alternate of the truest hearts in the. world!" waggings of his tail, and displays of his teeth, The captain was greatly relieved by this reply, with now, and. then a growl or. so. But by this and expressed his satisfaction by taking off'his time his'doubts were all removed. It was plain hard-glazed. hat, and dabbing his head all over that he considered the captain one of the most witli his-handkerchief rolled up like. a ball, obamiable men, and a man whom, it was an honour serving, several times, with.'infinite complacency, to a dog to know. and with a beaming countenance, that' he In evidence of'these convictions, Diogenes knowed it. attended on the captain while he made some tea "So you're quiet now, are you, brother?" and toast, and showed a lively interest in his said the captain to Diogenes. "There warn't housekeeping. But it was in vain for the kind nobody there, my lady lass, bless you!" captain to make such preparations for Florence, Diogenes was not so sure, of that. The door who sorely tried to do some honour. to them, still had an attraction for him at intervals; and But could touch nothing, and could only weep he went snuffing about it, and growling to himand weep again. self, unable to forget the subject. This incident, "Well, well,!" said the compassionate cap- coupled with the captain's observation of'Flotain,-" arter turning in,. my Heart's Delight; rence's fatigue and' faintness,- ddeed.him'to you'll get more'way upon you. Now, I'll serve prepare Sol Gills's chamber as a place of.'reout your allowance, my;lad." To Diogenes. tirement for. her immediately. He therefore " And' you shall keep'guard on- your mistress hastily betook himself to the top of the house, aloft." and.made the best arrangement of it that his Diogenes,':however, although he had been imagination and his means suggested. eyeing his intended'breakfast with a watering It was very clean already; and the captain, mouth and. glistening;-eyes,-insteadof: falling to. being an orderly man, and accustomed to make ravenously whenitwastput before him,, pricked. things ship-shape, converted the bed into. a, up his ears, darted to the, shop-door,'and biiaked, couch, by covering it all over with a'clean white there furiously: burrowing with his head':at the' drapery. By a similar contrivance, the captain bottom, as if he were bent on mining his way converted the little dressing-table'into a species out. of altar,, on which he set forth two silver tea" Can there be anybody there?" asked Flo- spoons, a flower-pot, a telescope, his celebrated rence in alarm. watch, a pocket Comb, and a song-book, as a';No, my lady lass," returned the captain. small collection of rarities that made a choice "Who'd stay there without making any noise? appearance. Having darkened the window, and Keep up a good fieart, pretty. It's only people straightened the pieces of carpet on the'floor, the going by." captain surveyed these preparations with great But, for all that, Diogenes barked and barbed, delight, and descended to the little parlour again, and burrowed and burrowed, with pertinacious to bring Florence to her bower. fury and, whenever he stopped to listen, ap- Nothing would induce the captain to believe peared to receive some new conviction into his that it was possible for Florence to walk upmind, for he set to barking and burrowing again stairs. If he could have got the idea into his a dozen times.' Even when he was persuaded head, he would have considered it an outrageous t; return to his breakfasth he came jogging ba.ck brach of hospitality to allow her to do sQ, 344 DOMBEY AND SON. Florence was too weak to dispute the point, and house or town can offer, pass the word to Ed'ard the captain carried her up out of hand, laid her Cuttle, as'll stand off and on outside that door down, and covered her with a great watch-coat. and that there man will wibrate with joy." The "My lady lass!" said the captain, "you're as captain concluded by kissing the hand that safe here as if you was at the top.of St. P-ul's Florence stretched out to him, with the chivalry Cathedral, with the ladder cast off. Sleep is of any old knight-errant. and walking on tiptoe what you want, afore all other things, and may out cf the room. you be able to show yourself smart with that.Descending to the little parlour, Captain there balsam for the still small woice of a Cuttle, after holding a hasty council with himwownded mind! When there's anything you'self, decided to open the shop-door for a few want, my Heart's Delight, as this here humble minutes. and satisfy himself that now, at all il:k~~ I, tI K " FLORENCE MADE A MOTION WITH HER HAND TOWARDS HIM, REELED. AND- FELL UPON THE FLOOR." events, there was no one loitering about it. quite what I could wish to be now. I don'tAccordingly he set. it open, and stood upon the expect that I ever shall be any more." threshold, keeping a bright look-out, and sweep- Mr. Toots never approached. any nearer than ing the whole street with his spectacles. this to the great theme of.his life, when in con" How de do, Captain Gills?" said a voice versation with Captain Cuttle, on account of the beside him.' The captain, lookingdown, found agreement between them. that he had been boarded by Mr. Toots while " Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, " if I could sweeping the horizon. have the pleasure of a word with vou, it's-it's " How are you, my lad?" replied the captain. rather particular." "Well, I'm pretty well, thankee, Captain "Why, you see, my lad," replied the captain, Gills," said Mr. Toots. " You know I'm never leading the way into the parlour, "I an't what MR. TOOTS ON AN EMBASSY. 345 rou may call exactly free this morning; and "What! were you waiting there, brother?":herefore, if you can clap on a bit, I should take demianded the captain. t kindly." "Not at all, Captain Gills," returned Mr. " Certainly, Captain Gills," replied Mr. Toots, Toots. " I didn't stop a moment. I thought rho seldom had any notion of the captain's you were out. But the person said — Bymeaning. "To clap on is exactly what I could' the-bye, you don't keep: a dog, do you, Captain wish to do. Naturally." Gills?" " If so be, my lad," returned the captain, The captain shook his head. "do it!" "To be sure," said Mr. Toots, "that's exThe captain was so impressed by the posses- actly what I said. I knew you didn't. There sion of his tremendous secret-by the fact of is a dog, Captain Gills, connected with — Miss Dombey being at that moment under his But excuse me. That's forbidden ground." roof, while the innocent and unconscious Toots The captain stared at Mr. Toots until he sat opposite to him-that a perspiration broke seemed to swell to twice his natural size; and out on his forehead, and he found it impossible, again the perspirati6n broke out on the capwhile slowly drying the same, glazed hat in hand, tain's forehead, when he thought of Diogenes to keep his eyes off Mr. Toots's face. Mr. Toots, taking it into his head to come down and make who himself appeared to have some secret rea- a third in the parlour. sons for being in a nervous state, was so un- " The person said," continued Mr. Toots,.speakably disconcerted by the captain's stare,' that She had heard a dog barking in the shop: that after looking at him vacantly for some time which I knew couldn't be, and I told him so. in silence, and shifting uneasily on'his chair, he But he was as positive as if he had.seen the said: dog." "I beg your pardon, Captain Gills, but yoii "What person, my lad?" inquired the capdon't happen to see anything particular in me, tain. do you?" "Why, you see,'there it is, Captain Gills," "No, my lad," returned the captain. " No." said Mr. Toots, with a perceptible increase in "Because, you know," said Mr. Toats with the nervousness of his manner. "It's not for a chuckle, "I KNOW I'm wasting away. You me to say what rhay have taken place, or what needn't at all mind alluding to that. I-I should may not have taken place. In'deed, I don't like it. Burgess and Co. have altered my mea- know. I get mixed up with all sorts of things sure, I'm in that state of thinness. It's a gratifi- that I don't quite understand, and I think there's cation to me. I-I'm glad of it. I-I'd a great something rather'weak in my-in my head, in deal.rather go into a decline, if I could. I'm a short." mere brute, you know, grazing upon the surface The captain nodded his own as a mark of of the earth, Captain Gills." assent. The more Mr. Toots went on in this way, the "But'the person said, as we were walking more the captain was weighed down by his away," continued Mr. Toots, " that you knew secret, and stared at him. What with this cause what, under existing circumstances, mightoccur of uneasiness, and his desire to get rid of Mr: -he said'might.' very strongly-and that, if Toots, the captain was in such a scared and -you were requested to prepare yourself, you strange condition, indeed, that if he had been in would, no doubt, come prepared." conversation with a ghost, he could hardly have "Person, my lad!" the captain repeated. evinced greater discomposure. "I don't know what person, I'm sure, Captain "But I was going to; say, Captain Gills," said Gills," replied Mr. Toots; " I haven't the least Mr. Toots, "happening to be this way early this idea. But coming to the door, I found him morning-to tell you the truth, I was coming to waiting there; and he said was I coming back breakfast with you. As to sleep, you know I again? and I said yes; and he said did I know never sleep now. I might be a Watchman, ex- you? and I said, yes, I had the pleasure of your cept that I don't get any pay, and he's got acquaintance-you had given me the pleasure nothing on his mind." of your acquaintance, after some persuasion; " Carry on, my lad!" said the captain in an and he said, if that'was the case, would I say. admonitory voice. to you what I have said, about existing circum" Certainly, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots. stances and coming prepared, and as soon as "Perfectly true! Happening to be this way ever I saw you, would I ask you to step round early this morning(an hour or so ago), and find- the corner, if it was only for one minute, on ing the door shut —" most important business, to Mr. Brogley's the 346 DOMJBE Y ANYD SO N. broker's? Now, I tell you what, Captain Gills pity and tenderness, and took him by the hand, -whatever it is, I am convinced it's very im- and shook it hard. portant; and, if you like to step round now. I' ll' No, thankee," said the captain. " Nothing. wait here till you come bacl." Only I'll take it as a favour if you'll part con,The captain, divided between his fear of com- pany for'the present. I believe, brother," wringpromising Florence in some way by not going, ing his hand again, "that, after WAal'r, and on a and his horror of leaving Mr. Toots in posses- different model, you're as good a lad as ever sion of the house with a chance of finding out stepped." the secret, was a spectacle of mental disturbance "Upon my word and -honour, Captain Gills," that even Mr. Toots could not be blind to. But returned Mr. Toots, giving the captain's hand a that young gentleman, considering his nautical preliminary slap before shaking it again, "it's friend as merely in a state of preparation for the delightful to me to possess your good opinion. interview he was going to have, was quite satis- Thankee." fled, and did not review his own discreet conduct "And bear a hand and cheer up," said the without chuckles. captain, patting him on the back. " What! At length the captain decided, as the lesser There's more tlian one sweet creetur in the of two evils, to run round to Brogley's the world!' broker's: previously locking the door that corn- "Not to me, Captain Gills," replied Mr. municated with the upper part of the house, and Toots gravely. "Not to me, I assure you. putting the key in his pocket. " If so be," said'The state of my feelings towards Miss Dombey the captain to Mr. Toots, with not a little shame is of lat unspeakable description, that my heart and hesitation, " as you'll excuse my doing of it, is a desert island, and she lives in it alone. I'm brother." getting more used up every day, and I'm proud "Captain Gills," returned Mr. Toots, "what- to be so. If you could see my legs when I take ever you do is satisfactory to me." my boots off, you'd form some idea of what unThe captain thanked him heartily, and pro- requited affection is. I have been prescribed mising to come back in less than five minutes, bark, but I don't take it, for I don't wish to went out in quest of the person who had in- have any tone whatever given to my constitutrusted Mr. Toots with this mysterious message. tion. I'd rather not. This, however, is forPoor Mr. Toots, left to himself, lay down upon bidden ground. Captain Gills, good-bye!" the sofa, little thinking who had reclined there Captain Cuttle cordially reciprocating the last, and, gazing up at the sky-light and resigning wa:mth of Mr. Toots's farewell, locked the door himself to visions of Miss Dombev, lost all heed behind him, and, shaking his head with the same pf time and place. remarkable expression of pity and tenderness as It was as well that he did so; for, although he had regarded him with before, went up to the captain was not gone long, he was gone see if Florence wanted him. much longer than he had proposed. When he There was an entire change in the captains came back, he was very pale indeed, and greatly face as he went up-stairs. He wiped his eyes agitated, and even looked as if he had been with his handkerchief, and he polished the shedding tears. He seemed to have lost the bridge of his nose with his sleeve as he had faculty of speech, until he had been to the cup- done already that morning, but his face was board and taken a dram of rum from the case- absolutely changed. Now, he might have been bottle, when he fetched a deep breath, and sat thought supremely happy; now, he might have down in a chair with his hand before his face. been thought sad; but the kind of gravity that "Captain Gills," said Toots kindly, "I hope sat upon his features was quite new to them, and trust there's nothing wrong?" and was as great an improvement to them as if "Thankee, my lad, not a'bit," said the cap- they had undergone some sublimating process., tain.'i " Quite contrairy." He knocked softly, with his hook, at FloYou have the appearance of being over- rence's door, twice or thrice; but, receiving no come,. Captain Gills," observedr Mr. Toots. answer, ventured first to peep in, and then to "Why, my lad, I am took aback," the captain enter: emboldened to take the latter step, peradmitted.' "I am." haps, by the familiar recognition of Diogenes, -''Is there anything I can do,. Captain Gills?" who, stretched upon the ground by the side of Inquired Mr. Toots. -" If there is, make use her couch, wagged his tail. and winked his eyes Of me."' at the captain. without beiiig at the trouble of The captain removed his haid from his face, getting up. looked at him with a remarkable expression of S? She was sleeping heavily, and moaning in her PREAP GENTLENESS OP CAPTAIN CUTTLL. 347 sleep; and Captain Cuttle, with a perfect awe in a flush and glow that seemed to mingle earth of her youth and beauty, and her sorrow, raised and sky together in one glorious suffusionher head, and adjusted the coat that covered when Florence, opening her heavy eyes, lay, at her, where it had fallen off, and darkened the first, looking without interest'or recognition at window a little more, that she might sleep on, the unfamiliar walls around her, and listening in and crept out again, and took his post of watch the same regardless manner to the noises in the upon the stairs. All this with a touch and tread street. But presently she started up upon her as light as Florence's own. couch, gazed round with'a surprised and vacant Long may it remain in this mixed world a look, and recollected all. point not easy of decision, which is the more "My pretty," said the captain, knocking at beautiful evidence of the Almighty's goodness the door, "what cheer?"'-the delicate fingers that are. formed for seri- " Dear friend," cried Florence, hurrying to sitiveness and sympathy of touch, and made to hin, " is it you? " minister to pain and grief, or the rough, hard,' The captain felt so much pride in the name, Captain Cuttle. hand, that the heart teaches, and was so pleased by the gleam of pleasure in guides, and softens in a moment! her face when she saw him, that he kissed his Florence slept upon her couch, forgetful of hook by way of reply, in speechless gratificaher homlessness and orphanage, and Captain tion. Cuttle'watched upon the stairs. A louder sob "What cheer, bright di'monid?" said the or moan than usual brought him sometimes to captain. her door; but by degrees she slept more peace-~ "I have surely slept very long," returned fully, and the captain's watch was undisturbed. Florence. "When did I come here? Yesterday?" -*^~ —~~ "This here blessed day, my lady lass," replied the captain. CHAPTER XLIX... " Has there been no night? Is it still day?" asked Florence. THE MIDSHIPMAN MAKES A DISCOVERYa. "Getting on for evening now, my pretty," said the captain, drawing back the curtain of.IT was'long before Florence awoke, the window. "See!" I The day was in its prime, the day Florence, with her hand upon6 the captain's was in its wane, and still, uneasy in arm, so sorrowful and timid, and the captain -'. v. mind'and body, she slept on; un- with his rough face and burly figure, so quietly - conscious of her strange bed, of the protective of her, stood in the rosy light of the noise and turmoil of the street, and bright evening sky, without saying a word.' ofthe light that shone outside the shaded However sirange the form of speech into which window. Perfect unconsciousness of he might have fashioned the feeling, if he had what had happened in-the home that existed had to give it utterance, the captain felt, as no more, even the deep slumber of exhaustion sensibly as.the most eloquent of men could.could not produce. Some undefined and mourn- have done, that there was something in the tranful recollection of.it, dozing uneasily but never quil time and in its softened beauty that would sleeping, pervaded all her rest. A dull sorrow, make the wounded heart of Florence overflow; like a half-lulled sense of pain, was always pre- and that it was better that such tears should sent to her; and her pale cheek was oftener have their way. So not a word spake Captain wet with tears than the honest captain, softly Cuttle. But when he felt his arm clasped closer, putting in his head from time to time at the half- and when he felt the lonely head come nearer closed door, could have desired to see it. to it, and lay itself against his homely, coarse,,The sun was getting low in the west, and, blue sleeve he pressed it gently with his rugged'glancing out of a red mist, pierced with its rays hand, and understood it, and was understood. opposite loopholes and pieces of fretwork in the "Better now, my pretty.! " said the captain. spires of City churches, as if with golden arrows' "Cheerily, cheerily; I'll go down below, and that struck through and through thee-and far get some dinner.ready.. Will you come down away, athwart the river and its flat banks, it was of your own self arterwards, pretty, or shall gleaming like a path of fire-and out at sea it Ed'ard Cuttle come and fetch you?" was irradiating sails of ships-and, looked to- As Florence assured him that she was quite wards, from quiet churchyards, upon hill-tops able to walk down-stairs, the captain, though in the country, it was steeping distant prospects evidently doubtful of his own hosoitalitv in Der ^3;i9 DOMBE Y AND) SON. mitting it, left her to do so, and immediately set saucepan: basting the fowl from time to time about roasting a fowl at the fire in the little during the process with a strong interest, as it parlour. To achieve his cookery with the turned and browned on a string before the fires. greater skill, he pulled off his coat, tucked up'Having propped Florence up with cushions'on his wristbands, and put on his glazed hat, the sofa, which was already wheeled into a warm without which assistant he never applied him- corner for her greater comfort, the captain puir-, self to any nice or difficult undertaking. sued his cooking with extraordinary skill, makAfter cooling her aching head and burning face ing hot gravy in a second little saucepan, boilin the fresh water which the captain's care had ing a handful of potatoes in a third, never forprovided for her while she slept, Florence went getting the egg sauce in the first, and making an to the little mirror to bind up her disordered impartial round of basting and stirring with the hair. Then she knew-in a moment, for she most useful of spoons every minute. Besides shunned it instantly-that on her breast there these cares, the captain had to keep his eye oni was the darkening mark of an angry hand. a diminutive frying-pan, in which some sausages Her tears burst'forth afresh at the sight; she were hissing and bubbling in a most musical was ashamed and afraid of it; but it moved her manner; and there was never such a radiant to no anger against him. Homeless and father- cook as the captain looked in the height and less, she forgave him everything; hardly thought heat of these functions: it being impossible to that she had need to forgive him, or that she say whether his face or his glazed hat shone the did; but she fled from the idea,of him as she brighter. had fled from the reality, and he was utterly The dinner being at length quite ready, Capgone and lost. There was no such Being in the tain Cuttle dished and served it up with no less world. dexterity than he had cooked it. He then What to do, or where to live, Florence- dressed for dinner, by taking off his glazed hat poor, inexperienced girl'-could not yet con- and putting on his coat. That done, he wheeled sider. She had indistinct dreams of finding, a the table close, against Florence on the sofa, long way off, some little sisters to instruct, who said grace, unscrewed his hook, screwed his would be gentle with her, and to whom, under fork into its place, and did the honours of the some feigned name, she might attach herself, table. and who would grow up in their happy home, "My lady lass," said the captain, "cheer up, and marry, and be good to their old governess, and try to eat a deal. Stand by; my deary! and perhaps intrust her, in time, with the educa- Liver wing it is. Sarse it is. Sassage it is. And tion of their own daughters.'And she thought potato!" all which the captain ranged symhow strange and.sorrowful it would be, thus to metrically on a plate, and, pouring hot gravy on become a grey-haired woman, carrying her secret the whole with the useful spoon, set before his to the grave, when Florence Dombey was for- cherished guest. gotten. But it was all dim and clouded to her The whole row o' dead-lights is up for'ard, now. She only knew that she had no Father upon lady lass," observed the captain encouragingly, earth, and she said so, many times, with her "and everythink is made snug. "Try and pick suppliant head hidden from all but her Father a bit, my pretty. If Wal'r was here-" who was in Heaven. " Ah If I had him for my brother now! " Her little stock of money amounted to but a cried Florence. few guineas. With a part of this it would be "Don't! don't take on, my pretty!" said necessary to buy some clothes, for she had none the captain; " awast, to obleege me! He was but those she wore. She was too desolate to your nat'ral born friend like, warn't he, Pet? " think how soon her money would be gone-too Florence had no words to answer with. She much a child in worldly matters to be greatly only said. " Oh, dear, dear Paul!. Oh, Waltroubled on that score yet, even if her other ter!" trouble had been less. She tried to calm her "The wery planks she walked on," murmured thoughts and stay her tears; to quiet the hurry the captain, looking at her drooping face, "was in her throbbing head, and bring herself to be- as high esteemed by Wal'r as the water brooks lieve, that what had happened were but the is by the hart which never rejices!'I see him events of a few hours ago, instead of weeks or now, the wery day as he was rated on them months, as they appeared; and went down to Dombey books, a speaking of her with his face her kind protector., a. glistening with doo-leastways'with' his'The captain had spread the cloth with great modest sentiments-like a new-blowed rose, at c;aare, and was making some egg sauce in a little dinner. Well, well! If our poor Wal'r was CUAFPAIAN CCUTTLE SMOKES AND MUSES. 349 here, my lady lass-or if he could be-for he's self, and stand looking at her as if she were drownded, an't he?" some Fairy, daintily performing these offices for Florence shook her head. him; the red rim on his forehead glowing again "Yes, yes; drownded," said the captain in his unspeakable admiration. soothingly. "As I was saying, if he could be But when Florence, taking down his -pipe here, he'd beg and. pray of you, my precious, to from the mantel-shelf, gave it into his hand, and pick a leetle bit, with a look-out for your own entreated him to smoke it, the' good captainwas sweet health. Whereby, hold your own, my so bewildered by her attention, that he held it lady lass, as if it was for Wal'r's sake, and lay as if he had never held a pipe in all his life. your pretty head to the wind." Likewise, when Florence, looking into the little Florence essayed to eat a morsel for the cap- cupboard, took out the case-bottle, and mixed tain's pleasure. The captain, meanwhile, who a perfect glass of grog for him, unasked, and seemed to have quite forgotten his own dinner, set it at his elbow, his ruddy nose turned laid down his knife and fork, and drew his chair pale, he felt himself so graced and honoured.. to the sofa. When he had filled his pipe in an absolute.reverie "Wal'r was a trim lad, warn't he, precious?" of satisfaction, Florence lighted it for him-the said the captain, after sitting for some time captain having no power to object, or to prevent silently rubbing his chin, with his eyes fixed her-and resuming her place on the old sofa, upon her, "and a brave lad, and a good lad?" looked at him with a smile so loving and so Florence tearfully assented. grateful, a smile that showed him so plainly, " And he's drownded, Beauty, an't he? " said how her forlorn heart turned to him, as her face the captain in a soothing voice. did, through grief, that the smoke of the pipe Florence could not but assent again, got into the captain's throat, and made hirn "He was older than you, my lady lass," pur- cough, and got into the captain's eyes, andmade sl.ed the captain, " but you was like two children them blink and water. together, at first; warn't you?" The manner in which the captain tried:ta Florence answered "Yes." make believe that the cause of these effects lay, "And Wal'rs drownded," said the captain, hidden in the pipe itself, and the way in which. " An't he? " he looked into the bowl for it, and not finding The repetition of this inquiry was a curious it there, pretended to blow it out of the stem, was source of consolation, but it seemed to be one wonderfully pleasant. The pipe soon getting into to Captain Cuttle, for he came bacl to it again better condition, he fell into that state of repose and again. Florence, fain to push from her her becoming a good smoker; but sat with his eyes untasted dinner, and to lie back on her sofa, fixed on Florence, and, with a beaming placidity gave him her hand, feeling that she had disap- not to be described, and stopping every now pointed him, though truly wishing to have and then to discharge a little cloud from. his pleased him after all his trouble, but he held it lips, slowly puffed it forth, as if it were a scroll in his own (which shook as he held it), and, coming out of his mouth, bearing the legend, appearing to have quite forgotten all about the "Poor'Wal'r, ay, ay! Drownded, an't he?" dinner and her want of appetite, went on growl- after which he would resume his smoking with ing at intervals, in a ruminating tone of sym- infinite gentleness. pathy, "Poor Wal'r! Ay, ay! Drownded. Unlike as they were e:'ternally-and there An't he?" And always waited for he.r answer, could scarcely be a more decided contrast than in which the great point of these singular reflec- between Florence in her delicate youth and tions appeared to consist.'beauty, and Captain Cuttle with his knobby face, The fowl and sausages were cold, and-the his great broad weather-beaten person, and his gravy and the egg sauce stagnant, before the gruff voice-in simple innocence of the world's captain remembered that they were on the ways and the world's perplexities and dangers board, and fell-to with the assistance of Diogenes, they were nearly on a level. No child could whose united efforts quickly dispatched the have surpassed Captain Cuttle in inexperience banquet. The captain's delight and wonder at of everything but wind and weather; in simthe quiet housewifery of Florence in assisting to plicity, credulity, and: generous trustfulness. clear the table, arrange the parlour, and sweep Faith, hope, and charity shared his whole nature up the hearth-only to be equalled by the fer- among them. An. odd, sort of romance, pervency of his protest when she began to assist fectly unimaginative, yet perfectly unreal, and. lim-were gradually raised to that degree, that subject to no considerations of worldly pruat last he could not choose but do nothing him- dence or practicability, -was the only partnet r35-0 DOMBi Y AND S.O they had.in his character. As the captain sat consulting his big watch, as a deep means of;and.smoked, and looked at Florence, (od dazzling the establishment, and impressing it knowa, what impossible. pictures, iri.which she with a sense of property, the captain then kissed was'th, principal.figure, presented themselves his hook to his niece, and retired'outside the tq. his -mind. Equally vague'and' uncertain, window, where it was a choice sight to see his thoign not'so sanguine, were her own thoughts great face looking in from time to time among of the, life before her; and.even as her tears the silks and ribbons, with an obvious misgiving made prismatic colours in the light she gazed at, that Florence had been spirited awav by a backso, through her new and heavy grief, she already door. saw a rainbow faintly shining in the far-off sky. "Dear Captain Cuttle," said Florence wlen A wandering princess. and a good monster in a she came out with a parcel, the size of which story book might have sat by the'fireside, and greatly disappointed the captain, who had extalked as: Captain Cuttle and poor Florence pected to see a porter following with a'bale of thought-and not have looked very much unlike goods, " I don't want this money, indeed. I them. have not spent any of it. I have money of my The captain was not trotbled with the faintest own.' idea of any difficulty in retaining Florence, or " My lady lass," returned the baffled captain, of any, responsibility thereby incurred. Having looking straight down the street before them, put up the shutters and locked the door, the was "take care on it for me, will you be so good, quite satisfied on this head. If she had been a till such time as I ask ye for it?" Ward in Chancery it would have made.no dif-'.'May I put it back in its usual place," said ference'at all.to Captain Cuttle. He was the Florence, "and keep it there?" last man in the world to be troubled by any such The captain.was not at all gratified by this considerations. proposal, but he answered, " Ay, ay, put it any-'So the captain smoked his pipe very corn- wheres, my lady lass, so long as you know where fortably, and Florence and.he meditated after to find it again. It an't o' no use to nme," said their own manner. When the pipe was out, the captain. " I wonder I haven't chucked it they had some tea; and then Florence entreated away afore now." him to take her to some neighbouring shop, The captain was quite disheartened for the where she could buy the few necessaries she moment, but he revived at. the first touch of immediately wanted. It being quite dark, the Florence's arm, and they returned with tlhe same captain'consented: peeping carefully out first, precautions as they had come; the captain openas he had been wont to do in his time of hiding ing the door. of the little Midshipman's berth, fiom Mrs. MacStinger; and arming himself with and diving in with a suddenness which his great his large stick, in case of. an appeal to arms practice only could have taught him. During being rendered necessary by any unforesecn cir- Florence's slumber.in the morning, he had encuinstance. gaged the daughter of an elderly lady, who The'pride Captain Cuttle had in giving his usually sat under a blue umbrella in Leadenhall arm to Florence; and escorting her some two or Market, selling poultry, to come and put her three -hundred yards, keeping a bright look-out room in order, and render her any little services all the time; and attracting the attention of the required;' and this damsel now. appearing, every one who passed them by his great vigi- Florence found everything about her as conlance'and pumerous precautions, was extreme. venient and. orderly, if not as handsome, as in Arrived at the shop, the captain felt it a point the terrible dream she had once called Home. of delicacy to retire during the making of the When they were. alone again, the captain purchases, as. they were'to consist of wearing inssted on her eating a slice of dry toast, and apparel; but. he previously deposited'his tin drinking a glass of spiced negus (which he made canister'i on'the counter, and informing the to perfection); and encouraging her with every yoting lady of the establishment that it contained kind word and inconsequential quotation he fourteen pound two, requested lier, in case that could possibly think of, led her up-stairs to her amount of property should not be sufficient to bedroom.'. But he, too, had something on his defray the expenses of his niece's little outfit- mind, and was not easy in his manner. at the word " niece " he bestowed a most signi- " Good night, dear heart," said Captain Cuttle ficant 1oqk on Florence, accompanied with pan- to her at her chamber door. tomnmme, expressive of sagacity and mystery-to Florence raised her lips to his face, and kissed have the goodness to " sing out," and he would him. make up the difference from his pocket. Casually At any other time the captain would have POOR DRO WNED WALTER 35 1 been overbalanced by such a token of her affec- — once entered her thoughts. She had seen the tion and gratitude; but now, although he was very murder done.. In the last lingering natural sensible of it, he looked in her face with even aspect in which she had cherished him through more uneasiness than he had testified before, so much; he had been torn out of her heart, and seemed unwilling to leave her, defaced, and slain. The thought of it was so " Poor Wal'r!" said the captain. appalling to her, that she covered her eyes, and " Poor, poor Walter!" sighed Florence. shrunk trembling from the least remembrance of " Drownded, an't he?" said the captain. the deed, or of the cruel hand that did it. If Florence shook her head, and sighed. her fond heart could have held his image after "Good night, my lady lass!" said Captain that, it must have brbken; but it could not; Cuttle, putting out his hand. and the void was filled with a wild dread, that "God bless you, dear, kind friend!" fled from all confronting with its shattered fragBut the captain lingered still. ments-with such a dread as could have risen "Is anything the matter, dear Captain out of nothing but the depths of such a love, so Cuttle?" said Florence, easily alarmed in her wronged. then state of mind. "Have you anything to She dared not look into the glass; for the tell me?" sight of the darkening mark upon her bosom " To tell you, lady lass!" replied the captain, made her afraid of herself, as if she bore about meeting her eyes in confusion. "No, no; what her something wicked. She covered it up with should I have to tell you, pretty? You don't a hasty, faltering hand, and in the dark; aad expect as I've got anything good to tell you, laid her weary head down, weeping. sure?" - The captain did not go to bed fora long " No!" said Florence, shaking her head. time. He walked to and fro in the shop, and.The captain locked at her wistfully, and re- in the little parlour, for a full hour, and, appearpeated " No,'-still lingering and still showing ing to have composed himself by that exercise, sat embarrassment. down with a grave and thoughtful face, and read "Poor Wal'r!" said the captain. " My Wal'r, outofa Prayer-book the forms of prayerappointed as I used to call you! Old Sol Gills's nevy! to be used at sea.'These were not easily disposed Welcome to all as knowed you, as the flowers in of; the good captain being a mighty slow, gruff May! Where are you got to, brave boy? reader, and frequently stopping at a hard word Drownded, an't he?" to give himself such encouragement as " Now, Concluding his apostrophe with this abrupt my lad! With a will!" or, "Steady, Ed'ard appeal to Florence, the captain bade her good Cuttle, steady!" which had a great effect in night, and descended the stairs, while Florence helpipg him out of any difficulty. Moreover, remained at the top, holding the candle out to his spectacles greatly interfered with his powers light him down, He was lost in the obscurity, of vision. But notwithstanding these drawbacks, and, judging from the sound of his receding the captain, being heartily in earnest, read the footsteps, was in the act of turning into the little service to the very last line, and with genuine parlour, when his head and shoulders unex- feeling too; and approving of it very much when pectedly emerged again, as from the deep, he had done, turned in under the counter (but apparently for no other purpose than to repeat, not before he had been up-stairs, and listened "Drownded, an't he, pretty?" For when he at Florence's door), with a serene breast, and a had said that in a tone of tender condolence, he most benevolent visage. disappeared. The captain turned out several times in the Florence was very sorry that she should un- course of the night, to assure himself that his wittingly, though naturally, have awakened charge was resting quietly; and once, at daythese associations in the mind of her protector break, found that she was awake: for she called by taking refuge there; and sitting down before to know if it were he, on hearing footsteps near the little table where the captain had arranged her door. the telescope and song book, and those other " Yes, my lady lass," replied the captain in rarities, thought of Walter, and of all that was a growling whisper. "Are you all right, di'connected with him in the past, until she could mond?" have almost wished to lie down on her bed and Florence thanked him, and said "Yes." fade away..But, in her lonely yearning to the The captain could not lose so favourable an dead whom she had loved, no thought of home opportunity of applying his mouth to the key-no possibility of going back-no presentation hole, and calling through it, like a hoarse of it as yet existing, or as sheltering her father breeze, "Poor Wal'r! Drownded, an't he?" 352 DOMlBE Y AND SON. After which he withdrew, and, turning in again, was more calm and tranquil than she had been slept till seven o'clock. on the day preceding.. Almost always, when she Nor was he free from his uneasy and embar- raised her eyes from her work, she observed the rassed manner all that day; though Florence, captain looking at her, and thoughtfully stroking being busy with her needle in the little parlour, his chin; and he so often hitched his arm-chair "WHEN HE HAD FILLED HIS PIPE IN AN ABSOLUTE REVERIE OF. SATISFACTION, FLORENCE SIGHTED IT FOR HIM." close to her, as it he were going to say some- against the wainscot or the closet door, in a thing very confidential, and hitched it away very distressed condition. again, as not being able to make up his mind It was not until the twilight that Captain how to begin, that in the course.of. the day he Cuttle, fairly dropping anchor, at last, by the cruised.completely round the parlour in that side' of Florence, began to talk at all confrail bark, and nore than once went aorere nectedly. But when the light of the fire was AP'PARENTLY DIOGENES HAD A MEANIING. 353 khining on the walls and ceiling of the little no tales. But there's escapes upon the deep room, and:on the tea-board and the cups and too, and sometimes one man out of a:scoresaucers tinatwere ranged upon the table, and ah! maybe out of a hundred, pretty-has been ion her calm face turned towards the flame,-and saved by the mercy of God, and come home reflecting itin the tears that filled her eyes,'the after being give over for dead, and told of all captain broke a long silence thus: hands lost. I-I know a story, Heart's De"You'never was at sea, my own?" light," stammered the captain, "o' this natur, as "'No," replied Florence. was told to me once;and being on this here "Ay,"'said the captain reverentially'; "it's a tack, and you and me sitting alone by the fire, almiighty.element. There's wonders in the deep, maybe you'd. like to hear me tell it. - Would my pretty. 5'`Think on it, when the winds is you, deary?." roaring and the'waves is rowling. Think on it Florence, trembling with an agitation which when the stormy nights is -so pitch dark," said she could not control or understand, involunthe captain, solemnly holding up his hook, "as tarily followed his glance, which went behind you can't see your hand afore you,,excepting her into the shop, where a lamp was burning. when the wiwid lightning reweals.the same; The instant that she turned her head, the capand'when you drive, drive, drive through the tain sprung out of his chair, and interposed his storm and dark,"as if you was a driving; head hand. onto the world without end, evermore, amen, "Tliere's nothing there, my beauty," said the and when found making a note of. Them's the captain." "Don't look there!" times, my beauty, when a man ma, say to his "Why not?" asked Florence. messmate (previously-a overhauling of the wol- The captain murmured something about it's lume),' A stiff nor'-wester's blowing, Bill; hark, being dull that way, and about the fire being don't you hear it roar now? Lord help'em, cheerful. He drew the door ajar, which had how I pities all unhappy folks ashore now!"' been standing open until now, and resumed his Which quotation, as particularly applicable to seat. Florence followed him with her eyes, and the. terrors of'the ocean, the captain delivered looked intently in his face. in a most impressive manner, concluding with a "The story was about a ship, my lady lass," sonorous'. Stand by!" began the captain, " as. sailed out of the Port of "Were you ever in a dreadful storm? " asked London, with a fair wind and in fair weather, Florence. bound for — Don't be took aback, my lady " Why, ay, my lady lass, I've seen my share lass, she was only out'ard bound, pretty, only of:bad weather," said the captain, tremulously out'ard bound!" wiping his head, "and I've had my share of The expression on Florence's face alarmed knock'rg-about; but-but it an't of myself as I the captain, who was himself very hot and wvas a meaning to speak. Our dear boy," draw- flurried, and showed scarcely less agitation than ing closer. toi her, Wal'r, darling, as was she did. drownded." "Shall I go on, Beauty?" said the captain. The captain spoke in such a trembling voice, "Yes, yes, pray! " cried Florence. and.ookef at Florence with a face so pale and The captain made a gulp as if to get down agitated, that she clung to his hand in affright. something that was sticking in his throat, and "Your face is changed," cried Florence. nervously proceeded: "You are altered in *a moment.'.. What is it? "That there unfort'nate ship met with such Dear. Captain Cuttle, it turns me cold to see foul weather, out at sea, as don't blow once in you!" twenty year, my darling. There was hurricanes "What Lady lass," returned the captain, ashore as tore up forests and blowed down supporting her with his hand, "don't be took towns, and there was gales at sea, in them latiaback.-.No, no! All's well, all's well, my tudes, as not the stoutest wvessel ever launched drear.,,As was a saying-Wal'r-he's-he's. could live in. Day arter day that there unfort'dmownlded.".An't he?" nate ship behaved noble, I'm told, and did her Fldrence looked at him intently her colour duty brave, my pretty, but at one blow a'most -carre and went; and she laiUt her hand upon her bulwarks was stove in, her masts.and rudder her breast. carried away, her best men swept overboard, and "There's perils and dairgers on the deep, my she left to the mercy of the storm as had no beauty," said the captam; t and over many a mercy, but blowed harder and harder yet, while brave ship,-and mnan and many a bould heart, the waves dashed over her, and beat her in, and the secret waters hAd closed up, and never told every time they come a thundering at her, broke DOMaBEY..A'' D Srfs, 2z. -- 3I3 354 DQ2 MBEY ANVD SON. her like a shell. Every'black spot in every and on that voyage the seaman as was picked mountain of water that rolled away was a bit-o' up with him died. -. But he'was spared, the ship's life or a living man, and so she went and-" to pieces, Beauty, and no grass will never grow The captain, without knowing what he ud, upon the graves of them as manned that ship." had cut a slice of bread from the loaf, and put "They were not all lost!" cried Florence. it on his hook (which was his usual toasting"Some were saved!-Was one?" fork), on which- he now held it to the fire; look"Aboard o' that there unfort'nate wessel," ing behind Florence with great emotion in his said the captain, rising from his chair, and face, and suffering the bread to blaze and'burn clenching his hand with prodigious energy and like fuel. exultation, "was a lad, a gallant lad-as I've "Was spared," repeated Florence, "and — heerd tell-that had loved, when'he was a boy, "And come home in that ship," said the cap. to read and talk about brave actions in ship- tain, still looking in the same -direction, " and wrecks-I've heerd him!-I've heerd him!- — don't be frightened, pretty!-and landed; and he remembered of'em in his hour of need; and one morning come cautiously to his own for, when the stoutest hearts and. oldest hands door to take a obserwation, knowing that his was hove down, he was firm and cheery. It friends would think him drownded, when he warn't the want of objects to like and love sheered off at the unexpected-" ashore that gave him courage; it was his nat'ral "At the unexpected barking of a dog? " cried mind. I've seen it in his face, when he was no Florence quickly. more than a child-ay, many a time!-and " Yes!" roared the captain. "Steady, darwhen I thought it nothing but his good looks. ling! courage! Don't look round yet. See bless him!" there! upon the wall!" " And was he saved?" cried Florence. "Was There was the shadow of a man upon the he saved?" wall close to her. She started up, looked "That brave lad," said the captain,-" look round, and, with a piercing cry, saw Walter Gay at me, pretty! Don't look round —" behind her! Florence had hardly power to repeat,' Why She had no thought of him but as a brother, not?" a brother rescued from the grave; a ship"Because there's nothing there, my deary," wrecked brother saved and at her side, and said the captain. " Don't be took aback, pretty rushed into his arms. In all the world, he creetur! Don't, for the sake of Wal'r, as was seemed to be her hope, her comfort, refuge, dear to all on us! That there lad," said the natural protector. "Take care of Walter; I captain, "arter working with the best, and was fond of Walter!" The dear remembrance standing by the faint-hearted, and never making of the plaintive voice that said so, rushed upon no complaint nor sign of fear, and keeping up a her soul like music in the night. "Oh, welcome spirit in all hands that made'em honour him as home, dear Walter! Welcome to this stricken if he'd been a admiral,-that lad. along with the breast!" She felt the words, although she second mate and one seaman, was left, of all the could not utter them, and held him in her pure beatin' hearts that went aboard that ship, the embrace. only living creeturs-lashed to a fragment of the Captain Cuttle, in a fit of delirium, attempted wreck, and drifting on the stormy sea." to wipe his head with the blackened toast upon "Were they saved?" cried Florence. his hook; and finding it an uncongenial sub"Days and nights they drifted on them end- stance for the purpose, put it into the crown of less waters," said the captain, " until at last- his glazed hat, put the glazed hat on with some no! don't look that way, pretty!-a sail bore difficulty, essayed.to sing a verse of Lovely Peg, down upon'em, and they was, by the Lord's broke down at the first word, and retired into the mercy, took aboard: two living, and one dead." shop, whence he presently came back, express, "Which of them was dead?" cried Flo with a face all flushed and besmeared, and the rence. starch completely taken out of his shirt collar, "Not the lad I speak on," said the captain. to. say these words: "Thank God! Oh, thank God!"" Wal'r, my lad, here is a little bit of property " Amen!" returned the captain hurriedly. as I should wish to male over jintly!" -' Don t be took aback! A minute more, my tThe captain hastily produced the big watch, lady lass! with a good heart! —-Aboard that the tea-spoons, the sugar-tongs, and the canister, snip, they went a long voyage, right away across and laying them on the table, swept them with the chart-(for there warn't no touching nowhere), his great hand into.Walter's hat but, in handing CAPTA~IN CUTTLE RADIANT. 355 that singular strong box toWalter, he was so over- fully conlpreherided. But he no more dreamed come again, that he was fain to make another that Walter looked on Florence, as it were, from retreat into the shop, and absent himself for a a new and far-off place; that- while his. eyes longer space of time than on his first retirement. often sought the lovely face,.. they seldom met But Walter sought him. out, and brought him its open glance'of sisterly affection, but withback; and then the captain's great apprehension drew themselves when hers were raised towards was, that Florence would suffer from this new him; than he believed that it was Walter's ghost shock. He felt it so earnestly, that he turned who sat beside hinm He saw them there together quite rational, and positively interdicted any in their youth and beauty, and he knew the story further allusion to Walter's adventures for some of their younger days, and he had no inch of days to come. Captain Cuttle then became room beneath his great blue waistcoat for anysufficiently composed to relieve'himself of the thing save admiration of such a pair, and gratitoast in his hat, and to take his place at the tude for their being reunited. tea-board; but finding Walter's grasp upon. his They sat thus until it grew late. The captain shoulder on one side, and Florence whispering would have been content to sit so for a week. her tearful congratulations on the other, the But Walter rose to take leave for the night. captain suddenly bolted again, and was missing "Going, Walter!" said Florence. "Where?" for a good ten minutes. "He slings his hammock for the present, But never in all his life had the captatn's face lady lass," said Captain Cuttle, "round at so shone and glistened as when, at last, he sat Brogley's. Within hail, Heart's Delight." stationary at the tea-board looking from Florence.. "I am the cause of your going away, Walter," to Walter, and from Walter to Florence. Nor- said Florence.'.There is a houseless sister in was this effect produced or' at all heightened by your place." the immense quantity of polishing he had ad- " Dear Miss Dolmbey," replied Walter, hesiministered to his face with his coat-sleeve during tating-" if it is not too bold to call you so-" the last half-hour. It was solely the effect of his "Walter " she exclaimed, surprised. internal emotions. There was a glory and de- "-If anything could make me happierin being light within the captain that spread itself over allowed to see and speak to you, would t not be his whole visage, and made a perfect illumina- the discovery that I had any-means on earth of tiori there. doing you a..moment's service? Where would The pride with which the captain looked upon I not go, what would I not do, for your sake?" the bronzed cheek and the courageous eyes of his She smiled and called him brother. recovered boy: with which he saw the generous "You are so changed," said Walter. fervour of his youth, and all'its frank and hope- " I changed! " she interrupted. ful qualities, shining once more in the fresh "-To me," said Walter softly, as if he were wholesome manner and the ardent face: would thinking aloud, "changed to me. I left you have kindled something of this light in his coun- such a child, and find you-oh! something so tenance. The admiration and sympathy with different —" which he turned his eyes on Florence, whose "But your sister, Walter. You have hot forbeauty, grace, and innocence could have won gotten what we promised to' each other when no truer or more zealous champion than him- we parted?"' self, would have had an equal influence upon' Forgotten!' But he said no more. him. But the fulness of the. glow he shed And if you had-if suffering and danger around'him could only have been engendered had driven it from your thoughts-which it has in his contemplation of the two together, and in not-you would remember it now, Walter, when all the fancies springing out of that association, you find me poor and abandoned, with no home that came sparkling and beaming into his head, but this, and no friends but the two who hear and danced about it. me speak i" How they talked of poor old Unole Sol, and' " Iwould! Heaven knows I would.!" said dwelt, on every little circumstance relating to his Walter. disappearance; how their joy was moderated by. " Oh, Walter!" exclaimed Florence through the old nian's absence, and by the' misfortunes her sobs and tears. "' Deai Brother! Show me of Florence; how they released Diogelles, whom some way through the world-some humble path the captain had. decoyed up-stairs some time that I may take alone, and labour'inland somebefore, lest he should bark again; the captain, times think of yout as one who will protect and though he was in one continual flutter, and care for nle'as.for asister!'Oh, help me, Walter, made nmany more short plunges into the shop, for I need lielp so-much!" 356 DOMB'EY AND SOA " Miss Dombey! -Florence! I would die toPER help you.. -But your friends are proud and rich. Your father " MR. TOOTS'S COMPLAINT. " No, no! Walter! " She shrieked, and put her hands up to her head, in an attitude of terror HERE was an empty oron abovee that transfixed him where he stood. " Don't say stairs at the Wooden Midshipman's, that word!" - which, in days of yore, had bePn He never, from that hour, forgot the voice Walter's bedroom. Waiter, rosati and look with which she stopped. him at the up the captain betimes in the moon;name; He felt that if he were to live a hundred. ing, proposed that they should carry years, he never could forget it. thither such furnitureout'of the little Somewhere-anywhere-but never home! All r parlour as would grace it best, so that past, all gone, all lost, and broken up! The whole Florence might take possession of it when she history of her untold slight and suffering was in rose. As nothing could be: more agreeable to the cry and look; and he felt he never could Captain Cuttle than making himself very red forget it, and he never did. and short of breath in.such a cause, he turned She laid. her gentle face upon the captain's to (as he himself said) with a will; and, in a shoulder, and related how and why she had couple of hours, this garret was transformed into fled. * If every sorrowing tear she shed in doing a species of land-cabin, adorned with all the so had been a curse upon the head of him she choicest movables out of the parlour, inclusive never. named or blamed, it would have been even of the Tartar frigate, which, the captain better for him, Walter thought with awe, than hung up over the ihimney-piece with such exto be renounced out of such a strength and treme delight, that he could do nothing for half might of love. an hour afterwards but walk backward from it, "There, precious! " said the captain when lost in admiration. she ceased; and deep attention the captain The captain could be induced by no persuahad paid to her while she spoke; listening with sion of Walter's.o wind up the big watch, or to his glazed hat all awry, and his mouth wide take back the canister, or to touch the sugaropen. "Awast, awast, my eyes! Wal'r, dear tongs and tea-spoons. "No, no, my lad," was lad, sheer off for to-night, and leave the pretty the captain's invariable reply to any solicitation one to me!" of the kind, "I've made that there little proWaiter took her hand in both of his, and put perty over jintly." These words he repeated it to his lips, and kissed it. He knew now that with great unction and gravity, evidently beshe was indeed a homeless, wandering fugitive; lieving that they'had the virtue of an Act of but, richer to him so than in all the wealth and Parliament, and that, unless he committed himpride of her right station, she seemed farther off self by some new admission of ownership, no flaw than even on the height that had made him could be found in such a form of conveyance. giddy in his boyish- dream. It was an advantage of the new arrangement, Captain Cuttle, perplexed by no such medi- that besides the greater seclusion it afforded tations, guarded Florence to her room, and Elorence, it admitted of the Midshipman being watched at intervals upon the charmed ground -estored to his usual post of observation, and outside her door-for such it truly was to him also of the shop shutters being taken'down. -until he felt sufficiently easy in his mind The latter ceremony, however little importance about her to turn in under the counter. On the unconscious captain, attached to it, was not abandoning his watch for that purpose, he could wholly superfluous; for, on the previous day, so not help calling once, rapturously, through the much excitement had been occasioned in the keyhole, "Drownded.'An't he, pretty?"-or, neighbourhood by the shutters remaining unwhen he got down-stairs, making another trial opened, that the instrument-maker's house had at that verse of Lovely Peg. But it stuck in been honoured with an unusual share of public his throat somehow, and he could make nothing observation, and had been. intently stared at, of it; so he went to bed, and dreamed that old from the opposite side of the way,.by groups of Sol Gills was married to Mrs. MacStinger, and' hungry gazers, at any time between sunrise and kept prisoner by that lady in a secret chamber sunset. The idlers and vagabonds had been on a short allowance of victuals. particularly interested in the captain's fate; constantly grovelling in the mud to apply their eyes to the cellar grating, under the shop-window, and delighting their imaginations with the fancy that CONVCERIRVING UNCZE SOL. 357 they could see a piece of. his coat as'he hung know so well as I who had the best of fathers in a corer; though this settlement of him was in him,"-Walter's voice was indistinct and stoutly disputed -by an opposite faction, who husky here, and he looked away, along the were of opinion that he lay murdered-with a street,-" leaving that out- of consideration, I hammer, on the stairs. It was not without ex- say, I have often read and heard of people who, citing some discontent, therefore, that the sub- having some near and dear relative, who was ject of these rumours was seen early in the supposed to be shipwrecked at sea, have gone morning-standing at his shop-door as. hale and down to live on that part of the seashore where hearty as if nothing had'happened; and the any tidings of the missing ship might be exbeadle of that quarter, a man of an ambitious pected to arrive, though only an hour or two character, who had expected to have the dis- sooner than elsewhere, or have even gone upon tinction of being present at the breaking open her track to the place whither she was bound, of the door, and of giving evidence in full uni- as if their going would create intelligence. I form before the coroner, went so far as to say. think I should do such a thing myself, as soon to an opposite neighbour that the chap in the as another, or sooner than many, perhaps. But glazed hat had better not try it on there-with- why my uncle shouldn't write to you, when he out more particularly mentioning what-and so clearly intended to do so, or how he should further, that he, the beadle, would keep his eye die abroad, and you not know it through some upon him. other hand, I cannot make out." Captain Cuttle," said Walter, musing, when Captain Cuttle observed, with a shake of his they stood resting from their labours at the shop- head, that Jack Bunsby himself hadn't made it door, looking down the old familiar street'; it out, and that he was a man as could give a being still early in the morning; " nothing at all pretty taut opinion too. of Uncle Sol in all that time?" If my uncle had been a heedless young "Nothing at all, my lad," replied the captain, man, likely to be entrapped by jovial company shaking his head. to some drinking-place, where he was to be got " Gone in search'of me, dear, kind old man," rid of for the sake of what moley he might have said Walter; "yet never write to you! But why about him," said Walter; "or if he had been not?' He says, in effect, in this packet that you a reckless sailor, going ashore with two or gave me," taking the paper from his pocket, three months' pay in his pocket; I could underwhich had been opened in the presence of the st.nd his disappearing, and leaving no trace enlightened Bunsby, "that if you never hear -behind. But, being what he was-and is, I from him before opening it, you may believe hope-I can't believe it." iim dead. Heaven forbid! But you would Wal'r, my lad,'l inquired the captain, wisthave heard ofhim, even if he were dead! Some fully eyeing him as he pondered and pondered, one would have written, surely, by his desire, if' what do you make of it, then?" he could not; and have said,'On such a day, "Captain Cuttle," returned Walter,' I don't there died in my house,''or under my care,' or know what to make of it. I suppose he never so forth,'Mr. Solomon Gills of London, who has written! There is no doubt about that?" left this last remembrance and this last request "If so be that Sol Gills wrote, my lad," reto you.'" plied the captain argumentatively, " where's his The captain, who had never climbed to such dispatch?" a clear height of probability before, was greatly "Say that he in'trusted it to some private impressed by the wide prospect it opened, and hand," suggested Walter,'" and that it has been answered with a thoughtful shake of his head,- forgotten, or carelessly thrown aside, or.lost. " Well said, my lad; wery well said." *Even that is more probable to me than the other " I have been thinking of this, or at least," event. In short, I not only cannot bear to'consaid Walter, colouring, " I have been thinking template that other event, Captain Cuttle, but I of one thing and another, all through a sleepless can't, and won't." night, and I cannot believe, Captain Cuttle, but "Hope, you see, Wal'r," said the captain that my uncle Sol (Lord bless him!) is alive, and sagely, ";Hope. It's that as animates you. will return. I don't so much'.wonder at his Hope -is a buoy, for which you overhaul your going away, because, leaving out- of considera- Little Warbler, sentimental diwisipn, but Lord, tion that spice of the marvellous which was my lad,, like any other buoy, it only floats; it always.in his character, and his great affection can't be steered nowhere. Along will the for me, before which -every other consideration figure-head of Hope," said the captain, "there's of his life became nothing, as no one ought to a anchor: but what's the good of my having 35$ DOMBE Y AND SON. a anchor,' if I.can't find no bottom to let it me when I spoke of her father last night," said go in?" Walter,-" you remember how?" Captain Cuttle said this rather.in his character The captain well remembered, and shook his of a sagacious citizen and householder, bound head. to impart a morsel from his stores of wisdom to "I thought," said Walter; " before that, that an inexperienced youth; than in his own proper we had but one hard duty to perform, and that person. Indeed, his face was quite luminous as it was to prevail upon her to communicate with he spoke, with- new hope, caught from Walter; her friends, and to return home." and. he appropriately concluded by slapping The captain muttered a feeble "Awast!" or a him on-the back; and saying, with enthusiasm, "Stand by! " or something or other, equally per"H'ooroar, my lad! Indiwidually, I'm o' your tinent' to the occasion; but it was rendered so opinion." extremely feeble by the total- discomfiture with Walter, with his cheerful' laugh, returned the which he received this announcement, that what'salutation, and said: it was is mere matter of conjecture. "Only one word more about my uncle at "But," said Walter, " that is over. I think present, Captain Cuttle. I suppose it is impos. so no longer. I would sooner be put back sible that he can have written'in the ordinary again upon that piece of wreck, on which JAhave course-by mail packet, or ship.letter, you un- so often floated, since my preservation, in my derstand-" dreams, and there left to drift, and drive,'and " Ay, ay, my lad," said the captain approv- die!" ingly." Hooroar, my lad! " exclaimed'the captain " —And that you have missed the letter any- in a burst of uncontrollable satisfaction. "Hoohow?" - roar! Hooroar! Hooroar!" "Why, Wal'r," said the captain; turning his "To think that she, so young, so good, and eyes upon him with a faint approach to a severe beautiful," said Walter, "so delicately brought expression, " an't I been on the look-out for any up, and born to such a different fortune, should tidings of that- man o'- science, old Sol Gills, strive with the rough world! But we have seen your -uncle, day.and. night,' ever since I lost the gulf that cuts off all behind her, though no him? An't my heart'been heavy and watchful one but herself can know how deep it is * and always, along of him and you? Sleeping and there is no return." waking, an't I been upon my post, and wouldn't Captain Cuttle, without quite understanding I have' scorned to quit it while this here Mid- this, greatly approved of it, and observed, in a shipman held together?-' tone of strong corroboration, that the wind was "Yes, Captain Cuttle," replied Walter, grasp- right abaft. ing his hand, " I know you would, and I know "She ought-not to be alone here; ought she, how faithful and earnest all you say and feel is. Captain Cuttle?" said Walter anxiously. I am sure of it. You don't doubt that I am as "Well, my lad,"' replied the captain after, a sure of it as I- am that my foot is again upon little sagacious consideration, "' I don't. know. this door-step, or that I again have hold of this You being here to keep her company, you see, true hand. Do you?" and you two being jintly " "No, no, Wal'r," returned the captain with "'Dear Captain Cuttle!" remonstrated Walter. his beaming face. "I being here! Miss Dombey, in her guileless, "I'll hazard no more conjectures," said innocent heart, regards me'ias her adopted Walter, fervently shaking the hard hand of the brother; but what would the guile and guilt of captain, who shook his with no less good-will. my heart be, if I'pretended to believe that I'had'All I will add is, Heaven forbid that I should any right to approach her familiarly in that chatouch my uncle's possessions, Captain Cuttle! racter-if I pretended to forget that I' am Everything that he left. here shall remain in the bound, in honour, not to do it!" care of the truest of stewards and kindest of "Wal'r, my lad," hinted the captain,'with men-and'if his name is not Cuttle, he has no some revival of his discomfiture,." an't there no'name! Now, best. -of friends,'about-Miss other character as —"' Dombey." "Oh!" returned Walter, "would you have There was a chatge in Walter's.manner as he me die in her esteem-in such esteem as-hers came to these two words; and, when he uttered -and put- a' veil between myself and her angel's them, all his confidence and cheerfulness. ap-' face. for ever, by taking advantage of her being peared to have deserted him. here for refuge, so trusting and. soo unprotected,'"I thought,. beforeMiss Dombey stopped to endeavour to.exalt myself into' her lover? $R). TOOTS IN A STA TE OF DISTRACTION. 359 What dp I say?'There is no one in the world returned to Walter, and gave him to understand who would be more opposed to me, if I could do that Mr. Toots was the young gentleman whom so, than you."' he had encountered on the door-step, and that "Walr, my lad," said the captain, drooping he.was a friend of his, and that ie was a young more and more, " prowiding as there is any just gentleman of property, and that he hopelessly cause or impediment why two persons should adored Miss Dombey. The captain also related not be jined together in the house of bondage, how the intelligence of Walter's supposed fate for which you'll overhaul the place, and make a had first made hin acquainted with Mr. Toots, note, I hope I. should declare it as promised and how there was solemn treaty and compact and wowed in the banns. So there an't No between them that Mr. Toots should be mute other character an't there, my lad?". upon the subject of his love. Walter briskly waved his hand in the nega- The question then was, whether Florence tive. could trust Mr. Toots, and Florence saying with "Well, my lad," growled the captain slowly, a smile, "Oh yes, with her whole heart!"' it "I. Won't deny but what I find myself. wery became important to find out where Mr. Toots much down- by.the head, along o' this here, or lived..This Florence didn't know, and-the capbut what I've gone clean about,. But as to tain had forgotten; and the captain was telling.Lady-lass, Wal'r, mind you, wot's respect and Walter, in the little parlo r, that Mr. Toots was duty to her is respect' and duty in my articles, sure'to be there soon, when in came Mr. Toots howsumever -disappinting; and therefore I fol- himself. lows in your wake, my lad, and'feel as you ared "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, rushing into no doubt, acting up to yourself. And there an't the parlour without any ceremony, " I'ir- in a no other character, an't there?" said the captain, state of mind bordering on distraction!" musing over the ruins of his fallen castle with a': Mr. Toots had. discharged those words, as very despondent face.. from a mortar,'before he observed Walter, whom "Now, Captain Cuttle," said Walter, starting he recognised with what'may be described as a a fresh point with a gayer air, to cheer the. cap- chuckle of misery. tain up-but nothing could do that; he was too "You'll. excuse me, sir," said Mr. Toots, much concerned-" I think we should exert our- holding his forehead, "but I'm at present in selves to.find'some one who would be a proper that state that my brain is going, if not gone, attendant for Miss. Dombey while she remains and anything approaching to politeness in an /here, and who may be trusted. None of her individual so situated would be a hollow relations may.-'. It's clear Miss Dombey feels mockery. Captain Gills, I beg' to request'the that they are all subservient to her father. What favour of a private interview." has'become of Suman?". " Why, brother,'! returned the captain, taking " The young woman?." returned the captain. him by- the hand, "you'are the man as we was " It's my belief as she was sent away again the on the look-out for.' will of Heart's Delight.' I made a signal for' Oh, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, "what her when Lady-lass first come, and.she rated a look-out that must be of which I am the obof her wery high, and'said she had been gone a ject! I haven't dared to shave, I'm. in that long time." rash state, I haven't had my clothes brushed. 7- "Then," said Walter, "do you ask Miss My hair is matted. together. I told the Chicken Dombey svhere she's gone, and we'll try to find that if he offered to clean my boots, I'd stretch her.'The morning's getting on, and Miss him a Corpse'before me!" Dombey will soon'be rising. You are her best All these'indications of a disordered mind friend. Wait for her up-stairs, and leave me to were verified in Mr. Toots's appearance, which take care of all down here." was wild'and savage.' The captain, very crest-fallen indeed, echoed " See here, brother," said the captain.." This the sigh with which Walter said this, and'corn- here's o6ld Sol Gills's nevy, Wal'r. Him as was plied. Florence'was delighted with her new supposed to have perished at sea." room, anxious to see Walter, and- overjoyed at Mr. Toots'took his'hand from his forehead, the prospect of'greeting her old friend Susan. and stared at Walter.'But'Floreice could not say.-where. Susan was "Good gracious me!" stammered Mr. Toots. gone, except' that it was in Essex, and no one "What a complication of. misery! How de (do? could say, she re'membered,. unless it.were Mr.'I-I-I'm afraid you must have got very wet. Toots. Captain Gills, will.you allow me a word in0 the With this information' the melancholy captain shop? 360 DOM'BE Y AND SON. He took the captain by thecoat, and going and supposing some relationship between hil out with him, whispered:and the captain, which would extend, as a matter " That, then, Captain Gills, is the party you of course, to their titles; " Lieutenant Walters, spoke of, when you said that he and Miss Dom- I can have'no objection to make' a straightbey were made for one another?" forward reply. The fact is, that feeling ex"Why, ay, my lad," replied the disconsolate tremely interested id everything that relates to captain; " I was of that mind once." Miss Dombey-not for any selfish reason, Lieu-' And at'this time! " exclaimed Mr. Toots, tenant Walters, for I am well aware that the with his hand to his forehead again. "Of all most agreeable thing I could do for all parties others!-a hated rival! At least, he an't a would be to put an end to my existence, which hated rival," said Mr. Toots, stopping short, on. can only be regarded as an inconvenience-I; second thoughts, and taking away his hand; have been in the habit of bestowing a trifle now "what should I hate him for? No. If my. and then upon a footman; a most respectable affection has been truly disinterested, Captain young man, of the name of Towlinson, who has Gills, let me prove it now! " lived in the family some time; and Towlinsoni Mr. Toots shot back abruptly into the par- informed me, yesterday evening,'that this' was lour, and said, wringing Walter by the hand: the state of things. Since which, Captain Gills "How de do? I hope you didn't take any -and Lieutenant Walters-I:'have been percold. I-I shall be very glad if you'll give me fectly frantic, and have been lying down. on the the pleasure of your acquaintance. I wish you sofa all night, the Ruin you behold."' many happy returns of the day. Upon my "Mr. Toots," said Walter, " I. am happy td word and honour," said Mr. Toots, warming as be able to relieve your mind. Pray calm yourhe became better acquainted with Walter's face self. Miss Dombey is safe and well." and figure, " I'm very glad to see you!"' "Sir!" cried Mr. Toots, starting from his) "Thank you heartily," said Walter. "I chair and shaking hands with him anew, "the' couldn't desire a more genuine and genial wel- relief is so excessive and unspeakable,'that if come." you were to tell me now that Miss Dombey was "Couldn't you, though?" said Mr. Toots,.married even, I could smile. - Yes, Captain still shaking his hand. "It's very kind of you. Gills," said Mr. Toots, appealing to him, "upon I'm much obliged to you; How de do? I my soul. and body, I really.think, whatever I, hope you left everybody quite well over the- might do to myself immediately afterwards, that that is, upon the-I mean wherever you came I could smile, I am so relieved."; from last, you know." "It will be a greater relief and delight still, All these good wishes, and better intentions. to such a generous mind as yours," said Walter, Walter responded to manfully. not at all slow in returning his greeting, "to find "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots; "I should that you can render service to Miss Dombey. wish to be strictly honourable; but I trust I Captain Cuttle, will you have the kindness to fnay be allowed, now, to allude to'a certain' take Mr. Toots up-stairs?" subject that-" The captain'beckoned to Mr. Toots, who "Ay, ay, my lad," returned the'captain. followed him with g bewildered countenance, " Freely, freely." and, ascending to the top of the house, was in"Then, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, "and' froduced, without a word of preparation'from Lieutenant Walters, are you aware that the most his conductor, into Florence's new retreat. dreadful circumstances have been happening at Poor Mr. Toots's amazement arid pleasure at Mr. Dombey's house, and that Miss Dombey sight of her were such, that they could find a herself has left her father, who, in my opinion," vent. in nothing but extravagance. He ran up said Mr. Toots with great excitement, "is\a to her, seized her' hand, kissed it, dropped it, Brute, that it would be- a flattery to call'a-a seized it again, fell upon one knee, shed tears, marble monument, or a bird of prey-and that chuckled, and was quite regardless of his danger she is not'to be found, and has gone no one of being pinned by'-Diogenes, who, inspired by knows where?" the belief that there was something hostile to "May I. ask how you'heard this?" inquired his mistress in these- demonstrations,, worked Walter. round' and round him, as if only undecided at "Lieutenant Walters,' said Mr. Toots, who what particular point to go in for the assault, had.. arrived at that appellation by a.process but quite resolved to do him a fearful mischief peculiar to himself; probably by'jumbling up "Oh,'Di,. you.bad,. forgetful dog! Dear Mx his Christian name with the seafaring profession, Toots, Iam so rejoiced toQsee you!" MR. TOOTS GOES IN SEA RCH OF MISS NIPPER. 36 "Thankee," said Mr. Toots,;'" I am pretty next to Captain Gills himself. I am quite aware, well, I'm much obliged to you. Miss Dombey. Miss Dombey, of my own deficiencies-they're I hope all the family are the same?" not of -the least consequence, thank you-but I Mr. Toots said this without the least notion am entirely to be relied upon, I do assure you. of what he was talking about, and sat down on Miss Dombey." a chair, staring at Florence with the liveliest With* that Mr. Toots came out of the room contention of delight and despair going on in again, accompanied -by the captain, who,.standhis face that any face could exhibit. ing at a little'distancej holding his hat under "Captain Gills and Lieutenant Walters nave -his arm and arranging his scattered locks with mentioned, Miss Dombey," gasped Mr. Toots, his hook, had.been a not uninterested witness "that I can do you some service..If I could of what.passed'. And when the door closed by any means wash out the remembrance of that behind'them, the light of Mr. Toots's life was day at Brighton, when I conducted myself — darkly clouded again. much more like a Parricide than a person of "'Captain Gills," said. that gentleman, stopindependent property," said Mr.' Toots with ping near the bottom of the stairs, and turning severe self-accusation, "I should sink into -the round, " to' tell you the truth, I. am not in a silent tomb with a gleam of joy.' frame of mmad, at the -present moment, in which "Pray, Mr. Toots," said Florence, "do not I could see Lieutenant Walters with that enwish me to forget anything in our acquaintance, tirely-friendly feeling towards him that I should I never can, believe me. You -have been far wish to harbour in my'breast' We cannot too kind and good to me always." always command our" feelings, aptain Gills, " Miss Dombey," returned Mr. Toots, "your and I should'take it -as a particular favour if consideration for my feelings is a part of your you'd let me out at the'private door. angelic character. Thank you a thousand times.. Brother,?' returned the captain, "you shall It's ofno -consequence at all." shape your own course. -. Wotever course you " What we thought of asking you," said Flo- take is plain and seaman-like, I'm -wery rence, "' is, whether you remember.where Susan, sure." whom' you were so kind. as to accompany to "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, " you're exthe coach-office. when she left me, is to be tremely kind.-,- Your good opinion is a consolafonnd.'' t ion to me. "There,.is one thing," said Mr. "Why, T do not certainly, Miss. Dombey,",.Toots, standing in the passage behind the said Mr. Toots after a little consideration, half-opened door,'.that I hope you'll bear in'remember the exact name of the place that mind, Captain Gills, and that I should wish was on the coach;. an'd I do, recollect that Lieulciant Walters to be made acquainted she said he was not- going to.stop there, but with.. I have quite come into my property was going farther on. But, Miss Dombey, now, you know, and-and I don't know what if. your object is'to find her, land to have to do with it. If I- could be at all useful in her here,.myself and the Chicken will produce a pecuniary point of view, I should glide her with every dispatch that'devotion on my into the silent tomb with ease. and smoothpart, and. great'intelligence on the Chicken's, ness." can insure."' Mr. Toots said no'more, but slipped. out Mr. ToQts: was so manifestly delighted and quietly, and shut the'd'oor upon himself, to cut revived by the prospect of being useful, andthe the.captain off from any. reply.. disinterested sincerity of his devotion was so Florence thought of this good creature, long unquestionable, that it would have been cruel after he had left her, with mingled emotions of to refuse him. Florence, with an instinctive pain and pleasure. He was so honest and delicacy, forbore to urge the'least obstacle, warm-hearted, that to see him again, and be asthough -she did not forbear to overpower him sured of. his truth to her in her distress, was.a with thanks; and Mr. Toots. proudly took the; joy and comfort beyond all price; but, for that commission upon himself for immediate execu- very reNon, it was so affecting to think that she tion. caused,.:him a moment's unhappiness, or rufflef, "'Miss Dombey," said, Mr. Toots, touching by' a breath, the harmless current of his life, that her proffered hand, with a pang of hopeless love her eyes filled with tears, and her bosom overvisibly shooting through him, and flashing out'- Qfled with pity., Captain Cuttle, in -his differin his face, "good-bye!-:. Allow me to take the entlway, thoughtmnuch'of lr. Toots.'too; and liberty of saying that.your misfortunes make me so did Walter;-and'when the evening: came, perfectly wretched, and'that you may.trust e, and' they were all sitting together in Florende's: 3 82. D)OMBEY AN1D SONt new roomt; Walter praised him in a most impas- and it pained him." He was less"cheerful and sioned manner.'and told Florence'what he had hopeful than he had been at first, and would said on leaving the house, with every graceful steal looks'at her and Walter by turns, when they setting-off in the way of comment and apprecia- were all three together of an evening, with auite tion that'his honesty and sympathy could sur- a sad face. round it with. Florence resolved, at last, to speak to Walter. M.'oots did nqt return upon the next day, She believed she' knew now what the cause of or the next, of for several days and,.in the' his- estrangement was, and she thought it would meanwhile, Flrtencee without any new alarm, be'arelief to her full heart, and would set him lived like ac quiet bird ih a cage, at the top of more at ease, if she told him she had found it the old instrument-maker's.houso. But Florence out, and quite submitted to it, and.did nqt redrooped and, hung' her head more and more proach'him, plainly as the days went on; and the expression It -was on a certain Sunday'afternoon -that that had been. seen in the face of the dead child Florence took'this resolution.'a The faithful was often turned to the sky from her high win- captain, in an amazing shirt' collar,' vas sitting dow, as if it sought his angel out, on the bright by h'er reading with his spectacles on, anrd she shore of which'he- had spoken: lying on his asked him where Walter was.. little bed. "'I think he's downr below, my lady lass," Florence had been Weak and delicate of late, returned the captain. and the agitation she had undergone was not "I shouldlike:to speak to him," said Florence, without its influences on herhealth, But it was. rising hurriedly, tas it to go down-stairs no'bodily illness that affected ]her now. She' ~I'll rouse him up here, Beauty," said the was distressed in mind; and the cause,of her captain,' in a trice." distress was Walter.'Thereupon the captain, with much alacrity, Interested in her, anxious for her, proud and.shouloered his -book-for he made it a point of glad to serve her, and showing all this with the duty to read none; but very large books on-a enthusiasm and ardour of his character, Flo- Sunday, as having a more staid appearance: rence saw that he avoided her. All the long and had bargained, years ago, for aprodigious day through, he seldom approached her room. volume at a bookstall, five lines of which utterly If she asked for him,, he came, again'for the confounded him at any time, insomuch that he moment as earnest and as bright as she remem- had not yet ascertained of what subject it treated bered him when she was a lost child in the -and withdrew.' Walter, soon appeared. staring streets; but he soon became constrained "Captain Cuttle tells me, Miss Dombey-" -her quickaffection was too watchful not to he.eagerly began on coming in-but stopped know it-and uneasy, and soon left her. Un- when he saw her face. sought, he never'came, all day, between the "You are not so well to-day;, You look dismorning and the night. When the evening tressed.'You have been weeping." closed in, he was always there, and that was her He spoke so kindly, and with such, a fervent happiest time, for then she.half believed that tremor in hlis voice, that the tearsigushed into the old Walter of her childhood was not changed. her eyes at the.sound of his words. But, even then, some trivial word, look,'or cir-'' Walter," said Florence gently, " I am not cumstance would show her that there was an quite well, and I've been weeping., I want to indefinable division between thefi which could speak to you." not be passed. He Sat dowh opposite to her, looking at And she could not but see that these reveal- her beautiful and innocent face; and his-own; ings of a great alteration in Walter manifested turned pale, and his lips trerhbled. themselves in despite of his utmost efforts'to "You said, upon'the night when I knew that hidethem. In his consideration for her, she bou were saved-and oh! dear Walter, what I thought, anduin the earnestness of his desire to felt that night, and what I hoped'!" spare her any wound from his kind hand, he He put his trembling hand upon the table resorted' to' innumerable little artifices and dis- between them, and sat looking'at her. guises. So much the more did Florence feel.'. —That I was changed/ I. was surprised to the greatness of;.the alteration in him; so much hear you say so, but I understand,' now, that I' the oftener did -she.weep at' this estrangement am. Don't: be'.angry. with me,'Walter.: I was of her brother. too much overjoyed to think'of it thenl.' The good captain-her untiring, tender, eer- She seemed a child to him again;. It was the' zealous friend-saw. it too, Florence' thought,' ingenuous, confiding, loving child he saw an`d ILOREPNCE 4AD -WAL2TER. 363 beard. Not the dear woman at whose feet he the firstand' never shall I to the last, regar4 would have laid the riches of the earth. your part in my life but as something sacred, "You remember the last time I saw you, never to be lightly thought.of, never to be Walter, before you went away?" esteemed enough, never, until death, to be forHe put his hand into his breast, and took out gotten. Again to, see you look, and hear you a little purse. speak, as you did on that night when We parted, "I have alvays worn it round my neck! If is happiness to me that there are no words to. had gone down in the deep, it would have utter; and to be loved and trusted as your brobeen with me at the bottom of the sea." ther is the next great gift I could receive and "And you will wear it still, Walter, for m'prize!" old saie? "Walter," said Florence, looking at him ear<' Until I die!" nestly, but with, a changing face,. " what is that,She laid her hand ort his, as fearlessly and which is due to me, and must be rendered to simply as if not a day had intervened since she me, at the sacrifice of all this?" gave him the little token of remembrance. Respect,"-said Walter in a low tone. " Re"I am glad of that. I shall be always glad verence." to think so, Walter. Do yout?:recollect that a The colour dawned in her face, and she thought of this change seemed to come into our timidly and thoughtfully withdrew her hand; minds at the same time that'evenirg, when we still looking at him with unabated' earnestness. were talking together?" "I have not a brother's right," said Walter. " No! " he answered in a wondering tone. "I have not a brother's claim. I left a child. I "Yes, Walter. I had been the means of find a woman." injuring your hopes and prospects even then. The colour overspread her face. She made a I feared to think so then; but I. know it now, gesture as if of entreaty that he would say no If you were able then, in' your generosity, to nevre, and her face dropped upon her hands. hide from me that you knew it too, you cannot They were'both silent for a time; she do so now, although you try as generously as weeping before. You do. I thank you for it, Walter, "I owe it to a heart so trusting, pure, and deeply, truly; but you cannot succeed. You good," said Walter, "even to tear myself from have suffered too much in your own hardships, it, though I rend my own. How dare I say it and in those of your dearest relation, quite to is my sister's?" overlook the innocent cause of all the peril and She was weeping still. affliction that has beflaen you. You cannot "IT you had been happy; surrounded as you quite forget'me in that character, and we can be should be by loving and admiring friends, and brother and sister no longer. But, dear Walter, by all that makes the station you were born to do:not think that I complain of you in this. I enviable," said Walter; " and if you had called might have known it-ought to have known it me brother then, in your affectionate remem-but forgot it in my joy. All I hope is, that brance of the past, I could have answered to the you may'think of me less irksomely when this name from my distant place, with no inward asfeeling is no more a secret one; and all.I ask surance that I wronged your spotless truth by is, Walter, in. the name of the poor child who doing so. But here-and now!"was your sister once, that you will not struggle "Oh, thank you, thank you, Walter! Forwith yourself, and pain yourself, for my sake, give my having wronged you so much. I had now that I know all'. no one to advise me. I am quite alone." Walter had. looked upon her, while sLe said "Florence!" said Walter passionately, " I am this, with a face so full of wonder and amaze-.hurried on to say what I thought, but a few moment, that it had room for nothing else. Now ments ago, nothing could have forced from my he caught up the hand that touched his, so en- lips. If I had been prosperous; if I had any treatingly, and held it between his own. means or hope of being one day able to restore "Oh, Miss Dombey," he said, "is it possible you to a station near your own; I would have chat while I have'been suffering so much, in told you that there was one name you might bestriving with my sense of what is due to you, stow upon me-a right above all others to protect and must be rendered to you, I have made you and cherish you-that' I was worthy of in nosuffer what your words disclose to me. Never, thing but the love and honour that I bore you, never, before Heaven, have I thought of you but and in my whole heart being yours. I would as the single bright, pure, blessed recollection of have told you that it was the only claim that my boyhood and my youth. Never have I from you could give me to defend and guard you, 364 DOMBE Y AND SON.. which I dare-accept-and dare assert; but that, if untiL it was quite, dark. He -took the chair on I:had that right, I would regard it as a trust so.Which Wkalter had been sitting, and looked up precious and so priceless, that the undivided at the sky-light, until the day, by little and little, truth.and fervour of my life would poorly ac-.faded away, and the stars peeped down. He knowledge its worth." lighted a candle, lighted a pipe,- smoked it out, The' head was still bent down, the tears still and wondered what' on earth was going on up. falling, and the bosom swelling with its sobs..tairs, and:why they didn't call him to tea.! Dear Florence-! dearest Florence I whom I Florence came to his side while he was in the cailed so in.my thtoghts before I could consider heightof his wonderment. how presumptuous' and wild it'was.' One last "Ay!.lady-lass!" cried the captain. Why, time,let. me call you by your own -dear name, you and Wal'r have had a long spell o' talk, my and >touch this gentle.hand -in token of your beauty."" sisterly forgetfulness of what I have said." Florende put her little hand round one of the,She raised her head, and spoke to him with great buttons of his coat, and said, looking down such a' solemn sweetness in her eyes; with such-'into his face: a- calm, bright, placid smile shining on him " Dear captain, I want to tell you something, through her tears; with such a low-, soft tremble: if.you please." in her frame and -voice; that the innermost \ The captain raised his head pretty smartly to chords of his.heart were touched, and his sight hear what'it was. Catching by this means a was dim as he listened. more distinct view of Florence, he pushed back "No, Walter, I cannot forget it. I would not his chair, and hinmself with it, as far- as they forget'it for the world. Are you-are you very could go. poor?" "What! Heart's Delight!" cried the captain, "I am but a wanderer," said Walter, "making suddenly elated. " Is it that?" voyages to -live across the sea. That is my "Yes!" said Florence eagerly. calling now." "Wal'r! -Husband! THAT?" roared the cap"Are you soon going away again, Walter?" tain, tossing up his glazed hat into the sky-light. " Very soon." "Yes!" cried Florence, laughing and crying She sat looking at him for a moment; then together. timidly put her trembling hand in his. The captain. immediately hugged her; ana If you will take me for your wife, Walter, I then, picking up the glazed hat and putting it will love you dearly. If you will let me go with on, drew her arm through his, and conducted you; Walter, I will go to the world's end without her up-stairs again; where he felt that the great fear. I can give up nothing for you-I have joke of his life was now to be made. nothing to resign, and no one to forsake; but all "What, Wal'r, my lad!" said the captain, my love and life shall- be devoted to you, and looking -in at the door, with his face like an with my last breath I will breathe your name to' amiable warming-pan. " So. there an't NO other God, if I have sense and memory left." character, an't there?" He caught her to his heart, and laid her He had like to have suffocated himself with cheek against his -own, and now, no more re- this pleasantry, which he repeated at least forty pulsed, no more forlorn, she wept indeed upon times during tea; polishing his radiant face with the breast of her dear lover. the sleeve of his chat, and dabbing his head all Blessed Sunday bells, ringing so tranquilly in -over with his pocket-handkerchief, in the intertheir entranced and happy ears! Blessed Sun- vals. But he was not without. a graver source day peace and quiet, harmonising with the calm- of enjoyment to fall back upon, when so disness in their souls, and- making holy air around posed, for he was repeatedly heard to say in an them.!:.Blessed twilight stealing on, and shading under-tone, as he. looked with ineffable delight her. so soothingly and gravely as she falls asleep, at Walter and Florence: like a.hushed child, upon the -bosom she has "Ed'ard Cuttle, my lad, you never shaped a clung to! better course in-your life than when you:made Oh l'ad of love and- trustfulness that lies so that there little property over jintly!" lighfly: there! Ay,. look down on the closed eyes, Walter, with a proudly tender gaze; for in all the wide wide world they seek but thee now — onlr thee I. The captain remained in the little parlour M.fRS. CIJICK AT T7EirPTS CONDOLENCE. 365 CHAPTER II. leading her old life in the weary house? No one can answer for him. He has never uttered MR. DOMSBEY AND T^HE WORLD MR. DOMBEY AND E ORLD her name since. His household dread him HAT is the proud man doing while the too much to approach a subject on which he is days go by? Does he ever think of resolutely dumb; and the only person who dare his daughter, or wonder where she is gone? question him, he silences immediately. Does he suppose she has come home, and is "My dear Paul " murmurs his sister, sidling "PLESSED TWILIGHT STEALING ON, AND SHADING HER SO SOOTHINGLY AND GRAVELY AS SHE FALLS ASLEERP LIKE A HUSHED CHILI), UPON THE IBOSOMI SHE HAS CLUNG TO! " into the room on the day of Florence's de- the sacrifice of your own relations to her caprices parture, "your wife! that upstart woman! Is and haughtiness? My poor brother!" it possible that what I hear confusedly is true, With this speech, feelingly reminiscent of her and that this is her return for your unparalleled not having been asked to dinner on the day of devotion to her; extending, I am sure, even to the first party, Mrs. Chick makes great use of 356 DOMABEY VAND SON. her pocket-handkerchief, and falls on Mr. Dom- what it says-this is the haunting demon of his bey's neck. But Mr. Dombey frigidly lifts her mind. It is everywhere where he is; and, worse off, and hands her to a chair. than that, it is everywhere where he is not. It " I thank you, Louisa," he says, "for this comes out with him among his servants, and yet mark of your affection; but desire that our con- he leaves it whispering behind; he sees it pointversation may refer to any other subject. When ing after him in the street; it is waiting for him I bewail my fate, Louisa, or express myself as in his counting-house; it leers over the shoulders being in want of consolation, you can offer it, if of rich men among the merchants; it goes beckonyou will have the goodness." ing-and babbling among the crowd; it always " My dear Paul," rejoins his sister, with her anticipates him in every place; and is always handkerchief to her face, and shaking her head, busiest, he knows, when he has gone away. "I know your great spirit, and will say no more When he is shut up in his room at night, it is upon a theme so painful and revolting;" on in his house, outside it, audible in footsteps on the heads of which two adjectives Mrs. Chick the pavement, visible in print upon the table, visits scathing indignation; "but-pray let me steaming to and fro on railroads and in ships: ask you-though I dread to hear something that restless and busy everywhere, with nothing else will shock and distress me-that unfortunate but him. child, Florence- " It is not a phantom of his imagination. It "Louisa!" says her brother sternly, " silence! is as active in other people's minds as in his. Not another word of this!" Witness Cousin Feenix, who comes from BadenMrs. Chick can only shake her head, and use Baden purposely to talk to him. Witness Major her handkerchief,, and- moan over degenerate Bagstock, who accompanies Cousin Feenix on Dombeys, who are no Dombeys. But whether that friendly mission. Florence has been inculpated in the flight of Mr. Dombey receives them with his usual Edith, or has followed her, or has done tue dignity, and stands erect, in his old attitude, much, or too little, or anything, or nothing, she before the fire. He feels that the world is lookhas not the least idea. ing at him out of their eyes. That it is in the IHe goes on, without deviation, keeping his stare of the pictures. That Mr. Pitt, upon the thoughts and feelings close within his own breast, bookcase, represents it. That there are eyes in and imparting them to no one. He makes no its own map, hanging on the wall. search for his daughter. He may think that she "An unusually cold spring," says Mr. Dombey is with his sister, or that she is under his own -to deceive the world. roof. He may think of her constantly, or he "Damme, sir," says the major in the warmth may never think about her. } It is all one for of friendship, "Joseph Bagstock is a bad hand any sign he makes. at a counterfeit. If you want to hold your But this is sure: he does nsot think that he friends off, Dombey, and to give them the cold has lost her. He has no suspicion of the truth. shoulder, J. B. is not the man for your purpose. He has lived too long shut up in his towering Joe is rough'and tough, sir; blunt, sir, blunt, is supremacy, seeing her, a patient gentle creature, Joe. His Royal Highness the late Duke of in the path below it, to have any fear of that. York did me the honour to sap, deservedly or Shaken as he is by his, disgrace, he is not yet undeservedly-never mind that —-' If there is a humbled to the level earth. The root is broad man in the service on whom I can depend for and deep, and, in the course of years,' its fibres coming to the point, that man is Joe-Joe have spread out and gathered nourishment from Bagstock."' everything around it. The tree is struck; but Mr. Dombey intimates his acquiescence. not down. "Now, Dombey," says the major, "I am a Though he hide the. world within hlm froni man of the world. Our friend Feenix-if I the world without-which he believes has but may presume to —" one purpose for the time, and that to watch him " Honoured, I am sure," says Cousin Feenix. eagerly wherever he goes-he cannot hide those "-Is," proceeds the major with a wag of his rebel traces of it which escape in hollow eyes head, "also a man of the world. Dombey, you and cheeks, a haggard forehead, and a moody, are a man of the world. Now, when three men brooding air. Impenetrable as' before, he is of the world meet together, and are friendsstill an altered man; and, proud as ever, he-is as I believe " again appealing to Cousin humbled, or those marks would not be there. Feenix. The world. What the world thinks of him, " I am sure," says Cousin Feenix, "most how it looks at him, what it sees in him, and friendly." 27fTh OPINVION O TWSA WORLD. 367 "-And are friends," resumes the major,' Now, Dombey,' says the major, "our friendl "old Joe's opinion is (J. may be wrong), that.Feenix having, with an amount of elotuctece the opinion of the world on any particular that old Joe B. has never heard surpassed —no, subject is very easily got at." by the Lord, sir! never! "-says the major, very "Undoubtedly," says Cousin Feenix. "In blue indeed, and grasping his cane in the middle point of fact, it's quite a self-evident sort of -" stated the case as regards the lady, I shall thing. I am extremely anxious, major, that my presume upon our friendship, Dombey, to o'ier friend Dombey should hear me express my very a word on another aspect of it. Sir," says the great astonishment and regret that my lovely major with the horse's cough, "the world in and accomplished relative, who was possessed these things has opinions, which must be satisof every qualification to make a man happy, fied;" should have so far forgotten what was due to- "I. know it," rejoins Mr. Dombey. in point of fact, to the world-as to commit "Of course you know it, Dombey," says the herself in such a very extraordinary manner; I major. ".Damme, sir, i know you know it. A have been in a devilish state of depression ever mtan of your calibre is not likely to be ignorant since; and said, indeed, to Long Saxby last of it." night-man of six foot ten, with whom my "I hope not," replies Mr. Dombey. friend Dombey is probably acquainted-that it "Dombey," says the major, "you will guess had upset me in a confounded way, and made the rest. I speak out-prematurely perhapsme bilious. It induces a man to reflect, this because the Bagstock breed have'always spoken kind of fatal catastrophe," says Cousin Feenix, out. Little, sir, have they ever got by doing it; " that events do occur in quire a providential but it's in the Bagstock blood. A shot is to be manner; for if my aunt had been living at the taken at this man. You have J. B. at your time, I think the effect upon a devilish lively elbow. He claims the name of friend. God woman like herself would have been prostration; bless you "' and that she would have fallen, in point of fact, "Major," returns Mr. Dombey, " I am obliged. a victim." I shall put myself in your hands when the time "Now, Dombey —" says the major, re- comes. The time not being come, I have forsuming his discourse with great energy. borne to speak to you." " I beg your pardonr" interposes Cousin "Where is the fellow, Dombey?" inquires the Feenix. "Allow me another word. My friend major, after gasping and looking at him for a Dombey will permit me to say, that if any cir- minute. cumstance could have added to the most in- "I don't know." fernal state of pain in which I find myself on "Any intelligence of him? " asks the major. this occasion, it would be the natural amaze- "Yes." ment of the world at my lovely and accom- "Dombey, I am rejoiced to hear it," says the plished relative (as I must still beg leave to call major. "I congratulate you." her) being supposed to have so committed her- " You will excuse-even you, major," replies self with a person-man with white teeth, in Mr. Dombey, "my entering into any further point of fact-of very inferior station to her detail at present. The "intelligence is of a husband. But while I must, rather' peremp- singular kind, and singularly obtained. It may torily, request my friend Dombey not to crimi- turn out to be valueless; it may turn out to be nate my lovely and accomplished relative until true; I cannot say at present. My explanation her criminality is perfectly established, I beg to must stop here." assure my friend Dombey that the family I repre- Although this is Dut a dry reply to the major's sent, and which is now almost extinct (devilish purple enthusiasm, the major receives it grasad reflection for a man), will interpose no ob- ciously, and is delighted to think that the world stacle in his way, and will be happy to assent has such a fair prospect of soon receiving its to any honodrable course of proceeding, with a due. Cousin Feenix is then presented with his view to the future, that he may point out. I meed of acknowledgment by the husband of his trust my friend Dombey will give me credit for lovely and accomplished relative, and Cousin the intentions by which I am animated in this Feenix and Major Bagstock retire, leaving that very melancholy affair, and-a-in point of fact, husband to the world again, and to ponder at I am not aware that I need trouble my friend leisure on their representation of its state of mind Dombey with any further observations." concerning his affairs, and on its just and reasonMr. Dombey bows, without raising his eyes, able expectations. and is silent. But who sits in.the housekeeper's room sEhd-. 368 DOMs3E Y'AVD SOr ding teats, and talking to Mrs. Pipchin in a low happened here will be a warning to you, Towtone, with uplifted hands? It is a lady with her linson." face concealed' in a very close black bonnet, "Thank you, miss, I'm sure," says Towlinson. which appears not to belong to her. It is Miss.' He appears to be falling into a consideration Tox,;fho has borrowed this disguise from her of the manner in which this warning, ought to servaat, and comes from Princess's Place, thus operate in his particular case, when the vinegary secredty, to revive her old acquaintance with Mrs. Pipchin, suddenly stirring him up with a Mrs. Pipchin, in older to get certain information "What are you doing? Why don't you show of the state of Mr. Dombey. the lady to the door?" he ushers Miss Tox "How does. he bear it, my dear creature?" forth. - As she passes Mr. Dombey's room, she asks MissTo.L shrinks into the inmost depths of the black Well," says Mrs. Pipchin in her snappish bonnet, and walks on tiptoe; and there is not vay, " he's pretty much as usual." another atom in the world which haunts him so " Externally," suggests Miss Tox. " But what that feels such sorrow and solicitude about him as he feels within I" Miss Tox takes. out under the black bonnet into Mrs. Iipchin's hard grey eye looks doubtful the street, and tries to carry home shadowed as she answers, in three distinct ierks, " Ah! from the newlylighted lamps. Perhaps. I suppose so." -.But Miss Tox is not a part of Mr. Dombey's "To tell you my mind, Lucretia," says Mrs. world.' She comes back every evening at dusk; Pipchin; she still calls Miss Tox Lucretia, on adding clogs and an umbrella to the bonnet on account of having made her first experiments in wet nights; and bears the grins of Towlinson, the child, quelling line of business on that lady, and the huffs and rebuffs of Mrs. Pipchin, and wnen an- unfortunate and weazen little girl of all to ask how he does, and how he bears his tender years.; "to tell you my mind, Licretia, I misfortune: but she has nothing to do with Mr. think it's a good riddance. I don't want any of Dombey's world. Exacting and harassing as your brazen faces here, myself! ever, it goes oni-without her; and she, a by no " Brazen indeed! Well may you say brazen, means bright or particular star, moves in her Mrs. Pipchin I " returns Miss Tox. " To leave little orbit in the comer of another system, and him! Such-a noble figure of a man!" and here knows it quite well, and comes, and tries, and Miss Tox is overcome. goes away, and is satisfied. Verily Miss Tox is " I don't know about noble, I'm sure," ob- easier of satisfaction than the world that troubles serves Mrs.' Pipchin; irascibly rubbing her nose; Mr. Dombey so much.' But I know this-that when people meet with At the counting-house the clerks discuss the trials, they must bear'em. Hoity-toity! I have great disaster in all its lights and shades, but had enough to bear myself, in my time! What chiefly wonder who will get Mr. Carker's place. a fuss there' is I She's gone, and well gotfid of. They are generally of opinion that it will be Nobody wants her back, I should think!" shorn of some of its emoluments, and. made unThis hint of the Peruvian mines causes Miss comfirtable by newly-devised checks and reTox to rise to go away; when Mrs. Pipchin strictions; and those who are beyond all hope rings the bell for Towlihson to show her out. of it are quite sure they would rather. not have Mr. Towlinson, not having seen Miss Tox for it, and. don't at all envy the person for whom it ages, grins, and hopes she's well; observing may prove to be reserved. Nothing like the that he didn't know her at first in that bonnet. prevailing sensation has existed in the counting"Pretty well, Towlinson, I thank you," says house since Mr. Dombey's little son died; but Miss Tox. "I beg you'll have- the goodness, all such excitements there take a social, not to when you happen to see. me here, not to men- say jovial turn, and lead to the cultivation of tion it; My visits are merely to Mrs. Pip- good-fellowship. A reconciliation is established, chin'" on this propitious occasion, between the acknow"'Very, good, miss," says Towlinson. ledged wit of the courting-house and an aspiring "Shocking circumstances occur, Towlinson."'rival, Wvith whom he has been at deadly feud for says Miss Tox. months; and a little dinner being proposed, in "Very much so indeed, miss," rejoins Tow- commemoration of their happily-restored amity, linson. takes place at a neighbouring tavern; the wit " I hope, Towlinson," says Miss Tox, who, in in the chair; the rival acting as Vice-President. her instruction of the Toodle: family, has ac- The orations following the removal of the cloth quired an admonitorial tone, and' a habit of are opened by the chair, who says, Gentlemen, improvng passing occasions,'.that what has he can't disguise fiom himself that this is not a CHOR US 369 time for private. dissensions. Recent occur-. Miss Florence, and wonder where she is; but rences, to which he need mot more particularly agree that, if Mr. Dombey don't know,' Mrs; allude, but which have not been altogether with- Dombey does. This brings them to the latter, out notice in some Sunday papers, and in a daily of whom cook says, She had'a stately way, paper which he need not name (here every other though, hadn't.'she? But she was too high. member of. the company names it in an audible They all agree that she was too'high, and Mr. murmur), have caused him to reflect; and he Towlinson's old flame, the housemaid (who is feels that for him and Robinson to have any very virtuous), entreats that you will never talk to personal differences at such a moment would be her any more about people who holds their heads for, ever to deny that good feeling in the general up, as if the ground wasn't good enough for'em. cause, for which he has reason to think and Everything that is said and done about it, hope that the gentlemen in Dombey's House except by Mr. Domibey, is done in chorus. Mr. have always been distinguished. Robinson re- Dombey and the world are alone together. plies to this like a man and a brother; and one gentleman who has been in. the office' three years,'under continual notice to quit on account of lapses in his arithmetic, appears in a perfectly CHAPTER. LII. new light, suddenly bursting out with a thrilling speech, in which he says, May their respected sCRET INTELLIGENCE. chief never again know the desolation which has fallen on his hearth! and says a great variety of OOD Mrs. Brown and her daughter things, beginning with " May he never again," ( /j Alice kept silent company together which are received with thunders of applause. x1 in their own dwelling. It was early In short, a most delightful evening is passed, in the evening, and late: in the only interrupted by a difference between two. spring. But a few days had elapsed juniors,, who, quarrelling about the probable'' since Mr: DQmbey had told Major amount of Mr.'Carkers late receipts per annum, -.Bagstock. of his singular intelligece defy each other with decanters, and are taken singularly obtained, which might turn out greatly excited. Soda water is in general out to be valueless, and might. turn out to be request at the office next day, and most of the'true; and the world was not satisfied yet. party deem the bill an imposition.. The mother and daughter sat for a long time As to Perch, the messenger, he is in a fair without interchanging a word: almost without way of being ruined for life: He finds himself motion. The old woman's face was shrewdly again constantly in bars of public-houses, being anxious and expectant; that of her daughter treated and lying dreadfully. It appears that he was expectant too, but in a less sharp degree, met everybody concerned in the late trans- and sometimes it darkened, as if with gathering action, everywhere, and said to them, "Sir," or disappointment and'incredulity. The old wo"Madam," as the case was, "why do you look man, without heeding these changes in'its exso pale?" at which each shuddered from head pression, though her eyes were often turned to foot, and said, "Oh,. Perch!" and ran away. towards it, sat mumbling and munching, and Either.the consciousness of these enormities, or.listening confidently. the reaction consequent on liquor, reduces Mr. Their abode, though poor and miserable, was Perch' to an extreme state of low spirits at that not so utterly wretched as/in the days when hour of the evening when he usually seeks con- only Good Mrs. Brown inhabited it. Some few solation in the society of Mrs.. Perch at Balls attempts at cleanliness and order were manifest, Pond; and Mrs. Perch frets a good deal, for though made in a reckless, gipsy way. that might she fears his confidence in woman is shaken have connected them, at a glance, with the now, and that he half expects, on coming home younger woman. The shades of evening thick-'at night, to find her gone off with some Viscount. ened and deepened as the two kept silence,' Mr. Dombey's servants are becoming, at the until the blackened walls were nearly lost in the same time, quite. dissipated, and unfit for other prevailing gloom. service.. They.have hot suppers every night, and Then Alice broke the silence which had lasted "talk: it ver", with.smoking drinks upon the so long, and said: board. -ir.: Towlinson is- always maudlin after "You may give nlm up, mother.. He'll not half-past ten,and frequently begs to knowwhether come here." he. didn't say that no'good would.ever come of "Death'. give mm up!" returned the old living in a' corner house? They awhisper about woman impatiently.' "He will come here." DIOiLEY AiD SON, 24 Bir^o ~ DOMBEY AND SONA " We shall see," said Alice. "Woman," said Mr. Dombey to the old witch, "We shall see him," returned her mother. who was chuckling and leering close.at his "And doomsday," said the daughter. elbow, and who, when he turned to address her, "You think I'm in my second'childhood, I: pointed stealthily at her daughter, and rubbed know! " croaked the old woman' "That's the her hands, and pointed again, " woman. f berespect and duty that I get from my own gal, lieve that I am weak and.forgetful of my station but I'm wiser than you take me for. He'll in coming here, but you know why I come7anri come. T'other day, when I touched his coat in what you offered when you stopped me in the the street, he looked round as if I was a toad. street the other day. What is it that you have But Lord, to see him when I said their names, to tell me concerning what I want, to -know * and and asked him if he'd like to find out where they how does it happen that I can find voluntary inwas!" telligence in a hovel like this," with a disdainful "Was it so angry?" asked her daughter, glance about him, "when I haVe exerted my roused to interest in a moment. power and means to obtain it- in vain?,I do "Angry! Ask if it was bloody. That's more not think," he said after a moment's pause, durlike the word. Angry.! Ha, ha! To call that ing which he had observed her sternly, "that only angry!" said the old woman, hobbling to you are so audacious as to mean to trifle with the cupboard, and lighting a candle, which dis- me, or endeavour to impose upon me. But, if played the workingsof her mouth to ugly advan- you have that purpose, you had better stop on'age as she brought it to the table. " I might the threshold of your scheme. My humour is as well call your face only angry, when you not a trifling one, and my acknowledgment will think or talk about'em." be severe." It was sor.iething different from that, truly, as "Oh, a proud, hard gentleman!" chuckled she sat as still as a crouched tigress, with her the old woman, shaking her head, and rubbing kindling eyes. her shrivelled hands. " Oh, hard, hard, hard f "Hark! " said the old woman triumphantly. But your worship shall see vith your own eyes, " I hear -- step coming. It's not the tread of and hear with your own ears; not with oursany one that lives about here, or comes this way and if your worship's put upon their track, you often. We don't walk like that. We should won't mind paying something for it, will you. grow proud on such neighbours! Do you hear honourable deary? " him? "' "Money," returned Mr. Dombey, apparently " I believe you -are right, mother," replied relieved and reassured by this inquiry, "will Alice in a low voice. "Peace; open the door." bring about unlikely things, I know. It may - As she drew herself within her shawl, and turn even means as unexpected and unpromisgathered it about her, the old woman complied; ing as these to account. Yes. For any reliable and peering out, and beckoning, gave admission information I receive I will pay. But I must to Mr. DoInbey, who stopped when he had set have the information first, and judge for myself his foot within the door, and looked distrustfully of its value." around. " Do you know nothing more powerful than " It's a poor place for a great gentleman like money? " asked the younger woman, without your worship," said the old woman, curtsying rising, or altering her attitude. and chattering. " I told you so, but there's no "Not here, I should imagine," said Mr. Dombey.' harm in it." "You should know of something that is more "Who is tnat?" asked Mr. Dombey, looking powerful elsewhere, as I judge," she returned. at her companion. "Do you know nothing of a woman's anger? " " That's my handsome daughter,' said tfie old "You have a saucy tongue, jade," said Mr. woman, " Your worship won't mind her. She Dombey. knows all about it." " Not usually," she -answered, without any A shadow fell upon his face not less expres- show of emotion. "I speak to you now, that sive than if he had groaned aloud, " Who does you may understand us better, and rely more on not know all about it? " but he looked at her us. A woman's anger is prettymuch the same steadily, and she, without any acknowledgment here as in your fine house. I am angry. I of his presence, looked at him. The shadow on have been so many years. I have as good cause his face was darker when he turned his glance for my anger as you have'for yours, and 7its obaway from her; and even then it wyndered back ject is the same man."' again furtively, as if he were haunted by her bold He started in spite of himself and looked at eyes, and some remembrance they inspired., her with astonishment.. 21MR. DOA0BZE Y ZIN 7'TE DA R. 371 "Yes," she said with a kind of laugh. "Wide Her sharp eye had detected an involuntary as the distance may seem between us, it is so. expression of this feeling on his part, which was How it is so is no matter; that is my story, and not unreasonable under the circumstances. In I keep my story to myself. I would bring you satisfaction of it, she now took the candle to the and him together, because I have a rage against door she spoke of. Mr. Dombey looked in; him. My mother there is avaricious and poor; assured himself that it was an empty, crazy and she would sell any tidings she could glean, room; and signed to her to put the light back or anything, or anybody, for money. It is fair in its place. enough, perhaps, that you should pay her some, "How long," he asked, "before this person if she can help you. to what you Want to know. comes?" But that is not my motive. I have told you "Not long," she answered. "Would your what mine is, and it would be as strong and all- worship sit down for a few odd minutes?" sufficient with me if you haggled and bargained He made no answer; but began pacing the with her for a sixpence. I have done. My room with an irresolute air, as if he were unsaucy tongue says no more, if you wait here till decided whether to remain or depart, and as if sunrise to-morrow." he had some quarrel with himself for being there The old woman, who had shown great uneasi- at all. But soon his tread grew slower and ness during this speedb, which had a tendency heavier, and his face more sternly thoughtful; to depreciate her expected gains, pulled Mr. as the object with which he had come fixed itDombey softly by the sleeve, and whispered to self in his mind, and dilated there again. him not to mind her. He glanced at them both, While he thus walked up and down with his by turns, with a haggard look, and said, in a eyes on the ground, Mrs. Brown, in the chair deeper voice than was usual with him: from which she had risen to receive him, sat " Go on-what do you know?" listening anew. The monotony of his step, or " Oh, not so fast, your worship we.must the uncertainty of age, made her so slow of wait for some one," answered the old woman. hearing, that a footfall without had sounded in " It's to be got from some one else-w6rmed her daughter's ears for some moments, and she out-screwed and twisted from him." had looked up hastily to warn her mother of its " What do you mean?" said Mr. Dombey. approach, before the old woman was roused by " Patience," she croaked, laying her hand, it. But then she started from her seat, and like a claw, upon his arm. "Patience. I'll get whispering, " Here he is!" hurried her visitor at it. I know I can. If he was to hold it back to his place of observation, and put a bottle and from me," said Good Mrs. Brown, crooking her glass upon the table, with such alacrity as to be ten fingers, " I'd tear it out of him " ready to fling her arms round the neck of Rob Mr. Dombey followed her with his eyes as she the Grinder on his appearance at the door, hobbled to the door, and looked out again: and "And here's my bonny boy," cried Mrs. then his glance sought her daughter; but she Brown, " at last!-oho, oho! You're like my remained impassive, silent, and regardless of him. own son, Robby!" "Do you tell me, woman," he said, when the "Oh! Misses Brown!" remonstrated the bent figure of. Mrs. Brown came back, shaking Grinder. "Don't. Can't you be fond of a its head and chattering to itself, " that there is cove without squeedging and throttling of him? another person expected here?" Take care of the bird-cage in my hand, will " Yes! " said the old woman, looking up into you?" his face, and nodding. " Thinks of a bird-cage afore me! " cried the " From whom you are to extract the intelli- old woman, apostrophizing the ceiling. " Me gence that is to be useful to me?" that feels more than a mother for him! " "Yes," said the old woman, nodding again. " Well, I'm sure I'm very much obliged to " A stranger? " you, Misses Brown," said the unfortunate youth, " Chut! " said the old woman with a shrill greatly aggravated " but you're so jealous of a laugh. "What signifies? Well, well; no. cove. I'm very fond of you myself, and all that, No stranger to your worship. But he won't see of course; but I don't smother you, do I, Misses you. He'd be afraid of you, and wouldn't talk. Brown?" You'll stand behind that door, and judge him He looked and spoke as if he would have for yourself. We don't ask to be believed on been far from objecting to do so, however, on a trust. What! Your worship doubts the room favourable occasion. behind the door? Oh the suspicion of you rich " And to talk about bird-cages, too!" whimgentlefolks! Look at it, then," pered the Grinder, " As if that was a crime 372 DOMJIBEY AND SON. Why, lookee here. Do you know who.this be- pulling his hair with both hands in the exaspelongs to?" ration of his feelings, "if she an't enough to "To master, dear?"' said the old woman with make a cove run wild i a grin. " What! Do you snub me, thankless boy?" "Ah!" replied the,Grinder, lifting a large cried the old woman with ready vehemence. cage, tied up in a wrapper, on the table, and un- "Good gracious, Misses Brown, no!" returned tying it with his teeth and hands. ". It's our the Grinder, with tears in his eyes.' "Was there parrot, this is." ever such a- Don't I dote upon you, Misses " Mr. Carker's parrot, Rob?" Brown? ". " Will you hold your tongue, Misses Brown?" " Do you,-sweet Rob? Do you truly, chickareturned the goaded Grinder. "What do you biddy?" With that, Mrs. Brown' held him in go naming names for? I'm blest," said Rob, her fond embrace once more; and did not reII;~iill 1. —~ ~ (..____.____' IT APPEARS THAT HE MET EVERYBODY CONCERNED IN THE LATE TRANSACTION, EVERYWHERE, AND SAID TO THEM,'SIR,' OR'MADAM,' AS THE CASE WAS,' WHY DO YOU LOOK SO PALE?' AT WHICH EACH SHUDDERED FROM HEAD TO FOOT, AND SAID,'OH, PERCH! AND RAN AWAY." lease him unuil he had made several violent and to-night, dian't I? And here I am. How you ineffectual struggles with his legs, and his hair do go on! I wish you'd be a little rational, was standing on end all over his head. Misses Brown. I'm hoarse with saying things "Oh! " returned the Grinder, "what a thing in my defence, and my very face is shiny with it is to be perfectly pitched into with affection being hugged." He rubbed it hard with his like this here? A wish she was — How have sleeve, as if to remove the tender polish in you been, Misses Brown?" question. "Ah! Not here since this night weeki " said "Drink a little drop to comfort you, my the, old woman, contemplating him with a look Robin," said the old woman, filling the glass of reproach. from the bottle, and giving it to him. "Good gracious, Misses Brown," returned the "Thankee, Misses' Brown," returned the Grinder, " I said; to-night's a week, that I'd come Grinder. " Here's your health, And long may A LITTLE LIGHT UPON THE TRA CK..73 you —et cetrer." Which, to judge from the ex- who came down.from the gilded dome at her pression of his face, did not include any very' call, said: choice blessings. "And here's her health," said "Out' ot place now,' Robby?" the Grinder, glancing. at Alicei who sat with her " Never you mind, Misses Brown," returned eves fixed, as it seemed to. him, on-the wall be- the Grinder shortly. hind him, but in reality on Mr. Dombey's face at "Board. wages, perhaps, Rob?" said Mrs. the door, " and wishing her the same, and many Brown. of'em!"' " Pretty Polly!." said the Grinder. He drained the glass to these two' sentiments, The old woman darted a glance at him that and set it down. might have warned him to consider his ears in'Well, I say, Misses Brown!" he proceeded. danger, but it was his turn to look. in at the "To go on a little rational now. You're a judge parrot now, and, however expressive his imagiof birds, and up to their ways, as I know to my nation may have made her angry scowl, it was cost." unseen by his.bodily eyes. "Cost " repeated Mrs. Brown. "I wonder master didn't take you with him, ( Satisfaction, I mean," returned the Grinder. Rob,".said the old woman in a wheedling voice, How you do take up a' cove, Misses Brown! but with increased malignity of aspect. You've put it all out of my head again." Rob'was so absorbed in contemplation of the. " Judge of birds, Robby," suggested the old parrot, and in trolling his forefinger on the-wires, woman. that he made no answer. "Ah! " said the Grinder. " Well, I've got to The old woman had her clutch withinra'hair's. take care of this parrot-certa thithings being breadth of his shock of hair as it stooped over sold, and'a certain establishment broke up-and the table; but sher'estrained her fingers, and as I don't want no notice took at present, I wish said, in a voice that choked with its efforts to be you'd attend to her for a week or so, and give coaxing: her board and lodging, will you? If I must come "Robby, my child." backwards and forwards," mused the Grinder "Well, Misses Brown," returned the Grinder. with a dejected face, " I may as well have some- "I say, I wonder master didn't take vou with thing to come for." him, dear." "Something to come for! " screamed the old'' Never you -mind, Misses Brown," returned woman. the Grinder. "Besides you, I mean, Misses Brown," re- Mrs. Bro.wi instantly directed the clutch of turned the craven Rob. " Not that 1'want'any her right hand at his hair, and the clutch of her inducement but yourself, Misses Brown, I'm sure. left hand at his throat, and held. on to the object Don't begin again, for goodness' sake.'" of her fond affection with such extraordinary "He don't care for me! He don't care for fury, that his face began to blacken in a moment. me as I care for him! " cried Mrs. Brown, lifting "Misses Brown!" exclaimed the Grinder," let up her skinny hands. "But I'll take care of go, will you? What are youdoing of? Help, his bird." young woman: Misses Brow-Brow —"Take good care of it too, you know, Misses The young woman, however, equally unmoved Brown,", said Rob, shaking his head. "If by his direct appeal to her, and by his inarticuvou, was so much as'to stroke its feathers late utterance, remained quite neutral, until, after once the wrong way, I believe it would be found struggling with his- assailant into a corner, Rob out." disengaged himself, and stood there panting and "Ah! so sharp as that, Rob? " said Mrs. fenced in by his own -elbows, while the old woBrown quickly. man, panting too, and stamping with rage and "Sharp, Misses Brown!" repeated Rob. "But eagerness, appeared to be collecting her enerthis is not to be talked about." gies for another swoop upon him. At this crisis Checking himself abruptly, and not without a Alice interposed her' voice, but not in the fearful glance across the room, Rob filled the Grinder's favour, by saying, glass again, and having slowly emptied it, shook. "Well done,. mother! - Tear him to pieces!" his head, and began to draw his fingers'across "What, -young' woman!" blubbered Rob; and across the wires of the parrot's cage, by way "are you against me too? What have I been of a diversion from'the dangerous theme that and done.? What am I to be tore to pieces for, had just been broached. I should like to know?'' Why do. you take and The old woman eyed him slily, and hitching choke a cove who has never done you any haim, her chair nearer his, and looking in at the parrot,. neither of you? _ Call yourselves.females, too!" 3r74 f0 ~B0EY AND) SON. said the frightened and afflicted Grinder, with his of gossip, Misses Brown. Don't go on like this, coat-cuff at his eye. " I'm surprised at you if you please. Oh, couldn't you have the goodWhere's your feminine tenderness?" ness to put in a word for a miserable cove here?" "You thankless dog! " gasped Mrs. Brown. said the Grinder, appealing il desperation to the "C You impudent, insulting dog!" daughter. "What have I been and done togo and give "Come, mother, you hear what he says," she you offence, Misses Brwn?" retorted the tear- interposed in her stern voice, and with an imfil Rob. " You was very much attached to me patient action of her head; "try him once more, a minute ago." and if you fall out with him again, ruin him, if "To cut me off with his short answers and you like, and have done with him." his sulky words," said the old woman. " Me! Mrs. Brown, moved as it seemed'by this very because I happen to be,chrious to have a little tender exhortation, presently began,to howl; bit of gossip about master and the lady, to dare and softening by degrees, took the apologetic to play at fast and loose with me! Btic I'll talk Grinder to her arms, who embraced her with a to you no rcre, my lgd. Now go!" face of unutterable woe, and like a victim as he " I am sure, Misses Brown;" returned the ab- was, resumed his former seat, close by the side lect Grinder, " I never insiniwated that I wished of his venerable friend; whom' he suffered, not to go. Don't talk like that, Misses Brown, if without much constrained sweetness of counteyou please." nance, combating very expressive physiognomi" I won't talk at all," said Mrs. Brown, with cal revelations of an opposite character, to draw an action of her crooked fingers that made him his arm through hers, and keep it there. shrink into half his' natural compass in the cor- And how's master, deary dear? " said Mrs. ner. " Not another word with him shall pass Brown, when, sitting in this amicable posture, my lips. He's an ungrateful hound. I cast him they had pledged each other. off. Now let him go' And I'll slip those after,, "Hush! If you'd be so good, Misses Brown, him that shall talk too much; that won't be as to speak a little lower," Rob implored. "Why, shook away;' that'll hang to him like leeches, he's'pretty well, thankee, I suppose." and slink arter him like foxes. What! he knows "'You're not out of place, Robby? " said Mrs.'em. He knows his old games. and his Qld ways. Brown in a wheedling tone. If he's, forgotten'em, they'll soon remind him. " Why, I'm not exactly out of place nor in," Now let him go, and see how he'll do master's faltered Rob.: "I-I'm'still in pay, Misses business, and-keep master's secrets, with such Brown." company always following him up and down. "And nothing to do, Rob? " Ha, ha, ha! He'll find'em a different sort from "Nothing particular to do just now, Misses you and me, Ally; close as he is with you and Brown, but to-keep my eyes open," said the me. Now let him go, now let him go!" Grinder, rolling them in a forlorn way. The old woman, to the unspeakable dismay of "Master abroad, Rob? " the Grinder, walked her twisted figure round "Oh, for goodness' sake, Misses. Brown, and round in a ring of some four feet in diameter, couldn't you gossip with a cove about anyconstantly repeating these words, and shaking thing else?" cried the Grinder in a burst of deher fist above her head, and working her mouth spair. about. The impetuous Mrs. Brown rising directly, "Misses Brown," pleaded Rob, coming a little the tortured Grinder detained her, stammering, out of his corner, "I'm sure you wouldn't injure "Ye-yes, Misses Brown, I believe he's abroad. a cove, on second thoughts, and in cold blood, What's she staring at? " he added, in allusion to would you?" the daughter, whose eyes were fixed upon the "Don't talk to me," said Mrs. Brown, still face that now again looked out behind him. wrathfully pursuing her circle. "Now let him "Don't mind -her, lad," said the old woman, go, now let him go I" holding him closer to prevent his turning round. "Misses Brown," urged the tormented Grinder, "It's her way-her way. Tell me, Rob. Did "I didn't mean to-oh, what a thing it is. for a you ever see the lady, deary?" cove to get into such a line as this!-I was only "Oh, Misses Brown, what lady? " cried the careful of'talking,- Misses Brown, because I Grinder in.a tone of piteous supplication. always am, on account of his being up to every- "What lady ". she' retorted. -" The lady; tiling; but I might have known' itwouldn't Mrs. Dombey." have gone riny f.rther. I'msure I'm'quite agree-.'" Yes, I believe I see' her once," replied Rob..able," with, t wretched face,." for any little bit.:" The night she went away; Robby, eh?" said i ORE LIGHT UPON THE TRACK., 37 the old woman in his ear, and taking note of Brown?" returned the Grinder, who, between every change in his face.'Aha s I know it his sense of injury, his.sense of liquor, and his was that night." sense of being on therack, had become so "Well, if you know it was that night, you lachrymose, that at -almost every answer he know, Misses Brown," replied Rob, "it's no use scooped his coat-cuff.-into one or other of his putting pinchers into a cove to make him say eyes, and uttered an unavailing whine of remon. so." strance..'Did she laugh that night, was it? "Where. did they go that hight, Rob? Straight Didn't you ask if she laughed, Mrs. Brown?' away? How did they-go? Where did you see "t Or cried? " added the old woman, nodding her? Did she laugh,? Didshehe cry? Tell me assent. all about it,', cried the old hag, holding him "Neither," said the Grinder. "She Iept as closer yet, patting the hand that, was drawn steady-when she and me —-- Oh, I see you through his -arm against her other hand, and will have it out of me, Misses Brown! Bdt take searching every line in his face with her bleared your solemn oath, now, that you'll never tell eyes. "Come I Begin! I want to be told all anybody." about it. What, Rob, boy! You and me can This Mrs. Brown very readily did: being keep a secret together, eh? We've done so naturally Jesuitical; and having no other intenbefore now. Where did they go first, Rob?" tion in the matter than that her concealed visitor — The wretched Grinder. made a gasp, and a should hear for himself. pause. "She kept as steady; then, when she and me "Are you dumb?" said the old woman went down to Southampton," said the Grinder, angrily. "as a image. In the morning she was just the "Lord, Misses Brown; no! You expect a same, Misses Brown. And when she went away cove to be a flash of lightning. I wish I was in the packet before daylight, by herself —me the -electric fluency," muttered,the bewildered pretending to be her servant, and seeing her safe Grinder. "I'd have' a shock at somebody, that aboard-she was just the same. Now are you would settle their business." contented, Misses Brown?" " What do you say?" asked the old woman "No, Rob. Not yet," answered Mrs. Brown with a grin.. decisively. I'm wishing my love to you, Misses Brown," -'" Oh, here's a woman for you!" cried the unreturned the false Rob,. seeking consolation in fortunate Rob, in an outburst of feeble lamentathe glass. " Where did they go to first, was it? tion over his own helplessness. "What did you Him and her do you mean?" wish to know next, Misses Brown?" "Ah!" said the old woman eagerly. "Them "What became of master? Where did he two." go?" she inquired, still holding him tight, and "Why; they didn't So nowhere-not together, lookiig close into his face with her sharp eyes. I mean," answered Rob. "'Upon my soul, I don't know, Misses Brown," The old woman looked at him. as-though she answered Rob. " Upon my soul, I don't know had a strongTimputlse upon her to make another what he did, nor where he went, nor anything clutch at his head and throat, but was restrained about him. I only know what he said to me, as by a certain dogged mystery in his face. a caution to hold.my tongue, when we parted; "That. was the art of it," said the reluctant and I tell you this, Misses Brown, as a friend, Grinder'" that's the way nobody saw'em go, that sooner than ever repeat a word of what or has been able to say how they did go.. They we're saying now, you had better take and shoot went different ways, I tell you, Misses Brown." yourself, or shut yourself up in this house and "Ayay, ay f To meetat an appointed place," set it afire, for there's nothing he wouldn't do, to chuckled the old woman after a moment's silent be revenged upon. you. You don't know him and keen scrutiny-of his face. half as well as I do,. Misses Brown. You're Why, if they. weren't a-going to meet some- never. safe from him, I tell you." where, I suppose they mightas well have stayed "Haven't I taken an oath," retorted the old at home, mightnWt they, Misses Brown? " re-. woman, " and won't'I keep it?" turned the.unwilling Grinder.. "Well, I'm sure I hpe. you will, Misses Well, Rob? Well?" said the oldrwoman, Brown," returned Rob, somewhat doubtfully, drawing his arm yet tighter through.her own, as and not withotut a latent'tthreatening in his manif, in her eagerness,'she were afraid of his slip- ner. "For your own sake, quite as much a. ping away. mine." "! What! haven't we twalked enough yet, Misses He looked at her as he gave her this friendly 376 DOMBEY ANVD SON caution, and emphasized it with a nodding of his you'd believe that.. Shall I tell you, Misses head; but finding it uncomfortable to encounter Brown?" the yellow face with its grotesque action, and "Yes, Rob." the ferret eyes with their keen old wintry gaze,: "Well,. then, Misses'Brown.' The wayso close to his own, he looked down uneasily, Now, you won't.ask anymore, you know?'-said and sat shuffling in his chair, as if he,were trying Rob, turning his eyes, which were.how fast to bring himself to a sullen declaration that he getting drowsy and stupid, upon her. would answer no more questions., The old "Not another word,".said Mrs. Brown. woman, still holding him as before, took this " Well, then, the way was this..'When a ceropportunity of raising the forefinger of her right tain person left the lady with me, he put a piece hand in the air, as a stealthy signal to the con- of paper with a direction written on it in the cealed observer to give particular attention. to lady's hand, saying it was ti case she should what was about to follow. forget. She wasn't afraid of forgetting, for she " Rob," she said in her most coaxing tone. tore it up as soon as his back was turned, and, "Good gracious, Misses Brown, what's the when I put up. the carriage steps,'I shook" out matter now? " returned the exasperated Grinder. one of the pieces-she sprinkled the rest out of "Rob! where did the lady and master ap- the window, I suppose, for there was none there point to meet?" afterwards, though I looked for'em. There was Rob shuffled more and more, and looked up ofily one word on it, and that was this, if you and looked down, and bit his thumb, and dried. must and will know. But remember!. You're it on -his waistcoat, and finally said, eyeing his upon your oath, Misses Brown!. tormentor askant, " How should Iknow, Misses Mrs. Brown knew that, she said.' Rob, having Brown? " nothing more to say, began to chalk, slowly and The old woman held up her finger again as laboriously, on the table. before, and replying, "Come, lad! It's no use' "'D,'" the old woman- read aloud, when he leading me to that, and there leaving me. I' had formed the letter. want to know," waited for his answer. "Will you hold your tongue, Misses Brown?," Rob, after a discomfited pause, suddenlybroke he exclaimed, covering it with his hand, and opt with, "How can I pronounce the names of turning impatiently upon her. "I won't have it foreign places, Misses Brown? What an'un- read out. Be quiet, will you?" reasonable woman you ate!" "Then write large, Rob," she returned,.re"But you have heard it said, Robby," she peating her secret signal; "for my. eyes are not retorted firmly, " and you know what it sounded good even at print." like. Come!" -Muttering to himself, and returning to his "I never heard it said, Misses Brown," re- work with an ill-will, Rob went on with the turned the Grinder. word. As he bent his head down, the person "Then," retorted the old- woman quickly, for whose information he so unconsciously la"you have seen it written, and you can spell it." boured, moved from the door behind him to Rob, with a petulant exclamation between' within a short stride of his shoulder, and looked laughing and crying-for he was penetrated wi:h eagerly towards the creeping track of his hand some admiration of Mrs. Brown's cunning, even upon the table. At the same time, Alice, from through this persecution-after some reluctant her opposite chair, watched it narrowly as it fumbling in his waistcoat pocket, produced from shaped the letters, and repeated each one on her it a little piece of chalk. The old woman's eyes lips as he made it, without articulating it aloud. sparkled when she saw it between his thumb. At the end of every letter -her eyes and Mr. and finger, and hastily clearing a space on the Dombey's met, as if each' of them sought to be jeal table, that he might write the word there, confirmed by the other: and thus they both she once. more made her signal with a shaking spelt D. I. J. 0. N. hand.' "There!" said the Grinder, moistening the "Now, I tell you beforehand what \it is, palm of his hand hastily, to obliterate the word; Misses-Brown;" said Rob, "'it's no use asking and' not content with smearing it out, rubbing me anything else. I won't answer anything and planing all trace.f it away with his coat, else; I can't. How long it-was to.be before sleeve, until the very colour of the chalk was they met, or whose plan it-was that they was' gone from the table. " Now I hope you're conto go away alone, I don't know no more than tented, Misses Brown!" you do. I don't know any more about it. If The old'woman, in token of luer lbing o, J. was to tell you how I found out this word'released hia arm and patted hlis back; and tho. IMF PA4 7YENT' FOR ACTYOIV. 377 Grinder, overcome with mortification, cross- bey stood concealed, and beckon him to come examination, and liquor, folded his arms on the through the room, and pass out. Even then she table, laid his head upon them, and fell asleep. hovered over Rob, ready to blind him with her Not until he had been heavily asleep some hands, or strike his head down, if he should time, and was snoring roundly, did the old raise it while the secret step was crossing to the woman turn towards the door where Mr. Dom- door. But though her glance took sharp cog" D. I. J. O. N." nizance of the sleeper, it was sharp too for the door, and noted well how pale he was, and how waking man; and when he touched her hand his hurried tread indicated that the least delay with his, and, in spite of all his caution, made a was an insupportable restraint upon him, and chinking, golden sound, it was as bright and how he was burning to be active and away. As greedy as a raven's. he closed the door behind him, she looked round The daughter's dark gaze followed him to the at her mother, The old woman trotted to her;; 3 78 DOiMBJ Y AND SON. opened her hand to show what was within; and, than the grave gentleman without a wrinkle in tightly closing it again in her jealousy and his starched cravat. avarice, whispered: But the very intensity of his purpose became " What will he do, Ally?" almost a substitute for action in it. While he "Mischief," said the daughter. was yet uninformed of the traitor's retreat, it "Murder?" asked the old woman. served to divert his mind from his own calamity, " He's a madman in his wounded pride, and and to entertain it with another prospect. The may do that, for anything we can say, or he brother and sister of his false favourite had no either." such relief; everything in their history, past and Her glance was brighter than her mother's, present, gave his delinquency a more afflicting and the fire that shone in it was fiercer; but her meaning to them. face was colourless, even to her lips. The sister may have sometimes sadly thought They said no more, but sat apart; the mother that, if she had remained with him the comcommuning with her money; the daughter with panion and -friend she had been once, he might her thoughts; the glance of each shining in the have escaped the crime into which he had fallen. gloom of the feebly-lighted room. Rob slept If she ever thought so, it was still without regYet and snored. The disregarded parrot only was for what she had done, without the least'doubt in action. It twisted and pulled at the wires of of her duty, without any pricing or enhancing of its cage with its crooked beak, and crawled up her self-devotion. But when this possibility preto the dome, and along its roof like a fly and sented itself to the erring and repentant brother, down again head foremost, and shook, and bit, as it sometimes did, it smote upon his heart with and rattled at every slender bar, as if it knew its such a keen, reproachful touch as he could hardly master's danger, and was wild to force a passage bear. No idea of retort upon his cruel brother out, and fly away to warn him of it. came into his mind. New accusation of himself, fresh inward lamentings over his own unworthiness, and the ruin in which it was at once his + — * —~~consolation and his self-reproach that he did not stand alone, were the sole kind of reflections to CHAPTER LIII. which the discovery gave rise in him. It was on the very same day whose evening MIORE INTELLIGENCE. set upon the last chapter, and when Mr. Dom~/'-~~ g~h. ebey's world was busiest with the elopement of.~ ^RHERE were two of the traitor's own his wife, that the window of the room in which 1& blood-his renounced brother and the brother and sister sat at their early breakfast:Q! 1, Xsister-on whom the weight of his was darkened by the unexpected shadow of a \ guilt rested almost more heavily, at man coming to the little porch: which man was X this time, than on the man whom he Perch the messenger.! had so deeply injured. Prying aiid tor- I've stepped over from Balls Pond at a early:r- menting as the world was, it did Mr. hour," said Mr. Perch, confidentially looking in' Dombey the service of nerving him to at the room-door, and stopping on the mat to pursuit and revenge. It roused his passion, wipe his shoes all round, which had no mud stung his pride, twisted the one idea of his life upon them, "agreeable to my instructions last into a new shape, and made some gratification night. They was, to be sure and bring a note of his wrath the object into which his Whole to you, Mr. Carker, before you went out in the intellectual existence resolved itself. All the morning. I should have been here a good hour stubbornness and implacability of his nature, all and a half ago," said Mr. Perch meekly, "but its hard impenetrable quality, all its gloom and for the state of health of Mrs. P., who I thought moroseness, all its exaggerated sense of personal I should have lost in the night, I do assure you, importance, all its jealous disposition to resent five distinct times." the least flaw in the ample recognition of his " Is your wife so ill?" asked Harriet. importance by others, set this way like many "Why, you see," said Mr. Perch, first turning streams united into one, and bore him on upon round to shut the door carefully, "she tales their tide. The most impetuously passionate what has happened in our House so much to and violently impulsive of mankind would have heart, miss. Her nerves is so very delicate, been a milder enemy to encounter than the you see, and soon unstrung. Not but what the sullen Mr. Dombey wrought to this. A wild strongest nerves had good need to be shook, I'm beast would have been easier turned or soothed sure. You feel it very much yourself, no doubts," JOHN CARAER I'S DISMISSED.,379 Harriet repressed a sigh, and glanced at her Mr. Perch resorted to his breast pocket, as Brother. if to.produce the paragraph, but receiving'no " I'm sure I feel it myself, in tny humble way," encouragement, pulled out"-his beaver gloves, Mr. Perch went on to say, with a shake offhis picked up his hat, and took Ihis leave; and, head, " in a manner I couldn't have believed if before it was high noon, Mr. Perch had related, I hadn't been called upon to undergo. It has to several select audiences at the King's Arms almost the effect of drink upon me., I literally and elsewhere, how Miss Carker, bursting into feels every morning as if I had been taking more tears, had caught'him by both hands, and said, than was good for me overnight." "Oh! dear, dear Perch, the sight of you is all Mr. Perch's appearance corroborated this re- the comfort I have left!" and Wow Mr. John cital of his symptoms. There was an air of Carker had, said, in an awful voice,' "Perch, I feverish lassitude about it that seemed referable disown him. Never let me hear him mentioned to drams; and which, in fact, might no doubt as a brother more!" have been traced to those numerous discoveries "Dear John," said Harriet, when they were of himself in the bars of public-houses, being left alone, and had remained silent for some few treated and questioned, which he was in the moments, " there are bad tidings in that letter." daily habit of making. "Yes.'But-nothing unexpected," he replied. "Therefore I can judge," said Mr. Perch, "I saw, the writer yesterday." shaking his head again, and speaking in a silvery "The writer'? " murmur, "of the feelings of such as is at- all "Mr. Dombey. He passed twice through the peculiarly sitiwated in this most painful rewela- counting-house while I was there.. I had.. been tion." able to avoid him before,' but' of course could Here Mr. Perch waited to be confided in; not hope to do that long. I know how natural and receiving no confidence, coughed behind it was that he should regard' my presence as his hand. This leading to nothing, he coughed something offensive; I felt it must be so myself." behind his hat; and that leading to nothing, he "He did not say so? " put his hat on the ground, and sought in his "No; he said nothing.: but I saw that his breast pocket for the letter. glance rested on me for a moment, and I was "If I rightly recollect, there was no answer," prepared for what would happen-for what has said Mr. Perch with an affable smile; " but per- happened. I am dismissed!" haps you'll be so goodas cast your eye over it, sir." She looked as. little shocked and as hopeful John Carker broke the seal, which was Mr. as she could, but it was distressing news, for Dombey's, and possessing himself of the con- many reasons. tents, which were very brief, replied, "No. No "' I need not tell you,"' said John Carker, answer is expected." reading the letter, "'why your name would hence" Then I shall wish you good morning, miss," forth have an unnatural sound, in however remote said Perch, taking a step toward the door, " and a.connection, with mine, or why the daily sight of hoping, I'm sure, that you'll not permit yourself any one who'bears it would be unendurable to to be more reduced in mind than you can help me. I have to notify the cessation of all engageby.ie late painful rewelation. The Papers,' ments between us, from -this date, and to request said Mr. Perch, taking two steps back again, that no renewal of any communication with me, and comprehensively addressing both the brother or my establishment, be ever attempted by you.' and sister in a whisper. of increased mystery, " is -Enclosed is an equivalent in money to a more eager'for news of it than you'd suppose generously long notice, and this is rhy dispossible. One of the Sunday ones, in a blue charge. Heaven knows, Harriet, it is a lehient cloak and white hat, that had previously offered and considerae one, when we remember all " for to bribe me-need I say with what success? "If it be lenient and considerate to punish -wa.s dodging about our court lest night as late you at all, John, for the misdeed. of another," as twenty minutes after eight o'clock. I see him she replied gently, "yes." myself, with his eye at the counting-house key- "We have been an illomened race to him," hol, which, being patent, is impervious. Another said John Carker. "He has reason. to shrink bne," said Mr. Perch, "with milintary frogs, is in from the sound of our name, and to think that the parlour of the King's Arms all the blessed there is something cursed and wicked iii our day. I happened, last week, to let a little obser- blood. I should almost think it too. Harriet, wation fall there, and next morning,-whicl was but for you." Sunday, I see it worked up in print, in a most "Brother, don't speak like this. If you have surprising manner."' any special reason, as you say you have, and 380 PDO.MB2E Y AND SON. think you have-though I say, No!