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MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 GEORGE CATTERMOLE AND HABLOT BROWNE. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186, STRAND. 
 
 MDCCCXL. 
 
LONDON ; 
 BHAOBl'RY AND £VANS, ntlNTEilS, WHITEFKIARS. 
 

 TO 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQUIRE. 
 
 My Dear Sir^ 
 
 Let me have my Pleasures of Memory in connection with this 
 book, by dedicating it to a Poet whose writings (as all the world knows) 
 are replete with generous and earnest feeling ; and to a Man whose daily 
 life (as all tlie world does not know) is one of active sympathy with the 
 poorest and humblest of his kind. 
 
 Your ftiitliful friend, 
 
 Charles Dickexs. 
 
 391040 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/masterhumphreysc01dick- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 When the author commenced this Work, he proposed to himself three 
 objects. 
 
 First. To estabHsh a periodical, which should enable him to present, under 
 one general head, and not as separate and distinct publications, certain fictions 
 which he had it in contemplation to write. 
 
 Secondly. To produce these Tales in weekly numbers ; hoping that to 
 shorten the intervals of communication between himself and his readers, would 
 be to knit more closely the pleasant relations they had held, for Forty Months. 
 
 Thirdly. In the execution of this weekly task, to have as much regard as its 
 exigencies would permit, to each story as a whole, and to the possibility of its 
 publication at some distant day, apart from the machinery in which it had its 
 origin. 
 
 The characters of Master Humphrey and his three friends, and the little 
 fancy of the clock, were the result of these considerations. When he sought 
 to interest his readers in those who talked, and read, and listened, he revived 
 Mr. Pickwick and his humble friends ; not with any intention of reopening an 
 exhausted and abandoned mine, but to connect them in the thoughts of those 
 whose favourites they had been, with the tranquil enjoyments of Master 
 Humphrey. 
 
 It was never the author's intention to make the Members of Master Hum- 
 phrey's Clock, active agents in the stories they are supposed to relate. 
 Having brought himself in the commencement of his undertaking to feel an 
 interest in these quiet creatures, and to imagine them in their old chamber of 
 meeting, eager listeners to all he had to tell, the author hoped — as authors 
 Avill — to succeed in awakening some of his own emotions in the bosoms of his 
 readers. Imagining Master Humphrey in his chimney-corner, resuming night 
 after night, the narrative, — say, of the Old Curiosity Shop — picturing to him- 
 self the various sensations of his hearers — thinking how Jack llcdburn might 
 incline to poor Kit, and perhaps lean too favourably even towards the lighter 
 vices of Mr. Richard Swiveller — how the deaf gentleman would have his 
 favorite, and Mr. Miles his — and how all these gentle spirits would trace some 
 faint reflection of their past lives in the varying current of the tale — he has 
 insensibly fallen into the belief that they are present to his readers as they are 
 to him, and has forgotten that like one whose vision is disordered ho may be 
 conjuring up bright figures where there is nothing but empty space. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 The short papers which are to be found at the beginning of this volume 
 ■were indispensable to the form of publication and the limited extent of each 
 number, as no story of lengthened interest could be begun until " The Clock" 
 was wound up and fairly going. 
 
 The author would fain hope that there are not many who would disturb 
 IMaster Humphrey and his friends in their seclusion ; who would have them 
 forego their present enjoyments, to exchange those confidences with each 
 other, the absence of which is the foundation of their mutual trust. For when 
 their occupation is gone, when their tales are ended and but their personal 
 histories remain, the chimney-corner will be growing cold, and the clock will 
 be about to stop for ever. 
 
 One other word in his own person, and he returns to the more grateful task 
 of speaking for those imaginary people wliosc little world lies within these 
 pages. 
 
 It may be some consolation to the well-disposed ladies or gentlemen who, 
 in the interval between the conclusion of his last work and the commence- 
 ment of this, originated a report that he had gone raving mad, to know that 
 it spread as rapidly as could be desired, and was made the subject of consider- 
 able dispute ; not as regarded the fact, for that was as thoroughly established 
 as the duel between Sir Peter Teazle and Charles Surface in the School for 
 Scandal ; but with reference to the unfortunate lunatic's place of confinement : 
 one party insisting positively on Bedlam, another inclining favourably towards 
 Saint Luke's, and a third swearing strongly by the asylum at Hanwell ; while 
 each backed its case by circumstantial evidence of the same excellent natui'e as 
 that brought to bear by Sir Benjamin Backbite on the pistol shot, which struck 
 against the little bronze bust of Shakspeare over the fire-place, grazed out of 
 the window at a right angle, and wounded the postman, who was coming to the 
 door with a double letter from Northamptonshire. 
 
 It will be a great affliction to these ladies and gentlemen to learn — and he is 
 so unwilling to give pain, that he would not whisper the circumstance on any 
 account, did he not feel in a manner bound to do so, in gratitude to those 
 among his friends who were at the trouble of being angry with the absurdity, 
 — that their invention made the author's home unusually merry, ana gave rise 
 to an extraordinary number of jests, of which he will only add, in the words 
 of the good Vicar of Wakefield, " I cannot say whether we had more wit 
 among us than usual ; but I am sure wo had more laughing." 
 
 Devonshire Ten-ace, York Gale, 
 September 1840. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY, FROM HIS CLOCK-SIDE IN THE CHIMNEY-CORNER. 
 
 HE reader must not expect to know where I live. At 
 present, it is true, my abode may be a question of little 
 or no import to anybody, but if I should carry my readers 
 with me, as I hope to do, and there should spring up, 
 between them and me, feelings of homely affection and 
 regard attaching something of interest to matters ever 
 so slightly connected with my fortunes or my speculations, 
 even my place of residence might one day have a kind of charm for them. 
 Bearing this possible contingency in mind, I wish them to understand in 
 the outset, that they must never expect to know it. 
 
 I am not a churlish old man. Friendless I can never be, for all mankind 
 are of my kindred, and I am on ill terms with no one member of my great 
 family. But for many years I have led a lonely, solitary life ; — what wound 
 I sought to heal, what sorrow to forget, originally, matters not now ; it is 
 sufficient that retirement has become a habit with me, and that I am unwilling 
 to break the spell which for so long a time has shed its quiet influence upon 
 my home and heart. 
 
Z MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 I live in a venerable suburb of* London, in an old house, which in bygone 
 days was a famous resort for merry roysterers and peerless ladies, long since 
 departed. It is a silent shady place, with a paved court- yard so full of echoes, 
 that sometimes I am tempted to believe that faint responses to the noises of 
 old times linger there yet, and that these ghosts of sound haunt my footsteps 
 as I pace it up and down. I am the more confirmed in this belief, because, 
 of late years, the echoes that attend my walks have been less loud and marked 
 than they were wont to be ; and it is pleasanter to imagine in them the rustling 
 of silk brocade, and the light step of some lovely girl, than to recognise in 
 their altered note the failing tread of an old man. 
 
 Those who like to read of brilliant rooms and gorgeous furniture, would 
 derive but little pleasure from a minute description of my simple dwelling. 
 It is dear to me for the same reason that they would hold it in slight regard. 
 Its worm-eaten doors, and low ceilings crossed by clumsy beams ; its walls of 
 wainscot, dark stairs, and gaping closets ; its small chambers, communicating 
 with each other by winding passages or narrow steps ; its many nooks, scarce 
 larger than its corner-cupboards ; its vei'y dust and dullness, all are dear to 
 me. The moth and spider are my constant tenants, for in my house the one 
 basks in his long sleep, and the other plies his busy loom, secure and undis- 
 turbed. I have a pleasure in thinking on a summer's day, how many butterflies 
 have sprung for the first time into light and sunshine from some dark corner 
 of these old walls. 
 
 When I first came to live here, which was many years ago, the neighbours 
 were curious to know who I was, and whence I came, and why I lived so much 
 alone. As time went on, and they still remained unsatisfied on these points, 
 I became the centre of a popular ferment, extending for half a mile round, 
 and in one direction for a full mile. Various rumours were circulated to my 
 prejudice. I was a spy, an infidel, a conjuror, a kidnapper of children, a 
 refugee, a priest, a monster. Mothers caught up their infants and ran into 
 their houses as I passed; men eyed me spitefully, and muttered threats and 
 curses. I was the object of suspicion and distrust : ay, of downright hatred, 
 too. 
 
 But when in course of time they found I did no harm, but, on the contrary, 
 inclined towards them despite their unjust usage, they began to relent. I 
 found my footsteps no longer dogged, as they had often been before, and 
 observed that the women and children no longer retreated, but would stand 
 and gaze at me as I passed their doors. I took this for a good omen, and 
 waited patiently for better times. By degrees I began to make friends among 
 these humble folks, and though they were yet shy of speaking, would give 
 them " good day," and so pass on. In a little time, those whom I had thus 
 accosted, would make a point of coming to their doors and windows at the 
 usual hour, and nod or curtsey to me ; children, too, came timidly within my 
 reach, and ran away quite scared when I patted their heads and bade them 
 be good at school. These little people soon grew more familiar. From 
 exchanging mere words of course with my older neighbours, I gradually 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 3 
 
 became their friend and adviser, the depository of their cares and sorrows, 
 and sometimes, it may be, the rehever, in my small way, of their distresses. 
 And now I never walk abroad, but pleasant recognitions and smiling faces 
 wait on Master Humphrey. 
 
 It was a whim of mine, perhaps as a whet to the curiosity of my neighbours, 
 and a kind of retaliation upon them for their suspicions, — it was, I say, a whim 
 of mine, when I first took up my abode in this place, to acknowledge no other 
 name than Humphrey. With my detractors, I was Ugly Humphrey. When 
 I began to convert them into friends, I was Mr. Humphrey, and Old Mr. 
 Humphrey. At length I settled down into plain Master Humphrey, which 
 was understood to be the title most pleasant to my ear ; and so completely a 
 matter of course has it become, that sometimes when I am taking my morning 
 walk in my little court-yard, I overhear my barber — who has a profound respect 
 for me, and would not, I am sure, abridge my honours for the world — holding 
 forth on the other side of the wall, touching the state of " Master Humphrey's" 
 health, and communicating to some friend the substance of the conversation 
 that he and Master Humphrey have had together in the course of the shaving 
 which he has just concluded. 
 
 That I may not make acquaintance with my readers under false pretences, 
 or give them cause to complain hereafter that I have withheld any matter 
 which it was essential for them to have learnt at first, I wish them to know — 
 and I smile sorrowfully to think that the time has been when the confession 
 would have given me pain — that I am a mis-shapen, deformed, old man. 
 
 I have never been made a misanthrope by this cause, I have never been 
 stung by any insult, nor wounded by any jest upon ray crooked figiu"e. As a 
 child I was melancholy and timid, but that was because the gentle considera- 
 tion paid to my misfortune sunk deep into my spirit and made me sad, even 
 in those early days. I was but a very young creature when my poor mother 
 died, and yet I remember that often when I hung around her neck, and 
 oftener still when I played about the room before her, she would catch 
 me to her bosom, and bursting into tears, soothe me with every term of 
 fondness and affection. God knows I was a happy child at those times- 
 happy to nestle in her breast— happy to weep when she did — happy in not 
 knowing why. 
 
 These occasions are so strongly impressed upon my memory, that they seem 
 to have occupied whole years. I had numbered very very few when they 
 ceased for ever, but before then their meaning had been revealed to me. 
 
 I do not know whether all children are imbued with a quick perception of 
 childish grace and beauty and a strong love for it, but I was. I had no 
 thought that I remember, either that I possessed it myself or that I lacked it, 
 but I admired it with an intensity I cannot describe. A little knot of play- 
 mates — they must have been beautiful, for I see them now — were clustered 
 one day round my mother's knee in eager admiration of some picture represent- 
 ing a group of infant angels, which she held in her hand. Whose the picture 
 was, whether it was familiar to me or otherwise, or how all the children came 
 
4 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 to be there, I forget : I have some dim thought it was my birth-day, but the 
 beginning of my recollection is that we were all together in a garden, and it 
 was summer weather — I am sure of that, for one of the little girls had roses 
 in her sash. There were many lovely angels in this picture, and I remember 
 the fancy coming upon me to point out which of them represented each child 
 there, and that when I had gone through all my companions, I stopped and 
 hesitated, wondering which was most like me. I remember the children 
 looking at each other, and my turning red and hot, and their crowding 
 round to kiss me, saying that they loved me all the same ; and then, and when 
 the old sorrow came into my dear mother's mild and tender look, the truth 
 broke upon me for the first time, and I knew, while watching my awkward 
 and ungainly sports, how keenly she had felt for her poor crippled boy. 
 
 I used frequently to dream of it afterwards, and now my heart aches for 
 that child as if I had never been he, when I think how often he awoke from 
 some fairy change to his own old form, and sobbed himself to sleep again. 
 
 Well, well— all these sorrows are past. My glancing at them may not be 
 without its use, for it may help in some measure to explain why I have all my 
 life been attached to the inanimate objects that people my chamber, and how 
 I have come to look upon them rather in the light of old and constant friends, 
 than as mere chairs and tables which a little money could replace at will. 
 
 Chief and first among all these is my Clock — my old cheerful companionable 
 Clock. How can I ever convey to others an idea of the comfort and consolation 
 that this old clock has been for years to me ! 
 
 It is associated with my earliest recollections. It stood upon the staircase 
 at home (I call it home still, mechanically) nigh sixty years ago. I like it for 
 that, but it is not on that account, nor because it is a quaint old thing in a 
 huge oaken case curiously and richly carved, that I prize it as I do. I inchne 
 to it as if it were alive, and could understand and give me back the love I 
 bear it. 
 
 And what other thing that has not life could cheer me as it does ; what 
 other thing that has not life (I will not say how few things that have) could have 
 proved the same patient, true, untiring friend ! How often have I sat in the 
 long winter evenings feeling such society in its cricket-voice, that raising my 
 eyes from my book and looking gratefully towards it, the face reddened by 
 the glow of the shining fire has seemed to relax from its staid expression and 
 to regard me kindly ; how often in the summer twilight, when my thoughts 
 have wandered back to a melancholy past, have its regular whisperings 
 recalled them to the calm and peaceful present ; how often in the dead 
 tranquillity of night has its bell broken the oppressive silence, and seemed 
 to give me assurance that the old clock was still a faithful watcher at 
 my chamber door ! My easy-chair, my desk, my ancient furniture, my 
 very books, I can scarcely bring myself to love even these last, like my old 
 clock ! 
 
 It stands in a snug corner, midway between the fireside and a low arched 
 door leading to my bed-room. Its fame is diffused so extensively throughout 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 the neighbourhood, that I have often the satisfaction of hearing the pubHcan 
 or the baker, and sometimes even the parish-clerk, petitioning my house- 
 keeper (of whom I shall have much to say bye and bye,) to inform him the 
 exact time by Master Humphrey's Clock. ^ly barber, to whom I have 
 already referred, would sooner believe it than the sun. Nor are these its only 
 distinctions. It has acquired, I am happy to say, another, inseparably 
 connecting it not only with my enjoyments and reflections, but with those of 
 other men ; as I shall now relate. 
 
 I lived alone here for a long time without any friend or acquaintance. In 
 the course of my wanderings by night and day, at all hours and seasons, in 
 city streets and quiet country parts, I came to be familiar with certain faces, 
 and to take it to heart as quite a heavy disappointment if they failed to 
 present themselves each at its accustomed spot. But these were the only 
 friends I knew, and beyond them I had none. 
 
 It happened, however, when I had gone on thus for a long time, that I 
 formed an acquaintance with a deaf gentleman, which ripened into intimacy 
 and close companionship. To this hour, I am ignorant of his name. It is 
 his humour to conceal it, or he has a reason and purpose for so doing. In 
 either case I feel that he has a right to require a return of the trust he has 
 reposed, and as he has never sought to discover my secret, I have never sought 
 to penetrate his. There may have been something in this tacit confidence in 
 each other, flattering and pleasant to us both, and it may have imparted in 
 the beginning an additional zest, perhaps, to our friendship. Be this as it 
 may, we have grown to be like brothers, and still I only know him as the 
 deaf gentleman. 
 
 I have said that retirement has become a habit with me. When I add 
 that the deaf gentleman and I have two friends, I communicate nothing which 
 is inconsistent with that declaration. I spend many hours of every day in 
 solitude and study, have no friends or change of friends but these, only see 
 them at stated periods, and am supposed to be of a retired spirit by the very 
 nature and object of our association. 
 
 We are men of secluded habits with something of a cloud upon our early 
 fortunes, whose enthusiasm nevertheless has not cooled with age, whose spirit of 
 romance is not yet quenched, who are content to ramble through the world in 
 a pleasant dream, rather than ever waken again to its harsh realities. We are 
 alchemists who would extract the essence of perpetual youth from dust and ashes, 
 tempt coy Truth in many light and airy forms from the bottom of her well, 
 and discover one crumb of comfort or one grain of good in the commonest and 
 least regarded matter that passes through our crucible. Spirits of past times, 
 creatures of imagination, and people of to-day, are alike the objects of our 
 seeking, and, unlike the objects of search with most philosophers, we can ensure 
 their coming at our command. 
 
 The deaf gentleman and I first began to beguile our days with these fancies, 
 and our nights in communicating them to each other. We are now four. But 
 in my room there are six old chairs, and we have decided that the two empty 
 
6 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 seats shall always be placed at our table when we meet, to remind us that we 
 may yet increase our company by that number, if we should find two men to 
 our mind. AVhen one among us dies, his chair will always be set in its usual 
 place, but never occupied again ; and I have caused my will to be so drawn out, 
 that when we are all dead, the house shall be shut up, and the vacant chairs 
 still left in their accustomed places. It is pleasant to think that even then, 
 our shades may, perhaps, assemble together as of yore we did, and join in 
 ghostly converse. 
 
 One night in every week, as the clock strikes ten, we meet. At the second 
 stroke of two, I am alone. 
 
 And now shall I tell how that my old servant, besides giving us note of 
 time, and ticking cheerful encouragement of our proceedings, lends its name 
 to our society, which for its punctuality and my love, is christened " Master 
 Humphrey's Clock?'"' Now shall I tell, how that in the bottom of the old dark 
 closet where the steady pendulum throbs and beats with healthy action, though 
 the pulse of him who made it stood still long ago and never moved again, 
 there are piles of dusty papers constantly placed there by our hands, that we 
 may link our enjoyments with my old friend, and draw means to beguile time 
 from the heart of time itself ? Shall I, or can I, tell with what a secret pride 
 I open this repository when we meet at night, and still find new store of 
 pleasure in my dear old Clock ! 
 
 Friend and companion of my solitude ! mine is not a selfish love ; I 
 would not keep your merits to myself, but disperse something of pleasant 
 association with your image through the whole wide world ; I would have 
 men couple with your name cheerful and healthy thoughts ; I would have 
 them believe that you keep true and honest time ; and how would it gladden 
 me to know that they recognised some hearty English work in Master 
 Humphrey's Clock ! 
 
 (. X 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 THE CLOCK-CASE. 
 
 It is my intention constantly to address my readers from the eliimney-corner, 
 and I would fain hope that such accounts as I shall give them of our histories 
 and proceedings, our quiet speculations or more busy adventures, will never be 
 unwelcome. Lest, however, I should grow prolix in the outset by lingering 
 too long upon our little association, confounding the enthusiasm with which I 
 regard this chief happiness of my life with that minor degree of interest 
 which those to whom I address myself may be supposed to feel for it, I have 
 deemed it expedient to break off as they have seen. 
 
 But, still clinging to my old friend and naturally desirous that all its merits 
 should be known, 1 am tempted to open (somewhat irregularly and against 
 our laws, I must admit) the clock-case. The first roll of paper on which I 
 lay my hand is in the writing of the deaf gentleman. I shall have to speak 
 of him in my next paper, and how can I better approach that welcome task 
 than by prefacing it with a production of his own pen, consigned to the safe 
 keeping of my honest clock by his own hands l 
 
 The manuscript runs thus : 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE GIANT CHRONICLES. 
 
 /^NCE upon a time, that is to say, in this our time, — the exact year, 
 month, and day, are of no matter, — there dwelt in the city of London 
 a substantial citizen, who united in his single person the dignities of whole- 
 sale fruiterer, alderman, common-councilman, and member of the worshipful 
 company of Patten-makers : who had superadded to these extraordinary 
 distinctions the important post and title of Sheriff, and who at length, and 
 to crown all, stood next in rotation for the high and honourable ofiice of Lord 
 Mayor. 
 
 He was a very substantial citizen indeed. ^His face was like the full moon 
 in a fog, with two little holes punched out for his eyes, a very ripe pear stuck 
 on for his nose, and a wide gash to serve for a mouth. The girth of his 
 waistcoat was hung up and lettered in his tailor's shop as an extraordinary 
 curiosity. He breathed like a heavy snorcr, and his voice in speaking came 
 thickly forth, as if it were oppressed and stifled by feather-beds. He trod 
 the ground like an elephant, and eat and drank like — like nothing but an 
 alderman, as he was. 
 
 This worthy citizen had risen to his great eminence from small beginnings. 
 He had once been a very lean, weazen little boy, never dreaming of carrying 
 
8 MASTER HUMPHREYS CLOCK. 
 
 such a weight of flesh upon his bones or of money in his pockets, and glad 
 enough to take his dinner at a baker's door, and his tea at a pump. But he 
 had long ago forgotten all this, as it was proper that a wholesale fruiterer, 
 alderman, common-councilman, member of the worshipful company of Patten- 
 makers, past sheriff, and above all, a Lord Mayor that was to be, should; 
 and he never forgot it more completely in all his life than on the eighth of 
 November in the year of his election to the great golden civic chair, which 
 was the day before his grand dinner at the Guildhall. 
 
 It happened that as he sat that evening all alone in his counting-house, 
 looking over the bill of fare for next day, and checking off the fat capons 
 in fifties and the turtle-soup by the liundred quarts for his private amuse- 
 ment, — it happened that as he sat alone occupied in these pleasant calcu- 
 lations, a strange man came in and asked him how he did : adding, " If 
 I am half as much changed as you, sir, you have no recollection of me, I 
 am sure." 
 
 The strange man was not over and above well dressed, and was very far 
 from being fat or rich-looking in any sense of the word, yet he spoke with a 
 kind of modest confidence, and assumed an easy, gentlemanly sort of air, to 
 which nobody but a rich man can lawfully presume. Besides this, he inter- 
 rupted the good citizen just as he had reckoned three hundred and seventy- 
 two fat capons and was carrying them over to the next column, and as if that 
 were not aggravation enough, the learned recorder for the city of London had 
 only ten minutes previously gone out at that very same door, and had turned 
 round and said, " Good night, my lord." Yes, he had said, ' my lord ;' — he, a 
 man of birth and education, of the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple, 
 Barrister at Law — he who had an uncle in the House of Commons, and an 
 aunt almost but not quite in the House of Lords (for she had married a feeble 
 peer, and made him vote as she liked)— he, this man, this learned recorder, 
 had said, ' my lord." " I'll not wait till to-morrow to give you your title, my 
 Lord Mayor," says he, with a bow and a smile ; " you are Lord Mayor de 
 facto^ if not dejure. Good night, my lord ! " 
 
 The Lord Mayor elect thought of this, and turning to the stranger, and 
 sternly bidding him " go out of his private counting-house," brought forward 
 the three hundred and seventy-two fat capons, and went on with the 
 account. 
 
 " Do you remember," said the other, stepping forward, — " Do you remember 
 little Joe Toddyhigh?" 
 
 The port wine fled for a moment from the frulterer''s nose as he muttered 
 " Joe Toddyhigh ! What about Joe Toddy high I " 
 
 " / am Joe Toddyhigh," cried the visitor. " Look at me, look hard at 
 me ; — harder, harder. You know me now ! you know little Joe again I 
 What a happiness to us both, to meet the very night before your grandeur ! 
 Oh ! give me your hand. Jack — both hands— both, for the sake of old 
 times." 
 
 " You pinch me, sir. You're a hurting of me," said the Lord Mayor 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 9 
 
 elect pettishly : " don't — suppose anybody should come — Mr. Toddyhigh, 
 sir. 
 
 " Mr. Toddyhigh ! " repeated the other ruefully. 
 
 " Oh ! don t bother," said the Lord Mayor elect, scratching his head. 
 " Dear me ! Why, I thought you was dead. What a fellow you are ! " 
 
 Indeed, it was a pretty state of things, and worthy the tone of vexation 
 and disappointment in which the Lord Mayor spoke. Joe Toddyhigh had 
 been a poor boy with him at Hull, and had oftentimes divided his last penny 
 and parted his last crust to relieve his wants, for though Joe was a destitute 
 child in those times, he was as faithful and affectionate in his friendship as 
 ever man of might could be. They parted one day to seek their fortunes in 
 different directions. Joe went to sea, and the now wealthy citizen begged 
 his way to London. They separated with many tears hke foolish fellows as 
 they were, and agreed to remain fast friends, and if they lived, soon to 
 communicate again. 
 
 When he was an errand-boy, and even in the early days of his apprenticeship, 
 the citizen had many a time trudged to the Post-office to ask if there were any 
 letter from poor little Joe, and had gone home again with tears in his eyes, when 
 he found no news of his only friend. The world is a wide place, and it was 
 a long time before the letter came ; when it did, the writer was for- 
 gotten. It turned from white to yellow from lying in the Post-office with 
 nobody to claim it, and in course of time was torn up with five hundred 
 others, and sold for waste-paper. And now at last, and when it might least 
 have been expected, here was this Joe Toddyhigh turning up and claiming 
 acquaintance with a great public character, who on the morrow would be 
 cracking jokes with the Prime Minister of England, and who had only, at 
 any time during the next twelve months, to say the word, and he could shut 
 up Temple Bar, and make it no thoroughfare for the king himself ! 
 
 " I am sure I don't know what to say, Mr. Toddyhigh," said the Lord Mayor 
 elect ; '* 1 really don't. It's very inconvenient. I'd sooner have given twenty 
 pound — ifs very inconvenient, really." 
 
 A thought had struggled into his mind, that perhaps his old friend might 
 say something passionate which would give him an excuse for being angry him- 
 self. No such thing. Joe looked at him steadily, but very mildly, and did not 
 open his lips. 
 
 " Of course I shall pay you what I owe you," said the Lord Mayor elect, 
 fidgetting in his chair. " You lent me — I think it was a shilling or some small 
 coin — when we parted company, and that of course I shall pay, with good 
 interest. I can pay my way with any man, and always have done. If you 
 look into the Mansion House the day after to-morrow — some time after dusk 
 — and ask for my private clerk, you'll find he has a draft for you. I haven't 
 got time to say anything more just now, unless — " he hesitated, for, coupled 
 with a strong desire to glitter for once in all his glory in the eyes of his 
 former companion, was a distrust of his appearance which might be more 
 shabby than he could tell by that feeble light — " unless you'd like to come 
 
10 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 to the dinner to-morrow. I don^t mind your having this ticket, if you like 
 to take it. A great many people would give their ears for it, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 His old friend took the card without speaking a word, and instantly departed. 
 His sunburnt face and grey hair were present to the citizen's mind for a 
 moment ; but by the time he reached three hundred and eighty-one fat capons, 
 he had quite forgotten him. 
 
 Joe Toddyhigh had never been in the capital of Europe before, and he 
 wandered up and down the streets that night, amazed at the number of 
 churches and other public buildings, the splendour of the shops, the riches 
 that were heaped up on every side, the glare of light in which they were 
 displayed, and the concourse of people who hurried to and fro, indifferent 
 apparently to all the wonders that surrounded them. But in all the long 
 streets and broad squares, there were none but strangers ; it was quite a relief 
 to turn down a byway and hear his own footsteps on the pavement. He 
 went home to his inn ; thought that London was a dreary, desolate place, and 
 felt disposed to doubt the existence of one true-hearted man in the whole 
 worshipful company of Patten-makers. Finally, he went to bed, and dreamed 
 that he and the Lord Mayor elect were boys again. 
 
 He went next day to the dinner, and when, in a burst of light and music, 
 and in the midst of splendid decorations and surrounded by brilliant com- 
 pany, his former friend appeared at the head of the Hall, and was hailed 
 with shouts and cheering, he cheered and shouted with the best, and for 
 the moment could have cried. The next moment he cursed his weakness in 
 behalf of a man so changed and selfish, and quite hated a jolly-looking old 
 gentleman opposite for declaring himself, in the pride of his heart, a Patten- 
 maker. 
 
 As the banquet proceeded, he took more and more to heart the rich 
 citizen's unkindness, — and that, not from any envy, but because he felt 
 that a man of his state and fortune could all the better afford to recognise 
 an old friend, even if he were poor and obscure. The more he thought 
 of this, the more lonely and sad he felt. When the company dispersed 
 and adjourned to the ball-room, he paced the hall and passages alone, 
 ruminating in a very melancholy condition upon the disappointment he had 
 experienced. 
 
 It chanced, while he was lounging about in this moody state, that he 
 stumbled upon a flight of stairs, dark, steep, and narrow, which he ascended 
 without any thought about the matter, and so came into a httle music-gallery, 
 empty and deserted. From this elevated post, which commanded the whole 
 hall, he amused himself in looking down upon the attendants, who were clearing 
 away the fragments of the feast very lazily, and drinking out of all the bottles 
 and glasses with most commendable perseverance. 
 
 His attention gradually relaxed, and he fell fast asleep. 
 
 When he awoke, he thought there must be something the matter with his 
 eyes ; but, rubbing them a little, he soon found that the moonlight was really 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 11 
 
 streaming through the east window, that the lamps were all extinguished, 
 and that he was alone. He listened, but no distant murmur in the echoing 
 passages, not even the shutting of a door, broke the deep silence ; he groped 
 his way down the stairs, and found that the door at the bottom was locked 
 on the other side. He began now to comprehend that he must have slept 
 a long time, that he had been overlooked, and was shut up there for the 
 night. 
 
 His first sensation, perhaps, was not altogether a comfortable one, for it 
 was a dark, chilly, earthy-smelling place, and something too large for a man so 
 situated, to feel at home in. However, when the momentary consternation 
 of his surprise was over, he made light of the accident, and resolved to feel 
 his way up the stairs again, and make himself as comfortable as he could in the 
 gallery until morning. As he turned to execute this purpose, he heard the 
 clocks strike three. 
 
 Any such invasion of a dead stillness as the striking of distant clocks, 
 causes it to appear the more intense and insupportable when the sound has 
 ceased. He listened with strained attention in the hope that some clock, 
 lagging behind its fellows, had yet to strike — looking all the time into 
 the profound darkness before him until it seemed to weave itself into 
 a black tissue, patterned with a hundred reflections of his own eyes. But 
 the bells had all pealed out their warning for that once, and the gust of 
 wind that moaned through the place seemed cold and heavy with their iron 
 breath. 
 
 The tmie and circumstances were favourable to reflection. He tried to 
 keep his thoughts to the current, unpleasant though it was, in which they had 
 moved all day, and to think with what a romantic feeling he had looked 
 forward to shaking his old friend by the hand before he died, and what a wide 
 and cruel difference there was between the meeting they had had, and that 
 which he had so often and so long anticipated. Still he was disordered by 
 waking to such sudden loneliness, and could not prevent his mind from running 
 upon odd tales of people of undoubted courage, who, being shut up by night 
 in vaults or churches, or other dismal places, had scaled great heights to 
 get out, and fled from silence as they had never done from danger. This 
 brought to his mind the moonlight through the window, and bethinking himself 
 of it, he groped his way back up the crooked stairs — but very stealthily, as 
 though he were fearful of being overheard. 
 
 He was very much astonished when he approached the gallery again, to 
 see a light in the building : still more so, on advancing hastily and looking 
 round, to observe no visible source from which it could proceed. But how 
 much greater yet was his astonishment at the spectacle which this light 
 revealed ! 
 
 The statues of the two giants, Gog and Magog, each above fourteen feet in 
 height, those which succeeded to still older and more barbarous figures after 
 the Great Fire of London, and which stand in the Guildhall to this day, 
 were endowed with life and motion. These guardian genii of the City had 
 
12 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 quitted their pedestals, and reclined in easy attitudes in the great stained 
 glass window. Between them was an ancient cask, which seemed to be full 
 of wine ; for the younger Giant, clapping his huge hand upon it, and throwing 
 up his mighty leg, burst into an exulting laugh, which reverberated through 
 the hall like thunder. 
 
 Joe Toddyhigh instinctively stooped down, and, more dead than alive, felt 
 his hair stand on end, his knees knock together, and a cold damp break out 
 upon his forehead. But even at that minute curiosity prevailed over every 
 other feeling, and somewhat reassured by the good-humour of the Giants and 
 their apparent unconsciousness of his presence, he crouched in a comer of 
 the gallery, in as small a space as he could, and peeping between the rails, 
 observed them closely. 
 
 It was then that the elder Giant, who had a flowing grey beard, raised his 
 thoughtful eyes to his companion's face, and in a grave and solemn voice 
 addressed him thus : 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 13 
 
 FIRST NIGHT OF THE GIANT CHRONICLES. 
 
 URNING towards his companion, the elder Giant uttered 
 these words in a grave majestic tone : — 
 
 " Magog, does boisterous mirth beseem tlie Giant Warder 
 of this ancient city ? Is this becoming demeanour for a 
 watchful spirit over whose bodiless head so many years 
 have rolled, so many changes swept like empty air — in whose 
 impalpable nostrils the scent of blood and crime, pestilence 
 cruelty and horror, has been familiar as breath to mortals — in whose sight 
 Time has gathered in the harvest of centuries, and garnered so many crops 
 of human pride, affections, hopes, and sorrows ? Bethink you of our compact. 
 The night wanes ; feasting revelry and music have encroached upon our usual 
 hours of solitude, and morning will be here apace. Ere we are stricken mute 
 again, bethink you of our compact." 
 
 Pronouncing these latter words with more of impatience than quite accorded 
 with his apparent age and gravity the Giant raised a long pole (which he still 
 bears in his hand) and tapped his brother Giant rather smartly on the head ; 
 indeed the blow was so smartly administered, that the latter quickly withdrew 
 
 2 C 
 
14 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 his lips from the cask to which they had been applied, and catching up his 
 shield and halbert assumed an attitude of defence. His irritation was but 
 momentary, for he laid these weapons aside as hastily as he had assumed 
 them, and said as he did so : — 
 
 " You know, Gog, old friend, that when we animate these shapes which the 
 Londoners of old assigned (and not unworthily) to the guardian genii of their 
 city, we are susceptible of some of the sensations which belong to human kind. 
 Thus when I taste wine, I feel blows ; when I relish the one, I disrelish the 
 other. Therefore, Gog, the more especially as your arm is none of the 
 lightest, keep your good staff by your side, else we may chance to differ. 
 Peace be between us." 
 
 " Amen ! " said the other, leaning his staff in the window-corner ; " Why 
 did you laugh just now V 
 
 " To think," replied the Giant Magog, laying his hand upon the cask, " of 
 him who owned this wine, and kept it in a cellar hoarded from the light of 
 day, for thirty years, — ' till it should be fit to drink,' quoth he. He was two 
 score and ten years old when he buried it beneath his house, and yet never 
 thought that he might be scarcely ' fit to drink ' when the wine became so. 
 I wonder it never occurred to him to make himself unfit to be eaten. There 
 is very little of him left by this time." 
 
 " The night is waning," said Gog mournfully. 
 
 " I know it," replied his companion, " and I see you are impatient. But 
 look. Through the eastern window — placed opposite to us, that the first beams 
 of the rising sun may every morning gild our giant faces — the moon-rays fall 
 upon the pavement in a stream of light that to my fancy sinks through the 
 cold stone and gushes into the old crypt below. The night is scarcely past 
 its noon, and our great charge is sleeping heavily." 
 
 They ceased to speak, and looked upward at the moon. The sight of their 
 large black rolling eyes filled Joe Toddyhigh with such horror that he could 
 scarcely draw his breath. Still they took no note of him, and appeared to 
 believe themselves quite alone, 
 
 " Our compact," said Magog after a pause, " is, if I understand it, that, 
 instead of watching here in silence through the dreary nights, we entertain 
 each other with stories of our past experience ; with tales of the past, the 
 present, and the future ; with legends of London and her sturdy citizens 
 from the old simple times. That every night at midnight when Saint Paul's 
 bell tolls out one and we may move and speak, we thus discourse, nor leave 
 such themes till the first grey gleam of day shall strike us dumb. Is that our 
 bargain, brother?" 
 
 " Yes," said the Giant Gog, " that is the league between us who guard this 
 city, by day in spirit, and by night in body also ; and never on ancient holidays 
 have its conduits run wine more merrily than we will pour forth our legendary 
 lore. We are old chroniclers from this time hence. The crumbled walls encircle 
 us once more, the postern-gates arc closed, the drawbridge is up, and pent 
 in its narrow den beneath, the water foams and struggles with the sunken 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 15 
 
 starlings. Jerkins and quarter-staves are In the streets again, the nightly 
 watch is set, the rebel, sad and lonely in his Tower dungeon tries to sleep 
 and weeps for home and children. Aloft upon the gates and walls are noble 
 heads glaring fiercely down upon the dreaming city, and vexing the hungry 
 dogs that scent them in the air and tear the ground beneath with dismal 
 howlings. The axe, the block, the rack, in their dark chambers give signs 
 of recent use. The Thames floating past long lines of cheerful windows 
 whence comes a burst of music and a stream of light, bears sullenly to the 
 Palace wall the last red stain brought on the tide from Traitor s-gate. But 
 your pardon, brother. The night wears, and I am talking idly." 
 
 The other Giant appeared to be entirely of this opinion, for during the 
 foregoing rhapsody of his fellow-centinel he had been scratching his head 
 with an air of comical uneasiness, or rather with an air that would have been 
 very comical if he had been a dwarf or an ordinary-sized man. He winked 
 too, and though it could not be doubted for a moment that he winked to 
 himself, still he certainly cocked his enormous eye towards the gallery where 
 the listener was concealed. Nor was this all, for he gaped ; and when he 
 gaped, Joe was horribly reminded of the popular prejudice on the subject of 
 giants, and of their fabled power of smelling out Englishmen, however closely 
 concealed. 
 
 His alarm was such that he nearly swooned and it was some little time 
 before his power of sight or hearing was restored. When he recovered he 
 found that the elder Giant was pressing the younger to commence the 
 Chronicles, and that the latter was endeavouring to excuse himself, on the 
 ground that the night was far spent and it would be better to wait until the 
 next. Well assured by this, that he was certainly about to begin directly, 
 the listener collected his faculties by a great effort, and distinctly heard 
 Magog express himself to the following effect : — 
 
 In the sixteenth century and in the reign of Queen Elizabeth of glori- 
 ous memory (albeit her golden days are sadly rusted with blood) there 
 lived in the city of London a bold young 'prentice who loved his master"'3 
 daughter. There were no doubt within the walls a great many young 
 'prentices in this condition, but I speak of only one, and his name was Hugh 
 Graham. 
 
 This Hugh was apprenticed to an honest Bowyer who dwelt in the ward 
 of Cheype and was rumoured to possess great wealth. Rumour was quite as 
 infallible in those days as at the present time but it happened then as now, 
 to be sometimes right by accident. It stumbled upon the truth when it gave 
 the old Bowyer a mint of money. His trade had been a profitable one in the 
 time of King Henry the Eighth, who encouraged English archery to the 
 utmost, and he had been prudent and discreet. Thus it came to pass that 
 Mistress Alice his only daughter was the richest heiress in all his wealthy 
 ward. Young Hugh had often maintained with staff and cudgel that she 
 was the handsomest. To do him justice, I beUeve she was. 
 
16 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 If he could h.ive gained the heart of pretty Mistress Alice by knocking- 
 this conviction into stubborn people's heads, Hugh would have had no cause 
 to fear. But though the Bowyer''s daughter smiled in secret to hear of his 
 doughty deeds for her sake, and though her little waiting-woman reported all 
 her smiles (and many more) to Hugh, and though he was at a vast expense 
 in kisses and small coin to recompense her fidelity, he made no progress in 
 his love. He durst not whisper it to Mistress Alice save on sure encourage- 
 ment, and that she never gave him. A glance of her dark eye as she sat at 
 the door on a summer's evening after prayer time, while he and the neigh- 
 bouring 'prentices exercised themselves in the street with blunted sword and 
 buckler would fire Hugh's blood so that none could stand before him ; but 
 then she glanced at others quite as kindly as on him, and where was the use 
 of cracking crowns if Misti'ess Alice smiled upon the cracked as well as on 
 the cracker 1 
 
 Still Hugh went on, and loved her more and more. He thought of her 
 all day, and dreamed of her all night long. He treasured up her every word 
 and gesture, and had a palpitation of the heart whenever he heard her foot- 
 step on the stairs or her voice in an adjoining room. To him, the old Bowyer's 
 house was haunted by an angel ; there was enchantment in the air and space 
 in which she moved. It would have been no miracle to Hugh if tlowers had 
 sprung from the rush-strewn floors beneath the tread of lovely Mistress Alice, 
 
 Never did 'prentice long to distinguish himself in the eyes of his lady-love 
 so ardently as Hugh. Sometimes he pictured to himself the house taking fire 
 by night, and he, when all drew back in fear, rushing through flame and smoke 
 and bearing her from the ruins in his arms. At other times he thought of a 
 rising of fierce rebels, an attack upon the city, a strong assault upon the 
 Bowyer's house in particular, and he falling on the threshold pierced with 
 numberless wounds in defence of Mistress Alice. If he could only enact some 
 prodigy of valour, do some wonderful deed and let her know that she had 
 inspired it, he thought he could die contented. 
 
 Sometimes the Bowyer and his daughter would go out to supper with a 
 worthy citizen at the fashionable hour of six o'clock, and on such occasions 
 Hugh wearing his blue 'prentice cloak as gallantly as 'prentice might, 
 would attend with a lantern and his trusty club to escort them home. These 
 were the brightest moments of his life. To hold the light while Mistress 
 Alice picked her steps, to touch her hand as he helped her over broken ways, 
 to have her leaning on his arm — it sometimes even came to that — this was 
 happiness indeed ! 
 
 When the nights were fair, Hugh followed in the rear, his eyes rivetted 
 on the graceful figure of the Bowyer's daughter as she and the old man 
 moved on before him. So they threaded the naiTOw winding streets of the 
 city, now passing beneath the overhanging gables of old wooden houses whence 
 creaking signs projected into the street, and now emerging from some dark 
 and frowning gateway into the clear moonlight. At such times, or when the 
 shouts of straggling brawlers met her ear, the Bowyer's daugliter would look 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 17 
 
 timidly back at Hugh beseeching him to draw nearer ; and then how he 
 grasped his club and longed to do battle with a dozen rufflers, for the love 
 of Mistress Alice ! 
 
 The old Bowyer was in the habit of lending money on interest to the 
 gallants of the Court, and thus it happened that many a richly-dressed 
 gentleman dismounted at his door. More waving plumes and gallant steeds, 
 indeed, were seen at the Bowyer"'s house, and more embroidered silks and 
 velvets sparkled in his dark shop and darker private closet than at any 
 merchant's in the city. In those times no less than in the present it would 
 seem tliat the richest-looking cavaliers often wanted money the most. 
 
 Of these glittering clients there was one who always came alone. He 
 was always nobly mounted, and having no attendant gave his horse in 
 charge to Hugh while he and the Bowyer were closeted within. Once as 
 ho sprung into the saddle Mistress Alice was seated at an upper window, 
 and before she could withdraw he had doffed his jewelled cap and kissed 
 his hand. Hugh watched him caracoling down the street, and burnt with 
 indignation. But how much deeper was the glow that reddened in his 
 cheeks when raising his eyes to the casement he saw that Alice watched the 
 stranger too ! 
 
 He came again and often, each time arrayed more gaily than before, and 
 still the little casement showed him Mistress Alice. At length one heavy 
 day, she fled from home. It had cost her a hard struggle, for all her old 
 
18 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 father's gifts were strewn about her chamber as if she had parted from them 
 one by one and knew that the time must come when these tokens of his love 
 would wring her heart — yet she was gone. 
 
 She left a letter commending her poor father to the care of Hugh, and 
 wishing he might be happier than he could ever have been with her, for he 
 deserved the love of a better and a purer heart than she had to bestow. The 
 old man's forgiveness (she said) she had no power to ask, but she prayed God 
 to bless him — and so ended with a blot upon the paper where her tears had 
 fallen. 
 
 At first the old man's wrath was kindled, and he carried his wrong to the 
 Queen's throne itself; but there was no redress he learnt at Court, for his 
 daughter had been conveyed abroad. This afterwards appeared to be the 
 truth, as there came from France, after an interval of several years, a letter 
 in her hand. It was written in trembling characters, and almost illegible. 
 Little could be made out save that she often thought of home and her old 
 dear pleasant room — and that she had dreamt her father was dead and had 
 not blessed her — and that her heart was breaking. 
 
 The poor old Bowyer lingered on, never suffering Hugh to quit his sight, 
 for he knew now that he had loved his daughter and that was the only link 
 that bound him to earth. It broke at length and he died, bequeathing his 
 old 'prentice his trade and all his wealth, and solemnly charging hjm with his 
 last breath to revenge his child if ever he who liad worked her misery crossed 
 his path in life again. 
 
 From the time of Alice's flight, the tilting-gi'ound, the fields, the fencing 
 school, the summer evening sports, knew Hugh no more. His spirit was dead 
 within him. He rose to great eminence and repute among the citizens, but 
 was seldom seen to smile and never mingled in their revelries or rejoicings. 
 Brave, humane, and generous, he was beloved by all. He was pitied too by 
 those who knew his story, and these were so many that when he walked along 
 the streets alone at dusk, even the rude common people doffed their caps and 
 mingled a rough air of sympathy with their respect. 
 
 One night in May — it was her birth-night and twenty years since she had 
 Igft her home — Hugh Graham sat in the room she had hallowed in his boyish 
 days. He was now a grey -haired man though still in the prime of life. Old 
 thoughts had borne him company for many hours and the chamber had 
 gradually grown quite dark, when he was roused by a low knocking at the 
 outer door. 
 
 He hastened down, and opening it, saw by the light of a lamp which he 
 had seized upon the way, a female figure ci'ouching in the portal. It hurried 
 swiftly past him and glided up the stairs. He looked out for pursuers. 
 There were none in sight. No, not one. 
 
 He was inclined to think it a vision of his own brain when suddenly a 
 vague suspicion of the truth flashed upon his mind. He barred the door and 
 hastened wildly back. Yes, there she was — there, in the chamber he had 
 quitted. — there in her old innocent happy home, so changed that none but he 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 19 
 
 could trace one gleam of what she had been — there upon her knees — with her 
 hands clasped in agony and shame before her burning face. 
 
 " My God, my God !" she cried, "now strike me dead ! Though I have 
 brought death and shame and sorrow on this roof, oh, let me die at home in 
 mercy !"" 
 
 There was no tear upon her face then, but she trembled and glanced round 
 the chamber. Everything was in its old place. Her bed looked as if she had 
 risen from it but that morning. The sight of these familiar objects marking 
 the dear remembrance in which she had been held, and the blight she had 
 brought upon herself was more than the woman's better nature that had 
 carried her there, could bear. She wept and fell upon the ground. 
 
 A rumour was spread about, in a few days' time, that the Bowyer's cruel 
 daughter had come home, and that Master Graham had given her lodg- 
 ing in his house. It was rumoured too that he had resigned her fortune, 
 in order that she might bestow it in acts of charity, and that he had vowed 
 to guard her in her solitude, but that they were never to see each other 
 more. These rumours greatly incensed all virtuous wives and daughters in 
 the ward, especially when they appeared to receive some corroboration from 
 the circumstance of Master Graham taking up his abode in another tene- 
 ment hard by. The estimation in which he was held, however, forbade any 
 questioning on the subject, and as the Bowyer's house was close shut up, and 
 nobody came forth when public shows and festivities were in progress, or to 
 flaunt in the public walks, or to buy new fashions at the mercers' booths, 
 all the well-conducted females agreed among themselves that there could be 
 no woman there. 
 
 These reports had scarcely died away when the wonder of every good citizen, 
 male and female, was utterly absorbed and swallowed up by a Royal Procla- 
 mation, in which her Majesty, strongly censuring the practice of wearing 
 long Spanish rapiers of preposterous length (as being a bullying and swagger- 
 ing custom, tending to bloodshed and public disorder) commanded that on 
 a particular day therein named, certain grave citizens should repair to the 
 city gates, and there, in public, break all rapiers worn or carried by persons 
 claiming admission, that exceeded, though it were only by a quarter of an 
 inch, three standard feet in length. 
 
 Royal Proclamations usually take their course, let the public wonder never 
 so much. On the appointed day two citizens of high repute took up their 
 stations at each of the gates, attended by a party of the city guard : the main 
 body to enforce the Queen's will, and take custody of all such rebels (if any) 
 as might have the temerity to dispute it : and a few to bear the standard 
 measures and instruments for reducing all unlawful sword-blades to the pre- 
 scribed dimensions. In pursuance of these arrangements, Master Graham and 
 another were posted at Lud Gate, on the hill before Saint Paul's. 
 
 A pretty numerous company were gathered together at this spot, for, besides 
 the officers in attendance to enforce the proclamation, there was a motley 
 crowd of lookers-on of various degrees, who raised from time to time such 
 
20 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 shouts and cries as the circumstances called forth. A spruce young courtier 
 was the first who approached ; he unsheathed a weapon of burnished steel 
 that shone and glistened in the sun, and handed it with the newest air to 
 the officer, who, finding it exactly three feet long, returned it with a bow. 
 Thereupon the gallant raised his hat and crying, " God save the Queen," 
 passed on amidst the plaudits of the mob. Then came another — a better 
 courtier still — who wore a blade but two feet long, whereat the [>cople laughed, 
 much to the disparagement of his honour's dignity. Then came a third, a 
 sturdy old officer of the army, girded with a rapier at least a foot and a half 
 beyond her Majesty's pleasure ; at him they raised a great shout and most of 
 the spectators (but especially those who were armourers or cutlers) laughed 
 very heartily at the breakage which would ensue. But they were disappointed, 
 for the old campaigner, coolly unbuckling his sword and bidding his servant 
 carry it home again, passed through unarmed, to the great indignation of all 
 the beholders. They relieved themselves in some degree by hooting a tall 
 blustering fellow with a prodigious weapon, who stopped short on coming in 
 sight of the preparations, and after a little consideration turned back again ; 
 but all this time no rapier had been broken although it was high noon, and 
 all cavaliers of any quality or appearance were taking their way towards Saint 
 Paul's churchyard. 
 
 During these proceedings Master Graham had stood apart, strictly confining 
 himself to the duty imposed upon him, and taking little heed of anything 
 beyond. He stepped forward now as a richly dress.d gentleman on foot, 
 followed by a single attendant, was seen advancing up the hill. 
 
 As this person drew nearer, the crowd stopped tlicir clamour and bent 
 forward with eager looks. Master Graham standing alone in the gateway, 
 and the stranger coming slowly towards him, they seemed, as it were, set 
 face to face. The nobleman (for he looked one) had a hai;ghty and dis- 
 dainful air, which bespoke the slight estimation in which he held the citizen. 
 The citizen on the other hand preserved the resolute bearing of one who was 
 not to be frowned down or daunted, and who cared very little for any nobility 
 but that of worth and manhood. It was perhaps some consciousness on the 
 part of each, of these feelings in the other, that infused a more stern expres- 
 sion into their regards as they came closer together. 
 
 " Your rapier worthy Sir ! " 
 
 At the instant that he pronounced these words Graham started, and falling 
 back some paces, laid his hand upon the dagger in his belt. 
 
 " You are the man whose horse I used to hold before the Bowyer's door? 
 You are that man ? Speak !" 
 
 " Out, you 'prentice hound !" said the other. 
 
 " You are he ! I know you well now !" cried Graham. " Let no man 
 step between us two, or I shall be his murderer." AV'ith that he drew his 
 dagger and rushed in upon him. 
 
 The stranger had drawn his weapon from the scabbard ready for the 
 scrutiny, before a word was spoken. He made a thrust at his assailant, but 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 21 
 
 the dagger which Graham clutched in his left hand being the dirk in use at 
 that time for parrying such blows promptly turned the point aside. They 
 closed. The dagger fell rattling upon the ground, and Graham wresting his 
 adversary'^ sword from his grasp, plunged it through his heart. As he drew 
 it out it snapped in two, leaving a fragment in the dead man"'s body. 
 
 All this passed so swiftly that the by-standers looked on without an effort to 
 interfere ; but the man was no sooner down than an uproar broke forth which 
 rent the air. The attendant rushing through the gate proclaimed that his 
 master, a nobleman, had been set upon and slain by a citizen ; the word 
 quickly spread from mouth to mouth ; Saint Paul's cathedral and every book- 
 shop ordinary and smoking house in the churchyard poured out its stream of 
 cavaliers and their followers, who, mingling together in a dense tumultuous 
 body, struggled, sword in hand, towards the spot. 
 
 With equal impetuosity and stimulating each other by loud cries and shouts 
 the citizens and common people took up the quarrel on their side and encir- 
 cling Master Graham a hundred deep, forced him from the gate. In vain he 
 waved the broken sword above his head, crying that he would die on London's 
 threshold for their sacred homes. They bore him on, and ever keeping him 
 in the midst so that no man could attack him, fought their way into the city. 
 
 The clash of swords and roar of voices, the dust and heat and pressure, the 
 trampling under foot of men, the distracted looks and shrieks of women at the 
 windows above as they recognised their relatives or lovers in the crowd, the 
 rapid tolling of alarm bells, the furious rage and passion of the scene were 
 fearful. Those who being on the outskirts of each crowd could use their 
 weapons with effect fought desperately, while those behind maddened with 
 baffled rage struck at each other over the heads of those before them, and 
 crushed their own' fellows. Wherever the broken sword was seen above the 
 people's heads, towards that spot the cavaliers made a new rush. Every 
 one of these charges was marked by sudden gaps in the throng where men 
 were trodden down, but as fast as they were made, the tide swept over them 
 and still the multitude pressed on again, a confused mass of swords clubs 
 staves broken plumes fragments of rich cloaks and doublets and angry 
 bleeding faces, aU mixed up together in inextricable disorder. 
 
 The design of the people was to force Master Graham to take refuge in his 
 dwelling, and to defend it until the authorities could interfere or they could 
 gain time for parley. But either from ignorance or in the confusion of the 
 moment they stopped at his old house which was closely shut. Some time 
 was lost in beating the doors open and passing him to the front. About a 
 score of the boldest of the other party threw themselves into the torrent while 
 this was being done, and reaching the door at the same moment with himself 
 cut him off from his defenders. 
 
 " I never will turn in such a righteous cause so help me Heaven ! " cried 
 Graham in a voice that at last made itself heard, and confronting them as he 
 spoke. " Least of all will I turn upon this threshold which owes its desolation 
 to such men as ye. I give no quarter, and I will have none ! Strike !" 
 
22 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 For a moment they stood at bay. At that moment a shot from an 
 unseen hand, apparently fired by some person who had gained access to 
 one of the opposite houses, struck Graham in the brain and he fell dead. 
 A low wail was heard in the air — many people in the concourse cried that they 
 had seen a spirit glide across the little casement window of the Bowyer's 
 house — 
 
 A dead silence succeeded. After a short time some of the flushed and 
 heated throng lay down their arms and softly carried the body within doors. 
 Others fell off or slunk away in knots of two or three, others whispered 
 together in groups, and before a numerous guard which then rode up could 
 muster in the street it was nearly empty. 
 
 Those who carried Master Graham to the bed up-stairs were shocked to 
 see a woman lying beneath the window with her hands clasped together. 
 After trying to recover her in vain, they laid her near the citizen who still 
 retained, tightly grasped in his right hand, the first and last sword that was 
 broken that day at Lud Gate. 
 
 The Giant uttered these concluding words with sudden precipitation, and 
 on the instant the strange light which had filled the hall, faded away. Joe 
 Toddyhigh glanced involuntarily at the eastern window and saw the first pale 
 gleam of morning. He turned his head again towards the other window in 
 which the Giants had been seated. It was empty. The cask of wine was gone, 
 and he could dimly make out that the two great figures stood mute and 
 motionless upon their pedestals. 
 
 After rubbing his eyes and wondering for full half an hour, during which 
 time he observed morning come creeping on apace, he yielded to the drowsiness 
 which overpowered him and fell into a refreshing slumber. When he awoke 
 it was broad day ; the building was open, and workmen were busily engaged 
 in removing the vestiges of last night's feast. 
 
 Stealing gently down the little stairs and assuming the air of some early 
 lounger who had dropped in from the street, he walked up to the foot of each 
 pedestal in turn, and attentively examined the figure it supported. There 
 could be no doubt about the features of either ; he recollected the exact 
 expression they had worn at different passages of their conversation, and recog- 
 nized in every line and lineament the Giants of the night. Assured that it 
 was no vision but that he had heard and seen with his own proper senses, he 
 walked forth, determining at all hazards to conceal himself in the Guildhall 
 again that evening. He further resolved to sleep all day, so that he might be 
 very wakeful and vigilant, and above all that he might take notice of the 
 figures at the precise moment of their becoming animated and subsiding 
 into their old state, which he greatly reproached himself for not having done 
 already. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 23 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 to master humpurey. 
 '' Sir, 
 
 " Before you proceed any further in your account of your friends 
 and what you say and do when you meet together, excuse me if I proffer my 
 claim to be elected to one of the vacant chairs in that old room of yours. 
 Don''t reject me without full consideration for if you do you'll be sorry for it 
 afterwards — you will upon my life. 
 
 " 1 inclose my card, sir, in this letter. I never was ashamed of my name, 
 and I never shall be. I am considered a devilish gentlemanly fellow, and I act 
 up to the character. If you want a reference, ask any of the men at our club. 
 Ask any fellow who goes there to write his letters, what sort of conversation 
 mine is. Ask him if he thinks I have the sort of voice that will suit your 
 deaf friend and make him hear if he can hear anything at all. Ask the servants 
 what they think of mo. There*'s not a rascal among ""em sir, but will tremble 
 to hear my name. That reminds me — don't you say too much about that 
 housekeeper of yours ; it's a low subject, damned low. 
 
 " I tell you what sir. If you vote me into one of those empty chairs, youll 
 have among you a man with a fund of gentlemanly information that'll rather 
 astonish you. I can let you into a few anecdotes about some fine women of 
 title, that are quite high life sir — the tip-top sort of thing. I know the name 
 of every man who has been out on an affair of honour within the last five-and- 
 twenty years ; I know the private particulars of every cross and squabble that 
 has taken place upon the turf, at the gaming-table of elsewhere, during the 
 whole of that time. I have been called the gentlemanly chronicle. You may 
 consider yourself a lucky dog ; upon my soul you may congratulate yourself, 
 though I say so. 
 
 " It's an uncommon good notion that of yours, not letting anybody know 
 where you live. I have tried it, but there has always been an anxiety 
 respecting me which has found mo out. Your deaf friend is a cunning 
 fellow to keep his name so close. I have tried that too, but have alwa}"s 
 failed. I shall be pioud to make his acquaintance — tell him so, with my 
 compliments. 
 
 " You must have been a queer fellow when you were a child, confounded 
 queer. It's odd all that about the picture in your first paper, — prosy, but 
 told in a devilish gentlemanly sort of way. In places like that, I could 
 come in with great efl'^'ct with a touch of life — Don't you feel that? 
 
24. 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " I am anxiously waiting for your next paper to know whether your friends 
 live upon the premises, and at your expense, which I take it for granted is 
 the case. If I am right in this impression I know a charming fellow (an 
 excellent companion and most delightful company) who will be proud to join 
 you. Some years ago he seconded a great many prize-fighters and once 
 fought an amateur match himself ; since then, he has driven several mails, 
 broken at different periods all the lamps on the right-hand side of Oxford- 
 street, and six times carried away every bell-handle in Bloomsbury-square, 
 besides turning off the gas in various thoroughfares. In point of gentlemanli- 
 ness he is unrivalled, and I should say that next to myself he is of all men the 
 best suited to your purpose. 
 
 " Expecting your reply, 
 
 am, 
 
 "&c. &c. 
 
 Master Humphrey informs this gentleman that his application, both as it 
 concerns himself and his friend, is rejected. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 
 
 aiASTtR HUMPHREY FROM HIS CLOCK-SIDE IN THE CHIMNEY-CORNER. 
 
 Y old companion tolls me it is midnight. The fire glows 
 Ijrightl)', crackling with a sharp and cheerful sound as if it 
 loved to burn. The merry cricket on the hearth (my con- 
 stant visitor) this ruddy blaze, my clock, and I, seem to 
 share the world among us, and to be the only things awake- 
 The wind, high and boisterous but now, has died away 
 and hoarsely mutters in its sleep. I love all times and 
 seasons each in its turn, and am apt perhaps to think the present one the 
 best, but past or coming I always love this peaceful time of night, when long 
 buried thoughts favoured by the gloom and silence steal from their graves and 
 haunt the scenes of faded happiness and hope. 
 
 The popular faith in ghosts has a remarkable affinity with the whole current 
 of our thoughts at such an hour as this, and seems to be their necessary and 
 3. D 
 
26 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 natural consequence. For who can wonder that man should feel a vague 
 belief in tales of disembodied spirits wandering through those places which 
 they once dearly affected, when he himself, scarcely less separated from his 
 old world than they, is for ever lingering upon past emotions and by-gone 
 times, and hovering, the ghost of his former self, about the places and people 
 that warmed his heart of old ? It is thus that at this quiet hour I haunt the 
 house where I was born, the rooms I used to tread, the scenes of my infancy, 
 my boyhood and my youth ; it is thus that I prowl around my buried treasure 
 (though not of gold or silver) and mourn my loss ; it is thus that I revisit 
 the ashes of extinguished fires, and take my silent stand at old bedsides. If 
 my spirit should ever glide back to this chamber when my body is mingled 
 with the dust, it will but follow the course it often took in the old man's life- 
 time and add but one more change to the subjects of its contemplation. 
 
 In all my idle speculations I am greatly assisted by various legends connected 
 with my venerable house, which are current in the neighbourhood, and are so 
 numerous that there is scarce a cupboard or corner that has not some dismal 
 story of its own. When I first entertained thoughts of becoming its tenant I 
 was assured that it was haunted from roof to cellar, and 1 believe the bad 
 opinion in which my neighbours once held me had its rise in my not being torn 
 to pieces or at least distracted with terror on the night I took possession : in 
 either of which eases I should doubtless have arrived by a short cut at the 
 very summit of popularity. 
 
 But traditions and rumours all taken into account, who so abets me in every 
 fancy and chimes with my every thought, as my dear deaf friend ; and how 
 often have I cause to bless the day that brought us two together ! Of all days 
 in the year I rejoice to think that it should have been Christmas Day, with 
 which from childhood we associate something friendly, hearty, and sincere. 
 
 I had walked out to cheer myself with the happiness of others, and in the 
 little tokens of festivity and rejoicing of which the streets and houses present 
 go many upon that day, had lost some hours. Now I stopped to look at a 
 merry party hurrying through the snow on foot to their place of meeting, 
 and now turned back to see a whole coachful of children safely deposited at 
 the welcome house. At one time, I admired how carefully the working-man 
 carried the baby in its gaudy hat and feathers, and how his wife, trudging 
 patiently on behind, forgot even her care of her gay clothes, in exchanging 
 greetings with the child as it crowed and laughed over the father's shoulder ; 
 at another, I pleased myself with some passing scene of gallantry or courtship, 
 and was glad to believe that for a season half the world of poverty was gay. 
 
 As the day closed in, I still rambled through the streets, feeling a companion- 
 ship in the bright fires that cast their warm reflection on the windows as I 
 passed, and losing all sense of my own loneliness in imagining the sociality and 
 kind-fellowship that everywhere prevailed. At length I happened to stop 
 before a Tavern and encountering a Bill of Fare in the window, it all at once 
 brought it into my head to wonder what kind of people dined alone in Taverns 
 upon Christmas Day. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 27 
 
 Solitary men are accustomed, I suppose, unconsciously to look upon solitude 
 as their own peculiar property. I had sat alone in my room on many, many, 
 anniversaries of this great holiday, and had never regarded it but as one of 
 universal assemblage and rejoicing. I had excepted, and with an aching heart, 
 a crowd of prisoners and beggars, but these were not the men for whom the 
 Tavern doors were open. Had they any customers, or w'as it a mere form ? 
 a form no doubt. 
 
 Trying to feel quite sure of this I walked away, but before I had gone many 
 paces, I stopped and looked back. There was a provoking air of business in 
 the lamp above the door, which I could not overcome. I began to be afraid 
 there might be many customers — young men perhaps struggling with the 
 world, utter strangers in this great place, whose friends lived at a long 
 distance off, and whose means were too slender to enable them to make the 
 journey. The supposition gave rise to so many distressing little pictures that 
 in preference to carrying them home with me, I determined to encounter the 
 realities. So I turned, and walked in. 
 
 I was at once glad and sorry to find that there was only one person in the 
 dining-room ; glad to know that there were not more, and sorry to think that he 
 should be there by himself. He did not look so old as I, but like me he was 
 advanced in life, and his hair was nearly white. Though I made more noise in 
 entering and seating myself than was quite necessary, with the view of attract- 
 ing his attention and saluting him in the good old form of that time of year, 
 he did not raise his head but sat with it resting on his hand, musing over his 
 half finished meal. 
 
 I called for something which would give me an excuse for remaining in the 
 room (I had dined early as my housekeeper was engaged at night to partake of 
 some friend"'s good cheer) and sat where I could observe without intruding on 
 him. After a time he looked up. He was aware that somebody had entered, 
 but could see very little of me as I sat in the shade and he in the light. He 
 was sad and thoughtful, and I forbore to trouble him by speaking. 
 
 Let me believe that it was something better than curiosity which riveted 
 my attention and impelled me strongly towards this gentleman. I never saw 
 so patient and kind a face. He should have been surrounded by friends, and 
 yet here he sat dejected and alone when all men had their friends about them. 
 As often as he roused himself from his reverie he would fall into it again, and 
 it was plain that whatever were the subject of his thoughts they were of a 
 melancholy kind, and would not be controlled. 
 
 He was not used to solitude. I was sure of that, for I know by myself that 
 if he had been, his manner would have been different and he would have taken 
 some slight interest in the arrival of another. I could not fail to mark that ho 
 had no appetite — that he tried to eat in vain — that time after time the plate 
 was pushed away, and he relapsed into his former posture. 
 
 His mind was wandci'ing among old Christmas Days, I thought. Many of 
 them sprung up together, not with a long gap between each but in unbroken 
 succession like days of the week. It was a great change to find himself for the 
 
28 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 first time (I quite settled that it was the first) in an empty silent room with no 
 soul to care for. I could not help following him in imagination through crowds 
 of pleasant faces, and then coming back to that dull place with its bough of 
 misletoo sickening in the gas, and sprigs of holly pai'ched up already by a 
 Simoom of roast and boiled. The very waiter had gone home, and his repre- 
 sentative, a poor lean hungry man, was keeping Christmas in his jacket. 
 
 I grew still more interested in my friend. His dinner done, a decanter of 
 wine was placed before him. It remained untouched for a long time, but at 
 length with a quivering hand he filled a glass and raised it to his lips. Some 
 tender wish to which he had been accustomed to give utterance on that day, or 
 some beloved name that he had been used to pledge, trembled upon them at 
 the moment. He put it down very hastily— took it up once more — again put it 
 down — pressed his hand upon his face — yes— and tears stole down his cheeks, 
 I am certain. 
 
 •. Without pausing to consider whether I did right or wrong, I stepped across 
 the room, and sitting down beside him laid my hand gently on his arm. 
 
 " My friend," I said, "foi'give me if I beseech you to take comfort and con- 
 solation from the lips of an old man. I will not preach to you what I have not 
 practised, indeed. Whatever be your grief, be of a good heart — be of a good 
 heart, pray ! " 
 
 " I see that you speak earnestly," he replied, " and kindly I am very sure, 
 but—" 
 
 I nodded my head to show that I understood what he would say, for I had 
 already gathered from a certain fixed expression in his face and from the 
 attention with which he watched me while I spoke, that his sense of hearing 
 was destroyed. " There should be a freemasonry between us," said I, pointing 
 from himself to me to explain my meaning — " if not in our gray hairs, at least 
 in our misfortunes. You see that I am but a poor cripple." 
 
 I have never felt so happy under my affliction since the trying moment of 
 my first becoming conscious of it, as when he took my hand in his with a smile 
 that has lighted my path in life from that day, and we sat down side by side. 
 
 This was the beginning of my friendship with the deaf gentleman, and when 
 was ever the slight and easy service of a kind word in season, repaid by such 
 attachment and devotion as he has shown to me ! 
 
 He produced a little set of tablets and a pencil to facilitate our conversa- 
 tion, on that our first acquaintance, and I well remember how awkward and 
 constrained I was in writing down my share of the dialogue, and how easily he 
 guessed my meaning before I had written half of what I had to say. He told 
 me in a faltering voice that he had not been accustomed to be alone on that 
 day — that it had always been a little festival with him — and seeing that I 
 glanced at his dress in the expectation that he wore mourning, ho added 
 hastily that it was not that ; if it had been, he thought he could have borne 
 it better. From that time to the present we have never touched upon this 
 theme. Upon every return of the same day we have been together, and 
 although we make it our annual custom to drink to each other hand in hand 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 29 
 
 after dinner, and to reeal with affectionate garrulity every circumstance of 
 our first meeting, we always avoid this one as if by mutual consent. 
 
 Meantime we have gone on strengthening in our friendship and regard 
 and forming an attachment which, I trust and believe, will only be inter- 
 rupted by death, to be renewed in another existence. I scarcely know how 
 we communicate as we do, but he has long since ceased to be deaf to me. 
 He is frequently the companion of my walks, and even in crowded streets 
 replies to my shghtest look or gesture as though he could read my thoughts. 
 From the vast number of objects which pass in rapid succession before our 
 eyes, we frequently select the same for some particular notice or remark, and 
 when one of these little coincidences occurs I cannot describe the pleasure 
 that animates my friend, or the beaming countenance he will preserve for 
 half an hour afterwards at least. 
 
 He is a great thinker from living so much within himself, and having a 
 lively imagination has a facility of conceiving and enlarging upon odd ideas 
 which renders him invaluable to our little body, and greatly astonishes om* 
 two friends. His powers in this respect, are much assisted by a large pipe 
 which he assures us once belonged to a German Student. Be this as it may, 
 it has undoubtedly a very ancient and mysterious appearance, and is of such 
 capacity that it takes three hours and a half to smoke it out. I have reason 
 to believe that my barber who is the chief authority of a knot of gossips who 
 congregate every evening at a small tobacconist's hard by, has related anecdotes 
 of this pipe and the grim figures that are carved upon its bowl at which all 
 the smokers in the neighbourhood have stood aghast, and I know that my 
 housekeeper while she holds it in high veneration, has a superstitious feeling 
 connected with it which would render her exceedingly unwilling to be left 
 alone in its company after dark. 
 
 Whatever sorrow my deaf friend has known, and whatever grief may linger 
 in some secret corner of his heart, he is now a cheerful, placid, happy 
 creature. Misfortune can never have fallen upon such a man but for some 
 good purpose, and when I see its traces in his gentle nature and his earnest 
 feeling, I am the less disposed to murmur at such trials as I may have 
 undergone myself. With regard to the pipe, I have a theory of my own ; 
 I cannot help thinking that it is in some manner connected with the event 
 that brought us together, for I remember that it was a long time before he even 
 talked about it ; that when he did, he grew reserved and melancholy ; and that 
 it was a long time yet before he brought it forth. I have no curiosity, how- 
 ever, upon this subject, for I know that it promotes his tranquillity and com- 
 fort, and I need no other inducement to regard it with my utmost favour. 
 
 Such is the deaf gentleman. I can call up his figure now, clad in sober 
 grey, and seated in the chimney corner. As he puffs out the smoke from 
 his favourite pipe he casts a look on me brimful of cordiality and friend- 
 ship, and says all manner of kind and gcmial things in a cheerful smile ; then 
 he raises his eyes to my clock which is just about to strike, and glancing from 
 it to me and back again, seems to divide his heart between us. Por myself. 
 
30 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 it is not too much to say that I would gladly part with one of luy poor limbs, 
 could he but hear the old clock*'s voice. 
 
 Of our two friends, the first has been all his life one of that easy wayward 
 truant class whom the world is accustomed to designate as nobody's enemies 
 but their own. Bred to a profession for which he never qualified himself, and 
 reared in the expectation of a fortune he has never inherited, he has undergone 
 every vicissitude of which such an existence is capable. He and his younger 
 brother, both orphans from their childhood, were educated by a wealthy rela- 
 tive who taught them to expect an equal division of his property : but too 
 indolent to court, and too honest to flatter, the elder gradually lost ground in 
 the affections of a capricious old man, and the younger, who did not fail to 
 improve his opportunity, now triumphs in the possession of enormous wealth. 
 His triumph is to hoard it in solitary wretchedness, and probably to feel with 
 the expenditure of every shilling a greater pang than the loss of liis whole 
 inheritance ever cost his brother. 
 
 Jack Redburn — he was Jack Redburn at the first little school he went to 
 where every other child was mastered and surnamed, and he has been Jack 
 Redburn all his life or he would perhaps have been a richer man by this time- 
 has been an inmate of my house these eight years past. He is ray librarian, 
 secretary, steward, and first minister : director of all my affairs and inspector- 
 general of my household. He is something of a musician, something of an 
 author, something of an actor, something of a painter, very much of a carpenter, 
 and an extraordinary gardener : having had all his life a wonderful aptitude 
 for learning everything that was of no use to him. He is remarkably fond of 
 children and is the best and kindest nurse in sickness that ever drew the breath 
 of life. He has mixed with every grade of society and known the utmost distress, 
 but there never was a less selfish, a more tender-hearted a more enthusiastic 
 or a more guileless man, and I dare say if few have done less good fewer still 
 have done less harm in the world than he. By what chance Nature forms such 
 whimsical jumbles I don't know, but I do know that she sends them among us 
 very often and that the king of the whole race is Jack Redburn. 
 ' I should be puzzled to say how old he is. His health is none of the best, and 
 he wears a quantity of iron-grey hair which shades his face and gives it rather 
 a worn appearance ; but we consider him quite a young fellow notwithstanding, 
 and if a youthful spirit surviving the roughest contact with the world confers 
 upon its possessor any title to be considered young, then he is a mere child. 
 The only interruptions to his careless cheerfulness are on a wet Sunday when he 
 is apt to be unusually rehgious and solemn, and sometimes of an evening when 
 he has been blowing a very slow tune on the flute. On these last-named 
 occasions he is apt to incline towards the mysterious or the terrible. As a 
 ispecimen of his powers in this mood, I refer my readers to the extract from 
 the clock-case which follows this paper ; he brought it to me not long ago 
 at midnight and informed me that the main incident had been suggested by a 
 dream of the night before. 
 
 His apartments are two cheerful rooms looking towards the garden, and 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 31 
 
 one of his great delights is to arrange and re-arrange the furniture in these 
 chambers and put it in every possible variety of position. During the whole 
 time he has been here, I do not think he has slept for two nights running 
 with the head of his bed in the same place, and every time he moves it, is to 
 be the last. My housekeeper was at first well nigh distracted by these frequent 
 changes but she has become quite reconciled to them by degrees and has so 
 fallen in with his humour that they often consult together with great gravity 
 upon the next final alteration. Whatever his arrangements are, however, 
 they are always a pattern of neatness, and every one of the manifold articles 
 connected with his manifold occupations, is to be found in its own particular 
 place. Until within the last two or three years he was subject to an occasional 
 fit (which usually came upon him in very fine weather) under the influence of 
 which he would dress himself with peculiar care, and going out under pretence 
 of taking a walk, disappear for several days together. At length after the 
 interval between each outbreak of this disorder had gradually grown longer 
 and longer, it wholly disappeared, and now he seldom stirs abroad except to 
 stroll out a little way on a summer's evening. Whether he yet mistrusts his own 
 constancy in this respect and is therefore afraid to wear a Coat I know not, but 
 we seldom see him in any other upper garment than an old spectral-looking 
 dressing gown with very disproportionate pockets, full of a miscellaneous collec- 
 tion of odd matters which he picks up wherever he can lay his hands upon them. 
 
 Everything that is a favourite with our friend is a favourite with us, and 
 thus it happens that the fourth among us is Mr. Owen Miles, a most worthy 
 gentleman who had treated Jack with great kindness before my deaf friend 
 and I encountered him by an accident to which I may refer on some future 
 occasion. Mr. Miles was once a very rich merchant, but receiving a severe 
 shock in the death of his wife, he retired from business and devoted himself to 
 a quiet unostentatious life. He is an excellent man of thoroughly sterling 
 character: not of quick apprehension, and not without some amusing prejudices, 
 which I shall leave to their own developement. He holds us all in profound 
 veneration, but Jack Redburn he esteems as a kind of pleasant wonder, that 
 he may venture to approach familiarly. He believes, not only that no man ever 
 lived who could do so many things as Jack, but that no man ever lived who 
 could do anything so well, and he never calls my attention to any of his in- 
 genious proceedings but he whispers in my ear, nudging me at the same time 
 with his elbow — " If ho had only made it his trade sir — if he had only made 
 it his trade ! " — 
 
 They are inseparable companions ; one would almost suppose that although 
 Mr. Miles never by any chance does anything in the way of assistance. Jack 
 could do nothing without him. Whether ho is reading, writing, painting, car- 
 pentering, gardening, flute-playing, or what not, there is Mr. Miles beside him, 
 buttoned up to the chin in his blue coat, and looking on with a face of incredu- 
 lous delight as though he could not credit the testimony of his own senses and 
 had a misgiving that no man could be so clever but in a drc am. 
 
 These are my friends ; I have now introduced myself and them. 
 
32 iMASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 THE CLOCK-CASE. 
 
 A CONFESSION FOUND IN A PRISON IN THE TIME OF CIIAKLES THE SECOND. 
 
 I iiKLD ,1 lieutenant's commission in His Majesty''s army and served abroad in 
 the campaigns of 1677 and 1678. Tlie treaty of Nimeguen being concluded, 
 I returned home, and retiring from the service withdrew to a small estate lying 
 a few miles east of London, which I had recently acquired in right of my wife. 
 
 This is the last night I have to live, and I will set down the naked truth 
 without disguise. I was never a brave man, and had always been from my 
 childhood of a secret sullen distrustful nature. I speak of myself as if I had 
 passed from the world, for while I write this my grave is digging and my 
 name is written in the black book of death. 
 
 Soon after my return to England, my only brother was seized with mortal 
 illness. This circumstance gave me slight or no pain, for since we had been 
 men we had associated but very little together. He was open-hearted and 
 generous, handsomer than I, more accomplished, and generally beloved. 
 Those who sought my acquaintance abroad or at home because they were 
 friends of his, seldom attached themselves to me long, and would usually say 
 in our first conversation that they were surprised to find two brothers so 
 unlike in their manners and appearance. It was my habit to lead them on 
 to this avowal, for I knew what comparisons they must draw between us, and 
 having a rankling envy in my heart, I sought to justify it to myself. 
 
 We had married two sisters. This additional tie between us, as it may 
 appear to some, only estranged us the more. His wife knew me well. I 
 never struggled with any secret jealousy or gall when she was present but that 
 woman knew it as well as I did. I never raised my eyes at such times but I 
 found hers fixed upon me; I never bent them on the ground or looked another 
 way, but I felt that she overlooked me always. It was an inexpressible relief 
 to me when we quarrelled, and a greater relief still when I heard abroad that 
 she was dead. It seems to me now as if some strange and terrible foreshadow- 
 ing of what has happened since, must have hung over us then. I was afraid 
 of her, she haunted me, her fixed and steady look comes back upon me now 
 like the memory of a dark dream and makes my blood run cold. 
 
 She died shortly after giving birth to a child — a boy. When my brother knew 
 that all hope of his own recovery was past, he called my wife to his bed-side and 
 confided this orphan, a child of four years old, to her protection. He bequeathed 
 to him all the property he had, and willed that in case of the child's death it 
 should pass to my wife as the only acknowledgment he could make her for her 
 care and love. He exchanged a few brotherly words with me deploring our long 
 separation, and being exhausted, fell into a slumber from which he never awoke. 
 
 We had no children, and as there had been a strong affection between the 
 sisters, and my wife had almost supplied the place of a mother to this boy, 
 she loved him as if he had been her own. The child was ardently attached to 
 her , but he was his mother's image in face and spirit and always mistrusted me. 
 
 I can scarcely fix the date when the feeling first came upon me, but I soon 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 33 
 
 began to be uneasy when this child was by. I never roused myself from some 
 moody train of thought but I marked him looking at me : not ^vith mere 
 childish wonder, but with something of the purpose and meaning that I had 
 so often noted in his mother. It was no effort of my fancy, founded on close 
 resemblance of feature and expression. I never could look the boy down. 
 He feared me, but seemed by some instinct to despise me while he did so ; 
 and even when he drew back beneath my gaze — as he would when we were 
 alone, to get nearer to the door — he would keep his bright eyes upon me still. 
 
 Perhaps I hide the truth from myself, but I do not think that when this 
 began, I meditated to do him any wrong. I may have thought how serviceable 
 his inheritance would be to us, and may have wished him dead, but I believe 
 I had no thought of compassing his death. Neither did the idea come upon 
 me at once, but by very slow degrees, presenting itself at first in dim shapes 
 at a very great distance, as men may think of an earthquake or the last day 
 — then drawing nearer and nearer and losing something of its horror and 
 improbabihty — then coming to be part and parcel, nay nearly the whole sum 
 and substance of my daily thoughts, and resolving itself into a question of 
 means and safety; not of doing or abstaining from the deed. 
 
 While this was going on within me, I never could bear that the child should 
 see me looking at him, and yet I was under a fascination which made it a kind of 
 business with me to contemplate his slight and fragile figure and think how easily 
 it might be done. Sometimes I would steal up stairs and watch him as he slept, 
 but usually I hovered in the garden near the window of the room in which he leamt 
 his little tasks, and there as he sat upon a low seat beside my wife, I would peer 
 at him for hours together from behind a tree : starting like the guilty wretch I 
 was at every rustling of a leaf, and still gliding back to look and start again. 
 
 Hard by our cottage, but quite out of sight, and (if there were any wind 
 astir) of hearing too, was a deep sheet of water. I spent days in shaping 
 with my pocket-knife a rough model of a boat, which I finished at last and 
 dropped in the child's way. Then I withdrew to a secret place which he must 
 pass if he stole away alone to swim this bauble, and lurked there for his 
 coming. He came neither that day nor the next, though I waited from noon 
 till nightfall. I was sure that I had him in my net for I had heard him 
 prattling of the toy, and knew that in his infant pleasure he kept it by his 
 side in bed. I felt no weariness or fatigue, but waited patiently, and on the 
 third day he passed me, running joyously along, with his silken hair streaming 
 in the wind and he singing — God have mercy upon me ! — singing a merry 
 ballad — who could hardly lisp the words. 
 
 I stole dovtTi after him, creeping under certain shrubs which grow in that 
 place, and none but devils know with what terror I, a strong full-grown man, 
 tracked the footsteps of that baby as he approached the water's' brink. I was 
 close upon him, had sunk upon my knee and raised my liand to thrust him in, 
 when he saw my shadow in the stream and turned him round. 
 
 His mother's ghost was looking from his eyes. The sun burst forth from 
 behind a cloud : it shone in the bright sky, the glistening earth, the clear 
 water, the sparkling drops of rain upon the leaves. There were eyes in 
 
34 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 everything. Tho whole great universe of h'ght was there to see the murder 
 done. I know not what he said ; he came of bold and manly blood, and child 
 as he was, he did not crouch or fawn upon me. I heard him cry that he would 
 try to love mo — not that he did — and then I saw him running back towards 
 the house. The next I saw was my own sword naked in my hand and he 
 lying at my feet stark dead — dabbled here and there with blood but otherwise 
 no different from what I had seen him in his sleep — in the same attitude too, 
 with his cheek resting upon his little hand. 
 
 I took him in my arms and laid him — very gently now that he was dead — 
 in a thicket. My wife was from home that day and would not return until 
 the next. Our bed-room window, the only sleeping room on that side of the 
 house, was but a few feet from the ground, and I resolved to descend from it 
 at night and bury him in the garden. I had no thought that I had failed in 
 my design, no thought that the water would be dragged and nothing found, 
 that the money must now lie waste since I must encourage the idea that the 
 child was lost or stolen. All my thoughts were bound up and knotted 
 together, in the one absorbing necessity of hiding what I had done. 
 
 How I felt when they came to tell me that the child was missing, when I ordered 
 scouts in all directions, when I gasped and trembled at every one's approach, no 
 tongue can tell or mind of man conceive. I buried him that night. When I parted 
 the boughs and looked into the dark thicket, there was a glow-worm shining like 
 the visible spirit of God upon the murdered child. I glanced down into his grave 
 when I had placed him there and still it gleamed upon his breast : an eye of fire 
 looking up to Heaven in supplication to the stars that watched me at my work. 
 
 I had to meet my wife, and break the news, and give her hope that the 
 child would soon be found. All this I did — with some appearance, I suppose, of 
 being sincere, for I was the object of no suspicion. This done, I sat at the bed- 
 room window all day long and watched the spot where the dreadful secret lay. 
 
 It was in a piece of ground which had been dug up to be newly turfed, and 
 which I had chosen on that account as the traces of my spade were less hkely 
 to attract attention. The men who laid down the grass must have thought 
 me mad. I called to them continually to expedite their work, ran out and 
 worked beside them, trod down the turf with my feet, and hurried them with 
 frantic eagerness. They had finished their task before night, and then I 
 thought myself comparatively safe. 
 
 I slept — not as men do who wake refreshed and cheerful, but I did sleep, 
 passing from vague and shadowy dreams of being hunted down, to visions of the 
 plot of grass, through which now a hand and now a foot and now the head 
 itself was starting out. At this point I always woke and stole to the window 
 to make sure that it was not really so. That done I crept to bed again, and 
 thus I spent the night in fits and starts, getting up and lying down full 
 twenty times and dreaming the same dream over and over again — wliich was 
 far worse than lying awake, for every dream had a v/hole night's suffering of 
 its own. Once I thought the child was alive and that I had never tried to 
 kill him. To wake from that dream was the most dreadful agony of all. 
 
 The next day I sat at the window again, never once taking my eyes from 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 35 
 
 the place, which, although it was covered by the grass, was as plain to me — 
 its shape, its size, its depth, its jagged sides, and all — as if it had been open 
 to the light of day. When a servant walked across it, I felt as if he must 
 sink in ; when he had passed I looked to see that his feet had not worn the 
 edges. If a bird lighted there, I was in terror lest by some tremendous inter- 
 position it should be instrumental in the discovery ; if a breath of air sighed 
 across it, to me it whispered murder. There was not a sight or sound how 
 ordinary mean or unimportant soever, but was fraught with fear. And in 
 this state of ceaseless watching I spent three days. 
 
 On the fourth, there came to the gate one who had served with me abroad, 
 accompanied by a brother officer of his whom I had never seen. I felt that 
 I could not bear to be out of sight of the place. It was a summer evening, 
 and I bade my people take a table and a flask of wine into the garden. 
 Then I sat down loith my chair upon the grave, and being assured that nobody 
 could disturb it now, without my knowledge, tried to drink and talk. 
 
 They hoped that my wife was well — that she was not obliged to keep her 
 chamber — that they had not frightened her away. What could I do but tell 
 them with a falterinof tonfjue about the child ? The officer whom I did not 
 know was a down-looking man and kept his eyes upon the ground while I was 
 speaking. Even that terrified me ! I could not divest myself of the idea that 
 he saw something there which caused him to suspect the truth. I asked him 
 hurriedly if he supposed that — and stopped. " That the child has been mur- 
 dered?" said he, looking mildly at me. " Oh, no ! what could a man gain by 
 murdering a poor child V I could have told him what a man gained by such 
 a deed, no one better, but I held my peace and shivered as with an ague. 
 
 Mistaking my emotion they were endeavouring to cheer me with the hope 
 that the boy would certainly be found — great cheer that was for me — when we 
 heard a low deep howl, and presently there sprung over the wall two great dogs, 
 who bounding into the garden repeated the baying sound we had heard before. 
 
 " Blood-hounds !" cried my visitors. 
 
 What need to tell me that ! I had never seen one of that kind in all my 
 life, but I knew what they were and for what purpose they had come. I 
 grasped the elbows of my chair, and neither spoke nor moved. 
 
 " They are of the genuine breed," said the man whom I had known abroad, 
 " and being out for exercise have no doubt escaped from their keeper." 
 
 Both he and his friend turned to look at the dogs, who witii their noses 
 to the ground moved restlessly about, running to and fro, and up and down, 
 and across, and round in circles, careering about like wild things, and all this 
 time taking no notice of us, but ever and again lifting their heads and repeat- 
 ing the yell we had heard already, then dropping their noses to the ground 
 again and tracking earnestly here and there. They now began to snuff the 
 earth more eagerly than they had done yet, and altliough they were still very 
 restless, no longer beat about in such wide circuits, but kept near to one spot, 
 and constantly diminishcxl the distance between themselves and me. 
 
 At last they came up close to the great chair on which I sat, and raising 
 their frightful howl once more, tried to tear away the wooden rails that kept 
 
36 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 them from the ground beneath, I saw how I looked, in tho faces of the two 
 who were with me. 
 
 " They scent some prey," said they, both together. 
 
 " They scent no prey !" cried I. 
 
 *' In Heaven's name move,"" said the one 1 knew, very earnestly, " or you 
 will be torn to pieces." 
 
 " Let them tear me limb from limb, FU never leave this place !" cried I. 
 " Aredogsto hurrymen to shameful deaths? Hew them down, cutthem in pieces." 
 
 " There is some foul mystery here !" said the officer whom I did not know, 
 drawing his sword. " In King Charles''s name assist me to secure this man." 
 
 
 They both set upon me and forced me away, though I fought and bit and 
 cauglirt at them like a madman. After a struggle they got me quietly between 
 them, and then, my God ! I saw the angry dogs tearing at the earth and 
 throwing it up into the air like water. 
 
 What more have I to tell ? That I fell upon my knees and with chattering 
 teeth confessed the truth and prayed to be forgiven. That I have since denied 
 and now confess to it again. That I have been tried for the crime, found 
 guilty, and sentenced. That I have not the courage to anticipate my doom 
 or to bear up manfully against it. That I have no compassion, no consolation, 
 no hope, no friend. That my wife has happily lost for the time those faculties 
 which would enable her to know my misery or hers. That I am alone in this 
 stone dungeon with my evil spirit, and that I die to-morrow ! 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 
 
 PERSONAL ADYEXTURES OF MASTER HUMPHREY. 
 ^I^e (BXa (Cutiositn ^j^op. 
 
 IGHT is generally my time for walking. In the summer 
 I often leave home early in the morning, and roam about 
 fields and lanes all day, or even escape for days or weeks 
 together, but saving in the country I seldom go out until 
 after dark, thouoch, Heaven be thanked, I love its light 
 and feel the cheerfulness it sheds upon the earth, as much 
 ^ as any creature living. 
 I have fallen insensibly into this habit, both because it favours my infirmity 
 and because it affords me greater opportunity of speculating on the characters 
 and occupations of those who fill the streets. The glare and hurry of broad noon 
 are not adapted to idle pursuits like mine ; a glimpse of passing faces caught 
 by the light of a street lamp or a shop window is often better for my purpose 
 than their full revelation in the daylight, and, if I must add the truth, night is 
 kinder in this respect than day, which too often destroys an air-built castle at 
 the moment of its completion, without the smallest ceremony or remorse. 
 4. E 
 
o8 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 That constant pacing to and fro, that never-ending restlessness, that 
 incessant tread of foot wearing the rough stones smooth and glossy — is it not 
 a wonder how the dwellers in narrow ways can bear to hear it ! Think of a 
 sick man in such a place as Saint Martin's court, listening to the footsteps, 
 and in the midst of pain and weariness obliged, despite himself (as though it 
 were a task he must perform) to detect the child's stop from the man's, the 
 slipshod beggar from the booted exquisite, the lounging from the busy, the 
 dull heel of the sauntering outcast from the quick tread of an expectant 
 pleasure-seeker — think of the hum and noise being always present to his 
 senses, and of the stream of life that will not stop, pouring on, on, on, 
 through all his restless dreams, as if he were condemned to lie dead but con- 
 scious, in a noisy churchyard, and had no hope of rest for centuries to come. 
 
 Then the crowds for ever passing and repassing on the bridges (on those 
 which are fi'ee of toll at least) where many stop on fine evenings looking 
 listlessly down upon the water with some vague idea that by-and-by it runs 
 between green banks which grow wider and wider until at last it joins the 
 broad vast sea — where some halt to rest from heavy loads and think as they 
 look over the parapet that to smoke and lounge away one's life, and lie sleeping 
 in the sun upon a hot tarpaulin, in a dull slow sluggish barge, must be happi- 
 ness unalloyed — and where some, and a very different class, pause with heavier 
 loads than they, remembering to have heard or read in some old time that 
 drowning was not a hard death, but of all means of suicide the easiest and best. 
 
 Covent Garden Market at sunrise too, in the spring or summer, when the 
 fragrance of sweet flowers is in the air, overpowering even the unwholesome 
 steams of last night's debauchery, and driving the dusky thrush, whose cage 
 has hung outside a garret window all night long, half mad with joy ! Poor 
 bird ! the only neighbouring thing at all akin to the other little captives, 
 some of whom, shrinking from the hot hands of drunken purchasers, lie 
 drooping on the path already, while others, soddened by close contact, await 
 the time when they shall be watered and freshened up to please more sober 
 company, and make old clerks who pass them on their road to business, 
 wonder what has filled their breasts with visions of the country. 
 
 But my present purpose is not to expatiate upon my walks. An adven- 
 ture which I am about to relate, and to which I shall recur at intervals, arose 
 out of one of these rambles, and thus I have been led to speak of them by 
 way of preface. 
 
 One night I had roamed into the city, and was walking slowly on in my 
 usual way, musing upon a great many things, when I was arrested by an 
 inquiry, the purport of which did not reach me, but which seemed to be 
 addressed to myself, and was preferred in a soft sweet voice that struck me 
 vary pleasantly. I turned hastily round and found at my elbow a pretty little 
 girl, who begged to be directed to a certain street at a considerable distance, 
 and indeed in quite another quarter of the town. 
 
 " It is a very long way from here,"" said I, " my child.'"' 
 
 " I know that, sir," she replied timidly. " I am afraid it is a very long 
 way, for I came from there to-night." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. S9 
 
 " Alone ?" said I, in some surprise. 
 
 " Oh yes, I don't mind that, but I am a httle frightened now, for I have 
 lost my road." 
 
 " And what made you ask it of me 1 Suppose I should tell you wrong." 
 
 " I am sure you will not do that," said the little creature, " you are such a 
 very old gentleman, and walk so slow yourself." 
 
 I cannot describe how much I was impressed by this appeal and the energy 
 with which it was made, which brought a tear into the child's clear eye, and 
 made her slight figure tremble as she looked up into my face. 
 
 " Come," said I, " Fll take you there." 
 
 She put her hand in mine as confidingly as if she had known me from her 
 cradle, and we trudged away together : the little creature accommodating her 
 pace to mine, and rather seeming to lead and take care of me than I to be 
 protecting her. I observed that every now and then she stole a curious look 
 at my face as if to make quite sure that I was not deceiving her, and that 
 these glances (very sharp and keen they were too) seemed to increase her 
 confidence at every repetition. 
 
 For my part, my curiosity and interest were at least equal to the child's, for 
 child she certainly was, although I thought it probable from what I could make 
 out, that her very small and delicate frame imparted a peculiar youthfulness to 
 her appearance. Though more scantily attired than she might have been she 
 "was dressed with perfect neatness, and betrayed no marks of poverty or neglect. 
 
 " Who has sent you so far by yourself 2" said I. 
 
 " Somebody who is very kind to me, sir." 
 
 " And what have you been doing V 
 
 " That, I must not tell," said the child firmly. 
 
 There was something in the manner of this reply which caused me to 
 look at the little creature with an involuntary expression of surprise ; for I 
 wondered what kind of errand it might be that occasioned her to be prepared 
 for questioning. Her quick eye seemed to read my thoughts, for as it met 
 mine she added that there was no harm in what she had been doing, but it 
 was a great secret — a secret which she did not even know herself. 
 
 This was said with no appearance of cunning or deceit, but with an unsus- 
 picious frankness that bore the impress of truth. She walked on as before, 
 growing more familiar with me as we proceeded and talking cheerfully by 
 the way, but she said no more about her home, beyond remarking that we 
 were going quite a new road and asking if it were a short one. 
 
 While we were thus engaged, I revolved in my mind a hundred different 
 explanations of the riddle and rejected them every one. I really felt ashamed 
 to take advantage of the ingenuousness or grateful feeling of the child for the 
 purpose of gratifying my curiosity. I love these little people ; and it is not a 
 slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us. As I had felt pleased 
 at first by her confidence I determined to deserve it, and to do credit to the 
 nature which had prompted her to repose it in me. 
 
 There was no reason, however, why I should refrain from seeing the person 
 who had inconsiderately sent her to so great a distance by night aiKl alone, 
 
40 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 and as it was not improbable that if she found herself near home she might 
 take farewell of me and deprive me of the opportunity, I avoided the most 
 frecjucntcd ways and took the most intricate, and tiuis it was not until we 
 arrived in the street itself that she knew where we were. Clapping her hands 
 with pleasure and running on before me for a short distance, my little 
 acquaintance stopped at a door, and remaining on the step till I came up 
 knocked at it when I joined her. 
 
 A part of this door was of glass unprotected by any shutter, which J did not 
 observe at first, for all was very dark and silent within, and I was anxious (as 
 indeed the child was also) for an answer to our summons. When she hail 
 knocked twice or thrice there was a noise as if some person were moving 
 inside, and at length a faint light appeared through the glass which, as it 
 approached very slowly, the bearer having to make his way through a great 
 many scattered articles, enabled me to see both what kind of person it was 
 ■who advanced and w hat kind of place it was thi'ough which he came. 
 
 It was a little old man with long grey hair, whose face and figure as he held 
 the light above his head and looked before him as he approached, I could 
 plainly see. Though much altered by age, I fancied I could recognise in his 
 spare and slender form something of that delicate mould which I had noticed 
 in the child. Their bright blue eyes were certainly alike, but his face was so 
 deeply furrowed and so very full of care, that here all resemblance ceased. 
 
 The place tlu-ough which he made his way at leisure was one of those 
 receptacles for old and curious things which seem to crouch in odd corners of 
 this town and to hide their musty treasures from the public eye in jealousy and 
 distrust. There were suits of mail standing like ghosts in armour here and 
 there, fantastic carvings brought from monkish cloisters, rusty weapons 
 of various kinds, distorted figures in china and wood and iron and ivory : 
 tapestry and strange furniture that might have been designed in dreams. 
 The haggard aspect of the little old man was wonderfully suited to the place ; 
 he might have groped among old churches and tombs and deserted houses 
 and gathered all the spoils with his own hands. There was nothing in the 
 whole collection but was in keeping with himself; nothing that looked older 
 or more worn than he. 
 
 As he turned the key in the lock, he surveyed me with some astonishment 
 which was not diminished when he looked from me to my companion. The 
 door being opened, the child addressed him as grandfather, and told him the 
 little story of our companionship. 
 
 "■ Why bless thee child "said the old man patting her on the head, "how 
 couldst thou miss thy way — what if I had lost thee Nell !" 
 
 " I would have found my way back to you^ grandfather," said the child 
 boldly ; " never fear." 
 
 The old man kissed her, and then turning to me and begging me to walk 
 in, I did so. The door was closed and locked. Preceding me with the 
 light, he led me through the place I had already seen from without, into a 
 small sitting room behind, in which was another door opening into a kind of 
 closet, where I saw a little bed that a fairy might have slept in, it looked so 
 
MASTER HUxMPHREY'S CLOCK. 41 
 
 very small and was so prettily arranged. The child took a candle and tripped 
 into this little room, leaving the old man and me together. 
 
 " You must be tired, sir,"*"" said he as he placed a chair near the fire, *' how 
 can I thank you V 
 
 " By taking more care of your grandchild another time, my good friend,"' 
 I replied. 
 
 " More care ! " said the old man in a shrill voice, " more care of Nelly ! why 
 who ever loved a child as I love Nell V 
 
 He said this with such evident surprise that I was perplexed what answer 
 to make, and the more so because coupled with something feeble and wandering 
 in his manner, there were in his face marks of deep and anxious thought which 
 convinced me that he could not be, as I had been at first inclined to suppose, 
 in a state of dotage or imbecility. 
 
 " I don't think you consider — *'*' I began 
 
 " I don't consider !"" cried the old man interrupting me, " I don't consider 
 her ! ah how little you know of the truth. Little Nelly, little Nelly !" 
 
 It would be impossible for any man, I care not what his form of speech 
 might be, to express more affection than the dealer in curiosities did, in these 
 four words. I waited for him to speak again, but he rested his chin upon his 
 hand and shaking his head twice or thrice fixed his eyes upon the fire. 
 
 While we were sitting thus in silence, the door of the closet opened, and the 
 child returned, her light brown hair hanging loose about her neck, and her face 
 flushed with the haste she had made to rejoin us. She busied herself immedi- 
 ately in preparing supper, and while she was thus engaged I remarked that 
 the old man took an opportunity of observing me more closely than he 
 had done yet. I was surprised to see that all this time everything was done 
 by the child, and that there appeared to be no other persons but ourselves in 
 the house. I took advantage of a moment when she was absent to venture a 
 hint on this point, to which the old man replied that there were few grown 
 persons as trustworthy or as careful as she. 
 
 "It always grieves me" I observed, roused by what I took to be his selfish- 
 ness, " it always grieves me to contemplate the initiation of children into the 
 ways of life, when they are scarcely more than infants. It checks their con- 
 fidence and simplicity — two of the best qualities that Heaven gives them — and 
 demands that they share our sorrows before they are capable of entering into 
 our enjoyments." 
 
 "It will never check hers," said the old man looking steadily at me, " the 
 springs are too deep. Besides, the children of the poor know but few plea- 
 sures. Even the cheap delights of childhood must be bought and paid for." 
 
 " But — forgive me for saying this — you arc surely not so very poor" — said I. 
 
 " She is not my child, sir," returned the old man. " Her mother was, and 
 she was poor. I save nothing — not a penny — though I live as you see, but" 
 — he laid his hand upon my arm and leant forward to whi.sper " She shall 
 be rich one of these days, and a fine lady. Don't you think ill of rao, because 
 I use her help. She gives it cheerfully as you see, and it woidd break 
 her heart if she knew that I suffered anybody else to do for me what her 
 
42 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 little hands could undertake. I don't consider ! " — ho cried with sudden 
 querulousncss, " why, God knows that this one child is the thought and object 
 of my life, and yet he never prospers me — no, never." 
 
 At this juncture, the subject of our conversation again returned, and the 
 old man motioning to me to approach the table, broke off, and said no more. 
 
 We had scarcely begun our repast when there was a knock at the door by 
 which I had entered, and Nell bursting into a hearty laugh, which I was 
 rejoiced to hear, for it was childlike and full of hilarity, said it was no doubt 
 dear old Kit come back at last. 
 
 " Foolish Nell I " said the old man fondling with her hair. " She always 
 laughs at poor Kit."" 
 
 The child laughed again more heartily than before, and I could not help 
 smiling from pure sympathy. The little old man took up a candle and went 
 to open the door. When he came back. Kit was at his heels. 
 
 Kit was a shock-headed shambling awkward lad with an uncommonly wide 
 mouth, very red cheeks, a turned-up nose, and certainly the most comical 
 expression of face I ever saw. He stopped short at the door on seeing a 
 stranger, twirled in his hand a perfectly round old hat without any vestige of 
 a brim, and resting himself now on one leg and now on the other and changing 
 them constantly, stood in the doorway, looking into the parlour with the most 
 extraordinary leer I ever beheld. I entertained a grateful feeling towards 
 the boy from that minute, for I felt that he was the comedy of the child's life. 
 
 " A long way, wasn't it. Kit?" said the little old man. 
 
 " Why then, it was a goodish stretch, master," returned Kit. 
 
 " Did you find the house easily T' 
 
 " Why then, not over and above easy, master," said Kit. 
 
 " Of course you have come back hungry 2" 
 
 " Why then, I do consider myself rather so, master" was the answer. 
 
 The lad had a remarkable manner of standing sideways as he spoke, and thrust- 
 ing his head forward over his shoulder, as if he could not get at his voice without 
 that accompanying action. I think he would have amused one anywhere, but 
 the child's exquisite enjoyiuent of his oddity,, and the relief it was to find that 
 there was something she associated with merriment in a place that appeared 
 so unsuited to her, were quite irresistible. It was a great point too that Kit 
 himself was flattered by the sensation he created, and after several efforts to 
 preserve his gravity, burst into a loud roar, and so stood with his mouth wide 
 open and his eyes nearly shut, laughing violently. 
 
 The old man had again relapsed into his former abstraction and took no 
 notice of what passed, but I remarked that when her laugh was over, the 
 child's bright eyes were dimmed with tears, called forth by the fulness of 
 heart with which she welcomed her uncouth favourite after the little anxiety 
 of the night. As for Kit himself (whose laugh had been all the time one of 
 that sort which very little would change into a cry) he carried a large slice of 
 bread and meat and a mug of beer into a corner, and applied himself to dis- 
 posing of them with great voracity. 
 
 " Ah!" said the old man turning to me with a sigh as if I had spoken to 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 4,1 
 
 him but that moment, " you don't know \vhatyou say when you tell ine that I 
 don*'t consider her." 
 
 " You must not attach too great weiglit to a remark founded on first 
 appearances, my friend," said I. 
 
 " No," returned the old man thoughtfully, " no. Come hither Nell." 
 
 The little girl hastened from her seat, and put her arm about his neck. 
 
 " Do I love thee, Nell V said he. " Say— do I love thee, Nell, or no V 
 
 The child only answered by her caresses, and laid her head upon his breast. 
 
 " Why dost thou sob," said the grandfather pressing her closer to him 
 and glancing towards me. " Is it because thou know'st I love thee, and dost 
 not like that I should seem to doubt it by my question? Well, well — then 
 let us say I love thee dearly." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed you do," replied the child with great earnestness, " Kit 
 knows you do." 
 
 Kit, who in despatching his bread and meat had been swallowing two thirds 
 of his knife at every mouthful with the coolness of a juggler, stopped short in 
 his operations on being thus appealed to, and bawled " Nobody isn't such a fooi 
 as to say he doosn't " after which he incapacitated himself for further conver- 
 sation by taking a most prodigious sandwich at one bite. 
 
 '^ She is poor now " — said the old man patting the child's cheek, " but I say 
 again that the time is coming when she shall be rich. It has been a long time 
 coming, but it must come at last ; a very long time, but it surely must come. 
 It has come to other men who do nothing but waste and riot. When iciU it 
 come to me ! " 
 
 " I am very happy as I am grandfather," said the child. 
 
 " Tush, tush ! " returned the old man, "thou dost not know — howshould'st 
 thou I" Then he muttered again between his teeth, " The time must come, 1 am 
 very sure it must. It will be all the better for coming late ;" and then he 
 sighed and fell into his former musing state, and still holding the child 
 between his knees appeared to be insensible to everything around him. By 
 this time it wanted but a few minutes of midnight and I rose to go, which 
 recalled him to himself. 
 
 " One moment, sir," he said. " Now Kit — near midnight, boy, and you still 
 here ! Get home, get home, and be true to your time in the morning, for there's 
 work to do. Good night ! There, bid him good night Nell and let him 
 be gone ! " 
 
 " Good night Kit " said the child, her eyes lighting up with merriment and 
 kindness. 
 
 " Good night Miss Nell " returned the boy. 
 
 " And thank this gentleman," interposed the old man, " but for whose caro 
 I might have lost my little girl to-night." 
 
 " No, no, master," said Kit, " that won't do, that won't." 
 
 " What do you mean 1" cried the old man. 
 
 " I'd have found her master," said Kit, " I'd have found hor. I'd bet that 
 I'd find her if she was above ground, I would, as quick as anybody master. 
 Ha ha ha ! " 
 
4-i MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK 
 
 Once more opening his mouth and shutting his eyes, and laughing like a 
 stentor, Kit gradually backed to the door, and roared himself out. 
 
 Free of the room the boy was not slow in taking his departure ; when he 
 had gone and the child was occupied in clearing the table, the old man said : 
 
 " I haven't seemed to thank you sir enough for what you have done to-night, 
 but I do thank you humbly and heartily, and so does she, and her thanks are 
 better worth than mine, I should bo sorry that you went away and thouf^ht 
 I was unmindful of your goodness, or careless of her — I am not indeed." 
 
 I was sure of that, I said, from what I had seen. " But," I added, " may I 
 ask you a question I " 
 
 " Ay sir," replied the old man, " what is it l " 
 
 " This delicate child," said I, " with so much beauty and intelligence — has 
 she nobody to care for her but you, has she no other companion or adviser I " 
 
 " No," he returned looking anxiously in my face, " no, and she wants no 
 other." 
 
 " But are you not fearful " said I " that you may misunderstand a charge 
 so tender? I am sure you mean well, but are you quite certain that you 
 know how to execute such a trust as this ? I am an old man, like you, 
 nnd I am actuated by an old man's concern in all that is young and promising. 
 Do you not think that what I have seen of you and this little creature to-night 
 must have an interest not wholly fi-ee from pain ? " 
 
 " Sir " rejoined the old man after a moment's silence, " I have no right to feel 
 hurt at what you say. It is true that in many respects I am the child, and she 
 the grown person — that you have seen already. But waking or sleeping, by 
 night or day, in sickness or health, she is the one object of my care, and if you 
 knew of how much care, you would look on me with different eyes, you would 
 indeed. Ah ! it's a weary life for an old man — a weary, weary, life — but 
 there is a great end to gain and that I keep before me." 
 
 8being that he was in a state of excitement and impatience, I turned 
 to put on an outer coat which I had thrown off on entering the I'oom, pur- 
 posing to say no more. I was sui-prised to see the child standing patiently by 
 with a cloak upon her arm, and in her hand a hat and stick. 
 
 " Those are not mine, my dear," said I. 
 
 " No," returned the child quietly, " they are grandfather's." 
 
 " But he is not going out to-night." 
 
 " Oh yes he is "" said the child, with a smile. 
 
 " And what becomes of you, my pretty one ? " 
 
 " Me ! I stay here of course. I always do." 
 
 I looked in astonishment towards the old man, but he was, or feigned to be, 
 busied in the arrangement of his dress. From him I looked back to the slight 
 gentle figure of the child. Alone ! In that gloomy place all the long, dreary night ! 
 
 She evinced no consciousness of my surprise, but cheerfully helped the old 
 man with his cloak, and when he was ready took a candle to light us out. 
 Finding that we did not follow as she expected, she looked back with a smile 
 and waited for us. The old man showed by his face that he plainly under- 
 stood the cause of my hesitation, but he merely signed to me with an inclina- 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 45 
 
 tion of the head to pass out of the room before him, and remained silent. I 
 had no resource but to comply. 
 
 When we reached the door, the child setting down the candle, turned to say 
 good night and raised her face to kiss me. Then she ran to the old man, who 
 folded her in his arms and bade God bless her. 
 
 "Sleep soundly Nell" he said in a low voice, " and angels guard thy bed. 
 Do not forget thy prayers, my sweet." 
 
 *' No indeed " answered the child fervently, "they make me feel so happy ! " 
 
 "That's well; I know they do; they should" said the old man. " Bless 
 thee a hundred times. Early in the morning I shall be home." 
 
 " You'll not ring twice " returned the child. " The bell wakes me, even in 
 the middle of a dream." 
 
 With this, they separated. The child opened the door (now guarded by 
 a shutter which I had heard the boy put up before he left the house) and with 
 another farewell whose clear and tender note I have recalled a thousand times, 
 held it until we had passed out. The old man paused a moment while it was 
 gently closed and fastened on the inside, and satisfied that this was done, 
 walked on at a slow pace. At the street-corner he stopped, and regarding me 
 with a troubled countenance said that our ways were widely different and that 
 he must take his leave. I would have spoken, but summoning up more alacrity 
 than might have been expected in one of his appearance, he hurried away. 
 I could see that twice or thrice he looked back as if to ascertain if I were still 
 watching him, or perhaps to assure himself that I was not following at a 
 distance. The obscurity of the night favoured his disappearance, and his 
 figure was soon beyond my sight. 
 
 I remained standing on the spot where he had left me, unwilling to depart, 
 and yet unknowing why I should loiter there. I looked wistfully into the 
 street we had lately quitted, and after a time directed my steps that way. I 
 passed and repassed the house, and stopped and listened at the door ; all was 
 dark, and silent as the grave. 
 
 Yet I lingered about, and could not tear myself away, tliinking of all pos- 
 sible harm that might happen to the child — of fires and robberies and even 
 murder — and feeling as if some evil must ensue if I turned my back upon 
 the place. The closing of a door or window in the street brought me before 
 the curiosity-dealer's once more ; I crossed the road and looked up at the 
 house to assure myself that the noise had not come from there. No, it was 
 black, cold, and lifeless as before. 
 
 There were few passengers astir ; the street was sad and dismal, and pretty 
 well my own. A few stragglers from the theatres hurried by, and now and 
 then I turned aside to avoid some noisy drunkard as he reeled homewards, 
 but these interruptions were not frequent and soon ceased. The clocks struck 
 one. Still I paced up and down, promising myself that every time should be 
 the last, and breaking faith with myself on some new plea as often as I did so. 
 
 The more I thouglit of what the old man had said, and of his looks and 
 bearing, the less I could account for what I had seen and heard. I had a 
 strong misgiving that his nightly absence was for no good purpose. I had 
 
46 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREYS CLOCK. 
 
 only come to know the fact through the innocence of the child, and though 
 the old man was by at the time and saw my undisguised surprise, he had pre- 
 served a strange mystery upon the subject and offered no word of explanation. 
 These reflections naturally recalled again more strongly than before his hag- 
 gard f;icc, his wandering manner, his restless anxious looks. His affection for 
 the child might not be inconsistent with villany of the worst kind ; even 
 that very affection was in itself an extraordinary contradiction, or how could 
 he leave her thus I Disposed as I was to think badly of him, 1 never doubted 
 that his love for her was real. I could not admit the thought, remeniberinor 
 what had passed between us, and the tone of voice in which he had called her 
 by her name. 
 
 " Stay here of course" the child had said in answer to my question, " I 
 always do !" What could take him from home by night, and every night ! 
 I called up all the strange tales I had ever heard of dark and secret deeds 
 committed in great towns and escaping detection for a long series of years ; 
 wild as many of these stories were, I could not find one adapted to this 
 mystery, which only became the more impenetrable, in proportion as I sought 
 to solve it. 
 
 Occupied with such thoughts as these, and a crowd of others all tending to 
 the same point, I continued to pace the street for two long hours ; at length 
 the rain began to descend heavily, and then overpowered by fatigue though no 
 less interested than I had been at first, I engaged the nearest coach and so got 
 home. A cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth, the lamp burnt brightly, 
 my clock received me with its old familiar welcome ; everything v.as quiet 
 warm and cheering, and in happy contrast to the gloom and darkness I had 
 quitted. 
 
:MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 47 
 
 But all that night, waking or in my sleep, the same thoughts recurred and 
 the same images retained possession of my brain. T had ever before me the 
 old dark murky rooms — the gaunt suits of mail with their ghostly silent air — 
 the faces all awry, grinning from wood and stone — the dust and rust and 
 worm that lives in wood— and alone in the midst of all this lumber and decay 
 and ugly age, the beautiful child in her gentle slumber, smiling through her 
 light and sunny dreams. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Master Humphrey has been favoured with the following letter, written on 
 strongly-scented paper, and sealed in light blue wax with the representation 
 of two very plump doves, interchanging beaks. It does not commence with 
 any of the usual forms of address, but begins as is here set forth. 
 
 Bath, Wednesday Night. 
 
 Heavens I into what an indiscretion do I suffer myself to be betrayed ! 
 To address these faltering lines to a total stranger, and that stranger one of a 
 conflicting sex ! — and yet I am precipitated into the abyss, and have no power 
 of self snatchation (forgive me if I coin that phrase) from the yawning gulf 
 before me. 
 
 Yes, I am writing to a man, but let me not think of that, for madness is in 
 the thought. You will understand my feelings I Oh yes ! I am sure you will ! 
 and you will respect them too, and not despise them — will you I 
 
 Let me be calm. That portrait — smiling as once he smiled on me — that cane 
 dang-liuff as I have seen it dangle from his hand I know not how oft — those 
 legs that have glided through my nightly dreams and never stopped to speak — 
 the perfectly gentlemanly though false original — can I be mistaken ? oh no no. 
 
 Let me be calmer yet ; I would be calm as coffins. You have published a 
 letter from one whose likeness is engraved, but whose name (and wherefore !) 
 is suppressed. Shall / breathe that name ! Is it — but why ask when my heart 
 tells me too truly that it is ! 
 
 I would not upbraid him with his treachery, I would not remind him of 
 those times when he plighted the most eloquent of vows, and procured from me 
 a small pecuniary accommodation — and yet I would see him — see hinx did 
 1 gay — him — alas ! such is woman"'s nature. For as the poet beautifully says — 
 but you will already have anticipated the sentiment. Is it not sweet ? oh yes ! 
 
 It was in this city (hallowed by the recollection) that I met him fii'st, and 
 assuredly if mortal happiness be recorded anywhere, then those rubbers with 
 their three-and-sixpenny points are scored on tablets of celestial brass. He 
 always held an honour— generally two. On that eventful night, we stood at 
 eight. He raised his eyes (luminous in their seductive sweetness) to my 
 
4S MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 agitated face. " Can you V said he, with peculiar meaning. I felt the gentle 
 pressure of his foot on mine ; our corns tlirobbed in unison. " Can you V he 
 said again, and every lineament of his expressive countenance added the words 
 *' resist me V I murmured " No," and fainted. 
 
 They said when I recovered, it was the weather. I said it was the nutmeg 
 in the negus. How little did they suspect the truth ! How little did they 
 guess the deep mysterious meaning of that inquiry ! He called next morning 
 on his knees— I do not mean to say that he actually came in that position to 
 the house door, but that he went down upon those joints directly the servant 
 had retired. He brought some verses in his hat which he said were original, 
 but Av'hich I have since found were Milton"'s. Likewise a little bottle labelled 
 laudanum : also a pistol and a swordstick. He drew the latter, uncocked the 
 former, and clicked the trigger of the pocket fire-arm. He had come, he said, 
 to conquer or to die. He did not die. He wrested from me an avowal of my 
 love, and let off the pistol out of a back window previous to partaking of a 
 slight repast. 
 
 Faithless, inconstant man ! How many ages seem to have elapsed since 
 his unaccountable and perfidious disappearance ! Could I still forgive him 
 both that and the borrowed lucre that he promised to pay next week ! Could 
 I spui-n him from my feet if he approached in penitence, and with a matri- 
 monial object ! Would the blandishing enchanter still weave his spells around 
 me, or should I burst them all and turn away in coldness ! I dare not trust 
 my weakness with the thought. 
 
 JMy brain is in a whirl again. You know his address, his occupations, his 
 mode of life, are acquainted perhaps with his inmost thoughts. You are 
 a humane and philanthropic character — reveal all you know — all ; but espe- 
 cially the street and number of his lodgings. The post is departing, the 
 bellman rings — pray Heaven it be not the knell of love and hope to 
 
 Belinda. 
 
 P.S. Pardon the wanderings of a bad pen and a distracted mind. Address 
 to the Post-office. The bellman rendered impatient by delay is ringing 
 dreadfully in the passage. 
 
 P. P.S. I open this to say that the bellman is gone and that you must not 
 expect it till the next post, so don't be surprised when you don't get it. 
 
 Master Humphrey does not feel himself at liberty to furnish his fair corre- 
 spondent with the address of the gentleman in question, but he publishes her 
 letter as a public appeal to his faith and gallantry. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 ■ ^fT^^^ 
 
 '/fy-^^. 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S VISITOR. 
 
 HEN I am in a thoughtful mood, I often succeed in 
 diverting the current of some mournful reflections, by 
 conjuring up a number of fanciful associations with the 
 objects that surround me, and dwelling upon the scenes 
 and characters they suggest. 
 
 1 have been led by this habit to assign to every room 
 in my house and evei'y old staring portrait on its walls, 
 a separate interest of its own. Thus, I am persuaded that a stately dame, 
 terrible to behold in her rigid modesty, who hangs above the chimney-piece of 
 my bed-room, is the former lady of the mansion. In the court-yard below, is 
 a stone face of surpassing ugliness, which I have somehow — in a kind of 
 jealousy, I am afraid — associated with her husband. Above my study, is a 
 little room with ivy peeping through the lattice, from which I bring their 
 daughter, a lovely girl of eighteen or nineteen years of ago and dutiful in all 
 respects save one, that one being her devoted attachment to a young gentle- 
 man on the stairs, whose grandmother (degraded to a disused laundry in 
 the garden) piques herself upon an old family quarrel and is the implacable 
 enemy of their love. With such materials as these, I work out many a little 
 drama, whose chief merit is, that I can bring it to a happy end at will ; I 
 5. F 
 
50 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 have so many of them on hand, that if on my return home one of these 
 evenings I were to find some bluff old wight of two centuries ago comfortably 
 seated in my easy chair, and a love-lorn damsel vainly appealing to his obdu- 
 rate heart and leaning her white arm upon my clock itself, I verily believe I 
 should only express my surprise that they had kept me waiting so long, and 
 never honoured me with a call before. 
 
 I was, in such a mood as this, sitting in my garden yesterday mornino- 
 under the shade of a favourite tree, revelling in all the bloom and brightness 
 about me, and feeling every sense of hope and enjoyment quickened by this 
 most beautiful season of Spring, when my meditations were interrupted by 
 the unexpected appearance of my barber at the end of the walk, who I 
 immediately saw was coming towards me with a hasty step that betokened 
 something remarkable. 
 
 My barber is at all times a very brisk, bustling, active little man — for he is, 
 as it were, chubby all over, without being stout or unwieldy — but yesterday his 
 alacrity was so very uncommon that it quite took me by surprise. Nor could I 
 fail to observe when he came up to me, that his grey eyes were twinkling in a 
 most extraordinary manner, that his little red nose was in an unusual glow, that 
 every line in his round bright face was twisted and curved into an expression 
 of pleased surprise, and that his whole countenance was radiant with glee. I 
 was still more surprised to see my housekeeper, who usually preserves a very 
 staid air and stands somewhat upon her dignity, peeping round the hedge at 
 the bottom of the walk, and exchanging nods and smiles with the barber who 
 twice or thrice looked over his shoulder for that purpose. I could conceive 
 no announcement to which these appearances could be the prelude, unless it 
 were that they had married each other that morning. 
 
 I was, consequently, a little disappointed when it only came out that there 
 was a gentleman in the house who wished to speak with me. 
 
 " And who is it ? " said I. 
 
 The barber with his face screwed up still tighter than before, replied that 
 the gentleman would not send his name, but wished to see me. I pondered 
 for a moment, wondering who this visitor might be, and 1 remarked that he 
 embraced the opportunity of exchanging another nod with the housekeeper 
 who still lingered in the distance. 
 
 " Well ! " said I, " bid the gentleman come here."" 
 
 This seemed to be the consummation of the barber's hopes, for he turned 
 sharp round, and actually ran away. 
 
 Now, my sight is not very good at a distance, and therefore when the 
 gentleman first appeared in the walk, I was not quite clear whether he was a 
 stranger to me or otherwise. He was an elderly gentleman, but came tripping 
 along in the pleasantest manner conceivable, avoiding the garden-roller and 
 the borders of the beds with inimitable dexterity, picking his way among the 
 flower-pots, and smiling with unspeakable good-humour. Before he was half 
 way up the walk ho began to salute me ; then I thought I knew him ; but 
 when he came towards me with his hat in his hand, the sun shining on his 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 51 
 
 bald head, his bland face, his bright spectacles, his fawn-coloured tights and 
 his black gaiters — then, my heart warmed towards him and I felt quite certain 
 that it was Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " My dear sir " — said that gentleman as I rose to receive him, " pray be 
 seated. Pray sit down. Now, do not stand on my account. I must insist 
 upon it, really." With these words Mr. Pickwick gently pressed me down 
 into my seat, and taking my hand in his, shook it again and again with a 
 warmth of manner perfectly irresistible. I endeavoured to express in my 
 welcome, something of that heartiness and pleasure which the sight of him 
 awakened and made him sit down beside me. All this time ho kept alter- 
 nately releasing my hand, and grasping it again, and surveying me through 
 his spectacles with such a beaming countenance as I never beheld. 
 
 " You knew me directly ! " said I\Ir. Pickwick. " What a pleasure it is 
 to think that you knew me directly ! " 
 
 I remarked that I had read his adventures very often, and that his features 
 were quite familiar to me from the published portraits. As I thought it a 
 good opportunity of adverting to the circumstance, I condoled with him upon 
 the various libels on his character which had found their way into print. Mr. 
 Pickwick shook his head and for a moment looked very indignant, but smilinsr 
 again directly, added that no doubt I was acquainted with Cervantes' intro- 
 duction to the second part of Don Quixote, and that it fully expressed his 
 sentiments on the subject. 
 
 " But now"" said Mr. Pickwick, " don't you wonder how I found you outT"' 
 
 " I will never wondei", and with your good leave, never know," said I, 
 smiling in my turn. " It is enough for me that you give me this gratification. 
 I have not the least desire that you should tell me by what means I have 
 obtained it." 
 
 " You are very kind," returned Mr. Pickwick, shaking me by the hand again, 
 " you are so exactly what I expected ! But for what particular purpose do 
 you think I have sought you out my dear sir I Now, what do you tliink I have 
 come for ? " 
 
 Mr. Pickwick put this question as though ho were persuaded that it was 
 morally impossible that I could by any means divine the deep purpose of his 
 visit, and that it must be hidden from all human ken. Therefore, although I 
 was rejoiced to think that I anticipated his drift, I feigned to be quite igno- 
 rant of it, and after a brief consideration shook my head despairingly. 
 
 " What should you say," said Mr. Pickwick, laying the fore-finger of his 
 left hand upon my coat-sleeve, and looking at me with his head thrown back, 
 and ahttle on one side, "what should you say if 1 confessed that after reading 
 your account of yourself and your little society, I had come here, a humble 
 candidate for one of those empty chairs ? " 
 
 " I should say," I returned, " that I know of only one circumstance which 
 could still further endear that little society to me, and that would be the 
 associating with it my old friend — for you must let me call you so— my old 
 friend Mr. Pickwick." 
 
52 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 As I made him this answer, every feature of Mr. Pickwick's face fused itself 
 into one all-pervading expression of delight. After shaking me heartily by 
 both hands at once, he patted me gently on the back, and then — I well under- 
 stood why — coloured up to the eyes, and hoped with great earnestness of 
 manner that he had not hurt me. 
 
 If he had, I would have been content that he should have repeated the 
 offence a hundred times rather than suppose so, but as he had not, I had no 
 difficulty in changing the subject by making an enquiry which had been upon 
 my lips twenty times already. 
 
 " You have not told me," said I, " anything about Sam Weller." 
 
 " Oh ! Sam," replied Mr. Pickwick, " is the same as ever. The same true 
 faithful fellow that he ever was. What should I tell you about Sam, my 
 dear Sir, except that he is more indispensable to my happiness and comfort 
 every day of my life V 
 
 "And Mr. Weller senior?" said I. 
 
 "Old Mr. Weller" returned Mr. Pickwick, "is in no respect more 
 altered than Sam, unless " it be that he is a little more opinionated than 
 he was formerly, and perhaps at times more talkative. He spends a good 
 deal of his time now in our neighbourhood, and has so constituted himself a 
 part of my body-guard, that when I ask permission for Sam to have a seat in 
 your kitchen on clock nights (supposing your three friends think me worthy 
 to fill one of the chairs) I am afraid I must often include Mr. Weller too." 
 
 I very readily pledged myself to give both Sam and his father a free admis- 
 sion to my house at all hours and seasons, and tliis point settled, we fell into 
 a lengthy conversation which was carried on with as little reserve on both sides 
 as if we had been intimate friends from our youth, and which conveyed to me 
 the comfortable assurance that Mr. Pickwick's buoyancy of spirit, and indeed 
 all his old cheerful characteristics, were wholly unimpaired. As he had 
 spoken of the consent of my friends as being yet in abeyance, I repeatedly 
 assured him that his proposal was certain to receive their most joyful sanction, 
 and several times entreated that he would give me leave to introduce him to 
 JackRedburn and Mr. Miles (who were near at hand) without further ceremony. 
 
 To this proposal, however, Mr. Pickwick's dehcacy would by no means 
 allow him to accede, for he urged that his eligibility must be formally discussed, 
 and that until this had been done, he could not think of obtruding himself 
 further. The utmost I could obtain from him was, a promise that he would 
 attend upon our next night of meeting, that I might have the pleasure of 
 presenting him immediately on his election. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick having with many blushes placed in my hands a small roll of 
 paper, which he termed his " qualification," put a great many questions to me 
 touching my friends and particularly Jack Redburn, whom he repeatedly 
 termed "a fine fellow," and in whose favor I could see he was strongly pre- 
 disposed. When I had. satisfied him on these points, I took him up into my 
 room that he might make acquaintance with the old chamber which is our 
 place of meeting. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. ^3 
 
 " And tbis" said Mr. Pickwick stopping short, " is the clock ! Dear me ! 
 And this is really the old clock ! " 
 
 I thought he would never have come away from it. After advancing 
 towards it softly, and laying his hand upon it with as much respect and as 
 many smiling looks as if it were alive, he set himself to consider it in every 
 possible direction, now mounting on a chair to look at the top, now going 
 down upon his knees to examine the bottom, now surveying the sides with his 
 spectacles almost touching the case, and now trying to peep between it and 
 the wall to get a slight view of the back. Then, he would retire a pace or two 
 and look up at the dial to see it go, and then draw near again and stand with 
 his head on one side to hear it tick : never failing to glance towards me at 
 intervals of a few seconds each, and nod his head with such complacent grati- 
 fication as I am quite unable to describe. His admiration was not confined 
 to the clock either, but extended itself to every article in the room, and really 
 when he had gone through them every one, and at last sat himself down in all 
 the six chairs one after another to try how they felt, I never saw such a 
 picture of good-humour and happiness as he presented, from the top of his 
 shining head down to the very last button of his gaiters. 
 
 I should have been well pleased, and should have had the utmost enjoyment 
 of his company, if he had remained with me all day, but my favorite, striking 
 the hour, reminded him that he must take his leave. I could not forbear 
 telling him once more how glad he had made me, and we shook hands all the 
 way down stairs. 
 
 We had no sooner arrived in the Hall, than my housekeeper gliding out of 
 her little room (she had changed her gown and cap I observed) greeted Mr. 
 Pickwick with her best smile and curtsey, and the barber feigning to be 
 accidentally passing on his way out, made him a vast number of bows. When 
 the housekeeper curtseyed, Mr. Pickwick bowed with the utmost politeness, 
 and wlien he bowed the housekeeper curtseyed again ; between the house- 
 keeper and the barber, I should say that Mr. Pickwick faced about and bowed 
 with undiminished affability, fifty times at least. 
 
 I saw him to the door ; an omnibus was at the moment passing the corner 
 of the lane, which Mr. Pickwick hailed and ran after with extraordinary 
 nimbleness. When he had got about half way he turned his head, and seeing 
 that I was still looking after him and that I waved my hand, stopped, 
 evidently irresolute whether to comeback and shake hands again, or to go on. 
 The man behind the omnibus shouted, and ]\Ir. Pickwick ran a little way 
 towards him : then he looked round at me, and ran a little way back again. 
 Then there was another shout and he turned round once more and ran the 
 other way. After several of these vibrations, the man settled the question by 
 taking Mr. Pickwick by the arm and putting him into the carriage, but 
 his last action was to let down the window and wave his hat to me as it 
 drove off. 
 
 I lost no time in opening the parcel ho had left with mc. The following 
 were its contents : — 
 
54 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 MR. PICKWICK'S TALE. 
 
 A GOOD many years have passed away since old John Podgers lived in the 
 town of Windsor, where he was born, and where in course of time he came 
 to be comfortably and snugly buried. You may be sure that in the time of 
 King James the First, Windsor Mas a very quaint queer old town, and you 
 may take it upon my authority that John Podgers was a very quaint queer 
 old fellow ; consequently he and Windsor fitted each other to a nicety, and 
 seldom parted company even for half a day. 
 
 John Podgers was broad, sturdy, Dutch-built, short, and a very hard eater, as 
 men of his figure often are. Being a hard sleeper likewise, he divided his time 
 pretty equally between these two recreations, always falling asleep when he had 
 done eating and always taking another turn at the trencher when he had done 
 sleeping, by which means he grew more corpulent and more drowsy every day 
 of his life. Indeed it used to be currently reported that when he sauntered 
 up and down the sunny side of the street before dinner (as he never failed to do 
 in fair weather) he enjoyed his soundest nap, but many people held this to be 
 a fiction as he had several times been seen to look after fat oxen on market 
 days, and had even been heard by persons of good credit and reputation to 
 chuckle at the sight, and say to himself with great glee " Live beef, live beef ! " 
 It was upon this evidence that the wisest people in Windsor (beginning with 
 the local authorities of course) held that John Podgers was a man of strong 
 sound sense — not what is called smart, perhaps, and it might be of a rather 
 lazy and apoplectic turn, but still a man of solid parts and one who meant 
 much more than he cared to show. This impression was confirmed by a very 
 dignified way he had of shaking his head and imparting at the same time a 
 pendulous motion to his double chin ; in short he passed for one of those 
 people who being plunged into the Thames would make no vain efforts to set it 
 afire, but v»'ould straightway flop down to the bottom with a deal of gravity 
 and be highly respected in consequence by all good men. 
 
 Being well to do in the world, and a peaceful widower — having a great 
 appetite, which, as he could afford to gratify it, was a luxury and no incon- 
 venience, and a power of going to sleep which as he had no occasion to keep 
 awake was a most enviable faculty — you will readily suppose that John 
 Podgers was a happy man. But appearances are often deceptive when they 
 least seem so, and the truth is that notwithstanding his extreme sleekness he 
 was rendered uneasy in his mind and exceedingly uncomfortable by a constant 
 apprehension that beset him night and day. 
 
 You know very well that in those times there flourished divers evil old 
 women who under the name of Witches spread great disorder through the land, 
 and inflicted various dismal tortures upon Christian men : sticking pins and 
 needles into them w'lien they least expected it, and causing them to walk in 
 the air with their feet upwards to the great terror of their wives and families, 
 who were naturally very much disconcerted when the master of the house unex- 
 pectedly came home, knocking at the door with his heels and combing his hair 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. ' 55 
 
 on the scraper. These were their commonest pranks, but they every day played 
 a hundred others, of which none were less objectionable and many were much 
 more so, being improper besides ; the result was that vengeance was denounced 
 against all old women, with whom even the king himself had no sympathy (as 
 he certainly ought to have had) for with his own most Gracious hand he 
 penned a most Gracious consignment of them to everlasting wrath, and 
 devised most Gracious means for their confusion and slaughter, in virtue 
 whereof scarcely a day passed but one witch at the least was most graciously 
 hanged, drowned or roasted in some part of his dominions. Still the press 
 teemed with strange and terrible news from the North or the South or the 
 East or the West relative to witches and their unhappy victims in some corner 
 of the country, and the Public's hair stood on end to that degree that it lifted 
 its hat off its head, and made its face pale with terror. 
 
 You may believe that the little town of Windsor did not escape the general 
 contagion. The inhabitants boiled a witch on the King's birthday and sent a 
 bottle of the broth to court, with a dutiful address expressive of their loyalty. 
 The King being rather frightened by the present, piously bestowed it upon the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, and returned an answer to the address wherein ho 
 gave them golden rules for discovering witches and laid great stress upon 
 certain protecting charms, and especially horse shoes. Immediately the towns- 
 people went to work nailing up horse-shoes over every door, and so many 
 anxious parents apprenticed their children to farriers, to keep them out of 
 harm's way, that it became quite a genteel trade and flourished exceedingly. 
 
 In the midst of all this bustle John Podgers ate and slept as usual but shook 
 his head a great deal oftener than was his custom, and was observed to look 
 at the oxen less, and at the old women more. He had a little shelf put up in his 
 sitting-room, whereon was displayed in a row which grew longer every week all 
 the witchcraft literature of the time ; he grew learned in charms and exorcisms, 
 hinted at certain questionable females on broomsticks whom he had seen from 
 his chamber window riding in the air at night, and was in constant terror of 
 being bewitched. At length from perpetually dwelling upon this one idea 
 which being alone in his head had it all its own way, the fear of witches 
 became the single passion of his life. He, who up to that time had never 
 known what it was to dream, began to have visions of witches whenever he 
 fell asleep ; waking, they were incessantly present to his imagination likewise ; 
 and sleeping or waking he had not a moment's peace. He began to set witch- 
 traps in the highway, and was often seen lying in wait round the corner for 
 hours together, to watch their effect. These engines were of sinq^le construc- 
 tion, usually consisting of two straws disposed in the form of a cross, or a piece 
 of a bible-cover with a pinch of salt upon it, but they were infallible, and if an 
 old woman chanced to stumble over them (as not unfrcqucntly liappened, tho 
 chosen spot being a broken and stony place) John started from a doze, 
 pounced out upon her, and hung round her nock till assistance arrived, when 
 she was immediately carried away and drowned. By dint of constantly 
 inveigling old ladies and disposing of them in this sunnnarv mannor, he 
 
56 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 acquired the reputation of a great public character, and as he received no 
 harm in these pursuits beyond a scratched face or so, ho came in course of 
 time to be considered witcli-proof. 
 
 There was but one person who entertained the least doubt of John Podgers's 
 gifts, and that person was his own nephew, a wild roving young fellow of 
 twenty who had been brought up in his uncle's house and lived there still — 
 that is to say when ho was at home, which was not as often as it might have 
 been. As he was an apt scholar it was he who read aloud every fresh piece 
 of strange and terrible intelligence that John Podgers bought ; and this he 
 always did of an evening in the little porch in front of the house, round which 
 the neighbours would flock in crowds to hear the direful news — for people like to 
 te frightened, and when they can be frightened for nothing and at another 
 man's expense, they like it all the better. 
 
 
 One fine midsummer evening, a group of persons were gathered in this place 
 listening intently to Will Marks (that was the nephew's name) as with his 
 cap very much on one side, his arm coiled slyly round the waist of a pretty 
 girl who sat beside him, and his face screwed into a comical expression intended 
 to represent extreme gravity, he read — ^N'ith Heaven knows how many 
 embellishments of his own — a dismal account of a gentleman down ^ m 
 Northamptonshire under the influence of witchcraft and taken forcible possession 
 of by the Devil, who was playing his very self with him. John Podgers in a 
 high sugar-loaf hat and short cloak filled the opposite seat and surveyed the 
 auditory with a look of mingled pride and horror very edifying to see, while 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 67 
 
 the hearers with their heads thrust forward and their mouths open, listened 
 and trembled, and hoped there was a great deal more to come. Sometimes 
 Will stopped for an instant to look round upon his eager audience, and then 
 with a more comical expression of face than before and a settling of himself 
 comfortably which included a squeeze of the young lady before mentioned, 
 he launched into some new wonder surpassing all the others. 
 
 The setting sun shed his last golden rays upon this little party who, absorbed 
 in their present occupation, took no heed of the approach of night or the glory 
 in which the day went down, when the sound of a horse approaching at a good 
 round trot, invading the silence of the hour, caused the reader to make a 
 sudden stop and the listeners to raise their heads in wonder. Nor was their 
 wonder diminished when a horseman dashed up to the porch, and abruptly 
 checking his steed, inquired where one John Podgers dwelt. 
 
 "Here !"" cried a dozen voices, while a dozen hands pointed out sturdy John, 
 still basking in the terrors of the pamphlet. 
 
 The rider giving his bridle to one of those who surrounded him, dismounted, 
 and approached John hat in hand, but with great haste. 
 
 " Whence come ye V said John. 
 
 " From Kingston, Master.'' 
 
 " And wherefore ?" 
 
 " On most pressing business."" 
 
 " Of what nature ?" 
 
 " Witchcraft." 
 
 Witchcraft ! Everybody looked aghast at the breathless messenger, and the 
 breathless messenger looked equally aghast at everybody — except Will Marks, 
 who finding himself unobserved, not only squeezed the young lady again, but 
 kissed her twice. Surely ho must have been bewitched himself, or he never 
 could have done it — and the young lady too, or she never would have let him. 
 
 " Witchcraft V cried Will, drowning the sound of his last kiss which was 
 rather a loud one. 
 
 The messenger turned towards him, and with a frown repeated the word 
 more solemnly than before, then told his errand, which was, in brief, that the 
 people of Kingston had been greatly terrified for some nights past by hideous 
 revels, held by witches beneath the gibbet within a mile of the town, and 
 related and deposed to by chance wayfarers who had passed within ear-shot of 
 the spot — that the sound of their voices in their wild orgies had been plainly 
 heard by many persons — that three old women laboured under strong suspicion, 
 and that precedents had been consulted and solemn council had, and it was 
 found that to identify the hags some single person must watch upon the spot 
 alone — that no single person had the courage to perform the task — and that 
 he had been despatched express to solicit John Podgers to undertake it that 
 very night, as being a man of great renown, who bore a charmed life, and was 
 proof against unholy spells. 
 
 John received this communication with much composure, and said in a 
 few words, that it would have afforded him inexpressible pleasure to do 
 
58 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 the Kingston people so slight a service, if it were not for his unfortunate 
 propensity to fall asleep, which no man regretted more than himself upon the 
 present occasion, but which quite settled the question. Nevertheless, he 
 said, there was a gentleman present (and here he looked very hard at a tall 
 farrier) who having been engaged all his life in the manufacture of horse- shoes 
 must be quite invulnerable to the power of witches, and who, he had no doubt, 
 from his known reputation for bravery and good nature, would readily accept 
 the commission. The farrier politely thanked him for his good opinion, which 
 it would always bo his study to deserve, but added that with regard to the 
 present little matter he couldn't think of it on any account, as his departing on 
 such an errand would certainly occasion the instant death of his wife, to whom 
 as they all knew he was tenderly attached. Now, so far from this circum- 
 stance being notorious, everybody had suspected the reverse, as the farrier 
 W9s in the habit of beating his lady rather more than tender husbands usually 
 do ; all the married men present, however, applauded his resolution with 
 great vehemence, and one and all declared that they would stop at home 
 and die if needful (which happily it was not) in defence of their lawful 
 partners. 
 
 This burst of enthusiasm over, they began to look as by one consent toward 
 Will Marks, who with his cap more on one side than ever, sat watching the 
 proceedings with extraordinary unconcern. He had never been heard openly 
 to express his disbelief in witches, but had often cut such jokes at their 
 expense as left it to be inferred, publicly stating on several occasions that he 
 considered a broomstick an inconvenient charger and one especially unsuited 
 to the dignity of the female character, and indulging in other free remarks of 
 the same tendency to the great amusement of his wild companions. 
 
 As they looked at Will, they began to whisper and murmur among them- 
 selves, and at length one man cried, " Why don't you ask Will INIarks f 
 
 As this was what everybody had been thinking of, they all took up the 
 word, and cried in concert, " Ah ! why don't you ask Will V 
 
 " He don't care," said the farrier. 
 
 " Not he," added another voice in the crowd. 
 
 " He don't believe in it you know," sneered a little man with a yellow face 
 and a taunting nose and chin, which he thrust out from under the arm of a 
 long man before him. 
 
 " Besides," said a red -faced gentleman with a gruff voice, " he's a single 
 man." 
 
 " That's the point !" said the farrier ; and all the married men murmured, 
 ah ! that was it, and they only wished they were single themselves ; they 
 would show him what spirit was, very soon. 
 
 The messenger looked towards Will Marks beseechingly. 
 
 " It will be a wet night friend, and my grey nag is tired after yesterday's 
 work-" 
 
 Here there was a general titter. 
 
 " But," resumed AVill looking about him with a smile, " if nobody else puts 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 59 
 
 in a better claim to go for the credit of the town, I am your man, and I would 
 be if I had to go afoot. In five minutes I shall be in the saddle, unless I am 
 depriving any worthy gentleman here, of the honour of the adventure, which 
 I wouldn't do for the world." 
 
 But here arose a double difficulty, for not only did John Podgers combat 
 the resolution with all the words he had, which were not many, but the 
 young lady combatted it too with all the tears she had, which were ver)' 
 many indeed. Will, however, being inflexible, pan-ied his uncle's objections 
 with a joke, and coaxed the young lady into a smile in three short whispers. 
 As it was plain that he would go and set his mind upon it, John Podgers 
 offered him a few first-rate charms out of his own pocket which he duti- 
 fully declined to accept, and the young lady gave him a kiss which he also 
 returned. 
 
 " You see what a rare thing it is to be married '"" said Will, " and how 
 careful and considerate all these husbands are. There's not a man among 
 them but his heart is leaping to forestal me in this adventure and yet a stronc 
 sense of duty keeps him back. The husbands in this one little town are a 
 pattern to the world, and so must the wives be too, for that matter, or they 
 could never boast half the influence they have ? " 
 
 Waiting for no reply to this sarcasm, he snapped his fingers and withdrew 
 into the house, and thence into the stable, while some busied themselves in 
 refreshing the messenger, and others in baiting his steed. In less than the 
 specified time, he returned by another way, with a good cloak hanging over his 
 arm, a good sword girded by his side, and leading his good horse caparisoned 
 for the journey. 
 
 " Now" said Will leaping into the saddle at a bound, " up and away. Upon 
 your mettle friend and push on. Good night ! " 
 
 He kissed his hand to the girl, nodded to his drowsy uncle, waved his cap 
 to the rest — and oflF they flew pell-mell as if aU the witches in England were in 
 their horses' legs. They were out of sight in a minute. 
 
 The men who were left behind, shook their heads doubtfully, stroked their 
 chins, and shook their heads again. The farrier said that certainly Will 
 Marks was a good horseman, nobody should ever say he denied that, but he 
 was rash, very rash, and there was no telling what the end of it might be — 
 what did he go for, that was what he wanted to know ? He wished the young 
 fellow no harm, but why did he go? Everybody echoed these words, and 
 shook their heads again, having done which they wished John Podgers good 
 night, and straggled home to bed. 
 
 The Kingston people were in their first sleep, when Will Marks and his 
 conductor rode through the town and up to the door of a house where sundry 
 grave functionaries were assembled, anxiously expecting the arrival of the 
 renowned Podgers. They were a little disappointed to find a gay young man 
 in his place, but they put the best face upon the matter and gave him full 
 instructions how he was to conceal himself behind the gibbet, and watch and 
 listen to the witches, and how at a certain time he was to burst forth and cut 
 
60 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 and slash among them vigorously, so that tho suspected parties might be found 
 bleeding in their beds next day, and thoroughly confounded. They gave him 
 a great quantity of wholesome advice besides, and — which was more to the 
 purpose with Will — a good supper. All these things being done, and midnight 
 nearly come, they sallied forth to show liim the spot where he was to keep his 
 dreary vigil. 
 
 The night was by this time dark and threatening. There was a rumbling of 
 distant thunder, and a low sighing of wind among the trees, which was very 
 dismal. The potentates of the town kept so uncommonly close to Will 
 that they trod upon his toes, or stumbled against his ancles, or nearly tripped 
 up his heels at every step he took, and besides these annoyances their teeth 
 chattered so with fear that he seemed to be accompanied by a dirge of 
 castanets. 
 
 At last they made a halt at the opening of a lonely desolate space, and 
 pointing to a black object at some distance, asked Will if he saw that, yonder. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " What then ?" 
 
 Informing him abruptly that it was the gibbet where he was to watch, they 
 wished him good night in an extremely friendly manner, and ran back as fast 
 as their feet would carry them. 
 
 Will walked boldly to the gibbet and glancing upward when he came under it 
 saw — certainly with satisfaction — that it was empty, and that nothing dangled 
 from the top but some iron chains which swung mournfully to and fro as they 
 were moved by the breeze. After a careful survey of every quarter, he 
 determined to take his station with his face towards the town ; both because 
 that would place him with his back to the wind, and because if any trick or 
 surprise were attempted it would probably come from that direction in the first 
 instance. Having taken these precautions, he wrapped his cloak about him so 
 that it left the handle of his sword, free, and ready to his hand, and leaning 
 against the gallows-tree, with his cap not quite so much on one side as it had 
 been before, took up his position for the night. 
 
 ^- 
 
 -^^r? 
 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 61 
 
 SECOND CHAPTER OF xMR. PICKWICK'S TALE. 
 
 We left Will Marks leaning under the gibbet Avitli his face towards the 
 town, scanning the distance ^\ith a keen eye which sought to pierce the 
 darkness and catch the earliest glimpse of any person or persons that might 
 approach towards him. But all was quiet, and, save the howling of the wind 
 as it swept across the heath in gusts, and the creaking of the chams that 
 dangled above his head, there was no sound to break the sullen stillness of the 
 night. After half an hour or so, this monotony became more disconcerting- 
 to Will than the most furious uproar would have been, and he heartily 
 wished for some one antagonist with whom he might have a fair stand-up fight 
 if it were only to warm himself. 
 
 Truth to tell, it was a bitter wind and seemed to blow to the very heart of 
 a man whose blood, heated but now with rapid riding, was the more sensitive 
 to the chilling blast. Will was a daring fellow and cared not a jot for hard 
 knocks or sharp blades, but he could not persuade himself to move or walk 
 about, having just that vague expectation of a sudden assault which made it a 
 comfortable tiling to have something at his back, even though that something 
 were a gallows tree. He had no great faith in the superstitions of the age, still 
 such of them as occurred to him did not serve to lighten the time or to render 
 his situation the more endurable. He remembered how witches were said to 
 repair at that ghostly hour to churchyards and gibbets and such like dismal 
 spots, to pluck the bleeding mandrake or scrape the flesh from dead men's 
 bones as choice ingredients for their spells ; how, stealing by night to lonely 
 places, they dug graves with their finger-nails or anointed themselves before 
 riding in the air, with a delicate pomatum made of the fat of infants newly 
 boiled. These, and many other fabled practices of a no less agreeable nature, 
 and all having some reference to the circumstances in which he was placed, 
 passed and repassed in quick succession through the mind of Will Marks, and 
 adding a shadowy dread to that distrust and watchfulness which his situation 
 inspired, rendered it upon the whole sufficiently uncomfortable. As he had 
 foreseen too, the rain began to descend heavily, and driving befoie the wind in 
 a thick mist obscured even those few objects which the darkness of the night 
 had before imperfectly revealed. 
 
 " Look ! " shrieked a voice, " Great Heaven it has fallen down and stands 
 erect as if it lived ! " 
 
 The speaker was close behind him — the voice was almost at his ear. ^^'ill 
 threw off his cloak, drew his sword, and darting swiftly round, seized a woman 
 by the wrist, who recoiling from him with a dreadful shriek, fell struggling 
 upon her knees. Another woman clad like her whom he had grasped, in mourn- 
 ing garments, stood rooted to the spot on which they were, gazing upon his 
 face with wild and glaring eyes that quite appalled him. 
 
 " Say," cried Will, when they had confronted each other thus, for some 
 time, " What are ye I " 
 
 6. o 
 
68 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Say what are you" returned the woman, " who trouble even this obsceno 
 resting-place of the dead, and strip the gibbet of its honoured burden ? Where 
 is the body ? ■" 
 
 He looked in wonder and affright from the woman who questioned him, to 
 the other whose arm he clutched. 
 
 " Where is the body ? " repeated his questioner more firmly than before ; 
 " You wear no livery %vhich marks you for the hireling of the government. 
 You are no friend to us, or I should recognise you, for the friends of such as 
 we are few in number. What are you then, and wherefore are you here l" 
 
 " I am no foe to the distressed and helpless" said Will. " Are ye among 
 that number ? ye should be by your looks." 
 
 " We are ! " was the answer. 
 
 " It is ye who have been wailing and weeping here, under cover of the 
 night ? " said Will. 
 
 " It is "" replied the woman sternly, and pointing, as she spoke, towards her 
 companion, " she mourns a husband and I a brother. Even the bloody law 
 that wreaks its vengeance on the dead does not make that a crime, and if it 
 did 'twould be alike to us who are past its fear or favour." 
 
 Will glanced at the two females, and could barely discern that the one whom 
 he addressed was much the elder, and that the other was young and of a 
 slight figure. Both were deadly pale, their garments wet and worn, their hair 
 dishevelled and streaming in the wind, themselves bowed down with grief 
 and misery ; their whole appearance most dejected, wTetched, and forlorn. A 
 sight so different from any he had expected to encounter touched him to the 
 quick, and all idea of anything but their pitiable condition, vanished before it. 
 
 " I am a rough, blunt yeoman," said Will ; " why I came here is told in a 
 word ; you have been overheard at a distance in the silence of the night, and 
 I have undertaken a watch for hags or spirits. I came here expecting an 
 adventure and prepared to go through with any. If there be aught that I 
 can do to help or aid you, name it, and on the faith of a man who can be 
 secret and trusty I will stand by you to the death." 
 
 " How comes this gibbet to be empty ? " asked the elder female. 
 
 " I swear to you" replied Will, "that I know as little as yourself. But 
 this I know, that when I came here an hour ago or so, it was as it is now ; and 
 if, as I gather from your question, it was not so last night, sure I am that it 
 has been secretly disturbed without the knowledge of the folks in yonder town. 
 Bethink you, therefore, whether you have no friends in league with you or 
 with him on whom the law has done its worst, by whom these sad remains 
 have been removed for burial." 
 
 The women spoke together, and Will retired a pace or two while they con- 
 versed apart. He could hear them sob and moan, and saw that they wrung 
 their hands in fruitless agony. He could make out little that they said, but 
 between whiles he gathered enough to assure him that his suggestion was not 
 very wide of the mark, and that they not only suspected by whom the body 
 had been removed, but also whither it had been conveyed. When they had 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. G3 
 
 been in conversation a long time, they turned towards him once more. This 
 time the younger female spoke . 
 
 " You have offered us your help V 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " And given a pledge that you are still willing to redeem? " 
 
 " Yes. So far as I may, keeping all plots and conspiracies at arm's length.''' 
 
 " Follow us, friend." 
 
 Will, whose self-possession was now quite restored, needed no second bidding, 
 but with his drawn sword in his hand, and his cloak so muffled over his left 
 arm as to serve for a kind of shield without offering any impediment to its 
 free action, suffered them to lead the way. Through mud and mire and wind 
 and rain, they walked in silence a full mile. At length they turned into a dark 
 lane, where, suddenly starting out from l)eneath some trees where he had taken 
 shelter, a man appeared having in his charge three saddled horses. One of 
 these (his own apparently) in obedience to a whisper from the women, he con- 
 signed to Will, v>^ho seeing that they mounted, mounted also. Then without 
 a word spoken they rode on together, leaving the attendant behind. 
 
 They made no halt nor slackened their pace until they arrived near Putney. 
 At a large wooden house which stood apart from any other, they alighted, and 
 giving their horses to one who was already waiting, passed in by a side door, 
 and so up some narrow creaking stairs into a small panelled chamber, where 
 Will was left alone. He had not been here very long, when the door was softly 
 opened, and there entered to him a cavalier whose face was concealed beneath 
 a black mask. 
 
 Will stood upon his guard, and scrutinised this figure from head to foot. 
 The form was that of a man pretty far advanced in life, but of a firm and 
 stately carriage. His dress was of a rich and costly kind, but so soiled and 
 disordered that it was scarcely to be recognised for one of those gorgeous 
 suits which the expensive taste and fashion of the time prescribed for men of 
 any rank or station. He was booted and spurred, and bore about him even 
 as many tokens of the state of the roads as Will himself. All this he noted 
 while the eyes behind the mask regarded him with equal attention. This 
 survey over, the cavalier broke silence. 
 
 " Thou^rt young and bold, and wouldst be richer than thou art ?" 
 
 " The two first I am " returned Will. " The last I have scarcely thouglit 
 of. But be it so. Say that I would be richer than I am ; what then V 
 
 " The way lies before thee now " replied the Mask. 
 
 " Show it me:" 
 
 " First let me inform thee, that thou wert brought here to-night lest thou 
 shoiddst too soon have told thy tale to those who placed thee on the watch." 
 
 " I thought as much when I followed " said Will. " But I am no blab, 
 not I." 
 
 " Good " returned the Mask. " Now listen. He who was to have executed 
 the enterprise of burying that body which as thou hast suspected was taken 
 down to-night, has loft us in our need," 
 
64 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 W\\\ nodded, and thought within himself that if the Mask were to attempt 
 to play any tricks, the first eyelet-hole on the left-hand side of his doublet, 
 counting from the buttons up the front, would be a very good place in which 
 to pink him neatly. 
 
 " Thou art here, and the emergency is desperate. I propose his task to 
 thee. Convey the body (now coffined in this house) by means that I shall 
 show, to the church of Saint Dunstanin London to-morrow night, and thy service 
 shall be richly paid. Thou'rt about to ask whose corpse it is. Seek not to 
 know, I warn thee, seek not to know. Felons hang in chains on every moor 
 and heath. Believe, as others do, that this was one, and ask no further. 
 The murders of state policy, its victims or avengers, had best remain unknown 
 to such as thee." 
 
 " The mystery of this service*" said Will, " bespeaks its danger. What is 
 the reward I " 
 
 " One hundred golden unities "" replied the cavalier. " The danger to one 
 who cannot be recognised as the friend of a fallen cause is not great, but there 
 is some hazard to be run. Decide between that and the reward." 
 
 " What if I refuse I" said Will. 
 
 " Depart in peace, in God's name " returned the Mask in a melancholy 
 tone " and keep our seci'et : remembering that those who brought thee here 
 were crushed and stricken women, and that those who bade thee go free 
 could have had thy life with one word, and no man the wiser." 
 
 JMen were readier to undertake desperate adventures in those times, than 
 they are now. In this case the temptation Avas great and the punishment 
 even in case of detection was not likely to be very severe, as Will came of a 
 loyal stock, and his uncle was in good repute, and a passable tale to account 
 for his possession of the body and his ignorance of the identity, might be easily 
 devised. The cavalier explained that a covered cart had been prepared for 
 the purpose ; that the time of departure could be arranged so that he should 
 reach London Bridge at dusk and proceed through the City after the day had 
 closed in ; that people would be ready at his journey"'s end to place the coffin 
 in a vault without a minute''s delay ; that officious inquirers in the streets 
 would be easily repelled by the tale that he was carrying for interment the 
 corpse of one who had died of the plague ; and in short showed him every 
 reason why he should succeed and none why he should fail. After a time they 
 were joined by another gentleman, masked like the first, who added new 
 arguments to those which had been already ui'ged ; the wretched wife too 
 added her tears and prayers to their calmer representations ; and in the end 
 Will, moved by compassion and good nature, by a love of the marvellous, by a 
 mischievous anticipation of the terrors of the Kingston people when he should 
 be missing next day, and finally by the prospect of gain, took upon himself 
 the task, and devoted all his energies to its successful execution. 
 
 The follow^ing night when it was quite dark, the hollow echoes of old 
 London Bridge responded to the rumbling of the cart which contained the 
 ghastly load, the object of Will Marks's care. Sufficiently disguised to attract 
 
MASTER HUMPHREi'"'S CLOCIC. 65 
 
 no attention by his garb, Will walked at the horse's head, as unconcerned as 
 a man could be who was sensible that he had now arrived at the most dan- 
 gerous part of his undertaking, but full of boldness and confidence. 
 