-to love -which was the object of his visit-that we me, spare me the hearing of such wild, mad needed nothing." words! " "And once a week " He covered his face with both his hands; but " Once every week since then, and always on soon permitted her, coming near him, to take the same day, and at the same hour, he has gone one in her own. past; always on foot; always going in the same "After so many years, this parting is a melan- direction-towards London; and never pausing choly thing, I know," said his sister, " and the longer than to bow to me, and wave his hand cause of it is dreadful to us both. We -have to cheerfully, as a kind guardian might. He made live, too, and must look about us for the means. that promise when he proposed these curious Well, well! We can do so undismayed. It is interviews, and has kept it so faithfully and pleaour pride, not our trouble, to strive, John, and santly, that if I ever felt any trifling uneasiness to strive together." about them in the beginning (which I don't A smile played on her lips as she kissed his think I did, John; his manner was so plain and cheek, and entreated him to be of good cheer. true), it very soon vanished, and left me quite "Oh, dearest sister! Tied, of your own glad when the day was coming. Last Monday noble will, to a ruined man! whose reputation -the first since this terrible event-he did\not is blighted; who has no friend himself, and has go by; and I have wondered whether his abdriven every friend of yours away!" sence carn have been in any way connected with " John!" she laid her hand hastily upon his what has happened." lips, "for my sake! In remembrance of our "How?" inquired her brother. long companionship!" He was silent. "Now " I don't know how. I have only speculated let me tell you, dear," quietly sitting by his side, on the coincidence; I have not tried to account "I have, as you have, expectedthis; and when for it. I feel sure he will return..When he I have been thinking of it, and fearing that it does, dear John, let me tell him that I have at would happen, and preparing myself for it as last spoken tO you, and let me bring you towell as I could, I have resolved to tell you, if it gether. He will certainly help us to a new liveshould be so, that I have kept a secret from you, lihood. His entreaty was that he might do.andr that we have a friend.' something to smooth my life and yours; and I " What's our friend's name, Harriet?" he gave him my promise that, if we ever wanted a answered with a sorrowful smile. friend, I would remember him. Then, his name " Indeed, I don't know, but he once made a was to be no secret" very earnest protestation to me of his friendship " Harriet," said her brother, who had listened and his wish to serve us: and to this day I with close attention, "describe this gentleman to believe him." me. I surely ought to know one who knows "Harriet!" exclaimed her wondering brother, me so well." " where does this friend live?" His sister painted, as vividly as she could, the "Neither do I know that," she returned. features, stature, and dress of her visitor; but "But he knows us both, and our history-all John Carker, either from having no knowledge our little history, John. That is the reason why, of the original, or from some fault in her descripat his own suggestion, I have'kept the secret of tion, or from some abstraction of his thoughts his coming here from you,.lest Jhis acquaintance as he walked to and fro, pondering, could not with it should distress you." recognise the portrait she presented to him. " Here ~Has he been here, Harriet?" However, it was agreed between them that he " Here, in this room. Once." should see the original when he next appeared. " What kind of man?" This concluded, the sister applied herself, with a " Not young.'Grey-headed,' as he said,'and less anxious breast, to her domestic occupations, fast growing greyer.' But generous, and frank, and the grey-haired man, late Junior of Dom. and good, I am sure." bey's, devoted the first day of'his unwonted " And only seen once, Harriet? liberty to working in the garden. " In this room only once," said his sister, with It was quite late at night and the brother was the slightest and most transient glow upon her reading aloud while the sister plied her needle, cheek; "but, when here, he entreated me to when they were -interrupted by a knocking at suffer him to see me once a week as he passed the door. In the atmosphere of vague anxiety by, in token of our being well, and continuing and dread that lowered about them in connec. to need nothing at his hands. For I told him, tion with their fugitive brother, this sound, unwhen he proffered us any service he could render usual there, became almost alarming. The MR. MORFIN. 38t brother going to the door, the sister sat and management of Dombey's House, and saw youfr listened.'timidly. Some one spoke to him, and brother (who has proved himself a scoundrel I he replied, and seemed surprised; and, after a Your sister will forgive my being obliged to few words, the two approached together. mention it) extending and extending.his in"Harriet," said her brother,- ighting in their fluence, until the business and its owner were his late visitor, and speaking in a low voice, "Mr. foot-ball; and saw you. toiling at your obscure Morfin-the gentleman so long in Dombey's desk every day; and was quite content to be as House with James." little troubled as I. might be, out of'"my ovwn His sister started back as if a ghost' had en- strip of duty, and to let everything about me go tered,- In the doorway stood the unknown on, day.by day,: unquestioned, like a great friend, with the dark hair sprinkled with grey, machine-that was its habit and'mine-and to the ruddy face, the broad clear brow, and hazel take it all for granted, and consider it all. right. eyes, whose secret she had kept so long I My.Wednesday nights.came regularly round, "John!" she said, half breathless. "It is our quartet parties came regularly off, my viothe gentleman I told you of to-day! " loncello was in good tune, And there was' nothing "The gentleman, Miss Harriet," said the wrong in my world-or, if anything, not much visitor, coming in-for he had stopped a mo- -or, little or much, it was.no affair of miie," ment in the doorway-" is greatly relieved to "I can answer for your being more respected hear you say that: he has been devising ways and beloved during all that time than'anybQdv and means, all the way here, of explaining him- in the house, sir," said John Carker.. self, and has been satisfied -with none. Mr. "Pooh! Good-natured and easy: enough, I John, I am not quite a stranger here. You were dare say," returned the other; " a habit I had. stricken with astonishment when you saw me at It suited the manager: it suited the, ma'n'he your door just now. I observe you are more managed: it suited me best of all.. 1 didl.what astonished at present. Well! That's reason- was allotted to me to do, made no court- to able enough under existing circumstances., If either of them, and was' glad: to occupy.a. sta' we were not such creatures of habit as we are, tion in which none was required..' So. IL should we shouldn't' have reason to be astonished half have gone on till now; but that my room had a so often." thin wall..- You can. tell your sister that it was' By this time he had greeted Harriet with that divided from the manager's room by a- wainsco; agreeable mingling of cordiality and respect partition." which she recollected so well, and had sat down "They were adjoining rooms; had been one, near her, pulled off his gloves, and thrown them perhaps, originally; and. were separated-as- Mr. into his hat upon the table. Morfin says," said her brother, looking back to "There's nothing astonishing," he said, ".in him for the resumption'of his explanation. my having conceived a desire to see your sister, "I have whistled, hummed tunes, gone accuMr. John, or in my having gratified it in. my rately through the whole of Beethoven's Sonata own way. As to the regularityof my visits since in B, to let him know that- I was within hear, (which ishe may have mentioned to you), there ing," said Mr. Morfin;'"bit he -never heeded isnothing extraordinary in that. They soon grew me. It happened seldom enough' that I was into a habit; and we are crea ures of habit- within hearing of anything of a private nature, creatures of habit!" dertainly. But when I was, and couldn't other. Putting his hands into his, pockets, and lean- wise -avoid knowing something of it, I walked ing back in his chair, he looked at the brother out. I walked out once, John, during' a converand sister as if it were interesting to him to see sation'between two' brothers, toW which, in.the them together'; and went on to say, with a kind beginning, young Walter Gay was! a party. But of irritable thoughtfulness:."It's this same habit I overheard tome of it before'[ Igleft the rOom. that confirms some of us, who are capable of You remember. it. sufficiently, perhaps.. to tell betterthings, in.Lucifer's own pride and'stubborn- your sister what its.nature was? ness-that confirms and deepens others of us' "It referred, Harriet,"- said her. brother in a in villainy-more of us in'indifference-that low voice,'to-th: past and toO'u r'ielativeposi; hardens.us. from day to day, according to the tionstin the hotise'" temper of our clay, like images, and leaves us as " Its matter was not new.to'me, ttt4twas pre. susceptible as images to new impressions and sented. in a; new aspect, It- shook me in: mn convictions. You shell judge of its influence on habit-the habit of nine-tenths of the world-of me,, John. For more years than I- need iname,. believing that all was right iboutnrme, because'I I had my sinall, an exactly-defined share in'the was used to it," said their' visitor; "andd:induced 382 I]DOMZBEY AiVD SON. me to recall the history of the two brothers, and happiness have left'us no head bu't your brother to ponder on it. I think it was almost the first fdr this long, long time. And it would have time in my life when I fell into this train of re- been better tor us," said the visitor, dropping his flection-how will many things that are familiar, voice, "to have been a lifeless trunk." and quite matters of course to us. now, look, He seemed conscious that these latter words when we come to see them from that new and had escaped him against his will, and stretching distant point of view which we must all take up, out k hand to the brother, and a hand to the one day or other? I was something less good- sister, continued: natured, as the phrase goes, after that morning, "All I could desire to say, and more, I have less easy and complacent altogether." now said. All I mean goes beyond words, as I He sat for a minute or so, drumming with one hope you understand and believe. The time hand on the table; and resumed in a hurry, as has come, John-though most unfortunately and if he were anxious to get rid of his confession. unhappily come-when I may help you without "Before I knew what. t do, or whether I interfering with that redeeming struggle, which could do anything, there was a second conversa- has lasted through so many years; since you tion between these same two brothers, in which were discharged from it to-day by no act of your their sister was mentioned. I had no scruples own. It is late; I need say no more to-night. of conscience in suffering all the waifs and strays You will guard the treasure you have here, withof that conversation to float to me.as freely as out advice or reminder from me." they would. I considered them mine by right. With these words he rose to go. After that I came here to see the sister for my- "But go you first, John," he said goodself. The first time I stopped at the garden- humouredly, " with a light, without saying what gate, I made a pretext of inquiring into the cha- you want to say, whatever that may be;" John racter of a poor neighbour; but I wandered out Carker's heart was full, and he would have reof that track, and I think Miss Harriet mis. lieved it in speech, if he could; "and let me trusted me. The second time I asked leave to have a word with your sister. We have talked come in; came in; and said what I wished to alone before, and in this room too; though it say. Your sister showed me reasons, which I looks more natural with you here." dared not dispute, for receiving no assistance Following him out with his eyes, he.turned from me then; but I established a means of kindly to Harriet, and said in a lower voice, and communication between us, which remained un- with an altered and graver manner: broken until within these few days, when I was "You wish to ask me something of the man prevented, by important matters that have lately whose sister it is your misfortune to be." devolved upon me, from maintaining them." " I dread to ask," said Harriet. " How little I have suspected this," said John "You have looked so earnestly at me more Carker, "when I have seen you every day, sir! than once," rejoined the visitor, " that I think I If Harriet could have guessed your name " can divine your question. Has he taken money? "Why, to tell you the truth, John," interposed Is it that?" the visitor, "I kept it to myself for two reasons. "Yes." I don't know that the first might have been "He has not." binding alone; but one has no business to take "I thank Heaven " said Harriet.'For the credit for good intentions, and I made up my sake of John." mind, at all events, not to disclose myself until "That he has abused his trust in many ways," I should be able to do you some real service or said Mr. Morfin; "that he has oftener dealt and other. My second reason was, that I always speculated to advantage for himself than for the hoped there might be some lingering possibility House he represented; that. he has led the of your brother's relenting towards you both; House on to prodigious ventures, often resulting and, in that case, I felt that where there was the- in enormous losses; that he has always pampered chance of a man of his suspicious, watchful cha- the vanity and ambition of his employer, when racter discovering that you had been secretly be- it was his duty to have held them in check, and friended by me, there was the chance of a new shown, as it was in his power to do, to what they and fatal cause of division.' I resolved, to be tended here or there; will not, perhaps, surprise sure, at the risk of turning his displeasure against you now. Undertakings have been entered on, Tinyself —-which would have been no matter-,-to to swell the reputation of the. House for vast ivatch my opportunity of serving you with the resources, and to exhibit it'in magnificent conhead'of the House but, the'distractions of trast to other merchants' houses, of which it redeath, courtship, marriage, and domestic un- quires a steady head to contemplate the possibly THE MANAGEMENT. OF THE MANAGER LAID BARE. 383 -a few disastrous changes of affairs might ren- out to the door where her brother stood awaiting. der them' the' probably-ruinous consequences. his coming, put him. cheerfully aside when he In the -midst of the maDy transactions of the essayed. to speak; told him that, as they would House, in most parts of the World: a great laby- see each other soon and often, he might speak ~inth, of which.:rily he has held the clue: he at another time, if he would, but there was no has had thel opportunity, and he seems to have leisure for it then; and went- away at a round tled it, of Akeeping the. various results afloat, pace, in order that no word of gratitude might whe. ascertained; and substituting estimates and follow him. generalities for facts. But latterly-you follow The brother and sister sat conversing by the me, Miss Harriet?" fireside until it was'almost day; made sleepless "Perfectly, perfectly," she answered, with her by this glimpse of the new world that opened frightened face fixed on his. ['Pray tell me al before them, and feeling like, two people shipthe worst at once." wrecked long ago upon a solitary coast, to whom'" Latterly, he appears to have devoted the a ship had come at last, when they werecold in greatest pains to making these results so plain resignation, and had lost all thought of any'other and clear, that reference to the private books home. But another and different kindd d disenables; one to grasp them, numerous and vary- quietude kept them waking too. The darkness ing as they are, with extraordinary ease. As if out of which this light had broken on them gahe had resolved to show his employer at one thered around; and the shadow of their guilty broad view-what has been brought upon him by brother was in the house where his foot had ministration to his'ruling passion I That it has never trod. been his constant practice to minister to'that Nor was it to be driven out, nor did it fade passion basely, and to flatter it corruptly, is in. before the sun. Next morning it was there; at dubitable. In that, his criminality, as it is con- noon; at night. Darkest and most distinct at nected with the affairs of the House, chiefly night, as is now to be told. consists." John Carker had gpne out, in pursuance of a " One other Word before you leave me, dear letter of appointment from their friend, and Harsir," said Harriet. There is no'danger in all riet was left in the house alone. She had been this? " alone some hours. A dull, grave evening, and a "How dangerf?" he returned -with a ligtle deepening twilight, were not favourable'to the rehesitation. moval of the oppression on her spirits. The idea "To the credit of the House?" of this brother, long unseen and unknown, flitted "I cannot help answering you plainly, and about her in frightful shapes. He was dead, dying, trusting you completely," said Mr. Morfin after calling to her, staring at her,. frowning on her. a moment's survey.of her face. The pictures in her mind were so obtrusive and "You may. Indeed you may! exact that, as the twilight deepened, she dreaded " I am sure I may. Danger to the House's to raise her head and look at the dark corners of credit?. No;. none. There may be difficulty, the room, lest his- wraith, the offspring of her greater or less difficulty, but no danger, unless excited imagination, should be waiting there to -unless; indeed-the head of the House, unable startle her. Once she had such a fancy of his to bring his mind to the reduction of its enter- being in the' next room, hiding-though she prises, and positively refusing to believe that it knew quite well what a distempered fancy it is, or' an be, in any position but the position in was, and had no belief iin it-that she forced which he has always represented it to himself, herself to go there, for her own conviction. But should urge it beyond its strength.-. Then it in vain. The room resumed its shadowy terrors would totter." the moment she left it; and she had no more "But there is no apprehension of that?" said power to divest herself of these vague impresHarriet. sions of dread than if they had'been stone giants, "There, shall be no haf-confidence," he're- rooted in the solid earth. plied, shaking her hand, "between us. Mr. It was almost dark, and she was sitting near Dombey is unapproachable by any one, and his the window, with' her head upon her hand, lookstale of mind is haughty; rash, unreasonable, and ing down,, when, sensible of a sudden increase ungovernable now..- But he is disturbed and in the gloom of the apartment, she raised her agitated now beyond all common bounds, and it eyes and uttered an involuntary cry. Close to may pass.'..You now know all, both worst'and the glass, a pale, scared face gazed in; vacantly best.. No more to-night, and good night I" for an instant, as searching for an object; then >.With thlatbhe kissed her hand, and passing the eyes rested on herself, and lighted:up. 384 DOMBE Y AND SONr. "Let me in! Let me in! I want to speak very mindful of me as a child, found out- my to you.!" and the hand rattled on the glass. merits and was fond of me, and proud of me. Shearecognised immediately the woman with She was covetous and poor,. and thought to the long:dark hair, to whom she had gien make a sortof property of me. No great lady warmth, food, and shelter one wet night. Natu- ever thouglht that of a. daughter yet, I'm sure, or rally afraid of her, remembering her violent be- acted as if she did-it's never done, we all know haviour, Harriet, retreating a little from the -and that shows that the only instances of window, stood undecided and alarmed. mothers bringing up their daughters wrong, and " Let me in! Let me speak to you! I am evil coming of it, are among such miserable folks thankful-quiet-humble-anything you like. as us." But let me speak to you." Looking at the fire, as if she were forgetful, The vehement manner of the entreaty, the for the momenft, of having any auditor, she conearnest expression of the face, the trembling of tinued in a dreamy way, as she wound the long the two hands that were raised imploringly, a tress of hair tight round and round her hand. certain dread' and terror in the voice akin to her "What came of that I needn't say. Wretched own condition at the moment, prevailed with marriages don't come of such things, in our deHarriet. She hastened to the door and opened it. gree; onlywretchedness and ruin. Wretched" May I come in, or shall I speak here?" said ness and ruin came on me-came on me." the woman, catching at her band. Raising her eyes swiftly from their moody " What is it that you want? What is it that gaze upon the fire to Harriet's face, she saidyou have to say?" " I am wasting time, and there is none to " Not much, but let me say it out, or I shall spare; yet, if I hadn't thought of all, I shouldn't never say it. I am tempted now to go away. be here now: Wretchedness and ruin came on There seem to be hands dragging me from the me, I say. I was made a short-lived toy, and door. Let me come in, if you can trust me for flung aside more cruelly and carelessly than even this once " such things are. By whose hand do you think?" Her energy again prevailed, and they passed "Why do you ask me? " said Harriet. Into the fire-light of the little kitchen, where she "Why do you tremble?" rejoined Alice with bad before sat, and ate, and dried her clothes. an eager look. "His usage made a Devil of "Sit there," said Alice, kneeling down beside me. I sunk in wretchedness and ruin, lower her " and look at me. You remember me?" and lower yet. I was concerned in a robbery " I do." -in every part of it but the gains-and was " You remember what I told you I had bee,, found out, and sent to be tried, without a friend, and where I came from, ragged and lame, with without a penny. Though I was but a girl, I the fierce wind and weather beating on my would have gone to Death sooner than ask him head?" for a word, if a word of his could have saved "Yes." me. I weuld'! To any death'that could have "You know how I came back that night, been invented. But mymother, covetous always, and thre' your money in the dirt, and cursed sent to him in my name, told the true story of you and'your race. Now, see me here, upon my my case, and humbly prayed and petitioned for knees. Am I less earnest now than I was then?' a small last gift-for not so many pounds as I "If what you ask," said Harriet gently, "is have fingers on this hand. Who was it, do you forgiveness — " think, who snapped his fingers at me in my mi" But it's not!" returned the other with a sery, lying, as he believed, at his feet, and left proud, fierce look. "What.I ask is to. be be- me without even this poor sign of remembrance; lieved. Now you shall judge if I am worthy of well satisfied that I should be sent abroad, bebelief, both as I was, and as I am." yond the reach of further trouble to him, and Still upon her knees, and.with her eyes upon should die, and rot there? Who was this, do (he fire, and the fire shining on her ruined beauty you think?" and her wild black hair, one long tress of which " Why do you ask me?" repeated Harriet. she pulled over her shoulder, and wound about " Why do you tremble," said Alice, laying. her her hand, and thoughtfully bit,and tore while hand upon her arm, and looking in her face, speaking, she went on: "but that the answer is on your lips? It was "When I was young and pretty, and this," your brother James." plucking contemptuously at the hair she held, Harriet trembled more and more, but did not "was only handled delicately, and couldn't be avert her eyes from the eager look that rested admired enough, my mother, who had not been on them. THE BROKEN TO Y. 385 ~"When I knew you were his sister-whic- Do you believe that I was in earnest in all was- on that night-I came back, weary and that?" lame, to spurn your gift. I felt that night as if "I do! Good Heaven, why are you come I could have travelled, weary and lame, over again?" the whole world, to stab him, if I could have "Since then," said Alice, with the same grasp found him in a lonely place with no one near. of her arm, and the same look in her face, "I "-STILL UPON HER KNEES, AND WITH HER EYES UPON THE FIRE." have seen him! I have followed him with my " Information!" repeated Harriet. eyes, in the broad day. If any spark of my re- "What if I had found out one who knew your sentment slumbered in my bosom, it sprung into orother's secret: who knew the manner of his a blaze when my eyes rested on him. You know flight; who knew where he and the companion he has wronged a proud man, and made him his of his flight were gone? What if I had made deadly enemy. What if I had given informa- him utter all his knowledge, word by word, betion of him to that man?" fore this enemy, concealed to hear it? What if DOMBEY AND SON, 25. IS 386 DOMBEYAND SON. I had sat by at the time, looking into this The fire ceased to be reflected in her jetenemy's face, and seeing it change till it was black hair, uplifted face, and eager eyes; her scarcely human? What if I had seen him rush hand was gone from Harriet's arm; and the away, mad, in pursuit? What if I knew, now, place where she had been was empty. that he was on his road, more fiend than man, and must, in so many hours, come up with him?" " Remove your hand!" said Harriet, recoiling. CAT V "Go away I Your touch is dreadful to me!"CHA R V. " I have done this," pursued the other, with TH FUGTIVES her eager look, regardless of the interruption. ^ "' Do I speak and look as if I really had? Do HE time, an hour short of midnight; you believe what I am saying?' li the place, a French Apartment, com"I fear I must, Let my arm go!" ll prising some half-dozen rooms;-a "Not yet. A moment more. You can think \ J dull, cold hall or corridor, a diningwhat my revengeful purpose must have been, to room, a drawing-rQom, a bed-chamber, last so long, and urge me to do this?" and an inner drawing-room, or bou"Dreadful!" said Harriet. doir, smaller and more retired than the "Then, when you see nme now," said Alice rest. All these shut in by one large pair hoarsely, "here again, kneeling quietly on the of doors on the main staircase, but each room ground, with my touch upon your arm, with my provided with two or three pairs of doors of its eyes upon your face, you may believe that there own, establishing several means of communicais no common earnestness in what I say, and tion with the remaining portion of the apartthat no common struggle has been battling in ment, or with certain small passages within the my breast. I am ashamed to speak the words, wall, leading, as is not unusual in such houses, but I relent. I despise myself; I have fought to some back-stairs with an obscure outlet below. with myself all day, and all last night; but I The whole situated on the first floor of so large relent towards him without reason, and wish to an hotel, that it did not absorb one entire row repair what I have done, if it is possible. I of windows upon one side of the square courtwouldn't have them come together while his yard in the centre, upon which -he whole four. pursuer is so blind and headlong. If you had sides of the mansion looked. seen him as he went out last night, you would An air of splendour, sufficiently faded to be know the danger better." melancholy, and sufficiently dazzling to clog and "How shall it be prevented? What can I embarrass the details of life with a show of state, do?" cried Harriet. reigned in these rooms. The walls and ceilings " All night long," pursued the other hurriedly, were gilded and painted; the floors were waxed " I had dreams of him-and yet I didn't sleep- and polished; crimson drapery hung in festoons in his blood. All day I have had him near me." from window, door, and mirror; and candelabra, "What can I do?" said Harriet, shuddering gnarled and intertwisted like the branches of at these words. trees, or horns of animals,' stuck out from the "If there is any one who'll write, or send, or panels of the wall. But in the daytime, when go to him, let them lose no time. He is at the lattice blinds (now closely shut) were opened, Dijon. Do you know the name, and where and the light let in, traces were discernible, it is?" among this finery, of wear and tear and dust, of Yes!" sun and damp and smoke, and lengthened inter"Warn him that the man he has made his vals of want of use and habitation, when such enemy isin a frenzy, and that he doesn't know shows and toys of life seem sensitive like life, him if he makes light of his approach. Tell him and waste as men shut up in prison do. Even that he is on the road-I know he is!-and night, and clusters of burning candles, could not hurrying on. Urge him to get away while there wholly efface them, though the general glitter is time- if there is time-and not to meet him threw them in the shade. yet. A month or so will make years of dif- The glitter of bright tapers, and their reflecference. Let them not encounter through me. tion in looking-glasses, scraps of gilding, and Anywhere but there! Any time but now! Let gay colours, were confined, on this night, to one his foe follow him, and find him for himself, but room-that smaller room within the rest, just not through me! There is enough upon my now enumerated. Seen from the hall, where a head without." lamp was feebly burning, through the dark per A4:T7zMV 387 spective-ofopen doors, it looked as'shiningmnd were standing looking at it. He who had precious-as a -gem., In, the hearftofits: adiance spoken before, inquired whether-madame thought sat a beautiful woman-Edith.. it.would be long before monsieur;arrived? She was. alone.- The same- defiant/, scornful. She couldn't say.' It was'all-one." woman still. The cheek a little worn,'nheeye: a p Pardon I There was the supper I It should little larger in appearance, and more'lustrous, be-eaten on the instant;. Monsieur (who spoke but the haughty bearing just the same. No French like an -Ajsel-6or a Frenchiafl.itwas shame upon her brow; no late repentance bend- all the tsame). had-spoken with great emphasis of ing her disdainful neck. Imperious and stately his..punctuality., ut the English niation had so yet, and yet regardless ofherselfand of all else,. granda genius-for punctuality. Ah what noise! she sat with her dark eyes cast down, waiting. Great Heaven; here- was monsieur 1. Behold for some one. him lI" No book, no work, no occupation of any kind In effect, monsieur, admitted by the'other of but her own thoughts, beguiled the tardy time. the two, camer with his gleaming teeth, through Some purpose, strong enough to fill up any pause, the dark rooms, like a mouth; and arriving in possessed her. With her lips pressed together, that sanctuary.. of light and colour, a:figure at and quivering if for a moment she released them full length, embraced madame, -and addressed from her control; with her nostril inflated; her her in the French tongue as his charming wife.. hands clasped in one another and her purpose ":My God':>l Madame is going to faint. swelling in her breast; she sat, and waited. Madame is' overcome with joy!" The bald At the sound of a key in the outer door, and man with the beard observed it, and cried out. a footstep in' the hall, she started up and cried Madame' had only shrunk and shivered Be"Who's that?" The answer was in French, and fore the-words were spoken, she was standing two men' came in with jingling trays, to make with her hand upon the velvet back of a great preparation'for supper. chair; her figure drawn up to its full height, and "Who had bade them do so?" she asked. her face immovable. "Monsieur had commanded it, when it was "FranSois has, flown over to the Golden his pleasure to take the apartment. Monsieur Head for supper. He flies on these occasions had said, when he stayed there for an hour, like an angel or a bird. The baggage of monen route, and left the letter for madame- - sieur is in his roorn. All is arranged. The Madame had received it surely?" supper will be here this moment."'These facts " Yes." the bald man notified with bows and smiles, and " A thousand pardons! The sudden appre- presently the supper came. hension that it might hav, been forgotten had TJe hot dishes were on a chafing-dish; the struck him:" a bald man,, with a large beard, cold already set forth, with the change of service from a neighbouring restaurant: "'with despair I on a sideboard. Monsieur was satisfied with Monsieur had said that supper was to be ready at this arrangement. The supper-table being sroll, that hour; also that he had forewarned madame it pleased him very'well. Let them set the of the commands he had given in his letter. Mon- chafing-dish upon the floor, anfl. gbo.' Hle wIould sieur had done the Golden Head the honour to remove the dishes with his own hands. reqaest that the supper should be choice and "Pardon I" said the bald man politely. "It delicate. Monsieurwould find that his confidence was impossible I"1 in the Golden Head was not misplaced." Monsieur was of anotner opinion. He reEdith said no more, but looked on thought- quired no further attendance that night. fully while they prepared the table for two per- "But madame —" the bald tnanhinted. sons, and set the wine upon it. She' arose before "Madame," replied monsieur, lhad her own they had.finished, and taking a lamp, passed into maid. It. was enough," the bedchamber, and into the drawingsroom, "A million pardons I No I madame had no where she hurriedly but narrowly examiied all mnaid " the doors; particularly one in the former room "I:.came here alone,": sit; Edith. "It was that opened on the passage in the wall... From nmy'choice to do so.: I am-n ell used;'toltravelthis she took the key, and put it on the outer ling; I want no attendance, They:.: id send side.She then, came backnobody to.me.":Te': men-t4he Second'of whom was a dark, Monsieur accordingly, persever ing irhis first Silious. subjectin. a- jacket, close shaved, and proposed impossibility;Ftroceeded.: to fo the vwith a:black-' ead' of. hair close cropped'-.had two attendants to the touter door,:nd seure it completedithfeir? preparation.of the. table, and after them.or the night. The baf, manturning fSgs~~ O DOMBEY AND SOV. round to bow as he went but, observed that "Stand still!" she said, "or I shall murder madame still stood, with her hand upon the you!' velvet back of the great chair, and that her face The sudden change in her, the towering fury was quite regardless of him, though she was and intense abhorrence sparkling in her eyes looking straight before her. and lighting up her brow, made him stop as if a As the sound of Carker's fastening the door fire had stopped him. resounded through the intermediate rooms, and "Stand still! she said, " come no nearer me, seemed to come hushed and stifled into that upon your life!" last distant one, the sound of the Cathedral They both stood looking at each other. clock striking twelve mingled with it in Edith's Rage and astonishment were in his face, but he ears. She heard him pause, as if he heard it controlled them, and said lightly, too, and listened; and then come back towards "Come, come! Tush, we are alone, and out her, laying a long train of footsteps through the of everybody's sight and hearing. Do you think silence, and shutting all the doors behind him to frighten me with these tricks of virtue?" as he came along. Her hand, for.a moment, "Do you think to frighten me," she answered left the velvet chair to bring a knife within her fiercely, " from any purpose that I have, and any reach upon the table; then she stood as she course I am resolved upon, by reminding me of had stood before. the solitude of this place, and there- being no " How strange to come here by yourself, my help near? Me, wlo am here alone designedly? love." he said as he entered. If I feared you, should I not have avoided you? "What!" she returned. If I feared you, should I be here, in the dead of Her tone was so harsh; the quick turn of her night, telling you to your face what I am going head so fierce; her attitude so repellent; and to tell?" her frown so black; that'he stood with the lamp "And what is that," he said, "you handsome in his hand, looking at her, as if she had struck shrew? Handsomer so than any other woman him motionless. in her best humour." " I say," he at length repeated, putting down " I tell you nothing," she returned, "until you the lamp, and smiling his most courtly smile, go back to that chair-except this, once again"how strange to come here alone It was Don't come near.me! Not a step nearer. I unnecessary caution surely, and might have de- tell you, if you do, as Heaven sees us, I shall feated itself. You were to have. engaged an murder you!" attendant at Havre or Rouen, and have had "Do you mistake me for your husband?" he abundance of time for the purpose, though you retorted with a grin. had been the most capricious and difficult (as Disdaining to reply,she stretched her arm out, you are the most beautiful, my love) 9f women." pointing to the chair. He bit his lip, frowned, Her eyes gleamed strangely cat him, but she laughed, and sat down in it, with a baffled, stood with her hand resting on the chair, and irresolute, impatient air, he was unable to consaid not a word. ceal; and biting his nail nervously, and looking " I have never," resumed Carker, " seen you at her sideways, with bitter discomfiture, even look so handsome as you do to-night. Even while.he feigned to be amused by her caprice. the picture I have carried in my mind during She put the knife dow n'upon the table, and this cruel probation, and which'I have con- touching her bosom with her hand,.said: templated night and day, is exceeded by the "I have something, lying here that is no love reality." trinket; and sooner than endure your touch Not a word. Not a look. Her eyes com- once more, I would use it on you —and'you pletely hidden by their drooping lashes, but her know it, while I speak-with less reluctance head held up. than I'would on any other creeping thing that "Hardy unrelenting terms they were!" said lives;' Carker with a smile, "but they are all fulfilled He affected to laugh jestingly, and entreated and past, and make the present more delicious her to act her play out quickly, for the supper and more safe. Sicily shall be the place of our waspgrowing cold-.' But the secret look-:witli etreat. In the idlest and easiest part of the which he regarded her was more sullen and world, my soul, we'll both seek compensation for lowering, and he'struck his foot once upon the old slavery." floor with a muttered oath, He was coming gaily towards her, when, in "How many times," said Edith, bending her an instanjt she cauht the knife up from the table, darkest glance upon him, "has your bold and started one pace back. knavery assailed me with outrage and insilt SHE7. UNDECEJZVE$ HIM — 389 How many tinies in your smooth' maner, and' "Yes," he said,' showing all his.teeth. "I mocking words and looks, have I been twitted. know that." with my courtship and my marriage? How "And calculated.on it,' she rejoined once many times have you laid bare my- wound of more, "-and so pursued me.' From my marriages tove for that sweet,'injured girl, and lacerated day, I found myself exposed to such new shame it? How' often have you fanned the fire on -to such solicitation and pursuit (expressed as which, for twoyears, I have writhed; and tempted clearly as if it had been written in the coarsest me tp take a desperate revenge, henit has most: words, and thrust into my hand at every turn) tortured me?' - from one mean villain, that I felt as if I had'-"I have no doubt, ma'am," "bq replied, " that. never known humiliation till that time. This you have kept a good account, and that it's shame my husband fixed upon Xne hemmed, me pretty accurate. Come, Edith.:To your'hus-round with, himself; steeped.mein.with his:own band, poor wretch, this was well enough —" - hands, and of his own act, repeated-'hundreds oi "Why, if," she said, surveying him with a times. And thus —forced by the two'from every haughty contempt.and disgust that he shrunk point of rest I had-forced by the two to yield under, let him brave it as he would, "if all my up the last retreat of love and gentleness within other reasons for despising him could have been me) or to be a new misfortune on its innocent blown away like feathers, his'having you for his object —driven from each to each, and beset by.counsellor and favourite would have almost been one when I escaped the other-my anger rose enough to hold their place." almost to distraction against both. I do'not " Is that a reason why you have run away with know against which -it rose. higher-the master me? " he asked her tauntingly. or the man!"' " Yes, and why we are face to face for the last He watched her closely, as she stood before time.. Wretch'l we meet to-night, and part to- him in the very triumph of her indignant beauty. night.' For notlone.moment after.I have ceased She was resolute, he saw; undauntable; with to speak will I stay here I no more fear of him than of a worm, He turned upon her with his ugliest look, and "What should I say of honour or of.chastity griped the table with his hand; but neither rose, to you?" she went:on. "'What meaning would nor otherwise answered or threatened her. it have to you; what meaning would it have " I am a woman," she said, confronting him' from me? But if I tell you that the lightest steadfastly, "who from her very childhood has touch of your hand makes my blood cold with been' shamed and steeled. I have been offered antipathy'- that from the hour when I first saw and rejected, put'up and appraised, until my and hated you, to now, when my instinctive very soul.has sickened. I have not had an repugnance is enhanced by every minute's accomplishment or grace that might have been knowledge of you I have since had, you. have X resource to me, but it has been paraded, and been a loathsome creature to me which, has not vended to enhance my value, as if the common its like on earth; how then?" crier had called it through the streets. My poor, He answered, with a faint laugh, "' Ay I How proud"'friends have looked on and approved; then, my queen?" md every tie between us has been deadened in "On that night when, emboldened'by the my breast,:There is not one of them for whom scene you had assisted at, you'dared come to [ care, as I could care for a pet dog. I stand my room and speak to nme," she said, "what done in the. world, remembering well what a passed?" tcllow world it has been to me, and what a'He shrugged his shoulders, and laughed again. j,).llowpartof it I have been myself. You know "What passed-?" she said. hi;, and you know that my fame. with it is "Your memory is so distinct"'he. returned, vorthless to me." "that I have no doubt you can recall it." "Yes; I imagined that," he said. "I can," she said. "Hear it! Proposing And calculated on it," she rejoined, " and then this flight-not this flight, but the flight you o pursued me. Grown'too indifferent' for any thought it-you told me that in the having given'pposition but indifference to the daily working you that meeting, and leaving you to be dis-'f the hnds that had moulded me' to this; and covered there,'if you.so thought fit; and in the;nowing that my marriage would at least prevent having suffered you to be. alone with me many tlei hawking of me up.'and down; I suffered times before,-and haying made the opporayself to be sold as infamously-as:any woman tunities,.you said,-and,in' the. having'openly iith a halter round Jher neck:,is.sold in any avowed to you that I had -nofeeling for'my aarket-place. You know that,"':husband but aversion. and'no care for myself, 39c'JDOMBE Y AND SON. I was lost;'.I had given you the'power to traduce "Their name is Legion," she replied, uprearin my name; and I lived, in virtuous reputation, at her proud form as. if she would have;crushe the pleasure of your breath.": him;'" you and your master have'raised thei v'. "All stratagems in love —" he interrupted, in a fruitful'house,. and they shall tear you botl smiliflg. " The old adage —-" False to him, false to his innocent ehild, fah "On that night," said Edith, "and then the every way and everywhere, go forth and boa: struggle that I long'had had. with something of me, and gnash your teeth for once to kno that was not respect for my good fame-that that you are lying I" was I know not what-perhaps the clinging to.. He stood before her, muttering and rmenacinj that last retreat-was ended. On that night,'and scowling round as if for something th: and then I turned from' everything but passion would. help him to conquer her; but with tl and resentment., I struck a blow that laid your same indomitable spirit she opposed him, witl lofty master in the dust,' and set you there, out faltering. before me, looking at me now, and knowing, "4n every vaunt you make," she said,;what I mean." have my triumph. I single out in you tl He sprung up from his chair with a great oath. meanest man I know, the parasite and tool She put her hand into her bosoms and not a the proud tyrant, that his wound may go tl finger trembled, not a hair upon her head was deeper and may rankle more. Boast, and r stirred.'He stood still: she too: the table and venge me'on him! You know how you can chair between theTh. here to-night; you know how you stand.'ewc'"When I forget that this man put his lips'to'ing there; you see yourself in colours quite; ~mine that night, and held me in his arms as he despicable, if not as odious, as those in which'has done again to-night," said Edith, pointing at see you. Boast, then, and revenge me on you him; " when I forget the taint of his kiss upon my self." cheek-the cheek that Florence would have laid The foam was on his lips; the wet stood c her guiltless face against-when I forget my his forehead. If she would have faltered onc meeting With her while that taint was hot upon for only one half-moment, -.he would ha' nme, and in' what a flood the knowledge rushed/ pinioned her; but she was as firm'as rock, ar upon me when I saw her, that in releasing her her searching eyes never left him. from'the persecution I had caused her by my "We don't part so," he said. "Do you thii love, I brought a shame and degradation on her I am drivelling, to let you go in your m; name through mine, and in all time to come temper?" should be the solitary figure representing in her "Do you think," she answered,'that I am mind her first avoidance of a guilty creature- be stayed?" then, Husband, from whom I stand divorced "I'll try, my dear," he said with a ferocio henceforth, I will forget these last two years, and gesture of his head. undo what I have done, and.undeceive you I" "God's mercy on you, if you try by. comil Her flashing eyes, uplifted for a' moment, near me 1" she replied. lighted again on Carker, and she held'some "And what," he said, "if. there are none letters out in her left hand. these same boasts and vaunts on my part? w "See these!" she said contemptuously..." You if I were to turn too? Come!" and his.tee have addressed these to me in the false name fairly shone again. "We must make a treaty you go by; one here, some elsewhere on my this, or I may take some unexpected court road. The..seals are unbroken. Take them Sit down, sit down!" back!" "':' " Too late!" she cried, with eyes that seem She crunched them in'her hand, and tossed to sparkle fire. " I have thrown my fame a: them to his feet.; And, as she looked upon him. good name to the winds I I have resolved now, a smile was on her face. bear the shame that will attach to me-resolv " We meet and part to-night,"'she said. "You to know that it attaches falsely —that you. knm have fallen on Sicilian days and sensual rest too it too-and that he does not'never can, a soon. You might have cajoled,l and fawned, never shall, " I'1 die and make no sign. I and-played your traitor's part a little longer, and this I am here alone with you at the dead grown richer. You purchase. your voluptuous night.'. For this I have met you here, in a fal retirement dear I" name, as your wife. For this I have been se 4"Edith!" he retorted, menacing her with-'his' here'by those men, and left here.' -Nothing c ha6"-: "Sit down! Have done with this! save you now." What devil possesses you-? " He would have sold his soul to. root her, -DRIES HIMT, AND. LEAVES HIM. 391 her beauty, to the. floor, and make her arms drop He took up his lamp again, and came back at her sides, and have her at his mercy. But he quickly through all the rooms, stopping as' he could not look at.her, and not be afraid of her. quitted each, and looking round for her, with He saw a strength within'her that was resistless. the light raised above.his head. He was standHe saw that she was desperate, and that her ing thus in the bedchamber, when the door unquenchable. hatred of him would stop at no- leading to.the little passage in the wail' caught thing. His eyes followed the hand that was put his eye. He went to. it, and found it fastened with such rugged, uncongenial purpose into her on the other side; but she had dropped a veil white bosom, and he thought that if it struck at in going through, and shut it in the door. him, and failed, it would strike there just as soon. All this time the people on.the stairs were He did not venture, therefore, to advance to- ringing at the bell, and knocking with' their wards her; but. the door by which he had en- hands and feet. tered was behind him, and he stepped back to He was not a coward: butthese sounds; what lock it. had gone before; the strangeness of the place, "Lastly, take my warning I look to yourself " which had confused him, even in his return from she said, and smiled again. "You have been the hall; the frustration of his schemes (for, betrayed, as all betrayers are. It has been strange to say, he would have been much bolder made known that you are in this place, or were if they had succeeded); the. unseasonable time; to be, or have been. If I live, I saw my hus- the recollection of havings no one near to whgm band in a carriage in the street to-night!" he could appeal for any friendly. office; above " Strumpet, it's false 1" cried Carker. all, the sudden sense, which made even his At the moment, the bell rang loudly in the heart beat like lead, that the man whose confihall. He turned white, as she held her hand up dence he -had outraged, and whom he had so like an enchantress, at whose invocation the treacherously deceived, was -there to recognise soutd had come. and challenge him with his mask plucked off his "Hark I do you hear it? "face;: truck a panic through'him. He tried the He set his back against the door; for he saw door- in which the veil was shut, but couldn't a change in her, and fancied she was coming on force it. He opened one of the windows, and to pass him. But, in a moment, she was. gone looked down through the lattice of the blind into through the opposite doors communicating with the courtyard; but it was a high leap, and the the bedchamber, and they shut upon her. stones were pitiless. Once turned, once changed in her inflexible, The ringing and knocking still continuingunyielding look, he felt that he could cope with his panic too-he went back to the door in the her. He thought a sudden terror, occasioned bedchamber, and with some new efforts, each by this night alarm, had subdued her;'not the more stubborn than the last, wrenched it open. less readily for her overwrought. condition. Seeing the little staircase not far off, and feeling Throwing open the doors, he followed,,almost the night air coming up, he stole back for his hat instantly. and coat, made the door as secure after him as But-the room. was dark; and, as she made no he could, crept down lamp in hand, extinguished answer to his call, he was fain to go back for the.it on seeing the street, and having put it in a lamp, IHe held it up, and'looked round every-. comer, went out where the stars were shining. where, expecting to see her crouching in some comer; but the room was empty. So, into-the drawing-room and dining-room he went, in suc-C cession, with the uncertain steps of a man in a CHAPTER LV. strange place; looking fearfully about,. and pry- ROB THE GRINDER LOSES HIS PLACE. ing behind screens;and couches; but she was' not there. No, nor in the hall, which: was so HE porter at the iron gate which shut bare that he could see-that at a glance' the'courtyard from the street had All this time the ringing at the bell. was con-' left the little wicket of his house standy renewed, and those without were- eatinga,'S open, and was gone -away; no doubt'at the door. He- put. his lamp down at a dis-. to mingle in the distant noise'at the tance, and going near it, listened.. There were,door on the great'staircase. Lifting the several voices talking together;.at least two-of' latch softly, Carker crept out, and shutting them._iniiEnglish3 -and though.the. door, was / the jangling'gate after him with as little thick, and there -was great confusion, he&knew one noise as possible, hurried off.i ofthese toa well to doubt whose voice it was. In the fever of his mortification and unavail 392 DOMBEY AND SON. ing rage, the panic that had'seized upon him massive buildings, he set his teeth, and muttered mastered him completely. It rose to such a dreadful imprecations on her head, and looked height that he would have blindly encountered from side to side as if in search of her,.:;Thus, almost any risk, rather than meet the man of he stole on to the gate of an inn yard.::: The whom, two hours ago, he had been utterly re- people were abed; but his ringing at the bell gardless. His fierce arrival, which he had never soon produced a man with a lantern, in cornexpected; the sound of his voice; their having pany with whom he was presently in a dini been so near a meeting face to face; he would coach-house, bargaining for the -hire of an old. have braved out this, after the first momentary phaeton to Paris. shock of alarm, and would have put as bold a The bargain was a short one; and the horses front upon his guilt as any villain. But the Were soon sent for. Leaving word that the carspringing of his mine upon himself seemed to riage was to follow him when they came, he stole have rent and shivered all his hardihood and away again, beyond the town, past the old ram. self-reliance. Spurned like any reptile; en- parts, out on the open road, which seemed to trapped and mocked; turned upon, and trodden glide away along the dark plain like a stream! down by the proud woman whose mind he had Whither did it flow? What was the end of it? slowly poisoned, as he thought, until she had As he paused, with some such suggestion within sunk into the mere creature of his pleasure; un- him, looking over the gloomy flat where the deceived in his deceit, and with his fox's hide slender trees marked out the way, again that stripped off, he sneaked away, abashed, degraded, flight of Death came rushing up, again went on, and afraid. impetuous and resistless, again was nothing but Some other terror came upon him, quite re- a horror in his mind, dark as the scene, and moved from this of being pursued, suddenly like undefined as its remotest verge. an electric shock, as he was creeping through There was no wind; there was no passing the streets. Some visionary terror, unintelligible shadow on the deep. shade of the night; there and: inexplicable, associated with a trembling of was no noise. The city lay behind him, lighted the ground, —a rush and sweep of something here and there, and starry worlds were hidden through the air, like Death upon the wing. He by the masonry of spire and roof that hardly shrunk, as if to let the thing go by. It was not made out any shapes against the sky. D' k and gone, it never had been there, yet what a start- lonely distance lay around him everywhere and ling horror it had left behind. the clocks were faintly striking two. He raised his wicked face, so full of trouble, He went forward for what'appeared a long to the night sky where the stars, so full of peace, time, and a long way;'often stopping to listen. were shining on him as they had been when he At last the ringing of horses' bells greeted his first stole out into the air; and stopped to think anxious ears. Now softer, and now louder, now what he should do. The dread of being hunted inaudible, now ringing very slowly over bad in a strange, remote place, where the laws might ground, now brisk and merry, it came oIn; until, not protect him-the novelty of the feeling that with a. loud shouting and lashing, a shadowy it was strange and remote, originating in his postillion, muffled to the eyes, checked his four being left alone so suddenly amid the ruins of struggling horses at his side. his plans-his greater dread of seeking refuge "Who goes there? Monsieur?" now in Italy or in Sicily, where men might be "Yes." hired to assassinate him, he thought, at any dark " Monsieur has walked a long way in the dark street corner-the waywardness of guilt and fear midnight." -perhaps some sympathy of action with, the "No matter. Every one to his taste. Were turning back of all his schemes-impelled him to there any other horses ordered at the post. turn back too, and go to England. house? " " I am safer there, in any case. If I should "A thousand devils!-and pardon! other not decide," he thofght, "to give this fool a horses? at this hour?'No." meeting, I am less likely to be traced there than "Listen, my friend. I am much hurried. abroad here, now. And if I should (this cursed Let us see how fast we can travel. The faster fit being over); at least I shall not be alone, the more money there will be to drink. Off we without a soul to speak to, or advise with, or go, then! Quick!" stand by me. I shall not be run in upon and "Halloa! whoop! Halloa! Hi!"''Away, worried like a rat." at a gallop, over the black landscape; scattering He muttered Edith's name, and clenched his the dust and dirt like spray! hand. As he crept along in the shadow of the The clatter, and commotion echoed.to'thq A GALLOP THROUGHI THE NIGHT...~3 hurry and discordance of the fugitive's ideas. against the woman lwho had so entrappedbhi Nothing clear without. and nothing clear withiin. and avenged herself.was always there; crude Objects flitting past, merging into one another, and misshapen schemes of retaliation upon her dimly descried, cpnfusedly lost sight of, gne.floated in his brain; but nothing was distinct. A Beyond the changing scraps of fence and cot. hurry and contradiction pervaded all his thoughts; tage immediately upon the, road, a lowering Even while he was. s busy with. this fevered9 waste. Beyond the shifting images that roseup ineffectual thinking, his'one constant idea was in his mind, and vanished as they showed them. that. he would postpone rflection; until some selves, a black expanse'of dread afd'rage and indeinite time;: baffled villainy. Occaaioally a sigh of- ioun-.Then, the old days before th-e-second martain air came from the distant Jura, fading along riage rose up in his remembrance.. HeI thought the plain. Sometimes that rush, which was so how jealous he had been of the -boy, how jea furious and horrible, again- came -sweeping lous he had been of the girl, how artfully he had through his fancy, passed away, and left a chill kept intruders at a distance, and drawn a circle upon his blood, round his dupe that none but himself should The lamps, gleaming on the medley of horses' cross; and then'he thought,'had he done all heads, jumbled with the shadowy driver, and this to be flying now, like a scared thief,'fron the fluttering of his cloak, made a thousand in- only the poor dupe? distinct shapes, answering to' his thoughts. He could have laid hands upon himself for Shadows of familiar people, stooping at their his cowardice, but it was the very'shadow of his desks and books, in their remembered attitudes; defeat, and could not be separated from it. To strange apparitions of the man whom he was have his confidence in his own knavery so shatflying from or of Edith; repetitions, in the tered at a blow-to be within his own knowringing bells and rolling wheels, of words that ledge such a miserable tool-was like being had been spoken; confusions-of time and place, paralysed. With an impotent ferocity he r;aged making last night a month ago,a. month ago at Edith, and hated Mr. Dombey, and hated last night-home row distant beyond hope, now himself, but still he fed, and could do no(thkir instantly accessible; commotion, discord, hurry, else. darkness, and confusion -in his mind, and all Again and again he listened for the sound of around him.-Halloa-! Hi I away at a gallop wheels behind. Again and again his fancy over the black landscape; dust and dirt flying heard it, coming on louder and louder. At last like spray, the smoking horses snorting and he was so persuade of this, that he cried out plunging as if each of them were ridden by a "Stop I" preferring even the loss of ground to demon, away in a frantic triumph on the dark such uncertainty. road-whither? The word soon brought carriage, horses, Again the nameless shock comes.speieding up, driver, all in a heap together across the road. and, as it passes, the bells- ring'in his ears "The devil 1" cried the driver, looking over " Whither? The wheels "roar in':.his ears his shoulder. " What's the matter? "Whither?" All the noise and, rattle shapes "Hark I What's that?" itself into that cry. The lights'and shadows What?" dance upon the horses' heads, like imps. No "That noise." stopping now: no slackening!l On, on'! Away "Ah Heaven, be quiet, cursed brigand 1" to with him upon the dark road wildly! a'horse who shook his bells. " What noise?" He could not think to any purpose. He could "Behind. Is it not another carriage at a, not separate one ~subject of reflection from gallop? There I What's that?" another, sufficiently to dwell upon it, by itself, "Miscreant with a pig's head, stand still!" t for a minute at a time. The crash of his pi'oect another horse, who bit another, who frigttfor the gaining of a voluptuous compensation ened the other two, who plunged and backed. for past restraint; the overthrow of his treachery' "There is nothing coming." to one who had been true and generous to him, "Nothing? " but whose least proud word and look he had "No, nothing but the day yonider.". treasured up, at interest, for years-for false and "You are right,,l think. I hear nothing now subtle men will always secretly despise' and dis- indeed. Go on!" like the object upon which they fawn, and always The entangled equipage,halfhiddeninthereekresent the payment and receipt of homage that ing cloud from the horses, goes on slowly at first, they know to be worthless; these'were the for the driver, checked unnecessarily in his prothemes uppermost in his mind. A lurking rage gress, sulkily takes out a pocket-knife, and puts 394 DOCMBjEE Y AND SON. a new lash to his whip. Then " Hallo, whoop! little cemeteries with' black crosses settled sideHallo, hi! " Away once more, savagely. ways in the graves, and withere4 wreaths upon And now the stars faded, and the day glim- them dropping away; again of long, long roads, mered, and standing in the carriage, looking dragging themselves out, up hill and down, to back, he could discern the track by which he the treacherous horizon. had come, and. see that there was no traveller Of morning, noon, and sunset; night, and within view on all the heavy expanse. And the rising of an early moon. Of long roads soon it was broad day, and the sun began to temporarily left behind, and a rough pavement shine on corn-fieldsland vineyards; and solitary reached; of battering and clattering over it, labourers, risen from little temporary huts by. and looking up, among house roofs, at a great heaps of stones upon the road, were, here and church tower; of getting out and eating hastily, there, at work repairing the highway, or eating and drinking draughts of wine that had no bread. By-and-by there were peasants going to cheering influence; of coming forth afoot, their daily labour, or to marker, or lounging at among a host of beggars-blind men with the doors of poor cottages, gazing idly at him quivering eyelids, led by old women holding as he passed. And then there was a post-yard, candles to their faces; idiot girls; the lame, ankle deep in mud, with steaming dunghills and the epileptic, and the palsied-of passing vast outhouses half ruined; and looking on this through the clamour, and looking from his seat dainty prospect, an immense, old, shadeless, at the upturned countenances and outstretched glaring stone chateau, with half its windows hands, with a hurried dread of recognising some blinded, and green damp crawling lazily over pursuer pressing forward-of galloping away it, from the balustraded terrace to the taper tips again upon the long, long road, gathered up, of the extinguishers upon the turrets. dull and stunned, in his corner, or rising to see Gathered up moodily in a corner of the car- where the moon shone faintly on a patch of the riage, and only intent on going fast-except same endless road miles away, or looking back when he stood up, for a mile together, and to see who followed. looked back; which.he would do whenever Of never sleeping, but sometimes dozing with there was a piece of open country-he went on, unclosed eyes, and springing up with a start, still postponing thought indefinitely, and still and a reply aloud to an imaginary voice. Of always tormented with thinking to no purpose. cursing himself for being there, for having fled, Shame, disappointment, and discomfiture for having let her go, for not having confronted gnawed at his heart; a constant apprehension and defied him. Of having a deadly quarrel of being overtaken, or met-for he was ground- with the whole world, but chiefly with himself. lessly afraid even of travellers who came to- Of blighting everything with his black mood as wards him by the way he was going-oppressed he was carried on and away. him heavily. The same intolerable awe and It was a fevered vision of things past and dread that had come upon him in the night, re- present all confounded together; of his life and turned unweakened in the day. The monoto- journey blended into one..Of being madly nous ringing of the bells and tramping of the hurried somewhere, whither he must go. Of horses; the monotony of his anxiety, and use- old scenes starting up among the novelties less rage; the monotonous wheel of fear, regret, through which he travelled. Of musing and and passion, he kept turning round and round; brooding over what was past and distant, and made the journey like a vision, in which nothing seeming to take no notice of the actual objects was quite real but his own torment. he encountered, but with a wearisome, exhausted It was a vision of long roads that stretched consciousness of being bewildered by them, and away to an horizon always receding and never having their images all crowded in his hot brain gained; of ill-paved towns, up hill and down, after they were gone. where faces came to dark doors and ill-glazed A vision of change upon change, and still the windows, and where rows of mud-bespattered same monotony of bells and wheels, and horses' cows and oxen were tied up for sale in the long feet, and no rest. Of town and country, postnarrow streets, butting and loving,-and receiving yards, horses, drivers, hill and valley, light and blows on their blunt heads from bludgeons that darkness, road and pavement, height and holmight have beaten them in; of bridges, crosses, low, wet weather and'dry, and still the same churches, post-yards, new horses being put in monotony of bells and wheels, and horses' feet, against their wills, and the' horses of the last and no rest. A vision of. tending on, at last, stage reeking, panting, and' laying their droop- towards the distant capital by busier roads, and 2ng heads together dolefully at stable doors; of sweeping round by old cathedrals, and-dashing WOR2 OUT. 395 through small towns and villages, less thinly He had thought, in his dream, of going down scattered on the road than formerly, and sitting into a remote country place he knew, and lying shrouded in his corner with his cloak up to his quiet there, while he secretly informed himself face, as people passing by looked at'him. of what transpired, and determined how to act. Of rolling on and on, always postponing Still in the same stunned condition, he rememthought, and always racked with thinking; of bered a certain station on the railway, where he being unable to reckon up the hours he had been would have to branch off to his place of destinaupon the road, or to comprehend the points of tion, and where there was a quiet inn. Here he time and place in his journey. Of being parched indistinctly resolved to tarry and rest. and giddy, and half mad. Of pressing on, in With this purpose he slunk into a railway spite of all, as if he could not stop, and coming carriage as quickly as he could, and lying there into Paris, where the turbid river held its swift wrapped in his cloak as if he were asleep, was course undisturbed, between two brawling streams soon borne far away from the sea, and deep into of life and motion. the inland green. Arrived at his destination, he A troubled vision, then, of bridges, quays, looked out and surveyed it carefully. He was interminable streets; of wine-shops, water-car- not mistaken in his impression of the place. It riers, great crowds of people, soldiers, coaches, was a retired spot, on the borders of a little military drums, arcades. Of the monotony of wood. Only one house, newly built or altered bells and wheels and horses' feet being at length for the purpose, stood there, surrounded by its lost in the universal din and uproar. Of the neat garden; the small town that was nearest gradual subsidence of that noise as he passed out was some miles away. Here he alighted, then, in another carriage, by a different barrier from and going straight into the tavern, unobserved that by which he had entered. Of the restora- by any one, secured two rooms up-stairs comtion, as he travelled on towards the sea-coast, of municating with each other, and sufficiently the monotony of bells and wheels, and.hor.es' retired. feet, and no rest. His object was to rest, and recover the comOf sunset once again, and nightfall. Of long mand of himself, and the balance of his mind. roads again, and dead of night, and feeble lights Imbecile discomfiture and rage-so that, as he in windows by the roadside; and still the old walked about his room, he ground his teeth,monotony of bells and wheels, and horses' feet, had complete possession of him. His thoughts, and no rest. Of dawn, and daybreak, and the not to be stopped or directed, still wandered rising of the sun. Of toiling slowly up a hill, where they would, and dragged him after and feeling on its top the fresh sea breeze; and them. He was stupefied, and he was wearied seeing the morning light upon the edges of the to death. distant waves. Of coming down into a harbour But, as if there were a curse upon him that he when the tide was at its full, and seeing fishing- should never rest again, his drowsy senses would boats float in, and glad women and children not lose their consciousness. He had no more waiting for them. Of nets and seamen's clothes influence with them, in this regard, than if they spread out to dry upon the shore; of busy had been another man's. It was not that they sailors, and their voices high among ships' masts forced him to take note of present sounds and and rigging; of the buoyancy and brightness of objects, but that they would not be diverted the water, and.the universal sparkling from the whole hurried vision of his journey. Of receding fiom the coast, and looking back It was constantly before him all at once. She upon it from the deck when it was a haze upon stood there, with her dark, disdainful eyes again the water, with here and there a little opening of upon him; and he was riding on, nevertheless, bright land where the Sun struck. Of the swell, through town and country, light and darkness, and flash, and murmur of the calm sea. Of wet weather and dry, over road and pavement, another grey line on the ocean, oa the vessel's hill and valley, height and hollow, jaded and track, fast growing clearer and higher. Of cliffs scared by the monotony of bells and wheels, and buildings, and a windmill, and a church, and horses' feet, and no rest. becoming more and more visible upon it. Of What day is this?t " he asked of the waiter, steaming on at last into smooth water, and who was making preparation for his dinner. mooring to a pier whence groups of people " Daiy, s ir? looked down, greeting friends on board. Of "Is it Wednesday?" disembarking, passing among them quickly,' Wdcnesday, sir? No, sir. Thursday, sir." shunning every one; and of being at last agailn "I forgot. How goes the time? My watch in England,.. Iis unw\ound." 396 DOMBEY ANVD SON. "Wants a few minutes of five o'clock, sir. the inn garden, and a long way down; looking Been travelling a long time, sir, perhaps." curiously at the bridges, signals, lamps, and "Yes." wondering when another devil would come by. "By rail, sir?" A trembling of the ground, a quick vibration "Yes." in his ears; a distant shriek; a dull light ad"Very confusing, sir. Not mudh in the habit vancing, quickly changed to twored eyes, and a of travelling by rail myself, sir, but gentlemen fierce fire, dropping glowing coals; an irresistible frequently say so." bearing on of a great roaring and dilating mass; " Do many gentlemen come here? a high wind, and a rattle-anothercome and gone, "Pretty well, sir, in general. Nobody here at and he holding to a gate, as if to save himself! present. Rather slack just now, sir. Every- He waited for another, and for another. He thing is slack, sir." walked back to his former point, and back again He made no answer; but had risen into a to that, and still, through the wearisome vision sitting posture on the sofa where he had been of his journey, looked for these approaching lying, and leaned forward with an arm on each monsters. He loitered about the station, waitknee, staring at the ground. He could not ing until one should stay to call there; and when master his own attention for a minute together. one did, and was detached for water, he stood It rushed away where it would, but it never, for parallel with it, watching its heavy wheels and an instant, lost itself in sleep. brazen front, and thinking what a cruel power He drank a quantity of wine after dinner in and might it had. Ugh! To see the great yain. No such artificial means would bring wheels slowly turning, and to think of being rul sleep'to his eyes. His thoughts, more inco- down and crushed! herent, dragged him more unmercifully after Disorlered with wine and want of rest-that them-as if a wretch, condemned to such expia- want which nothing, although he was so weary, tion, were drawn at the heels of wild horses. would appease-these ideas and objects assumed No oblivion, and no rest. a diseased importance in his thoughts. When How long he sat drinking and brooding, and he wentback to his room, which was not until being dragged in imagination hither and thither, near midnight, they still haunted him, and he rso,ole could have teod less correctly than he. sat listening for the coming of another. Bit he knew that he had been sitting a long,. So in his bed, whither he repaired with no time by candle-light, when he started up and hope of sleep. He-still lay listening; and, when listened in a sudden terror. he felt the trembling and vibration, got up and For now, indeed, it was no fancy. The went to the window, to watch (as he could from ground shook, the house rattled, the fierce im- its position) the dull light changing to the two petuous rush was in the air! He felt it come red eyes, and the fierce fire dropping glowing up, and go darting by; and even when he had coals, and the rush of the giant as it fled past, hurried to. the window, and saw what it was, he and the track of glare and smoke along the stood, shrinking from it, as if it were not safe to valley. Then he would glance in the direclook. tion by which he intended to depart at sunrise, A curse upon the fiery devil, thundering along as there was no rest for him there; and would so smoothly, tracked through the distant valley lie down again, to be troubled by the vision of by a glare of light and lurid smoke, and gone! his journey, and the old monotony of bells and He felt as if he had been plucked out of its wheels and horses' feet, until another came. path, and saved from being torn asunder. It This lasted all night. So far from resuming the made him shrink and shudder even now, when mastery of himself, he seemed, if possible, to lose its faintest hum was hushed, and when the lines it more and-more as the night crept on. When of iron road he could trace in the moonlight, the dawn appeared, he was still tormented with running to a point, were as empty and as silent thinking, still postponing thought until he should as a desert. be in a better state; the past, present, and Unable to rest, and irresistibly attracted-or future all floated confusedly before him, and he he thought so-to this road, he went out, and had lost all power of looking steadily at any one lounged on the brink of it, marking the way the of them. — train had gone, by the yet smoking cinders that "At what time," he asked the man who had were lying in its track. After a lounge of some wated on him overnight, now entering with a half-hour in the direction by which it had dis candle, "do I leave here, did you say?" appeared, he turned and walked the other way'About a quarter after four, sir. Express -still keeping to the brink of the road-past comes through at four, sir,. It don't stop." TIlE JOURNEY'S END. 397 He passed his hand across his throbbing head, stepped back a pace or two upon that road, to and looked at his watch. Nearly half-past interpose some wider space between them, and three. looked at his pursuer, breathing short and quick. "Nobody going with you, sir, probably," He heard a shout-another-saw the face observed the man. "Two gentlemen here, sir, change from its vindictive passion to a faint but they're waiting for the train to London." sickness and terror-felt the earth tremble" I thought you said there was nobody here," knew in a moment that the rush was comesaid Carker, turning upon him with the ghost of uttered a shriek-looked round-saw the red his old smile, when he was angry or suspicious. eyes, bleared and dim, in the daylight, close "Not then, sir.'Two gentlemen came in the upon him-was beaten down, caught up, and night by the short train that stops here, sir. whirled away upon a jagged mill, that spun him Warm water, sir?" round and round, and struck him limb from "No; and take away the candle. There's limb, and licked his stream of life up with its day enough for me." fiery heat, and cast his mutilated fragments in Having thrown himself upon the bed, half- the air. dressed, he was at the window as the man left When the traveller who had been recognised the room. The cold light of morning had suc- recovered from a swoon, he saw them bringing ceeded to night, and there was already, in the sky, from a distance something covered, that lay the red suffusion of the coming sun. He bathed heavy and still, upon a board, between four his head and face with water-there was no men, and saw that others drove some dogs away cooling influence in it for him-hurriedly put on that sniffed upon the road, and soaked his blood his clothes, paid what he owed, and went out. up with a train of ashes. The air struck chill and comfortless as it breathed upon him. There was a heavy dew; and, hot as he was, it made him shiver. After a glance at the place where he had walked last night, and at the signal lights burning feebly in CHAPTER LVI. the morning, and bereft of their significance, he SEVRAL PEOPLE ELIGHED AND TE GAME turned to where the sun was rising, and beheld CHICKEN DISGUSTED. it in its glory, as it broke upon the scene. So awful, so transcendent in its beauty, so. HE Midshipman was all alive. Mr. divinely solemn. As he cast his faded eyes - Toots and Susan had arrived at last. upon it, where it rose, tranquil and serene, Susan had run up-stairs like a young unmoved by all the wrong and wickedness on woman bereft of her senses, and Mr. which its beams had shone since the beginning v Toots and the Chicken had gone into of the world, who shall say that some weak kg the parlour. sense of virtue upon Earth, and its reward in O "Oh my own pretty darling sweet Miss Heaven, did not manifest itself, even to him? Floy!" cried the Nipper, running into If ever he remembered sister or brother with a Florence's room, " to think that it should come touch of tenderness and remorse, who shall say to this and I should find you here my own dear it was not then? dove with nobody to wait upon you and no He needed some such touch then. Death home to call your own but never never will I go was on him. He was marked off from the away again Miss Floy for though I may not living world, and going down into his grave. gather moss I'm not a rolling stone nor is my He paid the money for his journey to the heart a stone or else it wouldn't bust as it is country place he had thought of; and was walking busting now oh dear oh dear!" to and fro alone, looking along the lines of iron, Pouring out these words, without the faintest across the valley in one direction, and towards a indication of a stop of any sort, Miss Nipper, on dark bridge near at hand in the other; when, her knees beside her mistress, hugged her close. turning in his walk, where it was bounded by "Oh love!" cried Susan, "I know all that's one end of the wooden stage on which he paced past, I know it all my tender pet and I'm a up and down, he saw the man from whom he choking give me air!" had &ed, emerging from the door by which he "Susan, dear good Susan!" said Florence. himself had entered there. And their eyes met. " Oh bless her! I that was her little maid In the quick unsteadiness of the surprise, he when she was a little child! and is she really, staggered, and slipped on to the road below really truly going to be married?" exclaimed him, But, recovering his feet immediately, he Susan, in a burst of pain and pleasure, pride and 398 DOMBEY'AND SON. grief, and Heaven knows how many other con- as a favour that she might have the pleasure of ficting feelings. thanking him for his kindness; and Susan, in a "Who told you so?" said Florence. few moments, produced that young gentleman, "Oh gracious me I that innocentest creetur still very much dishevelled in appearance, and Toots," returned Susan hysterically. " I knew stammering exceedingly. he must be right my dear, because he took on "Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots, "to be so. He's the devotedest and innocentest infant! again permitted to-to-gaze-at least, not to And is my darling," pursued Susan, with another gaze, but-I don't exactly know what I was close embrace and burst of tears, "really, really going to say, but it's of no consequence." going to be married?" "I have to thank you so often," returned The mixture of compassion, pleasure, ten- Florence, giving him both her hands, with all derness, protection, and regret with which the her innocent gratitude beanming in her face, Nipper constantly recurred to this subject, and, "that I have no words left, and don't know at every such recurrence, raised her head to look how to do it." in the young face and kiss it, and then laid her " Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots in an awful head again upon her mistress's shoulder, caress- voice, "if it was possible that you could, coning her and sobbing, was as womanly and good a sistently with your angelic nature, curse me, you thing, in its way, as ever was seen in the world. would-if I may be allowed to say so-floor me "There, there!" said the soothing voice of infinitely less than by these undeserved expresFlorence presently. "Now you're quite your- sions of kindness. Their effect upon me-isself, dear Susan!" but," said Mr. Toots abruptly, "this is a digresMiss Nipper, sitting down upon the floor, at sion, and's of no consequence at all." her mistress's feet, laughing and sobbing, hold- As there seemed to be no means of replying ing her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes with to this but by thanking him again, Florence one hand, and patting Diogenes with the other thanked him again. as he licked her face, confessed to being more " could wish," said Mr. Toots, "to take this composed, and laughed and cried a little more opportunity, Miss Dombey, if I might, of enterin proof of it. ing into a word of explanation. I should have " I-I-I never did see such a creetur as that had the pleasure of-of returning with Susan at Toots," said Susan, "in all my born days, never!" an earlier period; but, in the first place, we "So kind," suggested Florence. didn't know the name of the relation to whose "And so comic! " Susan sobbed. " The way house she had gone, and, in the second, as she he's been going on inside with me, with that dis- had left that relation's and gone to another at a respectable Chicken on the box!" distance, I think that scarcely anything short of "About what, Susan?" inquired' Florence the sagacity of the Chicken would have found timidly. her out in the time." " Oh about Lieutenant Walters, and Captain Florence was sure of it. Gills, and you my dear Miss Floy, and the silent "This, however," said Mr. Toots, " is not the tomb," said Susan. point. The company of Susan has been, I "The silent tomb!" repeated Florence. assure you, Miss Dombey, a consolation and " He says "-here Susan burst into a violent satisfaction to me, in my state of mind, more hysterical laugh-" that he'll go down into it easily conceived than described. The journey now, immediately and quite comfortable, but has been its own reward. That, however, still, bless your heart my dear Miss Floy he won't, is not the point. Miss Dombey, I have before he's a great deal too happy in seeing other observed that I know I am not what is conpeople happy for that, he may not be a Solo- sidered a quick person. I am perfectly aware mon," pursued the Nipper, with her usual volu- of that. I don't think anybody could be better bility, " nor do I say he is, but this I do say, a acquainted with his own-if it was not too strong less selfish human creature human nature never an expression, I should say with the thickness of knew." his own-head than myself. But, Miss Dombey, Miss Nipper, being still hysterical, laughed I do, notwithstanding, perceive the state ofimmoderately after making this energetic decla- of things-with Lieutenant Walters. Whatever ration, and then informed Florence that he was agony that state of things may have caused me waiting below to see her; which would be a rich (which is of no consequence at all), I am bound repayment for the trouble he had had in his late to say, that Lieutenant Walters is a person who expedition. appears to be worthy of the blessing that has Florence entreated Susan'to beg of Mr. Toots fallen on his —on his brow, May he wear it MR. TOOTS IN CONFERENCE WITH CAPTAIN CUTTLE. 399 long, and appreciate it, as a very different and "Alow and aloft, eh, my lad?" murmured very unworthy individual, that it is of no conse- the captain. quence to name, would have done! That, how- "Exactly so, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, ever, still, is not the point. Miss Dombey, whose fervour of acquiescence was greatly heightCaptain Gills is a friend of mine; and during ened by his entire ignorance of the captain's the interval that is now elapsing, I believe it meaning. "Miss Dombey, I believe, Captain would afford Captain Gills pleasure to see me Gills, is to be shortly united to Lieutenant occasionally coming backwards and forwards Walters?" here. It would afford me pleasure so to come. " Why, ay, my lad. We're all shipmets here, But I cannot forget that I once committed -Wal'r and sweetheart will be jined together in myself, fatally, at the corner of the square at the house of bondage, as soon as the askings Brighton; and if my presence will be, in the is over," whispered Captain Cuttle in his ear. least degree, unpleasant to you, I only ask you "The askings, Captain Gills!" repeated Mr. to name it to me now, and assure you that I Toots. shall perfectly understand you. I shall not con- " In the church, down yonder," said the capsider it at all unkind, and shall only be too tain, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. delighted and happy to be honoured with your "Oh! Yes!" returned Mr. Toots. confidence." "And then," said the captain in his hoarse "Mr. Toots," returned Florence, "if you, who whisper, and lapping Mr. Toots on the chest are so old and true a friend of mine, were to with the back of his hand, and falling from him stay away from this house now, you would make with a look of infinite admiration, " what follers? me very unhappy. It can never, never give me That there pretty creetur, as delicately brought any feeling but pleasure to see you." up as a foreign bird, goes away upon the roaring " Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots, taking out naiid with Wal'r on.a woyage to China." his pocket-handkerchief, " if I shed a tear, it is "Lord, Captain Gills!" said Mr. Toots. a tear of joy. It is of no consequence, and I "Ay " nodded the captain. "The ship as am very much obliged to you. I may be allowed took him up, when he was wrecked in the hurrito remark, after what you have so kindly said, cane that had drove her clean out of her course, that it is not my intention to neglect my person was a China trader, and Wal'r made the woyage, any longer." and got into favour, aboard and ashore-being Florence received this intimation with the as smart and good. a lad as ever stepped-and prettiest expression of perplexity possible. so, the supercargo dying at Canton, he got made " I mean," said Mr. Toots, "that I shall con- (having acted as clerk afore), and now he's sider it my duty as a fellow-creature generally, supercargo aboard another ship, same owners. until I am claimed by the silent tomb, to make And so, you see," repeated'the captain thoughtthe best of myself, and to-to have my boots fully,." the pretty creetur goes away upon the as brightly polished as-as circumstances will roaring main with Wal'r, on a woyage to China." admit of. This is the last time, Miss Dcmbey, Mr. Toots and Captain Cuttle heaved a sigh of my intruding any observation of a private and in concert. personalnature. I thank you very much indeed. "What then? " said the captain. " She loves If I am not, in a general way, as sensible as my him true. He loves her true; Them as should friends could wish me to be, or as I could wish have loved and fended of her treated of her like myself, I really am, upon my word and honour, the beasts as perish, When she, cast Mut of particularly sensible of what is considerate and home, come here to me, and dropped upon them kind. I feel," said Mr. Toot- in an impassioned planks, her wownded heart was broke. I know tone, "as if I could express my' feelings, at th. it. I, Ed'ard Cuttle, see it. There's nowt but present moment, in a most remarkable manner, true, kind, steady love as can ever piece it up if-if-I could only get a start." again. If so be I didn't know that, and didn't Appearing not to get it, after waiting a minute know as Wal'r was her true love, brother, and or two to see if it would come, Mr. Toots took she his, I'd have these here blue arms and legs a hasty leave, and went below to seek the cap- chopped off afore I'd let her go. But I do know tain, whom he found in the shop. it, and what then? Why, then, I say, Heaven " Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots," what is go with'em both, and so it will! Amen!" now to take place between us, takes place under "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, "let me the sacred seal of confidence. It is the sequel, have the pleasure of shaking hands. You've a Captain Gills, of what has taken place between way of saying things, that gives me an agreeable myself and Miss Dombey np-stairs." warmth all up my back. I say Amen. You are 400 DOMBE Y AND SON. aware, Captain Gills, that I, too, have adored particular favour if you will mention to LieuMiss Dombey." tenant Walters, is as follows."'; Cheer up!" said the captain, laying his hand "Is as follers," echoed the captain. "Steady! " on Mr. Toots's shoulder. "Stand by, boy!" "Miss Dombey being so inexpressibly kind," "It is my intention, Captain Gills," returned continued Mr. Toots with watery eyes, "as to the spirited Mr. Toots, "to cheer up. Also to say that my presence is the reverse of disagreestand by, as much as possible.- When the silent able to her, and you and everybody here being tomb shall yawn, Captain Gills, I shall be ready no less forbearing and tolerant towards one who for burial; not before. But not.being certain; -who certainly," said Mr. Toots, with momentjust at present, of my power over myself, what I ary dejection,'"would appear to have been wish to say, to you, and what I shall take it as a born by mistake, I shall come backwards and "HE SAW THE FACE CHANGE FROM ITS VINDICTIVE PASSION TO A FAINT SICKNESS AND TERROR."' forwards of an evening during the short time we mark that I have gone out' for a walk, or procan all be together. But what I ask is this. If, bably to see what o'clock it is by the Royal at any moment, I find that I cannot endure the. Exchange. Captain Gills, if you could enter contemplation of Lieutenant Walters's bliss, and' into this arrangement, and could answer for should rush out, I hope, Captain Gills, that you Lieutenant Walters, it would be a relief to my and he will both consider it as my misfortune, and feelings that I should think cheap at the sacrifice not my fault, or the want of inward conflict. of a considerable portion of my property." That you'll feel convinced I bear no malice to "My lad," returned the captain, "say no more. any living creature-least of. all to Lieutenant There ain't a colour you can run up as won't be Walters himself-and that you'll casual)v re- made out; and answered'to, by Wal'r and self.' _MISS NIPPER OBJECTS TO A SEPARATION. 401 "Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, " my mind many years don't think of going anywhere withis greatly relieved. I wishto preserve the good out me, for it mustn't and can't bel'I opinion of all here. I-I-mean well, upon my "Dear Susan, I am going on a long long honour, however badly I may show it. You voyage." know," said Mr. Toots, " it's exactly as if Burgess " Well Miss Floy, and what of that? the inmre and Co. wished to oblige a customer with a most you'll want me. Lengths of voyages ain't an extraordinary pair of trousers, and could not cut object in my eyes, thank God l'.said the. ifhout what they had in their minds." petuous Susan Nipper. With this apposite illustration, of which he " But, Susan, I am going with Walter; and I seemed a little proud, Mr. Toots gave Captain would go with Walter anywhere-everywhere! Cuttle his blessing and departed. Walter is poor, and I am very podr, and I The honest captain, with his Heart's Delight must learn, now, both to help myself, and help in the house, and Susan tending her, was a him." beaming and a happy man. As the days flew "Dear Miss Floy I " cried Susan, bursting out by, he grew more beaming and more happy afresh, and shaking her head violently, "it's every day. Atcer some conferences with Susan nothing new to you to help yourself and.others (for whose wisdom the captain had a profound too and be the patientest and truest of noble respect, and whose valiant precipitation of her- hearts, but let me talk to Mr. Walter Gay and self on Mrs. MacStinger he could never forget), settle it with him, for suffer you to go away he proposed to Florence that the daughter of across the world alone I cannot, and I won't." the elderly lady who usually sat under the blue "Alone, Susan?" returned Florence. "Alone? umbrella in Leadenhall Market should, for pru- and Walter taking me with him?" Ah, what a dential reasons and considerations of privacy, be bright, amazed, enraptured smile was on her superseded in the temporary discharge of the face! He should have seen it. "I am sureyou household duties by some one who was not un- will not speak to Walter if I ask you not," she known to them, and in whom they could safely added tenderly; " and pray don't, dear." confide. Susan, being present, then named, in Susan sobbed "Why not, Miss Floy?" furtherance of a suggestion she had previously "Because," said Florence, "I am going to be offered to the captain, Mrs. Richards. Florence his wife, to give him up my whole heart, and to brightened at the name, And Susan, setting off live with him and die with him. He might that very afternoon to the Toodle domicile, to think, if you said to him what you have said to sound Mrs. Richards, returned in triumph the me, that I am afraid of what is before me, or same evening, accompanied by the identical that you have some cause to be afraid for me. rosy-cheeked, apple-faced Polly, whose demon- Why, Susan dear, I love him I " strations, when brought into Florence's presence, Miss Nipper was so much affected by the were hardly less affectionate than those of Susan quiet fervour of these words, and the simple, Nipper herself. heartfelt, all-pervading earnestness expressed in This piece of generalship accomplished; from them, and making the speaker's face more beauwhich the captain derived uncommon satisfac- tiful and pure than ever, that she could only tion, as he did, indeed, from everything else that cling to her again, crying, Was her little mistress was done, whatever it happened to be; Florence really, really going to be married? and pitying, had next to prepare Susan for their approaching caressing, and protecting her, as she had done separation. This was a much more difficult before. task, as Miss Nipper was of a resolute disposi- But the Nipper, though susceptible of wotion, and had fully, made up her mind that she manly weaknesses, was almost as capable of had come back never to be parted from her old putting constraint upon herself as of attacking mistress any more. the redoubtable MacStinger. From that time "As to wages dear Miss Floy," she said, she never returned to the subject, but-was always "you wouldn't hint and wrong me so as think cheerful, active, bustling, and hopeful. She did, of naming them, for I've put money by and indeed, inform Mr. Toots privately that she was wouldn't sell my love and duty at a time like only "keeping up" for the time, and that whetr this even if the Savings Banks and me were total it was all over, and Miss Dombey was gone, she strangers or the Banks were broke to pieces, but might be expected to become a spectacle disyou've never been without me darling from the tressful; and Mr, Toots did also express that it time your poor dear ma was took away, and was his case too, and that they would tingle though I'm nothing to be boasted of you're used their tears together; but she never otherwise! to me and oh my own dear mistress through so indulged her private feelings in the presence of DOMBEY AND SON, 26. 316 3x1~ 4P2 M- BE Y AND ISQOA' \ —* —--- — ~ -—., —,, —^- -*-%. —-- * ---- s-. —-~ — Florence, or within the. orecinctsdf the Mid- she was sheltered by the arm, s6 proud, so fond, shipman. -and creeping closer to him,'shiunk within'it at'Limited and plain'as' Florences wardrobe the recollection i How often, from rememberwas-what a contrast to that prepared for the ing the night when sle went down to that room ast-marriage in'which she had taken part!-' and met' he never-to-te-forgotten look, did she there was a good deal to do in getting it ready, raise her eyes to those that watched her with and Susan Nipper worked away at her side, all such loving earnestness, and weep with happidaywithl the -concentrated zeal of fifty semp- ness in such a refuge! The more she clung to stresses. The wonderful contributions Captain. it, the more the dear dead child was in her Cuttle would have'made to this branch of the thoughts: but, as if the last time she had seen outfit, if he had. been permitted-as pink para- her father had been when he was sleeping and sols, tinted silk stockings, blue shoes, and other she kissed his face, she always left him so, and articles no less necessary on shipboard-would never, in her fancy, passed: that hour. occupy some space in the recital.'He was in- "Walter dear," said' Florence one evening, duced: however, by., various frauduleqt repre- when it was almost dark) ".do you know what I sentations, to limit his contributions to a wprkbox have been thinking to-day? and dressing-case, of each of which he purchased "Thinking how the time is flying on, and how the very largest specimen that could be got for soon we shall be upon the sea, sweet Florence?." nmoney. For ten days. or a fortnight afterwards, "I don't mean that, Walter, though I think he generally sat, during the greater part of the of that-too.' I have been thinking what a charge day, gazing at these boxes; divided between I am to you." extreme admiration. of them, and dejected mis- "A precious, sacred charge, dear heart givings that they were not gorgeous enough, and Why, I think that sometimes." frequently diving out into the street to purchase "You are laughing, Walter. I know that's some wild article that he deemed necessary to much more in your thoughts than mine. But I their completeness.' But his master stroke was, mean a cost." the bearitg of them both off suddenly one "A cost, my own?" morning, and getting the two words FLORENCE "In money, dear. All these preparations GAY engraved upon a brass heart inlaid over the that Susan and I are so busy with-I have been lid of each..After this, he smoked four pipes able to purchase very little for myself. You successively.'in the little parlour by himself, and' were poor before. But how much poorer I shall was discovered chuckling at the expiration of as make you, Walter!" many hours. " And how much richer, Florence!" Walter was busy and away all day,, but came'Florence laughed, and shook her head. there every morning early to see Florence, and "Besides," said Walter, "long ago-before I always passed the evening with.:her. Florence went to sea-I had a little purse presented to never left her high rooms but to steal down-stairs me, dearest, which had money in it." to wait for him when it was his time to. come, or, "Ah!" returned Florence, laughing sorrowsheltered by his proud, encircling arm, to bear fully, "very little! Very little, Walter! But you him company to the door again, and sometimes must not think"-and here she laid her light peep into thestreet. In the twilight they were hand on his shoulder, and looked into his face always together. "Oh blessed time I Oh wan- -" that I regret to be this burden on you. No, dering-heart at.rest! Oh deep, exhaustless, dear love, I am glad of it. I am happy in it. I mighty well'of love, in which so much was sunk! wouldn't have it otherwise for all the world!" The cruel'ilark was on her bosom yet. It Nor I indeed, dear Florence." rose against her father'with the breath she drew, "Ay! But, Walter, you can never feel it as it lay between.her ad'her lover when he pressed.I do. I am so proud of you! It makes my her to his h'eart. But she forgot it.'In the' heart swell with such delight to know that those,beating of that heart for her,. and in the beating who'speak of you must say you married a poor of her own'for him, all harsher. music was un- disowned girl, who had taken shelter here; who heard;.all stern, Unloving hearts forgotten. Fra- had no other home; no other friends; who had gile and. delicate she was, but with a might ofnothingXnothing! Oh, Walter, if I could have love within her that could, and- did, create a. brought you millions, I never could have been world, tb fly to, and cb rest in, out of- his one so happy for your sake as I am!" image.' " And you, dear Florence? are you nothing?" How often did the great. ouse, anitthe old he returned. davs, comeibefore'hecitti dte twiligjs6 time, en aN',. notig, rWalter. Nothing but your. MR. TOOTS'S TRIALS CONTINUED. 403 wife." The light hand stole about his neck, demonstration. Anon, his admiration of Floand the voice came nearer-nearer. "I am rence'and Walter-well matched truly, and full nothing any more, that is not you. I have no of grace and interest in their youth, and love, earthly hope any more, that is not you. I have and good looks, as they sat apart-would take nothing dear to me any more, that is not you." such complete possession of him that he would lay Oh! well might Mr. Toots leave the little com- down his cards, and beam upon them, dabbing pany that evening, and twice go out to correct his head all over with his pocket-handkerchief; his watch by the Royal Exchange, and once to until warned, perlhaps, by the sudden rushing keep an appointment with a banker which he forth of Mr. Toots, that he had unconsciously suddenly remembered, and once to take g little been very instrumental indeed in making that turn to Aldgate Pump and back! gentleman miserable. This reflection would But, before he went upon these expeditions, make the captain profoundly melancholy until or, indeed, before he came and before lights the return of Mr. Toots; when he would fall to were brought, Walter said: his cards again, with many side winks and nods, "Florence love, the lading of our ship is and polite waves of his hook at Miss Nipper, nearly finished, and probably on the very day importing that he wasn't going to do so any of our marriage she will drop down the river. more. The state that ensued on this was, perShall we go away that morning, and stay in haps, his best; for then, endeavouring to disKent until we go on board at Gravesend within charge all expression from his face, he would sit a week?" staring round the room, with all these expres" If you please, Walter. I shall be happy sions conveyed into it at once, and each wrestanywhere. But-" ling with the other. Delighted admiration of " Yes, my life?" Florence and Walter always overthrew the rest, "You know," said Florence, "that we shall and remained victorious and undisguised, unhave no marriage party, and that nobody will less Mr. Toots made another rush into the air, distinguish us by our dress from other people. and then the captain would sit like a remorseful As we leave the same day, will you-will you culprit until he came back again, occasionally take me somewhere that morning, Walter-early calling upon himself, in a low, reproachful voice, -before we go to church?" to "stand by!" or growling some remonstrance Walter seemed to understand her, as so true to "Ed'ard Cuttle my lad," on the want of caua lover so truly loved should, and confirmed his tion observable in his behaviour. ready promise with a kiss-with more than one, One of Mr. Toots's hardest trials, however, perhaps, or two or three, or five or six; and in was of his own seeking. On the approach of the grave, calm, peaceful evening Florence was the Sunday which was to witness the last of very happy. those askings in church of which the captain had Then into the\quiet room came Susan Nipper spoken, Mr. Toots thus stated his feelings to and the candles; shortly afterwards, the tea, the Susan Nipper. captain, and the excursive Mr. Toots, who, as "Susan," said Mr. Toots, " I am drawn toabove mentioned, was frequently on the move wards the building. The words which cut me afterwards, and passed but a restless evening. off from Miss Dombey for ever will strike upon This, however, was not his habit: forhe generally my ears like a knell, you know, but, upon my got on very well, by dint of playing at cribbage word and honour, I feel that I must hear them. with the captain under the advice and guidance Therefore," said Mr. Toots, "will you accomof Miss Nipper, and distracting his mind with pany me to-morrow to the sacred edifice?" the calculations incidental to the game; which Miss Nipper expressed her readiness to do so, he found to be a very effectual means of utterly if that would be any satisfaction to Mr. Toots, confounding himself. but besought him to abandon his idea of going. The captain's visage on tnese occasions pre- "Susan," returned Mr. Toots with much sented one of the finest examples of combination solemnity, "before my whiskers began to be and succession of expression ever observed. His observed by anybody but myself, I adored Miss instinctive delicacy and his chivalrous feeling Dombey. While yet a victim to the thraldom towards Florence taught him that it was not a of Blimber, I adored Miss Dombey. When I time for any boisterous jollity, or violent display could no longer be kept out of my property, in of satisfaction. Certain floating reminiscences a legal point of view, and-and accordingly of Lovely Peg, on the other hand, were con- came into it-I adored Miss Dombey. The stantly struggling for a vent, and urging the banns which consign her to Lieutenant Walters, captain to commit himself by some irreparable and me to-to Gloom, you know," said Mr. 404 DO.fMBE Y AND SON. Toots, after hesitating for a strong expression, "Susan Nipper could only commiserate Mr. "may be dreadful, will be dreadful; but I feel Toots's unfortunate condition, and agre, under that I should.wish to hear them spoken. I feel these circumstances, to accompany him; which that I should wish to-know that the ground was she did next morning. certainly cut from under me, and that I hadn't a The church Walter had chosen tor the purhope to cherish, or a-or a leg, in short, to-to pose was a mouldy old church in a yard, hemmed go upon." in by a labyrinth of. back-streets and courts, c2,, L. -- _"'AFTER T1IS. HE SMOKED FOUR PIPES SUCCESSIVELY IN THE LITTLE PARLOUR BY HIMSELF, AND WAS DISCOVERED CHUCKLING AT THE EXPIRATION OF AS MANY HOURS." with a little burying-ground round it, ana itself people lost themselves every Sunday; while the buried in a kind of vault formed by the neigh- clergyman's voice drowsily resounded through bouring houses, and paved with echoing stones. the emptiness, and the organ rumbled and rolled It was a great, dim, shabby pile, with high old as if the church had got the colic, for want of a oaken pews, among' which about a''score of congregation to keep the wind and damp out. MR" TOOTS 0 GOES TO HEAR TAHE BANNS PUBLISHED. 405 But so far was this City church from languishing connectidn with it. But th'e:extreme:'restlessfor the company of other churches, that spires ness..oft:M1'r Toots painfuly increased and prowere clustered round it, as the.masts~of shipping" tracted the delicacy of. her' situation:. That cluster on the river. It would have been hard young gentleman, incapable, in his state-df mind, to count them from its steeple-top, they were so of remaining alone in the churchyard, a prey to many. In almost every yard and blind place solitary meditation, andt also desirous, no doubt, near, there was a church. The confusion of of testifying his respect for the offices he had in bells, when Susan* and Mr. Toots betook them- some measure interrupted, suddenly returnedselves towards it on the Sunday morning, was not coming back to the pew,'but stationing deafening. There' were twenty churches close. himself on a free-seat in the aisle, between two together, clamouring for people to come in..:elderly females who were in the habit of receivThe two stray sheep in question were penned ing their portion of a weekly dole of bread then by a beadle in a commodious pew, and, being set forth on a shelf in the porch. In this- conearly, sat for some time counting the congrega- junction Mr. Toots'remained, greatly disturbing tion, listening to the disappointed bell high up the congregationt, who felt it impossible to avoid in the tower, or looking at a shabby little old looking at him, until his feelings overcame him man in the porch behind the screen, who was again, when he departed silently and suddenly. ringing the same, like the bull in Cock Robin, Not venturing to trust himself in the church with his foot in a stirrup. Mr. Toots, after a any more, and yet wishing to have some social lengthened survey of the: large books on the participation in what. was going on there, Mr. reading-desk, whispered Miss Nipper that he Toots was, after this, seen from time to time wondered where the banns were kept, but that looking in, with a lorn aspect, at one or other of young lady merely shook her head and frowned;. the windows; and as there were several windows repelling for the time all approaches of a tem- accessible to him from without, and as his restporal nature. lessness was very great, it not only became diffiMr. Toots, however, appearing unable to keep cult to conceive at which window he would his thoughts from the banns, was evidently look- appear next, but likewise became necessary, as ing out for them during the whole, preliminary it were, for the whole congregation to speculate portion of the service..As the time for reading upon the chances of the different windows durthem approached,' the poor young gentleman ing the comparative leisure afforded them by manifested great anxiety and trepidation, which the sermon. Mr. Toots's movements in the was not diminished by the'unexpected appari- churchyard were so eccentric, that he seemed tion of the captain in the front row of.the gallery. generally to defeat all calculation, and to appear, When the clerk handed up a list to the clergy- like the conjurer's figure, where he was least man, Mr. Toots, being then seated, held on by expected; and the effect of these mysterious the seat of the pew; but when the names of presentations was much increased by its being Walter Gay and Florence Dombey were read difficult to him to see in, and easy,to everybody aloud as being in the third and last stage of that else to see out: which.occasioned his remaining, association, he was so entirely conquered by his every time, longer than might have. been exfeelings as to rush from the church without his pected, with. his face close to the glass, until he hat, followed by the beadle and per-opener, and all at-once became aware that all eyes were upon two gentlemen of the medical profession, who him, and vanished, happened to be present; of whom the first- These proceedings on the part of Mr.' Toots, named presently returned for that article, in-.and'the strong individual consciousness of them forming Miss Nipper in a whisper that she was that was exhibited by the captain, rendered Miss not to make herself uneasy about the gentleman, Nippe's position so, responsible a one,'that she as the gentleman said his indisposition was of wa' mightily relieved by the conclusion of the no consequence. service; and was hardly so affable to Mr. Toots Miss Nipper, feeling that the' eyes of that as usual, when he'informed her and the captain, integral portion of Europe which lost itself -on the way back, that now he whs sure he had weekly among the high-backed pews were.upon no hope, you know, he felt more comfortableher,'would have'been sufficiently embarrassed at least, not exactly more comfortable, but more. by this incident, though it had terminated here; comfortably and completely iterable.?l the more so, as the captain; in the front row of Swiftly, now, indeed,-the tiwne flew by, until it the gallery, was in a state of unmitigated con- was the evening before the day appointed for sciousness which could' hardly fail to> express to the marriage; They were all assembled in the the congregation, that he had some mysterious upper room at the Midshipman's, afid had no 406 DpOMBEY 4AD'SO-A. fear of interruption for there were no lodgers it turned from the captain and from Florence in the house now, and the Midshipman had it,back to Walter, and sounds came from the all to himself. They were grave and- quiet in weather-beaten pea-coat, cap, and conforter, as the prospect of to-morrow, but moderately cheer,''of an old man sobbing underneath them; while ful too. Florence, with Walter close beside her, the shaggy sleeves clasped Walter tight. During was finishing a little piece of work intended as a this pause there was'an universal silence, and parting gift to the captain. The captain was the captain polished his nose with.grat diliplaying cribbage with Mr. Toots. Mr. Toots gence. But when the pea-coat, cap, and comwas taking counsel as to his hand of Susan forter lifted themselves up again, Florence gently Nipper. Miss Nipper was giving it with all moved towards them; and she and Walter, taking due secrecy and circumspection. Diogenes was them off, disclosed the old instrument-maker, a listening, and occasionally breaking out into a little thinner and more careworn than of old, in gruff, half-smothered fragment of a bark, of which his old Welsh wig and his old coffee-coloured he afterwards seemed half ashamed, as if he coat and basket buttons, with his old infallible doubted having any reason for it..chronometer ticking-awayin his pocket. "Steady, steady " said the captain to Dio- - Chock-full o' science," said the radiant capgenes; "what's amiss with you?' You don't' tam, "as ever he was I Sol Gills, Sol Gills, what seem easy in your mind to-night, my boy!' have you been up to for this many a long day, Diogenes wagged his tail, but pricked up his my ould boy'?" ears immediately afterwards, and gave utterance "I'm half blind, Ned," said the. old man, to another fragment of a bark; for which he apolo- "and almost deaf and dumb with joy.'f gised to the captain by again wagging his tail " His wery woice," said the captain, looking " It's my opinion, Di," said the captain, look- round with an exultation to which even his face Ing thoughtfully at lis cards, and stroking his could hardly render justice-" his wery woice as chin with his hook, "as you have your. doubts chock-full o' science as ever it was I Soll Gills, of Mrs. Richards; but if you're the animal I lay to, my lad, upon your own wines and figtake you to -be, you'll think better o' that; for trees, like a taut old patriark as you are, and her looks is her commission. Now, brother:" overhaul them there adwentures o' yourn, in your to Mr. Toots: "if so be as you're ready, heave own formilior woice.'Tis the woice," said the ahead." captain impressively, and announcing a quotaThe captain spoke with all composure and tion with his hook, "of the sluggard, I heerd attention to the game, but suddenly his cards him com-plain, you have woke'me too soon, I dropped out of his hand, his mouth and eyes must slumber again. Scatter his ene-mies, and opened wide, his legs drew themselves up and [nake'em fall 1n stuck out in front of his chair, and he sat staring The captain sat down with the air of a man at the door with blank amazement. Looking who had happily expressed the feeling of everyround upon the company, and seeing that none body present, and immediately rose again to of them observed him or the cause of his astonish- present Mr. Toots, who was much, disconcerted ment, the captain recovered himself with a great by the arrival of anybody appearing to-prefer a gasp, struck the table a tremendous blow, cried claim to the name of Gills. in a stentorian'roar, "Sol Gills ahoy I" and "Although," stammered Mr. Toots, " I had tumbled into the arms of a weather-beaten pea- not the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir, before coat that had come with Polly into the room. you were-you were —-" In another moment, Walter was in the arms "Lost to sight, to memory dear,"- suggested of the weather-beaten pea-coat. In another the captain in a low voice. moment,'Florence was in the arms of the "Exactly so, Captain Gills I" assented Mr. weather-beaten pea-coat.'In another moment, Toots'"Although I had not the pleasure of Captain Cuttle had embraced Mrs. Richards your acquaintance, Mr. —Mr. Sols," said Toots, and Miss Nipper, and. was violently shaking hitting on that name in the inspiration of a hands with Mr. Toots, exclaiming, as he waved bright idea, "before that happened, I alave the his hook above his head, "Hooroar, my lad, greatest pleasure, I assure you, in-you know, hooroar!" To which Mr. Toots, wholly at a in knowing you. I hope," said Mr. Toots, loss to account for these proceedings, replied " that you're as well as can be expected." with great politeness, "Certainly, Captain Gills, With these courteous words,: Mr.'Toots sat whatever you think proper I" down blushing and chuckling. The weather-beaten pea-coat, and a no less'Theold instrument-maker, seated in a corner Weather-beaten cap-and.comfottet. belonging to: between aWalter. andFlorence, and nodding,at MVs.OLtoMaMrO. GZIZS IN EXPLANATION. 407 Polly-whio'.asilIoking on'all smiles and;:de. "And read it," answered the captain; eyeing light,'n swered the captain thus him attentively, and proceeding to quote it from'-Ne'd Cuttle, my: dear boy, although I have memory. "' My dear Ned Cuttle, when I left heatid'omething of.the. changes of events here, home for the West'Indies in forlorn search of from my pleasant friend there —'What a plea- intelligence of my dear-' There he sits I sant face she has to be sure, to welcome a wan- There's Wal'r t said the captain, as if he were derer'horne'!" said the old man, breaking off, relieved by getting hold of anything that was and rubbing his hands' in his old dreamy way. real and indisputable; " Hear him " cried the captain gravely. " Tis "Well, Ned.. Now attend a. moment 4 "' said woman as seduces all mankind: For which," the old man. "When I wrote first-that'was aside to Mr. Toots, "vou'll verhaul yourAdam from Barbadoes-I said that though you would and Eve, brother." receive that letter long before the year was out, * ".I shall make.i point of doing so, Captain I should be glad if you would open the.packet, Gills,'"said Mr. Toots., as it explained the reason of my going away. "Although. have heard something of the'Very good, Ned.. When I wrote the second, changes of events from her," resumed the instru- third, and perhaps the fourth times-that was mnent-maker, taking his old spectacles from his from Jamaica-I said I was in just the same pocket, and putting them on his forehead in his state, couldn't rest, and couldn't come away from old manner, " they are so great and unexpedted, that part of the world, without knowing that my and I am so overpowered by the sight of my boy was lost or saved. When I wrote nextdear boy, and by the —-' glancing at the down- that, I think, was from Demerara, wasn't it? " cast eyes of Florence, and not attempting to:' " That he thinks was from Denerara, warn't finish the sentence-" that.I-I can't say much it? ".said the captain, looking hopelessly round. to-night. But, my dear Ned Cuttle, why didn't * "-I said," proceeded old Sol, "that still you write?".there was no certain information got yet. That The astonishment depicted in the captain's. I found many captains and others, in that part features positively frightened Mr. Toots, whose of the world, who had known me for years, and eyes were quite fixed by it, so that he could not who assisted me with a passage here and there, withdraw them from his face. and for whom I was able, now and then, to do a "Write I "echoed' the captain.. Write, Sol little in return in my own craft. That every one Gills!" was sorry for me, and seemed to take a sort of "Ay," said the old man, "either to Barba- interest in my wanderings; and that I began to does, or Jamaica, or Demerara. That was what think it would be my ate to cruise about in I asked." search of tidings of my boy until I died." "What you asked, Sol Gills!" repeated the "Began to think as how he was a scientific captain. flying Dutchman!" said the captain, as before, "Ay," said the old man. " Don't you know, and.with great seriousness. Ned? Sure you have not forgotten? Every "But when the news came one day, Ned,time I wrote to you." that was to Barbadoes, after I got back there,The captain took off his glazed hat, hung it talt a China trader home'ard bound had been on his hook, and.smoothing his hair from behind spoke, that had my boy aboard, then, Ned, f with his hand, sat gazing at the group around took passage in the next ship, and came home; hin: a perfect image of wondering resignation. and arrived at home to-night to find it true, "You don't appear to understand me, Ned!" thank God I" said the old man devoutly. observed old Sol. The captain, after bowing his head with great "Sol Gills," returned the captain, after staring reverence, stared all round the circle, beginning at him and. the rest for a. long time without with Mr. Toots, and ending with the instrumentspeaking, 4' I'm gone about and adrift. Pay out maker: then gravely said: a word or two respecting them adwentures, will "Sol Gills I The observation as I'm a-going you? Can't I bring up, -nohows? nohows?" to make is calc'lated to blow every stitch of sail said the captain. ruminating, and staring all as you can carry clean out of the bolt-ropes, and round;' bring'you on your beam-ends with a lurch. Not -' YoTiu know, Ned," said Sol Gills, "why I one of them letters was ever delivered to Ed ard left here,. Did you open my packet, Ned?", ~ Cuttle. N.ot one o them letters," repeated the >"Why,:ay,,ay,"-.said the captain. -.To bee ~captain,:to;-make his declaration the more Mure, I opened the packet." solemn and impressive, " was ever delivered unto "And read it? said the old man. Ed'ard Cuttle, mariner, of England, as'-lives at 408 PDOMBEY ADND SON'. home'at'.ease; and r doth improve.each' shining a:'friend as nobody's.: a match for.'' It was no hourI. good sending any letter there. She wouldn't " And posted by my own hand I''And directed take in any letter; bless- you;" said the captain, by rpy'own hand, Number Nine; Brig Place ". "under them circumstances!:Why, you could exclaimed old Sol. hardly. make it worth a- man's while to be the The colour all went out of the captain's face,. postman I"' and all.came back again in a glow.. "Then it's- pretty- clear, Captain Cuttle, that " What do you mean, Sol Gills, my friend, by all ofus,'and you and Uncle Sol especially," said Number Nine, Brig Place?" inquired the captain. Walter, " may thank Mrs, MacStinger for no "Mean? Your lodgings, Ned," returned the small anxiety." old man.. "Mrs. What's-her-name! I shall forget:' The general obligation in this wise to the my own name next, but I am behind the present; determined relict of the late Mr. MacStinger was time-I always was, you recollect-and.very so apparent, that the captain did not contest the much confused. Mrs. —" point; but being. in some measure ashamed of "Sol Gills!" said the captain, as if he were his position, though nobody dwelt upon the subputting- thee most improbable case in the world, ject, and Walter especially avoided it, remem"it ain'totie name of MacStinger as you're a'bering the last conversation he and the captain' trying to remember?" had held together. respecting it, he remained Of course it is!"'exclaimed the instrument- under a cloud for nearly five minutes-an extramaker.'" To.be sure, Ned. Mrs. MacStinger!"' ordinary period for him-when that sun, his Captain Cuttle, whose eyes were now/as wide' face, broke out once more, shining on all beopen.'as they could be, and the knobs upon''holders with extraordinary brilliancy;-and he whose face were perfectly luminous, gave, a long fell into a fit of shaking hands with everybody shrill whistle of a most melancholy sound, and over and over again. Stood gazing at everybody in a state of speech- At an early hour, but not before Uncle Sol lessness..: and Walter had questioned each other at.some' Overhaul that there again, Sol Gills.,will you length about their voyages and dangers, they all, be so kind? " he said at last. except Walter, vacated Florence's room, and ""Al".'these letters," returned Uncle Sol, beat-' went down to the parlour. Here they were ing: time with the forefinger of his right hand soon afterwards joined by Walter, who told them upon the palm of his left, with a steadiness and' Florence.was a little sorrowful and heavy-hearted, distinctness that might have done honour even and had gone to bed. Though they could not to the infallible chronometer in his pocket, -" I have'disturbed her with their voices down there, ipoted with my own hand, and directed with my.they all spoke in a whisper after this: and'each, ow'-'hand, to Captain. Cuttle, at Mrs. Mac-. in his' different way, felt very lovingly and gently Stinger's, Number Nine, Brig Place." towards Walter's fair. young bride; and a long, The captain took his glazed hat off his hook, explanation there was of everything relating to tookedirito it, put it on; and sat down. her, for the satisfaction of Uncle., $ol; and very "Why, friends all," said the captain, staring sensible Mr. Toots was of. the delicacy with round -in the last state of discomfiture; "I cat.. which Walter made his name and services imand rn from there!" portant, and his presence. necessary to their'"And no one knew where you were gone, little council. Captain.Cuttle? " cried Walter hastily., "Mr. "Toots," said' Waltere, on parting with.: Bless your heart, Wal'r," said. the captain,'. him at the house-door, "we shall see each other shaking his head, -"she'd never have allowed to-morrow morning?"'n..y coplnng to take charge o' this here pro- "Lieutenant. Walters," returned Mr. Toots, perty. Nothing- could be done but cut and grasping his hand fervently,."I shall certainly run. Lord'love you, Wal'r," said' the captain; -be present." "you've only seen'her.in a calm I - But see her' This is the last night we shall meet for a when her angry passions.rise-rand'makea note long. time-the' last night we may ever meet," on I' said Walter. "Such a. noble'heart as yours "I'd give it'hrt!". remarked the Nippersoftly. must feel, I think, when another heart is bound "Would youi,:' you think,' my dear?" re, to it. I hope you know. that I am.'Very grateful turned the. captain.with: feeble:admiration.: to you?" "Well,'iy dear, it does. you- creditC..tBut there - "Walters,. replied Mr. Tootstuite toucied, ain't no'wild -animal:I -wouldn't sooner'ace "I should be glad to feel thatyPu'had.eason.yself.:.. JIonly.gqtt'my'chest away bg means of to be so." MAGNANIMIY OF MR. TOOTS. 409 "Florence," said Walter,. "on this last night' " Now,; master,"..said.. the Chicken doggedly, of her. bearing her own, name; has made me: when he'at length'- caught Mr. Toots's:eye,' I promise-it was only just now, when you. left us want to know whether this here gamriion is to together-that I'would tell you,:with'.her dear finish'it, or whether you're a-going in. to win? "' love —" "Chicken,". returned-:Mr;. Toots,' explain Mr. Toots laid his hand upon the door-post,' yurself.'". and his eyes upon his hand -. "Why, then, here's alr about it, master," said ".-With her dear love," said Walter, -" that.the Chicken;."1I aint:acove to chuck a word she can never have a friend whonmshe will value away.. Here's wot itis.' Are any on'em to be above you,.That the recollection of your true "doubled up?" consideration for her always, can never be for- When, the Chicken'. put'this'question he gotten by her. That she remembers you in'her dropped his hat, made -a dodge and a feint prayers to-night, and hopes that you.will think with his left handy -hit -a supposed enemy a of her when she is far away.'. Shall I say any- violent.blow with'his' right, shook his head thing for you?" smartly, and recovered himself.' "Say, Walters," replied Mr. Toots indistinctly,,, "Come, master," said'the. Chicken, " is-it to be " that I shall think of her every day, but never gammon or pluck? Which?" without feeling happy to know that she is married' "'Chicken," returned - Mr. Toots, " your. exto the man she. loves,-and who loves her. Say, pressions are coarse, and your meaning is obif you please, that I am sure her husband de- scure," serves her-even her!-and that:I am glad of "Why, tnen,.I tell you what, master," said the her choice." Chicken. "This'is where it:is. It's mean.' Mr. Toots got more distinct as he came to "What is mean; Chicken?" asked Mr. Toots. these' last words, and raising his eyes from.the "It is," said the Chicken,: with a''frightful door-post, said them stoutly..- He then shook, corrugation of his'broken nose. ":' There Walter's hand again with a fervour that Walter Now,"masterl Wot I Wen you could go and was not slow to return,' and started homeward, blow on this here match to the stiff tun;" by Mr. Toots was accompanied by the Chicken, which depreciatory appellation it has been since whom he had of late brought with him every supposed that the.Game One intended to signify evening, and left in the shop, with an idea that Mr. Dombey; "and when you could knock the unforeseen circumstances might arise from with- winner and all the kit.of'em dead out of wind out, in which the prowess of that distinguished.and time, are you going to, give in? To give character would be of-service to the Midship- in " said the Chicken with contcmptiuoas emman.. The Chicken did not appear to be in a phasis..:Wy, it's mean!1" particularly good humour on. this occasion.. "Chicken,, said Mr. Toots severely, "you're Either the gas-lamps.were treacherous, or he a perfect vulture! Your sentimeits are atrococked his eye in a hideous. manner, and' like-: ci-.is." wise distorted his nose, when Mr. Toots, cross-.' My sentiments is.-game and' fancy, master,;' ing the road, looked back.over: his- shoulder- at. returned the Chicken.' That's woe. my senrithe room' where Florence slept.,On the road.'ments is.:; I cai't abear a meanness,'Ym afore home, he was more demonstrative of aggressive -the public, I'm to be heerd on at the;'r t' the intentions against the other foot-passengers than Little-Helephant, and no Gov'ner o' min mustn't comported with, a professor of'the peaceful art go and do what's mean. Wy, its mean,' said of self-defence. * Arrived at home, instead- of thieChicken with increased expression "That's leaving Mr. Toots ri his apartments when he'here it is- It's meran." had escorted him thither,, he remained before "'.Chicken " ii Ma;. -'Toot s'tyou disgius him weighing his white hat in both hands by the: me." brim, and twitching his head and nose (both of' Ma ter," returned the'- Chik en, putting oni which had been many times'lroken, and but! his hat,'.9 there's a pnair n u, the:C Come! indifferently;,.repaired), with ahia i.rofdeide Ire's a offer I.You've spoke to me more than disrespect. once't or twice' about the public line. NeYer His patron; being much engaged&witlhi ow;mind! Give.fe ifl'ty'puminoto to-mrsrow,,:r d thoulghts.did: not observe this for.some time, let me go." nor, indeed,:iuntil the' Chicken, determined' t Chicken, returned Bf, Toots, "sfter the to' be overlooked,;' had:a.e divers cllcking, odious-sentiments you have e. xrssed, shall b" sounds;with'. his tongue sand teeth!:to) attract: glad to part on such tmrrns." attention.; "Done, then," Faid. thl Chlic'a, 6:' a, 410 DOMBEY AND.SON. bargain. This here conduct of yourn won't suit them, for she espies in this earlyvisit indications my, book,' maste... Wy, its mean," said the of a runaway match, -: But they. don't wat to )e Chicken; who' seemed equally unable. to get married-" only," says the.sgentleman;,:-. twai, beyond that point, and to ~top short of it. round the church.' -And, as:heslips a? get"That's where it is; it's mean!", teel compliment into the palm of Mrs.- Miffher So Mr. Toots and the Chicken agreed to part vinegary face relaxes, and her mortified bonnet on this incompatibility of moral perception; and and her spare dry figure dip and crackle. Mr. Toots, lying down to sleep, dreamed happily Mrs. Miff resumes her dusting and plumps up of Florence, who had thought of him as her her cushions-for the yellow-faced old gentlefriend upon the last night of her maiden life, and man is reported to have "tender knees-but sent him'her dear love, keeps her glazed pew-opening eye on-the young couple who are walking round the church..~, -~. "Ahem I," coughs -Mrs. Miff, whose cough is drier than the hay in any hassock in her charge, CHAPTER tV11 "you'll come to us one of these mornings,, my dears, unless I'm much mistaken!1" ANOTHER WEDDING. They.are looking at a tablet: on' the. wall, erected to the memory of some one dead...ThSey R. SOWNDS the beadle, and Mrs. are a long way off from Mrs.-Miff, but. Mrs, Miff the pew-opener, are early at Miff can see with half an eye how she:is -eantheir posts in the fine church where ing on his arm, and how his head is bent down Mr. Dombey was married. A ye- over her. "Well, well," says, Mrs; Miff,'"you low-faced old gentleman from India might do worse.- - or.you're a tidy pair " is going to take unto himself a young wife There is nothing personal in Mrs. Miff's re, r this morning, and six carriages full of mark. She merely speaks of stock-in-trade: company are expected, and Mrs. Miff has She is hardly more curious in couples' than in been informed that the yellow-faced old gentle- coffins. She is such a spare, straight, dry old man could pave, the road to church with dia- lady-such a pew of a woman-that you should monds, and hardly miss them. find as many individual sympathies in a chip. The nuptial benediction is to be a superior Mr. Sownds, now, who is fleshy, and has scarlet one, proceeding from a very reverend, a dean, in his coat, is of a different temperament. He and the lady is to be given. away, as an extra says, as they stand upon the steps.watching the ordinary present, by somebody who comes ex- young couple away, that she has a pretty figure, press from the Horse Guards. hasn't she? and, as well as he could see (for she Mrs. Miff is more intolerant of' common held her head down coming out), an uncommon people. this morning than she generally is; and pretty face. "Altogether, Mrs. Miff,' says Mr. she has always strong opinions on that subject, Sownds with a relish " she is what you may call for it is associated with free sittings. Mrs. Miff a rosebud." is not a student of political economy (she thinks Mrs. Miff assents with a spare nodfof her the science is connected with Dissenters; "Bap- mortified bonnet; but approves of this r little, tists or Wesleyans, or some o' them," she says), that she inwardly resolves she'wouldn't-,be-the but she can never understand what business your wife of Mr. Sownds for any money:he could'give common folks have to be married. " Drat her, beadle as he is.'ern," says Mrs. Miff, "you read -the same And what are the: young. couple saying"as things over'em, and instead of sovereigns get they leave' the: church; and go out at the gate?; sixpences!". "Dear Walter, thank you!::'can go,away Mr. Sownds the beadle is more liberal than Mrs.' ow happy.' Miff-but then he is not a pew.opener. "It "And-when we come backd, FIorence',we.wili must be done, ma'am," he says, " We must came and see his grave: again.', marry'em. We must have our national schools Florence lifts her eyes, so bright with, ttars, to to walk at the head of, and we must have our his kind face; and clasps; her disengaged handc standing armies. We'must marry'em, ma'am, on that other modest little hancLtwhic: clasps says Mr. Sownds, " and keep the country going." his arm. Mr. Sownds is sitting on the steps, and Mrs. "It is very early,'Walter, and. thestreets arv Miff is dusting in the church, when a young almost empty yet. Letus walk."'" couple, plainly dressed, come in. The mortified "But you will be so tired, my love.'" bonnet of Mrs. Miff is sharply turned towards "Oh no I I was very tired the first time that FLORENCE AND WALTER ARE MARRIED. 411 we ever walked together, but I shall not be so snuff, which has set the tearful Nipper sneezto-day." ing. And thus-not much changed-she, as inno- Youthful, and how beautiful, the young bride cent and earnest-hearted-he, as frank, as hope- looks in this old dusty place, with. no kindred ful, and more proud of her-Florence and object near her but her husband. There is a Walter, on their bridal morning, walk through dusty old clerk, who keeps a sort of evaporated the streets together. news shop underneath an archway opposite, beNot even in that childish walk of long ago hind a perfect fortification of posts. There is a were they so far removed from all the world dusty old pew-opener who only keeps herself, about them as to-day. The childish feet of long and finds that quite enough to do. There is a ago did not tread such enchanted ground as dusty old beadle (these are Mr. Toots's beadle theirs do now. The confidence and love of and pew-opener of last Sunday), who has somechildren may be given many times, and will thing to do with a Worshipful Company who spring up in many places; but the woman's have got a Hall in the next yard, with a stainedheart of Florence, with its undivided treasure, glass window in it that no mortal ever saw. can be yielded only once, and, under slight or There are dusty wooden ledges and cornices change, can only droop and die. poked in and out over the altar, and over the They take the streets that are the quietest, screen and round the gallery, and over the inand do not go near that in which her old home scription about what the Master and Wardens stands. It is a fair, warm summer morning, and of the Worshipful Company did in one thousand the sun shines on them as they walk towards six hundred and ninety-four. There are dusty the darkening mist that overspreads the City. old sounding-boards over the pulpit and readRiches are uncovering in shops; jewels, gold, ing-desk, looking like lids to be let down on the and silver flash in the goldsmiths' sunny win- officiating ministers, in case of their giving d5ws; and great houses cast a stately shade offence. There is every possible provision for upon them as they pass. But through the light the accommodation of dust, except in the and through the shade, they go on lovingly churchyard, where the facilities in that respect together, lost to everything around; thinking are very limited. of no other riches, and no prouder home, than The captain, Uncle Sol, and Mr. Toots are they have now in one another. come; the clergyman is putting on his surplice Gradually they come into the darker, nar- in thfe vestry, while the clerk walks round him, rower streets, whei e the sun, now yellow, and blowing the dust off it; and the bride and bridenow red, is seen through the mist, only. at street groom stand before the altar. There is no corners, and in small open spaces where there is bridesmaid, unless Susan Nipper is one; and no a tree, or one of the innumerable churches, or a better father than Captain Cuttle. A man with paved way and a flight of steps, or a curious a wooden leg, chewing a faint apple and carrylittle patch of garden, or a burying-ground, ing a blue bag in his hand, looks in to see where the few tombs and tombstones are almost what is going on; but, finding it nothing enterblack. Lovingly and trustfully, through all the taining, stumps off again, and pegs his way narrow yards and alleys and the shady streets, among the echoes out of doors. Florence goes, clinging to his arm, to be his No gracious ray of light is seen to fall on wife. Florence, kneeling at the altar with her timid Her heart beats quicker now, for Walter tells head bowed down. The morning luminary is her that their church is very near. They pass a built out, and don't shine there. There is a few great stacks of warehouses, with waggons at meagre tree outside, where the sparrows are the doors, and busy carmen stopping up the chirping a little; and there is a blackbird in an way-but Florence does not see or hear them- eyelet-hole of sun in a dyer's garret, over against and then the air is quiet, and the day is dark- the window, who whistles loudly whilst the ened, and she is trembling in a church which service is performing; and there is the man with has a strange smell like a cellar. the wooden leg stumping away. The amens of The shabby little old man, ringer of the dis- the dusty clerk appear, like Macbeth's, to stick appointed bell, is standing in the porch, and has in his throat a little; but Captain Cuttle helps put his hat in the font-for he is quite at home him out, and does it with so much good-will there, being sexton. He ushers them into an that he interpolates three entirely new responses old, brown, panelled, dusty vestry, like a corner of that word, never introduced into the service cupboard with the shelves taken out; where before. the wormy registers diffuse a smell like faded They are married, and have signed their 4I2 DOMBE Y AND SON names in one of the old sneezy registers, and the for Walter, and the reason that I have to love clergyman's surplice is restored to the dust, and him, do it for his sake. Good-bye! Goodthe clergyman is gone home. In a dark corner bye! " of the dark church, Florence has turned to They have thought it better not to go back to Susan Nipper, and is weeping in her arms. the Midshipman, but to part so. A coach is Mr. Toots's eyes are red. The captain lubri- waiting for them near at hand. cates his nose. Uncle Sol has pulled down his Miss Nipper cannot speak; she only sobs spectacles from his forehead, and walked out to and chokes, and hugs her mistress. Mr. Toots the door. advances, urges her to cheer up, and takes " God bless you, Susan; dearest Susan I If charge of her. Florence gives him her handyou ever can bear witness to the love I have gives him, in the fulness of her heart, her lips1I'*WY, IT'S MEAN..'.. THAT'S WHERE IT IS. IT'S MEAN!" kisses Uncle Sol and Captain Cuttle, and is cheer, if possible. Uncle Sol and Mr. Toots borne away by her young husband. are left behind together, outside the church, to But Susan cannot bear that Florence should wait for them. go away with a mournful'recollection, of her. The coach is gone'but the street is steep and She had meant to be so different, that she re- narrow, and blocked up, and Susan can see it at proaches herself bitterly. Intent on making a stand-still in the distance, she is sure. Capone last-effort to redeem her character, she tain Cuttle follows her as she flies down the hl1, breaks from Mr. Toots, and runs away to find and waves his glazed hat as a general signal, the coach, and show a parting smile. The cap- which may attract the right coach, and may tain, divining her object, sets off after her; for not. he feels it his duty also to dismiss them with a Susan outstrips the captain, and comes up GOOD-B YS ONCE MORE 4 1, with it. She looks inat the window, sees ere is a strange ch in theouse,and i Walter, with the gentle face -beside him, and.. the room, in which they have been usedto be claps her hands and screams: together, and out of which so much is gone. It' "Miss Floy, my darling! look at me! We.aggravates, and yet. it soothes, the sorrow of are all so happy now, dear! One more good- the separation...: Mr. Toots tells Susan Nipper, bye, my precious, one more!" when he comes at night, that he hasn't been so How Susan does it, she don't know, but she wretched all day long, and yet he likes it.' He reaches to the window, kisses her,.and has her confides in Susan Nipper, being alone with her, arms about her neck, in a moment. and tells her what' his feelings were.when she "We are all so-so happy now, my dear Miss gave him that candid opinion as to the probaFloy!" says Susan, with a suspicious catching bility of Miss Dombey's ever loving him. In the in her breath. "You, you won't bd angry with vein of confidence engendered by these cornme now'. Now will you?" rion recollections, and their tears,: Mr. Toots "Angry, Susan.!" proposes that they shall go out together, and "No, no; I am sure you won't.' I say you buy something for supper.' Miss, Nipper aswon't, my pet, my dearest!" exclaims Susan;.seriting, they buy a good many little things; "and here's the captain, too-your'friend the and,' with the aid of Mrs. Richards, set the supcaptain, you know-to say good-bye once per out quite showily before the captain and';old more! "Sol came home. "Hooroar, my Heart's Delight!".vociferates The captain and'old Sol have been on boardt the captain, with a countenance of strong emo- the ship, and have established Di. there, and tion. "Hooroar, Wal'r, my lad! Hooroar! have seen the chests put aboard'. They have Hooroar! " much to tell about the popularity of Walter, and What with the young husband at one window, the comforts he will have about him, and the and the young wife at the other; the captain quiet way in which it seems he has beenworkhanging on at'this door, and Susan Nipper ing early and late, to make. his cabin what the holding fast by that; the coach obliged to go. captain calls a " picter," to surprise his little on, whether it will or no, and all the other carts wife. " A adiniral's cabin, mind you;"'^ais the and coaches turbulent because it' hesitates; captain, "ain't more trim."' there never was so much confusion on four But one of the captain's chief delights is, that wheels. But Susan Nipper gallantly maintains he knows the big watch, and the sugar-tongs, her point. She keeps a smiling face upon her and teaspoons are on board; and again and again mistress, smiling through her tears, until the last.' he murmurs to himself, " Ed'ard Cuttle,' my lad, Even when she is left behind, the captain con- you never shaped a better course in your life tinues to appear and disappear at the door cry- than when you made that, there little property ing, " Hooroar, my lad! Hooroar, my Heart's over jintly. You see how the land bore, Ed'ard,'" Delight! " with his shirt collar in a violent state says the captain, " and it does you credit,'my of agitation, until it.is. hopeless to. attempt to lad."keep up with. the coach anyd longer. Finally,.. The old instrument-maker is more distraught when the coach is gone, Susan- Nipper, being and misty.than he used to be, and takes'the rejoined by the captain, falls into a state of in- marriage'and the -parting very much'to heart. sensibility, and is taken into a-baker's shop' to But he. is greatly comforted by having his old recover. ally, Ned Cuttle, at his side; and he sits: down Uncle Sol and Mr. Toots wait patiently in to supper with a grateful and contented face. the. churchyard, sitting on the coping-stone" of My boy has been preserved and thrives," the tailings,'until Captain Cuttle and Susan says old Sol Gills, rubbing his hands. "What come back. Neither being at all desirous to, -right have I to be otherwise than thankful and Speak, or to be spoken go, they are excellent happy? company, and quite satisfied.. When. they all;; The captain, who has not yet taken his seat at arrive again at the little Midshipman,'and. sit the table, but.who has been fidgeting about for down to breakfast, nobody can touch a morsel soren tme, and now stands hesitating in his Captain Cuttle makes a feint of being voracious place,Jooks doubtfully at Mr. Gills, and says.: about toast, but gives it up as a swindle. Mr. "Sol.! There's the last bottle of the old ma, Toots says, after breakfast, he will come back in, deira down below.' Would.you wish to: hayeit the evening;' and goes wandering about the up to-night,my boy, and drink to Wal'r andhis town all day, with' a vague sensation upon him wife?' as if he hadn't beeni to bed'for a. fortnight.. The instrument-maker, looking wistfully. at 41I4 DOMBE Y AND SON. the captain, puts his hand into the breast pocket are very quiet, and the stately -ship goes on of his coffee-coloured coat, brings forth his'serenely. pocket-book, and takes a letter out. "As I hear the sea," says Florence, "and sit " To Mr. Dombey," says the old man. "c From watching it, it brings somany days into my mind. Walter. To be sent in three weeks' time. I'll It makes. me think so much " read it." "Of Paul,.my love. I know it does."' "Sir. I am married to your daughter. She Of' Paul and Walter. And the voices in the is gone with me upon a distant voyage. To be waves are always whispering to Florence, in their devoted to her is to have no claim on her or ceaseless murmuring, of love-of love, eternal you, but God knows that I am. and illimitable, not bounded by the confines of "'Why, loving her beyond all earthly -things, this world, or by the end of time, but ranging I have yet, without remorse, united her to. the still beyond the sea, beyond the, sky, to the uncertainties and dangers of my.life, I will not invisible country far away! say to you. -.You know why, and you are her' father. " Do not reproach her,. She' has never reproached you. CHAPTER LVIII. " i do not think or hope that you will ever' forgive me. There is nothing I expect less. But AFTER A LAPSE. if an hour should come when it will comfort you to believe that Florence has some one ever near 1 1 HE sea had ebbed and flowed through her, the great charge of whose life is to cancel bi a'wholeyear. Through awholeyeat her remembrance of past sorrow, I solemnly the winds and clouds had come and assure you, you may, in that hour, rest in that BJ gone; the ceaseless work of Time belief." had been performed, in storm and Solomon puts back, the letter carefully in his'i sunshine. Through a whole year pocket-book, and puts back his pocket-book in - the tides of human chance and change his coat. had set in their allotted courses. Through "We won't drink the last bottle of the old a whole year the famous House of Dombey and madeirayet, Ned," says the old man thought- Son had fought a fight for life, against cross accifully. "Not yet." dents, doubtful rumours, unsuccessful ventures, "Not yet," assents the captain. "No. Not unpropitious times, and, most of all, against the yet." infatuation of its head, who would not contract Susan and Mr. Toots are of the same opinion. its'enterprises -by a hair's breadth, and would not After a silence they all sit down to supper, and lsten to a word of warning that the ship he drink to the young husband and wife in some- strained so hard against the storm was.weak, thing else; and the last bottle of the old madeira aad could not bear it. still remains among its dust and cobwebs, un- The year was out, and the great House was disturbed. down. One summer afternoon; a year, wanting some A few days have elapsed, and a stately ship odd days5 after the marriage in the City church; is out at sea, spreading its'white wings to the there was a buzz and whisper upon'Change of favouring wind. a great failure. A certain cold, proud man, well Upon the deck, image to the roughest man on known there, was not there, nor was he repre board of something that is graceful, beautiful, sented there. Next day it was noised abroad and harmless-somethingr that it is good and -that Dombey and Son had stopped, and -next pleasant to have there, and that should make night' there was a list of bankrupts published, the voyage prosperous-is Florence. It is headed by that name. night, and she and Walter sit alone, watching r The world was very busy now, in sooth, and had the solemn path of light upon the sea between a deal to say. It was an innocently credulous them and the moon. and a much ill-used world. It was a world in At length she cannot see it plainly, for the which there was no other sort of bankruptcy tears that ill her eyes; and then she lays her whatever. There were no conspicuous people head" down on his breast, and puts her arms in it, trading far and wide on rotten banks of around his neck, saying, " Oh, Walter; dearest religion,'patriotism, virtue, honour. There was love, I am.so happy " no amount worth mentioning of mere paper in Her husband holds her to his heart, and they circulation, on which anybody lived pretty hand BANKR UPTCY. 4T5 somely, promising to pay great sums of goodness rally brought away a soothed conscience, and with no effects. There were no shortcomings left an agreeable impression behind him, when anywhere, in anything but money. The world he returned to his bracket: again to sit watching was very angry indeed; and the people espe- the strange faces of the accountants and others, cially who, in a worse world, might have been making so free with the great mysteries, the supposed to be bankrupt traders themselves in Books; or noxw and then to go on tiptoe into shows and pretences, were observed to be Mr. Dombey's empty room, and stir the fire; or mightily indignant. to take an airing at the door, and have a little Here was a new in(lucement to dissipation more doleful chat with any straggler whom he,presented to that sport of circumstances, Mr. knew; or to propitiate, witl various small attenPerch the messenger!'It was apparently the tions, the head accoufitant: from whom Mr. fate of Mr. Perch.to be always waking up, and Perch had expectations of a messerigership in a finding himself famous. He had but yesterday, Fire Office, when the affairs of the House should as one might say,' subsided into private life from be wound up. the celebrity of the elopement and the events To Major Bagstock the bankruptcy was quite that followed it; and now he was made a more a calamity. Thi major was not a sympathetic important man than ever by the bankruptcy. character-his attention being wholly concenGliding from his bracket in the outer office, trated on J. B.