 It was now eight o'clock. After nine, none could walk the streets without 
 danger of their lives, and even at this hour, robberies and murder were of no 
 uncommon occurrence. The shops upon the bridge were all closed ; the lovv- 
 wooden arches thrown across the way were like so many black pits, in every one 
 of which ill-favored fellows lurked in knots of three or four, some standing 
 upright against the wall lying in wait, others skulking in gateways and thrusting 
 out their uncombed heads and scowling eyes, others crossing and re-crossing 
 and constantly jostling both horse and man to provoke a quarrel, others 
 stealing away and sunmioning their companions in a low whistle. Once, even in 
 that short passage, there was the noise of scuffling and the clash of swords 
 behind him, but Will, who knew the city and its ways, kept straight on and 
 scarcely turned his head. 
 
 The streets being unpaved, the rain of the night before had converted them 
 into a perfect quagmire, which the splashing water spouts from the gables, and 
 the filth and offal cast from the different houses, swelled in no small desrree 
 These odious matters being left to putrify in the close and heavy air, emitted an 
 insupportable stench, to which every court and passage poured forth a contri- 
 bution of its own. Many parts oven of the main streets, with their projecting 
 stories tottering overhead and nearly shutting out the sky, were more like 
 huge chimneys than open ways. At the corners of some of these, great bonfires 
 were burning to prevent infection from the plague, of which it was rumoured 
 that some citizens had lately died ; and few, who availing themselves of the light 
 thus afforded paused for a moment to look around them, would have been 
 disposed to doubt the existence of the disease or wonder at its dreadful 
 visitations. 
 
 But it was not in such scenes as these, or even in the deep and miry road, 
 that Will Marks found the chief obstacles to his progress. There were kites 
 and ravens feeding in the streets (the only scavengers the City kept) who 
 Gcenting what he carried, followed the cart or fluttered on its top and croaked 
 their knowledge of its burden and their ravenous appetite for prey. There were 
 distant fires where the poor wood and plaster tenements wasted fiercely, and 
 whither crowds made their way clamouring eagerly for plunder, beating down 
 all who came within their reach, and yelling like devils let loose. There were 
 single-handed men flying from bands of ruffians, who pursued them with naked 
 weapons, and hunted them savagely ; there were drunken desperate robbers 
 issuing fx'om their dens and staggering through the open streets where no man 
 dared molest them ; there were vagabond servitors returning from the Bear 
 Garden, where had been good sport that day, dragging after them their torn 
 and bleeding dogs or leaving them to die and rot upon the road. Nothing was 
 abroad but cruelty, violence, and disorder. 
 
 Many were the interruptions which Will Marks encountered from these 
 stragglers, and many the narrow escapes ho made. Now some stout bully 
 
GG 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 would tako his seat upon the cart insisting to be driven to his own home, and 
 now two or three mon would come down upon him together and demand that 
 on peril of his life he showed them what he had inside. Then a party of the 
 City watch upon their rounds would draw across the road, and not satisfied 
 with his tale, question him closely and revenge themselves by a little cuffing 
 and hustling for maltreatment sustained at other hands that night. All these 
 assailants had to be rebutted, some by fair words, some by foul, and some by 
 blows. But AMU Marks was not the man to be stopped or turned back no^v 
 he had penetrated so far, and though he got on slowly, still he made his way 
 down Fleet-street and reached the church at last. 
 
 As ho had been forewarned, all was in readiness. Directly he stopped, the 
 coffin was removed by four men who appeared so suddenly that they seemed 
 to have rtarted from the earth. A fifth mounted the cart, and scarcely 
 allowing Will time to snatch from it a little bundle containing such of his own 
 clothes as he had thrown oflf on assuming his disguise, drove briskly away. 
 "VV^ill never saw cart or man ngain. 
 
 lie followed the body into the church, nnd it was well he lost no time in 
 doing so, for the door was immediately closed. There was no light in the 
 building save that which came from a couple of torches borne by two men in 
 cloaks who stood upon the brink of a vault. Each supported a female figure, 
 and all observed a profound silence. 
 
 
 By this dim and solemn glare, which made Will feel as though light itself 
 were dead, and its tomb the dreary arches that frowned above, they placed 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 67 
 
 the coffin in the vault, with uncovered heads, and closed it up. One of the 
 torch-bearers then turned to Will and stretched forth his hand in which was 
 a purse of gold. Something told him directly that those were the same eyes 
 which he had seen beneath the mask. 
 
 " Take it,"" said the cavalier in a low voice, " and be happy. Though these 
 have been hasty obsequies, and no priest has blessed the work, there will not 
 be the less peace with thee hereafter, for having laid his bones beside thoso 
 of his little children. Keep thy own counsel, for thy sake no less than ours, 
 and God be with thee ! "" 
 
 " The blessing of a widowed mother on thy head, good friend ! " cried the 
 younger lady through her tears; " the blessing of one who has now no hope or 
 rest but in this grave ! " 
 
 Will stood with the purse in his hand, and involuntarily made a gesture 
 as though he would return it, for though a thoughtless fellow he was of a 
 frank and generous nature. But the two gentlemen extinguishing their 
 torches cautioned him to be gone, as their common safety would be endangered 
 by a longer delay ; and at the same time tlieir retreating footsteps sounded 
 through the church. He turned, therefore, towards the point at which he 
 had entered, and seeing by a faint gleam in the distance that the door was 
 again partially open, groped his way towards it and so passed into the 
 street. 
 
 Meantime the local authorities of Kingston had kept watch and ward all 
 the previous night, fancying every now and then that dismal shrieks were borne 
 towards them on the wind, and frequently winking to each other and 
 drawing closer to the fire as they drank the health of the lonely sentinel, upon 
 whom a clerical gentleman present was especially severe by reason of his 
 levity and youthful folly. Two or three of the gravest in company who were 
 of a theological turn, propounded to him the question whether such a character 
 was not but poorly armed for single combat with the devil, and whether he 
 himself would not have been a stronger opponent ; but the clerical gentleman, 
 sharply reproving them for their presumption in discussing such questions, clearly 
 showed that a fitter champion than Will could scarcely have been selected, not 
 only for that being a child of Satan he was the less likely to be alarmed by 
 the appearance of his own father, but because Satan himself would be at his 
 ease in such company, and would not scruple to kick up his heels to an extent 
 which it was quite certain he would never venture before clerical eyes, under 
 whose influence (as was notorious) he became quite a tame and milk-and-water 
 chai'acter. 
 
 But when next morning arrived and with it no Will Marks, and when a 
 strong party repairing to the spot, as a strong party ventured to do in broad 
 day, found Will gone and the gibbet empty, matters grew serious indeed. 
 The day passing away and no news arriving, and the night going on also 
 without any intelligence, the thing grew more tremendous still ; in short the 
 neighbourhood worked itself up to such a comfortable pitch of mystery and 
 horror that it is a great question whether the general feeling was not one 
 
68 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 of excessive disappointment when, on the second morning, Will Marks 
 returned. 
 
 However this may be, back Will came in a very cool and collected state, 
 and appearing not to trouble himself much about anybody except old John 
 Podgers, Avho having been sent for, was sitting in the Town Hall crying 
 slowly and dozing between whiles. Having embraced his uncle and assured 
 him of his safety, "NVill mounted on a table and told his story to the 
 crowd. 
 
 And surely they would have been the most unreasonable crowd that ever 
 assembled together, if they had been in the least respect disappointed with 
 the tale he told them, for besides describing the Witches' Dance to the minutest 
 motion of their legs, and performing it in character on the table, with the 
 assistance of a broomstick, he related how they had carried off the body in a 
 copper cauldron and so bewitched him that he lost his senses until he found 
 himself lying under a hedge at least ten miles off, whence he had straightway 
 returned as they then beheld. The story gained such universal applause that 
 it soon afterwards brought down express from London the great witch-finder 
 of the age, the Heaven-born Hopkins, who having examined Will closely on 
 several points, pronounced it the most extraordinary and the best accredited 
 witch story ever known, under which title it was published at the Three-Bibles 
 on London Bridge, in small quarto, with a view of the cauldron from an 
 original drawing, and a portrait of the clerical gentleman as he sat by the 
 fire. 
 
 On one point, Will was particularly careful ; and that was to describe for 
 the witches he had seen, three impossible old females whose likenesses never 
 were or will be. Thus he saved the lives of the suspected parties, and of all 
 other old women who were dragged before him to be identified. 
 
 This circumstance occasioned John Podgers much grief and sorrow, imtil 
 happening one day to cast his eyes upon his housekeeper, and observing her 
 to be plainly afflicted with rheumatism, he procured her to be burnt as an 
 undoubted witch. For this service to the state, he was immediately knighted, 
 and became from that time Sir John Podgers. 
 
 Will Marks never gained any clue to the mystery in which he had been an 
 actor, nor did any inscription in the church which he often visited afterwards, 
 nor any of the limited inquiries that he dared to make, yield him the least 
 assistance. As he kept his own secret, he was compelled to spend the gold dis- 
 creetly and sparingly. In course of time he married the young lady of whom 
 I have already told you, whose maiden name is not recorded, with whom he 
 led a prosperous and happy life. Years and years after this adventure, it was 
 his wont to tell her upon a stormy night that it was a great comfort to hira 
 to think that those bones, to whomsoever they might have once belonged, were 
 not bleaching in the troubled air, but were mouldering away with the dust of 
 their own kith and kindred in a quiet grave. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 69 
 
 FURTHER PARTICULARS OF MASTER HUMPHREY'S VISITOR. 
 
 Being very full of Mr. Pickwick's application and highly pleased with the 
 compliment he had paid me, it will be readily supposed that long before our 
 next night of meeting I communicated it to my three friends, who unanimously 
 voted his admission into our body. We all looked forward with some impa- 
 tience to the occasion which would enrol him among us, but I am greatly 
 mistaken if Jack Redburn and myself were not by many degrees the most 
 impatient of the part3\ 
 
 At length the night came, and a few minutes after ten Mr. Pickwick's 
 knock was heard at the street-door. He was shown into a lower room, and I 
 dii'ectly took my crooked stick and went to accompany him up stairs, in order 
 that he might be presented with all honour and formality. 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick " said I on entering the room, " I am rejoiced to see you — 
 rejoiced to believe that this is but the opening of a long series of visits to this 
 house, and but the beginning of a close and lasting friendship." 
 
 That gentleman made a suitable reply with a cordiality and frankness 
 peculiarly his own, and glanced with a smile towards two persons behind the 
 door, whom I had not at first observed, and whom I immediately recognised 
 as Mr. Samuel Weller and his father. 
 
 It was a warm evening, but the elder Mr. Weller was attired notwithstand- 
 ing in a most capacious great coat, and had his chin enveloped in a large 
 speckled shawl, such as is usually w'orn by stage coachmen on active service. 
 He looked very rosy and very stout, especially about the legs, which appearoti 
 to have been compressed into his top-boots with some difficulty. His broad- 
 brimmed hat he held under his left arm, and with the fore-finger of his right 
 hand he touched his forehead a great many times, in acknowledgment of 
 my presence. 
 
 " I am very glad to sec you in such good health, Mr. Weller" said I. 
 
 " Why, thankee sir " returned Mr. Weller, " the axle an't broke yet. We 
 keeps up a steady pace — not too sewere but vith a moderate degree o' friction 
 ■ — and the consekens is that ve 're still a runnin'' and comes in to the time, 
 reg'lar. — My son Samivelsir, as you may have read on in histoi'y " added Mr. 
 Weller, introducing his fii'st-born. 
 
 I received Sam very graciously, but before he could say a word, his father 
 struck in again. 
 
 " Samivel Vcller, sir," said the old gentleman, " has con-ferrcd upon me 
 the ancient title o' grandfather vich had long laid dormouse, and wos s'poscd 
 to be nearly hcx-tinct, in our family. Sammy, relate a anecdote o' vun o' 
 them boys — that 'ere little anecdote about young Tony sayin* as he vouhl 
 smoke a pipe unbeknown to his mother." 
 
 " Be quiet, can't you?" said Sam, " I never see such a old magpie — never!" 
 
 " That 'ere Tony is the blessedest boy"— said Mr. \Vcller, heedless of this 
 rebutf, " the blessedest boy as ever / see in ynj/ days ! of all the charmin'est 
 infants as ever I heerd tell on, includin' them as wos kivered over by the robin 
 
70 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 
 
 redbreasts artcr they'd committed sooicide with blackberries, there never wos 
 any like that 'ere little Tony. He's alvays a playin' vith a quart pot that boy is ! 
 To see him a settin' down on the door step pretending to drink out of it, 
 and fetching a long breath artervards, and smoking a bit of fire-vood and 
 sayin * Now I'm grandfather'— to see him a doin' that at two year old is 
 better than any play as wos ever wrote. ' Now I'm grandfather ! ' He 
 wouldn't take a pint pot if you wos to make him a present on it, but he gets 
 his quart and then he says, ' Now I'm grandfather ! ' " 
 
 Mr. Weller was so overpowered by this picture that he straightway fell into 
 a most alarming fit of coughing, which must certainly have been attended with 
 some fatal result but for the dexterity and promptitude of Sam, who taking a 
 firm grasp of the shawl just under his father's chin shook him to and fro with 
 great violence, at the same time administering some smart blows between his 
 shoulders. By this curious mode of treatment Mr. Weller was finally 
 recovered, but with a very crimson face and in a state of great exhaustion. 
 
 " He'll do now, Sara," said Mr. Pickwick who had been in some alarm himself. 
 
 " He'll do sir ! " cried Sam looking reproachfully at his parent, " Yes, he 
 will do one o' these days— he'll do for his-self and then he'll wish he hadn't. 
 Did anybody ever see sich a inconsiderate old file, — laughing into conwulsions 
 afore company, and stamping on the floor as if he'd brought his own carpet vith 
 him and woe under a wager to punch the pattern out in a given time ? He'll 
 begin again in a minute. There — he's a goin' off — I said he would ! " 
 
 In fact, Mr. Weller, whose mind was still running upon his precocious grand- 
 son, was seen to shake his head from side to side, while a laugh, working like 
 an earthquake, below the surface, produced various ex tiaordinary appearances 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 71 
 
 in his face, chest, and shoulders, the more alarming because unaccompanied by 
 any noise whatever. These emotions, however, gradually subsided and after 
 three or four short relapses he wiped his eyes with the cuff of his coat, and 
 looked about him with tolerable composure. 
 
 " Afore the governor vith-draws'' said Mr. Weller, " there is a pint, 
 respecting vich Sammy has a qvestion to ask. Vile that qvestion is a perwadin 
 this here conwersation, p'raps the genFmen vill permit me to re-tire." 
 
 " Wot are you goin' away for?"" demanded Sam, seizing his father by the 
 coat tail. 
 
 "I never see such aundootiful boy as you Samivel"''' retui'ned Mr. Weller. 
 " Didn't you make a solemn promise amountin' almost to a speeches o' wow, 
 that you'd put that ere qvestion on my account 1 " 
 
 " Well, I'm agreeable to do it," said Sam, " but not if you go cuttin' away 
 like that, as the bull turned round and mildly observed to the drover ven they 
 wos a goadin' him into the butcher's door. The fact is, sir," said Sam addressing 
 me, " that he wants to know somethin' respectin' that ere lady as is house- 
 keeper here." 
 
 " Aye. What is that ?" 
 
 " Vy sir," said Sam grinning still more, "" he wishes to know vether she — " 
 
 " In short," interposed old Mr. Weller, decisively, a perspiration breaking out 
 upon his forehead, " vether that 'ere old creetur is or is not a widder." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick laughed heartily and so did I, as I replied decisively that " my 
 housekeeper waa a spinster." 
 
 " There !" cried Sam, " now you're satisfied. You hear she's a spinster." 
 
 "A wot?" said his father with deep scorn. 
 
 " A spinster," replied Sam. 
 
 Mr. Weller looked very hard at his son for a minute or two, and then said, 
 
 " Never mind vether she makes jokes or not, that's no matter. Wot I say 
 is, is that ere female a widder, or is she not?" 
 
 " Wot do you mean by her making jokes ?" demanded Sam, quite aghast at 
 the obscurity of his parent's speech. 
 
 " Never you mind Samivel," returned Mr. Weller gravely, " puns may be 
 wery good things or they may be wery bad 'uns, and a temale may be none the 
 better or she may be none the vurse for making of 'cm ; that's got nothing to 
 do vith widders." 
 
 " Wy now," said Sam looking round, " would anybody believe as a man at 
 his time o' life could be a running his head agin spinsters and punsters being 
 the same thing ? " 
 
 " There an't a straw's difference between 'em," said Mr. Weller. " Your 
 father didn't drive a coach for so many years, not to be ekal to his own lang- 
 vidge as far as that goes Sammy." 
 
 Avoiding the question of etymology, upon which the old gentleman's mind 
 was quite made up, he was several times assured that the liousckeeper had 
 never been married. He expressed great satisfaction on hearing this, and 
 apologised for the question, remarking that he had been greatly terrified by a 
 widow not long before and that his natural timidity was increased in consequence. 
 
72 MASTER HUiMPIIREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " It wos on the rail," said Mr. Weller with strong emphasis ; " I wos a 
 goin' down to Birmingham by the rail, and I wos locked up in a close carriage 
 vith a living widder. Alone we wos ; the widder and me wos alone ; and I 
 believe it wos only because we loos alone and there wos no clergyman in the con- 
 wayancc, that that 'ere widder didn't marry me afore ve reached the half-way 
 station. Ven I think how she began a screaming as we wos a goin' under them 
 tunnels in the dark — how she kept on a faintin' and ketchin' hold o' me — and 
 how I tried to bust open the door as was tight locked and perwentcd all 
 escape — Ah ! It was a awful thing, most awful ! " 
 
 ]Mr. Weller was so very much overcome by this retrospect that he was 
 unable, until he had wiped his brow several times, to return any reply to the 
 question whether he approved of railway communication, notwithstanding that 
 it would appear from the answer which he ultimately gave, that he entertained 
 strong opinions on the subject. 
 
 " I con-sider" said Mr. Weller, " that the rail is unconstitootional and an 
 inwaser o' priwileges, and I should wery much like to know what that 'ere old 
 Carter as once stood up for our liberties and wun 'em too — I should like to 
 know wot he vould say if he wos alive now, to Englishmen being locked up 
 with widders, or with anybody, again their wills. Wot a old Carter would 
 have said, a old Coachman may say, and I as-sert that in that pint o' view 
 alone, the rail is an inwaser. As to the comfort, vere's the comfort o** sittin' 
 in a harm cheer lookin' at brick walls or heaps o' mud, never comin'' to a 
 public house, never seein"' a glass o' ale, never goin> through a pike, never 
 meetin"' a change o' no kind (horses or othervise), but alvays comin"* to a place, 
 ven you come to one at all, the wery picter o' the last, vith the same p'leese- 
 men standing about, the same blessed old bell a ringin\ the same unfort'nate 
 people standing behind the bars, a waitin' to be let in ; and everythin' the 
 same except the name, vich is A^Tote up in the same sized letters as the 
 last name and vith the same colors. As to the Aonour and dignity o' travellin', 
 vere can that be vithout a coachman ; and wot's the rail to sich coachmen and 
 guards as is sometimes forced to go by it, but a outrage and a insult I As to 
 the pace, wot sort o' pace do you think I, Tony Veller, could have kept a 
 coach goin'' at, for five hundred thousand pound a mile, paid in adwance afore 
 the coach was on the road l And as to the ingein — a nasty wheezin', creaking, 
 gasping, puffin, bustin' monster, alvays out o' breath, vith a shiny green and 
 gold back, like a unpleasant beetle in that 'ere gas magnifier — as to the ingein 
 as is alvays a pourin' out red hot coals at night, and black smoke in the day, 
 the sensiblest thing it does in my opinion, is, ven there's somethin' in the vay 
 and it sets up that 'ere frightful scream vich seems to say ' Now here's two 
 hundred and forty passengers in the wery greatest extremity o' danger, and 
 here's their two hundred and forty screams in vun ! ' " 
 
 By this time I began to fear that my friends would be rendered impatient 
 by my protracted absence. I therefore begged Mr. Pickwick to accompanv me 
 up stairs, and left the two Mr. Wellers in the care of the housekeeper ; laying 
 strict injunctions upon her to treat them with all possible hospitality. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 ';r^^/;.^X 
 
 w 
 
 
 ^- i! 
 
 THE CLOCK. 
 
 S we were going up stairs, Mr. Pickwick put on his spec- 
 tacles which he had held in his hand hitherto ; arranged 
 his neckerchief, smoothed down his waistcoat, and made 
 many other little preparations of that kind which men are 
 accustomed to be mindful of, when they are going among 
 strangers for the first time and are anxious to impress 
 them pleasantly. Seeing that I smiled, ho smiled too, 
 and said that if it had occurred to him before ho left home, he would certainly 
 have presented himself in pumps and silk stockings. 
 
 " I would indeed, my dear sir," he said very seriously ; "I would have 
 shown my respect for the society, by laying aside my gaiters." 
 
 " You may rest assured," said I, " that they would have regretted your doing 
 so, very much, for they are quite attached to them." 
 
 " No, really !" cried Mr. Pickwick with manifest pleasure. " Do you think 
 they care about my gaiters 1 Do you seriously think that they identify me at 
 all with my gaiters?" 
 
 " I am sure they do," I replied. 
 
 " Well now," said Mr. Pickwick, " that is ono of the most charming and 
 agreeable circumstances that could possibly have occurred to me ! " 
 7. H 
 
74 JIASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 I should not have written down this short conversation, but that it developed 
 a slight point in Mr. Pickwick's character, with which I was not previously 
 acquainted. He has a secret pride in his legs. The manner in which he 
 spoke, and the accompanying glance he bestowed upon his tights, convince me 
 that Mr. Pickwick regards his legs with much innocent vanity. 
 
 " But here are our friends," said I, opening the door and taking his arm 
 in mine ; '• let them speak for themselves. Gentlemen, I present to you 
 JNlr. Pickwick." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and I must have been a good contrast just then. I leaning 
 quietly on my crutch-stick with something of a care-worn, patient air ; he 
 having hold of my arm, and bowing in every direction with the most clastic 
 politeness, and an expression of face whose sprightly cheerfulness and good- 
 humour knew no bounds. The difference between us must have been more 
 striking yet as we advanced towards the table, and the amiable gentleman, 
 adapting his jocund step to my poor tread, had his attention divided between 
 treating my infirmities with the utmost consideration, and affecting to be 
 wholly unconscious that I required any. 
 
 I made him personally known to each of my friends in turn. First, to the 
 deaf gentleman, whom he regarded with much interest, and accosted with 
 great frankness and cordiality. He had evidently some vague idea, at the 
 moment, that my friend being deaf must be dumb also ; for when the latter 
 opened his lips to express the pleasure it afforded him to know a gentleman 
 of whom he had heard so much, Mr. Pickwick was so extremely disconcerted 
 that I was obliged to step in to his relief. 
 
 His meeting with Jack Redburn was quite a treat to see. Mr. Pickwick 
 smiled, and shook liands, and looked at him through his spectacles, and under 
 them, and over them, and nodded his head approvingly, and then nodded to 
 me, as much as to say, " this is just the man ; you were quite right," and 
 then turned to Jack and said a few hearty words, and then did and said every- 
 thing over again with unimpaired vivacity. As to Jack himself, he was quite 
 as much delighted with Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Pickwick could possibly be with 
 him. Two people never can have met together since the world began, who 
 exchanged a warmer or more enthusiastic greeting. 
 
 It was amusino; to observe the difference between this encounter, and that 
 which succeeded, between Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Miles. It was clear that 
 the latter gentleman viewed our new member as a kind of rival in the affec- 
 tions of Jack Eedburn, and besides this, he had more than once hinted to 
 me, in secret, that although he had no doubt Mr. Pickwick was a very worthy 
 man, still he did consider that some of his exploits were unbecoming a 
 gentleman of his years and gravity. Over and above these grounds of distrust, 
 it is one of his fixed opinions that the law never can by possibility do anything 
 wrong ; he therefore looks upon Mr. Pickwick as one who has justly suffered 
 in purse and peace for a breach of his plighted faith to an unprotected female, 
 and holds that he is called upon to regard him with some suspicion on that 
 account. These causes led to a rather cold and formal reception ; which 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 75 
 
 Mr. Pickwick acknowledged with the same stateliness and intense pohteness as 
 was displayed on the other side. Indeed he assumed an air of such majestic 
 defiance that I was fearful he might break out into some solemn protest or 
 declaration, and therefore inducted him into his chair without a moment's 
 delay. 
 
 This piece of generalship was perfectly successful. The instant he took his 
 seat, Mr. Pickwick surveyed us all with a most benevolent aspect, and was 
 taken with a fit of smiling, full five minutes long. His interest in our cere- 
 monies was immense. They are not very numerous or complicated, and a 
 description of them may be comprised in very few words. As our transactions 
 have already been, and must necessai'ily continue to be, more or less anticipated 
 by being presented in these pages at different times and mider various forms, 
 they do not require a detailed account. 
 
 Our first proceeding when we are assembled, is, to shake hands all round, 
 and greet each other with cheerful and pleasant looks. Remembering that 
 we assemble, not only for the promotion of our own happiness, but with the 
 view of adding something to the common stock, an air of languor or indif- 
 ference in any member of our body would be regarded by the others as a kind 
 of treason. We have never had an offender in tliis respect ; but if we had, 
 there is no doubt that he would be taken to task, pretty severely. 
 
 Our salutation over, the venerable piece of antiquity from which we take 
 our name is wound up in silence. This ceremony is always performed by 
 Master Humphrey himself, (in treating of the club, I may be permitted to 
 assume the historical style, and speak of myself in the third person), who 
 mounts upon a chair for the purpose, armed with a large key. While it Is 
 in progress, Jack Redburn is required to keep at the further end of the 
 room under the guardianship of Mr. Miles, for he is knowTi to entertain 
 certain aspiring and unhallowed thoughts connected with the clock, and has 
 even gone so far as to state that if he might take the works out for a day 
 or two, he thinks he could improve them. We pardon him his presumption 
 in consideration of his good intentions, and his keeping this respectful 
 distance, which last penalty is insisted on, lest by secretly wounding the 
 object of our regard in some tender part, in the ardour of his zeal for its 
 improvement, he should fill us all with dismay and consternation. 
 
 This regulation afforded Mr. Pickwick the highest delight, and seemed, if 
 possible, to exalt Jack in his good opinion. 
 
 The next ceremony is the opening of the clock-case (of which Master 
 Humphrey has likewise the key), the taking from it as many papers as will 
 furnish forth our evening's entertainment, and arranging in the recess such 
 new contributions as have been provided since our last meeting. This is 
 always done with peculiar solemnity. The deaf gentleman then fills and 
 lights his pipe, and we once more take our seats round the table before- 
 mentioned, Master Humphrey acting as president — if we can be said to have 
 any president, whore all are on the same social footing — and our friend Jack 
 as secretar)'. Our preliminaries being now concluded, we fall into any train 
 
76 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 of conversation that happens to suggest itself, or proceed immediately to one 
 of our readings. In the latter case, the paper selected is consigned to Master 
 Humphrey, who flattens it carefully on the table and makes dog's ears in the 
 corner of every page, ready for turning over easily ; Jack Redburn trims the 
 lamp with a small machine of his own invention which usually puts it out ; 
 ;Mr. Miles looks on with great approval notwithstanding ; the deaf gentleman 
 draws in his chair, so that he can follow the words on the paper or on Master 
 Humphrey's lips, as he pleases ; and Master Humphrey himself, looking 
 round with mighty gratification and glancing up at his old clock, begins to 
 read aloud. 
 
 ;Mr. Pickwick's face while his tale was being read would have attracted the 
 attention of the dullest man alive. The complacent motion of his head and 
 fore-finger as he gently beat time and corrected the air with imaginary 
 punctuation, the smile that mantled on his features at every jocose passage 
 and the sly look he stole around to observe its effect, the calm manner in 
 which he shut his eyes and listened when there was some little piece of 
 description, the changing expression with which he acted the dialogue to 
 himself, his agony that the deaf gentleman should know what it was all about, 
 and his extraordinary anxiety to correct the reader w^ien he hesitated at a 
 word in the manuscript or substituted a wrong one, were alike worthy of 
 rentark. And when at last, after endeavouring to communicate with the deaf 
 gentleman by means of the finger alphabet, with which he constructed such 
 words as are unknown in any civilised or savage language, he took up a slate 
 and wrote in large text, one word in a line, the question, " How — do — you — 
 like — it V — when he did this, and handing it over the table awaited the reply, 
 with a countenance only brightened and improved by his great excitement, 
 even Mr. Miles relaxed, and could not forbear looking at him for the moment 
 with interest and favour. 
 
 " It has occurred to me," said the deaf gentleman, who had watched 
 ]\Ir. Pickwick and everybody else with silent satisfaction, " it has occurred to 
 me," said the deaf gentleman, taking his pipe from his lips, " that now is our 
 time for filling our only empty chair." 
 
 As our conversation had naturally turned upon the vacant seat, we lent a 
 willing ear to this remark, and looked at our friend inquiringly. 
 
 " I feel sure," said he, " that Mr. Pickwick must be acquainted with 
 somebody who would be an acquisition to us ; that he must know the man wo 
 ■want. Pray let us not lose any time, but set this question at rest. Is it so, 
 Mr. Pickwick?" 
 
 The gentleman addressed was about to return a verbal reply, but remem- 
 bering our friend''s infirmity he substituted for this kind of answer some fifty 
 nods. Then taking up the slate and printing on it a gigantic " Yes," he 
 handed it across the table, and rubbing his hands as he looked round upon our 
 faces, protested that he and the deaf gentleman quite understood each other, 
 already. 
 
 " The person I have in my mind," said Mr. Pickwick, " and whom I should 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 77 
 
 not have presumed to mention to you until some time hence, but for the 
 opportunity you have given me, is a very strange old man. His name is 
 Bamber." 
 
 " Bamber !" said Jack, " I have certainly heard the name before." 
 
 " I have no doubt then," returned Mr. Pickwick, " that you remember him 
 in those adventures of mine (the Posthumous Papers of our old club, I mean) 
 although he is only incidentally mentioned ; and, if I remember right, appears 
 but once." 
 
 " That's it," said Jack. " Let me see. He is the person who has a grave 
 interest in old mouldy chambers and the Inns of court, and who relates some 
 anecdotes having reference to his favourite theme — and an odd ghost-story — 
 is that the man ?" 
 
 " The very same. Now," said Mr. Pickwick, lowering his voice to a 
 mysterious and confidential tone, " he is a very extraordinary and remarkable 
 person ; living, and talking, and looking, like some strange spirit, whose 
 delight is to haunt old buildings ; and absorbed in that one subject which you 
 have just mentioned, to an extent which is quite Avonderful. When I retired 
 into private life, I sought him out, and I do assure you that the more I see of 
 him, the more strongly I am impressed with the strange and dreamy character 
 of his mind." 
 
 " AVhere does he live i" I inquired. 
 
 " He lives," said Mr. Pickwick, " in one of those dull lonely old places with 
 which his thoughts and stories are all connected ; quite alone, and often shut 
 up close, for several weeks together. In this dusty solitude, he broods upon 
 the fancies he has so long indulged, and when he goes into the world, or any- 
 body from the \vorld without goes to see him, they are still present to his mind 
 and still his favourite topic. I may say, I believe, that he has brought 
 himself to entertain a regard for me, and an interest in my visits ; feelings 
 which I am certain he would extend to Master Humphrey''s Clock if he were 
 once tempted to join us. All I wish you to understand, is, that he is a strange 
 secluded visionary, in the world but not of it ; and as unlike anybody here as 
 he is vmlike anybody elsewhere, that ever I have met, or known." 
 
 Mr. Miles received this account of our proposed companion with rather a 
 wry face, and after murmuring that perhaps he was a little mad, inquired if 
 he were rich. 
 
 " I never asked him," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " You might know, Sir, for all that," retorted Mr. Miles, sharply. 
 
 "Perhaps so. Sir," said Mr. Pickwick, no less sharply than the othe*', " but 
 I do not. Indeed," ho added, relapsing into his usual mildness, " I have no 
 means of judging. Ho lives poorly, but that would seem to be in keeping with 
 his character. I never heard hiin alhide to his circunistance.«, and never fell 
 into the society of any man who had the slightest acquaintance with them. I 
 really have told you all I know about him, and it rests with yon to say whether 
 you wish to know more, or know quite enough already." 
 
 We were unanimously of opinion that wo would seek to know more ; and 
 
78 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 as a sort of compromise with Mr. Miles (who, although he said " yes — oh 
 certainly — he should like to know more about the gentleman — he had no right 
 to put himself in opposition to the general wish "" — and so forth, shook his head 
 doubtfully and hemmed several times with peculiar gravity), it was arranged 
 tliat Mr. Pickwick should carry me with him on an evening visit to the subject 
 of our discussion, for which purpose an early appointment between that 
 gentleman and myself was immediately agreed upon ; it being understood that 
 I was to act upon my own responsibility, and invite him to join us, or not, as 
 I might think proper. This solenm question determined, we returned to the 
 clock-case, (where we have been forestalled by the reader,) and between its 
 contents, and the conversation they occasioned, the remainder of our time 
 passed very quickly. 
 
 When we broke up, Mr. Pickwick took me aside, to tell me that ne had 
 spent a most charming and delightful evening. Having made this communi- 
 cation with an air of the strictest secrecy, he took Jack Redburn into another 
 corner to tell him the same, and then retired into another corner with the 
 deaf gentleman and the slate, to repeat the assurance. It was amusing to 
 observe the contest in his mind, whether he should extend his confidence to 
 Mr. ^liles, or treat him with dignified reserve. Half-a-dozen times he 
 stepped up behind him with a friendl}' air, and as often stepped back again 
 without saying a word ; at last, when he was close at that gentleraan''s ear 
 and upon the very point of whispering something conciliating and agreeable, 
 jNIr. Miles happened suddenly to turn his head, upon which ]Mr. Pickwick skipped 
 away, and said with some fierceness, " Good night, Sir — I was about to say 
 good night, Sir — nothing more ; " and so made a bow and left him. 
 
 " Now, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, when he got down stairs. 
 
 " All right, Sir," replied ^Ir. ^Veller. " Hold hard. Sir. Right arm fust— 
 now the left — now one strong conwulsion, and the great-coat's on, Sir." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick acted upon these directions, and being further assisted by 
 Sam who pulled at one side of the collar, and the elder ]\lr. Weller who 
 pulled hard at the other, was speedily enrobed. Mr. ^Veller senior then 
 produced a full-sized stable lantern, which he had carefully deposited in a 
 remote corner, on his arrival, and inquired whether Mr. Pickwick would have 
 " the lamps alight." 
 
 " I think not to-night," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Then if this here lady vill per-mit," rejoined ^Ir. Weller, " we"ll leave it 
 here, ready for next journey. This here lantern, mum," said Mr. Weller, 
 handing it to the housekeeper, '• vunce belonged to the celebrated Bill Blinder 
 as is now at grass, as all on us vill be in our turns. Bill, mum, wos the hostler 
 as had charge o' them two veil known piebald leaders that run in the Bristol 
 fast coach, and vould never go to no other tune but a sutherly vind and a 
 cloudy sky, which wos consekvently played incessant, by the guard, wenever 
 they wos on duty. He wos took wery bad one arternoon, arter having been 
 ofi' his feed, and wery shaky on his legs for some veeks ; and he says to his mate, 
 ' Matey,' he says, ' I think I'm a-goin' the wrong side o' the pest, and that 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCI 
 
 79 
 
 my foot's wery near the bucket. Don't say I a'nt,' he says, ' for I know I am, 
 and don't let me be interrupted,' he says, 'for I've saved a Httle money, and 
 I'm a-goin' into the stable to make my last vill and testymint.' ' I'll take care 
 as nobody interrupts,' says his mate, ' but you on'y hold up your head, and 
 shake your ears a bit, and you're good for twenty year to come.' Bill Blinder 
 makes him no answer, but he goes avay into the stable, and there he soon 
 artervards lays himself down a'tween the two piebalds, and dies, — prevously 
 a-wTitin' outside the corn-chest, ' This is the last vill and testymint of Villiam 
 Blinder.' They w'os nafrally wery much amazed at this, and arter looking 
 among the litter, and up in the loft, and vere not, they opens the corn-chest, 
 and finds that he'd been and chalked his vill inside the lid ; so the lid wos obli- 
 gated to be took off the hinges, and sent up to Doctor Commons to be proved, 
 and under that ere wery instrument this here lantern was passed to 'Tony Veller, 
 vich circumstarnce, mum, gives it a wally in my eyes, and makes me rek-vest, 
 i.' you vill be so kind, as to take partickler care on it." 
 
 The housekeeper graciously promised to keep the object of Mr. Weller's 
 regard in the safest possible custody, and Mr. Pickwick, with a laughing face, 
 took his leave. The body-guard followed, side by side : old Mr. Weller but- 
 toned and wrapped up from his boots to his chin ; and Sam with his hands 
 in his pockets and his hat half off his head, remonstrating with his father, as 
 he went, on his extreme loquacity. 
 
 I was not a little surprised, on turning to go up stairs, to encounter the 
 barber in the passage at that late hour ; for his attendance is usually confined 
 to some half-hour in the morning. But Jack Redburn, who finds out (by 
 instinct, I think) everything that happens in the house, informed me with 
 great glee, that a society in imitation of our own had been that night formed 
 in the kitchen, under the title of " Mr. Weller's Watch," of which the barber 
 was a member ; and that he could pledge himself to find means of making me 
 acquainted with the whole of its future proceedings, which I begged him, both 
 on my own account and that of my readers, by no means to neglect doing. 
 
80 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 'Wbt ©III (iiruriositn ^^op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SECOND. 
 
 After combating, for nearly a week, the feeling which impelled me to 
 revisit the place I had quitted under the circumstances already detailed, I 
 yielded to it at length ; and determining that this time I would present 
 myself by the light of day, bent my steps thither early in the afternoon. 
 
 I walked past the house, and took several turns in the street, with that 
 kind of hesitation which is natural to a man who is conscious that the visit he 
 is about to pay is unexpected, and may not be very acceptable. However, as 
 the door of the shop was shut, and it did not appear likely that I should be 
 recognised by those within, if I continued merely to pass up and down before 
 it, I soon conquered this irresolution, and found myself in the Curiosity 
 Dealer's warehouse. 
 
 The old man and another person were together in the back part, and there 
 seemed to have been high words between them, for their voices which were 
 raised to a very loud pitch suddenly stopped on my entering, and the old 
 man advancing hastily towards me, said in a tremulous tone that he was very 
 glad I had come. 
 
 " You interrupted us at a critical moment," he said, pointing to the man 
 whom I had found in company with him ; " this fellow will murder me one 
 of these days. He would have done so, long ago, if he had dared." 
 
 " Bah ! You would swear away my life if you could," returned the other, 
 after bestowing a stare and a frown on me ; " we all know that ! " 
 
 " I almost think I could," cried the old man, turning feebly upon him. " Tf 
 oaths, or prayers, or words, could rid me of you, they should. I would be quit 
 of you, and would be relieved if you were dead." 
 
 " I know it," returned the other. " I said so, didn't I ? But neither oaths 
 nor prayers, nor words, loill kill me, and therefore I live, and mean to live." 
 
 " And his mother died ! " cried the old man, passionately clasping his hands 
 and looking upward ; " and this is Heaven's justice !" 
 
 The other stood lounging with his foot upon a chair, and regarded him with 
 a contemptuous sneer. He was a young man of one-and-twenty or there- 
 abouts ; well made, and certainly handsome, though the expression of his face 
 was far from prepossessing, having in common with his manner and even his 
 dress, a dissipated, insolent air which repelled one. 
 
 " Justice or no justice," said the young fellow, " here I am and here I shall 
 stop till such time as I think fit to go, unless you send for assistance to put me 
 out — which you won't do, 1 know. I tell you again that I want to see my sister." 
 
 •' Your sister !" said the old man bitterly. 
 
 " Ah ! You can't change the relationship," returned the other. " If you 
 could, you'd have done it long ago. I want to see my sister, that you keep 
 cooped up here, poisoning her mind with your sly secrets and pretending an 
 affection for her that you may work her to death, and add a few scraped shillings 
 every v.eek to the money you can liardly count. I want to see Iter ; and I will." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 81 
 
 " Here's a moralist to talk of poisoned minds ! Here's a generous spirit to 
 Bcorn scraped-np shillings !" cried the old man, turning from him to me. " A 
 profligate, sir, who has forfeited every claim not only upon those who have the 
 misfortune to be of his blood, but upon society which knows nothing of him 
 but his misdeeds. A liar too," he added, in a lower voice as he drew closer to 
 me, " who knows how dear she is to me, and seeks to wound me even there, 
 because there is a stranger bye." 
 
 " Strangers are nothing to me, grandfather," said the young fellow catching 
 at the word, " nor I to them, I hope. The best they can do, is to keep an eye to 
 their business and leave me to mine. There's a friend of mine waiting outside, and 
 as it seems that I may have to wait some time, I'll call him in, with your leave." 
 
 Saying this, he stepped to the door, and looking down the street beckoned 
 several times to some unseen person, who, to judge from the air of impatience 
 with which these signals were accompanied, required a great quantity of 
 persuasion to induce him to advance. At length there sauntered up, on the 
 opposite side of the way — with a bad pretence of passing by accident — a figure 
 conspicuous for its dirty smartness, which after a great many frowns and jerks 
 of the head, in resistance of the invitation, ultimately crossed the road and 
 was brought into the shop. 
 
 " There. It's Dick Swiveller," said the young fellow, pushing him in. " Sit 
 down Swiveller." 
 
 " But is the old min agreeable T' said Mr. Svviveller in an under tone. 
 
 " Sit down," repeated his companion. 
 
 Mr. Swiveller complied, and looking about him with a propitiatory smile, 
 observed that last week was a fine week for the ducks, and this week was a fine 
 week for the dust ; he also observed that while standing by the post at the 
 street corner, he had observed a pig with a straw in his mouth issuing out of 
 the tobacco-shop, from which appearance he augured that another fine week for 
 the ducks was approaching, and that rain would certainly ensue. He further- 
 more took occasion to apologize for any negligence that might be perceptible 
 in his dress, on the ground that last night he had had " the sun very strong in 
 his eyes ;" by which expression he was understood to convey to his hearers in the 
 most delicate manner possible, the information that he had been extremely drunk. 
 
 *' But what," said Mr. Swiveller with a sigh, " what is the odds so long as 
 the fire of soul is kindled at the taper of conwiviality, and the wing of friend- 
 ship never moults a feather ! What is the odds so long as the spirit is 
 expanded by means of rosy wine, and the present moment is the least hap- 
 piest of our existence ! " 
 
 " You needn't act the chairman here," said his friend, half aside. 
 
 " Fred ! " cried Mr. Swiveller, tapping his nose, " a word to the wise is 
 sufficient for them — we may be good and happy without riches, Fred. Say not 
 another syllable. I know my cue ; smart is the word. Only one little 
 whisper Fred — is the old min' friendly?" 
 
 " Never you mind," replied his friend. 
 
 " Right again, quite right," said Mr. Swiveller, " caution is the word, and 
 caution is the act." With that, he winked as if in preservation of some deep 
 
S2 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 S3cret, and folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, looked up at the 
 ceiling with profound gravity. 
 
 It wasperhaps not very unreasonable to suspect from whathad already passed, 
 that Mr. Swiveller was not quite recovered from the effects of the pow^erful 
 sunlight to which he had made allusion ; but if no such suspicion had been 
 awakened by his speech, his wiry hair, dull eyes, and sallow face, would still have 
 been strong witnesses against him. His attire was not,as he had himself hinted, 
 remarkable for the nicest arrangement, but was in a state of disorder which 
 strongly induced the idea that he had gone to bed in it. It consisted of a brown 
 body-coat with a great many brass buttons up the front and only one behind, 
 a bright check neckerchief, a plaid waistcoat, soiled white trousers, and a very 
 limp hat, worn with the wrong side foremost, to hide a hole in the brim. The 
 breast of his coat was ornamented with an outside pocket from which there 
 peeped forth the cleanest end of a very large and very ill-favoured handker- 
 chief; his dirty wristbands were pulled down as far as possible and 
 ostentatiously folded back over his cuffs ; he displayed no gloves, and carried 
 a yellow cane having at the top a bone hand with the semblance of a ring on 
 its little finger and a black ball in its grasp. With all these personal 
 advantages (to which may be added a strong savour of tobacco-smoke, and a 
 prevailing greasiness of appearance) Mr. Swiveller leant back in his chair with 
 his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and occasionally pitching his voice to the needful 
 key, obliged the company with a few bars of an intensely dismal air, and then, 
 in the middle of a note, relapsed into his former silence. 
 
 The old man sat himself down in a chair, and, with folded hands, looked 
 sometimes at his grandson and sometimes at his strange companion, as if he 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 83 
 
 were utterly powerless and had no resource but to leave them to do as they 
 pleased. The young man reclined against a table at no great distance from 
 his friend, in apparent indifference to everything that had passed ; and I — who 
 felt the difficulty of any interference, notwithstanding that the old man had 
 appealed to me, both by words and looks — made the best feint I could of being 
 occupied in examining some of the goods that were disposed for sale, and 
 paying very little attention to the persons before me. 
 
 The silence was not of long duration, for Mr. Swiveller, after favouring us with 
 several melodious assurances that his heart was in the highlands, and that he 
 wanted but his Arab steed as a preliminary to the achievement of great feats of 
 valour and loyalty, removed his eyes from the ceiling and subsided into prose again. 
 
 " Fred," said Mr. Swiveller stopping short as if the idea had suddenly 
 occurred to him, and speaking in the same audible whisper as before, " is 
 the old min friendly?" 
 
 " What does it matter ?" returned his friend peevishly. 
 
 " No, but is he ?" said Dick. 
 
 " Yes, of course. What do I care whether he is or not." 
 
 Emboldened as it seemed by this reply to enter into a more general con- 
 versation, Mr. Swiveller plainly laid himself out to captivate our attention. 
 
 He began by remarking that soda water, though a good thing in the abstract, 
 was apt to lie cold upon the stomach unless qualified with ginger, or a small 
 infusion of brandy, which latter article he held to be preferable in all cases, 
 saving for the one consideration of expense. Nobody venturing to dispute 
 these positions, he proceeded to observe that the human hair was a great 
 retainer of tobacco-smoke, and that the young gentlemen of Westminster and 
 Eton, after eating vast quantities of apples to conceal any scent of cigars 
 from their anxious friends, were usually detected in consequence of their heads 
 possessing this remarkable property ; whence he concluded that if the lloyal 
 Society would turn their attention to the circumstance, and endeavour to find 
 in the resources of science a means of preventing such untoward revelations, 
 they might indeed be looked upon as benefactors to mankind. These opinions 
 being equally incontrovertible with those he had already pronounced, he went 
 on to inform us that Jamaica rum, though unquestionably an agreeable spirit of 
 great richness and flavour, had the drawback of remaining constantly present to 
 the taste next day; and nobody being venturous enough to argue this point either, 
 he increased in confidence and became yet more companionable and comnmnicati ve. 
 
 " It's a devil of a thing gentlemen," said Mr. Swiveller, " when relations fall 
 out and disagree. If the wing of friendshipshould never moult a feather, the wing 
 of relationship should never be clipped but be always expanded and serene. 
 AVhy should a grandson and grandfather peg away at each other with mutual 
 wiolence when all might be bliss and concord i Why not jine hands and forgit it ?" 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said his friend. 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Swiveller, " don't you interrupt the ciiair. Gentlemen, 
 how does the case stand, upon the present occasion I Here is a jolly old 
 grandfather — I say it with the utmost respect — and here is a wild young 
 grandson. The jolly old grandfather says to the wild young grandson, ' I 
 
81 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 have broiiglit you up and educated you, Fred ; I liavc put you in the way of 
 getting on in Hfe ; you have bolted a Httlu out of the course as young fellows 
 often do ; and you shall never have another chance, nor the ghost of half 
 a one.' The wild young grandson makes answer to this and says, ' You're as 
 rich as rich can be ; you have been at no uncommon expense on my account, 
 >■( u're saving up piles of money for my little sister that lives with you in a 
 secret, stealthy, hugger-muggering kind of way and with no manner of enjoy- 
 ment—why can't you stand a trifle for your grown-up relation? ' The jolly old 
 grandfather unto this, retorts, not only that he declines to fork out with that 
 cheerful readiness which is always so agreeable and pleasant in a gentleman of 
 his time of life, but that he will blow up, and call names, and make reflections 
 whenever they meet. Then the plain question is, an't it a pity that this state of 
 things should continue, and how much better would it be for the old gentleman 
 to hand over areasonable amount of tin, and make it all right and comfortable T' 
 
 Having delivered this oration with a great many waves and flourishes of the 
 hand, Mr. Swiveller abruptly thrust the head of his cane into his mouth as if to 
 prevent himself from impairing the effect of his speech by adding one other word. 
 
 "Why do you hunt and persecute me, God help me!" said the old man 
 turning to his grandson. " Why do you bring your profligate companions 
 here ? How often am I to tell you that my life is one of care and self-denial, 
 and that I am poor l " 
 
 " How often am I to tell you," returned the other, looking coldly at him, 
 " that I know better ! " 
 
 " You have chosen your own path," said the old man. " Follow it. Leave 
 Nell and I to toil and work." 
 
 " Nell will be a woman soon," returned the other, " and, bred in your faith, 
 she'll forget her brother unless he shows himself sometimes." 
 
 " Take care," said the old man with sparkling eyes, " that she does not for- 
 get you when you would have her memory keenest. Take care that the day 
 don't come when you walk barefoot in the streets, and she rides by in a gay 
 carriage of her ov.n." 
 
 " You mean when she has your money ?" retorted the other. " How like a 
 poor man he talks ! " 
 
 " And yet," said the old man dropping his voice and speaking like one who 
 thinks aloud, " how poor we are, and what a life it is ! The cause is a young 
 child's, guiltless of all harm or wrong, but nothing goes well with it ! Hope 
 and patience, hope and patience ! " 
 
 These words were uttered in too low a tone to reach the ears of the young 
 men. Mr. Swiveller appeared to think tliat they implied some mental struggle 
 consequent upon the powerful eff'ect of his address, for he poked his friend 
 with his cane and whispered his conviction that he had administered " a 
 clincher," and that he expected a commission on the profits. Discovering his 
 mistake after a while, he appeared to grow rather sleepy and discontented, 
 and had more than once suggested the propriety of an immediate departure, 
 when the door opened, and the child herself appeared. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 85 
 
 ^tc ©Iti GTuriositi} ^5cp. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRD. 
 
 The child was closely followed by an elderly man of remarkably hard features 
 and forbidding aspect, and so low in stature as to be quite a dwarf, though 
 his head and face were large enough for the body of a giant. His black eyes 
 were restless, sly, and cunning ; his mouth and chin, bristly with the stubble 
 of a coarse hard beard ; and his complexion was one of that kind which never 
 looks clean or wholesome. But what added most to the grotesque expression 
 of his face, was a ghastly smile, which, appearing to be the mere result of 
 habit and to have no connection with any mirthful or complacent feeling, 
 constantly revealed the few discolored fangs that were yet scattered in his 
 mouth, and gave him the aspect of a panting dog. His dress consisted of a 
 large high-crowned hat, a worn dark suit, a pair of capacious shoes, and a 
 dirty white neckerchief sufficiently Jimp and crumpled to disclose the greater 
 portion of his wiry throat. Such hair as he had, was of a grizzled black, cut 
 short and straight upon his temples, and hanging in a frowzy fringe about his 
 ears. His hands, which were of a rough coarse grain, were very dirty ; his 
 finger-nails were crooked, long, and yellow. 
 
 There was ample time to note these particulars, for besides that they were 
 sufficiently obvious without very close observation, some moments elapsed 
 before any one broke silence. The child advanced timidly towards her brother 
 and put her hand in his, the dwarf (if we may call him so) glanced keenly at 
 all present, and the curiosity-dealer, who plainly had not expected his uncouth 
 visitor, seemed disconcerted and embarrassed. 
 
 " Ah !" said the dwarf, who with his hand stretched out above his eyes had 
 oeen surveying the young man attentively, •' that should bo your grandson, 
 neighbour !" 
 
 " Say rather that he should not be," replied the old man. " But he is." 
 
 " And that ?" said the dwarf, pointing to Dick Swiveller. 
 
 " Some friend of his, as welcome here as he," said the old man. 
 
 " And that T inquired the dwarf wheeling round and pointing straight 
 at me. 
 
 " A gentleman who was so good as to bring Nell home the other night 
 when she lost her way, coming from your house." 
 
 The little man turned to the child as if to chide her or express his wonder, 
 but as she was talking to the young man, held his peace, and bent his head to 
 listen, 
 
 " Well, Nelly," said the young fellow aloud. *' Do they teach you to h;ite 
 me, eh ?" 
 
 " No, no. For shame. Oh, no !" cried the child 
 
 " To love me, perhaps V pursued her brother with a sneer. 
 
 " To do neither," she returned. " They never speak to me about you. 
 Indeed they never do." 
 
 8. I 
 
86 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 "■ I dare be bound for that,"*' he said, darting a bitter look at the grand- 
 father. " I dare bo bound for that, Nell. Oh ! I believe you there !" 
 
 " But I love you dearly, Fred," said the child. 
 
 "No doubt!" 
 
 ''•I do indeed, and always will," the child repeated with great emotion, 
 " but oh ! if you would leave off vexing him and making him unhappy, then I 
 could love you more." 
 
 " I see I" said the young man, as he stooped carelessly over the child, and 
 having kissed her, pushed her from him : " There — get you away now you have 
 said your lesson. You needn't whimper. We part good friends enough, if that's 
 the matter." 
 
 He remained silent, following her with his eyes, until she had gained 
 her little room and closed the door ; and then turning to the dwarf, said 
 abruptly, 
 
 " Harkee Mr.—" 
 
 " Meaning me I " returned the dwarf. " Quilp is my name. You might 
 remember. Ifs not a long one — Daniel Quilp." 
 
 '' Harkee Mr. Quilp then," pursued the other. " You have some influence 
 with my grandfather there." 
 
 " Some," said Mr. Quilp emphatically. 
 
 " And are in a few of his mysteries and secrets." 
 'A few," replied Quilp, with equal dryness. 
 
 " Then let me tell him once for all, through you, that I will come into and 
 go out of this place as often as I like, so long as he keeps Nell here ; and that 
 if he wants to be quit of me, he must first be quit of her. What have I done 
 to be made a bugbear of, and to be shunned and dreaded as if I brought 
 the plague 1 He'll tell you that I have no natural affection ; and that I care 
 no more for Nell, for her own sake, than I do for him. Let him say so. I 
 care for the whim, then, of coming to and fro and reminding her of my 
 existence. I will see her when I please. That's my point. I came here 
 to-day to maintain it, and I'll come here again fifty times with the same 
 object and always with the same success. I said I would stop till I had gained 
 it. I have done so, and now my \asit's ended. Come, Dick." 
 
 "Stop !" cried Mr. Swiveller, as his companion turned towards the door. 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " Sir, I am your humble servant," said Mr. Quilp, to whom the monosyllable 
 was addressed. 
 
 " Before I leave the gay and festive scene, and halls of dazzling light Sir," 
 said Mr. Swiveller, " I will, with your permission, attempt a shght remark. 
 I came here sir this day, under the impression that the old min was friendly." 
 
 " Proceed sir," said Daniel Quilp ; for the orator had made a sudden 
 stop. 
 
 " Inspired by this idea and the sentiments it awakened, sir, and feeling as 
 a mutual friend that badgering, baiting, and bullying, was not the sort of 
 thing calculated to expand the souls and promote the social harmony of the 
 
MASTER HUMPHRF.Y'S CLOCK. 87 
 
 contending parties, I took upon myself to suggest a course which is the course 
 to be adopted on the present occasion. "Will you allow me to whisper half a 
 syllable sir ? " 
 
 Without waiting for the permission he sought, Mr. Swiveller stepped up to the 
 dwarf, and leaning on his shoulder and stooping down to get at his ear, said in 
 a voice which was perfectly audible to all present 
 
 " The watch-word to the old min is — fork." 
 
 " Is what?" demanded Quilp. 
 
 " Is fork sir, fork," replied Mr. Swiveller slapping his pocket, " You are 
 awake sir?" 
 
 The dwarf nodded. Mr. Swiveller drew back and nodded likewise, then 
 drew a little further back and nodded again, and so on. By these means he in 
 time reached the door, where he gave a great cough to attract the dwarTs 
 attention and gain an opportunity of expressing in dumb show, the closest 
 confidence and most inviolable secrecy. Having performed the serious 
 pantomime that was necessary for the due conveyance of these ideas, he cast 
 himself upon his friend's track, and vanished. 
 
 " Humph ! " said the dwarf with a sour look and a shrug of his shoulders, 
 *' so much for dear relations. Thank God I acknowledge none ! Nor need 
 you either," he added, turning to the old man, " if you were not as weak as a 
 reed, and nearly as senseless." 
 
 " What would you have me do ? '"* he retorted in a kind of helpless 
 desperation. " It is easy to talk and sneer. What would you have 
 me do?" 
 
 " What would / do if I was in your case ? " said the dwarf. 
 
 " Something violent, no doubt." 
 
 " You're right there," returned the little man, highly gratified by the com- 
 pliment, for such he evidently considered it ; and grinning like a devil as he 
 rubbed his dirty hands together. " Ask Mrs. Quilp, pretty Mrs. Quilp, 
 obedient, timid, loving Mrs. Quilp. But that reminds me — I have left her all 
 alone, and she will be anxious and know not a moment's peace till I return. 
 I know she's always in that condition when I'm away, though she doesn't dare 
 to say so, unless I lead her on and tell her she may speak freely and I won't 
 be angry with her. Oh ! well-trained Mrs. Quilp ! " 
 
 The creature appeared quite horrible with his monstrous head and little 
 body, as he rubbed his hands slowly round, and round, and round again — with 
 something fantastic even in his manner of performing this slight action — and, 
 dropping his shaggy brows and cocking his chin in the air, glanced upward 
 with a stealthy look of exultation that an imp might have copied and appro- 
 priated to himself. 
 
 " Here," he said, putting his hand into his breast and sidling up to the old 
 man as he spoke ; " I brought it myself for fear of accidents, as being, in gold, 
 it was something large and heaxy for Nell to carry in her bag. She need be 
 accustomed to such loads betimes though, neighbour, for she will carry weight 
 when you are dead." 
 
88 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Heaven send she may ! I hope so," said the old man with something like 
 a groan. 
 
 " Hope so ! " echoed the dwarf, approaching close to his ear ; " neighbour, 
 I would I knew in what good investment all these supplies are sunk. But you 
 are a deep man, and keep your secret close." 
 
 " My secret ! " said the other with a haggard look. " Yes, you're right — I 
 — I — keep it close — very close." 
 
 He said no more, but taking the money turned away with a slow uncertain 
 step, and pressed his hand upon his head like a weary and dejected man. The 
 dwarf watched him sharply, while he passed into the little sitting-room and 
 locked it in an iron safe above the chimney-piece ; and after musing for a 
 short space, prepared to take his leave, observing that unless he made good 
 haste, Mrs. Quilp would certainly be in fits on his return. 
 
 " And so neighbour," he added, " I'll turn my face homewards, leaving my 
 love for Nelly and hoping she may never lose her way again, though her doing 
 60 has procured me an honour I didn't expect." With that he bowed and leered 
 at me, and with a keen glance around which seemed to comprehend every 
 object within his range of vision, however small or trivial, went his way. 
 
 I had several times essayed to go myself, but the old man had alv/ays 
 opposed it and entreated me to remain. Aa he renewed his entreaties on our 
 being left alone, and adverted with many thanks to the former occasion of our 
 being together, I willingly yielded to his persuawona, and sat down, pretending 
 to examine some curious miniatures and a few old medals which he placed 
 before me. It needed no great pressing to induce me to stay, for if my 
 curiosity had been excited on the occasion of my first visit, it certainly was 
 not diminished now. 
 
 Nell joined us before long, and bringing some needle-work to the table, sat 
 by the old man's side. It was pleasant to observe the fresh flowers in the 
 room, the pet bird with a green bough shading his little cage, the breath of 
 freshness and youth which seemed to rustle through the old dull house and 
 hover round the child. It was curious, but not so pleasant, to turn from the 
 beauty and grace of the girl, to the stooping figure, care-worn face, and jaded 
 aspect of the old man. As he grew weaker and more feeble, what would 
 become of this lonely little creature; poor protector as he was, say that he died 
 — what would her fate be, then I 
 
 The old man almost answered my thoughts, as he laid his hand on hers, 
 and spoke aloud. 
 
 " ni be of better cheer, Nell," he said ; " there must be good fortune in 
 store for thee— I do not ask it for myself, but thee. Such miseries must fall 
 on thy innocent head without it, that I cannot believe but that, being tempted, 
 it will come at last ! " 
 
 She looked cheerfully into his face, but made no answer. 
 
 " When I think," said he, " of the many years— many in thy short life— 
 that thou hast lived alone with me ; of thy monotonous existence, knowing no 
 companions of thy own age nor any childish pleasures ; of the solitude in 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 89 
 
 which thou hast grown to be what thou art, and in which thou hast lived 
 apart from nearly all thy kind but one old man ; I sometimes fear I have dealt 
 hardly by thee, Nell." 
 
 " Grandfather ! " cried the child in unfeigned surprise. 
 
 " Not in intention — no no," said he. " I have ever looked forward to the 
 time that should enable thee to mix among the gayest and prettiest, and take 
 thy station with the best. But I still look forward, Nell, I still look forward, 
 and if I should be forced to leave thee, meanwhile how have I fitted thee for 
 struggles with the world ? The poor bird yonder is as well qualified to en- 
 counter it, and be turned adrift upon its mercies — Hark ! I hear Kit outside. 
 Go to him Nell, go to him." 
 
 She rose, and hurrying away, stopped, turned back, and put her arms about 
 the old man's neck, then left him and hurried away again — but faster this 
 time, to hide her falling tears. 
 
 " A word in your ear Sir," said the old man in a hurried whisper, " I have 
 been rendered uneasy by what you said the other night, and can only plead 
 that I have done all for the best — that it is too late to retract, if I could 
 (though I cannot) — and that I hope to triumph yet. All is for her sake. I 
 have borne great poverty myself, and would spare her the sufferings that 
 poverty carries with it. I would spare her the miseries that brought her 
 mother, my own dear child, to sgfi early grave. I would leave her — not with 
 resources which could be easily spent or squandered away, but with what would 
 place her beyond the reach of want for ever. You mark me Sir ? She shall 
 have no pittance, but a fortune — Hush ! I can say no more than that, now 
 or at any other time, and she is here again ! " 
 
 The eagerness with which all this was poured into my ear, the trembling of 
 the hand with which he clasped my arm, the strained and starting eyes 
 he fixed upon me, the wild vehemence and agitation of his manner, filled me 
 with amazement. All that I had heard and seen, and a great part of what 
 he had said himself, led me to suppose that he was a wealthy man. I could 
 form no comprehension of his character, unless he were one of those miserable 
 wretches who, having made gain the sole end and object of their lives and 
 having succeeded in amassing great riches, are constantly tortured by the 
 dread of poverty, and beset by fears of loss and ruin. Many things he had 
 said which I had been at a loss to understand, were quite reconcileable with 
 the idea thus presented to me, and at length I concluded that beyond all doubt 
 he was one of this unhappy race. 
 
 The opinion was not the result of hasty consideration, for which indeed 
 there was no opportunity at that time, as the child came back directly, and 
 soon occupied herself in preparations for giving Kit a writing lesson, of which 
 it seemed he had a couple every week, and one regularly on that evening, to 
 the great mirth and enjoyment both of himself and his instructress. To 
 relate how it was a long time before his modesty could be so far prevailed 
 upon as to admit of his sitting down in the parlour, in the presence of an un- 
 known gentleman — how when he did sit down he tucked up his sleeves and 
 
90 .AIASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 squared his elbows and put his face close to the copy-book and squinted horribly 
 at the lines — how from the very first moment of having the pen in his hand, 
 he began to wallow in blots, and to daub himself with ink up to the very roots 
 of his hair — how if he did by accident form a letter properly, he immediately 
 smeared it out again with his arm in his preparations to make another — how 
 at every fresh mistake, there w^as a fresh burst of merriment from the child 
 and a louder and not less hearty laugh from poor Kit himself— and how there 
 w\as all the way through, notwithstanding, a gentle wish on her part to teach, 
 and an anxious desire on his to learn — to relate all these particulars would no 
 doubt occupy more space and time than they deserve. It will be sufficient to 
 say that the lesson was given — that evening passed and night came on — that 
 the old man again grew restless and impatient — that he quitted the house 
 secretly at the same hour as before — and that the child was once more left 
 alone within its gloomy wvalls. 
 
 And now that I have carried this history so far in my own character and 
 introduced these personages to the reader, I shall for the convenience of the 
 narrative detach myself from its further course, and leave those who have 
 prominent and necessary parts in it to speak and act for themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FCfURTH. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Quilp resided on Tower Hill ; and in her bower on Tower 
 Hill Mrs. Quilp was left to pine the absence of her lord, when he quitted her 
 on the business which he has been already seen to transact. 
 
 Mr. Quilp could scarcely be said to be of any particular trade or calling, 
 though his pursuits were diversified and his occupations numerous. He 
 collected the rents of whole colonies of filthy streets and alleys by the water- 
 side, advanced money to the seamen and petty officers of merchant vessels, 
 had a share in the ventures of divers mates of East Indiamen, smoked his 
 smuggled cigars under the very nose of the Custom House, and made 
 appointments on Change with men in glazed hats and round jackets pretty 
 well every day. On the Surrey side of the river was a small rat-infested 
 dreary yard called " Quilp's Wharf," in which were a little wooden counting- 
 house burrowing all awry in the dust as if it had fallen from the clouds and 
 ploughed into the ground ; a few fragments of rusty anchors ; several large 
 iron rings ; some piles of rotten wood ; and two or three heaps of old sheet 
 copper, crumpled, cracked, and battered. On Quilp's Wharf, Daniel Quilp 
 was a ship-breaker, yet to judge from these appearances he must either have 
 been a ship-breaker on a very small scale, or have broken his ships up very 
 small indeed. Neither did the place present any extraordinary aspect of life 
 or activity, as its only human occupant was an amphibious boy in a canvass 
 suit, Avhose sole change of occupation was from sitting on the head of a pile 
 and throwing stones into the mud when the tide was out, to standing with his 
 hands in his pockets gazing listlessly on the motion and on the bustle of the 
 river at high-water. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 91 
 
 The dwarfs lodging on Tower Hill comprised, besides the needful accommo- 
 dation for himself and Mrs. Quilp, a small sleeping-closet for that lady's 
 mother, who resided with the couple and waged perpetual war with Daniel ; 
 of whom, notwithstanding, she stood in no slight dread. Indeed, the ugly 
 creature contrived by some means or other — whether by his ugliness or his 
 ferocity or his natural cunning is no great matter — to impress with a whole- 
 some fear of his anger, most of those with whom he was brought into daily 
 contact and communication. Over nobody had he such complete ascendancy 
 as ^Irs. Quilp herself — a pretty little, mild-spoken, blue-eyed woman, who 
 having allied herself in wedlock to the dwarf in one of those strange infatu- 
 ations of which examples are by no means scarce, performed a sound practical 
 penance for her folly, every day of her life. 
 
 It has been said that INIrs. Quilp was pining in her bower. In her bower 
 she was, but not alone, for besides the old lady her mother of whom mention 
 has recently been made, there were present some half-dozen ladies of the 
 neighbourhood who had happened by a strange accident (and also by a little 
 understanding among themselves) to drop in one after another, just about tea- 
 time. This being a season favourable to conversation, and the room being a 
 cool, shady, lazy kind of place, with some plants at the open window shutting 
 out the dust, and interposing pleasantly enough between the tea table within 
 and the old Tower ^^^thout, it is no wonder that the ladies felt an inclination 
 to talk and linger, especially when there are taken into account the additional 
 inducements of fresh butter, new bread, shrimps, and water-cresses. 
 
 Now, the ladies being together under these circumstances, it was extremely 
 natural that the discourse should turn upon the propensity of mankind 
 to tyrannise over the weaker sex, and the duty that devolved upon the weaker 
 sex to resist that tyranny and assert their rights and dignity. It w^as natural 
 for four reasons ; firstly because Mrs. Quilp being a young woman and notori- 
 ously under the dominion of her husband ought to be excited to rebel, secondly 
 because ]\Irs. Quilp's parent was known to be laudably shrewish in her dispo- 
 sition and inchncd to resist male authority, thirdly because each visitor wished 
 to show for herself how superior she was in this respect to the generality of 
 her sex, and fourthly because the company being accustomed to scandalise 
 .each other in pairs were deprived of their usual subject of conversation now 
 that they were all assembled in close friendship, and had consequently no 
 better employment than to attack the common enemy. 
 
 Moved by these considerations, a stout lady opened the proceedings by 
 inquiring, with an air of great concern and sympathy, how Mr. Quilp was ; 
 whereunto Mr. Quilp's wife's mother replied sharply, " Oh ! he was well 
 enoush — nothinsr much was ever the matter with him — and ill weeds were 
 sure to thrive." All the ladies then sighed in concert, shook their heads 
 gravely, and looked at Mrs. Quilp as at a martyr. 
 
 " Ah !" said the spokeswoman, " I wish you'd give her a little of your advice 
 Mrs. Jiniwin" — Mrs. Quilp had been a Miss Jiniwin it should bo observed — 
 " nobody knows better than you Ma'am what us women owe to our- 
 selves." 
 
92 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Owe indeed, Ma'am ! " replied Mrs. Jiniwin. " When my poor husband, 
 her dear father, was alive, if ho had ever ventured a cross word to me, I'd 
 
 Ijave " the good old lady did not finish the sentence, but she twisted off 
 
 the head of a shrimp with a vindictiveness which seemed to imply that the 
 action was in some degree a substitute for words. In this light it was clearly 
 understood by the other party who immediately replied with great appro- 
 bation " You quite enter into my feelings Ma'am, and it's jist what I'd do 
 myself." 
 
 " But you have no call to do it," said Mrs. Jiniwin. " Luckily for you, 
 you have no more occasion to do it than I had." 
 
 " No woman need have, if she was true to herself," rejoined the stout lady. 
 " Do you hear that Betsy V said Mrs. Jiniwin, in a warning voice. " How 
 often have I said the very same words to you, and almost- gone down on my 
 knees when I spoke 'em ! " 
 
 Poor Mrs. Quilp, who had looked in a state of helplessness from one face of 
 condolence to another, coloured, smiled, and shook her head doubtfully. 
 This was the signal for a general clamour, which beginning in a low murmur 
 gradually swelled into a great noise in which everybody spoke at once, and all 
 said that she being a young woman had no right to set up her opinions against the 
 experiences of those who knew so much better ; that it was very wrong of her 
 not to take the advice of people who had nothing at heart but her good ; that 
 it was next door to being downright ungrateful to conduct herself in that 
 manner ; that if she had no respect for herself she ought to have some for 
 other women all of whom she compromised by her meekness ; and that if she 
 had no respect for other women, the time would come when other women 
 would have no respect for her, and she would be very sorry for that, they 
 could tell her. Having dealt out these admonitions, the ladies fell to a more 
 powerful assault than they had yet made upon the mixed tea, new bread, 
 fresh butter, shrimps, and water-cresses, and said that their vexation was 
 so great to see her going on like that, that they could hardly bring themselves 
 to eat a single morsel. 
 
 " It's all very fine to talk," said Mrs. Quilp with much simplicity, " but I 
 know that if I was to die to-morrow, Quilp could marry anybody he pleased 
 — now that he could, I know ! " 
 
 There was quite a scream of indignation at this idea. Marry whom he 
 pleased ! They would like to see him dare to think of marrying any of them; 
 they would like to see the faintest approach to such a thing. One lady (a 
 widow) was quite certain she should stab him if he hinted at it. 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Quilp, nodding her head, " as I said just now, it's 
 very easy to talk, but I say again that I know — that Tra sure — Quilp has 
 such a way with him when he likes, that the best-looking woman here couldn't 
 refuse him if I was dead, and she was free, and he chose to make love to 
 her. Come ! " 
 
 Everybody bridled up at this remark, as much as to say " I know you mean 
 me. Let him try — that's all." And yet for some hidden reason they were all 
 angry with the widow, and each lady whispered in her neighbour's ear that it 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 93 
 
 was very plain the said widow thought herself the person referred to, and what 
 a puss she was ! 
 
 " Mother knows," said Mrs. Quilp, " that what I say is quite correct, for 
 she often said so before we were married. Didn't you say so mother I " 
 
 This inquiry involved the respected lady in rather a delicate position, for 
 she certainly had been an active party in making her daughter Mrs. Quilp, 
 and, besides, it was not supporting the family credit to encourage the idea that 
 she had married a man whom nobody else would have. On the other hand, to 
 exaggerate the captivating qualities of her son-in-law would be to weaken the 
 cause of revolt, in which all her energies were deeply engaged. Beset by these 
 opposing considerations, Mrs. Jiniwin admitted the powers of insinuation, but 
 denied the right to govern, and with a timely compliment to the stout lady 
 brought back the discussion to the point from which it had strayed, 
 
 " Oh ! It's a sensible and proper thing indeed, what Mrs. George has said ! " 
 exclaimed the old lady. " If women are only true to themselves ! — But Betsy 
 isn't, and more's the shame and pity." 
 
 " Before I'd let a man order me about as Quilp orders her," said Mrs. 
 George ; '" before I'd consent to stand in awe of a man as she does of him, I'd 
 — I'd kill myself, and write a letter first to say he did it ! " 
 
 This remark being loudly commended and approved of, another lady (from 
 the Minories) put in her word : 
 
 " Mr. Quilp may be a very nice man," said this lady, " and I suppose there's 
 no doubt he is, because Mrs. Quilp says he is, and Mrs. Jiniwin says he is, 
 and they ought to know, or nobody does. But still he is not quite a — what 
 one calls a handsome man, nor quite a young man neither, which might be a 
 little excuse for him if anything could be ; whereas his wife is young, and is 
 good-looking, and is a woman — which is the great thing after all." 
 
 This last clause being delivered with extraordinary pathos elicited a corres- 
 ponding murmur from the hearers, stimulated by which the lady went on to 
 remark that if such a husband was cross and unreasonable with such a wife, 
 then — 
 
 " If he is ! " interposed the mother, putting do\vn her tea-cup and brushing 
 the crumbs out of her lap, preparatory to making a solemn declaration.'' " If 
 he is ! He is the greatest tyrant that ever lived, she daren't call her soul her 
 own, he makes her tremble with a word and even with a look, he frightens her 
 to death, atid she hasn't the spirit to give him a word back, no, not a single word." 
 
 Notwithstanding that the fact had been notorious beforehand to all the 
 tea-drinkers, and had been discussed and expatiated on at every tea-drinking 
 in the neighbourhood for the last twelve months, this official communication 
 was no sooner made than they all began to talk at once and to vie with each 
 other in vehemence and volubility. Mrs. George remarked that people would 
 talk, that people had often said this to her before, that Mrs. Simmons then 
 and there present had told her so twenty times, that she had always 8aid, " No 
 Henrietta Simmons, unless I see it with my own eyes and hear it with my 
 own ears, I never will believe it." Mrs. Simmons corroborated this testimonv 
 and added strong evidence of her own. The lady from the Minories recounted 
 
94 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 a successful course of treatment under which she had placed her own husband, 
 who, from manifesting one month after marriage unequivocal symptoms of 
 the tiger, had by this means become subdued into a perfect lamb. Another 
 lady recounted her own personal struggle and final triumph, in the course 
 whereof she had found it necessary to call in her mother and two aunts, and 
 to weep incessantly night and day for six weeks. A third, who in the general 
 confusion could secure no other listener, fastened herself upon a young woman 
 enll unmarried who happened to be amongst them, and conjured her as she 
 valued her own peace of mind and happiness to profit by this solemn occasion, 
 to take example from the weakness of Mrs. Quilp, and from that time forth 
 to direct her whole thoughts to taming and subduing the rebellious spirit of 
 man. The noise was at its height, and half the company had elevated their 
 voices into a perfect shriek in order to drown the voices of the other half, 
 when Mrs. Jiniwin was seen to change colour and shake her fore-finger 
 stealthily, as if exhorting them to silence. Then, and not until then, Daniel 
 Quilp himself, the cause and occasion of all this clamour, was observed to be 
 in the room, looking on and listening with profound attention. 
 
 " Go on ladies, go on," said Daniel. " Mrs. Quilp, pray ask the ladies to 
 stop to supper, and have a couple of lobsters and something light and 
 palatable." 
 
 " I — I— didn't ask them to tea, Quilp," stammered his wife. " It's quite 
 an accident." 
 
 " So much the better, Mrs. Quilp ; these accidental parties are always the 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 95 
 
 pleasantest," said the dwarf, rubbing his hands so hard that he seemed to be 
 engaged in manufacturing, of the dirt with which they were encrusted, httle 
 charges for popguns. " What ! Not going ladies, you are not going, surely !^ 
 
 His fair enemies tossed their heads slightly as they sought their respective 
 bonnets and shawls, but left all verbal contention to Mrs. Jiniwin, who finding 
 herself in the position of champion, made a faint struggle to sustain the character. 
 
 " And why not stop to supper, Quilp," said the old lady, " if my daughter 
 had a mind V 
 
 " To be sure," rejoined Daniel. " Why not V 
 
 "There's nothing dishonest or wrong in a supper, I hoper"" said Mrs 
 Jiniwin. 
 
 " Surely not " returned the dwarf. Why should there be ? Nor anvthino- 
 unwholesome either, unless there 's lobster-salad or prawns, which I'm told are 
 not good for digestion." 
 
 " And you wouldn't like your wife to be attacked \\-ith that, or anythino- 
 else that would make her uneasy, would you ? " said Mrs. Jiniwin. 
 
 " Not for a score of worlds " replied the dwarf with a grin. " Not even to 
 have a score of mothers-in-law at the same time — and what a blessino- that 
 would be ! " 
 
 " My daughter 's your wife, Mr. Quilp, certainly " said the old lady with a 
 giggle, meant for satirical and to imply that he needed to be reminded of the 
 fact ; " your wedded wife." 
 
 " So she is certainly. So she is " observed the dwarf. 
 
 " And she has a right to do as she likes, I hope, Quilp," said the old lady 
 trembling, partly with anger and partly with a secret fear of her impish son- 
 in-law. 
 
 " Hope she has !" he replied, " Oh ! Don't you know she has ? Don't you 
 know she has, Mrs. Jiniwin V 
 
 " I know she ought to have, Quilp, and would have if she was of my way 
 of thinking." 
 
 " V\'hy an't you of your mother's way of thinking, my dear ?" said the 
 dwarf, turning round and addressing his wife, " why don''t you always imitate 
 your mother, my dear ? She's the ornament of her sex — your father said so 
 every day of his life, I am sure he did." 
 
 " Her father was a blessed creetur, Quilp, and worth twenty thousand of 
 some people" said Mrs. Jiniwin ; " twenty hundred million thousand." 
 
 " I should like to have known him " remarked the dwarf. " I dare say he 
 was a blessed creature then ; but Fm sure he is now. It was a happy release, 
 I believe he had suffered a long time ?" 
 
 The old lady gave a gasp but nothing came of it ; Quilp resumed, with the 
 same malice in his eye and the same sarcastic politeness on his tongue. 
 
 " You look ill, Mrs. Jiniwin ; I know you have been exciting yourself too 
 much — talking perhaps, for it is your weakness. Go to bed. Do go to bed." 
 
 " I shall go when I please, Quilp, and not before." 
 
 " But please to go now. Do please to go now," said the dwarf. 
 
 The old woman looked angrily at him, but retreated as he advanced, and 
 
96 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 falling back before him suffered him to shut the door upon her and bolt her 
 out among the guests, who were by this time crowding down stairs. Being 
 left alone with his wife, who sat trembling in a corner with her eyes fixed upon 
 the ground, the little man planted himself before her, and folding his arms 
 looked steadily at her for some time without speaking. 
 
 " Mrs. Quilp," he said at last. 
 
 " Yes, Quilp,*" she replied meekly. 
 
 Instead of pursuing the theme he had in his mind, Quilp folded his arms 
 again, and looked at her more sternly than before, while she averted her eyes 
 and kept them on the ground. 
 
 " Mrs. Quilp.'' 
 
 " Yes Quilp." 
 
 " If ever you listen to these beldames again, I'll bite you." 
 
 With this laconic threat, whicli he accompanied with a snarl that gave him 
 the appearance of being particularly in earnest, Mr. Quilp bade her clear the tea- 
 board away, and bring the rum. The spirit being set before him in a huge case- 
 bottle, which had originally come out of some ship's locker, he ordered cold 
 water and th« box of cigars ; and these being supplied, he settled himself in 
 an arm-chair with his large head and face squeezed up against the back, and 
 his little legs planted on the table. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Quilp," he said ; " I feel in a smoking humour, and shall probably 
 blaze away all night. But sit where you are, if you please, in case I want you," 
 
 His wife returned no other reply than the customary " Yes, Quilp," and 
 the small lord of the creation took his first cigar and mixed his first glass of 
 grog. The sun went down and the stars peeped out, the Tower turned from 
 its own proper colours to grey and from grey to black, the room became 
 perfectly dark and the end of the cigar a deep fiery red, but still Mr. Quilp 
 went on smoking and drinking in the same position, and staring listlessly out 
 of window with the dog-like smile always on his face, save when Mrs. 
 Quilp made some involuntary movement of restlessness or fatigue ; and then 
 it expanded into a grin of delight. 
 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK 
 
 MR. WELLER'S WATCH. 
 
 ^^-, T seems tliat the housekeeper and the two Mr, Wellers were 
 no sooner left together on the occasion of their first becoming 
 acquainted, than the housekeeper called to her assistance 
 Mr. Slithers the barber, mIio had been lurking in the kitchen 
 in expectation of her summons ; and with many smiles and 
 nmch sweetness introduced him as one who would assist her in 
 the responsible office of entertaining her distinguished visitors. 
 " Indeed " said she, '* without Mr. Slithers, I should have been placed in 
 quite an awkward situation." 
 
 "There is no call for any hock'erdness, mum" said Mr. ^N^eller with the 
 utmost politeness; "no call wotsumever. A lady " added the old gontleman, 
 looking about him with the air of one who establishes an incontrovertible 
 position, "a lady can't be hock'erd. Natur has otherwise purwided." 
 
 The housekeeper inclined her head and smik^d yet more sweetly. The 
 barber, who had been fluttering about Mr. Weller and Sam in a state of great 
 anxiety to inlpro^e tlieir acquaintance, rubbed his hands and cried " Hear ! 
 hear! Very true sir;" whereupon Sam turned about and steadily regarded 
 him for some seconds in silence. 
 
 " I never knew " said Sam, fixing his eyes in a ruminative mnnner upon the 
 9. K 
 
98 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 blushing barber, " I never knew but vun o'your trade, but he wos worth a dozen 
 and wos indeed dewoted to his callin* ! " 
 
 " Was he in the easy shaving way sir," inquired Mr. Slithers ; " or in the 
 cutting and curling line ?" 
 
 " Both " replied Sam ; " easy shavin' was his natur, and cuttin' and curlin' 
 was his pride and glory. His whole delight wos in his trade. He spent all 
 his money in bears and run in debt for 'em besides, and there they wos a 
 growling avay down in the front cellar all day long, and ineffectooally gnashing 
 their teeth, vile the grease o' their relations and friends wos being re-tailed in 
 gallipots in the shop above, and the first-floor winder wos ornamented vith 
 their heads ; not to speak o' the dreadful aggrawation it must have been to 
 'em to see a man alvays a walkin' up and down the pavement outside, vith the 
 portrait of a bear in his last agonies, and underneath in large letters ' Another 
 fine animal wos slaughtered yesterday at Jinkinson's !' Hows' ever, there they 
 wos, and there Jinkinson wos, till he wos took wery ill with some inn"'ard 
 disorder, lost the use of his legs, and wos confined to his bed vero he laid a 
 wery long time, but sich wos his pride in his profession even then, that 
 wenever he wos worse than usual the doctor used to go down stairs and say 
 ' Jinkinson"'s wery low this mornin' ; we must give the bears a stir;' and as 
 sure as ever they stirred 'em up a bit and made 'em roar, Jinkinson opens 
 his eyes if he wos ever so bad, calls out ' There's the bears ! ' and rewives agin." 
 " Astonishing ! " cried the barber. 
 
 " Not a bit," said Sam, " human natur' neat as imported. Vun day the 
 doctor happenin' to say ' I shall look in as usual tomorrow mornin', Jinkinson 
 catches hold of his hand and says ' Doctor ' he says, ' will you grant me one 
 favor V ' I will Jinkinson' says the doctor; ' then doctor' says Jinkinson ' vill 
 you come unshaved, and let me shave you V ' I will ' says the doctor. ' God 
 bless you ' says Jinkinson. Next day the doctor came, and arter he'd been 
 shaved all skilful and reg'lar, he says ' Jinkinson ' he says ' it's wery plain this 
 does you good. Now' he says ' I've got a coachman as has got a beard that 
 it 'ud warm your heart to work on, and though the footman ' he says ' hasn't 
 got much of a beard, still he's a trying it on vith a pair o' viskers to that 
 extent that razors is christian charity. If they take it in turns to mind the 
 carriage wen it's a waitin' below ' he says ' wot's to hinder you from operatiu' 
 on both of 'em ev'ry day as well as upon mo ; you've got six children ' he says, 
 * wot's to hinder you from shavin' all their heads and keepin' 'cm shaved I 
 you've got two assistants in the shop down stairs, wot's to hinder you from 
 cuttin' and curlin' them as often as you like ? Do this ' he says * and you're a 
 man agin.' Jinkinson squeedged the doctor's hand and begun that wery day ; 
 he kept his tools upon the bed, and wenever he felt his-self gettin' worse, he 
 turned to at vun o' the children who wos a runnin' about the house vith heads 
 like clean Dutch cheeses, and shaved him agin. Vun day the lawyer come 
 to make his vill ; all the time he wos a takin' it down, Jinkinson was secretly 
 a clippin' avay at his hair vith a large pair of scissors. ' ^Vot's that 'ere 
 snippin' noise?' says the lawj-er every now and then, ' it's like a man havin' 
 his hair cut.' ' It is wery like a man havin' his hair cut * says pour Jinkinson 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 99 
 
 hidin' the scissors and lookin' quite innocent. By the time the la\vyer found it 
 out. he was wery nearly bald. Jinkinson was kept alive in this vay for a long 
 time, but at last vun day he has in all the children vun arter another, shaves each 
 on 'em wery clean, and gives him vun kiss on the crown of his head ; then he 
 has in the two assistants and arter cuttin' and curlin' of 'em in the first style 
 of elegance, says he should like to hear tlie woice o' the greasiest bear, vich 
 rekvest is immedetly complied with ; then he says that he feels wery happy 
 in his mind and vishes to be left alone ; and then he dies, prevously cuttin"* 
 his own hair and makin' one flat curl in the wery middle of his forehead." 
 
 This anecdote produced an extraordinary effect, not only upon Mr. Slithers 
 but upon the housekeeper also, who evinced so much anxiety to please and to be 
 pleased, that Mr. Weller, with a manner betokening some alarm, conveyed a 
 whispered inquiry to his son whether he had gone " too fur."" 
 
 " Wot do you mean by too fur?" demanded Sam. 
 
 " In that 'ere little compliment respectin'' the want of hock'erdness in ladies 
 Sammy " replied his father. 
 
 " You don't think she's fallen in love with you in consekens o' that, do you!"" 
 said Sam. 
 
 " More unlikelier things have come to pass my boy," replied Mr. Weller in 
 a hoarse whisper ; " Vm always afeerd of inadwertent captiwation Sammy. If 
 I know'd how to make myself ugly or unpleasant Fd do it Samivel, rayther 
 than live in this here state of perpetival terror ! " 
 
 Mr. Weller had, at that time, no further opportunity of dwelling upon the 
 apprehensions which beset his mind, for the immediate occasion of his fears 
 proceeded to lead the way down stairs, apologising as they went for conducting 
 him into the kitchen, which apartment, however, she was induced to proffer for 
 his accommodation in preference to her own little room, the rather as it 
 afforded greater facilities for smoking, and was immediately adjoining the ale- 
 cellar. The preparations which were already made sufficiently proved that 
 these were not mere words of course, for on the deal table were a sturdy ale 
 jug and glasses, flanked with clean pipes and a plentiful supply of tobacco for 
 the old gentleman and his son, while on a dresser hard by was goodly store 
 of cold meat and other eatables. At sight of these arrangements Mr. 
 Weller was at first distracted between his love of joviality and his doubts 
 whether they were not to be considered as so many evidences of captivation 
 having already taken place ; but he soon yielded to his natural impulse, and 
 took his seat at the table with a very jolly countenance. 
 
 "As to imbibin' any o^ this here flagrant veed, mum, in the presence of a 
 lady,"" said Mr. Weller, taking up a pipe and laying it down again, " it 
 couldn't be. Samivel, total abstinence, if i/ou please."" 
 
 " But I like it of all things,"'"' said the housekeeper. 
 
 " No,"" rejoined Mr. Weller, shaking his head. " No."" 
 
 " Upon my word I do,"" said the housekeeper. " Mr. Slithers knows I do."" 
 
 Mr. Weller coughed, and notwithstanding the barber's confirmation of the 
 statement, said No again, but more feebly than before. The housekeeper 
 lighted a piece of paper and insisted on applying it to the bowl of the pipe 
 
100 MASTER IlC.MPilUKY'S CLOCK. 
 
 with her own fair hands ; Mr. Wellor resisted ; the housekeeper cried that 
 her fingers would be burnt ; Mr. Weller gave way. The pipe was ignited, Mr. 
 NVeller drew a long puff of smoke, and detecting himself in the very act of 
 smiling on the housekeeper, put a sudden constraint upon his countenance and 
 looked sternly at the candle, with a determination not to captivate, himself, or 
 encourage thoughts of captivation in others. From this iron frame of mind 
 he was roused by the voice of his son. 
 
 " I don't think," said Sam who was smoking with great composure and enjoy- 
 ment, " that if the lady wos agreeable, it 'ud be wery far out o' the vay for us 
 four to make up a club of our own like the governors does up stairs, and let him," 
 Sam pointed with the stem of his pipe towards his parent, " be the president." 
 
 The housekeeper affably declared that it was the very thing she had been 
 thinking of. The barber said the same. Mr. Weller said nothing, but he 
 laid down his pipe as if in a fit of inspiration, and performed the following 
 manoeuvres. 
 
 Unbuttoning the three lower buttons of his w'aistcoat, and pausing for 
 a moment to enjoy the easy flow of breath consequent upon this process, he 
 laid violent hands upon his watch-chain and slowly and with extreme difficulty 
 drew from his fob an immense double-cased silver watch, which brought the 
 lining of the pocket with it and was not to be disentangled but by great 
 exertions and an amazing redness of face. Having fairly got it out at last, he 
 detached the outer case, and wound it up with a key of corresponding magni- 
 tude, then put the case on again, and having applied the watch to his ear to 
 ascertain that it was still going, gave it some half-dozen hard knocks on the 
 table to improve its performance. 
 
 " That," said Mr. Weller, laying it on the table with its face upwards, " is 
 the title and emblem o' this here society. Sammy, reach them two stools this 
 vay for the wacant cheers. Ladies and gen'lmen, Mr. Weller's watch is vound 
 up and now a goin'. Order ! " 
 
 By way of enforcing this proclamation, Mr. Weller, using the watch after 
 the manner of a president's hammer, and remarking with great pride that 
 nothing hurt it and that falls and concussions of all kinds materially enhanced 
 the excellence of the works and assisted the regulator, knocked the table a 
 great many times and declared the association formally constituted. 
 
 " And don't let's have no grinnin' at the cheer Samivel," said Mr. Weller 
 to his son, " or I shall be committin' you to the cellar, and then p'raps we 
 may get into wot the 'Merrikins call a fix, and the English a qvestion 
 o' privileges." 
 
 Having uttered this friendly caution, the president settled himself in his chair 
 with great dignity, and requested that Mr. Samuel would relate an anecdote. 
 
 " I've told one," said Sam. 
 
 " Wery good sir ; tell another," returned the chair. 
 
 " We wos a talking jist now sir," said Sam turning to Slithers, " about 
 barbers. Pursuing that 'ere fruitful theme sir, I'll tell you in a wery few- 
 words a romantic little story about another barber, as pr'aps you may never 
 have heerd." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 101 
 
 " Samivel ! " said Mr. Weller, again bringing his watch and the table 
 into smart collision, " address your obserwations to the cheer, sir, and not to 
 privvate indiwiduals ! " 
 
 " And if I might rise to order," said the barber in a soft voice, and looking 
 round him with a conciliatory smile as he leant over the table with the knuckles 
 of his left hand resting upon it, " if I migJit rise to order, I would suggest that 
 'barbers* is not exactly the kind of language which is agreeable and soothing to 
 our feelings. You, sir, will correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe there is 
 such a word in the dictionary as hair-dressers." 
 
 " Well, but suppose he wasn't a hair-dresser," suggested Sam. 
 
 " Wy then sir, be parliamentary, and call him vun all the more," returned 
 his father. " In the same vay as ev'ry gen'lman in another place is a honor- 
 able, ev'ry barber in this place is a hair-dresser. Ven you read the speeches 
 in the papers, and see as vun gen'lman says of another, ' the /^onorable 
 member if he vill allow me to call him so,' you vill understand sir that that 
 means, 'if he vill allow me to keep up that 'ere pleasant and uniwersal 
 fiction?'" 
 
 It is a common remark, confirmed by history and experience, that great men 
 rise with the circumstances in which they are placed. ^Ir. Weller came out 
 so strong in his capacity of chairman, that Sam was for some time prevented 
 from speaking by a grin of surprise, which held his faculties enchained and at 
 last subsided in a long whistle of a single note. Nay, the old gentleman 
 appeared even to have astonished himself, and that to no small extent, as 
 was demonstrated by the vast amount of chuckling in which he indulged after 
 the utterance of these lucid remarks. 
 
 " Here's the story," said Sam. " Vunce upon a time there wos a young hair- 
 dresser as opened a wery smart little shop vith four wax dummies in tho 
 winder, two gen'lmen and two ladies — the gen'lmen vith blue dots for their 
 beards, wery large viskers, ou-dacious heads of hair, uncommon clear eyes, 
 and nostrils of amazin' pinkness — the ladies vith their heads o' one side, their 
 right forefingers on their lips, and their forms deweloped beautiful, in vich 
 last respect they had the adwantage over the gen'lmen, as wasn't allowed but 
 wery little shoulder and terminated rayther abrupt, in fancy drapery. He 
 had also a many hair-brushes and tooth-brushes bottled up in tho winder, 
 neat glass-cases on the counter, a floor-clothed cuttin' room up-stairs, and a 
 woighin' raacheen in the shop, right opposite the door ; but the great attrac- 
 tion and ornament wos the dunnnies, which this here young hair-dresser wos 
 constantly a runnin' out in the road to look at, and constantly a runnin' in 
 agin to touch up and polish ; in short he was so proud on 'em that ven 
 Sunday come, he wos always wretched and miserable to think they wos behind 
 the shutters, and looked anxiously for Monday on that account. Vun o' these 
 dummies wos a fav'rite vith him beyond the others, and ven any of his acquaint- 
 ance asked him wy he didn't get married — as the young ladies he know'd, 
 in partickler, often did — he used to say, ' Never ! I never vill enter into tho 
 bonds of vedlock', he says, ' until I meet vith a young 'ooman as realizes my 
 idea o' that ere fairest dummy vith tho light hair. Then and not till then,' 
 
]02 ^tASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 he says, ' I vill appi'oach the altar ! ' All the young ladies he know'd as had got 
 dai'k hair told him this wos wery sinful and that he wos wurshippin' a idle, 
 but them as wos at all near the same shade as the dummy coloured up wery 
 much, and wos observed to think him a wery nice young man." 
 
 " Samivel," said Mr. Weller gravely ; " a member o' this assosiashun bein"* 
 one o"" that 'ere tender sex which is now immedetly referred to, I have to 
 rekvest that you vill make no reflexions." 
 
 " I ain't a makin' any, am I ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 "Order sir!" rejoined Mr. Weller with severe dignity; then sinking the 
 chairman in the father, he added in his usual tone of voice, " Samivel, 
 drive on ! " 
 
 Sam interchanged a smile with the housekeeper, and proceeded : 
 
 " The young hair-dresser hadn'tbeen in the habit o"* makin' this awowal above 
 six months, ven he en-countered a young lady as wos the wery picter o' the 
 fairest dummy. ' Now ' he says ' it''s all up, I am a slave ! ' The young lady 
 wos not only the picter o' the fairest dummy, but she wos wery romantic as the 
 young hair-dresser wos too, and he says ' Oh ! ' he says ' here\s a com- 
 munity o' feelin', here's a flow o' soul ! ' he says, ' here 's a interchange o"" senti- 
 ment ! ' The young lady didn't say much o' course, but she expressed herself 
 agreeable, and shortly artervards vent to see him vith a mutual friend. The 
 hair-dresser rushes out to meet her, but d'rectly she sees the dummies she 
 changes colour and falls a tremblin' wiolently. ' Look up my love ' says the 
 hair-dresser, ' behold your imige in my winder, but not corrector than in my 
 art ! ' ' My imige ! ' she says. ' Your'n ! ' replies the hair-dresser. ' But 
 whose imige is that ! ' she says, a pinting at vun o' the gen'lmen. ' No vun's my 
 love' he says ' it is but a idea.' ' A idea ! ' she cries, ' it is a portrait, I feel it 
 is a portrait, and that 'ere noble face must be in the milingtary ! ' ' Wot do 
 I hear ! ' says he a crumplin' his curls. ' Villiam Gibbs ' she says quite firm, 
 ' never renoo the subject. I respect you as a friend ' she says ' but my affec- 
 tions is set upon that manly brow.' ' This ' says the hair-dresser * is a reg'lar 
 blight, and in it I perceive the hand of Fate. Farevell ! ' Vith these vords he 
 rushes into the shop, breaks the dummy's nose vith a blow of his curlin' irons, 
 melts him down at the parlour fire, and never smiles artervards." 
 
 " The young lady, Mr. Weller ? " said the housekeeper. 
 
 " Why ma'am " said Sam, " finding that Fate had a spite agin her and 
 everybody she come into contact vith, she never smiled neither, but read a 
 deal o' poetry and pined avay — by rayther slow degrees, for she an't dead yet. 
 It took a deal o' poetry to kill the hair-dresser, and some people say arter all 
 that it was more the gin and water as caused him to be run over ; p'raps it 
 wos a little o' both, and came o' mixing the two." 
 
 The barber declared that Mr. Weller had related one of the most interest- 
 ing stories that had ever come within his knowledge, in which opinion the 
 housekeeper entirely concurred. 
 
 " Are you a married man sir ? " inquired Sara. 
 
 The barber replied that he had not that honour. 
 
 " I s'pose you mean to be V said Sam. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 103 
 
 " Well," replied the barber rubbing his hands smirkingly, " I don't know, 
 I don't think it 's very likely."" 
 
 " That's a bad sign " said Sam, " if you'd said you meant to be vun o' these 
 days, I should ha' looked upon you as bein' safe. You're in a wery precarious 
 state." 
 
 " I am not conscious of any danger, at all events," returned the barber. 
 
 " No more wos I sir," said the elder Mr. Weller, interposing, " those vere 
 my symptoms exactly. I've been took that vay twice. Keep your vether 
 eye open ray friend, or you 're gone." 
 
 There was something so very solemn about this admonition, both in its 
 matter and manner, and also in the way in which Mr. Weller still kept his 
 eye fixed upon the unsuspecting victim, that nobody cared to speak for some 
 little time, and might not have cared to do so for some time longer, if the 
 housekeeper had not happened to sigh, which called off the old gentleman's 
 attention and gave rise to a gallant inquiry whether, " there wos anythin' 
 wery piercin' in that 'ere little heart." 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Weller ! " said the housekeeper, laughing, 
 
 " No, but is thei*e anythin' as agitates it ? " pursued the old gentleman, 
 " Has it always been obderrate, always opposed to the happiness o' human 
 creeturs ? Eh ? Has it ? " 
 
 At this critical juncture for her blushes and confusion, the housekeeper 
 discovered that more ale was wanted, and hastily withdrew into the cellar to 
 draw the same, followed by the barber who insisted on carrying the candle. 
 Having looked after her with a very complacent expression of face, and after 
 him with some disdain, Mr. Weller caused his glance to travel slowly round 
 the kitchen until at length it rested on his son. 
 
 " Sammy " said Mr. Weller, " I mistrust that barber." 
 
 " Wot for ? " returned Sam " wot's he got to do with you ? You're a nice 
 man, you are, arter pretendin"' all kinds o' terror, to go a payin' compliments 
 and talkin' about hearts and piercers." 
 
 The imputation of gallantry appeared to afford Mr, AVcller the utmost 
 delight, for he replied in a voice choked by suppressed laughter and with the 
 tears in his eyes, 
 
 " Wos I a talkin' about hearts and piercers— was I though, Sammy, eh V 
 
 " Wos you ; of course you wos.*" 
 
 " She don't know no better Sammy, there an't no harm in it— no danger 
 Sammy; she 's only a punster. She seemed pleased though, didn't she? O' 
 course she wos pleased, it's nat'ral she should be, wery natural." 
 
 " He' s wain of it ! " exclaimed Sam, joining in his father's mirth. •' He's 
 actually wain ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " replied Mr. Weller, composing his features, " they're a comin 
 back, the little heart 's a comin' back. But mark these wurds o' mine once 
 more, and remember 'em ven your father says he said'cm. Samivel, I mistrust 
 that 'ere deceitful barber." 
 
104> iM ASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 
 
 Whether Mr. Quilp took any sleep by snatches of a few winks at a tinio, 
 or whether ho sat with his eyes wide open all night long, certain it is that he 
 kept his cigar alight, and kindled every fresh one from the ashes of that which 
 was nearly consumed, without requiring the assistance of a candle. Nor did 
 the striking of the clocks, hour after hour, appear to inspire him with any sense 
 of drowsiness or any natural desire to go to rest, but rather to increase his 
 wakefulness, which he showed, at every such indication of the progress of the 
 night, by a suppressed cackling in his throat, and a motion of his shoulders, 
 like one who laughs heartily but at the same time slyly and by stealth. 
 
 At length the day broke, and poor Mrs. Quilp, shivering with the cold of 
 early morning and harassed by fatigue and want of sleep, was discovered sitting 
 patiently on her chair, raising her eyes at intervals in mute appeal to the com- 
 passion and clemency of her lord, and gently reminding him by an occasional 
 cough that she was still unpardoned and that her penance had been of long 
 duration. But her dwarfish spouse still smoked his cigar and drank his rum 
 without heeding her ; and it was not until the sun had some time risen, and 
 the activity and noise of city day were rife in the street, that he deigned to 
 recognise her presence by any word or sign. He might not have done so even 
 then, but for certain impatient tappings at the door which seemed to denote 
 that some pretty hard knuckles were actively engaged upon the other side. 
 
 " Why dear me ! " he said looking round with a malicious grin, " it's day ! 
 open the door, sweet Mrs. Quilp ! " 
 
 His obedient wife withdrew the bolt, and her lady mother entered. 
 
 Now Mrs. Jiniwin bounced into the room with great impetuosity, for supposing 
 her son-in-law to be still a-bed, she had come to reUeve her feelings by pronounc- 
 ing a strong opinion upon his general conduct and character. Seeing that he was 
 up and dressed, and that the room appeared to have been occupied ever since she 
 quitted it on the previous evening, she stopped short, in some embarrassment. 
 
 Nothing escaped the hawk's eye of the ugly little man, who perfectly 
 understanding what passed in the old lady's mind, turned uglier still in the 
 fulness of his satisfaction, and bade her good morning with a leer of triumph. 
 
 " Why Betsy." said the old woman, " you haven't been a — you don't mean 
 to say you've been a — " 
 
 " Sitting up all night ? "" said Quilp supplying the conclusion of the sentence. 
 " Yes she has ! " 
 
 " All night ! " cried Mrs. Jiniwin. 
 
 "Aye, all night. Is the dear old lady deaf ? " said Quilp, with a smile of 
 which a frown was part. " Who says man and wife are bad company ? Ha ha ! 
 The time has flown." 
 
 " You're a brute ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jiniwin. 
 
 " Come come," said Quilp, wilfully misunderstanding her, of course, " you 
 mustn't call her names. She's married now, you know. And though she did 
 
MASTER IIUMPIIREVS CLOCK. 105 
 
 beguile tlie time and keep me from my bed, you must not be so tenderly 
 careful of me as to be out of humour with her. Bless you for a dear old lady. 
 Here's your health! 
 
 "I am much obliged to you," returned the old woman, testifying by a certain 
 restlessness in her hands a vehement desire to shake her matronly fist at her 
 son-in-law. " Oh ! I'm very much obliged to you !" 
 
 " Grateful soul !" cried the dwarf. " Mrs. Quilp." 
 
 " Yes Quilp," said the tiuiid sufferer. 
 
 " Help your mother to get breakfast, Mrs. Quilp. I am going to the wharf 
 this morning — the earlier, the better, so be quick." 
 
 Mrs. Jiniwin made a faint demonstration of rebellion by sitting down in a 
 chair near the door and folding her arms as if in a resolute determination to 
 do nothing. But a few whispered words from her daughter, and a kind inquiry 
 from her son-in-law whether she felt ftiint, with a hint that there was abundance 
 of cold water in the next apartment, routed these symptoms effectually, and 
 she applied herself to the prescribed preparations with sullen diligence. 
 
 While they were in progress, Mr. Quilp withdrew to tiie adjoining room and 
 turning back his coat-collar, proceeded to smear his countenance with a damp 
 towel of very unwholesome appearance, which made his complexion rather 
 more cloudy than it was before. But while he was thus engaged, his caution 
 and inquisitiveness did not forsake him, for with a face as sharp and cunning 
 as ever he often stopped, even in this short process, and stood listening for 
 any conversation in the next room, of which he might be the theme. 
 
 " Ah !" he said after a short effort of attention, " it was not the towel over 
 my ears, I thought it wasn't. Tm a little hunchy villain and a monster, am I, 
 Mrs. Jiniwin I Oh !" 
 
 The pleasure of this discovery called up the old doglike smile in full force. 
 "When he had quite done with it, he shook himself in a very doglike manner, 
 and rejoined the ladies. 
 
 Mr. Quilp now walked up to the front of a looking-glass, and was standing 
 there putting on his neckerchief when !Mrs. Jiniwin, happening to be behind him, 
 could not resist the inclination she felt to shake her fist at her tyrant son-in- 
 law. It was the gesture of an instant, but as she did so and accompanied the 
 action with a menacing look, she met his eye in the glass, catching her in the 
 very act. The same glance at the mirror conveyed to her the reflection of a 
 horribly grotesque and distorted face with the tongue lolling out ; and the next 
 Instant the dwarf, turning about with a perfectly bland and placid look, inquired 
 in a tone of great affection, 
 
 " How are you now, my dear old darling ? " 
 
 Slight and ridiculous as the incident was, it made him appear such a little 
 fiend, and withal such a keen and knowing one, that the old woman felt too 
 much afraid of him to utter a single word, and suffered herself to be led with 
 extraordinary politeness to the breakfast-table. Here he by no means 
 diminished the impression he had just produced, for he ate hard eggs, shell and 
 all, devoured gigantic prawns with the heads and tails on, chewed tobacco and 
 water-cresses at the same time and with extraordinary greediness, drank 
 
106 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 boilincj tea witliout winking, bit his fork and spoon till they bent again, and in 
 short performed so many horrifying and uncommon acts that the women were 
 nearly frightened out of their wits, and began to doubt if he were really 
 a human creature. At last, having gone through these proceedings and many 
 others which were equally a part of his system, Mr. Quilp left them, reduced 
 to a very obedient and humble state, and betook himself to the river-side, 
 where he took boat for the wharf on which he had bestowed his name. 
 
 It was flood tide when Daniel Quilp sat himself dowTi in the wherry to cross 
 to the opposite shore. A fleet of barges were coming lazily on, some side- 
 ways, some head first, some stern first ; all in a wrong-headed, dogged, obstinate 
 way, bumping up against the larger craft, running under the bows of steam- 
 boats, getting into every kind of nook and corner where they had no business, 
 and being crunched on all sides like so many walnut-shells ; while each with its 
 pair of long sweeps struggling and splashing in the ^^^ater looked like some lum- 
 bering fish in pain. In some of the vessels at anchor all hands were busily 
 engaged in coiling ropes, spreading out sails to dry, taking in or discharging 
 their cargoes ; in others no life was visible but two or three tarry boys, and 
 perhaps a barking dog running to and fro upon the deck or scrambling up to 
 look over the side and bark the louder for the view. Coming slowly on through 
 the forest of masts was a great steam ship, beating the water in short impatient 
 strokes with her heavy paddles as though she wanted room to breathe, and 
 advancing in her huge bulk like a sea monster among the minnows of the Thames. 
 On either hand were long black tiers of colliers ; between them vessels slowly 
 working out of harbour with sails glistening in the sun, and creaking noise on 
 board, re-echoed from a hundred quarters. The water and all upon it was in 
 active motion, dancing and buoyant and bubbling up ; while the old grey Tower 
 and piles of building on the shore, with many a church-spire shooting up between, 
 looked coldly on, and seemed to disdain their chafing, restless neighbour. 
 
 Daniel Quilp, who was not much affected by a bright morning save in so far 
 as it spared him the trouble of carrying an umbrella, caused himself to be put 
 ashore hard by the wharf, and proceeded thither through a narrow lane which, 
 partaking of the amphibious character of its frequenters, had as much water 
 as mud in its composition, and a very liberal supply of both. Arrived at his 
 destination, the first object that presented itself to his view was a pair of very 
 imperfectly shod feet elevated in the air with the soles upwards, which remark- 
 able appearance was referable to the boy, who being of an eccentric spirit and 
 having a natural taste for tumbling was now standing on his head and con- 
 templating the aspect of the river under these uncommon circumstances. He 
 was speedily brought on his heels by the sound of his master's voice, and as 
 soon as his head was in its right position, Mr. Quilp, to speak expressively in 
 the absence of a better verb, " punched it "" for him. 
 
 " Come, you let me alone," said the boy, parrying Quilp''s hand with both 
 his elbows alternately. " You'll get something you won't like if you don't, and 
 so I tell you." 
 
 " You dog," snarled Quilp, " Til beat you with an iron rod, I'll scratch yon 
 with a rusty nail. Til pinch your eyes, if you talk to me — I will." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 107 
 
 With these threats he clenched his hand again, and dexterously diving in 
 between the elbows and catching the boy's head as it dodged from side to side, 
 gave it three or four good hard knocks. Having now carried his point and 
 insisted on it, he left off. 
 
 " You won't do it again" said the boy, nodding his head and drawing back, 
 with the elbows ready in case of the worst ; " now — " 
 
 " Stand still, you dog," said Quilp. "I won't do it again, because IVe done 
 it as often as I want. Here. Take the key." 
 
 " Why don't you hit one of your size ?" said the boy approaching very slowly. 
 
 " Where is there one of my size, you dog V returned Quilp. " Take the key, 
 or ril brain you with it " — indeed he gave him a smart tap with the handle as 
 he spoke. " Now, open the counting-house," 
 
 The boy sulkily complied, muttering at first, but desisting when he looked 
 round and saw that Quilp was following him with a steady look. And here it 
 may be remarked, that between this boy and the dwarf there existed a strange 
 kind of mutual liking. How born or bred, or how nourished upon blows and 
 threats on one side, and retorts and defiances on the other, is not to the 
 purpose. Quilp would certainly suffer nobody to contradict him but the boy, 
 and the boy would assuredly not have submitted to be so knocked about by any- 
 body but Quilp, when he had the power to run away at any time he chose. 
 
 " Now," said Quilp, passing into the wooden counting-house, '" you mind the 
 wharf. Stand upon your head again, and I'll cut one of your feet off." 
 
108 MASTER IIUMniRCY'S CLOCK. 
 
 The boy niado no answer, but directlv Quilp bad sbiit bimsclf in, stood on liis 
 head before the door, then walked on liis hands to the back anrl f^tood on his 
 licad there, and then to the opposite side and repeated the performance. There 
 were indeed four sides to the counting-house, but he avoided that one where tlio 
 window was, deeming it probable that Quilji would be looking out of it. This 
 was prudent, for in point of fact the dwarf, knowing his disposition, was lying 
 in wait at a little distance from the sash armed with a large piece of wood, 
 which, being rough and jagged and studded in many parts with broken nails, 
 might possibly have hurt him. 
 
 It was a dirty little box, this counting-house, with nothing in it but an old 
 ricketty desk and two stools, a hat-peg, an ancient almanack, an inkstand with 
 no ink and the stump of one pen, and an eight-day clock which hadn't gone for 
 eighteen years at least and of which the minute-hand had been twisted off for 
 a tooth-pick. Daniel Quilp pulled his hat over his brows, climbed on to the 
 desk (which had a flat top), and stretching his short length upon it went to sleep 
 with the ease of an old practitioner ; intending, no doubt, to compensate himself 
 for the deprivation of last night's rest, by a long and sound nap. 
 
 Sound it might have been, but long it was not, for he had not been asleep a 
 quarter of an hour when the boy opened the door and thrust in his head, which 
 was like a bundle of badly-picked oakum. Quilp was a light sleeper and started 
 up directly. 
 
 " Here's somebody for you," said the boy. 
 
 " WhoT' 
 
 " I don't know " 
 
 " Ask ! "" said Quilp, seizing the trifle of wood before mentioned and throw- 
 ing it at him with such dexterity that it was well the boy disappeared before 
 it reached the spot on which he had stood. " Ask, you dog." 
 
 Not caring to venture within range of such missiles again, the boy discreetly 
 sent in his stead the first cause of the interruption, who now presented herself 
 at the door. 
 
 "What, Nelly!" cried Quilp. 
 
 "Yes," — said the child, hesitating whether to enter or retreat, for the 
 dwarf just roused, with his dishevelled hair hanging all about him and a 
 yellow handkerchief over his head, was something fearful to behold; " it's only 
 me sir." 
 
 " Come in," said Quilp, without getting off" the desk. " Come in. Stay. 
 Just look out into the yard, and see whether there's a boy standing on his 
 head." 
 
 " No sir," replied Nell. " He's on his feet." 
 
 " You're sure he is V said Quilp. " Well. Now, come in and shut the 
 door. What's your message Nelly T 
 
 The child handed him a letter ; Mr. Quilp, without changing his position 
 further than to turn over a little more on his side and rest his chin on his 
 hand, proceeded to make himself acquainted with its contents. 
 
109 
 
 ^f)e (Bin Curiosi'tn ^f)op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 
 
 ITTLE NELL stood timidly by, with her eyes raised to the 
 countenance of Mr. Quilp as he read the letter, plainly 
 showing by her looks that while she entertained some fear 
 and distrust of the little man, she was much inclined to laugh 
 at his uncouth appearance and grotesque attitude. And yet 
 there was visible on the part of the child a painful anxiety 
 for his reply, and a consciousness of his power to render it 
 disagreeable or distressing, which was strongly at variance with this impulse 
 and restrained it more effectually than she could possibly have done by any 
 efforts of her own. 
 
 That Mr. Quilp was himself perplexed, and that in no small degree, by the 
 contents of the letter, was sufficiently obvious. Before he had got through 
 the first two or three lines he began to open his eyes very wide and to frown 
 most horribly, the next two or three caused him to scratch his head in an 
 uncommonly vicious manner, and when he came to the conclusion he gave a 
 long dismal whistle indicative of surprise and dismay. After folding and 
 laying it down beside him, he bit the nails of all his ton fingers with extreme 
 voracity ; and taking it up sharply, read it again. The second perusal was to 
 10. L 
 
110 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 all appearance as unsatisfactory as the first, and plunged him into a profound 
 reverie from which he awakened to another assault upon his nails and a long 
 stare at the child, who with her eyes turned towards the ground awaited his 
 further pleasure. 
 
 " Halloa here !"" he said at length, in a voice, and with a suddenness, which 
 made the child start as though a gun had been fired off" at her ear. " Nelly I" 
 
 " Yes, sir.'' 
 
 " Do you know what's inside this letter, Nell I" 
 • "No, sir!" 
 
 " Are you sure, quite sure, quite certain, upon your soul V 
 
 " Quite sure, sir." 
 
 " Do you wish you may die if you do know, hey I" said the dwarf. 
 
 " Indeed I don't know," returned the child. 
 
 " Well !" muttered Quilp as he marked her earnest look. " I believe you. 
 Humph ! Gone already ? Gone in four-and-twenty hours ! What the devil has 
 he done with it, that's the mystery !" 
 
 This reflection set him scratching his head and biting his nails once more. 
 AVhile he was thus employed his features gradually relaxed into what was 
 with him a cheerful smile, but which in any other man would have been a 
 ghastly grin of pain, and when the child looked up again she found that 
 he was regarding her with extraordinary f;ivour and complacency. 
 
 " You look very pretty to-day, Nelly, charmingly pretty. Are you tired. 
 Nelly r 
 
 " No, sir. I'm in a hurry to get back, for he will be anxious while I am 
 away." 
 
 " There's no hurry, little Nell, no hurry at all,"" said Quilp. " How should 
 you like to be my number two, Nelly 1" 
 
 " To be what, sir f 
 
 " My number two, Nelly, my second, my ]\Trs. Quilp," said the dwarf. 
 
 The child looked frightened, but seemed not to understand him, which 
 Mr. Quilp observing, hastened to explain his meaning more distinctly. 
 
 " To be Mrs. Quilp the second, when Mrs. Quilp the first is dead, sweet 
 Nell," said Quilp, wrinkling up his eyes and luring her towards him with his 
 bent forefinger, " to be my wife, my little cherry-cheeked, red-lipped wife. Say 
 that Mrs. Quilp lives five years, or only four, you'll be just the proper age for 
 nie. Ha ha ! Be a good girl Nelly, a very good girl, and see if one of thes'=>, 
 days you don't come to be INIrs. Quilp of Tower Hill." 
 
 So far from being siMained and stimulated by this delightful prospect, the 
 child shrunk from him in great agitation, and trembled violently. Mr. Quilp, 
 either because frightening anybody affoi-dcd him a constitutional delight, or 
 because it was pleasant to contemplate the death of Mrs. Quilp number one, 
 and the elevation of Mrs. Quilp number two to her post and title, or because 
 he was determined for purposes of his own to be agreeable and good-humoured 
 at that particular time, only laughed and feigned to take no heed of her 
 alarm. 
 
AIASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. Ill 
 
 *' You shall come with me to Tower Hill, and see Mrs. Quilp that is, 
 directly," said the dwarf. " She's very fond of you, Nell, though not so fond 
 as I am. You shall come home with me.*" 
 
 " I must go back indeed" said the child. " He told me to return directly 
 I had the answer." 
 
 '"' But you haven't it Nelly," retorted the dwarf, " and won't have it, and 
 can't have it, until I have been home, so you see that to do your errand, you 
 must go with me. Reach me yonder hat my dear and we'll go directly." 
 With that, ]Mr. Quilp suffered himself to roll gradually off the desk until his 
 short legs touched the ground, when he got upon them and led the way from 
 the counting-house to the wharf outside, where the first objects that presented 
 themselves were the boy who had stood on his head and another young gentle- 
 man of about his own stature, rolling in the nmd together, locked in a tight 
 embrace, and cuffing each other with nmtual heartiness. 
 
 " It's Kit ! " cried Nelly clasping her hands, " poor Kit who came with me ! 
 oh pray stop them Mr. Quilp !" 
 
 " I'll stop 'em" cried Quilp, diving into the little counting-house and 
 returning with a thick stick, " I'll stop 'em. Now my boys fight away. I'll 
 fight you both, I'll take both of you, both together, both together I " 
 
 With which defiances the dwarf flourished his cudgel, and dancing round 
 the combatants and treading upon them and skipping over them, in a kind of 
 frenzy, laid about him, now on one and now on the other, in a most desperate 
 manner, always aiming at their heads and dealing such blow^s as none but the 
 veriest little savage would have inflicted. This being w-armer work than they 
 had calculated upon, speedily cooled the courage of the belligerents, who 
 scrambled to their feet and called for quarter. 
 
 " I'll beat you to a pulp you dogs," said Quilp vainly endeavouring to get 
 near either of them for a parting blow. " I'll bruise you till you're copper- 
 coloured, I'll break your faces till you haven't a profile between you, I will." 
 
 "■ Come, you drop that stick or it '11 be worse for you," said his boy, dodging 
 round him and watching an opportunity to rush in ; " you drop that stick." 
 
 " Come a little nearer, and I'll drop it on your skull you dog," said Quilp 
 with gleaming eyes ; " a little nearer — nearer yet." 
 
 But the boy declined the invitation until his master w^as apparently a little o 
 his guard, when he darted in and seizing the weapon tried to wrest it from his 
 grasp. Quilp, who was as strong as a lion, easily kept his hold until the boy 
 was tugging at it with his utmost power, when he suddenly let it go and sent 
 him reeling backwards, so that ho fell violently upon his head. The success of 
 this manoeuvre tickled Mr. Quilp beyond description, and he lauglicd and 
 stamped upon the ground as at a most irresistible jest. 
 
 " Never mind" said the boy, nodding his head and rubbing it at the same 
 time ; " you see if ever I offer to strike anybody again because they say you're 
 a uglier dwarf than can be seen anywhers for a penny, that's all." 
 
 " Do you mean to say, I'm not, you dog?" returned Quilp. 
 
 " No ! " retorted the boy. 
 
112 Master Humphrey's clock. 
 
 " Then what do you fight on my wharf for, you villain ?" said Quilp. 
 
 " Because he said so," replied the boy, pointing to Kit, "not because you an't." 
 
 " Then why did he say " bawled Kit, " that Miss Nelly was ugly, and that 
 she and my master was obliged to do whatever his master liked ? Why did he 
 say that ? "" 
 
 '■'' He said what he did because he's a fool, and you said what you did because 
 you're very wise and clever — almost too clever to live unless you're very careful 
 of yourself, Kit," said Quilp with great suavity in his manner, but still more 
 of quiet malice about his eyes and mouth. " Here's sixpence for you Kit. 
 Always speak the truth. At all times. Kit, speak the truth. Lock the counting- 
 house you dog, and bring me the key." 
 
 The other boy, to whom this order was addressed, did as he was told, and 
 was rewarded for his partizanship in behalf of his master, by a dexterous rap 
 on the nose with the key, which brought the water into his eyes. Then Mr. 
 Quilp departed with the child and Kit in a boat, and the boy revenged himself 
 by dancing on his head at intervals on the extreme verge of the wharf, during 
 the whole time they crossed the river. 
 
 There was only Mrs. Quilp at home, and she, little expecting the return of 
 her lord, was just composing herself for a refreshing slumber when the sound 
 of his footsteps roused her. She had barely time to seem to be occupied in 
 some needle- work, when he entered, accompanied by the child ; having left Kit 
 down stairs. 
 
 " Here's Nelly Trent, dear Mrs. Quilp," said her husband. " A glass of 
 wine my dear, and a biscuit, for she has had a long walk. She'll sit with you 
 my soul, while I write a letter." 
 
 Mrs. Quilp looked tremblingly in her spouse's face to know what this unusual 
 courtesy might portend, and obedient to the summons she saw in his gesture, 
 followed him into the next room. 
 
 " Mind what I say to you," whispered Quilp. " See if you can get out of 
 her anything about her grandfather, or what they do, or how they live, or 
 what he tells her. I've my reasons for knowing, if I can. You women talk 
 more freely to one another than you do to us, and you have a soft, mild way 
 with you that'll win upon her. Do you hear 1 " 
 
 " Yes Quilp." 
 
 " Go, then. What's the matter now ? " 
 
 " Dear Quilp," faltered his wife, " I love the child — if you could do without 
 making me deceive her^ " 
 
 The dwarf muttering a terrible oath looked round as if for some weapon with 
 which to inflict condign punishment upon his disobedient wife. The submissive 
 little woman hurriedly entreated him not to be angry, and promised to do as 
 he bade her. 
 
 " Do you hear me," whispered Quilp, nipping and pinching her arm ; *' worm 
 yourself into her secrets ; I know you can. I'm listening, recollect. If you're 
 not sharp enough I'll creak the door, and wo betide you if I have to creak it 
 much. Go!" 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 113 
 
 Mrs. Quilp departed according to order, and her amiable husband, ensconcing 
 himself behind tlie partly opened door, and applying his ear close to it, began 
 to listen with a face of great craftiness and attention. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Quilp was thinking, however, in what manner to begin or what 
 kind of inquiries she could make ; and it was not until the door, creaking in a 
 very urgent manner, warned her to proceed without further considei'ation, that 
 the sound of her voice was heard. 
 
 " How very often you have come backwards and forwards lately to Mr. Quilp, 
 my dear." 
 
 " I have said so to grandfather, a hundred times," returned Nell innocently. 
 
 " And what has he said to that I " 
 
 " Only sighed, and dropped his head, and seemed so sad and wretched that 
 if you could have seen him I am sure you must have cried : you could not have 
 helped it more than I, I know. How that door creaks ! " 
 
 " It often does," returned Mrs. Quilp with an uneasy glance towards it. 
 " But your grandfather — he used not to be so wretched ; " 
 
 " Oh no ! " said the child eagerly, " so different ! we were once so happy 
 and he so cheerful and contented ! You cannot think what a sad change has 
 fallen on us since." 
 
 *' I am very, very sorry, to hear you speak like this my dear ! " said Mrs. 
 Quilp. And she spoke the truth. 
 
 " Thank you," returned the child, kissing her cheek, " you are always kind 
 to me, and it is a pleasure to talk to you. I can speak to no one else about 
 him, but poor Kit. I am very happy still, I ought to feel happier perhaps than 
 I do, but you cannot think how it grieves me sometimes to see him alter so." 
 
 " He 11 alter again Nelly," said Mrs. Quilp, " and be what he was before." 
 
 " Oh if God would only let that come about !" said the child with stream- 
 ing eyes ; "" but it is a long time now, since he first began to — I thought I saw 
 that door moving ! " 
 
 " It's the wind," said ]\Irs. Quilp faintly. " Began to — T' 
 
 " To bo so thoughtful and dejected, and to forget our old way of spending 
 the time in the long evenings," said the child. " I used to read to him by the 
 fireside, and he sat listening, and when I stopped and we began to talk, he told 
 me about my mother, and how she once looked and spoke just like me when 
 she was a little child. Then he used to take mo on his knee, and try to make 
 me understand that she was not lying in her grave, but had flown to a beauti- 
 ful country beyond the sky, where nothing died or ever grew old — we were 
 very happy once ! " 
 
 " Nelly, Nelly ! " — said the poor woman, " I can't bear to see one as young 
 as you, so sorrowful. Pray don't cry." 
 
 " I do so very seldom," said Nell, " but I have kept this to myself a long 
 time, and I am not quite well I think, for the tears come into ray eyes and I 
 cannot keep them back. I don't mind telling you my grief, for I know you 
 will not tell it to any one again." 
 
 Mrs. Quilp turned away her head and made no answer. 
 
Ill MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Then"" said the child, " we often walked in the fields and among the green 
 trees, and when we came home at night, we liked it better for being tired, and 
 said what a happy place it was. And if it was dark and rather dull, we used to 
 eay, what did it matter to us, for it only made us remember our last walk with 
 greater pleasure, and look forward to our next one. But now we never have 
 these walks, and though it is the same house it is darker and much more 
 gloomy than it used to be, indeed." 
 
 She paused here, but though the door creaked more than once, Mrs. Quilp 
 said nothing. 
 
 "Mind you don't suppose " said the child earnestly, "that grandfather is 
 less kind to me than he was. I think he loves me better every day, and is 
 kinder and more affectionate than he was the day before. You do not know 
 how fond he is of me ! " 
 
 ** I'm sure he loves you dearly " said Mrs. Quilp. 
 
 *' Indeed, indeed ho does!" cried Nell, " as dearly as I love him. But I 
 have not told you the greatest change of all, and this you must never breathe 
 ao"aia to any one. He has no sleep or rest, but that which he takes by day in 
 his easy chair ; for every night and nearly all night long he is away from home." 
 
 "Nelly!" 
 
 " Hush I " said the child, laying her finger on her lip and looking round. 
 *' When he comes homo in the morning, which is generally just before day, 
 I let him in. Last night he was very late, and it was quite light. I saw that 
 his face was deadly pale, tha his eyes were bloodshot, and that his legs trem- 
 bled as he walked. When I had gone to bed again, I heard him groan. I 
 got up and ran back to him, and heard him say, before he knew that I was 
 there, that he could not bear his life much longer, and if it was not for the 
 child, would wish to die. What shall I do ! Oh ! what shall I do !" 
 
 The fountains of her heart were open ; the child, overpowered by the weight 
 of her sorrows and anxieties, by the first confidence she had ever sho\vn, and 
 the sympathy with which her little tale had been received, hid her face in the 
 arms of her helpless friend, and burst into a passion of tears. 
 
 In a few moments Mr. Quilp returned, and expressed the utmost surprise to 
 find her in this condition, which he did very naturally and with admirable 
 effect, for that kind of acting had been rendered familiar to him by long prac- 
 tice, and he was quite at home in it. 
 
 " She's tired you see, Mrs. Quilp," said the dwarf, squinting in a hideous 
 manner to imply that his wife was to follow his lead. " Ifs a long way from 
 her home to the wharf, and then she was alarmed to see a couple of young 
 scoundrels fighting, and was timorous on the water besides. All this together 
 has been too much for her. Poor Nell ! " 
 
 Mr. Quilp unintentionally adopted the very best means he could have 
 devised for the recovery of his young visitor, by patting her on the head. Such 
 an application from any other hand might not liave produced a remarkable effect, 
 but the child shrunk so quickly from his touch and felt such an instinctive desire 
 to get out of his reach, that she rose directly and declared herself ready to return. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 115 
 
 *' But youM better wait, and dine with Mrs. Quilp and me" said the dwarf. 
 
 " I have been away too long, Sir, already," returned Nell, drying her eyes. 
 
 " Well, " said Mr. Quilp, " if you will go, you will, Nelly. Here's the note. 
 It's only to say that I shall see him tomorrow or maybe next day, and that 
 I couldn't do that little business for him this morning. Good bye Nelly. Here, 
 you Sir ; take care of her, d'ye hear l " 
 
 Kit, who appeared at the summons, deigned to make no reply to so needless 
 an injunction, and after staring at Quilp in a threatening manner as if he doubted 
 whether he might not have been the cause of Nelly shedding tears, and felt 
 more than half-disposed to revenge the fact upon him on the mere suspicion, 
 turned about and followed his young mistress, who had by this time taken her 
 leave of Mrs. Quilp and departed. 
 
 " You're a keen questioner, an't you, Mrs. Quilp V said the dwarf turning 
 upon her as soon as they were left alone. 
 
 " What more could I do ? " returned his wife mildly. 
 
 *' What more could you do ! " sneered Quilp, " couldn't you have done 
 something less ? couldn't you have done what you had to do without appearing 
 in your favorite part of the crocodile, you minx." 
 
 " I am very sorry for the child, Quilp," said his wife. " Surely I've done 
 enough. I've led her on to tell her secret when she supposed we were alone ; 
 and you were by, God forgive me." 
 
 " You led her on ! You did a great deal truly ! " said Quilp. " What did. 
 I tell you about making me creak the door 2 It's lucky for you that from what 
 she let fall, I've got the clue I want, for if I hadn't, I'd have visited the failure 
 upon you, I can tell you." 
 
 Mrs. Quilp being fully persuaded of this, made no reply. Her husband 
 added with some exultation, 
 
 " But you may thank your fortunate stars — the same stars that made you 
 Mrs. Quilp — you may thank them that I'm upon the old gentleman's track 
 and have got a new light. So let me hear no more about this matter now 
 or at any other time, and don't get anything too nice for dinner,' for I shan't 
 be home to it." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Quilp put his hat on and took himself off, and Mrs. Quilp, 
 who was afflicted beyond measure by the recollection of the part she had just 
 acted, shut herself up in her chamber, and smothering her head in the bed- 
 clothes bemoaned her fault more bitterly than many less tender-hearted persons 
 would have mourned a much greater offence ; for in the majority of cases, 
 conscience is an elastic and very flexible article, which will bear a deal of stretch- 
 ing and adapt itself to a great variety of circumstances. Some people by 
 prudent management and leaving it off piece by piece like a flannel waistcoat 
 in warm weather, even contrive, in time, to dispense with it altogether, but 
 there be others who can assume the garment and throw it off at pleasure ; 
 and this being the greatest and most convenient improvement, is the one 
 most in vogue. 
 
116 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 
 
 " Fred," said Mr. Swiveller, " remember the once popular melody of 
 ' Begone dull care ; ' fan the sinking flame of hilarity with the wing of friend- 
 ship ; and pass the rosy wine." 
 
 Mr. Richard Swiveller's apartments were in the neighbourhood of Drury 
 Lane, and in addition to this conveniency of situation had the advantage of 
 being over a tobacconists shop, so that he was enabled to procure a refreshing 
 sneeze at any time by merely stepping out upon the staircase, and was saved 
 the trouble and expense of maintaining a snuff-box. It was in these apart- 
 ments that Mr. Swiveller made use of the expressions above recorded for the 
 consolation and encouragement of his desponding friend ; and it may not be 
 uninteresting or improper to remark that even these brief observations partook 
 in a double sense of the figurative and poetical character of Mr. Swiveller's 
 mind, as the rosy wine was in fact represented by one glass of cold gin-and- 
 water which was replenished as occasion required from a bottle and jug upon 
 the table, and was passed from one to another in a scarcity of tumblers which, 
 as ^Ir. Swiveller's was a bachelor's establishment, may be acknowledged 
 without a blush. By a like pleasant fiction his single chamber was always 
 mentioned in the plural number. In its disengaged times, the tobacconist 
 had announced it in his window as " apartments " for a single gentleman, 
 and Mr. Swiveller, following up the hint, never failed to speak of it as 
 his rooms, his lodgings, or his chambers, conveying to his hearers a notion of 
 indefinite space, and leaving their imaginations to wander through long suites 
 of lofty hallS; at pleasure. 
 
 In this flight of fancy, Mr. Swiveller was assisted by a deceptive piece of 
 furniture, in reality a bedstead, but in semblance a bookcase, which occupied 
 a prominent situation in his chamber and seemed to defy suspicion and 
 challenge inquiry. There is no doubt that by day Mr. Swiveller firmly 
 believed this secret convenience to be a bookcase and nothing more, that he 
 closed his eyes to the bed, resolutely denied the existence of the blankets, and 
 spurned the bolster from his thoughts. No word of its real use, no hint of 
 its nightly service, no allusion to its peculiar properties, had ever passed between 
 him and his most intimate friends. Implicit faith in the deception was the 
 first article of his creed. To be the friend of Swiveller you must reject all cir- 
 cumstantial evidence, all reason, observation, and experience, and repose a blind 
 belief in the bookcase. It was his pet weakness and he cherished it. 
 
 " Fred ! " said Mr. Swiveller, finding that his former adjuration had been 
 productive of no efi*ect. " Pass the rosy." 
 
 Young Trent with an impatient gesture pushed the glass towards him, and 
 fell again into the moody attitude from which he had been unwillingly roused. 
 
 " ni give you, Fred," said his friend, stirring the mixture, " a little senti- 
 ment appropriate to the occasion. Here's May the " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " interposed the other. " You worry me to death with your 
 chattering. You can be merry imdcr any circumstances." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 117 
 
 " Why Mr. Trent," returned Dick, " there is a proverb which talks about 
 being merry and wise. There are some people who can be merry and can't 
 be wise, and some who can be wise (or think they can) and can't be merry. 
 I'm one of the first sort. If the proverb's a good 'un, I suppose it's better to 
 keep to half of it than none ; at all events I'd rather be merry and not wise, 
 than like you, neither one nor t'other." 
 
 " Bah ! " muttered his friend, peevishly. 
 
 " With all my heart," said Mr. Swiveller. " In the polite circles I believe 
 this sort of thing isn't usually said to a gentleman in his own apartments, but 
 never mind that. Make yourself at home." Adding to this retort an obser- 
 vation to the effect that his friend appeared to be rather " cranky " in point 
 of temper, Richard Swiveller finished the rosy and applied himself to the 
 composition of another glassful, in which, after tasting it with great relish, he 
 proposed a toast to an imaginary company. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I'll give you if you please Success to the ancient family of the 
 Swivellers, and good luck to Mr. Richard in particular — Mr. Richard, 
 gentlemen" said Dick with great emphasis, " who spends all his money on his 
 friends and is Bah ! ''d for his pains. Hear, hear !" 
 
 " Dick !" said the other, returning to his seat after having paced the room 
 twice or thrice, " will you talk seriously for two minutes, if I show you a way 
 to make your fortune with very little trouble ? " 
 
 " You've shown me so many" returned Dick ; " and nothing has come of 
 any one of 'em but empty pockets — " 
 
 " You'll tell a different story of this one, before a very long time is over" 
 said his companion drawing his chair to the tabic. " You saw my sister Nell V 
 
 " What about her ?" returned Dick. 
 
118 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " She has a pretty face, has she not V 
 
 " Why, certainly," replied Dick, " I must say for her that there's not any 
 very strong family likeness between her and you." 
 
 "Has she a pretty face?" repeated his friend impatiently. 
 
 '• Yes " said Dick, "she has a pretty face, a very pretty face. What of that f 
 
 " I'll tell you" returned his friend. " It's very plain that the old man and 
 I will remain at daggers-drawn to the end of our lives, and that I have nothing 
 to expect from him. You see that, I suppose ? " 
 
 " A bat might see that, with the sun shining " said Dick. 
 
 " Ifs equally plain that the money which the old flint — rot him — first taught 
 me to expect that I should share with her at his death, will all be hers, is it notf 
 
 " I should say it was " replied Dick ; " unless the way in which I put the 
 case to him, made an impression. It may have done so. It was powerful, 
 Fred. ' Here is a jolly old grandfather ' — that was strong, I thought — very 
 friendly and natural. Did it strike you in that way! " 
 
 " It didn't strike him'''' returned the other, " so we needn't discuss it. Now 
 look here. Nell is nearly fourteen." 
 
 " Fine girl of her age, but small " observed Richard Swiveller parenthetically. 
 
 " If I am to go on, be quiet for one minute " returned Trent, fretting at 
 the very slight interest the other appeared to take in the conversation. " Now 
 Fm coming to the point." 
 
 "That's right" said Dick. 
 
 " The girl has strong affections, and brought up as she has been, may, at her 
 age, be easily influenced and persuaded. If I take her in hand, I will be 
 bound by a very little coaxing and threatening to bend her to my will. Not 
 to beat about the bush (for the advantages of the scheme would take a week to 
 tell) what's to prevent your marrying her ?" 
 
 Richard Swiveller, who had been looking over the rim of the tumbler while 
 his companion addressed the foregoing remai'ks to him with great energy and 
 earnestness of manner, no sooner heard these words than he evinced the utmost 
 consternation, and with difficulty ejaculated the monosyllable, 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " I say, what's to prevent " repeated the other with a steadiness of manner 
 of the effect of which upon his companion he was well assured by long experience, 
 " what's to prevent your marrying her?" 
 
 " And she ' nearly fourteen ' ! " cried Dick. 
 
 " I don't mean marrying her now " — returned the brother angrily ; " say 
 in two years' time, in three, in four. Does the old man look like a long-liver f 
 
 " He don't look like it," said Dick shaking his head, " but these old people— 
 there's no trusting 'em Fred. There's an aunt of mine down in Dorsetshire 
 that was going to die when I was eight years old, and hasn't kept her word 
 yet. They're so aggravating, so unprincipled, so spiteful — unless there's 
 apoplexy in the family, Fred, you can't calculate upon 'em, and even then they 
 deceive you just as often as not." 
 
 " Look at the worst side of the question then" said Trent as steadily as 
 before, and keeping his eyes upon his friend. " Suppose he lives." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 119 
 
 " To be sure" said Dick. " There's the rub." 
 
 " I say" resumed his friend, " suppose he Hves, and I persuaded, or if the 
 word sounds more feasible, forced, Nell to a secret marriage with you. What 
 do you think would come of that I " 
 
 " A family and an annual income of nothing, to keep 'em on," said Richard 
 Swiveller after some reflection. 
 
 " I tell you" returned the other with an increased earnestness, which, whether 
 it were real or assumed, had the same effect on his companion, " that he lives for 
 her, that his whole energies and thoughts are bound up in her, that he would no 
 more disinherit herfor an act of disobedience than he would take me into hisfavor 
 again for any act of obedience or virtue that I could possibly be guilty of. He could 
 not do it. You or any other man with eyes in his head may see that, if he chooses." 
 
 " It seems improbable certainly" said Dick, musing. 
 
 " It seems improbable because it is improbable" his friend retui'ned. " If 
 you would furnish him with an additional inducement to forgive you, lot there 
 be an irreconcileable breach, a most deadly quarrel, between you and me — 
 let there bo a pretence of such a thing, I mean, of course — and he'll do so fast 
 enough. As to Nell, constant dropping will wear away a stone ; you know 
 you may trust to me as far as she is concerned. So, whether he lives or dies, 
 what does it come to ! That you become the sole inheritor of the wealth of 
 this rich old hunks, that you and I spend it together, and that you get into the 
 bargain a beautiful young wife." 
 
 " I suppose there's no doubt about his being rich" — said Dick. 
 
 " Doubt ! Did you hear what ho let fall the other day when we were there? 
 Doubt ! What will you doubt next, Dick I " 
 
 It would be tedious to pursue the conversation through all its artful wind- 
 ings, or to develope the gradual approaches by which the heart of Richard 
 Swiveller was gained. It is sufficient to know that vanity, interest, poverty, 
 and every spendthrift consideration urged him to look upon the proposal with 
 favor, and that where all other inducements were wanting, the habitual careless- 
 ness of his disposition stepped in and still weighed down the scale on the same 
 side. To these impulses must be added the complete ascendancy which his 
 friend had long been accustomed to exercise over him — an ascendancy exerted 
 in the beginning sorely at the expense of the unfortunate Dick's purse and 
 prospects, but still maintained without the slightest relaxation, notwithstanding 
 that Dick suffered for all his friend's vices, and was in nine cases out of ten 
 looked upon as his designing tempter when he was indeed nothing but his 
 thoughtless light-headed tool. 
 
 The motives on the other side were something deeper than any which Richard 
 Swiveller entertained or understood, but these being left to their own develope- 
 ment, require no present elucidation. The negotiation was concluded very 
 pleasantly, and Mr. Swiveller was in tho act of stating in flowery terms that 
 he had no insurmountable objection to marrying anybody plentifully endowed 
 with money or moveables, who could be induced to take him, when ho was 
 interrupted in his observations by a knock at the door, and the consequent 
 necessity of crying " Come in." 
 
120 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 The door was opened, but nothing came in except a soapy arm and a strong 
 gush of tobacco. The gush of tobacco came from the shop down stairs, and 
 the soapy arm proceeded from the body of a servant girl, who being then and 
 there engaged in cleaning the stairs had just drawn it out of a warm pail to 
 take in a letter, which letter she now held in her hand, proclaiming aloud 
 with that quick perception of sirnames peculiar to her class that, it was for 
 Mister Snivelling. 
 
 Dick looked rather pale and foolish when he glanced at the direction, and 
 still more so when he came to look at the inside, observing that this was one 
 of the inconveniences of being a lady's man, and that it was very easy to talk 
 as they had been talking, but he had quite forgotten her. 
 
 ''Her. Who?" demanded Trent. 
 
 " Sophy Wackles," said Dick. 
 
 "Who's she?" 
 
 " She's all my fancy painted her. Sir, that's what she is," said Mr. Swiveller, 
 taking a long pull at "the rosy" and looking gravely at his friend. "She is 
 lovely, she's divine. You know her." 
 
 " I remember," said his companion carelessly. " What of her?" 
 
 " Why, Sir," returned Dick, " between Miss Sophia Wackles and the 
 humble individual who has now the honor to address you, v»'arm and tender 
 sentiments have been engendered, sentiments of the most honorable and in- 
 spiring kind. The Goddess Diana, Sir, that calls aloud for the chace. is not 
 more particular in her behaviour than Sophia Wackles ; I can tell you that." 
 
 " Am I to believe there's anything real in what you say?" demanded his 
 friend ; " you don't mean to say that any love-making has been going on?" 
 
 " Love-making, yes. Promising, no," said Dick. " There can be no action 
 for breach, that's one comfort. I've never committed myself in writing, Fred." 
 
 " And what's in the letter pray ?" 
 
 " A reminder, Fred, for to-night — a small party of twenty, making two 
 hundred light fantastic toes in all, supposing every lady and gentleman to have 
 the proper complement. I must go, if it's only to begin breaking off the 
 affair — I'll do it, don't you be afraid. I should like to know whether she left 
 this herself. If she did, unconscious of any bar to her happiness, it's affect- 
 ing, Fred." 
 
 To solve this question, Mr. Swiveller summoned the handmaid and ascer- 
 tained that Miss Sophy Wackles had indeed left the letter with her own hands ; 
 that she had come accompanied, for decorum's sake no doubt, by a younger 
 Miss Wackles ; and that on learning that Mr. Swiveller was at home and 
 being requested to walk up stairs, she was extremely shocked and professed 
 that she would rather die. Mr. Swiveller heard this account with a degree of 
 admiration not altogether consistent with the project in which he had just 
 concurred, but his friend attached very little importance to his behaviour in 
 this respect, probably because he knew that he had influence sufficient to con- 
 troul Richard Swiveller's proceedings in this or any other matter, whenever he 
 deemed it necessary, for the advancement of his own purposes, to exert it. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 121 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 
 
 Business disposed of, Mr. Svviveller was inwardly reminded of its being nigh 
 dinner-time, and to the intent that his health might not be endangered by 
 longer abstinence, despatched a message to the nearest eating-house requiring 
 an immediate supply of boiled beef and greens for two. With this demand, 
 however, the eating-house (having experience of its customer) declined to 
 comply, churlishly sending back for answer that if Mr. Swiveller stood in need 
 of beef perhaps he would be so obliging as to come there and eat it, bringing 
 with him, as grace before meat, the amount of a certain small account which 
 had been long outstanding. Not at all intimidated by this rebuff, but rather 
 sharpened in wits and appetite, Mr. Swiveller forwarded the same message to 
 another and more distant eating-house, adding to it by way of rider that the 
 gentleman was induced to send so far, not only by the great fame and popularity 
 its beef had acquired, but in consequence of the extreme toughness of the beef 
 retailed at the obdurate cook''s shop, which rendered it quite unfit not merely 
 for gentlemanly food but for any human consumption. The good effect of this 
 politic course was demonstrated by the speedy arrival of a small pewter 
 pyramid curiously constructed of platters and covers, whereof the boiled-beef- 
 plates formed the base, and a foaming quart-pot the apex; the structure 
 being resolved into its component parts afforded all things requisite and 
 necessary for a hearty meal, to which Mr. Swiveller and his friend applied 
 themselves with great keenness and enjoyment. 
 
 "May the present moment," said Dick, sticking his fork .into a large 
 carbuncular potatoe, " be the worst of our lives ! I like this plan of sending 
 'era with the peel on ; there's a charm in drawing a potatoe from its native 
 element (if I may so express it) to which the rich and powerful are strangers. 
 Ah ! ' Man wants but little here below, nor wants that little long ! "" How 
 true that is ! — after dinner." 
 
 " I hope the eating-house keeper will want but little and that he may not 
 want that little long," returned his companion ; " but I suspect you've no 
 means of paying for this ! " 
 
 "I shall be passing presently, and I'll call," said Dick, winking his eye 
 significantly. " The waiter's quite helpless. The goods are gone Fred, and 
 there's an end of it." 
 
 In point of fact, it would seem that the waiter felt this wholesome truth, 
 for when he returned for the empty plates and dishes and was informed by 
 Mr. Swiveller with dignified carelessness that he would call and settle when 
 he should be passing presently, he displayed some perturbation of spirit, and 
 muttered a few remarks about " payment on delivery," and " no trust," and 
 other unpleasant subjects, but was fain to content himself with inquiring at 
 what hour it was likely the gentleman would call, in order that being personally 
 11. M 
 
122 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 responsible for the beef, greens, and sundries, he might take care to be in the 
 way at the time. Mr. Swiveller, after mentally calculating his engagements 
 to a nicety, replied that he should look in at from two minutes before six to 
 seven minutes past ; and the man disappearing with this feeble consolation, 
 Richard Swiveller took a greasy memorandum-book from his pocket and made 
 an entry therein. 
 
 " Is that a reminder, in case you should forget to call ? " said Trent with a 
 sneer. 
 
 "Not exactly, Fred,*' replied the imperturbable Richard, continuing to 
 write with a business-like air, " I enter in this little book the names of the 
 streets that 1 can't go down while the shops are open. This dinner to-day 
 closes Long Acre. I bought a pair of boots in Great Queen Street last week, 
 and made that no thoroughfare too. There's only one avenue to the Strand 
 left open now, and I shall have to stop up that to-night with a pair of gloves. 
 The roads are closing so fast in every direction, that in about a month's time, 
 unless my aunt sends me a remittance, I shall have to go three or four miles 
 out of town to get over the way." 
 
 " There's no fear of her failing, in the end ?*' said Trent. 
 
 " Why, I hope not," returned Mr. Swiveller, " but the average number of 
 letters it takes to soften her is six, and this time we have got as far as eight 
 without any effect at all. FU write another to-morrow morning. I mean to 
 blot it a good deal and shake some water over it out of the pepper-castor, to 
 make it look penitent. ' Fm in such a state of mind that I hardly know what 
 I write' — blot — ' if you could see me at this minute shedding tears for my 
 past misconduct'— pepper-castor — 'my hand trembles when I think' — blot 
 again — if that don't produce the effect, it's all over." 
 
 By this time Mr. Swiveller had finished his entry, and he now replaced his 
 pencil in its little sheath and closed the book, in a perfectly grave and serious 
 frame of mind. His friend discovered that it was time for him to fulfil some 
 other engagement, and Richard Swiveller was accordingly left alone, in company 
 with the rosy wine and his own meditations touching Miss Sophy Wackles. 
 
 " It's rather sudden," said Dick shaking his head with a look of infinite 
 wisdom, and running on (as he was accustomed to do) with scraps of verse as 
 if they were only prose in a hurry ; " when the heart of a man is depressed 
 with fears, the mist is dispelled when Miss Wackles appears : she's a very 
 nice girl. She's like the red red rose that's newly sprung in June— there's 
 no denying that— she's also like a melody that's sweetly played in tune. It's 
 really very sudden. Not that there's any need, on account of Fred's little 
 sister to tm-n cool directly, but it's better not to go too far. If I begin to 
 cool at all I must begin at once, I see that. There's the chance of an action 
 for breach, that's one reason. There's the chance of Sophy's getting another 
 husband, that's another. There's the chance of— no, there's no chance of that, 
 but it's as well to be on the safe side." 
 
 This undeveloped consideration was the possibility, which Richard Swiveller 
 sought to conceal even from himself, of his not being proof against the charms of 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 123 
 
 # 
 
 Miss Wackles, and in some unguarded moment, by linking his fortimes to hers 
 for ever, of putting it out of his own power to further the notable scheme to 
 which he had so readily become a party. For all these reasons, he decided to 
 pick a quarrel with Miss Wackles without delay, and casting about for a pre- 
 text determined in favour of groundless jealousy. Having made up his mind on 
 this important point, he circulated the glass (from his right hand to his left, 
 and back again) pretty freely, to enable him to act his part with the greater 
 discretion, and then, after making some slight improvements in his toilet- 
 bent his steps towards the spot hallowed by the fair object of his meditations. 
 
 This spot was at Chelsea, for there Miss Sophia AVackles resided with her 
 widowed mother and two sisters, in conjunction with whom she maintained a 
 very small day-school for young ladies of proportionate dimensions ; a circum- 
 stance which was made kno'ATi to the neighbourhood by an oval board over 
 the front first-floor window, whereon appeared in circumambient flourishes 
 the words " Ladies' Seminary ;" and which was further published and pro- 
 claimed at intervals between the hours of half-past nine and ten in the morning, 
 by a straggling and solitary young lady of tender years standing on the scraper 
 on the tips of her toes and making futile attempts to reach the knocker with 
 a spelling-book. The several duties of instruction in this establishment were 
 thus discharged. English grammar, composition, geography, and the use of 
 the dumb-bells, by Miss Melissa ^V^ackles ; writing, arithmetic, dancing, music, 
 and general fascination, by Miss Sophy Wackles ; the art of needle- work, 
 marking, and samplery, by Miss Jane Wackles ; corporal punishment, fasting, 
 and other tortures and terrors, by Mrs. Wackles. Miss Melissa Wackles was 
 the eldest daughter, Miss Sophy the next, and Miss Jane the youngest. Miss 
 Melissa might have seen five-and-tliirty summers or thereabouts, and verged 
 on the autumnal ; Miss Sophy was a fresh, good-humoured, buxom girl of 
 twenty ; and Miss Jane numbered scarcely sixteen years. Mrs. Wackles was 
 an excellent but rather venomous old lady of three-score. 
 
 To this Ladies' Seminary then, Richard Swiveller hied, with designs obnoxi- 
 ous to the peace of the fair Sophia, who, arrayed in virgin white, embellished 
 by no ornament but one blushing rose, received him on his arrival, in the 
 midst of very elegant not to say brilliant preparations ; such as the embellish- 
 ment of the room with the little flower-pots which always stood on the window- 
 sill outside save in windy weather when they blew into the area, the choice 
 attire of the day-scholars who were allowed to grace the festival, the unwonted 
 curls of Miss Jane Wackles who had kept her head during the whole of the 
 preceding day screwed up tight in a yellow play-bill, and the solemn gentility 
 and stately learning of the old lady and her eldest daughter, which struck 
 Mr. Swiveller as being uncommon but made no further impression upon him. 
 
 The truth is — and as there is no accounting for tastes, even a taste so 
 strange as this may be recorded without being looked upon as a wilful and 
 malicious invention — the truth is that neither Mrs. Wacldcs nor her eldest 
 daughter had at any time greatly favoured the pretensions of Mr. Swiveller, 
 being accustomed to make slight mention of him as " a gay young man " and 
 
124 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 • 
 
 to sigh and shake their heads ominously whenever his name was mentioned. 
 Mr. Swiveller's conduct in respect to Miss Sophy having been of that vague 
 and dilatory kind which is usually looked upon as betokening no fixed matri- 
 monial intentions, the young lady herself began in course of time to deem it 
 highly desirable, that it should be brought to an issue one way or other. 
 Hence she had at last consented to play off against Richard Swiveller a 
 stricken market-gardener known to be ready with his offer on the smallest 
 encouragement, and hence — as this occasion had been specially assigned for the 
 purpose — that great anxiety on her part for Richard Swiveller's presence 
 which had occasioned her to leave the note he has been seen to receive. " If 
 he has any expectations at all or any means of keeping a wife well," said Mrs. 
 Wackles to her eldest daughter, " he'll state 'em to us now or never." — " If he 
 really cares about me " thought Miss Sophy, " he must tell me so, to-night." 
 
 But all these sayings and doings and thinkings being unknown to Mr. 
 Swiveller, affected him not in the least ; he was debating in his mind how he 
 coidd best turn jealous, and wishing that Sophy were for that occasion only far 
 less pretty than she was, or that she were her own sister, which would have 
 served his turn as well, when the company came, and among them the market- 
 gardener, whose name was Cheggs. But Mr. Cheggs came not alone or 
 unsupported, for he prudently brought along with him his sister. Miss Cheggs, 
 who making straight to Miss Sophy and taking her by both hands, and 
 kissing her on both cheeks, hoped in an audible whisper that they had not 
 come too early. 
 
 " Too early, no !" replied Miss Sophy. 
 
 " Oh my dear" rejoined Miss Cheggs in the same whisper as before, " IVe 
 been so tormented, so worried, that it's a mercy we were not here at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon. Alick has been in such a state of impatience to 
 come ! You'd hardly believe that he was dressed before dinner-time and has 
 been looking at the clock and teasing me ever since. It's all your fault, you 
 naughty thing." 
 
 Hereupon Miss Sophy blushed, and Mr. Cheggs (who was bashful before 
 ladies) blushed too, and Miss Sophy's mother and sisters, to prevent Mr. 
 Cheggs from blushing more, lavished civilities and attentions upon him, and 
 left Richard Swiveller to take care of himself. Here was the very thing he 
 wanted, here was good cause reason and foundation for pretending to be 
 angry ; but having this cause reason and foundation which he had come 
 expressly to seek, not expecting to find, Richard Swiveller was angry in sound 
 earnest, and wondered what the devil Cheggs meant by his impudence. 
 
 However, Mr. Swiveller had Miss Sophy's hand for the first quadrille (country- 
 dances being low, were utterly proscribed) and so gained an advantage over 
 his rival, who sat despondingly in a corner and contemplated the glorious figure 
 of the young lady as she moved through the mazy dance. Nor was this the 
 only start Mr. Swiveller had of the market-gardener, for determining to show 
 the family what quality of man they trifled with, and influenced perhaps by his 
 late libations, he performed such feats of agility and such spins and twirls as 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 125 
 
 filled the company with astonishment, and in particular caused a very long 
 gentleman who was dancing with a very short scholar, to stand quite transfixed 
 by wonder and admiration. Even Mrs. Wackles forgot for the moment to 
 snub three small young ladies who were inclined to be happy, and could not 
 repress a rising thought that to have such a dancer as that in the family would 
 be a pride indeed. 
 
 At this momentous crisis, Miss Cheggs proved herself a vigorous and useful 
 ally, for not confining herself to expressing by scornful smiles a contempt for 
 Mr. Swiveller''s accomplishments, she took every opportunity of whispering 
 into Miss Sophy's ear expressions of condolence and sympathy on her being 
 worried by such a ridiculous creature, declaring that she was frightened to 
 death lest Alick should fall upon, and beat him, in the fulness of his wrath, 
 and entreating Miss Sophy to observe how the eyes of the said Alick gleamed 
 with love and fury ; passions, it may be observed, which being too much for 
 his eyes rushed into his nose also, and suffused it with a crimson glow. 
 
 " You must dance with Miss Cheggs" said Miss Sophy to Dick Swivollcr, 
 after she had herself danced twice with Mr. Cheggs and made great show of 
 encouraging his advances. " She's such a nice girl — and her brother's quite 
 delightful." 
 
 " Quite delightful is he ?" muttered Dick. " Quito delighted too I should 
 say, from the manner in which he's looking this way." 
 
 Here Miss Jane (previously instructed for the purpose) interposed her many 
 curls and whispered her sister to observe how jealous Mr. Cheggs was. 
 
126 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 *' Jealous ! Like his impudence ! "" said Richard Swiveller. 
 
 " His impudence Mr. Swiveller ! " said Miss Jane, tossing her head. " Take 
 care he don't hear you Sir, or you may be sorry for it." 
 
 " Oh pray Jane — " said Miss Sophy. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " replied her sister. " Why shouldn't Mr. Cheggs be jealous 
 if he likes ? I like that, certainly. Mr. Cheggs has as good a right to be 
 jealous as anybody else has, and perhaps he may have a better right soon if he 
 hasn't already. You know best about that, Sophy !" 
 
 Though this was a concerted plot between Miss Sophy and her sister, 
 originating in humane intentions and having for its object the inducing Mr. 
 Swiveller to declare himself in time, it failed in its effect ; for Miss Jane being 
 one of those young ladies who are prematurely shrill and shrewish, gave such 
 undue importance to her part that Mr. Swiveller retired in dudgeon, resigning 
 his mistress to Mr. Cheggs and conveying a defiance into his looks which that 
 gentleman indignantly returned. 
 