-nor Was he a mnan sdbject to where he'now sat, watching the strange faces of lively emotions, except in the physical regards of accountants and others, who quickly superseded gasping and choking. But he had so paraded nearly all the old clerks, Mr. Perch had but to his friend Dombey at the club; had so flourished show himself in the court outside, or, at farthest, him at the heads of the members in general, and in the bar of the King's Arms, to be asked a mul- so put them down by continual assertion of his titude of questions, almost certain to include that riches; that the club, being but human, was deinteresting question, what would he take to lighted to retort upon the major, by asking him, drink? Then would Mr. Perch descant upon with a showt of great concern, whether tlis trethe hours of acute uneasiness'he and Mrs. Perch mendous snash had been at all expected, and had suffered out at Balls Pond, when they first how his friend Dombey bore it. To such quessuspected "things was going wrong." Then tions, the major, waxing very purple, would reply,would Mr. Perch relate to gaping listeners, in a that it was a bad world, sir, altogether; that low voice, as if the corpse of the deceased House Joey knew a thing or two, but had been done, were lying unburied in the next room, how Mrs. sir, done like an infant; that if you had foretold Perch had first come to surmise that things wets this, sir, to J, Bagstock, when he went abroad going wrong by hearing him (Perch) moaning in with Dombey, and was chasing that vagabond his sleep, " Twelve and ninepence in the pound, up and down France, J, Bagstock would have twelve and ninepence in the pound I" Which pooh-poohed you-would have pooh-poohed act of somnambulism he supposed to have ori- you, sir, by the Lord! That Joe had been deginated in the impression made upon him by the ceived, sir, taken in, hoodwinked, blindfolded, change in Mr. Dombey's face. Then would he but was broad awake again and staring; insoinform them how he had once said, " Might I much, sir, that if Joe's father were to rise up make so bold as ask, sir, are you unhappy in from the grave to-morrow, he Wouldn't bIust the your mind?" and how Mr. Dombey had replied, old blade with a penny piece, but would tell him "My faithful Perch-but no, it cannot be! " and that his son Josh was too old a soldier to be with that had struck his hand upon his forehead, done again, sir. That he was a suspicious, and said, " Ieave me, Perch!" Then, in short, crabbed, cranky, used-up, J. B. infidel, sir.; and would Mr. Perch, a victim to his position, tell that if it were consistent with the dignity of a all manner'of lies; affecting himself to tears by rough and tough old major of the old school, those that were of a moving nature, and really who had had the honour of being personally believing that the inventions of yesterday hadf known to, and commended by, their late Royal on repetition, a sort of truth about them to-day. Highnesses the Dukes of Kent and York, to Mr. Perch always closed these conferences by retire to a tub and live in it, by Gad! sir, he'd meekly remarking, That, of course, whatever his have a tub in Pall Mall to-morrow, to show his suspicions might have been, (as if he had ever contempt for mankind! had any!) it wasn't for him to betray his trust, Of all this, and many variations of the same was it? Which sentiment (there never being tune, the major would deliver himself with so any creditors present) was received as doing many apoplectic symptoms, such rollings of his great honour to. his feelings. Thus, he gene- head, and such violent growls of ill-usage -and 4I6 DOMBEY AVD S ON.-' resentment, that the younger members of the'ruptcy, this miserable foreigner lived in a rainy club surmised he had invested money. in his season of bootjacks"and brushes. I friend Dombey's House, and lost it; though the Mrs. Chick had three ideas upon the subject older soldiers and deeper dogs, who knew Joe of the'terrible'reverse. The first was, that she better,.wouldn't'hear.of such a.thing. The un- could..not understand'it. The second, that her fortunate native, expressing no'opinion, suffered brother had not made an effort. The third, that dreadfully.; not. merely'in' his moral feelings, if she had been invited to dinner on the day of which were regularly: fusilladed-by the'major -that first party, it never would. have hanoened; every hour in the.day, and riddled through and: and that: she had~ said so at the time. through, but in his sensitiveness'to bodily knocks'.Nobody's opinion stayed the misfortune, lightand bumps;.which;:was. kept continually on the ened it, or made it heavier.- It was understood stretch. For: six,entire weeks after -the bank- that the affairs of the House were to be wound "'JOE HAD BEEN DECEIVED, SIR, TAKEEN-IN, HOODWINKED, BLINDFOLDED, BUT WAS BKOAD AWAKE AGAIN, AND STARING." up as they best could be; that Mr. Dombey was enlivened by comic singing, and went off freely resigned everything he had, and asked for admirably. Some took places abroad, and some no favour from ahy one. That any resumption engaged in other houses at home; some looked of the business was out of the question, as he up relations in the country, for whom they sudwould listen to no friendly negotiation having denly remembered they had a particular affec-.that compromise in.view; that he.had relin- tion, and some advertised for employment in quished every post of trust or distinction'he had the newspapers' Mr. Perch alone remained of held, as a man respected among merchants; that all the late establishment,-'sitting on his bracket he was dying,' according to some;' that he was looking at the accountants, or starting off it, to going melancholy mad, according to others; that propitiate the head accountant, who was to get he was a broken man; according to all. him into the,-Fire.Office, The counting-house The clerks'dispersed after holding a little soon got to be dirty'and neglected. The prindinner of condolence among themselves, which cipal slipper and dog's-collar seller, at the corner AGAIN' ZH RRIETA AND MR. iMORFIN. 41x of the court, wouldhave doubted the propriety and.sat down opposite; the vilorrcello lying of throwing up his forefinger to the brim of his snugly on the sofa between them. hat any more, if Mr. Dombey had appeared. "You will not be surprised at my coming there now; and the ticket porter, with his hands alone, or at John's not having told you I was under his white apron, moralised good sound toming," said Harriet: "and you will believe morality about ambition, which'(he observed) that, when I tell you why I have come. May I was not, in his opinion..made to rhyme to per- do so now?" dition, for nothing. " You can do nothing better." Mr. Morfin, the hazel-eyed bachelor, with the " You were not busy?" hair and whiskers sprinkled with grey, was per- He.pointed to the violoncello lying on the haps the only person within the atmosphere of sofa, and said, "I.have been all day. Here's the House-its' head, of course, excepted-who my witness. I have been confiding all my cares was heartily and deeply affected by the disaster to it. I wish I had none but my own to -tell." that had befallen it. He had treated Mr. Dom- "Is the House at an end?" said Harriet bey with due respect and deference through earnestly. many years, but he had never disguised hist "Completely at an end." natural character, or mneanlytruckled to him, or "Will it never be resumed?" pampered his master passion for the advance- "Never." ment_ of his own purposes. He had, therefore, The bright expression of her face was not no self-disrespect to avenge; no long-tightened overshadowed as her lips silently repeated the springs to release with a quick recoil. He worked word. He seemed to observe this with some early and late to' unravel whatever was compli- little involuntary surprise; and said again: cated or difficult in the records of the. trans- "Never. You remember what I told you. It actions of. the House; was always in attend- has been, all along, impossible to convince him; ance to explain whatever required explana- impossible to reason with him; sometimes imtion; sat in his old. room sometimes very possible even to approach him. The worst has late at night, studying points.by his mastery of happened; and the House has fallen, never to which he could spare Mr. Dombey the pain of' be built up any more." being personally referred to; and then would "And Mr. Dombey, is he personally ruined?" go home to Islington, and calm his mind "Ruined." by producing the most dismal and forlorn "Will he' have no — private fortune left? sounds out of his violoncello-before -going to Nothing?" bed. A certain eagerness in her voice, and someHe was solacing himself with this melodious thing that was almost joyful in her look, seemed grumbler one evening, and, having been much to surprise him more and more; to disappoint dispirited by the proceedings of the day, was him. too, and jar discordantly'against his own scraping consolation out of its deepest notes,. emotions. He drumnimed with the fingers of one when his landlady (who was fortunately deaf, hand on the table, looking wistfully at her, and and had no other consciousness of these per- shaking his head, said, after a pause: formances than a sensationofsomething umbling "The extent of Mr.'fombey's resources is in her bones) announced a lady. not accurately within myknboledge; but though "In mourning," she said. -they are doubtless very large, his obligations are The violoncello stopped immediately; -and the enormous. He is a gentleman of high honour and performer, laying it on. a sofa with great tender- integrity. Any man in his position could, and ness and care, made-a sign that the lady was. to many a -man in his position would, have saved come in. He followed directly, and.met Harriet himself, by making terms which.would have very Carker on the stair.. slightly, almost insensibly, increased the losses "Alone!" he said,'"and John. here this of those who had had'dealings with him, and morning I Is there. anything the matter, my' left.him a remnant to live upon. But he is dear? But no," he added, "your face- tells, resolved on payment to the last farthing of his quite another story." -means.. His own words are, that they will clear. " I am afraid it is a selfish revelation that you or nearly clear, the- House, and that no one can see there, then," she answered, lose much.: Ah, Miss Harriet, it would do us no "It is a very pleasant one," said he; "-and, if harm to remember oftener than we-do that vices selfish, a novelty too, worth-.seeing in you. But are sometimes only virtues carried, to excess I 1 don't believe that." -His pride shows well in this." He had placed a chair for her by this time,. She heard'him with-little or no:-dCan; in htx PO4BDY AND) SON, 27., 37 418 DOzMBEY AND SUN. expression, and with a divided attention that led together for so many years; and now that showed her to be busy with something in her he is earning an income that is ample for us own mind. When he was silent, she asked him through your kindness. You are not unprehurriedly: pared to hear what favour I have come to ask "Have you seen hir lately?" of you? " "No one sees him. When this crisis'of his " I hardly know. I was a minute ago. Now affairs renders it necessary for him to come out I think I am not." of his house, he comes out for the occasion, and "Of my dead brother I say nothing. If the again goes home, and shuts himself up, and will dead know what we do- But you undersee no one. He has written me a letter, acknow- stand me. Of my living brother I could say ledging our past connection in higher terms than much: but what need I say more than'that this it deserved, and parting from me. I am delicate act of duty, in which I have come to ask your of obtruding myself upon him now, never having indispensable assistance, is his own, and that he had much intercourse with him in better times;'cannot rest until it is performed?" but I have tried to do so. I have written, gone She raised her eyes again; and the light of there, entreated. Quite in vain." exultation in her face began to appear beautiful He watched her, as in the hope that she in the observant eyes that watched her.. would testify some greater concern than she had. " Dear sir," she went on to say, "it must be yet shown; and spoke gravely and feelingly,-as done very quietly and secretly.. Your experience if to impress her the more; but there was no and knowledge will point out a way of doing it. change in her, Mr. Dombey.may, perhaps, be led to believe "Well, well, Miss Harriet,"' he said with a that it is something saved, unexpectedly, from disappointed air, "this is not to the purpose. the wreck of his fortunes; or that it is a volunYou have not come here to hear this. Some tary tribute to his honourable and upright chaother and pleasanter theme is in your mind. racter, from some of those with whom he has Let it be in mine too; and we shall talk upon had great dealings; or that it is some old lbst more equal terms. Come!" debt repaid. There must be many wyays of doing "No, it is the same theme," returned Harriet, it. I know you will choose the best. The favour with frank and quick surprise. " Is it not likely I have come to ask is, that you will do it for us that it should be?'Is it not natural that John in your own kind, generous, considerate manner. and I should have been thinking and speaking That you will never speak of it to John, whose very much of late of these great changes? Mr. chief happiness in this act of restitution is to do Dombey, whom he served so many years-you it secretly, unknown, and unapproved of; that know upon what terms-reduced, as you de- only a very small part of the inheritance may be scribe; and we quite rich!" reserved to us, until Mr. Dombey shall have Good, true face as that face of hers was, and possessed the interest of the rest for the repleasant as it had been to him, Mr. Morfin, the mainder of his lif-; that you will keep our hazel-eyed bachelor, since the first time he had secret faitlifully-but that I am sure you will; ever looked upon it, it pleased him less. at that and that, from this time, it may seldom be whismoment, lighted with a ray of exultation, than it pered, even between you and me, but may live had ever pleased him before. in my thoughts only as a new reason for thank"'I need not remind you," said Harriet, casting fulness to Heaven, and joy and pride in my down her eyes upon her black dress, " through brother." what means our circumstances changed.. You Such a look of exultation there Mlay be on have not forgotten that our brother James, upon Angels' faces, when the one repentant sinner that dreadful day, left no will, no relations but enters Heaven, among ninety-nine just men. It ourselves." was not dimmed or tarnished by the joyful tears The face was pleasanter to him now, though that filled her eyes, but was the brighter for it wa.,)ale and melancholy, than it had been a them. moment since. He seemed to breathe more "My dear Harriet," said Mr. Morfin after a cheerily. silence, "1 was not prepared for this. Do- I "You know," she said, "our history, the his- understand.you that you wish to make your own tory of both my brothers, in connection with the part in the inheritance available for your good. unfortunate, unhappy gentleman of whom you purpose, as well as John's?" have spoken so truly. You know how few our - Oh yes!" she returned. "When we have wants are-Joln's and mine —and what little ilared everything together for so long a time, use we have for money, after the life -we have. and have had no care, hope, or purpose apaxt THE HARMOVIO US: 7LtCKS 7ITH. 419 could I bear to be excluded from my share -in slowly shaking his nead at the vacant chair, for this? May I not urge a claim to be my brother's a long, long time. The expression he commupartner and companion to the last?" nicated to the instrument at first, though mon"Heaven forbid that I should dispute it! strously pathetic and bland, was nothing to the he replied. expression he communicated to his own face, "We may rely on your friendly help?" she and bestowed upon the empty chair: which was said. "I knew we might!" so sincere, that he was obliged to have recourse "I should be a worse man than-than I hope to Captain Cuttle's remedy more than once, and I am, or would willingly believe myself, if I could to rub his face with his sleeve. By degrees, not give you that assurance from my heart and however, the violoncello, in unison with his own soul. You may, implicitly. Upon my honour, frame of mind, glided melodiously into the HarI will keep your secret. And if it should be monious Blacksmith, which he played over and found that Mr. Dombey is so reduced as I fear over again, until his ruddy and serene face he will be, acting on a determination that there gleamed like true metal on the anvil of a veriseem to be no means of influencing, I will assist table blacksmith. In fine, the violoncello and you to accomplish the design, on which you and the empty chair were the companions of his John are jointly resolved." bachelorhood until nearly midnight; and when She gave him her hand, and thanked him with he took his supper, the violoncello set up on end a cordial, happy face. in the sofa corner, big with the latent. harmony " Harriet," he said, detaining it in his, "to of a whole foundry full of harmonious blackspeak to you of the worth of any sacrifice that smiths, seemed to ogle the empty chair out of you can make now-above all, of any sacrifice its crooked eyes with unutterable intelligence. of mere money-would be idle and presump- When Harriet left the house, the driver of her tuous. To put before you any appeal to re- hired coach, taking a course that was evidently consider your purpose, or to set narrow limits to no new one to him, went in and out by by-ways, it, would be, I feel,-not less so. I have no right through that part of the suburbs, until he arrived to mar the great endof a great history by any at some open ground, where there were a few obtrusion of my own weak self. I. have every quiet little old houses standing among gardens. right to bend my head before what you confide At the garden-gate of one of these he stopped, to me, satisfied that it comes from a higher and and Harriet alighted. better source of inspiration than fmy poor worldly Her gentle ringing at the bell was responded knowledge. I will say only this,-I am your to by a dolorous-looking woman, of light corifaithful steward; and I would rather be so, and plexion, with raised eyebrows, and head droopyour chosen friend, than-I Would be anybody in ing on one side, who curtsied at sight of her, the world, except yourself." and conducted her across the garden to the She thanked him again cordially, and wished house. him good night. "How is your patient, nurse, tonight?" said "Are you going home? " he said. " Let me Harriet. go with you." ".In a poor way, miss, I am afraid. Oh, how "Not to-night. I am not going home now; she do remind me, sometimes, of my uncle's I have a visit to make alone. Will you come Betsey Jane!" returned the woman of the light to-morrow?" complexion, in a sort of doleful rapture. "Well, well," said he, " I'll come to-morrow.' In what respect?" asked Harriet. In the meantime, I'll think of this, and how we "Miss, in all respects," replied the other, can best proceed. And perhaps yo2'Il think of "except that she's grown up, and Betsey Jane, it, dear Harriet, and —and-think of me a little when at death's door, was but a child." in connection with it." " But you have told me she recovered," o,He'handed her down to a coach sh-e had in served. Harriet mildly; "so there is the more waiting at the door; and if his landlady had not reason for hope, Mrs. Wickam." been deaf, she would have heard him muttering " Ah, miss, hope is an excellent thing for such as he:went back up-stairs, when the coach had as has the spirits to bear it!" said Mrs. Wickam, driven off,, that we were creatures of habit, and shaking her head, "My own spirits is not equal it was a sorrowful habit to be an old bache- to it, but. I don't owe it any grudge. I envies lor. them that is so blessed!" -The violoncello lying on the sofa between the' "You should try to be more cheerful," retwo chairs, he took it up, without putting away marked Harriet; the vacant chair, and sat droning on it, and Thank you, miss; I'm sure," said Mrs. 420 DOMBE Y AND SON. Wickam grimly. "If I was so inclined, the. among the medicine bottles on the table, as wh! loneliness of this situation-you'll excuse my should say, "While we are here, let-us repeat speaking so- free-would put it out of my power.the mixture as before." in four-and-twenty hours; but I an't at all. I'd " No," said Alice, whispering toe her visitor rather not. The little spirits that I ever had, I " evil courses and remorse, travel, want, and was bereaved of at Brighton some few years ago, weather, storm within and storm without, have and I think I feel 1myself the better for it." worn mylife away. Itwill not last muchlonger." In truth, this was the very Mrs. Wickam She drew the hand up as she spoke. and. laid who had superseded Mrs. Richards, as the nurse her face against it. of little Paul, and who considered herself to "I lie here, sometimes, thinking I should likq have gained the loss in question under the- roof to live until I had had a little time to show you of the amiable Pipchin. The excellent and how grateful I could be! It is a weakness, and thoughtful old system, hallowed by long pre- soon passes. Better for you as it is. Better scription. which has usually picked out from the for me!" rest of mankind the most dreary and uncomfort- How different her hold upon the hand to what able people that could possibly be laid hold of, it had been when she took it by the fireside on to act as instructors of youth, finger-posts to the the bleak winter evenirrg! Scorn, rage, defiance, virtues, matrons, monitors, attendants on sick recklessness, look here! This is the end. beds, and the like, had established Mrs.Wickam Mrs. Wickam, having clinked sufficiently in very good business as a nurse, and had led among the bottles, now produced the mixture. to her serious qualities being particularly corn- Mrs. Wickam looked hard at her patient in the mended by an admiring and numerous connec- act of drinking, screwed her mouth up tight, her tion. eyebrows also, and shook her head, expressing Mrs. Wickam, with her eyebrows elevated, that tortures shouldn't make her say it was a and her head on one side, lighted the way up- hopeless case. Mrs. Wickam then sprinkled a stairs to a clean, neat chamber, opening on little cooling stuff about the room, with the air another chamber dimly lighted, where there was of a female grave-digger, who was strewing ashes a bed. In the first room an old woman sat on ashes, dust on dust-for she was a serious mechanically staring out at the open window character-and withdrew to partake of certain on the darkness. In the second, stretched upon funeral baked meats down-stairs. the bed, lay the. shadow of a figure that had " How long is it," asked Alice, "since I'went spurned the wind and rain one wintry night; to you and told you what I had done, and when hardly to be recognised now, but by the long you were advised it was too late for any one to black hair that showed so very black against the follow?" colourless face, and all the white things about it. "It is a year and more," said Harriet. Oh, the strong eyes, and the weak frame! " A year and more," said Alice, thoughtfully ThP eyes that turned so,eagerly and brightly to'intent upon her face. "Months upon months the dc,,-' when Harriet came in; the feeble head since you brought me here!" that could not raise itself, and moved so slowly Harriet answered "Yes." round upon its pillow! "Brought me here by force of gentleness and Alice!" said the visitor's mild voice, "am kindness. Me " said Alice, shrinking with her I late to-night?" face behind the hand, "and made me human by "You always seem. late, but are always early.' woman's looks and words, and angel's deeds!" Harriet had sat down by the bedside now, and Harriet, bending over her, composed and put her hand upon the thin hand lyiing there. soothed her. By-and-by Alice, lying as before, " You are better?" with the hand against her face, asked to have -Mrs. Wickam, standing at the foot of the bed, her mother called. like a disconsolate spectre, most decidedly and Harriet called to heY more than once; but the forcibly shook her head to negative this position. old woman was so absorbed, looking out at the "It matters very little." said Alice with a open window on the darkness, that she did not faint smile. ".Better or worse to-day is but a hear. It was not until Harriet went to her and day's difference-perhaps not so much."' touched her that; she rose up, and came. Mrs. Wickam, as a serious character, ex- " Mother," said Alice, taking the hand again, pressed'her approval with a groan; and having and fixing her lustrous eyes lovingly upon her made some cold dabs at the bottom of the bed- visitor, while she merely addressed a motion of clothes, as feeling for the patient's feet, and her finger-to. the old woman, " tell her what yott expecting to find them stony, went clinking know," FADING A WA Y. 42t "To-night, my deary?' her own youth, she had- flown to the remem! "Ay,' mother," answered Alice faintly and brance of her child's. Then suddenly she laid solemnly, "to-night!" her face down on the bed, and shut her head The old woman, whose wits appeared dis- up in her hands and arms. ordered by alarm, remorse, or grief, came. creep-:- "They were as like," said the old -woman, ing along the side of, the bed, opposite to..that without looking up;'.,"as:you c0uld see two on which Harriet sat; and kneeling down, so brothers, so near.an-age-there. wasn't much as to bring her.withered face on a level.with the more than a year between them, as I recollectcoverlet,- and stretching out her hand, so as to and if' you could have- seen my gal, as I have touch her daughter's arm, began: seen her once, side by. side with.the other's "My handsome gal -" daughter, you'd have seen,.for all the difference Heaven, what a cry was that with which she of dress and life, that they were like each, other. stopped there, gazing at the poor form lying on Oh! is the likeness gone, and is it my gal-only the bed! my gal-that's to change so?" "Changed long ago, mother! Withered long "We sWail all change, mother, in our turn," ago," said Alice, without looking at. her. " Don't said Alice. grieve for that now." "Turn!" cried'the old woman, " but why not "-My daughter," faltered the old woman, hers as soon as my gal's? The mother must "my gal who'll soon get better, and shame'em have changed-she looked'as old as me, and all with her good looks." full as wrinkled through her paint-but she was Alice smiled mournfully at Harriet, and handsome..' What have I done, I, what have 1 fondled her hand a little closer, but said done worse than her, that only my gal is to lie nothing. there fading?" " Who'll soon get better, I say," repeated the With another of those wild cries, she went old woman, menacing the vacant air with her running out into the room from which she had shrivelled fist, " and who'll shame'em all with'come; but immediately, in her uncertain mood, her good looks-she will. I say she will'! she returned, and, creeping up to Harriet, said: shall! "-as if she were in passionate contention "That's what Alice bade me tell you, deary. with some unseen opponent at the bedside, who That's all. I found it out when I began to ask contradicted her-" my daughter has been turned who she was, and all about her, away in Waraway from, and cast out, but she could boast wickshire there, one summer-time. Such relarelationship to proud folks too, if she chose. tions was no good to me then. They wouldn't Ah! To proud folks! There's relationship have owned me, and had nothing to give me. without your clergy and your wedding-rings-. I should have asked'em, maybe, for a little they may make it, but they can't break it- money afterwards, if it hadn't been'for my Alice; and my daughter's well related.' Show me Mrs. she'd a'most have killed me if I had, I think. Dombey, and' I'll'show you my Alice's first She was as proud as -t'other in her way," said cousin." the old woman, touching the face of her daughter Harriet glanced from the old woman to the fearfully, and withdrawing. her hand, "for all lustrous eyes intent upon her face, and derived she's so quiet'now; but she'll'shame'em with corroboration from them. her good looks yet. Ha, ha! She'll shame'em, "What!" cried the old woman, her nodding will my handsome daughter!" head bridling with a ghastly vanity. "Though Her laugh, as she retreated, was worse than I am old and ugly now,-much older by life and her cry; worse than the burst of imbecile lamentahabit than years, though, I was once as young tion in which it ended; worse than the doting as any. Ah! as pretty, too, as many! I was air with which she sat down in her old seat, and a fresh country wench in my time, darling,"- stared out at the darkness. stretching out her arm to Harriet across the bed, The eyes of Alice had all this'time been fixed "and looked it, too. Down in my country, Mrs. on Harriet, whose hand she had never released. D'ombey's father and his brother were the gayest She said now: gentlemen andithe best liked that come a visit- "J have felt, lying here, that I' should like ing from London-they have long been dead, you to know' this.. It might explain, I have though! Lord,, Lord, this long while! The thought, something that used to'help to harden brother, who was my Ally's father, longest of the' me. I had heard so much, in my wrong-doing, two." of my neglected duty, that I took up with the She raised her head a little, and peered at her belief that duty had not been done to me, and daughter's face; as if, from -the remembrance of that, as the'seed was sown, the harvest grew.~ I 422.DOMBE Y AND.SON. somehow made it oat that, when ladies had bad CHAPTER LIX homes and mothers, they went, wrong in their way too; but that their way was not so foul a RETRIBUTION. one as mine, and they had need to bless God for D it. That is all.past. It is like a dream now, HANGES have come again upon the which I cannot quite remember or'understand. ( f great: house in the long dull street, It has been more and more like a dream, every,. once the scene of Florence's childday, since you began to sit here, and read to k hood and loneliness. It is a great me.'I only tell it you as I can recollect it. house still, proof against' wind and Will you read to me a little more?" weather, without breaches in the Harriet was withdrawing her hand to open the, roof, or shattered windows, or dilapibook, when Alice detained it for a moment. dated. walls; but it is a ruin none the "You will not forget my mother? ~ I forgive less, and the rats fly from it. her, if I have any cause. I know that she for- Mr. Towlinson and company are, at first, gives me, and is sorry in her heart. You will in respect of the shapeless rumours not forget her? " ncredulous in respect of the shapeless ruours not forget her " that they hear. Cook says our people's credit "Never, Alice!" ain't so easy shook' as that comes to, thank God; " A moment yet. Lay my head so, a, and Mr. Towlinson expects'to hear it reported, that as you. read, I may see the words in your next, thattheBak ofEngland's a-going to break, kind face."'or the jewels in the Tower to be sold up. But, Harriet complied and read-read the eternal next come the Gazette and Mr. Perch: and Mr. book for all the weary and the heavy-laden; for Perch brings Mrs. Perch to talk it over in the all the wretched,, fallen, and neglected of this kitchen, and to spend a pleasant evening. earth-read the blessed history, in which the As soon as there is no doubt about it, Mr. blind, lame, palsied beggar, the criminal, the Towlinson's main anxiety is that the failure woman stained with shame, the shunned of all should be a good round one-not less than a our dainty clay, has each a portion that no hundred thousand pound. Mr. Perch don't human pride, indifference, or sophistry through think himself that a hundred thousand pound all the ages that this world shall last, can take will nearly cover it. The women, led by Mrs. away, or by the thousandth atom of a grain Perch and cook, often repeat "a hun-dred thoureduce-read the ministry of Him who, through sand pound!" with awful satisfaction -as if the round of human life, and all its hopes and handling the words were like handling the griefs, from birth- to death, from infancy to age, money; and the housemaid, who has her eye on had sweet compassion for,. and interest in, its Mr. Towlinson wiss she had only a hundredth every scene and stage, its every suffering and part of the sum to bestow on' the man of her sorrow. choice. Mr. Towlinson, still mindful of his old "I shall come," said Harriet when she shut wrong, opines that a foreigner would hardly the book, " very early in-the morning."'know what to do with so much money, unless The lustrous eyes, yet fixed upon her face, he spent it on his whiskers; which bitter sarcasm closed for a moment, then opened; and Alice causes the housemaid to Withdraw in tears. kissed and blessed her. But not to remain long absent; for cook, who The same eyes followed her to the door; and has the reputation of being extremely goodin their light, and on the tranquil face, there was hearted, say, whatever they do, let'em stand by a smile when it was closed. one another now, Towlinson, for there's no They never turned away. She laid her hand telling how soon they may be divided. They upon hkr breast, murmuring the sacred name have been in that house (says cook) through a that had been read to her; and life passed from funeral, a wedding, and a running away; and her face, like light removed. let it not be said that they couldn't agree among Nothing lay there, any longer, but. the ruin of themselves at such a time as the present. Mrs. the mortal house on' which the rain had beaten, Perch is immensely affected by this moving and the black hair that had fluttered in, the address, and openly remarks. that cook is an wintry wind,^ angel. Mr. Towlinson replies to cook, Far be it from him to stand in the way of that good feeling which he could wish to see; and adjourning in quest of the housemaid, and presently returning with that young lady on his arm, informs, the, kitchen that foreigners is; only his, ANlVOTHER ZITCHENV CO UN7C~L. 423 fun, and tTiat him and Anne have now resolved says cook warmly, "I don't know where you to take one another for better for worse, and to mean to go to." settle in Oxford Market in the general green- Mr. Towlinson don't know either; nor anygrocery and herb and leech line, where your body; and the young kitchen-maid, appearing kind favours is particular requested. This an- not to know exactly herself, and scouted by the nouncement is received with acclamation; and general voice, is covered with confusion, as with Mrs. Perch, projecting her soul into futurity, a garment. says " Girls" in cook's ear, in a solemn whisper. After a few days, strange people begin to call Misfortune in the family without feasting, in at the house and to make appointments with these lower regions, couldn't be. Therefore one another in the dining-room, as if they lived cook tosses up a hot dish or two for supper, and there. Especially, there is a gentleman of a Mr. Towlinson. compounds a lobster salad, to; Mosaic-Arabian cast of countenance, with a very be devoted to the same hospitable purpose. massive watch-guard, who whistles in the drawingEven Mrs.-Pipchin,' agitated by the occasion, room, and, while he is waiting for the other genrings her bell, and sends down word that she tleman, who always has pen and ink in his pocket, requests to have that little bit of sweetbread asks Mr. Towlinson (by the easy name of "Old that was left, warmed up for her supper, and Cock") if he happens to know what the figure of sent to her on a tray with about a quarter of a them crimson and gold hangings might have tumblerful of mulled sherry; for she feels poorly. been when new bought. The callers and ap-,There is a little talk about Mr. Dombey, but pointments in the dining-room become more very little. It is chiefly speculation as to how numerous every day, and every gentleman seems long he has known that this was going to happen. to have pen and ink in his pocket, and to have Cook says shrewdly, "Oh,. a long time, bless some occasion to use it. At last it is said that you! Take your oath of.that.".And reference there is going to be a Sale; and then more being made to Mr. Perch, he confirms her view people arrive, with pen and ink.in their pockets, of the case. Somebody wonders what he'll do, commanding a detachment of men with carpet and whether he'll-go out in any situation. Mr. caps, who immediately begin to pull up the carTowlinson thinks not, and hints at a refuge in pets, and knock the furniture about, and to print one of them genteel almshouses of the better off thousands of impressions of their shoes upon kind. " Ah! where he'll have his little garden, the hall and staircase. you know," says cook plaintively, "and bring up The council down-stairs are in full conclave sweet-peas in the spring.". "Exactly so," says all this time, and, having nothing to do, perform Mr. Towlinson, "and be one of the Brethren of perfect feats of eating. At length they are one something or another." "We are all brethren," day summoned in a body to Mrs. Pipchin's says Mrs. Perch in a pause of her drink. " Ex- room, and thus addressed by the fair Peruvian: cept the sisters," says Mr. Perch. " How are "Your master's in difficulties," says Mrs. Pinthe mighty fallen!" remarks cook. " Pride shall chin tartly. " You know that, I suppose? " have a fall, and it always was and will be so!" Mr. Towlinson, as spokesman, admits a geneobserves the housemaid. ral knowledge of the fact. It is wonderful how good they feel in making "And you're all on the look-out for yourthese reflections; and what a Christian unani- selves, I warrant you," says Mrs. Pipchin, shakmity they are sensible of, in bearing the common ing her head at them. shock with resignation. There is only one in- A shrill voice from the rear exclaims, "No terruption to this excellent state of mind, which more than yourself! " is occasioned by a young kitchen-maid of in- "That's your opinion, Mrs. Impudence, is ferior rank-in black stockings-who, having it?" says the ireful Pipchin, looking with a fiery *sat with her mouth open for a long time, unex-.eye over the intermediate heads. pectedly discharges from it words to this effect, " Yesj Mrs. Pipchin, it is," replies cook, ad"Suppose the wages shouldn't be paid!" The vancing. "And what then, pray?" company sit for a moment speechless; but cook, "Why, then you may go as soon as you like," recovering first, turns.fpon the young woman, says Mrs. Pipchin. "The sooner the better, and requests to know how she dares insult the and I hope I shall never see your face again." family, whose bread she eats, by such a dis- With this the doughty Pipchin produces a honest supposition, and whether she thinks that canvas bag; and tells her wages out to that day, anybody, with a scrap of honour left, could de- and a month beyond it; and clutches the money prive poor servants of their pittance? " Because, tight until a receipt for the same is duly signed, if that is your religious feelings, Mary Daws," to the last up-stroke; -when she grudgingly lets 424 DOBMS JYAND SON. it go. This form of proceeding Mrs. Pipchin wish you good day, Mrs. Pipchin, and sincerely repeats with every member of the household, wish I could compliment you on the sweetness until all are paid. of your appearance!" "Now, those that choose can go. about their "Get along with you!" says Mrs. Pipchin, business," says Mrs. Pipchin, "and those that stamping her foot. choose can stay here on board wages for a week Cook sails off with an air of beneficent digor so, and make. themselves useful. Except," nity, highly exasperating to'Mrs. Pipchin, and is says the inflammable Pipchin,. "that slut of a shortly joined below-stairs..by the rest of the cook, who'll go immediately." confederation. "That," says cook, "she certainly will! I Mr. Towlinson then says'that, in the first' /~' 4 YES, MRS. PIPCHIN, IT IS," REPLIES COOK, ADVANCING. " AND WHAT THEN, PRAY " place, he would beg to propose a little snack of with emotion, "Hear, hear'!" and Mrs. Perch, something to eat; and over that snack would who is there again, and full to the throat, sheds desire to offer a suggestion which he thinks will tears.) And that he thinks, at the present time, meet the position in which they find them- the feeling ought to be, ".Go one, go all!" The selves. The refreshment being produced, and housemaid is much affected by this generous very heartily partaken of, Mr. Towlinson's sug- sentiment, and warmly seconds it. Cook says gestion is, in effect, that cook is going, and that she feels it's right, and only hopes it's not done if. we are not.true to ourselves, nobody will be as a compliment to her, but from a sense, of true to us. That they have lived in that house duty. Mr. Towlinson replies, from a sense of a long time, and exerted themselves very much duty: and that now he is driven to express his to be sociable together. (At this, cook says, opinions, he will openly say, that he does not SALE BYA UCTIO. 425 think it over-respectable to remain in a house and linen, and disparaging everything.%' There where Sales and such-like are carrying forwards. is not a secret place in the whole house. Fluffy The housemaid is sure of it; and relates, in and snuffystrangers stare into the kitchen range confirmation, that a strange man, in a carpet as curiously as into the attic clothes-press; cap, offered, this very morning, to kiss her on Stout men, with napless hhats on, look: out of the stairs. Hereupon Mr. Towlinson is starting the bedroom windows, and cut jokes with from his chair, to seek and "smash" the offender; friends-in the street. Quiet, calculating spirits when he is laid hold on by the ladies, who be- withdraw into the dressing-rooms with cataseech him to calm himself, and\to reflect that it logues, and make marginal notes thereon with is easier and wiser to leave the scene of such in- stumps of pencils. Two brokers invade the decencies at once. Mrs. Perch, presenting the very fire-escape, and take a panoramic survey of case in a new light, even shows that delicacy the neighbourhood fiom the top of the house. towards Mr. Dombey, shut up in his own rooms, The swarm and buzz, and going up and down, imperatively demands precipitate retreat.' For endure for days. The Capital Modern Housewhat," says the good woman, "must his feelings hold Furniture, &c., is on view. be, if he was to come upon any of the poor ser- Then there is a palisade of tables made in the vants that he once deceived into thinking him best drawing-room; and on the capital, Frenchimmensely rich! " Cook is so struck by this polished, extending, telescopic range of Spanish moral consideration, that Mrs. Perch improves mahogany dining-tables, with turned legs, the it with several pious axioms, original and pulpit of the Auctioneer is erected; and the selected. It becomes a clear case that they herds of shabby vampires, Jew and Christian, must all go. Boxes are packed, cabs fetched, the strangers fluffy and snuffy, and the stout and at dusk that evening there is not one mem- men with the napless hats, congregate. about it, ber of the party left. and, sit upon everything within reach, mantelThe house stands, large and weather-proof, pieces included, and begin to bid. Hot, humin the long dull street; but it is a ruin, and the ming, and dusty are the rooms all day; andrats fly from it. high above the heat, hum, and dust-the head The men in the carpet caps go on tumbling and shoulders, voice and hammer, of the Aucthe furniture about; and the gentlemen with the tioneer are ever -t -work. The men in the pens and ink make out inventories of it, and sit carpet caps get flustered and vicious with tumupon pieces of furniture never made to be sat bling the Lots about, and still the Lots are upon, and eat bread and cheese from the public- going, going, gone; still coming on. Somehouse on other pieces of furniture never made times there is joking and a general roar. This to be eaten on, and seem to have a delight in lasts all day, and three days following. The appropriating precious articles to strange uses. Capital Modern Household Furniture, &c., is, Chaotic combinations of furniture also take on sale. place. Mattresses and bedding appear in the Then the mouldy gigs. and chaise-carts res dining-room; the glass and china get into the appear; and with them come spring vans and conservatory; the great dinner service is set out waggons, and an army of porters with knots. in heaps on the long divan in the large drawing- All day long, the men-with carpet caps are room; and the stair-wires, made into fasces, screwing at screw-drivers -and bed-winches, o? decorate the marble chimney-pieces. Finally, staggering by the dozen together on the staira rug, with a printed bill upon it, is hung out case under heavy burdens, or upheaving perfect from the balcony; and a similar appendage rocks of Spanish mahogany, best rosewood, or graces either.side of the hall-door. plate glass, into the gigs and chaise-carts, vans Then, all day. long,, there is a retinue of and waggons. All sorts of vehicles of burden mouldy gigs and chaise-carts in the street; and are in attendance, from a tilted waggon to a herds of shabby.vampires, Jew and Christian, wheelbarrow..Poor Paul's little bedstead is overrun the house, sounding the plate-glass Lcarried off in a donkey-tandem. For nearly a mirrors'with'their knuckles, striking discordant whole' week: the Capital Modern Household octaves on the grand piano, drawing wet'fore- Furniture, &c.,: is in course of removal. fingers over the pictures, breathing on the Atlast it is all gone.' Nothing is left about blades of the best dinner knives, punching the the house but scattered leaves of catalogues, squabs of chairs and sofas with their dirty fists, littered scraps of straw and hay, and.a battery tousling the feather beds, opening and shutting of pewter'pots behind the hall-dooa. The men all the-drawers, balancing-the silver spoons and with the carpet.caps gather'up their screwforks, looking.into the very threads of the drapery drivers and bed-winches into bags, shoulder 426:.,OMYBEY ANDs SON: them, afid walk off. One of the pen-and-ink to him,'Paul, 1 may be very foolish, and I have gentlemen goes over the house as a last atten- no doubt I am, but I cannot understand how tion'; Sticking up bills in the windows, respect- y9ur.ffairs can have got into this state,' he ing the lease of this desirable family mansion, shoula.actaally fly.at me, and request that I will and shutting the shutters..At length he follows come to se him no more until he asks.me? the men with the carpet caps. None of the in- Why, my goodness!" vaders remain. The house is a ruin, and the "-,.Ah " says Mrs. Pipchin. "It's a pity he vats fly from it. hadn't a little more to do with mines. They'd Mrs.-. Pipchin's apartments, together. with have tried his temper for him." those locked'rooms on the ground-floor where "And what," resumes Mrs. Chick, quite rethe window blinds are drawn down close, have gardless of Mrs. Pipchin's observations, "is it been spared the general devastation. Mrs. to end in?- That's what I want to know. What Pipchin sas remained austere and stony during does my brother mean to do? He must.do the proceedings, in her own room; or has.occa- something.. It's of no use remaining shut up in sionally looked in at the sale to see what the his own rooms. Business.won't come to him. goods are fetching, and to bid for one particular No. He must go to it. Then why don't he easy-Chair. Mrs. Pipchin has been the highest go? He knows wb re to go, I suppose, having bidder for the easy-chair, and sits upon her pro- beerr a man of busiiess all his life. Very good. perty'when Mrs. Chick comes to see her. Then why not go there?"' "How is my brother, Mrs. Pipchin?' says Mrs. Chick, after forging this powerful chain of Mrs. Chick. reasoning, remains silent fora minute to admire it. "I. don't know any'more than the deuce," "Besides," says the discreet lady, with an says Mrs. Pipchin. "He never does me the argumentative air, "who ever heard of such honour to speak to me. He has his meat and obstinacy as his staying shut up here through all drink put in the next room to his own; and these dreadful disagreeables? It's not as if there what he takes, he comes out and takes when was no place for him to go to. Of course he there's nobody there. It's no use asking me. could have come to our house.. He knows he I know no more about him'than the man in the is at home there, I' suppose? Mr. Chick has south who burnt his mouth by eating cold plum perfectly bored about it, and I said with my porridge." own lips,'Why, surely, Paul, you don't imagine This the acrimonious - Pipchin says with a that because your affairs have got into this flounce. state, you are the less at home to such near "But good gracious me!" cries Mrs. Chick relatives as ourselves? You don't imagine that blandly, "how long is this to last? If my we are like the rest of the world?' But no; brother will not make an effort, Mrs. Pipchin, here he stays all through, and here he is. Why, what is to become of him? I am sr.re I should good gracious me, suppose the housewas to be have thought he had seen enough,if the conse- let! what would he do then? He couldn't requences of not making an effort, by this time, main here then. If he attempted to do so, to be warned against that fatal error." there would be an ejectment, and action for'"Hoity-toity " says Mrs. Pipchin, robbing Doe, and all sorts of things; and then he must her nose. " There's a great fuss, I think, about go. Then why not go at first instead of at last?. it. It ain't so wonderful a case. People have And that brings me back to what I -said just had misfortunes before now, and been obliged now, and I naturally ask what is to be the end to part with their furniture. I'm sure I have!" of it?" " My brother," pursues Mrs. Chick pro- "I know what's to be the end of it, as far as foundly, "is so peculiar —so strange a man.'He I am concerned," replies Mrs. Pipchin, " and is the most peculiar man I ever saw. Would that's enough for me. I'm going to take myself any one believe that when he received-news of off in a jiffy." the marriage and emigration of that unnatural "In a which, Mrs, Pipchin?" says.Mrs. child-it's-a comfort to me, now, to remember Chick. that I always said there was something extra- "In a jiffy," retorts Mrs. Pipchin' sharply, ordinary about that child: but nobody minds "Ah, well! really, I can't blame you, Mrs. me —would anybody. believe, I say, that he Pipchin," says Mrs. Chick with frankness. should then turn round upon me. and say he "It would be pretty much the same to. shad supposed, from my manner, that she had, me if you could," replies the' sardonic Pip-;come to.my house? Why, my gracious..And. chin. -"At any: rate, I'm going.. I can't avould anybody believe that when I merelysay'stop here. I should be dead in a week. I THE RATS ALL GOONE. 4.27 had to cook my own pork chop yesterday, and woman to occupy tlie chair during her journey. I'm not used to it. My constitution will be Mrs. Pipchin herself is next handed in, and giving way next. Besides, I had a very fair grimly takes her seat. There is a. snaky gleam connection at Brighton when I came here-little in her hard grey eye, as of anticipated rounds of Pankey's folks alone were worth. good eighty. buttered toast, relays of hot chops, worryings pounds a. year to me-and I can't afford to and quellings of young children, sharp snipthrow it away. I've written to my nicde, and pings at poor Berry, and all the other delights she expects me by this time." of her Ogress's castle., Mrs. Pipchin. almost "Have you spoken to my brother? " inquires laughs as the fly van drives off, and she comMrs. Chick. poses her black bombazine skirts, and settles - " Oh yes, it's verv easy to say speak to him," herself among the cushions of her easy-chair. retorts Mrs. Pipchin. " How is it done? I The house is such a ruin that the rats have called out to him yesterday that I was no use fled, and there is not one left. here, and that he had better let me send for But Polly, though alone in the deserted manMrs. Richards. He grunted something or other sion-for there is no companionship in the shutthat meant yes, and I sent. Grunt, indeed! up rooms in which its late master hides his head If he had been Mr. Pipchin, he'd have had some -is not alone long. It is night; and she is reason to grunt. Yah! I've no patience with sitting at work in the housekeeper's room, tryit! ing to forget what a lonely house it is, and what Here this exemplary female, who has pumped a history belongs to it; when there is a knock up so much fortitude and virtue from the depths at the hall-door, as loud sounding as any knock of the Peruvian mines, rises from her cushioned. can be, striking into such an empty place. property to see Mrs. Chick to the door.. Mrs. Opening it, she returns across the echoing hall, Chick, deploring to the last the. peculiar cha- accompanied by a female figure in a close black racter of her brother, noiselessly retires, much bonnet. It is Miss Tox, and Miss Tox's eyes occupied with her own sagacity and.-clearness, of are red. head. "Oh, Polly," says,Miss Tox, "when I looked In the dusk of the evening, Mr. Toodle, in to have a little lesson with the children just being off duty, arrives with Polly and a box, now, I got the message that you left for me; and leaves them, with a sounding kiss, in the and, as soon as I could recover my spirits at all, hall of the empty house, the retired character of I came on after you. Is there no one here but which affects Mr. Toodle's spirits strongly. you? " "I tell you what, Polly my dear,' says Mr. "Ah! not a soul," says Polly. Toodle. "Being now an ingein-driver, and " Have you seen him?" whispers Miss Tox. well to do in the world, I shouldn't allow of " Bess you," returns Polly,' no; he has not your coming here to be made dull-like, if it been seen this many a day.. They tell me he warn't for'favours past. But favours past, Polly, never leaves his room." is never to be forgot. To thfem which is in ad- " Is he said to be ill?" inquires Miss Tox. versity, besides, your face is a cord"l. So let's " No, ma'am, not that I know of," returns have another kiss on it, my dear. You wish no Polly, "except in his mind. He must be very better than to do a right act, I know; and my bad there, poor gentlemran!" views is, that it's right and dutiful to do this. Miss Tox's sympathy is such that she can Good night, Polly! " scarcely speak. She is no chicken, but she has Mrs. Pipchin by this time looms dark in her not grown tough with age and celibacy. Her black bombazine skirts, black bonnet, and heart is- very tender, her compassion very shawl; and has' her personal property packed genuine, her homage very real. Beneath the up; and has her chair (late a favourite chair of locket with the fishy eye in it, Miss Tox bears Mr. Dombey's, and the dead bargain of the better qualities than many a less whimsical outsale) ready near the street-door; and is only side; such qualities as will outlive, by many waiting for a fly van, going-to-night to Brighton courses of the sun, the best outsides and on private service, which is to call for her by brightest husks that. fall in the harvest of the private contract, and convey her home..Great Reaper-. Presently it comes. Mrs. Pipchin's wardrobe It is long before Miss Toxgos away and be~ being handed in and stowed away, Mrs. Pip- fore Polly, with a candle flaring on the blank chin's chair is next handed in, and placed in a stairs, looks after her, for company, down the convenient- corner among certain trusses of street, and feels unwilling to go back into the hay; it being the intention of the amiable dreary house/ and jar.:its emptiness.wih. the 428 DOB 3REY 4 ID SON heavy fastenings of the door, and glide away to trembling hands, and heard the one prolonged bed.. But all this Polly does; and in the morn- low cry go upward. ing sets in one of those darkened rooms such He was fallen, never to be raised up any matters as she has been advised to prepare, and more.'For the night of his worldl)y ruin there then retires, and enters them no'more until next was no to-morrow's sun;. for the stain of his do; morning at the same hour. There are bells mestic shame there"was no purification; nothing, there, but they never ring; and though she can thank'Heaven, could bring his dead child back sometimes hear a footfall going to- and fro, it to life. But that which he might have made so never comes out. different in all the past-which might have Miss Tox returns-early in the day. It then made the past itself so different, though this he begins to be Miss Tox's occupation to prepare hardly thought of now-that which was his own little dainties-or what are such to her-to be work, that which he could so easily have.wrought carried into these rooms next morning. She into-a blessing, and had set himself so steadily derives so much satisfaction from the pursuit, for years to form into a curse: that was the that she enters on it regularly from that time:sharp grief of his soul. and brings daily, in, her little basket, various Oh! He did remember it! The rain that choice condiments selected' from the scanty fell upon the roof, the wind that mourned outstores of the deceased owner of the powdered side the door that night, had had foreknowledge head and pigtail. She likewise brings, in sheets in their melancholy sound. He knew, now, of curl-paper, morsels of cold meats, tongues of what he had done. He knew, now, that he had sheep, halves of fowls, for her own dinner; and called down that upon his head; which bowed sharing these collations with Polly, passes the it lower than the heaviest stroke of.fortune. He greater part of her time in the ruined house that knew, now, what it was to be rejected and the rats have fled from: hiding in a fright at deserted; now, when every loving blossom he every sound, stealing in and out like a criminal; had withered in his innocent daughter's heart only desiring to be true to.the fallen object of was snowing down in.ashes on him. her admiration, unknown to hihm, unknown to He thought of her as she had been that night all the world, but one poor simple woman.:when he and his bride came home. He thought The major knows it; but no one is the wiser off^er as she had been in all the home events of for that, though the major is much the merrier.' the abandoned house.'He thought, now, that The major, in a fit of curiosity, has charged the of all around him, she alone had never changed. native to watch the house sometimes, and find His boy had faded into dust, his proud wife had out what becomes of Dombey. The native has sunk into a polluted creature, his flatterer and reported Miss Tox's fidelity, and the major has friend had been transformed into the worst of nearly choked himself dead with laughter. He villains, his riches had melted away, the very is permanently bluer from that hour, and con- walls that sheltered him looked on him as a stantly wheezes to himself, his lobster eyes start- stranger; she alone had turned the same mild, ing out of his head, " Damme, sir, the woman's gentle look upon him always. Yes, to the latest a born idiot! " and the last. She had never changed to him-'And the ruined man. How does he pass the nor had he ever changed to her-and she was hours alone? lost. "Let him remember it in that room, years to As, one by one, they fell away before his mind come!" He did remember it. It was heavy -his baby-hope, his wife, his friend, his fortune on his mind now; heavier than all the rest. — oh, how the mist, through which he had seen "Let him remember it in that room, years to her, cleared, and showed him her true self! Oh, come! The rain that falls upon the roof, the how much better than this that he had loved her wind that mourns' outside the door, may as he had his. boy, and lost her as he had his have foreknowledge in their melancholy sound. boy, and laid them in their early grave together!' Let him remember it in that room, years to In- his pride-for he was proud yet-he let come!" the world go from him freely..As it fell away, He did remember it.. In the miserable night he shook it off. Whether he imagined its face he thought of it; in the dreary day, the wretched. as expressing pity for him, or indifference to him, dawn, the ghostly memory-haunted twilight.-He he shunned it alike. It was in the same degree did remember it. In agony, in sorrow, in re- to be avoided, in either aspect.'He had no morse, in despair!. "Papa! papa!. Speak to idea of any one companion in his misery, but the me, dear-papa! "' He heard the words'again,' one he-'had driven away. "What he would have and.saw the face. He.saw it.. fall upon the. said to her, or what consolation -submitted:tQ. LET HIM REMEMBER IT! 429 receive from her, he never pictured to himself. moment half those marks?-and bent his head But he always knew she would have been true and wept as he went'up. to him, if he had.suffered her. He always knew He almost saw. it going on before. He she would have'lowedli him better now than at. stopped, looking up towards the sky-light; and any other time:' he was as certain that it was in, a figure, childish ttself, but carrying. a child, and her nature, as he was that there was a sky above singing as it went, seemed to be there. again, him; and he sat thinking so, in his loneliness, Anon, it was the same figure, alone, stopping for from hour to hour. Day after day uttered this, an instant, with suspended breath; the bright speech'; nightafter night showed him this know- hair clustering loosely round its tearful face; and ledge. looking back at him. It began,.beyond all doubt (however slowly'. He wandered through- the rooms: lately so it advanced for some time), in the receipt of her luxurious; now so bare and dismal, and. so young. husband's letter, and the certainty that changed, apparently,even in their shape and size. she was gone, And yet-so proud he was in The press of footsteps was as thick here;:'and his ruin, or so reminiscent of her only as some- the same consideration of the -suffering he,"had thing that might have been his, but was lost be- had perplexed and terrified him. He began to yond redemption-that if he could have heard fear that all this. intricacy in his brain would her voice in an adjoining room, he would not drive him mad; and that his thoughts already have gone to her. If he could have seen her in lost coherence as the footprints did, and were the street, and she had done no more than look pieced on to one another, with the same trackat him as she had been used to look, he would less, involutions, and varieties of indistinct have passed on with his old cold, unforgiving shapes. face, -and not addressed her, or,relaxed it, He did not so much as know in wlich of though his heart should have broken soon after- these rooms she had lived when she was alone. wards.. However turbulent his thoughts, or He was glad to leave them, and go wandering harsh his anger had been, at first, concerning higher up.. Abundance of associations -were her marriage, or her husband, that was all past here, connected' with. his false wife, his false now. He chiefly thought of'what might have friend and servant, his false grounds of pride; been, and what was not. What was, was all but he put. them all by.now, ahd only recalled summed up in this: that she was lost, and he miserably, weakly, fondly, his two children. bowed down with sorrow and remorse. Everywhere, the footsteps! They had had And now he felt that- he had had two children no respect for the old room high up, where the born to him in that house, and that between him little bed had been; he could hardly find a clear and the bare, wvide, empty walls there was a tie, space there to throw himself down, on the floor, mournful, but hard to rend asunder, connected. against the wall, poor broken:,man, and let his with a dqouble childhood, and a double loss. tears flow as they would. He had shed so many He had thought to leave the house-knowing he tears here, long ago; that he was less ashamed must go, not knowing whither-upon the even- of his weakness in this place than in any other ing of the day on which this feeling first struck -perhaps, with that consciousness, had made root in his breast; but he resolved to stay another excuses to himself for coming here. Here, with night, and, in the night to ramble through the stooping shoulders and his'chin dropped on his r6oms once more. breast, he had come. Here, thrown upon the He came out of his solitude when it was the bare boards, in the dead of night, he wept, alone dead of night, and, with a candle in his hand, -a proud man, even then; who, if a kind hand went softly up the stairs. Of all the footmarks could have been stretched out, or a kind face there, making them as common as the common could have looked in, would have risen up. and street, there was not one, he thought, but had turned away, and gone down to his cell. seemed at the time to set itself upon his brain When the day broke he was shut up in his while he had kept close listening. He looked rooms again. He had meant to go away to-day, at their number, and their hurry a-d contention but clung to this tie in the house as the last and -foot treading foot out, and upward track and only thing left to him. He would go to-morrow. downward jostling one another-and thought,- To-morrow came. He would go to-morrow. with absolute dread and wonder, how much he Every night, within the knowledge of no human must have suffered during that trial, and what a creature, he came forth, and wandered through changed man he had cause to be. - He thought, the'despoiled house like a ghost. Many a morn; besides, oh, was there, somewhere in the world, ing, when the day broke, his altered face, droop-light foQtstep that might have worn out in a ing behind the closed blind in his window, i.m 43n aDOMBE Y.AND ScT. perfectly transparent to the light as yet, pondered at it occasionally, very curious to watch its on the loss of his two children. It was one motions, and he marked how wicked and mur. child no more. lie reunited them in his thougltst derous that hand looked. and they were never asunder. Oh that he could Now it was thinking again! What was it have united them in his past love, and in death, thinking? and that one had not been so much worse than Whether they would tread in the blood when dead! it crept so far, and carry it about the house Strong mental agitation and disturbance was among those many prints of feet, or even out no novelty to him, even before his late sufferings. into the street. It never is to obstinate and sullen natures, for It sat down, with its'eyes upon the empty they struggle hard to be such. Ground, long fire-place, and, as'it lost itself in thought, there undermined, will often fall down in a moment; shone into -the room g gleam of light; a ray of what was undrmiined here in so' many ways, sun.' It was quite unmindful, and sat thinking. weakened, and crumbled, little by little, more Suddenly it-rose, with a terrible face, and that and more, as the hand moved on the dial. guilty hand grasping what'was in its breast..At last he began to think he need not go at Then it was arrested by a cry-a wild, loud, all.'He might yet give up what his' creditors piercing, loving, rapturous cry-and he only saw had spared him (that they had not spared him his own reflection in the glass, and at his knees more was his own act), and only sever the tie his daughter. between him and the ruined house, by severing Yes. His daughter; Look at her! Look that other link- here! Down upon the ground, clinging to him, It was then that his footfall was audible in the' calling to him, folding her hands, praying to him. late housekeeper's room, as he walked to and "Papa! Dearest papa! Pardon me, forgive fro; but not audible in its. true meaning, or it me!. I have come back to ask forgiveness on would have had an appalling sound. my knees..'I never can be happy more, withThe world was very busy and restless about out it!" him.. He became aware of that again. It was Unchanged still. Of all the world, unchanged. whispering and babbling. It was never quiet. Raising the same face to his as on that miseThis, and the intricacy and complication of the rable night. Asking his forgiveness! footsteps, harassed him to death. Objects be- "Dear papa, oh, don't look strangely on me! gan to take a bleared and russet colour in his I never meant to leave you. I never thought eyes. Dombey and Son was no more-his of it, before or afterwards. I was frightened children no more. This must be thought of well when I went away, and could not think. Papa to-morrow. dear, I am changed. I am penitent. I know He thought of it to-morrow; and sitting think- my fault. I know my duty better now. Papa, ing in his chair, saw, in the glass, from time to don't cast me off, or I shall die!" time, this picture: He tottered to his chair. He felt her draw A spectral, haggard, wasted likeness of him- his arms about her neck: he fel't her put her'self brooded and brooded over the empty fire-' own round his; he felt her kisses on his face; place. Now it lifted up its head, examining the he felt. her wet cheek laid against his own; he lines and hollows in its face; now hung it down felt-oh, how deeply!-ali that he had done. again, and brooded afresh. Now it'rose and Upon the breast that- he had bruised, against walked about; now passed into the next room, the heart that he had almost broken, she laid and came back with something from the dress- his face, now covered with his hands, and said, ing-table in its breast. Now it was looking at sobbing: the bottom of the door, and thinking' "Papa love, I am a mother. I have a child -Hush! what? who will soon call Walter by the name by which It was thinking that if blood were to trickle I call you. When it was born, and when I that way, and to leak out into the hall, it must knew how much I loved it, I knew what I had be a long time going so far. It would move so done in leaving you. Forgive me, dear papa! stealthily and slowly, creeping on, with here'a Oh, say God bless me, and my little child!" lazy little pool, and there a start, and then He would have said it, if he could. He would another little pool, that a- desperately-wounded have raised his hands and besought her for parman could only be discovered through its means, don, but she caught them in her own, and put either dead or dying. When it had. thought of them down, hurriedly. this a long while, it got up againandaialked to "My little'child was born at sea, papa. I and fro with its hand-in its breast. He-glmnced' prayed'to God (and so did Walter' for me) to HE RESTS HIS HE.AD ON' THE BRUISED BREAST. 43t spare me, that I might come home. The moment they packed his clothes, and books, and so I could land, I came back to you. Never let us forth, with great care; and consigned them in be parted any more, papa. Never let us be due course to certain persons sent by Florence parted any more!" in the evening to fetch them. And then they His head, now grey, was encircled by her took a last cup of tea in the lonely house. arm; and he groaned to think that never, never "And so Dombey and Son, as I observed had it rested so before. upon a certain sad occasion," said Miss Tox, "You will come home with me, papa, and see winding up a host of recollections, " is indeed a my baby. A boy, papa. His name is Paul. I daughter, Polly, after all." think-I hope-he's like —-"'" And a good one!" exclaimed Polly. Her tears stopped her. "You are right," said Miss Tox; "and it's a " Dear papa, for the sake of my child, for the credit to you, Polly, that you were always her sake of the name we have given him, for my friend when she was a little child. You were sake, pardon Walter. He is so kind and tender her friend long before I was, Polly," said Miss to me. I am so happy with him. It was not Tox; "and you're a good creature. Robin!" his fault that we were married. It was mine. I Miss Tox addressed herself to a bullet-headed loved him so much." young man, who appeared to be in but indifferent She clung closer to him, more endearing and circumstances, and in depressed spirits, and who more earnest. was sitting in a remote corner. Rising, he dis" He is the darling of my heart, papa. I closed to view the form and features of the would die for him. He will love and honour Grinder. you as I will. We will teach our little child to "Robin," said Miss Tox, "I have just oblove and honour you; and we will tell him, when served to your mother, as you may have heard, he can understand, that you had a son of that that she is a good creature." name once, and that he died, and you were very "And so she is miss," quoth the Grinder sorry; but that he is gone to Heaven, where e with some feeling. all hope to see him when our time for resting "Very well, Robin," said Miss Tox, " I am comes. Kiss me, papa, as a promise that you glad to hear you say so. Now, Robin, as I am will be reconciled to Walter-to my dearest going to give you a trial, at your urgent request, husband-to the father of the little child who as my domestic, with a view to your restoration taught me to come back, papa. Who taught to respectability, I will take this impressive me to come back!" occasion of remarking that I hope you will As she clung closer to him, in another burst never forget that you have, and have always of tears, he kissed her on her lips, and, lifting had, a good mother, and that you will endeavour up his eyes, said, "Oh, mi" God, forgive me, for so to conduct yourself as to be a comfort to I need it very much " her." With that he dropped ms neaa again, lament- "Upon my soul I will, miss," returned the ing over and caressing'her, and there was not a Grinder. " I have come through a good deal, sound in all the house for a long, long time; and my intentions is now as straightfor'ard, miss, they remaining clasped in one another's arms, as a cove's " in the glorious sunshine that had crept in with "I must get you to break yourself of that Frorence. word, Robin, if you please," interposed Miss He dressed himself for going out, with a docile Tox politely. submission to her entreaty; and walking with a "If you please, miss, as a chap's —" feeble gait, and looking back, with a tremble, at "Thankee, Robin, no," returned Miss Tox. the room in which he had been so long shut up, "I should prefer individual." and where he had seen the picture in the glass, "As a indiwiddle's " said the Grinder. passed out with her into the hall. Florence, "Mu'h better," remarked Miss Tox comhardly glancing round her, lest she should re- placently; "infinitely more expressive!" mind him freshly of their last parting-for their " -Can be," pursued Rob. " If I hadn't been feet were on.the very stones where he had struck and got made a Grinder on, miss and mother, her in his madness-and keeping close to him, which was a most unfortunate circumstance for with her eyes upon his face, and his arm about a young co-indiwiddle —" her, led him out to a coach that was waiting at "Very good indeed," observed Miss Tox apthe door, and carried him away. provingly. Then, Miss Tox and Polly came out of tneir "-And if I hadn't been led away by birds, concealment, and exulted tearfully. And then and then fallen into a bad service," said the 432 AtDONMBE AND SO........ Grinder, "I hope I might have done better. and wishing, mother, my love to father, and But it's never too late for a- " brothers and sisters, and saying of it." Indi —" suggested Miss Tox. " I am very glad indeed to hear it," observed "-widdle," said the Grinder, "to mend; Miss Tox. "Will you take a little bread-andand I hope to mend, miss, with your kind trial; butter and a cup of tea before we go, Robin? "OH, MY GOD, FORGIVE ME, FOR I NEED IT VERY MUCH!" " Thankee, miss," returned the Grinder; who shawled, and Polly too, Rob hugged his mother, immediately began to use his own personal and followed his new mistress away; so much grinders in a most remarkable manner, as if he to the hopeful admiration of Polly, that somehad been on very short allowance for a consider- thing in her eyes made luminous rings round able period, the gas-lamps as she looked after him. Polly -Miss Tox being, in good time, bonneted and then put out her light, locked the house-door, A RETIRING. CINCIVZVNN T.US. 433 delivered'the key at an agent's-hard by, and. board, -bound for Bengal, found himself forwent home as fast as she could. go; rejoicing in getting, with such admirable rapidity, that'it warthe shrill. delight that her unexpected arrival doubtfulwhether his declensions of noun-subwould occasion there. The great house, dumb,stantives." would hold, out tolAte end.of the as to'all that had been suffered in it, and *the voyage., changes it had witnessed, stood frowning like. When' Doctor Blimberin pursuance of the a dark mute on the street; balking'any nearer usual course,'..would have said to the young inquiries with the' staring announcement that gentlemen, on the morning of the party, "Genthe lease of this desirable Family Mansion was tiemen, we will resume our studies on the twentyto be disposed of.. fifth of next month," he departed from the usual course, and said, " Gentlemen, when our friend — L —. "1 CCincinnatus.retired to his farm, he did not present to the senate any Roman whom he sought CHAPTER LX. to nominate as his successor.,. But there is a Roman here," said Doctor Blimber, laying his CHIEFLY MATRIMONIAL. hand on the shoulder of Mr. Feeder, B.A, 4B S ~ ~ ~~~d~i" adaoescens imprimis gravis et doctus, gentlemen,,HE grand half-yearly festival holden whom I, a retiring Cincinnatus, wish to present by Doctor and Mrs. Blimber, on to my little senate, as their future. Dictator. which occasion they requested the Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the pleasure of the'company of every twenty-fifth of next month, under the auspices of young gentleman pursuing his studies Mr. Feeder, B.A." At this (which Doctor Blimin that genteel establishment, at an ber had previously called upon all the parents,, * early party, when the hour was half-past and urbanely explained), the young gentlemen i seven o'clock, and when the' object was cheered; and Mr. Tozer, on behalf of the rest, quadrilles, had duly taken place about this time; instantly presented the Doctor with a silver inkand the young gentlemen, with no unbecoming stand, in a speech containing'very little of the (lemonstrations of levity, had betaken themselves, mother tongue, but fifteen quotations from the in a state of scholastic repletion, to their own Latin, and seven from the Greek, which moved homes. Mr. Skettles had repaired abroad, per- the younger of the young gentlemen to disconl manently to grace the establishment of his father, tent and envy; they remarking, " Oh, ah! It Sir Barnet Skettles, whose popular manners had was all very well for old Tozer, but they didn'.t obtained him a diplomatic appointment, the subscribe money for old Tozer to show off w;ith. honours of which were discharged by himself they supposed; did they? What business was and Lady Skettles, to the satisfaction even of it of old Tozer's more than anybody else's? It their own countrymen and countrywomen: which wasn't his inkstand. Why couldn't he leave the was considered almost miraculous. Mr. Tozer, boys' property alone?" and murmuring other now a young man of lofty stature, in Wellington.expressions of their dissatisfaction, which seemed boots, was so extremely full of antiquity as to to find a greater relief in calling-him old Tozes be nearly on a par with a genuine ancient than in any other available vent. Roman in his knowledge of English: a triumph. Not a word had been said to the young gen' that affected his good parents with the tenderest tlemen, nor a hint dropped, of anything like a emotions, and caused the father and mother of contemplated marriage between Mr. Feeder, Mr. Briggs (whose learning, like ill-arranged B.A., and the fair Cornelia Blimber.; Doctor luggage, was so tightly packed that he couldn't Blimber, especially, seemed to take pains'to look get at anything he wanted) to hide their dimi-. as if nothing would surprise him more; but it nished heads. The fruit laboriously gathered was perfectly well known to all the young genfrom the tree of knowledge by this latter young tlemen, nevertheless, and, when they departed' gentleman, in fact, had been subjected to so for the society of their relations'and friends, much pressure, that it had become a kind of they took leave of Mr. Feeder with awe. intellectual Norfolk Biffin, and had nothing of Mr. Feeder's most romantic visions were:fuP its original form or flavour remaining. Master filled.. The Doctor had determined to paint the Bitherstone now, on whom the forcing system house outside, and put it in thorough'repair; had the happier.and not uncommon effect of and to give up the business, and to'give'up leaving no impression whatever, when the forcing' Cornela.:The painting and repairing. begali apparatus ceased to work, was in a much more?' upon the very day of the young genitlemen's de. Comfortable plight; and, being thlen- on ship' parture, andc.no.lybeh ol e ejg. m or. i nuo^,.arturean.o~,'holth.y~dd mon 4340 " AD SON. ing was come, and Cornelia, in a new pair of myself to you on the subject of Miss Dombey; spectacles, wassWvating to be led to the hymeneal and I felt that, if you were asked to any weldling altar. of mine,.you would naturally expect th'at it was The Doctor with his learned legs, and Mrs. with/ Miss Dombey, which involved explanations Blimber in a lilac borinet, and Mr. Feeder, B.A.,. that, upon my word and honour, at that crisis, with his longS knuckles and his bristly head of would have knocked me completely over. In hair,'.adi' MIr, Feeder's brother, the Reverend the second place, our wedding was strictly priAlfret' Feeder, M.A., who was to perform the vate; there being nobody present but one friend ceremony,/were all assembled-in the drawing- of myself and Mrs. Toots's, who is a captain inroom, and Cornelia, with her orange-flowers and 1 don't exactly know in'what," said Mr. Toots, bridesmaids'had just come down, and looked, "but it's of no consequence. I hope, Feeder as of old, a little squeezed in appearance, but that in writing a statenrnt of what had occurred very charming, when the door opened, and the before Mrs. Toots and myself went abroad upol weak-eyed young' man, in a loud voice, made our foreign tour, I fully discharged the offices of the followingiproclamation: friendship." "MR. AND MRS. TOOTS!"' "Toots,.my boy," safd Mr. Feeder, shaking.Upon which there entered Mr. Toots, grown hands, "I was joking." extremely stout, and on his arm a lady very "And now, Feeder," said Mr. Toots, "1 handsomely and becomingly dressed, with very should be glad to know what you think of my bright black eyes. unionf.' "Mrs. Blimber," said Mr. Toots, "allow me "Capital!" returned Mr. Feeder to present my wife." "You think it's capital,'do yoi (Feeder?" Mrs. Blimber was delighted to-receive her. said Mr. Toots solemnly. "Then Tow capital Mrs. Blimber was a little condescending, but must it be to Me! Foryou can never know what extremely kind. an extraordinary wvoman that is." "And as you've known me for a long time, Mr. feeder was willing to take it for granted. you know," said Mr. Toots, "let me assure you But Mr. Toots shook his head, and wouldn't that she is one of the most remarkable women hear of that being possible. that ever lived." "You see," said Mr. Toots, "vwhat I wanted " My dear " remonstrated Mrs. Toots. in a wife was-in short was sense. Money, "' Upon my word and honour she is," said Mr. Feeder, I had. Sense I-I had not, partiQau Toots. "I-I assure you, Mrs. Blimber, she's larly." a most extraordinary woman." Mr: Feeder murmured, "Oh yes, you had, Mrs. Toots laughed merrily, and Mrs. Blimber Toots!" But Mr.'roots said led her to Cornelia. Mr. Toots having paid his. "No, Feeder, I had naot Why should I disrespects in that direction, and having saluted guise it? I had not. I knew that sense was his old preceptor, who said, in' allusion to his There,"isaid Mr. Toots, stretching out his hand conjugal state, " Well, Toots, well, Toots! So towards his wife, in perfect heaps.. I had no you are one of us, are you, Toots?"-retired relation to object, or be offended, on the score with Mr. Feeder, B.A., into a window. of station; for I had no relation. I have never Mr,'Feeder, B.A,, being in great spirits, made had anybody belonging to me but my guardian, a spar at Mr. Toots, and tappea him skilfully and him, Feeder, I have always considered as a with the back of his hand on the breast-bone. Pirate and a Corsair. Therefore, you know, it "Well, old Buck!" said Mr. Feeder with a was not likely," said Mr. Toots, "that I shourd laugh. "Well! Here we are I Taken in and take his opinion." done for..' Eh?" " No," said Mr. Feeder. " Feeder," returned. Mr. Toots, " I give you "Accordingly," resumed Mr. Toots, "I acted joy. If you're as-as-as perfectly:blissful in a on my own. Bright was the day on which I did matrimonial life as I am myself, you'll have so t Feeder i Nobody but myself can tell what nothing to desire." "the capacity of that woman's mind is.-,If ever "I don't forget my old friends, you. see," said the Rights of Woman, and all that kind of thing, Mr. Feeder. " I ask'em to my wedding, Toots." are properly attended: to, it will be through her "Feeder," replied Mr. Toots gravely, "the powerful intellect.-Susan, my dear! " said Mr tact is, that'there were several circumstances Toots, looking abruptly out, of the window cui which'preveited, me from communicating with tains, " pray do not exert yourself! " youtuntilafttrmy marriage had been solemnised,. "My dear," said Mrs. Toots, "I was only In. the first'place, I had made a perfect brute of talking." JR.. 0TOOTS MAKES A SPEECH. 435' "But, my love,"'said' Mr. Toots,.'"piay do': God hath joined,' you. know,' let no mani'net eryt yourself.'You:really must be careful.''don't you know?,'; I cannot allow my friend Do not,,y dear. Susan,' exert yourself. -She's.Feeder to be married-especially to Mrs.-Feeder so easily excited," said- Mr.-Toots, apart to. Mrs. -witiout proposing tlieir-their-Toasts; and Blimber,;"' and then she forgets the medical man may," said Mr. Toots, fixing his eyes on his wife, altogether." as if for inspiration in a high flight, "may the Mrs. Blimber was- impressing on Mrs. Toots torch.of Hymen be the beacon of joy,'and itay the necessity of caution,-when Mr. Feeder, B.A., the lowers we. have this' day strewed in their offered hef his arm, and led her down to'the path be the-tihebanishers of-of gloom!" carriages that were in waiting to go to church., Doctor Blimbef, who had a taste for metaphor, Doctor Blimber escorted Mrs. Toots. Mr. Toots'was pleased with this, and said, "Very good, escorted the fair bride, around whose lambent Toots Very' well said indeed, Toots!" and spectacles two gauzy little bridesmaids fluttered nodded his head:and patted. his hands. Mr. like moths.:Mr. Feeder's brother, Mr. Alfred Feeder made, in" reply, a comic speech cheFeeder, M:A;, had already gone on, in advance, quered with sentiment. Mr. Alfred Feeder, to assume his official functions. M.A.; was afterwards very happy on Doctor and'The ceremony was performed in an admirable Mrs. Blimber; Mr. Feeder, B.A., scarcely less nmanner. Cornelia, with her crisp little curls, so, on the gauzy little bridesmaids. Doctor i"vent in," as the Chicken might have'said, Blimber then, in a sonorous voice, delivered a with great composure; and Doctor Blimber gave few thoughts in the pastoral style, relative to her away like a man who'had quite made up his the rushes among which it was the intention of mind to it. The gauzy little bridesmaids ap- himself and Mrs. Blimber to dwell, and the bee peared to suffer most. Mrs. Blimber was affected,' that would hum around their cot. Shortly after but gently so; and told the Reverend Mr. Alfred which, as the' Doctor's eyes were twinkling in Feeder, M.A., on the way home, that if she could a remarkable manner, and his son-in-law had only have seen Cicero in his retirement at Tus- already observed that tinme was made for slaves,'culum, she would not have had a wish, now, and had inquired whether;'Mrs. Toots sang, the ungratified. discreet Mrs. Blimbcr dissolved the sitting, and "There was a' breakfast afterwards, limited to sent Cornelia away, very cool and comfortable,'.he same small party; at which the spirits of in a post-chaise, with the man of her heart. Mr. Feeder, B.A., were tremendous, and so Mr. and Mrs. Toots withdrew to the Bedford communicated themselves to Mrs. Toots, that (Mrs. Toots had been there before in old times, Mr. Toots was several times heard to observe, under her maiden name of-Nipper), and there across the table, "My dear Susan, don't exert found a letter, which it took Mr. Toots such an yourself " The best of it -was, that Mr. Toots enormous time to read. that Mrs. Toots was felt it incumbent on him to make a speech; frightened. and, in spite of a whole code of telegraphic dis- My dear Susan," said Mr. Toots, "fright is suasions from Mrs. Toots, appeared on his legs worse than exertion. Pray be calm " for the first time in his life.;:. "Who is it froml?" asked Mrs. Toots. "I- really," said Mr. Toots, "in this house, "Why, my.love," said Mr. Toots, "it's from where whatever was done to me in the way of Captain Gills. Do not excite yourself. Walters -of any mental confusion sometimes-which is and Miss Dombey are expected home!" of no consequence, and I impute-to nobody- -:: "My dear," said Mrs. Toots, raising herself I was'always treated like one of Doctor Blim- quickly from the sofa, very pale, " don't try- to ber's family, and had a desk to myself for a con- deceive me, for it's no use, they're come home siderable period-can-not-allow my friend -I see it plainly in your. face! Feeder to'be " - "She's a most extraordinary woman!" exMrs. Toots suggested " married." claimed Mr.- Toots in rapturous admiration. "It may not be inappropriate to the occasion, " You're perfectly right, myi: love,.they.have or altogether uninteresting," said Mr. Toots with come home. Miss Dombey has seen her father, a delighted face, "to observe that my wife is a and they are reconciled!" most extraordinary woman, and'would do this' "Reconciled! ". cried Mrs. Toots. clapping much better than myself-allow my friend Feeder her hands.'to be married-especially to —":: " My dear,'. said'Mr.Toots; "pray do not Mrs. Toots suggested " to Miss Blimber.'-. exert yourself.' Do remember the medical man!' To Mrs. Feeder, my love!" said Mr. Toots Captain Gills says-at least, he don't say, but I in'subdued tone of private discussion: "'whom imagine, from what I can make out, he means — 43a PWOMBEY AND SON,hatMliss Domb&y has: brought her unfortunate the ballad' of'.Lovely'Peg, when, on turning a father-away from his'old house, to one where corner, he was suddenly transfixed and rendered she and'Walters are living;' that he is lying very speechless by. a triumphant procession'that he ill there-supposed to be dying; and that she beheld advancing towards him. attends upon him night and day.'" This awful demonstration- was headed by that Mrs.'Toots began to cry quite bitterly. determined woman Mrs. MacStinger, who, pre-, "My dearest Susan," replied Mr. Toots, "do, serving a countenance of inexorable resolution, do, ifyou possibly, can, remember the medical and wearing conspicuously attached to her obman! If you can't, it's of no consequence-but.durate bosom a stupendous watch and appenddo endeavour to'! ages, which the captain recognised at a glance His wife, with her old manner suddenly re- as the property of Bunsby, conducted under her stored, so pathetically entreated him to take her arm no other than that sagacious mariner; he, to her precious pet. her little mistress, her own with the distraught and melancholy visage of a darling, and the like, that Mr. Toots, whose captive borne into a-foreign land, meekly resympathy and admiration were of the strongest Signing himself to her will. Behind them appeared kind, consented from his very heart of hearts'; the young MacStingers, in a body, exulting. and they agreed to depart immediately, and pre- Behind- them, two ladies of a terrible and steadsent themselves in answer to the captain's letter. fast aspect, leading between them a short gentleNow, some hidden sympathies of things, or mlan in-a tall-hat, who likewise exulted. In the soime coincidences, had that day brought the wake appeared Bunsby's boy, bearing umbrellas. captain himself (toward whom-Mr. and Mrs. The whole were in good marching order, and a Toots were soon journeying) into the flo6'iery dreadful smartness that pervaded the party would train of wedlock; not as a principal, but as -an have sufficiently announced, if the intrepid counaccessory. It happened accidentally, and thus: tenances of the ladies had been wanting, that it The captain, having seen Florence and her was a procession of sacrifice, and that the victim baby for a moment, to his. unbounded content, was Bunsby. artd having had a long talk with Walter, turned The first impulse of the captain was to run out; for a walk;feeling it necessary to have some away. This also appeared to be the first irmsolitary mneditation on the changes of human pulse of Bunsby, hopeless as its execution must affa'irs, and to shake -his glazed hat profoundly have proved. But a cry of recognition proceedover the fall of Mr. Dombey, for whom the ing frinm the party, and Alexander MacStinger gen'erosity and simplicity of his nature were running up to the captain with open arms, the twaken-ed in a lively manner. The captain captain struck. would have been very low, indeed, on the un- "Well, Cap'en Cuttle!" said Mrs. Machappy gentlemian's account, but for the recollec- Stinger.' This is indeed a meeting! I bear no tion of the baby; which afforded him such malice now. Cap'en Cuttle-you needn't fear intense satisfaction whenever it arose, that he that I'm a-going to cast any reflections. I hope laughed aloud as he went along the street, and, to go to the altar in another spirit." Here Mrs. indleed, more than once, in a Sudden impulse of MacStinger paused, and drawing herself up, and joy, threw up his glazed hat and caught it again; inflating her bosom with a long breath, said, in much to the amazement of the spectators. The allusion to the. victim, "My'usband, Cap'en rapid'alternations of light and shade to which, Cuttle!" these two conflicting subjects of reflection ex- The abject Bunsby looked neither to the posed the captain were so very trying to' his right nor to the left, nor at his bnde, nor at his slpiits, that he felt a long walk. necessary to his friend, but straight before him at nothing. The composure; and, as-there is a great- deal in the captain putting out his hand, Bunsby put out influence of harmonious associations, he chose, his.;' but, in answer to the captain's. greeting, for the scene of this walk, his old neighbourhood, spake no word. down among the mast, oar, and block makers, "Cap'en Cuttle," said. Mrs. MacStinger, "'if ship-biscuit bakers, coal-whippers, pitch-kettles, you would wish to -heal up past animosities, and sailors, canals, docks, swing-bridges, and other to see the last of your friend, my.'usband, as a soothing objects. single person,'we should be'appy of your comThese peaceful scene's, and particularly the pany to chapel. Here is a lady here," said Mrs. region of Lirnehouse Hole and thereabouts, were MacStinger, turning round to the more intrenid so influential in. calming the captain, that he of the two, " my bridesmaid, that will be glad of wakedd' on with restored:tranquillity. and was, your protection, Cap'en Cuttle." in tact, regaling himself,,under his breath, with The short gentleman in the tall' hat, who it CAPTAIN CUTTLE ASSISTS AT THE SA CRIFICE OOF P UNSB Y.. K 47 appeared was the husband of the other lady, and the Reverend M'elchisedech Howler;,wlho- ad who evidently exulted at the reduction of a consented, on very urgent solicitation, to give fellow-creature to his own condition, gave place the world another two years of existence, but:at this, and resigned the lady to Captain Cuttle. had informed his followers that, thel'ijt. must The lady-immediately seized him, and, observing positively go. that there was no time. to lose, gave the word, in While the Reverend Melchisedech.'was'offera strong oice, to advance. *ing up some extemporary orisons, the captain The captain's concern for his friend, not un- found an opportunity of growling in the bridemingled, at first, with some concern for himself groom's ear:. -for a shadowy terror that he might be married What cheer, my lad, what cheer? " by violence possessed him, until his knowledge To which Bunsby replied, with a forgetfulness of the service came to his relief, and remember- of the Reverend Melchisedech, which nothing ing the legal obligation of saying, " I will," he but his desperate circumstances could have exfelt himself personally safe so long as he re- cused: solved, if asked any question, distinctly to reply. " D-d bad."+' I won't "-threw him into a profuse perspira- A',.' Jack Bunsby," whispered the captain,.' do tion; and rendered him, for'a time, insen- you do this here o' your own free-will?" sible to the movements of the procession, of.- Mr. Bunsby answered " No." which he now: formed a feature, and to the con- 7' ( Why do you do it, then, my lad?." inquired versation of his fair companion. But, as he the captain, not unnaturally. *became less agitated, he learnt from this lady Bunsby, still looking, and always looking with that she was the widow of a Mr. Bokum, who an immovable countenance, at the opposite side had held an employment in the Custom House; of the world, made no reply. that she was the dearest friend of Mrs. Mac-:- "Why not sheer off?" said the captain. Stinger, whom she considered a pattern for her " Eh " whispered Bunsby, with a momentary sex; that she had often heard of the captain, gleam of hope. and now hoped he had repented of his past life;.. "Sheer off," said the captain. that she trusted Mr. Bunsby knew what a bless- "Where's the good?" retorted the forlorn ing he had gained, but that she feared men sage. "She'd capter me agen." seldom did know what such blessings were until "Try!" replied the captain. "Cheer up! they had lost them; with more to the same pur- Come! Now's your time. Sheer off,'Jack pose. Bunsby!" All this time the captain could not but observe Jack Bunsby, however, instead of profiting by that Mrs. Bokum kept her eyes steadily on the the advice, said in a doleful whisper: bridegroom, and that, whenever they came near "It all began in'that. there chest o' yourn. a court or other narrow turning which appeared Why did I ever conwov, her into port that favourable for flight, she was on the alert to cut night?" him off if he attempted escape. The other lady, My lad," faltered the captain, " I thought too, as well as her husband, the short gentleman as you had come over her:;',not as she had come with the tall hat, were plainly on guard, accord- over you. A man as has got such opinions as ing to a preconcerted plan; and the wretched you have!" man was so secured by Mrs. MacStinger, that *. Mr. Bunsby merely uttered a suppressed groan. any effort at self-preservation by flight was ren-' "Come!" said the captain, nudging him with dered futile. This, indeed, was apparent to the his elbow, "now's your time I Sheer off!.. I'll mere populace, who expressed their perception cover your retreat. The time'sa flying. Bunsby! of the fact by jeers and cries; to all of which -'It's for liberty. Will you once?" the dread MacStinger was inflexibly indifferent,, Bunsby was immovable. while Bunsby himself-appeared in a state of un-:; " Bunsby ". whispered the captain,'"will yoq consciousness. twice?" The captain made many attempts to accost., Bunsby wouldn't twice. the philosopher, if only in a monosyllable or a: "Bunsby!" urged the captain, " it's for liberty. signal; but always failed, in consequence of the Will you three times? Now or never! " vigilance of the guard, and the difficulty, at all Bunsby didn't then, and didn't ever; for Mrs. times peculiar to Bunsby's constitution, of having MacStinger immediately afterwards married.him. his attention aroused by any outward and visible One of the most-frightfll circumstances of the sign whatever. -Thus they approached the chapel, ceremony, to the captain," was.the deadly interest a neat.whitewashed edifice, recently engaged by exhibited.therein by Juliana-'MacStinger;:- and 438 D OMBE Y AND SQO.: the fatal concentration of her faculties, with relieved:fromhler engrossing dTty-for the watch. which that:promising child, already the image of fulness andd alacrity of tile ladies sensibly d'imiher parent, observed the whole proceedings. nished when the bridegroom was safely married The captain saw in this a succession of man- -hlad greater leisure to show an interest in his traps stretching out infinitely; a series of ages of-. behalf, there left it andl'the captive; faintly oppression and coercion, through which the sea- pleading an appointment and:promisjag to refaring, line was doomed. It was a more memo- turn presently. The captain had another cause rable sight than the unflinching steadiness of Mrs for uneasiness, m rermosful.ly reflecting that he Bokum and the other lady, tlhe exultation of the had been the first means of Bunsby's: entrapshort gentleman in the tall hat, or even the fell rnent, though certainly without:intending it, and inflexibility of Mrs..MacStinger. The Master through'his unbounded- faath in. the resources of MacStingers understood little of what was going that philosopher. on, and cared less; being chiefly. engaged, dur- To go back. to old Sol Gills at the Wooden ing the. ceremony, in treading on one another's. Midshipman's, and not first go round to ask how half-boots; but the contrast afforded by those Mr D.mbey was-albeit the hobuse where he lay wretched infants only set off and adorned the was. out of Ldudon, and away on the borders of precocious woman in Jullana. Another year or a fresh hela.th-was qinite out offthe captain's two, the captain thought, and' to lodge where course. So he got a li;tlwhen hewas tired, and that child-was would be destruction. made out the- journey gl-y, The- ceremony was concluded by a general The blinds'were pulled down, aid the louse spring of the young family on Mr. Bu:nsby, so quiet, that the captain was slmost afraid to whom they hailed by the endearing name of knock; but, listening at the door, he heard low father, and from whom they solicited halfpence_ voices within, very near it, aald,.knocking softly, These gushes of affection over, the procession was admitted by Mr. Toc;t. r.. Toots and his was about to issue forth again, when it iwas de' wife had, in fact, just arrived there; having been layed for some little time by an unexpected at the Midshipman's to seek himt'and having transport on the part of Alexander MacStinger. there obtained. the address. That dear child, it seemed, connecting a chapel' They. were not so recently arrived but that with tombstones, when it was entered for any Mis. Toots had caught the baby from somebody, purpose apart from the ordinary religious exer- taken it in her arms, and sat down oin the stairs, cises, could not be persuaded but tlat his mother hugging and fondling it. Florence was stooping was now to be decen.tly interred, and lost to down beside her; and no one co-'ld have said him for ever. In the anguish of this conviction, which Mrs. Toots was hugging'and. fond'iig he screamed with astonishing force, and turned most, the mother or the child, or -which was the black'in the face. However toucling these tenderer, Florence of Mrs. Toots, or Mrs Toots marks of a tender disposition were to his mother, of her, or both of the baby; it was such a little it was not in the character of that remarkable group of love and agitation. woman to permit her recognition of them to de- "And is yourpa very ilLisy darling dear Miss generate into weakness. Therefore, after vainly Floy?" asked Susan, endeavouring to convince his reason by shakes, " He is very, very ill," said Florence. " But, pokes, bawlings-out, and similar, applications to Susan dear, you must not speak to me as you his head, she led him into the air, and' tried used to speak. And what's'this?" said Floanother method;.which was manifested to the renee, touching her clothes, in amazement. marriage party by a quick succession of sharp "Your old dress, dea?'Your old cap, curls, sounds, resembling applause, and subsequently and all? by their seeing Alexander in contact with the Susan burst into tears, and showered kisses coolest paving stone iu the.court, greatly flushed, on the little hand that had touched her so wonand loudly lamenting. deringly. The procession being' then in a condition to "My dear Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots, form itself once more, and repair to Brig Place, stepping forward, "' I'll explain. Shes the most where a marriage feast was in readiness, returned extraordinary woman. There are not many to as it had come; not without the receipt, by. equal her! She has always said-she said.before Bunsby, of many humorous. congratulations from we were married, and has said to tlis day-that the populace on his recently-acquired happiness. whenever you camle home, he'd come to you in The captain accompanied it as far as the house-' no dress but the dress she used to serve you in, door,. but, being made uneasy by the gentler for fear she might seem trange to you, and you manner of MIrs,. B3kum.. who, now that she was'mlight like her less,. admire the dress myself," AL W~A YS FL ORPECE. 439 said Mr. Toots,'. of all things. I adore her in stant, it always turned on Florenc' What'he it! My dear Miss Dombey, she'll be your maid would oftenest do was this - he would recall that again, your nurse, all that she ever was, and night he had so recently remembered, the night more. There's no change in her. -But Susan, on which she came down to his room, and would my dear," said Mr. Toots, who had spoken with imagine that his heart smote him, and.that he great feeling and high admiration, " all I ask is, went out after her, and up the stairs to seek her. that you'll remember the medical man and not Then, confounding that time with the later days exert.yourself too much!' of the many footsteps, he would be amazed at their number, and begin to count them as he __ f —--— ~ followed her. Here, of a sudden, was a bloody footstep going on among the others: andafter CHAPTER LXI.. it there began to be. at intervals, doors standing open, through which certain terrible. pictures REiLENTING. were seen, in mirrors, of haggard men, concealaio Qing something in their breasts.'Still, among the LOKtENCE had need of help. Her many footsteps, and the bloody.footsteps here father's need of it was sore, and made and there, was the step of Florence. Still she E the aid of her old friend invaluable. was going on before. Still the restless mind (y.Death stood at his pillow. A shade, went, following and counting, ever farther, ever 1 already, of what he had been, shat- higher, as to the summit of a mighty tower that!y')~T_ tered in mind, and perilously sick in it took years to climb. Bj body, he laid his weary head down on the One day he inquired if that were not Susan.? bed his laughter's hands prepared for who had spoken a long while ago. him, and had never raised it since. Florence said, "Yes? dear papa'," and asked She was always with him. He knew her gene- him would he like to see her? rally; though, in the wandering of his brain, he He said, "-Verymnuch." And Susan, with no often confused the circumstances under which little trepidation, showed herself at his bedside. he spoke to her. Thus he would address her, It seemed a great-relief to him. He begged sometimes, as if his boy were newly dead; and her not to go; to understand that he forgave her would tell her, that although he had said nothing what she had said; and that shq was to stay. of her ninistering at the little bedside, yet he Florence and he were very different now, he said, had seen it-he had seen it; and then would and very happy. Let her look at this! He hide his face and sob, and put out ris worn meant his drawing the gentle head down to his hand. Sometimes he would ask her for herself. pillow, and laying it beside him. "Where is Florence?" "I am here, papa, I He remained lilke this for days and weeks. an here." " I don't know her!" he would cry. At length, lying the faint, feeble semblance of a "We have been parted so long, that I don't man, upon his bed, and speaking- in a voice so know her!'' and then a staring dread would be low that they could only hear him by listening upon him, until she could soothe his perturba- very near to his lips, he became quiet. It was lion; and recall the tears she tried so hard, at dimly pleasant-to him now to lie there, with the other times, to dry. window open, looking out at the summer sky He rambled through the scenes of his old pur- and the trees: and, in the evening, at the sunsuits-through many where Florence lost hin. set.' To watch the shadows of the clouds and as she listened-somietimes for hours. He would leaves, and seem to feel a sympathy with shadows. repeat that childish question, "What is money?" It was natural that he should.. To him, life and and ponder on it, and think about it, and reason the world were nothing else. with himself, more or less connectedly, for a *He began to show now that he thought of good answer; as if it had never beeln proposed Florence's fatigue and often taxed his weakness to him until that moment. He would go on to whisper to her, "Go and walk, my dearest, in with a musing repetitioi of the titleof his -old the sweet air. Go to your good husband "' One firm'twenty thousand times, and, at every one of time, when Walter was il his room, Je beckoned them, would turn his head upon his pillow. He him to coie near, and to stoop: down; and, would count his children-one —two-stop, and pressing his hand, whispered an assurance to him go back, and begin again in the same way. that he knew he could trust him with his child But this was when his tmind was in its most when he was'dead. distracted state. In all the other phases of, its -It chanced one evening, towards sunset, when illness and in'those to which it was most con- Florence. and Walter were' sitting in his room f4t 701DOAfBE Y AND SON.: Together,'as he'liked to see them, that Florence, which' was always a gentleman's, in spite of the having her' baby in her. arms, began in a low harmless little eccentricities that attachedl to it voice to sing to' the little fellow, and sang the -and from Walter's manner no less, that someold tune she had so often sung to the dead child. thing more immediately tending to some object -He' could:nof bear it at the time; he held up was to follow this. his trembling hand, imploring her to stop; but "I have been' mentioning to my friend.MTr. next day he asked her to repeat it. and to do so Gay, if I may be allowed to have the honour of often of an evening: xwhich she did.' He listen- calling him so," said Cousin Feenix, " that, am ing, with his face turned. away. rejoiced to hear that my friend Dombey is very Florence was sitting on a certain time by his decidedly mending. I trust my friend Domwindo.wr, with her.work-basket between her and bey will not allow his mind to be. too much her old attendant, who was still her faithful con- preyed upon by any mere loss of fortune. I canpanion. He had. fallen into a doze. It was a not say that I have ever experienced any very beautiful: evening, with,'two hours of.light to great loss of fortune myself: never having had. come yet; and the. tranquillity and quiet made in point of fact, any great amount of fortune to Florence very thoughtful. She was' 4ost to lose. But as much as I could lose. I have lost; everything for the moment, but the'occasion and I don't find that I particularly care about when the so-altered figure on the bed had first it. I know my friend Dombey to be a devilish presented her to her beautiful mamma; when a honourable man; and it's calculated to console touch firom Walter, leaning on the.back of her myfriend Dombey very much to know that this is chair, made her start. the universal sentiment. Even Tommy crewzer My dear," said Walter, "there is some one -a man, of an extremely bilious habit, with down-stairs who wishes to speak to you." whom my friend Gay is probably acquaintedShe fancied Walter looked grave,/aid asked cannot say a syllable in disputation of the bim if anything had happened. fact." " No, no,. my love " said Walter. "' I have Florence felt, more than ever, that there was seen the gentleman myself, -and spoken with something to come; and looked earnestly for it. him. Nothing has happened. Will you come?" So earnestly, that Cousin Feenix answered as if Florence put her arm through his- and con- she had spoken. fding. her father to the black-eyed Mrs. Toots, " The fact is," said Cousin Feenix, " that my who sat as brisk and smart at her work as black- friend Gay and myself have been discussing the eyed woman could, accompanied her husband propriety of entreating a favour at your hands; down-stairs. In the pleasant little parlour open- and that I have the consent of my friend Gaying on the garden sat a gentleman, who rose to wlh has met me in an exceedingly kind and advance towards her when she. came in, but open manner, for which I am very much iltrrned off, by reason of some peculiarity in his debted to him-to solicit it. I am sensible that legs, and was only stopped by the table. so amiable a lady as the lovely and accomplished Florence then.remembered Cousin Feenix, daughter of my friend Dombey will not require rwhom she. had not at first recognised in the much urging; but I am happy to know that I shade of the leaves. Cousin Feenix took her am supported by my frienq Gay's influence alld hand, and congratulated her upon her marriage. approval. As, in my parliamentary time, when "I could have wished, I am sure," said Cousin.a man had a motion to make of any sort-which teenix, sitting down as Florence sat, "to have happened seldom in those days, for -we were kept had an earlier opportunity of offering my con- very tight in hand, the leaders on both sides gratulations;. but, in point of fact,'so many pain- being regular martinets, which was a devilish ful occurrences have happened, treading, as.a good thing for the rank and file, like myself, and man'.may say, on one another's heels, that I prevented our exposing ourselves continually, as have been in a devil of a state myself, and per- a great many of us had a feverish anxiety to do footly unfit for every description ofsociety.. The -as, in my parliamentary time, I was about to only description of society I have kept has been -say, when a man had.leave to let off any little my own; and it certainly is anything but flatter- private pop-gun, it was always considered a great in.g to a man's.good opinion of his own resources point for him'to say that he had the happiness to know that, in point of fact, he has the capa- of believing that his sentiments were not without city of boring himself.'to a perfectly unlimited an echo in the breast of Mr. Pitt; the pilot, in.xtent.", point of fact, who had weathered the storm. Florence divined, from some indefinable con- Upon which, a devilish large number of fellows traint and anxiety in this gentleman's manner- immediately cheered,' and put him in spirits, COUSiV FEENIX7XTAKiES THE YOULiNG COUPLE fiOR A DRIVE. 441 Though the fact is, that these fellows, being look that was a little alarmed, but perfectly conunder orders to cheer most excessively whenever fiding, left the room. Mr. Pitt's name was mentioned, became so pro- When she came back, ready to bear them ficient that it always woke'ern. And they were company, they were taiking together gravely at so entirely innocent of what was going on, the window; and Florence could not but wonotherwise, that it used to be commonly said by der what the topic was that had made thexm so Conversation Brown-four-bottle man at the well acquainted in so short a time. She did not Treasury Board, with whom the father of my wonder at the look of pride and love with which friend Gay was probably acquainted, for it was her husband broke off as she entered: for she before my friend Gay's time-that if a man had never saw him but that rested on her. risen in his place, and said that he regretted to "I will leave," said Cousin Feenix, "a card inform the House.that there was an honourable for my friend Dombey, sincerely trusting that he member in the last stage of convulsions in the. will pick up health and strength with every reLobby, and that the honourable member's name turning hour. And I hope-.my friend' Dombey was Pitt. the approbation.would have been voci- will do me the favour to consider me a man who ferous." has a devilish warm admiration of his c'aracter, This postponement of the point put lorence as, in point of fact, a British merchant and a in a flutter; and she looked from Cousin Feenix devilish upright gentleman. My place in the to Walter, in increasing agitation. country is in a most confounded state of dilapi"My love," said Walter, "there is nothing dation, but if my friend Dombey should require the matter." a change of air, and would take up his quarters "There is nothing the matter, upon my ho- there, he would find it a remarkably healthy spot nour," said Cousin Feenix; " and I am deeply -as it need be, for it's amazingly dull. If my distressed at being the means of causing you a friend Dombey suffers from bodily weakness, moment's uneasiness. I beg to assure you that and would allow me to recommend what has there is nothing the matter. The favour that I frequently done myself good, as a man who has have to ask is, simply-but it really does seem been extremely queer at times, and who lived so exceeding singular, that I should be in the pretty freely in the days when men lived very last degree obliged to my friend Gay if he would freely, I should say, let-it be, in point of fact, the have the goodness to break the-in-point of fact, yolk of an egg, beat up with sugar and nutmeg, the ice," said Cousin Feenix. in a glass of sherry, and taken in the morning, Walter, thus appealed to, and appealed to no with a slice of dry toast. Jackson, who kept the less in the look that Florence turned towards boxing-rooms in Bond Street-man of very supehim, said rior qualifications, with whose reputation my "My dearest, it is no more than this. That friend Gay is no doubt acquainted-used to you will ride to London with this gentleman, mention that in training for the ring they subwhom you know." stituted. rum for sherry. I should recommend " And my friend Gay also-I beg your par- sherry in this case, on account of my friend don! " interrupted Cousin Feenix. Dombey being in an invalided condition; which "-And with me-and make a, visit some- might occasion rum to fly-in point of fact, where." to his head-and throw him into a devil of a "To whom?" asked Florence, looking from state.".one to the other. Of all this Cousin Feenix delivered himself "If I might entreat,"'said Cousin Feenix, with an obviously nervous and discomposed air. "that you would not press for an answer to that' Then, giving his arm to Florence, and putting question, I would venture to take the liberty of the strongest possible constraint upon his wilful making the request." legs, which seemed determined to go out into " Do you know, Walter?" said Florence. the garden, he led her' to the door, and handed "Yes." her into a carriage that was ready for her recep. "And think it right?" tior'. "Yes. Only because I am sure that you Walter entered after him, and they drove would, too. Though there may be reasons I away. very well understand, which make it better that Their ride was six or eight miles long.' When nothing more should be said beforehand." they drove. through certain dull and stately " If papa is still asleep, or can spare me'if he streets, lying westward in London, it was grows awake, I will go immediately," said Florence. ing dusk. Florence had, by this time, put her \nd rising quietly, and glancing at them with a hand in Walter's; and was, looking very ear 442 DO$MBEY AND SON. nestly, and with increasing agitation, into every am-come from papa's sick bed.: We are never new street into which they turned..asunder now; we never shall be any more. It When tie carriage stopped, at last, before that you would have me ask his pardon,-I will do it, house in Brook Street, where her father's un- mamma. I am almost sure he will grant it now; happy marriage had been celebrated, Florence if I ask him. May Heaven grant it to vou too. said, Walter, what is this? Who is here?" and comfort you " Walter cheering her, and not replying, she She answered not a word. glanced up at the house-front, and saw that all "Walter-I am married to him, and we have the windows were slht, as if it were uninhabited. a son," said Florence timidly-" is at the door, Cousin Feenix had by this time alighted, and and has brought me here. I will tell him that was offering his hand. you are repentant; that you are changed," said "Are you not coming, Walter?" Florence, looking mournfully upon her; "and "No, I will remain here. Don't tremble 1 he will speak to papa with me, I know. - Is there there is nothing to fzar, dearest Florence." anything but this that I can do?" " I know that, Walter, with you so near. I Edith, breaking her silence without moving am sure of that, but " eye or limb, answered slowly: The door was softly opened without any knock, " The stain upon your name, upon your husand Cousin Feenix led her out of the summer — band's, on your child's. Will that ever be forevening air into the close dull house. More given, Florence?" sombre and brown than ever, it seemed to have "Will it ever be, mamma? It is! Freely, freely, been shut up from the wedding-day, and to have both by Walter and by me. If that is any conhoarded darkness and sadness ever since. solation to you, there is nothing that you may Florence ascended the dusky staircase trem- believe more certainly. You do not-you do bling; and stopped with her conductor at the not," faltered Florence, "speak of papa; but I drawing-room door.'. He opened it without am sure you wish that I should ask him for his speaking, and signed an entreaty to her to forgiveness. I am sure you do." advance into the inner room, while he remained She answered not a word. there. Florence, after hesitating an instant, com- "I will! " said Florence. " I will bring it plied. you, if you will let me; and then, perhaps, re Sitting by the window at a table, where she may take leave of each other more like what we seemed to have been writing or drawing, was a used to be to one another. I have.not," said lady, whose head, turned away towards the dying Florence very gently, and drawing nearer to her, light, was resting on her hand. Florence ad- "I have not shrunk back from you, nmanmma vancing, doubtfully, all at once stood still, as if because I fear you, or because I dread to be she had lost the power of motion. The lady disgraced by you. I only wish to do my duty turned her head. to papa. I am very dear to him, and he is very "Great Heaven!" she said, "what is this?" dear to me. But I never can forget that you " No, no!" cried Florence, shrinking back as were very good to me. Oh, pray to Heaven," she rose up, and putting out her hands to keep cried Florence, falling on her bosom, "pray to her off. " Mamma!" Heaven, mamma, to forgive you all this. sin and They stood looking at each other. Passion shame, and to forgive me if I cannot help doing and pride had worn it, but it was the face of this (if it is wrong), when I, remember what vot Edith, and beautiful and stately yet. It was the used to be!" lace of Florence, and, through all the terrified Edith, as if she fell beneath her touch, sunk avoidance it expressed, there was pity in it, down on her knees, and caught her round. the sorrow, a grateful tender memory. On each neck. face wonder and fear were painted vivklly "Florence,!" she cried. " My better angel! each. so still and silent, looking at the other Before I am mad again, before my stubbornness over the black gulf of the irrevocable past. comes back and strikes me dumb, believe me, Florence was the first to change. Bursting upon my soul, I am innocent." into tears, she said, from her full heart, " Oh, " Mamma! " mamma, mamma! why do we meet like this? "Guilty of much! - Guilty of that which sets Why were you ever kind to me when there was a waste betweentus evermore.'Guilty of what no one else, that we should meet like this?" must separate me, through the whole remainder Edith stood before her, dumb- ahd motionless.. of my life, from purity and innocence-from you, Her eyes were fixed upon her face. of allthe earth. Guilty of a blind and passionate " I dare not think of that," said Florence. " I esentment, of which I do not, cannt, -will not, COUSIN FEENIX RAMABLES ON. 443 even now, repent, but not guilty with that dead Edith, who had taken Florence to a sofa, made man. Before God " a gesture with her hand, as if she would have Upon her knees upon the ground, she held begged him to say no more. up both her hands and swore it. "My lovely and accomplished relative," re" Florence-!" she said, "purest and best of sumed Cousin Feenix, still ambling about at the natures-whom I love-who might have changed door, " will excuse me if, for her satisfaction and me long ago, and did for a time work some my own, and that of my friend Dombey, whose change even in the woman that I am-believe lovely and accomplished daughter we so much me, I am innocent of that; and once more, on admire, I complete the thread of my observations. my desolate heart, let me lay this dear'head, for She will remember that, from the first, she and I the last time!" have never alluded to the subject of her elopeShe was moved and weeping. Had she been ment. My impression, certainly, has always oftener thus in older days, she had been happier been that there was a mystery in the affair which now. she could explain, if so inclined. But'my. lovely "There is nothing else in all the world," she and accomplished relative being a devilish resosaid, " that would have wrung denial from me. lute woman, I knew that she was not, in point No love, no hatred, no hope, no threat. I said of fact, to be trifled with, and therefore did not that I would die, and make no sign; I could involve myself in any discussions. But, observing have done so, and I would, if we had never met, lately that her accessible point did appear to be Florence." a very strong description of tenderness for' the "I trust," said Cousin Feenix, ambling in at daughter of my friend Dombey, it occurred to the door, and speaking half in the room; and me that if I could bring about a meeting, unexhalf out of it, " that my lovely and accomplished- pected on both sides, it might lead to beneficial relative will excuse my having, by a little stra- results. Therefore, we being in London, in the tagem, effected this meeting. I cannot say that present-private way, before going to the South I was, at first, wholly incredulous as to the pos- of Italy, there to establish ourselves, in point of sibility of my lovely and accomplished relative fact, until we go to our long homes, which is a having, very unfortunately, committed herself devilish disagreeable reflection for a man, 1 with the deceased person with white teeth; applied myself to the discovery of the residence because, in point of fact, one does see, in this of my friend Gay-handsome man, of an uncomworld-which is remarkable for devilish strange monly frank disposition, who is probably known arrangements, and for being decidedly the most to my lovely and accomplished relative-and unintelligible thing within a man's experience- had the happiness of bringing his amiable wife very odd conjunctions of that sort. But, as I to the present place. And now," said Cousin mentioned to my friend Dombey, I could not Feenix, with a real and genuine earnestness admit the criminality of my lovely and accom- shining through the levity of his manner and his plished relative'until it was perfectly established, slipshod speech, " I do conjure my relative not And feeling, when the deceased person was, in to stop half-way, but to set right, as far as she point of fact, destroyed in a devilish horrible can, whatever she has done wrong-not for the manner, that her position was a very painful one honour of her family, not for her own fame, not -and feeling, besides, that our family had been for any of those considerations which unfortunate a little to blame in not paying more attention to circumstances have induced her to regard as her, and that we are a careless family-and also hollow, and, in point of fact, as approaching to that my aunt, though a devilish lively woman, humbug-but because it is wrong, and not had perhaps not been the very best of mothers right.' -I took the liberty of seeking her in France, Cousin Feenix's legs consented to take him and offering her — ch protection as a man very away after this; and leaving them alone together, much out at elbows could offer. Upon which he shut the door. occasion my lovely and accomplished relative'Edith remained silent for some minutes, with did me the honour to express that she believed Florence sitting close beside her. Then she I was, in my way, a devilish good sort of fellow; took fiom her bosom a sealed paper. and that therefore she put herself under my pro- " I debated with myself a long time," she said tection. Which, in point of fact, I understood in a low voice, "whether to write this at all, in to be a kind thing on the part of my lovely and case of dying suddenly or by accident, and feelaccomplished relative, as I am getting extremely ing the want of it upon me. I have deliberated, shaky, and have derived great comfort from her ever since, when and how to destroy it. Take solicitude." it, Florence. The' truth is. written in it;" 444 DOMBEY AND SOS. " Is it for papa?" asked Florence. fortune; he has been at the point of death; he " It is for whom you will," she answered. " It may not recover, even now. Is there any word is given to you, and is obtained by you. He that I shall say to him from you?".never could have had it otherwise." "Did you tell me," asked Edith, " that you Again they sat silent in the deepening darkness. were very dear to him?" "Mamma," said Florence, "he has lost his "Yes!" said Florence in a thrilling voice. 0 _ a Tell him if he asks, i that I do not repent of her. what I have done-not yet-for if it were to do "-But that, being a changed man, he knows, again to-morrow, I should do it.'But if he is a now, it would never be. Tell him I wish it never changed man —" had been." COUSIN FEEN2IX HAS THE HEART,F A GENTLEMAN. 445 "May I say," said Florence, " that you grieved a blessing on your head! My own dear Floto hear of the afflictions he has suffered?" rence, my sweet girl, farewell! " "Not,"' she replied, " if they have taught him "To meet again 1" cried Florence. that his daughter is very dear to him. He will "Never again! Never again!.When you not grieve for them. himself, one day, if they leave me in this dark room, think that you have have brought that lesson, Florence." left me in the grave. Remember only that I "You wish well to him, and would have him was once, and that I loved you! " happy. I am sure you would!" said Florence. And Florence left her, seeing her face no more, "Oh! let me be able, if I have the occasion at but accompanied by her embraces.and caresses some future time, to say so " to the last. Edith sat with her dark eyes gazing steadfastly. Cousin Feehix met her at- the door, and took before her, and did not reply until Florence had her down'to Walter in the dingy dining-room, repeated her entreaty; when she drew her hand upon whose shoulder she laid her head, weephig. within her arm, and said, with the same thought- "I am devilish sorry," said Cousin Feenix, ful gaze upon the night outside: lifting his wristbands to his eyes in the simplest "Tell him that if, in his own present, he can manner possible, and without -the least conceal. find any reason to compassionate my past, I sent ment, " that the lovely and accomplished daughword that I asked him to do so. Tell him that ter of my friend Dombey and amiable wife of if, in his own present, he can find a reason to my friend Gay, should have had her sensitive think less bitterly of me, I asked him to do so. nature so very much distressed and cut.up by Tell him that, dead, as we are to one another, the interview which is just concluded. But I never more to meet on this side of eternity, he hope and trust I have acted for the best, and knows there is one feeling in common between that my honourable friend Dombey will find his us now, that there never was before." mind relieved by the disclosures which have Her sternness seemed to yield, and there were taken place. I exceedingly lament that my tears in her dark eyes. friend Dombey should have got himself, in point' I trust myself to that," she said,'for his of fact, into the devil's own state of conglobetter thoughts of me, and mine of him. When meration by an alliance with our family; but he loves his Florence most, he will hate me am strongly of opinion that if it hadn't been for least. When he is most proud and happy in the infernal scoundrel Barker-man with white her and her children, he will be most repentant teeth-everything would have gone on pretty of his own part in the dark vision of our married smoothly. In regard to my relative who does life. At that time I will be repentant too-let me the honour to have formed an uncommonly him know.it then-and think that when I thought good opinion of myself, I can assure the amiable so much of all the causes that had made me wife of my friend Gay that she may rely on my what I was, I needed to have allowed more for being, in point of fact, a father to'her. And in the causes that had made him what he was. I regard to the changes of human' life, and the will try, then, to forgive him his share of blame. extraordinary manner in which we are perpe, Let him try to forgive me mine!" tually conducting ourselves, all I can say iswith "Oh, mamma!" said. Florence, "how it my friend Shakspeare-man who wasn't for an lightens my heart, even in such a meeting and age, but for all time, and with whom my friend parting, to hear this!" Gay is no doubt acquainted-that it's like the " Strange words in my own ears," said Edith, shadow of a dream." "and foreign to the sound of my own voice! But even if I had been the wretched creature I have given him occasion to believe.me, I think CHAPTER LXII. I.could have said them still, hearing that you and he were very dear to one another. Let FItAL. him, when you are dearest, ever feel that he is BOTTLE that has been long exmost forbearing in his thoughts of me-that I cluded from the light of day, and is am most forbearing in my thoughts of him! hoary with dust and cobwebs, has Those are the last words I send him! Now. been brought into the sunshine; and good-bye, my life!" (J the golden wine within it sheds a She clasped her in her arms, and seemed to lustre on the table. pour out all her woman's soul of love and ten- It is the. last bottle of the. old derness at once. madeira. "This kiss for your child!,These kisses for "You are quite riAt Mr. Gills," says Mr. 440 DZOMIf'S EY AWD SON.i T)ombey. This iS a ery rare and most deli- -'sister and her husband, they participate in that cous inS W.i "retirement:. Walter sees them sometimes —FloThe- alptain;'wlb ihoi'of t-he party, beams with rence too-and the pleasant house resounds joy. -Ther is a very halo of delight round his with profound duets arranged for the pianoforte glowing foreheadi and violoncello, and with the labours of Har-'i We alway prltmnlsed ourselves, sir," observes'monious Blacksmiths. AMrI Gills, "Ned and myself, I.mean-" And how goes the Wooden Midshipman in Mr. Dombey.nods at the captain, who shines these changed days? Why,. here he still is, more and more vrith speechless gratification. right leg foremost, hard at work upon the hack-; ":-That -we'tould drink, this, one day or ney coaches, and more on the alert than ever, other,' to Walter safe at home: though such a being newly painted, from his cocked-hat to his home we never thought of. If you don't object buckled shoes; ahd up above him, in golden to our old whim, sir, let us devote this first glass characters, these names shine refulgent, GI.LS to. Walter and his wife." AND CUTTLE. "To Walter and his wife!" says Mr. Dombey. Not another stroke of business &des the MidI' Floren6e,'my child-'-" and turns to kiss her. shipman achieve beyond his usual easy tradei - -',To Walter and his wife!" says Mr. Toots. But they do say, in a circuit of some half-mile'' To Wal'r and his wife! exclaims the cap- round the blue umbrella in Leadenhall Market, fain.:"Hooroar!", and the captain exhibiting that some of Mr. Gills's old investments are a strong desire to clink his glass against some coming out wonderfully well; and that instead other glass, Mr. Dombey, with a ready hand, of being behind the time in those respects,as he holdsout his.:.; The: others follow;. and there is supposed, he was, in truth, a little before it, and ~ blithe and merry ringing, as of a little peal of had to wait the fulness of the time and the marriage bells. design. The whisper is that Mr. Gills's money Other buried wine grows older, as the old lias begun to turn Itself; and that it is turning madeira did in its time; and dust and cobwebs itself over and over pretty briskly. Certain it is thicken on the bottles. that, standing at his shop-door, in his coffeeMr. Dombey is a white-haired gentleman, coloured suit, with his chronometer in his pocket, whose face bears heavy marks of care and suffer- and his spectacles on his forehead, he don't ing; but they are traces of a storm that has appear to break his heart at customers not compassed on for ever, and left a clear evening in ing, but looks very jovial and contented, though its track. full as misty as of yore. Ambitious projects trouble him no more. His As to his partner, Captain Cuttle, there is a only pride is in his daughter and her husband. fiction of a business in the captain's mind which He has a silent, thoughtful, quiet manner, and is better than any reality. The captain is as is always with his daughter. Miss Tox is not satisfied of the Midshipman's importance to the mifrequently of the family party, and is quite commerce and navigation of the country as he devoted to it, and a great favourite. Her admi could possibly be, if no ship left the Port of Lonration of her once stately patron is, and has been don without the Midshipman's assistance. His ever since the morning of her shock in Princess's delight in his own name over the door is inexPlace,.Platonic; but not weakened in the least.' haustible. He crosses the street twenty times Nothing has drifted to him, from the wreck of a day, to look'at it from the other side of the his fortunes, but a certain annual sum that comes way; and invariably says, on, these occasions, he knows not how, with an earnest entreaty that " Ed'ard Cuttle, my lad, if your mother could he will not seek to discover, and with the assur- ha' knowed as-you would ever be a man o' ance that it is a debt, and an act of reparation. science, the' good old creetur would ha' been He has consulted with his old clerk about this, took aback in-deed! " who is clear it may be honourably accepted, and But here is Mr. Toots descending on the Midhas n'o doubt it arises out of some.forgotten shipman with violent rapidity, and Mr. Toots's transaction in the times of the old House. face is very red as he bursts into the little parlour.'That hazel-eyed bachelor, a bachelor no more, "Captain Gills," says Mr. Toots, "and Mr. is married now, and to the sister of the grey- Sols, I am happy to inform you that Mrs. Toots haired- junior. He visits his old chief'some- has had an increase to he! family." times; but seldom. There is a reason in the "And it does her credit!" cries the captain. grey-haired junior's history, an4 yet a stronger "I give you joy. Mr. Toots " says old Sol. reason in his name, why he should keep retired "Thankee." chuckles Mr. Toots, "I'm very from his old employer; and,, as he lives with his much obliged to you. I knew that you'd be JMRS. TOOTS DISTINGUISHES HERSELF. 447 glad to Lear, and so I came down myself. We're sex. What is her observation upon that? The positivelygettingon,yrou know. There'sFlorence, perfection of sense.' My dear, you're right. I and Susan, and now here's another little stranger." think so too.'" " A female stranger?" inquires the captain. " And so do I!" says the captain. "Yes, Captain Gills," says Mr. Toots; "and "So do I," says Sol Gills. I'm glad of it. The oftener we can repeat that Then," resumes Mr. Toots after some conmost extraordinary woman, my opinion is, the, templative pulling at his pipe, during which his better!" visage has expressed the most contented reflec".Stand by!" says the captain, turning to the tion, " what an observant woman my awife is! did case-bottle with no throat-for it is evening, What. sagacity she possesses! What remarks and the Midshipman's usual moderate provision she makes! It was only last night, when we of pipes and glasses is on the board. " Here's were sitting in the.enjoyment of connubial bliss to her, and may she have ever so many more I" -which, upon my word and honour,is a feeble " Thankee, Captain Gills," says the delighted term to express my feelings in the society of my Mr. Toots. "I echo the sentiment. If you'll wife-that she said how remarkable it- was to allow me, as my so doing cannot be unpleasant consider the present position of our friend VWalto anybody, under the circumstances, I think ters.' Here,' observes my wife,'he-is, released I'll take a pipe." from sea-going, after that first long voyage with Mr. Toots begins to smoke accordingly, and his young bride'-as you know he was, Mr. in the openness of his heart is very loquacious. Sols." " Of all the remarkable instances that that " Quite trde," says the old instrument-maker, delightful woman has given of her excellent sense, rubbing his hands. Captain Gills and Mr. Sols," says Toots, "I "' Here he is,' says my wife,'released from think none is more remarkable than the perfec- that immediately; appointed by the same estation with which she has understood my devotion blishment to a post of great trust and confidence to Miss Dombey." at home, showing himself again worthy; mountBoth his auditors assent.!,g up the ladder with the greatest expedition; " Because, you know," says Mr. Toots, "I beloved by everybody; assisted by his uncle at have never changed my sentiments towards Miss the very best possible tirre of his fortunes'Dombey. They are the same as ever. She is which I think is the case, Mr. Sols. My wife is the same bright vision to me, at present, that always correct." shle was before I made Walters's acquaintance. "Why, yes, yes-some of our lost ships, When Mrs. Toots and myself first began to talk freighted with gold, have come home, truly," of-in short, of the tender passion, you know, returns old Sol, laughing. "Small craft, Mr. Captain Gills —" Toots, but serviceable to my boy!" "Ay, ay, my lad," says the captain, " as makes "Exactly so!" says Mr. Toots. " You'll never us all slue round-for which you'll overhaul the find my wife wrong. ~'Here he is,' says that book-" most remarkable woman,'so situated,-and what " I shall certainly do so,, Captain Gills," said follows? What follows?' observed Mrs. Toots. Mr. Toots with great earnestness. "When we Now pray remark, Captain Gills, and'Mr. Sols, first began to mention such subjects, I explained the depth of my wife's penetration.' Why, that, that I was what you may call a blighted flower, under the very eye of Mr. Dombey, there is a you know." foundation going on, upon which a-an Edifice' The captain approves of this figure greatly; and -that was Mrs. Toots's word," says Mr. Toots murmurs that no flower as blows is like the rose. exultingly-"'is gradually rising, perhaps to "But Lord bless me," pursues Mr. Toots, equal, perhaps'excel, that of which he was once " she was as entirely conscious of the state of the head, and the small beginnings of which (a my feelings as I was myself. There was nothing common fault, but a bad one, Mrs. Toots said) I could tell her.'She was the only person who escaped his memory. Thus,' said my wife, could have stood between me and the silent'from:his daughter, after all, another Dombey tomb, and she did it, in a manner to command and Son will ascend'-no'rise;' that was Mrs. my everlasting admiration. She knows that Toots's word-' triumphant'" there's nobody in the world I look up to as I do Mr. Toots, with the assistance of his pipeto Miss Dombey. She knows that there's no- which he is extremely glad to devote to oratothing on earth I wouldn't do for Miss Dombey. rical purposes, as its proper use affects him with She knows that I consider her the most beauti- a very uncomfortable sensation-does such grand ful, the most amiable, the most angelic of her justice to this prophetic sentence of his wife's, 448, DOMBEYAND SON. that the captain, throwing away his glazed hat.in are old you will never depart from it?' Was it a state of the greatest excitement, cries: them words, Sol Gills?" "Sol Gills, you man of science, and my ould "It certainly was, Ned," replied the old inpardner, what did I-tell Wal'r to overhaul on strument-maker. "I remember well." that there night when he first took to business? "Then I tell you what," says the captain, Was it this here quotation," Turn again Whit- leaning back in his chair, and composing his tington, Lord Mayor of London, and when you chest for a prodigious roar. " I'll give you CAPTAIN CUTTLE GIVES THEM THE LOVELY PEG. Lovely Peg right through; and stand by, both Autumn days are shining, and on ft.C.aon you, for the chorus!" beach there are often a young lady and a whitehaired gentleman. With them, or near them, Buried wine grows older, as the old madeira are two children: boy and girl. And an old did in its time; and dust and cobwebs thicken dog is generally in their company. on the bottles. The white-haired gentleman walks with the LITTLE FLORENCE. 449 little boy, talks with him, helps hirri in his play, But no one, except Florence, knows the attends upon him, watches him, as if he were'mneasure of the white-haired gentleman's affecthe object of his life. If he is thoughtful, the tion for the girl. That story never goes about. white-haired gentleman is thoughtful too; and The cnild herself almost wonders at a certain sometimes when the child is sitting by his side, secrecy he keeps in it, He hoards her in his and looks up in his face, asking him questions, he heart.. He cannot bear to see a cloud upon takes the tiny hand in his, and holding it, forgets her face. He cannot bear to see her sit apart. to answer. Then th3 child says,." What, grand- He fancies that she feels a slight when there papa, am I so like my poor little uncle again?" is none. He steals away to look at her in "Yes, Paul. But he was weak, and you are her sleep. It pleases him to have her come ver) strong." and wake him in the morning. He is fondest " Ohyes, I am very strong! "of her, and most loving to her, when there is "And he lay on a little bed beside the sea, no creature by. The child says then, someand you can run about.". times: And so they range away again busily, for the " Dear grandpapa, why do you cry when you white-haired gentleman likes best to see the kiss me?" child free and stirring; and, as they go about He only answers; "Little Florence! Little together, the story of the bond between them Florence!" and smooths away the curls that goes about, and follows them. shade her earnest eyes. DOMBEY AND SON, 20. 370 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER BY CHARLES DICKENS WITH TWENTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. G. DALZIEL. CONTENTS. CHAP, PAGE CHAP. PAOE I.-His General Line of Business.. XIX.-Birthday Celebrations.. 92 II.-The Shipwreck.... 2 XX.-Bound for the Great Salt Lake... 97 III-Wapping Workhouse.. 8 XXI. —The City of the Absent... I03 IV.-Two Views of a Cheap Theatre..14 XXII.-An Old Stage-coaching House I07 V.-Poor Mercantile Jack.. 20 XXIII.-The Boiled Beef of New England. I r VI.-Refreshments for Travellers.. 26 XXIV.-Chatham Dockyard.,. I6 VII.-Travelling Abroad. *.. 3 XXV. —In the French-Flemish Country.I21 VIII;-The Great Tasmania's Cargo.. 35 XXVI.-Medicine Men of Civilisation.. 26 IX.-City of London Churches. 40 XXVII.-Titbull's Almshouses...130 X.-Shy Neighbourhoods.. 45 XXVIII. —The Italian Prisoner...35 XI.-Tramps..... 50 XXIX.-The Short-Timers.. I41 XII.-Dullborough Town.. 56 XXX.-A Small Star in the East.. 146 XIII.-Night Walks...... 6 XXXI.-Aboard Ship..... 152 XIV.-Chambers......65 XXXII.-A Little Dinner in an Hour.. 57 XV.-Nurses' Stories.... 2 XXXIII.-Mr. Barlow..... XVI.-Arcadian London... 78 XXXIV.-On an Amateur Beat..64 XVII.-The Calais Night Malu.. 82 XXXV.-A Plea for Total Abstinence.. 68 KVIII.-Some Recollections of Mortality..87 XXXVI.-The Ruffian... 170 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.'I MR. GRAZINGLANDS LOOKED IN AT A PASTRYCOOK'S WINDOW, HESITATING AS TO THE EXPEDIENCY. OF LUNCHING AT THAT ESTABLISHMENT".... Frontispiece " BLINKING OLD MEN, WHO ARE LET OUT OF WORKHOUSES BY THE HOUR, HAVE A TENDENCY TO SIT ON BITS OF COPING-STONE IN THESE CHURCHYARDS..... THE MORE DEPRESSED CLASS OF BEGGARS, TOO, BRING HITHER BROKEN MEATS, AND MUNCH"'.... To face age 0o5 ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT. PAGE PAGO Vignette. "Then dropped upon her knees before us, with protestations that we were right"... 92 "Saw from the ladder's elevation, as he looked down by chance towards the shore, some dark "On the starboard side of the ship a grizzled man troubled object close in with the land".. I dictated a long letter to another grizzled man in an immense fur cap ".... lO "Stood, a creature remotely in the likeness of a youn' man, with a puffed sallow face, and a Mr. J. Mellows....I2 figure all dirty and shiny and slimy, who may have been the youngest son of his filthy old Building H.M.S. Achilles..... 20 father, Thames"...... I2, At the station they had been sitting about in their A Cheap Theatre, Sunday Night.. 7 threadbare homespun blue garments... " Bags to hold your money," says the witch, shakingsad enough at heart most of them". 128 her head, and setting her teeth; " you as has It was agreed that Mr. Battens' ought' to take it got it". 25 up,' and Mr. Battens was communicated with " The tall glazed head-dress of this warrior Strau- on the subject" 1.... 36 denheim instantly knocked off" 36 denheim instaly knocked off". 36 "At the upper end of this dungeon.... the " He was taken into custody by the police "..48 Englishman first beheld him, sitting on an iron bedstead, to which he was chained by a heavv "Then you're a tramp," he ses. "I'd rather be chained a heay 9 that than a beadle," I ses.... 56 cn A I. rd tnig " " a "Trotting about among the beds, on familiar terms "Am I red to-night?" "You are," he uncom" A m I red to-nightn?" "e You are," h e uncom-with all the patients, was a comical mongrel promisingly answered..... 68 dog, called Poodles"..52 "^Drop of somethinik to drink," interposed the " Over the grog, mixed in a bucket, presides the stranger. "I am agreeable"' 72 boatswain's mate"... 56 " A.lemon has pips, and a yard has ships, and'll "This engagig figure approached the fatal "1 This engaging figure approached the fatal have Chips"..,. 76 l lamps" 65 "'The wind'blows stiffly from the nor'-east,' "Look at this group at a street coner. 173'"Look at this group at a street corner " 17 and the shapeless passengers lie about in melancholy bundles"...84 " And White Riding Hood was fined ten shillings".r74 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. j~I.~ ~ ~set apart for me, no house of public entertainment in the United Kingdom greatly cares for HIS GENERAL LINE OF BUSINESS. my opinion of its brandy or sherry. When I go,.?"^~*-%.4~/<3 wupon my journeys, I am not usually rated at a q'<3_ LLOW me to introduce myself-first low figure in the bill; when I come home from negatively. my journeys, I never get any commission. 1., No landlord is my friend and know nothing about prices, and should have no 3g brother, no chambermaid loves me, idea, if I were put to it, how to wheedle a man no waiter worships me, no boots ad- into ordering something he doesn't want. As a mires and envies me. No round of town traveller, I am never to be seen driving a beef or tongue or ham is expressly vehicle externally like a young and volatile'~~ cooked for me, no pigeon-pie is espe- pianoforte van, and internally like an oven. in cially made for me, no hotel advertisement is which a number of flat boxes are baking in personally addressed to me, no hotel-room tapes- layers. As a country traveller, I am rarely to be tried with great-coats and railway wrappers is found in a gig, and am never to be encountered THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, I.319' 2 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. by a pleasure train, waiting on the platform of a spot. Yet, I had never seen it in my life a branch station, quite a Druid in the midst of a minute before, and had traversed two hundred light Stonehenge of samples. miles to get at it. That very morning I had And yet-proceeding now to introduce my- come bowling down, and struggling up, hillself positively-I am both a town traveller and country roads; looking back at snowy summits; a country traveller, and am always on the road. meeting courteous peasants, well to do, driving Figuratively speaking, I travel for the great fat pigs and cattle to market; noting the neat house of Human Interest Brothers, and have and thrifty dwellings, with their unusual quantity rather a large connection in the fancy-goods of clean white linen drying on the bushes; having way. Literally speaking, I am always wander- windy weather suggested by every cotter's little ing here and there from my rooms in Covent rick, with its thatch straw-ridged and extra strawGarden, London-now about the City streets: ridged into overhanging compartments like the now about the country by-roads-seeing many back of a rhinoceros. Had I not given a lift of little things, and some great things, which, be- fourteen miles to the Coast-guardsman (kit and cause they interest me, I think may interest all), who was coming to his spell of duty there, others. and had we not just now parted company? So These are my brief credentials as the Uncom- it was; but the journey seemed to glide down meicial Traveller. into the placid sea, with other chafe and trouble, and for the moment nothing was so calmly and monotonously real under the sun-light as the gentle rising and falling of the water with its -~II.~ *freight, the regular turning of the windlass aboard the Lighter, and the slight obstruction THE SHIPWRECK. so very near my feet. - R~9z~~~.~~~ Oh, reader, haply turning this page by the EVER had I seen a year going out, fireside at Home, and hearing the night wind or going on, under quieter circum- rumble in the chimney, that slight obstruction stances. Eighteen hundred and fifty was the uppermost fragment of the Wreck of the nine had but another day to live., and Royal Charter, Australian trader and passenger truly its end was Peace on that sea- ship, Homeward bound, that struck here on the shore that morning. terrible morning of the twenty-sixth of this So settled and orderly was everything October, broke into three parts, went down w seaward, in the bright light of the sun with her treasure of at least five hundred and under the transparent shadows of the clouds, human lives, and has never stirred since! that it was hard to imagine the bay otherwise, for From which point, or from which, she drove years past or to come, than it was that very day. ashore, stern foremost; on which side, or on The Tug-steamer lying a little off the shore, the which, she passed the little Island in the bay, Lighter lying still nearer to the shore, the boat for ages henceforth to be aground certain yards alongside the Lighter, the regu,..y-turning outside her; these are rendered bootless queswindlass aboard the Lighter, the methodical tions by the darkness of that night and the figures at work, all slowly and regularly heaving darkness of death. Here she went down. up and down with the breathing of the sea. all Even as I stood on the beach with the words seemed as much a part of the nature of the place "Here she went down!" in my ears, a diver, in as the tide itself. The tide was on the flow, and his grotesque dress, dipped heavily over the side had been for some two hours and a half; there of the boat alongside the Lighter, and dropped was a slight obstruction in the sea within a few to the bottom. On the shore, by the-water's yards of my feet: as if the stump of a tree, with edge, was a rough tent, made of fragments of earth enough about it to keep it from lying hori- wreck, where other divers and workmen sheltered zontally on the water, had slipped a little from themselves, and where they had kept Christmas the land; and as I stood upon the beach, and day with rum and roast beef, to the destruction observed it dimpling the light swell that was i of their frail chimney. Cast up among the coming in, I cast a. stone over it. stones and boulders of the beach were great So orderly, so quiet, so regular-the rising spars of the lost vessel, and masses of iron and falling of the Tug-steamer, the Lighter, and twisted by the fury of the sea into the strangest the boat-the turning of the windlass-the forms. The timber was already bleached, and coming in of the tide-that I myself seemed, iron rusted; and even these objects did no to my own thinking, anything but new to the violence to the prevailing air the whole scene DRIVEN ASHOREL. 3 wore, of having been exactly the same for years the Tug-steamer, where good account was taken and years. of it. So tremendous had. the force of the sea Yet, only two short months had gone since a been when it broke the ship, that it had beaten man, living on the nearest hill-top overlooking one great ingot of gold deep into a strong and the sea, being blown out of bed at about day- heavy piece of her solid iron-work: in which, break by the wind that had begun to strip his also, several loose sovereigns, that the ingot had roof off, and getting upon a ladder with his swept in before it, had been found, as firmly nearest neighbour to construct some temporary embedded as though the iron had been liquid device for keeping his house over his head, saw when they were forced there. It had been refrom the ladder's elevation, as he looked down marked of such bodies come ashore, too, as had by chahce towards the shore, some dark troubled been seen by scientific men, that they had been object close in with the land. And he and the stunned to death, and not suffocated. Observaother, descending to the beach; and finding the tion, both of the internal change that had been sea mercilessly beating over a great broken ship, wrought in them, and of their external expreshad clambered up the stony ways, like staircases sion, showed death to have been thus merciful without stairs, on which the wild village hangs and easy. The report was brought, while I was in little clusters, as fruit hangs,on boughs, and holding such discourse on the beach, that no had given the alarm. And so, over the hill- more bodies had come ashore since last night. slopes, and past the water-fall, and down the It began to be very doubtful whether many more gullies where the land drains off into the ocean, would be thrown up until the north-east winds the scattered quarrymen and fishermen inhabit- of the. early spring set in. Moreover, a great ing that part of Wales had come running to the number of the passengers, and particularly the dismal sight-their clergyman among them. second-class women passengers, were known to And as they stood in the leaden morning have been in the middle of the ship when she stricken with pity, leaning hard against the parted, and thus the collapsing wreck would wind, their breath and vision often failing as the have fallen upon them after yawning open, and sleet and spray rushed at them from the ever would keep them down. A diver made known, forming and dissolving mountains of sea, and as even then, that he had come upon the body of the wool which was a part of the vessel's cargo a man, and had sought to release it from a great blew in with the salt foam, and remained upon superincumbent weight; but that, finding he the land when the foam melted, they saw the could not do so without mutilating the remains, ship's life-boat put off from one of the heaps of he had left it where it was. wreck; and first there were three men in her,. It was the kind and wholesome face I have and in a moment she capsized, and there were made mention of, as being then beside me, that but two; and again, she was struck by a vast I had proposed to myself to see when I left mass of water, and there was but one; and home for Wales. I had heard of that clergyagain, she was thrown bottom upward, and that man, as having buried many scores of the shipone, with his arm struck through the broken wrecked people; of his having opened his planks and waving as if for the help that could house and heart to their agonised friends; of never reach him, went down into the deep. his having used a most sweet and patient It. was the clergyman himself from whom I diligence for weeks and weeks in the performheard this, while I stood on the shore, looking ance of the forlornest offices that Man can in his kind wholesome face as it turned to the render to his kind; of his having most tenderly spot where the boat had been. The divers were and thoroughly devoted himself to the dead, down then, and busy. They were " lifting " to- and to those who were sorrowing for the dead. day the gold found yesterday-some five-and- I had said to myself, " In the Christmas season twenty thousand pounds. Of three hundred and of the year, I should like to see that man!" fifty thousand pounds' worth of gold, three hun- And he had swung the gate of his little garden dred thousand pounds' worth, in round num- in coming out to meet me, not half an hour ago. bers, was at that time recovered. The great So cheerful of spirit and guiltless of affectation, bulk of the remainder was surely and steadily as true practical Christianity ever is! I read coming up. Some loss of sovereigns there more of the New Testament in the fresh franl would be, of course; Sindeed, at first, sove- face going up the village beside me, in five reigns had drifted in with the sand, and been minutes, than I have read in anathematizing scattered far and wide over the beach, like sea discourses (albeit put to press with enormous shells; but most other golden' treasure would flourishing of trumpets) in all my life. I heard be found. As it was brought up, it went aboard more of the Sacred Book in the cordial voice TIHE UNCOfMMER CAL TRA VELLER. that had nothing to say about its owner, than faces, looking for a scar, a bent finger, a crooked in all the would-be celestial pairs of bellows that toe, comparing letters sent to him with the ruin have ever blown conceit at me. about him. "My dearest brother had bright We climbed towards the little church at a grey eyes and a pleasant smile," one sister cheery pace, among the loose stones, the deep wrote. Oh, poor sister! well for you to be far mud, the wet coarse grass, the outlying water, from h'ere, and keep that as your last rememand other obstructions from which frost and brance of him! snow had lately thawed. It was a mistake (my The ladies of the clergyman's family, his wife friend was glad to tell me on the way) to suppose and two sisters-in-law, came in among the bodies that the peasantry had shown any superstitious often. It grew to be the business of their lives avoidance of the drowned; on the whole, they to do so. Any new arrival of a bereaved woman had done very well, and had assisted readily. would stimulate their pity to cpmpare the deTen shillings had been paid for the bringing of scription brought, with the dead realities. Someeach body up to the church, but the way was times they would go back able to say, " I have steep, and a horse and cart (in which it was found him," or "I think she lies there." Perhaps wrapped in a sheet)'were necessary, and three the mourner, unable to bear the sight of all that or four men, and, all things considered, it was lay in the church, would be led in blindfold. not a great price. The people were none Conducted to the spot with many compassionate the richer for the wreck, for it was the season words, and encouraged to look, she would say, of the herring shoal-and who could cast nets with a piercing cry, " This is my boy!" and for fish, and find dead men and wtomen in the drop insensible on the insensible figure. draught? He soon observed that, in some cases of He had the church keys in his hand, and women, the identification of persons, though opened the churchyard gate, and opened the complete, was quite at variance with the marks church-door; and we went in. upon the linen; this led him to notice that even It is a little church of great antiquity; there the marks upon the linen were sometimes inis reason to believe that some church has consistent with one another; and thus he came occupied the spot these thousand years or more. to understand that they had dressed in great The pulpit was gone, and other things usually haste and agitation, and that their clothes had belonging to the church were gone, owing to its become mixed together. \The identification of living congregation having deserted it for the men by their dress was rendered extremely neighbouring schoolroom, and yielded it up to difficult, in consequence of a large proportion the dead. The very Commandments had been of them being dressed alike-in clothes of one shouldered out of their places, in the bringing kind, that is to say, supplied by slop-sellers and in of the dead; the black wooden tables on outfitters, and not made by single garments, but which they were painted were askew; and on by hundreds. Many of the men were bringing the stone pavement below them, and on the over parrots, and had receipts upon them for the stone pavement all over the church, were the price of the birds; others had bills of exchange marks and stains where the drowned had been in their pockets, or in belts. Some of these laid down. The eye, with little or no aid from the documents, carefully unwrinkled and dried, were imagination, could yet see how the bodies had little less fresh in appearance that day than the been turned, and where the head had been, and present page will be, under ordinary circumwhere the feet. Some faded traces of the wreck stances, after having been opened three or four of the Australian ship may be discernible on the times. stone pavement of this little church, hundreds In that lonely place it had not been easy to of years hence, when the digging for gold in obtain even such common commodities in towns Australia shall have long and long ceased out of as ordinary disinfectants. Pitch had been burnt the land. in the church, as the readiest thing at hand, and Forty-four shipwrecked men and women lay the frying-pan in which it had bubbled over a here at one time, awaiting burial. Here with brazier of coals was still there, with its ashes. weeping and wailing in every room of his house, Hard by the Communion Table were some boots my companion worked alone for hours, solemnly that had been taken off the drowned and presurrounded by eyes that could not see him, and served-a gold-digger's boot, cut down the leg by lips that could not speak to him, patiently for its removal —a trodden-down man's ankleexamining the tattered clothing, cutting off boot with a buff cloth top-and others-soaked buttons, hair, marks from linen, anything that and sandy, weedy and salt. might lead to subsequent identification, studying From the church we passed out into the A FAITHFUL MINISTER. 5 churchyard. Here there lay, at that time, one be understood as included in the family. He hundred and forty-five bodies that had come was there, with his neatly-arranged papers, and ashore from the wreck. He had buried them, made no more account of his trouble than anywhen not identified, in graves containing four body else did. Down to yesterday's post outeach. He had numbered each body in a register ward, my clergyman alone had written one describing it, and had placed a corresponding thousand and seventy-five letters to relatives and number on each coffin, and over each grave. friends of the lost people. In the absence of Identified bodies he had buried singly, in pri- self-assertion, it was only through my noiv and vate graves, in another part of the churchyard. then delicately putting a question as the occaSeveral bodies had been exhumed from the sion arose, that I became informed of these graves of four, as relatives had come from a dis- things. It was only when I had remarked again tance and seen his register; and, when recog- and again, in the church, on the awful nature of nised, these have been reburied in private graves, the scene of death he had been required so so that the mourners might erect separate head- closely to familiarise himself with for the soothstones over the remains. In all.such cases he ing of the living, that he had casually said, withhad performed the funeral service a second time, out the least abatement of his cheerfulness, and the ladies of his house had attended. There " Indeed, it had rendered him unable for a time had been no offence in the poor ashes when to eat or drink more than a little coffee now and they were brought again to the light of day; the then, and a piece of bread." beneficent Earth had already absorbed it. The In this noble modesty; in this beautiful simdrowned were buried in their clothes. To supply plicity, in this serene avoidance of the least the great sudden demand for coffins, he had got attempt to "improve " an occasion which might all the neighbouring people handy at tools to be supposed to have sunk of its own weight into work the livelong day, and Sunday likewise. my heart, I seemed to have happily come, in a The coffins were neatly formed; I had seen few steps, from the churchyard with its open two, waiting for occupants, under the lee of the grave, which was the type of Death, to the ruined walls of a stone hut on the beach, within Christian dwelling side by side with it, which call of the tent where the Christmas Feast was was the type of Resurrection. I never shall held. Similarly, one of the graves for four was think of the former without the latter. The two lying open and ready here, in the churchyard. will always rest side by side in my memory. If So much of the scanty space was already devoted I had lost any one dear to me in this unfortuto the wrecked people, that the villagers had nate ship, if I had made a voyage from Australia begun to express uneasy doubts whether they to look at the grave in the churchyard, I should themselves could lie in their own ground, with go away thankful to GOD that that house was so their forefathers and descendants, by-and-by. close to it, and that its shadow by day and its The churchyard being but a step from the clergy- domestic lights by night fell upon the earth in man's dwelling-house, we crossed to the latter; which its Master had so tenderly laid my dear the white surplice was hanging up near the door, one's head. ready to be put on at any time, for -a funeral'the references that naturally rose out of our service. conversation to the descriptions sent down of The cheerful earnestness of this good Chris- shipwrecked persons, and to the gratitude of retian minister was as consolatory as the circum- lations and friends, made me very anxious to see stances out of which it shone were sad. I never some of those letters. I was presently seated have seen anything more delightfully genuine before a shipwreck of papers, all bordered with than the calm dismissal by himself and his house- black, and from them I made the following few hold of all they had undergone, as a simple duty extracts. that was quietly done and ended. In speaking of it, they spoke of it with great compassion for the bereaved; but laid no stress upon their own REVEREND SIR,-Amongst the many who hard share in those weary weeks, except as it perished on your shore was numbered my behad attached many people to them as friends, loved son. I was only just recovering from a and elicited many touching expressions of grati- severe illness, and this fearful affliction has tude. This clergyman's brother-himself the caused a relapse, so that I am unable at present clergyman of two adjoining parishes, who had to go to identify the remains of the loved and buried thirty-four of the bodies in his own church- lost. My darling son would have been sixteen yard, and who had done to them all that his on Christmas-day next. He was a. most amiable brother had done as to the larger number-must and obedient child, early taught the way of salTHE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 2. 320 6 ZTIlE UNCOAMMERCI4L TE'A VELLER. vation. We fondly hoped that as a British sea- connection with you, in this trial: Time may man he might be an ornament to his profession, roll on, and bear all its sons away, but your but, "it is well;" I feel assured my dear boy is name as a disinterested person will stand in now with the redeemed. Oh, he did not wish to history, and, as successive years pass, many a go this last voyage! On the fifteenth of October widow will think of your noble conduct, and the I received a lettet from him from Melbourne, tears of gratitude flow down many a cheek, the date August twelfth; he wrote in high spirits, tribute of a thankful heart, when other things and in conclusioR he says: "Pray for a fair are forgotten for ever. breeze, mamma, and I'll not forget to whistle for it I and, God permitting, I shall see you and ather wrtes all my little pets again. Good-bye, dear mother I am at a loss to find words to sufficiently -good-bye, dearest parents. Good-bye, dear express my gratitude to you for your kindness brother." Oh, it was indeed an eternal fare- to my son Richard, upon the melancholy occawell! I do not apologise for thus writing you, sion of his visit to his dear brother's body, and for oh! my heart is so very sorrowful. also for your ready attention in pronouncing our beautiful burial service over my poor unforA husband writes: tunate son's remains. God grant that your MY DEAR KIND SIR,-Will you kindly inform prayers over him may reach the Mercy-Seat, me whether there are any initials upon the ring and that his soul may be received (through and guard you have in possession, found, as the Christ's intercession) into heaven! Standard says, last Tuesday? Believe me, my His dear mother begs me to convey to you dear sir, when I say that I cannot express my her heartfelt thanks. deep gratitude in words sufficiently for your kindness to me on that fearful and appalling Those who were received at the clergyman's day. Will you tell me what I can do for you, house write thus after leaving it: and will you write me a consoling letter to pre- DEAR AND NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN FRIENDS, vent my mind from going astray? -I arrived here yesterday morning without acciA widow writes: dent, and am about to proceed to my home by railway. Left in such a state as I am, my friends and I I am overpowered when I think of you and thought it best that my dear husband should be your hospitable home. No words could speak buried where he lies, and, much as I should language suited to my heart. I refrain. God have liked to have had it otherwise, I must reward you with the same measure you have submit. I feel, from all I have heard of you, meted with! that you will see it done decently and in order. I enumerate no names, but embrace. you all. Little does it signify to us, when the soul has departed, where this poor body lies, but we who MY BELOVED FRIENDS,-This is the first day are left behind would do all we can to show how that I have been able to leave my bedroom we loved them. This is denied me, but it is since I returned, which will explain the reason God's hand that afflicts us, and I try to submit. of my not writing sooner. Some day I may be able to visit the spot, and If I could only have had my last melancholy see where he lies, and. erect a simple stone to hope realised in recovering the body of my his memory. Oh! it will be long, long before beloved and lamented son, I should have I forget that dreadful night! Is there such a returned home somewhat comforted, and I thing in the vicinity, or any shop in Bangor, to think I could then have been comparatively which I could send for a small picture of Moelfra resigned. or Llanallgo Church, a spot now sacred to me? I fear now there is but little prospect, and I mourn as one without hope. Another widow writes: The only consolation to my distressed mind I have received your letter this morning, and is in having been so feelingly allowed by you to do thank you most kindly for the interest you leave the matter in your hands, by whom I.well have taken about my dear husband, as well for know that everything will be done that can be, the sentiments yours contains, evincing the according to arrangements made before I.left spirit of a Christian who can sympathise with the scene of the awhil catastrophe, b6th as to those who, like myself, are broken down with the identification of my dear son, and also his grief. interment. May God bless and sustain you, and all in I feel most anxious to hear whether anything GRATEFUL LETTERS. 7 fresh has transpired since I left you: will you grounds, with the observances and rites preadd another to the many deep obligations I am scribed by the ordinances of our religion. under to you by writing to me? And should The wardens desire me to take the earliest the body of my dear and unfortunate son be available opportunity to offer to you, on behalf identified, let me hear from you immediately, of our community, the expression of their and I will come again. warm acknowledgments and grateful thanks, Words cannot express the gratitude I feel I and their sincere wishes for your continued owe to you all for your benevolent aid, your welfare and prosperity. kindness, and your sympathy. A Jewish gentleman writes: MY DEARLY-BELOVED FRIENDS,-I arrived in REVEREND AND DEAR SIR, —I take the opporsafety at my houie yesterday, and a night's rest tunity of thanking you right earnestly for the has restored andtranquillised me. I must again promptness you displayed in answering my note repeat that language has no words by which I with full particulars concerning my muchcan express my sense of obligation to you. You lamented brother, and I also herein beg to exare enshrined: in my heart of hearts. press my sincere regard for the willingness you I have seen him! and can now realise my displayed, and for the facility you afforded, for misfortune more than I have hitherto been able getting the remains of my poor brother exhumed. to do. Oh, the bitterness of the cup I drink! It has been to us a most sorrowful and painful But I bow submissive. God must have done event, but, when we meet with such friends as right. I do not want to feel less, but to acqui-yourself, it in a measure, somehow or other, esce more simply. abates that mental anguish, and makes the There Were some Jewish passengers on board suffering so much easier to be borne. Conthe Royal Charter, and the gratitude of the sidering the circumstances connected with my Jewish people is feelingly expressed in the poor brother's fate, it does, indeed, appear a following letter, bearing date from "the office hard one. He had been away, in all, seven of the Chief Rabbi:" years; he returned four years ago to see his family. He was then engaged to a very amiable REVEREND SIk,-I cannot refrain from ex- young lady. He had been, very successful pressing to you my heartfelt thanks on behalf abroad, and was now returning to fulfil his of those of my flock whose relatives have unfor- sacred vow; he brought all his property with tunately been among those who perished at the him in gold uninsured. We heard from him late wreck of the Royal Charter. You have when the ship stopped at Queenstown, when he indeed, like Boaz, "not left off your kindness was in the highest of hope, and in a few short to the living and the dead." hours afterwards all was washed away. You have not alone acted kindly towards the living by receiving them hospitably at your Mournful in the deepest degree, but too house, and energetically assisting them in their sacred for quotation here, were the numerous mournful duty, but also towards the dead, by references to those miniatures of women worn exerting yourself to have our co-religionists round the necks of rough men (and found there buried in our ground, and according to our after death), those locks of hair, those scraps of rites. May our heavenly Father reward you letters, those many many slight memorials of for your acts of humanity and true philan- hidden tenderness. One man cast up by the thropy! sea bore about him, printed on a perforated The "Old Hebrew congregation of Liver- cecrd, thefollowing sinularandunavailing) pool" thus express themselves through their arm secretary: A BLESSING. REVEREND SIR,-The wardens of this con- May the blessing of God await thee. May gregation have learned with great pleasure that, the sun of glory shine around thy bed; and in addition to those indefatigable exertions, at may the gates of plenty, honour, and happiness the scene of the late disaster to the Royal be ever open to thee. May no sc:row distress Charter, which have received universal recog- thy days; may no grief disturb thy nights. May nition, you have very benevolently employed the pillow of peace kiss thy cheek, and the your valuable efforts to assist such members of pleasures of imagination attend thy dreams; our faith as have sought the bodies of lost and when length of years makes thee tired of friends to give them burial in our consecrated earthly joys, and the curtain of death gently 8 THE UNVCOAIIMERCIAL TRA VELLER. closes around thy last sleep of human existence, Had I lost the fiiend of my life in the wreck may the Angel of God attend thy bed, and take of the Royal Charter; had I lost my betrothed, care that the expiring lamp of life shall not re- the more than friend of my life; had I lost my ceive one rude blast to. hasten on its extinction. maiden daughter, had I lost my hopeful boy, had I lost ny little child; I would kiss the A sailor had these devices on his right arm. hands that worked so busily and gently in the "Our Saviour on the Cross, the forehead of the church, and say, " None better could have Crucifix and the vesture stained red; on the touched the form, though it had lain at home." lower part of the arm, a man and woman; on I could be sure of it, I could be thankful for it: one side of the Cross, the appearance of a half I could be content to leave the grave near the moon, with a face; on the other side, the sun; house the good family pass in and out of every on the top of the Cross, the letters I.H.S.; on day, undisturbed, in the little churchyard where the left arm, a man and woman dancing, with so many are so strangely brought together. an effort to delineate the female's dress, under Without the name of the clergyman to whom which, initials." Another seaman "had, on the -I hope, not without carrying comfort to some lower part of the right arm, the device of a heart at some time-I have referred, my refersailor and a female; the man holding the Union ence would be as nothing. He is the Reverend Jack with a streamer, the folds of which waved Stephen Roose Hughes, of Llanallgo, near over her head, and the end of it was held in her Moelfra, Anglesey. His brother is the Reverend hand. On the upper part of the arm, a device Hugh Robert Hughes, of Penrhos. Alligwy. of Our Lord on the Cross, with stars surrounding the head of the Cross, and one large star on — the side in Indian ink. On the left arm, a flag, a true lover's knot, a face, and initials." This III. tattooing was found still plain, below the discoloured outer surface of a mutilated arm, when WAPPING WORKHOUSE such surface was carefully scraped away with a knife. It is not improbable that the perpetua- l Y day's no-business beckoning me to tion of this marking custom among seamen may the East-end of London, I had be referred back to their desire to be identified, turned my face to that point of the if drowned and flung ashore. \1 metropolitan compass on leaving It was some time before I could sever myself ^- Covent Garden, and had got past from the many interesting papers on the table,,the India House, thinking in my and then I broke bread and drank wine witl) idle manner of Tippoo Sahib and Charles the kind family before I left them. As I brought " Lamb, and had got past my little Wooden the Coast-guard down, so I took the Postman Midshipman, after affectionately patting him on back with his leathern wallet, walking-stick, one leg of his knee-shorts for old acquaintance' bugle, and terrier dog. Many a heart-broken sake, and had got past Aldgate Pump, and had letter had he brought to the Rectory House got past the Saracen's Head (with an ignominious within two months; many a benignantly pains- rash of posting-bills disfiguring his swarthy countaking answer had he carried back. tenance), and had strolled up the empty yard of As I rode along, I thought of. the many people, his ancient neighbour the Black or Blue Boar, or inhabitants of this mother country, who would Bull, who departed this life I don't know when, make pilgrimages to the little churchyard in the and whose coaches are all gone I don't know years to come; I thought of the many people in where; and I had come out again into the age Australia who would have an interest in such a of railways, and I had got past Whitechalel shipwreck, and would find their way here when Church, and was-rather inappropriately for they visit the Old World; I thought of the an Uncommercial Traveller-in the Commercial writers of all the wreck of letters I'had left upon Road. Pleasantly wallowing in the abundant the table; and I resolved to place this little mud of that thoroughfare, and greatly enjoying record where it stands. Convocations, Confer- the huge piles of building belonging to the sugar ences, Diocesan Epistles, and the like, will do a refiners, the little masts and vanes in small backgreat deal for Religion, I dare say, and Heaven gardens in back-streets, the neighbouring canals send they may! but I doubt if they will ever do and docks, the India vans lumbering along their their Master's service half so well, in all the time stone tramway, and the pawnbrokers' shops they last, as the Heavens have seen it done in where hard-up Mates had pawned so many this bleak spot upon the rugged coast of Wales. sextants and quadrants, that I sho'! d hlve A TERRIBLE TRAP. 9 bought a few cheap if I had the lease notion apparition-then engaged in hugging and suckhow to use them, I at last began to file off to ing a horizontal iron bar at the top of the locks. the right, towards Wapping. Inspiration suggested to me that Mr. Baker was Not that I intended to take boat at Wapping the acting coroner of that neighbourhood. Old Stairs, or that I was going to look at the "A common place for suicide," said I, looklocality, because I believe (for I don't) in the ing down at the locks. constancy of the young woman who told her "Sue?" returned the ghost with a stare. seagoing lover, to such a beautiful old tune, "Yes! And Poll. Likewise Emily. And that she had ever continued the same since she Nancy. And Jane;" he sucked the iron gave him the'baccer-box marked with his name; between each name; "and all the bileing. I am afraid he usually got the worst of those Ketches off their bonnets or shorls, takes a run, transactions, and was frightfully taken in. No, and headers down here, they doos. Always a I was going to Wapping, because an Eastern headerin' down here, they is. Like one o'clock." police magistrate had said, through the morning "And at about that hour of the morning, I papers, that there was no classification at the suppose?" Wapping Workhouse for women, and that it was "Ah!" said the apparition. "They ain't a disgrace and a shame, and divers other hard partickler. Two'ull do for them. Three. All names, and because I wished to see how the fact times o' night. On'y mind you!" Here the really stood. For, that Eastern police magis- apparition rested his profile on the bar, and trates are not always the wisest men of the East gurgled in a sarcastic manner. " There mutst may be inferred from their course of procedure be somebody comin'. They don't go a headerin' respecting the fancy-dressing and pantomime- down here wen there ain't no Bobby nor General posturing at St. George's in that quarter: which Cove fur to hear the splash." is usually to discuss the matter at issue, in a According to my interpretation of these words, state of mind betokening the weakest perplexity, I was myself a General Cove, or member of the with all parties, concerned and unconcerned, miscellaneous public. In which modest characand, for a final expedient, to consult the com- ter I remarked: plainant as to what he thinks ought to be done "They are often taken out are they, and with the defendant, and take the defendant's restored?" opinion as to what he would recommend to be "I dunno about restored," said the apparidone with himself. tion, who, for some occult reason, very much Long before I reached Wapping, I gave my- objected to that word; "they're carried into the self up as having lost my way, and, abandoning werkiss, and put into a'ot bath, and brough[t myself to the narrow streets in a Turkish frame' round. But I dunno about restqred," said the of mind, relied on predestination to bring me apparition; " blow t/at. "-and vanished. somehow or other to the place I wanted, if I As it had shown a desire to become offenwere ever to get there. When I had ceased for sive, I was not sorry to find myself alone, espean hour or so to take any trouble'about the cially as the " werkiss " it had indicated with a matter, I found myself on a swing-bridge, look- twist of its matted head was close at hand. So ing down at some dark locks in some dirty I left Mr. Baker's terrible trap (baited with a water. Over against me stood a creature re- scum that was like the soapy rinsing of sooty motely in the likeness of a young man, with a chimneys), and made bold to ring at the workpuffed sallow face, and a figure all dirty and house gate, where I was wholly unexpected and shiny and slimy, who may have been the quite unknown. youngest son of his filthy old father, Thames, A very bright and nimble little matron, witn a or the drowned man about whom there was a bunch of keys in her hand, responded to my placard on the granite post like a large thimble, request to see the House. I began to doubt that stood between us. whether the police magistrate wa., rluite right in I asked this apparition what it called the his facts, when I noticed her quick active little place? Unto which it replied, with a ghastly figure and her intelligent eyes. grin and a sound like gurgling water in its The traveller (the matron intimated) should throat: see the worst first. He was welcome to see Mr. Baker's trap." everything. Such as it was, there it all was. As it is a point of great sensitiveness with me This was the only preparation for our entering on such occasions to be equal to the intellectual the Foul wards." They were in an old buildpressure of the conversation, I deeply considered ing'squeezed away in a corner of a paved yard, the meaning of this speech, while I eyed the quite detached from the more modern alnd spa Io STHE UNCOf1MMERCIAL TRA VELLER. cious main body of the workhouse. They were tion when allowed that privilege. She gossiped in a building most monstrously behind the time so well, and looked altogether so cheery and -a mere series of garrets or lofts, with every harmless, that I began to think this a case for inconvenient and objectionable circumstance in the Eastern magistrate, until I found that, on their construction, and only accessible by steep the last occasion of her attending_chapel, she and narrow staircases, infamously ill adapted for had secreted a small stick, and had caused some the passage up-stairs of the sick, or down-stairs confusion in the responses by suddenly proof the dead. ducing it and belabouring the congregation. Abed in these miserable rooms, here on bed-. So, these two old ladies, separated by the steads, there (for a change, as I understood it) breadth of the grating-otherwise they would on the floor, were women in every stage of dis- fly at one another's caps-sat all day long, tress and disease. None but those who have suspecting one another, and contemplating a attentively. observed such scenes can conceive world of fits. For everybody else in the room the extraordinary variety of expression still latent had fits, except. the wards-woman; an elderly, under the general monotony and uniformity of able-bodied pauperess, with a large upper lip, colour, attitude, and condition. The form a little and an air of repressing and saving her strength, coiled up and turned away, as though it had as she stood with her hands folded before her, turned its back on this world for ever; the unin- and her eyes slowly rolling, biding her time for terested face, at once lead-coloured and yellow, catching or holding somebody. This civil perlooking passively upward from the pillow; the sonage (in whom I regretted to identify a reduced haggard mouth a little dropped, the hand out- member of my honourable friend Mrs. Gamp's side the coverlet, so dull and indifferent, so light, family) said, "They has'em continiwal, sir. and yet so heavy; these were on every pallet: They drops without no more notice than if they but when 1 stopped beside a bed, and said ever was coach horses dropped from the moon, sir. so slight a word to the figure lying there, the And, when one drops, another drops, and someghost of the old character came into the face, times there'll be as many as four or five on'em at and made the Foul ward as various as the fair once, dear me, a rolling and a tearin', less you! world., No one appeared to care to live, but no This young woman, now,' has'em dreadful one complained; all who could speak said that bad." as much was done for them as could be done She turned up this young woman's face with there, that the attendance was kind and patient, her hand as she said it. This young woman that their suffering was very heavy, but they had was seated on the floor, pondering in the forenothing to ask for. The wretched rooms were ground of the afflicted. There was nothing as clean and sweet as it is possible for such repellent either in her face or head. — Many, rooms to be; they would become a pest-house apparently worse, varieties of. epilepsy and in a single week, if they were ill kept. hysteria were about her, but she was-said to be I accompanied the brisk matron up another the worst here. When I had spoken to her a barbarous staircase, into a better kind of loft, little, she still sat with her face turned up, pondevoted to the idiotic and imbecile. There was dering, and a gleam of the mid-day sun shone at least Light in it, whereas the windows in the in upon her. former wards had been like sides of school-boys' -Whether this young woman, and the rest of bird-cages.'There was a strong grating over the these so sorely troubled, as they sit or lie ponfire here, and holding a kind of state on either dering in their confused dull way, ever get mental side of the hearth, separated by the breadth of glimpses, among the motes in the sun-light, of this grating, were.two old ladies in a condition healthy people and healthy things? Whether of feeble dignity; which was surely the very last this young woman, brooding like this in the and lowest reduction of self-complacency to be summer season,. ever thinks that somewhere found in thils wonderful humanity of ours. They there are trees and flowers, even mountains and were evidently jealous of each other, and passed the great sea? Whether, not to go so far, this their whole time (as some people do whose fires young woman ever has any dim revelation of are not grated) in mentally disparaging each that young woman-that young woman who ls other, and contemptuously watching their neigh- not here, and never will come here; who is bourrs. One of these parodies on provincial courted and: caressed, and loved, and has a gentlewomen was extremely talkative, and ex- husband, and bears childwen, and lives in a pressed a strong desire to attend the service on home, and.who never knows what it i s'o have Sundays, from which she represented herself to this lashing and tearing coming upon her?: And'4aave derived the greatest interest and conscla- whether this young woman, cod help her, gives REFRA CTO RIES. I herself up then, and drops like a coach horse sitting behind it, with a head exactly matching fiom the moon? it.) I hardly knew whether the voices of infant "A pretty'Ouse this is, matron, ain't it?" children, penetrating into so hopeless a place, said Refractory Two, "where a pleeseman's made a sound that was pleasant or painful to called in if a gal says a word " me. It was something to be reminded that the' And wen you're sent to prison tor nothink weary world was not all aweary, and was ever or less!" said the Chief, tugging at her oakum renewing itself; but, this young woman was a as if it were the matron's hair. "But any place child not long ago, and a child not long hence is better than this; that's one thing, and be might be such as she. Howbeit, the active step thankful!" and eye of the vigilant matron conducted me A laugh of Refractories, led by Oakum Head past the two provincial gentlewomen (whose with folded armrs-who originated nothing, but dignity was ruffled by the children), and into who was in command of the skirmishers outside the adjacent nursery. the conversation. There were many babies here, and more than " If any place is better than this," said my one handsome young mother. There were ugly brisk guide in the calmest manner, "it is a pity young mothers also, and sullen young mothers, you left a good place when you had one." and callous young mothers. But, the babies "Ho no, I didn't, matron!" returned the had not appropriated to themselves anybad ex- Chief with another pull at her oakum, and a pression yet, and might have been, for anything very expressive look at the enemy's forehead. that appeared to the contrary, in their soft faces, "Don't say that, matron, cos it's lies! " Princes Imperial and Princesses Royal. I had Oakum Head brought up the skirmishers t.ie pleasure of giving a poetical commission to again, skirmished, and retired. the baker's man to make a cake with all dispatch, " And I warn't a-going," exclaimed Refractory and toss it into the oven for one red-headed Two, " though I was in onre place for as long as young pauper and myself, and felt much the four year-I warn't a-going fur to stop in a place better for it. Without that refreshment I doubt that warn't fit for me-there! And where the if I'should have been in a condition for " the family -weren't'spectable characters-there! Refractories," towards whom my quick little And where I, fort'nately or hunfort'nately, found matron-for whose adaptation to her office I that the people weren't what they pretended to had by this time conceived a genuine respect- make theirselves out to be-there! And where drew me next, and marshalled me the way that it wasn't their faults, by chalks, if I'warn't made I was going. bad and ruinated. Hah! " The Refractories were picking oakum, in a During this speech Oakum Head had again small room giving on a yard. They sat in line made a diversion with the skirmishers, and had on a form, with their backs to a window; before again withdrawn. them, a table, and their work. The oldest The Uncommercial Traveller ventured to Refractory was, say, twenty; youngest Refrac- remark that he supposed Chief Refractory and tory, say, sixteen. I have never yet ascertained, Number Two to be the two young wAomen who in the course of my uncommercial travels, why a had been taken before the magistrate? Refractory habit should affect the tonsils and " Yes!" said the Chief, "we har! and the uvula; but I have alvays observed that Refrac- wonder is, that a pleeseman ain't'ad in now, tories of both sexes and every grade, between a and we took off agen. You can't open your lips Ragged School and the Old Bailey, have one here without a pleeseman." voice, in which the tonsils and uvula gain a Number Two laughed (very uvularly), and the diseased ascendancy. skirmishers followed suit. "Five pound, indeed! I hain't a-going fur to "I'm sure I'd be thankful," protested the pick five pound," said the Chief of the Refrac- Chief, looking sideways at the Uncommercial, tories, keeping time to herself with her head and "if I could be got into a place, or got abroad. chin. "More than enough to pick what we I'm sick and tired of this precious'Ouse, I am, picks now, in sich a place as this, and on wot we with reason." gets here! " So would be, and so was, Number Two. So (This was in acknowledgment of a delicate would be, and so was, Oakum Head. So would intimation that the amount of work was likely be, and so were, Skirmishers. to be increased. It certainly was not heavy The Uncommercial took the liberty of hinting then, for one Refractory had already done her that he hardly thought it probable that any lady day's task-it was barely two o'clock-and was or gentleman, in want of a likely young domestic i 2 THE UNCOMMER CIAL TRA VELLER. of retiring manners, would be tempted into the The Uncommercial thought it might be worth engagement of either of the two leading Refrac- trying. tories, on her own presentation of herself as per " Oh no, it ain't!" said the Chief. sample. " Not a bit of good," said Number Two. " It ain't no good being nothink else here," "And I'm sure I'd be very thankful to be got. said the Chief. into a place, or got abroad," said the Chief. "STOOD A CREATURE REMOTELY IN THE LIKENESS OF A YOUNG MAN, WITH A PUFFED SALLOW FACE, AND A FIGURE ALL DIRTY AND SHINY AND SLIMY, WHO MAY HAVE BEEN THE YOUNGEST SON OF HIS FILTHY OLD FATHER, THAMES." "And so should I," said Number Two. found novelty might be naturally expected to' Truly thankful, I should." startle her unprepared hearers, that she would Oakum Head then rose, and announced as an be very thankful to be got into a place, or entirely new idea, the mention of which pro- got abroad. And, as if she had then said, OLD AND BEDRIDDEN. 13 "Chorus, ladies!" all the skirmishers struck up early time she had nursed a child, who was now to the same purpose. We left them, thereupon, another old woman, more infirm than herself, and began a long walk among the women who inhabiting the very same chamber. She perfectly were simply old and infirm; but whenever, in understood this when the matron told it, and with the course of this same walk, I looked out of sundrynods and motions of herforefinger, pointed any high window that commanded the yard, I out the woman in question. The elder of this saw Oakum Head with all the other Refractories, pair, ninety-three, seated before an illustrated looking out at their low window for me, and newspaper (but not reading it), was a brightnever failing to catch me, the moment I showed eyed old soul, really not deaf, wonderfully pre my head. served, and amazingly conversational. She hac In ten minutes I had ceased to believe in not long lost her husband, and had been in that such fables of a golden time as youth, the prime place little more than a year. At Boston, in the of life,-or a hale old age. In ten minutes all the State of Massachusetts, this poor creature would. lights of womankind seemed to have been blown have been individually addressed, would have out, and nothing in that way to be left this been tended in her own room, and would have vault to brag of, but the flickering and expiring had her life gently assimilated to a comfortable snuffs. life out of doors. Would that be much to do in And what was very curious was, that these England for a woman who has kept herself out dlin old women had one company notion which of a workhouse more than ninety rough long was the fashion of the place. Every old woman years? When Britain first, at Heaven's comwho became aware of a visitor, and was not in mand, arose, with a great deal of allegorical bed, hobbled over a form into her accustomed confusion, from out the azure main, did her seat, and became one of a line of dim old women guardian angels positively forbid it in the Charter confronting another line of dim old women which has been so much besung? across a narrow table. There was no obligation The object of my journey was accomplished whatever upon them to range themselves in this when the nimble matron had no more to show way; it was their manner of "receiving." As a me. As I shook hands with her at the gate, I rule, they made no attempt to talk to one told her that I thought Justice had not used her another, or to look at the visitor, or to look at very well, and that the wise men of the East anything, but sat silently working their mouths, were not infallible. like a sort of poor old Cows. In some of these Now, I reasoned with myself, as I made my wards it was good to see a few green plants; in journey home again, concerning those Foul others, an isolated Refractory acting as nurse, wards. They ought not to exist; no person of who did well enough in that capacity when common decency and humanity can see them, separated from her compeers. Every one of and doubt it. But what is this Union to do? these wards, day-room, night-room, or both''he necessary alteration would cost several combined, was scrupulously clean and fresh. I thousands of pounds; it has already to support have seen as many such places as most travellers three workhouses; its inhabitants work hard for in my line, and I never saw one such better their bare lives, and are already rated for the kept. relief of the Poor to the utmost extent of Among the bedridden there was great patience, reasonable endurance. One poor parish in this great reliance on the books under the pillow, very Union is rated to the amount of FIVE AND great faith in GOD. All cared for sympathy, but SIXPENCE in the pound, at the very same time none much cared to be encouraged with hope when the rich parish of St. George's, Hanover of recovery; on the whole, I should say, it was Square, is rated at about SEVENPENCE in the considered rather a distinction to have a com- pound, Paddington at about FOUIPENCE, St. plication of disorders, and to be in a worse way James's, Westminster, at about TENPENCE! It is than the rest. From some of the windows the only through the equalisation of Poor Rates that river could be seen, with all its life and move- what is left undone in this wise can be done. ment: the day was bright, but I came upon no Much more is left undone, or is ill done, than I one who was looking out. have space to suggest in these notes of a single In one large ward, sitting by the fire in arm- uncommercial journey; but, the wise men of the chairs of distinction, like the President and Vice East, before they can reasonably hold forth of the good company, were two old women, about it, must look to the North and South and upwards of ninety years of age. The younger WAest; let them also, any morning before taking of the two, just turned ninety, was deaf, but not the seat of Solomon, look into the shops and very, and could easily be made to hear. In her dwellings all around the Temple, and first ask. 14 THE UNCOIMMERCIIL TR.4 -ELLER. themselves, "How much more can these poor IV people-many of whom keep themselves with difficulty enough out of the workhouse-bear?" TWO VIEWS OF A CHEAP THEATRE. I had yet other matter for reflection as I' - journeyed home, inasmuch as, before I altogether f S I shut the door of my lodging bedeparted from the neighbourhood of Mr. Baker's /P2! hind me, and came out into the trap, I had knocked at the gate of the work- streets at six on a drizzling Saturday house of St. George's-in-the-East, and had found. evening in the last past month of it to be an establishment highly creditable to hJ January, all that neighbourhood of those parts, and thoroughly well administered'./| Covent Garden looked very desolate. by a most intelligent master. I remarked in it,-b It is so essentially a neighbourhood an instance of the collateral harm that obstinate which has seen better days, that bad vanity and folly can do. "This was the Hall weather affects it sooner than another place where those old paupers, male and female, which has not come down in the world. In its whom I had just seen, met for the Church present reduced condition it bears a thaw almost service, was it? "-" Yes."-" Did they sing the worse than any place I know. It gets so dreadPsalms to any instrument?"-" They would like fully low-spirited when damp breaks forth. to very much; they would have an extraordinary Those wonderful houses about Drury-Lane interest in doing so."-" And could none be Theatre, which in the palmy days of theatres got?"-" Well, a piano could even have been were prosperous and long-settled places of busigot for nothing, but these unfortunate dissen- ness, and which now change hands every week, sions —" Ah! better, far better, my Chris- but never change their character of being divided tian friend in the beautiful garment, to have and subdivided on the ground-floor into mouldy left the singing boys alone, and left the mul- dens of shops, where an orange and half-a-dozen titude to sing for themselves! You should nuts, or a pomatum pot, one cake of fancy soap, know better than I, but1X think I have read that and a cigar box are offered for sale, and never they did so, once upon a time, and that " when sold, were most ruefully contemplated that eventhey had sung an hymn," Some one' (not in a ing by the statue of Shakspeare, with the rainbeautiful garment) went up unto the Mount of drops coursing one another down its innocent Olives. nose. Those inscrutable pigeon-hole offices, It made my heart ache to think of this mise- with nothing in them (not so much as an inkrable trifling, in the streets of a city where every stand) but a model of a theatre before the stone seemed to call to me, as I walked along, curtain, where, in the Italian Opera season, "Turn this way, man, and see what waits to be tickets at reduced prices are kept on sale by done!" So I decoyed myself into another nomadic gentlemen in smeary hats too tall for train of thought to ease my heart. But, I don't them, whom one occasionally seems to have know that I did it, for I was so full df paupers, seen on race-courses, not wholly unconnected that it;was, after all, only a change to a single with strips of cloth of various colours and a pauper, who took possession of my remembrance rolling ball - those Bedouin establishments, instead of a thousand. deserted by the tribe, and tenantless, except "I beg your pardon, sir," he had said, in a when sheltering in one corner an irregular row confidential manner, on another occasion, taking of ginger-beer bottles, which would have made me aside; "but I have seen better days." one shudder on such a night, but for its being " I am very sorry to hear it." plain that they had nothing in them, shrunk from " Sir, I have a complaint to make against the the shrill cries of the news-boys at their Exmaster." change in the kennel of Catherine Street, like "I have no power here, I assure you. And guilty things upon a fearful summons. At the if I had- " pipe-shop, in Great Russell Street, the Death's" But allow me, sir, to mention it, as between head pipes were like theatrical memento mori, yourself and a man who has seen better days, admonishing beholders of the decline of the sir. The master and myself are both masons, playhouse as an Institution. I walked up BQw sir, and I make him the sign continually; but, Street, disposed to be angry with the shops because I am in this unfortunate position, sir, he there, that were letting out theatrical secrets by won't give me the countersign!" exhibiting to work-a-day humanity the stuff of which diadems and robes of kings are made. I I -C-* — Inoticed that some shops which had once been in the dramatic line, and had struggled out of SATURDA Y NIGHT'S PERFORMANCE. 15 it, were not getting on prosperously-like some pitals and railway stations. Asphalt pavements actors I have known, who took to business, and substituted for wooden floors, honest bare walls failed to make it answer. In a word, those of glazed brick and tile-even at the back of the streets looked so dull, and, considered as thea- boxe-for plaster and paper, no benches stuffed, trical streets, so broken and bankrupt, that the and no carpeting or baize used; a cool material, FOUND DEAD on the black board at the police- with a light glazed surface, being the covering of station might have announced the decease of the the seats. Drama, and the pools of water outside the fire- These various contrivances are as well conengine maker's at the corner of Long Acre might sidered in the place in question as if it were a have been occasioned by his having brought out Fever Hospital; the result is, that it is sweet the whole of his stock to play upon its last and healthful. It has been constructed, from smouldering ashes. the ground to the roof, with a careful reference And yet, on such a night in so degenerate a to sight and sound in every corner; tie result time, the object of my journey was theatrical. is, that its form is beautiful,,and that the appearAnd yet within half an hour I was in an immense ance of the audience, as seen from the proscenium theatre, capable of holding nearly five thousand -with every face in it commanding the stage, people. and the whole so admirably raked and turned to What Theatre? Her Majesty's? Far better, that centre, that a hand can scarcely move in Royal Italian Opera? Far better. Infinitely the great assemblage without the movement superior to the latter for hearing in; infinitely being seen from thence-is highly remarkable superior to both for seeing in. To every part in its union of vastness and compactness. The of this Theatre, spacious fire-proof ways of in- stage itself, and all its appurtenances of magress and egress. For every part of it, con- chinery, cellarage, height, and breadth, are on a venient places of refreshment and retiring rooms. scale more like the Scala at Milan, or the San Everything to eat and drink carefully supervised Carlo at Naples, or the Grand Opera at Paris, as to quality, and sold at an appointed price; than any notion a stranger would be likely to respectable female attendants ready for the cor- form of the Britannia Theatre at Hoxton, a mile monest women in the audience; a general air north of St. Luke's Hospital in the Old Street of consideration, decorum, and supervision, most Road, London. The Forty Thieves might be commendable; an unquestionably humanising played here, and every thief ride his real horse, influence in all the social arrangements of the and the disguised captain bring in his oil jars on place. a train of real camels. and nobody be put out of Surely a dear Theatre, then? Because there the way. This really extraordinary place is the were in London (not very long ago) Theatres achievement of one man's enterprise, and was with entrance prices up to half-a-guinea a head, erected on the ruins of an inconvenient old whose arrangements were not half so civilised. building in less than five months, at a round Surely, therefore, a dear Theatre? Not very cost of five-and-twenty thousand pounds. To dear. A gallery at threepence, another gallery dismiss this part of my subject, and still to at fourpence, a pit at sixpence, boxes and pit- render to the proprietor the credit that is strictly stalls at a shilling, and a few private boxes at his due, I must add that his sense of the respon. half-a-crown. sibility upon him to make the best of his audience, My uncommercial curiosity induced me to go and to do his best for them, is a highly agreeable into every nook of this great place, and among sign of these times. every class of the audience assembled in it — As the spectators at this Theatre, for a reason amounting that evening, as I calculated, to I will presently show, were the object of my about two thousand and odd hundreds. Mag- journey, I entered on the play of the night as nificently lighted by a firmament of sparkling one of the two thousand and odd hundreds, by chandeliers, the building was ventilated to per- looking about me at my neighbours. We were fection. My sense of smell, without being par- a motley assemblage of people, and we had a ticularly delicate, has been so. offended in some good many boys and young men among us; we of the commoner places of public resort, that I had also many girls and young women. To have often been obliged to leave them when I represent, however, that we did not include a have made an uncommercial journey expressly very great number and a very fair proportion of to look on. The air of this Theatre was fresh, family groups, would be to make a gross miscool, and wholesome. To help towards this statement. Such groups were to be seen in all end, very sen.ible precautions had been used, parts of the house; in the boxes and stalls, paringeniously combining the experience of hos- ticularly, they were composed of persons of very i6 THE UNCOMEJfERCIAL TRA VELLER. decent appearance, who had many children with was great, and our delight unbounded. After them. Among our dresses there were most this era in our existence, we went through all kinds of shabby and greasy wear, and much the incidents of a pantomime; it was not by any fustian and corduroy that was neither sound nor means a savage pantomime, in the way of burnfragrant. The caps of our young men were ing or boiling people, or throwing them out of mostly of a limp character, and we who wore window, or cutting them up; was often very them, slouched, high-shouldered, into our places droll; was always liberally got up, and cleverly with our hands in our pockets, and occasionally presented. I noticed that the people who kept twisted our cravats about our necks like eels, the shops, and who represented the passengers and occasionally tied them down our breasts in the thoroughfares, and so forth, had no conlike links of sausages, and occasionally had a ventionality in them, but were unusually like the screw in our hair over each cheek bone with a real thing-from which I infer that you may take slight Thief flavour in it. Besides prowlers and that audience in (if you wish to) concerning idlers, we were mechanics, dock labourers, coster- Knights and Ladies, Fairies, Angels, or suchmongers, petty tradesmen, small clerks, milliners, like, but they are not to be done as to anything staymakers,shoe-binders,slop-workers,poorwcrk- in the streets. I noticed, also, that when two ersina hundred highwaysand by-ways. Manyof young men, dressed in exact imitation of the us-on the whole, the majority-were not at all eei-and-sausage-cravated portion of the audience, clean, and not at all choice in our lives or con- were chased by policemen, and, finding themversation. But we had all come together in a selves in danger of being caught, dropped so place where our convenience was well consulted, suddenly as to oblige the policeman to tumble and where we were well looked after, to enjoy over them, there was great rejoicing among the an evening's entertainment in common. We caps-as though it were a delicate reference to were not going to lose any part of what we had something they had heard of before. paid for through anybody's caprice, and as a The Pantomime was succeeded by a Melocommunity we had a character to lose. So, we drama. Throughout the evening I was pleased were closely attentive, and kept excellent order; to observe Virtue quite as triumphant as she and let the man or boy who did otherwise usually is out of doors, and, indeed, I thought instantly get out from this place, or we would rather more so. We all agreed (for the time) put him out with the greatest expedition. that honesty was the best policy, and we were as We began at half-past six with a pantomime- hard as iron upon Vice, and we wouldn't hear with a pantomime so long, that, before it was of Villainy getting on in the world-no, not on over, I felt as if I had been travelling for six any consideration whatever. weeks-going to India, say, by the Overland Between the pieces, we almost all of us went Mail. The Spirit of Liberty was the principal out and refreshed. Many of us went the length personage in the Introduction, and the Four of drinking beer at the bal of the neighbouring Quarters of the World came out of the globe, public-house, some of us drank spirits, crowds glittering, and discoursed with the Spirit, who of us had sandwiches and ginger-beer at the sang charmingly. We were delighted to under- refreshment bars established for us in the stand that there was no liberty anywhere but Theatre. The sandwich-as substantial as was among ourselves, and we highly applauded the consistent with portability, and as cheap as agreeable fact. In an allegorical way, which did possible-we hailed as one of our greatest instias well as any other way, we and the Spirit of tutions. It forced its way among us at all stages Liberty got into a kingdom of Needles and Pins, of the entertainment, and we were always deand found them at war with a potentate who lighted to see it; its adaptability to the varying called in to his aid their old arch enemy Rust, moods of our nature.was surprising; we could and who would have got the better of them if the never weep so comfortably as when our tears Spirit of Liberty had not, in the nick of time, fell on our sandwich; we could never laugh so transformed the leaders into Clown, Pantaloon, heartily as when we choked with sandwich; Harlequin, Columbine, Harlequina, and a whole Virtue never looked so beautiful, or Vice so defamily of Sprites, consisting of a remarkably formed, as when we paused, sandwich in hand, stout father and three spineless sons. We all to consider what would come of that resolution knew what was coming when the Spirit of of Wickedness in boots, to sever Innocence in Liberty addressed the king with a big face, flowered chintz from Honest Industry in stril;ed and his Majesty backed to the side-scenes, and stockings. When the curtain eill foi the night, began untying himself behind, with his big fA:ce we still fell back upon sanl.' h, to help us a!l on one side. Our excitement at that crisis through the rain and mire, and home to bed. SUNDA Y NIGHT'S PERFORMtfANCE, 17 This, as I have mentioned, was Saturday of people, who, I am happy to state, were put. night. Being Saturday night, I had accom- into excellent spirits by rmy arrival. Having pushed but the half of my uncommercial journey; nothing to look at but the mud and the closed for its object was to compare the play on Satur- doors, they looked at me, and highly enjoyed (lay evening with the preaching in the same the comic spectacle. My modesty inducing me Theatre on Sunday evening. to draw off, some hundreds of yards, into a dark Therefore, at the same hour of half-past six on corner, they at once forgot me, and applied the similarly damp and muddy Sunday evening, themselves to their former occupation of looking I returned to this Theatre. I drove up to the at the mud and looking in at the closed doors: entrance (fearful of being late, or I should have which, being of grated iron-work, allowed the come on foot), and found myself in a large crowd lighted passage within' to be seen. They were:i p A CHEAP THEATRE, SUNDAY NIGHT. chiefly people of respectable appearance, odd There must have been full four thousand and impulsive as most crowds are, and making people present. Carefully estimating the pit a joke of being there as most crowds do. alone, I could bring it out as holding little less In the dark corner I might have sat a long than fourteen hundred. Every part of the house while, but that a very obliging passer-by informed was well filled, and I had not found it easy to me that the Theatre was already full, and that make my way along the back of the boxes to the people whom I saw in the street were all where I sat. The chandeliers in the ceiling shut out for want of room. After that, I lost no. were lighted; there was no light on the stage; time in worming myself into the building, and the orchestra was empty. The green curtain creeping to a place in a proscenium box that had was down, and, packed pretty closely on chairs been kept for me. on the small space of stage before it, were some I8 TETHE UZVCO:TMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. thirty gentlemen, and two or three ladies. In Lord of Lords. Ay father is the Ruler of all the centre of these, in a desk or pulpit covered the Princes of the Earth!' &c. And this was with red baize, was the presiding minister. The what all the preacher's fellow-sinners migl'come kind of rostrum he occupied will be very well to, if they would embrace this blessed bookunderstood, if I liken it to a boarded-up fire- which I must say it did some violence to my place turned towards the audience, with a gentle- own feelings of reverence to see held out at man in a black surtout standing in the stove, and arm's length at frequent intervals, and soundingly leaning forward over the mantel-piece. slapped, like a slow lot at a sale. Now, could I A portion of Scripture was being read when I help asking myself the question, whether the went in. It was followed by a discourse, to mechanic before me, who must detect-the which the congregation listened with most preacher as being wrong about the visible manexemplary attention and uninterrupted silence ner of himself and the like of himself, and about and decorum. My own attention comprehended such a noisy lip-server as that pauper, might not, both the auditory and the speaker, and shall most unhappily for the usefulness of the occasion, turn to both in this recalling of the scene, doubt that preacher's being right about things exactly as it did at the time. not visible to human senses? "A very. difficult thing," I thought when the Again. Is it necessary or advisable to address discourse began, "to speak appropriately to so such an audience continually as "fellow-sinners?" large an audience, and to speak with tact. Is It not enough to be fellow-creatures, born Without it, better not to speak at all. Infinitely yesterday, suffering and striving to-day, dying better to read the New Testament well, and to to-morrow? By our common humanity, my let that speak. In this congregation there is brothers and sisters, by our common capacities indubitably one pulse; but I doubt if any power for pain and pleasure, by our common laughter short of genius can touch it as one, and make it and our common tears, by our common aspiraanswer as one." tion to reach something better than ourselves, I could not possibly say tc myself,.; the dis- by our common tendency to believe in somecourse proceeded, that the minister was a good thing good, and to invest whatever we love or speaker. I could not possibly say to myself whatever we lose with some qualities that are that he expressed an understanding of the general superior to our own failings and weaknesses as mind and character of his audience. There was we know them in our own poor hearts-by these, a supposititious working-man introduced into the Hear me!-Surely, it is enough to be fellowhomily, to make supposititious objections to our creatures. Surely, it includes the other designaChristian religion and be reasoned down, who tion, and some touching meanings over and was not only a very disagreeable person, but above. remarkably unlike life-very much more unlike Again. There was a personage introduced it than anything I had seen in the pantomime. into the discourse (not an absolute novelty, to The native independence of character this artisan the best of my remembrance of my reading), was supposed to possess was represented by a who had been personally known to the preacher, suggestion of a dialect that I certainly never and had been quite a Crichton in all the ways heard in my uncommercial travels, and with a of philosophy, but had been ma infidel. Many coarse swing of voice and manner anything but a time had the preacher talked with him on that agreeable to his feelings, I should conceive, con- subject, and many a time had he failed to considered in the light of a portrait, and as far away vince that intelligent man. But he fell ill, and f. m the fact as a Chinese Tartar. There was a died, and before he died he recorded his conmodel pauper introduced in like manner, who version-in words which the preacher had taken appeared to me to be the most intolerably down, my fellow-sinners, and would read to yon arrogant pauper ever relieved, and to show hint- from this piece of paper. I must confess that to self in absolute want and dire necessity of a me, as one of an uninstructed audience, they course of Stone Yard. For, how did this pauper did not appear particularly edifying. I thought testify to his having received the gospel of their tone extremely selfish, and I thought they humility? A gentleman met him in the work- had a spiritual vanity in them which was of the house, and said (which I myself really thought before-mentioned refractory pauper's family. good-natured of him), "Ah, John! I am sorry All slangs and twangs are objectionable everyto see you here. I am sorry to see you so where, but the slang and twang of the convenpoor." " Poor, sir!" replied that man, drawing tide-as bad in its way as that of the House of himself up; " I am the son of a Prince! i ly Cmmmons, and nothing worse can be said of it father is the King of Kings. 1.y father is the -should be studiously avoided under such cir TVHAT TO TELL THE SUNDAY AUDiENiCE. I9 cumstances as I describe. The avoidance was intimated in a few sensible words that the clock not complete on this occasion. Nor was it quite had struck the hour, and that those who desired agreeable to see the preacher addressing his pet to go before the hymn was sung, could go now, "points" to his backers on the stage, as if ap- without giving offence. No one stirred. The pealing to-those disciples to show him up, and hymn was then sung, in good time and tune testify to the multitude that each of those points and unison, and its effect was very striking. A was a clincher. comprehensive benevolent prayer dismissed the But, in respect of the large Christianity of his throng, and in seven or eight minutes there was general tone; of his renunciation of all priestly nothing left in the Theatre but a ligpht cloud of authority; of his earnest and reiterated assur- dust. ance to the people that the commonest among That these Sunday meetings in Theatres are them could work out their own salvation if they good things, I do' not doubt. Nor do I doubt would, by simply, lovingly, and dutifully follow- that they will work lower and lower down in the ing Our Saviour, and that they needed the social scale, if those who preside over them will mediation of no erring man; in these particu- be very careful on two heads: firstly, not to dislars, this gentleman deserved all praise. Nothing parage the places in which they speak, or the could be better than the spirit, or the plain em- intelligence of their hearers; secondly, not to phatic words of his discourse in these respects. set themselves in antagonism to the natural inAnda it was a most significant and encouraging born desire of the mass of mankind to recreate circumstance that whenever he struck that chord, themselves and to be amused. or whenever he described anything which Christ There is a third head, taking precedence of all himself had done, the array of faces before him others, to which my remarks on the discourse I was very much more earnest, and very much heard have tended. In the New Testament there more expressive of emotion, than at any other is the most beautiful and affecting history contime. ceivable by man, and there are the terse models And now I am brought to the fact, that the for all prayer and for all preaching. As to the lowest part of the audience of the previous night models, imitate them, Sunday preachers-else was not there. There is no doubt about it. why are they there, consider? As to the history, There was no such thing in that building, that tell it. Some people cannot read, some people Sunday evening. I have been told, since, that will not read, ilany people (this especially holds the lowest part of the audience of the Victoria among the young and ignorant) find it hard to Theatre has been attracted to its Sunday ser- pursue the verse form in which the book is previces. I have been very glad to hear it, but, on sented to them, and imagine that those breaks this occasion of which I write, the lowest part imply gaps and want of continuity. Help them of the usual audience of the Britannia Theatre over that first stumbling-block by setting forth decidedly and unquestionably stayed away. the history in narrative, with no fear.of exhaustWhen I first took my seat and looked at the ing it. You will never preach so well, you house, my surprise?t the change in its occu- will never move them so profoundly, you will pants was as great as my disappointment. To never send them away with half so much to the most respectable class of the previous even- think of. Which is the better interest: Christ's ing was added a great number of respectable choice of twelve poor men to help in those strangers attracted by curiosity, and drafts from merciful wonders among the poor and rejected; the regular congregations of various chapels. It or the pious bullying of a whole Union-full of Av as impossible to fail in identifying the character'paupers? What is your changed philosopher to of these last, and they were very numerous. I wretched me, peeping in at the door out of the came out in.ta strong, slow tide of them setting mud of the streets and of my life, when you from the boxes. Indeed, while the discourse have the widow's son to tell me about, the ruler's was in progress, the respectable character of the daughter, the other figure at the door when the auditory was so manifest in their appearance, brother of the two sisters was dead, and one of that when the minister addressed a supposititious the two ran to the mourner, crying, " The Master "outcast," one really felt a little impatient of it, is come, and calleth for thee?"-Let the preacher as a figure of speech not justified by anything the who will thoroughly forget himself, and rememeye could discover. ber no individuality but one, and no eloquence The time appointed for the conclusion of the but one, stand'up before four thousand men and proceedings was eight o'clock. The address women at the Britannia Theatre any Sunday having lasted until full that time, and it being the night, recounting that narrative to them as custom to conclude with a hymn, the preacher fellow-creatures, and he shall see a sight! 20 THE UNCOlVMMAER CAL TRA VELLER. v. the knife in his leathern girdle; he was looking over bulwarks, all eyes and hair; he was standPOOR MERCANTILE JACK. ing by at the shoot of the Cunard steamer, off ~^~1'.. to-morrow, as the stocks-in-trade of several S the sweet little cherub who sits butchers, poulterers, and fishmongers poured t iX smiling aloft, and keeps watch on down into the ice-house; he was coming aboard Ithne life of poor Jack, commissioned of other vessels with his kit in a tarpaulin bag,,'ff;.. to take charge of Mercantile Jack, attended by plunderers to the very last moment,-. as well as Jack of the national navy? of his shore-going existence. As though his _ If not, who is? What is the cherub senses, when released from the uproar of the,$ about, and what are we all about, when elements, were under obligation to be confused soor Mercantile Jack is having his brains by other turmoil, there was a rattling of wheels, slowly knocked out by pennyweights, aboard a clattering of hoofs, a clashing of iron, a jolting the brig Beelzebub, or the bark Bowie-knife- of cotton and hides and casks and timber, an when he looks his last at that infernal craft, with incessant deafening disturbance on the quays, the first officer's iron boot-heel in his remaining that was the very madness of sound. And as, eye, cr with his dying body towed overboard in in the midst of it, he stood swaying about, with the ship's wake, while the cruel wounds in it do his hair blown all manner of wild ways, rather; the multitudinous seas incarnadine?" crazedly taking leave of his plunderers, all the Is it unreasonable to entertain a belief that if, rigging in the docks was shrill in the wind, and aboard the brig Beelzebub or the bark Bowie- every little steamer coming and going across the knife, the first officer did half the damage to Mersey was sharp in its blowing off, and every cotton that he does to men, there would pre- buoy in the river bobbed spitefully up and down, sently arise fromn both sides of the Atlantic so as if there was a general taunting chorus of vociferous an invocation of the sweet little "Come along, Mercantile Jack! Ill lodged, ill cherub who sits calculating aloft, keeping watch fed, ill used, hocussed, entrapped, anticipated, on the markets that pay, that such vigilant cleaned out. Come along, Poor Mercantile Jack, cherub would, with a winged sword, have that and be tempest-tossed till you are drowned!' gallant officer's organ of destructiveness out of The uncommercial transaction which had his head in the space of a flash of lightning? brought me and Jack together was this:-I had If it be unreasonable, then am I the most un- entered the Liverpool police force, that I right reasonable of men, for I believe it with all my have a look at the various unlawful traps which soul. are every night set for Jack. As my term of This was my thought as I walked the dock- service in that distinguished corps was short, quays at Liverpool, keeping watch on poor Mer- and as my personal bias in the capacity of one cantile Jack. Alas for me! I have long out- of its members has ceased, no suspicion will grown the state of sweet little cherub; but there attach to m-, evidence that it is an admirabl6 I was, and there Mercantile Jack was, and very force. Besides that it is composed, without busy he was, and very cold he was; the snow favour, of the best men that can be picked, yet lying in the frozen furrows of the land, and it is directed by an unusual intelligence. Its the north-east winds snipping off the tops of the organisation against Fires I take to be much little waves in the Mersey, and rolling them better than the metropolitan system, and in all into hail-stones to pelt him with. Mercantile respects it tempers its remarkable vigilance jack was hard at it, in the hard weather: as he with a still more remarkable discretion. mostly is in all weathers, poor Jack! He was Jack had knocked off work in the docks some girded to ships' masts and funnels of steamers, hours, and I had taken, for purposes of identfilike a forester to a great oak, scraping and paint- cation, a photograph likeness of a thief, in the ing; he was lying out on yards, furling sails that portrait-room at our head police-office (on the tried to beat him off; he was dimly discernible whole, he seemed rather complimented by the up in a world of giant cobwebs, reefing and proceeding), and I had been on police parade, splicing; he was faintly audible down in holds, and the small hand of the clock was moving on stowing and unshipping cargo; he was winding to ten, when I took up my lantern to follow round and round at capstans melodious, mono- Mr. Superintendent to the traps that were set tonous, and drunk; he was of a diabolical aspect, for Jack. In AMr. Superintendent I saw, as anywith coaling for the Antipodes; he was washing body might, a tall, well-looking, well-set-up man decks barefoot, with the breast of his red shirt of a soldierly benring, with a cavalry air, a good open to the blast, though it was sharper than chest, and a resolute but not by any means un LIVERPOOL POLICE FORCE 2! gentle, face. He carried in his hand a plain hear a woman's step go up-stairs when my haln black walking-stick of hard wood: and when- was on the latch?" ever and wherever, at any after-time of the night, "Ah! sure, thin, you're right, sirr, I forgot he struck it on the pavement with a ringing her.'Tis on'y Betsy White, surr. Ah! you sound, it instantly produced a whistle out of the know Betsy, surr. Come down, Betsy darlin', darkness, and a policeman. To this remarkable and say the gintlemin." stick I refer an air of mystery and magic which Generally, Betsy looks over the banisters (the pervaded the whole of my perquisition among steep staircase is in the room) with a forcible the traps that were set for Jack. expression in her protesting face of an intention We began by diving into the obscurest streets to compensate herself for the present trial by and lanes of the port. Suddenly pausing in a grinding Jack finer than usual when he does flow of cheerful discourse before a dead wall, come. Generally, Sharpeye turns to Mr. Superapparently some ten miles long, Mr. Superin- intendent, and says, as if the subject of his retendent struck upon the ground, and the wall marks were wax-work: opened, and shot out; with military salute of " One of the worst, sir, this house is. This hand to temple, two policemen-not in the least woman has been indicted three times. This surprised themselves, not in the least surprising man's a regular bad one likewise. His real Mr. Superintendent. name is Pegg. Gives himself out as Water"All right, Sharpeye?" house." " All right, sir." " Never had sitch a name as Pegg near me " All right, Trampfoot?" back, thin, since I was in this house, bee the "All right, sir." good Lard!" says the woman. " Is Quickear there?" Generally, the man says nothing at all, but " Here am I, sir." becomes exceedingly round-shouldered, and pre" Come with us." tends to read his paper with rapt attention, "Yes, sir." Generally, Sharpeye directs our observation, So, Sharpeye went before, and Mr. Superin- with a look, to the prints and pictures that are tendent and I went next, and Trampfoot and invariably numerous on the walls. Al\ays Quickear marched as rear-guard. Sharpeye, I Trampfoot and Quickear are taking notice on soon had occasion to remark, had a skilful and the door-step. In default of Sharpeye being quite professional way of opening doors-touched acquainted with the exact individuality of any latches delicately, as if they were keys of musical gentleman encountered, one of these two is sure instruments-opened every door he touched, as to proclaim from the outer air, like a gruff if he were perfectly confident that there was spectre, that Jackson is not Jackson, but knows stolen property behind it-instantly insinuated himself to be Fogle; or that Canlon is Walker's himself, to prevent its being shut. brother, against whom there was not sufficient Sharpeye opened several doors of traps that evidence; or that the man who says he never were set for Jack, but Jack did not happen to was at sea since he was a boy, came ashore be in any of them. They were all such mise- from a voyage last Thursday, or sails to-morrow table places that really, Jack, if I were you, I morning. " And that is a bad class of nan, would give them a wider berth. In every trap you see," says Mr. Superintendent when he got somebody was sitting over a fire waiting for Jack. out into the dark again, "and very difficult to Now, it was a crouching old woman, like the deal with, who, when he has made this place picture of the Norwood Gipsy in the old six- too hot to hold him, enters himself for a voyage penny dream-books; now, it was a crimp of the as steward or cook, and is out of knowledge for male sex, in a checked shirt and without a coat, months, and then turns up again worse than ever." reading a newspaper; now, it was a man crimp When we had gone into many such houses, and a woman crimp, who always introduced and had come out (always leaving everybody themselves as united in holy matrimony; now, relapsing into waiting for Jack), we started off to it was Jack's delight, his (un)lovely Nan; but a singing-house where Jack was expected to they were all waiting for Jack, and were all muster strong. frightfully disappointed to see us. The vocalisation was taking place in a long "Who have you got up-stairs here?" says low room up-stairs; at one end, an orchestra of Sharpeye generally. (In the Move-on tone.) two performers, and a small platform; across "Nobody, surr; sure not a blessed sowl!" the room, a series of open pews for Jack, with (Irish feminine reply.) an aisle down the middle; at the other end, a hat do you mean by nobody? Didn't I larger l)pe than the rest, entitled SNUG, and reTiE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 3.'I 22 THE UNCOMMfERCI4AL TRA VELLER. served -for mates and similar good company. understand much the best. A good girl, said About the room, some amazing coffee-coloured Mr. Licensed Victualler. Kept herself select. pictures varnished an inch deep, and some Sat in Snug, not listening to the blandishments stuffed creatures in cases; dotted among the of Mates. Lived with mother. Father dead. audience, in Snug and out of Snug, the " Pro- Once a merchant well to do, but over-speculated fessionals;" among them, the celebrated comic himself. On delicate` quiry as to salary paid favourite Mr. Banjo Bones, looking very hideous for item of talent under consideration, Mr. with his blackened face and limp sugar-loaf hat; Victualler's pounds dropped suddenly to shilbeside him, sipping rum-and-water, Mrs. Banjo lings-still, it was a very comfortable thing for Bones, in her natural colours-a little heightened. a young person like that, you know; she only It was a Friday night, and Friday night was went on six times a night, and was only required considered not a good night for Jack. At any to be there from six at night to twelve. What rate, Jack did not show in very great force even was more conclusive was, Mr. Victualler's ashere, though the house was one to which he surance that he "never allowed any language, much resorts, and where a good deal of money and never suffered any disturbance." Sharpeye is taken. There was British Jack, a little confirmed the statement, and the-order that premaudlin and sleepy, lolling over his empty vailed was the best proof of it that could have glass, as if he were trying to. read his fortune been cited. So, I came to the conclusion that at the bottom; there was Loafing Jack of the poor Mercantile Jack might do (as I am afraid Stars and Stripes, rather an unpromising cus- be does) much worse than trust himself to Mr. tomer, with his long nose, lank cheek, high Victualler, and pass his evenings here. cheek bones, and nothing soft about him but his But we had not yet looked, Mr. Superintendcabbage-leaf hat; there was Spanish Jack, with ent-said Trampfoot, receiving us in the street curls of black hair, rings in his ears, and a knife again with military salute-for Dark Jack. True, not far from his hand, if you got into trouble Trampfoot. Ring the wonderful stick, rub the with him; there were Maltese Jack, and Jack of wonderful lantern, and cause the spirits of the Sweden, and Jack the Finn, looming through stick and lantern to convey us to the Darkies. the smoke of their pipes, and turning faces that There was no, disappointment in the matter looked as if they were carved out of dark wood, of Dark Jack; he was producible. The Genii towards the young lady dancing the hornpipe; set us down in the little first floor of a little who found the platform so exceedingly small for public-house, and there, in a stiflingly close it, that I had a nervous expectation of seeing atmosphere, were Dark Jack, and Dark Jack's her, in the backward steps, disappear through delight, his white unlovely Nan, sitting against the window. Still, if all hands had been got the wall all round the room. More than that: together, they would not have more than half Dark Jack's delight was the least unlovely Nan, filled the room. Observe, however, said Mr. both morally and' physically, that I saw that Licensed Victualler, the host, that it was Friday night. night, and, besides; it was getting on for twelve, As a fiddle and tambourine band were sitting and Jack had gone aboard. A sharp and watch- among the company, Quickear suggested, why ful man, Mr. Licensed Victualler, the host, with not strike up? " Ah, la'ads!" said a negro tight lips, and a complete. edition of Cocker's sitting by the door, "gib the jebblem a darnse. arithmetic in each eye. Attended to his busi- Tak' yah pardlers, jebblem, for'um QUAD-rill." ness himself, he said. Always on the spot. This was the landlord, in a Greek cap, and a When he heard of talent, trusted nobody's dress half Greek and half English. As master account of it, but went off by rail to see it. If of the ceremonies, he called all the figures, and true talent, engaged it. Pounds a week for occasionally addressed himself parentheticallytalent-four pound, five pound. BanJo Bones after this manner. When he was very loud I was undoubted talent. Hear this instrument use capitals. that was going to play-it was real talent! In "Now den! Hoy! ONE. Right and left. truth, it was very good; a kind of piano- (Put a steam on, gib'urn powder.) LA-dies' accordion, played by a young girl of a delicate chail. BAL-loon say. Lemonade! Two. ADprettiness of face, figure, and dress, that made warnse and go back (gib'ell a breakdown, the audience look coarser. She'sang to the in- shake it out o' yerselbs, keep a movil). SWINGstrument, too; first, a song about village bells, corners, BAL-loon say, and Lemonade! (Hoy!) and how they chimed; then a song about how THREE. GENT come for'ard with a lady and I went to sea; winding up with an imitation of go back, hoppersite come for'ard and do what the bagpipes, which Mercantile Jack seemed to yer can. (Aeiohoy!) BAL-loon say, and leetle A STRANDED SPANIARD. 23 lemonade (Dat hair nigger by'urn fire-place youth with a guitar, who had evidently stopped'hind'a time, shake it out o' yerselbs, gib'ell a playing when our footsteps were heard. breakdown.) Now den! Hoy! FOUR! Lemon- "Well! how do you do?" says Mr. Superlnade. BAL-loon say, and swing. FOUR ladies tendent, looking about him.' meets in'um middle, FOUR gents goes round'umr " Pretty well, sir, and hope you gentlemen are ladles, FOUR gents passes out under'um ladies' going to treat us ladies, now you have come to arms, SWING-and Lemonade till'a moosic can't see us." play no more! (Hoy, Hoy!)" "Order there!" says Sharpeye. The male dancers were all blacks, and one "None of that! " says Quickear. was an unusually powerful man of six feet three Trampfoot, outside, is heard to confide to himor four.' The sound of their flat feet on the self," Meggisson's lot, this is. And a bad'un!" floor was as unlike the sound of white feet as "Well!" says Mr. Superintendent, laying his their faces were unlike white faces. They toed hand on the shoulder of the swarthy youth, and heeled, shuffled, double-shuffled, double- "and who's this?" double-shuffled, covered the buckle, and beat "Antonio, sir." the time out, rarely, dancing with a great show "And what does he do here?" of teeth, and with a childish good-humoured " Come to give us a bit of music. No harm enjoyment that was very prepossessing. They in that, I suppose?" generally kept together, these poor fellows, said " A young foreign sailor?" Mr. Superintendent, because they were at a dis- "Yes. He's a Spaniard. You're a Spaniard, advantage singly, and liable to slights in the ain't you, Antonio?" neighbouring streets. But, if I were Light Jack, "Me Spanish." I should be very slow to interfere oppressively "And he don't know a word you say, not he; with Dark Jack, for, whenever I have had to do not if you was to talk to him till doomsday." with him, I have found him a simple and gentle (Triumphantly, as if it redounded to the credit fellow. Bearing this in mind, I asked his of the house.) friendly permission to leave him restoration of "Will he play something?" beer, in wishing him good night, and thus it fell "Oh yes, if you like! Play something, out that the last words I heard him say, as I Antonio. You ain't ashamed to play something; blundered down the worn stairs, were, "Jeb- are you?" blem's elth! Ladies drinks fust! " The cracked guitar raises the feeblest ghost of The night was now well on into the morning, a tune, and three of the women keep time to it but for miles and hours we explored a strange with their heads, and the fourth with the child. world, where nobody ever goes to bed, but If Antonib has brought any money in with him, everybody is eternally sitting up, waiting for I am afraid he will never take it out, and it even Jack. This exploration was among a labyrinth strikes me that his jacket and guitar may be in of dismal courts and blind alleys, called Entries, a bad way. But, the look of the young man kept in wonderful order by the police, and in and the tinkling of the instrument so change the much better order than by the corporation: the place in a moment to a leaf out of Don Quixote, want of gas-light in the most dangerous and in- that I wonder where his mule is stabled, until he famous of these places being quite unworthy of leaves off. so spirited a town. I need describe but two or I am bound to acknowledge (as it tends rather three of the houses in which Jack was waited to my uncommercial confusion) that I occasioned for as specimens of the rest. Many we attained a difficulty in this establishment, by having taken by noisome passages so profoundly dark, that the child in my arms. For, on my offering to we felt -our way with our hands. Not one of restore it to a ferocious joker not unstimulated the whole number we visited was without its by rum, who claimed to be its mother, that unshow of prints and ornamental crockery; the natural parent put her hands behind her, and quantity of the latter set forth on little shelves declined to accept it; backing into the fireand in little -cases, in otherwise wretched rooms, place, and very shrilly declaring, regardless of indicating that Mercantile Jack must have an remonstrance from her friends, that she knowed extraordinary fondness for crockery, to nece — it to be'Law, that whoever took a child from its sitate so much of that bait in his traps. mother of his own will was bound to stick to it. Among such garniture, in one front parlour in The uncommercial sense of being in a rather the dead of the night, four women were sitting ridiculous position, with the poor little child by a fire. One of them had a male' child in' her beginning to be frightened, was relieved.by my arms. On the stool among them was a swarthy worthy friend and fellow-constable,'Trlamlinfoot; 247 T1E U1NCO.4fACJERC'IA TRyA VEiLLER. who, laying hands on the article as if it were a " Yes. What is he?" bottl6, passed it on to the nearest woman, and "Deserter, sir." bade her " take hold of that." As we came out Mr. Sharpeye further intimates that, when Wec the Bottle was passed to the ferocious joker, have done with his services, he will step back and they all sat down as before, including and take that young man. Which in course of Antonio and the guitar. It was clear that there time he does; feeling at perfect ease about was no such thing as a nightcap to this baby's finding him, and knowing for a moral certainty head, and that even he never went to bed, but that nobody in that region will be gone to bed. was always kept up-and would grow up, kept Later still in the night, we came to another up-waiting for Jack. parlour up a step or two from the street, which Later still in the night we came (by the court was very cleanly, neatly, even tastefully, kept, "where the man was murdered," and by the other and in which, set forth on a draped chest of court across the street, into which his body was drawers masking the staircase, was such a prodragged) to another parlour in another Entry, fusion of ornamental crockery, that it would where several people were sitting round a fire in have furnished forth a handsome sale-booth at a just the same way.( It was a dirty and offensive fair. It backed up a stout old lady-HOGARTH place, with some ragged clothes drying in it; drew her exact likeness more than once-and a but there was a high shelf over the entrance- boy who was carefully writing a copy in a copydoor (to be out of the reach of marauding hands, book. possibly), with two large white loaves on it, and "Well, ma'am, how do you do?" a great piece of Cheshire cheese. Sweetly, she Can assure the deal gentleman, "Well!" says Mr. Superintendent, with f sweetly. Charmingly, charmingly. And overcomprehensive look all round "How do you joyed to see us! do?" "Why, this is a strange time for this boy to "Not much to boas of sir." From the be writing his copy. In the middle of the curtsying Yeoman df the house. "This is my night!" good man, sir." "So it is, dear gentlemen, Heaven bless your "You are not registered as a common Lodg- welcome faces, and send ye prosperous, but he ing House?' has been to the Play with a young friend for his "No, sir." diversion, and he combinates his improvement Sharpeye (in the move-on tone) puts in the with entertainment, by doing his school-writing pertinent inquiry, " Then why ain't you?" afterwards, God be good to ye! " "Ain't got no one here, Mr. Sharpeye," re The copy admonished human nature to subjoin the woman and my good man together, jugate the fire of every fierce desire. One might "but our own family " have thought it recommended stirring the fire, " How many are you in iamily? the old lady so approved it. There she sat, The woman takes time to count, under the rosily beaming at the copy-book and the boy, pretence of coughing, and adds, as one scant of and invoking showers of blessings on our heads, breath, "Seven, sir." when we left her in the middle of the night, But she has missed one, so Sharpeye, who waiting for Jack. knows all about it, says: Later still in the night, we came to a nauseous "Here's a young man here makes eight, who room with an earth floor, into which the refuse ain't of your family?" scum of an alley trickled. The stench of this " No, Mr. Sharpeye, he's a weekly lodger." habitation was abominable; the seeming poverty " What does he do for a living?" of it diseased and dire. Yet here, again, was The young man here takes the reply upon visitor or lodger-a man sitting before the fire, himself, and shortly answers, " Ain't got nothing like the rest of them elsewhere, and apparently to do." not distasteful to the mistress's niece, who was The young man here is modestly brooding also before the fire. The mistress herself had behind a damp apron pendent from a clothes- the misfortune of being in gaol. line. As I glance at him I become-but I don't Three weird old women of transcendent know why-vaguely reminded of Woolwich, ghastliness were at needlework at a table in this Chatham, Portsmouth, and Dover. When we room. Says Trampfoot to First Witch, " What get out, my respected fellow-constable Sharpeye, are you making?" Says she, " Money-bags." addressing Mr. Superintendent, says: " IFhat are you making? " retorts Trampfoot, " You noticed that young man, sir, in at a little off his balance. Darby's?" "Bags to hold your money," says the witcn, THREE WITCHES. 25 shaking her head, and setting her teeth; "you Trampfoot wishes to be informed what First as has got it." Witch has got behind the table, down by the She holds up a common cash-bag, and on the' side of her, there? Witches Two and Three table is a heap of such bags. Witch Two laughs croak angrily, " Show him the child!" at us. Witch Three scowls at us. Witch She drags out a skinny little arm from a brown sisterhood all, stitch, stitch. First Witch has a dust-heap on the ground. Adjured not to disred circle round each eye. I fancy it like the turb the child, she lets it drop again. Thus we beginning of the development of a perverted find at last that there is one child in the world diabolical halo, and that, when it spreads all of Entries who goes to bed-if this be bed. round her head, she will die in the odour of Mr. Superintendent asks how long are they devilry. going to work at those bags? " BAGS TO HOLD YOUR MONEY," SAYS THE WITCH, SHAKING HER HEAD, AND SETTING HIER'TEETIH;'* YOU AS HAS GOT IT.' I-ow long? First Witch repeats. Going to pronounce Trampfoot "right there," when he have supper presently. See the cups and saucers, deems it a trying distance for the old lady to walk; and the plates. she shall be fetched by niece in a spring cart. "Late? Ay! But we has to'arn our supper As I took a parting look at First Witch in afore we eats it!" Both the other witches turning away, the red marks round her eyes repeat this after First Witch, and take the Un- seemed to have already grown larger, and she commercial measurement with their eyes, as for hungrily and thirstily looked out beyond me into a charmed winding-sheet. Some grim discourse the dark doorway, to see if Jack were there. ensues, referring to the mistress of the cave, who For, Jack came even here, and the mistess ad will be released from gaol to-morrow. Witches got into gaol through deluding Jack, 26 THE UNCO~IML ERCICAL TRA VEILLER. When I at last ended this night of travel, and manners of gentlemen-a popular phenoand got to bed, I failed to keep my mind on menon which never existed on earth out of comfortable thoughts of Seamen's Homes (not fiction and a police report. Again: I wonder overdone with strictness), and improved dock why people are always blown into the Surrey regulations, giving Jack greater benefit of fire Canal, and into no other piece of water! Why and candle aboard ship, through my mind's do people get up early and go out in groups, to wandering among the vermin I had seen. After- be blown into the Surrey Canal? Do they say wards the same vermiif ran all over my sleep. to one another, "Welcome death, so that we Evermore, when on a breezy day I see Poor get into the newspapers?" Even that would be Mercantile Jack running into port with a fair an insufficient explanation, because even then wind under all sail, I shall think of the unsleep- they might sometimes put themselves in t' e way ing host of devourers who never go to bed, and of being blown into the Regent's Canal, instead are always in their set traps waiting for him. of always saddling Surrey for the field. Some nameless policeman, too, is constantly, on the slightest provocation, getting himself blown into this same Surrey Canal. Will SIR RICHARD VI; MAYNE see to it, and restrain that weak-minded and feeble-bodied constable? REFRESHMENTS FOR TRAVELLERS. To resume the consideration of the curious question of Refreshment. I am a Briton, and, 39 E N the late high winds I was blown to as such, I am aware that I never will be a slave -l a great- many places-and, indeed, -and yet I'have latent suspicion that there i wind or no wind, I generally have must be some slavery of wrong custom in this.J'extensive transactions on hand in matter. the article of Air-but I have not I travel by railroad. I start from home at - been blown to any English place seven or eight in the morning, after breakfasting _'/ lately, and I very seldom have blown hurriedly. What with skimming over the open to any English place in my life, where landscape, what with mining in the damp bowels I could get anything good to eat and of the earth, what with banging, booming, and drink in five minutes, or where, if I sought it, shrieking the scores of miles away, I am hungry I was received with a welcome. when I arrive at the "Refreshment" station This is a curious thing to consider. But be- where I am expected. Please to observe, exfore (stimulated by my own experiences and the pected. I have said, I am hungry; perhaps I representations of many fellow-travellers of every might say, with greater point and force, that I uncommercial and commercial degree) I con- am to some extent exhausted, and that I need sider it furtner, I must utter a passing word of -in the expressive French sense of the wordwonder concerning high winds. to be restored. What is provided for my reI wonder why metropolitan gales always blow storation? The apartment that Is to restore me so hard at Walworth. I cannot imagine what is a wind-trap, cunningly set to inveigle all the Walworth has done to bring such windy punish- draughts in that country-side, and to communiment upon itself, as I never fail to find re- cate a special intensity and velocity to them as corded in the newspapers when. the wind has they rotate in two hurricanes: one, about my blown at all hard. Brixton seems to have some- wretched head; one, about my wretched legs. thing on its conscience; Peckham suffers more The training of the young ladies behind the than a virtuous Peckham might be supposed to counter who are to restore me, has been, from deserve; the howling neighbourhood of Dept- their infancy, directed to the assumption of a ford, figures largely in the accounts of the in- defiant dramatic show that I am not expected. genious gentlemen who are out in every wind It is in vain for me to represent to them, by my that blows, and to whom it is an ill high wind humble and conciliatory manners, that I wish tc that blows no good; but, there can hardly be be liberal. It is in vain for me to represent to any Walworth left by this time. It must surely - myself, for the encouragement of my sinking be blown away. I have read of more chimney- soul, that the young ladies have a pecuniary stacks and. house-copings coming down with interest in my arrival. Neither my reason nor terrific smashes at Walworth, and of more sacred my feelings can make head against the cold edifices being nearly (not quite) blown out to glazed glare of eye with which I am assured that sea from the same accursed locality, than I have I am not expected, and not wanted. The solitary read of practised thieves with the appearance, man among the bottles would sometimes take ANOTHER CASE. 27 pity on me, if he dared, but he is powerless Grazinglands (who is the tenderest of husbands) against the rights and mights of Woman. (Of remarked with sympathy, " Arabella, my dear, I the page I make no account, for, he is a boy, fear you are faint." Mrs. Grazinglands replied, and therefore the natural enemy of Creation.) "Alexander, I am rather faint; but don't mind Chill;ng fast, in the deadly tornadoes to which me, I shall be better presently." Touched by my tipper and lower extremities are exposed, the feminine meekness of this answer, Mr. and subdued by the moral disadvantage at which Grazinglands looked in at a pastrycook's window, I stand, I turn my disconsolate eyes on the hesitating as to the expediency of lunching at refreshments that are to restore me. I find that that establishment. He beheld nothing to cat I must either scald my throat by insanely ladling but butter in various forms, slightly charged with into it, against time and for no wager, brown hot jam, and languidly frizzling over tepid watlr. water stiffened with flour; or I must make my- Two ancient turtle shells, on which was inscribed self flaky and sick with Banbury cake; or, I the legend " Soups," decorated a glass partition must stuff into my delicate organisation a currant within, enclosing a stuffy alcove, from whicl a pincushion which I know will swell into im- ghastly mockery of a marriage breakfast spread measurable dimensions when it has got there; on a rickety table, warned the terrified traveller. or, I must extort from an iron-bound quarry, An oblong box of stale and broken pastry at with a fork, as if I were farming an inhospitable reduced prices, mounted on a stool, ornamented soil, some glutinous lumps of gristle and grease, the doorway; and two high chairs, that looked called pork-pie. While thus forlornly occupied, as if they were performing on stilts, embellished I find that the depressing banquet on the table the counter. Over the whole a young lady preis, in every phase of its profoundly unsatisfactory sided, whose gloomy haughtiness, as she surcharacter, so like the banquet at the meanest veyed the street, announced a deep-seated and shabbiest of evening parties, that I begin to grievance against society, and an implacable think I must have "brought down" to supper determination to be avenged. From a beetle. the old lady unknown, blue with cold, who is haunted kitchen below thi:, institution. funes setting-her teeth on edge with a cool orange at arose, suggestive of a class of soup) which Mr. my elbow-that the pastrycook, who has com- Grazinglands knew, from painful experienct, pounded for the company on the lowest terms enfeebles the mind, distends the stomach, forces per head, is a fraudulent bankrupt redeeming his itself into the complexion, and tries to ooze out contract with the stale stock from his window- at the eyes. As he decided against entering, that, for some unexplained reason, the family and turned away, Mrs. Grazinglands, becoming giving the party have become my mortal foes, perceptibly weaker, repeated, " I'm rather faint, and have given it on purpose to affront me. Or, Alexander, but don't mind me." Urged to new I fancy that I am " breaking up " again at the efforts by these words of resignation, Mr. Grazingevening conversazione at school, charged two- lands looked in at a cold and floury baker's and-sixpence in the half-year's bill; or breaking shop, where utilitarian buns, unrelieved by a down again at that celebrated evening party currant, consorted with hard biscuits, a stone given at Mrs. Bogles's boarding-house when I was filter of cold water, a hard pale clock, and a a boarder there, on which occasion Mrs. Bogles hard little old woman with flaxen hair, of an was taken in execution by a branch of the legal undeveloped farinaceous aspect, as if she had profession who got in as the harp, and was been fed upon seeds. He might have entered removed (with the keys and subscribed capital) even here, but for the timely remembrance to a place of durance, half an hour prior to the coming upon him that Jairing's was but round commencement of the festivities. the corner. Take another case. Now, Jairing's being an hotel for families and Mr. Grazinglands, of the Midland Counties, gentlemen, in high repute among the midland came to London byrailroad one morninglastweek,' counties, Mr. Grazinglands plucked up a great accompanied ~y the amiable and fascinating Mrs. spirit when he told Mrs. Grazinglands she should Grazinglands. Mr. G. is a gentleman of a com- have a chop there. That lady likewise felt that fortable property, and had a little business to she was going to see Life. Arriving on that gay transact at the Bank of England, which required and festive scene, they found the second waiter, the concurrence and signature of Mrs. G. Their in a flabby undress, cleaning the windows of the business disposed of, Mr. and Mrs. Grazinglands empty coffee-room; and the first waiter, denuded viewed the Royal Exchange, and the exterior of of his white tie, making up his cruets behind St. Paul's Cathedral. The spirits of Mrs. Grazing- the Post-Office Directory. The latter (who took lands then gradually beginning to flag, Mr. them in hand) was greatly put out by their 23 ITHE UNCOAMMf ERCIAL TIR ALVLL E'. patronage, and showed his mind to be troubled brown patties, composed of unknown animals by a sense of the pressing necessity of instantly within, and offering to my view the device of an smuggling Mrs. Grazinglands into the obscurest indigestible star-fish in leaden pie-crust without. corner of the building. This slighted lady (who I cannot dine on a sandwich that has long been is the pride of her division of the county) was pining under an exhausted receiver. I cannot immediately conveyed, by several dark passages, dine on barley-sugar. I cannot dine on Toifee." and up and down several steps, into a penitential You repair to the nearest hotel, and arrive, apartment at the back of the house, where five agitated, in the coffee-room. invalided old plate-warmers leaned up against It is a most astonishing fact that the waiter is one another under a discarded old rhelancholy very cold to you. Account for it how you may, sideboard, and where the wintry leaves of all the smooth it over how you will, you cannot deny dining-tables in the house lay thick. Also, a that he is cold to you. He is not glad to see sofa, of incomprehensible form regarded from you, he does not want you, he would much rather any sofane point of view, murmured, "Bed;" you hadn't come. He opposes to your flushed while an air of mingled fluffiness and heel-taps condition an immovable composure. As if this added, " Second Waiter's." Secreted in this were not enough, another waiter, born, as it dismal hold, objects of a mysterious distrust would seem, expressly to look at you in this and suspicion, Mr. Grazinglands and his charm- passae of your life, stands at a little distance, ing partner waited twenty minutes for the smoke with his napkin under his arm and his hands (for it never came to a fire), twenty-five minutes folded, looking at you with all his might. You for the sherry, half an hour for the table-cloth, impress on your waiter that you have ten forty minutes for the knives and forks, three- minutes for dinner, and he proposes that you quarters of an hour for the chops, and an hour shall begin with a bit of fish which will be ready for the potatoes. On settling the little bill- in twenty. That proposal declined, he suggests which was not much more than the day's pay -as a neat originality —"a weal or mutton of a Lieutenant in the navy-Mr. Grazinglands cutlet." You close with either cutlet, any cutlet, took heart to remonstrate against the general anything. He goes, leisurely, behind a door, quality and cost of his reception. To whom and calls down some unseen shaft. A ventrilothe waiter replied, substantially, that Jairing's quial dialogue ensues, tending finally to the effect made it a merit to have accepted him on any that weal only is available on the spur of the terms: "for," added the waiter (unmistakably moment. You anxiously call out, "Veal, then!" coughing at Mrs. Grazinglands, the pride of her Your waiter, having settled that point, returns to division of the county), "when indiwiduals is array your table-cloth, with a table napkin folded not staying in the'Ouse, their favours is not as cocked-hat-wise (slowly, for something out of a rule looked upon as making it worth Mr. window engages his eye), a white wine-glass, a Jairing's while; nor is it, indeed, a style of green wine-glass, a blue finger-glass, a tumbler, business Mr. Jairing wishes." Finally, Mr. and and a powerful field battery of fourteen casters Mrs. Grazinglands passed out of Jairing's Hotel with nothing in them; or, at all events-which for Families and Gentlemen in a state of the is enough for your purpose-with nothing: in greatest depression, scorned by the bar; and them that will come out. All this time the did not recover their self-respect for several other waiter looks at you-with an air of mental days. comparison and curiosity, now, as if it had ocOr, taKe another case. Take your own case. curred to him that you are rather like his You'are going off by railway fiom any Ter- brother. Half your time'gone, and nothing minus. You have twenty minutes for dinner come but the jug of ale and the bread, you imbefore you go. You want your dinner, and, like plore your waiter to -"see after that cutlet, Doctor Johnson, Sir, you like to dine. You pre- waiter; pray do! " He cannot go at once, for sent to your mind a picture of the refreshment- he is carrying in seventeen pounds of American table at that terminus. The conventional shabby cheese for you to finish with, and a small Landed evening-party supper-accepted as the model for Estate of celery and water-cresses. The other all termini and all refreshment stations, because waiter changes his leg, and takes a new view of it is the last repast known to this state of exist- you-doubtfully, now, as if he had rejected the ence of whicn any human creature would par- resemblance to his brother, and had begun to take, but in the direst extremity-sickens your think you more like his aunt or his grandmother. contemplation, and your words are these: "I Again you beseech your waiter, with pathetic cannot dine on stale sponge-cakes that turn to indignation, to "see after that cutlet!" He sand in the mouth, I cannot dine on shining steps out to see after it, and by-and-by, when HO'LE~L RLFRESiHMLEfVlTS. 29 you are going away without it, comes back with ng horribly among its capers when carved; of it. Even then he will not take the sham silver its little dishes of pastry-roofs of sperncaceti cover off without a pause for a flourish, and a ointment, erected over half an apple or four look at the musty cutlet as if he were surprised gooseberries. Well for you if you have yet for. to see it-which cannot possibly be the case, gotten the old-established Bull's Head fruity he must have seen it so often before. A sort of port; whose reputation was gained solely b? fur has been produced upon its surface by the the old-established price the Bull's Head p1u cook's art, and in'a sham silver vessel, stagger- upon it, and by the old-established air with ing on two feet instead of three, is a cutaneous which the Bull's Head set the glasses and kind of sauce, of brown pimples and pickled D'Oyleys on, and held that Liquid Gout to the cucumber. You order the bill, but your waiter three-and-sixpenny wax candle, as if its oldcannot bring your bill yet, because he is bring- established colour hadn't come from the dyer's. ing, instead, three flinty-hearted potatoes and Or, lastly, take, to finish with, two cases that two grim heads of broccoli, like the occasional we all know every day. ornaments on area railings, badly boiled. You We all know the new hotel near the station, know that you will never come to this pass, any where it is always gusty, going up the lane whiclh more than to the cheese and the celery, and is always muddy, where we are sure to arrive at you imperatively demand your bill; but, it takes night, and where we make the gas start awfully time to get, even when gone for, because your when we open the front-door. We all know the waiter has to communicate with a lady who flooring of the passages and staircases that is too lives behind a sash-window in a corner, and new, and the walls that are too new, and the who appears to have to refer to several Ledgers house that is haunted by the ghost of mortar. before she can make it out-as if you had been We all know the doors that have cracked, and staying there a year. You become distracted to the cracked shutters through which we get a get away, and the other waiter, once more chang- glimpse of the disconsolate moon. We all know ing his leg, still looks at you —but suspiciously, the new people who have come to keep the new now, as if you had begun to remind him of the hotel, and who wish they had never come, and party who took the great-coats last winter. who (inevitable result) wish we had never come. Your bill at last brought and paid, at the rate We all know how much too scant and smooth of sixpence a mouthful, your waiter reproach- and bright the new furniture is, and how it has fully reminds you that "attendance is not never settled down, and cannot fit itself into charged for a single meal," and you have to right places, and will get into wrong places. search in all your pockets for sixpence more. We all know how the gas, being lighted, shows He has a worse opinion of you than ever, when maps of Damp upon the walls. We all know you have given it to him, and lets you out into how the ghost of mortar passes into our sandthe street with the air of one saying to himself, wich, stirs our negus, goes up to bed with us, as you cannot doubt he is, "I hope we shall ascends the pale bedroom chimney, and prenever see you here again!" vents the smoke from following. We all knoto Or, take any other of the numerous travelling how a leg of our chair comes off at breakfast in instances in which, with more time at your dis- the morning, and how the dejected waiter attriposal, you are, have been, or may-be equally ill butes the accident to a general greenness perserved. Take the old-established Bull's Head, vading the establishment, and informs us, in with its old-established knife-boxes on its old- reply to a local inquiry, that he is thankful to established sideboards, its old-established flue say he is an entire stranger in that part of the under its old-established four-post bedsteads in country, and is going back to his own connecits old-established airless rooms, its old-esta- tion on Saturday. blished frouziness up-stairs and down-stairs, its We all know, on the other hand, the great staold-established cookery, and its old-established tion hotel belonging to the company of proprietors, principles of plunder. Count up your injuries, which has suddenly sprung up in the back outin its side-dishes of ailing sweetbreads in white skirts of any place we like to name, and where we poultices, of apothecaries' powders in rice for look out of our palatial windows, at little backcurry, of pale stewed bits of calf ineffectually yards and gardens, old summer-houses, fowlrelying for an adventitious interest on forcemeat houses, pigeon-traps, and pigsties. We all know balls. You have had experience of the old- this hotel, in which we can get anythhig rwe established Bull's Head stringy fowls, with lower want, after its kind, for money; but where noextremities like wooden legs, sticking up out of body is glad to see us, or sorry to see us, or the dish; of its cannibalic boiled mutton, gush- minds (our bill paid) whether we come or go, 3o THE UN/COMMEiRCIAL TRA VELLER. or how, or when. or why, or cares about us. " Holloa! " said I to the very queer small We all know this hotel, where we have no in- boy, " where do you live? " dividuality, but put ourselves into the general "At Chatham," says he. post, as it were, and are sorted and disposed of "What do you do there?" says I. according to our division. We all know that we "I go to school," says he. can get on very well indeed at such a place, but I took him up in a moment, and we went on. still not perfectly well; and this may be because Presently the very queer small boy says, " This the place is largely wholesale, and there is a is Gads-hill we are coming to, where Falstaff lingering personal retail interest within us that went out to rob those travellers, and ran away." asks to be satisfied. "You know something about Falstaff eh?" To sum up. My uncommercial travelling has said I. not yet brought me to the conclusion that we "All about him," said the very queer small are close to perfection in these matters. And boy. "I am old (I am nine), and I read all just as I do not believe that the end of the world sorts of books. But do let us stop at the top of will ever be near at hand, so long as any of the the hill, and look at the house there, if you very tiresome and arrogant people who con- please!" stant!y predict that catastrophe are left in it, so "You admire that house," said I. I shall have small falh in the Hotel Millennium' Bless you, sir," said the very queer small boy, while any of the uncomfortable superstitions I "when I was not more than half as old as nine, have glanced at remain in existence, it used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And, now I am nine, I come by myself,_^~~ _ to look at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often VII. said to me,'If you were to be very persevering, and were to work hard, you might some day TRAVELLING ABROAD. come to live in it.' Though that's impossible! said the very queer small boy, drawing a low A -r%,(a GOT into the travelling chariot-it breath, and now staring at the house out of winy %'as of Gerlman make, roomy, heavy, dow with all his might. zJc and unvarnished-I got into the I was rather amazed to be told this by the _,~. travelling chariot, pulled up the very queer small boy; for that house happens ge',;w steps after nme, shut myself in with to be my house, and I have reason to believe _ a smart bang of the door, and gave that what he said was true.' the word " Go on! " Well! I made no halt there, and I soon Immediately all that W. and S.W. dropped the very queer small boy, and went on. division of London began to slide away at a Over the road where the old Romans used to pace so lively, that I was over the river, arid past march, over the road where the old Canterbury the Old Kent Road, and' out on Blackheath, and pilgrims used to go, over the road where the even ascending Shooter's HIill, before I had tine travelling trains of the old imperious priests and to look about me in the carriage, like a collected princes used to jingle on horseback between the traveller. Continent and this Island through the mud and 1 had two amnile Imperials on the roof, other water, over the road where Shakspeare hummed fitted storage for luggage in front, and other up to himself, " Blow, blow, thou winter wind," as behind; I had a net for books overhead, great he sat in the saddle at the gate of the inn yard pockets to all the windows, a leathern pouch or noticing the carriers; all among the cherry two hung up for odds and ends, and a reading- orchards, apple orchards, corn-fields, and hop lamp fixed in the back of the chariot, in case I gardens: so went I, by Canterbury to Dover. should be benighted. I was amply provided in There the sea was tumbling in, with deep sounds, all respects, and had no idea where I was going after dark, and the revolving French light on (which was delightful), except that I was going Gape Grinez was seen regularly bursting out and abroad. becoming obscured, as if the head of a gigantic So smooth was the old high-road, and so fresh light-keeper in an anxious state of mind were were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was interposed every half-minute, to look how it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and burning. the widening river was bearing the ships, white Early in the morning I was on the deck of siiled, or black smoked, out to sea, when I the steam-packet, and we were aiming at the bar noticed by the wayside a very queer small boy. in the usual intolerable manner, and the bar was THR 0 UGIZ FRANCE. J3 aiming at us in the usual intolerable manner, enough of it; there were the standard popllaand the bar got by far the best of it, and we got tion of grey horses of Flanders descent, invariby far the worst-all in the usual intolerable ably biting one another when they got a chance; manner. there were the fleecy sheep-skins, looped on But, when I was clear of the Custom House over their uniforms by the postillions, like on the other side, and when I began to make bibbed aprons when it blew and rained; there the dust fly on the thirsty French roads, and were their jack-books, and their cracking whips; when the twigsome trees by the wayside (which, there were the cathedrals that I got out to see, I suppose, never will grow leafy, for they never as under some cruel bondage, in nowise desiring did) guarded here and there a dusty soldier, or to see them; there were the little towns that field labourer, baking on a heap of broken appeared to have no reason for being towns, stones, sound asleep in a fiction of shade, I be- since most of their houses were to let, and gan to recover my travelling spirits. Coming nobody could be induced to look at them, exupon the breaker of the broken stones, in a hard cept the people who couldn't let them, and had hot shining hat, on which the sun played at a nothing else to do but look at them all day. I distance as on a burning-glass, I felt that now, lay a night upon the road, and enjoyed delectindeed, I was in the dear old France of my able cookery of potatoes, and some other senaffection. I should have known it, without the sible things, adoption of which at home would well-remembered bottle of roiL,h ordinary wine, inevitably be shown to be fraught with ruin, the cold roast fowl, the loaf, and the pinch of somehow or other, to that rickety national salt, on which I lunched with unspeakable satis- blessing, the British farmer; and at last I was faction, from one of the stuffed pockets of the rattled, like a single pill in a box, over leagues chariot. of stones, until-madly cracking, plunging, and I must have fallen asleep after lunch, for, flourishing two grey tails albo't-l made my when a bright face looked in at the window, I triumphal entry into Paris. started, and said: At Paris I took an upper apartment for a few "Good God, Louis, I dreamed you were days in one of the hotels of the Rue de Rivoli; dead " my front windows looking into the garden of My cheerful servant laughed and answered: the Tuileries (where the principal difference be" Me? Not at all, sir." tween the nursemaids and the flowers seemed "How glad I am to wake! What are we to be that the former were locomotive, and the doing, Louis?" latter not): my back-windows looking at all the We go to take relay of horses. Will you other back-windows in the hotel, and deep walk up the hill?" down into a paved yard, where my German "Certainly." chariot had retired under a tight-fitting archway. Welcome the old French hill, with the old to all appearance for life, and where bells rang French lunatic (not in the most distant degree all day without anybody's minding them Jbut related to Sterne's Maria) living in a thatched certain chamberlains with feather brooms and dog-kennel half-way up, and flying out with his green baize caps, who here and thete leaned crutch and his big head and extended nightcap, out of some high window placidly looking down, to be beforehand with the old men and women and where neat waiters with trays on their left exhibiting crippled children, and with the chil- shoulders passed and repassed from -norning to dren exhibiting old men and women, ugly and night. blind, who always seemed by resurrectionary Whenever I am at Paris. I am dragged by inprocess to be recalled out of the elements for visible force into the Morgue. I never want to! the sudden peopling of the solitude!go there, but am always pulled there. One "It is well," said I, scattering among them Christmas-day, when I would rather have been what small coin I had; " here comes Louis, anywhere else, I was attracted in, to see an old and I am quite roused from my nap." grey man lying all alone on his cold bed, with We journeyed on again, and I.welcomed a tap of water turned on over his grey hair, and every new assurance that France stood where I running, drip, drip, drip, down his wretched had left it. There were the posting-houses, face until it got to the corner of his mouth, with their archways, dirty stable-yards, and where it took a turn, and made him look sly. clean postmasters' wives, bright women of busi- One New Year's morning (by the same token, ness, looking on at the putting-to of the horses; the sun was shining outside, and there was a there were the postillions counting what money mountebank balancing a feather on his nose, they got into their hats, and never making Iwithin a yard of the gate), I was pulled in again 32 THE UNCOMMIERCIAL TRA VELLER. to look at a flaxen-haired boy of eighteen, with brain, that I could not get rid of it until it was a heart hanging on his breast-" from his worn opt. mother," was engraven on it-who had come I noticed the peculiarities of this possession into the net acros. the river, with a bullet while it was a real discomfort to me. That very wound in his fair'orehead, and his hands cut day, at dinner, some morsel on my plate looked with a knife, but whence or how was a blank like a piece of him, and I was glad to get up mystery. This time I was forced into the same and go out. Later in the evening, I was walkdread place, to see a large dark man whose dis- ing along the Rue St. Honore, when I saw a figurement by water was in a frightful manner bill at a public room there, announcing smallcomic, and whose expression was that of a prize- sword exercise, broad-sword exercise, wrestling, fighter who had closed his eyelids under a heavy and other such feats. I went in, and, some of the blow, but was going immediately to open them, sword-play being very skilful, remained. A shake his head, and "come up smiling." Oh, specimen of our own national sport, the British what this large dark man cost me in that bright Boaxe, was announced to be given at the close city! of the evening. In an evil hour, I determined It was very hot weather, and he was none the to wait for this Boaxe, as became a Briton. It better for that, and I was much the worse. In- was a clumsy specimen (executed by two Engdeed, a very neat and pleasant little womnan, lish grooms out of place), but one of the comwith the key of her lodging on her forefinger, batants, receiving a straight right-hander with who had been showing him to her little girl the glove between his eyes, did exactly what the while she and the child ate sweetmeats, observed large dark creature in the Morgue had seemed monsieur looking poorly as we came out to- going to do-and finished me for that night. gether, and asked monsieur, with her wondering There was rather a sickly smell (not at all an little eyebrows prettily raised, if there were any- unusual fragrance in Paris) in the little antething the matter? Faintly replying in the nega- room of my apartment at the hotel. The large tive, monsieur crossed the road to a wine-shop, dark creature in the Morgue was by no direct got some brandy, and resolved to freshen himself experience associated with my sense of smell, with a dip in the great floating bath on the river, because, when I came to the knowledge of him, The bath was crowded, in the usual airy he lay behind a wall of thick plate glass, as good manner, by a male population in striped drawers as a wall of steel or marble for that matter. Yet of various gay colours, who walked up and the whiff of the room never failed to reproduce down arm-in-arm, drank coffee, smoked cigars, him. What was more curious was, the caprisat at little tables, conversed politely with the ciousness with which his portrait seemed to light damsels who dispensed the towels, and every itself up in my mind elsewhere. I might be now and then pitched themselves into the river walking in the Palais Royal, lazily enjoying the head foremost, and came out again to repeat shop-Windows, and might be regaling myself this social routine. I made haste to participate with one of the ready-made clothes shops that in the water part of the entertainments, and was are set out there: My eyes, wandering over in.the full enjoyment of a delightful bath, when impossible-waisted dressing-gowns and luminous all in a moment I was seized with an unreason- waistcoats, would fall upon the master, or the able idea that the large dark' body was floating shopman, or even the very dummy at the door, straight at me. and would suggest to me, " Something like I was out of the river, and dressing instantly. him!"-and instantly I was sickened again. In the shock I had taken some water into my This would happen at the theatre, in the mouth; and it turned me sick, for I fancied that same manner. Often it would happen in the the contamination of the creature was in it. I street, when I certainly was not looking for the had got back to my cool darkened room in the likeness, and when probably there was no likehotel, and was lying on a sofa there, before I ness there. It was not because the creature began to reason with myself. was dead that I was so haunted, because I know Of course I knew perfectly well that the that I might have been (and I know it because large dark creature was stone dead, and that I I have been) equally attended by the image of should no more come upon him out of the a living aversion. This lasted about a week. place where I had seen him dead, than I should The picture did not fade by degrees, in the come upon the cathedral of Notre-Dame'in an sense that it became a whit less forcible and entirely new situation. What troubled ile was distinct, but in the sense that it obtruded itself the picture of the creature: and that had so less and less frequently. The experience may curiously and strongly painted itself upon my be worth considering by some who have the MYSTERIOUS COND UCT OF STRA UDANiEIAM. 33 care of children. It would be difficult to over- At first, as I looked at Straudenheim's through state the intensity and accuracy of an intelligent the eteadily-falling rain, I set him up in business child's observation. At that impressible time of in the goose-liver line. But, inspection of Straulife, it must sometimes produce a fixed impres- denheim, who became visible at a window on sion. If the fixed impression be of an object the second floor, convinced me that there was terrible to the child, it will be (for want of something more precious than liver in the case. reasoning upon) inseparable from great fear. He wore a black velvet skull-cap, and looked Force the child at such a time, be Spartan with usurious and rich. A large-lipped, pear-nosed it, send it into the dark against its will, leave it old man, with white hair and keen eyes, though in a lonely bedroom against its will, and you near-sighted. He was writing at a desk, was had better murder it. Straudenheim, and ever and again left off writOn a bright morning I rattled away from ing, put his pen in his mouth, and went through Paris in the German chariot, and left the large actions with his right hand, like a man steadying dark creature behind me for good. I ought to piles of cash. Five-franc pieces, Straudenheim, confess, though, that I had been drawn back or golden Napoleons? A jeweller, Straudento the Morgue, after he was put underground, heim, a dealer in money, a diamond merchant, to look at his clothes, and that I found them cr what? frightfullylike him-particularly his boots. How- Below Straudenheim, at a window on the first ever, I rattled away for Switzerland, looking floor, sat his housekeeper-far from young, but forward, and not backward, and so we parted of a comely presence, suggestive of a wellcompany. matured foot and ankle. She was cheerily Welcome again the long long spell of France, dressed, had a fan in her hand, and wore large with the queer country inns, full of vases of gold ear-rings and a large gold cross. She flowers and clocks, in the dull little towns, and would have been out holiday-making (as I setwith the little population not at all dull on the tied it) but for the pestilent rain. Strasbourg little Boulevard in the evening, under the little had given up holiday-making, for that once, as trees! Welcome Monsieur the Cure walking a bad Job, because the rain was jerking in gushes alone in the early morning a short way out of out of the old roof-spouts, and running in a the town, reading that eternal Breviary of yours, brook down the middle of the street. The which surely might be almost read without book housekeeper, her arms folded on her bosom and by this time! Welcome Monsieur the Curd, her fan tapping her chin, was bright and smiling later in the day,. jolting through the highway at her open window, but otherwise Straudendust (as if you had already ascended to the heim's house-front was very dreary. The housecloudy region), in a very big-headed cabriolet, keeper's was the only open window in it; with the dried mud of a dozen winters on it. Straudenheim kept himself close, though it was a Welcome again Monsieur the Cure, as we ex- sultry evening when air is pleasant, and though change salutations; you straightening your back the rain had brought into the town that vague to look at the German chariot, while picking in refreshing smell of grass which rain does bring your little village garden a vegetable or two for in the summer-time. the day's soup; I looking out of the German The dim appearance of a man at Straudenchariot window in that delicious traveller's trance heim's shoulder inspired me with a misgiving which knows no cares, no yesterdays, no to- that somebody had come to murder that flourishmorrows, nothing but the passing objects and ing merchant for the wealth with which I had the passing scents and sotinds! And so I came, handsomely endowed him: the rather as it was in due course of delight, to Strasbourg, where I an excited man, lean and long of figure, and passed a wet Sunday evening at a window, while evidently stealthy of foot. But, he conferred an idle trifle of a vaudeville was played for me with Straudenheim instead of doing him a morat the opposite house. tal injury, and then they both softly opened the How such a large house.came to have only other window of that room-which was immethree people living in it was its own affair. diately over the housekeeper's-and tried to There were at least a score of windows in its see her by looking down. And my opinion of high roof alone; how many in its grotesque Straudenheim was much lowered when I saw front, I soon gave up counting. The owner was that eminent citizen spit out of window, a shop-keeper, by name Straudenheim; by clearly with the hope of slitting on the housetrade —I couldn't make out what by trade, for keeper, he had forborne to write that up, and his shop The unconscious housekeeper fanned herself, was shut. tossed her head, and laughed. Though uncon 34 THE UNCOVMA1ERCA4L TRA VELLTR. scious of Straudenhejm, she was conscious of all possible knowledge of it on the part of somebody else-of me? —there was nobody else. Straudenheim. And then they all went away After leaning so far out of window that I arm-in-arm, singing. confidently expected to see their heels tilt up, I went away too, in the German chariot, at Straudenheim and the lean man drew their heads sunrise, and rattled on, day after day, like one in and shut the window. Presently the house- in a sweet dream; with so many clear little bells door secretly opened, and they slowly and spite- on the harness of the horses, that the nursery fully crept forth into the pouring rain. They rhyme about Banbury Cross, and the venerable were coming over to me (I thought) to demand lady who rode in state there, was always in my satisfaction for my looking at the housekeeper, ears. And now I came to the land of wooden when they plunged into a recess in the archi- houses, innocent cakes, thin butter soul), and tecture under my window, and dragged out the spotless little inn bedrooms with a family likepuniest of little soldiers, begirt with the most ness to Dairies. And now the Swiss marksmen innocent of little swords. The tall glazed head- were for ever rifle-shooting at marks across dress of this warrior Straudenheim instantly gorges, so exceedingly near my ear, that I felt knocked off, and out of it fell two sugar-sticks, like a new Gesler in a Canton of'Tells, and and three or four large lumps of sugar. went in highly-deserved danger of my tyrannical The warrior made no effort to recover his life. The prizes at these shootings were watches, property, or to pick up his shako, but looked smart handkerchiefs, hats, spoons, and (above with an expression of attention at Straudenheim all) tea-trays; and at these contests I came upon when he kicked him five times, and also at the a more than usually accomplislhd& and amiable lean man when he kicked him five times, and countryman of my own, who had shot himself again at Straudenheim when he tore the breast deaf in whole years of competition, and had of his (the warrior's) little coat open, and shook won so many tea-trays that he went about the all his ten fingers in his face, as if they were ten country with his carriage full of them, like a thousand. When these outrages had been com- glorified Cheap Jack. mitted, Straudenheim and his man went into the In the mountain country into which I had house again, and barred the door. A wonder- now travelled, a yoke of oxen were sometimes ful circumstance was, that the housekeeper, who hooked on before the post-horses, and I went Baw it all (and who could have taken six such lumbering up, up, up, through mist and rain, warriors to her buxom bosom at once), only with the roar of falling water for change of fanned herself and laughed as she had laughed music. Of a sudden, mist and rain would clear before, and seemted to have no opinion about away, and I would come down into picturesque it, one way or other. little towns with gleaming spires and odd towers; But, the chief effect of the drama was the and would stroll afoot into market-places in remarkable vengeance taken by the little warrior. steep winding streets, where a hundred women Left alone in the rain, he picked up his shako; in bodices sold eggs and honey, butter and put it on, all wet and dirty as it was; retired fruit, and suckled their children as they sat by into a court, of which Straudenheim's house their clean baskets, and had such enormous formed the corner; wheeled about; and, bring- goitres (or glandular swellings in the throat), ing his two forefingers close to the top of his that it became a science to know where the nose, rubbe, them over one another, crosswise, nurse ended and the child began. About this in derision, defiance, and contempt of Strauden- time I deserted my German chariot for the bacKl heim. Although Straudenheim could not pos- of a mule (in colour and consistency so very sibly be supposed to be conscious of this strange like a dusty old hair trunk I once had at school, proceeling, it so inflated and comforted the that I half expected to see my initials in brasslittle warrior's soul, that twice he went away, and headed nails on his back-bone), and went up a twice came back into the court to repeat it, as thousand rugged ways, and looked down at a. though it must goad his enemy to madness. Not thousand woods of fir and pine, and would, on only that, but he afterwards came back with two the whole, have preferred my mule's keeping a other small warriors, and they all three did it little nearer to the inside, and not usually tratogether. Not only that —as I live to tell the velling with a hoof or two over the precipicetale!-but just as it was falling quite dark, the though much consoled by explanation that this three came back, ringing with them a huge was to be attributed to his great sagacity, by bearded Sapper, whom they moved, by recital reason of his carrying broad loads of wood at of the original wrong, to go through the same other times, and not being clear but that I myperformance, with the same complete absence of self belonged to that station of life, and required THr O UR NE Y'S END. 3 as much room as they. He brought me safely, pointed corners, driving it out of the course, and in his own wise way, among the passes of the roaring and flying at the peasants who steered it Alps, and here I enjoyed a dozen climates a back again from the bank with long stout poles. day; being now (like Don Quixote on the back Alas! concurrent streams of time and water carof the wooden horse) in the region of wind, now ried me down fast, and I came, on an exquisitely in the region of fire, now in the region of un- clear day, to the Lausanne shore of the Lake of melted ice and snow. Here I passed over Geneva, where I stood looking at the bright blue trembling domes of ice, beneath which the cata- water, the flushed white mountains opposite, and ract was roaring; and here was received under the boats at my feet with their furled Mediterraarches of icicles of unspeakable beauty; and nean sails, showing like enormous magnifications here the sweet air was so bracing and so light, of this goose-quill pen that is now in my hand. that at halting-times I rolled in the snow when -The sky became overcast without any noI saw my mule do it, thinking that he must tice; a wind very like the March east wind of know best. At this part of the journey we England blew across me; and a voice said, would come, at mid-day, into half an hour's " How do you like it? Will it do? " thaw: when the rough mountain inn would be I had merely shut myself, for half a minute, found on an island of deep mud in a sea of in a German travelling chariot that stood for snow, while the baiting strings of mules, and the sale in the Carriage Department of the London carts full of casks and bales, which had been in Pantechnicon. I had a commission to buy it an Arctic condition.a mile off, would steam for a friend who was going abroad; and the again. By such ways and means, I would come look and manner of the chariot, as I tried to the cluster of chaletslwhere I had to turn out the cushions and the springs, brought all these of the track to see the water-fall; and then, hints of travelling remembrance before me. uttering a howl like a young giant, on espying a "It will do very well," said I rather sorrowtraveller-in other words, something to eat- fully, as I got out at the other door, and shut coming up the steep, the idiot lying on the wood- the carriage up. pile, who sunned himself and nursed his goitre, would rouse the woman-guide within the hut, who would stream out hastily, throwing herVIII child over one of her shoulders, and her goitre over the other, as she came along. I slept at THE GREAT TASMANtA'S CARGO. religious houses, and bleak refuges of many ^ kinds, on this journey, and by the stove at night' TRAVEL constantly up and down heard stories of travellers who had perished. a certain line of railway that has a within call, in wreaths and. drifts of snow. One terminus in London. It is the railnight the stove within,. and the cold outside,. y"' way for a large military depot, and awakened childish associations long forgotten, " for other large barracks. To the and I dreamed I was in Russia-the identical.'(%P best of my serious belief, I have serf out of a picture-book I had, before I could never been on that railway by daylight read it for myself-and that I was going to be without seeing some handcuffed deknouted by a noble personage in a fur cap, serters in the train. boots, and ear-rings, who, I think, must have It is in the nature of things that such an insticome out of- some melodrama. tution as our English army should have many Commend me to the beautiful waters among bad and troublesome characters in it. But, this these mountains! Though I was not of their is a reason for, and not against, its being made mind: they, being inveterately bent on getting as acceptable as possible to well-disposed men down into the level country, and I ardently of decent behaviour. Such men are assuredly desiring to linger where I was. What desperate not tempted into the ranks by the beastly inverleaps they took, what dark abysses they plunged sion of natural laws, and the compulsion to live into, what rocks they wore away, what echoes in worse than swinish foulness. Accordingly, they invoked! In one part where I went, they when any such Circumlocutional embellishments were pressed into the service of carrying wood of the soldier's condition have of late been down, to be burnt next winter, as costly fuel, in brought to notice, we civilians, seated in outer Italy. But, their fierce savage nature was not darkness cheerfully meditating on an Income to be easily constrained, and they fought with Tax, have considered the matter as being our every limb of the wood; whirling it round and business,-and have shown a tendency to declare round, stripping its bark away, dashing it against that we would rather not have it misregulated, if 36 7YE UNCOfMMfERCIAL TtRA VEILER. such declaration may, without violence to the would be a better place? There may be greater Church Catechism, be hinted to those who are difficulties in our way than in the soldier's. Not put in authority over us. disputed. But, let us at least do our duty toAny animated description of a modern battle, wards hi/z. any private soldier's letter published in the news- I had got back again to that rich and beaupapers, any page of the records of the Vi:toria tiful port where I had looked after Mercantile Cross, will show that in the ranks of the army Jack, and I was walking up a hill there, on a there exists, under all disadvantages, as fine a wild March morning. My conversation with my sense of duty as is to be found in any station on official friend Pangloss, by whom I was acciearth. Who doubts that, if we all did our duty dentally accompanied, took this direction as we as faithfully as the soldier does his, this world took the uphill direction, because the object of "THE TALL GLAZED HEAD-DRESS OF THIS AVARRIOR STRAUDENHEIM INSTANTLY KPiOCKED 11." my uncommercial journey was to see some dis- had claimed to be discharged, when their right charged soldiers who had recently come home to be discharged was not admitted. They had fromn India. There were men of HAVELOCK'S behaved with unblemished fidelity and bravery; among them; there Nwere men who had been in but, a change of circumstances had arisen, man)y of the great battles of the great Indian which, as they considered, put an end to their camlnaign among them; and I was curious to compact, and entitled them to enter on a new note what our discharged soldiers looked like one. Their demand had been blunderingly when they were done wvith. resisted by the authorities in India; but, it is to I was not the less interested (as I mentioned be presumed that the men were not far wrong, to my official fled Pangss) because these men n asmh as the b le had ended in their i to ny ofic~l f-le-~~l~nnlos) bc~uc thse en n~smc h s te b~n l ha ened i thir e/7 CIRCUMILO CUTIONAL PER-FECTION. 37 sent home discharged, in pursuance of orders his renowned ancestor, by demonstrating on all from home. (There was an immense waste of occasions that we live in the best of all possible money, of course.) official worlds. Under these circumstances-thought I, as I "In the name of'Humanity," said I, " how walked up the hill on which I accidentally did the men fall into this deplorable state? Was encountered my official friend-under these the ship well found in stores?" circumstances of the men having successfully " I am not here to asseverate that I know the opposed themselves to the Pagoda Department fact of my own knowledge," answered Pangloss, of that great Circumlocution Office on which "but I have grounds for asserting that the stores the sun never sets and the light of reason never were the best of all possible stores." rises, the Pagoda Department will have been A medical officer laid before us a handful of particularly careful of the national honour. It rotten biscuit, and a handful of split peas. The will have shown these men, in the scrupulous biscuit was a honeycombed heap of maggots, good faith, not to say the generosity, of its and the excrement of maggots. The peas were dealing with them, that great national authorities even harder than this filth. A similar handful can have no small retaliations and revenges. It had been experimentally boiled six hours, and will have made every provision for their health had shown no signs of softening. These were on the passage home, and will have landed the stores on which the soldiers had been them, restored from their campaigning fatigues fed. by a sea voyage, pure air, sound food, and good " The beef —" I began, when Pangloss cut medicines. And I pleased myself with dwelling me short. beforehand on the great accounts of their per- " Was the best of all possible beef," said he. sonal treatment which these men would carry But, behold, there was laid before us certain into their various towns and villages, and on the evidence given at the Coroner's Inquest, holden increasing popularity of the service that would on some of the men (who had obstinately died insensibly follow. I almost began to hope that of their treatment), and from that evidence it the hitherto never-failing deserters on my rail- appeared that the beef was the worst of possible road would by-and-by become a phenomenon. beef! In this agreeable frame of mind I entered the "Then I lay my hand upon my heart, and workhouse of Liverpool.