 " Did you speak to me Sir?" said Mr. Cheggs, following him into a corner. 
 " Have the kindness to smile Sir, in order that we may not be suspected. 
 Did you speak to me Sir V 
 
 Mr. Swiveller looked with a supercilious smile at Mr. Cheggs's toes, then 
 raised his eyes from them to his ancle, from that to his shin, from that to his 
 knee, and so on very gradually, keeping up his right leg, until he reached 
 his waistcoat, when he raised his eyes from button to button until he reached 
 his chin, and travelling straight up the middle of his nose came at last to his 
 eyes, when he said abruptly, 
 
 - No Sir, I didn't." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Mr. Cheggs, glancing over his shoulder, " have the goodness 
 to smile again Sir. Perhaps you wished to speak to me Sir." 
 
 " No Sir, I didn't do that, either." 
 
 *' Perhaps you may have nothing to say to me Jiow Sir" said Mr.Cheggs fiercely. 
 
 At these words Richard Swiveller withdrew his eyes from Mr. Cheggs's face, 
 and travelling down the middle of his nose and down his waistcoat and down 
 his right leg reached his toes again, and carefully surveyed them ; this done, 
 he crossed over, and coming up the other leg and thence approaching by the 
 waistcoat as before, said when he had got to his eyes " No Sir, I haven't." 
 
 " Oh indeed Sir !" said Mr. Cheggs. " I'm glad to hear it. You know where 
 I'm to be found I suppose Sir, in case you should have anything to say to me V 
 
 " I can easily inquire Sir when I want to know." 
 
 " There's nothing more we need say, I believe Sir?" 
 
 " Nothing more Sir" — With that they closed the tremendous dialogue by 
 frowning mutually. Mr. Cheggs hastened to tender his hand to Miss Sophy, 
 and Mr. Swiveller sat himself down in a corner in a very moody state. 
 
 Hard by this coi-ner, Mrs. Wackles and Miss Wackles were seated, looking 
 on at the dance ; and unto Mrs. and Miss Wackles, Miss Cheggs occasionally 
 darted when her partner was occupied with his share of the figure, and made 
 some remark or other which was g-all and wormwood to Richard Swiveller's 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 127 
 
 soul. Looking into the eyes of Mrs. and Miss Wackles for encouragement, 
 and sitting very upright and uncomfortable on a couple of hard stools, were 
 two of the day-scholars ; and when Miss Wackles smiled, and Mrs. Wackles 
 smiled, the two little girls on the stools sought to curry favour by smiling 
 likewise, in gracious acknowledgement of which attention the old lady frowned 
 them down instantly, and said that if they dared to be guilty of such an 
 impertinence again, they should be sent under convoy to their respective 
 homes. This threat caused one of the young ladies, she being of a weak and 
 trembling temperament, to shed tears, and for this offence they were both filed 
 off immediately, with a dreadful promptitude that struck terror into the souls 
 of all the pupils. 
 
 " Fve got such news for you," said Miss Cheggs approaching once more, 
 " Alick has been saying such things to Sophy. Upon my word, you know it's 
 quite serious and in earnest, that's clear." 
 
 " What's he been saying my dear?" demanded Mrs. Wackles. 
 
 *■' All manner of things," replied Miss Cheggs, " you can't think how out he 
 has been speaking ! " 
 
 Richard Swiveller considered it advisable to hear no more, but taking advan- 
 tage of a pause in the dancing, and the approach of Mr. Cheggs to pay his 
 court to the old lady, swaggered with an extremely careful assumption of ex- 
 treme carelessness towards the door, passing on the way Miss Jane Wackles, 
 who in all the glory of her curls was holding a flirtation (as good practice when 
 no better was to be had) with a feeble old gentleman who lodged in the parlour. 
 Near the door sat Miss Sophy, still fluttered and confused by the attentions 
 of Mr. Cheggs, and by her side Richard Swiveller lingered for a moment to 
 exchange a few parting words, 
 
 " My boat is on the shore and my bark is on the sea, but before I pass this 
 door I will say farewell to thee," murmured Dick, looking gloomily upon her. 
 
 "Are you going?" said Miss Sophy, whose heart sunk within her at the 
 result of her stratagem, but who affected a light indifference notwithstanding. 
 
 " Am I going ! " echoed Dick bitterly. " Yes, I am. What then ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except that it's very early," said Miss Sophy, " but you are your 
 own master of course." 
 
 " I would that I had been my own mistress too," said Dick, "before I had ever 
 entertained a thought of you. Miss Wackles, I believed you true, and I was blest 
 in so believing, but now I mourn that e'er I knew, a girl so fair yet so deceiving." 
 
 Miss Sophy bit her lip and affected to look with great interest after Mr. 
 Cheggs, who was quaffing lemonade in the distance. 
 
 " I came here," said Dick, rather oblivious of the purpose with which he 
 had really come, " with my bosom expanded, my heart dilated, and my senti- 
 ments of a corresponding description. I go away with feelings that may be 
 conceived but cannot be described, feeling within myself the desolating truth 
 that my best affections have experienced this night a stifler ! " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know what you mean, Mr. Swiveller," said Miss Sophy 
 with downcast eyes. " I'm very sorry if " 
 
128 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Sorry, Ma'am !" said Dick, "sony in the possession of a Cheggs ! But 
 I wish you a very good night, concluding with this shglit remark, that there 
 is a young lady growing up at this present moment for me, who has not only 
 great personal attractions but great wealth, and who has requested her next 
 of kin to propose for my hand, which, having a regard for some members of 
 her family, I have consented to promise. It's a gratifying circumstance which 
 youll be glad to hear, that a young and lovely girl is growing into a woman 
 expressly on my account, and is now saving up for me. I thought Td mention 
 it. I have now merely to apologise for trespassing so long upon your atten- 
 tion. Good night." 
 
 " There's one good thing springs out of all this," said Richard Swiveller to 
 himself when he had reached home and was hanging over the candle with the 
 extinguisher in his hand, " which is, that I now go heart and soul, neck and 
 heels, with Fred in all his scheme about little Nelly, and right glad he'll be to 
 find me so strong upon it. He shall know all about that to-morrow, and in 
 the mean time, as it's rather late, I'll try and get a wink or two of the balmy." 
 
 " The balmy" came almost as soon as it was courted. In a very few 
 minutes Mr. Swiveller was fast asleep, dreaming that he had married Nelly 
 Trent and come into the property, and that his first act of power was to lay 
 waste the market-garden of Mr. Cheggs and turn it into a brick-field. 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY FROM HIS CLOCK SIDE IN THE 
 CHIMNEY CORNER. 
 
 Two or three evenings after the Institution of Mr. Weller's Watch, I 
 thought I heard as I walked in the garden the voice of Mr. AYeller himself 
 at no great distance ; and stopping once or twice to listen moi'e attentively, 
 I found that the sounds proceeded from my housekeeper's Uttle sitting-room 
 which is at the back of the house. I took no further notice of the circum- 
 stance at that time, but it formed the subject of a conversation between me 
 and my friend Jack Redburn next morning, when I found that I had not 
 been deceived in my impression. Jack furnished me with the following par- 
 ticulars, and as he appeared to take extraordinary pleasure in relating them, 
 I have begged him in future to jot down any such domestic scenes or occur- 
 rences that may please his humour, in order that they may be told in his own 
 way. I must confess that as Mr. Pickwick and he are constantly together, 
 I have been influenced, in making this request, by a secret desire to know 
 something of their proceedings. 
 
 On the evening in question, the housekeeper's room was arranged with 
 particular care, and the housekeeper herself was very smartly deessed. The 
 preparations, however, were not confined to mei-e showy demonstrations, as 
 tea was prepared for three persons, with a small display of preserves and jams 
 and sweet cakes, which heralded some uncommon occasion. Miss Benton 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 129 
 
 (my housekeeper bears that name) was in a state of great expectation too, 
 frequently going to the front door and looking anxiously down the lane, and 
 more than once observing to the servant girl that she expected company and 
 hoped no accident had happened to delay them. 
 
 A modest ring at the bell at length allayed her fears, and Miss Benton, 
 hurrying into her own room and shutting herself up in order that she might 
 preserve that appearance of being taken by surprise which is so essential 
 to the polite reception of visitors, awaited their coming with a smiling 
 countenance. 
 
 " Good ev'nin mum," said the older Mr. Weller looking in at the door after 
 a prefatory tap, " Tm afeerd we've come in, rayther arter the time mum, but 
 the young colt being full o"* wice has been a boltin*" and shyin' and gettin' his 
 leg over the traces to sich a ex-tent that if he an't wery soon broke in, hell 
 wex me into a broken heart, and then he'll never be brought out no more 
 except to learn his letters from the writin' on his grandfather's tombstone." 
 
 With these pathetic words, which were addressed to something outside the 
 door about two feet six from the ground, Mr. Weller introduced a very small 
 boy firmly set upon a couple of very sturdy legs, who looked as if nothing could 
 ever knock him down. Besides having a very round face strongly resembling 
 Mr. Weller's, and a stout little body of exactly his build, this young gentle- 
 man, standing with his little legs very wide apart as if the top boots were 
 
 familiar to them, actually winked upon the housekeeper with his infant cyo, in 
 imitation of his grandfather. 
 
 " There's a naughty boy mum," said Mr. Weller bursting with delight, 
 
130 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 "there's a immoral Tony. Wos there ever a little chap o' four year and 
 eight months old as vinked his eye at a strange lady, afore ? " 
 
 As little affected by this observation as by the former appeal to his feelings, 
 Master Weller elevated in the air a small model of a coach whip which he 
 carried in his hand, and addressing the housekeeper with a shrill " ya— hip ! " 
 inquired if she was " going down the road ; " at which happy adaptation of a 
 lesson he had been taught from infancy, Mr. Weller could restrain his feelings 
 no longer, but gave him twopence on the spot. 
 
 " It's in wain to deny it mum," said Mr. Weller, " this here is a boy arter 
 his grandfather's own heart, and beats out all the boys as ever wos or will be. 
 Though at the same time mum," added Mr. Weller trying to look gravely down 
 upon his favourite, " it was wery \n'ong on him to want to over all the posts 
 as we come along, and wery cruel on him to force poor grandfather to lift him 
 cross-legged over every vun of 'em. He wouldn't pass vun single blessed post 
 mum, and at the top o' the lane there's seven-and-forty on 'em all in a row 
 and wery close together." 
 
 Here Mr. Weller, whose feelings were in a perpetual conflict between pride 
 in his grandson's achievements, and a sense of his ov\ti responsibility and the 
 importance of impressing him with moral truths, burst into a fit of laughter, 
 and suddenly checking himself, remarked in a severe tone that little boys as 
 made their grandfathers put 'em over posts, never went to heaven at any price. 
 
 By this time the housekeeper had made tea, and little Tony placed on a 
 chair beside her with his eyes nearly on a level with the top of the table, 
 was provided with various delicacies which yielded him extreme contentment. 
 The housekeeper (who seemed rather afraid of the child notwithstanding her 
 caresses) then patted him on the head and declared that he was the finest boy 
 she had ever seen. 
 
 " ^y-> mum," said ]\Ir. Weller, " I don't think you'll see a many sich, and 
 that's the truth. But if my son Samivel vould give me my vay, mum, and 
 only dis-pense vitli his — mi^kt I wenter to say the vurd I" 
 
 " What word Mr. Weller V said the housekeeper, blushing slightly. 
 
 " Petticuts, mum," returned that gentleman, laying his hand upon the 
 garments of his grandson. " If my son Samivel, mum, vould only dis-pense 
 vith these here, you'd see such a alteration in his appearance, as the imagina- 
 tion can't depicter." 
 
 " But what would you have the child wear instead, Mr. Weller V said the 
 housekeeper. 
 
 " I've offered ray son Samivel. mum, agen and agen," returned the old 
 gentleman, " to purwide him at my own cost vith a suit o' clothes as 'ud be 
 the makin' on him, and form his mind in infancy for those pursuits as I hope 
 the family o' the Yellers vill alvays dewote themselves to. Tony, my boy, 
 tell the lady wot them clothes are, as grandfather says, father ought to let 
 you vear." 
 
 " A little white hat and a little sprig weskut and little knee cords and 
 little top-boots and a little green coat with little bright buttons and a little 
 welwet collar,"' replied Tony with great readiness and no stops. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 131 
 
 " That's the cos-toom, mum,"" said Mr. Weller, looking proudly at the 
 housekeeper, " Once make sich a model on him as that, and you'd say he 
 tcos a angel ! " 
 
 Perhaps the housekeeper thought that in such a guise young Tony would 
 look more like the angel at Islington than anything else of that name, or per- 
 haps she was disconcerted to find her previously conceived ideas disturbed, as 
 angels are not commonly represented in top-boots and sprig waistcoats. She 
 coughed doubtfully, but said nothing. 
 
 " How many brothers and sisters have you my dear V' she asked after a 
 short silence. 
 
 " One brother and no sister at all," replied Tony. " Sam his name is, and 
 so's my father''s. Do you know my father ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, I know him," said the housekeeper, graciously. 
 
 " Is my father fond of you V pursued Tony. 
 
 " I hope so," rejoined the smiling housekeeper. 
 
 Tony considered a moment, and then said, " Is my grandfather fond of 
 your 
 
 This would seem a very easy question to answer, but instead of replying to 
 it, the housekeeper smiled in great confusion, and said that really children did 
 ask such extraordinary questions that it was the most difficult thing in the 
 world to talk to them. Mr. Weller took upon himself to reply that he w^as 
 very fond of the lady ; but the housekeeper entreating that he would not put 
 such things into the child's head, Mr. Weller shook his own while she looked 
 another way, and seemed to be troubled with a misgiving that captivation 
 was in progress. It was perhaps on this account that he changed the subject 
 precipitately. 
 
 " It's wery wrong in little boys to make game o' their grandfathers, a''nt it 
 mum?" said Mr. Weller, shaking his head waggishly, until Tony looked at 
 him, when he counterfeited the deepest dejection and sorrow. 
 
 " Oh very sad !" assented the housekeeper. " But I hope no little boys do 
 that?" 
 
 " There is vun young Turk, mum," said Mr. Weller, " as havin' seen his 
 grandfather a little overcome vith drink on the occasion of a friend's birthday, 
 goes a reelin' and staggerin' about the house, and makin' believe that he's the 
 old genlm^n." 
 
 " Oh quite shocking ! " cried the housekeeper. 
 
 " Yes mum," said Mr. Weller, " and prevously to so doin', this here young 
 traitor that Fm a speakin' of, pinches his little nose to make it red, and then 
 he gives a hiccup and says ' Im all right' he says ' give us another song !' Ha 
 ha ! ' Give us another song' he says. Ha ha ha !" 
 
 In his excessive delight, Mr. Weller was quite unmindful of his moral 
 responsibility, until little Tony kicked up his legs and laughing immoderately 
 cried " That was me, that was : " whereupon the grandfather by a great effort 
 became extremely solemn. 
 
 " No Tony, not you," said Mr. Weller. " I hope it warn't you Tony. It 
 must ha"" been that 'ere naughty little chap as comes sometimes out o' the 
 
132 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 empty watch-box round the corner — that same little chap as wos found stand- 
 ing on the table afore the looking-glass, pretending to shave himself vith a 
 oyster-knife." 
 
 " He didn't hurt himself I hope?" observed the housekeeper. 
 
 " Not he mum," said Mr, Weller proudly, " bless your heart you might 
 trust that 'ere boy vith a steam engine almost, he''s such a knowin' young" — 
 but suddenly recollecting himself and observing that Tony perfectly understood 
 and appreciated the compliment, the old gentleman groaned and observed that 
 " it wos all wery shockin' — wery." 
 
 " Oh he's a bad 'un," said Mr. Weller, " is that ""ere watch-box boy, makin' 
 such a noise and litter in the back-yard, he does, waterin' wooden horses and 
 feedin of 'em vith grass, and perpctivally spillin' his little brother out of a veel- 
 barrow and frightenin' his mother out of her wits, at the wery moment wen 
 she's expectin' to increase his stock of happiness vith another play-feller — oh 
 he's a bad 'un ! He's even gone so far as to pwt on a pair o' paper spectacles 
 as he got his father to make for him, and walk up and down the garden vith 
 his hands behind him in imitation of Mr. Pickwick — but Tony don't do sich 
 things, oh no ! " 
 
 "Oh no!" echoed Tony. 
 
 " He knows better, he does," said Mr. Weller, " he knows that if he wos 
 to come sich games as these, nobody wouldn't love him, and that his grand- 
 father in partickler couldn't abear the sight on him ; for vich reasons Tony's 
 always good." 
 
 " Always good," echoed Tony ; and his grandfather immediately took hira 
 on his knee and kissed him, at the same time with many nods and winks 
 slyly pointing at the child's head with his thumb, in order that the house- 
 keeper, otherwise deceived by the admirable manner in which he (Mr. Weller) 
 had sustained his character, might not suppose that any other young gentle- 
 man was referred to, and might clearly understand that the boy of the watch- 
 box was but an imaginary creation, and a fetch of Tony himself, invented for 
 his improvement and reformation. 
 
 Not confining himself to a mere verbal description of his grandson's abilities, 
 Mr. Weller, when tea was finished, incited him by various gifts of pence and 
 half-pence to smoke imaginary pipes, drink visionary beer from real pots, 
 imitate his grandfather without reserve, and in particular to go through the 
 drunken scene, which threw the old gentleman into ecstacies and filled the 
 housekeeper with wonder. Nor was Mr. Weller's pride satisfied with even 
 this display, for when he took his leave he carried the child like some rare 
 and astonishing curiosity, first to the barber's house and afterwards to the 
 tobacconist's, at each of which places he repeated his performances with the 
 utmost effect to applauding and delighted audiences. It was half-past nine 
 o'clock when Mr. Weller was last seen carrying him home upon his shoulder, 
 and it has been whispered abroad that at that time the infant Tony was 
 rather intoxicated. 
 

 ^fte C^lti Curiosity ^Ijop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINTH. 
 
 The child, in her confidence with Mrs. Quilp, had but feebly described the 
 sadness and sorrow of her thoughts, or the heaviness of the cloud which over- 
 hung her home, and cast dark shadows on its hearth. Besides that it was 
 very difficult to impart to any person not intimately acquainted with the life 
 she led, an adequate sense of its gloom and loneliness, a constant fear of in 
 some way committing or injuring the old man to whom she was so tenderly 
 attached, had restrained her even in the midst of her heart's overflowing, and 
 made her timid of allusion to the main cause of her anxiety and distress. 
 
 For, it was not the monotonous days unchequered by variety and uncheered 
 by pleasant companionship, it was not the dark dreary evenings or the 
 long solitary nights, it was not the absenee of every slight and easy pleasure 
 for which young hearts beat high, or the knowing nothing of childhood but its 
 weakness and its easily wounded spirit, that had wrung such tears from Nell. 
 To see the old man struck down beneath the pressure of some hidden grief, 
 to mark his wavering and unsettled state, to be agitated at times with a 
 dreadful fear that his mind was wandering, and to trace in his words and 
 12. N 
 
134 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 looks the dawning of despondent madness ; to watch and wait and listen for 
 confirmation of these things day after day, and to feel and know that, come 
 what might, they were alone in tlie world with no one to help or advise or 
 care about them — these were causes of depression and anxiety that might 
 have sat heavily on an older breast with many influences at work to cheer 
 and gladden it, but how heavily on the mind of a young child to whom they 
 were ever present, and who was constantly surrounded by all that could keep 
 such thoughts in restless action ! 
 
 And yet, to the old man's vision, Nell was still the same. When he could 
 for a moment disengage his mind from the phantom that haunted and brooded 
 on it always, there was his young companion with the same smile for him, the 
 same earnest words, the same merry laugh, the same love and care that sinking 
 deep into his soul seemed to have been present to him through his whole life. 
 And so he went on, content to read the book of her heart from the page first 
 presented to him, little dreaming of the story that lay hidden in its other 
 leaves, and murmuring within himself that at least the child was happy. 
 
 She had been once. She had gone singing through the dim rooms, and 
 moving with gay and lightsome step among their dusty treasures, making 
 them older by her young life, and sterner and more grim by her gay and 
 cheerful presence. But now the chambers were cold and gloomy, and when 
 she left her own little room to while away the tedious hours, and sat in one of 
 them, she was still and motionless as their inanimate occupants, and had no 
 heart to startle the echoes — hoarse from their long silence — with her voice. 
 
 In one of these rooms was a window looking into the street, where the 
 child sat, many and many a long evening, and often far into the night, alone 
 and thoughtful. None are so anxious as those who watch and wait, and at 
 these times, mournful fancies came flocking on her mind, in crowds. 
 
 She would take her station here at dusk, and watch the people as they 
 passed up and down the street, or appeared at the windows of the opposite 
 houses, wondering whether those rooms were as lonesome as that in which she 
 sat, and whether those people felt it company to see her sitting there, as she 
 did only to see them look out and draw in their heads again. There was a 
 crooked stack of chimneys on one of the roofs, in which by often looking at 
 them she had fancied ugly faces that were frowning over at her and trying to 
 peer into the room, and she felt glad when it grew too dark to make them 
 out, though she was sorry too, when the man came to light the lamps in the 
 street, for it made it late, and very dull inside. Then she would draw in her 
 head to look round the room and see that everything was in its place and 
 hadn't moved ; and looking out into the street again, would perhaps see a 
 man passing with a coffin on his back, and two or three others silently 
 following him to a house where somebody lay dead, which made her shudder 
 and think of such things until they suggested afresh the old man's altered 
 face and manner, and a new train of fears and speculations. If he were 
 to die— if sudden illness had happened to him, and he were never to 
 come home again, alive — if, one night, he should come home, and kiss and 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 135 
 
 bless her as usual, and after she had gone to bed and had fallen askep 
 and was perhaps dreamincr pleasantly, and smiling in her sleep, he should 
 kill himself and his blood come creeping, creeping, on the ground to her 
 own bed-room door — These thoughts were too terrible to dwell upon, and 
 again she would have recourse to the street, now trodden by fewer feet and 
 darker and more silent than before. The shops were closing fast, and 
 lights began to shine from the upper windows, as the neighbours went 
 to bed. By degrees these dwindled away and disappeared, or were re- 
 placed here and there by a feeble rush-candle which was to burn all night. 
 Still there was one late shop at no great distance which sent forth a ruddy 
 glare upon the pavement even yet, and looked bright and companionable. 
 But in a little time this closed, the light was extinguished, and all was 
 gloomy and quiet, except when some stray footsteps sounded on the pavement, 
 or a neighbour, out later than his wont, knocked lustily at his house-door to 
 rouse the sleeping inmates. 
 
 ^Vhen the night had worn away thus far (and seldom now until it had) the 
 child would close the window, and steal softly down stairs, thinking as she 
 went that if one of those hideous faces below, which often mingled with her 
 dreams, were to meet her by the way, rendering itself visible by some strange 
 light of its own, how terrified she would be. But these fears vanished before 
 a well-trimmed lamp and the familiar aspect of her own room. After praying 
 fervently and with many bursting tears for the old man, and the restoration 
 of his peace of mind and the happiness they had once enjoyed, she would lay 
 her head upon the pillow and sob herself to sleep, often starting up again, 
 before the day-light came, to listen for the bell, and respond to the imaginary 
 summons which had roused her from her slumber. 
 
 One night, the third after Nelly's interview with Mrs. Quilp, the old man, 
 ■who had been weak and ill all day, said he should not leave home. The 
 child's eyes sparkled at the intelligence, but her joy subsided when they 
 reverted to his worn and sickly face. 
 
 " Two days," he said, " two whole, clear, days have passed, and there is no 
 reply. What did he tell thee, Nell T 
 
 " Exactly what I told you, dear grandfather, indeed." 
 
 " True," said the old man, faintly. " Yes. But tell mo again, Nell. ^ly 
 head fails me. What was it that he told thee I Nothing more than that ho 
 would see mo to-morrow or next day ? That was in the note." 
 
 " Nothing more," said the child. " Shall I go to him again to-morrow, dear 
 grandfather i Very early ; I will bo there and back, before breakfast." 
 
 The old man shook his head, and sighing mournfully, drew her towards him. 
 
 " 'Twould bo of no use, my dear, no earthly use. But if ho deserts me, 
 Nell, at this moment — if he deserts me now, when I should, with his assist- 
 ance, be recompensed for all the time and money I have lost, and all the agony 
 of mind I have undergone, which makes mo what you see, I am ruined, and 
 — worse, far worse than that — have ruined thee, for whom I ventured all. If 
 we are beggars — ! " 
 
186 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " What if we are," said the child boldly. " Let us be beggars, and be happy." 
 
 " Beggai's — and happy ! " said the old man. " Poor child !" 
 
 " Dear grandfather," cried the girl \vith an energy Avhich shone in her 
 flushed face, trembling voice, and impassioned gesture, " I am not a child in 
 that I think, but even if I am, oh hear me pray that we may beg, or work in 
 open roads or fields, to earn a scanty living, rather than live as we do now." 
 
 " Nelly !" said the old man. 
 
 " Yes, yes, rather than live as we do now," the child repeated, more 
 eai*nestly than before. " If you are sorrowful, let me know why and be sor- 
 rowful too ; if you waste away and are paler and weaker every day, let me be 
 your nurse and try to comfort you. If you are poor, let us be poor together, 
 but let me be with you, do let me be with you, do not let me see such change 
 and not know wliy, or I shall break my heart and die. Dear grandfather, let 
 us leave this sad place to-morrow, and beg our way from door to door." 
 
 The old man covered his face with his hands, and hid it in the pillow of 
 the couch on which he lay. 
 
 " Let us be beggars," said the child passing an arm round his neck, " I 
 have no fear but we shall have enough, I am sure we shall. Let us walk 
 through country places, and sleep in fields and under trees, and never think of 
 money again, or any thing that can make you sad, but rest at nights and have 
 the sun and wind upon our faces in the day, and thank God together. Let 
 us never set foot in dark rooms or melancholy houses any more, but wander 
 up and down wherever we like to go, and when you are tired, you shall stop to 
 rest in the pleasantest place that we can find, and I will go and beg for both." 
 
 The child's voice was lost in sobs as she dropped upon the old man's neck ; 
 nor did she weep alone. 
 
 These were not words for other ears, nor was it a scene for other eyes. 
 And yet other ears and eyes were there and greedily taking in all that passed, 
 and moreover they were the ears and eyes of no less a person than Mr. Daniel 
 Quilp, wlio, having entered unseen when the child first placed herself at the 
 old man's side, refrained — actuated, no doubt, by motives of the purest 
 delicacy — from interrupting the conversation, and stood looking on with his 
 accustomed grin. Standing, however, being a tiresome attitude to a gentleman 
 already fatigued with walking, and the dwarf being one of that kind of persons 
 who usually make themselves at home, he soon cast his eyes upon a chair into 
 which he skipped with uncommon agility, and perching himself on the back 
 with his feet upon the seat, was thus enabled to look on and listen with greater 
 comfort to himself, besides gratifying at the same time that taste for doing 
 something fantastic and monkey-like, which on all occasions had strong posses- 
 sion of him. Here, then, he sat, one leg cocked carelessly over the other, his 
 chin resting on the palm of his hand, his head turned a little on one side, and 
 liis ugly features twisted into a complacent grimace. And in this position 
 the old man, happening in course of time to look that way, at length chanced 
 to see him, to his unbounded astonishment. 
 
 The child uttered a suppressed shriek on beholding this agreeable figure 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 137 
 
 in their first surprise both she and the old man, not knowing what to say, and 
 half doubting its reality, looked shrinkingly at it. Not at all disconcerted by 
 this reception, Daniel Quilp preserved the same attitude, merely nodding 
 twice or thrice with great condescension. At length the old man pronounced 
 his name, and inquired how he came there. 
 
 " Through the door," said Quilp pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. 
 ^' Fm not quite small enough to get through key-holes. I wish I was. I want 
 to have some talk with you, particularly, and in private — with nobody present, 
 neighbour. Good bye, little Nelly." 
 
 Nell looked at the old man, who nodded to her to retire, and kissed her 
 cheek. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the dwarf, smacking his lips, " what a nice kiss that was — 
 just upon the rosy part. What a capital kiss ! " 
 
 Nell was none the slower in going away, for this remark. Quilp looked 
 after her with an admiring leer, and when she had closed the door, fell to 
 complimenting the old man upon her charms. 
 
 " Such a fresh, blooming, modest little bud, neighbour," said Quilp, nursing 
 his short leg, and making his eyes twinkle very much ; " such a chubby, rosy, 
 cosy, little Nell ! " 
 
 The old man answered by a forced smile, and was plainly struggling with 
 a feeling of the keenest and most exquisite impatience. It was not lost irpon 
 Quilp, who delighted in torturing him, or indeed anybody else when he could. 
 
 " She's so,"" said Quilp, speaking very slowly, and feigning to be quite 
 absorbed in the subject, " so small, so compact, so beautifully modelled, so 
 fair, with such blue veins and such a transparent skin, and such little feet, and 
 such winning ways — but bless me, you're nervous. Why neighbour, what's 
 the matter? I swear to you," continued the dwarf dismounting from the 
 chair and sitting down in it, with a careful slowness of gesture very different 
 from the rapidity with which he had sprung up unheard, " I swear to you that 
 I had no idea old blood ran so fast or kept so warm. I thought it was sluggish 
 in its course, and cool, quite cool. I am pretty sure it ought to be. Yours 
 must be out of order neighbour." 
 
 " I believe it is," groaned the old man, clasping his head with both hands. 
 *' There's burning fever here, and something now and then to which I fear to 
 give a name." 
 
 The dwarf said never a word, but watched his companion as he paced 
 restlessly up and down the room, and presently returned to his seat. Hero ho 
 remained with his head bowed upon his breast for some time, and then suddenly 
 raising it, said, 
 
 " Once, and once for all, have you brought me any money I " 
 
 " No ! " returned Quilp. 
 
 " Then," said the old man, clenching his hands desperately, and looking 
 upward, " the child and I are lost ! " 
 
 " Neighbour," said Quilp glancing sternly at him, and beating his hand 
 twice or thrice upon the table to attract his wandering attention, " let me bo 
 
138 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 plain with you, and play a fairer game than when you held all the cards, and 
 I saw but the backs and nothing more. You have no secret from mo now." 
 
 The old man looked up, trembling. 
 
 " You arc surprised," said Quilp. " Well, perhaps that's natural. You 
 have no secret from me now, I say ; no, not one. For now I know that all those 
 sums of money, that all those loans, advances, and supplies that you have had 
 from me, have found their way to — shall I say the word I " 
 
 " Aye ! " replied the old man, " say it, if you will." 
 
 " To the gaming-table," rejoined Qiiilp, " your nightly haunt. This was the 
 precious scheme to make your fortune, was it ; this was the secret certain source 
 of wealth in which I was to have sunk my money (if I had been the fool you 
 took me for) : this was your inexhaustible mine of gold, your El Dorado, eh V 
 
 " Yes," cried the old man, turning upon him with gleaming eyes, " it was. 
 It is. It will be till I die." 
 
 " That I should have been blinded," said Quilp looking contemptuously at 
 him, " by a mere shallow gambler ! " 
 
 " I am no gambler," cried the old man fiercely. " I call Heaven to witness 
 that I never played for gain of mine, or love of play ; that at every piece I 
 staked, I whispered to myself that orphan's name and called on Heaven to 
 bless the venture, which it never did. Whom did it prosper ? Who were those 
 with whom I played ? Men who lived by plunder, profligacy, and riot, 
 squandering their gold in doing ill and propagating vice and evil. My 
 winnings would have been from them, my winnings would have been bestowed 
 to the last farthing on a young sinless child whose life they would have sweet- 
 ened and made happy. What would they have contracted ? The means of 
 corruption, wretchedness, and misery. Who would not have hoped in such 
 a cause — tell me that ; now who would not have hoped as I did ? " 
 
 " When did you first begin this mad career I " asked Quilp, his taunting 
 inclination subdued for a moment by the old man's gi'ief and wildness. 
 
 " When did I first begin ? " he rejoined, passing his hand across his brow. 
 " When was it, that I first began? When should it be but when I began to 
 think how little I had saved, how long a time it took to save at all, how short 
 a time I might have at my age to live, and how she would be left to the rough 
 mercies of the world, with barely enough to keep her from the sorrows that 
 wait on poverty ; then it was that I began to think about it." 
 
 " After you first came to me to get your precious grandson packed off* to 
 sea ? " said Quilp. 
 
 " Shortly after that," replied the old man. " I thought of it a long time, 
 and had it in my sleep for months. Then I began. I found no pleasure in it, 
 I expected none. What has it ever brought to me but anxious days and 
 sleepless nights, but loss of health and peace of mind, and gain of feebleness 
 and sorrow ! " 
 
 " You lost what money you had laid by, first, and then came to me. 
 While I thought you were making your fortune (as you said you were) you 
 were making yourself a beggar, eh ? Dear me ! And so it comes to pass that 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 139 
 
 I hold every security you could scrape together, and a bill of sale upon th& 
 — upon the stock and property," said Quilp standing up and looking about 
 him, as if to assure himself that none of it had been taken away. " But did 
 you never win!" 
 
 " Never !" groaned the old man. " Never won back my loss !" 
 
 " I thought," sneered the dwarf, " that if a man played long enough he was 
 sure to win at last, or at the worst not to come off a loser." 
 
 " And so he is," cried the old man, suddenly rousing himself from his state 
 of despondency, and lashed into the most violent excitement, "so he is; I 
 have felt that from the first, I have always known it, Fve seen it, I never felt 
 it half so strongly as I feel it now. Quilp, I have dreamed three nights of 
 winning the same lai'go sum, I never could dream that dream before, thougk 
 1 have often tried. Do not desert me now I have this chance. I have no 
 resource but you, give me some help, let me try this one last hope." 
 
 The dwarf shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. 
 
 " See Quilp, good tender-hearted Quilp," said the old man, drawing some 
 scraps of paper from his pocket with a trembling hand, and clasping the 
 dwarfs arm, " only see here. Look at these figures, the result of long calcu- 
 lation, and painful and hard experience. I vmst win, I only want a little help 
 once more, a few pounds, but two score pounds, dear Quilp." 
 
 " The last advance was seventy," said the dwarf; " and it went in one night," 
 
 " I know it did," answered the old man, " but that was the very worst 
 fortune of all, and the time had not come then. Quilp, consider, consider," 
 the old man cried, trembling so much the while that the papers in his hand 
 fluttered as if they were shaken by the wind, " that orphan child. If I were 
 alone, I could die with gladness — perhaps even anticipate that doom which is 
 dealt out so unequally, coming as it does on the proud and happy in their 
 strength, and shunning the needy and afflicted and all who court it in their 
 despair — but what I have done, has been for her. Help me for her sake I 
 implore you — not for mine, for hers !" 
 
 " I'm sorry I've got an appointment in the city," said Quilp looking at his 
 watch with perfect self-possession, " or I should have been very glad to have 
 spent half an hour with you while you composed yourself — very glad." 
 
 " Nay, Quilp, good Quilp," gasped the old man, catching at his skirts — 
 " you and I have talked together more than once of her poor mother"'s story. 
 The fear of her coming to poverty has perhaps been bred in me by that. Do 
 not be hard upon me, but take that into account. You are a great gainer by 
 me. Oh spare me the money for this one last hope ! " 
 
 " I couldn't do it really," said Quilp witli unusual politeness, " though I 
 tell you what — and this is a circumstance worth bearing in mind as showing 
 how the sharpest among us may be taken in sometimes — I was so deceived by 
 the penurious way in which you lived, alone with Nelly — " 
 
 " All done to save money for tempting fortune, and make her triumph 
 greater," cried the old man. 
 
 " Yes yes, I understaiid that now," said Quilp ; " but I was going to sjay. 
 
l-:0 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 I was so deceived by that, your miserly way, the reputation you had among 
 those who knew you of being rich, and your repeated assurances that you 
 would make of my advances treble and quadruple the interest you paid me, 
 that I'd have advanced you even now what you want, on your simple note 
 of liand, though I had been led to suspect something wrong, if I hadn't 
 unexpectedly become acquainted with your secret way of life," 
 
 " AMio is it," retorted the old man desperately, " that notwithstanding all 
 my caution, told you that. Come. Let me know the name — the person." 
 
 The crafty dwai-f, bethinking himself that his giving up the child would 
 lead to the disclosure of the artifice he had employed, which, as nothing was 
 to be gained by it, it was as well to conceal, stopped short in his answer and 
 said, " Now, who do you think?" 
 
 " It was Kit, it must have been the boy ; he played the spy and you 
 tampered vk'ith him ? "" said the old man. 
 
 " How came you to think of him l " said the dwarf in a tone of great 
 commiseration. " Yes it was Kit. Poor Kit I" 
 
 So saying, he nodded in " a friendly manner, and took his leave, stopping 
 when he had passed the outer door a little distance, and grinning with extra- 
 ordinary delight. 
 
 " Poor Kit ! " muttered Quilp. " I think it was Kit who said I was an 
 uglier dwarf than could be seen anywhere for a penny, wasn't it. Ha ha ha ! 
 Poor Kit!" 
 
 And with that he went his way, still chuckling as he went. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TENTH. 
 
 Daniel Quilp neither entered nor left the old man's house, unobserved. In 
 the shadow of an archway nearly opposite, leading to one of the many passages 
 which diverged from the main street, there lingered one who having taken up 
 his position when the twilight first came on, still maintained it with undimi- 
 nished patience, and leaning against the wall with the manner of one who had 
 a long time to wait, and being well used to it was quite resigned, scarcely 
 changed his attitude for the hour together. 
 
 This patient lounger attracted little attention from any of those who passed, 
 and bestowed as little upon them. His eyes were constantly directed towards 
 one object, the window at which the child was accustomed to sit. If he with- 
 drew them for a moment, it was only to glance at a clock in some neighbouring 
 shop, and then to strain his sight once more in the old quarter with increased 
 earnestness and attention. 
 
 It has been remarked that this personage evinced no weariness in his place 
 of concealment, nor did he, long as his waiting was. But as the time went on, 
 he manifested some anxiety and surprise, glancing at the clock more frequently 
 and at the window less hopefully than before. At length the clock was hidden 
 from his sight by some envious shutters, then the church steeples proclaimed 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 141 
 
 eleven at night, then the quarter past, and then the conviction seemed to 
 obtrude itself upon his mind that it was of no use tarrying there any longer. 
 
 That the conviction was an unwelcome one, and that he was by no mean.« 
 willing to yield to it, was apparent from his reluctance to quit the spot ; from 
 the tardy steps with which he often left it, still looking over his shoulder at the 
 same window ; and from the precipitation with which he as often returned, 
 when a fancied noise or the changing and imperfect light induced him to suppose 
 it had been softly raised. At length he gave the matter up as hopeless for 
 that night, and suddenly breaking into a run as though to force himself away, 
 scampered off at his utmost speed, nor once ventured to look behind him lest 
 he should be tempted back again. 
 
 Without relaxing his pace or stopping to take breath, this mysterious 
 individual dashed on through a great many alleys and narrow ways until he at 
 length arrived in a square paved court, when he subsided into a walk, and 
 making for a small house from the window of which a light was shining, lifted 
 the latch of the door and passed in. 
 
 "Bless us !" cried a woman turning sharply round, "who's that! oh ! It's 
 you Kit ! " 
 
 "Yes mother, it's me." 
 
 " Why, how tired you look, my dear ! "■* 
 
 " Old master an't gone out to-night,'' said Kit ; " and so she hasn't been at 
 the window at all."" With which words, he sat down by the fire and looked 
 very mournful and discontented. 
 
 The room in which Kit sat himself down in this condition was an extremely 
 poor and homely place, but with that air of comfort about it, nevertheless, 
 which — or the spot must be a wretched one indeed — cleanliness and order can 
 always impart in some degree. Late as the Dutch clock showed it to be, the 
 poor woman was still hard at work at an ironing-table ; a young child lay 
 sleeping in a cradle near the fire ; and another, a sturdy boy of two or thret) 
 years old, very wide awake, with a very tight night-cap on his head, and a 
 night-gown very much too small for him on his body, was sitting bolt upright 
 in a clothes-basket staring over the rim with his great round eyes, and looking 
 as if he had thoroughly made up his mind never to go to sleep any more ; 
 which, as he had already declined to take his natural rest and had been brought 
 out of bed in consequence, opened a cheerful prospect for his relations and 
 friends. It was rather a queer-looking ftimily; Kit, his mother, and th«f 
 children, being all strongly alike. 
 
 Kit was disposed to be out of temper, as the best of us are too often — but 
 he looked at the youngest child who was sleeping soundly, and from him to 
 his other brother in the clotiies-basket, and from him to their mother, who 
 had been at work without complaint since morning, and thought it would be a 
 better and kinder thing to be good-humoured. So ho rocked tho cradle with 
 his foot, made a fjice at the rebel in the clothes-basket, which put him in high 
 good-humour directly, and stoutly determined to be talkative and make 
 himself agreeable. 
 
142 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 *' Ah mother !"" said Kit, taking out his clasp knife and falling upon a great 
 piece of bread and meat which she had had ready for him, hours before, '' what 
 a one you are I There an't many such as you, / know." 
 
 " I hope there are many a great deal better. Kit" said ^Irs. Nubbles ; " and 
 that there are, or ought to be, accordin' to what the parson at chapel says." 
 
 " Much he knows about it," returned Kit contemptuously. " Wait till he's 
 a widder and works like you do, and gets as little, and does as much, and keeps 
 his spirits up the same, and then Til ask him what's o'clock and trust him for 
 being right to half a second."" 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Nubbles, evading the point, " your beer's down there by 
 the fender. Kit." 
 
 " I see," replied her son, taking up the porter pot, " my love to you mother. 
 And the parson's health too if you like. I don't bear him any malice, not I !" 
 
 " Did you tell me just now that your master hadn't gone out to-night \" 
 inquired Mrs, Nubbles. 
 
 " Yes," said Kit, " worse luck." 
 
 " You should say better luck, I think," returned his mother, " because Miss 
 Nelly won't have been left alone." 
 
 " Ah !" said Kit, "I forgot that. I said worse luck, because I've been watch- 
 ing ever since eight o'clock, and seen nothing of her." 
 
 " I wonder what she'd say" cried his mother, stopping in her work and looking 
 round, " if she knew that every night, when she — poor thing — is sitting alone 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 143 
 
 at that window, you are watching in the open street for fear any harm should 
 come to her, and that you never leave the place or come home to your bed 
 though you're ever so tired, till such time as you think she's safe in here." 
 
 " Never mind what she'd say," replied Kit, with something like a blush on 
 his uncouth face ; " she'll never know nothing, and consequently, she'll never 
 say nothing." 
 
 Mrs. Nubbles ironed away in silence for a minute or two, and coming to the 
 fireplace for another iron, glanced stealthily at Kit while she rubbed it on a 
 board and dusted it with a duster, but said nothing until she had returned to 
 her table again, when holding the iron at an alarmingly short distance from her 
 cheek, to test its temperature, and looking round with a smile, she observed : 
 
 " I know what some people would say, Kit — " 
 
 " Nonsense," interposed Kit with a perfect apprehension of what was to follow. 
 
 " No, but they would indeed. Some people would say that you'd fallen in 
 love with her, I know they would." 
 
 To this, Kit only replied by bashfully bidding his mother " get out", and 
 forming sundry strange figures with his legs and arms, accompanied by svni- 
 pathetic contortions of his face. Not deriving from these means the relief 
 which he sought, he bit off" an immense mouthful from the bread and meat, 
 and took a quick drink of the porter, by which artificial aids he choked 
 himself and effected a diversion of the subject. 
 
 " Speaking seriously though. Kit," said his mother taking up the theme 
 afresh, after a time, " for of course I was only in joke just now, it's very 
 good and thoughtful, and like you, to do this, and never let anybody know it, 
 though some day I hope she may come to know it, for I'm sure she wouM be 
 very grateful to you and feel it ver}' much. It's a cruel thing to keep the 
 dear child shut up there. I don't wonder that the old gentleman wants to 
 keep it from you." 
 
 " He don't think it's cruel, bless you," said Kit, " and don't mean it to be 
 so, or he wouldn't do it — I do consider, mother, that he wouldn't do it for all 
 the gold and silver in the world. No no, that he wouldn't. I know him 
 better than that." 
 
 " Then what does he do it for, and why does he keep it so close from youf 
 said Mrs. Nubbles. 
 
 " That I don't know " returned her son. " If he hadn't tried to keep it so 
 close though, I should never have found it out, for it was his getting me away 
 at night and sending me off" so much earlier than he used to, that first made 
 me curious to know what was going on. Hark ! what's that i " 
 
 " It's only somebody outside." 
 
 " It's somebody crossing over here"— said Kit, standing up to listen, "and 
 coming very fast too. He can't have gone out after I left, and the house caught 
 fire, mother '" 
 
 The boy stood for a moment, really bereft, by the apprehension he had con- 
 jured up, of the power to move. The footsteps drew nearer, the door was opened 
 with a hasty hand, and the child herself, pale and breathless, and hastily 
 wrapped in a few disordered garments, hurried into the room. 
 
144< MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Miss Nelly ! What is the matter !" cried mother and son together. 
 
 " I must not stay a moment," she returned, " grandfather has been taken 
 very ill, I found him in a fit upon the floor — " 
 
 " I'll run for a doctor " — said Kit, seizing his brimless hat. " Fll be there 
 directly, I'll — " 
 
 " No, no," cried Nell, " there is one there, you're not wanted, you — you — 
 must never come near us any more !" 
 
 " What !" roared Kit. 
 
 " Never again," said the child. " Don't ask me why, for I don't know. Pray 
 dcm't ask me why, pray don't be sorry, pray don't be vexed with me, I have 
 nothing to do with it indeed !" 
 
 Kit looked at her with his eyes stretched wide, and opened and shut his 
 mouth a great many times, but couldn't get out one word. 
 
 " He complains and raves of you," said the child, " I don't know what you 
 have done, but I hope it's nothing very bad." 
 
 " / done !" roared Kit. . 
 
 *' He cries that you're the cause of all his misery," returned the child with 
 tearful eyes ; " he screamed and called for you, they say you must not come 
 near him or he will die. You must not return to us any more. I came to 
 tell you. I thought it would be better that I should come than somebody 
 quite strange. Oh, Kit, what have you done 1 you, in whom I trusted so 
 mucli, and who were almost the only friend I had !" 
 
 The unfortunate Kit looked at his young mistress harder and harder, and 
 with eyes growing wider and wider, but was perfectly motionless and silent. 
 
 " I have brought his money for the week," said the child, looking to the 
 woman and laying it on the table — " and — and — a little more, for he was 
 always good and kind to me. I hope he will be sorry and do well somewhere 
 else and not take this to heart too much. It grieves me very much to part 
 uitk him like this, but there is no help. It must be done. Good night !" 
 
 With the tears streaming down her face, and her slight figure trembling 
 witli the agitation of the scene she had left, the shock she had received, the 
 errand she had just discharged, and a thousand painful and affectionate feelings, 
 the child hastened to the door, and disappeared as rapidly as she had come. 
 
 The poor woman, who had no cause to doubt her son but every reason for 
 r/slying on his honesty and truth, was staggered notwithstanding by his not 
 liaving advanced one word in his defence. Visions of gallantly, knavery, 
 robbei'y ; and of the nightly absences from home for which he had accounted 
 so strangely, having been occasioned by some unlawful pursuit ; flocked into 
 her brain and rendered her afraid to question him. She rocked herself upon 
 a chair wringing her hands and weeping bitterly, but Kit made no attempt to 
 comfort her and remained quite bewildered. The baby in the cradle woke up 
 and cried, the boy in the clothes-basket fell over on his back wit'li the basket 
 upon him and was seen no more, the mother wept louder yet and rocked 
 faster, but Kit, insensible to all the din and tumult, remained in a state of utter 
 stupefaction. 
 
^i^e (Blti (Kun'ositg ^bop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 
 
 Quiet and solitude were destined to hold uninterrupted rule no longer, 
 beneath the roof that sheltered the child. Next morning the old man was in 
 a raging fever accompanied with delirium, and sinking under the influence of 
 this disorder he lay for many weeks in imminent peril of his life. There was 
 watching enough now, but it was the watching of strangers who made of it a 
 greedy trade, and who, in the intervals of their attendance upon the sick 
 man huddled together with a ghastly good-fellowship, and eat and drunk 
 and made merry ; for disease and death were their ordinary household 
 gods. 
 
 Yet in all the hurry and crowding of such a time, the child was more alone 
 than she had ever been before ; alone in spirit, alone in her devotion to him 
 who was wasting away upon his burning bed, alone in her unfeigned sorrow, 
 and her unpurchased sympathy. Day after day and night after night, found 
 her still by the pillow of the unconscious sufferer, still anticipating his every 
 want, and still listening to those repetitions of her name and those anxieties 
 and cares for her, which were ever uppermost among his feverish wanderings. 
 
 The house was no longer theirs. Even the sick chamber seemed to be 
 retained on the uncertain tenure of Mr. Quilp's favour. The old man's illness 
 had not lasted many days when he took formal possession of the premises 
 and all upon them, in virtue of certain legal powers to that effect, which few 
 understood and none presumed to call in question. This important step 
 secured, with the assistance of a man of law whom he brought with him for 
 the purpose, the dwarf proceeded to estabhsh himself and his coadjutor in the 
 house, as an assertion of his claim against all comers ; and then set about 
 making his quarters comfortable after his own fashion. 
 
 To this end, Mr. Quilp encamped in the back parlour, having first put an 
 effectual stop to any further business by shutting up the shop. Having 
 looked out from among the old furniture the handsomest and most connno- 
 dious chair he could possibly find, which he reserved for his own use, and an 
 especially hideous and uncomfortable one, which ho consi<lerately appropriated 
 to the accomodation of his friend, he caused them to be carried into this room 
 and took up his position in great state. The apartment was very far removed 
 from the old man's chamber, but Mr. Quilp deemed it prudent, as a precau- 
 tion against infection from fever, and a means of wholesome fumigation, not 
 only to smoke himself without cessation, but to insist upon it that his legal 
 friend did the like. Moreover, he sent an express to the wharf for the 
 tumbling boy, who arriving with all despatch was enjoined to sit himself down 
 in another chair just inside the door, continually to smoke a great pipe which 
 13. o 
 
146 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 the dwarf had provided for the purpose, and to take it from his lips under 
 any pretence whatever, were it only for one minute at a time, if he dared. 
 These arrangements completed, Mr. Quilp looked round him with chuckling 
 satisfaction, and remarked that he called that comfort. 
 
 The legal gentleman, whose melodious name was Brass, might have called 
 it comfort also but for two drawbacks ; one was that he could by no exertion 
 sit easily in his chair, the seat of which was very hard, angular, slippery, and 
 sloping ; the other that tobacco-smoke always caused him great internal dis- 
 composure and annoyance. But as he was quite a creature of Mr. Quilp's 
 and had a thousand reasons for conciliating his good opinion, he tried to smile, 
 and nodded his acquiescence with the best grace he could assume. 
 
 This Brass was an attorney of no very good repute from Bevis Marks in 
 the city of London ; ho was a tall, meagre man, with a nose like a wen, a pro- 
 truding forehead, retreating eyes, and hair of a deep red. He wore a long 
 black surtout reaching nearly to his ancles, short black trousers, high shoes, 
 and cotton stockings of a blueish grey. He had a cringing manner but a 
 very harsh voice, and his blandest smiles were so extremely forbidding, that to 
 have had his company under the least repulsive circumstances, one would 
 have wished him to be out of temper that he might only scowl. 
 
 Quilp looked at his legal adviser, and seeing that he was winking very much 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 147 
 
 in the anguish of his pipe, that he sometimes shuddered when he happened to 
 inhale its full flavour, and that he constantly fanned the smoke from him, was 
 quite overjoyed and rubbed his hands with glee. 
 
 " Smoke away you dog," said Quilp turning to the boy ; " fill your pipe again 
 and smoke it fast, down to the last whiff, or I'll put the sealing-waxed end of 
 it in the fire and rub it red hot upon your tongue." 
 
 Luckily the boy was case-hardened, and would have smoked a small lime- 
 kiln if anybody had treated him with it. Wherefore he only muttered a brief 
 defiance of his master, and did as he was ordered. 
 
 " Is it good, Brass, is it nice, is it fragrant, do you feel like the Grand 
 Turk ? " said Quilp. 
 
 Mr. Brass thought that if he did, the Grand Turk's feelings were by no 
 means to be envied, but he said it was famous, and he had no doubt he felt 
 very like that Potentate. 
 
 " This is the way to keep off fever,"' said Quilp, " this is the way to keep 
 off every calamity of life. We'll never leave off all the time we stop here — 
 smoke away you dog or you shall swallow the pipe." 
 
 '* Shall we stop here long, Mr. Quilp l " inquired his legal friend, when the 
 dwarf had given his boy this last gentle admonition. 
 
 " We must stop, I suppose, till the old gentleman up stairs is dead," 
 returned Quilp. 
 
 " He he he ! " laughed Mr. Brass, " oh ! very good ! " 
 
 " Smoke away ! "' cried Quilp. " Never stop ! You can talk as you smoke. 
 Don't lose time." 
 
 " He he he ! " cried Brass faintly, as he again applied himself to the odious 
 pipe. " But if he should get better Mr, Quilp ? " 
 
 " Then we shall stop till he does, and no longer," returned the dwarf. 
 
 " How kind it is of you sir to wait 'till then ! " said Brass. " Some people 
 sir would have sold or removed the goods — oh dear, the very instant the law 
 allowed 'em. Some people sir would have been all flintiness and granite. 
 Some people sir would have — " 
 
 " Some people would have spared themselves the jabbering of such a parrot 
 as you," interposed the dwarf. 
 
 " He he he ! " cried Brass. " You have such spirits ! " 
 
 The smoking centinel at the door interposed in this place, and without taking 
 his pipe from his lips, growled, 
 
 " Here's the gal a comin' down." 
 
 "The what, you dog?" said Quilp. 
 
 " The gal," returned the boy. " Arc you deaf?" 
 
 " Oh ! " said Quilp, drawing in his breath with great relish as if he were taking 
 soup, " you and I will have such a settling presently, there's such a scratch- 
 ing and bruising in store for you, my dear young friend. Aha ! Nelly ! How 
 is he now, my duck of diamonds ? " 
 
 " He's very bad." replied the weeping child. 
 
 " What a pretty little Nell ! " cried Quilp. 
 
148 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Oh beautiful sir, beautiful indeed," said Brass. " Quite charming." 
 
 " Has she come to sit upon Quilp's knee," said the dwarf in what he meant 
 to be a soothing tone, " or is she going to bed in her own little room inside 
 here — which is poor Nelly going to do ? " 
 
 " What a remarkably pleasant way he has with children !" muttered Brass 
 as if in confidence between himself and the ceiling ; " upon my word it's quite 
 a treat to hear him." 
 
 " I'm not going to stay at all,"" faltered Nell. " I want a few things out of 
 that room, and then I — I — won't come down here any more." 
 
 " And a very nice little room it is ! " said the dwarf looking into it as the 
 child entered. " Quite a bower. You're sure you're not going to use it, 
 you're sure you're not coming back, Nelly ? " 
 
 " No," replied the child, hurrying away, with the few articles of dress she 
 had come to remove ; " never again, never again." 
 
 " She's very sensitive," said Quilp looking after her. " Very sensitive ; 
 that's a pity. The bedstead is much about my size. I think I shall make it 
 my little room." 
 
 Mr. Brass encouraging this idea, as he would have encouraged any other 
 emanating from the same source, the dwarf walked in to try the effect, which 
 he did by throwing himself on his back upon the bed with his pipe in his 
 mouth, and then kicking up his legs and smoking violently. Mr. Brass 
 applauding this picture very much, and the bed being soft and comfortable, 
 Mr, Quilp determined to use it, both as a sleeping place by night and as a 
 kind of Divan b}^ day, and in order that it might be converted to the latter 
 purpose at once, remained where he was and smoked his pipe out. The legal 
 gentleman being by this time rather giddy and perplexed in his ideas (for this 
 was one of the operations of the tobacco upon his nervous system), took the 
 opportunity of slinking away into the open air where in course of time he 
 recovered sufficiently to return with a countenance of tolerable compo- 
 sure. He was soon led on by the malicious dwarf to smoke himself into 
 a relapse, and in that state stumbled upon a settee where he slept till 
 morning. 
 
 Such were JNIr. Quilp's first proceedings on entering upon his new property. 
 He was for some days restrained by business from performing any particular 
 pranks, as his time was pretty well occupied between taking, with the assist- 
 ance of Mr. Brass, a minute inventory of all the goods in the place, and 
 going abroad upon his other concerns which happily engaged him for several 
 hours at a time. His avarice and caution being now thoroughly awakened, 
 however, he was never absent from the house one night, and his eagerness for 
 some termination, good or bad, to the old man's disorder, increasing rapidly 
 as the time passed by, soon began to vent itself in open murmurs and excla- 
 mations of impatience. 
 
 Nell shrunk timidly from all the dwarf's advances towards conversation and 
 fled from the very sound of his voice, nor were the lawyer's smiles less terrible 
 to her than Quilp's grimaces. She lived in such continual dread and appre- 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 149 
 
 hension of meeting one or other of them upon the stairs or in the passages if 
 she stirred from her grandfather s chamber, that she seldom left it for a 
 moment until late at night, when the silence encouraged her to venture forth 
 and breathe the purer air of some empty room. 
 
 One night she had stolen to her usual window and was sitting there very 
 sorrowfully, for the old man had been worse that day, when she thought she 
 heard her name pronounced by a voice in the street, and looking down, recog- 
 nised Kit whose endeavours to attract her attention had roused her from her 
 sad reflections. 
 
 " Miss Nell !" said the boy in a low voice. 
 
 " Yes," replied the child, doubtful whether she ought to hold any com- 
 munication with the supposed culprit, but inclining to her old favorite still, 
 " what do you want V 
 
 " I have wanted to say a word to you for a long time," the boy replied, 
 " but the people below have driven me away and wouldn't let me see you. 
 You don"'t believe — I hope you don't really believe — that I deserve to be cast 
 off as I have been, do you Miss V 
 
 " I must believe it," returned the child. "Or why would grandfather have 
 been so angry with you ?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Kit. " I'm sure I've never deserved it from him, 
 no, nor from you. I can say that with a true and honest heart any way. And 
 then to be driven from the door, when I only came to ask how old master 
 was—!" 
 
 " They never told me that," said the child. " I didn't know it indeed. I 
 wouldn't have had them do it for the world." 
 
 " Thank'ee Miss," returned Kit, " its comfortable to hear you say that. I 
 said I never would believe that it was your doing." 
 
 " That was right ! " said the child eagerly. 
 
 " Miss Nell," cried the boy coming under the window and speaking in a 
 lower tone, " there are new masters down stairs. It's a change for you." 
 
 " It is indeed," replied the child. 
 
 " And so it will be for him when he gets better," said the boy pointing 
 towards the sick room. 
 
 " — If he ever does," added the child, unable to restrain her tears. 
 
 " Oh, he'll do that, he'll do that," said Kit, " I'm sure he will. You 
 mustn't be cast down Miss Nell. Now don't be, pray." 
 
 These words of encouragement and consolation wore few and roughly 
 said, but they affected the child and made her for the moment weep the 
 more. 
 
 " He'll be sure to get better now," said the boy anxiously, " if you don't 
 give way to low spirits and turn ill yourself, which would make him worse and 
 throw him back just as he was recovering. When he does, say a good word 
 — say a kind word for me. Miss Nell." 
 
 " They tefl me I must not even mention your name to him for a long, long 
 time," rejoined the child, " I dare not ; and even if I might, what good would 
 
150 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 a kind word do you, Kit ? We shall be very poor. We sliall scarcely have 
 bread to eat." 
 
 " It"'s not that I may bo taken back," said the boy, " that I ask the favour 
 of you. It isn't for the sake of food and wages that I've been waiting about 
 so long in hopes to see you. Don't think that Yd come in a time of trouble 
 to talk of such things as them." 
 
 TJie child looked gratefully and kindly at him, but waited that he might 
 speak again. 
 
 " No, it''s not that," said Kit hesitating, " it's something very different 
 from that. 1 haven't got much sense I know, but if he could be brought to 
 believe that 1\\ been a faithful servant to hiui, doing the best I could, and 
 never meaning harm, perhaps he mightn't " — 
 
 Here Kit faltered so long that the child entreated him to speak out, and 
 quickly, for it was very late, and time to sliut the window. 
 
 " Perhaps lie mightn't think it over venturesome of me to say — well then, 
 to say this," — cried Kit with sudden boldness. " This home is gone from you 
 and him. IMother and I have got a poor one, but that's better than this with 
 all these people here, and why not come there, till he's had time to look about 
 and find a better ! " 
 
 The child did not speak. Kit, in the relief of having made his proposition, 
 found his tongue loosened, and spoke out in its favour with his utmost elo- 
 quence. 
 
 " You think," said the boy, " that it's very small and inconvenient. So it 
 is, but it's very clean. Pei'haps you think it would be noisy, but there's not a 
 quieter court than ours in all the town. Don''t be afraid of the children ; 
 the baby hardly ever cries, and the other one is very good — besides, IW mind 
 'era. They wouldn't vex you much I'm sure. Do try Miss Nell, do try. 
 The little front room up stairs is very pleasant. You can see a piece of the 
 church-clock through the chimneys and almost tell the time ; mother says it 
 would be just the thing for you, and so it would, and you'd have her to wait 
 upon you both, and me to run of errands. We don't mean money, bless you ; 
 you're not to think of that. Will you try him Miss Nell I Only say you'll 
 try him. Do try to make old master come, and ask him first what I have 
 done — will you only promise that, JNIiss Nell V 
 
 Before the child could reply to this earnest solicitation, the street-door 
 opened, and Mr. Brass thrusting out his night-capped head called in a surly 
 voice, " Who's there ! " Kit immediately glided away, and Nell closing the 
 window softly, drew back into the room. 
 
 Before Mr. Brass had repeated his inquiry many times, Mr. Quilp, also 
 embellished with a night-cap, emerged from the same door and looked care- 
 fully up and down the street, and up at all the windows of the house from the 
 opposite side. Finding that there was nobody in sight he presently returned 
 into the house with his legal friend, protesting (as the child heard from the 
 staircase), that there was a league and plot against him, that he was in danger 
 of being robbed and plundered by a band of conspirators who prowled about 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 151 
 
 the house at all seasons, and that he would delay no longer but take imme- 
 diate steps for disposing of the property and returning to his own peaceful 
 roof. Having growled forth these and a great many other threats of the 
 same nature, he coiled himself once more in the child's little bed, and Nell 
 crept softly up the stairs. 
 
 It was natural enough that her short and unfinished dialogue with Kit 
 should leave a strong impression on her mind, and influence her dreams that 
 night and her recollections for a long, long time. Surrounded by unfeeling 
 creditors, and mercenary attendants upon the sick, and meeting in the height 
 of her anxiety and sorrow with little regard or sympathy even from the women 
 about her, it is not surprising that the affectionate heart of the child should 
 have been touched to the quick by one kind and generous spirit, however 
 xmcouth the temple in which it dwelt. Thank Heaven that the temples of 
 such spirits are not made with hands, and that they may be more worthily huno- 
 with poor patchwork than with purple and fine linen. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. 
 
 At length the crisis of the old man"'s disorder was past, and he began to 
 mend. By very slow and feeble degrees his consciousness came back, but the 
 mind was weakened and its functions were impaired. He was patient, and 
 quiet ; often sat brooding, but not despondently, for a long space ; was easily 
 amused even by a sun-beam on the wall or ceiling ; made no complaint that the 
 days were long or the nights tedious ; and appeared indeed to have lost all 
 count of time and every sense of care or weariness. He would sit for hours 
 together with NelFs small hand in his, playing with the fingers and stopping 
 sometimes to smooth her hair or kiss her brow, and when he saw that tears 
 were glistening in her eyes would look, amazed, about him for the cause, and 
 forget his wonder even while he looked. 
 
 The child and he rode out : the old man propped up with pillows, and the 
 child beside him. They were hand in hand as usual. The noise and 
 motion in the streets fatigued his brain at first, but he was not surprised, or 
 curious, or pleased, or irritated. He was asked if he remembered this, or 
 that. ' Oh yes' he said ' quite well— why not f Sometimes he turned his head 
 and looked with earnest gaze and outstretched neck after some stranger in the 
 crowd, until he disappeared from sight, but to the question why he did this, 
 he answered not a word. 
 
 He was sitting in his easy chair one day, and Nell upon a stool beside him, 
 when a man outside the door inquired if he might enter. ' Yes,' he said 
 without emotion, * it was Quilp, he knew, (iuilp was master there. Of course 
 he might come in."" And so he did. 
 
 " I'm glad to see you well again at last, neighbour," said the dwarf sitting 
 down opposite to him. " You're quite strong now ? " 
 
152 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Yes," said the old man feebly, " yes." 
 
 " I don't want to hurry you, you know neighbour,"' said the dwarf raising 
 his voice, for the old man's senses were duller than they had been ; " but as 
 soon as you can arrange your future proceedings, the better." 
 
 " Surely," said the old man. " The better for all parties." 
 
 " You see," pursued Quilp after a short pause, " the goods being once 
 removed, this house would be uncomfortable ; uninhabitable in fact." 
 
 " You say true," returned the old man. " Poor Nell too, what would 
 she^oV 
 
 " Exactly," bawled the dwarf nodding his head ; " that's very well observed. 
 Then will you consider about it neighbour ? " 
 
 " I will certainly," replied the old man. " We shall not stop here." 
 
 " So I supposed," said the dwarf. " I have sold the things. They have 
 not yielded quite as much as they might have done, but pretty well — pretty 
 well. To day's Tuesday. When shall they be moved ? There's no hurry — 
 shall we say this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Say Friday morning," returned the old man. 
 
 " Very good " said the dwarf. "So be it,— with the understanding that I 
 can't go beyond that day neighbour, on any account." 
 
 " Good" returned the old man. " I shall remember it." 
 
 Mr. Quilp seemed rather puzzled by the strange, even, spiritless way in 
 which all this was said ; but as the old man nodded his head and repeated " on 
 Friday morning. I shall remember it," he had no excuse for dwelling upon 
 the subject any further, and so took a friendly leave with many expressions of 
 good-will and many compliments to his friend on his looking so remarkably 
 w^ell ; and went below stairs to report progress to Mr. Brass. 
 
 All that day and all the next, the old man remained in this state. He 
 wandered up and down the house and into and out of the various rooms, as if 
 with some vague intent of bidding them adieu, but he referred neither by direct 
 allusions nor in any other manner to the interview of the morning or the 
 necessity of finding some other shelter. An indistinct idea he had that the 
 child was desolate and in want of help, for he often drew her to his bosom and 
 bade her be of good cheer, saying that they would not desert each other ; but 
 he seemed unable to contemplate their real position more distinctly, and was 
 still the listless, passionless creature, that suffering of mind and body had 
 left him. 
 
 We call this a state of childishness, but it is the same poor hollow mockery 
 of it, that death is of sleep. Where, in the dull eyes of doating men, are the 
 laughing light and life of childhood, the gaiety that has known no check, the 
 frankness that has felt no chill, the hope that has never withered, the joys 
 that fade in blossoming ? Where, in the sharp lineaments of rigid and unsightly 
 death, is the calm beauty of slumber, telling of rest for the waking hours that 
 are past, and gentle hopes and loves for those which are to come ? Lay death 
 and sleep down, side by side, and say who shall find the two akin. Send 
 forth the child and childish man together, and blush for the pride that 
 
MASTER HUjMPHREY'S CLOCK. 153 
 
 libels our own old happy state, and gives its title to an ugly and distorted 
 image. 
 
 Thursday arrived, and there was no alteration in the old man. But a 
 change came upon him that evening as he and the child sat silently 
 together. 
 
 In a small dull yard below his window there was a tree — green and 
 flourishing enough, for such a place — and as the air stirred among its leaves, 
 it threw a rippling shadow on the white wall. The old man sat watching 
 the shadows as they trembled in this patch of light until the sun went down, 
 and when it was night and the moon was slowly rising he still sat in tlie same 
 spot. 
 
 To one who had been tossing on a restless bed so long, even these few green 
 leaves and this tranquil light, although it languished among chimneys and 
 , house-tops, were pleasant things. They suggested quiet places afar off, and 
 rest, and peace. 
 
 The child thought more than once that he was moved, and had forborne to 
 speak. But now he shed tears — tears that it lightened her aching heart to 
 see — and making as though he would fall upon his knees, besought her to 
 forgive him. 
 
 " Forgive you — what ? " said Nell, interposing to prevent his purpose. 
 " Oh grandfather, what should /forgive V 
 
 " All that is past, all that has come upon thee Nell, all that was done in 
 that uneasy dream," returned the old man. 
 
 " Do not talk so," said the child. " Pray do not. Let us speak of some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Yes, yes, we will," he rejoined. " And it shall be of what we talked of 
 long ago — many months — months is it, or weeks, or days ? which is it 
 Nell?" 
 
 " I do not understand you"— said the child. 
 
 " It has come back upon me to-day, it has all come back since we have been 
 sitting here. I bless thee for it Nell ! " 
 
 " For what dear grandfather ? " 
 
 " For what you said when we were first made beggars, Nell. Let us speak 
 softly. Hush ! for if they knew our purpose down stairs, they would cry that 
 I was mad and take thee from me. We will not stop here another day. We 
 will go far away from here." 
 
 " Yes, let us go," said the child earnestly " Let us begone from this place, 
 and never turn back or think of it airain. Let us wander barefoot throuffh 
 the world, rather than linger here. 
 
 "We will" — answered the old man, "wo will travel afoot through Holds 
 and woods, and by the side of rivers, and trust ourselves to (iod in the places 
 where He dwells. It is far better to lie down at night bi'Ueath an open sky 
 like that yonder — see how bright it is — than to retst in close rooms wliich 
 are always full of care and weary dreams. Thou and I together, Nell, may 
 
154? MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 be cheerful and happy yet, and learn to forget this time, as if it had never 
 been." 
 
 " We will be happy," cried the child. " We never can be here."" 
 
 " No, we never can again — never again — that's truly said," rejoined the old 
 man. " Let us steal away to-morrow morning — early and softly that we may 
 not be seen or heard— and leave no trace or track for them to follow by. Poor 
 Nell, thy cheek is pale and thy eyes are heavy with watching and weeping — 
 with watching and weeping for me — I know — for me ; but thou wilt be well 
 again, and merry too, when we are far away. To-morrow morning, dear, we'll 
 turn our faces from this scene of sorrows, and be as free and happy as the 
 birds." 
 
 And then the old man clasped hi^ hands above her head, and said in a 
 few broken words that from that time forth they would wander up and 
 down together, and never part more until Death took one or other of the 
 twain. 
 
 The child's heart beat high with hope and confidence. She had no thought 
 of hunger or cold, or thirst, or suffering. She saw in this, but a return of the 
 simple pleasures they had once enjoyed, a relief from the gloomy solitude in 
 which she had lived, an escape from the heartless people by whom she had 
 been surrounded in her late time of trial, the restoration of the old man's 
 health and peace, and a life of tranquil happiness. Sun, and stream, and 
 meadow, and summer days, shone brightly in her view, and there was no dark 
 tint in all the sparkling picture. 
 
 The old man had slept for some hours soimdly in his bed, and she was yet 
 busily engaged in preparing for their flight. There were a few articles of 
 clothing for herself to carry, and a few for him ; old garments, such as became 
 their fallen fortunes, laid out to wear ; and a staff" to support his feeble steps, 
 put ready for his use. But this was not all her task, for now she must visit 
 the old rooms for the last time. 
 
 And how different the parting with them was from any she had expected, 
 and most of all from that which she had oftenest pictured to herself. How 
 could she ever have thought of bidding them farewell in triumph, when the 
 recollection of the many hours she had passed among them rose to her swelling 
 heart, and made her feel the wish a cruelty, lonely and sad though many 
 of those hours had been ! She sat down at the window where she had 
 spent so many evenings — darker far than this — and every thought of hope 
 or cheerfulness that had occurred to her in that place came vividly upon 
 her mind, and blotted out all its dull and mournful associations in an 
 instant. 
 
 Her own little room too where she had so often knelt dov^ii and prayed at 
 night— prayed for the time which she hoped was dawning now — the little room 
 where she had slept so peacefully, and dreamed such pleasant dreams — it was 
 hard not to be able to glance round it once more, and to be forced to leave it 
 without one kind look or grateful tear. There were some trifles there — poor 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 155 
 
 useless things — that she would have liked to take away ; but that was im- 
 possible. 
 
 This brought to mind her bird, her poor bird, who hung there yet. She 
 wept bitterly for the loss of this little creature — until the idea occurred to her 
 — she did not know how or why it came into her head — that it might by some 
 means fall into the hands of Kit who would keep it for her sake, and think 
 perhaps that she had left it behind in the hope that he might have it, and as an 
 assurance that she was grateful to him. She was calmed and comforted by 
 the thought, and went to rest with a lighter heart. 
 
 From many dreams of rambling through light and sunny places, but with 
 some vague object unattained which ran indistinctly through them all, she 
 awoke to find that it was yet night, and that the stars were shining brightly 
 in the sky. At length the day began to glimmer and the stars to grow pale 
 and dim. As soon as she was sure of this, she arose, and dressed herself for 
 the journey. 
 
 The old man was yet asleep, and as she was unwilling to disturb him, she 
 left him to slumber on until the sun rose. He was anxious that they should 
 leave the house without a minute"'s loss of time, and was soon ready. 
 
 The child then took him by the hand, and they trod lightly and cautiously 
 down the stairs, trembling whenever a board creaked, and often stopping to 
 listen. The old man had forgotten a kind of wallet which contained the light 
 burden he had to carry, and the going back a few steps to fetch it seemed an 
 interminable delay. 
 
 At last they reached the passage on the ground floor, where the snoring of 
 Mr. Quilp and his legal friend sounded more terrible in their ears than the 
 roars of lions. The bolts of the door were rusty, and difficult to unfasten 
 without noise. When they were all drawn back it was found to be locked, 
 and, worst of all, the key was gone. Then the child remembered for the first 
 time one of the nurses having told her that Quilp always locked both the house- 
 doors at night, and kept the keys on the table in his bedroom. 
 
 It was not without great fear and trepidation that little Nell slipped off her 
 shoes and gliding through the store-room of old curiosities, where Mr. Brass 
 — the ugliest piece of goods in all the stock — lay sleeping on a mattress, passed 
 into her own little chamber. 
 
 Here she stood for a few moments quite transfixed with terror at the sight 
 of Mr. Quilp, who was hanging so far out of bed that he almost seemed to be 
 standing on his head, and who, either from the uneasiness of this posture or 
 in one of his agreeable habits, was gasping and growling with his mouth 
 wide open, and the whites (or rather the dirty yellows) of his eyes dis- 
 tinctly visible. It was no time, however, to ask wlicthcr anything ailed 
 him, so possessing herself of the key after one hasty glance about the room, 
 and repassing the prostrate Mr. Brass, she rejoined the old man in safety. 
 They got the door open without noise, and passing into the street, stood 
 stiU. 
 
156 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Which way ?" said the child. 
 
 The old man looked irresolutely and helplessly, first at her, then to the 
 right and left, then at her again, and shook his head. It was plain that she 
 was thenceforth his guide and leader. The child felt it, but had no doubts or 
 misgiving, and putting her hand in his, led him gently away. 
 
 N------ --- /| •'', ^ .1 'll'll,!! I, 'lit b ' I'-! 
 
 It was the beginning of a day in June ; the deep blue sky unsullied by a 
 cloud, and teeming with brilliant light. The streets were as yet nearly free 
 from passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthful air of 
 morning fell like breath from angels, on the sleeping town. 
 
 The old man and the child passed on through the glad silence, elate with 
 hope and pleasure. They were alone together once again ; every object was 
 bright and fresh ; nothing reminded them, otherwise than by contrast, of the 
 monotony and constraint they had left behind ; church towers and steeples, 
 frowning and dark at other times, now shone and dazzled in the sun ; each 
 humble nook and corner rejoiced in light ; and the sky, dimmed by excessive 
 distance, shed its placid smile on everything beneath. 
 
 Forth from the city, while it yet slumbered, went the two poor adventurers, 
 wandering they knew not whither. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 157 
 
 ^5c <B\ti Crurtositn ^j^op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. 
 
 Daniel Quilp of Tower Hill, and Sampson Brass of Bevis Marks in the 
 city of London, Gentleman, one of her ^lajesty's attorneys of the Courts of 
 King's Bench and Common Pleas at Westminster and a solicitor of the 
 High Court of Chancery, slumbered on unconscious and unsuspicious of any 
 mischance, until a knocking at the street door, often repeated and gradually 
 mounting up from a modest single rap into a perfect battery of knocks, fired 
 in long discharges with a very short interval between, caused the said Daniel 
 Quilp to struggle into a horizontal position, and to stare at the ceiling with a 
 drowsy indifference, betokening that he heard the noise and rather wondered 
 at the same, but couldn't be at the trouble of bestowing any further thought 
 upon the subject. 
 
 As the knocking, however, instead of accommodating itself to his lazy state, 
 increased in vigour and became more importunate, as if in earnest remonstrance 
 against his falling asleep again now that he had once opened his eyes, Daniel 
 Quilp began by degrees to comprehend the possibility of there being some- 
 body at the door, and thus he gradually came to recollect that it was Friday 
 morning, and he had ordered Mrs. Quilp to be in waiting upon him at an 
 early hour. 
 
 Mr. Brass, after wTitliing about in a great many strange attitudes, and 
 often twisting his face and eyes into an expression like that which is usually 
 produced by eating gooseberries very early in the season, was by this time 
 awake also, and seeing that Mr. Quilp invested himself in his every-day 
 garments, hastened to do the like, putting on his shoes before his stockings, 
 and thrusting his legs into his coat sleeves, and making such other small 
 mistakes in his toilet as are not uncommon to those who dress in a hurry, and 
 labour under the agitation of havmg been suddenly roused. 
 
 While the attorney was thus engaged, the dwarf was groping under the 
 table, muttering desperate imprecations upon himself and mankind in general 
 and all inanimate objects to boot, which suggested to Mr. Brass the question 
 " what's the matter." 
 
 " The key," said the dwarf, looking viciously at him, " the door-key, — 
 that's the matter. D'ye know anything of it V 
 
 " How should I know anything of it, sir V returned Mr. Brass. 
 
 " How should you," repeated Quilp with a sneer. " You're a nice lawyer, 
 an't you? Ugh, you idiot !" 
 
 Not caring to represent to the dwarf in his present humour, that the loss 
 of a key by another person could scarcely be said to affect his (Brass's) legal 
 knowledge in any material degree, Mr. Brass humbly suggested that it must 
 have been forgotten over night, and was doubtless at that moment in its 
 native key-hole. Notwithstanding that Mr. Quilp had a strong conviction to 
 14. p 
 
158 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 the contrary, founded on his recollection of having carefully taken it out, he 
 was fain to admit that this was possible, and therefore went grumbling to the 
 door where, sure enough, he found it. 
 
 Now, just as ^Ir. Quilp laid his hand upon the lock and saw with great 
 astonishment that the fastenings were undone, the knocking came again with 
 most irritating violence, and the day-light which had been shining through 
 the key-hole was intercepted on the outside by a human eye. The dwarf was 
 very much exasperated, and wanting somebody to wreak his ill-humour upon, 
 determined to dart out suddenly and favor Mrs. Quilp with a gentle acknow- 
 ledgement of her attention in making that hideous uproar. 
 
 With this view he drew back the lock very silently and softly, and opening 
 the door all at once, pounced out upon the person on the other side, who had 
 at that moment raised the knocker for another application, and at whom the 
 dwarf ran head first, throwing out his hands and feet together and biting the 
 air in the fullness of his malice. 
 