-For the cultivation of take my stand," said Pangloss, " by the pork, laurels in a, sandy soil had brought the soldiers which was the best of all possible pork." in question to that abode of Glory. "But look at this food before our eyes, if one Before going into their wards to visit them, I may so misuse the word," said I. " Would any inquired how they had made their triumphant Inspector who did his duty pass such abominaentry there? They had been brought through tion?" the rain in carts, it seemed, from the landing- "It ought not to have been passed," Pangloss place to the gate, and had then been carried admitted. up-stairs on the backs of paupers. Their groans "Then the authorities out there- " I beand pains, during the performance of this glori- gan, when Pangloss cut me short again. ous pageant, had been so distressing as to bring "There would certainly seem to have been tears into the eyes of spectators but too well something wrong somewhere," said he; "but I accustomed to scenes of suffering. The men am prepared to prove that the authorities out were so dreadfully cold, that those who could there are the best of all possible authorities." get near the fires were hard to be restrained I never heard of any impeached public authofrom thrusting their feet in among the blazing rity in my life who was not the best public coals. They were so horribly reduced, that authority in existence. they were awful to look upon. Racked with "We are told of these unfortunate men being dysentery, and blackened with scurvy, one hun- laid low by scurvy," said I. " Since lime-juice dred and forty wretched soldiers'had been re- has been regularly stored and served out in our vived with brandy, and laid in bed. navy, surely that disease, which used to devasMy official friend Pangloss is lineally de- tate it, has almost disappeared? Was there scended from a learned doctor of that name, lime-juice aboard this transport? " who was once tutor to Candide, an ingenious My official friend was beginning, " The best young gentleman of some celebrity. In his per- of all possible- " when an inconvenient sonal character he is as humane and worthy a medical forefinger pointed out another passage gentleman as any I know; in his official capa- in the evidence, from which it appeared that the city he unfortunately preaches the doctrines of lime-juice had been bad too. Not to mention THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 4. 322 38 THE UNCOMMAfERCIAL TRA VELLER. that the vinegar had been bad too, the vege- pinched mask of face upon the pillow with a tables bad too, the cooking accommodation in- feeble moan. The awful thinness of the fallen sufficient (if there had been anything worth cheeks, the awful brightness of the deep set mentioning to cook), the water supply exceed- eyes, the lips of lead, the hands of ivory, the reingly inadequate, and the beer sour. cumbent human images lying in the shadow of "Then the men," said Pangloss, a little irri- death with a kind of solemn twilight on them, tated,' were the worst of all possible men;" like the sixty who had died aboard the ship, "In what respect?" I asked. and were lying at the bottom of the sea, O c Oh! Habitual drunkards," said Pangloss. Pangloss, GOD forgive you But, again the same incorrigible medical fore- In one bed lay a man whose life had been finger pointed out another passage in the evi- saved (as it was hoped) by deep incisions in the dence, showing that the dead men had been feet and legs. While I was speaking to him, a examined after death, and that they, at least, nurse came up to change the poultices which could not possiblyhave been habitual drunkards, this operation had rendered necessary, and I because the organs within then, which must had an instinctive feeling that it was not well have shown traces of that habit, were perfectly to turn away, merely to spare myself. He was sound. sorely wasted and keenly susceptible, but the "And besides," said the three doctors pre- efforts he made to subdue any expression of sent, one and all, " habitual drunkards brought impatience or suffering were quite heroic. It as low as these men have been, could not re- was easy to see, in the shrinking of the figure, cover under care and food, as the great majority and the drawing of the bedclothes over the of these'men are recovering. They would not head, how acute the endurance was, and it made have strength of constitution to do it." me shrink too, as if I were in pain; but, when " Reckless and improvident dogs, then," said the new bandages were on, and the poor feet were Pangloss. "Always are-nine times out of ten." composed again, he made an apology for himI turned to the master of the workhouse, and self (though he had not uttered a word), and asked him whether the men had any money? said plaintively, " I am so tender and weak, you "Money?" said he. " I have in my iron see, sir!" Neither from him, nor from any one safe nearly four hundred pounds of theirs; the sufferer of the whole ghastly number, did I hear agents have nearly a hundred pounds more; a complaint. Of thankfulness for present soliand many of them have left money in Indian citude and care, I heard much: of complaint, banks besides.".not a word. " Hah!" said I to myself as we went up-stairs, I think I could have recognised, in the dis"this is not the best of all possible stories, I mallest skeleton there, the ghost of a soldier. doubt!" Something of the old air was still latent in the We went into a large ward, containing some paldst shadow of life I talked to. One emaciated twenty or five-and-twenty beds. We went into creature, in the strictest literality worn to the several such wards, one after another. I find it bone, lay stretched on his back, looking so like very difficult to indicate what a shocking sight death that I asked one of the doctors if he were I saw in them, without frightening the reader not dying, or dead? A few kind words from from the perusal of these lines, and defeating the doctor in his ear, and he opened his eyes, my object of making it known., and smiled-looked, in a moment, as if he would Oh, the sunken eyes that turned to me as I have made a salute, if he could. " We shall walked between the rows of beds, or-worse pull him through, please God," said the doctor. still-that glazedly looked at the white ceiling, " Plase God, surr, and thankye," said the patient. and saw nothing, and cared for nothing! Here "You are much better to-day; are you not?" lay the skeleton of a man, so lightly covered said the doctor. "Plase God, surr;'tis the with a thin unwholesome skin, that not a bone slape 1 want, surr;'tis my breathin' makes the in the anatomy was clothed, and I could clasp nights so long." " He is a careful fellow this, the arm, above the elbow, in my finger and you must know," said the doctor cheerfully; "it thumb. Here lay a man with the black scurvy was raining hard when they put him in the open eating his legs away, his gums gone, and his cart to bring him here, and he had the presence teeth all gaunt and bare. This bed was empty, of mind to ask to have a sovereign taken out of because gangrene had set in, and the patient his pocket that he had there, and a cab engaged. had died but yesterday. That bed was a hope- Probably it saved his life." The patient rattled less one, because its occupant was sinking fast, out the skeleton of a laugh, and said, proud of ild could only be roused to turn the poor the story, " Peed, surr, an open cairt wtas a THE SERGEANT.- 39 comical means o' bringin' a dyin' man here, and I to tell it, but because they happened to be in a a. clever way to kill him." You might have state admitting of their safe removal. Fourthly, sworn to him for a soldier when he said it. to say whether the Coroner and Jury could have One thing had perplexed me very much in come there, to those pillows, and taken a little going from bed to bed. A very significant and evidence? My official friend declined to comcruel thing. I could find no young man but mit himself to a reply. one. He bad attracted my notice by having There was a sergeant, reading, in one of the got up -and dressed himself in his soldier's fireside groups. As he was a man of very injacket and trousers, with the intention of sitting telligent countenance, and as I have a great by the fire; but he had found himself too weak, respect for non-commissioned officers as a class, and had crept back to his bed, and laid himself I sat down on the nearest bed, to have some down on the outside of it. I could have pro- talk with him. (It was the bed of one of the nounced him, alone, to be a young man aged grisliest of the poor skeletons, and he died soon by famine and sickness.' As we were standing afterwards.) by the Irish soldier's bed, I mentioned my per- "I was glad to see, in the evidence of an plexity to the doctor. He took aboard with an officer at the Inquest, sergeant, that he never inscription on it from the head of the Irish- saw men behave better on board ship than these man's bed, and asked me what age I supposed men." that man to be? I had observed him with " They did behave very well, sir." attention while talking to him, and answered, " I was glad to see, too, that every man had confidently, "Fifty." The doctor, with a pity- a hammock." ing glance at the patient, who had dropped into TIhe sergeant gravely shook his head. " There a stupor again, put the board back, and said, must be some mistake, sir. The men of my "Twenty-four." own mess had no hammocks. There were not.All the arrangements of the wards were excel- hammocks enough on board, and the men of lent. They could not have been more humane, the two next messes laid hold of hammocks for sympathising, gentle, attentive, or wholesome. themselves as soon as they got on board, and The owners of the ship, too, had done all they squeezed my men out, as I may say." could liberally. There were bright fires in every " Had the squeezed-out men none, then?" room, and the convalescent men were sitting "None, sir. As men died, their.hammocks round them, reading various papers and periodi- were used by other men who wanted'hammocks; cals. I took the liberty of inviting my official but many men had none at all." friend Pangloss to look at those convalescent "Then you don't agree with the evidence on men, and to tell me whether their faces and that point?" bearing were or were not, generally, the faces "Certainly not, sir. A man can't, when he and bearing of steady, respectable soldiers? knows to the contrary." The master of the workhouse, overhearing me, " Did any of the men sell their bedding for said he had had a pretty large experience of drink?" troops, and that better-conducted men than "There is some mistake on that point too, these he had never had to do with. They were sir. Men were under the impression-I knew always (he added) as we saw them. And of us it for a faft at the time-that it was not allowed visitors (I add) they knew nothing whatever, to take blankets or bedding on board, and so except that we were there. men who had things of that sort came to sell It was audacious in me, but I took another them purposely." liberty with Pangloss. Prefacing it with the " Did any of the men sell their clothes for observation that, of course, I knew beforehand drink?" that there was not the faintest desire, anywhere, "They did, sir." (I believe there never was to hush up any part of this dreadful business, a more truthful witness than the sergeant. He and that the Inquest was the fairest of all pos- had no inclination to make out a case.) sible Inquests, I besought four things of Pan- "Many?" gloss. Firstly, to observe that the Inquest was " Some, sir" (considering the question). "Solnot held in that place, but at some distance off. dier-like. They had been long marching in the Secondly, to look round upon those helpless rainy season, by bad roads-no roads at all, in spectres in their beds. Thirdly, to remember short-and, when they got to Calcutta, men that the witnesses produced from among them turned to and drank before taking a last look at before that Inquest could not have been selected it. Soldier-like." because they were the men who had the most "Do you see any men in this ward, for 40 THE UNCOMMiERCIAL TyA VELLAR. example, who sold clothes for drink at that No punishment that our inefficient laws protime?" vide is worthy of the name, when set against the The sergeant's wan eye, happily just beginning guilt of thig transaction. But, if the memory of to rekindle with health, travelled round the place, it die out unavenged, and if it do not result in and came back to me. " Certainly, sir." the inexorable dismissal and disgrace of those " The marching to Calcutta in the rainy sea- who are \responsible for it, their escape will be son must have been severe?" infamous to the Government (no matter of what " It was very severe, sir." party) that so neglects its duty, and infamous to "Yet, what with the rest and the sea air, I the nation that tamely suffers such intolerable should have thought that the men (even the men wrong to be done in its name. who got drunk) would have soon begun to recover on board ship?" " So they might; but the bad food told upon them, and, when we got into a cold latitude, it Ix began to tell more, and the men dropped." "The sick had a general disinclination for CITY OF LONDON CHURCHES. food, I am told, sergeant?" "Have you seen the food, sir?" F the confession that I have often " Some of it."ti o travelled from this Covent-Garden "Have you seen the state of their h lodging of their mouthsmine on Sndays should If the sergeant, who was a man of a few V_ give offence to those who never orderly words, had spoken the amount of this ro travel on Sundays, they will be satisvolume, he could not have settled that question _ fled (I hope) by my adding that the better. I believe the sick could as soon have journeys in question were made to eaten the ship as the ship's provisions. churches. I took the additional liberty with my friend Not that I have any curiosity to hear powerPangloss, when I had left the sergeant with good ful preachers. Time was when I was dragged wishes, of asking Pangloss whether he had ever by the hair of my head, as one may say, to hear heard of biscuit getting drunk, and bartering its too many. On summer evenings, when every nutritious qualities for putrefaction and vermin; flower, and tree, and bird might have better of peas becoming hardened in liquor; of ham- addressed my soft young heart, I have, in my mocks drinking themselves off the face of the day, been caught in the palm of a female hand by earth; of lime-juice, vegetables, vinegar, cook- the crown, have been violently scrubbed from ing accommodation, water supply, and beer, all the neck to the roots vf the hair as a purificataking to drinking together, and going to ruin? tion for the Temple, and have then been carried "If not (I asked him), what did he say in de- off, highly charged with saponaceous electricity, fence of.the officers condemned by the Coroner's to be steamed like a potato in the unventilated Jury, who, by signing the General Inspection breath of the powerful Boanerges Boiler and his Report relative to the ship Great Tasmania, congregation, until what small mind I had was chartered for these troops, had deliberately as- quite steamed out of me. In which pitiable serted all that bad and poisonous dunghill re- plight I have been haled out of the place of fuse to be good and wholesome food?" My meeting, at the conclusion of the exercises, and official friend replied that it was a remarkable catechised respecting Boanerges Boiler, his fact, that whereas some officers were only posi- fifthly, his sixthly, and his seventhly, until I tively good, and other officers only comparatively have regarded that reverend person in the light better, those particular officers were superlatively of a most dismal and oppressive Charade. the very best of all"possible officers. Time was when I was carried off to platform My hand and my heart fail me in writing my assemblages at which no human child, whether record of this journey. The spectacle of the of wrath or grace, could possibly keep its eyes soldiers in the hospital beds of that Liverpool open, and when I felt the fatal sleep stealing, workhouse (a very good' workhouse, indeed, be stealing over me, and when I gradually heard it understood) was so shocking and so shame- the orator in possession spinning and humming ful, that, as an Engishmani, — blush to remember like a great top, until he rolled, collapsed, and it. It would have been simply unbearable tumbled over, and I discovered, to my burning at the time, but for the consideration and shame and fear, that as to that last stage it was )ity with which they were soothed in their not he, but I. I have sat under Boanerges when sutferilngs. he has specifically addressed himself to us-us, MiEDITA TIONS IN CI-IURCH. 4 the infants-and at this present writing I hear comforts herself with brimstone doctrine, I warhis lumbering jocularity (which never amused rant. We have also put down a stouter and us, though we basely pretended that it did), and sweeter old lady, with a pretty large PrayerI behold his big round face, and I look up the book in an unfolded pocket-handkerchief, who inside of his outstretched coat-sleeve as if it got out at a corner of a court near Stationers' were a telescope with the stopper on, and I hate Hall, and who, I think, must go to church there him with an unwholesome hatred for two hours. because she is the widow of some deceased old Through such means did it come to pass that I Company's Beadle. The rest of our freight were knew the powerful preacher from beginning to mere chance pleasure-seekers and rural walkers, end, all over and all through, while I was very and went on to the Blackwall Railway. So young, and that I left him behind at an early many bells are ringing, when I stand undecided period of life. Peace be witl him! More at a street corner, that every sheep in the ecclepeace than he brought'to me! siastical fold might be a bell-wether. The disNow, I have heard many preachers since that cordance is fearful. My state of indecision is time-not powerful; merely Christian, unaf- referable to, and about equally divisible among,, fected, and reverential-and I have had many four great churches, which are all within sight such preachers on my roll of friends. But, it and sound, all within the space of a few square was not to hear these, any more than the power- yards. ful class, that I made my Sunday journeys. As I stand at the street corner, I don't see as They were journeys of curiosity to the numerous many as four people at once going to church, churches in the City of London. It came into though I see as many as four churches with their my head one day, here had I been cultivating a steeples clamouring for people. I choose my familiarity with all the churches of Rome, and church, and go up the flight of steps to the great I knew nothing of the insides of the old churches entrance in the tower. A mouldy tower within, of London! This befell on a Sunday morning. and like a neglected wash-house. A rope comes I began my expeditions that very same day, and through the beamed roof, and a man in the they lasted me a year. corner pulls it and clashes the bell-a whityI never wanted to know the names of the brown man, whose clothes were once black-a churches to which I went, and to this hour I man with flue on him, and cobweb. He stares am profoundly ignorant in that particular of at at me, wondering how I come there, and I stare least nine-tenths of them. Indeed, saving that at him, wondering how he comes there. Through I know the church of old GOWER'S tomb (he a screen of wood and glass I peep into the din lies in effigy with his head upon his books) to church. About twenty people are discernible, be the church of St. Saviour's, Southwark; and waiting to begin. Christening would seem to the Church of MILTON'S tomb to be the church have faded out of this church long ago, for the of Cripplegate; and the church on Cornhill font has the dust of desuetude thick upon it, and with the great golden keys to be the church of its wooden cover (shaped like an old-fashioned St. Peter; I doubt if I could pass a competitive tureen cover) looks as if it wouldn't come off examination in any of the names. No question upon requirement. I perceive the altar to be dlid I ever ask of living creature concerning rickety, and the Commandments damp. Enterthese churches, and no answer to any antiquarian ing after tnis survey, I jostle the clergyman in question on the subject that I ever put to books his canonicals, who is entering too from a dark shall harass the reader's soul. A full half of my lane behind a pew of state with curtains, where pleasure in them arose,out of their mystery; nobody sits. The pew is ornamented with four mysterious I found them; mysterious they shall blue wands, once carried by four somebodys, I remain for me. suppose, before somebody else, but which there Where shall I begin my round of hidden and is nobody now to hold or receive honour from. forgotten old churches in the City of London? I open the'door of a family pew, and shut myself It is twenty minutes short of eleven on a Sun- in; if I could occupy twenty family pews at (lay morning, when I stroll down one of the once, I might have them. The clerk, a brisk many narrow hilly streets in the City that tend young man (how does he come here?), glances due south to the Thames. It is my first experi- at me knowingly, as who should say, " You have ment, and I have come to the region of Whit- done it now; you must stop." Organ plays. tington in an omnibus, and we have put down Organ-loft is in a small gallery atross the church; at fierce-eyed spare old woman, whose slate- gallery congregation, two girls. I wonder within coloured gown smells of herbs, and who walked myself what will happen when we are required up Aldersgate Street to some chapel where she to sing. 4 a THE UNCOMMERCIAnL TRA. VELLER. There is a pale heap of books in the corner Another Sunday. of my pew, and while the organ, which is hoarse After being again rung for by conflicting and sleepy, plays in such fashion that. I can bells, like a leg of mutton or a laced hat a hunhear more of the rusty working of the stops dred years ago, I make selection of a church than of any music, I look at the books, which oddly put away in a corner among a number of are mostly bound in faded baize and stuff. lanes-a smaller church, than the last, and an They belonged, in 7 54, to the Dowhate family; ugly: of about the date of Queen Anne. As a and who were they? Jane Comport must have congregation,.we are fourteen strong; not married Young Dowgate, and come into the counting an exhausted charity school in a galfamily tlat way; Young Dowgate was. courting lery, which has dwindled away to four boys and Jane Comport when he gave her her Prayer- two girls. In the porch is a benefaction of book, and recorded the presentation in the fly- loaves of bread, which there would seem to be leaf; if Jane were fond of Young Dowgate, why nobody left in the exhausted congregation to did she die and leave the book here? Perhaps claim, and which I saw an exhausted beadle, at the rickety altar, and before the damp Con- long faded out of. uniform, eating with his eyes mandments, she, Comport, had taken him, Dow- for self and family when I passed in. There is gate, in a flush of youthful hope and joy, and also an exhausted clerk in a brown wig, and perhaps it had not turned out in the long-run as two or three exhausted doors and windows have great a success as was expected? been bricked up, and the service books are The opening of the service recalls my wan- musty, and the pulpit cushions are threadbare, dering thoughts. I then find, to my astonish- and the whole of the church furniture is in a ment, that 1 have been, and still am, taking a very advanced stage of exhaustion. We are strong kind of invisible snuff up my nose, into three old women (habitual), two young lovers my eyes, and down my throat. I wink, sneeze, (accidental), two tradesmen, one with a wife and and cough. The clerk sneezes; the clergyman one alone, an aunt and nephew, again two girls winks; the unseen organist sneezes and coughs (these two girls dressed out for church, with (and probLably winks); all our little party wink, everytling about them limp that should be stiff, sneeze, and cough. The snuff seems to be and vicevzc-rs, are an invariable experience), and made of the decay of matting, wood, cloth; three sniggering boys. The clergyman is, perstone, iron, earth, and something else. Is the haps, the chaplain of a civic company he has something else the decay of dead citizens in the the moist and vinous look, eke the bulbous vaults below? As sure as Death it is! Not boots, of one acquainted with'Twenty. port and& only in the cold damp February day do we comet vintages. cough and sneeze dead citizens all through the We are so quiet in our dulness, that the three service, but dead citizens have got into the very sniggering boys, who have got away into a bellows of the organ, and half choked the same. corner by the altar railing, give us a start, like We stamp our feet to warm\ them, and dead crackers, whenever they laugh.' And this recitizens arise in heavy clouds. Dead citizens. minds me of my own village church, where, stick upon the walls, and lie pulverised on the during sermon-time on bright Sundays when sounding-board over the clergyman's head, and, the birds are very musical indeed, farmers' boys when a gust of air comes, tumble down upon him. patter out over the stone pavement, and the In this first experience I was so nauseated clerk steps out from his desk after them, and is by too much snuff, made.of the Dowgate distinctly heard in the summer repose to pursue family, the Comport branch, and other families and punch them in the churchyard, and is seen and branches, that I gave but little heed to our to return with a meditative countenance, making dull manner of ambling throughthe service; to believe that nothing of the sort has happened. the brisk clerk's manner of encouraging us to The aunt and nephew in this City church are try a note or two at psalm time; to the gallery much disturbed by the sniggering boys. The congregation's manner of enjoying a shrill duet, nephew is himself a boy,' and the sniggerers without a notion of time or tune; to the whity- tempt him to secular thoughts of marbles and brown man's manner of shutting the minister string, by secretly offering such commodities to into the plulpit, and being very particular with his distant contemplation;. This young St..the lock of the door, as if he were a dangerous Anthony for awhile resists,..but presently..beanimal.'But, I tried again next Sunday, and comes a backslider, and in dumb-show defies soon accustomed myself to the' dead citizens, the sniggerers to "heave" a marble or two in when I found that I could not possibly get on his direction. Herein he is'detected.by the without them"'among the City churches. aunt (a rigorous reduced gentlewoman who has T7~ PE2SO NAGC. 4 3 the charge of offices), and I perceive that worthy service, and are never held to be necessary under relative to poke him in the side with the corm-. any other circumstances. In a minute more it gated hooked handle of an ancient umbrella. is all over, and the organ expresses itself to be The nephew revenges himself for this by hold- as glad of it as it can be of anything in its ing his breath, and terrifying his kinswoman rheumatic state, and in another minute we are with the dread belief that he has made up his all of us out of the church, and Whity-brown has mind to burst. Regardless of whispers and locked it up. Another minute, or little more, shakes, he swells and becomes discoloured, and and, in the neighbouring churchyard-not the yet again swells and becomes discoloured, until yard of that church, but of another-a churchthe aunt can bear it no longer, but leads him yard like a great shabby old mignonette box out, with no visible neck, and with his eyes with two trees in it, and one tomb-I meet going before him like a prawn's. This causes Whity-brown, in his private capacity, fetching a the sniggerers to regard flight as'an eligible pint of beer for his dinner from the public-house move, and I know which of them will go out in the corner, where the keys of the rotting firefirst, because of the over-devout attention that ladders are kept, and were never asked for, and he suddenly concentrates on the clergyman. In where there is a ragged, white-seamed, out-ata little while, this hypocrite, with an elaborate elbowed bagatelle board on the first floor. demonstration of hushing his footsteps, and with In one of these City churches, and only in a face generally expressive of having until now one, I found an individual who might have been forgotten a religious appointment elsewhere, is claimed as expressly a City personage. I regone. Number Two gets out in the same way, member the church by the feature that the but rather quicker. Number Three, getting clergyman couldn't get to his own desk withsafely to the door, there turns reckless, and, out going through the clerk's, or couldn't get to banging it open, flies forth with a Whoop I that the pulpit without going through the readingvibrates to the top of the tower above us. desk-I forget which, and it is no matter-and The clergyman, wh6 is of a prandial presence by the presence of this personage among the and a muffled voice, may be scant of hearing as exceedingly sparse congregation. I doubt if we well as of breath, but he only glances up as were a dozen, and we had no exhausted charity having-an idea that somebody has said Amen in school to help us out. The personage was a wrong place, and continues his steady jog-trot, dressed in black of square cut, and was stricken like a farmer's wife going to market. He does in years, and wore a black velvet cap and cloth all he has to do in the same easy way, and gives shoes. He was of a staid, wealthy, and disus a concise sermon, still like the jog-trot of the satisfied aspect. In his hand he conducted to farmer's wife on a level road. Its drowsy cadence church a mysterious child: a child of the femisoon lulls the three old women asleep, and the nine gender. The child had a beaver hat, with unmarried tradesman sits looking out at window, a stiff drab plume that surely never belonged to and the married tradesman sits looking at his any bird of the air. The child was further wife's bonnet, and the lovers sit looking at one attired in a nankeen frock and spencer, brown another, so superlatively happy, that I mind boxing gloves, and a veil. It had a blemish, in when I, turned of eighteen, went with my the nature of currant jelly, on its chin; and was Angelica to a City church on account of a a thirsty child. Insomuch that the personage shower (by this special coincidence that it was carried in his pocket a green bottle, from which, in Huggin'- Lane), and when I said to my when the first psalm was given out, the childl Angelica, "Let the blessed evert, Angelica, was openly refreshed. At all other times throtllhoccur at no altar but this!" and when my out the service it was motionless, and stood on Angelica consented that it should occur at no the seat of the large pew, closely fitted into the other-which it certainly never did, for it never corner, like a rain-water pipe. occurred anywhere. And oh, Angelica! what The personage never opened his book, and has become of you this present Sunday morning never looked at the clergyman. He never sat when I can't attend to the sermon? and, more. down either, but stood with his arms leaning on difficult question than that, what has become of the top of the )cw, and his forehead sometimes Me as I was when I sat by your side? shaded with his right hand, always looking at But, we receive the signal to make that una- the church-door. It was a long church for a nimlo-us dive,vhich surely is a little conventional church of its size, and he was at the upper end, -like'the strange rustlings and settlings and but lie always looked at the door. That he was clcaringls of throats and noses, which are never an old book-keeper, or an old trader who had idispelc.td with at certain points of the church kept his ow\n books, and that lie might be scsn 44 THE UNVCOMMi ERCIAl L TRA TELL' R. at the Bank of England about Dividend times, deacons in black bibs for waistcoats, and several no doubt. That he had lived in the City all his young ladies interested in that noble order (the life, and was disdainful of other localities, no proportion being, as I estimated, seventeen doubt. Why he looked at the door I never young ladies to a deacon), to come into the absolutely proved, but it is my belief that he City as a new and odd excitement. It was lived in expectation of the time when the citi- wonderful to see how these young people played zens would come back to live in the City, and out their little play in the heart of the City, all its ancient glories would be renewed. He ap- among themselves, without the deserted City's peared to expect that this would occur on a knowing anything about it. It was as if you Sunday, and that the wanderers would first should take an empty counting:4quse on a Sunappear in the deserted churches, penitent and day, and act one of the old Mysteries there. humbled. Hence, he looked at the door which They had impressed a small school (from what they never darkened. Whose child the child neighbourhood I don't know) to assist in the was, whether the child of a disinherited daugh- performances, and it was pleasant to notice ter, or some parish orphan whom the personage frantic garlands of inscription on the v'alls, espehad adopted, there was nothing to lead up to. cially addressing those poor innocents in chaIt never played, or skipped, or smiled. Once the racters impossible for them to decipher. There idea occurred to me that it was an automaton, w;as a remarkably agreeable smell of pomatum and that the personage had made it; but, fol- ii this congregation. lowing the strange couple out one Sunday, I But, in other cases, rot and mildew and dead heard the personage say to it, " Thirteen thou- citizens formed the- uppermost scent, while, insand pounds;" to which it added, in a weak fused into it, in a dreamy way not at all dishuman voice, "Seventeen and fourpence." Four pleasing, was, the staple character of the neighSundays I followed them out, and this is all I bourhood. In the churches about Mark Lane, ever heard or saw them say. One Sunday I'for example, there was a dry whiff of wheat; and followed them home. They lived behind a I accidentally struck an airy sample of barley pump, and the personage opened their abode out of anlaged hassock in one of them. From with an exceeding large key. The one solitary Rood Lane to. Tower Street, and thereabouts, inscription on their house related to a fire-plug. there was often a subtle flavour of wine: sorneThe house was partly undermined by a deserted times of tea. One church near Mincing Lane and closed gateway; its windows were blind sqmelt like a druggist's drawer. Behind the with dirt; and it stood with its face disconso- Monumentt\the service had a flavour of dalately turned to a wall. Five great churches and maged oranges, which, a little further down totwo small ones rang their Sunday bells between wards the river, tempered into herrings, and this house and the church the couple frequented, gradually toned into a cosmopolitan blast of so they must have had some special reason for fish. In one church, the exact counterpart of going a quarter of a mile to it. The last time I the church in the Rake's Progress where the saw them was on this wise. I had been to hero is being married to the horrible old lady, explore another church at a distance, and hap- there was no speciality of atmosphere until the pened to pass the church they frequented, at organ shook a perfume of hides all over us from about two of the afternoon, when that edifice some adjacent warehouse. was closed. But, a little side-door, which I had Be the scent what it would, however, there never observed before, stood open, and disclosed was no speciality in the people. There were certain cellarous steps. Methought, "They are never enough of them to represent any calling airing the vaults to-day," when the personage or neighbourhood. They had all gone elseand the child silently arrived at the steps, and where overnight, and the few stragglers in the silently descended. Of course, I came to the many churches languished there inexpressibly. conclusion that the personage had at last de- Among the uncommercial travels in which I spaired of thejlooked-for return of the penitent have engaged, this year of Sunday travel occucitizens, and that he and the child went down pies its own place, apart from all the rest. to get themselves buried. Whether I think of the church where the sails In the course of my. pilgrimages I came upon of the oyster boats in the river almost flapped one obscure church which had broken out in against the windows, or of the church where the the melodramatic style, and was got up with railroad made the bells hum as the train rushed various tawdry decorations, much after the man- by above the roof, I recall a curious experience. ner of the extinct London maypoles. These On summer Sundays, in the gentle rain or tile attractions had induced several young priests or bright sunshine-either, deepening the idleness CURIOSITIES OF BROKENi SLEEP. 45 of the idle City-I have sat, in that singular in sporting newspapers under some such title silence which belongs to resting-places usually as the Elastic Novice, challenging all elevenasir, in scores of buildings at the heart of the stone mankind to competition in walking. My world's metropolis, unknown to far greater num- last special feat was turning out of bed at bers of people speaking the English tongue than two, after a hard day, pedestrian and otherthe ancient edifices of the Eternal City, or the wise, and walking thirty miles into the country Pyramids of Egypt. The dark vestries and to breakfast. The road was so lonely in the registries into which I have peeped, and the night, that I fell asleep to the inonotonous little hemmed-in churchyards that have echoed sound of my own feet, doing their regular to my feet, have left impressions on my memory four miles an hour. Mile after mile I walked as distinct and quaint as any it has in that way without the slightest sense of exertion, dozing received. In all those dusty registers that the heavily and dreaming constantly. It was only worms are eating, there is not a line but made when I made a stumble like a drunken man, or some hearts leap, or some tears flow, in their struck out into the road to avoid a horseman (lay. Still- and dry now, still and dry! and the dose upon me on the path-who had no existold tree at the window, with no room for its ence-that I came to myself and looked ahout. branches, has seen them all out. So with the The day broke mistily (it was autumn-time), and tomb of the old Master of the old Company, on I could not disembarrass myself of the idea that which it drips. His son restored it and died, I had to climb those heights and banks of his daughter restored it and died, and then he clouds, and that there was an Alpine Convent had been remembered long enough, and the tree somewhere behind the sun, where I was going took possession of him, and his name cracked to breakfast. This sleepy notion was so much out. stronger than such substantial objects as villages There are few more striking indications of the and haystacks, that, after the sun was up and changes. of manners and customs that two or bright, and when I was sufficiently awake to three hundred years have brought about than have a sense of pleasure in the prospect, I still these deserted churches. Many of them are occasionally caught myself looking about for handsome and costly structures, several of themn wooden arms to point the right track up the were designed by XVREN, many of them arose mountain, and wondering there was no snow from the ashes of the great fire, others of them yet. It is a curiosity of broken sleep that I outlived the plague and the fire too, to die a made immense quantities of verses on that peslow death in these later days. No one can be destrian occasion (of course I never make any sure of the coming time; but it is not too much when I am in my right senses), and that I spoke to say of it that it has no sign, in its outsetting a certain language once pretty familiar to me, tides, of the reflux to these churches of their but which I have nearly forgotten from disuse, congregations and uses. They remain, like the with fluency. Of both these phenomena I have tombs of the old citizens who lie beneath them such frequent experience in the state between and around them, Monuments of another age. sleeping and waking, that I sometimes argue They are worth a Sunday exploration, now and with myself that I know I cannot be awake, for, then, for they yet echo, not unharmoniously, to if I were, I should not be half so ready. The the time when the City of London really was readiness is. not imaginary, because I often reLondon; when the'Prentices and Trained call long strings of the verses, and many turns of Bands were of mark in the state; when even the fluent speech, after I am broad awake. the Lord Mayor himself was a reality-not a My walking is of two kinds: one, straight on Fiction conventionally be-puffed on one day in end to a definite goal at a round pace; one, the year by illustrious friends, who no less con- objectless, loitering, and purely vagabond. In ventionally laugh at him on the remaining three the latter state no gipsy on earth is a greater hundred and sixty-four days. vagabond than myself; it is so natural to me, and strong with me, that I think I must be the descendant, at no great distance, of some irreclaimable tramp. X. One of the pleasantest things I have lately met SHY NEIGHBOURHIOODS. with, ina vagabond course of shy metropolitan neighbourhoods and small shops, is the fancy of O much of my travelling is done on a humble artist, as exemplified in two portraits f oot, that if I cherished betting propen- representing Mr. Thomas Sayers, of Great Brisities, I should probably be found registered tain, and Mr. John Heenan, of the United States 46 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. of America. These illustrious men are highly made him tremble. He drew no water but by coloured in fighting trim, and fighting attitude, stealth, and under the cloak of night. After an To suggest the pastoral and meditative nature interval of futile and at length hopeless expectaof their peaceful calling, Mr. Heenan is repre- tion, the merchant who had educated him was sented on emerald sward, with primroses and appealed to. The merchant was a bow-legged other modest flowers springing up under the character, with a flat and cushiony nose, like the heels of his half-boots; while Mr. Sayers is im- last new strawberry. He wore a fur cap, and pelled to the administration of his favourite shorts, and was of the velveteen race, velveteeny. blow, the Auctioneer, by the silent eloquence of He sent word that he would "look round." a village church. The humble homes-of Eng- He looked round, appeared in the doorway of land, with their domestic virtues and honeysuckle the room, and slightly cocked up his evil eye at porches, urge both heroes to go in and win; the goldfinch. Instantly a raging thirst beset and the lark and other singing birds are observ- that bird; when it was appeased, he still drew able in the upper air, ecstatically carolling their several unnecessary buckets of water; and finally thanks to Heaven for a fight. On the whole, leaped about his perch and sharpened his bill, the associations entwined with the pugilistic as if he had been to the nearest wine vaults and art by this artist are much in the manner of got drunk. Izaak Walton. Donkeys, again. I know shy neighbourhoods But, it is with the lower animals of back- where the donkey goes in at the street-door, and streets and by-ways that my present purpose appears to live up-stairs, for I have examined rests. For human notes we may return to such the back-yard from over the palings, and have neighbourhoods when leisure and opportunity been unable to make him out. Gentility, nobiserve. lity, Royalty, would appeal to that donkey in Nothing in shy neighbourhoods perplexes my vain to do what he does for the costermonger. mind more than the bad company birds keep. Feed him with oats at the highest price, put an Foreign birds often get into good society, but infant prince and princess in a pair of panniers British birds are inseparable from low associates. on his back, adjust his delicate trappings to a There is a whole street of them in St. Giles's; nicety, take him to the softest slopes at Windand I always find them in poor and immoral sor, and try what pace you can get out of him. neighbourhoods, convenient to the public-house Tlien, starve him, harness him anyhow to a and the pawnbroker's. They seem to lead truck with a flat tray on it, and see him bowl people into drinking, and even the man who from Whitechapel to Bayswater. There appears makes their cages usually gets into a chronic to be no particular private understanding bestate of black eye. Why is this? Also, they tween birds and donkeys in a state of nature; will do things for people in short-skirted vel- but, in the shy neighbourhood state, you shall veteen coats with bone buttons, or in sleeved see them always in the same hands, and always waistcoats and fur caps, which they cannot be developing their very best energies for the vory persuaded by the respectable orders of society worst company. I have known a donke) -by to undertake. In a dirty court in Spitalfields, sight; we were not on speaking terms-who once, I found a goldfinch drawing his own lived over on the Surrey side of London Bridge, water, and drawing as much of it as if he were among the fastnesses of Jacob's Island and in a consuming fever. That goldfinch lived at Dockhead. It was the habit of that animal, a bird shop, and offered, in writing, to barter when his services were not in immediate requihimself against old clothes, empty bottles, or sition, to go out alone, idling. I have met him even kitchen-stuff. Surely a low thing and a a mile from his place of residence, loitering depraved taste in any finch! I bought that about the streets; and the expression of his goldfinch for money. He was sent home, and countenance at such times was most degraded. hung upon a nail over against my table. He He was attached to the establishment of an lived outside a counterfeit dwelling-house, sup- elderly lady who sold periwinkles, and he used posed (as I argued) to be a dyer's; otherwise it to stand on Saturday nights with a cartful of would have been impossible to account for his those delicacies outside a gin-shop, pricking up perch sticking out of the garret window. From his ears when a customer came to the cart, and the time of his appearance in my room, either he too, evidently deriving satisfaction from the left off'being thirsty-which was not in the bond knowledge'that they got bad measure. His -or he could not makeup his mind to hear his mistress was sometimes overtaken by inebriety. little bucket drop back into his well when he let The last time I ever saw him (about five years it go; a shock which in the best of times had ago) he was in circumstances of difficulty,.caused A DJRAMATICAL DOG. 47 by this failing. Having been left alone with barking furiously in the prompter's box, and the cart of periwinkles, and forgotten, he went clearly choking himself against his collar. But off idling. He prowled among his usual low it was in his greatest scene of all that his honesty haunts for some time, gratifying his depraved got the better of him. He had to enter a dense tastes, until, not taking the cart into his calcula- and trackless forest, on the trail of the murtions, he endeavoured to turn up a narrow alley, derer, and there to fly at the murderer when he and became greatly involved. He was taken found him resting at the foot of a tree, with his into custody by the police, and the Green Yard victim bound ready for slaughter. It was a hot of the district being near at hand, was backed night, and he came into the forest from an altointo that place of durance. At that crisis I en- gether unexpected direction, in the sweetest countered him; the stubborn sense he evinced temper, at a very deliberate trot, not in the least of being-not to compromise the expression-a excited; trotted to the foot-lights with his tongue blackguard, I never saw exceeded in the human out; and there sat down, panting. and amiably subject. A flaring candle in a paper shade, surveying the audience, with his tail beating on stuck in among his periwinkles, showed him, the boards like a Dutch clock. Meanwhile, the with his ragged harness broken and his cart murderer, impatient to receive his doom, wa3 extensively shattered, twitching his mouth and audibly calling to him " Co-o-oME here!" while shaking his hanging head, a picture of disgrace the victim, struggling with his bonds, assailed and obduracv. I have seen boys being taken him with the most injurious expressions. It to station-houses, who were as like him as his happened, through these means, that when he own brother. was in course of time persuaded to trot up and The dogs of shy neighbourhoods I observe to rend the murderer limb from limb, he made it avoid play, and to be conscious of poverty. (for dramatic purposes) a. little too obvious that They avoid work too, if they can, of course; he worked out that awful retribution by licking that is in the nature of all animals. I have the'butter off his blood-stained hands. pleasure to know a dog in a back-street in the In a shy street, behind Long Acre, two honest neighbourhood of Walworth, who has greatly dogs live, who perform in Punch's shows. I distinguished himself in the minor drama, and may venture to say that I am on. terms of intiwho takes his portrait -with him when he makes macy with both, and that I never saw either an engagement, for the illustration of the play- guilty of the falsehood of failing to look down.bill. His portrait (which is not at all like him) at the man inside the show during the whole represents him in the act of dragging to the performance. The difficulty other dogs have in earth a recreant Indian, who is supposed to have satisfying their minds about these dogs appears tomahawked, or essayed to tomahawk, a British to be never overcome by time. The same dogs officer. The design is pure poetry, for there is must encounter them over and over again, as no such Indian in the piece, and no such inci- they trudge along in their off-minutes behind the dent. He is a dog of'the Newfoundland breed, legs of the show and beside the drum; but all for whose honesty I would be bail to any dogs seem to suspect their frills and jackets, an'l amount; but whose intellectual qualities in asso- to sniff at them as if they thought those articles ciation with dramatic fiction I cannot rate high. of personal adornment an eruption-a something Indeed, he is too honest for the profession he in the nature of mange, perhaps. From this has entered. Being at a town in Yorkshire last Covent Garden of mine I noticed a country dog, summer, and seeing him posted in the bill of only the other day, who had come up to Coventthe night, I attended the.performance. His Garden Market under a cart, and had broken first scene was eminently successful; but, as it his cord,..an end of which he still trailed.along occupied a second in its representation (and five with him. He loitered about the corners of the lines in the bill), it scarcely afforded ground for four streets commanded by my window: and a cool and deliberate judgment of his powers. bad London dogs came up, and told him lies He had merely to bark, run on, and jump that he didn't believe; and worse London dogs through an inn window after'a comic fugitive. came up, and made proposals to him to go and The next scene of importance to the fable was steal in the market, which his principles rejected a little marred in its interest by his over-anxiety and the ways of the town confused him, and he forasmuch as while his master (a belated soldier crept aside and lay down in a doorway. He in a den of robbers on a tempestuous night) was had scarcely got a wink of sleep, when up comes feelingly lamenting the absence of his faithful Punch with Toby. He was darting to Toby for dog, and laying great stress on the fact that he consolation and advice, when he saw the fril!; was thirty leagues away, the faithful dog was and stopped, in the middle of the street, appallech 48 THE UNCOMMERXCIZAL TRA VELLJA'. The show was pitched, Toby retired behind the men. I know a bulldog in a shy corner of drapery, the audience formed, the drum and Hammersmith who keeps a man. He keeps pipes struck np.- My country dog remained him up a yard, and makes him go to publicimmovable, intently staring at these strange ap- houses and lay wagers on him, and obliges him pearances, until Toby opened the drama by to lean against posts and look at him, and forces appearing on his ledge, and to him entered him to neglect work for him, and keeps him Punch, who put a tobacco-pipe into Toby's under rigid coercion. I once knew a fancy mouth. At this spectacle the' country dog threw terrier who kept a gentleman-a gentleman who up his head, gave one terrible howl, and fled had been brought up at Oxford, too. The dog due west. kept the gentleman entirely for his glorification, We talk of men keeping dogs, but we might and the gentleman never talked about any hing often talk more expressively of dogs keeping but the terrier. This, however, was not in a "HE WAS TAKEN INTO CUSTODY BY THE POLICE." shy neighbourhood, and is a digression conse- mysterious knowledge of the art of fishing, and quently. they consider themselves incompletely equipped There are a great many dogs in shy neigh- for the Hampstead ponds, with a pickle-jar and bourhoods who keep boys. I have my eye on a wide-mouthed bottle, unless he is with them, a mongrel in Somers Town who keeps three and barking tremendously. There is a dog reboys. He feigns that he can bring down spar- siding in the Borough of Southwark who keeps a rows, and unburrow rats (he can do neither), blind man, He may be seen, most days, in and he takes the boys out on sporting pretences Oxford Street, haling the blind man away on into all sorts of suburban fields. He has like expeditions wholly uncontemplated by, and unwise made them believe that he possesses some intelligible to, the man: wholly of the dog's con DOGS WHO KEEP MEN. 49 ception and execution. Contrariwise, when the harness them to something, to pick up a living man has projects, the dog will sit down in a — so the cats of shy neighbourhoods exhibit a crowded thoroughfare and meditate. I saw him strong tendency to relapse into barbarism. Not yesterday wearing the money-tray like an easy only, are they made selfishly ferocious by rumi. collar, instead of offering it to the public, taking nating on the surplus population around them, the man against his will, on the invitation of a and on the densely-crowded state of all the disreputable cur, apparently to visit a dog at avenues to cat's-meat; not only is there a moral Harrow-he was so intent on that direction. and politico-economical haggardness in them, The north wall of Burlington-House Gardens, traceable to these reflections; but they evince a between the Arcade and the Albany, offers a shy physical deterioration. Their linen is not clean, spot for appointment among blind men at about and is wretchedly got up; their black turns two or three o'clock in the afternoon. They sit rusty, like old mourning; they wear very indif(very uncomfortably) on a sloping stone there, ferent fur; and take to the shabbiest cotton and compare notes. Their dogs may always be velvet, instead of silk velvet. I am on terms of observed, at the same time, openly disparaging recognition with several small streets of cats the men they keep to one another, and settling about the Obelisk in St. George's Fields, and where they shall respectively take their men also in the vicinity of Clerkenwell Green, and when they begin to move again. At a small also in the back-settlements of Drury Lane. In butcher's, in a shy neighbourhood (there is no appearance they are very like the women among reason for suppressing the name; it is by Notting whom they live. They seem to turn out of their Hill, and gives upon the district called the Pot- unwholesome beds into the street without any teries), I know a shaggy black and white dog preparation. They leave their young families who keeps a drover. He is a dog of an easy to stagger about the gutters unassisted, while disposition, and too frequently allows this drover they frouzily quarrel and swear and scratch and to get drunk. On these occasions, it is the dog's spit at street corners. In particular, I remark custom to sit outside the public-house, keeping that when they are about to increase their his eye on a few sheep, and thinking. I have families (an event of frequent occurrence), the seen him with six sheep, plainly casting up in resemblance is strongly expressed in a certain his mind how many he began with when he left dusty dowdiness, down-at-heel self-neglect, and the market, and at what places he has left the general giving up of things. I cannot honestly rest. I have seen him perplexed by not being report that I have ever seen a feline matron of able to account to himself for certain particular this class washing her face when in an interestsheep. A light has gradually broken on him, ing condition. he has remembered at what butcher's he left Not to prolong these notes of uncommercial them, and in a burst of grave satisfaction has travel among the lower animals of shy neighcaught a fly off his nose, and shown himself bourhoods by dwelling at length upon the exasmuch relieved. If I could at any time have perated moodiness of the tom-cats, and their doubted the fact that it was he who kept the resemblance in many respects to a man and a drover, and not the drover who kept him, it brother, I will come to a close with a word on would have been abundantly proved by his way the fowls of the same localities. of taking undivided charge of the six sheep, when That anything born of an egg, and invested the drover came out besmeared with red ochre with wings, should have got to the pass that it and beer, and gave him wrong directions, which hops contentedly down a ladder into a cellar, he calmly disregarded. He has taken the sheep and calls that going home, is a circumstance so entirely into his own hands, has merely remarked, amazing as to leave one nothing more in this with respectful firmness, "That instruction would connection to wonder at. Otherwise I might place them under an omnibus; you had better wonder at the completeness with which these confine your attention to yourself-you will want fowls have become separated from all the birds it all;" and has driven his charge away, with an of the air-have taken to grovelling in bricks intelligence of ears and tail, and a knowledge of and mortar and mud-have forgotten all about business, that has left his lout of a man very, live trees, and make roosting-places of shopvery far behind. boards, barrows, oyster tubs, bulk-heads, and As the dogs of shy neighbourhoods usually door-scrapers. I wonder at nothing concerning betray a slinking consciousness of being in poor them, and take them as they are. I accept as circumstances-for the most part manifested in products of Nature and things of course a rean aspect of anxiety, an awkwardness in their educed Bantam family of my acquaintance in the play, and a misgiving that somebody is going to Hackney Road, who are incessantly at the pawn 50 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. broker's. I cannot say that they enjoy them- as natural to them as any other light; and I have selves, for they are of a melancholy tempera- more than a suspicion that, in-the minds of the ment;,but what enjoyment they are capable two lords, the early public-house at the corner of, they derive from crowding together in the has superseded the sun. I have established it pawnbroker's side-entry. Here they are'always. as a certain fact that they always begin to crow to be found in a feeble flutter, as if they were when the public-house shutters begin to be taken newly come down in the world, and were afraid down; and that they salute the potboy, the inof being identified. I know a low fellow, origi- stant he appears to perform that duty, as if he nally of a good family from Dorking, who takes were Phcebus in person. his whole establishment of wives, in single file, in at the door of the Jug Department of a disorderly tavern near the Haymarket, manceuvres them among the company's legs, emerges with X them at the Bottle Entrance, and so passes his life: seldom, in the season, going to bed before TRAMPS. two in the morning. Over Waterloo Bridge there is a shabby old speckled couple (they belong to HE chance use of the word " Tramp," the wooden French-bedstead, washing-stand, and -,S in my last paper, brought that numetowel-horse making trade), who are always trying 1 rous fraternity so vividly before my to get in at the door of a chapel. Whether the. mind's eye, that I had no sooner old lady, under a delusion reminding one of laid down my pen than a compulMrs. Southcott, has an idea of intrusting an egg Y) sion was upon me to take it up again, to that particular denomination, or merely under- and make notes of the Tramps whom I stands that she has no business in the building, r perceived on all the summer roads in all and is consequently frantic to enter it, I cannot directions. determine; but she is constantly endeavouring to Whenever a tramp sits down to rest by the undermine the principal door; while her partner, wayside, he sits with his legs in a dry catcn; who is infirm upon his legs, walks up and down, and whenever he goes to sleep (which is very encouraging her, and defying the Universe. often indeed), he goes to sleep on his back. But, the family I have been best acquainted Yonder, by the high-road, glaring white in the with, since the removal from this trying sphere bright sunshine, lies, on the dusty bit of turf of a Chinese circle at Brentford, reside in the under the bramble-bush that fences the coppice densest part of Bethnal Green. - Their abstrac- from the highway, the tramp of the order savage, tion from the objects among which they live, or fast asleep.. He lies on the broad of his back, rather, their conviction that those objects have with his face turned up to the sky, and one of all come into existence in express subservience his ragged arms loosely thrown across his face. to fowls, has so enchanted me, that I have made His bundle (what can be the contents of that them-the subject of many journeys at divers mysterious bundle, to make it worth his while hours. After careful observation of the two to carry it about?) is thrown down beside him, lords and the ten ladies of whom this family and the waking woman with him sits with her consists,' I have come to the conclusion that legs in the ditch, and her back to the road. She their' opinions are represented by the leading wears her bonnet rakishly perched on the front lord and leading lady: the latter, as- I judge, of her head, to shade her face from the sun in an aged personage, afflicted with, a paucity of walking, and she ties her skirts round her in feather and visibility of quill, that gives her the conventionally tight tramp fashion with a sort of appearance of a bundle of office pens. When apron., You can seldom catch sight of her, a railway goods var. that would crush an elephant resting thus, without seeing her in a despondcomes round the corner, tearing over these fowls, ently defiant manner doing something to her hair they emerge "unharmed from under the horses, or her bonnet, and glancing at you between her perfectly satisfied, that the whole rush was a fingers. She does not often go to sleep herself passing property in the air, which may have left in the daytime, but will sit for any length of time something to eat behind it. They look upon beside the man. And his slumberous propenold'shoes, wrecks of kettles and saucepans, and sities would not seem to be referable to the fragments of bonnets as a kind of meteoric dis- fatigue of carrying the bundle, for she carries it charge for fowls to peck at. Pegtops and hoops much oftener and further than he. When they they account, I think, as a sort of hail; shuttle- are afoot, you will mostly find him slouching on cockss, as rain, or dew. Gas-light comes quite ahead in a gruff temper, while she lags heavily THE WELL-SPOKEN YOUNG MA.N. r behind with the burden. He is given to per- There is another kind of tramp whom you sonally correcting her, too-which phase of his encounter this bright summer day-say, on a character develops itself oftenest on benches road with the sea breeze making its dust lively, outside alehouse doors-and she appears to be- and sails of ships in the blue distance beyond come strongly attached to him for these rea- the slope of down. As you walk enjoyingly on, sons; it may usually be noticed that, when the you descry in the perspective, at the bottom of poor creature has a bruised face, she is the a steep hill up which your way lies, a figure that most affectionate. He has no occupation what- appears to be sitting airily on a gate, whistling ever, this order of tramp, and has no object in a cheerful and disengaged manner. As you whatever in going anywhere. He will some- approach nearer to it, you observe the figure to times call himself a brickmaker, or a sawyer, slide down from the gate, to desist from whisbut only when he takes an imaginative flight. He tling, to uncock its hat, to become tender of generally represents himself, in a vague way, as foot, to depress its head and elevate its shoullooking out for a job of work; but he never did ders, and to present all the characteristics of work, he never does, and he fiever will. It is a profound despondency. Arriving at the bottom favourite fiction with him, however (as if he were of the hill, and coming close to the figure, you the most industrious character on earth), that observe it to be the figure of a shabby young you never work; and, as he goes past your man. He is moving painfully forward, in the garden and sees you looking at your flowers, you direction in which you are going, and his mind will overhear him growl, with a strong sense of is so preoccupied with his misfortunes that he is contrast, " You are a lucky hidle devil, you are!" not aware of your approach until you are close The slinking tramp is of the same hopeless upon him at the hill-foot. When he is aware of order, and has the same injured conviction on you, you discover him to be a remarkably wellhim that you were born to whatever you possess, behaved young man, and a remarkably welland never did anything to get it; but he is of a spoken young man. You know him to be well less audacious disposition. He will stop before behaved by his respectful manner of touching your gate, and say to his female companion, his hat: you know him to be well spoken by with an air of constitutional humility and pro- his smooth manner of expressing himself. He pitiation-to edify any one who may be within says, in a flowing confidential voice, and withhearing behind a blind or a bush-" This is a out punctuation, " I ask your pardon sir but if sweet spot, ain't it? A lovelly spot! And I you would excuse the liberty of being so adwonder if they'd give two poor footsore travel- dressed upon the public Iway by one who is lers like me and you a drop of fresh water out almost reduced to rags though it as nat always of such a pretty gen-teel crib? We'd take it been so and by no fault of his own but through wery koind on'em, wouldn't us? Wery koind, ill elth in his family and many unmerited sufferupon my word, us would!" He has a quick ings it would be a great obligation sir to know sense of a dog in the vicinity, and will extend the time." You give the well-spoken young his modestly-injured propitiation to the dog man the time. The well-spoken young man, chained up in your yard; remarking, as he keeping well up with you, resumes: "I am slinks at the yard-gate, "Ah! You are a foine aware sir that it is a liberty to intrude a further breed o' dog, too, and you ain't kep for nothink! question on a gentleman walking for his enterI'd take it wery koind o' your master if he'd elp tainment but might I make so bold as ask the a traveller and his woife, as envies no gentlefolk favour of the way to Dover sir and about the their good fortun, wi' a bit o' your broken wittles. distance? " You inform the well-spoken young He'd never know the want of it, nor more would man that the way to Dover is straight on, and you. Don't bark like that at poor persons as the distance some eighteen miles. The wellnever done you no arm; the poor is down- spoken young man becomes greatly agitated. trodden and broke enough without that. Oh, " In the condition to which I am reduced," says DON'T!" He generally heaves a prodigious he, "I could not ope to reach Dover before sigh in moving away, and always looks up the dark even if my shoes were in a state to take lane and down the lane, and up the road and me there or my feet were in a state to old out over down the road, before going on. the flinty road and'vere not on the bare ground Both of these orders of tramp are of a very of which any gentleman has the means to satisfy robust habit; let the hard-working labourer, at himself by looking Sir may I take the liberty of whose cottage door they prowl and beg, have speaking to you?" As the well-spoken young the ague never so badly, these tramps are sure man keeps so well up with you that you can't to be in good health prevent his taking the liberty of speaking to 52 JTHE UNCOMIfJER CIAL TRA VELLER. you, he goes on, with fluency: "Sir it is not derson but to get chalked upon his! spade, in begging that is my intention for I was brought snow-white copy-book characters, HUNGRY! and up by the best of mothers and begging is not to sit' down here. Yes;'-one thing more reany trade I should not know sir how to follow it mained. to Mr. Anderson-his character;- Moas a trade if such were my shameful wishes for narchs could not deprive him of his hard-earned the best of mothers long taught otherwise and character. Accordingly, as ycu come up with in the best of omes though now reduced to take this spectacle of.virtue in distress, Mrs. Anderthe present liberty on the Iway Sir my business son rises, and with' a-decent curtsy presents for was the law-stationering and I was favourably your consideration a certificate from a Doctor of known to the Solicitor-General the Attorney- Divinity;- the Reverend the Vicar of Upper General the majority of the Judges and the ole Dodgington, who; informs his Christian friends of the legal profession but through ill elth in and all whom it may concern that the bearers, my family and the treachery of a friend for John'Andorson and lawful wife, are persons to whom I became security and he no other than whom you cannot be too liberal. This benevomy own wife's brother the brother of my own lent pastor omitted no work of his hands to fit wife I was cast forth with my tender partner and the good'couple out, for with half an eye you three young children not to beg for I will sooner can recognise his autograph on the spade. die of deprivation but to make my way to the Another'class of tramp is a man, the most seaport town of Dover where I have a relative i valuable part-of whose stock-in-trade is a highlyin respect not only that will assist me but that perplexed'demeanour.. He is got up like'-a would trust me with untold gold Sir in appier countryman, and you will often come upon the times and hare this calamity fell upon me 1 poor fellow while he is endeavouring to decipher made for my amusement when I little thought the inscription' on a milestone-quite a fruitless that I should ever need it excepting for my air endeavour, for he, cannot read. He asks your this "-here the well-spoken young man put his pardon, he truly does (he is very slow of speech, hand into his breast-" this comb! Sir I im- this tramp, and he looks in a bewildered way all plore you in the name of charity to purchase a round' the prospect while.he talks to you), but tortoise-shell comb which is a genuine article at all of us shold do as we wold be done by,'and any price that your humanity may put upon it he'll take it kind if you'll put a power man in and may the blessings of a ouseless family the right road fur to jine his eldest son as has awaiting with beating arts the return of a hus- broke his leg bad in the masoning, and is in this band and a father from Dover upon the cold heere, Orspit'l, as is wrote down by Squire stone seats of London Bridge ever attend you Pouncerby's own hand as wold not tell a lie fur Sir may I take the liberty of speaking to you I no man. He then produces from under his implore you to buy this comb " By this time, dark frock (being always very slow and perbeing a reasonably good walker, you will have plexed) a neat but worn old leathern purse, from been too much for the well-spoken young man, which he takes a scrap of paper. On this scrap who will stop short, and express his disgust and of paper is written, by Squire Pouncerby, of The his want of breath in a long expectoration, as Grove, "Please to direct the Bearer, a poor but you leave him behind. very worthy man, to the Sussex County Hospital, Towards the end of the same walk, on the near Brighton "-a matter of some.difficulty at same bright summer day, at the corner of the the moment, seeing that the request comes' sudnext little town or village, you may find another denly upon you in the depths of Hertfordshire. kind of tramp, embodied in the persons of a The more you-:endeavounr'to indicate where most exemplary couple, whose only improvidence Brighton is-when you have with the greatest appears to have been that they spent the last of difficulty 1 remembered-the'less the.. devoted their little All on soap. They are a man and father can be made to comprehend, and the more woman, spotless to behold-John Anderson, obtusely he.stares' at'.the; prospect; whereby, with the frost on his short smock-frock instead being reduced to extremity, you recommend the of his "pow," attended by Mrs. Anderson. John faithful parent to begin.by going to St. Albans, is over-ostentatious of the frost upon his raiment, and present him with half-a-crown.- Iit does him and wears a curious, and,,you would, say,'an good, no doubt, but scarcely helps him forward, almost unnecessary demonstration of girdle"of since you find him lying drunk that same evenwhite linen wound about his waist-a girdle ing in the wheelwright's saw-pit, under the shed snowy as Mrs. Anderson's apron. This clean- where the felled trees are, opposite the sign of liness was the expiring effort of the respectable the Three Jolly Hedgers. couple, and nothing then remained to Mr. An- But the most vicious, by far, of all the idle VARIE TIES OP THri GENUS TRAMiP. 53 tramps, is the tramp who pretends to have been your town out o' people's way?' " (The company a gentleman. "Educated," he writes from the expressing the highest approval, and laughing village beer-shop in pale ink of a ferruginous aloud, they all go down the hill.) complexion; "educated at Trin. Coll. Cam.- Then, there are the tramp handicraft men. nursed in the lap of affluence-once in my small Are they not all over England in this midsumway the pattron of the Muses," &c. &c. &c.- mer-time? Where does the lark sing, the corn surely a sympathetic mind will not withhold a grow, the mill turn, the river run, and they are trifle to help him on to the market-town'where not among the lights and shadows, tinkering, he thinks of giving a Lecture to the fruges con- chair-mending, umbrella-mending, clock-mendsumere nafi, on things in general? This shame- ing, knife-grinding? Surely a pleasant thing, if ful creature, lolling about hedge tap-rooms in we were in that condition of life, to grind our his ragged clothes, now so far from being black way through Kent, Sussex, and Surrey.. For that they look as if they never can have been the first six weeks or so, we should see the sparks black, is more. selfish and insolent than even we ground off fiery bright against a background the savage tramp. He would sponge on the of green wheat and green leaves. A little later, poorest boy for a farthing, and spurn him when and the ripe. harvest would pale our sparks from he had got it; he would interpose (if he could red to yellow, until we got the dark newlyget anything by it) between the baby and the turned land for a background again, and they mother's breast. So much lower than the corn- were red once more. By that time we should pany he keeps for his maudlin assumption of have ground our way to the sea cliffs, and the being higher, this pitiless rascal blights the whirr of our wheel would be lost in the breaking summer roads as he maunders on between the of the waves. Our next variety in sparks would luxuriant hedges: where (to my thinking) even be derived from contrast with the gorgeous medthe wild convolvulus and rose and sweetbrier ley of colours in the autumn woods, and by the are the worse for his going by, and need time to time we had ground our way round to the heathy recover from the taint of him in the air. lands between Reigate and Croydon, doing a The young fellows who trudge along barefoot, prosperous stroke of business all along, we should five or six together, their boots slung over their show like a little firework in the light frosty air, shoulders, their shabby bundles under their and be the next best thing to the blacksmith's arms, their sticks newly cut from some roadside forge. Very agreeable, too, to go on a chairwood, are not eminently prepossessing, but are mending tour. What judges we should be of much less objectionable. There is a trampfel- rushes, and how knowingly (with a sheaf and a lowship among them. They pick one another bottomless chair at our back) we should lounge up at resting stations, and go on in companies. on bridges, looking over at osier-beds! Among They always go at a fast swing-though they all the innumerable occupations that cannot generally limp too-and there is invariably one possibly be transacted without the assistance of of the company who has much ado to keep up lookers-on, chair-mending may take a station in with the rest. They generally talk about horses, the first rank. When we sat down with our and any other means of locomotion than backs against the barn or the public-house, and walking: or, one of the company relates some began to mend, what a sense of popularity would recent experiences of the road-which are grow upon us! When all the children came to always disputes and difficulties. As for example. look at us, and the tailor, and the general dealer, "So, as I'm a standing at the pump in the and the farmer who had been giving a small market, blest if there don't come up a Beadle, order at the little saddler's, and the groom from and he ses,' Mustn't stand here,' he ses.'Why the great house, and the publican, and even the not?' I ses.' No beggars allowed in this town,' he two skittle-players (and here note that, howsoses.'Who's a beggar?' Ises.'You are,' he ses. ever busy all the rest of village humankind may'Who ever see me beg? Didyou?' I ses.'Then be, there will always be two people with leisure you're a tramp,' he ses.'I'd rather be that than to play at skittles, wherever village skittles are), a Beadle,' I ses." (The company expressed great what encouragement would be on us to plait and approval.) "' Would you-?' he ses to me.'Yes, weave! No one looks at us while we plait I would,' I ses to him.'Well,' he ses,'any- and weave these words. Clock-mending, again. how, get out of this town.'' Why, blow your Except for the slight inconvenience of carrying little town!' I ses,''who wants to be in it? a clock under our arm, and the moiotony of Wot does your dirty little town mean by comin' making the bell go whenever we came to a human and stickin' itself in the road to anywhere? Why habitation, what a pleasant privilege to give. a don't you get a shovel and a barrer, and clear voice to the dumb cottage clock, and set it talkTHE UNCOIMMIFRCIAL TRAVELLER, 323 54 THSE UVJCO2JIJRIA'OCIALt TA VELLER. ing to thectottage family again! Likewise, we round over yinder by the blasted ash, and so foresee great interest in going round by the straight through the woods till we should see park plantations, under the overhanging boughs the town'-lights right afore us. Then, feeling (hares, rabbits, partridges, and pheasants scud- lonesome, should we esire; -upon. the whole, ding like mad across and across the chequered that the ash had not been blasted, or that the ground before us), and so over the park ladder, hlper had had the manners not to mention it. and through the wood, until we came to the However, we should keep on all right, till sudKeeper's lodge. Then would the Keeper be denly the stable bell would strike ten in the discoverabte at his door, in a deep nest of leaves, dolefullest way, quite chilling our blood, though smoking his pipe. Then, on our accosting him we had so fately taught him how to acquit himin the way of our trade, would he call to Mrs. self. Then, as we went on, should we recall old Keeper respecting "t'ould clock" in the kitchen. stories, and dimly consider what it would be Then would Mrs. Keeper ask us into the- lodge, most advisable to do, in the event of a tall and, on due examination, we should offer to figure all in white, with saucer eyes, coming up male a good job of it for eighteen-pence; which and saying, " I want you to come to a churchoffer, being accepted, would set us tinkling and yard and mend a church clock. Follow me " clinking among the chubby awe-struck little Then should we make a burst to get clear of Keepers for an hour and more. So completely to the trees, and should soon find ourselves in the the family's satisfaction would we achieve our open, with the town lights bright ahead of us. work, that the Keeper would mention how that So should we lie that night at the ancient sign there was something wrong with the bell of the of the Crispin and Crispanus, and rise early turret stable clock up at the Hall, and that, if rext morning to be betimes on tramp again. we thought good of going up to the housekeeper Bricklayers often tramp in twos and threes, on the chance of that job too, why he would take lying by night at their "lodges," whicl} are scatus. Then should we go, among the branching tered all over the country. l'ricklnying is oaks and the deep fern, by silent ways of mys- another of the. occupations that can by no tery known to the Keeper, seeing the herd means be transacted in rural parts without the glancing here and there as we went along, until assistance of spectators-of as many as can be we came to the old Hall, solemn and grand. convened. In thinly-peopled spots I have Under the Terrace Flower Garden, and round known bricklayers on tranmp, coming ul) with by the stables, would the Keeper take us in, bricklayers at work, to be so sensible of the inand as we passed we should observe how spa- (disipensability of lookers-on, that they themcious and stately the stables, and how fine thle selv.es have set up in that capacity, and have painting of the horses' names over their stalls, been unable to subside into the acceptance of and how solitary all: the family being in a proffered share in the job for two or three London. Then should we find ourselves pro- days together. Sometimes the "navvy," on sented to the housekeeper, sitting, in hushed tramp, with an extra pair of half-boots over his state at needlework, in a bay-windlow looking shoulder, a bag, a bottle, and a can, will take a out upon a mighty grim red-brick quadrangle, similar part in a job of excavation, and will look guarded by stone lions disrespectfully throwing at it, without engaging in it, until all his money summersets over the escutcheons of the noble is gone. The current of my uncommercial purfamily. Then, our services accepted, and we suits causedl me only last sulmmer to want a little insinuated with a candle into the statrle turret, bodly of workmen for a certain spell of work in a we should find it to be a mere question of pen. pleasant part of the country; and I was at one dulum, but one that would hold us until (lark. time honoured with the attendance of as many as Then should we fall to work, with a general irn. seven-and-twenty, who were looking at six. pression of Ghosts being about, and of pictures Who can be familiar with any rustic highway indoors that of a certainty came out of their in summer-time, without storing up knowledge frames and "walked," if the family would only of the many tramps who go from one oasis of own it. Then bhould we work and work, until town or village to another. to sell a stock-in. the day gradually turned to dusk, and even until trade, apparently not worth a shilling when the dusk gradually turned to (lark. Our task at sold?' Shrimps are a favourite commodity fer length accomplished, we should be taken into this kind of speculation, and so are cakes of a in enormous servants' hall, anl there regaled soft and spongy character, coupled with. Spanish with beef and bread, and powerful ale. Then, nuts and brandy-balls. The stock is carried on paid freely, we should be at liberty to go, and the head in a basket, and.between the head and should be told by a pointing helper to keep the basket are the trestles on which the stock is ADDITIONAL SPECIMENS. 5$ displayed at trading times. Fleet of foot, but a woods behind them, that if I were to propose to careworn class of tramp this, mostly; with a deal, they would sell me anything at cost price. certain stiffness of neck, occasioned by much On thi hallowed ground has it been my happy anxious balancing of baskets; and also with a privilege (let me whisper it) to behold the long Chinese sort of eye, which an overweighted White-haired Lady with the pink eyes eating forehead would seem to have squeezed into that meat-pie with the Giant: while, by the hedgeform. side, on the box of blankets which I knew conOn the hot dusty roads near seaport towns tained the snakes, were' set forth the cups and and great rivers, behold the tramping Soldier. saucers and the teapot. It was on an evening And if you should happen\never to have asked in August that I chanced upon this ravishing yourself whether his uniform is suited to his spectacle, and I noticed that, whereas the Giant work, perhaps the poor fellow's appearance, as' reclined half concealed beneath the overhanging he comes distressfully towards you, with his boughs, and seemed indifferent to Nature, the absurdly tight jacket unbuttoned, his neck-gear white hair of the gracious Lady streamed free in his hand, and his legs well chafed by his in the'breath of evening, and her pink eyes trousers of baize, may suggest the personal found pleasure in the landscape. I heard only inquiry, how you think you would like it? a single sentence of her uttering, yet it bespoke Much better the tramping Sailor, although a talent for modest repartee.' The. ill-mannered his cloth is somewhat- too thick for land Giant-accursed be his evil race!-had interservice. But, why the tramping merchant- rupted the lady in some remark, and, as I passed mate should put on a black velvet waistcoat, that enchanted corer of the wood, she gently for a chalky country in the dog-days, is one reproved him with the words, "Now, Cobby;"of the great secrets of nature that will never Cobby! so short a name!-"ain't one fool be discovered. enough to talk at a time? " I have my eye upon a piece of Kentish road, Within appropriate distance of this magic bordered on either side by a wood, and having ground, though not so near it as that the song on one hand, between the road dust and the trolled from tap or bench at door can invade its trees, a skirting patch of grass. Wild flowers woodland silence, is a little hostelry which no grow in abundance on this spot, and it lies high man possessed, of a penny was ever known to and airy, with a distant river steadily stealing pass in warm weather. Before its entrance are away to the ocean, like a man's life. To gain certain pleasant trimmed limes; likewise a cool the milestone here, which the moss, primroses, well, with so musical a bucket hfandle, that its violets, bluebells, and wild roses would soon fall upon the bucket rim will make a horse prick render illegible but for peering travellers pushing up his ears and. neigh upon the droughty road them aside with their sticks, you must come up half a mile off. This is a house of great resort a steep hill, come which way you may. So, all for hay-making tramps and harvest tramps, insothe tramps with carts or caravans-the Gipsy much that as they'sit within, drinking their mugs Tramp, the Show Tramp, the Cheap Jack-find of beer, their relinquished scythes and reapingit impossible to resist the temptations of the hooks glare out of' the open windows, as if the place, and all turn the horse loose when they whole establishment were a family war-coach of come to it, and boil the pot. Bless the place, Ancient Britons. Later in the season, the whole I love the ashes of the vagabond fires that have country-side, for miles and miles, will swarm scorched its grass! What tramp children do I with hopping tramps. They come in families, see here, attired in a handful of rags, making a men, women, and children, every family progymnasium'of the shafts of the cart, making a' vided with a bundle of bedding, an iron pot, a feather bed of the flints and brambles, making number of babies, and too often, with some a toy of the hobbled old horse who is not much poor sick creature quite unfit for the rough mqre like a horse than any cheap toy would be! life, for whom they suppose the smell of the Here do I encounter the cart of mats and fresh hop to be a sovereign remedy. Many of brooms and baskets-with all thoughts of busi- these hoppers are Irish, but many come from ness given to the evening wind-with the stew London. They crowd all the roads, and camp made and being served out-with Cheap Jack under all the hedges and on all the scraps of and Deat Gill striking soft'music out of the common-land,'and live among and upon the plates that are rattled like warlike cymbals when hops until they are all picked, and the hop put up for auction at fairs and markets-their gardens, so beautiful through the summer, look minds so influenced (no doubt) by the melody as if they had been laid waste by an invading of the nightingales, as they begin to sing in the army. Then there is a vast exodus of tramps 56 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. out of the country; and, if you ride or drive in the utmost prodigality of confusion, bundles round any turn of any road at more than a foot- of bedding, babies, iron pots, and a goodpace, you will be bewildered to find that you humoured multitude of both sexes and all ages, have charged into the bosom of fifty families, equally divided between perspiration and intoxi. and that there are splashing up all around you, cation.'0U ICB~ RE~c_ A 3 ECLkI ~THEN YOU RE A TRAMP," IHE SES. "I'D RATHER BE THAT THAN A BEADLE," I SES. XII. not revisit until I was a man. This is no uncom. mon chance, but one that befalls some of us any DULLBOROUGH TOWN. day. Perhaps it may not be quite uninteresting to compare notes with the reader respecting an TT lately happened that I found myself ram- experience so familiar, and a journey so uncombling about the scenes among which my mercial. earliest days were passed: scenes from which I I call my boyhood's home (and I feel like a departed when I was a child, and which I did Tenor in an English Opera when I mention it) DEPAR TZED JO YS. 57 Dullborough. Most cf us come from Dull- Regent wore stays, and that nobody had a right borough who come from a country town. to any salary, and that the army and navy ought As I left Dullborough in the days when there to be put down-horrors at which I trembled in were no railroads in the land, I left it in a stage- my bed, after supplicating that the Radicals coach. Through all the years that have since might be speedily taken and hanged. Here passed have I ever lost the smell of the damp too, had we, the small boys of Boles's, had that straw in which I was packed-like game-and cricket match against the small boys of Coles's; forwarded, carriage paid, to the Cross Keys, when Boles and Coles had actually met upon Wood Street, Cheapside, London? There was the ground, and when, instead of instantly hitno other inside passenger, and I consumed my ting out at one another with the utmost fury, as sandwiches in solitude and dreariness, and it we had all hoped and expected, those sneaks rained hard all the way, and I thought life had said respectively, " I hope AIrs. Boles is sloppier than I had expected to find it. well," and " I hope Mrs. Coles and the baby are With this tender remembrance upon me, I was doing charmingly." Could it be that, after all cavalierly shunted back into Dullborough the this, and much more, the playing-field was a other day by train. My ticket had been pre- Station, and No. 97 expectorated boiling water viously collected, like my taxes, and my shining and red-hot cinders on it, and the whole benew portmanteau had had a great plaster stuck longed by Act of Parliament to S.E.R.? upon it, and I had been defied by Act of As it could be, and was, 1 left the place with Parliament to offer an objection to anything a heavy heart for a walk all over the town. \And that was done to it, or me, under a penalty of first of Timpson's up street. When I departed not less than forty shillings, or more than five from Dullborough in the strawy arms of Timppounds; compoundable for a term of imprison- son's Blue-Eyed Maid, Timpson's was a modement. \ When I had sent my disfigured property rate-sized coach-office (in fact, a little coachon to the hotel, I began to look about me; and office), with an oval transparency in the window, the first discovery I made was, that the Station which looked beautiful by night, representing had swallowed up the playing-field. one of Timpson's coaches in the act of passing a It was gone. The two beautiful hawthorn- milestone on the London road with great velo. trees, the hedge, the turf, and all those butter-'" city, completely full inside and out, and allthe cups and daisies had given place to the stoniest passengers dressed in the first style of fashion, of jolting roads; while, beyond the Station, an and enjoying themselves tremendously. I found ugly (lark monster of a tunnel kept its jaws no such place as Timpson owno such open, as if it had swallowed them, and were bricks and rafters, not to mention the name-no ravenous for more destruction. The coach that such edifice on the teeming earth. Pickford had had carried me away was melodiously called come and knocked Timpson's down. Pickford Tilnpson's Blue-Eyed Maid, and belonged to had not only knocked Timpson's down, but had limpson, at the coach-office up street; the loco- knocked two or three houses down on each side motive engine that had brought me back was of Timpson's,' and then had knocked the whole called severely No. 97, and belonged to S.E.R., into one great establishment with a pair of big and was spitting ashes and hot water over the gates, in and out of which his (Pickford's) wagblighted ground. gons are, in these days, always rattling, witl When I had been let out at the platform door, their drivers sitting up so high, that they look in like a prisoner whom his turnkey grudgingly at the second-floor windows of the old-fashioned released, I looked in again, over the low wall, houses in the High Street as they shake the town. at the scene of departetl glories. Here, in the I have not the honour of Pickford's acquaint-. hay-making time, had I been delivered from the ance, but I felt that he had tlone me an injury dungeons of Scringapatam, an immense pile (of not to say committed an act of boyslaughter, in haycock), by my countrymen, the victorious running over my childhood in this rough manBritish (boy next door, and his two cousins), and ner; and if ever I meet Pickiord driving one of had been recognised with ecstasy by my atfi- his own monsters, and smoking a pipe the while.anced one (Miss Green), who had come all the (which is the custom of his men), he shall know way from England (second house in the terrace) by the expression of my eye, if it catches his, to ransom me, and marry me. l ere had I first that there is something wrong between us. heard in confidence, from one whose father was Moreover, I felt that Pickford had no right to greatly connected, being undelr Government, of come rushing into Dullborough, and deprive the the existence of a terrible balnitti, called " The town of a public picture. He is not Napoleon Radicals," whose principles were, that the Prince Bonaparte. When he took down the trans 5s THE UNCOMMAERCIAL TRA VELLER. parent stage-coach, he ought to have given the morning of the reception. As he brought with town a transparent van. With a gloomy con- him a dawning remembrance that he had had viction that Pickford is wholly utilitarian and no proprietary interest in those babies, I crossed unimaginative, I proceeded on my way. the road, and accosted him on the subject. He It is a mercy I have not a red and green was not in the least excited or gratified, or in lamp and a night bell at my door, for in my very any way rouseu, by the accuracy of my recollecyoung days I was taken to so many lyings-in, tion, but said, Yes, summut out of the common that I wonder I escaped becoming a professional -he didn't remember how many it was (as if martyr to them in after life. I suppose I had a half-a-dozen babes either way made no differvery sympathetic nurse, with a large circle of ence)-had happened to a Mrs. What's-hermarried acquaintance. However that was, as I name, as once lodged there-but he didn't call continued my walk through Dullborough, I it to mind, particular. Nettled by this phlegfound many houses to be solely associated in matic conduct, I informed him that I had left my mind with this particular interest. At one the town when I was a child. He slowly relittle greengrocer's shop, down certain steps turned, quite unsoftened, and not without a from the street, I remember to have waited on a sarcastic kind of complacency, Had I? Ah! lady who had had four children (I am afraid to And did' I find it had got on tolerably well write five, though I fully believe it was five) at a without mne? Such is the difference (I thought birth. This meritorious woman held quite a when I had left him a few hundred yards bereception in her room on the morning when I hind, and was by so much in a better temper) was introduced there, and the sight of the house between'going away from a place and remaining brought vividly to my mind how the four (five) in it. L had no right, I reflected, to be angry deceased young people lay, side by side, on a with the greengrocer for his want of interest; I clean cloth on a chest of drawers; reminding was nothing to him: whereas he was the town, me, by a homely association, which I suspect the cathedral, the bridge, the river, my childtheir complexion to have assisted, of pigs' feet hood, and a large slice of my life, to me. as they are usually displayed at a neat tripe Of course the town had shrunk fearfully since shop. Hot caudle was handed round on the I was a child there. I had entertained the irnoccasion, and I further remembered, as I stood pression that the High Street was at least as contemplating the greengrocer's, that a subscrip- wide as Regent Street, London, or the Italian tion was entered into among the company, Boulevard at Paris. I found it little better than which became extremely alarming to my con- a lane. There was a public clock in it, which I sciousness of having pocket money on my person. had supposed to be the finest clock in the This fact being known to my conductress, who- world: whereas it now turned out to be as inexever she was, I was earnestly exhorted to con- pressive,' moon-faced, and weak a clock as ever tribute, but resolutely declined: therein dis- I saw. It belonged to a Town-hall, where I gusting the company, who gave me to under- had seen an Indian (who I now suppose wasn't stand that I must dismiss all expectations of an Indian) swallow a sword (which I now supgoing to Heaven. pose he didn't). The edifice had appeared to How does it happen that, when all else is me, in those days, so gloriou- a structure, that I changed wherever one goes, there yet seem, in had set it up in my mind as the model on which every place, to be some few people who never the Genie of the Lamp built the palace for alter? As the sight of the greengrocer's house Aladdin; A mean little brick heap, like a derecalled these trivial incidents of long ago, the mented -chapel, with a few yawning persons in identical greengrocer appeared on the steps, leather gaiters, and in the last extremity for with his hands in his pockets, and leaning his something to do, lounging at the door with their shoulder against the door-post, as my childish hands in their pockets, and calling themselves a eyes had seen him many a time; indeed, there Corn Exchange! was his old mark on the door-post yet, as if his The Theatre was in existence, I found, on shadow had become a fixture there. It was he asking the fishmonger, who had a compact show himself; he might formerly have been an old- of stock in his window, consisting of a sole and looking young man, or he might now be a a quart of shrimps-and I resolved to comfort young-looking old man, but there he was. In my mind by going to look at it. Richard the walking along the street, I had as yet looked in Third, in a very uncomfortable cloak, had first vain for a familiar face, or even a transmitted appeared to me there, and had made my heart face; here was the very greengrocer who had leap with terror by backing up against tile stage been weighing and handling baskets on the box in which I was posted, while struggling for THE MECHANICS' INSTITUTYON. 59 life against the virtuous Richmond. It was within judged from its external appearance only; but those walls that I had learnt, as from a page of this was attributable to its never having been English history, how that wicked King slept in finished, and having no front: consequently, it war-time on a sofa much too short for him, and led a modest and retired existence up a stablehow fearfully his conscience troubled his boots. yard. It was (as I learnt on inquiry) a most Th1ere, too, had I first seen the funny countryman, flourishing Institution, and of the highest benefit but countryman of noble principles, in a flowered to the town' two triumphs which I was glad to waistcoat, crunch up his little hat and throw it understand were not at all impaired by the on the ground, and pull off his coat, saying, seeming drawbacks that no mechanics belonged "Dom thee, squire, coom on with thy fistes, to it, and that it was steeped in debt to the then!" At which the lovely young woman who chimney-pots. It had a large room, which was kept company with him (and who went out approached by an infirm step-ladder: the builder gleaning in a narrow white muslin apron, with having declined to construct the intended stairfive beautiful bars of five different-coloured case without a present payment in cash, which ribbons across it) was so frightened for his sake, Dullborough (though profoundly appreciative ot that she fainted away. Many wondrous secrets the Institution) seemed unaccountably bashful of Nature had I come to the knowledge of in about subscribing. The large room had cost — that sanctuary: of which not the least terrific or would, when paid for-five hundred pounds were, that the witches in Macbeth bore an awful and it had more mortar in it, and more echoe1 resemblance to the Thanes and other proper than one might have expected to get'fc;' inhabitants of Scotland; and that the good King the money. It was fitted up with a-platfor):., Duncan couldn't rest in his grave, but was con- and the usual lecturing tools, including a lar!-' stantly coming out of it, and calling himself black board of a menacing appearance. On resomebody else. To the Theatre, therefore, I ferring to lists of the courses of lectures that had repaired for consolation. But I found very been given in this thriving Hall, I fancied I little, for it was in a bad and declining way. A detected a shyness in admitting that human dealer in wine and bottled beer had already nature, when at leisure, has any desire whatever squeezed his trade into the box office, and the to be relieved and diverted; and a furtive sliding theatrical money was taken-when it came-in in of any poor make-weight piece of amusement a kind of meat-safe in the passage. The dealer shamefacedly and edgewise. Thus, I observed in wine and bottled beer must have insinuated that it was necessary for the members to be himself urder the stage too; for he announced knocked on the head with Gas, Air, Water, that he had various descriptions of alcoholic Food, the Solar System, the Geological periods, drinks'i m the wood," and there was no possible Criticism on Milton, the Steam-engine, John stowage for the wood anywhere else. Evidently, Bunyan, and Arrow-headed Inscriptions, before he was by degrees eating the establishment away they might be tickled by those unaccountable to the core, and would soon have sole possession choristers, the negro singers in the court costume of it. It was To Let, and hopelessly so, for its of the reign of George the Second. Likewise, old purposes, and there had been no entertain- that they must be stunned by a weighty inquiry ment within its walls for a long time except a whether there was internal evidence in ShakPanorama; and even that had been announced speare's works to prove that his uncle by the as " pleasingly instructive," and I know too well mother's side lived for some years at Stoke Newthe fatal meaning and the leaden import of ington, before they were brought-to by a Miscelthose terrible expressions. No, there was no laneous Concert. But, indeed, the masking of comfort in the Theatre. It was mysteriously entertainment, and pretending it was something gone, like my own youth. Unlike my own else —as people mask bedsteads when they are youth, it might be coming back some day; but obliged to have them in sitting-rooms, and make there was little promise of it. believe that they are bookcases, sofas, chests of As the town was placarded with references drawers, anything rather than bedsteads-was to the Dullborough Mechanics' Institution, I manifest even in the pretence of dreariness that thought I would go and look at that establish- the unfortunate entertainers themselves felt ment next. There had been no such thing in obliged in decency to put forth when they came the town in my young day, and it occurred to here. One very agreeable professional singer, me that its extreme prosperity might have who travelled with two professional ladies, knew brought adversity upon the Drama. I found better than to introduce either of those ladies to the Institution with some difficulty, and should sing the ballad " Comin' through the Rye," withscarcely have known that I had found it if I had out prefacing it himself with some general re_ 60 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. marks on wheat and clover; and, even then, he which they represent as inseparable from Good. dared not for his life call the song a song, but ness, may not tend to confirm sensitive waverers disguised it in the bill as an " Illustration." In in Evil? A most impressive example (if I had the library also-fitted-with shelves for three believed it) of what a Dustman and a Sailor thousand books, and containing upwards of one may come to, when they mend their ways, was hundred and seventy (presented copies mostly)' presented to me in this same shop-window. seething their edges in damp plaster-there was When.they werei leaning (they were intimate such a painfully apologetic return of 62 offenders friends) agairst a post, drunk and reckless, who had read Travels, Popular Biography, and with surpassingly bad hats on, and their hair mere Fiction descriptive of the aspirations of the over their foreheads, they were rather pictuhearts and souls of mere human creatures like resque, and looked as if they might be agreeable themselves; and such an elaborate parade of 2 men, if they would not be beasts. But, when bright examples who had had down Euclid after they had got over their bad propensities, and the day's occupation and confinement; and 3 when, as a consequence, theirheads had swelled who had had down Metaphysics after ditto; and alarmingly, their hair had got so curly that it ~ who had had down Theology after ditto; and lifted their blown-out cheeks up, their coat4 who had worried Grammar, Political Economy, cuffs were so long that they never could do any Botany, and Logarithms all at once after ditto; work, and their eyes were so wide open that that I suspected the boasted class to be one they never could do any sleep, they presented man, who had been hired to do it. a spectacle calculated to plunge a timid nature Emerging from the Mechanics' Institution, into the depths of Infamy. and continuing my walk about the town, I still But, the clock that had so aegenerated since noticed everywhere the prevalence, to an extra- I saw it last, admonished me that I had stayed ordinary degree, of this custom of putting the bere long enough; and I resumed my walk. natural demand for amusement out of sight, as I had not gone fifty paces along the street some untidy housekeepers put dust, and pre- when I was suddenly brought up by the sight of tending that it was swept away. And yet it was a man who got out of a little phaeton at the ministered to, in a dull and abortive manner, doctor's door, and went into the doctor's house. by all who made this feint. Looking in at what Immediately the air was filled with the scent of is called in Dullborough "the serious book- trodden grass, and the perspective of years seller's," where, in. my childhood, I had studied opened, and at the end of it was a little likeness the faces of numbers of gentlemen depicted in of this man keeping a wicket, and I said, " God rostrums with a gas-light on each side of them, bless my soul! Joe Specks!" and casting my eyes over the open pages of Through many changes and muca work, I certain printed discourses there, I found a vast' had preserved a tenderness for the memory of deal of aiming at jocosity and dramatic effect, Joe, forasmuch as we had made the acquainteven in. them-yes, verily, even on the part of ance of Roderick Random together, and had one very wrathful expounder who bitterly ana- believed him to be no ruffian, but an ingenuous thematized a poor little Circus. Similarly, in and engaging hero. Scorning to ask the boy the reading provided for the young people -left in the phaeton whether it was really Joe, enrolled in the Lasso of Love, and other excel- and scorning even to read the brass plate on the lent unions, I found the writers generally under door-so sure was I-I rang the bell, and a distressing sense'that they must start (at all informed the servant-maid that a stranger events) like story-tellers, and delude the young sought audience of Mr. Specks. Into a room, persons into the belief that they were going to half surgery, half study, I was shown to await be interesting. As I looked in at this window his coming, and I found it, by a series of elabofor twenty minutes by.the clock, I am in a rate accidents, bestrewn with testimonies to Joe. position to offer a friendly remonstrance-not Portrait of Mr. Specks, bust of Mr. Specks, bearing on this particular point-to the de- silver cup from grateful patient to Mr. Specks, signers and engravers of the pictures in those presentation sermon from local clergyman, dedipublications. Have they considered the awful cation poem from local poet, dinner card from consequences likely to flow from their representa- local nobleman,'tract on balance of power from tions of Virtue? Have they asked themselves local refugee, inscribed oinmnage de l'atieur a the question, whether the terrific prospect of Specks. acquiring that fearful chubbiness of head, un. When my old school-ieilow came in, and I wieldiness of arm, feeble dislocation of leg, informed him with a smile that I was'not a crispiness of hair, and enormity of shirt collar,, -patient, he seemed.rather at a loss.to perceive SPECKS. 6i any reason for smiling in connection with that find no lack of the species in our maturity. But, fact, and inquired to what he was to attribute I did not propound this difficulty to Specks, the honour? I asked him, with another smile, for no pause in the conversation gave me an could he remember me at all? He had not (he occasion. Nor could I discover one single flaw said) that pleasure. I was beginning to have in the good doctor-when he reads this, he will but a poor opinion of Mr. Specks, when he said receive in a friendly spirit the pleasantly-meant reflectively, "And yet there's a something too." record-except that he had forgotten his RodeUpon that, I saw a boyish light in his eyesthat rick Random, and that he confounded Strap looked well, and I asked him if he could inform with Lieutenant Hatchway; who never knew me, as a stranger who desired to know and had Random, howsoever intimate with Pickle. not the means of reference at hand, what the When I went alone to the Railway to catch name of the young lady was who married Mr. my train at night (Specks had meant to go with Random? Upon that, he said " Narcissa," me, but was inopportunely called out), I was in and, after staring for a moment, called me by a more charitable mood with Dullborough than my name, shook me by the hand, and melted I had' been all day; and yet in my heart I had into a roar of laughter. " lWhy, of course, you'll loved it all day too. Ah! who was I that I remember Lucy Green," he said after we had should quarrel with the town for being changed talked a little. " 0O course," said I. " VWhom to me, when I myself had come back so changed do you think sle married?" said hle. " You?" to it? All my early readings and early imaginaI hazarded. " Me," said Specks, "and you tions dated fiom tlis place, and I took them shall see her." So I saw her, and she was fat, away so full of innocent construction and guileand if all the hay in the world had been heaped less belief, and I brought them back so worn upon her, it could scarcely have altered her face and torn, so much the wiser and so ullch the more than Time lad altered it from my remem- worse! brance of the face that had once lookcd downI upon me into the fragrant dungeons of Seringapatam. But whlen her youngest child came inII after dinner (for I dined with them, and we had no other comipany than Specks. Junior, Barrister- NIGHT WLALKS. at-law, who went away as soon as the cloth was removed, to look after the young lady t xl h omns d ^ OrM years ago, a temporary inability lhe was going to be married next week), I saw "i -ii to sleep, referable to a dlistressing again, in that little daughter, the little face of.' impression, caused me to walk about the hay-field, unchanged, and it quite touched,_ the streets all niglht for a series of my foolish heart. We talked immensely, Specks (. several nigts. The disorder might and Mrs. Specks, and I, and we spoke of our:'" have taken a long time to conquer, if old selves as though our old selves were dead 2) it had been faintly experimented on in an(l gone, and indeedl indeed they were-dead 5:- bed; but, it was soon defeated by the and gone as tle playing-field that had become a brisk treatment of getting up directly after lying wilderness of rusty iron, and the 7)ropert of cdownv, and going out, and coming home tired at S.E1'. R. Rsunrise. Specks, however, illuminated Dullborough In the course of those nights I finished my with the rays of interest that I wanted, and education in a fair amateur experience of Houseshould otherwise have missed in it, and linked lessness. My principl' object being'to get its present to its past with a highly agreeable through tle night, the pursuit of it brought me chain. And in Specks's society I had new into sympathetic relations with people who have occasion to observe what I had before noticed no other object every night in the year. in similar communications among other men. The month was March, and the weather All the school-fellows and others of old, whom damp, cloudy, and cold. The sun not rising I inquired about, had either done superlatively before half-past five, the night perspective lodked well or superlatively ill-had either become un- sufficiently long at half-past twelve: which was certificated bankrupts, or been felonious, and about my time for coinfrioting it. got themselves transportedl; or had1 msade great The restlessness of a great city, and the way hits in life, and (lone wonders. Andl this is so in which it tumbles and tosses before it can get coilmmonly the case, that I never can imlagine to sleep, formed one of the first entertainments what becomes of all the mediocre people of offered to the contemplation of us houseless people's youth-seslecially considering that we people. It lasted about two hours. We lost a 62 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. great deal of companionship when the late Houselessness and this gentleman would eye public-houses turned their lamps out, and when one another from head to foot, and so, without the potmen thrust the last brawling drunkards exchange of speech, part, mutually suspicious. into the street; but stray vehicles and stray Drip, drip, drip, from ledge and coping, splash people were left us after that. If we were very from pipes and water-spouts, and by-and-by the lucky, a policeman's rattle sprang, and a fray houseless shadow would fall upon the stones turned up; but, in general, surprisingly little of that pave the way to Waterloo Bridge; it being this diversion was provided. Except in the Hay- in the houseless mind to have a halfpennyworth market, which is the worst-kept part of London, of excuse for saying " Good night" to the tolland about Kent Street in the Borough, and along keeper, and catching a glimpse of his fire. A.a portion of the line of the Old Kent Road, the good fire, and a good great-coat and a good peace was seldom violently broken. But, it was woollen neck-shawl, were comfortable things to always the case that London, as if in imitation see in conjunction with the toll-keeper; also his of individual citizens belonging to it, had expir- brisk wakefulness was excellent company when ing fits and starts of restlessness. After all he rattled the change of halfpence down upon seemed quiet, if one cab rattled by, half-a-dozen that metal table of his, like a man who defied would surely follow; and Houselessness even the night, with all its sorrowful thoughts, and observed that intoxicated people appeared to be didn't care for the coming of dawn. There was magnetically attracted towards each other; so need of encouragement on the threshold of the that we knew, when we saw one drunken object bridge, for the bridge was dreary. The choppedstaggering against the shutters of a shop, that up murdered man had not been lowered with a another drunken object would stagger up before rope over the parapet when those nights were; five minutes were out, to fraternise or fight with he was alive, and slept then quietly enough most it. When we made a divergence from the regular likely, and undisturbed by any dream of where species of drunkard, the thin-armed, puff-faced, he was to come. But the river had an awful leaden-lipped gin-drinker, and encountered a look, the buildings on the banks were muffled in rarer specimen of a more decent appearance, black shrouds, and the reflected lights seemed fifty to one but that specimen was dressed in to originate deep in the water, as if the spectres soiled mourning. As the street experience in of suicides were holding them to show where the night, so the street experience in the day; they went down. The wild moon and clouds the common folk who come unexpectedly into a were as restless as an evil conscience'in a little pronerty, come unexpectedly into a deal of tumbled bed, and the very shadow of the imliquor. mensity of London seemed to lie oppressively At length these flickering sparks would die upon the river. away, worn out-the last veritable sparks of Between the bridge and the two great theatres waking life trailed from some late pieman or there was but the distance of a few hundred hot-potato man-and London would sink to rest. paces, so the theatres came next. Grim and And then the yearning of the houseless mind black within, at night, those great dry Wells, would be for any sign of company, any lighted and lonesome to imagine, with the rows of faces place, any movement, anything suggestive of faded out, the lights extinguished, and the seats any one being up-nay, even so much as awake, all empty. One would think that nothing in for the houseless eye looked out for lights in them knew itself at such a time but Yorick's windows. skull. In one of my night walks, as the church Walking the streets under the pattering rairt, steeples were shaking the March winds and rain Houselessness would walk and walk and walk, with the strokes of Four, I passed the outer seeing nothing but the interminable tangle of boundary of one of these great deserts, and streets, save at a corner, here and there, two entered it. With a dim lantern in my hand, I policemen in conversation, or the sergeant or groped my well-known way,to the stage, and inspector looking after his men.' Now and then looked over the orchestra-which was like a in the night-but rarely-Houselessness would great grave dug for a time of pestilence-into become aware of a furtive head peering out of a the void beyond. A dismal cavern of an imdoorway a few yards before him, and, coming mense aspect, with the chandelier gone dead up with the head, would find a man standing' like everything else, and nothing visible, through bolt upright to keep within the doorway's sha- mist and fog and space, but tiers of windingdow, and evidently intent upon no particular sheets. The ground at my feet, where, when service to society. Under a kind of fascination, last there, I had seen the peasantry of Naples Land in a ghostly silence suitable to the time, dancing among thevines, reckless of the burning DRY R 0T IV lMEA'. mountain which threatened to overwhelm them, A very curious disease the Dry Rot in men, was now in possession of a strong serpent of and difficult to detect the beginning of. It had engine-hose, watchfully lying in wait for the carried Horace Kinch inside the wall of the old serpent Fire, and ready to fly at it if it showed King's Bench Prison, and it had carried him out its forked tongue. A ghost of a watchman, with his feet foremost. He was a likely man to carrying a faint corpse-candle, haunted the dis- look at, in the prime of life, well to do, as clever tant upper gallery and flitted away. Retiring as he needed to be, and popular among many withinr the proscenium, and holding my light friends. He was suitably married, and had above my head towards the rolled-up curtain- healthy and pretty children. But, like some green no more, but black as ebony-my sight fair-looking houses or fair-looking ships, he took lost itself in a gloomy vault, showing faint indi- the Dry Rot. The first strong external revelacations in it of a shipwreck of canvas and cord- tion of the Dry Rot in men is a tendency to lurk age. Methought I felt much as a diver might and lounge; to be at street corners without inat the bottom of the sea. telligible reason; to be going anywhere whelt In those small hours when.there was no move- met; to be about many places rather than at ment in the streets, it afforded matter for reflec- any; to do nothing tangible, but to have an in, tion to take Newgate in the way, and, touching tention of performing a variety of. intangibld its rough stone, to think of the prisoners in their duties to-morrow, or the day after. When this sleep, and then to glance in at the lodge over manifestation of the disease is observed, the obl the spiked wicket, and see the fire and light of server will usually connect it with a vague imla the watching turnkeys on the white wall. Not pression once formed or received, that the an inappropriate time, either, to linger by that patient was living a little too hard. He will wicked little Debtors' Door-shutting tighter scarcely have had leisure to turn it over in his than any other door one ever saw-which has mind, and form the terrible suspicion " Dr been Death's Door to so many. In the days of Rot," when he will notice a change for the the uttering of forged one-pound notes by people worse in the patient's appearance: a certain tempted up from the country, how many hundreds slovenliness and deterioration which' is not of wretched creatures of both sexes-many quite poverty, nor dirt, nor intoxication, nor ill; innocent-swung out of a pitiless and inconsist- health, but simply Dry Rot. To this succeeds ent world, with the tower of yonder Christian a smell as of strong waters in the morning; tO church of St. Sepulchre monstrously before their that, a looseness respecting money; to that, a eyes! Is there any haunting of the Bank Par- stronger smell as of strong waters at all times; lour, by the remorseful souls of old directors, in to that, a looseness respecting everything; to that, the nights of these later days, I wonder, or is it a trembling of the limbs, somnolency, misery, as quiet as this degenerate Aceldama of an Old and crumbling to pieces. As it is in'wood, so Bailey? it is in men. Dry Rot advances at a compound To walk on to the Bank, lamenting the good usury quite incalculable. A plank is found inold times and bemoaning the present evil period, fected with it, and the whole structure is devoted. would be an easy next step, so I would take it, Thus it had been with the unhappy Horace and would make my houseless circuit of.the Kinch, lately buried by a small subscription, Bank, and give a thought to the treasure within; Those who knew him had not nigh done saying, likewise to the guard of soldiers passing the "So well off, so comfortably established, witli night there, and nodding over the fire. Next, I such hope before him-and yet, it is feared, went to Billingsgate, in some hope of market- with a slight touch of Dry Rot " when lo! the people, but it proving as yet too early, crossed man was all Dry Rot and dust. London Bridge, and got down by the water-side From the dead wall associated on those on the Surrey shore, among the buildings of the houseless nights with this too common story, I grdat brewery. Therewas plenty going oat t chose next to wander by Bethlehem Hospital; the brewery; and the reek, and the smell of partly because it lay on my road round to Westgrains, and the rattling of the plump dray horses minster; partly because I had a night fancy in at their mangers, were capital company. Quite my head which could be best pursued within refreshed by having mingled with this good sight of its walls and dome. And the fancy was society, I made a new start with a new heart, this: Are not the sane and insane equal at night setting the old King's Bench Prison before me as the sane lie a dreaming? Are not all of us for my next object, and resolving, when I should outside this hospital, who dream, more or less come to the wall, to think of poor Horace Kinch, in the condition of those inside it, every night and the Dry Rot in men.' of our lives? Are we not nightly persuaded, as 64 ifHE UNCOIMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. they daily are, tha.t we associate preposterously ing slept, there would not be the space of a with kings and queens, emperors and empresses, pin's point in all the streets and ways for the and notabilities of all sorts? Do we not nightly living to come out into. Not only that, but the jumble. events and personages, and times and vast armies of dead would overflow the hills places, as these do.daily?. Are we not some- and valleys beyond the city, and would stretch times troubled by our'own sleeping incon- away all round it, God knows how far. sistencies, and do we not vexedlytry to account' When a church clock strikes on houseless for them or excuse them, just as these do some- ears in the dead of the night, it may be at first times in respect of their waking delusions? Said mistaken for company, and hailed as such. But, an afflicted man to me, when 1 was last in a as the spreading circles of vibration, which you hospital like this, " Sir, I can frequently fly." I may perceive at such a time with great clearwas half ashamed to reflect that so could I-by ness, go opening out, for ever and ever afternight. Said a woman to me on the same occa- wards widening, perhaps (as the philosopher has sion, "Queen Victoria frequently comes to dine suggested) in eternal space, the mistake is recwith me, and her Majesty and I dine off peaches tified, and the sense of loneliness is profounder. and macaroni in our nightgowns, and his Royal Once-it was after leaving the Abbey, and Highness the Prince Consort does us the honour turning my face north-I came to the great to make a third on horseback in a Field-Mar- steps of St. Martin's Church as the clock was shal's uniform." Could I refrain from redden-.striking Three. Suddenly, a thing that in a ing with consciousness when I remembered the moment more I should have trodden upon withamazing royal parties I myself had' given (at out seeing, rose up at my feet with a cry of night), the unaccountable viands I had put on loneliness and houselessness, struck out of it by table, and my extraordinary manner of conduct- the bell, the like of which I never heard. We ing myself on those distinguished occasions? I then stood face to face looking at one another, wonder that the great master who knew every- frightened by one another. The creature was thing, when he called Sleep the death of each like a beetle-browed hare-lipped youth of twenty, day's life, did not call Dreams the insanity of and it had a loose bundle of rags on, which it each day's sanity. held together with one of its hands. It shivered By this time I had left the hospital behind from head to foot, arid its teeth chattered, and me, and was again setting towards the river; as it stared at me-persecutor, devil, ghost, and in a short breathing space I was on West- whatever it thought me-it made with its whinmil.ster Bridge, regaling my houseless eyes with ing mouth as if it were snapping at me, like a the external walls of the British Parliament-the worried dog. Intending to give this ugly object perfection of a stupendous institution, I know, money, I put out my hand to sLty it-for it and the admiration of all surrounding nations recoiled as it whined and snapped —in I laid my and succeeding ages, I do not doubt, but per- hand upon its shoulder.'Instantly, it twisted haps a little the better, now and then, for being out of its garment, like the young man in the pricked up to its work. Turning off into Old New Testament, and left me standing alone with Palace Yard, the Courts of Law kept me con- its rags in my hand. pany for a quarter of an hour; hinting in low Covent-Garden Market, when it was market whispers what numbers of people they were morning, was wonderful company. Fhe great keeping awake, and how intensely wretched and waggons of cabbages, with growers' men and horrible they were rendering the small hours to boys lying asleep under them, and witn sharp unfortunate suitors. Westminster Abbey was dogs from market-garden neighbourhoods lookfine gloomy society for another quarter of an ing after the whole, were as good as a party. hour; suggesting a wonderful procession of its But one of the worst night sights I know in dead among the dark arches and pillars, each London is to be found in the children who century more amazed by the century following prowl about this place; who sleep in the baskets, it than by all the centuries going before. And, fight for~the offal, dart at any object tney think indeed, in those houseless night walks-which they can lay their thieving hands on, dive uncier even included cemeteries where watchmen went the carts and barrows, dodge the constables, and round among the graves at stated times, and' are perpetually making a blunt pattering on tne moved the tell-tale handle of an index which pavement of the Piazza with the rain of their recorded that they had touched it at such an naked feet. A painful and unnatural result hour-it was a solemn consideration what enor- comes of the comparison one is forced to mnstinious hosts of.dead belong to one -old great, tute between the growth of'corruption as discity, and howl'if they were raised while the liv- played in the so much improved and cared-for THE MdAV WITH THE PUDDING. 65 fruits of the earth, and the growth of corruption would emerge from places of concealment, the as displayed in these all-uncared-for (except in- cabs and trucks would rattle to their places (the. asmuch as ever-hunted) savages. Post-Office carts were already in theirs), and.,There was early coffee to be got about Covent- finally, the bell would strike up, and the train Garden Market, and that was more company- would come banging in. But there were few warm company, too, which was better. Toast passengers and little luggage, and everything of a very substantial quality was likewise pro- scuttled away with the greatest expedition. The curable: though the tousled-headed man who locomotive post-offices,.' h their great nets-as made it, in an inner chamber within the coffee- if they had been dragging the country for bodies room, hadn't got his coat on yet, and was so -would fly open as to their doors, and would heavy with sleep that in every interval of toast disgorge a smell of lamp, an exhausted clerk, a and coffee he went off anew behind the partition guard in a red coat, and their bags of letters; into complicated cross-roads of cloke and snore, the engine would blow and heave and perspire, and lost his way directly. Into one of these like an engine wiping its forehead, and saying establishments (among the earliest) near Bow what a run it had had; and within ten minutes Street there came one morning, as I sat over my the lamps were out, and I was houseless and houseless cup, pondering where to go next, a alone again. man in a high and long snuff-coloured coat, and But now there were driven cattle on the highshoes, and, to the best of my belief, nothing else road near, wanting (as cattle always do) to turn but a hat, who took out of his hat a large cold into the midst of stqne walls, and squeeze themmeat-pudding; a meat-pudding so large that it selves through six inches' width of iron railing, was a very tight fit, and brought the lining of the and getting their heads down (also as cattle hat out with it. This mysterious man was known always do) for tossing-purchase at quite imagiby his pudding, for, on his entering, the man of nary dogs, and giving themselves and every desleep brought him a pint of hot tea, a small loaf, voted creature associated with them a most and a large knife and fork and plate. Left to him- extraordinary amount of unnedessary trouble. self in his box, he stood the pudding on the bare Now, too, the conscious gas began to grow pale table, and, instead of cutting it, stabbed it, over- with the knowledge that daylight was coming, hand, with the knife, like a mortal enemy; then and straggling workpeople were already in the took the knife out, wiped it on his sleeve, tore streets, and, as waking life had become extinthe pudding asunder with his fingers, and ate jt guished with the last pieman's sparks, so it began all up. The remembrance of this man with the to be rekindled with the fires of the first streetpudding remains with me as the remembrance of corner breakfast-sellers. And so by faster and the most spectral person my houselessness en- faster degrees, until the last degrees were very countered. Twice only was I in that establish- fast, the day came, and I was tired and could ment, and twice I saw him stalk in (as I should sleep. And it is not, as I used to think; going say, just out of bed, and presently going back to home at such times, the least wonderful thing in bed), take out his pudding, stab his pudding, London, that, in the real desert region of the wipe, the dagger, and eat his pudding all up. night, the houseless wanderer is alone there. I He was a man whose figure promised cadaverous- knew well enough where to find Vice and Misness, but who had an excessively red face, though fortune of all kinds, if I had chosen; but they shaped' like a horse's. On the second occasion were put out of sight, and my houselessness of my seeing him, he said huskily to the man of had many miles upon miles of streets in which sleep, "Am I red to-night?".You are," he it could, and did, have its own solitary way. uncompromisingly answered. " My mother," said the spectre, " was a red-faced woman that liked drink, and I looked at her hard when she laid in her coffin, and I took the complexion." XIV. Somehow, the pudding seemed an unwholesomeCHAMBERS pudding after that, and I put myself in its way no more. AVING _occasion to transact some busiWhen there was no market, or when I wanted 11h ness with a solicitor who occupies a highly variety, a railway terminus, with the morning suicidal set of chambers in Gray's Inn, I aftermails coming in, was remunerative company. wards took a turn in the large square of that But, like most of the company to be had in this stronghold of Melancholy, reviewing, with conworld, it lasted only a very short time. The genial surroundings, y experiences of Chamstation lanips would burst out ablaze, the porters bers. G6 THE UNCOMAfIERCIAL TRA VELLER. I began, as was natural, with the chambers I when wanted, from some neighbouring home of lad just left. They were an upper set on a industry, which has the curious property of imrotten staircase, with a mysterious bunk or bulk- parting an iuflammatory appearance to her nead on the landing outside them, of a rather visage. Mrs. Sweeney is one of the race of nautical and Screw-Collier-like appearance than professed laundresses, and is the compiler of a otherwise, and painted an intense black. Many remarkable manuscript volume entitled "Mrs. lusty years have passed since the appropriation Sweeney's Book," from which much curious staof this Davy Jones's locker to any purpose, and, tistical information may be gathered respecting during the whole period within the memory of the high prices and small uses of soda, sonip, nving man, it has been hasped and padlocked. sand, fire-wood, and other such articles. I have I cannot quite satisfy my mind whether it was created a legend in my mind-and consequently originally meant for the reception of coals, or I believe it with the utmost pertinacity-that bodies, or as a place of temporary security for the late Mr. Sweeney was a ticket porter un.der the plunder " looted " by laundresses; but I the Honourable Society of Gray's Inn, and that, incline to the last opinion. It is about breast in consideration of his long and valuable services,.igh, and usually serves as a bulk for defendants Mrs. Sweeney was appointed to her present post. in reduced circumstances to lean against and For, though devoid of personal charms, I have ponder at, when they come on the hopeful errand observed this lady to exercise a fascination over of trying to make an arrangement without the elderly ticket-porter mind (particularly under money-under which auspicious circumstances the gateway, and in corners and entries), which it mostly happens that the legal gentleman they I can only refer to her being one of the fraterwant to see is much engaged, and they pervade nity, yet not competing with it. All that need the staircase for a considerable period. Against be said concerning this set of chambers is said, this opposing bulk, in the absurdest manner, the when I have added that it is in a large double tomb-like outer door of the solicitor's chambers house in Gray's Inn Square, very much out of /which is also of an intense black) stands in dark repair, and that the outer portal is ornamented unbush, half open, and half shut, all day. The in a hideous manner with certain stone remains, solicitor's apartments are three in number; con- which have the appearance of the dismembered sisting of a slice, a cell, and a wedge. The slice bust, torso, and limbs of a petrified bencher. is assigned to the two clerks, the cell is occupied Indeed, I look upon Gray's Inn generally as by the principal, and the wedge is devoted to one of the most depressing institutions in brick stray papers, old game baskets from the country, and mortar known to the children of men. Can a washing-stand, and a model of a patent Ship's anything be more dreary than its arid Square, Caboose which was exhibited in Chancery, at Sahara Desert of the law, with the ugly old tilethe commencement of the present century, on an topped tenements, the dirty windows, the bills application for an injunction to restrain infringe- To Let, To Let, the door-posts inscribed like ment. At about half-past nine on every week- gravestones, the crazy gateway giving upon the day morning, the younger of the two clerks (who, filthy Lane, the scowling iron-barred prison-like 1 have reason to believe, leads the fashion at passage into Verulam Buildings, the mouldy Pentonville in the articles of pipes and shirts) red-nosed ticket porters with little coffin plates, may be found knocking the dust out of his offi- and why with aprons, the dry hard atomy-like cial door-key on the bunk or locker before men- appearance of the whole dust-heap? When my tioned; and so exceedingly subject to dust is uncommercial travels tend to this dismal spot, his key, and so very retentive of that superfluity, my comfort is its rickety state. Imagination that in exceptional summer weather, when a ray gloats over the fulness of time when the stairof sun-light has fallen on the locker in my pre- cases shall have quite tumbled down-they are sence, I have noticed its inexpressive counte- daily wearing into an ill-savoured powder, but nance to be deeply marked by a kind of Bramah have not quite tumbled down yet-when the erysipelas or small-pox. last old prolix bencher, all of the olden time, This set of chambers (as I have gradually dis- shall have been got out of an upper window by covered, when I have had restless occasion to means of a Fire Ladder, and carried off to the make inquiries or leave messages after office Holborn Union; when the last clerk shall have hours) is under the charge of a lady naried engrossed the last parchment behind the last Sweeney, in figure extremely like an old family splash on the last of the mud-stained windows, umbrella: whose dwelling confronts a dead wall which, all through the miry year, are pilloried in a court off Gray's Inn Iane, and who is out of recognition in Gray's Inn Lane. Then usually fetched into the passage of that bower, shall a squalid little trench, with rank grass and A TOP SET. 67 a pump in it, lying between the coffee-house and when congratulated upon them, "Well, they are South Square, be wholly given up to cats and not like chambers in one respect, you know; rats, and not, as now, have its empire divided they are clean." Concurrently, he had an idea between those animals and a few briefless bipeds which he could never explain, that Mrs. Miggot -surely called to the Bar by voices of deceiving was in some way connected with the Church. spirits, seeing that they are wanted there by no When he was in particularly good spirits, he mortal-who glance down, with eyes better used to believe that a deceased uncle of hers glazed than their casements, from their dreary had been a Dean; when he was poorly and low, and lack-lustre rooms. Then shall the way Nor'- he believed that her brother had been a Curate. Westward, now lying under a short grim colon- I and Mrs. Miggot (she was a genteel woman) nade, where in summer-time pounce flies from were on confidential terms, but I never knew law-stationering windows into the eyes of laymen, her to commit herself to any distinct assertion be choked with rubbish, and happily become on the subject; she merely claimed a proprietorimpassable. Then shall the gardens where turf, ship in the Church, by looking, when it was trees, and gravel wear a legal livery of black, mentioned, as if the reference awakened the run rank, and pilgrims go to Gorhambury to see slumbering Past, and were personal. It may Bacon's effigy as he sat, and not come here have been his amiable confidence in Mrs. Mig(which in truth they seldom do) to see where he got's better days that inspired my friend with his walked. Then, in a word, shall the,old-esta- delusion respecting the chambers, but he never blished vendor of periodicals sit alone in his wavered in his fidelity to it for a moment, little crib of a shop behind the Holborn Gate, though he wallowed in dirt seven years. like that lumbering Marius among the ruins of Two of the windows of these chambers looked Carthage, who has sat heavy on a thousand down into the garden; and we have sat up there million of similes. -together many a summer evening, saying how At one period of my uncommercial careeil pleasant it was, and talking of many things. To much frequented another set of chambers in my intimacy with that top set, I am indebted Gray's Inn Square.. They were what is fami- for three of my liveliest personal impressions of liarly called "a top set," and all the eatables the loneliness of life. in chambers. They shall and drinkables introduced into them acquired a follow here in order; first, second, and third. flavour of Cock-loft. I have known an unopened First. My Gray's Inn friend, on a time, hurt Strasbourg pAte, fresh from Fortnum and one of his legs, and it became seriously inflamed. Mason's, to draw in this cock-loft tone through Not knowing of his indisposition, I was on my its crockery dish, and become penetrated with way to visit him as usual, one summer evening, cc ck-loft to the core of its inmost truffle in three- when I was much surprised by smeeting a lively quarters of an hour. This, however, was not leech in Field Court, Gray's Inn, seemingly on the most curious feature of those chambers; his way to the West-end of London. As the that consisted in the profound conviction enter- leech was -alone, and was, of course, unable to tained by my esteemed friend Parkle (their explain his position, even if he had been intenant) that they were clean. Whether it was an dined to' do so (which he had not the appearinborn hallucination, or whether it was imparted ance of being), I passed him and went on. to him by Mrs. Miggot the laundress, I never Turning the corner of Gray's Inn Square, I was could ascertain. But, I believe he would have beyond expression amazed by meeting another gone to the stake upon the question. Now, leech-also entirely alone, and also proceeding they were so dirty that I could take off the dis- in a westerly direction, though with less decision tinctest impression of my figure on any article of purpose. Ruminating on this extraordinary of furniture by merelylounging upon it for a few circumstance, and endeavouring to remember moments; and it used to be a private amuse- whether I had ever read, in the Philosophical ment of mine to print myself off-if I may use Transactions or any work on Natural History, the expression-all over the rooms. It was the of a migration of Leeches, I ascended to the top first large circulation I had. At other times I set, past the dreary series of closed outer doors have accidentally shaken a window curtain while of offices, and an empty set or two which interin animated conversation with Parkle, and strug- vened between that lofty region and the surface. gling insects which were certainly red, and were Entering my friend's rooms, I found him certainly not ladybirds, have dropped on the stretched upon his back, like Prometheus back of my hand. Yet Parkle lived in that top Bound, with a perfectly demented ticket porter set years, bound body and soul to the supersti- in attendance on him instead of the Vulture: tion that they were clean. He used to say, which helpless individual, who was feeble and 68 THIE UYCOM/MERCIAL TRA VELLER. frightened,-and had (my friend explained to me, them, and the wrathful adjurations of my friend in great choler) been endeavouring for some to' "Stick'em on, sir!" I referred the phehours to apply leeches to his leg, and as yet had nomenon I had encountered: the rather as two only got on two out of twenty. To this Unfor- fine specimens were at that moment going out tunate's distraction between a damp cloth on at the door, while a general insurrection of the which he had placed the leeches to freshen rest was in progress on the table. After awhile'AM I RED TO-NIGHT?" "YOU ARI."' HE UNCOMPROMISINGLY ANSWERED. our united efforts prevailed, and, when the* some creature not identified. They never leeches came off and had recovered their spirits, "took " on Mrs. Miggot, the laundress; but, I we carefully tied them up in a decanter. But I -have always preserved fresh the belief that she never heard more of them than that they were unconsciously carried several about her, until all gone next morning, and that the Out-of-door -they gradually found openings in life. young man of Bickle, Bush, and Bodger, on the Second. On the same staircase with my ground-floor, had been bitten and blooded by friend Parkle, and on the same floor, there BLIND-MAN'S B UFF 69 lived a man of law who pursued his business himself to his bedstead, and had left this written elsewhere, and used those chambers as his place memorandum: "I should prefer to be cut down of residence. For three or four years, Parkle by my neighbour and friend (if he will allow me rather knew of him than knew him, but after to call him so), H. Parkle, Esq." This was an that-for Englishmen —short pause of con- end of Parkle's occupancy of chambers. He sideration, they began to speak..Parkle ex- went into lodgings immediately. changed words with him in his private character Third. While Parkle lived in Gray's Inn, only, and knew nothing of his business ways, or and I myself was uncommercially preparing for means. He was a man a good deal about the Bar-which is done, as everybody knows, town, but always alone. We used to remark by having a frayed old gown put on in a pantry to one another that, although we often encoun- by an old woman in a chronic state of St. tered him in theatres, concert-rooms, and similar Anthony's fire and dropsy, and, so decorated, public places, he was always alone. Yet he was bolting a bad dinner in a party of four, whereot not a gloomy man, and was of a decidedly con- each individual mistrusts the other three-I say, versational turn; insomuch that he would some- while these things were, there was a certain times of an evening lounge with a cigar in his elderly gentleman who lived in. a court of the mouth, half in and half out of Parkle's rooms, Temple, and was a great judge and lover of port and discuss the topics of the day by the hour. wiie. Every day he dined at his club, and drank He used to hint, on these occasions, that he had his bottle or two of port wine, and every night four faults to find with life; firstly, that it obliged came home to the. Temple, and went to bed in his a man to be always winding up his watch; lonely chambers. This had gone on many years secondly, that London was too small; thirdly, without variation, when one night he had a fit on that it therefore wanted variety; fourthly, that coming home, and fell, and cut his head deep, there was too much dust in it. There was so but partly recovered, and. groped about in the much dust in his own faded chambers, certainly, dark to find the door. When he was afterwards that they reminded me of a sepulchre, furnished discovered, dead, it was clearly established by in prophetic anticipation of the present time, the marks of his hands about the room that he which had newly been brought to light, after must have done so. Now, this chanced on the having remained buried a few thousand years. night of Christmas Eve, and over him lived a One dry hot autumn evening at twilight, this young fellow who had sisters and young country man, being then five years turned of fifty, looked friends, and who gave them a little party that in upon Parkle in his usual lounging wmy, with night, in the course of which they played at his cigar in bis mouth as usual, and said, "I'am Blind-man's Buff. They played that game, for going out oftown." Asheneverwentoutoftown, their greater sport, by the light of the fire only; Parkle said, "Oh, indeed! At last?" "Yes," and once, when they were all quietly rustling says he, "at last. For what is a man to do? and stealing about, and the blind man, was trying London is so small!. If you go West, you come to pick out the prettiest sister (for which I am to Hounslow. If you go East, yotr come to far from blaming him), somebody cried, Hark! Bow. If you go South, there's Brixton or Nor- The man below must be playing Blind-man's wood. If you go North, you carnt get rid of Buff by himself to-night! They listened, and Barnet. Then, the monotony of all the streets, they heard sounds of some one falling about and streets, streets-and of all the roads, roads, stumbling against furniture, and they all laughed roads-and the dust, dust, dust!" When he at the conceit, and went on with their play, had said this, he wished Parkle a good evening, more light-hearted and merry than ever. Thus, but came back again and said, with his watch in those two so different games of life and death his hand,." Oh! I really cannot go on winding were played out together, blindfolded, in the up this watch over and over again; I wish you two sets of chambers. would take care of it." So, Parkle laughed and Such are the occurrences, which, coming to consented, and the man went outof town. The my kno —ledge, imbued me long ago with a man remained out of town so long, that his strong sense of the loneliness of chambers. letter-box becan e choked, and no more letters There was a fantastic illustration to much the could be got into it, and they began to be left at same purpose, implicitly believed by a strange the lodge and to accumulate there. At last the sort of man now dead, whom I knew when I head porter decided, on.conference with the had not quite arrived at legal years of discretion, steward, to use his master-key, and look into the though I was already in the uncommercial line. chambers, and- give them the benefit of a whiff This was a man who, though not more than of air. Then, it was found that he had hanged thirty, had seen the world in divers irreconcil, THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 6 a24 70 THEL UNCOMAMERCIAL TEA VELLER. able capacities-had been an officer in a South in the foreground of the heap. When his launAmerican regiment among other odd things- dress emerged from her burrow in the morning but had not achieved much in any way of life, to make his kettle boil, he artfully led up to the and was in debt, and in hiding. He occupied subject of cellars and furniture; but the two chambers of the dreariest nature in Lyons Inn; ideas had evidently no connection in her mind. his name, however, was not up on the door, or When she left him, and he sat at his breakfast, door-post, but in lieu of it stood the name of a thinking about the furniture, he recalled the friend who had died in the chambers, and had rusty state of the padlock, and inferred that the given him the furniture. The story arose out of furniture must have been stored in the cellars the furniture, and was to this effect:-Let the for a long time-was perhaps forgotten-owner former holder of the chambers, whose name was dead, perhaps? After thinking it over a few still upon the door and door-post, be Mr. Tes- days, in the course of which he could pump tator. nothing out of Lyons Inn about the furniture, Mr. Testator took a set of chambers in Lyons he became desperate, and resolved to borrow Inn when he had but very scanty furniture for that table. He did so that night. He had not his bedroom, and none for his sitting-room. He had the table long, when he determined to had lived some wintry months in this condition, borrow an easy-chair; he had not had that long, and had found it very bare and cold. One when he made up his mind to borrow a booknight, past midnight, when he sat writing, and case; then, a couch; then, a carpet and'rug. still had writing to do that must be done before By that time, he felt he was " in furniture stepped he went to bed, he found himself out of coals. in so far," as that it could be no worse to borrow He had coals down-stairs, but had never been to it all. Consequently, he borrowed it all, and his cellar; however, the cellar key was on his locked up the cellar for good. He had always mantel-shelf, and, if he went down and opened locked it after every visit. He had carried up the cellar it fitted, he might fairly assume the every separate article in the dead of the night, coals in that cellar to' be his. As to his laun- and, at the best, had felt as wicked as a Resurdress, she lived among the coal-waggons and rection Man. Every article was blue and furry Thames watermen-for there were Thames when brought into his rooms, and he had had, watermen at that time-in some unknown rat- in a murderous and guilty sort of way, to polish hole by the river, down lanes and alleys on the it up while London slept. other side of the Strand. As to any other Mr. Testator lived in his furnished chambers person to meet him or obstruct him, Lyons Inn two or three years, or more, and gradually lulled was dreaming, drunk, maudlin, moody, betting, himself into the opinion that the furniture was brooding over bill discounting or renewing- his own. This was his convenient state of mind asleep or awake, minding its own affairs. Mr. when, late one night, a step came up the stairs, Testator took his coal-scuttle in one hand, his and a hand passed over his door, feeling for candle and key in the other, and descended to his knocker, and then one deep and solemn the dismallest underground dens of Lyons Inn, rap was rapped, that might have been a spring where the late vehicles in the streets became in Mr. Testator's easy-chair to shoot him out thunderous, and all the water-pipes in the neigh- of it; so promptly was it attended with that bourhood seemed to have Macbeth's Amen.effect. sticking in their throats, and to be trying to get With a candle in his hand, Mr. testator went it out. After groping here and there among low to the door, and found there a very pale and doors to no purpose, Mr. Testator at length very tall man; a man who stooped; a man with came to a door with a rusty padlock which his very high shoulders, a very narrow chest, and a key fitted. Getting the door open with much very red nose; a shabby-genteel man. He was trouble, and looking in, he found, no coals, but wrapped in a long threadbare black coat, fastened a confused pile of furniture. Alarmed by this up the front with more pins than buttons, and intrusion on another man's property, he locked under his arm he squeezed an umbrella without the door again, found his own cellar, filled his a handle, as if he were playing bagpipes. He scuttle, and returned up-stairs. said, "I ask your pardon, but can you tell But the furniture he had seen ran on casters me- " and stopped; his eyes resting on some across'and across Mr. Testator's mind inces- object within the chambers. santly, when, in the chill hour of five in the " Can I tell you what?'" asked Mr. Testator, morning, he got to bed. He particularly wanted noting his stoppage with quick alarm. a table to write at, and a table expressly made " I ask your pardon," said the stranger,'-but to be written at had been the piece of furniture -this is not the inquiry I was going to n;'ke — THE GENUINE SORT'. 7 do I see in there any small article of property or a spectral illusion of conscience, or a drunken belonging to me " man who had no business there, or the drunken Mr. Testator was beginning to stammer that rightful owner of the furniture, with a transitory he was not aware-when the visitor slipped past gleam of memory; whether he got safe home, or him into the chambers. There, in a goblin way had no home to get to; whether he died of which froze Mr. Testator to the marrow, he ex- liquor on the way, or lived in liquor ever afteramined, first, the writing-table, and said, "Mine;" wards; he never was heard of more. This was then, the easy-chair, and said, "Mine;" then,.the story, received with the furniture, and held the bookcase, and said, " Mine;" then, turned to be as substantial, by its second possessor in up a corner of the carpet, and said, " Mine! in an upper set of chambers in grim Lyons Inn. a word, inspected every item of furniture from It is to be remarked of chambers in general, the cellar in succession, and said, "Mine S" that they must have been built for chambers, to Towards the end of this investigation, Mr. have the right kind of loneliness. You may Testator perceived that he was sodden with make a great dwelling-house very lonely by isoliquor, and that the liquor was gin. He was not lating suites of rooms, and calling them chamunsteady with gin, either in his speech or car- bers, but you cannot make the true kind of riage; but he was stiff with gin in both par- loneliness. In dwelling-houses there havy been ticulars. family festivals; children have grown in them, Mr. Testator was in a dreadful state, for (ac- girls have bloomed into women in them, cording to his making out of the story). the courtships and marriages have taken place in possible consequences of what he had done in them. True chambers never were young, childrecklessness and hardihood flashed upon him in ish, maidenly; never had dolls in them, or rocktheir fulness for the first time. When they had ing-horses, or christenings, or betrothals, or little stood gazing at one another for a little while, he coffins. Let Gray's Inn identify the child who tremulously began: first touched hands and hearts with Robinson "Sir, I am conscious that the fullest explana- Crusoe in any one of its many " sets," and that tion, compensation, and restitution are your due. child's little statue, in white marble with a They shall be yours. Allow me to entreat that, golden inscription, shall be at its service, at my without temper, without even natural irritation cost and charge, as a drinking fountain for the on your part, we may have a little " spirit to freshen its thirsty square. Let Lincoln's " Drop of something to drink," interposed the produce, from all its houses, a twentieth of the stranger. "I am agreeable." procession derivable from any dwelling-house Mr. Testator had intended to say, "a little one-twentieth of its age, of fair young brides quiet conversation," but with great relief of mind who married for love and hope, not settlements, adopted the amendment. He produced a de- and all the Vice-Chancellors shall thenceforcanter of gin, and was bustling about for hot ward be kept in nosegays for nothing, on appliwater and sugar, when he found that his visitor cation to the writer hereof. It is not denied had already drunk half the decanter's contents. that on. the terrace of the Adelphi, or in any of With hot water and sugar the visitor drank the the streets of that subterranean-stable-haunted remainder before he had been an hour in the spot, or about Bedford Row, or James Street chambers by the chimes of the church of St. of that'ilk (a gruesome place), or anywhere Mary in the Strand; and during the process he among the neighbourhoods that hlve done frequently whispered to himself, " Mine!" flowering and have run to seed, you may find The gin gone, and Mr. Testator wondering chambers replete with the accommodations of what was to follow it, the visitor rose and said, Solitude, Closeness, and Darkness, where you with increased stiffness, "At what hour of the may be as low-spirited as in the genuine article, morning, sir, will it be convenient?" Mr. and might be as easily murdered, with the placid Testator hazarded, "At ten?" " Sir," said the reputation of having merely gone down to the visitor, "at ten, to the moment, I shall be here." seaside. But, the many waters of life did run He then contemplated Mr. Testator somewhat musical in those dry channels once;-among the at leisure, and said, " God bless you! How is Inns, never. The only popular legend known in your wife?" Mr. Testator (who never had a relation to any one of the dull family of Inns is wife) replied, with much feeling, " Dedply a dark Old Bailey whisper concerning Clement's, anxious, poor soul, but otherwise well." The and importing how the black creature who holds visitor thereupon turned and went away, and the sun-dial there was a negro who slew his fell twice in going down-stairs. From that hour master, and built the dismal pile out of tle conhe was never heard of, Whether he was a ghost, tents of his strong-box-for which architectural 72 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. offence alone heought to have been condemned red-faced shameless laundress; the true Mrs. to live in it. But, what populace would waste Sweeney-in figure, colour, texture, and smell fancy upon such a place, or on New Inn, Staple like the old damp family umbrella; the tiptop Inn, Barnard's Inn, or any of the shabby crew? complicated abomination of stockings, spirits, The genuine laundress, too, is an institution bonnet, limpness, looseness, and larceny; is not to be had in its entirety out of and away only to be drawn at the fountain-head. Mrs. from the genuine chambers. Again, it is not Sweeney is beyond the reach of individual art. denied that you may be robbed elsewhere. It requires the united efforts of several men to Elsewhere you may have-for money-dis- insure that great result, and it is only developed honesty, drunkenness, dirt, laziness, and pro- in perfection under an Honourable Society and found incapacity. But the veritable shining- in an Inn of Court. DROP OF SO:METHING TO DRINK," INTERPOSED THE STRANGER. "I AM AGREEABLE." XV. that I take a particular interest in assuring myself that they are unchanged. NURSES' STORIES. I never was in Robinson Crusoe's Island, yet I frequently return there. The colony he TIHERE are not many places that I find it established on it soon faded away, and it is unmore agreeable to revisit, when I am in inhabited by any descendants of the grave and an idle mood, than some places to which I have courteous Spaniards, or of Will Atkins and the never been. For, my acquaintance with those other mutineers, and has relapsed into its orispots is of such long standing; and has ripened ginal condition. Not a twig of its wicker houses into an intimacy of so affectionate a nature, remains, its goats have long run wild again, its SCENES RE VIS/ITD. 73 scre.aming parrots would darken the sun with a Bias lived, but I often go back there, and find cloud of many flaming colours if a gun were fired the trap-door just as heavy to raise as it used to there, no face is ever reflected in the waters of be, while that wicked old disabled Black lies the little creek which Friday swam across when everlastingly cursing in bed. I was never ini pursued by his two brother cannibals with sharp- Don Quixote's study, where he read his books of ened stomachs.' After comparing notes with chivalry until he rose and hacked at imaginary other travellers who have similarly revisited the giants, and then refreshed himself with great Island, and conscientiously inspected it, I have draughts of water, yet you couldn't move a book satisfied myself that it contains no vestige of in it without my knowledge, or with my consent. Mr. Atkins's domesticity or theology, though his I was never (thank Heaven!) in company with track on the memorable evening of his landing the little old woman who hobbled out of the to set hiscaptain ashore, when he was decoyed chest, and told the merchant Abudah to go in about and round about until it was dark, and his search of the Talisman of Oromanes, yet I make boat was stove, and his strength and spirits it my business to know that she is well preserved, failed him, is yet plainly to be traced. So is the and as intolerable as ever. I was never at the hill-top on which Robinson was struck dumb school where the boy Horatio Nelson got out of with joy when the reinstated captain pointed to bed to steal the pears; not because he wanted the ship, riding within half a mile of the shore, any, but because every other boy was afraid. that was to bear him away, in the nine-and- yet I have several times been back to this twentieth year of his seclusion in that lonely Academy, to see him let down out of window place. So is the sandy beach on which. the with a sheet. So with Damascus, and Bagdad, memorable footstep was impressed, and where and Brobdingnag (which has the curious fate of the savages hauled up their canoes when they being usually misspelt when written), and Lillicame ashore for those dreadful public dinners, put, and Laputa, and the Nile, and Abyssinia,'which led to a dancing worse than speech- and the Ganges, and the North Pole, and many making. So is the cave where the flaring eyes hundreds of places-I was never at them, yet it of the old goat made such a goblin appearance is an affair of my life to keep them intact, and I in the dark. So is the site of the hut where am always going back to them. Robinson lived with the dog and the parrot and But, when I was in Dullborough one day, the cat, and where he endured those first ago- revisiting the associations of my childhood, ns nies of solitude, which-strange to say-never recorded in previous pages of these notes, my involved any ghostly fancies; a circumstance so experience in this wise was made quite inconvery remarkable, that perhaps he left out some- siderable and of no account, by the quantity of thing in writing his record? Round hundreds places and people-utterly impossible places and of such objects, hidden in the dense tropical people, but none the less alarmingly real-that foliage, the tropical sea breaks evermore; and I found I had been introduced to by my nurse over them the tropical sky, saving in the short before I was six years old, and used to be forced rainy season, shines bright and cloudless. to go back to at night without at all wanting to Neither was I ever belated among wolves, on go. If we all knew our own minds (in a more the borders of France and Spain; nor did I ever, enlarged sense than the popular acceptation of when night was closing in. and the ground was that phrase), I suspect we should find our nurses covered with snow, draw up my little company responsible for most of the dark corners we are among some felled trees which served as a forced to go back to against our wills. breastwork, and there fire a train of gunpowder The first diabolical character who intruded so dexterously that suddenly we had three or himself on my peaceful youth (as I called to four score blazing wolves illuminating the dark- mind that day at Dullborough) was a certain ness around us. Nevertheless, I occasionally go Captain Murderer. This wretch must have been back to that dismal region, and perform the feat an offshoot of the Blue Beard family, but I had again; when, indeed, to smell the singeing and no suspicion of the consanguinity in those times. the frying of the wolves afire, and to see them His warning name would seem to have awakened setting one another alight as they rush and no general prejudice against him, for he was adtumble, arid to behold them rolling in the snow mitted into the best soci ty, and possessed vainly attempting to put themselves out, and to immense wealth. Captain Murderer's mission hear their howlings taken up by all the echoes was matrimony, and the gratification of a cannias well as by all the unseen wolves within the bal appetite with tender brides. On his marriage woods, makes me tremble. morning, he always caused both sides of the way I was never in the robbers' cave where Gill to church to be planted with curious flowers; 74 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. and when his bride said, " Dear Captain Mur- bride from two twin sisters, and at first didn-t derer, I never saw flowers like these before: know which to choose. For, though one was what are they called? " he answered, " They ire fair, and the other dark, they were both equally called Garnish for house-lamb," and laughed at beautiful. But the fair twin loved him, and the his ferocious practical joke in a horrid manner, dark twin hated him, so he chose the fair one. disquieting the minds of the noble bridal com- The dark twin would have prevented the marpany, with a very sharp show of teeth, then rage if she could, but she couldn't; however, on displayed for the first time. He made love in a the night before it, much suspecting Captain coach and six, and married in a coach and Murderer, she stole out and climbed his garden twelve, and all his horses were milk-white horses wall, and looked in at his window through a with one red spot on the back, which he caused chink in the shutter, and saw him having his to be hidden by the harness. For, the spot teeth filed sharp. Next day she listened all ucouzld come there, though every horse was milk- day, and heard him make his joke about the white when Captain Murderer bought him. And house-lamb. And that day month he had the the spot was young bride's blood. (To this paste lolled out, and cut tlie fair twin's head off, terrific point I am indebted for my first personal and chopped her in pieces and peppered her, experience of a shudder and cold beads on the and salted her, and put her in the pie, and sent forehead.) When Captain Murderer had made it to the baker's, and ate't all. and picked the an end of feasting and revelry, and had dismissed bones. the noble guests, and was alone with his wife on Now, the daik twin had had hei suspicions the day month after their marriage, it was his much increased by the filing of the Captain's whimsical custom to produce a golden rolling- teeth, and again by the house-lamb joke. Putpin and a silver pie-board. Now, there was ting all things together when he gave out that this special feature 1;1 the Captain's courtships, her sister was dead, she divined the truth, and that he always asked if the young lady could determined to be revenged. So, she went up to make pie-crust, and, if she couldn't by nature or Captain Murderer's house, and knocked at the education, she was taught. Well! When the knocker, and pulled at the bell, and, when the bride saw Captain Murderer produce the golden Captain came to the door, said: "Dear Captain rolling-pin and silver pie-board, she remembered Murderer, marry me next, for I always loved this, and turned up her laced-silk sleeves to make you. and was'jealous of my sister." The Capa pie. The Captain brought out a silver pie- tain took it as a compliment. and made a polite dish of imrnlense capacity, and the Captain answer, and the marriage was quickly arranged. brought out flour and butter and eggs and all On the night before it, the bride again climbed things needful, except the inside of the pie; of to his window, and again saw him having his materials for the staple of the pie itself, the teeth filed sharp. At this sight she laughed Captain brought out none. Then said the such a terrible laugh at the chink in the shutter, lovely bride, "Dear Captain Murderer, what that the Captain's blood curdled, and he said: pie is this to be?" He replied. " A meat-pie." " I hope nothing has disagreed with me I' At Then said the lovely bride, "Dear Captain Mur- that, she laughed again, a still more terrible derer. I see no meat." The Captain humo- laugh, and the shutter was opened and search rouly retorted, " Look in the glass." She made, but she was nimbly gone, and there was looked in the glass. but still sle saw no meat, no one. Next day they went to church in a and then the Captain roared with laughter, and, coach and twelve, and were married. And thaz suddenly frowning and drawing his sword, bade day month she rolled the pie-crust out, an 1 her roll out the crust. So she rolled'out the Captain Murderer cut her head off, and choppec crust, dropping large tears upon it all the time her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted her, because he was so cross, and when she had lined and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker'., the dish with crust, and had cut the crust all and ate it all, and picked the bones. ready to fit the top, the Captain called out, "1I But, before she began to roll out the paste, see the meat in the glass! And the bride she had taken a deadly poison of a most awful looked up at the glass, just in time to see the character, distilled from toads' eyes and spiders' Captain cutting her head off: and he chopped knees; and Captain Murderer had hardly picked her in pieces, and peppered her, and salted her, her last bone, when he began to swell, and to and put her in the pie, and sent it to the baker's, turn blue, and to be all over spots, and to scream. and ate it all, and picked the bones. And he went on swelling and turning bluer, and Captain ilurderer went on in this way, pros- being more all over spots and screaming, until pering exceedingly, until he came to choose a he reached from floor to ceiling, and from wall AN INTER VIEW W ITH THEi DEVIL. 75 to wall; and then, at one o'clock in the mo-u- and the bargain had run in the family for a long ing, he blew up with a loud explosion. At'the long time. So, one day, when young Chips was sound of it, all the milk-white horses in the at work in the Dock Slip all alone, down in the stables broke their halters and went mad, and dark hold of an old Seventy-four that was haled then they galloped over everybody in Captain up for repairs''he Devil presented himself, and Murderer's house (beginning with the family remarked: blacksmith who had filed his teeth) until the whole were dead,'and then they galloped away. "A Lemon has pips, Hundreds of times did I hear this legend of And a Yard has ships, And I'll have Chips " Captain Murderer in my early youth, and added hundreds of times was there a mental compul- hundreds of times was there a mental compul- (I don't know why, but this fact of the Devil's sion upon me, in bed, to peep in at is window e himself in rhyme was peculiarly try expressing himself in rhyme was peculiarly tryas the dark twin peeped, and to revisit his.) Chips looked up when he heard ing'to me.) Chips looked up when he heard horrible house, and look at him in his blue and the words, and there he saw the Devil with spotty and screaming stage, as he reached from e saucer eyes that squinted on a terrible great floor to ceiling, and from wscale, and that'struck out sparks of blue fire conyoung woman who brought-me acquainted with tinually. And, whenever he winked. his eyes, Captain Murderer had a fiendish enjoyment of shwers lue srs e ndhs eye-showers of blue sparks came out, and his eyemy terrors, and used to begin, I remember-as lashes made a clattering like flints and steels a sort of introductory overture-by clawing the s g lg or oe o striking lights.. And hanging over one of his air with both hands, and uttering a long lowe handle was an iron pot,d under 11. u Q. arms by the handle was an iron pot, and under hollow groan. So acutely did I suffer from this that arm was a bushel of tenpenny nails, and ceremony in combination with this infernal Cap- under his other arm was half a ton of copper, tain, that I sometimes used to plead, I thought and sitting on one of his shoulders was a rat I was hardly strong enough and old enough to hat could speak. So the Devil said again: hear the story again just yet. But, she -never' spared me one word of it, and, indeed, co-"A Lemon has pip mended the awful chalice to my lips as the only And a Yard has ships, preservative known to science against "The And I'll have Chips!" Black Cat" —a weird and glaring-eyed supernatural Tom, who was reputed -to prowl about (The invariable. effect of this alarming tautology the world by night, sucking the breath of infancy, on the part of the Evil Spirit was to deprive me and who was endowed with a special thirst (as I of my senses for some moments.) So, Chips was given to understand) for mine. answered never a word, but went on with his This female bard-may she have been repaid work. " What are you doing, Chips?" said the my debt of obligation to her in the matter of rat that could speak. " I am putting in new nightmares and perspirations! —eappears in my planks where you and your gang have eaten old memory as the daughter of a shipwright.- Her away," said Chips. "But we'll eat them too," name was Mercy, though she had none on me. said the rat that could speak; " and we'll let in There was- something of a ship-building flavour the water and drown the crew, and we'll eat in the following story.- As. it always recurs to them too." Chips, being only a shipwright, and me in a vague association with calomel pills, I not a Man-of-war's man, said, " You are welbelieve it to have been reserved for dull nights- come to it." But he couldn't keep his eyes off when I was low with medicine. the half a ton of copper, or the bushel, of tenThere was once a shipwright, and he wrought penny nails; for nails and copper are a'shipin a Government Yard, and his name was Chips. wright's sweethearts, and shipwrights will run And his father's name before him was Chips, and away with them whenever they can.. So, the lis father's name before him was Chips, and they Devil said, "I sec what you are looking at, were all Chipses; And Chips the father had Chips. You had better strike the bargain. You sold himself to the Devil for an iron pot and know the terms. Your father before you was a bushel of tenpenny nails and half a ton of well acquainted with them,' and so were your copper and a rat that could speak; and Chips grandfather and gireat-grandfather before him." the grandfather had sold himself to the Devil for Says Chips, " I like the copper, and I like. the an iron pot and a bushel of tenpenny nails and nails, and I don't mind the pot, but I don't like half a ton of copper and a rat that could speak; the rat." Says the Devil fiercely, "You can't and Chips the great-grandfather had disposed of have the nmetal- without him-and he's a curiohimself in the same direction on the same terms; sity. I'm going." Chips, atraid of losing tlie 76 THE UiVCOMMERCZIAL TRA VELLER. half a ton of copper and the bushel of nails, then with the rat in it on the other, he turnied the said, "Give us hold!" So, he got the copper scalding pitch into the p1't, and filled it full. and the nails and the pot and the rat that could Then, he kept his eye upon it till it cooled and speak, and the Devil vanished. Chips sold the hardened, and then he let it stand for twenty copper, and he sold the nails, and he would days, and then he heated the pitch again, and have sold the pot; but, whenever he offered it turned it back into the kettle, and then he sank for sale, the rat was in it, and the dealers dropped the pot in water for twenty days more, and then it, and would have nothing to say to the bargain. he got the smelters to put it in the furnace for So, Chips resolved to kill the rat, and being at twenty days more, and then they gave it him work in the Yard one day with a great kettle of out, red-hot, and looking like red-hot glass inhot pitch on one side of him, and the iron pot stead of iron-yet there was the rat in it, just A LEMON HAS PIPS, AND A YARD HAS SHIPS, AND I'LL HAVE CHIPS " the same as ever! And the moment it caught Now, as the rat leaped out of the pot when it his eye, it said with a jeer: had spoken, and made off, Chips began to hope that it wouldn't keep its word. But, a terrible And a Yrd has ishps, thing happened next day. For, when dinnerAnd I'll have Chips!" time cafle, and the Dock bell rang to strike work, he put his rule into the long pocket at the (For this Refrain i'had waited, since its last side of his trousers, and there he found a rat — appearance, with inexpressible horror, which now not that rat, but another rat. And in his hat he culminated.) Chips now felt certain in his own found another; and in his pocket-handkerchief mind that the rat would stick to him; the rat, another; and in the sleeves of his coat, when he answering his thought, said; "I will-like pitch!" pulled it on to go to dinner, two more. And CII'PS A4D TILE TRA 7S. 77 from that time lie found himself so frightfully in- myself an outcast from a future state.) The timate with all the rats in the Yard, that they ship set sail that very night, and she sailed, and climbed up his legs when he was at work, and sailed, and sailed. Chips's feelings were dreadsat on his tools while he usecd them. And they ful. Nothing ever equalled his terrors. No could all speak to one another, and he under- wonder. At last, one day, lie asked leave to stood what they said. And they got into his speak to the Admiral. The Admiral giv' leave. lodging, and into his bed, and into his teapot, Chips went down on his knees in the Great State ahnd into his beer, and into his boots. And he Cabin. " Your Honour, unless your Honour, was going to be married to a corn-chandler's without a moment's loss of time, makes sail for daughter; and when he gave her a workbox he the nearest shore, this is a doomed ship, and her had himself made for her, a rat jumped out of it; name is the Coffin " " Young man, your words and when h. put his arm round her waist, a rat are a madman's words." "Your Honour, no; clung about her; so the marriage was broken they are nibbling us away. "'l' hey?" "Your off, though the banns were already twice put up Honour, them dreadful rats. Dust and hollow-which the parish clerk well remembers, for, as ness where aolid oak ought to be! Rats nibhe handed the book to the clergyman for the bling a grave for every man on boarl! Oh! second time of asking, a large fat rat ran over Does your Honour love your Lady and your the leaf. (By this time a special cascade of rats pretty children?" " Yes, my man, to be sure. was rolling down my back, and the whole of my "Then, for God's sake, make for the nearest small listening person was overrun with them. shore, for at this present mo,ment the rats are al) At intervals ever since, I have been morbidly stopping in their work, and are all looking afraid of my own pocket, lest my exploring hand straight towards you;'ith bare teeth, and are all should find a specimen or two of those vermin saying to one another that you shall never, never, in it.) never, never see your Lady and your children You may believe that all this was very terrible more." " My poor fellow, you are a case for the to Chips; but even all this was not the worst. doctor. Sentry, take care of this man!" He knew, besides, what the rats were doing, So, he was bled and he was blistered, and he wherever they were. So, sometimes he would was this and that, for six whole days and nights. cry aloud, when he was at his club at night, So, then he again asked leave to speak to the "Oh! Keep the rats out of the convicts' bury- Admiral. The Admiral giv' leave. He went ing-ground! Don't let them do that!" Or, down on his; knees in the Great State Cabin. "There's one of them at the cheese down- "Now, Adi. iral, you must die! You took no stairs'" Or, " There's two of them smelling at warning* you must die! The rats are never the baby in the garret I" Or, other things of wrong in their calculations, and they make out that sort. At last he was voted mad, and lost that they'll be through at twelve to-night. So, his work in the Yard, and could get no other you must die!-With me and all the rest!" work. But, King George wanted men, so before And so at twelve o'clock there was a great leak very long he got pressed for a sailor. And so reported in the ship, and a torrent of water he was taken off in a boat one evening to his rushed in, and nothing could stop it, and they ship, lying at Spithead, ready to sail. And so all went down, every living soul. And what the first thing he made out in her, as he got near the rats-being water-rats-left of Chips at last her, was the figure-head of the old Seventy-four, floated to shore, and sitting on him was an irnwhere he had seen the Devil. She was called mense overgrown rat, laughing, that dived when the Argonaut, and they rowed right under the the corpse touched the beach, and never came bowsprit, where the figure-head of the Argcnaut, up. And there was a deal of seaweed on the with a sheep-skin in his hand and a blue gown remains. And if you get thirteen bits of seaon, was looking out to sea; and sitting staring weed, and dr) them, and burn them in the fire, on his forehead was the rat who could speak, they will go off like in these thirteen words as and his exact words were these: " Chips ahoy! plain as plain can be: Old boy! We've pretty well eat them too, and we'll drown the crew, and will eat them too!", A Lemon has pips,,q~ ~ ~'....1~.,.And a Yard has ships, (Here I always became exceedingly faint, and And'11 have Chips! would have asked for water, but that I was speechless.) The same female bard-descended, possibly, The ship was bound for the Indies; and, from those terrible old scalds who seem to have if you don't know where that is, you ought to it, existed for the express purpose of addling the and angels will never love you. (Here I felt brains of mankind when they begin to investi 78 TBHEE UNCOiMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. gate languages-made a standing pretence which XVI. greatly assisted in forcing me back to a numberARCADIAN LONDON. of hideous places that I would by all means AR N have avoided. This pretence was, that all her EING in ahumour for complete solighost stories had occurred to her own relations. tude and uninterrupted meditation Politeness towards a meritorious family, there- [ this autumn, I have taken a lodging fore, forbade my doubting them, and they ac- for six weeks in the most unfrequired an air of authentication that impaired my quented part of England-in a word, digestive powers for life. There was a narrative ( in London. concerning an unearthlyanimal foreboding death,, The retreat into which I have withwhich appeared in the open street to a parlour- drawn myself is Bond Street. From maid who "went to fetch the beer" for supper: this lonely spot I make pilgrimages into the surfirst (as I now recall it) assuming the likeness of rounding wilderness, and traverse extensive tracts a black dog, and gradually rising on its hind- of the Great Desert.'The first solemn feeling legs, and swelling into the semblance of some of isolation overcome, the first oppressive conquadruped greatly surpassing a hippopotamus: sciousness of profound retirement conquered, I which apparition-not because I deemed it in enjoy that sense of freedom, and feel reviving the least improbable, but because I felt it to be within me that latent wildness of the original really too large to bear-I feebly endeavoured to savage, which has been (upon the whole, someexplain away. But, on Mercy's retorting with what frequently) noticed by Travellers. wounded dignity that the parlour-maid was her My lodgings arp at a hatter's-my own hatown sister-in-law, I perceived there was no hope, ter's. After exhibiting no articles in his window, and resigned myself to this zoological pheno- for some weeks, but seaside wide-awakes, shootmenon as one of my many pursuers. There ing caps, and a choice of rough waterproof headwas another narrative describing the apparition gear for the moors and mountains, he has put of a young woman who came out of a glass upon the heads of his family as much of this case, and haunted another young woman until stock as they could carry, and has taken them the other young woman questioned it, and off to the Isle of Thanet. His young man alone elicited that its bones (Lord! To think of its remains-and remains alone-in the shop. The being so particular about its bones!) were buried young man has let out the fire at which the under the glass case, whereas she required them irons are heated, and saving his strong sense of to be interred, with every Undertaking solemnity duty, I see no reason why he',should take the up to twenity-four pound ten, in another par- shutters down. ticular place. This narrative I considered I had Happily for lffmself and for his country, the a personal interest in disproving, because we young man is -a Volunteer; most happily for had glass cases at home, and how, otherwise, himself, or I think he would become the prey of was I to be guaranteed from the intrusion of a settled melancholy. For, to live surrounded young women requiring me to bury them up to by human.hats, and alienated from human heads twenty-four pound ten, when I had only two- to fit them on, is surely a great endurance. But, pence a week? But my remorseless nurse cut the young man, sustained by practising his exthe ground from under my tender feet, by in- ergise, and by constantly furbishing up his reguforming me that She was the other young lation plume (it is unnecessary to observe that, woman; and I couldn't say, " I don't believe as a hatter, he is in a cock's-feather corps), is you; " it was not possible. resigned, and uncomplaining. On a Saturday, Such are a few of the uncommercial journeys when he closes early and gets his Knickerthat I was forced to make, against my will, bockers on, he is even cheerful. I am gratefully when I was very young and unreasoning. And particular in this reference to him, because he is really, as to the latter part of them, it is not so my companion through many peaceful hours. very long ago-now I come to think of it-that My hatter has a desk up -certain steps behind I was asked to undertake'them once again with his counter, enclosed like the clerk's desk at a steady countenance. church. I shut myself into this place of seclusion after breakfast, and meditate. At such times I observe the young man loading an _@^~~ ~~imaginary rifle with the greatest precision, and maintaining a most galling and destructive fire upon the national enemy. I thank him publicly for his companionship and his patriotism. THE KLEM FAMIL Y 79 The simple character of my life, and the calm me to get the bed down the kitchen stairs by nature of the scenes by which I am surrounded, tumbling down with and upon it. They make occasion me to rise early. I go forth in my their bed in the lowest and remotest corner of slippers, and pronenade the pavement., It is the basement, and they smell of bed, and have pastoral to feel the freshness of the air in the no possession but bed: unless it be (which I uninhabited town, and to appreciate the shep- rather infer from an under-current of flavour in herdess character of the few milkwomen who them) cheese. I know their name, through the purvey so little milk that it would be worth no- chance of having called the wife's attention, at body's while to adulterate it, if anybody were half-past nine on the second evening of our left to undertake the task. On the crowded acquaintance, to the circumstance of there being seashore, the great demand for milk, combined some one at the house-door; when she apolowith the strong local temptation of chalk, would getically explained, " It's only Mr. Klem." betray itself in the lowered quality of the What becomes of Mr. Klem all day, or when article. In Arcadian London I derive it from he goes out, or why, is a mystery I cannot the cow. penetrate; but at half-past nine he never fails The Arcadian simplicity of the metropolis to turn up on the door-step with the flat pint altogether, and the primitive ways into which it of beer. And the pint of beer, flat as it is, has fallen in this autumnal Golden Age, make it is so much more important than himself, that entirely new to me. Within a few hundred it always seems to my fancy as if it had found yards of my retreat is the house of a friend who him drivelling in the street, and had humanely maintains a most sumptuous butler. I never, brought him home. In making his way below, until yesterday, saw that butler out of superfine Mr. Klem never goes down the middle of the black broadcloth. Until yesterday I never saw passage, like another Christian, but shuffles him off duty, never saw him (he is the best of against the wall, as if entreating me to take butlers) with the appearance of having any mind notice that he is occupying as little space as for anything but the glory of his master and his possible in the house; and, whenever I come master's friends. Yesterday morning, walking upon him face to face, he backs from me in in my slippers near the house of which he is the fascinated confusion. The most extraordinary prop and ornament-a house now a waste of circumstance I have traced, in connection with shutters-I encountered that butler, also in his this aged couple, is, that there is a Miss Klein, slippers, and in a shooting suit of one colour, their daughter, apparently ten years older than and in a low-crowned straw hat, smoking an either of them, who has also a bed, and smells early cigar. He felt that we had formerly met of it, and carries it about the earth at dusk, and in another state of existence, and that we were hides it in deserted houses. I came into this translated into a new sphere. Wisely and well, piece of knowledge through Mrs. Klem's behe passed me without recognition. Under his seeching me to sanction the sheltering of Miss arm he carried the morning paper, and shortly Klem under that roof for a single night, "beafterwards I saw him sitting on a rail in the tween her takin' care of the upper part in Pall pleasant open landscape of Regent Street, perus- Mall which the family of his back, and a'ouse ing it at his ease under the ripening sun. in Serjameses Street, which the family of leaves My landlord having taken his whole esta- towng ter-morrer." I gave my gracious consent blishment to be salted down, I am waited on by (having nothing that I know of to do with it), an elderly woman labouring under a chronic and in the shadowy hours Miss Klem became sniff, who, at the shadowy hour of half-past perceptible on the door-step, wrestling with a nine o'clock of every evening, gives admittance bed in a bundle. Where she made it up for at the street-door to a meagre and mouldy old the night I cannot positively state, but I think, man whom I have never yet seen detached from in a sink. I know that, with the instinct of a a flat pint of beer in a pewter pot. The meagre reptile or an insect, she stowed it and herself and mouldy old man is her husband, and the away in deep obscurity. In the Klem family I pair have a dejected consciousness that they are have noticed another remarkable gift of nature, not justified in appearing on the surface of the and that is the power they possess of converting earth. They come out of some hole when Lon- everything into flue. Such broken victuals as don empties itself, and go in again when it fills. they take by stealth appear (whatever the nature I saw them arrive on the evening when I myself of the viands) invariably to generate flue; and took possession, and they arrived with the flat even the nightly pint of beer, instead of assimipint of beer, and their bed in a'bundle. The lating naturally, strikes me as breaking out in old man is a weak old man, and appeared to that form, equally on the shabby.gown of 80 STHE UiVCOJiVIfER CIJzL TRA VELLER. Mrs. Klem, and the threadbare coat of her like a satiated child. At Mr. Truefitt's, the husband. excellent hairdresser's, they are learning French Mrs. Klein has no idea of my name-as to t\ beguile the time; and even the few solitaries Mr. Klem he has no idea of anything-and left on guard at Mr. Atkinson's, the perfumer's only knows me as her good gentleman. Thus, round the corner (generally the most inexorable if doubtful whether I am in my room or no, gentleman in London, and the most scornful of Mrs. Klem taps at the door and says, " Is my three-and-sixpence), condescend a little, as they good gentleman here?" Or, if a messenger drowsily bide or recall their turn for chasing the desiring to see me were consistent with my ebbing Neptune on the ribbed sea-sand. From solitude, she would show him in with " Here is Messrs. Hunt and Roskell's, the jewellers, all my good gentleman." I find this to be a gene- things are absent but the precious stones, and ric custom. For, I meant to have observed the gold and silver, and the soldierly pensioner before now, that in its Arcadian time all my at the door with his decorated breast. I might part of London is indistinctly pervaded by stand night and day, for a month to come, in the Klem species. They creep about with beds, Saville Row, with my tongue out, yet not find a and go to bed in miles of deserted houses. doctor to look at it for love or money. The They hold no companionship, except that some- dentists' instruments are rusting in their drawers, times, after dark, two of them will emerge from and their horrible cool parlours, where people opposite houses, and meet in the middle of pretend to read the Every-Day Book, and not to the road as on neutral ground, or will peep be afraid, are doing penance for their grimness from adjoining houses over an interposing brr- in white sheets. The light-weight of shrewd rier of area railings, and compare a few re- appearance, with one eye always shut up,'served mistrustful notes respecting their good as if he were eating a sharp gooseberry in all ladies or good gentlemen. This I have dis- seasons, who usually stands at the gateway of covered in the course of various solitary rambles the livery stables on very little legs under a very I have taken Northward from my retirement, large waistcoat, has gone to Doncaster. Of such along the awful perspectives of Wimpole Street, undesigning aspect is his guileless yard now, Harley Street, and similar frowning regions. with its gravel and scarlet-beans, and the yellow Their effect would be scarcely distinguishable Brake housed under a glass roof in a corner, from that of the primeval forests, but for the that I almost believe I could not be taken in Klein stragglers; these may be dimly observed, there, if I tried. In the places of business of when the heavy shadows fall, flitting to and fro, the great tailors, the cheval-glasses are dim and putting up the door-chain, taking in the pint of dusty for lack of being looked into. Ranges of beer, lowering like phantoms at the dark par- brown-paper coat and waistcoat bodies look as lour windows, or secretly consorting underground funereal as if they were the hatchments of the with the dust-bin and the water cistern. customers with whose names they are inscribed; In the Burlington Arcade, I observe, with the measuring tapes hang idle on the wall; the peculiar pleasure, a primitive state of manners order-taker, left on the hopeless chance of some to have superseded the baneful influences of one looking in, yawns in the last extremity over ultra-civilisation. Nothing can surpass the in- the book of patterns, as if he were trying to nocence of the ladies' shoe-shops, the artificial- read that entertaining library. The hotels in flower repositories, and the head-dress depots. Brook Street have no one in them, and the They are in strange hands at this time of the staffs of servants stare disconsolately for next year-hands of unaccustomed persons, who are season out of all the windows.'he very man imperfectly acquainted with the prices of the who goes about like an erect Turtle, between goods, and contemplate them with unsophisti- two boards recommendatory of the Sixteencated delight and wonder. The children of Shilling Trousers, is aware of himself as a hollow these virtuous people exchange familiarities in mockery, and eats filberts while he leans his the Arcade, and temper the asperity of the two hinder shell against a wall. tall beadles. Their youthful prattle blends in Among these tranquillising objects it is -my an unwonted manner with the harmonious shade delight to walk and meditate. Soothed by the of the scene, and the general effect is as of the repose around me, I wander insensibly to convoices of birds in a grove. In this happy resto- siderable distances, and guide myself back by ration of the golden time, it has been my the stars. Thus, I enjoy the contrast of a few privilege even to see the bigger beadle's wife. still partially inhabited and busy spots, where all She brought him his dinner in a basin, and he the lights are not fled, where all the garlands are ate it in his arm-chair, and afterwards fell asleep not dead, whence all but I have not departed. A GOLDEN AGE.. 8 Then does it appear to me that in this age three give notice of intention to ask the noble Lord things are clamorously required of Man in the at the head of her Majesty's Government fivemiscellaneous thoroughfares of the metropolis. and-twenty bootless: questions in one, no termFirstly, that he have his boots cleaned. Secondly, time with legal argument, no Nisi Prius with that he eat a penny ice. Thirdly, that he get elcquent appeal to British Jury; that the air himself photographed. Then do I speculate, will to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow What have those seam-worn artists been who remain untroubled by this superabundant genestand at the photograph. doors in Greek caps, rating of Talk. -In a minor degree it is a delisample in hand, and mysteriously salute the cious triumph to me to go into the club, and see public-the female public with a pressing ten- the carpets up, and the Bores and the other derness-to come in and be "took'?" What dust dispersed to the four winds. Again, New did they do with their greasy blandishments be- Zealander-like, I stand on the cold hearth, and fore the era of cheap photography? Of what say in the solitude, " Here I watched Bore A i, class were their previous victims, and how vic- with voice always mysteriously low, and head timised? And how did they get, and how did always mysteriously drooped, whispering polithey pay for, that large collection of likenesses, tical secrets into the ears of Adam's confiding all purporting to have been taken inside, with children. Accursed be his memory for ever and the taking of none of which had that establish- a day! " ment anymore to do than with the taking of But, I have all this time been coming to the Delhi? point, that the happy nature of ny retirement is But, these are small oases, and I am soon most sweetly expressed in its being the abode of back again in metropolitan Arcadia. It is my Love. It is, as it were, an inexpensive Agapeimpression that much of its serene and peaceful mone: nobody's speculation: everybody's profit. character is attributable to the absence of cus- The one great result of the resumption of primitomary Talk. How do I know but there may tive habits, and (convertible terms) the not havbe subtle influences in Talk, to vex the souls of ing much to do, is, the abounding of Love. men who don't hear it? -How do I know but The Klem species are incapable of the softer that Talk; five, ten, twenty miles off, may get emotions; probably, in that low nomadic race, into the air and disagree with me? If I rise the softer emotions have all degenerated into from my bed, vaguely troubled and wearied and flue. But, with this exception, all the sharers of sick of my life, in the session of Parliament, who my retreat make love. shall say that my noble friend, my right reverend I have mentioned Saville Row.. We all know friend, my right honourable friend, my honour- the Doctor's servant. We all know what a reable friend, my honourable and learned fiiend, spectable man he is, what a hard dry man, what or my honourable and gallant friend may not a firm man, what a confidential man: how he be. responsible for that effect upon my nervous lets us into the waiting-room, like a man who system? Too much Ozone in the air, I am in- knows minutely what is the matter with us, but formed and fully believe (though I have no idea from whom the rack should not wring the secret. what it is), would affect me in a marvellously In-the prosaic "season," he has distinctly the disagreeable way; why may not too much Talk? appearance of a man conscious of money in the I don't see or hear the Ozone; I don't see or Savings Bank, and taking his stand on his rehear the Talk. And there is so much Talk; so spectability with both feet. At that time it is as much too much; such loud cry, and such.scant impossible to associate him with relaxation, or supply of wool; such a deal of fleecing, and so any human weakness, as it is to meet his eye little fleece! Hence, in the Arcadian season, I without feeling guilty of indisposition. In the find it a delicious triumph to walk down to de- blest Arcadian time, how changed! I have seen serted Westminster, and see the Courts shut up; him in a pepper-and-salt jacket-jacket-and to walk a little further, and see the Two Houses drab trousers, with his arm round the waist of a shut up; to stand in the Abbey Yard; like the bootmaker's housemaid, smiling in open day. I New Zealander of the grand English History have seen: him at the pump by the Albany, un(concerning which unfortunate man a whole solicitedly pumping for two fair young creatures, rookery of mares' nests is generally.being dis- whose figures, as they bent over their cans, were covered), and gloat upon the.ruins of Talk. -if I may be allowed an original expression-a Returning to my primitive solitude, and lying model for a sculptor. I have seen him trying down to sleep, my grateful, heart expands with the piano in the Doctor's drawing-room with his the consciousness that there is no adjourned forefinger, and have heard him humming tunes Debate, no ministerial explanation,. nobody to in praise of lovely woman. I have seen him 82 TIlE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. seated on a fire-engine, and going (obviously in: house-doors, or roam, linked in that flowery search of excitement) to a fire. I saw him, one manner, through. the unpeopled streets. There moonlight evcning, when the peace and purity is nothing else to do but love; and what there of our Arcadian west were at their height, polk is to do is done. with the lovely daughter of a cleaner of gloves,; In unison with this pursuit, a chaste simplicity from the door-steps of his own residence, across obtains in the domestic habits of Arcadia. Its Saville Row, round by Clifford Street and Old few scattered people.dine early, live moderately, Burlington Street, back to Burlington Gardens. sup socially, and sleep soundly. It is rumoured Is this the Golden Age revived, or'Iron London?;that the Beadles of the Arcade, from being the The Dentist's servant. -Is that man no'mys- mortal enemies of boys, have. signed with tears tery "to us, no type. of invisible power?'The an address to Lord Shaftesbury, and subscribed tremendous individual knows (who else does?) to a ragged school. No wonder! For they what is done with the extracted teeth; he knows might turn. their heavy' maces into crooks, and what goes on in the little room where something tend sheep in the Arcade, to the putling of the is always being washed or filed; he knows what water-carts as they give the thirsty streets much warm spicy infusion is put into the comfortable more to drink than they can carry. tumbler from which we rinse our wounded A happy Golden Age, and a serene tranquillity..mouth, with a gap in it that feels a foot wide; Charming picture, but it will fade. The iron age he knows whether the thing we spit into is a will return; London will come back to town. fixture communicating with the Thames, or could If I show my tongue then in Saville Row for be cleared away for a dance; he sees the horrible half a minute, I shall be prescribed for: the parlour when there are no patients in it, and he Doctor's man and the Dentist's man will then could reveal, if he would, what becomes of the pretend that these days of unprofessional innoEvery-Day Book then. The conviction of my cence hever existed, Where Mr. and Mrs. Klem coward conscience, when I see that man in a pro- and their bed will be at that time, passes human fessional light, is, that he knows all the statistics knowledge; but my hatter,hermitage'.ill then of my teeth and gums, my double teeth, my know them no more, nbr will it then'know me. single teeth, my stopped teeth, and my sound. The deskat which I have'written these medita. In this Arcadian rest, I am fearless of him as of tions will retributively assist at the making out a harmless, powerless'creature in a Scotch cap, of my account, and the wheels of gorgeous carwho adores a young lady in a voluminous crino- riages and the hoofs of high-stepping horses will line.at a neighbouring billiard-room, and whose crush the silence out of Bond Street-will grind passion would be uninfluenced if every one of Arcadia away, and give it to the elements in her teeth were false. They may be. He takes granite powder. them all on trust. In secluded corners of the place of my seclusioA there are little shops withdrawn from public XVII. curiosity, and never two together, where servants' perquisites are bought. The cook may dispose THE CALAIS NIGHT- MAIL. of grease at these modest and convenient marts;' the butler, of bottles; the valet and lady's-maid, f T is an unsettled question with me of clothes; most servants, indeed, of most things ( whether I shall leave Calais somethey may happen to lay hold of. I have been l thing handsome in my will, or whetold that in sterner times loving correspondence,.. ther I shall leave it my maledicotherwise interdicted, may be maintained by tion.. I hate it so much, and yet I letter through the agency 6f some of these am always so very glad to see it, that I useful establishments. In the Arcadian autumn am in a state of constant indecision on no such device is necessary. Everybody loves, this subject. and openly and blamelessly loves. My land- When I first made acquaintance with Calais, it lord's young man loves the whole of one side of was as a maundering young wretch in a clammy the way of Old Bond Street, and is beloved perspiration and dripping saline particles, -who several doors up New Bond Street besides. I was conscious of no extremities but the one never look out of window but I see kissing of great extremity, sea-sickness'-who. was a mere hands going on all around me. It is the morn- bilious torso, with a mislaid headache someing custom to'glide from shop to shop, and ex- where in its stomach-who had been put into a change tender sentiments; it is' the evening horrible swing in Dover Harbour, and had custom for couples to stand hand-in-hand at tumbled giddily out of it on the French coast, THE PASSENGERS. 83 or the Isle Man, or anywhere. Times have drums upon the heights have gone to bed, or I changed, and now I enter Calais self-reliant and know they would rattle taunts against me for rational. I know where it is beforehand, I keep having my unsteady footing on this slippery a look-out for it, I recognise its landmarks when deck. The many gas eyes of the Marine Parade I see any of them, I am acquainted with its twinkle in an offensive manner, as if with derision. ways, and I know-and I can bear-its worst The distant dogs of Dover bark at me in my misbehaviour. shapen wrappers, as if I were Richard the Third. Malignant Calais! Low-lying alligator, evad- A screech, a bell, and two red eyes come ing the eyesight and discouraging hope! Dodg- gliding down the Admiralty Pier with a smoothing flat streak, now on this bow, now on that, ness of motion rendered more smooth by the now anywhere, now everywhere, now nowhere! heaving of the boat. The sea makes noises In vain Cape Grinez, coming frankly forth into against the pier, as if several hippopotami were the sea, exhorts the failing to be stout of heart lapping at it, and were prevented by circumand stomach: sneaking Calais, prone behind its stances over which they had no control from bar, invites emetically to despair. Even when drinking peaceably. We, the boat, become it can no longer quite conceal itself in its muddy violently agitated-rumble, hum, scream, roar, dock, it has an evil way of falling off, has Calais, and establish an immense family washing-day at which is more hopeless than its invisibility. The each paddle-box. Bright patches break out in pier is all but on the bowsprit, and you think you the train as the doors of the post-office vans are are there-roll, roar, wash!-Calais has retired opened, and instantly stooping figures with sacks miles inland, and Dover has burst out to look upon their backs begin to be beheld among the for it. It has a last dip and a slide in its cha- piles, descending, as it would seem, in ghostly racter, has Calais, to be especially commended. procession, to Davy Jones's Locker. The pasto'the infernal gods. Thrice accursed be that sengers come on board; a few shadowy Frenchgarrison town, when it dives under the boat's men, with hat-boxes shaped like the stoppers of keel, and comes up a league or two to the right, gigantic case-bottles; a few'shadowy Germans with the packet shivering and spluttering and in immense fur coats and boots; a few shadowy staring about for it! Eiglishmen prepared for the worst; and pretendNot but what I have my animosities towars ing not to expect it. -I cannot-disguise from my Dover. I -particularly detest Dover for'the self- uncommercial mind the miserable fact that we complacency with which it goes to bed. It are a body of outcasts; that the attendants on always goes to bed (when I am going to Calais) us are as scant in number as may serve to get with a more brilliant display of lamp and candle rid of us with the least possible delay; that there than any other town. Mr. and Mrs. Birming- are no night loungers interested in us;'that the ham, host and hostess of the Lord Warden unwilling lamps shiver and shudder at us; that Hotel, are my much-esteemed friends, but they the sole object is to commit us to the deep and are too conceited about the comforts of that abandon us; - Lo, the two red eyes glaring in establishment when the Night Mail is starting. increasing distance, and then the very train itself I know it is a good house to stay at, and'I don't has gone to bed before we are off! want the fact insisted upon in all itswarm bright What is the monral support derived by some windows at such'an hour. I know the Warden sea-going amateurs- from an umbrella? %Why do is a stationary edifice that never rolls or pitches, certain voyagers across the Channel always put and I object to its big outline seeming to insist up that article, and hold it up with a grim and upon that circumstance, and, as it were, to come fierce tenacity?. A fellow-creature near meover me with it, when I am reeling on the deck whom I only know to be a fellow-creature beof the boat. Beshrew the Warden, likewise, for cause of his umbrella: without which he might obstructing that corner, and making the wind so be a dark bit of cliff, pier, or bulk-head-clutches angry as it rushes round. Shall I not know that that instrument with a desperate grasp, that it blows quite soon enough, without the officious will not relax until he lands at Calais. Is there Warden's interference?' any analogy, intcertain constitutions, between As I wait here, on board the night packet, for keeping an umbrella up, and keeping the spirits the South-Eastern Train to come down'with the up? A' hawser thrown on board with a flop Mail, Dover appears to me to be illuminated for replies, "Stand by!" "Stand' by, below!" some intensely aggravating festivity in my per- " Half a turn ahead! " "Half a turn ahead l" sonal dishonour. All its noises smack of taunt- "Half speed!". "Half speed!" " Port! " ing praises of the land, and dispraises of the "Port" " Steady!" "Steady!" "Go on!" gloomy sea, and of me for going on it. The "Go on!" 8-i4 STHE UNCOMMVERCIAL TRA VE LLER.. A stout wooden wedge driven in at my right walk or'stand, get flung together, and other two temple and out at my left, a floating deposit of or three shadows in tarpaulin slide with tiem lukewarm oil in my throat, and a compression into corners, and cover them up. Then the of the bridge of my nose in a blunt pair of South Foreland-lights begin to hiccup at us in a pincers,-these are the personal sensations by way that bodes no good. whvich I know we are off, and by which I shall It. is about this period that my detestation of continue to know it until I am on the soil of Calais knows no bounds. Inwardly I resolve France. My-symptoms have scarcely esta- afresh that I never will forgive that hated town. blished themselves comfortably, when two or I have done so befoe,.many times, but that -is three skating shadows, that have been trying to past. Let me register a vow. Implacable ani-'T THtEWl1iD BLOWS STIFFLY FROM THE NOR'-EAST,.... AND THE SHAPELESS PASSENGERS LIE ABOUT IN MELANCHOLY BUNDLES." mosity to Calais everm — That was an awk- and scoop ing, I am aware of, and a general ward sea, and the funnel seems'of my opinion, knocking about of Nature; but the impressions for it gives a complaining roar. I receive are very vague. In a sweet faint temper, The wind blows stiffly from the Nor'-East, the something like the smell of damaged oranges, I sea runs high, we ship a deal of water, the night think I should feel languidly benevolent if I had is dark and cold, and the shapeless passengers time. I have not time, because I am under a lie about in melancholy bundles, as if they were curious compulsion to occupy myself with the sorted out for the laundress; but, for my own. Irish melodies. " Rich and rare were the gems uncommercial part, I cannot pretend that I am she wore," is the particular melody to which I much inconvenienced by any of these things. find. myself devoted..I sing it to myself in the A generall howling whistling flopping gurgling most charming manner, and with the greatest GETTIAG A CROSS. 85 expression. Now and then I raise my head (I her (who was she I wonder?) for the fiftieth am sitting on the hardest of wet seats, in the time, and without ever stopping, Does, she not most uncomfortable of wet attitudes, but I don't fear to stray, So lone and lovely through this mind it), and notice that I am a whirling shuttle- bleak way, And are Erin's sons 0o good or so cock between a fiery battledore of a lighthouse cold, As not to be tempted by more fellowon the French coast, and a fiery battledore of a creatures at the paddle-box or gold? Sir Knight lighthouse on the English coast; but I don't I feel not the least alarm, No son of Erin will notice it particularly, except to feel envenomed offer me harm, For though they love fellowin my hatred of Calais' Then I go on again, creature with umbrella down again and golden " Rich and rare were the ge-ems she-e-e-e wore, store, Sir Knight they what a tremendous one love And a bright gold ring on her wa-and she bo- honour and virtue more: For though they love ore, But O her beauty was faaa-a-a-a-r beyond"- Stewards with a bull's eye bright, they'll trouble I am particularly proud of my execution here, you for your ticket, sir-rough passage to-night! when I become aware of another awkward shock I freely admit it to be a miserable piece of from the sea, and another protest from the funnel, human weakness and inconsistency, but I no and a fellow-creature at the paddle-box more sooner become conscious of those last words audibly indisposed than I think he need be- from the steward than I begin to soften towards "Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand, But Calais. Whereas I have been vindictively wishO her beauty was fa-a-a-a-a-r beyond "-another ing that those Calais burghers who came out of awkward one here, and the fellow-creature with their town by, a short cut into the History of the umbrella down and picked up-" Her spa-a-r- England, with those fatal ropes round their necks kling ge-ems, or her Port! port! steady! steady! by which they have since been towed into so snow-white fellow-creature at the paddle-box very many cartoons, had all been hanged on the spot, selfishly audible, bump roar wash white wand." I now begin to regard them as highly respectable As my execution of the Irish melodies par- and virtuous tradesmen. Looking about me, I takes of my imperfect perceptions of what is see the light of Cape Grin'ez well astern of the going on around me, so what is going on around boat.on the davits to leeward, and the light of me becomes something else than what it is. The Calais Harbour undeniably at its old tricks, but stokers open the furnace doors below, to feed still ahead and shining. Sentiments of forgivethe fires, and I am again on the box of the old ness of Calais, not to say of attachment to Calais, Exeter Telegraph fast coach, and that is the light begin to expand my bosom. I have weak notions of the for-ever-extinguished coach lamps, and that I will stay there a day or two on my way the gleam on the hatches and paddle-boxes is back. A faded and recumbent stranger, pausing Iheir gleam on cottages and haystacks, and the in a profound reverie over the rim of a basin, monotonous noise of the engines is the steady asked me what kind of place Calais is? I tell jingle of the splendid team. Anon, the inter- him (Heaven forgive me!) a very agreeable place mittent funnel roar of protest at every violent indeed-rather hilly than otherwise. roll becomes the regular blast of a high-pressure So strangely goes the time, and, on the whole, engine, and I recognise the exceedingly explo- so quickly-though still I seem to have been on sive steamer in which I ascended the Mississippi board a week-that I am bumped rolled gurgled when the American civil war was not, and when washed and pitched into Calais Harbour before only its causes were. A fragment of mast on her maiden smile has finally lighted her through which the light of a lantern falls, an end of rope, the Green Isle, When blest for ever is she who and a jerking block or so, become suggestive of relied, On entering Calais at the top of the tide. Franconi's Circus at Paris, where I shall be this For we have not to land to-night down among very night mayhap (for it must be morning now), those slimy timbers-covered with green hair as and they dance to the selfsame time and tune as if it were the mermaids' favourite combing-place the trained -steed, Black Raven. What may be -where one crawls to the surface of the jetty the speciality of these waves as they come rush- like a stranded shrimp, but we go steaming up ing on, I cannot desert the pressing demands the harbour to the Railway Station Quay. And made upon me by the gems she wore to in- as we go, the sea washes in and out among piles quire, but they are charged with something about and planks, with dead heavy beats, and in quite Robinson Crusoe, and I think it was in Yar- a furious manner (whereof we are proud), and mouth Roads that he first went a seafaring, and the lamps shake in the wind, and the bells of was near foundering (what a terrific sound that Calais striking One seem to send their vibraword had for me when I was a boy.!) in his first tions struggling against troubled air, as we have gale of wind. Still, through all this, I must ask come struggling against troubled water. And THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 7. 325 86 THE UVCOMiMERCIAL TRA VELLER. now, in the sudden relief and wiping of faces, Arras, Amiens, and Paris! I, humble repre. everybody on board seems to have had a pro- sentative of the uncommercial interest, ascend digious double tooth out, and to be this very with the rest. The train is light to-night, and I instant free of the Dentist's hands. And now share my compartment with but two fellowwe all know, for the first time, how wet and cold travellers one, a compatriot in an obsolete we are, and how salt we are; and now I love cravat, who thinks it a quite unaccountable Calais with my heart of hearts! thing that they don't keep "Londol time" on " H6tel Dessin!" (but in this one case it is a French railway, and who is made angry by not a vocal cry; it is but a bright lustre in the my modestly suggesting the possibility of Paris eyes of the cheery representative of that best of time being more in their way; the other, a young inns). " H6tel Meurice!" " HteldeFrance!" priest, with a very small bird in a very small " Hotel de Calais! " The Royal H6tel, sir, cage, who feeds the small bird with a quill, and Angaishe ouse!" "You going to Parry, sir?" then puts him up in the network above his head, "Your baggage, registair froo, sir? " Bless ye, where he advances twittering to his front wires, my Touters, bless ye, my commissionaires, bless and seems to address me in an electioneering ye, my hungry-eyed mysteries in caps of a mili- manner. The compatriot (who crossed in the tary form, who are always here, day or night, fair boar, and whom I judge to be some person of weather or foul, seeking inscrutable jobs which I distinction, as he was shut up, like a stately never see you get! Bless ye, my Custom-House species of rabbit, in a private hutch on deck) officers in green and grey; permit me to grasp and the young priest (who joined us at Calais) the welcome hands that descend into my travel- are soon asleep, and then the bird and I have it ling bag, one on each side, and meet at the all to ourselves. bottom to give my change of linen a peculiar A stormy night still; a night that sweeps the shake up, as if it were a measure of chaff or wires of the electric telegraph with a wild and grain! I have nothing to declare, Monsieur le fitful hand; a night so very stormy, with the Douanier, except that, when I cease to breathe, added storm of the train-progress through it, Calais will be found written on my heart.' No that when the Guard comes clambering round article liable to local duty have I with me, Mon- to mark the tickets while we are at full speed (a sieur'Officier de l'Octroi, unless the overflowing really horrible performance in an express train, of a breast devoted to your charming town should though he holds on to the open window by his be in that wise chargeable. Ah! see at the gang- elbows in the most deliberate manner), he stands way by the twinkling lantern, my dearest brother in such a whirlwind that I grip him fast by the and friend, he once of the Passport Office, he collar, and feel it next to manslaughter to let who collects the names! May he be for ever him go. Still, when he is gone, the small small changeless in. his buttoned black surtout, with bird remains at his front wires feebly twittering to his note-book in his hand, and his tall black hat me-twittering and twittering, until, leaning back surmounting his round smiling patient face! Let in my place, and looking at him in drowsy fascius embrace, my dearest brother. I am yours a nation, I find that he seems to jog my memory tout jamais-for the whole of ever. as we rush along. Calais up and doing at the railway station, Uncommercial travels (thus the small small and Calais down and dreaming in its bed; bird) have lain in their idle thriftless way through Calais with something of "an-ancient and fish- all this range of swamp and dyke, as through many like smell" about it, and Calais blown and sea- other odd places; and about here, as you very washed pure; Calais represented at the Buffet well know, are the queer old stone farmhouses, apby savoury roast fowls, hot coffee, cognac, and proached by drawbridges, and the windmills that bordeaux; and Calais represented everywhere you get at by boats. Here are the lands where by flitting persons with a monomania for chang- the women hoe and dig, paddling canoe-wise ing money-though I never shall be able to from field to field, and here are the cabarets and understand, in my present state of existence, other peasant houses where the stone dovecotes how they live by it, but I suppose I should, if in the littered yards are as strong as warders' I understood the currency question-Calais en towers in old castles. Here are the long monogros, and Calais en detail, forgive one who has tonous miles of canal, with the great Dutch-built deeply wronged you.-I was not fully aware of barges garishly painted, and the towing girls, it on the other side, but I meant Dover. sometimes harnessed by the forehead, sometimes Ding, ding! To the carriages, gentlemen the by the girdle and the shoulders, not a pleasant'avellers. Ascend then, gentlemen the travel- sight to see. Scattered through this country are.rs, for Hazebroucke, Lille, Douai, Bruxelles, mighty works of VAUBAN, whom you know about THE MORGUE. 7 and regiments of such corporals as you heard of was four packages weighing so many kilogrammes once upon a time, and many a blue-eyed Bebelle. -as if he had been Cassim Baba! I had bathed' Through these flat districts, in the shining summer and breakfasted, and was strolling on the bright days, walk those long grotesque files of young quays. The subject of my meditations was the novices in enormous shovel hats, whom you re- question whether it is positively in the essence member blackening the ground chequered by and nature of things, as a certain school ofthe avenues of leafy trees. And now that Haze- Britons would seem to think it, that a Capital broucke slumbers certain kilometres ahead, recall must be ensnared and enslaved before it can be the summer evening when your dusty feet, stroll- made beautiful: when I lifted up my eyes, aird ing up from the station, tended hap-hazard to a found that my feet, straying like my mind, had Fair there, where the oldest inhabitants were brought me to Notre-Dame. circling round and round a barrel-organ on hobby- That is to say, Notre-Dame was before horses with the greatest gravity, and where the me, but there was a large open space between principal showin the fair was a Religious Richard- us. A very little while gone, I had left that son's-literally, on its own announcement in great space covered with buildings densely crowded; letters, THEATRE RELIGIEUX. In which improv- and now it was cleared for some new wonder in ing Temple the dramatic representation was of the way of public Street, Place, Garden, Foun"all the interesting events in the life of our Lord, tain, or all four. Only the obscene little Morgue, from the Manger to the Tomb;" the principal slinking on the brink of the river, and soon to female character, without any reservation or ex- come down, was left there, looking mortally ception, being, at the moment of your arrival, ashamed of itself, and supremely wicked. I engaged in trimming the external Moderators had but glanced at this old acquaintance, when (as it was growing dusk), while the next principal I beheld an airy procession coming round. in female character took the money, and the Young front of Notre-Daine, past the great hospital. St. John disported himself upside down on the It had something of a Masaniello look'' with platform. fluttering striped curtains in the midst of it, and Looking up at this point to confirm the small it came dancing round the cathedral in the livesmall bird in. every particular he has mentioned, liest manner. I find he has ceased to twitter, and has put his I was speculating on a marriage in Blouse-life, head under his wing. Therefore, in my different or a Christening, or some other domestic fesway, I follow the good example. tivity which I would see out, when I found, from the talk of a quick rush of Blouses past me, that +~ —*~ — it was a Body coming to the Morgue. Having never before chanced upon this initiation, I conXVIII. stituted myself a Blouse likewise,and ran into the Morgue with the rest It was a vry muddy SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF MORTALITY. day, and we took in a quantity of mire with us, and the procession, coming in upon our heels, S HAD parted from the small bird at brought a quantity more. The procession was K hsomewhere about four o'clock in the in the highest spirits, and consisted of idlers who morning, when he had got out at had come with the curtained litter from its startArras, and had been received by two ing-place, and of all the reinforcements it had shovel hats in waiting at the station, picked up by the way. It set the litter down in (~,. who presented an appropriately orni- the midst of the Morgue, and then two Custodians g.' ~ thological and crow-like appearance. proclaimed aloud that we were all "invited" to My compatriot and I had gone on to go out. This invitation was rendered the more Paris; my compatriot enlightening me occa- pressing, if not the more flattering, by our being sionally with a long list of the enormous griev- shoved out, and the folding gates being barred ances of French railway travelling: every one of upon us. which, as I am a sinner, was perfectly new to Those who have never seen the Morgue may me, though I have as much experience of French see it perfectly, by presenting to themselves an railways as most uncommercials. I had left indifferently-paved coach-house, accessible from him at the terminus (through his conviction, the street by a pair of folding-gates; on the left against all explanation and remonstrance, that of the coach-house, occupying its width, any his baggage ticket was his passenger ticket), large London tailor's or linendraper's plate-glass insisting in a very high temper, to the functionary window reaching to the ground; within the on duty, that in his own personal identity he window, on two rows of inclined planes, what TSHE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. the coach-house has to show; hanging above, French sight these uncommercial eyes had seen, like irregular stalactites from the roof of a cave, at which the expectant people did not form a quantity of clothes —the clothes of the dead- en queue. But there was no such order of and-buried shows of the coach-house. arrangement here; nothing but a general deterWe had been excited in the highest degree by mination to make a rush for it, and a disposition seeing the Custodians pull off their coats and to object to some boys who had mounted on tuck up their shirt-sleeves as the procession came the two stone posts by the hinges of the gates, along. It looked so interestingly like business. with the design of swooping in when the hinges Shut out in the muddy street, we now became should turn.. quite ravenous to know all about it. Was it Now they turned, and we rushed! Great river, pistol, knife, love, gambling, robbery, pressure, and a scream or two from the front. hatred, how many stabs, how many bullets, fresh Then a laugh or two, some expressions of disor decomposed, suicide or murder? All wedged appointment, and a slackening of the pressure together, and all staring at one another with our and subsidence of the struggle.-Old man not heads thrust forward, we propounded these there. inquiries, and a hundred more such. Imper- " But what would you have?" the Custodian ceptibly it came to be known that Monsieur the reasonably argues as he looks out at his little tall and sallow mason yonder was acquainted door. " Patience, patience! We make his with the facts. Would Monsieur the'tall and toilet, gentlemen. Hewill be exposed presently. sallow mason, surged at by a new wave of us, It is necessary to proceed according to rule. have the goodness to impart? It was but a His toilet is not made all at a blow. He will poor old man, passing along the street under be exposed in good time, gentlemen, in good one of the new buildings, on whom a stone had time." And so retires, smoking, with a wave of fallen, and who had tumbled dead. His age? his sleeveless arm towards the window, importAnother wave surged up against the tall and ing, " Entertain yourselves meanwhile with the sallow mason, and our wave swept on and broke, other curiosities. Fortunately the Museum is and he was any age from sixty-five to ninety. not empty to-day." An old man was not much: moreover, we Who would have thought of public fickleness could have wished he had been killed by human even at the Morgue? But there it was on that agency-his own, or somebody else's: the latter occasion. Three lately popular articles, that preferable-but our comfort was that he had had been attracting greatly when the litter was nothing about him to lead to his identification, first descried coming dancing round the corner and that his people must seek him here. Per- by the great cathedral, were so completely dehaps they were waiting dinner for him even now? posed now, that nobody save two little girls We liked that. Such of us as had pocket-hand- (one showing them to a doll) would look at them. kerchiefs took a slow, intense, protracted wipe Yet the chief of the three, the article in the front at our noses, and then crammed our handker- row, had received jagged injury of the left chiefs into the breast of our blouses. Others of temple; and the other two in the back row, the us who had no handkerchiefs administered a drowned two lying side by side with their heads similar relief to our overwrought minds, by means very slightly turned towards each other, seemed of prolonged smears or wipes of our mouths- of to be comparing notes about it. Indeed, those our sleeves. One man with a gloomy malforma- two of the back row were so furtive of appeartion of brow-a homicidal worker in white-lead, ance, and so (in their puffed way) assassinatingly to judge from his blue tone of colour, and a knowing as to the one of the. front, that it was certain flavour of paralysis pervading him-got hard to think the three had never come together his coat collar between his teeth, and bit at it in their lives, and were only chance companions with an appetite. Several decent women arrived after death. Whether or no this was the general, upon the outskirts of the crowd, and prepared as it was the uncommercial, fancy, it is not to to launch themselves into the dismal coach-house be disputed that the group had drawn exceedwhen opportunity should come; among them, a ingly within ten minutes. Yet now the inconpretty young mother, pretending to bite the fore- stant public turned its back upon them, and finger.of her baby boy, kept it between her rosy even leaned its elbows carelessly against the bar lips that it might be handy for guiding to point outside the window, and shook off the mud at the show. Meantime, all faces were turned from its shoes, and also lent and borrowed fire towards the building, and we men waited with a for pipes. fixed,and stern resolution: for the most part Custodian re-enters from his door. ".'Again with folded arms. Sur, it was the only public once, gentlemen, you are invited —" No A LONDON. WAIF. g9 further invitation necessary. Ready dash into more generalpurposeless, vacant staring at itthe street. Toilet finished. Old man coming like looking at wax-work without a catalogue, out. and not knowing what to make of it. Bttt all This time, the interest was grown too hot to these expressions concurred in possessing the admit of toleration of the boys on the stone one underlying expression of looking at somethhig~ posts. The homicidal white-lead worker made that could not retturn a look. The uncommercial a pounce upon one boy who was hoisting him- notice had established this as very remarkable, self up, and brought him to earth amidst general when a new pressure all at once coming up fionm commendation. Closely stowed as we were, we the street pinioned him ignominiously, and yet formed into groups-groups of conversation, hurried him into the arms (now sleeved again) without separation from the mass-to discuss of the Custodian smoking at his door, and the old man. Rivals of the tall and sallow answering questions, between puffs, with a cermason sprang into being, and here, again, was tain placid meritorious air of not being proud, popular inconstancy. These rivals attracted though high in office. And, mentioning pride, audiences, and were greedily listened to; and it may be observed, by the way, that one could whereas they had derived their information solely not well help investing the original sole occupant from the tall and sallow one, officious members of the front row with an air depreciatory of the of the crowd now sought to enlighten him on legitimate attraction of the poor old man: while their authority. Changed by this social experi- the two in the second row seemed to exult at ence into an iron-visaged and inveterate misan- his superseded popularity. thrope, the mason glared at mankind, and Pacing presently round the garden of the evidently cherished in his breast the wish that Tower of St. Jacques de la Boucherie, and prethe whole of the present company could change sently again in front of the Hotel de Ville, I places with the deceased old man. And now called to mind a certain desolate open-air listeners became inattentive, and people made a Morgue that I happened to light upon in Lonstart forward at a slight sound, and an unholy don, one day in the hard winter of i86I, and fire kindled in the public eye, and those next which seemed as strange to me, at the time of the gates beat at them impatiently, as if they seeing it, as if I had found it in China. Towards were of the cannibal species and hungry. that hour of a winter's afternoon when the lampAgain the hinges creaked, and we rushed. lighters are beginning to light the lamps in the Disorderly pressure for some time ensued before streets a little before they are wanted, because the uncommercial unit got figured into the front the darkness thickens fast and soon, I was walkrow of the sum. It \yas strange to see so much ing in from the country on the northern side of heat and uproar seething about one poor spare the Regent's Park-hard frozen and deserte(lwhite-haired old man, q-uiet for evermore. He when I saw an empty Hansom cl) drive up to was calm of feature and undisfigured, as he lay the lodge at Gloucester Gate, and the driver on his Iback-having been struck upon the hinder with great agitation call to the man there: who part of the head, and thrown forward-and quickly reached a long pole from a tree, and, something like a tear or two had started from deftly collared by the driver, jumped to the step the closed eyes, and lay wet upon the face. The of his little seat, and so the Hansom rattle l out uncommercial interest, sated at aglance, directed at the gate, galloping over the iron-bound road. itself upon the striving crowd on either side and I followed running, though not so fast but that behind: wondering whether one might have when I came to the right-hand Canal Bridge, guessed, from the expression of those faces near the cross-path to Chalk Farm, the HTansoml merely, what kind of sight they were looking at. was stationary, the horse was smoking hot, the The differences of expression were not many. long pole was idle on the groull, and the driver There was a little pity, but not much, and that and the park-keeper were looking over the bridge rrmstly with a selfish touch in it-as who would parapet. Looking over too, I saw, lying on the say, "Shall I, poor I, look like that when the towing-path, with her face turned up towards us, time comes?" There was more of a secretly- a woman, dead a day or two, and under thirty, brooding contemplation and curiosity, as, " That as I guessed, poorly dressed in black. The feet man I don't like, and have the grudge against; were lightly crossed at the ankles, and the dark would such be his appearance, if some one-not hair, all pushed back from the face, as though to mention names-by any chance gave him an that had been the last action of her desperate ugly knock? " There was a wolfish stare at the hands, streamed over the ground. Dabbled all object, in which the homicidal white-lead worker about her were the water and the broken ice shone conspicuous. And there was a much that had dropped from her dress, and Shad go THE UNCOAMMERCI4L TRA VELLER. splashed as she was got out. The policeman seventy by one who understood the subjectwho had just got her out, and the passing coster- but you don't."-I say, the Beadle may have monger who had helped him, were standing near'been in hiding under straw when this disgrace the body; the latter with that stare at it which befell me, or he may have noted that I was too I have likened to being at a wax-work exhibition raw and young an Atlas to carry the first-class without a catalogue; the former looking over his Family Mansion in a knowing manner. Be this stock, with professional stiffness and coolness, as it may, the Beadle did what Melancholy did in the direction in which the bearers he had sent to the youth in Gray's Elegy-he marked me for for were expected. So dreadfully forlorn, so his own. And the way in which.the Beadle did dreadfully sad, so dreadfully mysterious, the it was this: he summoned me as a Juryman on spectacle of our dear sister here departed! A his Coroner's Inquests. barge came up, breaking the floating ice and the In my first feverish alarm I repaired "for silence, and a woman steered it. The man with safety and for succour"-like those sagacious the horse that towed it cared so little for the Northern shepherds who, having had no. prebody, that the stumbling hoofs had been among vious reason whatever to believe in young the hair, and the tow-rope had caught and turned Norval, very prudently did not originate the the head, before our cry of horror took him hazardous idea of believing in him-to a deep to the bridle. At which sound the steering householder.o This profound man informed me woman looked up at us on the bridge with con- that the Beadle counted on my buying him off; tempt unutterable, and then looking down at on my bribing him not to summon me; and the body with a similar expression-as if it were that if I would attend an Inquest with a cheerful made in another likeness from herself, had been countenance, and profess alacrity in that branch informed with other passions, had been lost by of my country's service, the Beadle would be other chances, had had another nature dragged disheartened, and would give up the game. down to perdition-steered a spurning streak of I roused my energies, and, the next time the mud at it, and passed on. wily Beadle summoned me, I went. The Beadle A better experience, but also of the Morgue was the blankest Beadle I have ever looked on kind, inwhich chance happily made me useful when I answered to my name, and his disin a slight degree, arose to my remembrance as comfiture gave me courage to go through I took my way by the Boulevard de Sebastopol with it. to the brighter scenes of Paris. We were empanelled to inquire concerning the The thing happened, say, five-and-twenty death of a very little mite of a child. It was the years ago. I was a modest young uncommer- old miserable story. Whether the mother had cial then, and timid and inexperienced. Many committed the minor offence of concealing the suns and winds have browned me in the line, birth, or whether she had committed the major but those were my pale days. Having newly offence of killing the child, was the question on taken the lease of a house in a certain distin- which we were wanted. We must commit her guished metropolitan parish-a house which on one of the two issues. then appeared to me to be a frightfully first- The Inquest came off in the parish workclass Family Mansion, involving awful responsi- house, and I have yet a lively impression that I bilities-I became the prey of a Beadle. I think was unanimously received by my brother Jurythe Beadle must have seen me going in or men as a brother of the utmost conceivable coming out, and must have observed that I insignificance. Also that, before we began, a tottered under the weight of my grandeur. Or broker who had lately cheated me fearfully in he may have been hiding under straw when I the matter of a pair of card-tables, was for the bought my first horse (in the desirable stable- utmost rigour of the law. I remember that we yard attached to the first-class Family Mansion), sat in a sort of board-room, on such very large and when the vendor remarked to me, in an square horsehair chairs that Y wondered what original manner, on bringing him for approval, race of Patagonians they were made for; and taking his cloth off and smacking him, "There, further, that an undertaker gave me his card sir! There's a Orse!" And when I said gal- when we were in the full moral freshness of lantly, " How much do you want for him?" and having just been sworn, as " an inhabitant that when the vendor said, "No more than sixty was newly come into the parish, and was likely guineas from you;" and when I said smartly, to have a young family." The case was' then " Why not more than sixty from me " And stated to us by the Coroner, and then we went when he said crushingly, " Because, upon my. down-stairs-led by the plotting Beadle-to soul and body, he'd be considered cheap at view the body.:. From that day to this, th. poor ON A CORONER'S fURY. 91 little figure, on which that sounding legal appel- dictory, and wouldn't say this, and couldn't lation was bestowed, has lain in the same place, answer for that, and the immaculate broker was had with the same surroundings, to my thinking. too much for him, and our side slid back again. and a kind of crypt devoted to the warehousing However, I tried again, and the Coroner backed tm the parochial coffins, and in the midst of a me again, for which I ever afterwards felt grateperfect Panorama of coffins of all sizes, it was ful to him, as I do now to his memory; and we stretched on a box; the mother had put it in her got another favourable turn out of some other box-this box-almost as soon as it was born, witness, some member of the family with a and it had been presently found there. It had strong prepossession against the sinner; and I been opened, and neatly sewn up, and, regarded think we had the doctor back again; and I from that point of view, it looked like a stuffed know that the Coroner summed up for our side, creature. It rested on a clean white cloth, and that I and my British brothers turned round with a surgical instrument or so at hand, and, to discuss our verdict, and get ourselves into regarded from that point of view, it looked as if great difficulties with our large chairs and the the cloth were "laid," and the Giant were broker. At that stage of the case I tried hard coming to dinner. There was nothing repellent again, being convinced that I had cause for it; about the poor piece of innocence, and it de- and at last we found for the minor offence of manded a mere form of looking at. So, we only concealing the birth; and the poor desolate looked at an old pauper who was going about creature, who had been taken out during our among the coffins with a foot-rule, as if he were deliberation, being. brought in again to be told a case of Self-Measurement; and we looked at of the verdict, then dropped upon her knees one another; and we said the place was well before us, with protestations that we were right whitewashed anyhow; and then our conver- -protestations among the most affecting that I sational powers as a British Jury flagged, and the have ever heard in my life-and was carried foreman said, " All right, gentlemen? Back away insensible. again, Mr. Beadle!" (In private conversation after this was all The miserable young creature who had given over, the Coroner showed me his reasons, as a birth to this child within a very few days, trained surgeon, for perceiving it to be imposand who had cleaned the cold wet door-steps sible that the child could, under the most favourimmediately afterwards, was brought before us able circumstances, have drawn many breaths, when we resumed our horsehair chairs, and was in the very doubtful case of its having ever present during the proceedings. She had a breathed at all; this, owing to the discovery of horsehair chair herself, being very weak and ill; some foreign matter in the windpipe, quite irreand I remember how she turned to the unsym- concilable with many moments of life.) pathetic nurse who attended her, and who might When the agonised girl had made those final have been the figure-head of a pauper ship, and protestations, I had seen her face, and it was in how she hid her face and sobs and tears upon unison with her distracted heart-broken voice, that wooden shoulder. I remember, too, how and it was very moving. It certainly did not hard her mistress was upon her (she was a ser- impress me by any beauty that it had, and if I vant-of-all-work), and with what a cruel perti- ever see it again in another world I shall only nacity that piece of Virtue spun her thread of know it by the help of some new sense or intelevidenlce double, by intertwisting it with the ligence. But it came to me in my sleep that sternest thread of construction. Smitten hard night, and I selfishly dismissed it in the most by the terrible low wail from the utterly friend- efficient way I could think of. I caused some less orphan girl which never ceased during the extra care to be taken of her in the prison, and whole inquiry, I took heart to ask this witness a counsel to be retained for her defence when she question or two, which hopefully admitted of an'was tried a the Old Bailey; and her sentence answer that might give a favourable turn to the was lenient, and her history and conduct proved case. She made the turn as little favourable as that it was right. In doing the little I did for it could be, but it did some good, and the her, I remember to have had the kind help of Coroner, who was nobly' patient and humane some gentle-hearted functionary to whom I ad(he was the late Mr. Wakley), cast a look of dressed myself-but what functionary I have strong encouragement in my direction. Then long forgotten-who I suppose was officially we had the doctor who had made the examina- present at the Inquest. tion, and the usual tests as to whether the child I regard this as a very notable uncommercial was born alive; but he was a timid muddle- experience, because this good came of a Beadle. headed doctor, and got confused and contra- And, to the best of my knowledge, information, 92 THE UNCOMAMERCIAL TRA VELLER. and belief, it is the only good that ever did come and, indeed, I had taken up my pen for the purof a Beadle since the first Beadle put on his pose, when I was baffled by an accidental circocked-hat. cumstance. It was the having to leave off, to —. wish the owner of a certain bright face that looked in at my door " many happy returns of the day." XIX. Thereupon a new thought came into my mind, driving its predecessor out, and I began to recall BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS. -instead of Inns-the birthdays that I have put up at, on my way to this present sheet of IT came into my mind that I would recall in paper. these notes a few of the many hostelries I I can very well remember being taken out to have rested at in the course of my journeys; visit some peach-faced creature in a blue sash, "THEN DROPPED UPON HER KNEES BEFORE US, WITH PROTESTATIONS THAT WE WERE RIGHT." and shoes to correspond, whose life I supposed gift bestowed by the favouring Heavens on that to consist entirely of birthdays. Upon seed- one distinguished infant. There was no other cake, sweet wine, and shining presents, that company, and we sat in a shady bower-under glorified young person seemed to me to be ex- a table, as my better (or worse) knowledge leads elusively reared. At so early a stage of my me to believe-and were regaled with saccharine travels did I assist at the anniversary of her substances and liquids, until it was time to part. nativity (and become enamoured of her), that I A bitter powder was administered to me next had not yet acquired the recondite knowledge morning, and I was wretched. On the whole, a that a birthday is;the common property of all pretty accurate foreshadowing of my more mature who are born, but supposed it to be a special experiences in such wise I TIHE ORRERY AND THE HAMPER. 93 Then came the time when, inseparable from Olympia, stung to madness, actually kicked me. one's own birthday, was a certain sense of A pretty birthday spectacle, when the lights merit, a consciousness of well-earned distinction. were turned up again, and all the schools in the When I regarded my birthday as a graceful town (including the National, who had come in achievement of my own, a monument of my for nothing, and serve them right, for they were perseverance, independence, and good sense, always throwing stones) were discovered with redounding greatly to my honour. This was at exhausted countenances, screwing their knuckles about the period when Olympia Squires became into their eyes, or clutching their heads of hair. involved in the anniversary. Olympia was most A pretty birthday speech when Doctor Sleek of beautiful (of course), and I loved her to that the City Free bobbed up his powdered head in. degree, that I used to be obliged to get out of the stage box, and said that before this assembly my little bed in the night, expressly to exclaim dispersed he really must beg to express his to Solitude, " Oh, Olympia Squires!" Visions entire approval of a lecture as improving, as inof Olympia, clothed entirely in sage-green, from forming, as devoid o anything that could call a which I infer a defectively-educated taste on the blush into the cheek of youth, as any it had ever part of her respected parents, who were- neces- been his lot to hear delivered. A pretty birthsarily unacquainted with the South Kensington day altogether, when Astronomy couldn't leave Museum, still arise before me. Truth is sacred, poor Small Olympia Squires and me alone, but and the visions are crowned by a shining white must put an end to our loves! For, we never beaver bonnet, impossibly suggestive of a little got over it.; the threadbare Orrery outwore our feminine postboy. My memory presents a birth- mutual tenderness; the man with the wand was day when Olympia and I were taken by an un- too much for the boy with the bow. feeling relative-some cruel uncle, or the like- When shall I disconnect the combined smells to a slow torture called an Orrery. The terrible of oranges, brown paper, and straw, from those instrument was set up at the local Theatre, and other birthdays at school, when the coming I had expressed a profane wish in the morning hamper casts its shadow before, and when a that it was-a Play: for which a serious aunt had week of social harmony-shall I add of admiring probed my conscience -deep, and my pocket and affectionate popularity-led up to that Indeeper, by reclaiming a bestowed half-crown. It stitution? What noble sentiments were exwas a venerable and a shabby Orrery, at least pressed to me in the days before the hamper, one thousand stars and twenty-five comets be- what vows of friendship were sworn to me, what hind the age. Nevertheless, it was awful. When exceedingly old knives were given me, what the low-spirited gentleman with a wand said, generous avowals of having been in the wrong " Ladies and gentlemen" (meaning particularly emanated from else obstinate spirits once enOlympia and me), " the lights are about to be rolled among my enemies! The birthday of the put out, but there is not the slightest cause for potted game and guava jelly is still made special alarm," it was very alarming. Then the planets to me by the noble conduct of Bully Globson. and stars began. Sometimes they wouldn't Letters from home had mysteriously inquired come on, sometimes they wouldn't go off, some- whether I should be much surprised and disaptimes they had holes in them, and mostly they pointed if, among the treasures in the coming didn't seem to be good likenesses. All this hamper, I discovered potted game, and guava time the gentleman with the wand was going on jelly from the Western Indies. I had mentioned in the dark (tapping away at the heavenly bodies those hints in confidence to a few friends, and between-whiles, like a wearisome woodpecker) had promised to give away, as I now see reason about a sphere revolving on its own axis eight to believe, a handsome covey of partridges hundred and ninety-seven thousand millions of potted, and about a hundredweight of guava times-or miles-in two hundred and sixty- jelly. It was now that Globson, Bully no more, three thousand five hundred and twenty-four sought me out in the playground. He was a millions of something elses, until I thought, if big fat boy, with a big fat head and a big fat fist, this was a birthday, it were better never to have and, at the beginning of that Half, had raised been born. - Olympia, also, became much de- such a bump on my forehead that I couldn't get pressed, and we both slumbered and woke cross, my hat of state on, to go to church. He said and still the gentleman was going on in the dark that after an interval of cool reflection (four -whether up in the stars, or down on the stage, months), he now felt this blow to have been an it would have been hard to make out, if it had error of judgment, and that he wished to apolobeen worth trying-ciphering away about planes gise for the same. Not only that, but, holding of orbits, to such an infamous extent that down his big bead between his two big hands 94 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. in order that I might reach it conveniently, he left on my table after my departure to the conrequested me, as an act of justice which would fines of the globe. As thus: "For Mrs. Onoappease his awakened conscience, to raise a wenever, these lines when the hand that traces retributive bump upon it, in the presence of them shall be far away. I could not bear the witnesses. This handsome proposal I modestly daily torture of hopelessly loving the dear one declined, and he then embraced me, and we whom I will not name. Broiling on the coast walked away conversing. We conversed respect- of Africa, or congealing on the shores of Greening the West India Islands, and, in the pursuit land, I am far far better there than here." (In of knowledge, he asked me with much interest this sentiment my cooler judgment perceives whether, in the course of my reading, I had met that the family of the beloved object would with any reliable description of the mode of have most completely concurred.) "If I ever manufacturing guava jelly; or whether I had emerge from obscurity, and my name is ever ever happened to taste that conserve, which he heralded by Fame, it will be for her dear sake. had been given to understand was of rare ex- If I ever amass Gold, it will be to pour it at her cellence. feet. Should I, on the other hand, become the Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty; and prey of Ravens —" I doubt if I ever quite then with the waning months came an ever- made up my mind what was to be done in that augmenting sense of the dignity of twenty-one. affecting case; I tried " then it is better so;" Heaven knows I had nothing to " come into," but, not feeling convinced that it would be save the bare birthday, and yet I esteemed it as better so, I vacillated between leaving all else a great possession. I now and then paved the blank, which looked expressive and bleak, or way to my state of dignity by beginning a pro- winding up with " Farewell! " position with the casual words, " say that a man This fictitious correspondence of mine is to of twenty-one," or by the incidental assumption blame for the foregoing digression. I was of a fact that could not sanely be disputed, as, about to pursue the statement that on my "for when a fellow comes to be a man of twenty-first birthday I gave a party, and She twenty-one." I gave a party on the occasion. was there. It was a beautiful party. There She was there. It is unnecessary to name Her was not a single animate or inanimate object more particularly; she was older than I, and connected with it (except the company and myhad pervaded every chink and crevice of my self) that I had ever seen before. Everything mind for three or four years. I had held was hired, and the mercenaries in attendance volumes of Imaginary Conversations with her were profound strangers to me. Behind a door, mother on the subject of our union, and I had in the crumby part of the night when winewritten letters more in number than Horace glasses were to be found in unexpected spots, I Walpole's, to that discreet woman, soliciting spoke to Her-spoke out to Her. What passed her daughter's hand in marriage. I had never I cannot, as a man of honour, reveal. She was had the remotest intention of sending any of all angelical gentleness, but a word was menthose letters; but to write them, and after a tioned-a short and dreadful word of three letfew days tear them up, had been a sublime ters, beginning with a B-which, as I remarked occupation. Sometimes I had begun, "Ho- at the moment, " scorched my brain." She went noured Madam. I think that a lady gifted with away soon afterwards, and when the hollow those powers of observation which I know you throng (though to be sure it was no fault of to possess, and endowed with those womanly theirs) dispersed, I issued forth with a dissipated sympathies with the young and ardent which it scorner, and, as I mentioned expressly to him, were more than heresy to doubt, can scarcely " sought oblivion." It was found, with a dreadhave failed to discover that I love your adorable ful headache in it, but it didn't last; for, in the daughter deeply, devotedly." In less buoyant shaming light of next day's noon, I raised my states of mind I had begtm, "Bear with me, heavy head in bed, looking back to the birthDear Madam, bear with a daring wretch who is days behind me, and tracking the circle by about to make a surprising confession to you, which I had got round, after all, to tbo bitter wholly unanticipated by yourself,' and which he powder and the wretchedness again. beseeches you to commit to the flames as soon This reactionary powder (taken so largely by as you have become aware to what a towering the human race that I am inclined to regard it height his mad ambition soars." At other times as the Universal Medicine once sought for in -periods of profound mental depression, when Laboratories) is capable of being made up in She had gone out to balls where I was not-the another form for birthday use. Anybody's longdraft took the affecting form of a paper to be lost brother will do ill to turn up on a birthday. THE LONG-LOSTI 95 If I had a long-lost brother, I should know be- It was then that the Long-lost gained the height forehand that he would prove a tremendous fra- of his popularity with the company; for my own ternal failure if he appointed to rush into my part; I felt convinced that I loved him dearly. arms on my birthday. The first Magic Lantern Flipfield's dinners are perfect, and he is the I ever saw was secretly and elaborately planned easiest and best of entertainers. Dinner went to be the great effect of a very juvenile birth- on brilliantly, and the more the Long-lost didn't day; but it wouldn't act, and its images were come, the more comfortable we grew, and the dim. My experience of adult birthday Magic more highly we thought of him. Flipfield's own Lanterns may possibly have been unfortunate, man (who has a regard for me) was in the act of but has certainly been similar. I have an illus- struggling with an ignorant stipendiary, to wrest trative birthday in my eye: a birthday of my from him the wooden leg.of a guinea-fowl which friend Flipfield, whose birthdays had long been he was pressing on my acceptance, and to subremarkable as social successes. There had been stitute a slice of the breast, when a ringing at nothing set or formal about them; Flipfield the door-bell suspended the strife. I looked having been accustomed merely to say, two or round me, and perceived the sudden pallor three days before, " Don't forget to come and which I knew my own visage revealed, reflected dine, old boy, according to custom." I don't on the faces of the company. Flipfield hurriedly know what he said to the ladies he invited, but excused himself, went out, was absent for about I may safely assume it not to have been " old a minute or two, and then re-entered with the girl." Those were delightful gatherings, and Long-lost. were enjoyed by all participators. In an evil I beg to say distinctly that if the stranger had hour, a long-lost brother of Flipfield's came to brought Mont Blanc with him, or had come light in foreign parts. Where he had been attended by a retinue of eternal snows, h, could hidden, or what he had been doing, I don't not have chilled the circle to the marrow in a know, for Flipfield vaguely informed me that he more efficient manner. Embodied failure sat had turned up "on the banks of the Ganges " enthroned upon the Long-lost's brow, and per-speaking of him as if he had been washed vaded him to his Long-lost boots. In vain Mrs. ashore. The Long-lost was coming home, and Flipfield senior, opening her arms, exclaimed, Flipfield made an unfortunate calculation, based " My Tom! " and pressed his nose against the on the well-known regularity of the P. and 0. counterfeit presentment of his other parent. In steamers, that matters might be so contrived as vain Miss Flipfield, in the first transports of this that the Long-lost should appear in the nick of reunion, showed him a dint upon her maidenly time on his (Flipfield's) birthday. Delicacy cheek, and asked him if he remembered when commanded that I should repress the gloomy he did that with the bellows? We, the byanticipations with which my soul became fraught standers, were overcome, but overcome by the when I heard of this plan. The fatal day palpable, undisguisable, utter, and total breakarrived, and we assembled in force. Mrs. down of the Long-lost. Nothing he could have Flipfield senior formed an interesting feature in done would have set him right with us but his the group, with a blue-veined miniature of the instant return to the Ganges. In the very same late Mr. Flipfield round her neck, in an oval, moments it became established that the feeling resembling a tart from the pastrycook's: his was reciprocal, and that the Long-lost detested hair powdered, and the bright buttons on his us. Wheh a friend of the family (not myself, coat evidently very like. She was accompanied upon my honour), wishing to set things going by Miss Flipfield, the eldest of her numerous again, asked him, while he partook of soupfamily, who held her pocket-handkerchief to her asked him with an amiability of intention bebosom in a majestic manner, and spoke to all of yond all praise, but with a weakness of execution us (none of us had ever seen her before) in pious open to defeat-what kind of river he considered and condoning tones, of all the quarrels that the Ganges, the Long-lost, scowling at the friend had taken place in the family from her infancy of the family over his spoon, as one of an abhor-which must have been a long time ago-down rent race, replied, "Why, a river of water, I to that hour. The Long-lost did not appear. suppose," and spooned his soup into himself Dinner, half an hour later than usual, was an- with a malignancy of hand and eye that blighted nounced, and still no Long-lost. We sat down the amiable questioner. Not an opinion could to table. The knife and fork of the Long-lost be elicited from the Long-lost in unison with the made a vacuum in Nature, and, when the cham- sentiments of any individual present. He conpagne came round for the first time, Flipfield tradicted Flipfield dead before he had eaten his gave him up for the day, and had them removed. salmon. He had no idea-or affected to have 96 THE UNCOMiAfERCIAL TRA VELLEIR. no idea-that it was his brother's birthday, and, returns, we are seized for some moments with a on the communication of that interesting fact to ghastly blitheness, an unnatural levity, as if we him, merely wanted to make him out four years were in the first flushed reaction of having underolder than he was. He was an antipathetical gone a surgical operation. being, with a peculiar power and gift of treading Birthdays of this species have a public as well on everybody's tenderest place. They talk in as a private phase. My "boyhood's home," America of a man's " Platform." I should de- Dullborough, present a case in point. An Imscribc the Platform of the Long-lost as a Plat- mortal Somebody was wanted in Dullborough, form composed of other people's corns, on which to dimple for a day the stagnant face of the he had stumped his way, with all his might and waters; he was rather wanted by Dullborough main, to his present,position. It is needless to generally, and much wanted by the principal add that Flipfield's great birthday went by the hotel-keeper. The County history was looked board, and that he was a wreck when I pre- up for a locally Immortal Somebody, but the tended, at parting, to wish him many happy registered Dullborough worthies were all Noreturns of it. bodies. In this state of things, it is hardly There is another class of birthdays at whic h I necessary to record that Dullborough did what have so frequently assisted, tlat I may assume every man does when he wants to write a book such birthdays to be pretty w-ell known to the or deliver a lecture, and is provided with all the human race. My frientd Ma)dayd's birthday is materials except a subject. It fell back upon an example. The guihts have no knowleldge of Shakspcare. one another except on that one clay in the year, No sooner was it resolved to celebrate Shakand are annually terrified for a week by the speare's birtlhday in Dullborough than the popuprospect of meeting one another again. There larity of the immortal bard became surprising. is a fiction among us that wc have unlcomnmon You might have supposed the first edition of his reasons for being particularly lively and spirited works to have been published last week, and on the occasion, whereas deep despondency is enthusiastic Dullborough to have got half no phrase for. the expression of our feelings. through them. (1 doubt, by the way, whether But the wonderful feature of the case is, tha1 \we it had ever done half that, bilt this is a private arc in tacit accordance to avoid the subject-to opilion.) A young gentleml n wvith a sonnet, keep it as far off as possible, as long as possiblZ the retention of which for two years had en-and to talk alout anything else, rather than fecblcd his mintd ant undermined his knees, the joyful event. I may even go so far as to got the sonnet into the Dullborough Warden, assert that there is a dulmb cormpact among us and gained flesh. Portraits of Shakspeare broke that we will pretend that It is xor Mayday's out in the book-shop windows, and our princibirthday. A mysterious and gloomy Being, pal artist painted a large original portrait in who is said to have gone to school with May- oils for the decoration of the dining-room. It day, and who is so lank and lean that he seri- was not in the least like any of the other porously impugns the Dietary of the establishment traits, andl was ex'ceedingly admired, the head at which they were jointly educated, always being much swollen. At the Institution, the leads us, as I may say, to the block, by laying Debating Society discussed the new question, his grisly hand on a decanter, and begging us Was there sufficienlt ground for supposing that to fill our glasses. The devices and pretences the Immortal Shakspeare ever stole deer? This that I have seen put in practice to defer the was indignantly decided by an overwhelming fatal moment, and to interpose between this majority in the negative; iindeed, there was but man and his purpose, are innumerable. I have one vote on the Po.lching side, and that was the known desperate guests, when they saw the vote of the oratoi who had undertaken to advogrisly hand approaching the decanter, wildly to cate it, and who became quite an obnoxious begin, without any antecedent whatsoever, character-particularly to the Dullborough "That reminds me-" and to plunge into "roughs," who were about as well informed on long stories. When at last the hand and the the matter as most other people. Distinguished decanter come together, a shudder, a palpable, speakers were invited down, and very nearly perceptible shudder, goes round the table. We came (but not quite). Subscriptions were receive the reminder that it is Mayday's birth- opened, and committees sat, and it would have day, as if it were the anniversary of some pro- been far from a popular measure, in the height found disgrace he had undergone, and we sought of the excitement, to have told Dullborough to comfort him. And when we have drunk that it wasn't Stratford-upon-Avon. Yet, after Mayday's health, and wished him many happy all these preparations, when the great festivity DO WN BY THEL DOCKS. 97 took place, and the portrait, elevated aloft, sur- uncovered tresses streaming in the breeze, banveyed the company as if it were in danger of dana kerchiefs floating from their shoulders, and springing a mine of intellect and blowing itself crinoline not wanting. Down by the Docks, up, it did undoubtedly happen, according to the you ma; hear the Incomparable Joe Jackson inscrutable mysteries of things, that nobody sing the Standard of England, with a hornpipe, could be induced, not to say.to touch upon any night; or any day may see atthe wax-work, for Shakspeare, but to come within a mile of him, a penny and no waiting, him as killed the policeuntil the crack speaker of Dullborough rose to man.at Acton, and suffered for it. Down by the propose the immortal memory. Which he did Docks, you may buy'polonies, saveloys, and with the perplexing and astonishing^result that sausage preparations various, if you are not parbefore he had repeated the great name half- ticular what they are made of besides seasona-dozen times, or had been upon his legs as ing. Down by the Docks, the children of Israel many minutes, he was assailed with a general creep into any gloomy cribs and entries they shout of " Question." can hire, and hang slops there-pewter watches, sou'-wester hats, waterproof overalls-" firtht-rate articleth, Thjack." Down by the Docks, spch dealers, exhibiting on a frame a complete nautiXX. cal suit without the refinement of a waxen visage ill the hat, present the imaginary wearer as BOUND FOR TIIE GREAT SALT LAKE. drooping at the yard-arm, with his seafaring and earthfaring troubles over. Down by the Docks, aEHOLD me on my way to an Emi- the placards in the shops apostrophize the cus-' grant Ship, on a hot morning early tomer, knowing him familiarly beforehand, as in June. My road lies through that "Look here, Jack!" "Here's your sort, my part of London generally known to lad! " " Try our sea-going mixed, at two-andthe initiated as "Down by the nine!" "The right kit for the British tar!" "Ship Docks." Down by the Docks, is home ahoy!" "Splice the main-brace, brother!" to a good many people-to too many, "Come, cheer up, my lads! We've the best if I may judge from the overflow of liquors here, And you'll find something new local population in the streets-but my nose in- In our wonderful Beer!" Down by the Docks, sinuates that the number to whom it is Sweet the pawnbroker lends money on Union-Jack Home might be easily counted. Down by the pocket-handkerchiefs, on watches with little Docks, is a region I would choose as my point ships pitching fore and aft on the dial, on teleof embarkation aboard ship if I were an emigrant. scopes, nautical instruments in cases, and suchIt would present my intention to me in such a like. Down by the Docks, the apothecary sets up sensible light; it would show me so many things in business on the wretchedest scale-chiefly on to be run away from. lint ahld plaster for the strapping of wounds-and Down by the Docks, they eat' the largest with no bright bottles, and with no little drawers. oysters, and scatter the roughest oyster shells, Down by the Docks, the shabby undertaker's known to the descendants of St. George and shop will bury you for next to nothing, after the the Dragon. Down by the Docks, they con- Malay or Chinaman has stabbed you for nothing sume the slimiest of shell-fish, which. seem to at all; so you can hardly hope to make a have been scraped off the copper bottoms of cheaper end. Down by the Docks, anybody ships. Down by the Docks, the vegetables at drunk will quarrel with anybody drunk or sober, greengrocers' doors acquire a saline and a scaly and everybody else will have a hand in it, and look, as if they had been crossed with fish and on the shortest notice you may revolve in a seaweed. Down by the Docks, they "board whirlpool of red shirts, shaggy beards, wild heads seamen " at the eating-houses, the public-houses,, of hair, bare tattooed arms, Britannia's daughthe slop-shops, the coffee-shops, the tally-shops, ters, malice, mud, maundering, and madness. all kinds of shops mentionable and unmention- Down by the Docks, scraping fiddles go in the able-board them, as it were, in a piratical public-houses all day long, and, shrill above sense, making them bleed'terribly, and giving their din and all the din, rises the screeching of in. no quarter. Down by the: Docks, the seamen numerable parrots brought from foreign parts, roam in mid-street and mid-day, their pockets who appear to be very much astonished by what inside out, and their heads no better. Down they find on these native shores of ours. Posby the Docks, the daughters of wave-ruling. sibly the parrots don't know, possibly they do, Britannia also' rove, clad in silken attire, with that Down by the Docks is the road to the 98 1 ~THEI UVCOJIfMERCIAL TRA VELLER. Pacific Ocean, with its lovely islands, where the and low for the will. I go out on the poop-deck savage girls plait flowers, and the savage boys for air, and surveying the emigrants on the deck carve cocoa-nut shells, and the grim blind idols below (indeed, they are crowded all about me, muse in their shady groves to exactly the same up there too), find more pens and inkstands in purpose as the priests and chiefs. And possibly action, and more papers, and interminable comthe parrots don't know, possibly they do, that plication respecting accounts with individuals t!he noble savage is a wearisome impostor for tin cans and what not. But nobody is in an wherever he is, and has five hundred thousand ill-temper, nobody is the worse for drink, nobody volumes of indifferent rhyme, and no reason, to swears an oath or uses a coarse word, nobody answer for. appears depressed, nobody is weeping, and down Shadwell Church! Pleasant whispers of there upon the deck, in every corner where it is posbeing a fresher air down the river than down by sible to find a few square feet to kneel, crouch, the Docks go pursuing one another, playfully, or lie in, people; in every unsuitable attitude for in and out of the openings in its spire. Gigantic writing, are writing letters. in the basin just beyond the church, looms my Now, I have seen emigrant ships before this Emigrant Ship: her name, the Amazon. Her day in June. And these people are so strikingly figure-head is not disfigured as those beauteous different from all other people in like circumfounders of the race of strong-minded women stances whom I have ever seen, that I wonder are fabled to have been, for the convenience aloud, " What would a stranger suppose these of drawing the bow; but I sympathise with the emigrants to be? " carver: - The vigilant bright face of the weather-browned captain of the Amazon is at my shoulder, and " A flattering carver who made it his care he says, " What, indeed? The most of these To carve busts as they ought to he-not as they were." came aboard yesterday evening. They came from various parts of England, in small parties My Emigrant Ship lies broadside-on to the that had never seen one another before. Yet wharf. Two great gangways made of spars and they had not been a couple of hours on board, planks connect her with the wharf; and up and when they established their own police, made down these gangways, perpetually crowding to their own regulations, and set their own watches and fro, and in and out, like ants, are the Emi- at all the hatchways. Before nine o'clock, the grants who are going to sail in my Emigrant ship was as orderly and as quiet as a man-of Ship. Some with cabbages, some with loaves of war." bread, some with cheese and butter, some with I looked aoout me,again, and saw the lettermilk and beer, some with boxes, beds, and bun- writing going on with the most curious compodies, some with babies-nearly all with children sure. Perfectly abstracted in the midst of the -nearly all with bran-new tin cans for their crowd; while great casks were swinging aloft, daily allowance of water, uncomfortably sugges- and being lowered into the hold; while hot tive of a tin flavour in the drink. To and fro, agents were hurrying up and down, adjusting the up and down, aboard and ashore, swarming here interminable accounts; while two hundred and there and everywhere, my Emigrants. And strangers were searching everywhere for two still, as the Dock gate swings upon its hinges, hundred other strangers, and were asking quescabs appear, and carts appear, and vans appear, tions about them, of two hundred more; while bringing more of my Emigrants, with more cab- the children played up and down all the steps, bages, more loaves, more cheese and butter, and in and out among all the people's legs, and more milk and beer, more boxes, beds, and were beheld, to the general dismay, toppling bundles, more tin cans, and on those shipping over all the dangerous places; the letter-writers investments accumulated compound interest of wrote on calmly. On the starboard side of the children. ship a grizzled man dictated a long letter to I go aboard my Emigrant Ship. I go first to another grizzled man in an immense fur cap: the great Cabin, and find it in the usual con- which letter was of so profound a quality, that dition of a cabin at that pass. Perspiring lands- it became necessary for the amanuensis at intermen, with loose papers, and with pens and ink- vals to take off his fur cap in both his hands, for stands, pervade it; and the general appearance the ventilation of his brain, and stare at him of things is as if the late Mr. Amazon's funeral who dictated, as a man of many mysteries who had just come home from the cemetery, and the was worth looking at. On the larboard side a disc6nsplate Mrs. Amazon's trustees found the woman had covered a belaying-pin with a white affairs in great disorder, and were looking high cloth to make a neat desk of it, and was sitting CONVVERSING IVITH MOR1J0JNiS. 99 on a little box, writing with the deliberation of a j father and mother and several young children, book-keeper. Down upon her breast on the on the main-deck below me, had formed a family planks of the deck at this woman's feet, with her circle close to the foot of the crowded restless head diving in under a beam of the bulwarks on gangway, where the children made a nest for that side, as an eligible place of refuge for her themselves in a coil of rope, and the father and sheet of paper, a neat and pretty girl wrote for mother, she suckling the youngest, discussed a good hour (she fainted at last), only rising to family affairs as peaceably as if they were in the surface occasionally for a dip of ink. Along- perfect retirement. I think the most noticeable side the boat, close to me on the poop-deck, characteristic in the eight hundred, as a mass, another girl, a fresh well-grown country girl, was was their exemption from hurry. writing another letter on the bare deck. Later Eight hundred what? "Geese, villain?" in the day, when this selfsame boat was filled EIGHT HUNDRED MORMNONS. I, Uncommerwith a choir who sang glees and catches for a cial Traveller for the firm of Human Interest long time, one of the singers, a girl, sang her Brothers, had come aboard this Emigrant Ship part mechanically all the while, and wrote a to see what Eight Hundred Latter-day Saints letter in the bottom of the boat while doing were like, and I found them (to the rout and so. overthrow of all my expectations) like what I " A stranger would be puzzled to guess the now describe with scrupulous exactness. right name for these people, Mr. Uncommer- The Mormon'Agent who had been active in cial," says the captain. getting them together, and in making the con" Indeed he would." tract with my friends the owners of the ship to " If you hadn't known, could you ever have take them as far as New York.on their way to supposed —?" the Great Salt Lake, was pointed out to me. A "How could I? I should have said they compactly-made handsome man in black, rather were, in their degree, the pick and flower of short, with rich brown hair and beard, and clear England." bright eyes. From his speech, I should set him " So should I," says the captain. down as American. Probably a man who had "How many are they?" "knocked about the world" pretty much. A " Eight hundred in round numbers. man with a frank open manner, and unshrinking I went between-decks, where the families with look; withal a man of great quickness. I bechildren swarmed in the dark, where unavoid- lieve he was wholly ignorant of my uncommercial able confusion had been caused by the last individuality, and consequently of my immense arrivals, and where the confusion was increased uncommercial importance. by the little preparations for'dinner that were UNCOMMERCIAL. These are a very fine set of going on in each group. A few women, here people you have brought together here. and there, had got lost, and were laughing at it, MORMON AGENT. Yes, sir, they are a very fine and asking their way to their own people, or out set of people. on deck again. A few of the poor children UNCOMMERCIAL (looking about). Indeed, I were crying; but otherwise the universal cheer- think it would be difficult to find eight hundred fulness was amazing. " We shall shake down people together anywhere else, and find so much by to-morrow." "We shall come all right in a beauty and so much strength and capacity for day or so." "We shall have more light at sea." work among them. Such phrases I heard everywhere, as 1 groped MORMON AGENT (not looking about, but lookmy way among chests and barrels and beams ing steadily at Uncommercial). I think so.-We and unstowed cargo and ring-bolts and emi- sent out about a thousand more, yes'day, froml grants, down to the lower deck, and thence up Liverpool. to the light of day again, and to my former UNCOMMIERCIAL. You are not going with these station. emigrants? Surely, an extraordinary people in their power MORMON AGENT. No, sir. I remain. of self-abstraction. All the former letter-writers UNCOMMERCIAL. But you have been in the were still writing calmly, and many more letter- Mormon Territory? writers had broken out in my absence. A boy MORMON AGENT. Yes; I left Utah about with a bag of books in his hand, and a slate three years ago. under his arm, emerged from below, concen- UNCOMMERCIAL. It is surprising to me that trated himself in my neighbourhood (espying a these people are all so cheery, and make so convenient sky-light for his purpose), and went little of the immense distance before them. to work at a sum as if he were stone deaf. A MORMON AGENT. Well, you see; many of'elr o.10 THE UiVCO11MMEf RCIAL TRA YVELLZER. have friends out at Utah. and many of'em look UNCOMMAERCIAL. Would you mind my asking forward to meeting fiiends on the way. you what part of the country you come fiom? UNCOMMERCIAL. On the way? WILTSHIRE. Not a bit. Theer! (exultingly) MORMON A;GENT. This way'tis. This ship I've worked all my life o' Salisbury Plain, right lands'em in New York City. Then they go on under the shadder o' Stonehenge. You mightn't by rail right away beyond St. Louis, to that part think it, but I halve. of the Banks of the Missouri where they strike UNCOIMMERCIAL. And a pleasant country too. the Plains. There, waggons from the settlement WILTSHIRE. Ah!'Tis a pleasant country. meet'em to bear'em company on their journey UNCOMMERCIAL. Have you any family on'cross-twelve hundred miles about. Industrious board? people who come out to the settlement soon get WILTSHIRE. Two children, boy and gal. I waggons of their own, and so the friends of some am a widderer, I am, and I'm going out alonger of tlese will come down in their own waggons to my boy and gal. That's my gal, and she's a meet'em. They look forward to that greatly. fine gal o' sixteen (pointing out the girl who is UNCOIMMERCIAL. On their long journey across writing by the boat). I'll go and fetch my boy. the Desert, do you arm them? I'd like to show you my boy. (Here Wiltshire MORMON AGENT. Mostly you will fild they disappears, and presently comes back with a big have arms of some kind or another already with shy boy of twelve, in a superabundance of boots, them. Such as had not arms we should arm who is not at all glad to be presented.) He is across the Plains for the general protection and a fine boy too, and a boy fur to work! (Boy defence. having undutifully bolted, Wiltshire drops him.) UNCOMMERCIAL. Will these waggons luring UNCOMMERCIAL. It must cost you a great deal down any produce to the Missouri? of money to go so far, three strong. MORMON AGENT: Well, since the war broke WILTSHIRE. A power of money. Theer! out, we've taken to growing cotton, and they'll Eight shillen a week, eight shillen a week, eight likely bring down cotton to be exchanged for shillen a week, put by out of the week's wages machinery. We want machinery. Also we have for ever so long. taken to grow indigo, which is a fine commodity UNCOMMERCIAL. I wonder how you did it. for profit. It has been found that the climate on WILTSHIRE (recognising in this a kindred the further side of the Great Salt Lake suits well spirit). See theer now! Iwonder how I done for raising indigo. it! But what with a bit o' subscription heer, UNCOMMERCIAL. I am told that these people and what with a bit o' help theer, it were done now on board are principally from the South of at last, though I don't hardly know how. Then England? it were unfort'net for us, you see, as we got kep' MORMON AGENT. And from Wales. That's in Bristol so long-nigh a fortnight, it weretrue. on accounts of a mistake wi' Brother Halliday. UNCOMMERCIAL. Do you get many Scotch? Swaller'd up money, it did, when we might have MORMON AGENT. Not many. come straight on. UNCOMMERCIAL. Highlanders, for instance. UNCOMMERCIAL [delicately approaching Joe MORMON AGENT. No, not Highlanders. They Smith). You are of the Mormon religion, of ain't interested enough in universal brotherhood course? and peace and good-will. WILTSHIRE (confidently). Oh yes, I'm a UNCOMMERCIAL. The old fighting blood is Mormon! (Thenreflectively.) I'm a Mormon. strong in them? (Then, looking round the ship, feigns to descry MORMON AGENT. Well, yes. And, besides, a particular friend in an empty spot, and evades they've no faith. the Uncommercial for evermore.) UNCOMMERCIAL (who has been burning to After a noontide pause for dinner, during get at the Prophet Joe Smith, and seems to dis- which my emigrants were nearly all betweencover an opening). Faith in-? decks, and the Amazon looked deserted, a MORMON AGENT (far too many for Uncom- general muster took place. The muster was for mercial). Well.-In anything! the ceremony of passing the Government InSimilarly, on this same head, the Uncom- spector and the Doctor. Those authorities held mercial underwent discomfiture from a Wiltshire their temporary state amidships, by a cask or labourer: a simple, fresh-coloured farm labourer two; and, knowing that the whole eight hundred of eight-and-thirty, who at one time stood beside emigrants must come face to face with them, I him looking on at new arrivals, and with whom took my station behind the two. They knew nohe held this dialogue; thing whatever of me, I believe, and my testimony PASSING THE INSPECTOR. i'or to the unpretending gentleness and good-nature special aptitude for organisation had bee i'inwith which they discharged their duty may be fused into these people, I am, o, course, unable of the greater worth. There was not the slightest to report. But I know that, even now, there flavour of the Circumlocution Office about their was no disorder, hurry, or difficulty. proceedings. All being ready, the first group are handed The emigrants were now all on deck. They on. That menmber of the party who is intrusted were densely crowded aft, and swarmed upon with the passenger ticket for the whole has been the poop-deck like bees. Two or three Mor- warned by one of the agents to have it ready, mon agents stood ready to hand them on to and here it is in his hand. In every instance the Inspector, and to hand them forward when through the whole eight hundred, without an they had passed. By what successful means a exception, this paper is always ready. N~ "ON THE STARBOARD SIDE OF THE SHIP A GRIZZLED MAN DICTATED A- LONG LETTER TO ANOTHER GRIZZLED MAN IN AN IMMENSE FUR CAP." INSPECTOR (reading the ticket). Jessie Job- This group is composed of an old grandfather son, Sophronia Jobson, Jessie Jobson again, and grandmother, their married son and his wife, Matilda Jobson, William Jobson, Jane Jobson, and their family of children. Orson Jobson is a Matilda Jobson again, Brigham Jobson, Leo- little child asleep in his mother's arms. The nardo Jobson, and Orson Jobson. Are you Doctor, with a kind word or so, lifts up the; all here? (glancing at the party over his spec- corner of the mother's shawl, looks at the child's tacles). face, and touches the little clenched hand. If JESSIE JOBSON NUMBER Two. All here, we were all as well as Orson Jobson. doctoring sir. b _vwould be a poor profession. THE. UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 8., 102:THE UNCOMMERCIA4L TRA VELLER. INSPECTOR. Quite right, Jessie Jobson. Take were going singly. Several girls were going two your ticket, Jessie, and pass on. or three together. These latter I found it very And away they go. Mormon agent, skilful difficult to refer back, in my mind, to their and quiet, hands them on. Mormon agent, relinquished homes and pursuits. Perhaps they' skilful and quiet, hands next party up. were more like country milliners, and pupil INSPECTOR (reading ticket again). Susannah teachers rather tawdrily dressed, thain any other Cleverly and William Cleverly. Brother and classes of young women. I noticed, among sister, eh? many little ornaments worn, more than one SISTER (young woman of business, hustling photograph brooch of the Princess of Wales, and slow brother). Yes, sir. also of the late Prince Consort. Some single INSPECTOR. Very good, Susannah Cleverly. women of from thirty to forty, whom one might Take your ticket, Susannah. and take care of it. suppose to be embroiderers, or straw-bonnet,And away they go. makers, were obviously going out in quest of NSP.ECTOR (taking ticket again). Sampson husbands, as finer ladies go to India. That Dibble and Dorothy Dibble (surveying a very they had any distinct notions of a plurality of old couple over his spectacles with some sur- husbands or wives, I do not believe. To supprise). Your husband quite blifid, Mrs. Dibble? pose the family groups of whom the majority MRS. DIBBLE. Yes, sir, he be stone blind. of emigrants were composed, polygamically MR. DIBBLE (addressing the mast). Yes. sir, possessed, would be to suppose an absurdity, I be stone blind. manifest to any one who saw the fathers and INSPECTOR. That's a bad job. Take your mothers. ticket, Mrs. Dibble, and don't lose it, and pass I should say (I had no means of ascertaining on. the fact) that most familiar kinds of handicraft Doctor taps Mr. Dibble on the eyebrow with trades were represented here. Farm labourers, his forefinger, and away they go. shepherds, and the like, had their full share of INSPECTOR (taking ticket again). Anastatia representation, but I doubt if they preponderated. Weedle. It was interesting to see how the leading spirit ANASTATIA (a pretty girl in a bright Garibaldi, in the family circle never failed to show itself, this morning elected by universal suffrage the even in the simple process of answering to the Beauty of the Ship). That is me, sir. names as they were called, and checking off the INSPECTOR. Going alone, Anastatia? owners of the names. Sometimes it was the ANASTATIA (shaking her curls). I am with father, much oftener the mother, sometimes a Mrs. Jobson, sir, but I've got separated for the quick little,girl second or third in order of moment. seniority. It seemed to occur for the first time, INSPECTOR. Oh! you are with the Jobsons? to some heavy fathers, what large families they Quite right. That'll do, Miss Weedle. Don't had; and their eyes rolled about, during the lose your ticket. calling of the list, as if they half misdoubted Away she goes, and joins the Jobsons who some other family to have been smuggled into are waiting for her, and stoops and kisses Brig- their own. Among all the fine handsome ham Jobson-who appears to be considered too children, I observed but two with marks upon young for the purpose by several Mormons their necks that were probably scrofulous. Out rising twenty, who are looking on. Before her of the whole numbe. of emigrants, but one old extensive skirts have departed from the casks a woman was temporarily set aside by the Doctor, decent widow stands there with four children, on suspicion of fever; but even she afterwards and so the roll goes. obtained a clean bill of health. The faces of some of the Welsh people, among When all'had "passed," and the afternoon whom there were many old persons, were cer- began to wear on, a black box became visible tainly the least intelligent. Some of these on deck, which box was in charge of certain peremigrants would have bungled sorely, but for sonages also in black, of whom only one had the the directing hand that was always ready. The conventional air of an itinerant preacher. This intelligence here was unquestionably of a low box contained a supply of hymn-books, neatly order, and the heads were of a poor type. printed and got up, published at Liverpool, and Generally the case was the reverse. There were also in London at the " Latter-Day Saints' Book many worn faces bearing traces of patient Depot, 30, Florence Street." Some copies were poverty and hard work, and there was great handsomely bound; the plainer' were the more steadiness of purpose and much undemonstrative in request, and many were bought. The title self-respect among thisclass. Afew youngmen ran: "Sacred Hymns and Spiritual Songs for FAIR PLAY. 103 the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." that, so far, some remarkable influence had proThe Preface, dated Manchester, 1840, ran thus: duced a remarkable result, which better-known -" The Saints in this country have been very influences have often missed.* desirous for a Hymn Book adapted to their faith and worship, that they might sing the truth with an understanding heart, and express their praise, joy, and gratitude in songs adapted to the New XXI. and Everlasting Covenant. In accordance with their wishes, we have selected the following THE CITY OF THE ABSENT. volume, which we hope will prove acceptable HEN I think I deserve particularly until a greater variety can be added. Withell of mself and have earned sentiments of high consideration and esteem, we the riht to enjoy a little treat, I subscribe ourselves your brethren in the New stroll from Covent Garden into and Everlasting Covenant, BRIGHAM YOUNG,the City of London, after business,',,.} v e<)the City of London, after business PARLEY P. PRATT, JOHN TAYLOR." From this Sa, book-by no means explanatory to myself of hrs there, on a Suday, ad ra au. better yet-on a Sunday, and roam about the New and Everlasting Covenant, and not at is deerte no and ornr. It its deserted nooks and corners. It is all making my heart an understanding one on necessary to the full enjoyment of these journeys the subject of that mystery-a hymn was sung, that they should be made in summer-time, for which did not attract any great amount of atten- then the retired spots that I love to haunt are tion, and was supported by a rather select circle at their idest and dullest. A gentle fall of rain But the choir in the boat was very popular and is not objectionable, and a warm mist sets off pleasant; and there was to have been a Band, my favourite retreats to decided advantae. only the Cornet was late in coming on board. Among these, City Churchyards hola high In the course of the afternoon a mother appeared. Such strange churchyards hide in the from shore, in search of her daughter, "who had Ciy of don: churchyards sometimes so enrun away with the Mormons." She received tirely.detached from churches, always so pressed every assistance from t he Inspector; so small, so rank, so silent, so upon by houses; so small, so rank, so silent, so daughter was not found to be on board. The daughter was notf tf. orgotten, except by the few people who ever saints did not seem to me particularly interested loo o into them from their smoky windows. in findig her. look down into them from their smoky windows. in finding her. o rds five oo the gaey. be e f As I stand peeping in through the iron gates Towards five o'clock the galley became full can peel the rusty metal oftlike and rails, I can peel the rusty metal off, like of tea-kettles, and an agreeable fragrance of tea ar r an ee he illegible tombstones pervaded the ship. There was no scrambling or ar lop-sided, the grave-moundslost thei jostling for the hot water, no ill-humour, no ae in the rs a hundred years ago, the quarrelling. As the Amazon was to sail with ard r o an ree that a Lombardy Poplar or Plane Tree that was once the next tide, and as it would not be high water dryalr d r an eera on a drysalter's daughter and several commonbefore two o'clock in the morning, I left her councilmen, has witherd like those worthies, councilmen, has withered like those worthies, with her tea in full action, and her idle Steam and its departed leaves are dust beneath it. Tug lying by, deputing steam and smoke for the Contagion of slow ruin overhangs the place. time being to the Tea-kettles. The discoloured tiled roofs of the environing I afterwards learned that a Dispatch was sent buildings stand so awry, that tiey can hardly be home by the Captain before he struck out intoress of weather. Old crazy the wide Atlantic, highly extolling the behaviour s of chimneys seem to look down as they of these emigrants, and the perfect order and propriety of all their social arrangements. What * After this Uncommercial Journey was printed, I is in store for the poor people on the shores of happened to mention the experience it describes to Lord the Great Salt Lake what happy delusions they Houghton. That gentleman then showed me an article the Great Salt Lake, what happy delusions they of his writing, in'The Edinburgh Review for January, are labouring under now, on what miserable i862, which is highly remarkable for its philosophical blindness their eyes may be opened then, I do and literary research, concerning these Latter-Day Saints. not pretend to say. But I went on board their I find in it the following sentences:-" The Select Comship to bear testimony against them if the mittee of the House of Commons on emigrant ships for 54 summoned the Mormon agent and passenger-broker deserved it, as I fully believed they would; to before it, and came to the conclusion that no ships under my great astonishment, they did not deserve it; the provisions of the'Passengers Act' could be depended and my predispositions and tendencies must not upon for comfort and securityin the same degree as those under his administration. The Mormon ship is a Family affect me as an honest witness. I went over under strong and accepted discipline, with every provision the Amazon's side, feeling it impossible to deny for comfort, decorum, and internal peace." o14 YHE UNCO1MMERCIAL TR AVELLER. overhang, dubiously calculating how far they sale house of business, requiring much room for will have to fall. In an angle of the walls, what stowage, will occupy one or two, or even all was once the tool-house of the grave-digger rots three, sides of the enclosing space, and the away, incrusted with toadstools. Pipes and backs of bales of goods will lumber up the winspouts for carrying off the rain from the encom- dows, as if they were holding some crowded passing gables, broken or feloniously cut for old trade-meeting of themselves within. Sometimes,. lead long ago, now let the rain drip and splash the commanding windows are all blank, and as it list upon the weedy earth. Sometimes show no more sign of life than the graves below there is a rusty pump somewhere near, and, as -not so much, for they tell of what once upon I look in at the rails and meditate, I hear it a time was life undoubtedly. Such was the surworking under an unknown hand with a creak- rounding of one City churchyard that I saw last ing protest: as though the departed in the summer, on a Volunteering Saturday evening churchyard urged, " Let us lie here in peace; towards eight of the clock, when with astonishdon't suck us up and drink us!" ment I beheld an old old man and an old old One of my best-beloved churchyards I call the woman in it, making hay. Yes, of all occupachurchyard of St. Ghastly Grim; touching what tions in this world, making hay! It was a very men in general call it, I have no information. confined patch of churchyard lying between It lies at the heart of the City, and the Black- Gracechurch Street and the Tower, capable of wall Railway shrieks at it daily. It is a small yielding, say, an apronful of hay. By what small churchyard, with a ferocious strong spiked means the old old man and woman had got into. iron gate, like a gaol. This gate is ornamented it, with an almost toothless hay-making rake, I with skulls and cross-bones, larger than the life, could not fathom. No open window was within wrought in stone; but it likewise came into the view; no window at all was within view, suffimind of St. Ghastly Grim, that to stick iron ciently near the ground to have enabled their spikes atop of the stone skulls, as though they old legs to descend from it; the rusty churchwere impaled, would be a pleasant device. yard gate was locked, the mouldy church was Therefore the skulls grin aloft horribly, thrust locked. Gravely among the graves they made through and through with iron spears. Hence, hay, all alone by themselves. They looked like there is attraction of repulsion for me in St. Time and his'wife. There was but the one rake Ghastly Grim, and, having often contemplated between them, anc they both had hold of it in it in the daylight and the dark, I once felt a pastorally-loving manner, and there was hay drawn towards it in a thunder-storm at mid- on the old woman's black bonnet, as if the old night. " Why not?" I said in self-excuse. " I man had recently been playful. The old mans have been to see the Coliseum by the light of was quite an obsolete old man, in knee breeches the moon; is it worse to go to see St. Ghastly and coarse grey stockings, and the old woman Grimn by the light of the lightning?" I repaired wore mittens like unto his stockings in texture to the Saint in a hackney cab, and found the and in colour. They took no heed of me as I skulls most effective, having the air of a public looked on, unable to account for them. The old execution, and seeming, as the lightning flashed, woman was much too bright for a pew-opener, to wink and grin with the pain of the spikes. the old man much too meek for a beadle. On. Having no other person to whom to impart my an old tombstone in the foreground, between satisfaction, I communicated it to the driver. me and them, were two cherubim: but for those So far from being responsive, he surveyed me- celestial embellishments being represented as he was naturally a bottle-nosed red-faced man having no possible use for knee breeches, stock-with a blanched countenance. And, as he ings, or mittens, I should have'compared them drove me back, he ever and again glanced in with the hay-makers, and sought a likeness. I over his shoulder through the little front window coughed and awoke the echoes, but the hayof his carriage, as mistrusting that I was a fare makers never looked at me. They used the originally from a grave in the churchyard of St. rake with a measured action, drawing the scanty Ghastly Grim, who might have flitted home crop towards them; and so I was fain to leave again without paying. them under three yards and a half of darkening Sometimes, the queer Hall of some queer sky, gravely making hay among the graves, all Company gives upon a churchyard such as this, alone by themselves. Perhaps they were Specand, when the Livery dine, you may hear them tres, and I wanted a medium. (if you are looking in through the iron rails, In another City churchyard, of similar which you never are when I am) toasting their cramped dimensions, I saw, that selfsame sumown Worshipful prosperity. Sometimes, a whole- mer, two comfortable charity children. They THE CITY CHURCHYARDS. 15o were making love-tremendous proof of the light lives inside the churches of my churchvigour of that immortal article, for they were in yards, when the two are co-existent, that it is the graceful uniform under which English often only by an accident, and after long acCharity delights to hide herself —and they were quaintance, that I discover their having stained overgrown, and their legs (his legs, at least, for.glass in some odd window. The westering sun I am modestly incompetent to speak of hers) slants into the churchyard by some unwonted were as much in the wrong as mere passive entry, a few prismatic tears drop on an old weakness of character can render legs. Oh, it tombstone, and a window that I thought was was a leaden churchyard, but no doubt a golden only dirty is for the moment all bejewelled. ground to those young persons! I first saw Then the light passes and the colours die. them on a Saturday evening, and, perceiving Though even then, if there be room enough for from their occupation that Saturday evening was me to fall back so far as that I can gaze up to their trysting-time, I returned that evening the top of the church tower, I see the rusty vane se'nnight, and renewed the contemplation of new burnished, and seeming to look out with a them. They came there to shake the bits of joyful flash over the sea of smoke at the distant matting which were spread in the church aisles, shore of country. and they afterwards rolled them up, he rolling Blinking old men, who are let out of workhis end, she.rolling hers, until they met, and houses by the hour, have a tendency to sit on over the two once divided now united rolls- bits of coping-stone in these churchyards, leansweet emblem!