 So far, however, from rushing upon somebody who offered no resistance 
 and implored his mercy, Mr. Quilp was no sooner in the arras of the indi- 
 vidual whom he had taken for his wife than he found himself complimented 
 with two staggering blows on the head, and two more, of the same quality, in 
 the chest, and closing with his assailant, such a shower of buffets rained down 
 
 upon his person as sufficed to convince him tliat he was in skilful and exj)e- 
 rienced hands. Nothing daunted by this reception, he clung tight to his 
 opponent, and bit and hammered away with such good-will and heartiness, 
 that it was at least a couple of minutes before he was dislodged. Then, and 
 
 \ 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 159 
 
 not until then, Daniel Quilp found himself, all flushed and dishevelled, in the 
 middle of the street, with Mr. Richard Swiveller pei'forming a kind of dance 
 round him and requiring to know " whether he wanted any more.'' 
 
 " There's plenty more of it at the same shop," said Mr. Swiveller, by turns 
 advancing and retreating in a threatening attitude, " a large and extensive 
 assortment always on hand — country orders executed with promptitude and 
 despatch — will you have a little more, sir — don't say no, if you'd rather not." 
 
 " I thought it was somebody else," said Quilp rubbing his shoulders, " why 
 didn't you say who you were V 
 
 " Why didn't you say who t/ou were I" returned Dick, " instead of flying 
 out of the house like a Bedlamite ?" 
 
 " It was you that — that knocked," said the dwarf, getting up with a short 
 groan, " was it V 
 
 " Yes, I'm the man," replied Dick. " That lady had begun when I came, 
 but she knocked too soft, so I relieved her." As he said this, he pointed 
 towards Mrs. Quilp, who stood trembling at a little distance. 
 
 " Humph !" muttered the dwarf, darting an angry look at his wife, " I 
 thought it was your fault. And you, sir, — don't you know there has been 
 somebody ill here, that you knock as if you'd beat the door down ?" 
 
 *' Damme !" answered Dick, " that's why I did it. I thought there was 
 somebody dead here." 
 
 " You came for some purpose, I suppose," said Quilp. " What is it you 
 want r 
 
 " I want to know how the old gentleman is," rejoined Mr. Swiveller, " and 
 to hear from Nell herself, with whom I should like to have a little talk. Fm 
 a friend of the family, sir, — at least I'm the friend of one of the family and 
 that's the same thing." 
 
 " You'd better walk in then," said the dwarf. " Go on, sir, go on. Now 
 Mrs. Quilp — after you ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Quilp hesitated, but Mr. Quilp insisted. And it was not a contest of 
 politeness, or by any means a matter of form, for she knew very well that her 
 husband wished to enter the house in this order that he might have a favourable 
 opportunity of inflicting a few pinches on her arms, which were seldom free 
 from impressions of his fingers in black and blue colours. ^Ir. Swiveller who 
 was not in the secret was a little surprised to hear a suppressed scream, 
 and, looking round, to see Mrs. Quilp following him with a sudden jerk, but 
 he did not remark on these appearances, and soon forgot them. 
 
 " Now Mrs. Quilp," said the dwarf when they had entered the shop, " go 
 you up stairs if you please to Nelly's room, and tell her that she's wanted." 
 
 " You seem to make yourself at home here," said Dick, who was unac- 
 quainted with Mr. Quilp's authority. 
 
 " I am at home young gentleman," returned the dwarf. 
 
 Dick was pondering what these words might mean, and still more what the 
 presence of Mr. Brass might mean, when Mrs. Quilp came hurrying down 
 stairs, declaring that the rooms above were empty. 
 
 " Empty, you fool !" said the dwarf. 
 
160 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK J 
 
 '■' I give you my word, Quilp," answered his trembling wife, " that I have 
 been into every room and there's not a soul in any of them." 
 
 " And that," said Mr. Brass, clapping his hands once with an emphasis, 
 " explains the mystery of the key !" 
 
 Quilp looked frowningly at him, and frowningly at his wife, and frowningly 
 at Richard Swiveller ; but receiving no enlightenment from any of them 
 hurried up stairs, whence he soon hurried down again, confirming the report 
 which had been already made. 
 
 " Ifs a strange way of going," he said, glancing at Swiveller, "very strange 
 not to communicate with me who am such a close and intimate friend of his. 
 Ah ! he'll write to me no doubt, or he'll bid Nelly write — yes, yes, that's 
 what he'll do. Nelly's very fond of me. Pretty Nell I" 
 
 Mr. Swiveller looked, as he was, all open-mouthed astonishment. Still glanc- 
 ing furtively at him, Quilp turned to Mr. Brass and observed with assumed 
 carelessness that this need not interfere with the removal of the goods. 
 
 " For indeed," he added, " we knew that they'd go away to-day, but not 
 that they'd go so early or so quietly. But they have their reasons, they have 
 their reasons." 
 
 " Where in the devil's name are they gone V said the wondering Dick. 
 
 Quilp shook his head and pursed up his lips in a manner which implied that 
 he knew very well, but was not at liberty to say. 
 
 " And what," said Dick, looking at the confusion about him, " what do you 
 mean by moving the goods V 
 
 " That I have bought 'em, sir," rejoined Quilp. " Eh ? What then !" 
 
 " Has the sly old fox made his fortune then, and gone to live in a tranquil 
 cot in a pleasant spot with a distant view of the changing sea V said Dick, in 
 great bewilderment. 
 
 " Keeping his place of retirement very close, that he may not be visited too 
 often by affectionate grandsons and their devoted friends, eh ?" added the 
 dwarf, rubbing his hands hard ; " / say nothing, but is that your meaning, sirl" 
 
 Richard Swiveller was utterly aghast at this unexpected alteration of 
 circumstances, which threatened the complete overthrow of the project in 
 which he bore so conspicuous a part, and seemed to nip his prospects in the 
 bud. Having only received from Frederick Trent, late on the previous night, 
 information of the old man's illness, he had come upon a visit of condolence 
 and enquiry to Nell, prepared with the first instalment of that long train of 
 fascinations which was to fire her heart at last. And here, when he had been 
 thinking of all kinds of graceful and insinuating approaches, and meditating 
 on the fearful retaliation which was slowly working against Sophy Wackles — 
 here were Nell, the old man, and all the money gone, melted away, decamped 
 he knew not whither, as if with a fore-knowledge of the scheme and a reso- 
 lution to defeat it in the very outset, before a step was taken. 
 
 In his secret heart, Daniel Quilp was both surprised and troubled by the 
 flight which had been made. It had not escaped his keen eye that some indis- 
 pensable articles of clothing were gone with the fugitives, and knowing the old 
 man's weak state of mind, he marvelled what that course of proceeding might 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 161 
 
 be in which he had so readily procured the concurrence of the child. It must 
 not be supposed (or it would be a gross injustice to Mr. Quilp) that he was 
 tortured by any disinterested anxiety on behalf of either. His uneasiness 
 arose from a misgiving that the old man had some secret store of money 
 which he had not suspected, and the bare idea of its escaping his clutches, 
 overwhelmed him with mortification and self-reproach. 
 
 In this frame of mind, it was some consolation to him to find that Richard 
 Swiveller, was, for different reasons, evidently irritated and disappointed by 
 the same cause. It was plain, thought the dwarf, that he had come there on 
 behalf of his friend, to cajole or frighten the old man out of some small fraction 
 of that wealth of which they supposed him to have an abundance. Therefore 
 it was a relief to vex his heart with a picture of the riches the old man 
 hoarded, and to expatiate on his cunning in removing himself even beyond 
 the reach of importunity. 
 
 " Well," said Dick, with a blank look, " I suppose it's of no use my staying 
 here." 
 
 *' Not the least in the world," rejoined the dwarf. 
 
 " You'll mention that I called, perhaps V said Dick. 
 
 Mr. Quilp nodded, and said he certainly would, the very first time he saw 
 them. 
 
 " And say," added Mr. Swiveller, " say, Sir, that I was wafted here upon 
 the pinions of concord, that I came to remove, with the rake of friendship, the 
 seeds of mutual wiolence and heart-burning, and to sow in their place, the 
 germs of social harmony. Will you have the goodness to charge yourself 
 with that commission Sir V 
 
 " Certainly ! " rejoined Quilp. 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to add to it Sir," said Dick, producing a very 
 small limp card, " that that is my address, and that I am to be found at home 
 every morning. Two distinct knocks, Sir, will produce the slavey at any time. 
 My particular friends. Sir, are accustomed to sneeze when the door is opened 
 to give her to understand that they are my friends and have no interested 
 motives in asking if I'm at home. I beg your pardon ; will you allow me to 
 look at that card again I" 
 
 " Oh ! by all means" rejoined Quilp. 
 
 " By a slight and not unnatural mistake Sir," said Dick, substituting 
 another in its stead, " I had handed you the pass-ticket of a select convivial 
 circle called the Glorious Apollcrs, of which I have the honour to be Perpetual 
 Grand. That is the proper document Sir. Good morning." 
 
 Quilp bade him good day ; the perpetual Grand Master of the Glorious 
 ApoUers, elevating his hat in honour of Mrs. Quilp, dropped it carelessly on 
 the side of his head again, and disappeared with a flourish. 
 
 By this time certain vans had arrived for the conveyance of the goods, and 
 divers strong men in carpet caps were balancing chests of drawers and other 
 trifles of that nature upon their heads, and performing nmscular feats which 
 heightened their complexions considerably. Not to be beiiind-hand in the 
 bustle, Mr. Quilp went to work with surprising vigour ; bustling and driving 
 
162 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK." 
 
 the people about, like an evil spirit ; setting Mrs. Quilp upon all kinds of 
 arduous and impracticable tasks ; carrying groat weights up and down with no 
 apparent effort ; kicking the boy from the wharf whenever he could get near 
 him ; and inflicting with his loads a great many sly bumps and blows upon the 
 shoulders of Mr. Brass, as he stood upon the door-steps to answer all the 
 enquiries of curious neighbours, which was his department. His presence and 
 example diffused such alacrity among the persons employed, that in a few 
 hours the house was emptied of everything, but pieces of matting, empty 
 porter-pots, and scattered fragments of straw. 
 
 Seated, like an African chief, on one of these pieces of matting, the dwarf 
 was regaling himself in the parlour with bread and cheese and beer, when he 
 observed, without appearing to do so, that a boy was prying in at the outer- 
 door. Assured that it was Kit, though he saw little more than his nose, Mr. 
 Quilp hailed him by his name ; whereupon Kit came in and demanded what 
 he wanted. 
 
 " Come here you Sir," said the dwarf. " Well, so your old master and 
 young mistress have gone." 
 
 " Where?" rejoined Kit, looking round. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you don't know where V answered Quilp sharply. 
 " Where have they gone, ehV 
 
 " I don't know," said Kit. 
 
 " Come," retorted Quilp, " let's have no more of this. Do you mean to 
 say that you don't know they went away by stealth as soon as it was light this 
 morning I " 
 
 " No," said the boy, in evident surprise. 
 
 " You don't know that ? " cried Quilp. " Don't I know that you were 
 hanging about the house the other night like a thief, eh ? Weren't you told 
 then?" 
 
 " No," replied the boy. 
 
 " You were not ? " said Quilp. " What were you told then, what were you 
 talking about ? " 
 
 Kit, who knew no particular reason why she should keep the matter secret 
 now, related the purpose for which he had come on that occasion and the 
 proposal he had made. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the dwarf after a little consideration. " Then I think they'll 
 come to you yet." 
 
 " Do you think they will ? " cried Kit eagerly. 
 
 " Aye, I think they will," returned the dwarf. " Now when they do, let 
 me know, d'ye hear? Let me know, and I'll give you something. I want to 
 do 'em a kindness, and I can't do 'em a kindness unless I know where they 
 are. You hear what I say ? " 
 
 Kit might have returned some answer which would not have been agreeable 
 to his irascible questioner, if the boy from the wharf, who had been skulking 
 about the room in search of anything that might have been left about by acci- 
 dent, had not happened to cry, " Here's a bird. What's to be done with this I" 
 
 " Wring its neck," rejoined Quilp. 
 
MASTER HUIVIPHREY'S CLOCK. 163 
 
 " Oh no, don't do that," said Kit, stepping forward. " Give it to me." 
 
 " Oh yes, I dare say," cried the other boy. " Come, you let the cage alone, 
 and let me wring its neck will you. He said I was to do it. You let the cage 
 alone will you." 
 
 " Give it here, give it to me you dogs," roared Quilp. " Fight for it you 
 dogs, or I'll wring its neck myself." 
 
 Without further persuasion, the two boys fell upon each other tooth and 
 nail, while Quilp holding up the cage in one hand, and chopping the ground 
 with his knife in an ecstacy, urged them on by his taunts and cries to fight 
 more fiercely. They were a pretty equal match, and rolled about together 
 exchanging blows which were by no means child's play, until at length Kit, 
 planting a well directed hit in his adversary's chest, disengaged himself, sprung 
 nimbly up, and snatching the cage from Quilp's hands made off with his prize. 
 
 He did not stop once until he reached home, where his bleeding face occa- 
 sioned great consternation, and caused the elder child to howl dreadfully. 
 
 " Goodness gracious Kit, what is the matter, what have you been doing l " 
 cried Mrs. Nubbles. 
 
 " Never you mind mother," answered her son, wiping his face on the jack- 
 towel behind the door. " I'm not hurt, don't you be afraid for me. I've 
 been a fightin' for a bird and won him, that's all. Hold your noise little 
 Jacob. I never see such a naughty boy in all my days ! " 
 
 " You have been fighting for a bird ! " exclaimed his mother. 
 
 " Ah ! Fightin' for a bird," replied Kit, " and here he is — Miss Nelly's 
 bird, mother, that they was a goin' to wring the neck of. I stopped that 
 though — ha ha ha ! They wouldn't wring his neck and me bye, no no. It 
 wouldn't do mother, it wouldn't do at all. Ha ha ha ! " 
 
 Kit laughing so heartily, with his swoln and bruised faced looking out of the 
 towel, made little Jacob laugh, and then his mother laughed, and then the 
 baby crowed and kicked with great glee, and then they all laughed in concert, 
 partly because of Kit's triumph, and partly because they were very fond of 
 each other. When this fit was over. Kit exhibited the bird to both children as 
 a great and precious rarity — it was only a poor linnet — and looking about the 
 wall for an old nail, made a scaffolding of a chair and table and twisted it out 
 with great exultation. 
 
 " Let me see," said the boy, " I think I'll hang him in the winder, because 
 it's more light and cheerful, and he can see the sky there, if he looks up very 
 much. He's such a one to sing, I can tell you ! " 
 
 So, the scaffolding was made again, and Kit, climbing up with the poker for 
 a hammer, knocked in the nail and hung up the cage, to the immeasurable 
 delight of the whole family. When it had been adjusted and straightened a 
 great many times, and ho had walked backwards into the fire-place in his 
 admiration of it, the arrangement was pronounced to be perfect. 
 
 "And now mother," said the boy, "before I rest any more, I'll go out 
 and see if I can find a horse to hold, and then I can buy some birdseed, and a 
 bit of something nice for you, into the bargain." 
 
lb*4 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. 
 
 As it was very easy for Kit to persuade himself that the old house was in 
 his way, his way being anywhere, he tried to look upon his passing it once 
 more as a matter of imperative and disagreeable necessity, quite apart from 
 any desire of his own, to which he could not choose but yield. It is not 
 uncommon for people who are much better fed and taught than Christopher 
 Nubbles had ever been, to make duties of their inclinations in matters of more 
 doubtful propriety, and to take great credit for the self-denial with which they 
 gratify themselves. 
 
 There was no need of any caution this time, and no fear of being detained 
 by having to play out a return match with Daniel Quilp's boy. The place was 
 entirely deserted, and looked as dusty and dingy as if it had been so for months. 
 A rusty padlock was fastened on the door, ends of discoloured blinds and 
 curtains flapped drearily against the half-opened upper windows, and the 
 crooked holes cut in the closed shutters below, were black with the darkness 
 of the inside. Some of the glass in the window he had so often watched, had 
 been broken in the rough hurry of the morning, and that room looked more 
 deserted and dull than any. A group of idle urchins had taken possession of 
 the door-steps : some were plying the knocker and listening with delighted 
 dread to the hollow sounds it spread through the dismantled house ; others 
 were clustered about the keyhole, watching half in jest and half in earnest for 
 " the ghost," which an hour's gloom, added to the mystery that hung about the 
 late inhabitants, had already raised. Standing all alone in the midst of the 
 business and bustle of the street, the house looked a picture of cold desolation ; 
 and Kit, who remembered the cheerful fire that used to burn there on a winter's 
 night and the no less cheerful laugh that made the small room ring, turned 
 quite mournfully away. 
 
 It must be specially observed in justice to poor Kit that he was by no means 
 of a sentimental turn, and perhaps had never heard that adjective in all his 
 life. He was only a soft-hearted grateful fellow, and had nothing genteel or 
 polite about him ; consequently instead of going home again in his grief to 
 kick the children and abuse his mother (for when your finely strung people are 
 out of sorts they must have everybody else unhappy likewise), he turned his 
 thoughts to the vulgar expedient of making them more comfortable if he could. 
 
 Bless us, what a number of gentlemen on horseback there were riding up 
 and down, and how few of them wanted their horses held ! A good city specu- 
 lator or a parliamentary commissioner could have told to a fraction, from the 
 crowds that were cantering about, what sura of money was realised in London 
 in the course of a year by holding horses alone. And undoubtedly it would have 
 been a very large one, if only a twentieth part of the gentlemen without grooms 
 had had occasion to alight ; but they hadn't ; and it is often an ill-natured 
 circumstance like this, which spoils the most ingenious estimate in the world. 
 
 Kit walked about, now with quick steps and now with slow ; now lingering as 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 165 
 
 some rider slackened his horse's pace and looked about him ; and now darting 
 at full speed up a bye street as he caught a glimpse of some distant horseman 
 going lazily up the shady side of the road, and promising to stop, at every 
 door. But on they all went, one after another, and there was not a penny 
 stirring. " I wonder," thought the boy, " if one of these gentlemen knew 
 there was nothing in the cupboard at home, whether he'd stop on purpose, 
 and make believe that he wanted to call somewhere, that I might earn a trifle?" 
 
 He was quite tired out with pacing the streets, to say nothing of repeated 
 disappointments, and was sitting down upon a step to rest, when there 
 approached towards him a little clattering jingling four-wheeled chaise, dra\Mi 
 by a little obstinate-looking rough-coated poney, and driven by a little fat 
 placid-faced old gentleman. Beside the little old gentleman sat a little old 
 lady, plump and placid like himself, and the poney was coming along at his 
 own pace and doing exactly as he pleased with the whole concern. If the old 
 gentleman remonstrated by shaking the reins, the poney replied by shaking his 
 head. It was plain that the utmost the poney would consent to do, was to go 
 in his own way up any street that the old gentleman particularly wished to 
 traverse, but that it v/as an understanding between them that he must do 
 this after his own fashion or not at all. 
 
 As they passed where he sat, Kit looked so wistfully at the little turn-out, that 
 the old gentleman looked at him, and Kit rising and putting his hand to his hat, 
 the old gentleman intimated to the poney that he wished to stop, to which pro- 
 posal the poney (who seldom objected to that part of his duty) graciously acceded. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Kit. " I'm sorry you stopped, sir. I only 
 meant did you want your horse minded." 
 
 " I'm going to get down in the next street," returned the old gentleman. 
 " If you like to come on after us, you may have the job." 
 
 Kit thanked him, and joyfully obeyed. The poney ran off at a sharp angle 
 to inspect a lamp-post on the opposite side of the way, and then W(;nt off at a 
 tangent to another lamp-post on the other side. Having satisfied himself that 
 they were of the same pattern and materials, he came to a stop, apparently 
 absorbed in meditation. 
 
 " Will you go on, sir," said the old gentleman, gravely, '' or arc we to wait 
 here for you 'till it's too late for our appointment." 
 
 The poney remained immoveable. 
 
 " Oh you naughty Whisker," said the old lady. " Fie upon you ! I am 
 ashamed of such conduct." 
 
 The poney appeared to be touclied by this a])peal to his feelings, for he 
 trotted on directly, though in a sulky manner, and stopped no more until 
 he came to a door whereon was a brass plate with the words " AVithcrden — 
 Notary." Here the old gentleman got out and helped out the old lady, and 
 then took from under the seat a nosegay resembling in shape and dimensions 
 a full-sized warming-pan with the handle cut short off. This, the old lady 
 carried into the house with a staid and stately air, and the old gentleman 
 (who had a club-foot) followed close upon her. 
 
166 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 They went, as it was easy to tell from the sound of their voices, into the 
 front parlour, which seemed to be a kind of office. The day being very warm 
 and the street a quiet one, the windows were wide open, and it was easy to 
 hear through the Venetian blinds all that passed inside. 
 
 At first there was a great shaking of hands and shuffling of feet, succeeded 
 by the presentation of the nosegay, for a voice, supposed by the listener to 
 be that of Mr.Witherden the notary, was heard to exclaim a great many 
 times, " oh, delicious !" " oh, fragrant indeed !" and a nose, also supposed 
 to be the property of that gentleman, was heard to inhale the scent with a 
 snuffle of exceeding pleasure. 
 
 " I brouoht iu in honour of the occasion, sir," said the old lady. 
 
 " Ah ! an occasion indeed, ma'am ; an occasion which does honour to me, 
 ma''am, honour to me," rejoined Mr. Witherden the notary. " I have had 
 many a gentleman articled to me, ma'am, many a one. Some of them are 
 now rolling in riches unmindful of their old companion and friend, ma'am, 
 others are in the habit of calling upon me to this day and saying, ' Mr. 
 Witherden, some of the pleasantest hours I ever spent in my life were spent 
 in this office — were spent, sir, upon this very stool f but there was never one 
 among the number, ma'am, attached as I have been to many of them, of 
 whom I augured such bright things as I do of your only son." 
 
 " Oh dear !" said the old lady. " How happy you do make us when you 
 tell us that, to be sure !" 
 
 " I tell you ma'am," said Mr. Witherden, " what I think as an honest 
 man, which, as the poet observes, is the noblest work of God. I agree with 
 the poet in every particular ma'am. The mountainous Alps on the one hand, 
 or a humming-bird on the other, is nothing, in point of workmanship, to an 
 honest man — or woman — or woman." 
 
 " Anything that Mr. Witherden can say of me," observed a small quiet 
 voice, " I can say with interest of him, I am sure." 
 
 " It's a happy circumstance, a truly happy circumstance," said the Notary, 
 " to happen too upon his eight-and-twentieth birth-day, and I hope I know 
 how to appreciate it. I trust, Mr. Garland my dear sir, that we may mutually 
 congratulate each other upon this auspicious occasion." 
 
 To this the old gentleman replied that he felt assured they might. There 
 appeared to be another shaking of hands in consequence, and when it was 
 over, the old gentleman said that though he said it who should not, he 
 believed no son had ever been a greater comfort to his parents than Abel 
 Garland had been to his. 
 
 " Marrying as his mother and I did, late in life sir, after waiting for a great 
 many years until we were well enough off — coming together when we were 
 no longer young, and then being blessed with one child who has always been 
 dutiful and affectionate — why, it's a source of great happiness to us both sir.'* 
 
 " Of course it is, I have no doubt of it," returned the notary in a s}Tnpa- 
 thising voice. " It's the contemplation of this sort of thing, that makes me 
 deplore my fate in being a bachelor. There was a young lady once sir, the 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 167 
 
 daughter of an outfitting warehouse of the first respectabihty — but that's a 
 weakness. Chuckster, bring in Mr. Abel's articles." 
 
 " You see jNIr. Witherden," said the old lady, " that Abel has not been 
 brought up like the run of young men. He has always had a pleasure in our 
 society, and always been with us. Abel has never been absent from us, for a 
 day ; has he my dear ? " 
 
 " Never, my dear," returned the old gentleman, " except when he went to 
 Margate one Saturday with Mr. Tomkinley that had been a teacher at that 
 school he went to, and came back upon the Monday ; but he was very ill after 
 that you remember, my dear ; it was quite a dissipation."" 
 
 " He was not used to it you know," said the old lady, " and he couldn't 
 bear it, that's the truth. Besides he had no comfort in being there without 
 us, and had nobody to talk to or enjoy himself with." 
 
 " That was it you know," interposed the same small quiet voice that had 
 spoken once before. " I was quite abroad mother, quite desolate, and to 
 think that the sea was between us — oh I never shall forget what I felt when I 
 first thought that the sea was between us ! " 
 
 " Very natural under the circumstances," observed the notary. " Mr. 
 Abel's feelings did credit to his nature, and credit to your nature ma'am, and 
 his father's nature, and human nature. I trace the same current now, flow- 
 ing through all his quiet and unobtrusive proceedings. — I am about to sign 
 my name, you observe, at the foot of the articles which Mr. Chuckster will 
 witness ; and, placing my finger upon this blue wafer with the vandyked corners, 
 I am constrained to remark in a distinct tone of voice — don't be alarmed 
 ma'am, it is merely a form of law — that I deliver this, as my act and deed, 
 Mr. Abel will place his name against the other wafer, repeating the same 
 cabalistic words, and the business is over. Ha ha ha ! You see how easily 
 these things are done ! " 
 
 There was a short silence, apparently, while Mr. Abel went through the 
 prescribed form, and then the shaking of hands and shuffling of feet were 
 renewed, and shortly afterwards there was a clinking of wine-glasses and a 
 great talkativeness on the part of everybody. In about a quarter of an hour 
 Mr. Chuckster (with a pen behind his ear and his face inflamed with wine) 
 appeared at the door, and condescending to address Kit by the jocose appel- 
 lation of " Young Snob," informed liim that the visitors were coming out. 
 
 Out they came forthwith ; Mr. AVitherden, who was short, chubby, fresh- 
 coloured, brisk, and pompous, leading the old lady with extreme politeness, and 
 the father and son following them, arm in arm. Mr. Abel, who had a tjuaint 
 old-fashioned air about him, looked nearly of the same age as his father, and 
 bore a wonderful resemblance to him in face and figure, though wanting some- 
 thing of his full, round, cheerfulness, and substituting in its place a timid reserve. 
 In all other respects, in the neatness of the dress, and even in the club-foot, 
 he and the old gentleman were precisely alike. 
 
 Having seen the old lady safely in her seat, and assisted in the arrange- 
 ment of her cloak and a small basket which formed an indispensable portion 
 
168 
 
 Master Humphrey's clock/ 
 
 of her equipage, Mr. Abel got into a little box behind which had evidently 
 been made for his express accommodation, and smiled at everybody present by 
 turns, beginning with his mother and ending with the poney. There was then 
 a great to-do to make the poney hold up his head that the bearing-rein might 
 bo fastened ; at last even this was effected ; and the old gentleman, taking 
 his seat and the reins, put his hand in his pocket to find a sixpence for Kit. 
 
 He had no sixpences, neither had the old lady, nor Mr. Abel, nor the 
 notary, nor Mr, Chuckster. The old gentleman thought a shilling too much, 
 but there was no shop in the street to get change at, so he gave it to the boy. 
 
 " There," he said jokingly, " Fm coming here again next Monday at the 
 same time, and mind you're here my lad to work it out."** 
 
 
 " Thank you sir,'' said Kit. " Fll be sure to be here." 
 
 He was quite serious, but they all laughed heartily at his saying so, 
 especially Mr. Chuckster, who roared outright and appeared to relish the joke 
 amazingly. As the poney, with a presentiment that he was going home, or 
 a determination that he would not go anywhere else (which was the same 
 thing) trotted away pretty nimbly. Kit had no time to justify himself, and 
 went his way also. Having expended his treasure in such purchases as he 
 knew would be most acceptable at home, not forgetting some seed for the 
 wonderful bird, he hastened back as fast as he could, so elated with his 
 success and great good-fortune, that he more than half expected Nell and 
 the old man would have arrived before him. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 169 
 
 Wbt <©lb ©uriosttp ^^op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. 
 
 Often, while they were yet pacing the silent streets of the town on the 
 morning of their departure, the child trembled with a mingled sensation of 
 hope and fear as in some far-off figure imperfectly seen in the clear distance, 
 her fancy traced a likeness to honest Kit. But although she would gladly 
 have given him her hand and thanked him for what he had said at their last 
 meeting, it was always a relief to find, when they came nearer to each other, 
 that the person who approached was not he, but a stranger ; for even if she 
 had not dreaded the effect which the sight of him might have wrought upon 
 her fellow traveller, she felt that to bid farewell to anybody now, and most 
 of all to him who had been so faithful and so true, was more than she could 
 bear. It was enough to leave dumb things behind, and objects that were 
 insensible both to her love and sorrow. To have parted from her only other 
 friend upon the threshold of that wild journey, would have wrung her heart 
 indeed. 
 
 Why is it that we can better bear to part in spirit than in body, and while 
 we have the fortitude to act farewell have not the nerve to say it ? On the 
 eve of long voyages or an absence of many years, friends who are tenderly 
 attached will separate with the usual look, the usual pressure of the hand, 
 planning one final interview for the morrow, while each well knows that it is 
 but a poor feint to save the pain of uttering that one word, and that the 
 meeting will never be. Should possibilities be worse to bear than certainties ? 
 "We do not shun our dying friends ; the not having distinctly taken leave of 
 one among them, whom we left in all kindness and affection, will often 
 embitter the whole remainder of a life. 
 
 The to^vn was glad with morning light ; places that had shewn ugly and 
 distrustful all night long, now wore a smile ; and spai'kling sunbeams dancing 
 on chamber windows, and twinkling through blind and curtain before sleepers'* 
 eyes, shed light even into dreams, and chased away the shadows of the night. 
 Birds in hot rooms, covered up close and dark, felt it was morning, and 
 chafed and grew restless in their little cells ; bright-eyed mice crept back 
 to their tiny homes and nestled timidly together ; the sleek house-cat, 
 forgetful of her prey, sat winking at the rays of sun starting through key- 
 hole and cranny in the door, and longed for her stealthy run and warm sleek 
 bask outside. The nobler beasts confined in dens stood motionless behind 
 their bars, and gazed on fluttering boughs and sunshine peeping through 
 some little window, with eyes in which old forests gleamed — then trod impa- 
 tiently the track their prisoned feet had worn — and stopped and gazed again. 
 Men in their dungeons stretched their cramped cold limbs and cursed the 
 stone that no bright sky could warm. The flowers that sleep by night, 
 16. Q 
 
170 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 opened their gentle eyes and turned them to the day. The light, creation's 
 mind, was everywhere, and all things owned its power. 
 
 The two pilgrims, often pressing each other''s hands, or exchanging a smile 
 or cheei'ful look, pursued their way in silence. Bright and happy as it was, 
 there was something solemn in the long, deserted streets, from which like 
 bodies without souls all habitual character and expression had departed, 
 leaving but one dead uniform repose, that made them all alike. All was so 
 still at that early hour, that the few pale people whom they met seemed as 
 much unsuited to the scene, as the sickly lamp which had been here and there 
 left burning was powerless and faint in the full glory of the sun. 
 
 Before they had penetrated very far into the labyrinth of men's abodes 
 which yet lay between them and the outskirts, this aspect began to melt 
 away, and noise and bustle to usurp its place. Some straggling carts and 
 coaches rumbling by, first broke the charm, then others came, then others 
 yet more active, then a crowd. The wonder was at first to see a tradesman''s 
 window open, but it was a rare thing soon to see one closed ; then smoke 
 rose slowly from the chimneys, and sashes were thrown up to let in air, 
 and doors were opened, and servant girls, looking lazily in all directions 
 but their brooms, scattered brown clouds of dust into the eyes of shrinking 
 passengers, or listened disconsolately to milkmen who spoke of country fairs, 
 and told of waggons in the mews, with awnings and all things complete 
 and gallant swains to boot, which another hour would see upon their 
 journey. 
 
 This quarter passed, they came upon the haunts of commerce and great 
 traffic, where many people were resorting, and business was already rife. 
 The old man looked about him with a startled and bewildered gaze, for 
 these were places that he hoped to shun. He pressed his finger on his 
 lip, and drew the child along by narrow courts and winding ways, nor 
 did he seem at ease until they had left it far behind, often casting a back- 
 ward look towards it, murmuring that ruin and self-murder were crouching 
 in every street, and would follow if they scented them ; and that they could 
 not fly too fast. 
 
 Again this quarter passed, they came upon a straggling neighbourhood, 
 where the mean houses parcelled off" in rooms, and windows patched with 
 rags and paper, told of the populous poverty that sheltered there. The shops 
 sold goods that only poverty could buy, and sellers and buyei's were pinched 
 and griped alike. Here were poor streets where faded gentility essayed with 
 scanty space and shipwrecked means to make its last feeble stand, but tax- 
 gatherer and creditor came there as elsewhere, and the poverty that yet 
 faintly struggled was hardly less squalid and manifest than that which had 
 long ago submitted and given up the game. 
 
 This was a wide, wide track — for the humble followers of the camp of 
 wealth pitch their tents round about it for many a mile — but its character 
 was still the same. Damp rotten houses, many to let, many yet building, 
 many half built and mouldering away — lodgings, where it would be hard to 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 171 
 
 tell which needed pity most, those who let or those who came to take — 
 children, scantily fed and clothed, spread over every street, and sprawling in 
 the dust — scolding mothers, stamping their slipshod feet with noisy threats 
 upon the pavement — shabby fathers, hurrying with dispirited looks to the 
 occupation which brought them " daily bread" and little more — mangling- 
 women, washer-women, cobblers, tailors, chandlers, driving their trades in 
 parlours and kitchens and back rooms and garrets, and sometimes all of them 
 mider the same roof — brick-fields, skirting gardens paled with staves of old 
 casks, or timber pillaged from houses burnt down and blackened and blistei-ed 
 by the flames — mounds of dock-weed, nettles, coarse grass and oyster shells, 
 heaped in rank confusion — small dissenting chapels to teach, with no lack of 
 illustration, the miseries of Earth, and plenty of new churches, erected with a 
 little superfluous wealth, to show the way to Heaven. 
 
 At length these streets, becoming more straggling yet, dwindled and dwindled 
 away, until there were only small garden patches bordering the road, with 
 many a summer-house innocent of paint and built of old timber or some frag- 
 ments of a boat, green as the tough cabbage-stalks that grew about it, and 
 grottoed at the seams with toad-stools and tight-sticking snails. To these 
 succeeded pert cottages, two and two with plots of ground in front, laid out in 
 angular beds with stiff* box borders and narrow paths between, where foot- 
 step never strayed to make the gravel rough. Then came the public-house, 
 freshly painted in green and white, with tea-gardens and a bowling-green, 
 spurning its old neighbour with the horse-trough where the waggons stopped ; 
 then fields ; and then some houses, one by one, of goodly size with lawns, 
 some even with a lodge where dwelt a porter and his Avife. Then came 
 a turnpike ; then fields again with trees and haystacks ; then a hill ; and 
 on the top of that the traveller might stop, and — looking back at old Saint 
 Paul's looming through the smoke, its cross peeping above the cloud (if 
 the day were clear) and glittering in the sun ; and casting his eyes upon 
 the Babel out of which it grew until he traced it down to the furthest 
 outposts of the invading army of bricks and mortar whose station lay 
 for the present nearly at his feet — might feel at last that he was clear 
 of London. 
 
 Near such a spot as this, and in a pleasant field, the old man and his little 
 guide (if guide she were, who knew not whither they were bound) sat down 
 to rest. She had had the precaution to furnish her basket with some slices of 
 bread and meat, and here they made their frugal breakfast. 
 
 The freshness of the day, the singing of the birds, the beauty of the waving 
 grass, the deep green leaves, the wild flowers, and the thousand exquisite 
 scents and sounds that floated in the air, — deep joys to most of us, but 
 most of all to those whose life is in a crowd or who live solitarily in great 
 cities as in the bucket of a human well, — sunk into their breasts and made 
 them very glad. The child had repeated her artless prayers once that 
 morning, more earnestly perhaps than she had ever done in all her life, 
 but as she felt all this, they rose to her lips again. The old man took 
 
172 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 off his hat — he liad no raeiuory for the words — but he said amen, and that 
 they were very good. 
 
 There had been an old copy of the Pilgrim's Progress, with strange plates, 
 upon a shelf at home, over which she had often pored whole evenings, wondering 
 whether it was true in every word, and where those distant countries with the 
 curious names might be. As she looked back upon the place they had left, one 
 part of it came strongly on her mind. 
 
 " Dear grandfather,'^ she said, " only that this place is prettier and a great 
 deal better than the real one, if that in the book is like it, I feel as if we were 
 both Christian, and laid down on this grass all the cares and troubles we brought 
 with us ; never to take them up again." 
 
 " No — never to return — never to return" — replied the old man, waving his 
 hand toward the city. " Thou and I are free of it now, Nell. They shall 
 never lure us back." 
 
 " Are you tired V said the child, " are you sure you don't feel ill from this 
 long walk ? " 
 
 " I shall never feel ill again, now that we are once away," was his reply. 
 " Let us be stirring Nell. We must be further away — a long, long way further. 
 AVe are too near to stop, and be at rest. Come ! '" 
 
 There was a pool of clear water in the field, in which the child laved her hands 
 and face, and cooled her feet before setting forth to walk again. She would 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 173 
 
 have the old man refresh himself in this way too, and making him sit down 
 upon the grass, cast the water on him with her hands, and dried it with her 
 simple dress. 
 
 " I can do nothing for myself my darling," said the grandfather. " I don't 
 know how it is I could once, but the time's gone. Don''t leave me Nell, say 
 that thou'lt not leave me. I loved thee all the while, indeed I did. If I lose 
 thee too, my dear, I must die ! " 
 
 He laid his head upon her shoulder and moaned piteously. The time had 
 been, and a very few days before, when the child could not have restrained 
 her tears and must have wept with him. But now she soothed him with gentle 
 and tender words, smiled at his thinking they could ever part, and rallied him 
 cheerfully upon the jest. He was soon calmed and fell asleep, singing to 
 himself in a low voice, like a little child. 
 
 He awoke refreshed, and they continued their journey. The road was 
 pleasant, lying between beautiful pastures and fields of corn, above which, 
 poised high in the clear blue sky, the lark trilled out her happy song. 
 The air came laden with the fragrance it caught upon its way, and the bees, 
 upborne upon its scented breath, hummed forth their drowsy satisfaction as 
 they floated by. 
 
 They wei*e now in the open country ; the houses were very few and scattered 
 at long intervals, often miles apart. Occasionally they came upon a cluster of 
 poor cottages, some with a chair or low board put across the open door to 
 keep the scrambling children from the road, others shut up close while all 
 the family were working in the fields. These were often the commencement 
 of a little village : and after an interval came a wheelwright's shed or perhaps 
 a blacksmith's forge ; then a thriving farm with sleepy cows lying about the 
 yard, and horses peering over the low wall and scampering away when har- 
 nessed horses passed upon the road, as though in triumph at their freedom. 
 There were dull pigs too, turning up the ground in search of dainty food, and. 
 grunting their monotonous grumblings as they prowled about, or crossed 
 each other in their quest ; plump pigeons skimming round the roof or strut- 
 ting on the eaves ; and ducks and geese, far more graceful in their own conceit, 
 waddhng awkwardly about the edges of the pond or sailing glibly on its 
 surface. The farm-yard passed, then came the little inn ; the humbler beer- 
 shop ; and the village tradesman's ; then the lawyer's and the parson's 
 at whose dread names the beer-shop trembled ; the church then peeped 
 out modestly from a clump of trees ; then there were a few more cottages ; 
 then the cage, and pound, and not unfrequently, on a bank by the way- 
 side, a deep old dusty well. Then came the trim-hedged fields on either hand, 
 and the open road again. 
 
 They walked all day, and slept that night at a small cottage where beds 
 were let to travellers. Next morning tliey were afoot again, and though 
 jaded at first, and very tired, recovered before long and proceeded briskly 
 forward. 
 
 They often stopped to rest, but only for a short space at a time, and still 
 
174 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 
 
 kept on, having had but sHght refreshment since the morning. It was nearly 
 five o'clock in the afternoon, when, drawing near another cluster of labourers'" 
 huts, the child looked wistfully in each, doubtful at which to ask for permission 
 to rest awhile, and buy a draught of milk. 
 
 It was not easy to determine, for she was timid and fearful of being repulsed. 
 Here was a crying child, and there a noisy wife. In this, the people seemed 
 too poor ; in that, too many. At length she stopped at one where the family 
 were seated round a table — chiefly because there was an old man sitting in a 
 cushioned chair beside the hearth, and she thought he was a grandfather and 
 would feel for hers. 
 
 There were besides, the cottager and his wife, and three young sturdy 
 children, brown as berries. The request was no sooner preferred, than granted. 
 The eldest boy ran out to fetch some milk, the second dragged two stools 
 towards the door, and the youngest crept to his mother s gown, and looked at 
 the strangers from beneath his sunburnt hand. 
 
 " God save you master,"" said the old cottager in a thin piping voice ; " are 
 you travelling far?" 
 
 " Yes sir, a long way" — replied the child ; for her grandfather appealed 
 to her. 
 
 " From London ? " enquired the old man. 
 
 The child said yes. 
 
 Ah ! He had been in London many a time — used to go there often once, 
 with waggons. It was nigh two-and-thirty year since he had been there last, 
 and he did hear say there were great changes. Like enough ! He had 
 changed, himself, since then. Two-and-thirty year was a long time and 
 eighty-four a great age, though there was some he had known that had lived 
 to very hard upon a hundred — and not so hearty as he, neither — no, nothing 
 like it. 
 
 " Sit thee down, master, in the elbow chair," said the old man, knocking his 
 stick upon the brick floor, and trying to do so sharply. " Take a pinch out 
 o' that box ; I don't take much myself, for it comes dear, but I find it wakes 
 me up sometimes, and ye're but a boy to me. I should have a son pretty 
 nigh as old as you if he'd lived, but they listed him for a so'ger — he come 
 back home though, for all he had but one poor leg. He always said he'd 
 be buried near the sun dial he used to climb upon when he was a baby, did 
 my poor boy, and his words come true — you can see the place with your own 
 eyes ; we've kept the turf up, ever since." 
 
 He shook his head, and looking at his daughter with watery eyes, said she 
 needn't be afraid that he was going to talk about that any more. He didn't 
 wish to trouble nobody, and if he had troubled anybody by what he said, he 
 asked pardon, that was all. 
 
 The milk arrived, and the child producing her little basket and selecting 
 its best fragments for her grandfather, they made a hearty meal. The furni- 
 ture of the room was very homely of course — a few rough chairs and a table, 
 a corner cupboard with their little stock of crockery and delf, a gaudy tea- 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 175 
 
 tray, representing a lady in bright-red, walking out with a very blue parasol, 
 a few common coloured scripture subjects in frames upon the wall and chimney, 
 an old dwarf clothes-press and an eight day clock, with a few bright saucepans 
 and a kettle, comprised the whole. But every thing was clean and neat, and 
 as the child glanced round, she felt a tranquil air of comfort and content to 
 which she had long been unaccustomed. 
 
 " How far is it to any town or village V she asked of the husband, 
 
 " A matter of good five mile, my dear," was the reply, " but you're not 
 going on to-night l" 
 
 " Yes yes, Nell," said the old man hastily, urging her too by signs. 
 " Further on, further on darling, further away if we walk 'till midnight." 
 
 *' There's a good barn hard by, master," said the man, " or there's travel- 
 lers' lodgings, I know, at the Plow an' Harrer. Excuse me, but you do seem 
 a little tired, and unless you're very anxious to get on — " 
 
 " Yes yes, we are," returned the old man fretfully. " Further away, dear 
 Nell, pray further away." 
 
 " We must go on indeed," said the child, yielding to his restless wish. 
 '' We thank you very much, but we cannot stop so soon. I'm quite ready, 
 grandfather." 
 
 But the woman had observed, from the young wanderer's gait, that one of 
 her little feet was blistered and sore, and being a woman and a mother too, 
 she would not suffer her to go until she had washed the place and applied 
 some simple remedy, which she did so carefully and with such a gentle 
 hand — rough-grained and hard though it was, with work — that the child's 
 heart was too full to admit of her saying more than a fervent " God bless 
 you ! " nor could she look back nor trust herself to speak, until they had 
 left the cottage some distance behind. When she turned her head, she 
 saw that the whole family, even the old grandfather, were standing in the 
 road watching them as they went, and so, with many waves of the hand, 
 and cheering nods, and on one side at least not without tears, they parted 
 company. 
 
 They trudged forward, more slowly and painfully than they had done yet, 
 for another mile or thereabouts, when they heard the sound of wheels behind 
 them, and looking round observed an empty cart approaching pretty briskly. 
 The driver on coming up to them stopped his horse and looked earnestly at 
 Nell. 
 
 " Didn't you stop to rest at a cottage yonder V he said. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the child. 
 
 " Ah ! They asked me to look out for you," said the man. " I'm going 
 your way. Give me your hand — jump up, master.'* 
 
 This was a great relief, for they were very nuich ftxtigucd and could scarcely 
 crawl along. To them the jolting cart was a luxurious carriage, and the 
 ride the most delicious in the world. Nell had scarcely settled herself on a 
 little heap of straw in one corner, when she fell asleep, for the first time 
 that day. 
 
]7G WASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 She was awakened by the stopping of the cart, which was about to turn up 
 a bye lane. The driver kindly got down to help her out, and pointing to 
 some trees at a very short distance before them, said that the town lay there, 
 and that they had better take the path which they would see, leading through 
 the churchyard. Accordingly, towards this spot, they directed their weary 
 steps. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. 
 
 The sun was setting when they reached the wicket-gate at which the path 
 began, and, as the rain falls upon the just and unjust alike, it shed its warm 
 tint even upon the resting places of the dead, and bade them be of good hope for 
 its rising on the morrow. The church was old and gray, with ivy clinging to the 
 walls, and round the porch. Shunning the tombs, it crept about the mounds, 
 beneath which slept poor humble men, twining for them the first wreaths they 
 had ever won, but wreaths less liable to wither and far more lasting in their 
 kind, than some which were graven deep in stone and marble, and told in pomp- 
 ous terms of virtues meekly hidden for many a year, and only revealed at last to 
 executors and mourning legatees. 
 
 The clergyman"'s horse, stumbling with a dull blunt sound among the graves, 
 was cropping the grass ; at once deriving orthodox consolation from the dead 
 parishioners, and enforcing last Sunday's text that this was what all flesh came 
 to ; a lean ass who had sought to expound it also, without being qualified and 
 ordained, was pricking his ears in an empty pound hard by, and looking with 
 hungry eyes upon his priestly neighbour. 
 
 The old man and the child quitted the gravel path, and strayed among the 
 tombs ; for there the ground was soft, and easy to their tired feet. As they 
 passed behind the church, they heard voices near at hand, and presently came 
 on those who had spoken. 
 
 They were two men who were seated in easy attitudes upon the grass, and 
 so busily engaged as to be at first unconscious of intruders. It was not difiicult 
 to divine that they were of a class of itinerant showmen — exhibitors of 
 the freaks of Punch — for, perched cross-legged upon a tombstone behind 
 them, was the figure of that hero himself, his nose and chin as hooked and 
 his face as beaming as usual. Perhaps his imperturbable character was never 
 more strikingly developed, for he preserved his usual equable smile notwith- 
 standing that his body was dangling in a most uncomfortable position, all 
 loose and limp and shapeless, while his long peaked cap, unequally balanced 
 against his exceedingly slight legs, threatened every instant to bring him 
 toppling down. 
 
 In part scattered upon the ground at the feet of the two men, and in part 
 jumbled together in a long flat box, were the other persons of the Drama. The 
 hero's wife and one child, the hobby-horse, the doctor, the foreign gentleman 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 J 77 
 
 who not being familiar with the language is unable in the representation to 
 express his ideas otherwise than by the utterance of the word " Shallabalah" 
 three distinct times, the radical neighbour who will by no means admit that a 
 tin bell is an organ, the executioner, and the devil, were all here. Their 
 owners had evidently come to that spot to make some needful repairs in the 
 stage arrangements, for one of them was engaged in binding together a small 
 gallows with thread, while the other was intent upon fixing a new black wig, 
 with the aid of a small hammer and some tacks, upon the head of the radical 
 neighbour, who had been beaten bald. 
 
 They raised their eyes when the old man and his young companion were 
 close upon them, and pausing in their work, ret*urned their looks of curiosity. 
 One of them, the actual exhibitor no doubt, was a little merry faced man with 
 a twinkling eye and a red nose, who seemed to have unconsciously imbibed 
 something of his hero's character. The other — that was he who took the 
 money — had rather a careful and cautious look, which was perhaps insepa- 
 rable from his occupation also. 
 
 . The merry man was the first to greet the strangers with a nod ; and follow- 
 ing the old man's eyes, he observed that perhaps that was the first time he had 
 ever seen a Punch off the stage. (Punch, it may bo remarked, seemed to be 
 pointing with the tip of his cap to a most flourishing epitaph, and to be chuck- 
 ling over it with all his heart). 
 
178 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Why do you come here to do this?" said the old man, sitting dovm beside 
 them, and looking at the figures with extreme delight. 
 
 " Why you see" rejoined the little man, " we're putting up for to-night at 
 the public-house yonder, and it wouldn't do to let 'em see the present com- 
 pany undergoing repair." 
 
 *' No !" cried the old man, making signs to Nell to listen, " why not, eh ! 
 why not 2" 
 
 '* Because it would destroy all the delusion, and take away all the interest 
 wouldn't it ?" replied the little man. " Would you care a ha'penny for the 
 Lord Chancellor if you know''d him in private and without his wig ? certainly 
 not." 
 
 " Good I" said the old man, venturing to touch one of the puppets, and 
 drawing away his hand with a shrill laugh. " Are you going to shew 'em to- 
 night? are you?" 
 
 " That is the intention, governor," replied the other, " and unless I'm 
 much mistaken Tommy Codlin is a calculating at this minute what we've lost 
 through your coming upon us. Cheer up Tommy, it can't be much." 
 
 The little man accompanied these latter words with a wink, expressive of 
 the estimate he had formed of the travellers' finances. 
 
 To this Mr. Codlin, who had -a surly, grumbling manner, replied, as he 
 twitched Punch off the tombstone and flung him into the box, 
 
 " I don't care if we haven't lost a farden, but you're too free. If you stood 
 in front of the curtain and see the public's faces as I do, you'd know human 
 natur' better." 
 
 " Ah ! it's been the spoiling of you. Tommy, your taking to that branch," 
 rejoined his companion. " When you played the ghost in the reg'lar drama in 
 the fairs, you believed in everything — except ghosts. But now you're a universal 
 mistruster. / never see a man so changed." 
 
 " Never mind," said Mr. Codlin with the air of a discontented philosopher. 
 " I know better now, and p'raps I'm sorry for it." 
 
 Turning over the figures in the box like one who knew and despised 
 them, Mr. Codlin drew one forth and held it up for the inspection of 
 his friend : 
 
 " Look here ; here's all this Judy's clothes falling to pieces again. You 
 haven't got a needle and thread I suppose V 
 
 The little man shook his head, and scratched it ruefully as he contemplated 
 this severe indisposition of a principal performer. Seeing that they were at a 
 loss, the child said timidly : 
 
 " I have a needle, sir, in my basket, and thread too. Will you let me try to 
 mend it for you ? I think I can do it neater than you could." 
 
 Even Mr. Codlin had nothing to urge against a proposal so seasonable. 
 Nelly, kneeling down beside the box, was soon busily engaged in her task, and 
 accomplishing it to a miracle. 
 
 While she was thus engaged, the merry little man looked at her with an 
 interest which did not appear to be diminished when he glanced at her helpless 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 179 
 
 companion. When she had finished her work he thanked her, and enquired 
 whither they were traveUing. 
 
 "N — no further to night, I think," said the child, looking towards her 
 grandfather. 
 
 " If you're wanting a place to stop at," the man remarked, " I should 
 advise you to take up at the same house with us. That's it — the long, low, 
 white house there. It's very cheap." 
 
 The old man, notwithstanding his fatigue, would have remained in the 
 churchyard all night if his new acquaintance had staid there too. As he 
 yielded to this suggestion a ready and rapturous assent, they all rose and 
 walked away together ; he keeping close to the box of puppets in which he 
 was quite absorbed, the merry little man carrying it slung over his arm by a 
 strap attached to it for the purpose, Nelly having hold of her grandfather's 
 hand, and Mr. Codlin sauntering slowly behind, casting up at the church 
 tower and neighbouring trees such looks as he was accustomed in town practice 
 to direct to drawing-room and nursery windows, when seeking for a profitable 
 spot on which to plant the show. 
 
 The public-house was kept by a fat old landlord and landlady who made no 
 objection to receiving their new guests, but praised Nelly's beauty and were at 
 once prepossessed in her behalf. There was no other company in the kitchen 
 but the two showmen, and the child felt very thankful that they had fallen 
 upon such good quarters. The landlady was very much astonished to learn 
 that they had come all the way from London, and appeared to have no little 
 curiosity touching their farther destination. The child parried her enquiries 
 as well as she could, and with no great trouble, for finding that they appeared 
 to give her pain, the old lady desisted. 
 
 " These two gentlemen have ordered supper in an hour's time," she said 
 taking her into the bar ; " and your best plan will be to sup with them. 
 Meantime you shall have a little taste of something that'll do you good, for 
 I'm sure you must want it after all you've gone through to-day. Now, don't 
 look after the old gentleman, because when you've drank that, he shall have 
 some too." 
 
 As nothing could induce the child to leave him alone, however, or to touch 
 anything in which he was not the first and greatest sharer, the old lady was 
 obliged to help him first. When they had been thus refreshed, the whole 
 house hurried away into an empty stable where the show stood, and where, by 
 the light of a few flaring candles stuck round a hoop which hung by a lino 
 from the ceiling, it was to be forthwith exhibited. 
 
 And now Mr. Thomas Codlin, the misanthrope, after blowing away at the 
 Pan's pipes until he was intensely wretched, took his station on one side of the 
 checked drapery which concealed the mover of the figures, and putting his 
 hands in his pockets prepared to reply to all questions and remarks of Punch, 
 and to make a dismal feint of being his most intimate private friend, of believing 
 in him to the fullest and most unlimited extent, of knowing that he enjoyed 
 day and night a merry and glorious existence in that temple, and that he was 
 
180 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 at all times and under every circumstance the same intelligent and joyful 
 person that the spectators then beheld him. All this Mr. Codlin did with the 
 air of a man who had made up his mind for the worst and was quite resigned ; 
 his eye slowly wandering about during the briskest repartee to observe the 
 effect upon the audience, and particularly the impression made upon the land- 
 lord and landlady, which might be productive of very important results in 
 connexion with the supper. 
 
 Upon this head, however, he had no cause for any anxiety, for the whole 
 performance was applauded to the echo, and voluntary contributions were 
 showered in with a liberality which testified yet more strongly to the general 
 dehght. Among the laughter none was more loud and frequent than the old 
 man's. Nell's was unheard, for she, poor child, with her head drooping on his 
 shoulder, had fallen asleep, and slept too soundly to be roused by any of his 
 efforts to awaken her to a participation in his glee. 
 
 The supper was very good, but she was too tired to eat, and yet would not 
 leave the old man until she had kissed him in his bed. He, happily insensible 
 to every care and anxiety, sat listening with a vacant smile and admiring face 
 to all that his new friends said ; and it was not until they retired yawning to 
 their room, that he followed the child up stairs. 
 
 It was but a loft partitioned into two compartments, where they were to 
 rest, but they were well pleased with their lodging and had hoped for none so 
 good. The old man was uneasy when he had lain down, and begged that Nell 
 would come and sit at his bedside as she had done for so many nights. Sh© 
 hastened to him, and sat there till he slept. 
 
 There was a little window, hardly more than a chink in the wall, in her 
 room, and when she left him, she opened it, quite wondering at the silence. The 
 sight of the old church and the graves about it in the moonlight, and the dark 
 trees whispering among themselves, made her more thoughtful than before. 
 She closed the window again, and sitting down upon the bed, thought of the 
 life that was before them. 
 
 She had a little money, but it was very little, and when that was gone, they 
 must begin to beg. There was one piece of gold among it, and an emergency 
 might come when its worth to them would be increased a hundred fold. It 
 would be best to hide this coin, and never produce it unless their case was 
 absolutely desperate, and no other resource was left them. 
 
 Her resolution taken, she sewed the piece of gold into her dress, and going 
 to bed with a lighter heart sunk into a deep slumber. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. J 81 
 
 ^l^e (Bl'a Curiositg ^!)op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH. 
 
 Another bright day shining in through the small casement, and claiming 
 fellowship with the kindred eyes of the child, awoke her. At sight of the 
 strange i-oom and its unaccustomed objects she started up in alarm, wondering 
 how she had been moved from the familiar chamber in which she seemed to 
 have fallen asleep last night, and whither she had been conveyed. But another 
 glance around called to her mind all that had lately passed, and she sprung 
 from her bed, hoping and trustful. 
 
 It was yet early, and the old man being still asleep, she walked out into 
 the churchyard, brushing the dew from the long grass with her feet, and 
 often turning aside into places where it grew longer than in others, that she 
 might not tread upon the graves. She felt a curious kind of pleasure in 
 lingering among these houses of the dead, and read the inscriptions on the 
 tombs of the good people (a great number of good people were buried there), 
 passing on from one to another with increasing interest. 
 
 It was a very quiet place, as such a place should be, save for the cawing of 
 the rooks who had built their nests among the branches of some tall old trees? 
 and were calling to one another, high up in air. First one sleek bird, hovering 
 near his ragged house as it swung and dangled in the wind, uttered his hoarse 
 cry, quite by chance as it would seem, and in a sober tone as though he were 
 but talking to himself. Another answered, and he called again, but louder 
 than before ; then another spoke and then another ; and each time the nrst, 
 aggravated by contradiction, insisted on his case more strongly. Other voices, 
 silent till now, struck in from boughs lower down and higher up and midway, 
 and to the right and left, and from the tree-tops ; and others, arriving hastily 
 from the grey church turrets and old belfry window, joined the clamour which 
 rose and fell, and swelled and dropped again, and still went on ; and all this 
 noisy contention amidst a skimming to and fro, and lighting on fresh branches 
 and frequent change of place, which satirised the old restlessness of those who 
 lay so still beneath the moss and turf below, and the useless stx'ife in which 
 they had worn away their lives. 
 
 Frequently raising her eyes to the trees whence these sounds came down, 
 and feeling as though they made the place more quiet than jierfect silence 
 would have done, the child loitered from grave to grave, now stopping to 
 replace with careful hands the bramble which had started from some green 
 mound it helped to keep in shape, and now peeping through one of the low 
 latticed windows into the church, with its worm-eaten books upon the desks, 
 and baize of whitcned-green mouldering from the pew sides anil leaving the 
 naked wood to view. There were the scats where the poor old people sat, 
 Avorn spare, and yellow like themselves ; the rugged font where children had 
 16. B 
 
182 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 their names, the homely altar where they knelt in after life, the plain black 
 tressels that bore their weight on their last visit to the cool old shady church. 
 Everything told of long use and quiet slow decay ; the very bell-rope in the 
 porch was frayed into a fringe, and hoary with old age 
 
 She was looking at a humble stone which told of a young man who had died 
 at twenty-three years old, fifty-five years ago, when she heard a faultering step 
 approaching, and looking round saw a feeble woman bent with the weight of 
 years, who tottered to the foot of that same grave and asked her to read the 
 writing on the stone. The old woman thanked her when she had done, saying 
 that she had had the words by heart for many a long, long year, but could 
 not see them now. 
 
 " Were you his mother ?" said the child. 
 
 " I was his wife, my dear." 
 
 She the wife of a young man of three-and-twenty ! Ah, true ! It was fifty- 
 five years ago. 
 
 " You wonder to hear me say that," remarked the old woman, shaking her 
 head. " You''re not the first. Older folk than you have wondered at the 
 same thing before now. Yes, I was his wife. Death doesn't change us more 
 than life, my dear." 
 
 " Do you come here often!" asked the child. 
 
 " I sit here very often in the summer time," she answered , "I used to come 
 here once to cry and mourn, but that was a weary while ago, bless God !" 
 
 " T pluck the daisies as they grow, and take them home," said the old 
 woman after a short silence. " I like no flowers so well as these, and haven't 
 for five-and-fifty year. It's a long time, and Fm getting very old !" 
 
 Then growing garrulous upon a theme which was new to one listener though 
 it were but a child, she told her how she had wept and moaned and prayed to 
 die herself, when this happened ; and how when she first came to that place, 
 a young creature strong in love and grief, she had hoped that her heart was 
 breaking as it seemed to be. But that time passed by, and although she 
 continued to be sad when she came there, still she could bear to come, and 
 so went on until it was pain no longer, but a solemn pleasure, and a duty she 
 had learnt to like. And now that five-and-fifty years were gone, she spoke of 
 the dead man as if he had been her son or grandson, with a kind of pity for 
 his youth, growing out of her own old age, and an exalting of his strength 
 and manly beauty as compared with her own weakness and decay ; and yet 
 she spoke about him as her husband too, and thinking of herself in connexion 
 with him, as she used to be and not as she was now, talked of their meeting 
 in another world as if he were dead but yesterday, and she, separated from 
 her former self, were thinking of the happiness of that comely girl who seemed 
 to have died with him. 
 
 The child left her gathering the flowers that grew upon the grave, and 
 thoughtfully retraced her steps. 
 
 The old man was by this time up and dressed. Mr. Codlin, still doomed 
 to contemplate the harsh realities of existence, was packing among his linen 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 183 
 
 the candle-ends which had been saved from the previous night's performance ; 
 while his companion received the compliments of all the loungers in the stable- 
 yard, who, unable to separate him from the master-mind of Punch, set him 
 down as next in importance to that merry outlaw, and loved him scarcely less. 
 When he had sufficiently acknowledged his popularity he came in to breakfast, 
 at which meal they all sat do\Mi together. 
 
 " And where are you going to-day V said the little man, addressing himself 
 to Nell. 
 
 " Indeed I hardly know, — we have not determined yet," replied the child. 
 
 " We're going on to the races," said the little man. " If that's your way 
 and you like to have us for company, let us travel together. If you prefer 
 going alone, only say the word and you'll find that we shan't trouble you." 
 
 " We'll go with you," said the old man. " Nell, — with them, with them." 
 
 The child considered for a moment, and reflecting that she must shortly beg, 
 and could scarcely hope to do so at a better place than where crowds of rich 
 ladies and gentlemen w^ere assembled together for purposes of enjoyment and 
 festivity, determined to accompany these men so far. She therefore thanked 
 the little man for his offer, and said, glancing timidly towards his friend, that if 
 there was no objection to their accompanying them as far as the race town — 
 
 " Objection !" said the little man. " Now be gracious for once. Tommy, and 
 say that you'd rather they went with us. I know you would. Be gracious, 
 Tommy." 
 
 " Trotters," said Mr. CodUn, who talked very slowly and eat very greedily, 
 as is not uncommon with philosophers and misanthropes ; " you're too free." 
 
 " Why, what harm can it do V urged the other. 
 
 " No harm at all in this particular case, perhaps," replied Mr. Codlin ; 
 " but the principle's a dangerous one, and you're too free I tell you." 
 
 " Well, are they to go with us or not V 
 
 " Yes, they are," said Mr. Codhn ; " but you might have made a favour of 
 it, mightn't you ?" 
 
 The real name of the little man was Harris, but it had gradually merged 
 into the less euphonious one of Trotters, which, with the prefatory adjective, 
 Short, had been conferred upon him by reason of the small size of his legs. 
 Short Trotters, however, being a compound name, inconvenient of use in 
 friendly dialogue, the gentleman on whom it had been bestowed was known 
 among his intimates either as " Short," or " Trotters," and was seldom 
 accosted at full length as Short Trotters, except in formal conversations and 
 on occasions of ceremony. 
 
 Short, then, or Trotters, as the reader pleases, returned unto the remon- 
 strance of his friend Mr. Thomas Codlin a jocose answer calculated to turn 
 aside his discontent ; and applying himself with great relish to the cold boiled 
 beef, the tea, and bread and butter, strongly impressed upon his companions that 
 they should do the like. Mr. Codlin indeed required no such persuasion, as he 
 had already eat as much as he could possibly carry and was now moistening 
 his clay with strong ale, whereof he took deep draughts with a silent relish 
 
184 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 and invited nobody to partake, — thus again strongly indicating his misan- 
 thropical turn of mind. 
 
 Breakfast being at length over, Mr. Codlin called the bill, and charging the 
 ale to the company generally (a practice also savouring of misanthropy) divided 
 the sum-total into two fair and equal parts, assigning one moiety to himself and 
 friend, and the other to Nelly and her grandfather. These being duly dis- 
 charged and all things ready for their departure, they took farewell of the 
 landlord and landlady and resumed their journey. 
 
 And here Mr. Codlin's false position in society and the effect it wrought 
 upon his wounded spirit, were strongly illustrated ; for whereas he had been 
 last night accosted by Mr. Punch as " master " and had by inference left the 
 audience to understand that he maintained that individual for his own luxurious 
 entertainment and delight, here he was, now, painfully walking beneath the 
 burden of that same Punch's temple, and bearing it bodily upon his shoulders 
 on a sultry day and along a dusty road. In place of enlivening his patron 
 •with a constant fire of wit or the cheerful rattle of his quarter-staff on the 
 heads of his relations and acquaintance, here was that beaming Punch utterly 
 devoid of spine, all slack and drooping in a dark box, with his legs doubled up 
 round his neck, and not one of his social qualities remaining. 
 
 Mr. Codlin trudged heavily on, exchanging a word or two at intervals with 
 Short, and stopping to rest and growl occasionally. Short led the way ; with 
 the flat box, the private luggage (which was not extensive) tied up in a bundle, 
 and a brazen trumpet slung from his shoulder-blade- Nell and her grandfather 
 walked next him on either hand, and Thomas Codlin brought up the rear. 
 
 When they came to any town or village, or even to a detached house of good 
 appearance. Short blew a blast upon the brazen trumpet and carolled a 
 fragment of a sono: in that hilarious tone common to Punches and their con- 
 sorts. If people hurried to the windows, Mr. Codlin pitched the temple, and 
 hastily unfurling the drapery and concealing Short therewith, flourished hyste- 
 rically on the Pipes and performed an air. Then the entertainment began as 
 soon as might be ; Mr. Codlin having the responsibility of deciding on its length 
 and of protracting or expediting the time for the hero's final triumph over the 
 enemy of mankind, according as he judged that the after-crop of half-pence 
 would be plentiful or scant. When it had been gathered in to the last farthing, 
 he resumed his load and on they went again. 
 
 Sometimes they played out the toll across a bridge or ferry, and once exhi- 
 bited by particular desire at a turnpike, where the collector, being drunk in his 
 solitude, paid down a shilling to have it to himself. There was one small place 
 of rich promise in which their hopes were blighted, for a favourite character 
 in the play having gold-lace upon his coat and being a meddling wooden- 
 headed fellow was held to be a libel on the beadle, for which reason the 
 authorities enforced a quick retreat ; but they were generally well received, 
 and seldom left a town without a troop of ragged children shouting at their 
 heels. 
 
 They made a long day's journey, despite these interruptions, and were yet 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 185 
 
 upon the road when the moon was shining in the sky. Short beguiled the 
 time with songs and jests, and made the best of everything that happened. 
 Mr. CodUn on the other hand, cursed his fate, and all the hollow things of 
 earth (but Punch especially), and limped along with the theatre on his back, 
 a prey to the bitterest chagrin. 
 
 They had stopped to rest beneath a finger-post where four roads met, and 
 !Mr. Codlin in his deep misanthropy had let down the drapery and seated 
 himself in the bottom of the show, invisible to mortal eyes and disdainful of 
 the company of his fellow-creatures, when two monstrous shadows were seen 
 stalking towards them from a turning in the road by which they had come. 
 The child was at first quite terrified by the sight of these gaunt giants — for 
 such they looked as they advanced with lofty strides beneath the shadow of 
 the trees — but Short, telling her there was nothing to fear, blew a blast upon 
 the trumpet, which was answered by a cheerful shout. 
 
 "Ifs Grinders lot, an't it?" cried Mr. Short in a loud key. 
 " Yes," replied a couple of shrill voices. 
 " Come on then,'' said Short. " Let's have a look at you. 
 was you." 
 
 I thought it 
 
]86 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 Thus invited, " Grinder's lot " approached with redoubled speed and soon 
 came up with the little party. Mr. Grinder's company, familiarly termed a lot, 
 consisted of a young gentleman and a young lady on stilts, and Mr. Grinder 
 himself, who used his natural legs for pedestrian purposes and carried at his 
 back a drum. The public costume of the young people was of the Highland 
 kind, but the night being damp and cold, the young gentleman wore over his 
 kilt a man's pea jacket reaching to his ankles, and a glazed hat ; the young 
 lady too was muffled in an old cloth pelisse and had a handkerchief tied about 
 her head. Their Scotch bonnets, ornamented with plumes of jet black feathers, 
 Mr. Grinder carried on his instrument. 
 
 " Bound for the races, I see," said Mr. Grinder coming up out of breath. 
 *' So are we. How are you, Short ? " With that they shook hands in a very 
 friendly manner. The young people being too high up for the ordinary 
 salutations, saluted Short after their own fashion. The vouno- gentleman 
 twisted up his right stilt and patted him on the shoulder, and the young lady 
 rattled her tambourine. 
 
 " Practice ? " said Short, pointing to the stilts. 
 
 " No," returned Grinder. " It comes either to walkin' in 'em or carryin' 
 of 'em, and they like walkin' in 'em best. It's wery pleasant for the prospects. 
 Which road are you takin' ? We go the nighest." 
 
 " Why, the fact is," said Short, " that we were going the longest way, 
 because then we could stop for the night, a mile and a half on. But three or 
 four mile gained to-night is so many saved to-morrow, and if you keep on, I 
 think our best way is to do the same." 
 
 " Where's your partner 1 " inquired Grinder. 
 
 " Here he is," cried Mr. Thomas Codlin, presenting his head and face in 
 the proscenium of the stage, and exhibiting an expression of countenance not 
 often seen there; " and he'll see his partner boiled alive before he'll go on to- 
 night. That's what he says." 
 
 " Well, don't say such things as them, in a spear which is dewoted to some- 
 thing pleasanter," urged Short. " Respect associations Tommy, even if you do 
 cut up rough." 
 
 " Rough or smooth," said ^Ir. Codlin, beating his hand on the little foot- 
 board, where Punch, when suddenly struck with the symmetry of his legs and 
 their capacity for silk stockings, is accustomed to exhibit them to popular 
 admiration, " rough or smooth, I won't go further than the mile and a half 
 to-night. I put up at the Jolly Sandboys and nowhere else. If you like to 
 come there, come there. If you like to go on by yourself, go on by yourself, 
 and do without me if you can." 
 
 So saying, Mr. Codlin disappeared from the scene and immediately present- 
 ing himself outside the theatre, took it on his shoulders at a jerk, and made 
 off with most remarkable agility. 
 
 Any further controversy being now out of the question. Short was fain to 
 part with Mr. Grinder and his pupils and to follow his morose companion. 
 After lingering at the finger-post for a few minutes to see the stilts fx-isking 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 387 
 
 away in the moonlight and the bearer of the drum toiling slowly after them, 
 he blew a few notes upon the trumpet as a parting salute, and hastened with 
 all speed to follow Mr. Codlin. With this view he gave his unoccupied hand 
 to Nell, and bidding her be of good cheer as they would soon be at the end of 
 their journey for that night, and stimulating the old man with a similar assur- 
 ance, led them at a pretty swift pace towards their destination, which he was 
 the less unwilling to make for, as the moon was now overcast and the clouds 
 were threatening rain. 
 
 CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. 
 
 The Jolly Sandboys was a small road-side inn of pretty ancient date, with 
 a sign, representing three Sandboys increasing their jollity with as many jugs 
 of ale and bags of gold, creaking and swinging on its post on the opposite si<le 
 of the road. As the travellers had observed that day many indications of 
 their drawing nearer and nearer to the race town, such as gipsy camps, carts 
 laden with gambling booths and their appurtenances, itinerant showmen of 
 various kinds, and beggars and trampers of every degree, all wending their 
 way in the same direction, Mr. Codlin was fearful of finding the accommodations 
 forestalled ; this fear increasing as he diminished the distance between him- 
 self and the hostelry, he quickened his pace, and notwithstanding the burden 
 he had to carry, maintained a round trot until he reached the threshold. 
 Here he had the gratification of finding that his fears were without foundation, 
 for the landlord was leaning against the door-post looking lazily at the rain, 
 which had by this time begun to descend heavily, and no tinkling of cracked 
 bell, nor boisterous shout, nor noisy chorus, gave note of company within. 
 
 " All alone r** said Mr. Codlin, putting dovvn his burden and wiping his forehead. 
 
 " All alone as yet," rejoined the landlord, glancing at the sky, " but we 
 shall have more company to-night I expect. Here one of you boys, carry 
 that show into the bam. ^Make haste in out of the wet, Tom ; when it came 
 on to rain I told 'em to make the fire up, and there's a glorious blaze in the 
 kitchen I can tell you.'"* 
 
 Mr. Codlin followed with a willing mind, and soon found that the landlord 
 had not commended his preparations without good reason. A mighty fire was 
 blazing on the hearth and roaring up the wide chinmcy with a cheerful sound, 
 which a large iron cauldron, bubbling and simmering in the heat, lent its 
 pleasant aid to swell. There was a deep red ruddy blush upon the room, and 
 when the landlord stirred the fire, sending the flames skipping and leaping up — 
 when he took off the lid of the iron pot and there rushed out a savoury smell, 
 while the bubbling sound grew deeper and more rich, and an unctuous steam 
 came floating out, hanging in a delicious mist above their heads — when he 
 did this, Mr. Codlin's heart was touched. He sat down in the chimney-corner 
 and smiled. 
 
 Mr. Codlui sat smiling in the chimney-comer, eyeing the landlord as with 
 
188 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 a roguish look he held the cover in his hand, and, feigning that his doing so 
 was needful to the welfare of the cookery, suffered the delightful steam to 
 tickle the nostrils of his guest. The glow of the fire was upon the landlord's 
 bald head, and upon his twinkling eye, and upon his watering mouth, and upon 
 his pimpled face, and upon his round fat figure. Mr. Codlin drew his sleeve 
 across his lips, and said in a murmuring voice, " what is it V 
 
 " It's a stew of tripe," said the landlord smacking his lips, " and cow-heel," 
 smacking them again, " and bacon," smacking them once more, '' and steak," 
 smacking them for the fourth time, " and peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and 
 sparrow-grass, all working up together in one delicious gravy." Having come 
 to the climax, he smacked his lips a great many times, and taking a long 
 hearty sniff* of the fragrance that was hovering about, put on the cover again 
 with the air of one whose toils on earth were over. 
 
 " At what time will it be ready V asked Mr. Codlin faintly. 
 
 " It'll be done to a turn," said the landlord looking up at the clock — and 
 the very clock had a colour in its fat white face and looked a clock for Jolly 
 Sandboys to consult — " it"'ll be done to a turn at twenty -two minutes before 
 eleven." 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Codlin, " fetch me a pint of warm ale, and don't let 
 anybody bring into the room even so much as a biscuit till the time 
 arrives." 
 
 Nodding his approval of this decisive and manly course of procedure, the 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 189 
 
 landlord retired to draw the beer, and presently returning with it, applied 
 himself to warm the same in a small tin vessel shaped funnel-wise, for the 
 convenience of sticking it far down in the fire and getting at the bright 
 places. This was soon done, and he handed it over to Mr. Codlin with that 
 creamy froth upon the surface which is one of the happy circumstances atten- 
 dant upon mulled malt. 
 
 Greatly softened by this soothing beverage, Mr. Codlin now bethouglat him 
 of his companions, and acquainted mine host of the Sandboys that their 
 arrival might be shortly looked for. The rain was rattling against the 
 windows and pouring down in torrents, and such was Mr. Codhn's extreme 
 amiability of mind, that he more than once expressed his earnest hope that 
 they would not be so foolish as to get wet. 
 
 At length they arrived, drenched with the rain and presenting a most miser- 
 able appearance, notwithstanding that Short had sheltered the child as well 
 as he could under the skirts of his own coat, and they were nearly breathless 
 from the haste they had made. But their steps were no sooner heard upon 
 the road than the landlord, who had been at the outer door anxiously watch- 
 ing for their coming, rushed into the kitchen and took the cover off. The 
 effect was electrical. They all came in with smiling faces though the wet 
 was dripping from their clothes upon the floor, and Short's first remark was, 
 " What a delicious smell !*" 
 
 It is not very difficult to forget rain and mud by the side of a cheerful 
 fire, and in a bright room. They were furnished with slippers and such dry 
 garments as the house or their own bundles afforded, and ensconcing them- 
 selves, as Mr. Codlin had already done, in the warm chimney-corner, soon 
 forgot their late troubles or only remembered them as enhancing the delights 
 of the present time. Overpowered by the warmth and comfort and the fatiguo 
 they had undergone, Nelly and the old rnan had not long taken their seats 
 here, when they fell asleep. 
 
 " Who are they V whispered the landlord. 
 
 Shoi't shook his head, and wished he knew himself. 
 
 " Don't 7/ou know I" asked the host, turning to Mr. Codlin. 
 
 " Not I," he replied. " They're no good, I suppose." 
 
 " They're no harm," said Short. " Depend upon that. I tell you wliat — 
 it's plain that the old man an't in his right mind — " 
 
 " If you haven't got anything newer than that to say," growled Mr. Codlin, 
 glancing at the clock, " you'd better let us fix our minds upon the supper, 
 and not disturb us." 
 
 " Hear me out, won't youl" retorted his friend. " It's very plain to me, 
 besides, that they're not used to this way of life. Don't tell mo that that 
 handsome child has been in the habit of prowling about as she's done these 
 last two or three days. I know better." 
 
 " Well, who does tell you she has 2 " growled Mr. Codlin, again glancing at 
 the clock and from it to the cauldron, " can't you think of anything more 
 suitable to present circumstances than saying things and then contradictinf 
 'cmT' ■ * 
 
190 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " I wish somebody would give you your supper," returned Short, " for 
 there'll be no peace till youVe got it. Have you seen how anxious the old 
 man is to get on — always wanting to be furder away — furder away. Have 
 you seen that V 
 
 " Ah ! what then ? " muttered Thomas Codlin. 
 
 " This, then," said Short, " He has given his friends the slip. Mind what 
 I say, — he has given his friends the slip, and persuaded this delicate young 
 creetur all along of her fondness for him to be his guide and travelling com- 
 panion — where to, he knows no more than the man in the moon. Now I'm 
 not a going to stand that." 
 
 " You re not a going to stand that ! " cried Mr. Codlin, glancing at the 
 clock again and pulling his hair with both hands in a kind of frenzy, but 
 whether occasioned by his companion's observation or the tardy pace of Time, 
 it was difficult to determine. " Here's a world to live in ! " 
 
 " I," repeated Short emphatically and slowly, "am not a-going to stand it. 
 I am not a-going to see this fair young child a falling into bad hands, and 
 getting among people that she's no more fit for, than they are to get among 
 angels as their ordinary chums. Therefore when they dewelope an intention 
 of parting company from us, I shall take measures for detaining of 'em, and 
 restoring 'em to their friends, who I dare say have had their disconsolation 
 pasted up on every wall in London by this time." 
 
 " Short," said Mr. Codlin, who with his head upon his hands and his elbows 
 on his knees had been shaking himself impatiently from side to side up to 
 this point and occasionally stamping on the ground, but who now looked up 
 with eager eyes ; " it's possible that there may be uncommon good sense in 
 what you've said. If there is, and there should be a reward. Short, remember 
 that we're partners in everything ! " 
 
 His companion had only time to nod a brief assent to this position, for the 
 child awoke at the instant. They had drawn close together during the 
 previous whispering, and now hastily separated and were rather awkwardly 
 endeavouring to exchange some casual remarks in their usual tone, when 
 strange footsteps were heard without, and fresh company entered. 
 