-gave and received a chaste ing with both hands on their sticks, and asthmasalute. It was so refreshing to find one of my tically gasping. The more depressed class of faded churchyards blooming into flower thus, beggars, too, bring hither broken meats, and that I returned a second time, and a third, and munch. I am on nodding terms with a mediultimately this befell:-They had left the church- tative turncock who lingers in one of them, and door open in their dusting and arranging. Walk- whom I suspect of a turn for poetry; the rather ing in to look at the church, I became aware, by as he looks out of temper when he gives the the dim light, of him in the pulpit, of her in the fire-plug a disparaging wrench with that large reading-desk, of him looking down, of her look- tuning-fork of his which would wear out the ing up, exchanging tender discourse. Immedi- shoulder of his coat, but for a precautionary ately both dived, and became as it were non- piece of inlaid leather. Fire-ladders, which I existent on this sphere. With an assumption of am satisfied nobody knows anything about, and innocence I turned to leave the sacred edifice, the keys of which were lost in ancient times, when an obese form stood in the portal, puffily moulder away in the larger churchyards, under demanding Joseph, or, in default of Joseph, eaves like wooden eyebrows; and so removed Celia. Taking this monster by the sleeve, and are those corners from the haunts of men and luring him forth on pretence of showing him boys, that once, on a'fifth of November, I found whom he sought, I gave time for the emergence a " Guy " trusted to take care of himself there, of Joseph and Celia, who presently came to- while his proprietors had gone to dinner. Of wards us in the churchyard, bending under dusty the expression of his face I cannot report, bematting, a picture of thriving and unconscious cause it was turned to the wall; but his shrugged industry. It would be superfluous to hint that shoulders and his ten extended fingers appeared I have ever since deemed this the proudest pas- to denote that he had moralised, in his little sage in my life. straw chair, on the mystery of mortality until he But such instances, or any tokens of vitality, gave it up as a bad job. are rare indeed in my City churchyards. A few You do not come upon these churchyards sparrows occasionally try to raise a lively chirrup violently; there are shades of transition in the in their solitary tree-perhaps, as taking a dif- neighbourhood. An antiquated news shop, or ferent view of worms from that entertained by barber's shop, apparently bereft of customers in humanity-but they are flat and hoarse of voice, the earlier days of George the Third, would warn like the clerk, the organ, the bell, the clergy- me to look out for one, if any discoveries in this man, and all the rest of the church-works when respect were left for me to make. A very quiet they are wound up for Sunday. Caged larks, court, in combination with an unaccountable thrushes, or blackbirds, hanging in neighbouring dyer's and scourer's, would prepare me for a courts, pour forth their strains passionately, as churchyard. An exceedingly retiring publicscenting the tree, trying to break out, and see house, with a bagatelle board shadily visible in a leaves again before they die, but their song is sawdustyparlourshaped likeanomnibus,and with Willow, Willow-of a churchyard cast. So little a shelf of punch-bowls in the bar, would apprise 1o6!THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. me that I stood near consecrated ground. A and were long before. I want to know whether "Dairy," exhibiting in its modest window one the boy has any foreglittering of that glittering very little milk-can and three eggs, would sug- fortune now, when he treads these stones hungry..gest to' me the certainty of finding the poultry Much as I also want to know whether the next hard by, pecking at my forefathers. I first in-'man to be hanged at Newgate yonder had any ferred the vicinity of St. Ghastly Grim from a suspicion upon him'that he was moving steadily certain air of extra repose and gloom pervading towards that fate, when he talked so much about a vast stack of warehouses. the last man who paid the same great debt at From the hush of these places it is congenial the same small Debtors' Door. to pass into the hushed resorts of business. Where are all the people who on busy workDown the lanes I like.to see the carts and ing-days pervade' these'scenes? The locomotive waggons huddled together in repose, the cranes banker's clerk, who'carries' a black portfolio idle, and the warehouses shut. Pausing in the chained to fhim by a chain of steel, where is he? alleys behind the closed Banks of mighty Lom- Does he go to bed with his chain on-to church bard Street, it gives one as good as a rich feeling with his chain on-or does he lay it by? And to think of the broad counters with a rim along if he lays it by, what becomes of his portfolio, the edge, made for telling money out on, the when he is unchained for a holiday? The wastescales for weighing precious metals, the pon- paper baskets of these closed counting-houses derous ledgers, and, above all, the bright copper would let me into many hints of business matters shovels for shovelling gold. When I draw if I had the exploration of them; and what money, it never seems so much money as when secrets of the heart should I discover on the it is shovelled at me out of a bright copper "pads " of the young clerks-the sheets of carshovel. I like to say, "In Gold," and to see tridge-paper and blotting-paper interposed beseven pounds musically pouring out of the tween their writing and their desks! Pads are shovel, like seventy; the Bank appearing to re- taken into confidence on the tenderest occasions, mark to me-I italicise appearing-"If you and oftentimes when I have made a business want more of this yellow earth, we keep'it in visit, and have sent in my name from the outer barrows at your service." To think of the office, have 1 had it forced on my discursive banker's clerk with his deft finger turning the notice that the officiating young- gentleman has crisp edges of the Hundred-Pound: Notes he has over and over again inscribed AnLELIA, in ink of taken in a fat roll out of a drawer, is again to various dates, on corners of his pad. Indeed, hear the rustling of that delicious south-cash the pad may be regarded as the legitimate wind. " How will you have it?" I once heard modern successor of the old forest tree: whereon this usual question asked at a Bank Counter of these young knights (having no attainable forest an elderly female, habited in mourning and nearer than Epping) engrave the names of their steeped in simplicity, who answered, open-eyed,'mistresses. After all, it is a more satisfactory crook-fifgered, laughing with expectation, "Any- process than carving, and can be oftener rehow!" Calling these things to mind as I stroll peated. So these courts in their Sunday rest among the Banks, I wonder whether the other are courts of Love Omnipotent (I rejoice to solitary Sunday man I pass has designs upon the bethink myself), dry as they look. And here is Banks. For the interest and mystery of the Garraway's, bolted and shuttered hard and fast! matter, I almost hope he- may have, and that It is possible to imagine the man who cuts the his confederate may be at this moment taking sandwiches, on his back in a hay-field; it is impressions of the keys of the iron closets in possible to imagine his desk, like the desk of a wax, and that a delightful robbery may be in clerk at church, without him; but imagination course of transaction. About College Hill, is unable to pursue the men who wait at GarraMark Lane, and so on towards the Tower, and way's all the week for the men who never corc,. Dockward, the deserted wine merchants' cellars When they are forcibly put out of Garraway's on are fine subjects for consideration; but the de- Saturday night-which they must be, for they serted money-cellars of the Bankers, and their never would go out of their own accord-where plate-cellars, and their jewel-cellars, what sub- do they vanish until Monday morning? On terranean regions of the Wonderful Lamp are the first Sunday that I ever strayed here, I exthese! And again: possibly some shoeless boy pected to find them hovering about these lanes, in rags passed through'this street yesterday, for like restless ghosts, and trying to peep into whom it is reserved to be a Banker in the fulness Garraway's through chinks in the shutters, if not of time, and to be'surpassing rich. Such re- endeavouring to turn the lock of the door with verses have, been'since the days of Whittington; false keys, picks, and screw-drivers. But the DEVCAY OF THIE DOLPHIN'S HEAD. 107 wonder is, that they go clean away'! And now I could have for dinner, and she now returned I think of it, the wonder is, that every working- with the counter-question, what would I like? day pervader of these scenes goes clean away. As the Dolphin stood possessed of nothing that The man who sells the dogs' collars and the I do like, I was fain to yield to the suggestion little toy coal-scuttles feels under as great an of a duck, which I don't like. J. Mellows's reobligation to go afar off as Glyn and Co., or presentative was a mournful young woman, with Smith, Payne, and Smith. There is an old one eye susceptible of guidance, and one unconmonastery crypt under Garraway's (I have been trollable eye; which latter, seeming to wander in it among the port wine), and perhaps Garra- in quest of stage-coaches, deepened the melanway's, taking pity on the mduldy men who wait choly in which the Dolphin was steeped. in its public-room all their lives, gives them cool This young woman had but shut the r'oor on house room down there over Sundays; but the retiring again, when I bethought me of adding catacombs of Paris would not be large enough to my order the words, "with nice vegetables." to hold the rest of the rmssing. This charac- Looking out at the door to give them emphatic teristic of London City greatly helps its being utterance, I found her already in a state of penthe quaint place it is in the weekly pause of sive catalepsy in the deserted gallery, picking business, and greatly helps my Sunday sensation her teeth with a pin. in it of being the Last Man. In my solitude, At the Railway Station, seven miles off, I had the ticket porters being all gone with the rest, I been the subject of wonder when I ordered a fly venture to breathe to the quiet bricks and stones in which to come here. And when I gave the my confidential wonderment why a ticket porter, direction, "To the Dolphin's Head," I had who never does any work with his hands, is observed an ominous stare on the countenance bound to wear a white apron, and why a great of the strong young man in velveteen, who was Ecclesiastical Dignitary, who never does any the platform servant of the Company. He work with his hands either, is equally bound to had also called to my driver at parting, " All wear a black one. ri-ight! Don't hang yourself when you get there, Geo-o-rge!" in a sarcastic tone, for which I had entertained some transitory thoughts of reportXXII. ing him to the General Manager. I had no business in the town-I never have AN OLD STAGE-COACHING HOUSE. anybusiness in any town-but I had been caught by the fancy that I would come and look at it I'FORE the waitress had shut the in its degeneracy. My purpose was fitly indoor, I had forgotten how many augurated by the Dolphin's Head, which everyK i stage-coaches she said used to change where expressed past' coachfulness and present horses in the town every day. But coachlessness. Coloured prints of coaches startit was of little moment; any high ing, arriving, changing horses, coaches in the > number would do as well as another. sunshine, coaches in the snow, coaches in the b It had been a great stage-coaching town wind. coaches in the mist and rain, coaches on in the great stage-coaching times, and the King's birthday, coaches in all circumstances the ruthless railways had killed and buried it. compatible with their triumph and victory, but The sign of the house was the Dolphin's never in the act of breaking down or overturnHead. Why only head, I don't know; for the ing, pervaded the house. Of these works of art, Dolphin's effigy at full length, and upside down some, framed and not glazed, had holes in them; -as a Dolphin is always bound to be when the varnish of others had become so brown and artistically treated, though I suppose he is some-,cracked, that they looked like overdone pietimes right side upward in his natural condition crust; the designs of others were almost obli-graced the sign-board. The sign-board chafed terated by the flies of many srummers. Broken its rusty hooks outside the bow-window of my glasses, damaged frames, lop-sided hanging, and room, and was a shabby work. No visitor could consignment of incurable cripples to places of have denied that the Dolphin was dying by refuge in dark corners, attested the desolation inches, but he showed no bright colours. He had of the rest. The old room on the ground-floor, once served another master; there was a newer where the passengers of the Highflyer used to streak of paint below him, displaying with incon- dine, had nothing in it but a wretched show of sistent freshness the legend, By J. MELLOWS. twigs and flower-pots in the broad window to My door opened again, and J. Mellows's re- hide the nakedness of the land, and in a corner presentative came back. I had asked her what little Mellows's perambulator, with even its para io8, THE UNCOMMAERCIAL TRA VELLER. sol head turned despondently to the wall. The covered and pillared entrance to the Dolphin's other room, where post-horse company used to Yard, once redolent of soup and stable litter, wait while relays were getting ready down the now redolent of musty disuse, I paced the street. yard, still held its ground, but was as airless as It was a hot day, and the little sun-blinds of the I conceive a hearse to be: insomuch that Mr. shops were all drawn down, and the more enterPitt, hanging high against the partition (with prising tradesmen had caused their'prentices tot spots on him like port wine, though it is mys- trickle water on the pavement appertaining to terious how port wine ever got squirted up there), their frontage. It looked as if they had been had good reason for perking his nose and sniffing. shedding tears for the stage-coaches, and drying The stopperless cruets on the spindle-shankec their ineffectual pocket-handkerchiefs. Such sideboard were in a miserably dejected state weakness would have been excusable; for the anchovy sauce having turned blue some years business was-as one dejected porkman, who ago, and the cayenne pepper (with a scoop in it kept a shop which refused to reciprocate the like a small model of a wooden leg) having compliment by keeping him, informed meturned solid. The old fraudulent candles, which "bitter bad." Most of the harness-makers and were always being paid for and never used, were corn-dealers were gone the way of the coaches, burnt out at last; but their tall stilts of candle- but it was a pleasant recognition of the eternal sticks still lingered, and still outraged the human procession of Children down that old original intellect by pretending to be silver. The mouldy steep Incline, the Valley of the Shadow, that old unreformed Borough Member, with his right those tradesmen were mostly succeeded by vendhand buttoned up in the breast of his coat, and ors of sweetmeats and cheap toys. The oppohis back characteristically turned on bales of sition house to the Dolphin, once famous as the petitions from his constituents, was there too; New White Hart, had long collapsed. In a fit and the poker which never had been among the of abject depression, it had cast whitewash on fire-irons, lest post-horse company should over- its windows, and boarded up its front-door, and stir the fire, was not there, as of old. reduced itself to a side-entrance; but even tlat Pursuing my researches in the Dolphin's Head, had proved a world too wide for the Literary i found it sorely shrunken. When J. Mellows Institution which had been its last phase; for came into possession, he had walled off half the the Institution had collapsed too, and of the bar, which was now a tobacco shop with its own ambitious letters of its inscription on the White entrance in the yard-the once-glorious yard Hart's front, all had fallen off but these: where the postboys, whip in hand and always L Y INS T buttoning their waistcoats at the last moment, used to come running forth to mount and away. -suggestive of Lamentably Insolvent. As to A "Scientific Shoeing Smith and Veterinary the neighbouring market-place, it seemed to Surgeon" had further encroached upon, the have wholly relinquished marketing to the dealer yard; and a grimly satirical Jobber, who an- in crockery whose pots and pans straggled half nounced himself as having to Let " A neat one- across it, and to the Cheap Jack who sat with horse fly, and a one-horse cart," had established folded arms on the shafts of his cart, supercilihis business, himself, and his family, in a part of ously gazing around; his velveteen waistcoat the extensive stables. Another part was lopped evidently harbouring grave doubts whether it was clean off from the Dolphin's Head, and now worth his while to stay a night in such a place. comprised a chapel, a wheelwright's, and a The church bells began to ring as I left this Young Men's Mutual Improvement and Discus- spot, but they by no means improved the case, sion Society (in a loft): the whole forming a for they said, in a petulant way, and speaking back-lane. No audacious hand had plucked with some difficulty in their irritation, "\VHAT'Sdown \the vane from the central cupola of the be-come-of-THE-coach-Es?" Nor would they (I stables, but it had grown rusty and stuck at N- found on listening) ever vary their emphasis, Nil: while the score or two of pigeons that re- save in respect of growing more sharp and mained true to their ancestral traditions and the vexed,' but invariably went on, " WHAT'S-beplace, had collected in a row on the roof-ridge of come-of-THE-coach-Es? "-always beginning the the only outhouse retained by the Dolphin, inquiry with an unpolite abruptness. Perhaps where all the inside pigeons tried to push the from their elevation they saw the railway, and it outside pigeon off.'This I accepted as emble- aggravated them. matical of the struggle for post and place in Coming upon a coachmaker's workshop, I railway times. began to look about me with a revived spirit, Sauntering forth into the town, by way of the thinking that perchance I might behohl tlwre A FINANCIAL GENIUS. ~og some remains of the old times of the town's I went the way he turned me, and I came to greatness. There was only one man at work- the Beer-shop with the sign of The First and a dry man, grizzled, and far advanced in years, Last, and was out of the town on'the old Lonbut tall and upright, who, becoming aware of don Road. I came to the turnpike tnd I me looking on, straightened his back, pushed up found it, in its silent way, eloquent r - ecting his spectacles against his brown-paper cap, and the change that had fallen on the road. The appeared inclined to defy me. To whom I Turnpike-house was all overgrown with ivy; and pacifically said: the Turnpike-keeper, unable to get a living out " Good day, sir!" of the tolls, plied the trade of a cobbler. Not; \What?" said he. only that, but his wife sold ginger-beer, and, in "Good day, sir." the very window of espial through which tlce He seemed to consider about that, and not to Toll-takers of old times used with awe to behold agree with me.-" Was you a looking for any- the grand London coaches coming on at a thing? " he then asked in a pointed manner. gallop, exhibited for sale little barbers' poles of' I as wondering whether there happened sweetstuff in a sticky lantern. to be any fragment of an old stage-coach here." The political economy of the master of the "Is that all?" turnpike thus expressed itself. "That's all." " How goes turnpike business, master?" said "No, there ain't." I to him, as he sat in his little porch, repairing It was now my turn to say " Oh!" and I said a shoe. it. Not another word did the dry and grizzled "It don't go at all, master," said he to me. man say, but bent to his work again. In the "It's stopped." coachmaking days, the coach painters had tried " That's bad," said I. their brushes on a post beside him; and quite a " Bad?" he repeated. And he pointea to Calendar of departed glories was to be read upon one of his sunburnt dusty children who was it, in blue and yellow and red and green, some climbing the turnpike-gate, and said, extending inches thick. Presently he looked up again. his open right hand in remonstrance with Uni"You seem to have a deal of time on your versal Nature, " Five on'em!" hands," was his querulous remark. " But how to improve Turnpike business? I admitted the fact. said I. "I think it's a pity you was not brought up "There's a way, master,' said he, with the air to something," said he. of one who had thought deeply on the subject. I said I thought so too. "I should like to know it." Appearing to be informed with an idea, he "Lay a toll on everything as comes through; laid down his plane (for it was a plane he was lay a toll on walkers. Lay another toll on at work with), pushed up his spectacles again, everything as don't come through; lay a toll on.and came to the door. them as stops at home." "Would a po-shay do for you?" he asked. " Would the last remedy be fair?" "I am not sure that I understand what you " Fair? Them as stops at home could come mean." through if they liked; couldn't they?" "Would a po-shay," said the coachmaker, "Say they could." standing close before me, and folding his arms "Toll'em., If they don't come through, it's in the manner of a cross-examining counsel- hteir look-out. Anyways,-Toll'em " would a po-shay meet the views you have Finding it was as impossible to argue with expressed? Yes, or no?" this financial genius as if he had been Chan"Yes." cellor of the Exchequer, and consequently the "Then you keep straight along down there right man in the right place, I passed. on till you see one. You'll see one if you go fur meekly. enough." My mind now began to misgive me that the With that he turned me by the shoulder in disappointed coachmaker had sent mc on a the direction I was to take, and went in and wild-goose errand, and that there was no postresumed his work against a background of leaves chaise in those parts. But coining within view and grapes. For, although he was a soured of certain allotment gardens by the roadside, I man and a discontented, his workshop was that retracted the suspicion, and confessed that I had agreeable mixture of town and country, street done him an injustice. For, there I saw, surely, and garden, which is often to be seen in a small the poorest superannuated post-chaise left on English town. earth. Ixo THE UNCOAAMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. It was a post-chaise taken off its axletree and that by which I had come down, keeping his wheels, and plumped down on the clayey soil dark goggles silently upon me all the time, and among a ragged growth of vegetables. It was then shouldered his hammer, suddenly turned, a post-chaise not even set straight upon the ascended, and was gone. His face was so small, ground, but tilted over, as if it had fallen out of and his goggles were so large, that he left me a balloon. It was a post-chaise that had been wholly uninformed as to his countenance; but a long time in those decayed circumstances, and he left me a profound impression that the curved against which scarlet-beans were trained. It legs I had seen from behind, as he vanished, was a post-chaise patched and mended with old were the legs of an old postboy. It was not tea-trays, or with scraps of iron that looked like until then that I noticed he had been working them, and boarded up as to the windows, but by a grass-grown milestone, which looked like having A KNOCKER on the off-side door. Whether a tombstone erected over the grave. of the it was a post-chaise used as tool-house, summer- London Road. house, or dwelling-house, I could not discover, My dinner hour being close at hand, I had for there was nobody at home at the post-chaise no leisure to pursue the goggles or the subject when I knocked; but it was certainly used for then, but made my way back to the Dolphin's something, and locked up. In the wonder of this Head. In the gateway I found J. Mellows, discovery; I walked round and round the post- looking at nothing, and apparently experiencing chaise many times, and sat down by the post- that it failed to raise his spirits. chaise, waiting for further elucidation. None "1 don't care for the town," said J. Mellows came. At last, I made my way back to the old when I complimented him on the sanitary adLondon Road by the further end of the allotment vantages it may or may not possess; " I wish I gardens, and consequently at a point beyond that had never seen the town! " from which I had diverged. I had to scramble "You don't belong to it, Mr. Mellows?" through a hedge and down a steep bank, and I "Belong to it!" repeated Mellows. "If I nearly came down atop of a little spare man who didn't belong to a better style of town than this, sat breaking stones by the roadside. I'd take and drown myself in a pail." It then He stayed his hammer, and said, regarding occurred to me that Mellows, having so little to me mysteriously through hl' dark goggles of do, was habitually thrown back on his internal wire: resources-by which I mean' the Dolphin's "Are you aware, sir, that you've been tres- cellar. passing?" "What we want," said Mellows-pulling off' I turned out of the way," said I in explana- his hat, and making as if he emptied it of the tion, "to look at that odd post-chaise. Do you last load of Disgust that had exuded from his happen to know anything about it?" brain, before he put it on. again for another load; " I know it was many a year upon tne road," " what we want is a Branch. The Petition for said he. the Branch Bill is in the coffee-room. Would'" So I supposed. Do you know to whom it you put your name to it? Every little helps." belongs?" I found the document in question stretched The stone-breaker bent his brows and goggles out flat on the coffee-room table by the aid of over hig heap of stones, as if he were considering certain weights from the kitchen, and I gave it whether he should answer the question or not. the additional weight of my uncommercial sigThen, raising his barred eyes to my features as nature. To the best of my belief, I bound mybefore, he said: self to the modest statement that universal traffic, "To me." happiness, prosperity, and civilisation, together Being quite unprepared for the reply, I re- with unbounded national triumph in competiceived it with a sufficiently awkward "Indeed! tion with the foreigner, would infallibly flow Dear me! " Presently I added, " Do you-" from the Branch. I was going to say " live there," but it seemed Having achieved this constitutional feat, I so absurd a question, that I substituted "live asked Mr. Mellows if he could grace my dinner near here?" with a pint of good wine? Mr. Mellows thus The stone-breaker, who had not broken a replied: fragment since we began to converse, then did "If I couldn't give you a pint of good wine, as follows. He raised himself by poising his I'd-there!-I'd take and drown myself in a figure on his hammer, and took his coat, on pail. But I was deceived when I bought this which he had beeh seated, over his arm. He business, and the stock was higgledy-piggledy, then backed to an easier part of the bank than and I haven't yet tasted my way quite through SETTINVG THE IASHION. I I it with a view to sorting it. Therefore, if you second-hand look which is not to be detected on order one kind and get another, change till it the mass of the Parisian population. I think this comes right. For what," said Mellows, unload- is mainly because a Parisian workman does not in ing his hat as before, "what would you or the least trouble himself about what is worn by any gentleman do, if you ordered one kind of a Parisian idler, but dresses in the way of his wine, and was required to drink another? Why, own class, and for his own comfort. In London, you'd (and naturally and properly, having the on the contrary, the fashions descend; and you feelings of a gentleman), you'd take and drown never fully know how inconvenient or ridiculous yourself in a pail! " a fashion is until you see it in its last descent. It was but the other day, on a race-course, that I observed four people in a barouche deriving great entertainment from the contemplation of XXIII. four people on foot. The four people on foot were two young men and two young women; THE BOILED BEEF OF NEW ENGLAND. the four people in the barouche were two young -V^ a~~~ ^\^men and two young women. The four young gtBjS'HE shabbiness of our English capital,'women were dressed in exactly the same style; p as compared with Paris, Bordeaux, the four young men were dressed in exactly the TI Frankfort, Milan, Geneva-almost a smetyle. Yet the two couples on wheels were Xl any important town on the continent as much amused by the two couples on foot as. of Europe-I find very striking after if they were quite unconscious of having themj!. an absence of any duration in foreign selves set those fashions, or of being at that very'.\ parts. London is shabby in contrast with moment engaged in the display of them. A' Edinburgh, with Aberdeen, with Exeter, Is it only in the matter of clothes that fashion with Liverpbol, with a bright little town like descends here in London-and consequently in Bury St. Edmunds. London is shabby in England-and thence shabbiness arises? Let contrast with New York, with Boston, with us think a little, and be just. The " Black Philadelphia. In detail, one would say it can Country" round about Birminghlam is a very rarely fail to be a disappointing piece of shab- black country.; but is it quite as black as it has biness to a stranger from any of those places. been lately painted? An appalling accident There is nothing shabbier than Drury Lane in happened at the People's Park, near BirmingRome itself. The meanness of Regent Street, ham, this last July, when it was crowded with set against the great line of Boulevards in Paris, people from the Black Country-an appalling is as striking as the abortive ugliness of Tra- accident consequent on a shamefully dangerous falgar Square, set against the gallant beauty of exhibition. Did the shamefully dangerous cxthe Place de la Concorde. London is shabby hibition originate in the moral blackness of the by daylight, and shabbier by gas-light. No Black Country, arnd in the Black People's pecuEnglishman knows what gas-light is until he sees liar love of the' excitement attendant on great the Rue de Rivoli and the Palais'Royal after personal hazard, which they looked on at, but dark. in which they did not participate? Liglt is The mass of London people are shabby. The much wanted in the Black Country. Oh! we absence of distinctive dress has, no doubt, some- are all agreed on that. But, we must not quite thing to do with it. The porters of the Vintners' forget'the crowds of gentlefolks who set the Company, the draymen, and the butchers, are shamefully dangerous fashion, either. We must about the only people who wear distinctive not quite forget the enterprising Directors of an dresses; and even these do not wear them on Institution vaunting mighty educational preholidays. We have nothing which, for cheap- tences, who made the low sensation as strong ness, cleanliness, convenience, or picturesque- as they possibly could make it, by hanging the ness, can compare with the belted blouse. As Blondin rope as high as they possibly could to our women;-next Easter or Whitsuntide, hang it. All this must not be eclipsed in the look at the bonnets at the British Museum or Blackness of the Black Country. The reserved the National Gallery, and think of the pretty seats high up by the rope, the cleared space white French cap, the Spanish mantilla, or the below it, so that no one should be smashed,but Genoese mezzero. the performer; the pretence of slipping and fallProbably there are not more second-hand ing off, the baskets for the feet and the sack for clothes sold in London than in Paris, and yet the head, the photographs everywhere, and the the mass of the London population have a virtuous indignation nowhere-all this must not I i2 THE UNCOItIA1ERCIAL TRA VELLER. be wholly swallowed up in the blackness of the (it will never be far off) when it was the fashion jet-black country. high up. This is the text for a perpetual sermon Whatsoever fashion is set in England is cer- on social justice. From imitations of Ethiopian tain to descend. This is a text for a perpetual Serenaders to imitations of Princes' coats and sermon on care in setting fashions. When you waistcoats, you will find the original model in St. find a fashion low down, look back for the time James's.Parish. When the Serenaders become MR. J. MELLOWS. tiresome, trace them beyond the Black Country; clubs of the same day assumed the samechawhen the' coats and waistcoats become insup- racter. Gentlemen's clubs became places of quiet portable, refer them to their source in the Upper inoffensive recreation; working-men's clubs be, Toady Regions. gan to follow suit. If working-men have seemed Gentlemen's clubs were once maintained for rather slow to appreciate advantages of compurposes of savage party warfare; working-men's bination which have saved the pockets of gentle PA TRONAGE. I 13 men, and enhanced their comforts, it is because scension, no shadow of patronage. In the great working-men could scarcely, for want of capital, working districts this truth is studied and underoriginate such combinations without help; and stood. When the American civil war.rendered because help has not been separable from that it necessary, first in Glasgow, and afterwards in great impertinence, Patronage. The instinctive Manchester, that the working-people should be revolt of his spirit against patronage is a quality shown how to avail themselves of the advanmuch to be respected in the English working- tages derivable from system, and from the comman. It is the base of the base of his best bination of numbers, in the purchase and the qualities. Nor is it surprising that he should be cooking of their food, this truth was above all unduly suspicious of patronage, and sometimes things borne in mind. The quick consequence resentful of it even where it is not, seeing what was, that suspicion and reluctance were vana flood of washy talk has been let loose on his quished, and that the effort resulted in an asdevoted head, or with what complacent con- tonishing and a complete success. descension the same devoted head has been Such thoughts passed through my mind on a smoothed and patted. It is a proof to me of July morning of this summer, as I walked tohis self-control that he never strikes out pugilis- wards Commercial Street (not Uncommercial tically, right and left, when addressed as one of Street), Whitechapel.'The Glasgow and Man, " My friends," or "My assembled friends;" that chester system had been lately set a-going there, he does not become inappeasable, and run by certain gentlemen who felt an interest in its a-muck like a Malay, whenever he sees a biped diffusion, and I had been attracted by the fol-: in broadcloth getting on a platform to talk to lowing handbill printed on rose-coloured paper: him; that any pretence of improving his mind does not instantly drive him out of his mind, andSELF-SUPPORTING cause him to toss his obliging patron like a mad bull. COOKING DEPOT, For, how often have I heard the unfortunate working-man lectured as if he were a little FOR THE WORKING CLASSES, charity child, humid as to his nasal develop-Commercial Street Whitechapel ment, strictly literal as to his catechism, and called by Providence to walk all his days in a Where Accommodation is provided for Dining station in life represented on festive occasions comfortably 300 persons at a time. by a mug of warm milk-and-water and a bun! What pop-guns of jokes have these ears tingled Oen from 7 A.al till 7 P.M. to hear let off at him, what asinine sentiments,PRICES what impotent conclusions, what spelling-book moralities, what adaptations of the orator's in- All Articles of the BEST QUALITY. sufferable tediousness to the assumed level of Cup of Tea or Coffee... One Penny his understanding! If his sledge-hammers, his Bread and Butter... One Penny spades and pickaxes, his saws and chisels, his Bread and Cheese... One Penny paint pots and brushes, his forges, furnaces, and Slice of Bread One halfpenny or One Penny engines, the horses that he drove at his work, Boiled Egg..... One Penny and the machines that drove him at his work, Ginger Beer...... One Penny were all toys in one little paper box, and he the The above Articles always ready, baby who played with them, he could not have been discoursed to more impertinently and Besides the above may be had, from absurdly than I have heard him discoursed to I2 to 3 o'clock, times innumerable. Consequently, not being a Bowl of Scotch Broth.. One Penny fool or a fawner, he has come to acknowledge Bowl of Soup.. One Penny his patronage by virtually saying: "Let me Plate of Potatoes. One Penny alone. If you understand me no better. than Plate of Minced Beef.. Twopence that, sir and madam, let me alone. You mean Plate of Cold Beef.... Twopence very well, I dare say, but I don't like it, and Plate of Cold Ham.. Twopence I won't come here again to have any more of it. Plate of Plum Puding or Rice One Penny Whatever is done for the comfort and advancement of the working-man must be so far done As the Economy of Cooking depends greatly by himself as that it is maintained by himself. upon the simplicity of the arrangements with. And there must be in it no touch of conde- which a great number of persons can be served. II4 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. at one time, the Upper Room of this Establish- existence by poor mouths and beggarly resources ment will be especially bet apart for a (as too many so-called Mechanics' Institutions do), I make bold to express my uncommercial PUBLIC DINNER EVERY DAY opinion that it has no business to live, and had till 3 o'cc, better die. It was made clear to me, by the From 12 till 3 o'clock,account books, that every person employed was Consisting of thefollowing Dishes: properly paid. My next inquiries were directed Bowl of Broth, or Soto the quality of the provisions purchased, and Bowl of Broth, or Soup,. Plate of Cold Beef or Ham, to the terms on which they were bought. It was Plate of Potatoes, made equally clear to me that the quality was Plum Pudding or Rice. the very best, and that all bills were paid weekly. Plum Pudding, or Rice. My next inquiries were directed to the balanceFIXED CHARGE 4W. sheet for the last two weeks-only the third and fourth of the establishment's career. It was THE DAILY PAPERS PROVIDED. made equally clear to me, that after everything bought was paid for, and after each week wvas N.B.-This Establishment is conducted on charged with its full share of wages, rent and the strictest business principles, with the full taxes, depreciation of plant in use, and interest intention of making it self-supporting, so that on capital at the rate of four per cent. per annum, every one may frequent it with a feeling of -er- the last week had yielded a profit of (in round fect independence. numbers) one pound ten; and the previous The assistance of all frequenting the Depot is week a profit of six pounds ten. By this time confidently expected in checking anything inter- I felt that I had a healthy appetite for the fering with the comfort, quiet, and regularity of dinners. the establishment. It had just struck twelve, and a quick succesPlease do not destroy this Handbill, but hand sion of faces had already begun to appear at a it to some other person whom it mav interest. little window in the wall of the partitioned space where I sat looking over the books. Within This Self-Supporting Cooking Depot (not a this little window, like a pay-box at a theatre, a very good name, and one would rather give it an neat and brisk young woman presided to take English one) had hired a newly-built warehouse money and issue tickets. Every one coming in that it found to let; therefore it was not esta- must take a ticket. Either the fourpence-halfblished in premises especially designed for the penny ticket for tile upper room (the most purpose. But, at a small cost, they were ex- popular ticket, I think), or a penny ticket for a ceedingly well adapted to the purpose: being bowl of soup, or as many penny tickets as he or light, well ventilated, clean, and cheerful. They she chose to buy. For three penny tickets one consisted of three large rooms. That on the had quite a wide range of choice. A plate of basement story was the kitchen; that on the cold boiled beef and potatoes; or a plate of cold ground-floor was the general dining-room; that ham and potatoes; or a plate of hot minced on the floor above was the Upper Room re- beef and potatoes; or a bowl of soup, bread and ferred to in the handbill, where the Public Dinner cheese, and a plate of plum-pudding. Touching at fourpence-halfpenny a head was provided what they should have, some customers, on every day. The cooking,as done, with much taking their seats, fell into a reverie-became economy of space and fuel, by American cooking mildly distracted-postponed decision, and said, stoves, and by young women not previously in bewilderment, they would think of it. One brought up as cooks; the walls and pillars of old man I noticed when I sat among the tables the two dining-rooms were agreeably brightened in the lo,~er room, who was startled by the bill with ornamental colours; the tables were capable of fare, and sat contemplating it as if it were of accommodating six or eight persons each; the something of a ghostly nature. The decision of attendants were all young women, becomingly the boys was as rapid as their execution, and and neatly dressed, and dressed alike. I think always included pudding. the whole staff was female with the exception of There were several women among the diners, the steward or manager. and several clerks and shoplnen. There were My first inquiries were directed to the wages carpenters and painters from the neighbouring of this staff; because, if any establishment claim- buildings under repair, and there were nautical ing to be self-supporting live upon the spoliation men, and there were, as one diner observed to of anybody or anything, or eke out a feeble me, " some of most sorts." Some were solitary, BEER NOT.NECESSARIL Y BR UTALISING. TMS some came two together, some dined in parties the entrance, the general tone was as good as of three or four, or six. The latter talked could be, and the customers fell easily into the together, but assuredly no one was louder than ways of the place. It was clear to me, however, at my club in Pall Mall. One young fellow that they were there to have what they paid for, whistled in rather a shrill manner whild he waited and to be on an independent footing. To the for his dinner, but I was gratified to observe best of my judgment, they might be patronised that he did so in evident defiance of my uncom- out of the building in a nlonth. With judicious mercial individuality. Quite agreeing with him, visiting, and by dint of being questioned, read.to, on consideration, that I had no business to be and talked at, they might even be got rid of (for there, unless I dined like the rest, I " went in," the next quarter of a century) in half the time. as the phrase is, for fourpence-halfpenny. This disinterested and wise movement is The room of the fourpence-halfpenny banquet fraught with so many wholesome changes in the had, like the lower room, a counter in it, on lives of the working-people, and with so much which were ranged a great number of cold por- good in the way of overcoming that suspicion tions ready for distribution. Behind this counter which our own unconscious impertinence has the fragrant soup was steaming in deep cans, engendered, that it is scarcely gracious to criticise and the best-cooked of potatoes were fished out details as yet; the rather because it is indisof similar receptacles. Nothing to eat was putable that the managers of the Whitechapel touched with the hand. Every waitress had her establishment most thoroughly feel that they are own tables to attend to. As soon as she saw a upon their honour with the'customers, as to new customer seat himself at one of her tables, the minutest points of administration. But, she took from the counter all his dinner-his although the American stoves cannot toast, they soup, potatoes, meat, and pudding-piled it up can surely boil one kind of meat as well as dexterously in her two hands, set it before him, another, and need not always circumscribe their and took his ticket. This serving of the whole boiling talents within the limits of ham and beef. dinner at once had been found greatly to simplify The most enthusiastic admirer of those subthe business of attendance, and was also popular stantials would probably not object to occawith the customers: who w.ere thus enabled to sional inconstancy in respect of pork and mutton: vary the meal by varying the routine of dishes: or, especially in cold weather, to a little innocent beginning with soup to-day, putting soup in the trifling with Irish stews, meat-pies, and toads-inmiddle to-morrow,.putting soup at the end the holes. Another drawback on the Whitechapel day after to-morrow, and ringing similar changes establishment is the absence of beer. Regarded on meat and pudding. The rapidity with which merely as a question of policy, it is very impolitic, every new-comer got served was remarkable; as having a tendency to send the working-man and the dexterity with which the waitresses to the public-house, where gin is reported to be (quite new to the art a month before) discharged sold. But, there is a much higher ground on their duty was as agreeable to see, as the neat which this absence of beer is objectionable. It smartness with which they wore their dress and expresses distrust of the working-man. It is a had dressed their hair. fragment of that old mantle of patronage in which If I seldom, saw better waiting, so I certainly so many estimable Thugs, so darkly wandering never ate better meat, potatoes, or pudding. up and down the moral world, are sworn to And the soup was an honest and stout soup, muffle him. Good beer is a good thing for him, with rice and barley in it, and " little matters for he says, and he likes it; the Dep6t could give it the teeth to touch," as had been observed to me him good, and he now gets it bad. Why does by my friend below-stairs already quoted. The the Depot not give it him good? Because he dinner service, too, was neither conspicuously would get drunk. Why does the Depot not hideous for jgh Art nor for Low Art, but was let him have a pint with his dinner, which of a pleasant and pure appearance. Concerning would not make himn drunk? Because he the viands and their cookery, one last remark. might have had another pint, or another two I dined at my club in Pall Mall aforesaid, a few pints, before he came. Now, this distrust is an days afterwards, for exactly twelve times the affront, is exceedingly inconsistent with the conmoney, and not half as well. fidence the managers express in their handbills, The company thickened after one o'clock and is a timid stopping-short upon the straight struck, and changed pretty quickly. Although highway. It is unjust and unreasonable, also. experience of the place had been so recently It is unjust, because it punishes the sober man attainable, and although there was still con- for the vice of the drunken man. It is unreasiderable curiosity out in the street and about sonable, because any one at all experienced sI6 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER., in such things knows that the drunken workman the gaunt high-water marks and low-water marks does not get drunk where he goes to eat and in the mud, and the broken causeway, and the drink, but where he goes to drink-expressly to broken bank, and the broken stakes and piles drink. To suppose that the working-man cannot leaning forward as if they were vain of their state this question to himself quite as plainly as personal appearance, and looking for their reI state it here, is to suppose tlat he is a baby, flection in the water, will melt into any train of and is again to tell him, in the old wearisome fancy. Equally adaptable to any purpose, or to condescending patronising way, that he must be none, are the pasturing sheep and kine upon goody-poody, and do as he is toldy-poldy, and the marshes, the gulls that wheel and dip around not be a manny-panny or a voter-poter, but fold me, the crows (well out of gun-shot) going home his handy-pandys, and be a childy-pildy. from the rich harvest-fields, the heron that has I found, from the accounts of the Whitechapel been out a fishing, and looks as melancholy, up Self-Supporting Cooking Dep6t, that every article there in the sky, as if it hadn't agreed with him. sold in it, even at the prices I have quoted, yields Everything within the range of the senses will, a certain small profit! Individual speculators by the aid of the running water, lend itself to are of course already in the field, and are of everything beyond that range, and work into a course already appropriating the name. The drowsy whole, not unlike a kind of tune, but for classes for whose benefit the real depots are which there is no exact definition. designed will distinguish between the two kinds One of these landing-places is near an old of enterprise. fort (I can see the Nore Light from it with my pocket-glass), from which fort mysteriously emerges a boy, to whom I am much indebted for additions to my scanty stock of knowledge. XXIV. He is a young boy, with an intelligent face burnt to a dust colour by the summer sun, and CHATHAMN DOCKYARD. with crisp hair of the same hue. He is a boy in S~rat^W/HEPE~'whom I have perceived nothing incomIpatible - HEPRE are some small out-of-the- with habits of studious inquiry and meditation, >way landing-places on the Thames unless an evanescent black eye (I was delicate;B and the Medway, where I do much of inquiring how occasioned) should be so conof my summer idling. Running sidered. To him am I indebted for ability to fi;&',> 4 water is favourable to day dreams, identify a Custom-House boat at any distance, ) and a strong tidal river is the best of and for acquaintance with all the forms and cere-'\ running water for mine. I like to watch monies observed by a homeward-bound India_. the great ships standing out to sea or man coming up the river, when the Customcoming home richly laden, the active little steam- House officers go aboard her. But for him, I tugs confidently puffing with them to and from might never have heard of the " dumb-ague," the sea horizon, the fleet of barges that seem to respecting which malady I am now learned. have plucked their brown and russet sails from Had I never sat at his feet, I might have finished the ripe trees in the landscape, the heavy old my mortal career, and never known that when colliers, light in ballast, floundering down before I see a white horse on a barge's sail, that barge the tide, the light screw barks and schooners is a lime barge. For precious secrets in referimperiously holding a straight course while the ence to beer' am I likewise beholden to him, others patiently tack and go about, the yachts involving warning against the beer of a certain with their tiny hulls and great white sheets of establishment, by reason-of its having turned canvas, the little sailing-boats bobbing to and sour through failure in point of demand: though fro on their errands of pleasure or business, and my young sage is not of opinion that similar -as it is the nature of little people to do- deterioration has befallen the ale. He has also making a prodigious fuss about their small affairs. enlightened me touching the mushrooms of the Watching these objects, I still am under no marshes, and has gently reproved my ignorance obligation to think about them, or even so much in having supposed them to be impregnated with as to see them, unless it perfectly suits my salt. His manner of imparting information is humour. As little am I obliged to hear the thoughtful, and appropriate to the scene. As plash and flop of the tide, the ripple at my feet, he reclines beside me, he pitches into the river the clinking windlass afar off, or the humming a little stone or piece of grit, and then delivers steam-ship paddles further away yet. These, himself oracularly, as though he spoke out of the with the creaking little jetty on which I sit, and centre of the spreading circle that it makes in THE YARD._ 17 the water. He never improves my mind with- The store of cannon on the neighbouring gun out observing this formula. wharf had an innocent toy-like appearance, and With the wise boy-whom I know by no the one red-coated sentry on duty over them was other name than the Spirit of the Fort -I a mere toy figure, with a clockwork movement. recently consorted on a breezy day, when the As the hot sun-light sparkled on him, he might river leaped about us and was full of life. I had have passed for the identical little man who had seen the sheaved'"corn carrying in the golden the little, gun, and whose bullets they were made fields as I came down to the river; and the rosy of lead, lead, lead. farmer, watching his labouring men in the saddle Crossing the river and landing at the Stairs, on his cob, had told me how he had reaped his where a drift of chips and weed had been trying two hundred and sixty acres of long-strawed corn to land before me, and had not succeeded, but last week, and how a better week's work he had had got into a corner instead, I found the very never done in all his days. Peace and abun- street posts to be cannon, and the architectural dance were on the country-side in beautiful forms ornaments to be shells. And so I came to the and beautiful colours, and the harvest seemed Yard, which was shut up tight and strong with even to be sailing out to grace the never-reaped great folded gates, like an enormous patent safe. sea in the yellow laden barges that mellowed These gates devouring me, I became digested the distance. into the Yard; and it had, at first, a clean-swept It was on this occasion that the Spirit of the holiday air, as if it had given over work until Fort, directing his remarks to a certain floating next war-time. Though, indeed, a quantity of iron battery lately lying in that reach of the hemp for rope was tumbling out of storehouses, river, enriched my mind with his opinions on even there, which would hardly be lying like so naval architecture, and informed me that he much hay on the white stones if the Yard were would like to be an engineer. I found him up as placid as it pretended. to everything that is done in the contracting Ding, Clash, Dong, BANG, Boom, Rattle, line by Messrs. Peto and Brassey-cunning in Clash, BANG, Clink, BANG, Dong, BANG, Clatter, the article of concrete-mellow in the matter of BANG BANG BANG! What on earth is this? iron-great on the subject of gunnery. When This is; or soon will be, the Achilles, iron he spoke of pile-drivihg and sluice-making, he armour-plated ship. Twelve hundred men are left me not a leg to stand on, and I can never working at her now; twelve hundred men worksufficiently acknowledge his forbearance with me ing on stages over her sides, over her bows, over in my disabled state. While he thus discoursed, her stern, under her keel, between her decks, he several times directed his eyes to one distant down in her hold, within her and without, crawlquarter of the landscape, and spoke with vague, ing and creeping into the finest curves of her mysterious awe of " the Yard." Pondering his lines wherever it is possible for men to twist. lessons after we had parted, I bethought me that Twelve hundred hammerers, measurers, calkers, the Yard was one of our large public Dockyards, armourers, forgers, smiths, shipwrights; twelve and that it lay hidden among the crops down in hundred dingers, cashers, dongers, rattlers, the dip behind the windmills, as if it modestly clinkers, bangers bangers bangers! Yet all this kept itself out of view in peaceful times, and stupendous uproar around the rising Achilles is sought to trouble no man. Taken with this as nothing to the reverberations' with which the modesty on the part of the Yard, I resolved to perfected Achilles shall resound upon the dreadimprove the Yard's acquaintance. ful day when the full work is in hand for which My good opinion of the Yard's retiring charac- this is but note of preparation-the day when ter was not dashed by nearer approach: It the scuppers, that are now fitting like great dry resounded with the noise of hammers beating thirsty conduit-pipes, shall run red. All these upon iron; and the great sheds or slips, under busy figures between-decks, dimly seen bending which the mighty men-of-war are built, loomed at their work in smoke and fire, are as nothing business-like when contemplated from the oppo- to the figures that shall do work here of another site side of the river. For all that, however, the kind, in smoke and fire, that day. These steamYard made no display, but kept itself snug worked engines alongside, helping the ship by under hill-sides of corn-fields, hop gardens, and travelling to and fro, and wafting tons of iron orchards; its great chimneys smoking with a plates about, as though they were so many leaves quiet-almost a lazy-air, like giants smoking of trees, would be rent limb from limb if they tobacco; and the great Shears, moored off it, stood by here for a minute then. To think that looking meekly and inoffensively out of. propor- this Achilles, monstrous compound of iron tank tion, like the Giraffe of the machinery creation. and oaken chest,. can ever swim or roll! To THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 9. 327 3 2 7 Ini a THE UNiCOMAAERC7 I rL TRA VELLER. think that any force of wind and wave could near-sighted look, takes aim, and the tortured ever break her! To think that wherever I see piece writhes off, and falls, a hot tight-twisted a glowing red-hot iron point thrust out of her snake, among the ashes. The making of the side from within-as I do no1w, there, and there, rivets is merely a pretty round game, played by and there!-and two watching men on a stage a man and a boy, who put red-hot barley-sugar without, with bared arms and sledge-hammers, in a Pope Joan board, and immediately rivets strike at it fiercely, and repeat their blows until fall out of window; but the tone of the great it is black and flat, I see a rivet being driven machines is the tone of the great Yard and the home, of which there are many in every iron great country: "We don't particularly want to plate, and thousands upon thousands in the do it; but if it must be done — " ship! To think that the difficulty I experience How such a prodigious mass as the Achilles in appreciating the ship's size, when I am on can ever be held by such comparatively little board, arises from her being a series of iron tanks anchors as those intended for her, and lying and oaken chests, so that internally she is ever near her here, is a mystery of seamanship which finishing and ever beginning, and half of her I will refer to the wise boy. For my own part, night be smashed, and yet the remaining half I should as soon have thought of tethering an sutfice and be sound! Then, to go over the elephant to a tent-peg, or the larger hippopotaside again, and down among the ooze and wet mus in the Zoological Gardens to my shirt-pin. to the bottom of the dock, in the depths of the Yonder in the river, alongside a hulk, lie two of subterranean forest of dog-shores and stays that this ship's hollow iron masts. They are large hold her up, and to see the immense mass enough for the eye, I find, and so are all her bulging out against the upper light, and tapering other appliances. 1 wonder why only her down towards me, is, with great pains and much anchors look small. clambering, to arrive at an impossibility of real- I have no present time to think about it, for ising that this is a ship at all, and to become I am going to see the workshops where they possessed by the fancy that it is an enormous make all the oars used in the British Navy. A nmmovable edifice set up in an ancient amphi- pretty large pile of building, I opine, and a theatre (say, that at Verona), and almost filling pretty long job! As to the building, I am soon it Yet what would even these things be, with- disappointed, because the work is all done in one out the tributary workshops and the mechanical loft. And as to a long job-what is this? Two powers for piercing the iron plates-four inches rather large mangles, with a swarm of butterflies and a half thick-for rivets, shaping them under hovering over them? What can there be in the hydraulic pressure to the finest tapering turns of mangles that attracts butterflies? the ship's lines, and paring them away, with Drawing nearer, I discern that these are not knives shaped like the beaks of strong and cruel mangles, but intricate machines, set with knives birds, to the nicest requirements of the design? and saws and planes, which cut smooth and These machines pf tremendous force, so easily straight here, and slantwise there, and now cut directed by one attentive face and presiding such a depth, and now miss cutting altogether, hand, seem to me to have in them something of according to the predestined requirements of the the retiring character of the Yard. " Obedient pieces of wooHi that are pushed on below them: monster, please to bite this mass of iron through each of which pieces is to be an oar, and is and through, at equal distances, where these roughly adapted to that purpose before it takes regular chalk-marks are, all round." Monster its final leave of far-off forests, and sails for looks at its work, and, lifting its ponderous head, England. Likewise I discern that the butterreplies, " I don't particularly want to do it; but flies are not true butterflies, but wooden shavings, if it must be done!" The solid metal which, being spurted up from the wood by the wriggles out, hot from the monster's crunching violence of the machinery, and kept in rapid and tooth, and it is done. "Dutiful monster, ob- not equal movement by the impulse of its rotaserve this other mass of iron. It is required tion on the air, flutter and play, and rise and to be pared away, according to this delicately fall, and conduct themselves as like butterflies lessening and arbitrary line, which please to look as heart could wish. Suddenly the noise and at." Monster (who has been in a reverie) brings motion cease, and the butterflies drop dead. An down its blunt head, and, much in the manner oar has been made since I came in, wanting the of Doctor Johnson, closely looks along the line shaped handle. As quickly as I can follow it -very closely, being sonmewhat near-sighted. with my eye and thought, the same oar is car"I don't particularly want to do it; but if it ried to a turning lathe. A whirl and a Nick! must be done —!" Monster takes another Handle made. Oar finished, rEW AVD OLD MACHINES. IIs The exquisite beauty and efficiency of this ates-and to which he is most heartily welcome, rn-chmery need no illustration, but happen to I am'sure. have a pointed illustration to-day. A pair of Having been torn to pieces (in imagination) oars of unusual size chance to be wanted for a by the steam circular saws, perpendicular saws, special purpose, and they have to be made by horizontal saws, and saws of eccentric action, I hand. Side by side with the subtle and facile come to the sauntering part of my expedition, machine, and side by side with the fast-growing and consequently to the core of my uncompile of oars on the floor,-a man shapes out these mercial pursuits. special oars with an axe. Attended by no Everywhere, as I saunter up and down the butterflies, and chipping and dinting, by com- Yard, I meet with tokens of its quiet and reparison as leisurely as if he were a labouring tiring character. There is a gravity upon its Pagan getting them ready against his decease at red brick offices and houses, a staid pretence of threescore-and-ten, to take with him as a present having nothing worth mentioning to do, an to Charon for his boat, the man (aged about avoidance of display, which I never saw out of thirty) plies his task. The machine would make England. The white stones of the pavement a regulation oar while the man wipes his fore- present no other trace of Achilles and his twelve head. The man might be buried in a mound hundred banging men (not one of whom strikes made of the strips of thin broad wooden ribbon an attitude) than a few occasional echoes. But torn from the wood whirled into oars as the for a whisper in the air suggestive of sawdust minutes fall from the clock, before he had done and shavings, the oar-making and the saws of a forenoon's work with his axe. many movements might be miles away. Down Passing from this wonderful sight to the Ships below here is the great reservoir of water where again-for my heart, as to the Yard, is where timber is steeped in various temperatures, as a the ships are-'notice certain unfinished part of its seasoning process. Above it, on a wooden walls left seasoning on the stocks, tramroad supported by pillars, is a Chinese pending the solution of the merits of the wood Enchanter's Car, which fishes the logs up, when and iron question, and having an air of biding sufficiently steeped, and rolls smoothly away their time with surly confidence. The names of with them to stack them. When I was a child these worthies are set up beside them, together (the Yard being then familiar to me), I used to with their capacity.in guns-a custom highly think that I should like to play at Chinese Enconducive to ease and satisfaction in social chanter, and to have that apparatus placed at intercourse, if it could be adapted to mankind. my disposal for the purpose by a beneficent By a plank more gracefully pendulous than sub- country. I still think that I should rather like stantial, I make bold to go aboard a transport to try the effect of writing a book in it. Its reship (iron screw) just sent in from the con- tirement is complete, and to go gliding to and tractor's yard to be inspected and passed. She fro among the stacks of timber would be a conis a very gratifying experience, in the simplicity venient kind of travelling in foreign countriesand humanity of her arrangements for troops, among the forests of North America, the sodden in her provision for light and air and cleanli- Honduras swamps, the dark pine woods, the ness, and in her care for women and children. Norwegian frosts, and the tropical heats, rainy It occurs to me, as I explore her, that I would seasons, and thunder-storms. The costly store require a handsome sum of money to go aboard of timber is stacked and stowed away in sequesher, at midnight by the Dockyard bell, and stay tered places, with the pervading avoidance of aboard alone till morning; for surely she must flourish or effect. It makes as little of itself as be haunted by a crowd of ghosts of obstinate possible, and calls to no one, "Come and look old martinets, mournfully flapping their cherubic at me!" And yet it is picked out from the epaulets over the changed times. Though still trees of the world; picked out for length, picked we may learn, from the astounding ways and out for breadth, picked out for straightness, means in our Yards now, more highly than ever picked out for crookedness, chosen with an eye to respect the forefathers who got to sea, and to every need of ship and boat. Strangelyfouight the sea, and held the sea, without them. twisted pieces lie about, precious in the sight of This remembrance putting me in the best of shipwrights. Sauntering through these groves, tempers with an old hulk, very green as to her I come upon an open glade where workmen are copper, and generally dim and patched, I pull examining some timber recently delivered. Quite off my hat to her. Which salutation a callow a pastoral scene, with a background of river and and downy-faced young officer of Engineers, windmill! and no more like War than the going by at the moment, perceiving, appropri- American States are at present like a Union. 120 THE UNCO~MMERCIAL TRAVELLER. Sauntering among the ropemaking, I am spun stores-of sails, spars, rigging, ships' boats —deinto a state of blissful indolence, wherein my termined to believe that somebody in authority rope of life seems to be so untwisted by the pro- wears a girdle, and bends beneath the weight of cess as that I can see back to very early days a massive bunch of keys, and that, when such a indeed, when my bad dreams-they were fright- thing is wanted, he comes telling his keys like ful, though my more mature understanding has Blue Beard, and opens such a door. Impasnever made out why-were of an interminable sive as the long lofts look, let the electric sort of ropemaking, with long minute filaments battery send down the word, and the shutters for strands, which, when they were spun home and doors shall fly open, and such a fleet of together close to my eyes, occasioned scream- armed ships, under steam and under sail, shall ing. Next I walk among the quiet lofts of burst forth as will charge the old Medway- BUILDING H.M.S. ACHILLES. where the merry Stuart let the Dutch come, little quiet grove of trees; shading the quaintest while his not so merry sailors starved in the of Dutch landing-places, where the leaf-speckled streets —with something worth looking at to carry shadow of a shipwright just passing away at the to the sea. Thus I idle round to the Medway further end might,be the shadow of Russian again, where it is now flood tide; and I find the Peter himself. So, the doors of the great patent river evincing a strong solicitude to force a way safe at last close upon me, and I take boat into the dry dock where Achilles is waited on again: somehow, thinking, as the oars dip, of by the twelve hundred bangers, with. the intent braggart Pistol and his brood, and of the quiet to bear the. whole away before they are ready. monsters of the Yard, with their "We don't To th'e last, the Yard puts a quiet face upon particularly want to do it; but if it must be it; for'I make my way to the gates through a done —!" Scrunch. CH~ARA CTERISTICS OF THE CO UNTR YI I2I XXV. better ricks-round swelling pegtop ricks, well thatched: not a shapeless brown heap, like the IN THE FRENCH-FLEMISH COUNTRY. toast of a Giant's toast-and-water, pinned to the 8> v~2~~~~~T~ ~earth with one of the skewers out of his kitchen. T is neither a bold nor a diversified A good custom they have about here, likewise, country," said I to myself, "this coun- of prolonging thle sloping tiled roof of farm or try which is three-quarters Flemish, cottage, so that it overhangs three or four feet, and a quarter French; yet it has its carrying off the wet, and making a good drying/b -( attractions, too. Though great lines place wherein to hang up herbs, or implements, J of railway traverse it, the trains leave it or what not. A better custom than the popular ff behind, and go puffing off to Paris and one of keeping the refuse-heap and puddle close o the South, to Belgium and Germany, to before the house-door: which, although I paint the Northern Sea-Coast of France, and to Eng- my dwelling never so brightly blue (and it cannot land, and merely smoke it a little in passing. be too blue for me hereabouts), will bring fever Then I don't know it, and that is a good reason inside my door.'Wonderful poultry of the for being here; and I can't pronounce half the French-Flemish country, why take the trouble long queer names I see inscribed over the shops, to be poultry? Why not stop short at eggs in and that is another good reason for being here, the rising generation, and die out and have done since I surely ought to learn how." In short, I with it? Parents of chickens have I seen this was "here," and I wanted an excuse for not day, followed by their wretched young families, going away from here, and I made it to my scratching nothing out of the mud with an airsatisfaction, and stayed here. tottering about on legs so scraggy and weak, What part in my decision was borne by Mon- that the valiant word drum-sticks becomes a sieur P. Salcy is of no moment, though I own to mockery when applied to them, and the crow of encountering that gentleman's name on a red the lord and master has been a mere dejected bill on the wall before I made up my mind. case of croup.,: Carts have I seen, and other Monsieur P. Salcy, "par permission de M. le agricultural instruments, unwieldy, dislocated, Maire," had established his theatre in the white- monstrous. Poplar-trees by the thousand fringe washed H6tel de Ville, on the steps of which the fields and fringe the end of the flat landillustrious edifice I stood. And Monsieur P. scape, so that I feel, looking straight on before Salcy, privileged director of such theatre, situate me, as if, when I pass the extremsst fringe on in " the first theatrical arrondissement of the de- the low horizon, I shall tumble over into space. partment of the North," invited French-Flemish Little whitewashed black holes of chapels, with mankind to come and partake of the intellec- barred doors and Flemish inscriptions, abound tual banquet provided by his family of dramatic at roadside corners, and often they are garnished artists, fifteen subjects in number. "La Famille with a sheaf of wooden crosses, like children's P. SALCY, composee d'artistes dramatiques, au swords; or, in their default, some hollow old nornbre de 15 sujets." tree, with a saint roosting in it, is similarly decoNeither a bold nor a diversified country, I say rated, or a pole with a very diminutive saint again, and withal an untidy country, but pleasant enshrined aloft in a sort of sacred pigeon-house. enough to ride in, when the paved roads over the Not that we are deficient in such decoration in flats and through the hollows are not too deep the town here, for, over at the church yonder, in black mud. A country so sparely inhabited, outside the building, is a scenic representation that I wonder where the peasants who till and of the Crucifixion, butilt up with old bricks and sow and reap the ground can possibly dwell, stones, and made out with painted canvas and and also by what invisible balloons they are wooden figures: the whole surmounting the conveyed from their distant homes into the dusty skull of some holy personage (perhaps), fields at sunrise, and back again at sunset. The shut up behind a little ashy iron grate, as if it occasional few poor cottages and farns in this were originally put there to be cooked, and the region surely cannot afford shelter to the num- fire had long gone out. A windmilly country bers necessary to the cultivation, albeit the work this, though the windmills are so damp and is done so very deliberately, that on one long rickety, that they nearly knock themselves off harvest-day I have seen, in twelve miles, about their legs at every turn of their sails, and creak twice as many men and women (all told) reaping in loud complaint. A weaving country, too, for and binding, Yet have I seen more cattle, more in the wayside cottages the loom goes wearilysheep, more pigs, and all in better case, than rattle and click, rattle and click-and, looking where there is purer French spoken, and also in, I see the poor weaving peasant, man 9r 1X22 THE UNCOMM.ERCIAL TRA VELLER. woman, bending at the work, while the child, manifest that this was another stout gentleman working too, turns a little hand-wheel put upon imperfectly repressed by a belt: to whom, before the ground to suit its height. An unconscionable the spectators had recovered their presence of monster, the loom in a small dwelling asserting mind, entered a third stout gentleman imperhimself ungenerously as the bread-winner, strad- fectly repressed by a belt, exactly like him. dling over the children's straw beds, cramping These two " subjects," making with the moneythe family in space and air, and making himself taker three of the announced fifteen, fell into generally objectionable and tyrannical. He is conversation touching a charming young widow: tributary, too, to ugly mills and factories and who, presently appearing, proved to be a stout bleaching-grounds, rising out of the sluiced fields lady altogether irrepressible by any meansin an abrupt bare way, disdaining, like himself, to quite a parallel case to the American Negrobe ornamental or accommodating. Surrounded fourth of the fifteen subjects, and sister of the by these things, here I stood on the steps of the fifth who presided over the check department. H6tel de Ville, persuaded to remain by the P. In good time the whole of the fifteen subjects Salcy Family, fifteen dramatic subjects strong. were dramatically presented, and we had the There was a Fair besides. The double per- inevitable Ma Mere, Ma Mere! and also the suasion being irresistible, and my sponge being inevitable malediction d'un pire, and likewise left behind at the last Hotel, I made the tour of the inevitable Marquis, and also Lhe inevitable the little town to buy another. In the small provincial young man, weak-minded, but faithsunny shops-mercers, opticians, and druggist- ful, who followed Julie to Paris, and cried and grocers, with here and there an emporium of laughed and choked ail at once. The story was religious images-the gravest of old spectacled wrought out with the help of a virtuous spinningFlemish husbands and wives sat contemplating wheel in the beginning, a vicious set of diamonds one another across bare counters, while the wasps, in the middle, and a rheumatic blessing (which who seened to have taken military possession arrived by post) from Ma Mere towards the end; of the town, anal to have placed it under wasp- the whole resulting in a small sword in the body martial law, executed warlike manceuvres in the of one of the stout gentlemen imperfectly rewindows. Other shops the wasps had entirely pressed by a belt, fifty thousand francs per to themselves, and nobody cared and nobody annum and a decoration to the other stout gencame when I beat with a five-franc piece upon tleman imperfectly repressed by a belt, and an the board of custom. What I sought was no assurance from everybody to the provincial young more to be found than if I had sought a nugget man that if he were not supremely happy-which of Californian gold: so I went, spongeless, to he seemed to have no reason whatever for being pass the evening with the Family P. Salcy. -he ought to be. This afforded him a final The members of the Family P. Salcy were so opportunity of crying and laughing and choking fat and so like one another-fathers, mothers, all at once, and sent the audience home sentisisters, brothers, uncles, and aunts-that I think'mentally delighted. Audience more attentive or the local audience were much confused about better behaved there could not possibly be, the plot of the piece under representation,-and though the places of second rank in the Theatre to the last expected that everybody must turn of the Family P. Salcy were sixpence each in out to be the long-lost relative of everybody else. English money, and the places of first rank a The theatre was established on the top story of shilling. How the fifteen subjects ever got so the H6tel de Ville, and was approached by a fat upon it, the kind Heavens know. long bare staircase, whereon, in an airy situation, What gorgeous china figures of knights and one of the P. Salcy Family-a stout gentleman, ladies, gilded till they gleamed again, I might imperfectly repressed by a belt-took the money. have bought at the Fair for the garniture of my This occasioned the greatest excitement of the home, if I had been a French-Flemish peasant, evening; for, no sooner did the curtain rise on and had had the money! What shining coffeethe introductory Vaudeville, and reveal in the cups and saucers I might have won at the person of the young lover (singing a very short turntables, if I had had the luck! Ravishing song with his eyebrows) apparently the very same perfumery also, and sweetmeats, I might have identical stout gentleman imperfectly repressed speculated in, or I might have fired for prizes at by a belt, than everybody rushed out to the a multitude of little dolls in niches, and might paying-place to ascertain whether he could pos- have hit the doll of dolls, and won francs and sibly have put on that dress-coat, that clear con- fame. Or, being a French-Flemish youth, I plexion, and those arched black vocal eyebrows, might have been drawn in a hand-cart by my in sq short a space of time. It then became compeers, to tilt for municipal rewards at the THE FAIR. 123 water-quintain; which, unless I sent my lance all the contortions, energetic and expressive, of clean through the ring, emptied a full bucket which the human face is capable, and all the over me; to fend off which the competitors wore passions of the human heart, as Love, Jealousy, grotesque old scarecrow hats. Or, being French- Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, Despair! Hi hi! Flemish man or woman, boy or girl, I might Ifo ho! Lu lu! Come in! " To this effect, with have circled all night on my hobby-horse in a an occasional smite upon a sonorous kind of stately cavalcade of hobby-horses four abreast, tambourine-bestowed with a will, as if it repreinterspersed with triumphal cars, going round sented the people who won't come in-holds and round and round and round, we the goodly forth a man of lofty and severe demeanour; a company singing a ceaseless chorus to the music man in stately uniform, gloomy with the knowof the barrel-organ, drum, and cymbals. On the ledge he possesses of the inner secrets of the whole, not more monotonous than the Ring in booth. "Come in, come in! Your opporHyde Park, London, and much merrier; for tunity presents itself to-night; to-morrow it will when do the circling company sing chorus there be gone for ever. To-morrow morning by the to the barrel-organ, when do the ladies embrace Express Train the railroad will reclaim the Ventheir horses round the neck with both arms, triloquist and the Face-Maker! Algeria will when do the gentlemen fan the ladies with the reclaim the Ventriloquist and the Face-Maker! tails of their gallant steeds? On all these Yes! For the honour of their country, they revolving delights, and on their own especial have accepted propositions of a magnitude inlamps and Chinese lanterns revolving with them, credible, to appear in Algeria. See them for the thoughtful weaver-face brightens, and the the last time before their departure! We go to H6tel de Ville sheds an illuminated line of gas- commence on the instant. Hi hi! Ho ho! light; while above it, the Eagle of France, gas- Lu lu! Come in! Take the money that now outlined and apparently afflicted with the pre- ascends, madame; but, after that, no more, for vailing infirmities that have lighted on the we commence! Come in!'" poultry, is in a very undecided state of policy, Nevertheless, the eyes both of the gloomy and as a bird moulting. Flags flutter all around. speaker, and of madame receiving sous in a Such is the prevailing gaiety that the keeper of muslin bower, survey the crowd pretty sharply the prison sits on the stone steps outside the after the ascending money has ascended, to prison door, to have a look at the world that is detect any lingering sous at the turning-point. not locked up; while that agreeable retreat, the "Come in, come in! Is there any more money, wine-shop opposite to the prison in the prison madame, on the point of ascending? If so, we alley (its sign La Tranquillite, because of its wait for it. If not, we commence!" The charming situation), resounds with the voices of orator looks back over his shoulder to say it, the shepherds and shepherdesses who resort lashing the spectators with the conviction that there this festive night. And it reminds me he beholds, through the folds of the drapery that, only this afternoon, I saw a shepherd in into which he is about to plunge, the Ventritrouble, tending this way over the jagged stones loquist and, the Face-Maker. Several sous of a neighbouring street. A magnificent sight burst out of pockets and ascend. "Come up, it was to behold him in his blouse, a feeble little then, messieurs!" exclaims madame in a shrill jog-trot rustic, swept along by the wind of two voice, and beckoning with a bejewelled finger. immense gendarmes, in cocked-hats for which "Come up! Thispresses. Monsieurhas comthe street was hardly wide enough, each carrying manded that they commence! " Monsieur dives a bundle of stolen property that would not have into his Interior, and the last half-dozen of us held his shoulder-knot, and clanking a sabre follow. His Interior is comparatively severe; that dwarfed the prisoner. his Exterior also. A true Temple of Art needs " Messieurs et mesdames, I present to you at nothing but seats, drapery, a small table, with this Fair, -as a mark of my confidence in the two moderator lamps hanging over it, and an people of this so-renowned town, and as an act ornamental looking-glass let into the wall. of homage to their good sense and fine taste, the Monsieur in uniform gets'behind the table, and Ventriloquist, the Ventriloquist! Further, mes- surveys us with disdain, his forehead becoming sieurs et mesdames, I present to you the Face- diabolically intellectual under the moderators. Maker, the Physiognomist, the great Changer of "Messieurs et mesdames, I present to you the Countenances, who transforms the features that Ventriloquist. He will commence'with the Heaven has bestowed upon him into an end- celebrated Experience of the bee in the window. less succession of surprising and extraordinary The bee, apparently the veritable bee of Nature, visages, comprehending, messieurs et mesdames, will hover in the window and about the room, I24 THE UYNCOMV rE.C,,, IJ TRtA VELLER. He will be with difficulty caught in the hand of clear) would lie frightfully about his past achieveMonsieur the. Ventriloquist-he will escape-he ments, if he were not confined to pantomimle. will again hover-at length he will. be recaptured " The Miser! " Face-Maker dips, rises, clutches by Monsieur the Ventriloquist, and will be with a bag, and every hair of the wig is on end to difficulty put into a bottle. Achieve then, Mon- express that he lives in continual dread of thieves sieur!" Here the Proprietor is replaced behind "The Genius of France!" Face-Maker dips, the table by the Ventriloquist, who is thin and rises, wig pushed back and smoothed flat, little sallow, and of a weakly aspect. While the bee cocked-hat (artfully concealed till now) put atop is in progress, Monsieur the Proprietor sits apart of it, Face-Maker's white waistcoat much adon.a stool, immersed in dark and remote thought. vanced, Face-Maker's left hand in bosom of The moment the bee is bottled, he stalks for- white waistcoat, Face-Maker's right hand behind ward, eyes us gloomily as we applaud, and then his back. Thunders. This is the first of three announces, sternly waving his hand: " The positions of the Genius of France. In the second magnificent Experience of the child with the position, the Face-Maker takes snuff; in the hooping-cough!" The child disposed of, he third, rolls up his right hand, and surveys illimitstarts up as before. "The superb and extra- able armies through that pocket-glass. The ordinary Experience of the dialogue between Face-Maker then, by putting out his tongue, and Monsieur Tatambour in his dining-room; and wearing the wig nohow in particular, becomes his domestic, Jerome, in the cellar; concluding the Village Idiot. The most remarkable feature with the songsters of the grove, and the Concert in the whole of his ingenious performance is, of domestic Farmyard animals." All this done, that whatever he does to disguise himself has and well done, Monsieur the Ventriloquist with- the effect of rendering him rather more like draws, and Monsieur the Face-Maker bursts in, himself than he was at first. as if his retiring-room were a mile long instead There were peep-shows in this Fair, and I of a yard. A corpulent little man in a large had the pleasure of recognising several fields of white waistcoat, with a comic countenance, and glory with which I became well acquainted a with a wig in his hand. Irreverent disposition year or two ago as Crimean battles, now doing to laufgh instantly checked by the tremendous duty as Mexican victories. The change was gravity of the Face-Maker, who intimates in his neatly effected by some extra smoking of the bow that if we expect that sort of thing we are Russians, and by permitting the camp followers mistaken. A very little shaving-glass with a leg free range in the foreground to despoil the enemy behind it is handed in, and placed on the table of their uniforms. As no British troops had before the Face-Maker. " Messieurs et mes- ever happened to be within sight when the artist dames, with no other assistance than this mirror took his original sketches, it followed fortunately and this wig, I shall have the honour of showing that none were in the way now. you a thousand characters." As a preparation, The Fair wound up with a ball. Respecting the Face-Maker with both hands gouges hiimself, the particular night of the week on which the and turns his mouth inside out. He then be- ball took place, I decline to commit myself; comes frightfully grave again, and says to the merely mentioning that it was held in a stableProprietor, "I am ready " Proprietor stalks yard so very close to the railway, that it is a forth from baleful reverie, and announces " The mercy the locomotive did not set fire to it. (In Young Conscript I" Face-Maker claps his wig Scotland I suppose it would have done so.) on, hind side before, looks in the glass, and There, in a tent prettily decorated with lookingappears above it as a conscript so very imbecile, glasses and a myriad of toy flags, the people and squinting so extremely hard, that I should danced all night. It was not an expensive think the State would never get any good of recreation, the price of a double ticket for a him. Thunders of applause. Face-Maker dips cavalier and lady being one-and-threepence in behind the looking-glass, brings his own hair English money, and even of that small sum fiveforward, is himself again, is awfully grave. "A pence was reclaimable for "consommation:" distinguished' inhabitant.ok- the Faubourg St. which word I venture to translate into refreshGermain." Face-Maker dips, rises, is supposed ments of no greater strength, at the strongest, to be aged, blear-syed, toothless, slightly palsied, than ordinary wine made hot, with sugar and supernaturally polite, evidently of noble birth. lemon in it. It was a ball of great good-hurmpur " The oldest member of the Corps of Invalides and of great enjoyment, though very many of on the fete-day of his master." Face-Maker dips, the dancers must have been as poor as the rises, wears the wig on one. side, has become the fifteen subjects of the P. Salcy Family. feeblest, military bore in existence, and (it is In short, not having taken my own pet frE FSA CE-ALAKER'S PuODL~. 15 national pint pot with me to this Fair, I was famous French garrison town, where much of the very well satisfied with the measure of simple raw military material is worked up into soldiery. enjoyment that it poured into the dull French- At the station they had been sitting about, in their Flemish country life. How dull that is, I had threadbare homespun blue garments, with their an opportunity of considering when the Fair was poor little bundlos under their arms, covered over-when the tricoloured flags were withdrawn -with dust and clay, and the various soils of from the windows of the houses on the Place France; sad enough at heart, most of them, but where the Fair was held-when the windows putting a good face upon it, and slapping their were close shut, apparently until next Fair-time breasts and singing choruses on the smallest -when the H6tel de Ville had cut off its gas provocation; the gayer spirits shouldering halfand put away its eagle-when the two paviors, loaves of black bread speared upon their walkingwhom I take to form the entire paving popula- sticks. As we went along,' they were audible at tion of the town, were ramming down the stones every station, chorusing wildly out of tune, and which had been pulled up for the erection of feigning the highest hilarity. After awhile, howdecorative poles-when the gaoler had slammed ever, they began to leave off singing, and to his gate, and sulkily locked himself in with his laugh naturally, while at intervals there mingled charges. But then, as I paced the ring which with their laughter the barking of a dog. Now, marked the track of the departed hobby-horses I had to alight short of their destination, and, as on the market-place, pondering in my mind how that stoppage of the train was attended with a long some hobby-horse* do leave their tracks in quantity of horn blowing, bell ringing, and propublic ways, and how difficult they are to erase, clamation of what Messieurs les Voyageurs were my eyes were greeted with a.-goodly sight. I to do, and were not to do, in order to reach beheld four male personages thoughtfully pacing their respective destinations, I had ample leisure the Place together in the sun-light, evidently not to go forward on the platform to take a parting belonging to the town, and having upon them a look at my recruits, whose heads were all out at certain loose cosmopolitan air of not belonging window, and who were laughing like delighted to any town. One was clad in a suit of white children. Then I perceived that a large poodle canvas, another in a cap and blouse, the third with a pink nose, who had been their travelling in an old military frock, the fourth in a shape- companion and the cause of their mirth, stood less dress that looked as if it had been made out on his hind-legs presenting arms on the extreme of old umbrellas. All wore dust-coloured shoes. verge of the platform, ready to salute them as the My heart beat high; for, in those four male train went off. This poodle wore a military personages, although complexionless and eye. shako (it is unnecessary to add, very much on browless. I beheld four subjects of the Family one side over one eye), a little military coat, and. P. Salcy. Blue-bearded though they were, and the regulation white gaiters. He was armed bereft of the youthful smoothness of cheek which with a little musket and a little sword-bayonet, is imparted by what is termed in Albion a and he stood presenting arms in perfect atti"Whitechapel shave" (and which is, in fact, tude, with his unobscured eye on his master or whiting judiciously applied to the jaws with the superior officer, who stool by him. So admipalm of the hand), I recognised them. As I rable was his discipline, that, when the train stood admiring, there emerged from the yard of moved, and he was greeted with the parting a lowly cabaret the excellent Ma Mbre, Ma cheers of the recruits, and also with a shower of Mere, with the words, " The soup is served;" centimes, several of which struck his shako, and words which so elated the subject in the canvas had a tendency to discompose him, he remained suit, that when they all ran in to partake, he staunch on his post until the train was gone. went last, dancing with his hands stuck angularly He then resigned his arms to his officer, took off into the pockets of his canvas trousers, after the his shako by rubbing his paw over it, dropped Pierrot manner. Glancing down the Yard, the on four legs, bringing his uniform coat into the last I saw of him was, that he looked in through absurdest relations with the overarching skies, a window (at the soup, no doubt) on one leg. and ran about the platform in his white gaiters, Full of this pleasure, I shortly afterwards de- wagging his tail to an exceeding great extent. It parted from the town, little dreaming of an struck me that there was more waggery than this addition to my good fortune. But more was in in the poodle, and that he knew that the recruits reserve. I went by a train which was heavy with would neither get through their exercises, nor third-class carriages, full of young fellows (well get rid of their uniforms, as easily as he; reguarded) who had drawn unlucky numbers in volving which in my thoughts, and seeking in the last conscription, and were on their way to a mly pockets some small money to bestow upon 126 THE UNCOfMMERCIAL TRA FELLER. him, I casually directed my eyes to the face of to exclude from my Wigwam too. This creature his superior officer, and in him beheld the Face- takes cases of death and mourning under his Maker! Though it wan not the way to Algeria, supervision, and will frequently impoverish a but quite the reverse, the military poodle's whole family by his preposterous enchantments. Colonel was the Face-Maker in a dark blouse, He is a great eater and drinker, and always conwith a small bundle dangling over his shoulder ceals a rejoicing stomach under a grieving exat the end of an umbrella, and taking a pipe terior. His charms consist of an infinite quantity from his breast to smoke as he and the poodle of worthless scraps, for which he charges very went their mysterious way. high. - He impresses on the poor bereaved natives, that the more of his followers they pay =-^.~to exhibit such scraps on their persons for an hour or two (though they never saw the deceased XXVI. in their lives, and are put in high spirits by his decease), the more honourably and piously they MEDICINE' MEN OF CIVILISATION. grieve for the dead. The poor people submitting themselves to this conjurer, an expensive * ^ iY voyages (in paper boats) among procession is formed, in which bits of sticks, savages often yield me matter for feathers of birds, and a quantity of other unreflection at home. It is curious meaning objects besmeared with black paint, to trace the savage in the civilised are carried in a certain ghastly order of which man, and to detect the hold of no one understands the meaning, if it ever had By, some savage customs on conditions any, to the brink of the grave, and are then i of society rather boastful of being high brought back again. above them. In the Tonga Islands everything is supposed I wonder, is the Medicine Man of the North to have a soul, so that when a hatchet is irrepaAmerican Indians never to be got rid of, out-of rably broken they say,' His immortal part has the North American country? He comes into departed; he is gone to the happy huntingmy Wigwam on all manner of occasions, and plains." This belief leads to the logical sequence with the absurdest " Medicine." I always find that, when a man is buried, some of his eating it extremely difficult, and I often find it simply and drinking vessels, and some of his warlike impossible, to keep him out of my Wigwam. implements, must be broken and buried with For his legal " Medicine" he sticks upon his him. Superstitious and wrong, -but surely a head the hair of quadrupeds, and plasters the more respectable superstition than the hire of same with fat, and dirty white powder, and talks antic scraps for a show that has no meaning a gibberish quite unknown to the men and based on any sincere belief. squaws of his tribe. For his religious " Medi- Let me'halt on my Uncommercial road to cine;' he puts on puffy white sleeves, little black throw a passing glance on some funeral solemaprons, large black waistcoats of a peculiar cut, nities that I have seen where North American collarless coats with Medicine button-holes, Indians, African Magicians, and Tonga Islanders Medicine stockings and gaiters and shoes, and are supposed not to be. tops the whole with a highly grotesque Medi- Once I dwelt in an Italian city, where there cinal hat. In one respect, to be sure, I am dwelt with me for awhile an'Englishman of an quite free from him. On occasions when the amiable nature,'great enthusiasm, and no disMedicine Men in general, together with a large cretion. This friend discovered a desolate number of the miscellaneous inhabitants of his stranger mourning over the unexpected death of village, both male and female, are presented to one very dear to him, in a solitary cottage among the principal Chief, his native " Medicine " is a the vineyards of an outlying village. The circomical mixture of old odds and ends (hired of cumstances of the bereavement were unusually traders) and new things in antiquated shapes; distressing; and the survivor, new to the peasants and pieces of red cloth (of which he is particu- and the country, sorely needed help, being alone larly fond), and white and red and blue paint with the remains. With some difficulty,I but for the face. The irrationality of this particular with the strong influence of a purpose at once' Medicine culminates in a mock battle-rush, from gentle, disinterested, and determined, myfriendwhich many of the squaws are borne out much Mr. Kindheart-obtained access to the mourner, dilapidated. I nged not observe how unlike this and undertook to arrange the burial. is to a Drawing Room at St. James's Palace. There was a'small Protestant cemetery near The African magician I find it very difficult' the city walls, and, as Mr. Kindheart came AN ITALIAN-ENGLISH FUVNERAL. 12 7 back to me, he turned into it and chose the money. Sally Flanders, after a year or two of spot. He was always highly flushed when ren- matrimony, became the relict of Flanders, a adering a service unaided, and I knew that to small master builder; and either she or Flanders make him happy I must keep aloof from his had done me the honour to express a desire ministration. But when at dinner he warmed that I should' follow." I may have been seven with the good action of the day, and conceived or eight years old;-young enough, certainly, to the brilliant idea of comforting the mourner with feel rather alarmed by the expression, as not "an English funeral," I ventured to intimate knowing where the invitation was held to terthat I thought that institution, which was not minate, and how far I was expected to follow absolutely sublime at home, might prove a failure the deceased Flanders. Consent being given in Italian hands. However, Mr. Kindheart was by the heads of houses, I was jobbed up into so enraptured with his conception, that he pre- what was pronounced at home decent mournsently wrote down into the town requesting the ing (comprehending somebody else's shirt, unattendance, with to-morrow's earliest light, of a less my memory deceives me), and was admocertain little upholsterer. This upholsterer was nished that if, when the funeral was in action, famous for speaking the unintelligible local I put my hands in my pockets, or took my dialect (his own) in a far more unintelligible eyes out of my pocket-handkerchief, I was permanner than any other man alive. sonally lost, and my family disgraced. On the.When from my bath next morning I over- eventful day, having tried to get myself into heard Mr. Kindheart and the upholsterer in a disastrous frame of mind, and having formed conference on the top of an echoing staircase; a very poor opinion of myself because I couldn't and when I overheard Mr. Kindheart rendering cry, I repaired to Sally's. Sally was an excelEnglish Undertaking phrases into very choice lent creature, and had been a good wife to old Italian, and the upholsterer replying in the un- Flanders, but the moment I saw her I kpew known tongues; and when I furthermore remem- that she was not in her own real natural state. bered that the local funerals had no resemblance She formed a sort of Coat-of-Arms, grouped to English funerals; I became in my secret with a smelling-bottle, a handkerchief, an orange, bosom apprehensive. But Mr. Kindheart in- a bottle of vinegar, Flanders's sister, her own formed me at breakfast that measures had been sister, Flanders's brother's wife, and two neightaken to insure a signal success. bouring gossips-all in mourning, and all ready As the funeral was to take place at sunset, to hold her whenever she fainted. At sight of and as I knew to which of the city gates it must poor little me she became much agitated (agitend, I went out at that gate as the sun de- tating me much more), and having exclaimed, scended, and walked along the dusty, dusty "Oh, here's dear Master Uncommercial!" beroad. I had not walked far when I encountered came hysterical, and swooned as if I had been this procession. the death of her. An affecting scene followed, I. Mr. Kindheart, much abashed; on an im- during which I was handed about and poked at mense grey horse. her by various people, as if I were the bottle of z. A bright yellow coach and pair, driven by salts. Reviving a little, she embraced me, said, a coachman in bright red velvet knee breeches "You knew him well, dear Master Uncomand waistcoat. (This was the established local mercial, and he knew you! " and fainted again: idea of State.) Both coach doors kept open by which, as the rest of the Coat-of-Arms soothingly the coffin, which was on its side within, and said, "done her credit." Now, I knew that she sticking out at each. needn't have fainted unless she liked, and that 3. Behind the coach, the mourner, for whom she wouldn't have fainted unless it had been exthe coach was intended, walking in the dust. pected of her, quite as well as I know it at this 4. Concealed behind a roadside well for the day. It made me feel uncomfortable and hypoirrigation of a garden, the unintelligible Up- critical besides. I was not sure but that it holsterer, admiring. might be manners in me to faint next, and I It matters little now. Coaches of all colours resolved to keep my eye on Flanders's uncle, are alike to poor Kindheart, and he rests far and, if I saw any signs of his going in that North of the little cemetery with the cypress- direction, to go too, politely. But Flanders's trees, by the city walls where the Mediterranean uncle (who was a weak little old retail grocer) is so beautiful. had only one idea, which was that we all wanted My first funeral, a fair representative funeral tea; And he handed us cups of tea all round after its kind, was that of the husband of a mar- incessantly, whether we refused or not. There ried servant, once my nurse. She married for was a young nephew of Flanders's present, to T28 THE UNCOMM~ERCITAL TRA VELLER. whom Flanders, it was rumoured, had left nine- who was handing us gloves on a tea-tray as if teen guineas. He drank all the tea that was they were muffins, and tying us into cloaks offered him, this nephew-amounting, I should (mine had to be pinned up all round, it was so say, to several quarts-and ate as much plum- long for me), because I knew that he was cake as he could possibly come by; but he making game. So, when we got out into the felt it to be decent mourning that he should streets, and I constantly disarranged the pronow and then stop in the midst of a lump of cession by tumbling on the people before me cake, and appear to forget that his mouth was because my handkerchief blinded my eyes, and full, in the contemplation of his uncle's memory. tripping up the people behind me because my I felt all this to be the fault of the undertaker, cloak was so long, I felt that we were all making game. I was truly sorry for Flanders, but I like the undertaker as if we had been his own knew that it was no reason why we should be family, and I perceived that this could not have trying (the women with their heads in hoods happened unless we had been making game. like coal-scuttles with the black side outward). When we returned to Sally's, it was all of a to keep step with a man in a scarf, carrying a piece. The continued impossibility of getting thing like a mourning spy-glass, which he was on without plum-cake; the ceremonious appagoing to open presently, and sweep the horizon rition of a pair of decanters containing port and with. I knew that we should not all have been sherry and cork; Sally's sister at the tea-table, speaking in one particular key-note struck by clinking the best crockery and shaking her head the undertaker if we had not been making game.mournfully every time she looked down into the Even in our faces we were every one of us as teapot, as if it were the tomb; the Coatnof-Arve Even in our faces we were every one of us as teapot, as if it were the tomb; the Coat.of-Arms A MESSAGE FROMI THE LORDS. i2g again, and Sally as before; lastly, the words of who attend on funerals are dismal and ugly to consolation administered to Sally when it was look upon; but the services they render are at considered right that she should "come round least. voluntarily rendered, and impoverish no nicely:" which were, that the deceased had had one, and cost nothing. Why should high civil"as com-for-ta-ble a fu-ne ral as comfortable isation and low savagery ever come together on could be!" the point of making them a wantonly wasteful Other funerals have I seen with grown-up and contemptible set of forms? eyes, since that day, of which the burden has Once I lost a friend by death, who had been been the same childish burden. Making game. troubled in his time by the Medicine Man and Real affliction, real grief -and solemnity, have the Conjurer, and upon whose limited resources been outraged, and the funeral has been "per- there were abundant claims. The Conjurer formed." The waste for which the funeral cus- assured me that I must positively " follow," and toms of many tribes of savages are conspicuous both he and the Medicine Man entertained no has attended these civilised obsequies; and doubt that I must go in a black carriage, and once, and twice, have I wished in my soul that, must wear " fittings." I objected to fittings, as if the waste must be, they would let the under- having nothing to do with my friendship; and I taker bury the money, and let me bury the friend. objected to the black carriage, as being in more In France, upon the whole, these ceremonies senses than one a job. So, it came into my are more sensibly regulated, because they are, mind to try what would happen if I quietly upon the whole, less expensively regulated. I walked, in my own way, from my own house to cannot say that I have ever been much edified by my friend's burial-place, and stood beside his the custom of tying a bib and apron on the front open grave in my own dress and person, reveof the house of mourning, or that I would my- rently listening to the best of Services. It self particularly care to be driven to my grave satisfied my mind, I found, quite as well as if I in a nodding and bobbing car, like an infirm had been disguised in a hired hat-band and four-post bedstead, by an inky fellow-creature scarf both trailing to my very heels, and as if I in a cocked-hat. But it may be that I am con- had cost the orphan children, in their greatest stitutionally insensible to the virtues of a cocked- need, ten guineas. hat. In provincial France the solemnities are Can any one who ever beheld the stupendous sufficiently hideous, but are few and cheap. absurdities attendant on "A message from the The friends and townsmen of the departed, in Lords" in the House of Commons turn upon their own dresses, and not masquerading under the Medicine Man of the poor Indians? Has the auspices of the African Conjurer, surround he any " Medicine," in that dried skin pouch of the hand-bier, and often carry it. It is not con- his, so supremely ludicrous as the two Masters sidered indispensable to stifle the bearers, or in Chancery holding up their black petticoats, even to elevate the burden on their shoulders; and butting their ridiculous wigs at Mr. Speaker? consequently, it is easily taken up, and easily Yet there are authorities innumerable to tell me set down, and is carried through the streets -as there are authorities innumerable among without the distressing floundering and shuffling the Indians to tell them-that the nonsense is that we see at home. A dirty priest or two, and indispensable, and that its abrogation would a dirtier acolyte' or two, do not lend any especial involve most awful consequences. What would grace to the proceedings; and I regard with any rational creature who had never heard of personal animosity the bassoon, which is blown judicial and forensic "fittings," think of the at intervals by the big-legged priest (it is always Court of Common Pleas on the first day of a big-legged priest who blows the bassoon), Term? Or with what an awakened sense of when his fellows combine in a lugubrious stal- humour would LIVINGSTONE'S account of a wart drawl. But there is far less of the Con- similar scene be perused, if the fur and red cloth jurer and the Medicine Man in the business and goats' hair and horsehair and powdered than under like circumstances here. The grim chalk and black patches on the top of the head, coaches that we reserve expressly for such shows were all at Tala Mungongo instead of Westare non-existent; if the cemetery be far out of minster? That model missionary and good the town, the coaches that are hired for other brave man found at least one tribe of blacks with purposes of life are hired for this purpose; and, a very strong sense of the ridiculous, insomuch although the honest vehicles make no pretence that, although an amiable and docile people, of being overcome, I have never noticed that ihey never could see the missionaries dispose of the people in them were the worse for it. In their legs in the attitude of kneeling, or hear Italy, the hooded Members of Confraternities them begin a hymn in chorus; without bursting '130 STHER UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLZE2. into roars of irrepressible laughter. It is much back harmless. It is not, at first sight, a very to be hoped that no member of this facetious rational custom' to paint a broad blue stripe tribe may ever find his way to England and get across one's nose and both cheeks, and a broad committed for contempt of Court. red stripe from the forehead to the chin, to In the Tonga Islands, already mentioned, attach a few pounds of wood to one's under lip, there are a set of personages called Mataboos- to stick fish bones in one's ears and a brass or some such name-who are the masters of all curtain ring in one's nose, and to rub one's body the public ceremonies, and who know the exact all over with rancid oil, as a preliminary to place in which every chief must sit down when entering on business. But this is a question of a solemn public meeting takes place: a meeting taste and ceremony, and so is the Windsor Uniwhich bears a family resemblance to our own form. The manner of entering on the business Public Dinner, in respect of its being a main itself is another question. A council of six part of the proceedings that every gentleman hundred savage gentlemen entirely independent present is required to drink something nasty. of tailors, sitting on their hams in a ring, smokThese Mataboos are a privileged order, so im- ing, and occasionally grunting, seem to me, portant is their avocation, and they make the according to the experience I have gathered in most of their high functions. A long way out my voyages and travels, somehow to do what of the Tonga Islands, indeed, rather near the they come together for; whereas that is not at British Islands, was there no calling in of the all the general experience of a council of six Mataboos the other day to settle an earth-con- hundred civilised gentlemen very dependent on vulsing question of precedence; and was there tailors, and sitting on mechanical contrivances. no weighty opinion delivered on the part of the It is better that an assembly should do its utmost Mataboos which, being interpreted to that un- to envelop itself in smoke, than that it should lucky tribe of blacks with the sense of the direct its endeavours to enveloping the public in ridiculous, would infallibly set the whole popu- smoke: and I would rather it buried half a lation screaming with laughter? hundred hatchets than buried one subject deMy sense of justice demands the admission, manding attention. however, that this is not quite a one-sided question. If we submit ourselves meekly to the Medicine Man and the Conjurer, and are not exalted by it, the savages may retort upon us XXVII. that we act more unwisely than they in other matters wherein we fail to imitate them. It is TITBULL'S ALMSHOUSES. a widely-diffused custom among savage tribes, when they meet to discuss any affair of public Y the side of most railways out of importance, to sit up all night making a horrible A d9 London one may.see Almshouses noise, dancing, blowing shells, and (in cases II ) and Retreats (generally with a Wing where they are familiar with fire-arms) flying out or a Centre wanting, and ambitious into open places and letting off guns. It is - of being much bigger than they are), questionable whether our legislative assemblies H. some of which are newly-founded instimight not take a hint from this. A shell is not a tutions, and some old establishments melodious wind instrument, and it is monotonous; transplanted. There is a tendency in but it is as musical as, and not more monotonous these pieces of architecture to shoot upward than, my Honourable friend's own trumpet, or the unexpectedly, like Jack's bean-stalk, and to be trumpet that he blows so hard for the Minister. ornate in spires of Chapels and lanterns of Halls, The uselessness of arguing with any supporter which might lead to the embellishment of the air of a Government or of an Opposition is well with many castles of questionable beauty but for known. Try dancing. It is a better exercise, the restraining consideration of expense. Howand has the unspeakable recommendation that ever, the managers, being always of a sanguine it couldn't be reported. The honourable and temperament, comfort themselves with plans savage member who has a loaded gun, and has and elevations of Loomings in the future, and grown impatient of debate, plunges out of doors, are influenced in the present by philanthropy fires in the air, and returns calm and silent to towards the railway passengers. For, the questhe Palaver. Let the honourable and civilised tion how prosperous and promising the buildings member, similarly charged with a speech, dart can be made to look in their eyes, usually superinto the cloisters ofWestminster Abbey in the sedeg the lesser question how they can be turned silencet, f night, let his speech off, and come to the best account for the inmates. MR. BATTENS. 1 Why none of the people who reside in these which establishment is a picture of many. Of places ever look out of window, or take an airing Titbull I know no more than that he deceased in the piece of ground which is going to be a in 1723, that his Christian name was Sampson, garden by-and-by, is one of the wonders I have and his social designation Esquire, and that he added to my always-lengthening list of the won- founded these Almshouses as Dwellings for Nine ders of the world. I have got it into my mind Poor Women and Six Poor Men by his Will and that they live in a state of chronic injury and Testament. I should not know even this much, resentment, and, on that account, refuse to but for its being inscribed on a grim stone very decorate the building with a human interest. difficult to read, let into the front of the centre As I have known legatees deeply injured by a house of Titbull's Almshouses, and which stone bequest of five hundred pounds because it was is ornamented atop with a piece of sculptured not five thousand, and as I was once acquainted drapery resembling the effigy of Titbull's bathwith a pensioner on the Public, to the extent of towel. two hundred a year, who perpetually anathema- Titbull's Almshouses are in the' east of Lontized his Country because he was not in the don, in a great highway, in a poor, busy, and receipt of four, having no claim whatever to six- thronged neighbourhood. Old iron and fried pence; so perhaps it usually happens, within fish, cough drops and artificial flowers, boiled certain limits, that to get a little help is to get a pigs' feet and household furniture that looks as notion of being defrauded of more. " How do if it were polished up with lip-salve, umbrellas they pass their lives in this beautiful and peace- full of vocal literature and saucers full of shellful place?" was the subject of my speculation fish in a green juice which I hope is natural to with a visitor who once accompanied me to a them when their health is good, garnish the charming rustic retreat for old men and women: paved sideways as you go to Titbull's. I take a quaint ancient foundation in a pleasant English the ground to have risen in those parts since county, behind a picturesque church, and among Titbull's time, and you drop into his domain by rich old convent gardens. There were but some three stone steps. So did I first drop into it, dozen or so of houses, and we agreed that we very nearly striking my brows against Titbull's would talk with the inhabitants, as they sat in pump, which stands with its back to the thoroughtheir groined rooms between the light of their fare just inside the gate, and has a conceited air fires and the light shining in at their latticed of reviewing Titbull's pensioners. windows, and would find out. They passed "And a worse one," said a virulent old man their lives in considering themselves mulcted of with a pitcher, " there isn't nowhere. A harderr certain ounces of tea by a deaf old steward who one to work, nor grudginer one to yield, there lived among them in the quadrangle. There isn't nowhere!" This old man wore a long was no reason to suppose that any such ounces coat, such as we see Hogarth's chairmen repreof tea had ever been in existence, or that the sented with, and it was of that peculiar greenold steward so much as knew what was the pea hue without the green, which seems to come matter;-he passed his life in considering him- of poverty. It had also that peculiar smell of self periodically defrauded of a birch-broom by cupboard which seems to come of poverty the beadle. "The pump is rusty, perhaps," said I. But it is neither to old Almshouses in the " Not it," said the old man, regarding it with country, nor to new Almshouses by the railroad, undiluted virulence in his watery eye. "It never that these present uncommercial notes relate. were fit to be termed a pump. That's what's They refer back to journeys made among those the matter with it." commonplace smoky-fronted London Alms- "Whose fault is that?" said I. houses, with a little paved courtyard in front The old man, who had a working mouth enclosed by iron railings, which have got snowed which seemed to be trying to masticate his up, as it were, by bricks and mortar; which anger, and to find that it was too hard and were once in a suburb, but are now in the there was too much of it. replied, "Them gentledensely-populated town; gaps in the busy life men." around them, parentheses in the close and "What gentlemen?" blotted texts of the streets. "Maybe you're one of'em?" said the old Sometimes, these Almshouses belong to a man suspiciously. Company or Society. Sometimes, they were "The trustees?" established by individuals, and are maintained "I wouldn't trust'em myself," said the virulent out of private funds bequeathed in perpetuity old man. long ago. My favourite among them is Titbull's, "If you mean the gentlemen who administer t3 THE UNCOXMMERCIAL TRAV ELLER. this place, no, I am not one of them; nor have it was her only son, and "quite a speaking I ever so much as heard of them." one." "I wish I never heard of them," gasped the "He is alive, I hope?" old man:" at my time of life-with the rheu- "No, sir," said the widow, "he were cast matics-drawing water-from that thing!" Not away in China." This was said with a modest to be deluded into calling it a Pump, the old sense of its reflecting a certain geographical disman gave it another virulent look, took up his tinction on his mother. pitcher, and carried it into a corner dwelling- "If the old gentlemen here are not given to house, shutting the door after him. talking," said I, " I hope the old ladies are?Looking around, and seeing that each little Not that you are one." house was a house of two little roomt; and see- She shook her head. "You see, they get so ing that the little oblong courtyard in front was cross." like a graveyard for the inhabitants, saving that " How is that?" no word was engraven on its flat dry stones; " Well, whether the gentlemen really do deand seeing that the currents of life and noise prive us of any little matters which ought to be ran to and fro outside, having no more to do ours by rights, I cannot say for certain; but the with the place than if it were a sort of low-water opinion of the old ones is they do. And Mr. mark bn a lively beach; I say, seeing this and Battens he do even go so far as to doubt whether nothing else, I was going out at the gate when credit is due to the Founder. For Mr. Battens one of the doors opened. he do say, anyhow he got his name up by it, " Was you looking for anything, sir?" asked and he done it cheap." a tiny, well-favoured woman. "I am afraid the pump has soured Mr. Really no; I couldn't say I was. Battens." " Not wanting any one, sir?" " It may be so," returned the tidy widow, " No-at least, I-pray what is the name of "but the handle does go very hard. Still, what the elderly gentleman who lives in the corner I say to myself is, the gentlemen may not pocket there? " the difference between a good pump and a bad The tidy woman stepped out to be sure of the one, and I would wish to think well of them. door I indicated, and she and the pump and I And the dwellings," said my hostess, glancing stood all three in a row, with our backs to the round her room; "perhaps they were conthoroughfare. venient dwellings in the Founder's time, con"Oh! His name is Mr. Battens," said the sidered as his time, and therefore he should not tidy woman, dropping her voice. be blamed. But Mrs. Saggers is very hard upon " I have just been talking with him." them." "Indeed?" said the tidy woman. "Ho! I " Mrs. Saggers is the oldest here?" wonder Mr. Battens talked!" "The oldest but one. Mrs. Quinch being " Is he usually so silent?" the oldest, and have totally lost her head." "Well, Mr. Battens is the oldest here-that "And you?" is to say, the oldest of the old gentlemen-in "I am the youngest in residence, and consepoint of residence." quently am not looked up to. But, when Mrs. She had a way of passing her hands over and Quinch makes a happy release, there will be one under one another as she spoke, that was not below me. Nor is it to be expected that Mrs. only tidy, but propitiatory; so I asked her if I Saggers will prove herself immortal." might look at her little sitting-room? She willingly "True. Nor Mr. Battens." replied Yes, and we went into it together: she "Regarding the old gentlemen," said my leaving the door open, with an eye, as I under- widow slightingly, "they count among themstood, to the social proprieties. The door at selves. They do not count among us. Mr. once opening into the room without any inter- Battens is that exceptional that he have written vening entry, even scandal must have been to the gentlemen many times, and have worked silenced by the precaution. the case against them. Therefore he have took It was a gloomy little chamber, but clean, and a higher ground. But we do not, as a rule, with a mug of wallflower in the window. On the greatly reckon the old gentlemen." chimney-piece were two peacock's feathers, a Pursuing the subject, I found it to be tradicarved ship, a few shells, and a black profile tionally settled among the poor ladies that the with one eyelash; whether this portrait pur- poor gentlemen, whatever their ages, were all ported to be male or female passed my corn- very old indeed, and in a state of dotage. I also prehension, until my hostess informed me that discovcred that the juniors and new-comers pre THE ETIQUETTE OF TITBULL'S. 133 served, for a time, a waning disposition to be- down the courtyard wagging their chins and lieve in Titbull and his trustees, but that, as they talking together quite gaily. This has given gained social standing, they lost this faith, and offence, and has, moreover, raised the question disparaged Titbull and all his works. whether they are justified in passing any other Improving my acquaintance subsequently with windows than their own. Mr. Battens, howthis respec:ed lady, whose name was Mrs. Mitts, ever, permitting them to pass his windows, on and occasionally dropping in upon her with a the disdainful ground that their imbecility little offering of sound Family Hyson in my almost amounts to irresponsibility, they are pocket, I gradually became familiar with the allowed to take their walk in peace. They live inner politics and ways of Titbull's Almshouses. next door to one another, and take it by turns But I never could find out who the trustees to read the newspaper aloud (that is to say, the were, or where they were: it being one of the newest newspaper they can get), and they play fixed ideas cf the place that those authorities cribbage at night. On warm and sunny days must be vaguely and mysteriously mentioned as they have been known to go so far as to bring "the. gentlemen " only. The secretary of "the out two chairs, and sit by the iron railings, lookgentlemen " was once pointed out to me, evi- ing forth, but this low conduct, being much dently engaged in championing theobnoxious remarked upon throughout Titbull's, they were pump against the attacks of the discontented deterred by an outraged public opinion from reMr. Battens; but I am not in a condition to peating it. There is a rumour-but it may be report further of him than that he had the malicious-that they hold the memory of Titbull sprightly bearing of a lawyer's clerk. I had it in some weak sort of veneration, and that they from Mrs. Mitts's lips, in a very confidential once set off together on a pilgrimage to the moment, that Mr. Battens was once "had up parish churchyard to find his tomb. To this, before the gentlemen" to stand or fall by his perhaps, might be traced a general suspicion accusations, and that an old shoe was thrown that they are spies of "the gentlemen:" to after him on his departure from the building on which tbey were supposed to have given colour, this dread errand;-not ineffectually, for, the in my owan presence, on the occasion of the interview resulting in a plumber, was considered weak attempt at justification of the pump by the to have encircled the temples of Mr. Battens gentlemen's clerk; when they emerged barewith the wreath of victory. headed from the doors of their dwellings, as if In Titbull's Almshouses the local society is their dwellings and themselves constituted an not regarded as good society. A gentleman or old-fashioned weather-glass of double action lady receiving visitors from without, or going with two figures of old ladies inside, and defervut to tea, counts, as it were, accordingly; but entially bowed to him at intervals until he took visitings or tea-drinkings interchanged among his departure. They are understood to be perTitbullians do not score. Such interchanges, fectly friendless and relationless. Unquestionhowever, are rare, in consequence of internal ably the two poor fellows make the very best of dissensions occasioned by Mrs. Saggers's pail: their lives in Titbull's Almshouses, and unwhich household article has split Titbull's into questionably they are (as before mentioned) the almost as many parties as there are dwellings subjects of unmitigated contempt there. in that precinct. The extremely complicated On Saturday nights, when there is a greater nature of the conflicting articles of belief on the stir than usual outside, and when itinerant subject prevents my stating them here with my vendors of miscellaneous wares even take their usual perspicuity, but I think they have all stations and light up their smoky lamps before branched off from the root-and-trunk question, the iron railings, Titbull's becomes flurried. Has Mrs. Saggers any right to stand her pail out- Mrs. Saggers has her celebrated palpitations of side her dwelling? The question has been much the heart, for the most part, on Saturday nights. refined upon, but, roughly stated, may be stated But Titbull's is unfit to strive with the uproar of in those terms. the streets in any of its phases. It is religiously There are two old men in Titbull's Alms- believed at Titbull's that people push more than houses who, I have seen given to understand, they used, and likewise that the foremost object knew each other i' the world beyond its pump of the population of England and Wales is to and iron railings, when they were both "in get you down and trample on you. Even of trade." They make the best of their reverses, railroads they know, at Titbull's, little more than and are looked upon with great contempt. the shriek (which Mrs. Saggers says goes through They are little, stooping, blear-eyed old men of her, and ought to be taken up by Government); cheerful countenance, and they hobble up and and the penny postage may even yet be unTH:II UNCQOMERCIAL TRAVELLER, I0. 328 r34 THE UN.COMM1fERCIAL TRA VELLER. known there, for I have never seen a letter on the top of her chest of drawersi which urn is delivered to any inhabitant. But there is a tall, used as her library, and contains four duostraight, sallow lady resident in Number Seven, decimo volumes, and a black-bordered newsTitbull's, who never speaks to anybody, who is paper giving an account of the funeral of her surrounded by a superstitious halo of lost wealth, Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte. Among who does her household work in housemaid's the poor old gentlemen:there are no such nicegloves, and who is secretly much deferred to, ties. Their furniture has the air of 5eing conthough openly cavilled at; and it has obscurely tributed, like some obsolete Literary Miscellany, leaked out that this old lady has a son, grand- "by several hands;" their few chairs never son, nephew, or other relative, who is "a Con- match;,old patchwork coverlets linger among tractor," and who would think it nothing of a them; and they have an unti ly habit of keepjob to knock down Titbull's, pack it off into ing their wardrobes in hat-boxes. When I reCornwall, and knock it together again. An call one old gentleman who is rather choice in immense sensation was made by a gipsy party his shoe-brushes and blacking bottle, I have calling, in a spring van, to take this old lady up summed up the domestic elegancies of that side to go for a day's pleasure into Epping Forest, of the building. and notes were compared as to which of the On the occurrence of a death in Titbull's, it company was the son, grandson, nephew, or is invariably agreed among the suivivors-and other relative, the Contractor. A thick-set per- it is the only subject on which they do agreesonage, with a white hat and a cigar in his that the departed did something " to bring it mouth, was the favourite: though, as Titbull's on." Judging by Titbull's, I should say the had no other reason to believe that the Con- human race need never die, if they took care. tractor w'as there at all than that this man was sup- But they don't take care, and they do die, and posed to eye the chimney-stacks as if he would when they die in Titbull's they are buried at the like to knock them down and cart them off, the cost of the Foundation. Some provision has general mind was much unsettled in arriving at been made for the' purpose, in virtue of which a conclusion. As a way out of this difficulty, it (I record this on the strength of having seen concentrated itself on the acknowledged Beauty the funeral of Mrs. Quinch) a lively neighbourof the party, every stitch in whose dress was ing undertaker dresses iup four of the old men, verbally unripped by the old ladies then and and four of the old women, hustles them into a there, and whose " goings-on " wUh another and procession of four couples, and leads off with a a thinner personage in a white hat might have large black bow at the back of his hat, looking suffused the pump (where they were principally over his shoulder at them airily, from time to discussed) with blushes for months afterwards. time, to see that no member of the party has Herein Titbull's was to Titbulf's true, for it has got lost, or has tumbled down; as if they were a constitutional dislike of all strangers. As con- a company of dim old dolls. cerning innovations and improvements, it is Resignation of a dwelling is of very rare always of opinion that what it doesn't want occurrence in Titbull's. A story does obtain itself, nobody ought to want. But I think I there, how an old lady's son once drew a prize have met with this opinion outside Titbull's. of Thirty Thousand Pounds in the Lottery, and Of the humble treasures of furniture brought presently drove to the gate in his own carriage, into Titbull's by the inmates when they establish with French Horns playing up behind, and themselves in that place of contemplation for whisked his mother away, and left ten guineas the rest of their days, by far the greater and for a Feast. But I have been unable to submore valuable part belongs to the ladies. I stantiate it by any evidence, and regard it as an may claim the honour of having either crossed Almshouse Fairy Tale. It is curious that the the thyeshold, or looked in at the door, of every only proved case of resignation happened within one of the nine ladies, and I have noticed that my knowledge. they are all particular in the article of bedsteads, It happened on this wise. There is a sharp and maintain favourite and long-established bed- competition among the ladies respecting the steads and bedding as a regular part of their gentility of their visitors, and I have so often rest. Generally an antiquated chest of drawers is observed visitors to be dressed as for a holiday among their'cherished possessions; a tea-tray occasion, that I suppose the ladies to have bealways is. I know of at least two rooms in sought them to make all possible display wher which.a little tea-kettle of genuine burnished they come. In these circumstances much excopper vies with the cat in winking at the fire citement was one day occasioned by Mrs. Mitts anl one old ladly has a tea-urn set forth in state receiving a visit from a Greenwich Pensioner. THE GREENTWICH PENSIONER. 135 He was a Pensioner of a bluff and warlike ladies, matters not. Before another week was appearance, with an empty coat-sleeve, and he out, Titbull's was startled by another phenowas got up with unusual care; his coat buttons menon. At ten o'clock in the forenoon apwere extremely bright, he wore his empty coat- peared a cab, containing not only the Greenwich sleeve in a graceful festoon, and he had a walk- Pensioner with one arm, but, to boot, a Chelsea ing-stick in his hand that must have cost Pensioner with one leg. Both dismounting to money. When, with the head of his walking- assist Mrs. Mitts into the cab, the Greenwich stick, he knocked at Mrs. Mitts's door-there Pensioner bore her company inside, and the are no knockers in Titbull's-Mrs. Mitts was Chelsea Pensioner mounted the box by the overheard by a next-door neighbour to utter a driver: his wooden leg sticking out after the cry of surprise expressing much agitation; and manner of a bowsprit, as if in jocular homage to the same neighbour did afterwards solemnly his friend's.sea-going career. Thus the equipage affirm that, when he was admitted into Mrs. drove away. No Mrs. Mitts returned that night. Mitts's room, she heard a smack. Heard a What Mr. Battens might have done in the smack which was not a blow. matter of taking it up, goaded by the infuriated There was an air about this Greenwich Pen- state of public feeling next morning, was antisioner, when he took his departure, which im- cipated by another phenomenon. A Truck, bued all Titbull's with the conviction that he propelled by the Greenwich Pensioner and the was coming again. He was eagerly looked for, Chelsea Pensioner, each placidly smoking a and Mrs. Mitts was closely watched. In the pipe, and pushing his warrior breast against the meantime, if anything could have placed the handle. unfortunate six old gentlemen at a greater dis- The display on the part of the Greenwich advantage than that at which they chronically Pensioner of his " marriage lines," and his anstood, it would have been the apparition of this nouncement that himself and friend had looked Greenwich Pensioner. They were well shrunken in for the furniture of Mrs. G. Pensioner, late already, but they shrunk to nothing in compari- Mitts, by no means reconciled the ladies to the son with the Pensioner. Even the poor old gen- conduct of their sister; on the contrary, it is tlemen themselves seemed conscious of their infe- said that they appeared more than ever exasriority, and to know submissively that they could perated. Nevertheless, my stray visits to Titnever hope to hold their own against the Pen- bull's, since the date of this occurrence, have sioner, with his warlike and maritime experience confirmed me in an impression that it was a in the past, and his tobacco money in the pre- wholesome fillip. The nine ladies are smarter, sent: his chequered career of blue water, black both in mind and dress, than they used to be, gunpowder, and red bloodshed for England, though it must be admitted that they despise the home, and beauty. six gentlemen to the last extent. They have a Before three weeks were out, the Pensioner much greater interest in the external thoroughreappeared. Again he knocked at Mrs. Mitts's fare, too, than they had when I first knew Titdoor with the handle of his stick, and again was bull's. And whenever I chance to be leaning he admitted. But not again did he depart my back against the pump or the iron railings, alone; for Mrs. Mitts, in a bonnet identified as and to be talking to one of the junior ladies, having been re-embellished, went out walking and to see that a flush has passed over her face, with him, and stayed out till the ten-o'clock I immediately know, without looking round, beer, Greenwich time. that a Greenwich Pensioner has gone past. There was now a truce even as to the troubled waters of Mrs. Saggers's pail; nothing was spoken — of among the ladies but the conduct of Mrs. Mitts, and its blighting influence on the reputa- XXVIII tion of Titbull's. It was agreed that Mr. Battens "ought to take it up," and Mr. THE ITALIAN PRISONER. Battens was communicated with on the subject. That unsatisfactory individual replied " that he THE rising of the Italian people from under didn't see his way yet," and it was unanimously -- their unutterable wrongs, and the tardy voted by the ladies that aggravation was in his burst of day upon them after the long long nature. night of oppression that has darkened their How it came to pass, with some appearance beautiful country, have naturally caused my of inconsistency, that Mrs. Mitts was cut by all mind to dwell often, of late, on my own small the ladies and the.P.ensioier admired by all the wanderings in Italy. Connected with them is 136 THE UNCOAMMERC rL TRA VELLER. a curious little drama, in which the character I brown plump little woman-servant at the inn is myself sustained was so very subordinate that a Neapolitan, and is so vivaciously expert in I may relate its story without any fear of being pantomimic action, that, in the single moment suspected of self-display. It is strictly a true of answering my request to have a pair of shoes story. cleaned which I have left up-stairs, she plies I am newly arrived, one summer evening, in imaginary brushes, and goes completely through a certain small town on the Mediterranean. I the motions of polishing the shoes up, and laying have had my dinner at the inn, and I and the them at my feet. I smile at the brisk little mosquitoes are coming out into the streets to- woman in perfect satisfaction with her briskgether. It is far from Naples; but a bright ness; and the brisk little woman, amiably pleased gee " IT WAS AGREED THAT M3R. BATTENS' OUGHT TO TAKE IT UP,' AND MR. BATTENS WAS COMMUNICATED WITH ON THE SVBJECT." with me because I am pleased with her, claps cigarette at mine. "And now, dear little sir," her hands and laughs delightfully. We are in says she, puffifng out smoke in a most innocent the inn yard. As the little woman's bright eyes and cherubic manner,'." keep quite straight on, sparkle on the cigarette I am smoking, I make take the first to the right,. and probably you will bold to offer her one; she accepts it none the see him standing at his door." less merrily, because I touch a most charming I have a commission to "him," and I have little dimple in her fat cheek with its light paper been inquiring about him. I have carried the end. Glancing up at the many green lattices to commission about Italy several months. Before assure herself that the mistress is not looking on, I left England, there came to me one night a certhe little woman then puts her two little dimple tain generous'and gentle English nobleman (he is arms a-kimbo, and stands on tiptoe to light her dead in these days when I relate the story, and PARTICULARL Y RE COI~ENND)ED. 37 exiles have lost their best British friend), with and I mentioned the name of my generous this request: "Whenever you come to such a countryman. town, will you seek out one Giovanni Carlavero, Instantly he utters a loud cry, bursts into who keeps a little wine-shop there, mention my tears, and falls on his knees at my feet, clasping name to him suddenly, and observe how it my legs in both his arms, and bowing his head affects him?" I accepted the trust, and am on to the ground. my way to discharge it. Some years ago, this man at my feet, whose The sirocco has been blowing all day, and it overfraught heart is heaving as if it would burst is a hot unwholesome evening, with no cool sea from his breast, and whose tears are wet upon breeze. Mosquitoes and fire-flies are lively the dress I wear, was a galley-slave in the Nortl enough, but most other creatures are faint. The of Italy. He was a polit:cal offender, having coquettish airs of pretty young women in the been concerned in the then last rising, and was tiniest and wickedest of dolls' straw hats, who sentenced to imprisonment for life. That he lean out at opened lattice blinds, are almost would have died in his chains is certain, but for the only airs stirring. Very ugly and haggard the circumstance that the Englishman happened old women with distaffs, and with a grey tow to visit his prison. upon them that looks as if they were spinning It was one of the vile old prisons of Italy, and out their own hair (I suppose they were once a part of it was below the waters of the harbour. pretty, too, but it is very difficult to believe so), The place of his confinement was an arched sit on the footway leaning against house walls. underground and under-water gallery, with a Everybody who has come for water to the foun- grill-gate at the entrance, through which it retain stays there, and seems incapable of any such ceived such light and air as it got. Its condienergetic idea as going home. Vespers are over, tion was insufferably foul, and a stranger could though not so long but that I can smell the hardly breathe in it, or see in it with the aid of heavy resinous incense as I pass the church. a torch. At the upper end of this dungeon, and No man seems to be at work save the copper- consequently in the worst position, as being the smith. In an -Italian town he is always at work, furthest removed from light and air, the Englishand always thumping in the deadliest manner. man first beheld him, sitting on an iron bedstead, I keep straight on, and come in due time to to which he was chained by a heavy chain. His the first on the right; a narrow dull street, where countenance impressed the Englishman as having I see a well-favoured man of good stature and nothing in common with the faces of the male-military bearing, in a great cloak, standing at factors with whom he was associated, and he a door. Drawing nearer to this threshold, I see talked with him, and learnt how he came to be it is the threshold of a small wine-shop; and I there. can just make out, in the dim light, the inscrip- When the Englishman emerged from the dreadtion that it is kept by Giovanni Carlavero. ful den into the light of day, he asked his tonI touch my hat to the figure in the cloak, and ductor, the governor of the gaol,-why Giovanni pass in, and draw a stool to a little table. The Carlavero was put into the worst place? lamp (just such another as they dig out of Pom- " Because he is particularly recommended," peii) is lighted, but the place is empty. The was the stringent answer. figure in the.cloak has followed me in, and " Recommended, that is to say, for death?" stands before me. "Excuse me; particularly recommended," " The master?" was again the answer. " At your service, sir." "He has a bad tumour in his neck, no doubt " Please to give me a glass of the wine of the occasioned by the hardship of his miserable life. country." If he continues to be neglected, and he remains He turns to a little counter to get it. As his where he is, it will kill him." striking face is pale, and his action is evidently "Excuse me, I can do nothing. He is parthat of an enfeebled man, I remark that I fear ticularly recommended." he has been ill. It is not much, he courteously The Englishman was staying in that town, and and gravely answers, though bad while it lasts: he went to his home there; but the figure of this the fever. man chained to the bedstead made it no home, As he sets the wine on the little table, to his and destroyed his rest and peace. He was an manifest surprise I lay my hand on the back of Englishman of an extraordinarily tender heart, his, look him in the face, and say in a low voice: and he could not bear the picture. He went "I am an Englishman, and you are acquainted back Lo the -prison grate; went back again and with a friend of mine. Do you recollect —-?" again, and talked to the man and cheered him. 3~8 EIS UNCOIMER6CIAL'TRA VELE~Z. He used his utmost influence to get the man famous town in the North of Italy. He parted unchained from the bedstead, were it only for from the poor prisoner with a sorrowful heart, ever so short a time in the day, and permitted as from a doomed man for whom there was no to come to the grate. It took a long time, but release but Death. the Englishman's station, personal character, and The Englishman lived in his new place of steadiness of purpose wore out opposition so far, abode another half-year and more, and had no and that grace was at last accorded. Through tidings of the wretched prisoner. At length, the bars, when he could thus get light upon the one day, he received from the Advocate a coop tumour, the Englishman lanced it, and it did concise, mysterious note to this effect. "If well, and healed. His strong interest in the you still wish to bestow that benefit uponi lhe prisoner had greatly increased by this time, and man in whom you were once interested, send he formed the desperate resolution that he would me fifty pounds more, and I think it can be exert his utmost self-devotion, and use his utnost insured." Now, thg Englishman had long efforts, to get Carlavero pardoned. settled in his mind that the Advocate was a Ifthe prisoner had been a brigand and a mur- heartless sharper, who had played upon his derer, if he had committed every non-political credulity and his interest in an unfortunate crime in the Newgate Calendar and out of it, sufferer. So, he sat down and wrote a dry nothing would have been easier than for a man answer, giving the Advocate to understand that of any court or priestly influence to obtain his he was wiser now than he had been formerly, release. As it was, nothing could have been and that no more money was extractable from more difficult. Italian authorities, and English his pocket. authorities who had interest with them, alike He lived outside the city gates, some mile or assured the Englishman that his object was two from the post-office, and was accustomed to hopeless. He met with nothing but evasion, walk into the city with his letters, and post them refusal, and ridicule. His political prisoner himself. On a lovely spring day, when the sky became a joke in the place. It was especially was exquisitely blue, and the sea divinely beauobservable that English Circumlocution, and tiful, he took his usual walk, carrying this letter English Society on its travels, were as humorous to the Advocate in his pocket. As he went on the subject as Circumlocution and Society along, his gentle heart was much moved by the may be on any subject without loss of caste. loveliness of the prospect, and by the thought But, the Englishman possessed (and proved it of the slowly-dying prisoner chained to the bedwell in his life) a courage very uncommon among stead, for whom the universe had no delights. us: he had not the least fear of being considered As he drew nearer and nearer to the city where a bore in a good humane cause. So he went on he was to post the letter, he became very uneasy persistently trying, and trying, and trying to get in his mind. He debated with himself, was it Giovanni Carlavero out. That prisoner had been remotely possible, after all, that this sum of fifty rigorously re-chained after the tumour operation, pounds could restore the fellow-creature whom and it was not likely that his miserable life he pitied so much, and for whom he had striven could last very long. so hard, to liberty? He was not a convenOne day, when all the town knew about the tionally rich Englishman-very far from thatEnglishman and his political prisoner, there but, he had a spare fifty pounds at the banker's. came to the Englishman a certain sprightly He resolved to risk it. Without doubt, GOD has Italian Advocate of whom he had some know- recompensed him for the resolution. ledge; and he made this strange proposal. He went to the banker's, and got a bill for " Give me a hundred pounds to obtain Carla- the amount, and enclosed it in a letter to the vero's release. I think I can get him a pardon Advocate that I wish I could have seen. - He with that money. But I cannot tell you what simply told the Advocate that he was quite a I am going to do with the money, nor must you poor man, and that he was sensible it might be ever ask me the question if I succeed, nor must a great weakness in him to part with so much you ever ask me for an account of the money if money on the faith of so vague a communicaI fail." The Engli'iman decided to hazard the tion; but, that there it was, and that he prayed hundred pounds. He did so, and heard not the Advocate to make good use of it. If he did another word of the matter. For half a year otherwise, no good could ever come of it, and ana more the Advocate made no sign, and never it would lie heavy on his soul one day. once " took on" in any way to have the subject Within a week, the Englishman was sitting at on his mind. The Englishman was then obliged his breakfast, when he heard some suppressed to change his residence to another and more sounds of agitation on the staircase, and Gio GENUINE GRA TITUDL 39 vanni Carlavero leaped into the room and fell even spoken of-far less written of. We may upon his breast, a free man! meet some day, and then I may tell you what Conscious of having wronged the Advocate you want to know; not here, and now." But, in his own thoughts, the Englishman wrote him the two never did meet again. The Advocate an earnest and grateful letter, avowing the fact, was dead when the Englishman gave me my and entreating him to confide by what means trust; and how the man had been set free reand through what agency he had succeeded so mained as great a mystery to the Englishman, well.'The Advocate returned for answer through and to the man himself, as it was to me. the post, " There are many things, as you know, But, I knew this:-Here was the man, this in this Italy of ours, that are safest and best not sultry night, on his knees at my feet, because I " AT THE UPPER END OF THIS DUNGEON.... THE ENGLISHMAN FIRST BEHELD HIM, SITTING ON AN IRON BEDSTEAD, TO WHICH HE WAS CHAINED BY A HEAVY CHAIN." was the Englishman's friend; here were his tears in his worldly affairs, had led to his having failed upon my dress; here were his sobs choking his in his usual communications to.the Englishman utterance; here were his kisses on my hands, for-as I now remember the period-some two because they had touched the hands that had or three years, but his prospects were brighter, worked out his release. He had no need to tell and his wife, who had been very ill, had reme it wouid be happiness to him to die for his covered, and his fever had left him, and he had benefactor; I doubt if I ever saw real, sterling, bought a little vineyard, and would I carry to fervent gratitude of soul before or since. his benefactor the first of its wine? Ay, that I He was much watched and suspected, he said, would (I told him with enthusiasm), and not a -and had had enough to do to keep himself out drop of it should be spilled or lost! of trouble. This, and his not having prospered He had cautiously closed the door before ui46 ITE JUNCOAMAIERCIAL TRA fELLER. speaking of himself, and Ihad talked with such the miseries of the Bottle. The National Te'rn excess of emotion, and in a provinci.t Italian so perance Society might have made a powerful difficult to understand, that I had more than Tract of me. once been obliged to stop him, and beg him to The suspicions that attached to this innocent have compassion on me, and be slower and Bottle greatly aggravated my difficulties. It was calmer. By degrees he became so, and tran- like the apple-pie in the child's book. Parma quilly walked back with me to the hotel. There, pouted at it, Modena mocked it, Tuscany I sat down before I went to bed, and wrote a tackled it, Naples nibbled it, Rome refused it, faithful account of him to the Englishman Austria accused it. Soldiers suspected it, Jesuits which I concluded by saying that I would bring jobbed it. I composed a neat Oration, developthe wine home, against any difficulties, every ing my inoffensive intentions in connecfion with drop. this Bottle, and delivered it in an infinity of Early next morning;,when I came out at the guard-houses, at a multitude of town gates, and hotel door to pursue my journey, I found my on every drawbridge, angle, and rampart of a friend waiting with one of those immense bottles complete system of fortifications. Fifty timesa in which the Italian peasants store their wine day I got down to harangue an infuriated sol-a bottle holding some half-dozen gallons- diery about the Bottle. Through the filthy bound round with basket-work for greater safety degradation of the abject and vile Roman on the-journey. I see him now, in the bright States, I had as much difficulty in working my sun-light, tears of gratitude in his eyes, proudly way with the Bottle as if it had bottled up a inviting my attention to this corpulent bottle. complete system of heretical theology. In the (At the street corner hard by, two high-flavoured, Neapolitan country, where everybody was a spy, able-bodied monks-pretending to talk together, a soldier, a priest, or a lazzarone, the shameless. but keeping their four evil eyes upon us.) beggars of all four denominations incessantly How the bottle had been got there did not pounced on the Bottle, and made it a pretext appear; but the difficulty of getting it into the for extorting money from me. Quires-quires. ramshackle vetturino carriage in which I was do I say? Reams-of forms illegibly printed departing was so great, and it t6ok up so much on whity-brown paper were filled up about the room when it was got in, that I elected to sit Bottle, and it was the subject of more stamping outside. The last I saw of Giovaani Carlavero and sanding than I had ever seen before. In was his running through the town by the side consequence of which haze of sand, perhaps, it of the jingling wheels, clasping my hand as I was always irregular, and always latent with stretched it down from the box, charging me dismal penalties of going back or not going forwith a thousand last loving and dutiful messages ward, which were only to be abated by the to his dear patron, and finally looking in at the silver crossing of a base hand, poked shirtless. bottle, as it reposed inside, with an admiration out of a ragged uniform sleeve. Under all disof its honourable way of travelling that was be- couragements, however, I stuck to my Bottle, yond measure delightful. and held firm to my resolution that every drop. And now, w1hat disquiet of mind this dearly- of its contents should reach the Bottle's destibeloved and highly-treasured Bottle began to nation. cost me, no man knows; It was my precious The latter refinement cost me a separate heap. charge through a long tour, and, for hundreds of of troubles on its own separate account. What miles, I never had it off my mind by day or by cork-screws did I see the military power bring. night. Over bad roads-and the were many- out against that Bottle; what gimlets, spikes, I clung to it with affectionate desperation. Up divining rods, gauges, and unknown tests and mountains, I looked in at it, and saw it help- instruments! At some places they persisted in lessly tilting over on its back, with terror. At declaring that the wine must not be passed innumerable inn doors, when the weather was without being opened and tasted; I pleading to, bad, I was obliged to be put into my vehicle the contrary, used then to argue the question before the Bottle could be got in, and was seated on the Bottle, lest they should open it in obliged to have the Bottle lifted out before spite of me. In the southern parts of Italy human aid could come near me. The Imp of more violent shrieking, face-making, and gesthe same name, except that his associations ticulating, greater vehemence of speech and were all evil and these associations were all countenance and action, went on about that good, would have been a less troublesome tra- Bottle, than would attend fifty murders in a velling companion. I might have served Mr. northern latitude. It raised important fincCruikshank as a subject for a new illustration of tionaries out of their beds in the dead of night. CARLA VERO'S BO TTLE. 141 x _ I have known half-a-dozen military lanterns to Docks, and found him in a state of honourable disperse themselves at all points of a great captivity in the Custom House. sleeping Piazza, each lantern summoning some The wine was mere vinegar when I set it official creature to get up, put on his cocked- down before the generous Englishman-prohat instantly, and come and stop the Bottle. It bably it had been something like vinegar when was characteristic that while this innocent Bottle I took it up'from Giovanni Carlavero-but not had such immense difficulty in getting from little a drop of it was spilled or gone. And the Engtown to town, Signor Mazzini and the fiery cross lishman told me, with much emotion in his face were traversing Italy from end to end. and voice, that he had never tasted wine that Still, I stuck to my Bottle, like any fine old seemed to him so sweet and sound. And long English gentleman all of the olden time. The afterwards, the Bottle graced his table. And more the Bottle was interfered with, the the last time I saw him in this world that misses stauncher I became (if possible) in my first him, he took me aside in a crowd to say, with determination that my countryman should have his amiable smile: "We were talking of you it delivered to him intact, as the man whom only to-day at dinner, and I wished you had he had so nobly restored to life and liberty had been there, for I had some Claret up in Cardelivered it to me. If ever I had been obsti- lavero's Bottle." nate in my days-and I may have been, say, once or twice-I was obstinate about the Bottle. But, I made it a rule always to keep a pocket-full of small coin at its service, and never to be 9ut of temper in its cause. Thus IXXIX. and the Bottle made our way. Once we had THE a break-down; rather a bad break-down, on a steep high place with the sea below us, on a ITHIN so many yards of this Cotempestuous evening when it blew great guns. vent-Garden lodging of mine, as We were driving four wild horses abreast, within so many yards of WestminSouthern fashion, and there was some little ster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, difficulty in stopping them. I was outside, and )v the Houses of Parliament, the Prinot thrown off; but no words can describe my sons, the Courts of Justice, all the feelings when I saw the Bottle-travelling inside, Institutions that govern the land, I can as usual-burst the door open, and roll obesely find-m-ust find, whether I will or no-in out into the road. A blessed Bottle with a the open streets, shameful instances of neglect charmed existence, he took no hurt, and we of children, intolerable toleration of the engenrepaired damage, and went on triumphant. derment of paupers, idlers, thieves,traces of * A thousand representations were made to me wretched and destructive cripples both in body that the Bottle must be left at this place, or that, and mind, a misery to themselves, a misery to and called for again. I never yielded to one of the community, a disgrace to civilisation, and them, and never parted from the Bottle, on any an outrage on Christianity. I know it to be a pretence, consideration, threat, or entreaty. I fact as easy of demonstration as any sum in any had no faith in any official receipt for the Bottle, of the elementary rules of arithmetic, that if the and nothing would induce me to accept one. State would begin its work and duty at the beThese unmanageable politics at last brought me ginning, and would with the strong hand take and the Bottle, still triumphant, to Genoa. those children out of the streets while they are There I took a tender and reluctant leave of yet children, and wisely train them, it would him for a few weeks, and consigned him to a make them a part of England's glory, not its trusty English captain, to be conveyed to the shame-of England's strength, not its weakness Port of London by sea. -would raise good soldiers and sailors, and While the Bottle was on his voyage to Eng- good citizens, and many great men out of the land, I read the Shipping Intelligence as seeds of its criminal population. Yet I go on anxiously as if I had been an underwriter. bearing with the enormity as if it were nothing, There was some stormy weather after I myself and I go on reading the Parliamentary Debates had got to England by way of Switzerland and as if they were something, and I concern myFrance, and my mind greatly misgave me that self far more about one railway bridge across a the Bottle might be wrecked. At last, to my public thoroughfare than about a dozen generagreat joy, I received notice of his safe arrival, tions of scrofula, ignorance, wickedness, prostiand immediately went down to St. Katherine's tution, poverty, and felony. I can slip out at 142 THE UNVCOJIMERC CIAL TRA VELLER. my door in the small hours after any midnight, portion of them being my own fault in my owl and, in one circuit of the purlieus of Covent- case-I should like to ask any well-trained and Garden Market, can behold a state of infancy experienced teacher, not to say psychologist. and youth as vile as if a Bourbon sat upon the And as to the physical portion-I should like English throne; a great police force looking on to ask PROFESSOR OWEN." with authority to do no more than worry and It happened that I had a small bundle of hunt the dreadful vermin into corners, and there papers with me, on what is called " The Halfleave them. Within the length of a few streets Time System" in schools. Referring to onc of I can find a workhouse, mismanaged with that those papers, I found that the indefatigable MR. dull short-sighted obstinacy that its greatest CHADWICK had been beforehand with me, and opportunities as to the children it receives are had already asked Professor Owen: who had lost, and yet not a farthing saved to any one. handsomely replied that I was not to blame, But the wheel goes round, and round, and but that, being troubled with a skeleton, and round; and because it goes round-so I am having been constituted according to certain told by the politest authorities-it goes well." natural laws, I and my skeleton were unfortuThus I reflected, one day in the Whitsun nately bound by those laws-even in schoolweek last past, as I floated down the Thames and had comported ourselves accordingly. among the bridges, looking-not inappropriately Much comforted by the good Profeasor's being -at the drags that were hanging up at certain on my side, I read on to discover whether the dirty stairs to hook the drowned out, and at the indefatigable Mr. Chadwick had taken up the numerous conveniences provided to facilitate mental part of my afflictions. I found that their tumbling in. My object in that uncom- he had, and that he had gained an my behalf mercial journey called up another train of SIR BENJAMIN BRODIE, SIR DAVID WILKIE, SIR thought, and it ran as follows: WALTER SCOTT, and the common sense of man"When I was at school, one of seventy boys, kind. For which I beg Mr. thadwick, if this I wonder by what secret understanding our atten- should meet his eye, to accept my warm acknowtion began to wander when we had pored over ledgments. our books for some hours. I wonder by what Up to that time I had retained a misgiving ingenuity we brought on that confused state of that the seventy unfortunates, of whonm I was mind when sense became nonsense, when figures one, must have been, without knowing it, leagued wouldn't work, when dead languages wouldn't together by the spirit of evil in a sort of perconstrue, when live languages wouldn't be petual Guy Fawkes Plot, to grope about in spoken, when memory wouldn't come, when vaults with dark lanterns after a certain period dulness and vacancy wouldn't go. I cannot of continuous study. But now the misgiving remember that we ever conspired to be sleepy vanished, and I floated on with a quieted mind after dinner, or that we ever particularly wanted to see the Half-Time System in action. For that to be stupid, and to have flushed faces and hot was the purpose of my journey. both by steambeating heads, or to find blank hopelessness boat on the Thames, and by very dirty railway and obscurity this afternoon in what would be- on the shore. To which last institution I beg come perfectly clear and bright in the freshness to recommend the legal use of coke ao engine of to-morrow morning. We suffered for these fuel, rather than the illegal use of coal; the things, and they made us miserable enough. recommendation is quite disinterested, for I was Neither do I remember that we ever bound most liberally supplied with small coal on the ourselves, by any secret oath or other solemn journey, for which no charge was made. I had obligation, to find the seats getting too hard to not only my eyes, nose, and ears filled, but my be sat upon after a certain time; or to have hat, and all my pockets, and my pocket-book, intolerable twitches in our legs, rendering us and my watch. aggressive and malicious with those members; The V.D.S.C.R.C. (or Very Dirt) and Small or to be troubled with a similar uneasiness in Coal Railway Company) delivered me close to our elbows, attended with fistic consequences to my destination, and I soon found the Half-Time our neighbours; or to carry two pounds of lead System established in spacious premises, and in the cl.e.s, four pounds in the head, and freely placed at my convenience and disposal. several actve blue-bottles in each ear. Yet, What would I see first of the Half-Time for certain; we.uffered under those distresses, System? I chose Military Drill. " Attenand were always charged at for labouring under tion!" Instantly a hundred boys stood forth them, as if we had brought them on of our own in the paved yard as one boy; bright, quick, deliberate act and deed. As to the mental eager, steady, watchful for the look of com SAIL ORS IN MINIZ ATURE'. 