 These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in one 
 after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly mournful aspect, 
 who, stopping when the last of his followers had got as far as the door, erected 
 himself upon his hind legs and looked round at his companions, who imme- 
 diately stood upon their hind legs, in a grave and melancholy row. Nor was 
 this the only remarkable circumstance about these dogs, for each of them 
 wore a kind of little coat of some gaudy colour trimmed with tarnished 
 spangles, and one of them had a cap upon his head, tied very carefully under 
 his chin, which had fallen down upon his nose and completely obscured one 
 eye ; add to this, that the gaudy coats were all wet through and discoloured 
 with rain, and that the wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may 
 be formed of the unusual appearance of these new visiters to the Jolly 
 Sandboys. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 191 
 
 Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, were the least 
 surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs and that Jerry could 
 not be far behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently winking and gaping and 
 looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until Jerry himself appeared, when 
 they all dropped down at once and walked ■ about the room in their natural 
 manner. This posture it must be confessed did not much improve theii 
 appearance, as their own personal tails and their coat tails — both capital 
 things in their way — did not agree together. 
 
 Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black- whiskered man 
 in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his guests 
 and accosted them with great cordiality. Disencumbering himself of a barrel- 
 organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his hand a small whip 
 wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up to the fire to dry 
 himself, and entered into conversation. 
 
 " Your people don't usually travel in character, do they V said Short, 
 pointing to the dresses of the dogs. " It must come expensive if they do." 
 
 " No," replied Jerry, " no, it's not the custom with us. But we've been 
 playing a little on the road to-day, and we come out with a new wardrobe at 
 the races, so I didn't think it worth while to stop to undress. Down, 
 Pedro ! " 
 
 This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who being a new member 
 of the company and not quite certain of his duty, kept his unobscured eye 
 anxiously on his master, and was perpetually starting upon his hind legs when 
 there was no occasion, and falling down again. 
 
 " I've got a animal here," said Jerry, putting his hand into the capacious 
 pocket of his coat, and diving into one corner as if he were feeling for a small 
 orange or an apple or some such article, " a animal here, wot I think you 
 know something of, Short." 
 
 " Ah !" cried Short, " let's have a look at him." 
 
 " Here he is" said Jerry, producing a little terrier from his pocket. " He 
 was once a Toby of yours warn't he V 
 
 In some versions of the great drama of Punch there is a small dog — a 
 modern innovation — supposed to be the private property of that gentleman, 
 whose name is always Toby. This Toby has been stolen in youth from 
 another gentleman, and fraudulently sold to the confiding hero, who having no 
 guile himself has no suspicion that it lurks in others ; but Toby, entertaining 
 a grateful recollection of his old master and scorning to attach himself to any 
 new patrons, not only refuses to smoke a pipe at the bidding of Punch, but 
 to mark his old fidelity more strongly, seizes him by the nose and wrings the 
 same with violence, at which instance of canine attachment the spectators are 
 deeply affijcted. This was the character which the little terrier in question 
 had once sustained ; if there had been any doubt upon the subject he would 
 speedily have resolved it by his conduct ; for not only did he, on seeing Short, 
 give the strongest tokens of recognition, but catching sight of the flat-box ho 
 barked so furiously at the pasteboard nose which he knew was inside, that 
 
192 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 his master was obliged to gather him up and put him into his pocket again, to 
 the o^reat rehef of the whole company. 
 
 The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process Mr, 
 Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork in the most 
 convenient place and establishing himself behind them. "When everything 
 Avas ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last time, and then indeed 
 there bui'st forth such a goodly promise of supper, that if he had offered to 
 put it on again or had hinted at postponement, he would certainly have been 
 sacrificed on his own hearth. 
 
 However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead thereof assisted a stout 
 servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large tureen ; a 
 proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes which fell upon 
 their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At length the dish was lifted 
 on the table, and mugs of ale having been previously set round, little Nell 
 ventured to say grace, and supper began. 
 
 At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite 
 surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some morsels of 
 food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she was, when their 
 master interposed. 
 
 " No my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine if you please. 
 That dog"" said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop, and speaking 
 in a terrible voice, " lost a halfpenny to-day. He goes without his supper." 
 
 The unfortunate creature dropped upon his fore-legs directly, wagged his 
 tail, and looked imploringly at his master. 
 
 " You must be more careful Sir" said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair 
 where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. " Come here. Now 
 Sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if you 
 aare. 
 
 The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master 
 having shown him the whip resumed his seat and called up the others, who, 
 at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of soldiers. 
 
 " Now gentlemen" said Jerry, looking at them attentively. " The dog 
 whose name's called, eats. The dogs whose names an't called, keep quiet. 
 Carlo!" 
 
 The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel thrown 
 towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this manner they 
 were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the dog in disgrace 
 ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time, sometimes in slow, but 
 never leaving off for an instant. When the knives and forks rattled very 
 much, or any of his fellows got an unusually large piece of fat, he accom- 
 panied the music with a short howl, but he immediately checked it on his 
 master looking round, and applied himself with increased diligence to the 
 Old Hundredth. 
 
^f)c Olti ODuriosito ^5op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH, 
 UPPER was not yet over, when there arrived at the Jolly 
 Sandboys two more travellers bound for the same haven as 
 the rest, who had been walking in the rain for some hours, 
 and came in shining and heavy with water. One of these 
 was the proprietor of a giant, and a little lady without legs 
 or arms, who had jogged forward in a van ; the other, a 
 silent gentleman who earned his living by showing tricks 
 upon the cards, and who had rather deranged the natural expression of his 
 countenance by putting small leaden lozenges into his eyes and bringing them 
 out at his mouth, which was one of his professional accomplishments. The 
 name of the first of these new-comers was Vuffin ; the other, probably as a 
 pleasant satire upon hs uijliness, was called Sweet William. To render them 
 as comfortable as he could, the landlord bestirred himself nimbly, and in a 
 very short time both gentlemen were perfectly at their ease. 
 
 " How's the Giant V said Short, when they all sat smoking round the fire. 
 17 8 
 
194 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Rather weak upon his legs,"''' returned Mr. Vuffin. " I begin to be afraid 
 he"'s going at the knees." 
 
 " That's a bad look-out,"" said Short. 
 
 " Aye ! Bad indeed,"" replied Mr. Vuffin, contemplating the fire with a 
 sigh. " Once get a giant shaky on his legs, and the public care no more 
 about him than they do for a dead cabbage stalk."" 
 
 " What becomes of the old giants V said Short, turning to him again after 
 a little reflection. 
 
 " They're usually kept in carawans to wait upon the dwarfs,"" said Mr. 
 Vuffin. 
 
 " The maintaining of ""em must come expensive, when they can''t be shown, 
 eh V remarked Short, eyeing him doubtfully. 
 
 " It"'s better that, than letting 'em go upon the parish or about the streets," 
 said Mr. Vuffin. " Once make a giant common and giants will never draw 
 again. Look at wooden legs. If there was only one man with a wooden leg 
 what a property he'd be !"" 
 
 " So he would !"" observed the landlord and Short both together. " That's 
 very true.""" 
 
 " Instead of which,"" pursued Mr. Vuffin, " if you was to advertise Shak- 
 speare played entirely by wooden legs, it's my belief you wouldn't draw a 
 sixpence."" 
 
 " I don't suppose you would,"" said Short. And the landlord said so too. 
 
 " This shows you see," said Mr. Vuffin, waving his pipe with an 
 argumentative air, " this shows the policy of keeping the used-up Giants still 
 in the carawans, where they get food and lodging for nothing, all their lives, 
 and in general very glad they are to stop there. There was one giant — a 
 black "'un — as left his carawan some year ago and took to carrying coach- 
 bills about London, making himself as cheap as crossing-sweepers. He died. 
 1 make no insinuation against anybody in particular,""' said Mr. Vuffin looking 
 solemnly round, " but he was ruining the trade ; — and he died."*"* 
 
 The landlord drew his breath hard, and looked at the owner of the dogs, who 
 nodded and said gruffly that he remembered. 
 
 " I know you do, Jerry,"" said Mr. Vuffin with profound meaning. " I 
 know you remember it Jerry, and the universal opinion was, that it served him 
 right. Why, I remember the time when old Maunders as had three-and- 
 twenty wans — I remember the time when old Maunders had in his cottage in 
 Spa Fields in the winter time when the season was over, eight male and female 
 dwarfs setting down to dinner every day, who was waited on by eight old 
 Giants in green coats, red smalls, blue cotton stockings, and high-lows : and 
 there was one dwarf as had grown elderly and wicious who whenever his giant 
 wasn't quick enough to please him, used to stick pins in his legs, not being 
 able to reach up any higher. I know that"'s a fact, for Maunders told it me 
 himself." 
 
 " V/hat about the dwarfs, when the?/ get old ?"" inquired the landlord. 
 
 " The older a dwarf is, the better worth he is," returned Mr. Vuffin ; " a 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 196 
 
 grey-headed dwarf, well wrinkled, is beyond all suspicion. But a giant weak 
 in the legs and not standing upright ! — keep him in the carawan, but never 
 show him, never show him, for any persuasion that can be offered." 
 
 While Mr, Vuffin and his two friends smoked their pipes and beguiled the 
 time with such conversation as this, the silent gentleman sat in a warm corner 
 swallowing, or seeming to swallow, sixpennyworth of halfpence for practice, 
 balancing a feather upon his nose, and rehearsing other feats of dexterity of 
 that kind, without paying any regard whatever to the company, who in their 
 turn left hira utterly unnoticed. At length the weary child prevailed upon 
 her grandfather to retire, and they withdrew, leaving the company yet seated 
 round the fire, and the dogs fast asleep at a humble distance. 
 
 After bidding the old man good night, Nell retired to her poor garret, but 
 had scarcely closed the door, when it was gently tapped at. She opened it 
 directly, and was a little startled by the sight of Mr. Thomas Codlin, whom she 
 had left, to all appearance, fast asleep down stairs. 
 
 *' What is the matter V said the child. 
 
 " Nothing's the matter my dear"" returned her visitor. " I'm your friend. 
 Perhaps you haven't thought so, but it's me that's your friend — not him." 
 
 " Not who V the child inquired. 
 
 *' Short, ray dear. I tell you what" said CodUn, " for all his having a kind 
 of way with him that you'd be very apt to like, I'm the real, open-hearted 
 man. I mayn't look it, but I am indeed." 
 
 The child began to be alarmed, considering that the ale had taken effect 
 upon Mr. Codlin, and that this commendation of liimself was the consequence. 
 
 " Short's very well and seems kind " resumed the misanthrope, " but he 
 overdoes it. Now I don't." 
 
 Certainly if there were any fault in Mr. Codlin's usual deportment, it was 
 that he rather underdid his kindness to those about him, than overdid it. 
 But the child was puzzled and could not tell what to say. 
 
 " Take my advice," said Codlin ; " don't ask me why, but take it. As long 
 as you travel with us, keep as near me as you can. Don't offer to leave us — 
 not on any account — but always stick to me and say that I'm your friend. 
 Will you bear that in mind my dear, and always say that it was me that was 
 your friend ?" 
 
 " Say so where, — and when V inquired the child innoce ntly. 
 
 " Oh, nowhere in particular" replied Codlin, a little put out as it seemed by 
 the question ; " I'm only anxious that you should think me so, and do me jus- 
 tice. You can't think what an interest I have in you. Why didn't you tell me 
 your little history — that aoout you and the poor old gentleman I I'm the best 
 adviser that ever was, and so interested in you — so much more interested than 
 Short. I think they're breaking up down stairs ; you needn't tell Short, you 
 know, that we've had this little talk together. God bless you. Recollect the 
 friend. Codlin's the friend, not Short. Short's very well as far as he goes, 
 but the real friend is Codlin— not Short." 
 
 Eking out these professions with a number of benevolent and protecting 
 
196 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 looks and great fervor of manner, Thomas Codlin stole away on tiptoe, leaving 
 the child in a state of extreme surprise. She was still rmninacing upon his 
 curious behaviour, when the floor of the crazy stairs and landing cracked 
 beneath the tread of the other travellers who were passing to their beds. 
 When they had all passed, and the sound of their footsteps had died away, 
 one of them returned, and after a little hesitation and rustling in the passage, 
 as if he were doubtful what door to knock at, knocked at hers. 
 
 " Yes?" said the child from within. 
 
 " It's me — Short " — a voice called through the keyhole. " I only wanted to 
 say that we must be off early to-morrow morning my dear, because unless we 
 get the start of the dogs and the conjuror, the villages won't be worth a 
 penny. Youll be sure to be stirring early and go with us? Til call you." 
 
 The child answered in the affirmative, and returning his "good night" heard 
 him creep away. She felt some uneasiness at the anxiety of these men, 
 increased by the recollection of their whispering together down stairs and their 
 slight confusion when she awoke, nor was she quite free from a misgiving that 
 they were not the fittest companions she could have stumbled on. Her un- 
 easiness, however, was nothing, weighed against her fatigue ; and she soon 
 forgot it in sleep. 
 
 Very early next morning Short fulfilled his promise, and knocking softly at 
 her door entreated that she would get up directly, as the proprietor of the 
 dogs was still snoring, and if they lost no time they might get a good deal in 
 advance both of him and the conjuror, who was talking in his sleep, and from 
 what he could be heard to say, appeared to be balancing a donkey in his 
 dreams. She started from her bed without delay, and roused the old man with 
 so much expedition that they were both ready as soon as Short himself, to 
 that gentleman's unspeakable gratification and relief. 
 
 After a very unceremonious and scrambling breakfast of which the staple 
 commodities were bacon and bread, and beer, they took leave of the landlord 
 and issued from the door of the Jolly Sandboys. The morning was fine and 
 warm, the ground cool to the feet after the late rain, the hedges gayer and 
 more green, the air clear, and everything fresh and healthful. Surrounded 
 by these influences, they walked on pleasantly enough. 
 
 They had not gone very far, when the child was again struck by the altered 
 behaviour of Mr. Thomas Codlin, who instead of ploddin^^ on sulkily by himself 
 as he had theretofore done, kept close to her, and when he had an opportunity 
 of looking at her unseen by his companion, warned her by certain wry faces 
 and jerks of the head not to put any trust in Short, but to reserve all confidences 
 for Codlin. Neither did he confine himself to looks and gestures, for when she 
 and her grandfather were walking on beside the aforesaid Short, and that little 
 man was talking with his accustomed cheerfulness on a variety of indifferent 
 subjects, Thomas Codlin testified his jealousy and distrust by following close 
 at her heels, and occasionally admonishing her ancles with the legs of the 
 theatre in a very abrupt and painful manner. 
 
 All these proceedings naturally made the child more watchful and suspicious, 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 197 
 
 and she soon observed that whenever they halted to perform outside a village 
 alehouse or other place, Mr. Codlin while he went through his share of the 
 entertainments kept his eye steadily upon her and the old man, or with a show 
 of great friendship and consideration invited the latter to lean upon his arm, 
 and so held him tight until the representation was over and they again went 
 forward. Even Short seemed to change in this respect, and to mingle with 
 his good-nature something of a desire to keep them in safe custody. This 
 increased the child's misgivings, and made her yet more anxious and uneasy. 
 
 Meanwhile, they were drawing near the town where the races were to begin 
 next day ; for, from passing numerous groups of gipsies and trampers on the 
 road, wending their way towards it, and straggling out from every by-way and 
 cross-country lane, they gradually fell into a stream of people, some walking 
 by the side of covered carts, others with horses, others with donkeys, others 
 toiling on with heavy loads upon their backs, but all tending to the same point. 
 The public-houses by the way-side, from being empty and noiseless as those in 
 the remoter parts had been, now sent out boisterous shouts and clouds of 
 smoke ; and, from the misty windows, clusters of broad red faces looked down 
 upon the road. On every piece of waste or common groimd, some small 
 gambler drove his noisy trade, and bellowed to the idle passers-by to stop and 
 try their chance ; the crowd grew thicker and more noisy ; gilt gingerbread 
 in blanket-stalls exposed its glories to the dust ; and often a four-horse can-iage, 
 dashing by, obscured all objects in the gritty cloud it raised, and left them, 
 stunned and blinded, far behind. 
 
 It was dark before they reached the town itself, and long indeed the few last 
 miles had been. Here all was tumult and confusion ; the streets were filled 
 with throngs of people — many strangers were there, it seemed, by the looks 
 they cast about— the church-bells rang out their noisy peals, and flags streamed 
 from windows and house-tops. In the large inn yards waiters flitted to and 
 fro and ran against each other, horses clattered on the uneven stones, car- 
 riage steps fell rattling down, and sickening smells from many dinners came in 
 a heavy lukewarm breath upon the sense. In the smaller public-houses fiddles 
 with all their might and main were squeaking out the tune to staggering feet ; 
 drunken men oblivious of the burden of their song joined in a senseless howl, 
 which drowned the tinkling of the feeble bell and made them savage for their 
 drink ; vagabond groups assembled round the doors to see the stroller woman 
 dance, and add their uproar to the shrill flageolet and deafening drum. 
 
 Through this delirious scene the child, frightened and repelled by all she saw, 
 led on her bewildered charge, clinging close to her conductor, and trembling 
 lest in the press she should be separated from him and left to find her way 
 alone. Quickening their steps to get clear of all the roar and riot, they at 
 length passed through the town and made for the race-course, which was upon an 
 open heath, situated on an eminence, a full mile distant from its furthest bounds. 
 
 Although there were many people here, none of the best favoured or best 
 clad, busily erecting tents and driving stakes into the ground, and hurrying to 
 and fro with dusty feet and many a grumbled oath— although there were tired 
 
198 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 childi'en cradled on heaps of straw between the wheels of carts, crying them" 
 selves to sleep — and poor lean horses and donkeys just turned loose, grazing 
 among the men and women, and pots and kettles, and half-lighted fires, and 
 ends of candles flaring and wasting in the air — for all this, the child felt it an 
 escape from the town and drew her breath more freely. After a scanty sup- 
 per, the purchase of which reduced her little stock so low, that she had only a 
 few halfpence with which to buy a breakfast on the morrow, she and the old 
 man lay down to rest in a corner of a tent, and slept, despite the busy prepa- 
 rations that were going on around them all night long. 
 
 And now they had come to the time when they must beg their bread. Soon 
 after sunrise in the morning she stole out from the tent, and rambling into some 
 fields at a short distance, plucked a few wild roses and such humble flowers,, 
 purposing to make them into little nosegays and offer them to the ladies in 
 the carriages when the company arrived. Her thoughts were not idle while 
 she was thus employed ; when she returned and was seated beside the old 
 man in one corner of the tent, tying her flowers together, while the two men 
 lay dozing in another corner, she plucked him by the sleeve, and slightly 
 glancing towards them, said in a low voice — 
 
 " Grandfather, don't look at those I talk of, and don't seem as if I spoke of 
 anything but what I am about. What was that you told rae before we left 
 
 the old house ? That if they knew what we were going to do, they would say 
 that you were mad, and part us?" 
 
 The old man turned to her with an aspect of wild terror ; but she checked 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCKc 199 
 
 him by a look, and bidding him hold some flowers while ^e tied them up, and 
 so bringing her lips closer to his ear, said — 
 
 " I know that was what you told me. You needn't speak, dear. I recollect 
 it very well. It was not likely that I should forget it. Grandfather, these 
 men suspect that we have secretly left our friends, and mean to carry us 
 before some gentleman and have us taken care of and sent back. If you let 
 your hand tremble so, we can never get away from them, but if you're only 
 quiet now, we shall do so, easily." 
 
 " How?" muttered the old man. " Dear Nelly, how? They will shut me up in 
 a stone room, dark and cold, and chain me up to the wall, Nell — flog me with 
 whips, and never let me see thee more ! " 
 
 " YouVe trembling again," said the child. " Keep close to me all day. 
 Never mind them, don't look at them, but me. I shall find a time when we 
 can steal away. When I do, mind you come with me, and do not stop or 
 speak a word. Hush ! That's all." 
 
 " Halloa ! what are you up to, my dear V said Mr. Codlin, raising his 
 head, and yawning. Then observing that his companion was fast asleep, he 
 added in an earnest whisper, " Codlin's the friend, remember — not Short." 
 
 " Making some nosegays," the child replied ; "I am going to try and 
 sell some these three days of the races. Will you have one — as a present 
 I mean V 
 
 Mr. Codlin would have risen to receive it, but the child hurried towards 
 him and placed it in his hand. He stuck it in his button-hole with an air of 
 ineffable complacency for a misanthrope, and leering exultingly at the uncon- 
 scious Short, muttered, as he laid himself down again, " Tom Codlin's the 
 friend by G — !" 
 
 As the morning wore on. the tents assumed a gayer and more brilliant 
 appearance, and long lines of carriages came rolling softly on the turf. Men 
 who had lounged about all night in smock-frocks and leather leggings, came 
 out in silken vests and hats and plumes, as jugglers or mountebanks ; or in 
 gorgeous liveries as soft-spoken servants at gambling booths; or in sturdy 
 yeoman dress as decoys at unlawful games. Black-eyed gipsy girls hooded in 
 showy handkerchiefs sallied forth to tell fortunes, and pale slender women with 
 consumptive faces lingered upon the footsteps of ventriloquists and conjurors, 
 and counted the sixpences with anxious eyes long before they were gained. 
 As many of the children as could be kept within bounds, were stowed away, 
 with all the other signs of dirt and poverty, among the donkeys, carts, and 
 horses ; and as many as could not be thus disposed of ran in and out in all 
 intricate spots, crept between people's legs and carriage wheels, and came 
 forth unharmed from under horses' hoofs. The dancing-dogs, the stilts, the 
 little lady and the tall man, and all the other attractions, with organs out of 
 number and bands innumerable, emerged from the holes and corners in which 
 they had passed the night, and flourished boldly in the sun. 
 
 Along the uncleared course, Short led his party, sounding the brazen trumpet 
 and revelling in the voice of Punch ; and at his heels went Thomas Codlin, bear- 
 
200 Master Humphrey's clock. 
 
 ing the show as usual, and keeping his eye on Nelly and her grandfather, as 
 they rather lingered in the rear. The child bore upon her arm the little basket 
 '■vith her flowers, and sometimes stopped, with timid and modest looks, to offer 
 them at some gay carriage; but alas ! there were many bolder beggars there, 
 gipsies who promised husbands, and other adepts in their trade, and although 
 some ladies smiled gently as they shook their heads, and others cried to the 
 gentlemen beside them " see, what a pretty face ! " they let the pretty face 
 pass on, and never thought that it looked tired or hungry. 
 
 There was but one lady who seemed to understand the child, and she was 
 one who sat alone in a handsome carriage, while two young men in dashing 
 clothes, who had just dismounted from it, talked and laughed loudly at a little 
 distance, appearing to forget her, quite. There were many ladies all around, 
 but they turned their backs, or looked another way, or at the two young men 
 (not unfavourably at them), and left her to herself. She motioned away a 
 gipsy -woman urgent to tell her fortune, saying that it was told already and 
 had been for some years, but called the child towards her, and taking her 
 flowers put money into her trembling hand, and bade her go home and keep at 
 home for God''s sake. 
 
 Many a time they went up and down those long long lines, seeing everything 
 but the horses and the race ; when the bell rung to clear the course, going 
 back to rest among the carts and donkeys, and not coming out again until the 
 heat was over. Many a time, too, was Punch displayed in the full zenith of 
 his humour, but all this while the eye of Thomas Codlin was upon them, and 
 to escape without notice was impracticable. 
 
 At length, late in the day, Mr. Codlin pitched the show in a convenient 
 spot, and the spectators were soon in the very triumph of the scene. The 
 child, sitting down with the old man close behind it, had been thinking how 
 strange it was that horses who were such fine honest creatures should seem to 
 make vagabonds of all the men they drew about them, when a loud laugh at 
 some extemporaneous witticism of Mr. Short's, having allusion to the 
 circumstances of the day, roused her from her meditation and caused her to 
 look around. 
 
 If they were ever to get away unseen, that was the very moment. Short 
 was plying the quarter-staves vigorously and knocking the characters in the 
 fury of the combat against the sides of the show, the people were looking on 
 with laughing faces, and Mr. Codlin had relaxed into a grim smile as his 
 roving eye detected hands going into waistcoat pockets and groping secretly 
 for sixpences. If they were ever to get away unseen, that was the very 
 moment. They seized it, and fled. 
 
 They made a path through booths and carriages and throngs of people, and 
 never once stopped to look behind. The bell was ringing and the course was 
 cleared by the time they reached the ropes, but they dashed across it insensible 
 to the shouts and screeching that assailed them for breaking in upon its 
 sanctity, and creeping under the brow of the hill at a quick pace, made for the 
 open fields. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 201 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH." 
 
 Day after day as he bent his steps homeward, returning from some new 
 effort to procure employment, Kit raised his eyes to the window of the little 
 room he had so much commended to the child, and hoped to see some indica- 
 tion of her presence. His own earnest wish, coupled with the assurance he 
 had received from Quilp, filled him with the belief that she would yet arrive 
 to claim the humble shelter he had offered, and from the death of each day's 
 hope, another hope sprung up to live to-morrow. 
 
 " I think they must certainly come to-morrow, eh mother V said Kit, laying 
 aside his hat with a weary air and sighing as he spoke. " They have been 
 gone a week. They surely couldn't stop away more than a week, could they 
 now i 
 
 The mother shook her head, and reminded him how often he had been 
 disappointed already. 
 
 " For the matter of that," said Kit, " you speak true and sensible enough, 
 as you always do, mother. Still, I do consider that a week is quite long 
 enough for 'em to be rambling about ; don't you say so V 
 
 " Quite long enough, Kit, longer than enough, but they may not come 
 back for all that." 
 
 Kit was for a moment disposed to be vexed by this contradiction, and not 
 the less so from having anticipated it in his own mind and knowing how just 
 it was. But the impulse was only momentary, and the vexed look became a 
 kind one before it had crossed the room. 
 
 " Then what do you think, mother, has become of 'em ? You don't think 
 they've gone to sea, anyhow V 
 
 " Not gone for sailors, certainly," returned the mother with a smile. " But 
 I can't help thinking that they have gone to some foreign country." 
 
 " I say," cried Kit with a rueful face, " don't talk like that, mother." 
 
 " I am afraid they have, and that's the truth," she said. " It's the talk 
 of all the neighbours, and there are some even that know of their having been 
 seen on board ship, and can tell you the name of the place they've gone to, 
 which is more than I can, my dear, for it's a very hard one." 
 
 " I don't believe it," said Kit. " Not a word of it. A set of idle chatter- 
 boxes, how should they know !" 
 
 " They may be wrong of course," returned the mother, " I can't tell about 
 that, though I don't think it's at all unlikely that they're in the right, for the 
 talk is that the old gentleman had put by a little money that nobody knew 
 of, not even that ugly little man you talk to me about — what's his name — 
 Quilp ; and that ho and Miss Nell have gone to live abroad where it can't be 
 taken from them, and they will never be disturbed. That don't seem very 
 far out of the way now, do it ?" 
 
202 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 Kit scratched his head mournfully, in reluctant admission that it did not, 
 and clambering up to the old nail took down the cage and set himself to clean 
 it and to feed the bird. His thoughts reverting from this occupation to the 
 little old gentleman who had given him the shilling, he suddenly recollected 
 that that was the very day — nay, nearly the very hour — at which the httle 
 old gentleman had said he should be at the notary's house again. He no 
 sooner remembered this, than he hung up the cage with great precipitation, 
 and hastily explaining the nature of his errand, went off at full speed to the 
 appointed place. 
 
 It was some two minutes after the time when he reached the spot, which 
 was a considerable distance from his home, but by great good luck the little 
 old gentleman had not yet arrived ; at least there was no pony-chaise to be 
 seen, and it was not likely that he had come and gone again in so short a 
 space. Greatly relieved to find that he was not too late, Kit leant against 
 a lamp-post to take breath, and waited the advent of the pony and his 
 charge. 
 
 Sure enough, before long the pony came trotting round the corner of the 
 street, looking as obstinate as pony might, and picking his steps as if he 
 were spying about for the cleanest places, and would by no means dirty his 
 feet or hurry himself inconveniently. Behind the pony sat the little old 
 gentleman, and by the old gentleman's side sat the little old lady, carrying 
 just such a nosegay as she had brought before. 
 
 The old gentleman, the old lady, the pony, and the chaise, came up the 
 street in perfect unanimity, until they arrived within some half a dozen doors 
 of the notary's house, when the pony, deceived by a brass-plate beneath a 
 tailor's knocker, came to a halt, and maintained by a sturdy silence, that that 
 was the house they wanted. 
 
 " Now, sir, will you have the goodness to go on ; this is not the place," said 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 The pony looked with great attention into a fire-plug which was near him, 
 and appeared to be quite absorbed in contemplating it. 
 
 " Oh dear, such a naughty Whisker !" cried the old lady. " After being so 
 good too, and coming along so well ! I am quite ashamed of him. I don't 
 know what we are to do with him, I really don't." 
 
 The pony having thoroughly satisfied himself as to the nature and pro- 
 perties of the fire-plug, looked into the air after his old enemies the flies, and 
 as there happened to be one of them tickling his ear at that moment he shook 
 his head and whisked his tail, after which he appeared full of thought but 
 quite comfortable and collected. The old gentleman having exhausted his 
 powers of persuasion, alighted to lead him, whereupon the pony, perhaps 
 because he held this to be a sufficient concession, perhaps because he happened 
 to catch sight of the other brass-plate, or perhaps because he was in a spiteful 
 humour, darted off" with the old lady and stopped at the right house, leaving 
 the old gentleman to come panting on behind. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 203 
 
 It was then that Kit presented himself at the pony's head, and touched 
 his hat with a smile. 
 
 " Why, bless me," cried the old gentleman, " the lad is here ! My dear, 
 do you see V 
 
 " I said rd be here, sir," said Kit, patting Whisker s neck. " I hope youVe 
 had a pleasant ride, sir. He's a very nice little pony." 
 
 " My dear," said the old gentleman. " This is an uncommon lad ; a good 
 lad, I'm sure." 
 
 " I am sure he is," rejoined the old lady. " A very good lad, and I am 
 sure he is a good son." 
 
 Kit acknowledged these expressions of confidence by touching his hat again 
 and blushing very much. The old gentleman then handed the old lady out, 
 and after looking at him with an approving smile they went into the house — 
 talking about him as they went, Kit could not help feeling. Presently Mr. 
 "Witherden, smeUing very hard at the nosegay, came to the -v^indow and looked 
 at him, and after that Mr. Abel came and looked at him, and after that the 
 old gentleman and lady came and looked at him again, and after that they 
 all came and looked at him together, which Kit, feeling very much embar- 
 rassed by, made a pretence of not obsernng. Therefore he patted the 
 pony more and more ; and this liberty the pony most handsomely per- 
 mitted. 
 
 The faces had not disappeared from the window many moments, when 
 Mr. Chuckster in his official coat, and with his hat hanging on his head just 
 as it had happened to fall from its peg, appeared upon the pavement, and 
 telling him he was wanted inside, bade him go in and he would mind the chaise 
 the while. In giving liim this direction Mr. Chuckster remarked that he 
 wished he might be blessed if he could make out whether he (Kit) was 
 *' precious raw" or " precious deep," but intimated by a distrustful shake of 
 the head, that he inclined to the latter opinion. 
 
 Kit entered the office in a great tremor, for he was not used to going 
 among strange ladies and gentlemen, and the tin boxes and bundles of dusty 
 papers had in his eyes an awful and venerable air. Mr. Witherden too w'^s 
 a bustling gentleman who talked loud and fast, and all eyes were upon him, 
 and he was very shabby. 
 
 " Well boy," said Mr. Witherden, " you came to work out that shilling ; — 
 not to get another, hey V 
 
 " No indeed sir," replied Kit, taking courage to look up. " I never thought 
 of such a thing." 
 
 " Father alive ?" said the notary. 
 
 " Dead sir." 
 
 " Mother?" 
 
 " Yes sir." 
 
 " Married again — eh!" 
 
 Kit made answer, not without some indignation, that she was a, widow 
 
204! MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 with three children, and that as to her marrying again, if the gentleman 
 knew her he wouldn't think of such a thing. At this reply Mr. Witherden 
 buried his nose in the flowers again, and whispered behind the nosegay 
 to the old gentleman that he beheved the lad was as honest a lad as 
 need be. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Garland when they had made some further inquiries of 
 him, " I am not going to give you anything — " 
 
 " Thank you sir," Kit replied ; and quite seriously too, for this an- 
 nouncement seemed to free him from the suspicion which the notary had 
 hinted. 
 
 " — But," resumed the old gentleman, " perhaps I may want to know 
 something more about you, so tell me where you live and I'll put it down in 
 my pocket-book." 
 
 Kit told him, and the old gentleman wrote down the address with his 
 pencil. He had scarcely done so, when there was a great uproar in the 
 street, and the old lady hurrying to the window cried that Whisker had 
 run away, upon which Kit darted out to the rescue, and the others fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 It seemed that Mr. Chuckster had been standing with his hands in his 
 pockets looking carelessly at the pony, and occasionally insulting him with 
 such admonitions as " Stand still," — " Be quiet,"" — " Woa-a-a," and the like, 
 which by a pony of spirit cannot be borne. Consequently, the pony being 
 deterred by no considerations of duty or obedience, and not having before him 
 the slightest fear of the human eye, had at length started ofi*, and was at that 
 moment rattling down the street, — Mr. Chuckster, with his hat off and a pen 
 behind his ear, hanging on in the rear of the chaise and making futile attempts 
 to draw it the other way, to the unspeakable admiration of all beholders. 
 Even in running away, however. Whisker was perverse, for he had not gone 
 very far when he suddenly stopped, and before assistance could be rendered, 
 commenced backing at nearly as quick a pace as he had gone forward. By 
 these means Mr. Chuckster was pushed and hustled to the office again, in a 
 most inglorious manner, and arrived in a state of great exhaustion and 
 discomfiture. 
 
 The old lady then stepped into her se^t, and Mr. Abel (whom they had 
 come to fetch) into his. The old gentleman, after reasoning with the pony 
 on the extreme impropriety of his conduct, and making the best amends in his 
 power to Mr. Chuckster, took his place also, and they drove away, waving a 
 farewell to the notary and his clerk, and more than once turning to nod 
 kindly to Kit as he watched them from the road. 
 
M.VSTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 205 
 
 Zf)t (Bin Curiosun ^^op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST. 
 
 Kit turned away and very soon forgot the pony, and the chaise, and the 
 little old lady, and the little old gentleman, and the little young gentleman to 
 boot, in thinking what could have become of his late master and his lovely 
 grandchild, who were the fountain-head of all his meditations. Still casting 
 about for some plausible means of accounting for their non-appearance, and 
 of persuading himself that they must soon return, he bent his steps towards 
 home, intending to finish the task which the sudden recollection of his contract 
 had interrupted, and then to sally forth once more to seek his fortune for 
 the day. 
 
 When he came to the corner of the court in which he lived, lo and behold 
 there was the pony again ! Yes, there he was, looking more obstinate than 
 ever ; and alone in the chaise, keeping a steady w'atch upon his every wink, 
 sat Mr. Abel, who, lifting up his eyes by chance and seeing Kit pass by, 
 nodded to him as though he would have nodded his head off. 
 
 Kit wondered to see the pony again, so near his own home too, but it never 
 occurred to him for what purpose the pony might have come there, or where 
 the old lady and the old gentleman had gone, until he lifted the latch of the 
 door, and walking in, found them seated in the room in conversation with his 
 mother, at wliich imexpected sight he pulled off his hat and made his best 
 bow in some confusion. 
 
 " We are here before you, you see, Christopher," said Mr. Garland smiling. 
 
 *•' Yes, sir," said Kit ; and as ho said it he looked towards his mother for 
 an explanation of the visit. 
 
 " The gentleman 's been kind enough, my dear," said she, in reply to this 
 mute interrogation, " to ask me whether you were in a good place, or in any 
 place at all, and when I told him no, you were not in any, he was so good as 
 to say that — " 
 
 " That we wanted a good lad in our house," said the old gentleman and the 
 old lady both together, " and that perhaps we might think of it, if we found 
 everything as we would wish it to be." 
 
 As this thinking of it, plainly meant the thinking of engaging Kit, he 
 immediately partook of his mother's anxiety and fell into a great flutter ; 
 for the little old couple were very methodical and cautious, and asked so 
 many questions that he began to be afraid there was no chance of his 
 success. 
 
 " You see, my good woman," said Mrs. Garland to Kit^s mother, " that 
 it's necessary to be very careful and particular in such a matter as this, for 
 18. T 
 
200' MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 we're only three in family, and are very quiet regular folks, and it would be 
 a sad thing if we made any kind of mistake, and found things different from 
 what wo hoped and expected." 
 
 To this, Kit's mother replied, that certainly it was quite true, and quite 
 rio-lit, and quite proper, and Heaven forbid tliat she should shrink, or have 
 cause to shrink, from any inquiry into her character or that of her son, who 
 was a very good son though she was his mother, in which respect, she was 
 bold to say, he took after his father, who was not only a good son to Jiis 
 mother, but the best of husbands and the best of fathers besides, which Kit 
 could and would corroborate she knew, and so would little Jacob and the 
 baby likewise if they were old enough, which unfortunately they were not, 
 though as they didn't know what a loss they had had, perhaps it was a great 
 deal better that they should be as young as thoy were ; and so Kit's mother 
 wound up a long story by wiping her eyes with her apron, and patting little 
 Jacob's head, who was rocking the cradle and staring with all his might at 
 the strange lady and gentleman. 
 
 When Kit's mother had done speaking, the old lady struck in again, and 
 said that she was quite sure she was a very honest and very respectable person 
 or she never would have expressed herself in that manner, and that certainly 
 the appearance of the children and the cleanliness of the house deserved great 
 praise and did her the utmost credit, whereat Kit's mother dropped a curtsey 
 and became consoled. Then the good woman entered into a long and minute 
 account of Kit's life and history from the earliest period down to that time, 
 not omitting to make mention of his miraculous fall out of a back-parlour 
 window when an infant of tender years, or his uncommon sufferings in a state 
 of measles, which were illustrated by correct imitations of the plaintive manner 
 in \\hich he called for toast and water, day and night, and said " don't cry, 
 mother, I shall soon be better ;" for proof of which statements reference was 
 made to Mrs. Green, lodger, at the cheesemonger's round the corner, and 
 divers other ladies and gentlemen in various parts of England and Wales 
 (and one Mr. Brown who was supposed to be then a corporal in the East 
 Indies, and who could of course be found with very little trouble), within whose 
 personal knowledge the circumstances had occurred. This narration ended, 
 Mr. Garland put some questions to Kit respecting his qualifications and 
 general acquirements, while Mrs. Garland noticed the children, and hearing 
 from Kit's mother certain remarkable circumstances which had attended the 
 birth of each, related certain other remarkable circumstances which had 
 attended the birth of her own son, Mr. Abel, from which it appeared that 
 both Kit's mother and herself had been, above and beyond all other women 
 of what condition or age soever, peculiarly hemmed in with perils and dangers. 
 Lastly, inquiry was made into the nature and extent of Kit's wardrobe, and 
 a small advance being made to improve the same, he was formally hired at an 
 annual income of Six Pounds, over and above his board and lodging, by Mr. 
 and Mrs. Garland, of Abel Cottage, Finchley. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 207 
 
 It would be difficult to say which party appeared most pleased with this 
 arrangement, the conclusion of which was hailed with nothing but pleasant 
 looks and cheerful smiles on both sides. It was settled that Kit should 
 repair to his new abode on the next day but one, in the morning; and 
 finally, the little old couple, after bestowing a bright half-crown on little 
 Jacob and another on the baby, took their leaves ; being escorted as far as 
 the street by their new attendant, who held the obdurate pony by the 
 bridle while they took their seats, and saw them drive away with a lightened 
 heart. 
 
 " Well, mother," said Kit, hurrying back into the house, " I think my 
 fortune's about made now."" 
 
 " I should think it was indeed, Kit," rejoined his mother. " Six pound a 
 year ! Only think !" 
 
 " Ah !" said Kit, trying to maintain the gravity which the consideration of 
 such a sum demanded, but grinning with delight in spite of himself. " There's 
 a property I" 
 
 Kit drew a long breath when he had said this, and putting his hands deep 
 into his pockets as if there were one year's wages at least in each, looked at 
 his mother, as though he saw through her, and down an immense perspective 
 of sovereigns beyond. 
 
 " Please God we'll make such a lady of you for Sundays, mother ! such a 
 scholar of Jacob, such a child of the baby, such a room of the one up stairs ! 
 Six pound a year !" 
 
 " Hem !" croaked a strange voice. " What's that about six pound a year ? 
 What about six pound a year?" And as the voice made this inquiry, Daniel 
 Quilp walked in with Richard Swiveller at his heels. 
 
 " Who said he was to have six pound a year V said Quilp, looking sharply 
 round. " Did the old man say it, or did little Nell say it ? And what's he to 
 have it for, and where are they, eh V 
 
 The good woman was so much alarmed by the sudden apparition of this 
 imknown piece of ugliness, that she hastily caught the baby frona its cradle 
 and retreated into the furthest corner of the room ; while little Jacob, sitting 
 upon his stool with his hands on his knees, looked full at him in a species of 
 fascination, roaring lustily all the time. Richard Swiveller took an easy 
 observation of the family over Mr. Quilp's head, and Quilp himself with his 
 hands in his pockets, smiled in an exquisite enjoyment of the commotion he 
 occasioned. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, mistress," said Quilp after a pause. " Your ^on 
 knows me ; I don't cat babies ; I don't like 'em. It will be as well to stop 
 that young screamer though, in case I shoukl be tempted to do him a mis- 
 chief. Holloa, sir ! Will you be quiet ?" 
 
 Little Jacob stemmed the course of two tears which he was squeezing out 
 of his eyes, and instantly subsided into a silent horror. 
 
 " Mind you don't break out again, you villain," said Quilp, looking sternly 
 
208 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 at him, " or I'll make faces at you and throw you into fits, I will. Now you 
 sir, why haven't you been to me as you promised V 
 
 " What should I come for V retorted Kit. " I hadn't any business with 
 you, no more than you had with me." 
 
 " Here, mistress," said Quilp, turning quickly away, and appealing from Kit 
 to his mother. " When did his old master come or send here last 1 Is he 
 here now ? If not, where's he gone V 
 
 " He has not been here at all," she replied. " I wish we knew where they 
 have gone, for it would make my son a good deal easier in his mind, and me 
 too. If you're the gentleman named Mr. Quilp, I should have thought you'd 
 have known, and so I told him only this very day." 
 
 " Humph !" muttered Quilp, evidently disappointed to believe that this was 
 true. " That's what you tell this gentleman too, is it 1" 
 
 "If the gentleman comes to ask the same question, I can't tell him 
 anything else, sir; and I only wish I could, for our own sakes," was the 
 reply. 
 
 Quilp glanced at Richard Swiveller, and observed that having met him on 
 the threshold^ he assumed that he had come in search of some intelligence of 
 the fugitives. He supposed he was right ? 
 
 " Yes," said Dick, " that was the object of the present expedition. I 
 fancied it possible — but let us go ring fancy's knell. /'// begin it." 
 
 " You seem disappointed," observed Quilp. 
 
 " A baffler, sir, a baffler, that's all," returned Dick. " I have entered upon 
 a speculation which has proved a baffler ; and a Being of brightness and beauty 
 will be offered up a sacrifice at Cheggs's altar. That's all sir." 
 
 The dwarf eyed Richard with a sarcastic smile, but Richard, who had been 
 taking a rather strong lunch with a friend, observed him not, and continued 
 to deplore his fate with mournful and despondent looks. Quilp plainly dis- 
 cerned that there was some secret reason for this visit and his uncommon 
 disappointment, and, in the hope that there might be means of mischief lurking 
 beneath it, resolved to worm it out. He had no sooner adopted this resolu- 
 tion, than he conveyed as much honesty into his face as it was capable of 
 expressing, and sympathised with Mr. Swiveller exceedingly. 
 
 " I'm disappointed myself," said Quilp, " out of mere friendly feeling for 
 them ; but you have real reasons, private reasons I have no doubt, for your 
 disappointment, and therefore it comes heavier than mine." 
 
 " Why, of course it does," Dick observed, testily. 
 
 " Upon my word, I'm very sorry, very sorry. I'm rather cast down myself. 
 As we are companions in adversity, shall we be companions in the surest way 
 of forgetting it ? If you had no particular business, now, to lead you in another 
 direction," urged Quilp, plucking him by the sleeve and looking slyly up into 
 his face out of the corners of his eyes, " there is a house by the water-side 
 where they have some of the noblest Schiedam — reputed to be smuggled, but 
 that's between ourselves — that can be got in all the world. The landlord 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 209 
 
 knows me. There's a little summer-house overlooking the river, where we 
 might take a glass of this delicious liquor with a whiff of the best tobacco — 
 it's in this case, and of the rarest quality, to my certain knowledge — and be 
 perfectly snug and happy, could we possibly contrive it ; or is there any 
 very particular engagement that peremptorily takes you another way, Mr. 
 Swiveller, eh V 
 
 As the dwarf spoke, Dick's face relaxed into a compliant smile, and his 
 brows slowly unbent. By the time he had finished, Dick was looking down 
 at Quilp in the same sly manner as Quilp was looking up at him, and there 
 remained nothing more to be done but to set out for the house in question. 
 This they did, straightway. The moment their backs Avere turned, little 
 Jacob thawed, and resumed his crying from the point where Quilp had frozen 
 him. 
 
 The summer-house of which Mr. Quilp had spoken was a rugged wooden 
 box, rotten and bare to see, which overhung the river''s mud, and threatened 
 to slide down into it. The tavern to which it belonged was a crazy building, 
 sapped and undermined by the rats, and only upheld by great bars of wood 
 which were reared against its walls, and had propped it up so long that even 
 they were decaying and yielding with their load, and of a windy night m.ight 
 be heard to creak and crack as if the whole fabric were about to come toppling 
 down. The house stood — if anything so old and feeble could be said to stand 
 — on a piece of waste ground, blighted with the unwholesome smoke of factory 
 chimneys, and echoing the clank of iron wheels and rush of troubled water. 
 Its internal accommodations amply fulfilled the promise of the outside. The 
 rooms were low and damp, the clammy walls were pierced with chinks and 
 holes, the rotten floors had sunk from their level, the very beams started 
 from their places and warned the timid stranger fi'om their neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 To this inviting spot, entreating him to observe its beauties as they passed 
 along, Mr. Quilp led Richard Swiveller, and on the table of the summer-house, 
 scored deep with many a gallows and initial letter, there soon appeared a 
 wooden keg, full of the vaunted liquor. Di*awing it off into the glasses with 
 the skill of a practised hand, and mixing it with about a third part of water, 
 Mr. Quilp assigned to Richard Swiveller his portion, and lighting his pipe 
 from an end of candle in a very old and battered lantern, drew himself 
 together upon a seat and puffed away, 
 
 " Is it good f said Quilp, as Richard Swiveller smacked his lips, " is it 
 strong and fiery 1 Does it make you wink, and choak, and your eyes water, 
 and your breath come short — does it T 
 
 *' Does it I" cried Dick, throwing away a part of the contents of his glass, 
 and filling it up with water, " why, man, you don't mean to tell me that 
 you drink such fire as this I" 
 
 "No!" rejoined Quilp, "Not drink it! Look here. And here. And 
 here again. Not drink it ! "" 
 
210 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 As he spoke, Daniel Quilp drew off and drank three small glass-fulls of the 
 raw spirit, and then with a horrible grimace took a great many pulls at liis 
 pipe, and swallowing the smoke, dischai'ged it in a heavy cloud from his nose. 
 This feat accomplished he drew himself together in his former position, and 
 laughed excessively. 
 
 " Give us a toast ! " cried Quilp, rattling on the table in a dexterous manner 
 with his fist and elbow alternately, in a kind of tune, " a woman, a beauty. 
 Let's have a beauty for our toast and empty our glasses to the last drop. 
 Her name, come ! " 
 
 " If you want a name," said Dick, " here's Sophy Wacldes." 
 
 " Sophy Wackles," screamed the dwarf, " IMiss Sophy Wackles that is — 
 Mrs. Richard Swiveller that shall be — that shall be — ha ha ha ! " 
 
 "Ah!" said Dick, "you might have said that a few weeks ago, but 
 it won't do now, my buck. Immolating herself upon the shrine of 
 Cheggs — " 
 
 " Poison Cheggs, cut Cheggs's ears off," rejoined Quilp. " I won't hear of 
 Cheggs. Her name is Swiveller or nothing. I'll drink her health again, and 
 her father's, and her mother's; and to all her sisters and brothers — the glorious 
 family of the Wackleses — all the Wackleses in one glass — do\Mi with it to 
 the dregs ! " 
 
 " Well," said Richard Swiveller, stopping short in the act of raising the 
 glass to his lips and looking at the dwarf in a species of stupor as he flourished 
 his arms and legs about : " you're a jolly fellow, but of all the jolly fellows I 
 ever saw or heard of, you have the queerest and most extraordinary way with 
 you, upon my life you have." 
 
 This candid declaration tended rather to increase than restrain Mr. Quilp's 
 eccentricities, and Richard Swiveller, astonished to see him in such a royster- 
 ing vein, and drinking not a little himself, for company, — began imperceptibly 
 to become more companionable and confiding, so that, being judiciously led 
 on by Mr. Quilp, he grew at last very confiding indeed. Having once got 
 him into this mood, and knowing now the key-note to strike whenever he was 
 at a loss, Daniel Quilp's task was comparatively an easy one, and he was soon 
 in possession of the whole details of the scheme contrived between the easy 
 Dick and his more designing friend. 
 
 "Stop!" said Quilp. "That's the thing, that's the thing. It can be 
 brought about, it shall be brought about. There's my hand upon it ; I'm 
 your friend from this minute." 
 
 " What ! do you think there's still a chance l" enquired Dick, in surprise at 
 this encouragement. 
 
 " A chance I" echoed the dwarf, " a certainty ! Sophy Wackles may become 
 a Cheggs or anything else she likes, but not a Swiveller. Oh you lucky dog i 
 He's richer than any Jew alive ; you're a made man. I see in you now 
 nothing but Nelly's husband, rolling in gold and silver. I'll help you. It 
 shall be done. Mind my words, it shall be done." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 211 
 
 " But how r said Dick. 
 
 " There's plenty of time," rejoined the dwarf, " and it shall be done. We'll 
 sit down and talk it over again all the way tlu:ough. Fill your glass while 
 I'm gone. I shall be back directly — directly." 
 
 With these hasty words, Daniel Quilp withdrew into a dismantled skittle- 
 ground behind the public-house, and, throwing himself upon the ground 
 actually screamed and rolled about in uncontrollable delight. 
 
 "Here's sport!" he cried, "sport ready to my hand, all invented and 
 arranged, and only to be enjoyed. It was this shallow-pated fellow who made 
 my bones ache t'other day, was it ? It was his friend and fellow-plotter, 
 Mr. Trent, that once made eyes at Mrs. Quilp, and leered and looked, was it 'i 
 After labouring for two or three years in their precious scheme, to find that 
 they've got a beggar at last, and one of them tied for life. Ha ha ha ! Ho 
 shall marry Nell. He shall have her, and I'll be the first man, when the 
 knot's tied hard and fast, to tell 'em what they've gained and what Tve 
 helped 'em to. Here will be a clearing of old scores, here will be a time to 
 remind 'em what a capital friend I was, and how I helped 'em to the heiress. 
 Ha ha ha !" 
 
 In the height of his ecstacy, Mr. Quilp had like to have met with a dis- 
 agreeable check, for, rolling very near a broken dog-kennel, there leapt fortli 
 a large fierce dog, who, but that his chain was of the shortest, would have 
 
212 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 given him a disagreeable salute. As it was, the dwarf remained upon his 
 back in perfect safety, taunting the dog with hideous faces, and triumphing 
 over him in his inability to advance another inch, though there were not a 
 couple of feet between them. 
 
 " Why don't you come and bite me, why don't you come and tear me to 
 pieces, you coward?" said Quilp, hissing and worrying the animal till he 
 was nearly mad. " You're afraid, you bully, you're afraid, you know you 
 are." 
 
 The dog tore and strained at his chain with starting eyes and furious bark, 
 but there the dwarf lay, snapping his fingers with gestures of defiance and 
 contempt. When he had sufficiently recovered from his delight, he rose, and 
 with his arms a-kimbo, achieved a kind of demon-dance round the kennel, 
 just without the limits of the chain, driving the dog quite wild. Having by 
 this means composed his spirits and put himself in a pleasant train, he returned 
 to his unsuspicious companion, whom he found looking at the tide with exceed- 
 ing gravity, and thinking of that same gold and silver which Mr. Quilp had 
 mentioned. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND. 
 
 The remainder of that day and the whole of the next, were a busy time for 
 the Nubbles family, to whom everything connected with Kit''s outfit and 
 departure was matter of as great moment as if he had been about to pene- 
 trate into the interior of Africa, or to take a cruise round the world. It 
 would be difficult to suppose that there ever was a box which was opened 
 and shut so many times within four-and-twenty hours, as that which con- 
 tained his wardrobe and necessaries ; and certainly there never was one which 
 to two small eyes presented such a mine of clothing, as this mighty chest with 
 its three shirts and proportionate allowance of stockings and pocket-handker- 
 chiefs, disclosed to the astonished vision of little Jacob. At last it was con- 
 veyed to the carrier's at whose house, at Finchley, Kit was to find it next day; 
 and the box being gone, there remained but two questions for consideration : 
 firstly, whether the carrier would lose, or dishonestly feign to lose, the box 
 upon the road : and secondly, whether Kit's mother perfectly understood how 
 to take care of herself in the absence of her son. 
 
 " I don't think there's hardly a chance of his really losing it, but carriers 
 are under great temptation to pretend they lose things, no doubt," said Mrs. 
 Nubbles apprehensively, in reference to the first point. 
 
 " No doubt about it," returned Kit, with a serious look ; " upon my 
 word mother, I don't think it was right to trust it to itself. Somebody ought 
 to have gone with it, I'm afraid." 
 
 " We can't help it now," said his mother ; " but it was foolish and wrong. 
 People oughtn't to be tempted." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 213 
 
 Kit inwardly resolved that he would never tempt a carrier any more, save 
 with an empty box ; and having formed this christian determination, he turned 
 his thoughts to the second question. 
 
 " You know you must keep up your spirits mother, and not be lonesome 
 because I'm not at home. I shall very often be able to look in when I 
 come into town I dare say, and I shall send you a letter sometimes, and when 
 the quarter comes round, I can get a holiday of course ; and then see if 
 we don't take little Jacob to the play, and let him know what oysters 
 means." 
 
 " I hope plays majii't be sinful, Kit, but I'm a"'most afraid," said Mrs. 
 Nubbles. 
 
 " I know who has been putting that in your head," rejoined her son discon- 
 solately; "thafs Little Bethel again. Now I say, mother, pray don't take to 
 going there regularly, for if I was to see your good-humoured face that 
 has always made home cheerful, turned into a grievous one, and the baby 
 trained to look grievous too, and to call itself a young sinner (bless its 
 heart) and a child of the devil (which is calling its dead father names) ; 
 if I was to see this, and see Uttle Jacob looking grievous likewise, I 
 should so take it to heart that I'm sure I should go and list for a soldier, 
 and run ray head on purpose against the first cannon-ball I saw coming 
 my way." 
 
 '• Oh, Kit, don't talk like that." 
 
 " I would indeed, mother, and unless you want to make me feel very 
 WTetched and imcomfortable, you'll keep that bow on your bonnet, which 
 you'd more than half a mind to pull off last week. Can you suppose there's 
 any liarm in looking as cheerful and being as cheerful as our poor circum- 
 stances will permit i Do I see anj-thing in the way I'm made, which 
 calls upon me to be a snivelling, solemn, whispering chap, sneaking about 
 as if I couldn't help it, and expressing myself in a most unpleasant 
 snuffle I on the contrairy, don't I see every reason why I shouldn't I Just 
 hear this ! Ha ha ha ! An't that as nat'ral as walking, and as good for the 
 health ! Ha ha ha ! An"t that as nat'ral as a sheep's bleating, or a pig's 
 grunting, or a horse's neighing, or a bird's singing I Ha ha ha I Isn't it, 
 mother f 
 
 There was something contagious in Kit's laugh, for his mother, who 
 had looked grave before, first subsided into a smile, and then fell to 
 joining in it heartily, which occasioned Kit to say that he knew it was 
 natural, and to laugh the more. Kit and his mother, laughing together 
 in a pretty loud key, woke the baby, who, finding that there was some- 
 thing very jovial and agreeable in progress, was no sooner in its mother's 
 arms than it began to kick and laugh, most vigorously. This new illus- 
 tration of his argument so tickled Kit, that he fell backward in his chair 
 in a state of exliaustion, pointing at the baby and shaking his sides till he 
 rocked again. After recovering twice or thrice, and as often relapsing, 
 
214. MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 he wiped his eyes and said grace ; and a very cheerful meal their scanty 
 supper was. 
 
 With more kisses, and hugs, and tears, than many young gentlemen 
 who start upon their travels, and leave well -stocked homes behind 
 them, would deem within the bounds of probability (if matter so low 
 could be herein set down), Kit left the house at an early hour next 
 morning, and set out to walk to Finchley ; feeling a sufficient pride in 
 his appearance to have warranted his excommunication from Little Bethel 
 from that time forth, if he had ever been one of that mournful con- 
 gregation. 
 
 Lest anybody should feel a curiosity to know how Kit was clad, it may be 
 briefly remarked that he wore no livery, but was dressed in a coat of pepper- 
 and-salt with waistcoat of canary colour, and nether garments of iron grey ; 
 besides these glories, he shone in the lustre of a new pair of boots and 
 an extremely stiff and shiny hat, which on being struck anywhere with 
 the knuckles, sounded like a drum. And in this attire, rather wondering 
 that he attracted so little attention, and attributing the circumstance to the 
 insensibility of those who got up early, he made his way towards Abel 
 Cottage. 
 
 Without encountering any more remarkable adventure on the road, than 
 meeting a lad in a brimless hat, the exact counterpart of his old one, on whom 
 he bestowed half the sixpence he pjossessed. Kit arrived in course of time at 
 the carrier''s house, where, to the lasting honour of human nature, he found 
 the box in safety. Receiving from the wife of this immaculate man, a direction 
 to Mr. Garland's, he took the box upon his shoulder and repaired thither 
 directly. 
 
 To be sure, it was a beautiful little cottage with a thatched roof and little 
 spires at the gable-ends, and pieces of stained glass in some of the windows, 
 almost as large as pocket-books. On one side of the house was a little stable, 
 just the size for the pony, with a little room over it, just the size for Kit. 
 White curtains were fluttering, and birds in cages that looked as bright 
 as if they were made of gold, were singing, at the windows ; plants were 
 arranged on either side of the path, and clustered about the door ; and 
 the garden was bright with flowers in full bloom, which shed a sweet odour 
 all round, and had a charming and elegant appearance. Everything, within 
 the house and without, seemed to be the perfection of neatness and order. 
 In the garden there was not a weed to be seen, and to judge from some 
 dapper gardening-tools, a basket, and a pair of gloves which were lying 
 in one of the walks, old Mr. Garland had been at work in it that very 
 morning. 
 
 Kit looked about him, and admired, and looked again, and this a great 
 many times before he could make up his mind to tuz*n his head another way 
 and ring the bell. There was abundance of time to look about him again 
 though, when he had rung it, for nobody came, so after ringing twice or thrice 
 he sat down upon his box, and waited. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 215 
 
 He rung the bell a great many times, and yet nobody came. But at last, 
 as he was sitting upon the box thinking about giants' castles, and princesses 
 tied up to pegs by the hair of their heads, and dragons bursting out from 
 behind gates, and other incidents of the like nature, common in story-books to 
 youths of low degree on their first visit to strange houses, the door was gently 
 opened, and a little servant-girl, very tidy, modest, and demure, but very 
 pretty too, appeared. 
 
 " I suppose you're Christopher, sir," said the servant-girl. 
 
 Kit got off the box, and said yes, ho was. 
 
 " Tm afraid you've rung a good many times perhaps," she rejoined, " but 
 we couldn''t hear you, because weVe been catching the pony." 
 
 Kit rather wondered what this meant, but as he couldn't stop there, asking 
 questions, he shouldered the box again and followed the girl into the hall, 
 where through a back-door he descried Mr. Garland leading Whisker in 
 triumph up the garden, after that self-willed pony had (as he afterwards 
 learned) dodged the family round a small paddock in the rear, for one hour 
 and three-quarters. 
 
 The old gentleman received him very kindly and so did the old lady, whoso 
 previous good opinion of him was greatly enhanced by his wiping his boots 
 on the mat until the solos of his feet burnt again. He was then taken into 
 the parlour to be inspected in his new clothes ; and when he had been 
 surveyed several times, and had afforded by his appearance unlimited satis- 
 faction, he was taken into the stable (where the pony received him with 
 uncommon complaisance) ; and thence into the little chamber he had already 
 observed, which was very clean and comfortable ; and thence into the 
 garden, in which the old gentleman told him he would be taught to employ 
 himself, and where he told him, besides, what great things he meant to 
 do to make him comfortable, and happy, if he found he deserved it. All 
 these kindnesses. Kit acknowledged with various expressions of gratitude, 
 and so many touches of the new hat, that the brim suffered considerably. 
 When the old gentleman had said all he had to say in the way of promise 
 and advice, and Kit had said all he had to say in the way of assurance 
 and thankfulness, he was handed over again to the old lady, who, sum- 
 moning the little servant-girl (whose name was Barbara) instructed her 
 to take him down stairs and give him something to eat and drink, after 
 his walk. 
 
 Down stairs therefore, Kit went ; and at the bottom of the stairs there was 
 such a kitchen as was never before seen or heard of out of a toy-shop window, 
 with everything in it as bright and glowing, and as precisely ordered too, as 
 Barbara herself. And in this kitchen. Kit sat himself down at a table as 
 white as a table-cloth, to eat cold meat, and drink small ale, and use his knife 
 and fork the more awkwardly, because there was an unknown Barbara looking 
 on and observing him. 
 
 It did not appear, however, that there was anything remarkably tremendous 
 
216 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 about this strange Barbara, who having lived a very quiet life, blushed very 
 much and \\'as quite as embarrassed and uncertain what she ought to say or 
 do, as Kit could possibly be. When he had sat for some little time, attentive 
 to the ticking of the sober clock, he ventured to glance curiously at the dresser, 
 and there, among the plates and dishes, were Barbara's little work-box with 
 a sliding lid to shut in the balls of cotton, and Barbara''s prayer-book, and 
 Barbara's hymn-book, and Barbara''s Bible. Barbara's little looking-glass 
 hung in a good light near the window, and Barbara's bonnet was on a nail 
 behind the door. From all these mute signs and tokens of her presence, he 
 naturally glanced at Barbara herself, who sat as mute as they, shelling peas 
 
 into a dish ; and just w-hen Kit was looking at her eyelashes and wondering — 
 quite in the simplicity of his heart — what colour her eyes might be, it per- 
 versely happened that Barbara raised her head a little to look at him, when 
 both pair of eyes were hastily withdrawn, and Kit leant over his plate, and 
 Barbara over her pea-shells, each in extreme confusion at having been detected 
 by the other. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 217 
 
 ^{)e Olti ©unosilg ^Ijop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD. 
 
 Mr. Richard Swiveller wending homewards from the Wilderness (for such 
 was the appropriate name of Quilp's choice retreat), after a sinuous and cork- 
 screw fashion, with many checks and stumbles ; after stopping suddenly and 
 staring about him, then as suddenly running forward for a few paces, and as 
 suddenly halting again and shaking his head ; doing everything with a jerk 
 and nothing by premeditation ; — Mr. Richard Swiveller wending his way home- 
 wards after this fashion, which is considered by evil-minded men to be sym- 
 bolical of intoxication, and is not held by such pei'sons to denote that state of 
 deep wisdom and reflection in which the actor knows himself to be, began to 
 think that possibly he had misplaced his confidence and that the dwarf might 
 not be precisely the sort of person to whom to entrust a secret of such delicacy 
 and importance. And being led and tempted on by this remorseful thought 
 into a condition which the evil-minded class before referred to would term 
 the maudlin state or stage of drunkenness, it occurred to Mr. Swiveller 
 to cast his hat upon the ground, and moan, crying aloud that he was an 
 unhappy orphan, and that if he had not been an unhappy orphan things had 
 never come to this. 
 
 " Left an infant by my parents, at an early age," said Mr. Swiveller, 
 bewailing his hard lot, " cast upon the world in my tenderest period, and 
 thrown upon the mercies of a deluding dwarf, who can wonder at my 
 weakness ! Here's a miserable orphan for you. Here,"" said Mr. Swiveller 
 raising his voice to a high pitch, and looking sleepily round, " is a miserable 
 orphan !" 
 
 " Then," said somebody hard by, " let me be a father to you." 
 
 Mr. Swiveller swayed himself to and fro to preserve his balance, and, looking 
 into a kind of haze which seemed to surround him, at last perceived two eyes 
 dimly twinkling through the mist, which he observed after a short time were 
 in the neighbourhood of a nose and mouth. Casting his eyes down towards 
 that quarter in which, with reference to a man's face, his legs are usually to 
 be found, he observed that the face had a body attached ; and when he looked 
 more intently he was satisfied that the person was Mr. Quilp, who indeed 
 had been in his company all the time but whom he had some vague idea of 
 having left a mile or two behind. 
 
 " You have deceived an orphan sir," said Mr. Swiveller solemnly. 
 
 " I ! I'm a second father to you," replied Quilp. 
 
 " You my father sir ! " retorted Dick. " Being all right myself sir, I 
 request to be left alone — instantly sir." 
 
 " What a funny fellow you are ! " cried Quilp. 
 19. ' u 
 
218 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Go sir,"" returned Dick, leaning against a post and waving his hand. " Go 
 deceiver go, some day sir pVaps you""!! waken, from pleasure's dream to know. 
 the grief of orphans forsaken. Will you go sir T' 
 
 The dwarf taking no heed of this adjuration, Mr. Swiveller advanced with 
 the view of inflicting upon him condign chastisement. But forgetting his 
 purpose or changing his mind before he came close to him, he seized his hand 
 and vowed eternal friendship, declaring with an agreeable frankness that from 
 that time forth they were brothers in everything but personal appearance. 
 Then he told his secret all over again, with the addition of being pathetic on 
 the subject of Miss Wackles, who, he gave Mr. Quilp to understand, was the 
 occasion of any slight incoherency he might observe in his speech at that 
 moment, which was attributable solely to the strength of his affection and not 
 to rosy wine or other fermented liquor. And then they went on arm-in-arm, 
 very lovingly together. 
 
 " I'm as sharp," said Quilp to him, at parting, " as sharp as a ferret, and 
 as cunning as a weazel. You bring Trent to me ; assure him that Tm his 
 friend though I fear he a little distrusts me (I don't know why, I have not 
 deserved it) ; and you've both of you made your fortunes — in perspective." 
 
 "That's the worst of it," returned Dick. "These fortunes in perspective 
 look such a long way off." 
 
 ' " But they look smaller than they really are, on that account," said Quilp 
 pressing his arm. " You'll have no conception of the value of your prize 
 until you draw close to it. Mark that." 
 
 " D'ye think not I" said Dick. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 219 
 
 *' Aye, I do ; and I am certain of what I say, that's bcttt?r," returned the 
 dwarf. " You bring Trent to me. Tell him 1 am his friend and yours — why 
 shouldn't I be?" 
 
 " There''s no reason why you shouldn't certainly," replied Dick, " and 
 perhaps there are a great many why you should — at least there would be 
 nothing strange in your wanting to be my friend, if you were a choice spirit, 
 but then you know j'ou're not a choice spirit." 
 
 " I not a choice spirit ! " cried Quilp. 
 
 " Devil a bit sir," returned Dick. " A man of your appearance couldn'^t 
 be. If you're any spirit at all, sir, you're an evil spirit. Choice spirits," added 
 Dick, smiting himself on the breast, " are quite a different looking sort of 
 people, you may take your oath of that, sir." 
 
 Quilp glanced at his free-spoken friend with a mingled expression of cunning 
 and dislike, and wringing his hand almost at the same moment, declared that 
 he was an uncommon character and had his warmest esteem. With that they 
 parted ; Mr. Swiveller to make the best of his way home and sleep himself 
 sober ; and Quilp to cogitate upon the discovery he had made, and exult in 
 the prospect of the rich field of enjoyment and reprisal it opened to him. 
 
 It was not without great reluctance and misgiving that Mr. Swiveller, next 
 morning, his head racked by the fumes of the renowned Schiedam, repaired to 
 the lodging of his friend Trent (which was in the roof of an old house in an 
 old ghostly inn), and recounted by very slow degrees what had yesterday taken 
 place between him and Quilp. Nor was it without great surprise and much 
 speculation on Quilp's probable motives, nor without many bitter comments 
 on Dick Swiveller's folly, that his friend received the tale. 
 
 " I don't defend myself, Fred," said the penitent Richard ; " but the 
 fellow has such a queer way with him and is such an artful dog, that first of 
 all he set me upon thinking whether there was any harm in telling him, and 
 while 1 was thinking, screwed it out of me. If you had seen him drink and 
 smoke, as I did, you couldn't have kept anything from him. He's a Salaman- 
 der you know, that's what he is." 
 
 Without inquiring whether Salamanders were of necessity good confidential 
 agents, or whether a fire-proof man was as a matter of course trustworthy, 
 Frederick Trent threw himself into a chair, and, burying his head in his hands, 
 endeavoured to fathom the motives which had led Quilp to insinuate himself 
 into Richard Swiveller's confidence; — for that the disclosure was of his seek- 
 ing and had not been spontaneously revealed by Dick, was sufficiently plain 
 from Quilp's seeking his company and enticing him away. 
 
 The dwarf had twice encountered him when ho was endeavouring to obtain 
 intelligence of the fugitives. This, perhaps, as ho had not shown any previous 
 anxiety about them, was enough to awaken suspicion in the breast of a creature 
 so jealous and distrustful by nature, setting aside any additional impulse to 
 curiosity that he might have derived from Dick's incautious manner. But 
 knowing the scheme they had planned, why should he offer to assist it? 
 This was a question more difficult of solution ; but as knaves generally over- 
 
220 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 reach themselves by imputing their own designs to others, the idea immediately 
 presented itself that some cii'cumstances of irritation between Quilp and the 
 old man, arising out of their secret transactions and not unconnected perhaps 
 with his sudden disappearance, now rendered the former desirous of revenging 
 himself upon him by seeking to entrap the sole object of his love and anxiety 
 into a connexion of which he knew ho had a dread and hatred. As Frederick 
 Trent himself, utterly regardless of his sister, had this object at heart, only 
 second to the hope of gain, it seemed to him the more likely to be Quilp's 
 main principle of action. Once investing the dwarf with a design of his own 
 in abetting them, which the attainment of their purpose would serve, it was 
 easy to believe him sincere and hearty in the cause ; and as there could be no 
 doubt of his proving a powerful and useful auxiliary, Trent determined to 
 accept his invitation and go to his house that night, and if what he said and 
 did confirmed him in the impression he had formed, to let him share the labour 
 of their plan, but not the profit. 
 
 Having revolved these things in his mind and arrived at this conclusion, he 
 communicated to Mr. Swiveller as much of his meditations as he thought 
 proper (Dick would have been perfectly satisfied with less), and giving him the 
 day to recover himself from his late salamandering, accompanied him at evening 
 to Mr. Quilp's house. 
 
 Mightily glad Mr. Quilp was to see them, or mightily glad he seemed to 
 be ; and fearfully polite Mr. Quilp was to Mrs. Quilp and Mrs. Jiniwin ; and 
 very sharp was the look he cast on his wife to observe how she was affected by 
 the recognition of young Trent. Mrs. Quilp was as innocent as her own 
 mother of any emotion, painful or pleasant, which the sight of him awakened, 
 but as her husband''s glance made her timid and confused, and uncertain what 
 to do or what was required of her, Mr. Quilp did not fail to assign her 
 embarrassment to the cause he had in his mind, and while he chuckled at his 
 penetration was secretly exasperated by his jealousy. 
 
 Nothing of this appeared, however. On the contrary, Mr. Quilp was all 
 blandness and suavity, and presided over the case-bottle of rum with extra- 
 ordinary open-heartedness. 
 
 " Why, let me see," said Quilp. " It must be a matter of nearly two years 
 since we were first acquainted." 
 
 " Nearer three, I think," said Trent. 
 
 " Nearer three ! " cried Quilp. " ] low fast time flies. Does it seem as long 
 as that to you, Mrs. Quilp?" 
 
 " Yes, I think it seems full three years, Quilp," was the unfortunate reply. 
 " Oh indeed Ma'am," thought Quilp, "you have been pining, have you? Very 
 good Ma'am." 
 
 " It seems to me but yesterday that you went out to Demerara in the 
 Mary Anne," said Quilp ; " but yesterday, I declare. Well, I like a little 
 wildness. I was wild myself once." 
 
 Mr. Quilp accompanied this admission with such an awful wink, indicative 
 of old rovings and backslidings, that Mrs. Jiniwin was indignant, and could 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 221 
 
 not forbear from remarking under her breath that he might at least put off 
 his confessions until his wife was absent ; for which act of boldness and insub- 
 brdination Mr. Quilp first stared her out of countenance and then drank her 
 health ceremoniously. 
 
 ■ " I thought you'd come back directly, Fred. I always thought that," said Quilp 
 setting down his glass. " And when the Mary Anne returned with you on 
 board, instead of a letter to say what a contrite heart you had and how happy 
 you were in the situation that had been provided for you, I was amused — ^ 
 exceedingly amused. Ha ha ha !" 
 
 The young man smiled, but not as though the theme were the most agree- 
 able one that could have been selected for his entertainment ; and for that 
 reason Quilp pursued it. 
 
 " I always will say," he resumed, " that when a rich relation having two 
 young people — sisters or brothers, or brother and sister — dependent on him, 
 attaches himself exclusively to one, and casts off the other, he does wrong.*'"' 
 
 The young man made a movement of impatience, but Quilp went on aa 
 calmly as if he were discussing some abstract question in which nobody present 
 had the slightest personal interest. 
 
 " It's very true," said Quilp, " that your grandfather urged repeated for- 
 giveness, ingratitude, riot, and extravagance, and all that ; but as I told him 
 ' these are common faults.' ' But he's a scoundrel,' said he. ' Granting that,' 
 said I, (for the sake of argument of course), ' a great many young noblemen 
 and gentlemen are scoundrels too !' But he wouldn't be convinced." 
 
 *' I wonder at that, Mr. Quilp," said the young man sarcastically. 
 
 " Well, so did I at the time," returned Quilp, " but he was always obstinate. 
 He was in a manner a friend of mine, but he was always obstinate and wrong- 
 headed. Little Nell is a nice girl, a charming girl, but you're her brother, 
 Frederick. You're her brother after all ; as you told him the last time you 
 met, he can't alter that." 
 
 , *' He would if he could, confound him for that and all other kindnesses," 
 said the young man impatiently. " But nothing can come of this subject now, 
 and let us have done with it in the Devil's name." 
 
 , " Agreed," returned Quilp, " agreed on my part, readily. Why have 1 
 alluded to it ? Just to show you, Frederick, that I have always stood your 
 friend. You little knew who was your friend and who your foe ; now did you ? 
 You thought I was against you, and so there has been a coolness between us ; 
 but it was all on your side, entirely on your side. Let's shake hands again, Fred." 
 
 With his head sunk down between his shoulders, and a hideous grin over- 
 spreading his face, the dwarf stood up and stretched his short arm across 
 the table. After a moment's hesitation, the young man stretched out his to 
 meet it ; Quilp clutched his fingers in a grip that for the moment stopped the 
 current of the blood within them, and pressing his other hand upon his lip 
 and frowning towards the unsuspicious Richard, released them and sat down. 
 
 Tliis action was not lost upon Trent, who, knowing that Richard Swiveller 
 was a mere tool in his hands and knew no more of his designs than he thought 
 
222 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 proper to communicate, saw that the dwarf perfectly understood their relative 
 position, and fully entered into the character of his friend. It is something 
 to be appreciated, even in knavery. This silent homage to his superior 
 abilities, no less than a sense of the power with which the dwarf's quick per- 
 ception had already invested him, inclined the young man towards that ugly 
 worthy, and determined him to profit by his aid. 
 
 It being now Mr. Quilp's cue to change the subject with all convenient 
 expedition, lest Richard Swiveller in his heedlessness should reveal anything 
 which it was inexpedient for the women to know, he proposed a game at four- 
 handed cribbage ; and partners being cut for, Mrs. Quilp fell to Frederick 
 Trent, and Dick himself to Quilp. Mrs. Jiniwin being very fond of cards 
 was carefully excluded by her son-in-law from any participation in the game, 
 and had assigned to her the duty of occasionally replenishing the glasses from 
 the case-bottle ; Mr. Quilp from that moment keeping one eye constantly 
 upon her, lest she should by any means procure a taste of the same, and 
 thereby tantalising the wretched old lady (who was as much attached to the 
 case-bottle as the cards) in a double degree and most ingenious manner. 
 
 But it was not to Mrs. Jiniwin alone that Mr. Quilp's attention was 
 restricted, as several other matters required his constant vigilance. Among 
 his various eccentric habits he had a humorous one of always cheating at 
 cards, which rendered necessary on his part, not only a close observance of 
 the game, and a sleight-of-hand in counting and scoring, but also involved 
 the constant correction, by looks, and frowns, and kicks under the table, 
 of Hichard Swiveller, who being bewildered by the rapidity with which his 
 cards were told, and the rate at which the pegs travelled down the board, 
 could not be prevented from sometimes expressing his surprise and incredulity. 
 Mrs. Quilp too was the partner of young Trent, and for every look that passed 
 between them, and every word they spoke, and every card they played, the 
 dwarf had eyes and ears ; not occupied alone with what was passing above 
 the table, but with signals that might be exchanging beneath it, which he laid 
 all kinds of traps to detect ; besides often treading on his wife's toes to see 
 whether she cried out or remained silent under the infliction, in which latter 
 case it would have been quite clear that Trent had been treading on her 
 toes before. Yet, in the most of all these distractions, the one eye was upon 
 the old lady always, and if she so much as stealthily advanced a tea-spoon 
 towards a neighbouring glass (which she often did), for the purpose of abstract- 
 ing but one sup of its sweet contents, Quilp's hand would overset it in the 
 very moment of her triumph, and Quilp's mocking voice implore her to regard 
 her precious health. And in any one of these his many cares, from first to 
 last, Quilp never flagged nor faultered. 
 
 At length, when they had played a great many rubbers and drawn pretty 
 freely upon the case-bottle, Mr. Quilp warned his lady to retire to rest, and 
 that submissive wife complying, and being followed by her indignant mother, 
 Mr. Swiveller fell asleep. The dwarf beckoning his remaining companion to the 
 other end of the room, held a short conference with him in whispers. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 223 
 
 " It's as well not to say more than one can help before our worthy friend," 
 said Quilp, making a grimace towards the slumbering Dick. " Is it a bargain 
 between us Fred i Shall he marry little rosy Nell bye and bye ? " 
 
 " You have some end of your own to answer of course," returned the other. 
 
 " Of course I have, dear Fred," said Quilp, grinning to think how little he 
 suspected what the real end was. "' It's retaliation perhaps ; perhaps whim. 
 I have influence, Fred, to help or oppose. Which way shall I use it ? There 
 are a pair of scales, and it goes into one.'' 
 
 •' Throw it into mine then," said Trent. 
 
 " It's done Fred," rejoined Quilp, stretching out his clenched hand and 
 opening it as if he had let some weight fall out. " It's in the scale from this 
 time, and turns it Fred. Mind that." 
 
 •• Where have they gone i " asked Trent. 
 
 Quilp shook his head, and said that point remained to be discovered, which 
 it might be, easily. When it was, they would begin their preliminary advances. 
 He would visit the old man, or even Richard Swivcller might visit him, and 
 by affecting a deep concern in his behalf and imploring him to settle in some 
 worthv home, lead to the child's remembering him with gratitude and favour. 
 Once impressed to this extent, it would be easy, he said, to win her in a year 
 vi' two, for she supposed the old man to be poor, as it was a part of his jealous 
 policy (in common with many other misers) to feign to be so, to those about him. 
 