143 mand, instant and ready for the word. Not stone —gives'em a tune with all his might and only was there complete precision-complete main. Hooroar, fifer! With a will, my lads! accord to the eye and to the ear-but an alert- Tip'em a livelier one, fifer Fifer tips'em a ness in the doing of the thing which deprived it, livelier one, and excitement increases. Shake curiously, of its monotonous or mechanical cha-'em out, my lads! Well done! There you racter. There was perfect uniformity, and yet have her Pretty, pretty i Every rag upon her an individual spirit and emulation. No spec- she can carry, wind right astarn, and ship cuttator could doubt that the boys liked it. With ting through the water fifteen knots an hour! non-commissioned officers varying from a yard At this favourable moment of her voyage I to a yard and a half high, the result could not gave the alarm, " A man overboard " (on the possibly have been attained otherwise. They gravel), but he was immediately recovered, none marched, and counter-marched, and formed in the worse. Presently, I observed the Skipper line and square, and company, and single file overboard, but forebore to mention it, as he and double file, and performed a variety of seemed in nowise disconcerted by the accident. evolutions; all most admirably. In respect of Indeed, I soon came to regard the Skipper as an air of enjoyable understanding of what they an amphibious creature, for he was so perwere about, which seems to be forbidden to petually plunging overboard to look up at the English soldiers, the boys might have been hands aloft, that he was oftener in the bosom of small French troops. When they were dis- the ocean than on deck. His pride in his crew missed, and the broadsword exercise, limited to on those occasions was delightful, and the cona much smaller number, succeeded, the boys ventional unintelligibility of his orders in the who had no part in that new drill either looked ears of uncommercial landlubbers and loblolly on attentively, or disported themselves in a boys, though they were always intelligible to the gymnasium hard by. The steadiness of the crew, was hardly less pleasant. But we couldn't broadsword boys on their short legs, and the expect to go on in this way for ever; dirty firmness with which they sustained the different weather came on, and then worse weather, and positions, was truly remarkable. when we least expected it we got into tremenThe broadsword exercise over, suddenly dous difficulties. Screw loose in the chart, perthere was great excitement and a rush. Naval haps-something certainly wrong somewhereDrill! but here we were with breakers ahead, my lads, In a corner of the ground stood a decked driving head on, slap on a lee shore! The Skipmimic ship, with real masts, yards, and sails- per broached this terrific announcement in such mainmast seventy feet high. At the word of great agitation, that the small fifer, not fifing command from the Skipper of this ship-a now, but standing looking on near the wheel mahogany-faced Old Salt, with the indispen- with his fife under his arm, seemed for the sable quid in his cheek, the true nautical roll, moment quite unboyed, though he speedily reand all wonderfully complete-the rigging was covered his presence of mind. In the trying covered with a swarm of boys: one, the first to circumstances that ensued, the Skipper and the spring into the shrouds, outstripping all the crew proved worthy of one another. The Skipothers, and resting on the truck of the main- per got dreadfully hoarse, but otherwise was topmast in nQ time. master of the situation. The man at the wheel Andsnow we stood out to sea in a most did wonders; all hands (except the fifer) weie amazing manner: the Skipper himself, the turned up to wear ship; and I observed the whole crew, the Uncommercial, and all hands fifer, when we were at our greatest extremity, to present, implicitly believing that there was not refer to some document in his waistcoat pocket, a moment to lose, that the wind had that instant which I conceived to be his will. I think she chopped round and sprung up fair, and that we struck. I was not myself conscious of any colwere away on a voyage round the world. Get lision, but I saw the Skipper so very often all sail upon her! With a will, my lads! Lay washed overboard and back again, that I could out upon the main-yard there! Look alive at only impute it to the beating of the ship. I am the weather earring! Cheery. my boys! Let not enough of a seaman to describe the mago the sheet now! Stand by at the braces, nceuvres by which we were saved, but they made you! With a will, aloft there! Belay, star- the Skipper very hot (French polishing his board watch! Fifer! Come aft, fifer, and give mahogany face) and the crew very nimble, and'em a tune! Forthwith springs up fifer, fife in succeeded to a marvel; for, within a few minutes hand-smallest boy ever seen-big lump on of the first alarm, we had wore ship and got her temple, having lately fallen down on a paving- off and were all a-tauto-which I felt very i44 THE UNCOIMMEIRCiZAL TRA VELLER. grateful for: not that I knew what it was, but whole power into God bless the Prince of Wales, that I perceived that we had not been all a-tauto and blessed his Royal Highness to such an extent lately. Land now appeared on our weather- that, for my own uncommercial part, I gasped bow, and we shaped our course for it, having again when it was over. The moment this was the wind abeam, -and frequently changing the done, we formed) with surpassing freshness, into man at the helm, in order that every man might hollow squares, and fell to work at oral lessons, have his spell. We worked into harbour under as if we never did, and had never thought of prosperous circumstances, and furled our sails, doing, anything else. and squared our yards, and made all ship-shape Let a veil be drawn over the self-committals and handsome, and so our voyage ended. into which the Uncommercial Traveller would When I complimented the Skipper, at parting, have been betrayed but for a discreet reticence, on his exertions and those of his gallant crew, coupled with an air of absolute wisdom on the he informed me that the latter were provided part of that artful personage. Take the square for the worst, all hands being taught to swim of five, multiply it by fifteen, divide it by three, an dive; and he added that the able seaman deduct eight from it, add four dozen to it, give at the main-topmast truck, especially, could me the result in pence, and tell me how many dive as deep as he could go high. eggs I could get for it at three farthings apiece. The next adventure that befell me, in my The problem is hardly stated, when a dozen visit to the Short-Timers, was the sudden ap- small boys pour out answers. Some wide, some parition of a military band. I had been in- very nearly right, some worked as far as they go specting the hammocks of the crew of the good with such accuracy as at once to show what link ship, when I saw with astonishment that several of the chain has been dropped in the hurry. musical instruments, brazen and of great size, For the moment, none are quite right; but beappeared to have suddenly developed two legs hold a labouring spirit beating the buttons on its each, and to be trotting about a yard. And corporeal waistcoat in a process of internal calmy astonishment was heightened when I ob- culation, and knitting an accidental bump on its served a large drum, that had previously been corporeal forehead in a concentration of mental leaning helpless against a wall, taking up a stout arithmetic! It is my honourable friend (if he position on four legs. Approaching this drum will allow me to call him so) the fifer. With and looking over it, I found two boys behind it right arm eagerly extended in token of being in(it was too much for one), and then I found that spired with an answer, and with right leg foreeach of the brazen instruments had brought out most, the fifer solves the mystery: then recalls a boy, and was going to discourse sweet sounds. both arm and leg, and with bump in ambush The boys-not omitting the fifer, now playing a awaits the next poser. Take the square of new instrument-were dressed in neat uniform, three, multiply it by seven, divide it by four, add and stood up in a circle at their music stands, fifty to it, take thirteen from it, multiply it by like any other Military Band. They played a two, double it, give me the result in pence, and march or two, and then we had Cheer, Boys, say how many halfpence. Wise as the serpent Cheer, and then we had Yankee Doodle, and is the four feet of performer on the nearest apwe finished, as in loyal duty bound, with God proach to that instrument, whose right arm inSave the Queen. The band's proficiency was stantly appears, and quenches this arithmetical perfectly wonderful, and it was not at all wonder- fire. Tell me something about Great Britain, ful that the whole body corporate of Short- tell me something about its principal producTimers listened with faces of the liveliest inter- tions, tell me something about its ports, tell me est and pleasure. something about its seas and rivers, tell me someWhat happened next among the Short-Timers? thing about coal, iron, cotton, timber, tin, and As if the band had blown me into a great qlass- turpentine. The hollow square bristles with exroom out of their brazen tubes, in a great class- tended right arms; but ever faithful to fact is room I found myself now, with the whole choral the fifer, ever wise as the serpent is the perforce of Short-Timers singing the praises of a former on that instrument, ever prominently summer's day to the harmonium, and my small buoyant and brilliant are all members of the but highly-respected friend the fifer blazing away band. I observe the player of the cymbals to vocally, as if he had been saving up his wind for dash at a sounding answer now and then rather the last twelvemonth; also the whole crew of than not cut in at all; but I take that to be in the good ship Nameless swarming up and down the way of his instrument. All these questions, the scale as if they had never swarmed up and and many such, are put on the spur of the modown the rigging. This done, we threw our ment, and by one who has never examined OBJE CTIONS CONASIDE' ED. 14-5 these boys. The Uncommercial, invited to add is a most important consideration, as poor another, falteringly demands how many birth- parents are always impatient to profit by their (lays a man born on the twenty-ninth of February children's labour. will, have had on completing his fiftieth year? It will be objected: Firstly, that this is all A general perception of trap and pitfall instantly very well, but special local advantages and spearises, and the fifer is seen to retire behind the cial selection of children must be necessary to. corduroys of his next neighbours, as perceiving such success. Secondly, that this is all very well, special necessity for collecting himself and con- but must be very expensive. Thirdly, that this muning with his mind. Meanwhile, the wisdom is all very well, but we have no proof of the of the serpent suggests that the man will have results, sir, no proof. had only one birthday in all that time, for how On the first head of local advantages and specan any man have more than one, seeing that cial selection. Would Limehouse Hole be he is born once and dies once? The blushing picked out for the site of a Children's Paradise? Uncommercial stands corrected, and amends Or would the legitimate and illegitimate pauper the formula. Pondering ensues, two or three children of the'long-shore population of such a wrong answers are offered, and Cymbals strikes river-side district be regarded as unusually up "six." but doesn't know why. Then, mo- favourable specimens to work with? Yet these destly emerging from his Academic Grove of schools are at Limehouse, and are the Pauper corduroys, appears the fifer, right arm extended, Schools of the Stepney Pauper Union. right leg foremost bump irradiated. "Twelve, On the second head of expense. - Would sixand two over!" pence a week be considered a very large cost The feminine Short-Timers passed a similar for the education of each pupil, including all examination, and very creditably too. Would salaries of teachers and rations of teachers? have done better, perhaps, with a little more But, supposing the cost were not sixpence a geniality on the part of their pupil teacher; for week, not fivepence? It is FOURPENCE-HALFa cold eye, my young friend, and a hard abrupt PENNY. manner, are not by any means the powerful On the third head of no proof, sir, no proof. engines that your innocence supposes them to Is there any proof in the facts that Pupil be. Both girls and boys wrote excellently, from Teachers more in number, and more highly copy. and. dictation; both could cook; both qualified, have been produced here under the could mend their own clothes; both could clean Short-Time system than under the Long-Time up everything about them in an orderly and system? That the Short-Timers, in a writing skilful way, the girls having womanly household competition, beat the Long-Timers of a firstknowledge superadded. Order and method class National School? That the sailor boys are began in the songs of the Infant School, which in such demand for merchant ships, that whereas, I visited likewise, and they were even in their before they were trained,,,o premium used to dwarf degree to be found in the Nursery, where be given with each boy-too often to some the uncommercial walking-stick was carried off greedy brute of a drunken skipper, who diswith acclamations, and where "the Doctor "-a appeared before the term of apprenticeship was medical gentleman of two, who took his degree out, if the ill-used boy didn't-captains of the on the night when he was found at an apothe- best character now take these boys more than cary's door-did the honours of the establish- willingly, with no premium at all? That they ment with great urbanity and gaiety. are also much esteemed in the Royal Navy, These have long been excellent schools; long which they prefer, "because everything is so before the days of the Short-Time. I first saw neat and clean and orderly?" Or, is there any them twelve or fifteen years ago. But, since proof in Naval captains writing, "Your little felthe introduction of the Short-Time system, it lows are all that I can desire?" Or, is there has been proved here that eighteen hours a any proof in such testimony as this? "The week of book-learning are more profitable than owner of a vessel called at the school, and said thirty-six, and thatk-the pupils are far quicker that as his ship was going down Channel on her and brighter than of yore. The good influences last voyage, with one of the boys from the of music on the whole body of children have school on board, the pilot said,'It would be as likewise been surprisingly proved. Obviously well if the royal were lowered; I wish it were another of the immense advantages of the Short- down.' Without waiting for any orders, and Time system to the cause of good education is unobserved by the pilot, the lad, whom they the great diminution of its- cost, and of the had taken on board from the school, instantly period of time over which it extends The last mounted the mast and lowered the royal, and, 146 TFHE UIVCOMAMERCIAL TRA VLLER. at the next glance of the pilot to the masthead, in the early daylight, and climbed to the masthe perceived that the sail had been let down. head. One boy unfortunately fell, and wa~' He exclailmed,'Who's done that job?' The killed. There was no clue to the others; but owner, who was on board, said,'That was the all the boys were assembled, and the Chairman little fellow whom I put. on board two days ago.' of the Board addressed theml. " I promise The pilot immediately said,'Why, where could nothing; you see what a dreadful thing has lie have been brought up?' That boy had happened; you know what a grave offence it is never seen the sea or been on a real ship be- that has led to such a consequence; I cannot fore!" Or, is there any proof in these boys say what will be done with the offenders; but, being in greater demand for Regimental Bands boys, you have been trained here, above all than the Union can meet? Or, in ninety-eight things, to respect the truth. I want the truth. of them having gone into Regimental Bands in Who are the delinquents?" Instantly, the three years? Or, in twelve of them being in whole number of boys concerned separated from the band of one regiment? Or, in the colonel the rest, and stood out. of that regiment writing, " We want six more Now, the head and heart of that gentleman boys; they are excellent lads?" O, in one of (it is needless to say, a good head and a good the boys having risen to be band corporal in heart) have been deeply interested in these the same regiment? Or, in employers of all schools for many years, and are so still; and kinds chorusing, "Give us drilled boys, for they the establishment is very fortunate in a most are prompt, obedient, and punctual?" Other admirable master, and, moreover, the schools of proofs I have myself beheld with these uncom- the Stepney Union cannot have got to be what mercial eyes, though I do not regard myself as they are without the Stepney Board of Guardians having a right to relate in what social positions having been earnest and humane men, strongly they have seen respected men and women who imbued with a sense of their responsibility. But were once pauper children of the Stepney what one set of men can do ifi this wise, another Union. set of men can do; and this is a noble example Into what admirable soldiers others of these to all other Bodies and Unions, and a noble boys have the capabilities for being turned, I example to the State. Followed, and enlarged need not point out. Many of them are always upon by its enforcement on bad parents, it ambitious of military service; and once upon a would clear London streets of the most terrible time, when an old boy came back to see the old objects they smite the sight with-myriads of place, a cavalry soldier all complete, wit/ his little children who awfully reverse Our Saviour's spul-s on, such a yearning broke out to get into words, and are not of the Kingdom of Heaven, cavalry regiments and wear those sublime ap- but of the Kingdom of Hell. pendages, that it was one of the greatest excite- Clear the public streets of sucn shame, and ments ever known in the school. The girls the public conscience of such reproach? Ah! make excellent domestic servants, and at cer- Almost prophetic, surely, the child's jingle: tain periods come back, a score or two at a time, to see the old building, and to take tea " When will that be, with the old teachers, and to hear the old band, Say th es of Step-ney? and see the old ship with her masts towering tip above the neighbouring roofs and chimneys. As to the physical health of these schools, it is so eKceptionally remarkable (simply because the XXX. sanitary regulations are as good as'the other educational arrangements), that when MR. A SMALL STAR IN THE EAST. TUFNELL, the Inspector, first stated it in a report, he was supposed, in spite of his high cha- ~ HAD been looking, yesternight, racter, to have been betrayed into some extra- through the famous "Dance of ordinary mistake or exaggeration. In the moral ( i 9 Death," and to-day the grim old health of these schools-where corporal punish- ~. o. woodcuts arose in my mind with ment is unknown-Truthfulness stands high. _ the new significance of a ghastly When the ship was first erected, the boys were 9 )g monotony not to be found in the forbidden to go aloft until the nets, which are g original. The weird skeleton rattled now always there, were stretched as a precaution along the streets before me, and struck against accidents. Certain boys, in their eager- fiercely; but it was never at the pains of assumness, disobeyed the injunction, got out of window ing a disguise. It played on no dulcimer here, LEAD-POISONED. 147 was crowned with no flowers, waved no plume, or barge; and they had just now been thiust minced in no flowing robe or train, lifted no into the otherwise empty grate to make two iron wine-cup, sat at no least, cast no dice, counted pots boil. There was some fish in one, and no gold. It was simply a bare, gaunt, famished there were some potatoes in the other. The skeleton, slaying his way along. flare of the burning wood enabled me to see a The borders of Ratcliff and Stepney, eastward table, and a broken chair or so, and some ol( of London, and giving on the impure river, were cheap crockery ornaments about the chimney the scene of this uncompromising dance of piece. It was not until I had spoken with the death, upon a drizzling November day. A woman a few minutes that I saw a horrible squalid maze of streets, courts, and alleys of brown heap on the floor in a corner, which, but miserable houses let out in single rooms. A for previous experience in this dismal wise, 1 wilderness of dirt, rags, and hunger. A mud might not have suspected to be " the bed.' desert, chiefly inhabited by a tribe from whom There was something thrown upon it; and I employment has departed, or to whom it comes asked what that was. but fitfully and rarely. They are not skilled "'Tis the poor craytliur that stays here, sur, mechanics in anywise. They are but labourers, and'tis very bad she is, and'tis very bad she', -dock labourers, water-side labourers, coal- been this long time, and'tis better she'll nevel porters, ballast-heav.rs, such-like hewers of wood be, and'tis slape she does all day, and'tis wake and drawers of water. But they have come into she does all night, and'tis the lead, sur." existence, and they propagate their wretched "The what?" race. "The lead, sur. Sure'tis the lead-mills, One grisly joke alone, methought, the skeleton where the women gets took on at eighteen-pent e seemed to play off here. It had stuck election a day, sur, when they makes application early bills on the walls, which the wind and rain had enough, and is lucky and wanted; and'tis leaddeteriorated into suitable rags. It had even pisoned she is, sur, and some of them gets leadsummed up the state of the poll, in chalk, on pisoned soon, and some of them gets leadthe shutters of one ruined house. It adjured pisoned later, and some, but not many, niver; the free and independent starvers to vote for and'tis all according to the constitooshtn, sur, Tllisman and vote for Thatman; not to plump, and some constitooshuns is strong, and some is as they valued the state of parties and the weak; and her constitooshun is lead-pisoned, national prosperity (both of great importance to bad as can be, sur; and her brain is coming out them, I think); but, by returning Thisman and at her ear, and it hurts her dreadful; and that's Thatman. each nought without the other, to what it is, and niyer no more, and niver no less, compound a glorious and immortal whole. sur."' Surely the skeleton is nowhere more cruelly The sick young woman moaning here, the ironical in the original monkish idea. speaker bent over her, took a bandage from her Pondering in my mind the far-seeing schemes head, and threw open a back-door to let in the of Thisman and Thatman, and of the public daylight upon it, from the smallest and most blessing called Party, for staying the degeneracy, miserable back-yard I ever saw. physical and moral, of many thousands (who "That's what cooms from her, sur, being leadshall say how many?) of the English race; for pisoned; and it cooms from her night and day, devising employment useful to the community the poor, sick craythur; and the pain of it is for those who want but to work and live; for dreadful, and God he knows that my husband equalising rates, cultivating waste lands, facili- has walked the sthreets these four days, being a tating emigration, and, above all things, saving laborer, and is walking them now, and is ready and utilising the on-coming generations, and to work, and no work for him, and no fire and thereby changing ever-growing national weak- no food but the bit in the pot, and no more ness into strength: pondering in my mind, I than ten shillings in a fortnight; God be good say, these hopeful exertions, I turned down a to us! and it is poor we are, and dark it is and narrow street to look into a house or two. could it is indeed-." It was a dark street, with a dead wall on one Knowing that I could compensate myself side. Nearly all the outer doors of the houses thereafter for my self-denial, if I saw fit, I had stood open. I took the first entry, and knocked resolved that I would give nothing in the course at a parlour door. Might I come in? I might, of these visits. 1 did this to try the people. I if I plased, sur. may state at once that my closest observation The woman of the room (Irish) had picked could not defect any indication whatever of an up some long strips of wood, about some wharf expectation that I would give money; they 148 TIE UNCOlMM.ERCIAL TRA VEtLLER. were grateful to be talked to about their mise- The wife, an intelligent, quick woman, rose rable affairs,-and sympathy was plainly a comfort and stood at her husband's elbow; and he to them; but they neither asked for money ip glanced up at her as if for help. It soon apany case, nor showed the least trace of surprise or peared that he was rather deaf; He was a slow, disappointment or resentment at my giving none. simple fellow of about thirty. The woman's married daughter had by this "What was he by'trade? " time come down, from her room on the floor "Gentleman asks what are you by trade, above, to join in the conversation. She herself John?" had been to the lead-mills very early that "I am a boiler-maker;" looking about him morning to be " took on," but had not suc- vith an exceedingly perplexed air, as if for a ceeded. She had four children; and her hus- boiler that had unaccountably vanished. band, also a water-side labourer, and then out "He ain't a mechanic, you understand, sir," seeking work, seemed in no better case as to the wife put in: "he's only a labourer." finding it than her father. She was English, "Are you in work?" and by nature of a buxom figure' and cheerful. He looked up at his wife again. " Gentleman Both in her poor dress and in her mother's there says are you in work, John?" was an effort to keep up some appearance of " In work! " cried this forlorn boiler-maker, neatness. She knew all about the sufferings of staring aghast at his wife, and then working his the unfortunate invalid, and all about the lead- vision's way very slowly round to me: "Lord, poisoning, and how the symptoms came on, and no! " how they grew,-having often seen them. The "Ah, he ain't indeed!" said the poor woman, very smell, when you stood inside the door of shaking her head, as she looked at the four the works, was enough to knock you down, she children in succession, and then at him. said; yet she was going back again to get " took " Work! " said the boiler-maker, still seeking' on." What could she do? Better be ulcerated that evaporated boiler, first in my countenance, and paralysed for eighteen-pence a day, while it then in the air, and then in the features of, his lasted, than see the children starve. second son at his knee: " I wish I zas in work! A dark and squalid cupboard in this room, I haven't had more than a day's work to do this touching the back-door and all manner of three weeks." offence, had been for some time the sleeping- "How have you lived?" place of the sick young woman., But the nights A faint gleam of admiration lighted up the being now wintry, and the blankets and cover-'face of the would-be boiler-maker, as he stretched lets "gone to the leaving shop," she lay all out the short sleeve of his threadbare canvas night where she lay all day, and was lying then. jacket, and replied, pointing her out, " On the The woman of the room, her husband, this most work of the wife." miserable patient, and two others, lay on the I forget where boiler-making had gone to, or one brown heap together for warmth. where he supposed it had gone to; but he "God bless you, sir, and thank you!" were added some resigned information on that head, the parting words from these people,-gratefillly coupled with an expression of his belief that it spoken too,-with which I left this place. was never coming back. Some streets away, I tapped at another par- The cheery helpfulness. of the wife was very lour door on another ground-floor. Looking remarkable. She did slop-work; made peain, I found a man, his wife, and four children, jackets. She produced the pea-jacket then in sitting at a washing-stool by way of table, at hand, and spread it out upon the bed,-the only their dinner of bread and infused tea-leaves. piece of furniture in the room on which to spread There was a very scanty cinderous fire in the it. She showed how much of it she made, and grate by which they sat; and there was a tent how much was afterwards finished off by the bedstead in the room, with a bed upon it and a machine. According to her calculation at the coverlet.'The man did not rise when I went moment, deducting what her trimming cost her, in, nor during my stay, but civilly inclined his she got for making a pea-jacket tenpence-halfhead on my pulling off my hat, and, in answer penny, and she could make one in something to my inquiry whether I might ask him a ques- less than two days. tion or two, said, " Certainly." There being a But, you see, it come to her through two hands, window at each end of this room, back and and of course it didn't come through the second frolit, it might have been ventilated; but it was hand for nothing. Why did it come through shut up tight, to keep the cold out, and was the second hand at all? Why, this way. The very sickening. second hand todk the risk of the given-out work,. A COAL-PORTER'S HOME. ]49 you see. If she had noney enough to pay the like broken tools and a piece of stove-pipe. A security deposit,-call it two pound,-she could child stood looking on. On the box nearest to get the work from the first hand, and so the the fire sat two younger children; one a delicate second would not have to be deducted for. and pretty little creature, whom the other someBut, having no money at all, the second hand times kissed. conme in and took its profit, and so the whole This woman, like the last, was woefully shabby, worked down to tenpence-halfpenny. Having and was degenerating to the Bosjesman conexplained all this with great intelligence, even plexion. But her figure, and the ghost of a with some little pride, and without a whine or certain vivacity about her, and the spectre of a murmur, she folded her work again, sat down dimple in her cheek, carried my memory strangely by her husband's side at'the washing-stool, and back to the old days of the Adelphi Theatre, resumed her dinner of dry bread. Mean as the London, when Mrs. Fitzwillian was the friend meal was, on the bate board, with its old galli- of Victorine. pots for cups, and what not other sordid make- "May I ask you what your husband is?" shifts; shabby as the woman was in dress, and " He's a coal-porter, sir,"-witli a glance and toning down towards the Bosjesman colour, a sigh towards the bed. with want of nutriment and washing,-there was " Is he out of work?" positively a dignity in her, as the family anchor " Oh yes, sir! and work's at all times very, just holding the poor shipwrecked boiler-maker's very scanty with him; and now he's laid bark. When I left the room, the boiler-maker's up." eyes were slowly turned towards her, as if his "It's my legs," said the man upon the bed. last hope of ever again seeing that vanished "I'll unroll'em." And immediately began. boiler lay in her direction. " Have you any older children?" These people had never applied for parish "I have a daughter that does the needlework, relief but once; and that was when the husband and I have a son that does what he can. She's met with a disabling accident at his work. at her work now, and he's trying for work." Not many doors from here, I went into a "Do they live here?" room on the first floor. The woman apologised "They sleep here. They can't afford to pay for its being in "an untidy mess." The day more rent, and so they come here at night. was Saturday, and she was boiling the children's The rent is very hard upon us. It's rose upon clothes in a saucepan on the hearth. There us, too, nowv,-sixpence a week,-on account of was nothing else into which she could have put these new changes in the law about the rates. them. There was no crockery, or tinware, or We are a week behind; the landlord's been tub, or bucket. There was an old gallipot or shaking and rattling at that door frightfully; he two, and there was a broken bottle or so, and says he'll turn us out. I don't know what's to there were some broken boxes for seats. The come of it." last small scraping of coals left was raked to- The man upon the bed ruefully interposed, gether in a corner of the floor. There were "Here's my legs. The skin's broke, besides some rags in an open cupboard, also on the the swelling. I have had a manykicks, working, floor. In a corner of the room was a crazy old one way and another." French bedstead, with a man lying on his back Ie looked at his legs (which were much disupon it in a ragged pilot jacket, and rough oil- coloured and misshapen) for awhile, and then, skin fantail hat; The room was perfectly black. appearing to remember that they were not It was difficult to believe, at first, that it was popular with his family, rolled them up again, as not purposely coloured black, the walls were so if they were something in the nature of maps or begrimed. plans that were not wanted to be referred to, lay As I stood opposite the woman boiling the hopelessly down on his back once more with children's clothes,-she had not even a piece of his fantail hat over his face, and stirred not. soap to wash them with,-and apologising for "Do your eldest son and daughter sleep in her occupation, I could take in all these things that cupboard?" without appearing to notice them, and could "Yes," replied the woman. even correct my inventory. I had missed, at "With the children?" the first glance, some half a pound of bread in "Yes. We have to get together for warmth. the otherwise empty safe, an old red ragged We have little to cover us." crinoline hanging on the handle of the door by "Have you nothing by you to cat but the which I had entered, and certain fragments of piece of bread I see there?" rusty iron scattered on the floor, which looked "Nothing. And we had the rest of the loaf THE UNCOiMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, II. 329 ISO TCHE UVCOME R VCCOM A J 4L TRA VEL LER. for our breakfast, with water. I don't know look: but I saw the sufferings both of infancy what's to come of it." and childhood tenderly assuaged; I heard the "Have you no prospect of improvement?" little patients answering to pet playful names; "If my eldest son earns anything to-day, he'll the light touch of a delicate lady laid bare the bring it home. Then we shall have something wasted sticks of arms for me to pity; and the to eat to-night, and may be able to do some- claw-like little hands, a's she did so, twined thing towards the rent. If not, I don't know themselves lovingly around her wedding-ring. what's to come of it." One baby mite there was as pretty as any of "This is a sad state of things." Raphael's angels. The tiny head was bandaged "Yes, sir; it's a hard, hard life. Take care for water on the brain; and it was suffering of the stairs as you go, sir,-they're broken,- with acute bronchitis too, and made from time and good day, sir!" to time a plaintive, though not impatient or These people had a mortal dread of entering complaining, little sound. The smooth curve the workhouse, and received no out-of-door of the cheeks and of the chin was faultless in its relief condensation of infantine beauty, and the large In another room, in still another tenement, I bright eyes were most lovely. It happened, as found a very decent woman with five children,- I stopped at the foot of the bed, that these eyes the last a baby, and she herself a patient of the rested upon mine with that wistful expression of parish doctor,-to whom, her husband being in wondering thoughtfulness which we all know the hospital, the Union allowed, for the support sometimes in very little children. They reof herself and family, four shillings a week mained fixed on mine, and never turned from and five loaves. I suppose when Thisman, me while I stood there. When the utterance M.P., and Thatman, M.P., and the Public- of that plaintive sound shook the little form, blessing Party, lay their heads together in the gaze still remained unchanged. I felt as course of time, and come to an equalisation of though the child implored me to tell the story rating, she may go down to the dance of death of the little hospital in which it was sheltered to to the tune of sixpence more. any gentle heart I could address. Laying my I could enter no other houses for that one world-worn hand upon the little unmarked while, for I could not bear the contemplation of clasped hand at the chin, I gave it a silent the children. Such heart as I had summoned promise that I would do so. to sustain me against the miseries of the adults A gentleman and lady, a young husband and failed me when I looked at the children. I saw wife, have bought and fitted up this building how young they were, how hungry, how serious for its present noble use, and have quietly and still. I thought of them sick and dying in settled themselves in it as its medical officers those lairs. I think of them dead without and directors.. Both have had considerable anguish; but to think of them so suffering and practical experience of medicine and surgery, so dying quite unmanned me. he as house surgeon of a great London HosDown by the river's bank in Ratcliff, I was pital; she as a very earnest student, tested by turning upward by a side-street, therefore, to severe examination, and also as a nurse of the regain the railway, when my eyes rested on the sick poor during the prevalence of cholera. inscription across the road, " East London Chil- With every qualification to lure them away, dren's Hospital." I could scarcely have seen with youth and accomplishments and tastes and an inscription better suited to my frame of habits that can have no response in any breast mind and I went across, and went straight near them, close begirt by every repulsive cirin. cumstance inseparable from such a neighbourI founa the Children's Hospital established in hood, there they dwell. They live in the hosan old sail-loft or storehouse, of the roughest pital itself, and their rooms are on its first floor. nature, and on the simplest means. There were Sitting at their dinner-table, they could hear the trap-doors in the floors, where goods had been cry of one of the children in pain. The lady's hoisted up and down; heavy feet and heavy piano, drawing materials, books, and other such weights had started every knot in the well- evidences of refinement, are as much a part of trodden planking; inconvenient bulks and the rough place as the iron bedsteads of the beams and awkward staircases perplexed my little patients. They are put to shifts for room, passage through the wards. But I found it like passengers on board ship. The dispenser airy, sweet, and clean. In its seven-and-thirty of medicines (attracted to them not by selfbeds I saw but little beauty; for starvation in interest, but by their own magnetism and that the second or third generation takes a pinched of their cause) sleeps in a recess in the dining TIE C(IILDREN'S DOCTOR /IAVD VNUR'SES. 15 room, and has his washing apparatus in the the main causes of disease among these small sideboard. patients. So nourishment, cleanliness, and venThcir contented manner of making the best tilation are the main remedies. Discharged of the things around them I found so plea- patients are looked after, and invited to come santly inseparable from their usefulness!' Their and dine now and then; so are certain famishpride in this partition that we put up ourselves, ing creatures who were never patients. Both or in that partition that we took down, or in the lady and the gentleman are well acquainted, that other partition that we moved, or in the not only with the histories of the patients and stove that was given us for the waiting-room, or their families, but with the. characters and cirin our nightly conversion of the little consulting-. cumstances of great numbers of their neighroom into a smoking-room! Their admiration bours: of these they keep a register. It is their of the situation, if'we cotild only get rid of its common experience that people, sinking' down one objectionable incident, the coal-yard at the by inches into deeper and deeper poverty, will back! "Our hospital carriage, presented by a conceal it, even from them, if possible, unto the friend, and very useful." That was my presenta- very last extremity. tion to a perambulator, for which a coach-house The nurses of this hospital are all younghad been discovered in a corner down-stairs, ranging, say, from nineteen to four-and-twenty. just large enough to hold it. Coloured prints, They have even within these narrow limits what in all stages of preparation for being added many well-endowed hospitals would not give to those already decorating the wards, were them, a comfortable room of their own in which plentiful; a charming wooden phenomenon of to take their meals. -It is a beautiful truth, that a bird, with an impossible top-knot, who ducked interest in the children, and sympathy with their his head when you set a counter-weight going, sorrows, bind these young women to their places had been inaugurated as a public statue that far more strongly than any other consideration very morning; and trotting about among the could. The best skilled of the nurses came beds,, on familiar terms with all the patients, originally from a kindred neighbourhood, allnost was a comical mongrel dog, called Poodles. as poor; and she knew how much the work This*comical dog (quite a tonic in himself) was was needed. She is a fair dressmaker. The found characteristically starving at the door of hospital cannot pay her as many pounds in the the institution, and was taken in and fed, and year as there are months in it; and one day the has lived here ever since. An admirer of his lady regarded it as a duty to speak to her about mental endowments has presented him with a her improving her prospects, and following her collar bearing the legend, "Judge not Poodles trade. No, she said: she could never be so by' external appearances." He was merrily useful or so happy elsewhere any more: she wagging his tail on a boy's pillow when he must stay among the children. And she stays. made this modest appeal to me. One of the nurses, as I passed her, was washing When this hospital was first opened, in a baby boy. Liking her pleasa1t face, I stopped January of the present year, the people could to speak to her charge-a common, bulletnot possibly conceive but that somebody paid headed, frowning charge enough, laying hold of for the services rendered there; and were dis- his own nose with a slippery grasp, and staring posed to claim them as a right, and to find fault very solemnly out of a blanket. The melting if out of temper. They soon came to under- of the pleasant face into delighted smiles, as stand the case better, and have much increased this young gentleman gave an unexpected kick, in gratitude. The mothers of the patients avail and laughed at me, was almost worth nvy prethemselves very freely of the visiting rules; the vious pain. fathers often on Sundays. There is an un- An affecting play was acted in Paris years reasonable (but still, I think, touching and in- ago, called "The Children's Doctor.",As I telligible) tendency in the parents to take a parted from my children's Doctor now in queschild away to its wretched home, if on the point tion, I saw in his easy black necktie, in his loose of death. One boy who had been thus carried buttoned black frock-coat, in his pensive face, off on a rainy night, when in a violent state of in the flow of his dark hair, in his eyelashes, in inflammation, and who had been afterwards the very turn of his moustache, the exact realbrought back, had been recovered with exceed- isation of the Paris artist's ideal as it was preing difficulty; but he was a jolly boy, with a sented on the stage. But no romancer that I specially strong interest in his dinner, when I know of has had the boldness to prefigure the life saw him. and home of this young husband and young wife Insufficient food and unwholesome living are in the Children's Hospital in the East of Londos, 152 It El UNCOMAER CIAL TR A ELLER. I came away fiom Ratcliff by the Stepney but have kept me continually on tife move. I railway station to the terminus at Fenchurch remain in the same idle employment. I never Street. Any one who will reverse that route solicit an order, I never get any commission, I may retrace my steps. am the rolling stone that gathers no moss,unless any should by chance be found among these samples' XXXI. Some half a year ago, I found myself in my idlest, dreamiest, and least accountable condiABOARD SHIP. tion altogether, on'board ship, in the harbour Y journeys as Uncommercial Traveller for of the city of New York, in the United States the firm of Human Interest Brothers of America. Of all the good ships afoat,-mine have not slackened since I last reported of them, was the good steamship RUSSIA, Capt. Cook, "TROTTING ABOUT AMONG THE BEDS, ON FAMILIAR TERMS WITH ALL THE PATIENTS, WAS A COMICAL MONGREL DOG, CALLED POODLES." Cunard Line, bound for Liverpool. What more Eugenius,'-laying my forefinger wistfully on could I wish for? his coat-sleeve, thus,-' and yet, methinks, I had nothing to wish for but a prosperous Eugenius,'tis but sorry work to part with thee, passage. My salad days, when I was green of for whfat fresh fields,... my dear Eugenius, visage and sea-sick, being gone with better...can be fresher than thou art, and in what things (and po worse), no coming event cast its pastures new shall.I find Eliza, or call her, shadow before. Eugenius, if thou wilt, Annie?'"-I say I might I might, but a few. moments previously, have have done this; but Eugenius was gone; and I imitated Sterne, and said'."' And yet, methinks, hadn't done it. ASSISTING AT A CHIURCIH SER VICE. 153 I was resting: on a sky-light'on the hurricane which the gravest intentions could put upon deck, watching:the working of the ship',very them would hold them in hand. Thus the slowly about, that she might head for England. scene.. Some seventy passengers assembled at It was high noon on a most brilliant day in the saloon tables. Prayer-books on tables. April, and the beautiful bay was glorious and Ship rolling heavily. Pause.. No minister. glowing. -` Full many a time, on shore there, had Rumour has related that a modest young clergyI seen the snow come down, down, down (itself man on board has responded to the captain's like down), until it lay deep in all the ways of request that he will officiate. Pause again, and men, and particularly, as it seemed, in my way, very heavy rolling. for I had not gone dry-shod many hours for Closed double doors suddenly burst open, months. Within two or three days last past had and two strong stewards skate in, supporting I watched the feathery fall setting in with the minister between them. General appearance as ardour. of a new idea, instead of dragging,at of somebody picked up drunk and incapable, the skirts of a worn-out winter, and permitting and under conveyance to station-house. Stopglimpses of a fresh young spring. But a bright page, pause, and particularly heavy rolling. sun and a clear sky had melted the snow in Stewards watch their opportunity, and balance the great crucible of nature; and it had been themselves, but cannot balance minister; who, poured out again that morning over sea and land, struggling with a drooping head and a backward transformed into myriads of gold and silver tendency, seems determined to return below, sparkles. while they are as determined that he shall be The ship was fragrant with flowers. Some- got to the reading-desk in mid-saloon. Desk thing of the old Mexican passion for flowers portable, sliding away down a long table, and may have gradually passed into North America, aiming itself at the breasts of various members where' flowers are luxuriously grown and taste- of the congregation. Here the double doors, fully combined in the richest profusion; but, be which have been carefully closed by other that as it may, such gorgeous farewells in flowers stewards, fly open again, and worldly passenger had come on board, that the' small officer's tumbles in, seemingly with pale-ale designs: cabin on deck, which I tenanted, bloomed over who, seeking friend, says, "Joe!" Perceiving into the adjacent scuppers, and banks of other incongruity, says, " Hullo! Beg yer pardon flowers that it. couldn't hold made a garden of and tumbles out again. All this time the conthe unoccupied tables in the passengers' saloon. gregation have been breaking up into sects, — These delicious scents of the shore, mingling as the manner of congregations often is,-each with the fresh airs of the sea, made the atmo- sect sliding away by itself, and all pounding the sphere a dreamy, an enchanting one. And so, weakest sect which slid first into the corner. with the watch aloft setting all the sails, and Utmost point of dissent soon attained in every with the screw below revolving at a mighty rate, corner, and violent rolling. Stewards at length and occasionally giving the ship an angry shake make a dash; conduct minister to the mast in for resisting, I fell into my idlest ways, and lost the centre of the saloon, which he embraces myself. with both arms; skate out; and leave him in As, for instance, whether it was I lying there, that condition to arrange affairs with flock. or some other entity even mdre mysterious, was There was another Sunday, when an-officer a matter I was far too lazy to look into. What of the ship read the service. It was quiet and did it signify to me if it were I? or to the more impressive, until we fell upon the dangerous and mysterious entity, if it were he? Equally as to perfectly unnecessary experiment of striking up the remembrances that drowsily floated by me, a hymn. After it was given out, we all rose, or by him, why ask when or where the things but everybody left it to somebody else to begin.' happened? Was it not enough that they befell Silence resulting, the officer (no singer himself) at some time, somewhere,? rather reproachfully gave'us the first line again, There was that assisting at the church service upon which a rosy pippin of an old gentleman, on board another steamship, one Sunday, in a remarkable throughout the passage for his cheerstiff breeze. Perhaps on the passage out. No ful politeness, gave a little stamp with his boot matter. Pleasant to hear the ship's bells go as (as if he were leading off a country dance), and like church-bellsas they could; pleasant -to see blithely warbled us into a show of joining. At the'watch off duty mustered and come in: best the end of the first verse we became, through hats, best Guernseys, washed hands. and faces, these tactics, so much refreshed and encouraged, smoothed heads. But then arose:a set of cir- that none of us, howsoever unmelodious, would cumstances so rampantly comical, that no check, submit to be left out of the second verse; while, 754 THE UNCOMIMERCIAL TR.4 VELLER. as to the third, we lifted up our voices in a sacred chalces into himself, one after the other, much howl that left it doubtful whether we were the as if he were delivering their contents at some more boastful of the sentiments we united in absorbent establishment in which he had no perprofessing, or of professing them with a most sonal interest. But vastly comforted I note discordant defiance of time and tune. them all to be, on deck presently, even to the "Lord bless us!" thought I, when the fresh circulation of redder blood in their cold blue remembrance of these things made me laugh knuckles; and when I look up at them lying heartily alone in the dead water-gurgling waste out on the yards, and holding on for life among of the night, what time I was wedged into my the beating sails, I cannot for mty life see the berth by a wooden bar, or I must have rolled justice of visiting on them-or on me-the out of it, " what errand was I then upop, and to drunken crimes of any number of criminals what Abyssinian point had public events thenl arraigned at the heaviest of assizes. marched? No matter as to me. And as to Abetting myself in my idle humour, I closed them, if the wonderful popular rage for a play- my eyes, and recalled life on board of one of thing (utterly confounding in its inscrutable un- those mail packets, as I lay, part of that day, in reason) had not then lighted on a poor young the Bay of New York, 0! The regular life savage boy, and a poor old screw of a horse, began-mine always did, for I never got to sleep and hauled the first off by the hair of his princely afterwards-with the rigging of the pump while head to'inspect' British volunteers, and hauled it was yet dark, and washing down of decks. the second off by the hair of his equine tail to Any enormous giant at a prodigious hydropathic the Crystal Palace, why so much the better for establishment, conscientiously undergoing the all of us outside Bedlam - water cure in all its departments, and extremely So, sticking to the ship, I was at the trouble particular about cleaning his teeth, would make of asking myself would I like to show the grog those noises. Swash, splash, scrub, rub, toothdistribution in " the fiddle " at noon to the Grand brush, bubble, swash, splash, bubble, toothUnited Amalgamated Total Abstinence Society? brush, splash, splash, bubble, rub. Then the Yes, 1 think I should. I think it would do them day would break, and, descending from my good to smell the rum under the circumstances. berth by a graceful ladder composed of halfOver the grog, mixed in a bucket, presides the opened drawers beneath it, I would reopen my boatswain's mate, small tin can in hand. Enter outer dead-light and my inner sliding window the crew, the guilty consumers, the grown-up (closed by a watchman during the water-cure), brood of Gi-nt Despair, in contradistinction to and would look out at the long-rolling, leadthe band of youthful angel Hope. Some in coloured, white-topped waves over which the boots, some in leggings, some in tarpaulin over- dawn, on a cold winter morning, cast a level alls, some in frocks, some in pea-coats, a very lonely glance, and through which the ship fought few in jackets, most with sou'-wester hats, all her melancholy way at a terrific rate. And with something rough and rugged round the now, lying down again, awaiting the season for throat; all dripping salt water where they stand; broiled ham and tea, I would be compelled to all pelted by weather, besmeared with grease, listen to the voice of conscience,-the screw. and blackened by the sooty rigging. It might be, in some cases, no more than the Each mah's knife in its sheath in his girdle, voice of stomach; but I called it in my fancy loosened for dinner. As the first man, with a by the higher name. Because it seemed to me knowingly-kindled eye, watches the filling of the that we were all of us, all day long, endeavourpoisoned chalice (truly but a very small tin mup, ing to stifle the voice. Because it was under to be prosaic), and, tossing back his head, tosses everybody's pillow, everybody's plate, everythe contents into himself, and passes the empty body's camp-stool, everybody's book, everychalice. and passes on, so the second man, with an body's occupation. Because we pretended not anticipatory wipe of his mouth on sleeve or hand- to hear it, especially at meal-times, evening kerchief, bides his turn, and drinks and hands and whist, and morning conversation on deck; but passes on, in whom, and in each as his turn it was always among us in an under monotone, approaches, beams a knowingly-kindled eye, a not to be drowned in pea-soup, not to be brighter temper, and a suddenly-awakened tend- shuffled with cards, not to be diverted by books, ency to be jocose with some shipmate. Nor do I not to be knitted into any pattern, not to be cAven observe that the man in charge of the ship's walked away from. It was smoked in the lamps, who, in right of his office, has a double weediest cigar, and drunk in the strongest cock. allowance of poisoned chalices, seems thereby tail; it was conveyed on -deck at noon witlh vastly degraded, even though he empties the limp ladies, who lay there in their wrappers SCR EW! 155 intil the stars shone; it waited at table with the centre. Woe to us when we sat down on he stewards; nobody could put it out with the our sofa, watching the swinging candle for ever ights. It was considered (as on shore) ill bred trying and re-trying to stand upon his head! or o acknowledge the voice of conscience. It our coat upon its peg, imitating us as we vas not polite to mention it. One squally day appeared in our gymnastic days by sustaining n amiable gentleman in love gave much offence itself horizontally from the wall, in emulation of:o a surrounding circle, including the object of the lighter and more facile towels! Then would ais attachment, by saying of it, after it had the voice especially claim us for its prey, and goaded him over two easy-chairs and a sky- rend us all to pieces. light,' Screw!" Lights out, we in our berths, and the wind Sometimes it would appear subdued. In rising, the voice grows angrier and deeper. fleeting moments, when bubbles of champagne Under the mattress and under the pillow, under pervaded the nose, or when there was "hot the sofa and under the washing-stand, under the pot' in the bill of fare, or when an old dish we ship and under the sea, seeming to rise from the had. had regularly every day was described in foundations under the earth with every scoop of that, official document by a new name,-under the great Atlantic (and oh! why scoop so?), such excitements, one would almost believe it always the voice. Vain to deny its existence in hushed. The ceremony of washing plates'on the night season; impossible to be hard of deck, performed after every meal by a circle as hearing; screw, screw, screw! Sometimes it of ringers of crockery triple-bob majors for a lifts out of the water and revolves with a whirr, prize, would keep it down. Hauling the reel, like a ferocious firework,-except that it never taking the sun at noon, posting the twenty-four expends itself, but is always ready to go off hours' run, altering the ship's time by the meri- again; sometimes it seems to be in anguishand dian, casting the waste food overboard, and at- shivers; sometimes it seems to be terrified by tracting the eager gulls that followed in our its last plunge, and has a fit which causes it to wake,-these events would suppress it for struggle, quiver, and for an instant stop. And awhile. But, the instant any break or pause now the ship sets in rolling, as only ships so took place in any such diversion, the voice fiercely screwed through time and space, day and would be at it again, importuning us to the last night, fair weather and foul, can roll. extent. A newly-married young pair, who Did she ever take a roll before like that last? walked the deck affectionately some twenty Did she ever take a roll before like this worse miles per day, would, in the full flush of their one that is coming now? Here is the partition exercise, suddenly become stricken by it, and at my ear down in the deep on the lee side. stand trembling, but otherwise immovable, under Are we ever coming up again together? I itu reproaches. think not; the partition and I are so long about When this terrible monitor was most severe it that I really do believe we have overdone it with us was when tlwe time approached for our this time. Heavens, what a scoop! What a retiring to our den's for the night; when the deep scoop, what a hollow scoop, what a long lighted candles in the saloon grew fewer and scoop! Will it ever end, and can we bear the fewer; when the deserted glasses with spoons in heavy mass of water we have taken on board, them grew more and more numerous, when and which has let loose all the table furniture in waifs of toasted cheese, and strays of sardines the officers' mess, and has beaten open the door fried in batter, slid languidly to and fro in the of the little passage between the purser and me, table-racks; when the man who always read had and is swashing about even there and even shut up his book, arid blownv out his candle; here? The purser snores reassuringly, and the when the man who always talked had ceased ship's bells striking, I hear the cheerful " All's from troubling; when the man who was always well " of the watch musically given back the medically reported as going to have delirium length of the deck, as the lately-diving partition, tremens had put it off till to-morrow; when the now high in air, tries (unsoftened by what we man who every night devoted himself to a mid- have gone through together) to force me out of night smoke on deck two hours in length, and bed and berth. who every night was in bed within ten minutes "All's well! " Comforting to know, though afterwards, was buttoning himself up in his third surely all might be better. Put aside the rollcoat for his hardy vigil: for then, as vwe fell off ing and the rush of water, and think of darting one by one, and, entering our several hutches, through such darkness with such velocity. came into a peculiar atmosphere of bilge-water Think of any other similar object coming in the and Windsor soap, the voice would shake us to opposite direction! 156 THE UNCOAMERCIAL TRA VELER.. Whether there may be an attraction in two coverers. Now, too, one recalls all almost unisuch moving bodies out at. sea, which may help versal tendency on the part of passengers to accident to bring them into collision? Thoughts, stumble, at some time or other in the day, on too, arise (the voice never silent all the while, the topic of a certain large steamer making this but marvellously suggestive) of the gulf below; same run, which was lost at sea, and never heard of the strange unfruitful mountain ranges and of more. Everybody has seemed under a spell, deep valleys over which we are passing; of compelling approach -to the threshold of the monstrous fish midway; of the ship's sud- grim subject, stoppage, discomfiture, and predenly altering her course on her own account, tence of never having been near it. The boatand with a wild plunge settling down, and swain's whistle sounds! A change in the wind, making ithat voyage with a crew of dead dis- hoarse orders issuing, and the watch very busy. " OVER THE GROG, MIXED IN A BUCKET, PRESIDES THE BOATSWAIN'S MATE.'" Sails come crashing home overhead, ropes (that sciousness revives of atmospherical Windsor,seem all knot) ditto; every man engaged appears soap and bilge-water, and the voice announces to have twenty feet, with twenty times the ave- that. the giant has come for the water cure rage amount of stamping power in each. Gradu- again. ally the noise slackens, the hoarse cries die Such were my fanciful reminiscences as I lay, away, the boatswain's whistle softens into the: part of that day, in the Bay of New York, O soothing and contented notes, which rather Also as' we passed clear of the Narrows, and got reluctantly admit that the job. is done for the' out to sea; also in many an idle hour at sea in time, and the voice sets in again. sunny weather! At'length the observations Thus come unintelligible dreams of up -hill and computations showed that we should make and down, and swinging and swaying, until con-' the coast of Ireland to-night. So I stood watch MAKING THE COAST OF IRELAND. i57 on deck all night to-night, to see how we made performs them, Heaven only knows! At length the coast of Ireland. she is seen plunging within a cable's length of Very dark, and the sea most brilliantly phos- our port broadside, and is being roared at phorescent. Great way on the ship, and double through -our speaking trumpets to do this thing, look-out kept. Vigilant captain on the bridge, and not to do that, and to stand by the other, vigilant first officer looking over the port side, as if she were a very demented tender indeed. vigilant second officer standing by the quarter- -Then, we slackening amidst a deafening roar master at the compass, vigilant third officer of steam, this much-abused tender is made posted at the stern-rail with a lantern. No fast to us by hawsers, and the men in readiness passengers-on the quiet decks, but expectation carry the bags aboard, and return for more, everywhere nevertheless. The two men at the bending under their burdens, and looking just wheel very steady, very serious, and very like the pasteboard figures of the miller and his prompt to answer orders. An order issued men in the theatre of our boyhood, and comsharply now and then, and echoed back; other- porting themselves almost as unsteadily. All the wise the night drags slowly, silently, and with while the unfortunate tender plunges high and no change. low, and is roared at. Then the Queenstown All of a sudden, at the blank hour of two in passengers are put on board of her, with infinite the morning, a vague movement of relief from a plunging and roaring, and the tender gets heaved long strain expresses itself in all hands; the up on the. sea to that surprising extent that she third officer's lantern twinkles, and he'fires a looks -within an ace of washing aboard of us,. rocket, and another rocket. A sullen solitary high and dry. Roared at with contumely to the light is pointed out to me in the black sky last, this' wretched tender is at length let go, yonder. A change is expected in the. light, but with a final plunge of great ignominy, and falls none takes -place. "Give them two more spinning into our wake. rockets, Mr. Vigilant." Two more, and a blue- The voice of conscience resumed its dominion light burnt. All eyes watch the light again. At as the day climbed up the sky, and kept by all last a little toy sky-rocket is flashed up from it; of us passengers into port; kept by us as we and, even as that small streak in the darkness passed other lighthouses, and dangerous islands dies away, we are telegraphed to Queenstown, off the coast, where some of the officers, with Liverpool, and London, and back again under whom I stood my watch, had gone ashore in the ocean to America. sailing ships in fogs (and of which, by that token, Then up come the half-dozen passengers who. they seem to have quite an affectionate rememare going ashore at Queenstown, and up comes brance), and past the Welsh coast, and past the the mail agent in charge of the bags, and up Cheshire coast, and past everything and everycome the men who are to carry the bags into where lying between our ship and her own the mail tender that will come off for them out special dock in the Mersey. Off which, at last, of the harbour. Lamps and lanterns gleam here at nine of the clock, on a fair evening early in and thereabout the decks, and impeding bulks May, we stopped, and the voice ceased. A are knocked away with handspikes; and tle very curious sensation, not unlike having my port-side bulwark, barren but a moment ago,'own ears stopped, eisued upon that silence; bursts into a cr6p of heads of seamen, stewards, and it was with a no less curious sensation that and engineers. I went over the side of the good Cunard ship The light begins to be gained upon, begins to Russia (whom prosperity attend through all her be alongside, begins to be left astern. More voyages!) and surveyed the outer hull of the rockets, and, between us and the land, steams gracious monster that the voice had inhabited. beautifully the Inman steamship City of Paris, So, perhaps, shall we all, in the spirit, one day for New York, outward bound. We observe survey the frame that held the busier voice from with complacency that the wind is dead against which my vagrant fancy derived this similitude. her (it being with us), and that she rolls and pitches. (The sickest passenger on board is the most delighted by this circumstance.) Time rushes by as we rush on; and now we see the XXXII. light in Queenstown Harbour, and now the lights of the- mail tender coming out to us.A LITTLE DINNER IN AN Rou. What vagaries the mail tender performs on the TT fell out, on a day in this last autumn, way, in every point of the compass, especially that I had to go down from London to a in those where she has no business, and why she place of seaside resort, on an hour's business, s58 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. accompanied by my esteemed friend Bullfinch. The youth in livery (now perceived to be Let the place of seaside resort be, for the mouldy) conducted us to the desired haven, and nonce, called Namelesston. was enjoined by Bullfinch to send the waiter at I had been loitering about Paris in very once, as we wished to order a little dinner in an lih:t weather, pleasantly breakfasting in the hour. Then Bullfinch and I waited for the open air in the garden of the Palais Royal or waiter, until, the waiter continuing to wait in the Tuileries, pleasantly dining in the open air some unknown and invisible sphere of action, in the Elysian Fields, pleasantly taking my rigar we rang for the waiter; which ring produced the and lemonade in the open air on the Italian waiter, who announced himself as not the waiter Boulevard towards the small hours after mid- who ought to wait upon us, and who didn't wait nrght. Bullfinch-an excellent man of business a moment longer. — had summoned me back across the Channel, So Bullfinch approached the coffee-room door, to transact this said hour's business at Nameless- and melodiously pitching his voice into a bar tonl and thus it fell out that Bullfinch and I where two young ladies were keeping the books were in a railway carriage together on our way of the Temeraire, apologetically explained that to Nalnelesston, each with his return ticket in we wished to order a little dinner in an hour, hi. waistcoat pocket. and that we were debarred from the execution ways Bullfinch, " I have a proposal to make. of our inoffensive purpose by consignment to;.et u1 diine at the Temeraire." solitude. J asked Bullfinch, did he recommend the Hereupon one of the young ladies rang a bell, Tcmneraire? inasmuch as I had not been rated which reproduced-at the bar this time-the on the books of the Temeraire for many years. waiter who was not the waiter who ought to wait Bullfinch declined to accept the responsibility upon us; that extraordinary man, whose life of recommending the'lemersire, but, on the seemed consumed in waiting upon people to whole. was rather sanguine about it. lie say that he wouldn't wait upon them, repeated'- sccmed to remember," Bullfinch said, that lie his former protest with great indignation, and hJl d dined well there. A plain dinner, but good. retired. Certainly not like a Parisian dinner (here Bull- Bullfinch, with a fallen countenance, was about fituch obviously became the prey of want of con- to say to me, " This won't do," when the waiter filcnce), but of its kind very fair. who ought to wait upon us left off keeping us I appeal to Bullhnch's intimate knowledge of waiting at last. " Waiter," said Bullfinch pitemly wants and ways to decide wlhether I was ously. " we have been a long time waiting." tsually ready to be pleased with any dinner, or The waiter who ought to wait upon us laid the - for the.'natter of that-with anything that was blame upon the waiter who ought not to wait lair of its kind, and really what it clained to be. upon us, and said it was all that waiter's fault. BIllfinch doing me the honour to respond in the "We wish," said Bullfinch, much depressed, affirmative, 1 agreed to ship myself as an able' to order a little dinner in an hour. What can trencherman on board the Temeraire. we lave?" "Now, our l.lan shall be this," says Bullfinch "What would you like to have, gentlemen?" x ith his forefinger at hi; nose. " As soon as we Bullfinch, with extreme mournfulness of speech g-et to Namelesston, we'll drive straight to the and action, and with a forlorn old fly-blown bill Temneraire, and order a little dinner in an hour. of fare in his hand which the waiter had given And, as we shall not have more than enough him, and which was a sort of general manuscript tinie in which to dispose of it comfortably, what index to any cookery-book you please, moved do you say to giving the house the best oppor- the previous question. tunities of serving it hot and quickly by dining We could have mock-turtle soup, a sole, curry, in the coffee-room? " and roast duck. Agreed. At this table, by this What I had to say was, Certainly. Bullfinch window. Punctually in an hour. (who is by nature of a hopeful constitution) then I had been feigning to look out of this window; began to babble of green geese. But I checked but I had been taking note of the crumbs on all him in that Falstaffian vein, urging considera- the tables, the dirty table-cloths, the stuffy, soupy, tions of time and cookery. airless atmosphere, the stale leavings everywhere In due sequence of events we drove up to the about, the deep glooan of the waiter who ought'lemeraire, and alighted. A youth in livery re- to wait upon us, and the stomachache with which ceived us on the door-step. "Looks well," a lonely traveller at a distant table in a corner said Bullfinch confidentially. And then aloud, was too evidently afflicted. I now pointed out " Coffee-room!" to Bullfinch the alarming circumstance that this AT THrE TEMERA~RE. 59 traveller had dined. We hurriedly debated plishments, carrying small portfolios, likewise whether,'without infringement of good-breeding, tripped homeward; pairs of scholastic pupils, we could -ask him to disclose if he had partaken two and two, went languidly along the beach, of mock turtle, sole, curry, or roast duck? -We surveying the face of the waters as if waiting for decided that the thing could not be politely some Ark to come and take them off. Spectres done, and we had set our own stomachs on of the George the Fourth days flitted unsteadily a cast, and they must stand the hazard of the among the crowd, bearing the outward semblance die. of'ancient dandies, of every one of whom it I hoia phrenology, within certain limits, to be might be said, not that he had one leg in the true; I am much of the same mind as to the grave, or both legs, but that he was steeped in subtler expressions of the hand; I hold physi- grave to the summit of his high shirt collar, and ognomy to be infallible; though all these sciences had nothing real about him but his bones. demand rare qualities in the student. -But I also Alone statioiTnry in the midst of all the movehold that there is no more certain index to per- ments, the Namelesston boatmen eaned against sonal character than the condition of a set of the railings and yawned, and looked out to sea, casters is to the character of any hotel. Know- or looked at the moored fishing-boats and at ing, and having often tested this theory of mine, nothing. Such is the unchanging manner of Bullfinch resignled himself to the worst, when, life with this nursery of our hardy seamen; and laying aside any remaining veil of disguise, I very dry nurses' they are, and always wanting held up before him in succession the cloudy something to drink. The only two nautical peroil and furry vinegar, the clogged cayenne, the sonages detached from tle railing were the two dirty'salt,. thel obscene dregs of soy, and the fortunate possessors of the celebrated monstrous anchovy sauce-in a flannel waistcoat of decom- unknown barking fish, just caught (frequently position. just caught off Namelesston), who carried him We went out to transact our business. So in- about in a hamper. and pressed the scientific to spiriting was the relief of passing into the clean look in at the lid. and windy streets of Namelesston from the The sands of the hour had all run out when heavy and vapid closeness' of the coffee-room of we got back to the Temeraire. Says Bullfinch, the Temeraire, that hope began to revive within then, to the youth in livery, with boldness, us. We began to consider that perhaps the "Lavatory lonely traveller had taken physic, or done some- When we arrived at the family vault with a thing injudicious to bring his complaint on. sky-light, which the youth in livery presented as Bullfinch remarked.that he:thought the waiter the institution sought, we had already whisked who ought to wait upon us had brightened a off our cravats and coats; but, finding ourselves little. when suggesting curry; and, although I in the presence of an evil smell, and no linen knew him to have been at that moment -the but two crumpled towels newly damp from the express image of despair, I allowed myself to countenances of two somebody elses, we put on become elevated in spirits. As we walked by our cravats and coats again, and fled unwashed the softly-lapping sea, all the notabilities of to the coffee-room. Namelesston, who are for ever going up There the waiter who ought to wait upon us and down with the changelessness of the tides, had set forth our knives and forks and glasses, passed to and fro in procession. Pretty girls on the cloth whose dirty acquaintance we had on horseback, and with detested riding-masters; already had the pleasure of making, and which pretty girls on foot; mature ladies in hats,- we were pleased to recognise by the familiar spectacled, strong-minded, and glaring at the expression of its stains. And now there'occurred opposite or weaker sex. The Stock Exchange the truly surprising phenomenon, that the waiter was strongly represented, Jerusalem was strongly who ought not to wait upon us swooped down represented, the bores. of the prosier London upon us, clutched our loaf of bread, and vanished clubs were strongly represented. Fortune- with the same. hunters of all denominations'were there, from Bullfinch, with distracted eyes, was following hirsute insolvency in a curricle, to closely- this unaccountable figure' out at the portal," buttoned swindlery in doubtful boots, on the like the ghost in Hamlet, when the waiter who sharp look-out for any likely young gentleman ought to wait upon us jostled against it, carrying disposed to play a game at billiards round the a tureen. coiner.. Masters of languages, their lessons'Waiter!" said a severe diner, lately finished, finished for the day, were going to their homes perusing his bill fiercely through his eye-glass. out of sight of the sea; mistresses of accom- The waiter put down our tureen on a remote x6o TLHE UNCOlJMMERCIAL TRA VELL~ER. side-table, and went to'see what was amiss in Cocker, "the meaning of ninepence.' I want to this new direction. know the meaning. of sherry one-and-eightpence "This is not right, you know, waiter. Look yesterday, and of here we are again two shillings. here! Here's yesterday's sherry, one-and-eight- Send somebody." pence, and here we are again two shillings. And The distracted waite; got out of the room on what does sixpence mean?" pretext of sending somebody, and by that means So far from knowing what sixpence meant, the got our wine. But, the instant he appeared with waiter protested that he didn't know what any- our decanter, Mr. Indignation Cocker descended thing meant. He wiped the perspiration from on him again. his clammy brow, and said it was impossible to " Waiter!" do it,-not particularisingwhat,-and the kitchen "You will now have the goodness to attend was so far off. to our dinner, waiter," said Bullfinch sternly.. " Take the bill to the bar and get it altered," " I am very sorry, but it's quite impossible to said Mr. Indignation Cocker, so to call him. do it, gentlemen," pleaded the waiter; "and the The waiter took it, looked intensely at it, kitchen- " didn't seem to like the idea of taking it to the "Waiter 1" said Mr. Indignation Cocker. bar, and submitted, as a new light upon the " —Is,". resumed the waiter, a so far off, case, that perhaps sixpence meant sixpence. that " "I tell you again," said Mr. Indignation "Waiter!" persisted Mr. Indignation Cocker, Cocker, "here's yesterday's sherry-can't you "send somebody." see it?-one-and-eightpence, and here we are We were not without our fears that the waiter again two shillings. What do you make of one- rushed out to'hang himself; and we were much and-eightpence and two shillings? " relieved by his fetching somebody,-in graceful, Totally unable to make anything of one-and- flowing skirts, and with a waist,-who very soon eightpence and two shillings, the waiter went settled Mr. Indignation Cocker's business. out to try if anybody else could; merely casting "Oh!" said Mr. Cocker, with his fire sura helpless backward glance at Bullfinch, in ac- prisingly quenched by this apparition; "I wished knowledgment of his pathetic entreaties for our to ask about this bill of mine, because it appears soup-tureen. After a pause, during which Mr. to me that there's a little mistake here. Let me Indignation Cocker read a newspaper and show you. Here's yesterday's sherry one-andcoughed defiant coughs, Bullfinch arose to get eightpence, and here we are again two shillings. the tureen, when the waiter reappeared and And how do you explain ninepence?" brought it,-dropping Mr. Indignation Cocker's However, it was explained, in tones coo soft altered bill on Mr. Indignation Cocker's table to be overheard. Mr. Cocker was heard to say as he came along. nothing more than "Ah-h-h! Indeed; thank i It's quite impossible to do it, gentlemen," you! Yes," and shortly afterwards-went out, a murmured the waiter; " and the kitchen is so milder man. far off." The lonc',- traveller with the stomachache "Well, you don't keep the house; it's not had all this ame suffered severely, drawing up a your fault, we suppose. Bring some sherry." leg now and then, and sipping hot brandy-and"Waiter! " from, Mr. Indignation Cocker, water with grated ginger in it. When we tasted with a new and burning sense of injury upon our (very) mock-turtle soup, and were instantly him. seized with symptoms of some disorder simulatThe waiter, arrested on his way to our sherry, ing apoplexy, and occasioned by the surcharge stopped short, and came back to see what was of nose and brain with lukewarm dish-water wrong now. holding in solution sour'flour, poisonous condi"Will you look here? This is worse' than ments, and (say) seventy-five per cent. of misbefore. Z)oyou understand? Here's yester- cellaneous kitchen-stuff rolled into balls, we day's sherry, one-and-eightpence, and here we were inclined to trace his disorder to that source. are again two shillings. And what the devil On the other hand, there was a silent anguish does ninepence mean?" upon him too strongly resembling the results This new, portent utterly confounded the established within ourselves by the sherry, to b6 waiter. He wrung his napkin, and mutely ap- discarded from' alarmed consideration. Again, pealed to the ceiling. we observed him, with terror, to be much over"Waiter, fetch that sherry," says Bullfinch in come by our sole's being aired -in a temporary open wrath.and revolt. retreat close to him, while the waiter went out " I want to know," persisted Mr. Indignation (as we conceived) to see his friends. And, when A REPRESENTATIVE BORE. 16t the curry made its appearance, he suddenly when tickled by a printed jest, "What would he retired in great disorder. think'of it? What would he see in it?" The In fine, for the uneatable part of this little point of the jest immediately became a sting, dinner (as contradistinguished from the un- and stung my conscience. For my mind's eye drinkable) we paid only seven shillings and six- saw him stolid, frigid, perchance taking from its pence each. And Bullfinch and I agreed unani- shelf some dreary Greek book, and translating mously that no such ill-served, ill-appointed, at full length what some dismal sage said (and ill-cooked, nasty little dinner could be got for touched up afterwards, perhaps, for publication), the money anywhere else under the sun. With when he banished some unlucky joker from that comfort to our backs, we turned them on Athens. the dear old Temeraire, the charging Temeraire, The incompatibility of Mr. Barlow with all and resolved (in the Scotch dialect) to gang nae other portions of my young life but himself, the mair to the flabby Temeraire. adamantine inadaptability of the man to my favourite fancies and amusements, is the thing for which I hate him most. What right had he to bore his way into my Arabian Nights? ~ Yet XXXIII. he did. He was always hinting doubts of the veracity of Sinbad the Sailor. If he could have SMR. BARLOW. got hold of the Wonderful Lamp, I knew he would have trimmed it and lighted it, and deGREAT reader of good fiction at an livered a lecture over it on the qualities of sperm unusually early age, it seems to me oil, with a glance at the whale fisheries. He as though I had been born under would so soon have found out-on mechanical the superintendence of the estimable principles-the peg in the neck of the En-'J but terrific gentleman whose name chanted Horse, and would have turned it the' stands at the head of my present right way in so workmanlike a manner, that the reflections. The instructive mono- horse could never have got any height into the maniac, Mr. Barlow, will be remembered air, and the story couldn't have been. He as the tutor of Master Harry Sandford and would have proved, by map and compass, that Master Tommy Merton. He knew everything, there was no such kingdom as the delightful and didactically improved all sorts of occasions, kingdom of Casgar, on the frontiers of Tartary. from the consumption of a plate of cherries to He would have caused that hypocritical young the contemplation of a starlight night. What prig Harry to make an experiment,-with the youth came to without Mr. Barlow was displayed aid of a temporary building in the garden and a in the history of Sandford and Merton, by the dummy,-demonstrating that you couldn't let a example of a certain awful Master Mash. This choked hunchback down an Eastern chimney young wretch wore buckles and powder, con- with a cord, and leave him upright on the ducted himself with insupportable levity at the hearth to terrify the sultan's purveyor. theatre, had no idea of facing a mad bull single- The golden sounds of the overture to the first handed (in which I think him less reprehensible, metropolitan pantomime, I remember, were as remotely reflecting my own character), and alloyed by Mr. Barlow. Click click, ting ting, was a frightful instance of the enervatingeffects bang bang, weedle weedle weedle, bang! I of luxury upon the human race. recall the chilling air that ran across my frame Strange destiny on the part" of Mr. Barlow, and cooled my hot delight as the thought to go down to posterity as childhood's experience occurred to me, " This would never do for Mr. of a bore! Immortal Mr. Barlow, boring his Barlow!" After the curtain drew up, dreadful way through the verdant freshness of ages! doubts of Mr. Barlow's considering the cosMy personal indictment against Mr. Barlow tumes of the Nymphs of.the Nebula as being is one of many counts. I will proceed to set sufficiently opaque obtruded themselves on my forth a few of the injuries he has done me. enjoyment. In the clown I perceived two per-, In the first place, he never made or took a sons; one a fascinating unaccountable creature joke. This insensibility on Mr. Barlow's part of a hectic complexion, joyous in spirits, though not only cast its own gloom over my boyhood, feeble in intellect, with flashes of brilliancy; the but blighted even the sixpenny jest books of the other a pupil for Mr. Barlow. I thought how time; for groaning under a moral spell con- Mr. Barlow would secretly rise early in the straiinng me to refer 1ll things to Mr. Barlow, I morning, and butter the pavement for him;, and, could not choose but ask mlyself in a whisper, when he had brought him down, would look 6 2 THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRA VELLER. severely out of his study window, and ask /limz bottom to burst out upon me when I least how he enjoyed the fun. expect him. I thought how Mr. Barlow would heat all the A few of these dismal'experiences of mine pokers in the house, and singe him with the shall suffice. whole collection, to bring him better acquainted Knowing Mr. Barlow to have invested largely with the properties of incandescent iron, on in the moving-panorama trade, and having on which he (Barlow) would fully expatiate. I various occasions identified him in the dark pictured Mr. Barlow's instituting a comparison with a long wand in his hand, holding forth in between the clown's conduct at his studies,- his old way (made more appalling in this condrinking up the ink, licking his copy-book, and nection by his sometimes cracking a piece of using his head for blotting-paper,-and that of Mr. Carlyle's own Dead-Sea fruit in mistake for the already-mentioned young prig of prigs, a joke), I systematically shun pictorial enterHarry, sitting at the Barlovian feet, sneakingly tainment on rollers. Similarly, I should demand pretending to be in a rapture of youthful know- responsible bail and guaranty against the apledge. I thought how soon Mr. Barlow would pearance of Mr. Barlow, before committing smooth the clown's hair down, instead of letting myself to attendance at any assemblage of my it stand erect in three tall tufts; and how, after fellow-creatures where a bottle of water and a a couple of years or so with Mr. Barlow, he note-book were conspicuous objects; for, in would keep his legs close together when he either of those associations, I should expressly walked, and would take his hands out of his big expect him. But such is the designing nature loose pockets, and wouldn't have a jump left in of the man, that he steals in where no reasoning him. precaution or prevision could expect him. As That I am particularly ignorant what lost in the following case:things in the universe are made of, and how Adjoining the Caves of Ignorance is a country they,are made, is another of my charges against town. In this country town the Mississippi Mr. Barlow. With the dread upon me of de- Momuses, nine in number, were announced to veloping into a Harry, and with a further dread appear in the Town-hall, for the general delectaupon me of being Barlowed if I made inquiries, tion, this last Christmas week. Knowing Mr. by bringing down upon myself a cold shower- Barlow to be unconnected with the Mississippi, bath of explanations and experiments, I forbore though holding republican opinions, and deemenlightenment in my youth, and became, as, ing myself secure, I took a stall. My object they say in melodramas, "the wreck you now was to hear and see the Mississippi Momuses in behold." That I consorted with idlers and what the bills described as their " National dunces is another of the melancholy facts for ballads, plantation break-downs, nigger part which I hold Mr. Barlow responsible. That songs, choice conundrums, sparkling repartees, pragmatical prig, Harry, became so detestable &c." I found the nine dressed alike, in the in my sight, that, he being reported studious in black coat and trousers, white waistcoat, very the South, I would have fled idle to the ex- large slirt-front, very large shirt collar, and very tremest North. Better to learn misconduct large white tie and wristbands, which constitute from a Master Mash than science and statistics the dress of the mass of the African race, and from a Sandford! So I took the path which, which has been observed by travellers to prevail but for Mr. Barlow, I might never have trodden. over a vast number of degrees of latitude. All Thought I, with a shudder, " Mr. Barlow is a the nine rolled their eyes exceedingly, and had bore, with an immense constructive power of very red lips. At the extremities of the curve making bores. His prize specimen is a bore. they formed, seated in their chairs, were the He seeks to make a bore of me. That know- performers on the tambourine and bones. The ledge is power I am not prepared to gainsay; centre Momus, a black of melancholy aspect but, with Mr. Barlow, knowledge is power to (who inspiretl me with a vague uneasiness for bore." Therefore I took refuge in the caves of which I could not then account), performed on ignorance, wherein I have resided ever since, a Mississippi instrument closely resembling what and which are still my private address. was once called in this island a hurdy-gurdy. But the weightiest charge of all my charges The Momuses' on either side of him had each against Mr. Barlow is, that he still walks the another instrument peculiar to the Father of earth in various disguises, seeking to make a Waters, which may be likened to a stringed Tommy of me, even in my maturity. Irrepres- weather-glass held upside down. There were sible, instructive monomaniac, Mr. Barlow fills likewise a little flute and a violin. All went my life with pitfalls, and lies hiding at the well for awhile, and we had had several spark MR. BARLO W N A LITERAR Y ASPECT. x63 ling repartees exchanged between the performers information off, he is not contented with having on the tambourine and bones, when the slack rammed it home, and discharged it upon me, of melancholy aspect, turning to the latter, and Tommy, his target, but he pretends that he was addressing him in adeep'and improving voire always in possession of it, and made nothing of as " Bones, sir," delivered certain grave remarks it,-that he imbibed it with mother's milk,to him concerning the juveniles present, and and that I, the wretched Tommy, am most the season of the year; whereon I perceived abjectly behindhand in not having done the that I was in the presence of Mr. Barlow, same. I ask, Why is Tommy to be always the corked! foil of Mr. Barlow to this extent? What Mr. Another night-and this was in London-I Barlow had not the slightest notion of himself a attended the representation of a little comedy. week ago, it surely cannot be any very heavy As the characters were lifelike (and consequently backsliding in me not to have at my fingers' not improving), and as they went upon their ends to-day! And yet Mr. Barlow systematiseveral ways and designs without personally cally carries it over me with a high hand, and addressing themselves to me, I felt rather con- will tauntingly ask me, in his articles, whether fident of coming through it without being, re- it is possible that I am not aware that every garded as Tommy, the more so as we vere school-boy knows that the fourteenth turning on clearly getting close to the end. But I deceived the left in the steppes of Russia will conduct to myself. All of a sudden, and apropos of nothing, such and such a wandering tribe? with other everybody concerned came to a check and haltr- disparaging questions of like nature. So, when advanced to the foot-lights in a general rally to Mr. Barlow addresses a letter to any journal as take dead aim at me, and brought me down a volunteer correspondent (which I frequently with a moral homily, in which I detected the find him doing), he will previously have gotten dread hand of Barlow. somebody to tell him some tremendous techniNay, so intricate and subtle are the toils of cality, and will write in the coolest manner, this hunter, that, on the very next night after " Now, sir, I may assume that every.reader of that, I was again entrapped, where no vestige of your columns, possessing average information a spring could have been apprehended by the and intelligence, knows as well as I do that"timidest. It was a burlesque that I saw per- say that the draught from the touch-hole of a formed; an uncompromising burlesque, where cannon of such a calibre bears such a proportion everybody concerned, but especially the ladies, in the nicest fractions to the draught from the carried on at a very considerable rate indeed. muzzle; or some equally familiar little fact. Most prominent and active among the corps of But, whatever it is, be certain that it always performers was what I took to be (and she tends to the exaltation of Mr. Barlow, and the really gave me very fair opportunities of coming depression of his enforced and enslaved pupil. to a right conclusion) a young lady of a pretty Mr. Barlow's knowledge of my own pursuits figure. She was dressed as a picturesque I find to be so profound, that my own knowyoung gentleman, whose pantaloons had been ledge of them becomqs as nothing. Wr. Barlow cut off in their infancy; and she had very neat (disguised anil' bearing a feigned name, but knees and very neat satin boots. Immediately detected by me) has occasionally taught me, in after singing a slang song and dancing a slang a sonorous voice, from end to end of a long dance, this engaging figure approached the fatal dinner-table, trifles that I took the liberty of lamps, and, bending over them, delivered in a teaching him five-and-twerty years ago. My thrilling voice a random eulogium on, and closing article of impeachment' against Mr. exhortation to pursue, the virtues. " Great Barlow is, that he goes out to breakfast, goes Heaven! " was my exclamation; " Barlow!" out to dinner, goes out everywhere, high and There is still another aspect in which Mr. low, and that he WILL' praach to me, and that I Barlow perpetually insists on my sustaining the CAN'T get rid of him. He makes of me a character of Tommy, which is more unendurable Promethean Tommy, (bound; and he is the yet, on account of its extreme aggressiveness. vulture that gorges itself upon the liver of my For the purposes of a review or newspaper, he uninstructed mind. will get up an abstruse subject with infinite pains, will Barlow, utterly regardless of the price, of midnight oil, and, indeed, of everything else, save cramming himself to the eyes. But mark. When Mr. Barlow blows his 164 THE UNCOMMERC~AL TRAVELLER. XXXIV. and if they do not exist, but are a conventional fiction, then they are a proof of lazy tacit police ON AN AMATEUR BEAT. connivance with professional crime, which I also.Tisnomyacstaee teomean to punish "-what then? Fictions or reali7 T is one of my fancies, tat een te ou h that even ties, couldthey survive the touchstone of this --' my idlest walk must always have its atom of common sense? To tell us in- open appointed destination. I set my- court, until it has become as trite a feature of.). sself a task before I leave my lodging news as the great gooseberry, that a costly police N in Covent Garden on a street expe- system, such as was never before heard of, has dition, and should no more think of left in London, in the days of steam and gas altering my rcute by the way, or turning and photographs of thieves and electric teleback and leaving a part of it unachieved, graphs, the sanctuaries and stews of the Stuarts! than I should think of fraudulently vio- Why, a parity of practice, in all departments, lating an agreement entered into with somebody would bring back the Plague in two summers, else. The other day, finding myself under this and the Druids in a century! kind of obligation to proceed to Limehouse, I Walking faster under my share of this public started punctually at noon, in compliance with injury, I overturned a wretched little creature, the terms of the contract with myself to which who, clutching at the rags of a pair of trousers my good faith was pledged. with one of its claws, and at its ragged hair with On such an occasion it is my habit to regard the other, pattered with bare feet over the muddy my walk as my beat, and myself as a higher stones. I stopped to raise and succour this poor sort of police-constable doing duty on the same. weeping wretch, and fifty like it, but of both There is many a ruffian in the streets whom I sexes, were about me in a moment, begging, mentally collar and clear out of them, who would tumbling, fighting, clamouring, yelling, shiversee mighty little of London, I can tell him, if I ing in their nakedness and hunger. The piece could deal with him physically. of money I had put into the claw of the child I Issuing forth upon this very beat, and follow- had overturned was clawed out of it,. and was ing with my eyes three hulking garrotters on again clawed out of that wolfish gripe, and again their way home,-which home I could confi- out of that, and soon I had no notion in what dently swear to be within so many yards of part of the obscene scuffle in the mud, of rags Drury Lane, in such a narrow and restricted and legs, and arms and dirt, the money might direction (though they live in their lodging quite be. In raising the child, I had drawn it aside as undisturbed as I in mine),-I went on duty out of the main thoroughfare, and this took with a consideration which I respectfully offer place among some wooden hoardings and barto the new Chief Commissioner,-in whom I riers and ruins of demolished buildings hard by thoroughly confide as a tried and efficient public Temple Bar. servant. How often (thought I) have I been Unexpectedly, from among them emerged a forced to swallow, in police reports, the intole- genuine police-constable, before whom the dreadrable stereotyped pill of nonsense, how that the ful brood dispersed in various directions, he police-constable informed the worthy magistrate making feints and darts in this direction and in how that the associates of the prisoner did, at that, and catching nothing. When all were that present speaking, dwell in a street or court frightened away he took off his hat, pulled out which no man dared go down, and how that the a handkerchief from it, wiped his heated brow, worthy magistrate had heard of the dark repu- and restored the handkerchief and hat to their tation of such street or court, and how that our places, with the air of a man who had discharged readers would doubtless remember that it was a great moral duty,-as indeed he had, in doing arways the same street or court which was thus what was set down for him. I looked at him, edifyingly discoursed about, say, once a fort- and I looked about at the disorderly traces in night. the mud, and I thought of the drops of rain Now, suppose that a Chief Commissioner sent and the footprints of an extinct creature, hoary round a circular to every division of police em- ages upon ages old, that geologists have identiployed in London, requiring instantly the names fled on the face of a clift; and this speculation in all districts of all such much-puffed streets or came over me: If this mud could petrify at this courts which no man durst go down; and sup- moment, and could lie concealed here for ten pose that in such circular he gave plain warning, thousand years, I wonder whether the race of "' If those places really exist, they are a proof men then to be our successors on the earth of police inefficiency which I mean to punish; could, from these or any marks, by the utmost ANCESTRAL AND IlMODERN LANDM.~lARAKS. I65 force of the human intellect, unassisted by tra- atmosphere that day; for, though the propordition, deduce such an astounding inference as tions of St. Paul's Cathedral are very beautiful,' the existence of a polished state of society that it had an air of being somewhat out of drawing, bore with the public savagery of neglected chil- in my eyes. I felt as though the cross were dren in the streets of its caFptal city, and was too high up, and perched upon the intervening proud of its power by sea and land, and never golden ball too far away. used its power to seize and save them! Facing eastward, I left behind me Smithfield After this, when I came to the Old- Bailey, and Old Bailey,-fire and faggot, condemned and glanced up it towards Newgate, I found hold,, public hanging, whipping through the city that the prison had an inconsistent look. There at the cart-tail, pillory, branding-iron, and other seemed to be some unlucky inconsistency in the beautiful ancestral landmarks, which rude hands "THIS ENGAGING FIGURE APPROACHED THE FATAL LAMPS." have rooted up, wlinout bringing the stars quite be in the ascendant; henceforth, everything down upon us as yet,-and went my way upon exposed for sale shall have its ticketed price my beat, noting how. oddly characteristic neigh- attached. 1All this as if specially ordered and bourhoods are divided from one another here- appointed. about, as though by an invisible line across the A single stride at Houndsditch Church, no way. Here shall cease the bankers and the wider than sufficed to cross the kennel at the money-changers; here shall begin the shipping bottom of the Canongate, which the debtors in interest, and the nautical-instrument shops;' here Holyrood sanctuary were wont to relieve their shall follow a scarcely perceptible flavouring of minds by skipping oyer, as Scott relates, and groceries and drugs; here shall come a strong standing in delightful daring of catchpoles on infusion of butchers; now, small hosiers shall the free side,-a single stride, and everything is THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 12.,3 030. i66 THE UNCOMIMER CIAL TRA VELLER............. —..entirely changed in grain and character. West faces the advancing heap of clothes. After much of the stride, a table, or a chest of drawers on hesitation, it occurs to him that there may be a sale, shall be of mahogany and French-polished; face in it somewhere. Desperately resolving to east of the stride, it shall be of deal, smeared under' lke the adventure, and pursue the inquiry, with a cheap counterfeit resembling lip-salve. he goes slowly up to the bundle, goes slowly West of the stride, a penny loaf or bun shall be round i, and, coming at length upon the human compact and self-contained; east of the stride, countenance.,,) there where never human it shall be of a sprawling and splay-footed cha- countenance,.,-,i be, he gives a yelp of racter, as seeking to make more of itself for the horror, and i.....or the East India Docks. money. My beat lying round by Whitechapel Being now in the Commercial-Road district Church, and the adjacent sugar refineries,-great of my beat, and bethinking myself that Stepney buildings, tier upon tier, that have the appear- station is near, I quicken my pace that I may ance of being nearly related to the dock ware- turn out of the road at that point, and see how houses at Liverpool,-I turned off to my right, my small eastern star is shining. and, passing round the awkward corner on my The Children's Hospital, to which I gave that left, came suddenly on an apparition familiar to name, is in full force. All its beds are occupied. London streets afar off. There is a new face on the bed where my pretty What London peripatetic of these times has baby lay, and that sweet little child is now at not seen the woman who has fallen forward, rest for ever. Much kind sympathy has been double, through some affection of the spine, and here since my former visit, and it is good to whose head has of late taken a turn to one side, see the walls profusely garnished with dolls. I so that it now droops over the back of one of wonder what Poodles may think of them, as her arms at about the wrist? Who does not they stretch out their arms above the beds, and know her staff, and her shawl, and her basket, stare, and display their splendid dresses. Poodles as she gropes her way along, capable of seeing has a greater interest in the patients. I find him nothing but the pavement, never begging, never making the round of the beds, like a house stopping, for ever going somewhere on no busi- surgeon, attended by another dog,-a friend,ness? How does she live, whence does she who appears to trot about with him. in the chacome, whither does she go, and why? I mind racter of his pupil dresser. Poodles is anxious the time when her yellow arms were nought but to make me known to a pretty little girl looking' bone and parchment. Slight changes steal over wonderfully healthy, who had had a leg taken her; for there is a shadowy suggestion of human off for cancer of the knee. A difficult operation, skin on them now. The Strand may be taken Poodles intimates, wagging his tail on the counas the central point about which she revolves in terpanej but perfectly successful, as you see, dear a half-mile orbit. How comes she so far east as sir! The patient, patting Poodles, adds with a this? And coming back, too! Having been smile, "The leg was so much trouble to me, how much farther? She is a rare spectacle in that I am glad it's gone." I never saw anythis neighbourhood. I receive intelligent infor- thing in doggery finer than the deportment of mation to this effect from a dog,-a lop-sided Poodles, when another little girl opens her mongrel with a foolish tail, plodding along with mouth to show a peculiar enlargement of the his tail up, and his ears pricked, and displaying tongue. Poodles (at that time on a table, to be an amiable interest in the ways of his fellow- on a level with the occasion) looks at the tongue men,-if I may be allowed the expression. (with his own sympathetically out) so very gravely After pausing at a pork shop, he is jogging east- and knowingly, that I feel inclined to put my ward like myself, with a benevolent countenance hand in my waistcoat pocket, and give him a and a watery mouth, as though musing on the guinea, wrapped in paper. many excellences of pork, when he beholds this On my beat again, and close to Limehouse doubled-up bundle approaching. He is not so Church, its termination, I found myself near to much astonished at the bundle (though amazed certain " Lead Mills." Struck by the name, by that), as the circumstance that it has within which was fresh in my memory, and finding, on itself the means of locomotion. He stops, pricks inquiry, that these same lead-mills were identihis ears higher, makes a slight point, stares, utters fled with those same lead-mills of which I made a short low growl, and glistens at the nose,-as mention when I first visited the East London I conceive with terror. The bundle continuing Children's Hospital and its neighbourhood as to approach, he barks, turns tail, and is about to Uncommercial Traveller, I resolved to have a fly, when, arguing with himself that flight is not look at them. becoming in a dog, he turns, and once more Received by two very intelligent gentlemen, A VISIT TO TIlE LEAD-ifILLS. 167 brothers, and partners with their father in the I soap), and gauntlet gloves, and loose gowns. concern, and who testified every desire to show Everywhere there was as much fresh air as wintheir works to me freely, I went over the lead- dows, well placed and opened, could possibly mills. The purport of such works is th con- admit. And it was explained that the precauversion of pig-lead into white-lead. This con- tion of frequently changing the women employed version is brought about by the slow and gradual in the worst parts of the work (a precaution effecting of certain successive I: lical changes originating in their own experience or apprehenin the lead itself. The proce' picturesque sion of its ill effects) was found salutary. They and interesting,-the most so bcei the burying had a mysterious and singular appearance, with of the lead, at a certain stage of preparation, in the mouth and nose covered, and the loose pots, each pot containing a certain quantity of gown on, and yet bore out the simile of the old acid besides, and all the pots being buried in Turk and the seraglio all the better for the disvast numbers, in layers, under tan, for some ten guise. weeks. At last this vexed white-lead, having been Hopping up ladders, and across planks, and buried and resuscitated, and heated and cooled on elevated perches, until I was uncertain and stirred, and separated and washed and whether to liken myself to a bird or a brick- ground, and rolled and pressed, is subjected to layer, I became conscious of standing on nothing the action of intense fiery heat. A row of particular, looking down into one of a series of women, dressed as above described, stood, let large cock-lofts, with the outer day peeping in us say, in a large stone bakehouse, passing on through the chinks in the tiled roof above. A the baking-dishes as they were given out by the number of women were ascending to, and de- cooks, from hand to hand, into the ovens. The scending from, this cock-loft, each carrying on oven, or stove, cold as yet, looked as high as an the upward journey a pot of prepared lead and ordinary house, and was full of men and women acid, for deposition under the smoking tan. on temporary footholds, briskly passing up and When one layer of pots was completely filled, it stowing away the dishes. The door of another was carefully covered in with planks, and those oven, or stove, about to be cooled and emptied. were carefully covered with tan again, and then was opened from above, for the uncommercial another layer of pots was begun above; suffi- countenance to peer down into. The uncomcient means of ventilation being preserved mercial countenance withdrew itself with expethrough wooden tubes. Going down into the dition and a sense of suffocation from the dullcock-loft then filling, I found the heat of the tan glowing heat and the overpowering smell. Or to be surprisingly great, and also the odour of the whole, perhaps the going into these stoves the lead and acid to be not absolutely exquisite, to work, when they are freshly opened, may be though I believe not noxious at that stage. In the worst part of the occupation. other cock-lofts, where the pots were being ex- But I made it out to be indubitable that the humed, the heat of the steaming tan was much owners of these lead-mills honestly and sedulously greater, and the smell was penetrating and pecu- try to reduce the dangers of the occupation to liar. There were cock-lofts in all stages; full the lowest point. and empty, half filled and half emptied; strong, A washing-place is provided for the women (I active women were clambering about them thought there might have been more towels), and busily; and the whole thing had rather the air a room in which they hang their clothes, and of the upper part of the house of some im- take their meals, and where they have a good mensely rich old Turk, whose faithful seraglio fire-range and fire, and a female attendant to were hiding his money because the sultan or the help.them, and to watch that they do not nepasha was coming. glect the, cleansing of their hands before touching As is thecase with most pulps or pigments, their food. An experienced medical attendant so in the instance of this white-lead, processes is provided for them, and any premonitory of stirring, separating, washing, grinding, rolling, symptoms of lead-poisoning are carefully and pressing succeed. Some of these are un- treated. Their teapots and such things were questionably inimical to health, the danger set out on tables, ready for their afternoon arising from inhalation of particles of lead, or meal, when I saw their room; and it had a from contact between the lead and the touch, or homely look. It is found that they bear the both. Against these dangers I found good work much better than men: some few of them respirators provided (simply made of flannel have been at it for years, and the great majority ahd muslin, so as to be inexpensively renewed, of those I observed were strong and active. On and in some instances washed with scented the other hand, it should be remembered that 168 THE UVCOAIIAERCIAL TRA VELLER. most of them are very capricious and irregular slippery stones of my Covent-Garden street, in their attendance. and elicited shrieks from several sympathetic American inventiveness would seem to indi- females, by convulsively restraining himself frotm cate that before very long white-lead may be pitching over his horse's head. In the very made entirely by machinery. The sooner the crisis of these evolutions, and, indeed, at the better. In the meantime, I parted from my two trying moment when his charger's tail was in a frank conductors over the mills, by telling them tobacconist's shop and his head anywhere that they had nothing there to be concealed, and about town, this cavalier was joined by two nothing to be blamed for. As to the rest, the similar portents, who likewise stumbling and philosophy of the matter of lead-poisoning and' sliding, caused him to stumble and slide the workpeople seems to me to have been pretty more distressingly. At length this Gilpinian fairly summed up by the Irishwoman whom I triumvirate effected a halt, and, looking northquoted in my former paper: "Some of them ward, waved their three right hands as comgets lead-pisoned soon, and some of them gets manding unseen troops to " Up, guards! and at lead-pisoned later, and some, but nor many,'em." Hereupon a brazen band burst forth, niver; and'tis all according to the constitoo- which caused them to be instantly bolted with shun, sur; and some constitooshuns is strong, to some remote spot of earth in the direction of and some is weak." the Surrey Hills. Retracing my footsteps over my beat, I went Judging from these appearances that a prooff duty. cession was under way, I threw up my window, and, craning out, had the satisfaction of beholding it advancing along the streets. It was a Teetotal procession, as I learnt from its banners, XXXV. and was long enough to consume twenty minutes in passing. There were a great number of chilA PLEA FOR TOTAL ABSTINENCE. dren in it, some of them so very young in their 5a~-'~Shtsnie a pe mother's arms as to be in the act of practically NE day this last Whitsuntide, at pre- exemplifying their abstinence from fermented cisely eleven o'clock in the forenoon; liquors, and attachment to an unintoxicating there suddenly rode into the field of drink, while the procession defiled. The disview co.mmanded by the windows of play was, on the whole, pleasant to see, as any. my lodging an equestrian phenome- good-humoured holiday assemblage of clcan, non. It was a fellow-creature on cheerful, and well-conducted people should,e. horseback, dressed in the absurdest It was bright with ribbons, tinsel, and shouller-! manner.. The fellow-creature wore high belts, and abounded in flowers, as if those latter boots; some other (and much larger) fellow- trophies had come up in profusion under much creature's breeches, of a slack-baked doughy watering. The day being breezy, the insuborcolour and a baggy form; a blue shirt, whereof dination of the large banners was very reprethe skirt, or tail, was puffily tucked into the hensible. Each of these being borne aloft on waistband of the said breeches; no coat; a red two poles, and stayed with some half-dozen shoulder-belt; and a demi-semi-military scarlet lines, was carried, as polite books in the last hat, with a feathered ornament in front, which, cestury used to be written, by " various hands,' to the uninstructed human vision, had the ap- and the anxiety expressed in the tupturned faces pearance of a moulting shuttlecock. I laid of those officers,-something betveen the anxiety down the newspaper with which I had been attendant on the balancing att, and that insepaoccupied, and surveyed the fellow-man in ques- rable from the pastime of kite-flying, pwith a tion with astonishment. Whether he had been touch of the angler's quality in landing his scaly sitting to any painter as a frontispiece for a new prey,-much impressed me. Suddenly,'too, a edition of "Sartor Resartus;" whether "the banner would shiver in the wind, and go about husk or shell of him," as the esteemed Herr in the most inconvenient manner. This always. Teufelsdroch might put it, were founded on a happened oftenest with such gorgeous standards. jockey, on a circus, on General Garibaldi, on as those representing a gentleman in black, corcheap porcelain, on a toy-shop, on Guy Fawkes, pulent with tea and water, in the laudable act of on wax-work, on gold-digging, on Bedlam, or summarily reforming a family, feeble and pinched on all,-were doubts that greatly exercised my with beer.. The gentleman in black distended mind. Meanwhile, my fellow-man stumbled by wind would then conduct himself with the and slided, excessively against his will, on the most unbecoming levity, while the beery family, A NET I PL1EDGE O'OR TEETOTALERS?. 169 growing beerier, would frantically try to tear I have observed that the aggregate procession themselves away from his ministration. Some was, on the whole, pleasant to see. I made use of the inscriptions accompanying the banners of that qualified expression-with a direct meanwere of a highly determined character, as, " We ing, which I will now explain. It involves the never, never will give up the temperance cause," title of this paper, and a little fair trying of teewith similar sound resolutions rather suggestive totalism by its own tests. There were many to the profane mind of Mrs. Micawber's " I people on foot, and many people in vehicles of never will desert Mr. Micawber," and of Mr. various kinds. The former were pleasant to see, Micawber's retort, " Really, my dear, I am not and the latter were not pleasant to see; for the aware that you were ever required by any reason that I never, on any occasion or under human being to do anything of the sort." any circumstances, have beheld heavier overAt intervals a gloom would fall on the passing loading of horses than in this public show. Unmembers of the procession, for which I was at less the imposition of a great van laden with first unable to account. But this I discovered, from ten to twenty people on a single horse be after a little observation, to be occasioned by a moderate tasking of the poor creature, then the coming on of the executioners,-the terrible the temperate use of horses was immoderate official beings who were to make the speeches and cruel. From the smallest and lightest horse by-and-by,-who were- distributed in open car- to the largest and heaviest, there were many riages at various points of the cavalcade. A instances in which the beast of burden was so dark cloud and a sensation of dampness, as from shamefully overladen, that the Society for the many wet blankets, invariably preceded the roll- Prevention of Cruelty to Animals have frequently ing on of the dreadful cars containing these interposed in less gross cases. headsmen; and I noticed that the wretched Now, I have always held that there may be, people who closely followed them, and who and that there unquestionably is, such a thing were in a manner forced to contemplate their as use without abuse, and that therefore the total folded arms, complacent countenances, and abolitionists are irrational and wrong-headed. threatening lips, were more overshadowed by But the procession completely converted me. the cloud d an damp than those in front. In- For so large a number of the'people using deed, I perceived in some of these so moody an draught-horses in it were so clearly unable to implacability towards the magnates of the scaf- use them without abusing them, that I perceived fold, and so plain a desire to tear them limb total abstinence from horse-flesh to be the only from limb, that I would respectfully suggest to remedy of which the case admitted. As it is all the managers the expediency of conveying the one to teetotalers whether you take half a pint executioners to the scene of their dismal labours of beer or half a gallon, so it was all one here by unfrequented ways, and in closely-tilted carts. whether the beast of burden were a pony or a next Whitsuntide. cart-horse. Indeed, my case had the special The Frocession was composed of a series of strength that the half-pint quadruped underwent smaller processions, which had come together, as much suffering as the half-gallon quadruped. each from its own metropolitan district. An Moral: total abstinence from horse-flesh through infusion of allegory became perceptible when the whole length And breadth of the scale. This patriotic Peckham advanced. So I judged from pledge will be in course of administration to all the circumstance of Peckham's unfurling a silken teetotal processionist.. not pedestrians, at the banner that fanned heaven and earth, with the publishing office of " All the Year Round," on words, "The Peckham Life-boat." No boat the Ist day of April, i870. being in attendance, though life, in the likeness Observe a point for consideration. This proof " a gallant, gallant crew," in nautical uniform, cession comprised many persons in their gigs, followed the flag, I was led to meditate on the broughams, tax-carts, barouches, chaises, and fact that Peckham is described by geographers what not, who were merciful to the dumb beasts as an inland settlement, with no larger or nearer that drew them, and did not overcharge their shore-line than the towing-path of the Surrey strength. What is to be done with those unCanal, on which stormy station I had been offending persons? I will not run amuck, and,gyen to understand no life-boat exists. Thus I vilify and defame them, as teetotal tracts and deduced an allegorical meaning, and came to platforms would most assuredly do, if the questhe conclusion, that if patriotic Peckham tion were one of drinking instead of driving: I picked a peck of pickled poetry, this was the merely ask, what is to be done with them? The peck of pickled poetry which patriotic Peckham reply admits of no dispute whatever. Manifestly, picked. in strict accordance with teetotal doctrines, THEY 170 THIE' UiNCO~MMERCIAL TRA VELLER. must come in too, and take the total abstinence have, after long infestment of this dark and from horse-flesh pledge. It is not pretended lonely spot by a gang of Ruffians, actually got that those members of the procession misused hold of two of them. Why, can it be doubted certain auxiliaries which in most countries and that any man of fair London knowledge and all ages have been bestowed upon man for his common resolution, armed with the powers of use, but it is undeniable that other members of the Law, could have captured the whole conthe procession did. Teetotal mathematics de- federacy in a week? monstrate that the less includes the greater; It is to the saving up of the Ruffian class by that the guilty include the innocent, the blind the Magistracy and Police-to the conventional the seeing, the deaf the hearing, the dumb the preserving of them, as if they were Partridges — speaking, the drunken the sober. If any of the that their number and audacity must be in great moderate users of draught-cattle in question part referred. Why is a notorious Thief and should deem that there is any gentle violence Ruffian ever left at large? He never turns his done to their reason by these elements of logic, liberty'to any account but violence and plunder, they are invited tb come out of the procession he never did a day's work out of gaol, he never next Whitsuntide, and look at it from my win- will do a day's work out of gaol. As a proved dow. notorious Thief, he is always consignable to prison for three months. When he comes out, he is surely as notorious a Thief as he was when he went in. Then send him back again. "Just XXXVI. IHeaven! " cries the Society for the protection of remonstrant Ruffians. "This is equivalent to a THE RUFFIAN. sentence of perpetual imprisonment!" Precisely for that reason it has my advocacy. I demand,;,.~( SENTERTAIN so strong an objec- to have the Ruffian kept out of my way, and out.,S tion.to the euphonious softening of of the way of all decent people. I demand to IIirl Ruffian into Rough, which has lately have the Ruffian employed, perforce, in hewing become popular, that I restore the wood and drawing water somewhere for the b>c. right word to the heading of this general service, instead of hewing at her Ma(C(~)l paper; the rather as my object is to jesty's subjects, and drawing their watches out g dwell upon the fact that the Ruffian is of their podkets. If this be termed an unreason-' tolerated among us to an extent that able demand, then the tax-gatherer's demand on goes beyond all unruffianly endurance. I take me must be far more unreasonable, and cannot the liberty to believe that if the Ruffian besets be otherwise than extortionate and unjust. my life, a professional Ruffian at large in the It will be seen that I treat of the Thief and open streets of a great city, notoriously having Ruffian as one. I do so, because I know the no other calling than that of Ruffian, and of two characters to be one, in the vast majority of disquieting and despoiling me as I go peacefully cases, just as well as the Police know it. (As about ry lawful business, interfering with no to the Magistracy, with a few exceptions, they one, then the Government under which I have know nothing about it but what the Police the great constitutional privilege, supreme honour choose to tell them.) There are disorderly and happiness, and all the rest of it, to exist, classes of men who are not thieves; as railway breaks down in the discharge of any Govern- navigators, brickmakers, wood-sawyers, costerment's most simple elementary duty. mongers. These classes are often disorderly What did I read in the London daily papers and troublesome; but it is mostly among themin the early days of this last September? That selves, and at any rate they have their industhe Police had "AT LENGTH SUCCEEDED IN CAP- trious avocations, they work early and late, and TURING Two ov THE NOTORIOUS GANG THAT work hard. The generic Ruffian-honourable HAVE SO LONG INFESTED THE WATERLOO ROAD." member for what is tenderly called the Rough Is it possible? What a wonderful Police! Here Element-is either a Thief, or the companion is a straight, broad, public thoroughfare of im- of Thieves. When he infamously molests womense resort; half a mile long; gas-lighted by men coming out of chapel on Sunday evenings night; with a great gas-lighted railway station (for which I would have his back scarified often in it, extra the street lamps; full of shops; tra- and deep), it is not only for the gratification of versed by two popular cross-thoroughfares of his pleasant instincts, but that there may be a considernble traffic; itself the main road to the confusion raised by which either he or his friends South of London } and the admirable Police my profit, in the commission of highway rob OBJECTS FOR POLICE CONTEMPLATION. I7 beries or in picking pockets. When he gets a patched and shabby, too short in the sleeves and police-constable down and kicks him helpless too tight in the legs, slimly clothed, foul-spoken, for life, it is because that constable once did his repulsive wretches inside and out. In all the duty in bringing him to justice. When he party there obtains a certain twitching character rushes into the bar of a public-house, and scoops of mouth and furtiveness of eye, that hint how an eye out of one of the company there, or bites the coward is lurking under the bully. The his ear off, it is because the man he maims gave hint is quite correct, for they are a slinking, evidence against him. When he and a line of sneaking set, far more prone to lie down on their comrades extending across the footway-say of backs and kick out, when in difficulty, than to that solitary mountain-spur of the Abruzzi, the make a stand for it. (This may account for the Waterloo Road-advance towards me "sky- street mud on the backs of Numbers Five, Six, larking " among themselves, my purse or shirt- and Seven being much fresher than the stale pin is in predestined peril from his playfulness. splashes on their legs.) Always a Ruffian, always a Thief. Always a These engaging gentry a Police-constable Thief, always a Ruffian. stands contemplating. His station, with a ReNow, when I, who am not paid to know these serve of assistance, is very near at hand. They things, know them daily on the evidence of my cannot pretend to any trade, not even to be senses and experience; when I know that the porters or messengers. It would be idle if they Ruffian never jostles a lady in the street, or did, for he knows them, and they know that he knocks a hat off, but in order that the Thief may knows them, to be nothing but professed Thieves profit, is it surprising that I should require, from and Ruffians. He knows where they resort, those who are paid to know these things, pre- knows by what slang names they call one anvention of them? other, knows how often they have been in prison, Look at this group at a street corner. Number and how long, and for what. All this is known One is a shirking fellow of five-and-twenty, in an at his Station, too, and is (or ought to be) known ill-favoured and ill-savoured suit, his trousers of at Scotland Yard, too. But does he know, or corduroy, his coat of some indiscernible ground- does his Station know, or does Scotland. Yard work for the deposition of grease, his necker-'know, or does anybody know, why these fellows chief like an eel, his complexion like dirty dough, should be here at liberty, when, as reputed his mangy fur cap pulled low upon his beetle Thieves to whom a whole Division of Police brows to hide the prison cut of his hair. His could swear, they might all be under lock and hands are in his pockets. He puts them there key at hard labour? Not he; truly he would when they are idle, as naturally as in other be a wise man if he did! He only knows that people's pockets when they are busy, for he these are members of the "notorious gang," knows that they are not roughened by work, which, according to the newspaper Police-Office and that they tell a tale. Hence, whenever he reports of this last past September, " have so takes one out to draw a sleeve across his nose- long infested" the awful solitudes of the Waterloo which is often, for he has weak eyes and a con- Road, and out of which almost impregnable stitutional cold in his head —he restores it to its fastnesses the Police have at length dragged pocket immediately afterwards. Number Two Two, to thl unseakable admiration of all good is a'burly brute of five-and-thirty, in a tall stiff civilians. hat; is a composite, as to his clothes, of betting- The consequences of this contemplative habit man and fighting-man; is whiskered; has a on the part of the Executive-a habit to be staring pin in his breast, along with his right looked for in a hermit, but not in a Police hand; has insolent and cruel eyes; large System-are familiar to us all. The Ruffian shoulders; strong legs, booted and tipped for becomes one of the established orders of the kicking. Number Three is forty years of age; body politic. Under the playful name of Rough is short, thick-set, strong, and bow-legged; wears (as if he were merely a practical joker), his knee cords and white stockings, a very long- movements and successes are recorded on public sleeved waistcoat, a very large neckerchief occasions. Whether he mustered in large numdoubled or trebled round his throat, and a bers or small; whether he was in good spirits or crumpled white hat crowns his ghastly parch- depressed; whether he turned his generous ment face. This fellow looks like an executed exertions to very prosperous account, or Forpostboy of other days, cut down from the gallows tune was against him; whether he was in a too soon, and restored and preserved by express sanguinary mood, or robbed with amiable horse. diabolical agency. Numbers Five, Six, and play and a gracious consideration for life and Seven are hulking, idle, slouching young men, limb; all this is chronicled as if he were an ' 72 TLE UiNCOMMIER CIAL TRA VETLLER. Instit:ti-on. Is there any city in Europe, out of property, to an extent that is hardly credible. -England, in which these terms are held with the The throwing of.stones in the streets has become pests'of Society? Or in which, at this day, such a dangerous and destructive offence, which surely violent robberies from the person are constantly could have got to no greater height, though wt: (committed as in London? had had no Police but our own riding whips and The Preparatory Schools of Ruffianism are walking-sticks-the Police to which I myself similarly borne with. The young Ruffians of appeal on-these occasions. The throwing of London-not Thieves yet, but training for scho- stones at the windows of railway carriages in larships and fellowships in the Criminal-Court motion-an act of wanton wickedness with the -Universities-molest quiet people and their very Arch-Fiend's hand in it-had become a 9 --- LOOK AT THIS GROUP AT A STREET CORNER." crying evil, when the railway companies forced noon; and I have had the honour of myself it on Police notice. Constabular contemplation giving chase, on Westminster Bridge, to another had until then been the order of the day. young Ruffian, who, in full daylight early on a Within these twelve months, there arose summer evening, had nearly thrown a modest among the young. gentlemen of London aspiring young woman into a swoon of indignation and to Ruffianism, and cultivating that much-en- confusion by his shameful manner of attacking couraged social art, a facetious cry of " I'll have her with this cry as she harmlessly passed along this!" accompanied with a clutch at some before me. MR. CARLYLE, some time since, article of a passing lady's dress. I have known awakened a little pleasantry by writing of his a lady's veil to be thus humorously torn from own experience of the Ruffian of the streets. I.er face and carried off in the open streets at have seen the Ruffian act in exact accordance AN UNKNO l V C'CHARGE. 173 with Mr. Carlyle's description, innumerable Lord Chancellor or the Lor' Chief Justice, but times, and I never saw him checked. that was a question of good- breeding on the The blaring use of the very worst language suburban Magistrate's part, and a hd my clause possible, in our public thoroughfares-especially ready, with its leaf turned down.. W Vhich was in those set apart for recreation-is another dis- enough for me. grace to us, and another result of constabular Conference took place between the l.agistrate contemplation, the like of which I have never and clerk respecting the charge. Duri.'g conheard in any other country to which my uncom- ference I was evidently regarded as a much. more mercial travels have extended. Years ago, when objectionable person than the prisoner;-tne I had a near interest in certain children who givig trouble by coming there voluntarily, whici were sent with their nurses, for air and exercise, the prisoner could not be accused of doing.! into the Regent's Park, I found this evil to be The prisoner had been got up, since I last had so abhorrent and horrible there, that I called the pleasure of seeing her, with a great effect of public attention to it, and also to its contem- white apron and straw bonnet. She reminded plative reception by the Police. Looking after- me of an elder sister of Red Riding Hood, andl wards into the newest Police Act, and finding I seemed to remind the sympathising Chimney, that the offence was punishable under it, I re- Sweep, by whom she was attended, of the Wolf.. solved, when striking occasion should arise, to The Magistrate was doubtful, Mr. Uncomtry my hand as prosecutor. The occasion arose mercial Traveller, whether this charge could be soon enough, and I ran the following gauntlet. entertained. It was not known. Mr. UncomThe utterer of the base coin in question was a mercial Traveller replied that he wished it were girl of seventeen or eighteen, who, with a suit- better known, and that, if he could afford the able attendance of blackguards, youths, and leisure, he would use his endeavours to make it boys, was flaunting along the streets, returning so. There was no question about it, however, from an Irish funeral, in a Progress interspersed he contended. Here was the clause. with singing and dancing. She had turned The clause was handed in, and more conround to me and expressed herself in the most ference resulted. After which I was asked the audible manner, to the great delight of that extraordinary question: "Mr. Uncommercial, select circle. I attended the party, on the op- do you really wish this girl to be sent to prison?" posite side of the way, for a mile further, and To which I grimly answered, stating: "If I then encountered a Police-constable. The party didn't, why should I take the trouble to come had made themselves merry at my expense until here?" Finally, I was sworn, and gave my now, but seeing me speak to the constable, its agreeable evidence in detail, and White Riding male members instantly' took to their heels, Hood was fined ten shillings, under the clause, leaving the girl alone. I asked the constable or sent to prison for so many days.'"Why, did he know my name? Yes, he did. "Take Lord bless you, sir," said the Police-officer who that girl into custody, on my charge, for using showed me out, with a great enjoyment of the bad language in the streets." He had never jest of her having been got up so effectively, and heard of such a charge. I had. Would he caused so much hesitation: "if she goes to take my word that he should get into no trouble? prison, that will be nothing new to her. She Yes, sir, he would do that. So he took the comes from Charles Street, Drury Lane!" girl, and I went home for my Police Act. The Police, all things considered, are an exWith this potent instrument in my pocket, I cellent force, and I have borne my small testiliterally as well as figuratively "returned to the mony to their merits. Constabular contemplation charge," and presented myself at the police- is the result of a bad syste n; a system which is station of the district. There I found on duty administered, not invented, by the man in cona very intelligent Inspector (they are all intelli- stable's uniform, employed at twenty shillings a gent men), who, likewise, had never heard of week. He has his orders, and would be marked such a charge. I showed him my clause, and for discouragement if he overstepped them. That we went over it together twice or thrice. It the system is bad, there needs no lengthened was plain, and I engafged to wait upon the argument to prove, because the fact is self-evisuburban Magistrate to-morrow morning at ten dent. If it were anything else, the results that o'clock. have attended it could not possibly have come In the morning, I put my Police Act in my to pass. Who will say that, under a good pocket' again, and waited on the suburban system, our streets could have got into their Magistrate. I was not quite so courteously present state? received by him as I should have been by the The obiection to the whole PQlice System, as 174 THE UNVCOMIlfERCOIAL TRA lELL~ER. concerning the Ruffian, may be stated, and its we are constantly admonished from high places failure exemplified, as follows. It is well known (like so many Sunday-school children out for a that on all great occasions, when they come holiday of buns and milk-and-water) that we are together in numbers, the mass of the English not to take the law into our own hands, but are people are their own trustworthy Police. It is to hand our defence over to it. It is clear that well known that wheresoever there is collected the common enemy to be punished and extertogether any fair general representation of the minated first of all is the Ruffian. It is clear people, a respect for law and order, and a deter- that he is, of all others, the offender for whose mination t6 discountenance lawlessness and repressal we maintain a costly system of Police. disorder, may be relied upon. As to one an- Him, therefore, we expressly present to the other, the people are a very good Police, and Police to deal with, conscious that, on the whole, yet are quite willing, in their good-nature, that we can, and do, deal reasonably well with one the stipendiary Police should have the credit of another. Him the Police deal with so ineffithe people's moderation. But we are all of us ciently and absurdly that he flourishes and mulpowerless against the Ruffian, because we submit tiplies, and, with all his evil"deeds upon his head to the law, and it is his only trade, by superior as notoriously as his hat is, pervades the streets force and by violence, to defy it. Moreover, with no more let or hindrance than ourselves. "AND WHITE RIDING HOOD WAS FINED TEN SHILLINGS."