 '' He has feigned it often enough to me, of late," said Trent. 
 
 " Oh ! and to me too !" replied the dwarf. " Which is more extraordinary, 
 aJ5 I know how rich he really is." 
 
 "■ I suppose you should," said Trent. 
 
 " I think I should indeed," rejoined the dwarf; and in that, at least, he spoke 
 the truth. 
 
 After a few more whispered words, they returned to the table, and the 
 young man i-ousing Richard Swiveller informed him that he was waiting to 
 depart. This was welcome news to Dick, who started up directly. After a 
 few words of confidence in the result of their project had been exchanged, they 
 bade the grinning Quilp good night. 
 
 Quilp crept to the window as they passed in the street below, and listened. 
 TVent was pronouncing an encomium upon his wife, and they were both 
 wondering by what enchantment she had been brought to marry such a mis- 
 shapen wretch as he. The dwarf after watching their retreating shadows with 
 a wider grin than his face had yet displayed, stole softly in the dark to bed. 
 
 In this hatching of their scheme, neither Trent nor Quilp had had ono 
 thought about the happiness or misery of poor innocent Nell. It would have 
 been strange if the careless profligate, who was the butt of both, had been 
 harassed by any such consideration ; for his high opinion of his own merits and 
 deserts rendered the project rather a laudable one than otherwise ; and if he 
 had been visited by so unwonted a guest as reflection, he would — being a brute 
 only in the gratification of his appetites — have soothed his conscience with the 
 plea that he did not mean to beat or kill his wife, and would therefore, after 
 all said and done, be a very tolerable, average husband. 
 
S24 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH. 
 
 It was not until they were quite exhausted and could no longer maintain 
 the pace at which they had fled from the race-ground, that the old man and 
 the child ventured to stop, and sit down to rest upon the borders of a little 
 wood. Here, though the course was hidden from their view, they could yet 
 faintly distinguish the noise of distant shouts, the hum of voices, and the 
 beating of drums. Climbing the eminence which lay between them and the 
 spot they had left, the child could even discern the fluttering flags and white 
 tops of booths ; but no person was approaching towards them, and their 
 resting-place was solitary and still. 
 
 Some time elapsed before she could reassure her trembling companion, or 
 restore him to a state of moderate tranquillity. His disordered imagination 
 represented to him a crowd of persons stealing towards them beneath the 
 cover of the bushes, lurking in every ditch, and peeping from the boughs of 
 every rustling tree. He was haunted by apprehensions of being led captive 
 to some gloomy place where he would be chained and scourged, and worse 
 than all, where Nell could never come to see him, save through iron bars 
 and gratings in the wall. His terrors affected the child. Separation from 
 her grandfather was the greatest evil she could dread ; and feeling for the 
 time as though, go where they would, they were to be hunted down, and 
 could never be safe but in hiding, her heart failed her, and her courage 
 drooped. 
 
 In one so young, and so unused to the scenes in which she had lately moved 
 this sinking of the spirit was not surprising. But, Nature often enshrines 
 gallant and noble hearts in weak bosoms — oftencst, God bless her, in female 
 breasts— and when the child, casting her tearful eyes upon the old man, 
 remembered how weak he was, and how destitute and helpless he would be if 
 she failed him, her heart swelled within her, and animated her with new 
 strength and fortitude. 
 
 " We are quite safe now, and have nothing to fear indeed, dear grand- 
 father," she said. 
 
 " Nothing to fear !"" i-eturned the old man. " Nothing to fear if they took 
 me from thee ! Nothing to fear if they parted us ! Nobody is true to me. No, 
 not one. Not even Nell !" 
 
 " Oh ! Do not say that," replied the child, " for if ever anybody was true 
 at heart, and earnest, I am. I am sure you know I am." 
 
 "■ Then how," said the old man, looking fearfully round, "how can you 
 bear to think that we are safe, when they are searching for me everywhere, 
 and may come here, and steal upon us, even while we're talking V 
 
 " Because I'm sure we have not been followed," said the child. " Judge 
 for yourself dear grandfather ; look round, and see how quiet and still it is. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREYS CLOCK. 'SZo 
 
 We are alone together, and may ramble where we like. Not safe ! Could I 
 feel easy — did I feel at ease — when any danger threatened you V 
 
 " True, true," he answered, pressing her hand, but still looking anxiously 
 about. " What noise was that ;' 
 
 " A bird," said the child, " flying into the wood, and leading the way for 
 us to follow. You remember that we said we would walk in woods and 
 iields, and by the side of rivers, and how happy we would be — you remember 
 that ? But here, while the sun shines above our heads, and everything ik 
 bright and happy, we are sitting sadly down, and losing time. See what a 
 pleasant path ; and there's the bird — the same bii'd — now he flies to anothrr 
 tree, and stays to sing. Come I" 
 
 When they rose up from the ground, and took the shady track which led 
 them through the wood, she bounded on before ; printing her tiny footsteps 
 in the moss, which rose elastic from so light a pressure and gave it back as 
 miiTors throw oft' breath ; and thus she lured the old man on, with many a 
 backward look and merry beck, now pointing stealthily to some lone bird as 
 it perched and twittei'ed on a branch that strayed across their path, now 
 stopping to listen to the songs that broke the happy silence, or watch the kuu 
 as it trembled through the leaves, and stealing in among the ivied trunks of 
 stout old trees, opened long paths of light. As they passed onward, parting 
 the boughs that clustered in their way, the serenity which the child had first 
 assumed, stole into her breast in earnest ; the old man cast no longer fearful 
 looks behind, but felt at ease and cheerful, for the further they passed into tin- 
 deep green shade, the more they felt that the tranquil mind of God was tln'r<-, 
 and shed its peace on them. 
 
 At length the path becoming clearer and less intricate, brought them to the 
 end of the wood, and into a public road. Taking their way along it for a 
 short distance, they came to a lane, so shaded by the trees on either han<l 
 that they met together over-head, and arched the narrow way. A broken 
 finger-post announced that this led to a village three miles off' ; and thith'M- 
 they resolved to bend their steps. 
 
 The miles appeared so long that they sometimes thought they must have 
 missed their road. But at last, to their great joy, it led downward in 
 a steep descent, with overhanging banks over which the footpaths led ; 
 and the clustered houses of the village peeped out from the woody hollow 
 below. 
 
 It was a very small place. The men and boys were playing at cricket on 
 the green ; and as the other folks \\ere looking on, they wandered up and 
 down, uncertain where to seek a humble lodging. There was but one old 
 man in the little garden before his cottage, and him they were timid of 
 approaching, for he was the schoolmaster, and had " School" written up 
 over his window in black letters on a white board. He was a pale, simple- 
 looking man, of a spare and meagre habit, and sat among his flowers and 
 beehives, smoking his pipe, in the little porch before his door. 
 
 " Speak to him, dear," the old man whispered. 
 
226 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 '' I am almost afraid to disturb him," said tho child timidly. " He 
 does not seem to see us. Perhaps if wo wait a little, he may look this 
 way." 
 
 They waited, but the schoolmaster cast no look towards them, and still sat, 
 thoughtful and silent, in the little porch. He had a kind face. In his plain 
 old suit of black, he looked pale and meagre. They fancied, too, a lonely air 
 about him and his house, but perhaps that was because the other people 
 ibrmed a merry company upon the green, and he seemed the only solitary 
 man in all the place. 
 
 They were very tired, and the child would have been bold enough to 
 address even a schoolmaster, but for something in his manner which seemed 
 to denote that he was uneasy or distressed. As they stood hesitating at a 
 little distance, they saw that he sat for a few minutes at a time like one in 
 a brown study, then laid aside his pipe and took a few turns in his garden, 
 then approached the gate and looked towards the green, then took up his pipe 
 again with a sigh, and sat down thoughtfully as before. 
 
 As nobody else appeared and it would soon be dark, Nell at length took 
 courage, and when ho had resumed his pipe and seat, ventured to draw 
 near, leading her grandfather by the hand. The slight noise they made in 
 raising the latch of the wicket-gate, caught his attention. He looked at them 
 kindly but seemed disappointed too, and slightly shook his head. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 227 
 
 Nell dropped a curtsey, and told him they were poor travellers who sought 
 a shelter for the night which they would gladly pay for, so far as their 
 means allowed. The schoolmaster looked earnestly at her as she spoke, laid 
 aside his pipe, and rose up directly. 
 
 "If you could direct us anywhere, sir," said the child, " we should take it 
 very kindly." 
 
 " You have been walking a long way," said the schoolmaster. 
 
 " A long way, sir," the child replied. 
 
 " You're a young traveller, my child," he said, laying his hand gently on 
 her head. " Your grandchild, friend V 
 
 " Aye, sir," cried the old man, "and the stay and comfort of my life." 
 
 " Come in," said the schoolmaster. 
 
 Without further preface he conducted thcra into his little school-room, 
 which was parlour and kitchen likewise, and told them they were welcome to 
 remain under his roof till morning. Before they had done thanking him, he 
 spread a coarse white cloth upon the table, with knives and platters ; and 
 bringing out some bread and cold meat and a jug of beer, besought them to 
 eat and drink. 
 
 The child looked round the room as she took her seat. There were a couple 
 of forms, notched and cut and inked all over; a small deal desk perched on 
 four legs, at which no doubt the master sat ; a few dog's-eared books upon a 
 high shelf; and beside them a motley collection of peg-tops, balls, kites, fisliing- 
 lines, marbles, half-eaten apples, and other confiscated property of idle urchins. 
 Displayed on hooks upon the wall in all their terrors, were the cane and ruler; 
 and near them, on a small shelf of its own, the dunce''s cap, made of old news- 
 papers and decorated with glaring wafers of the largest size. But, the great 
 ornaments of the walls, were certain moral sentences fairly copied in good 
 round text, and well-worked sums in simple addition and multiplication, 
 evidently achieved by the same hand, which were plentifully pasted all round 
 the room : for the double purpose, as it seemed, of bearing testimony to the 
 excellence of the school, and kindling a worthy emulation in the bosoms of the 
 scholars. 
 
 " Yes," said the old schoolmaster, observing that her attention was caught 
 by these latter specimens. " Thafs beautiful writing, my dear." 
 
 " Very, sir," replied the child modestly, " is it yours V 
 
 " Mine ! " he returned, taking out his spectacles and putting them on, to 
 have a better view of the triumphs so dear to his heart. " / couldn't write 
 like that, now-a-days. No. TheyVe all done by one hand ; a little hand it is, 
 not so old as yours, but a very clever one." 
 
 As the schoolmaster said this, he saw that a small blot of ink had been 
 thrown on one of the copies, so he took a penknife from his pocket, and 
 going up to the wall, carefully scraped it out. When he had finished, 
 he walked slowly backward from the writing, admiring it as one might 
 contemplate a beautiful picture, but with something of sadness in his voice 
 
22S MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 and manner which quite touched the child, though she was unacquainted with 
 its cause. 
 
 " A little hand indeed," said the poor schoolmaster. " Far beyond all his 
 companions, in his learning and his sports too, how did he ever come to be so 
 fond of me ! That I should love him is no wonder, but that he should love 
 me — '^ and there the schoolmaster stopped, and took off his spectacles to wipe 
 them, as though they had grown dim. 
 
 " I hope there is nothing the matter, sir," said Nell anxiously. 
 
 " Not much my dear," returned the schoolmaster. " I hoped to have seen 
 liim on the green to-night. He was always foremost among them. But he'll 
 be there to-morrow." 
 
 " Has he been ill 1 " asked the child, with a child's quick sympathy. 
 
 '• Not very. They said he was wandering in his head yesterday, dear boy, 
 and so they said the day before. But that^s a part of that kind of disorder ; 
 it's not a bad sign — not at all a bad sign." 
 
 The child was silent. He walked to the door, and looked wistfully out. 
 The shadows of night were gathering, and all was still. 
 
 " If he could lean upon anybody's arm, he would come to me, I know," he 
 said, returning into the room. " He always came into the garden to say good 
 night. But perhaps his illness has only just taken a favourable turn, and it's 
 too late for him to come out, for it's very damp and there's a heavy dew. It's 
 much better he shouldn't come to-night." 
 
 The schoolmaster lighted a candle, fastened the window-shutter, and closed 
 the door. But after lie had done this, and sat silent a little time, he took 
 down his hat, and said he would go and satisfy himself, if Nell would sit up till 
 he returned. The child readily complied, and he went out. 
 
 She sat there half-an-hour or more, feeling the place very strange and 
 lonely, for she had prevailed upon the old man to go to bed, and there was 
 nothing to be heard but the ticking of an old clock, and the whistling of the 
 wind among the trees. When he returned, he took his seat in the chimney- 
 corner, but remained silent for a long time. At length he turned to her, and 
 speaking very gently, hoped she would say a prayer that night for a sick 
 child. 
 
 " My favourite scholar !" said the poor schoolmaster, smoking a pipe he had 
 forgotten to light, and looking mournfully round upon the walls. " It is a 
 little hand to have done all that, and waste away with sickness. It is a very, 
 very, little hand !" 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 229 
 
 ^l^e ©lb (Curiositn ^5op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH. 
 
 After a sound night's rest in a chamber in the thatched roof, in which it 
 seemed the sexton had for some years been a lodger, but which he had lately 
 deserted for a wife and a cottage of his own, the child rose early in the 
 morning and descended to the room where she had supped last night. As 
 the schoolmaster had already left his bed and gone out, she bestirred herself 
 to make it neat and comfortable, and had just finished its arrangement when 
 the kind host returned. 
 
 He thanked her many times, and said that the old dame who usually did 
 such offices for him had gone to nurse the little scholar whom he had told her 
 of. The child asked how he was, and hoped he was better. 
 
 " No," rejoined the schoolmaster shaking his head sorrowfully, " no better. 
 They even say he is worse." 
 
 " I am very sorry for that, sir," said the child. 
 
 The poor schoolmaster appeared to be gratified by her earnest manner, but 
 yet rendered more uneasy by it, for he added hastily that anxious people 
 often magnified an evil and thought it greater than it was ; " for my part," 
 he said, in his quiet, patient way, "■ I hope it's not so. I don't think he can 
 be -worse." 
 
 The child asked his leave to prepare breakfast, and her grandfather coming 
 down stairs they all three partook of it together. AVhile the meal was in 
 progress, their host remarked that the old man seemed much fatigued, and 
 evidently stood in need of rest. 
 
 " If the journey you have before you is a long one," he said, " and don't 
 press you for one day, youVe very welcome to pass another night here. I 
 should really be glad if you would, friend." 
 
 He saw that the old man looked at Nell, uncertain whether to accept or 
 decline his offer ; and added, 
 
 " I shall bo glad to have your young companion with me for one day. 
 If you can do a charity to a lone man, and rest yourself at the same time, do 
 so. If you must proceed upon your journey, I wish you well through it, and 
 Avill walk a little way with you before school begins." 
 
 " What are we to do, Nell," said the old man irresolutely, " say what we're 
 to do, dear." 
 
 It required no great persuasion to induce the child to answer that they had 
 better accept the invitation and remain. She was happy to show her grati- 
 tude to the kind schoolmaster by busying herself in the performance of such 
 household duties as his little cottage stood in need of. When these were 
 done, she took some needle- work from her basket, and sat herself down upon 
 a stool beside the lattice, where the honeysuckle and woodbine entwined 
 20. X 
 
230 MASTEli HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 their tender stems, and stealing into the room filled it with their delicious 
 breath. Iler grandfiither was basking in the sun outside, breathing the 
 perfume of the flowers, and idly watching the clouds as they floated on before 
 the light summer wind. 
 
 As the schoolmaster, after arranging the two forms in due order, took his 
 seat behind his desk and made other preparations for school, the child was 
 apprehensive that she might be in the way, and offered to withdraw to her 
 little bed-room. But this he would not allow, and as he seemed pleased to 
 have her there, she remained, busying herself with her work. 
 
 " Have you many scholars, sir V she asked. 
 
 The poor schoolmaster shook his head, and said that they barely filled 
 the two forms. 
 
 "Are the others clever, sir l" asked the child, glancing at the trophies on 
 the wall. 
 
 " Good boys," returned the schoolmaster, " good boys enough, my dear, 
 but they'll never do like that." 
 
 A small white-headed boy with a sunburnt face appeared at the door while 
 he was speaking, and stopping there to make a rustic bow, came in and took 
 his seat upon one of the forms. The white-headed boy then put an open 
 book, astonishingly dog's-eared, upon his knees, and thrusting his hands into 
 his pockets began counting the marbles with which they were filled ; display- 
 ing in the expression of his face a remarkable capacity of totally abstracting 
 his mind from the spelling on which his eyes were fixed. Soon afterwards 
 another white-headed little boy came straggling in, and after him a red-- 
 headed lad, and after him two more with white heads, and then one with a 
 flaxen poll, and so on until the forms were occupied by a dozen boys or there- 
 abouts, with heads of every colour but grey, and ranging in their ages from 
 four years old to fourteen years or more ; for the legs of the youngest were 
 a long way from the floor when he sat upon the form, and the eldest was a 
 heavy good-tempered foolish fellow, about half a head taller than the school- 
 master. 
 
 At the top of the first form — the post of honour in the school— was the 
 vacant place of the little sick scholar, and at the head of the row of pegs on 
 which those who came in hats or caps were wont to hang them up, one was 
 left empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but many 
 a one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster, and whispered his 
 idle neitjhbour behind his hand. 
 
 Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by heart, 
 the whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and drawl of school ; 
 and in the midst of the din sat the poor schoolmaster, the very image of meek- 
 ness and simplicity, vainly attempting to fix his mind upon the duties of the 
 day, and to forget his little friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him 
 more strongly of the willing scholar, and his thoughts were rambling from his 
 pupils — it was plain. 
 
 None knew this better than the idlest boys,who, growing bolder with impunity, 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY S CLOCK. 
 
 231 
 
 waxed louder and more daring ; playing odd-or-even under the master's eye, 
 eating apples openly and without rebuke, pinching each other in sport or malice 
 without the least reserve, and cutting their autographs in the very legs of his 
 desk. The puzzled dunce, who stood beside it to say his lesson out of book 
 looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words, but drew closer to the 
 master's elbow and boldly cast his eye upon the page ; the wag of the little troop 
 squinted and made grimaces (at the smallest boy of course), holding no book 
 before his face, and his approving audience knew no constraint in their delifht. 
 If the master did chance to rouse himself and seem alive to what was goino- 
 on, the noise subsided for a moment and no eyes met his but wore a studious 
 and a deeply humble look ; but the instant he relapsed again, it broke out 
 afresh, and ten times louder than before. 
 
 Oh ! how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how they 
 looked at the open door and window, as if they half meditated rushing violently 
 out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys and savages from that time 
 forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool I'iver, and some shady bathing- 
 place beneath willow trees with branches dipping in the water, kept tempting 
 and urging that sturdy boy, who, with his shirt-collar unbuttoned and flung 
 back as far as it could go, sat fanning his flushed face with a spelling-book, 
 wishing himself a whale, or a tittlebat, or a fly, or anything but a boy at 
 school on that hot, broiling day ! Heat ! ask that other boy, whose scat being 
 nearest to the door, gave him opportunities of gliding out into the garden and 
 driving his companions to madness by dipping his face into the bucket of the 
 well and then rolling on the grass — ask him if there were ever such a day as 
 
232 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 that, when even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of flowers and 
 stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to retire from business 
 and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day was made for laziness, and 
 lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky till its brightness 
 forced one to shut one's eyes and go to sleep ; and was this a time to be 
 poring over musty books in a dark room, slighted by the very sun itself ? 
 Monstrous ! 
 
 Nell sat by the window occupied with her work, but attentive still to all 
 that passed, though sometimes rather timid of the boisterous boys. The 
 lessons over, writing-time began; and there being but one desk and that the 
 master's, each boy sat at it in turn and laboured at his crooked copy, while 
 the master walked about. This was a quieter time ; for he would come and 
 look over the Avriter's shoulder, and tell him mildly to observe how such a 
 letter was turned in such a copy on the wall, praise such an up-stroke here 
 and such a down-stroke there, and bid him take it for his model. Then he 
 would stop and tell them what the sick child had said last night, and how he 
 had longed to be among them once again ; and such was the poor school- 
 master's gentle and affectionate manner, that the boys seemed quite remorseful 
 that they had worried him so much, and were absolutely quiet ; eating no 
 apples, cutting no names, inflicting no pinches, and making no grimaces, for 
 full two minutes afterwards. 
 
 " I think, boys," said the schoolmaster when the clock struck twelve, " that 
 1 shall give an extra half-holiday this afternoon." 
 
 At this intelligence, the boys, led on and headed by the tall boy, raised a 
 great shout, in the midst of which the master was seen to speak, but could not 
 be heard. As he held up his hand, however, in token of his wish that they 
 should be silent, they were considerate enough to leave off, as soon as the 
 longest- winded among them were quite out of breath. 
 
 " You must promise me first," said the schoolmaster, " that you'll not be 
 noisy, or at least, if you are, that you'll go away and be so — away out of the 
 village I mean. I'm sure you wouldn't disturb your old playmate and com- 
 panion." 
 
 There was a general murmur, (and perhaps a very sincere one, for they were 
 but boys) in the negative ; and the tall boy, perhaps as sincerely as any of 
 them, called those about him to witness that he had only shouted in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Then pray don't forget, there's my dear scholars," said the schoolmaster, 
 " what I have asked you, and do it as a favour to me. Be as happy as you 
 can, and don't be unmindful that you are blessed with health. Good bye all !" 
 
 " Thank'ee sir," and " good bye sir," were said a great many times in a 
 variety of voices, and the boys went out very slowly and softly. But there 
 was the sun shining and there were the birds singing, as the sun only shines 
 and the birds only sing on holidays and half-hoUdays ; there were the trees 
 waving to all free boys to climb and nestle among their leafy branches ; the hay, 
 entreating them to come and scatter it to the pure air; the green corn, gently 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 233 
 
 beckoning towards wood and stream ; the smooth ground, rendered smoother 
 still by blending lights and shadows, inviting to runs and leaps, and long walks 
 God knows whither. It was more than boy could bear, and with a joyous 
 whoop the whole cluster took to their heels and spread themselves about, 
 shouting and laughing as they went. 
 
 "It's natural, thank Heaven ! " said the poor schoolmaster looking after 
 them. " I am very glad they didn't mind me !" 
 
 It is difficult, however, to please everybody, as most of us would have dis- 
 covered, even without the fable which bears that moral ; and in the course of 
 the afternoon several mothers and aunts of pupils looked in to express their 
 entire disapproval of the schoolmaster's proceeding. A few confined them- 
 selves to hints, such as politely inquiring what red-letter day or saint's day the 
 almanack said it was ; a few (these were the profound village politicians) 
 argued that it was a slight to the throne and an affront to church and state, 
 and savoured of revolutionary principles, to grant a half-holiday upon any 
 lighter occasion than the birthday of the Monarch; but the majority expressed 
 their displeasure on private grounds and in plain terms, arguing that to put 
 the pupils on this short allowance of learning was nothing but an act of down- 
 right robbery and fraud : and one old lady, finding that she could not inflame 
 or irritate the peaceable schoolmaster by talking to him, bounced out of his 
 house and talked at him for half-an-hour outside his own window, to another 
 old lady, saying that of course he would deduct this half-holiday from his weekly 
 charge, or of course he would naturally expect to have an opposition started 
 against him; there was no want of idle chaps in that neighbourhood (here the old 
 lady raised her voice), and some chaps who were too idle even to be school- 
 masters, might soon find that there were other chaps put over their heads, and 
 so she would have them take care, and look pretty sharp about them. But all 
 these taunts and vexations failed to elicit one word from the meek schoolmaster, 
 who sat with the child by his side, — a little more dejected perhaps, but quite 
 silent and uncomplaining. 
 
 Towards night an old woman came tottering up the garden as speedily as 
 she could, and meeting the schoolmaster at the door, said he was to go to 
 Dame West's directly, and had best run on before her. He and the child 
 were on the point of going out together for a walk, and without relinquishing 
 her hand, the schoolmaster hurried away, leaving the messenger to follow as 
 she might. 
 
 They stopped at a cottage-door, and the schoolmaster knocked softly at it 
 with his hand. It was opened without loss of time. They entered a room 
 where a little group of women were gathered about one, older than the rest, 
 who was crying very bitterly, and sat wringing her hands and rocking herself 
 to and fro. 
 
 " Oh dame !" said the schoolmaster, drawing near her chair, " is it so bad 
 as this?" 
 
 " He's going fast," cried the old woman ; " my grandson's dying. It's all 
 along of you. You shouldn't see him now, but for his being so earnest on it. 
 
234 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 This is what his learning has brought him to. Oh dear, dear, dear, what can 
 I do!" 
 
 " Do not say that I am in any fault," urged the gentle schoolmaster. " I 
 am not hurt, dame. No, no. You are in great distress of mind, and don't 
 mean what you say. I am sure you don't." 
 
 " I do," returned the old woman. " I mean it all. If he hadn't been 
 poring over his books out of fear of you, he would have been well and merry 
 now, I know he would." 
 
 The schoolmaster looked round upon the other women as if to entreat some 
 one among them to say a kind word for him, but they shook their heads, and 
 murmured to each other that they never thought there was much good in 
 learning, and that this convinced them. Without saying a word in reply, or 
 giving them a look of reproach, he followed the old woman who had summoned 
 him (and who had now rejoined them) into another room, where his infant 
 friend, half dressed, lay stretched upon a bed. 
 
 He was a very young boy ; quite a little child. His hair still hung in curls 
 about his face, and his eyes were very bright ; but their light was of Heaven, 
 not earth. The schoolmaster took a seat beside him, and stooping over the 
 pillow, whispered his name. The boy sprung up, stroked his face with his 
 hand, and threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying out that he was his 
 dear kind friend. 
 
 " I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows," said the poor 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 " Who is that 1" said the boy, seeing Nell. " I am afraid to kiss her, lest 
 I should make her ill. Ask her to shake hands with me.''' 
 
 The sobbing child came closer up, and took the little languid hand in hers. 
 Releasing his again after a time, the sick boy laid him gently down. 
 
 " You remember the garden, Harry," whispered the schoolmaster, anxious 
 to rouse him, for a dulness seemed gathering upon the child, " and how 
 pleasant it used to be in the evening time ? You must make haste to visit 
 it again, for I think the very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than 
 they used to be. You will come soon, my dear, very soon now, — won't you V 
 
 The boy smiled faintly — so very, very faintly — and put his hand upon his 
 friend's grey head. He moved his lips too, but no voice came from them ; 
 no, not a sound. 
 
 In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices borne upon the evening 
 air came floating through the open window. " What's thati" said the sick 
 child, opening his eyes. 
 
 " The boys at play upon the green." 
 
 He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head. 
 But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. 
 
 " Shall I do itr* said the schoolmaster. 
 
 " Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply. " Tie it to the lattice. 
 Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this 
 way." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 235 
 
 He raised his head, and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, 
 that lay with slate and book and other boyish property upon a table in the 
 room. And then he laid him softly down once more, and asked if the little 
 girl were there, for he could not see her. 
 
 She stepped forward, and pressed the passive hand that lay upon the coverlet. 
 The two old friends and companions — for such they were, though they were 
 man and child — held each other in a long embrace, and then the little scholar 
 turned his face towards the wall, and fell asleep. 
 
 The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small cold hand in 
 his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that ; and 
 yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH. 
 
 Almost broken-hearted, Nell withdrew with the schoolmaster from the bed- 
 side and returned to his cottage. In the midst of her grief and tears she was 
 yet careful to conceal their real cause from the old man, for the dead boy 
 had been a grandchild, and left but one aged relative to mourn his premature 
 decay. 
 
 She stole away to bed as quickly as she could, and when she was alone, 
 gave free vent to the sorrow with which her breast was overcharged. But 
 the sad scene she had witnessed, was not without its lesson of content and 
 gratitude ; of content with the lot which left her health and freedom ; and 
 gratitude that she was spared to the one relative and friend she loved, and to 
 live and move in a beautiful world, when so many young creatures — as young 
 and full of hope as she — were stricken down and gathered to their graves. 
 How many of the mounds in that old churchyard where she had lately strayed, 
 grew green above the graves of children ! And though she thought as a 
 child herself, and did not perhaps sufficiently consider to what a bright and 
 happy existence those who die young are borne, and how in death they lose 
 the pain of seeing others die around them, bearing to the tomb some strong 
 affection of their hearts (which makes the old die many times in one long life), 
 still she thought wisely enough, to draw a plain and easy moral from what 
 she had seen that night, and to store it, deep in her mind. 
 
 Her dreams were of the little scholar : not coffined and covered up, but 
 mingling with angels, and smiling happily. The sun darting liis cheerful rays 
 into the room, awoke her ; and now there remained but to take leave of the 
 poor schoolmaster and wander forth once more. 
 
 By the time they were ready to depart, school had begun. In the darkened 
 room, the din of yesterday was going on again : a little sobered and softened 
 down, perhaps, but only a very little, if at all. The schoolmaster rose from 
 his desk and walked with them to the gate. 
 
 It was with a trembling and reluctant hand, that the child held out to him 
 the money which the lady had given her at the races for her flowers : falter- 
 
236 Waster Humphrey's clock. 
 
 ing in her thanks as she thought how small the sum was, and blushing as she 
 offered it. But he bade her put it up, and stooping to kiss her cheek, turned 
 back into his house. 
 
 They had not gone half-a-dozen paces when he was at the door again ; the 
 old man retraced his steps to shake hands, and the child did the same. 
 
 " Good fortune and happiness go with you ! " said the poor schoolmaster. 
 " I am quite a solitary man now. If you ever pass this way again, you'll not 
 forget the little village-school." 
 
 " We shall never forget it, sir,"" rejoined Nell; "nor ever forget to be 
 grateful to you for your kindness to us." 
 
 " I have heard such words from the lips of children very often," said the 
 schoolmaster, shaking his head, and smiling thoughtfully, " but they were 
 soon forgotten. I had attached one young friend to me, the better friend for 
 being young — but that's over — God bless you !" 
 
 They bade him farewell very many times, and turned away, walking slowly 
 and often looking back, until they could see him no more. At length they 
 had left the village far behind, and even lost sight of the smoke among the 
 trees. They trudged onward now, at a quicker pace, resolving to keep the 
 main road, and go wherever it might lead them. 
 
 But main roads stretch a long, long way. With the exception of two or 
 three inconsiderable clusters of cottages which they passed, without stopping, 
 and one lonely road-side public -house where they had some bread and cheese, 
 this highway had led them to nothing— late in the afternoon— and still lengthened 
 out, far in the distance, the same dull, tedious, winding course, that they had 
 been pursuing all day. As they had no resource, however, but to go forward, 
 they still kept on, though at a much slower pace, being very weary and 
 fcitigued. 
 
 The afternoon had worn away into a beautiful evening, when they arrived 
 at a point where the road made a sharp turn and struck across a common. 
 On the border of this common, and close to the hedge which divided it from 
 the cultivated fields, a caravan was drawn up to rest ; upon which, by reason 
 of its situation, they came so suddenly that they could not have avoided it if 
 they would. 
 
 It was not a shabby, dingy, dusty cart, but a smart little house upon wheels, 
 with white dimity curtains festooning the windows, and window-shutters of 
 green picked out with panels of a staring red, in which happily-contrasted 
 colours the whole concern shone brilliant. Neither was it a poor caravan 
 drawn by a single donkey or emaciated horse, for a pair of horses in pretty 
 good condition were released from the shafts and grazing on the frouzy grass. 
 Neither was it a gipsy caravan, for at the open door (graced with a bright 
 brass knocker) sat a christian lady, stout and comfortable to look upon, who 
 wore a large bonnet trembling with bows. And that it was not an unpro- 
 vided or destitute caravan was clear from this lady's occupation, which was 
 the very pleasant and refreshing one of taking tea. The tea-things, including 
 a. bottle of rather suspicious character and a cold knuckle of ham, were set 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 237 
 
 forth upon a drum, covered with a white napkin ; and there, as if at the most 
 convenient round-table in all the world, sat this roving lady, taking her tea 
 and enjoying the prospect. 
 
 
 It happened that at that moment the lady of the caravan had her cup 
 (which, that everything about her might be of a stout and comfortable kind, 
 was a breakfast cup) to her lips, and that having her eyes lifted to the sky in 
 her enjoyment of the full flavour of the tea, not unmingled possibly with just 
 the slightest dash or gleam of something out of the suspicious bottle — but this 
 is mere speculation and not distinct matter of history — it happened that being 
 thus agreeably engaged, she did not see the travellers when they first came 
 up. It was not until she was in the act of setting down the cup, and draw- 
 ing a long breath after the exertion of causing its contents to disappear, that 
 the lady of the caravan beheld an old man and a young child walking slowly 
 by, and glancing at her proceedings with eyes of modest but hungry admi- 
 ration. 
 
 " Hey !" cried the lady of the caravan, scooping the crumbs out of her lap 
 and swallowing the same before wiping her lips. "Yes, to be sure. — Who won 
 the Heltcr-Skeltcr Plate, child V 
 
 " Won what, ma'am I" asked Nell. 
 
 " The Helter-Skelter Plate at the races, child — the plate that was run for 
 <m the second day." 
 
238 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " On the second day, ma"'am ?" 
 
 " Second day ! Yes, second day," repeated the lady with an air of impa- 
 tience. " Can't you say who won the Helter-Skelter Plate when you're asked 
 the question civilly V 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am."" 
 
 " Don't know !" repeated the lady of the caravan; " why, you were there. 
 I saw you with my own eyes." 
 
 Nell was not a little alarmed to hoar this, supposing that the lady might 
 be intimately acquainted with the firm of Short and Codlin ; but what followed 
 tended to reassure her. 
 
 " And very sorry I was," said the lady of the caravan, " to see you in com- 
 pany with a Punch ; a low, practical, wulgar wretch, that people should scorn 
 to look at." 
 
 " I was not there by choice," returned the child ; " we didn't know our vvay, 
 and the two men were veiy kind to us, and let us travel with them. Do you — 
 do you know them, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Know 'era, child ! " cried the lady of the caravan in a sort of shriek. 
 " Know them! But you're young and inexperienced, and that's your excuse 
 for asking sich a question. Do I look as if I know'd 'em, does the caravan 
 look as if it know'd 'em !" 
 
 " No, ma'am, no" said the child, fearing she had committed some grievous 
 fault. " I bog your pardon." 
 
 It was granted immediately, though the lady still appeared much ruffled and 
 discomposed by the degrading supposition. The child then explained that 
 they had left the races on the first day, and were travelling to the next town 
 on that road, where they purposed to spend the night. As the countenance 
 of the stout lady began to clear up, she ventured to inquire how far it was. 
 The reply — which the stout lady did not come to, until she had thoroughly 
 explained that she went to the races on the first day in a gig, and as 
 an expedition of pleasure, and that her presence there had no connexion 
 with any matters of business or profit — was, that the town was eight 
 miles off: 
 
 This discouraging information a little dashed the child, who could scarcely 
 repress a tear as she glanced along the darkening road. Her grandfather 
 made no complaint, but he sighed heavily as he leaned upon his staff", and 
 vainly tried to pierce the dusty distance. 
 
 The lady of the caravan was in the act of gathering her tea equipage 
 together preparatory to clearing the table, but noting the child's anxious 
 manner she hesitated and stopped. The child curtseyed, thanked her for 
 her information, and giving her hand to the old man had already got 
 some fifty yards or so, away, when the lady of the caravan called to her to 
 return. 
 
 " Come nearer, nearer still" — said she, beckoning to her to ascend the steps. 
 " Are you hungry, child 2" 
 
 " Not very, but we are tired, and it's — it is a long way " — 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 239 
 
 " Well, hungry or not, you had better have some tea," rejoined her new 
 ac(3[uaintance. " I suppose you are agreeable to that, old gentleman ? " 
 
 The grandfather humbly pulled off his hat and thanked her. The lady of 
 the caravan then bade him come up the steps likewise, but the drum proving 
 an inconvenient table for two, they descended again, and sat upon the grass, 
 where she handed down to them the tea-tray, the bread and butter, the 
 knuckle of ham, and in short everything of which she had partaken herself, 
 except the bottle which she had already embraced an opportunity of slipping 
 into her pocket. 
 
 " Set 'em out near the hind wheels, child, that's the best place " — said 
 their friend, superintending the arangements from above. " Now hand up 
 the teapot for a little more hot water, and a pinch of fresh tea, and then both 
 of you eat and drink as much as you can, and don't spare anything ; that's all 
 I ask of you." 
 
 They might perhaps have carried out the lady's wish, if it had been less 
 freely expressed, or even if it had not been expressed at all. But as this 
 direction relieved them from any shadow of delicacy or uneasiness, they made 
 a hearty meal and enjoyed it to the utmost. 
 
 While they were thus engaged, the lady of the caravan alighted on the 
 earth, and with her hands clasped behind her, and her large bonnet trembling 
 excessively, walked up and down in a measured tread and very stately 
 manner, surveying the caravan from time to time with an air of calm deliglit, 
 and deriving particular gratification from the red panels and the brass 
 knocker. When she had taken this gentle exercise for some time, she sat 
 down upon the steps and called " George ; " wliereupon a man in a carter's 
 frock, who had been so shrouded in a hedge up to this time as to see every- 
 thing that passed without being seen himself, parted the twigs that concealed 
 him, and appeared in a sitting attitude, supporting on his legs a baking-dish 
 and a half-gallon stone bottle, and bearing in his right hand a knife, and in his 
 left a fork. 
 
 " Yes Missus" — said George. 
 
 " How did you find the cold pie, George V 
 
 " It warn't amiss, mum." 
 
 " And the beer," said the lady of the caravan, with an appearance of being 
 more interested in this question than the last ; " is it passable, George V 
 
 " It's more flatterer than it might be," George returned, " but it an't so 
 bad for all that." 
 
 To set the mind of his mistress at rest, he took a sip (amounting in quan- 
 tity to a pint or thereabouts) from the stone bottle, and then smacked his 
 lips, winked his eye, and nodded his head. No doubt with the same amiable 
 desire, he immediately resumed his knife and fork, as a practical assurance 
 that the beer had wrought no bad effect upon his appetite. 
 
 The lady of the caravan looked on approvingly for some time, and then 
 said, 
 
 " Have you nearly finished l" 
 
240 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Wery nigh Mum." And indeed, after scraping the dish all round with 
 his knife and carrying the choice brown morsels to his mouth, and after taking 
 such a scientific pull at the stone bottle that, by degrees almost imperceptible 
 to the sight, his head went further and further back until he lay nearly at his 
 full length upon the ground, this gentleman declared himself quite disengaged, 
 and came forth from his retreat. 
 
 " I hope I haven't hurried you, George," said his mistress, who appeared to 
 have a great sympathy with his late pursuit. 
 
 " If you have," returned the follower, wisely reserving himself for any 
 favourable contingency that might occur, " we must make up for it next time, 
 thafs all." 
 
 " We are not a heavy load, George I" 
 
 " That's always what the ladies say," replied the man, looking a long way 
 round, as if he were appealing to Nature in general against such monstrous 
 propositions. " If you see a woman a driving, you'll always perceive that she 
 never will keep her whip still ; the horse can't go fast enough for her. If 
 cattle have got their proper load, you never can persuade a woman that they'll 
 not bear something more. What is the cause of this here !" 
 
 " Would these two travellers make much difference to the horses, if we took 
 them with us?" asked his mistress, offering no reply to the philosophical 
 inquiry, and pointing to Nell and the old man who were painfully preparing 
 to resume their journey on foot. 
 
 " They'd make a difference in course," said George doggedly. 
 
 " Would they make much difference ?" repeated his mistress. " They can't 
 be very heavy." 
 
 " The weight o' the pair, Mum," said George, eyeing them with the look of a 
 man who was calculating within half an ounce or so, " would be a trifle under 
 that of Oliver Cromwell." 
 
 Nell was very much surprised that the man should be so accurately 
 acquainted with the weight of one whom she had read of in books as having 
 lived considerably before their time, but speedily forgot the subject in the joy of 
 hearing that they were to go forward in the caravan, for which she thanked 
 its lady with unaffected earnestness. She helped with great readiness and 
 alacrity to put away the tea-things and other matters that were lying about, 
 and, the horses being by that time harnessed, mounted into the vehicle, followed 
 by her delighted grandfather. Their patroness then shut the door and sat 
 herself down by her drum at an open window ; and, the steps being struck by 
 George and stowed under the carriage, away they went, with a great noise of 
 flapping and creaking and straining ; and the bright brass knocker, which 
 nobody ever knocked at, knocking one perpetual double knock of its own 
 accord as they jolted heavily along. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 241 
 
 ®i^e (Bits ODuriositg ^fiop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. 
 
 When they had travelled slowly forward for some short distance, Nell ven- 
 tured to steal a look round the caravan and observe it more closely. One half 
 of it — that moiety in which the comfortable proprietress was then seated — was 
 carpeted, and so partitioned off at the further end as to accommodate a 
 sleeping-place, constructed after the fashion of a berth on board ship, which 
 was shaded, like the little windows, with fair white curtains, and looked com- 
 fortable enough, though by what kind of gymnastic exercise the lady of the 
 caravan ever contrived to get into it, was an unfathomable mystery. The 
 other half served for a kitchen, and was fitted up with a stove whose small 
 chimney passed through the roof. It held also a closet or larder, several chests, 
 a great pitcher of water, and a few cooking-utensils and articles of crockery. 
 These latter necessaries hung upon the walls, which, in that portion of the esta- 
 blishment devoted to the lady of the caravan, were ornamented with such gayer 
 and lighter decorations as a triangle and a couple of well-thumbed tambourines. 
 
 The lady of the caravan sat at one window in all the pride and poetry of the 
 musical instruments, and little Nell and her gi'andfather sat at the other in all 
 the humility of the kettle and saucepans, while the machine jogged on and 
 shifted the darkening prospect very slowly. At first the two travellers spoke 
 little, and only in whispers, but as they grew more familiar with the place they 
 ventured to converse with greater freedom, and talked about the country 
 through which they were passing, and the different objects that presented 
 themselves, until the old man fell asleep ; which the lady of the caravan 
 observing, invited Nell to come and sit beside her. 
 
 " Well child," she said, " how do you like this way of travelling?" 
 
 Nell replied that she thought it was very pleasant indeed, to which the lady 
 assented in the case of people who had their spirits. For herself, she said, she 
 W'as troubled with a lowness in that respect which required a constant stimulant ; 
 though whether the aforesaid stimulant was derived from the suspicious bottle 
 of which mention has been already made, or from other sources, she did not say. 
 
 " That''8 the happiness of you young people," she continued. " You don't 
 know what it is to be low in your feelings. You always have your appetites 
 too, and what a comfort that is." 
 
 Nell thought that she could sometimes dispense with her own appetite very 
 conveniently; and thought, moreover, that there was nothing eitlier in the 
 lady's personal appcai'ance or in her manner of taking tea, to lead to the con- 
 clusion that her natural relish for meat and drink had at all failed her. She 
 silently assented, however, as in duty bound, to what the lady had said, and 
 waited until she should speak again. 
 21. Y 
 
242 "MASTKR HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 Instead of speaking, however, she sat looking at the child for a long time in 
 silence, and then getting up, brought out from a corner a large roll of canvas 
 about a yard in width, which she laid upon the floor and spread open with her 
 foot until it nearly reached from one end of the caravan to the other. 
 
 " There child," she said, " read that." 
 
 Nell walked down it, and read aloud, in enormous black letters, the inscrip- 
 tion, " Jarley's Wax- Work." 
 
 " Read it again," said the lady, complacently. 
 
 " Jarley's Wax-Work," repeated Nell. 
 
 '' That's me," said the lady, " I am J\lrs. Jarley." 
 
 Giving the child an encouraging look, intended to reassure her and let her 
 know, that, although she stood in the presence of the original Jarley, she must 
 not allow herself to be uttci'ly overwhelmed and borne down, the lady of the 
 caravan unfolded another scroll, whereon was the inscription, " One hundred 
 figures the full size of life," and then another scroll, on which was written, 
 " The only stupendous collection of real wax- work in the world," and then 
 several smaller scrolls with such inscriptions as " Now exhibiting within" — 
 " The genuine and only Jarley" — " Jarley's unrivalled collection" — " Jarley is 
 the delight of the Nobility and Gentry" — " The E-oyal Family are the patrons 
 of Jarley." When she had exhibited these leviathans of public announcement 
 to the astonished child, she brought forth specimens of the lesser fry in the 
 shape of hand-bills, some of which were couched in the form of parodies on 
 popular melodies, as " Believe me if all Jarley's wax-work so rare" — " I saw^ 
 thy show in youthful prime" — " Over the water to Jarley ;" while, to consult 
 all tastes, others w'ere composed with a view to the lighter and more facetious 
 spirits, as a parody on the favourite air of " If I had a donkey," beginning 
 
 If I know'd a donkey wot wouldn't go 
 To see Mrs. Jarley's wax-work show- 
 Do you tliiuk I'd acknowledge him ? Oh no no ! 
 
 Then run to Jarley's — 
 
 — besides several compositions in prose, purporting to be dialogues between 
 the Emperor of China and an oyster, or the Archbishop of Canterbury and a 
 dissenter on the subject of diurch-rates, but all having the same moral, 
 namely, that the reader must make haste to Jarley's, and that children and 
 servants were admitted at half-price. When she had brought all these testi- 
 monials of her important position in society to bear upon her young companion, 
 Mrs. Jarley rolled them up, and having put them carefully away, sat down 
 again, and looked at the child in triumph. 
 
 " Never go into the company of a filthy Punch any more," said Mrs. Jarley, 
 " after this." 
 
 " I never saw any wax- work ma'am," said Nell. " Is it funnier than Punch V 
 
 " Funnier ! " said Mrs. Jarley in a shrill voice. " It is not funny at all."' 
 
 " Oh !" said Nell with all possible humility. 
 
 '■ It isn't funny at all," repeated Mrs. Jarley. " It's calm and — what's that 
 word again — critical? — no — classical, that's it — its calm and classical. No 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 243 
 
 low beatings and knockings about, no jokings and squeakings like your precious 
 Punches, but always the same, with a constantly unchanging air of coldness 
 and gentility ; and so like life, that if wax-work only spoke and walked about, 
 you'd hardly know the difference. I won't go so far as to say, that, as it is, I've 
 seen wax-work quite like life, but Tve certainly seen some life that was exactly 
 like wax-work." 
 
 "Is it here ma'am?" asked Nell, whose curiosity was awakened by this 
 description. 
 
 " Is what here, child ? " 
 
 " The wax-work, ma'am." 
 
 " Why bless, you, child, what are you thinking of — liow could such a collec- 
 tion be here, where you see everything except the inside of one little cupboard 
 and a few boxes ? It's gone on in the other wans to the assembly-rooms, and 
 there it'll be exhibited the day after to-morrow. You are going to the same 
 town, and you'll see it I dare say. It's natural to expect that you'll see it, 
 and I've no doubt you will. I suppose you couldn't stop away if you was to 
 try ever so much." 
 
 " I shall not be in the town. I think, ma'am," said the child. 
 
 *' Not there ! " cried !Mrs. Jarley. " Then where will you be V 
 
 " I — I — don't quite know. I am not certain." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you're travelling about the country without 
 knowing where you're going to ?" said the lady of the caravan. " What curious 
 people you are ! What line are you in 1 You looked to me at the races, child, 
 as if you were quite out of your element, and had got there by accident." 
 
 *' We were there quite by accident," returned Nell, confused by this abrupt 
 questioning. " We are poor people, ma'am, and are only wandering about. 
 We have nothing to do ; — I wish we had." 
 
 " You amaze me more and more," said Mrs. Jarley, after remaining for 
 some time as mute as one of her own figures. " Why, what do you call your- 
 selves ? Not beggars ?" 
 
 " Indeed ma'am, I don't know what else we are," returned the child. 
 
 " Lord bless me," said the lady of the caravan. " I never heard of such a 
 thing. Who'd have thought it ! " 
 
 She remained so long silent after this exclamation, that Nell feared she felt 
 her having been induced to bestow her protection and conversation upon 
 one so poor, to be an outrage upon her dignity that nothing could repair. 
 This persuasion was rather confirmed than otherwise by the tone in which she 
 at length broke silence and said, 
 
 " And yet you can read. And write too, I shouldn't wonder?" 
 
 " Yes ma'am," said the child, fearful of giving new offence by the confession. 
 
 " Well, and what a thing that is," returned Mrs. Jarley. " / can't ! " 
 
 Nell said " indeed " in a tone which might imply, cither that she was reason- 
 ably surprised to find the genuine and only Jarley, who was the delight of the 
 Nobility and Gentry and the peculiar pet of the Royal Family, destitute of these 
 famihar arts ; or tliat she presumed so great a lady could scarcely stand iu 
 
244 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 need of such ordinary accomplishments. In whatever way Mrs. Jarley received 
 the response, it did not provoke her to further questioning, or tempt her into 
 any more remarks at the time, for she relapsed into a thoughtful silence, and 
 remained in that state so long that Nell withdrew to the other window and 
 rejoined her grandfather, who was now awake. 
 
 At length the lady of the caravan shook off her fit of meditation, and, sum- 
 moning the driver to come under the window at which she was seated, held a 
 long conversation with him in a low tone of voice, as if she were asking his 
 advice on an important point, and discussing the pros and cons of some very 
 weighty matter. This conference at length concluded, she drew in her head 
 again, and beckoned Nell to approach. 
 
 " And the old gentleman too," said Mrs. Jarley ; " for I want to have a 
 word with him. Do you want a good situation for your grand-daughter, master ? 
 If you do, I can put her in the way of getting one. What do you say V 
 
 " I can't leave her," answered the old man. " We can't separate. What 
 would become of me without her 1" 
 
 " I should have thought you were old enough to take care of yourself, if 
 you ever will be,*' retorted Mrs. Jarley sharply. 
 
 " But he never will be," said the child in an earnest whisper. " I fear he 
 never will be again. Pray do not speak harshly to him. We are very thankful 
 to you," she added aloud ; " but neither of us could part from the other if 
 all the wealth of the world were halved between us." 
 
 Mrs. Jarley was a little disconcerted by this reception of her proposal, and 
 looked at the old man, who tenderly took Nell's hand and detained it in his 
 o^vn, as if she could have very well dispensed with his company or even his 
 earthly existence. After an awkward pause, she thrust her head out of the 
 window again, and had another conference with the driver upon some point on 
 Avhich they did not seem to agree quite so readily as on their former topic of 
 discussion ; but they concluded at last, and she addressed the grandfather 
 again. 
 
 " If you're really disposed to employ yourself," said Mrs. Jarley, *' there 
 would be plenty for you to do in the way of helping to dust the figures, and 
 take the checks, and so forth. What I want your grand-daughter for, is to 
 point 'em out to the company ; they would be soon learnt, and she has a way 
 with her that people wouldn't think unpleasant, though she does come after 
 me ; for I've been always accustomed to go round with visitors myself, which I 
 should keep on doing now, only that my spirits make a little ease absolutely 
 necessary. It's not a common offer, bear in mind," said the lady, rising into 
 the tone and manner in which she was accustomed to address her audiences ; 
 " it's Jarley's wax- work, remember. The duty's very light and genteel, the 
 company particular select, the exhibition takes place in assembly rooms, 
 town-halls, large rooms at inns, or auction galleries. There is none of your 
 open-air wagrancy at Jarley's, recollect ; there is no tarpaulin and sawdust at 
 Jarley's, remember. Every expectation held out in the handbills is realised to 
 the utmost, and the whole forms an effect of imposing brilliancy hitherto 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 245 
 
 unrivalled in this kingdom. Remember that the price of admission is only 
 sixpence, and that this is an opportunity which may never occur again !" 
 
 Descending from the sublime when she had reached this point, to the 
 details of common life, Mrs. Jarley remarked that with reference to salary 
 she could pledge herself to no specific sum until she had sufficiently tested 
 Nell's abilities, and narrowly watched her in the performance of her duties. 
 But board and lodging, both for her and her grandfather, she bound herself to 
 provide, and she furthermore passed her word that the board should always 
 be good in quality, and in quantity plentiful. 
 
 Nell and her grandfather consulted together, and while they were so 
 engaged, Mrs. Jarley with her hands behind her walked up and down the 
 caravan, as she had walked after tea on the dull earth, with uncommon dignity 
 and self-esteem. Nor will this appear so slight a circumstance as to be 
 unworthy of mention, when it is remembered that the caravan was in uneasy 
 motion all the time, and that none but a person of great natural stateliness 
 and acquired grace could have forborne to stagger. 
 
 " Now child," cried Mrs. Jarley, coming to a halt as Nell turned towards her. 
 
 " We are very much obliged to you ma"'am,'''' said Nell, " and thankfully 
 accept your offer.'"" 
 
 " And you'll never be sorry for it," returned Mrs. Jarley. " I'm pretty 
 sure of that. So as that's all settled, let us have a bit of supper." 
 
 In the meanwhile, the caravan blundered on as if it too had been drinking 
 strong beer and was drowsy, and came at last upon the paved streets of a 
 town which were clear of passengers, and quiet, for it was by this time near 
 midnight and the townspeople were all abed. As it was too late an hour to 
 repair to the exhibition room, they turned aside into a piece of waste ground 
 that lay just within the old town-gate,- and drew up there for the night, near 
 to another caravan, which, notwithstanding that it bore on the lawful pannel 
 the great name of Jarley, and was employed besides in conveying from place to 
 place the wax-work which was its country's pride, was designated by a grovel- 
 ling stamp-office as a " Common Stage Waggon," and numbered too — seven 
 thousand odd hundred — as though its precious freight were mere flour or 
 coals ! 
 
 This ill-used machine being empty (for it had deposited its burden at the 
 place of exhibition, and lingered here until its services were again required) 
 was assigned to the old man as his sleeping-place for the night ; and within its 
 wooden walls, Nell made him up the best bed she could, from the materials at 
 hand. For herself, she was to sleep in Mrs. Jarley's own travelling-carriage, 
 as a signal mark of that lady's favor and confidence. 
 
 She had taken leave of her grandfather and was returning to the other 
 waggon, when she was tempted by the pleasant coolness of the night to linger 
 for a little while in the air. The moon was siiining down upon the old gateway 
 of the town, leaving the low archway very black and dark ; and with a mingled 
 sensation of curiosity and fear, slie slowly approached the gate, and stood still to 
 look up at it, wondering to see how dark, and grim, and old, and cold, it looked. 
 
2i6 
 
 MASTER HUMPIIRF.Y'S CLOCK. 
 
 There was an empty niche from which some old statue had fallen or been 
 carried away hundreds of years ago, and she was thinking what strange people 
 it must have looked down upon when it stood there, and how many hard 
 struggles might have taken place, and how many murders might have been 
 done, upon that silent spot, when there suddenly emerged from the black shade 
 of the arch, a man. The instant he appeared, she recognized him — Who could 
 have failed to recognize, in that instant, the ugly mis-shapen Quilp ! 
 
 The street beyond was so narrow, and the shadow of the houses on one side 
 of the way so deep, that he seemed to have risen out of the earth. But there 
 he was. The child withdrew into a dark corner, and saw him pass close to 
 her. He had a stick in ^is hand, and, when he had got clear of the shadow of 
 the gateway, he leant upon it, looked back — directly, as it seemed, towards 
 where she stood — and beckoned. 
 
 To her 1 oh no, thank God, not to her ; for as she stood, in an extremity of 
 fear, hesitating whether to scream for help, or come from her hiding-place 
 and fly, before he should draw nearer, there issued slowly forth from the arch 
 another figure — that of a boy — who carried on his back a trunk. 
 
 " Faster, sirrah !" said Quilp, looking up at the old gateway, and showing 
 in the moonlig-ht like some monstrous image that had come down from its 
 niche and was casting a backward glance at its old house, " faster !" 
 
 " It's a dreadful heavy load, sir,'' the boy pleaded. " I've come on very 
 fast, considering." 
 
 " Yo7i have come fast, considering !" retorted Quilp ; " you creep, you dog, 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 247 
 
 you crawl, you measure distance like a worai. There are the chimes now, 
 half-past twelve." 
 
 He stopped to listen, and then turning upon the boy with a suddenness and 
 ferocity that made him start, asked at what hour that London coach passed 
 the comer of the road. The boy replied, at one. 
 
 " Come on then," said Quilp, " or I shall be too late. Faster — do you hear 
 me I Faster." 
 
 The boy made all the speed he could, and Quilp led onward, constantly 
 turning back to threaten him, and urge him to greater haste. Nell did not 
 dare to move until they were out of sight and hearing, and then hurried to 
 where she had left her grandfather, feeling as if the very passing of the dwarf 
 so near him must have filled him with alarm and terror. But he was sleeping 
 soundly, and she softly withdrew. 
 
 As she was making her way to her own bed, she determined to say nothing 
 of this adventure, as upon whatever errand the dwarf had come (and she 
 feared it must have been in search of them) it was clear by his enquiry about 
 the London coach that he was on his way homeward, and as he had passed 
 through that place, it was but reasonable to suppose that they were safer from 
 his enquiries there, than they could be elsewhere. These reflections did not 
 remove her own alarm, for she had been too much terrified to be easily com- 
 posed, and felt as if she were hemmed in by a legion of Quilps, and the very 
 air itself were filled with them. 
 
 The delight of the Nobility and Gentry and the patronized of Royalty had, 
 by some process of self-abridgment known only to herself, got into her travel- 
 ling bed, where she was snoring peacefully, while the large bonnet, carefully 
 disposed upon the drum, was revealing its glories by the light of a dim lamp 
 that swung from the roof. The child's bed was already made upon the floor, 
 and it was a great comfort to her to hear the steps removed as soon as she 
 had entered, and to know that all easy communication between persons out- 
 side and the brass knocker was by this means effectually prevented. Certain 
 guttural sounds, too, which from time to time ascended through the floor of the 
 caravan, and a rustling of straw in the same direction, apprised her that the 
 driver was couched upon the ground beneath, and gave her an additional 
 feeling of security. 
 
 Notwithstanding these protections, she could get none but broken sleep 
 by fits and starts all night, for fear of Quilp, who throughout her uneasy dreams 
 was somehow connected with the wax-work, or was wax-work himself, or was 
 Mrs. Jarley and wax-work too, or was himself, Mrs. Jarley, wax-work, and a 
 barrel organ all in one, and yet not exactly any of them either. At length, 
 towards break of day, that deep sleep came upon her which succeeds to weari- 
 ness and over-watching, and which has no consciousness but one of overpowering 
 and irresistible enjoyment 
 
•248 MASTEli IIUMPHREY-S CLOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. 
 
 Sleep hunj^ upon the eyelids of the child so long, that, when she awoke, Mrs. 
 Jarley was already decorated with her large bonnet, and actively engaged in 
 preparing breakfast. She received Nell's apology for being so late with 
 perfect good-humour, and said that she should not have roused her if she had 
 slept on until noon. 
 
 " Because it does you good," said the lady of the caravan, " when youVe 
 tired, to sleep as long as ever you can, and get the fatigue quite off; and that's 
 another blessing of your time of life — you can sleep so very sound." 
 
 " Have you had a bad night, ma''am V asked Nell. 
 
 " I seldom have anything else, child," replied Mrs. Jarley, with the air of a 
 martyr. " I sometimes wonder how 1 bear it." 
 
 Remembering the snores which had proceeded from that c :eft in the caravan 
 in which the proprietress of the wax- work passed the night, K<'1I rather thought 
 she must have been dreaming of lying awake. However, she expressed herself 
 very sorry to hear such a dismal account of her state of health, and shortly 
 afterwards sat down with her grandfather and Mrs. Jarley t > breakfast. The 
 meal finished, Nell assisted to wash the cups and saucers, and put them in their 
 proper places, and these household duties performed, Mrs. Jarljy arrayed herself 
 in an exceedingly bright shawl for the purpose of making a progress through 
 the streets of the town. 
 
 " The wan will come on to bring the boxes," said Mrs. Jarley, " and you 
 had better come in it, child. I am obliged to walk, very much against my 
 w^ill ; but the people expect it of me, and public characters can''t be their own 
 masters and mistresses in such matters as these. How do I look, child l" 
 
 Nell returned a satisfactory reply, and Mrs. Jarley, after sticking a great 
 many pins into various parts of her figure, and making several r.bortive attempts 
 to obtain a full view of her own back, was at last satisfied with her appearance, 
 and went forth majestically. 
 
 The caravan followed at no great distance. As it went jolting through the 
 streets, Nell peeped from the window, curious to see in what kind of place they 
 were, and yet fearful of encountering at every turn the dreaded face of Quilp. 
 It was a pretty large town, with an open square which they were crawling 
 slowly across, and in the middle of which was the Town-Hall, with a clock- 
 tower and a weathercock. There were houses of stone, houses of red brick, 
 houses of yellow brick, houses of lath and plaster ; and houses of wood, many 
 of them very old, with withered faces carved upon the beams, and staring down 
 into the street. These had very little winking windows, and low-arched doors, 
 and, in some of the narrower ways, quite overhung the pavement. The streets 
 were very clean, very sunny, very empty, and very dull. A few idle men 
 lounged about the two inns, and the empty market-place, and the tradesmen's 
 doors, and some old people were dozing in chairs outside an almshouse wall; 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 249 
 
 but scarcely any passengers who seemed bent on going anywhere, or to have 
 any object in view, went by ; and if perchance some straggler did, his foot- 
 steps echoed on the hot bright pavement for minutes afterwards. Nothing 
 seemed to be going on but the clocks, and they had such drowsy faces, such heavy 
 lazy hands, and such cracked voices, that they surely must have been too slow. 
 The very dogs were all asleep, and the flies, drunk with moist sugar in the 
 grocer's shop, forgot their wings and briskness, and baked to death in dusty 
 corners of the window. 
 
 Rumbling along with most unwonted noise, the caravan stopped at last at 
 the place of exhibition, where Nell dismounted amidst an admiring group of 
 children, who evidently supposed her to be an important item of the curiosities, 
 and were fully impressed with the belief that her grandfather was a cunning 
 device in wax. The chests were taken out with all convenient despatch, and 
 taken in to be unlocked by Mrs. Jarley, who, attended by George and another 
 man in velveteen shorts and a drab hat ornamented with turnpike tickets, 
 were waiting to dispose their contents (consisting of red festoons and other 
 ornamental devices in upholstery work) to the best advantage in the decora- 
 tion of the room. 
 
 They all got to work without loss of time, and very busy they were. As 
 the stupendous collection were yet concealed by cloths, lest the envious dust 
 should injure their complexions, Nell bestirred herself to assist in the embel- 
 lishment of the room, in which her grandfather also was of great service. The 
 two men being well used to it, did a great deal in a short time ; and Mrs. 
 Jarley served out the tin tacks from a linen pocket like a toll-collector's which 
 she wore for the purpose, and encouraged her assistants to renewed exertion. 
 
 While they were thus employed, a tallish gentleman with a hook nose and 
 black hair, dressed in a military surtout very short and tight in the sleeves, 
 and which had once been frogged and braided all over but was now sadly 
 shorn of its garniture and quite threadbare — dressed too in ancient grey 
 pantaloons fitting tight to the leg, and a pair of pumps in the winter of their 
 existence — looked in at the door, and smiled affably. Mrs. Jarley 's back 
 being then towards him, the military gentleman shook his fore-finger as a sign 
 that her myrmidons were not to apprise her of his presence, and stealing up 
 close behind her, tapped her on the neck, and cried playfully " Boh ! "' 
 
 *' What, Mr. Slum !" cried the lady of the wax- work. " Lor ! who'd have 
 thought of seeing you here !" 
 
 " 'Pon my soul and honour," said Mr. Slum, " that's a good remark. 'Pon 
 my soul and honour that's a wise remark. Who would have thought it ! 
 George, my faithful feller, how are you?" 
 
 George received this advance with a surly indifference, observing that ho 
 was well enough for the matter of that, and hammering lustily all the time. 
 
 " I came here," said the military gentleman turning to Mrs. Jarley, — " 'pon 
 my soul and honour I hardly know what I came here for. It would puzzle me 
 to tell you, it would by Gad. I wanted a little inspiration, a little freshening 
 up, a little change of ideas, and — —Ton my soul and honour," said the mili- 
 
250 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 tarv gentleman, checking himself and looking round the room, " what a 
 devilish classical thing this is ! By Gad, it's quite Minervian !" 
 
 " It'll look well enough when it comes to be finished," observed Mrs. Jailey. 
 
 *' Well enough ! " said Mr. Slum. "Will you believe me when I say it's 
 the delight of my life to have dabbled in poetry, when I tliink Fve exercised 
 my pen upon this charming theme ? By the way — any orders I Is there any 
 little thing I can do for you V 
 
 " It comes so very expensive, sir," replied Mrs. Jarley, " and I really don't 
 think it does much good." 
 
 " Hush ! No, no ! " returned Mr. Slum, elevating his hand. " No fibs. V\\ 
 not hear it. Don't say it don't do good. Don't say it. I know better !" 
 
 *' I don't think it does," said Mrs. Jarley. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " cried Mr. Slum, " you're giving way, you're coming down. Ask 
 the perfumers, ask the blacking-makers, ask the hatters, ask the old lott ory- 
 office-keepers — ask any man among 'em what my poetry has done for him, 
 and mark my words, he blesses the name of Slum. If he's an honest man, he 
 raises his eyes to heaven, and blesses the name of Slum — mark that ! You 
 are acquainted with Westminster Abbey, Mrs. Jarley V 
 
 " Yes, surely." 
 
 " Then upon my soul and honour, ma'am, you'll find in a certain anglo of 
 that dreary pile, called Poet's Corner, a few smaller names than Slum," 
 retorted that gentleman, tapping himself expressively on the forehead to imply 
 that there was some slight quantity of brains behind it. " I've got a little 
 trifle here, now," said Mr. Slum, taking off his hat which was full of scraj-s of 
 paper, " a little trifle here, thrown off in the heat of the moment, which I 
 should say was exactly the thing you wanted to set this place on fire with. 
 It's an acrostic — the name at this moment is Warren, but the idea's a con- 
 vertible one, and a positive inspiration for Jarley. Have the acrostic." 
 
 " I suppose it's very dear," said Mrs. Jarley. 
 
 " Five shillings," returned Mr. Slum, using his pencil as a tooth-pick. 
 " Cheaper than any prose." 
 
 " I couldn't give more than three," said Mrs. Jarley. 
 
 " — And six," retorted Slum. " Come. Thrce-and-six." 
 
 ^Irs. Jarley was not proof against the poet's insinuating manner, and Mr. 
 Slum entered the order in a small note-book as a tlu-ee-and-sixpenny one. 
 Mr. Slum then withdrew to alter the acrostic, after taking a most affectionate 
 leave of his patroness, and promising to return, a^ soon as he possibly could, 
 with a fair copy for the printer. 
 
 As his presence had not interfered with or interrupted the prepai'ations, 
 they w^ere now far advanced, and were completed shortly after his departure. 
 When the festoons were all put up as tastily as they might be, the stupendous 
 collection w-as uncovered, and there were displayed, on a raised platform some 
 two feet from the floor, running round the room and parted from the rude 
 public by a crimson rope breast high, divers sprightly effigies of celebrated 
 characters, singly and in groups, clad in glittering dresses of various climes 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 251 
 
 and times, and standing more or less unsteadily upon their legs, with their 
 eyes very wide open, and their nostrils very much inflated, and the muscles of 
 their legs and arms very strongly developed, and all their countenances 
 expressing great surprise. All the gentlemen were very pigeon-breasted and 
 very blue about the beards, and all the ladies were miraculous figures ; and 
 all the ladies and all the gentlemen were looking intensely nowhere, and 
 staring with extraordinary earnestness at nothing. 
 
 When Nell had exhausted her first raptures at this glorious sight, Mrs, 
 Jarley ordered the room to be cleared of all but herself and the child, and, 
 sitting herself down in an arm-chair in the centre, formally invested her with 
 a willow wand, long used by herself for pointing out the characters, and was 
 at great pains to instruct her in her duty. 
 
 
 ''*.:?' 
 
 " That," said Mrs. Jarley in her exhibition tone, as Nell touched a figure 
 at the beginning of the platform, " is an unfortunate Maid of Honor in the 
 Time of Queen Elizabeth, who died from pricking her finger in consequence 
 of working upon a Sunday. Observe the blood which is trickling from her 
 finger ; also the gold-eyed needle of the period, with which she is at work." 
 
 All this Nell repeated twice or thrice, pointing to the finger and the needle 
 at the right times, and then passed on to the next. 
 
 " That, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Jarley, " is Jasper Packlemerton 
 of atrocious memory, who courted and married fourteen wives, and destroyed 
 
2.52 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 thom all by tickling the soles of their feet when they was sleeping in the 
 consciousness of innocence and virtue. On being brought to the scaffold and 
 asked if he was sorry for what he had done, ho replied yes, he v/as sorry for 
 having let 'em off so easy, and hoped all Christian husbands would pardon him 
 the offence. Let this be a warning to all young ladies to be particular in the 
 character of the gentlemen of their choice. Observe that his fingers is curled 
 as if in the act of tickling, and that his face is represented with a wink, as he 
 appeared when committing his barbarous murders." 
 
 When Nell knew all about Mr. Packlemerton, and could say it without 
 faltering, Mrs. Jarley passed on to the ftit man, and then to the thin man, 
 the tall man, the short man, the old lady who died of dancing at a hundred 
 and thirty-two, the wild boy of the woods, the woman who poisoned fourteen 
 families with pickled walnuts, and other historical characters and interesting 
 but misguided individuals. And so well did Nell profit by her instructions, 
 and so apt was she to remember them, that by the time they had been shut up 
 together for a couple of hours, she was in full possession of the history of 
 the whole establishment, and perfectly competent to the enlightenment of 
 visitors. 
 
 Mrs. Jarley was not slow to express her admiration at this happy result, 
 and carried her young friend and pupil to inspect the remaining arrangements 
 within doors, by virtue of which the passage had been already converted into 
 a grove of green-baize hung with the inscriptions she had already seen (Mr. 
 Slum's productions), and a highly ornamented table placed at the upper end 
 for Mrs. Jarley herself, at which she was to preside and take the money, in 
 company with his Majesty King George the Third, Mr. Grimaldi as clown, 
 Mary Queen of Scots, an anonymous gentleman of the Quaker persuasion, 
 and Mr. Pitt holding in his hand a correct model of the bill for the impo- 
 sition of the window duty. The preparations Avithout doors had not been 
 neglected either ; for a nun of great personal attractions was telling her beads 
 on the little portico over the door ; and a brigand with the blackest possible 
 head of hair, and the clearest possible complexion, was at that moment going 
 round the town in a cart, consulting the miniature of a lady. 
 
 It now only remained that Mr. Slum's compositions should be judiciously 
 distributed ; that the pathetic effusions should find their way to all private 
 houses and tradespeople ; and that the parody commencing " If I knowM a 
 donkey,"" should be confined to the taverns, and circulated only among the 
 lawyers' clerks and choice spirits of the place. When this had been done, 
 and Mrs. Jarley had waited upon the boarding-schools in person, with a 
 handbill composed expressly for them, in which it was distinctly proved that 
 wax-work refined the mind, cultivated the taste, and enlarged the sphere of 
 the human understanding, that indefatigable lady sat down to dinner, and 
 drank out of the suspicious bottle to a flourishing campaign. 
 

 — '.-v"Ua _=— 
 
 
 N\\^ 
 
 C^E ©lij GTuriositP ^Dop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH. 
 
 NQUESTIONABLY Mrs. Jarley had an inventive genius. 
 In the midst of the various devices for attracting visiters 
 to the exhibition, httle Nell was not forgotten. The light 
 cart in which the Brigand usually made his perambulations 
 being gaily dressed with flags and streamers, and the 
 Brigand placed therein, contemplating the miniature of 
 his beloved as usual, Nell was accommodated with a seat beside him, deco- 
 rated with artificial flowers, and in this state and ceremony rode slowly through 
 the town every morning, dispersing handbills from a basket, to the sound of 
 drum and trumpet. The beauty of the child, coupled with her gentle and 
 timid bearing, produced quite a sensation in the little country place. The 
 Brigand, heretofore a source of exclusive interest in the streets, became a mere 
 secondary consideration, and to be important only as a part of the show of 
 which she was the chief attraction. Grown-up folks began to be interested in 
 the bright-eyed girl, and some score of little boys fell desperately in love, and 
 22. z 
 
254 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 constantly left inclosures of nuts and apples, directed in small-text, at the 
 wax- work door. 
 
 This desirable impression was not lost upon Mrs. Jarley, who, lest Nell 
 should become too cheap, soon sent the Brigand out alone again, and kept 
 her in the exhibition room, where she described the figures every half-hour to 
 the great satisfaction of admiring audiences. And these audiences were of a very 
 superior description, including a great many young ladies' boarding-schools, 
 whose favour Mrs. Jarley had been at great pains to conciliate, by altering 
 the face and costume of Mr. Grimaldi as clown to represent Mr. Lindley 
 Murray as he appeared when engaged in the composition of his English 
 Grammar, and turning a murderess of great renown into Mrs. Hannah 
 More — both of which likenesses were admitted by Miss Monflathers, who was 
 at the head of the head Boarding and Day Establishment in the town, and 
 who condescended to take a Private View with eight chosen young ladies, 
 to be quite startling from their extreme correctness. Mr. Pitt in a nightcap 
 and bedgown, and without his boots, represented the poet Cowper with 
 perfect exactness ; and Mary Queen of Scots in a dark wig, white shirt- 
 collar, and male attire, was such a complete image of Lord Byron that the 
 young ladies quite screamed when they saw it. Miss Monflathers, however, 
 rebuked this enthusiasm, and took occasion to reprove Mrs. Jarley for not 
 keeping her collection more select, observing that His Lordship had held 
 certain free opinions quite incompatible with wax-work honors, and adding 
 something about a Dean and Chapter, which Mrs. Jarley did not imder- 
 stand. 
 
 Although her duties were sufficiently laborious, Nell found in the lady of the 
 caravan a very kind and considerate person, who had not only a peculiar relish 
 for being comfortable herself, but for making everybody about her comfortable 
 also ; which latter taste, it may be remarked, is, even in persons who live in 
 much finei- places than caravans, a far more rare and uncommon one than the 
 first and is not by any means its necessary consequence. As her popularity 
 procured her various little fees from the visitors on which her patroness never 
 demanded any toll, and as her grandfather too was well-treated and useful, 
 she had no cause of anxiety in connexion with the wax-work, beyond that 
 which sprung from her recollection of Quilp, and her fears that he might 
 return and one day suddenly encounter them. 
 
 Quilp indeed was a perpetual nightmare to tlie child, who was constantly 
 haunted by a vision of his ugly face and stunted figure. She slept, for their 
 better security, in the room where the wax-work figures were, and she never 
 retired to this place at night but she tortured herself — she could not help it 
 — with imagining a resemblance, in some one or other of their death-like faces, 
 to the dwarf, and this fancy would sometimes so gain upon her that she would 
 almost believe he had removed the figure and stood within the clothes. Then 
 there were so many of them with their great glassy eyes — and, as they stood 
 one behind the other all about her bed, they looked so like living creatures, 
 and yet so imlikc in their grim stillness and silence, that she had a kind of 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. Zo5 
 
 terror of them for their own sakes, and would often lie watching their dusky 
 figures until she was obliged to rise and light a candle, or go and sit at the 
 open window and feel a companionship in the bright stars. At these times, 
 she would recal the old house and the window at which she used to sit alone ; 
 and then she would think of poor Kit and all his kindness, until the tears 
 came into her eyes, and she would weep and smile together. 
 
 Often and anxiously at this silent hour, her thoughts reverted to her grand- 
 father, and she would wonder how much he remembered of their former life, 
 and whether he was ever really mindful of the change in their condition and 
 of their late helplessness and destitution. When they were wandering about, 
 she seldom thought of this, but now she could not help considering what would 
 become of them if he fell sick, or her own strength were to fail her. He was 
 very patient and willing, happy to execute any little task, and glad to be of 
 use ; but he was in the same listless state, with no prospect of improvement — 
 a mere child — a poor, thoughtless, vacant creature — a harmless fond old man, 
 susceptible of tender love and regard for her, and of pleasant and painful 
 impressions, but alive to nothing more. It made her very sad to know that 
 this was so — so sad to see it that sometimes when he sat idly by, smiling and 
 nodding to her when she looked round, or when he caressed some little child 
 and carried it to and fro, as he was fond of doing by the hour together, per • 
 plexed by its simple questions, yet patient under his own infirmity, and seeming 
 almost conscious of it too, and humbled even before the mind of an infant — 
 so sad it made her to see him thus, that she would burst into tears, and, with- 
 drawing into some secret place, fall down upon her knees and pray that he 
 might be restored. 
 
 But the bitterness of her grief was not in beholding him in this condition, 
 when he was at least content and tranquil, nor in her solitary meditations on 
 his altered state, though these were trials for a young heart. Cause for deeper 
 and heavier sorrow was yet to come. 
 
 One evening, a holiday night with thera, Nell and her grandfather went 
 cut to walk. They had been rather closely confined for some days, and the 
 weather being warm, they strolled a long distance. Clear of the town, they 
 took a footpath which struck through some pleasant fields, judging that it 
 would terminate in the road they quitted and enable them to return that way. 
 It made, however, a much wider circuit than they had supposed, and thus they 
 were tempted onward until sunset, when they reached the track of which they 
 were in search, and stopped to rest. 
 
 It had been gradually getting overcast, and now the sky was dark and 
 lowering, save where the glory of the departing sun piled up masses of gold 
 and burning fire, decaying embers of which gleamed hero and there through 
 the black veil, and shone redly down upon the earth. The wind began to 
 moan in hollow murmurs, as the sun went down carrying glad day else- 
 where ; and a train of dull clouds coming up against it, menaced thunder and 
 lightning. Large drops of rain soon began to fall, and, as the storm clouds 
 came sailing onward, others supplied the void they left behind and spread 
 
256 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 over all the sky. Then was heard the low rumbling of distant thunder, then 
 the lightning quivered, and then the darkness of an hour seemed to have 
 gathered in an instant. 
 
 Fearful of taking shelter beneath a tree or hedge, the old man and the 
 child hurried along the high road, hoping to find some house in which they 
 could seek a refuge from the storm, which had now burst forth in earnest, 
 and every moment increased in violence. Drenched with the pelting rain, 
 confused by the deafening thunder, and bewildered by the glare of the 
 forked lightning, they would have passed a solitary house without being 
 aware of its vicinity, had not a man, who was standing at the door, called 
 lustily to them to enter. 
 
 " Your ears ought to be better than other folks"" at any rate, if you make 
 so little of the chance of being struck blind," he said, retreating from the 
 door and shading his eyes with his hands as the jagged lightning came again. 
 " What were you going past for, eh V he added, as he closed the door and led 
 the way along a passage to a room behind. 
 
 " We didn't see the house, sir, till we heard you calling," Nell replied. 
 
 *' No wonder," said the man, " with this lightning in one's eyes, by-the-by. 
 You had better stand by the fire hei'e, and dry yourselves a bit. You can 
 call for what you like if you want anything. If you don't want anything, 
 you're not obliged to give an order, don't be afraid of that. This is a 
 public-house, that's all. The Valiant Soldier is pretty well known here- 
 abouts." 
 
 " Is this house called the Valiant Soldier, sir V asked Nell. 
 
 " I thought everybody knew that," replied the landlord. " Where have 
 you come from, if you don't know the Valiant Soldier as well as the church 
 catechism ? This is the Valiant Soldier by James Groves, — Jem Groves — 
 honest Jem Groves, as is a man of unblemished moral character, and has a 
 good dry skittle ground. If any man has got anything to say again Jem 
 Groves, let him say it to Jem Groves, and Jem Groves can accommodate him 
 with a customer on any terms from four pound a side to forty." 
 
 With these words, the speaker tapped himself on the waistcoat to intimate 
 that he was the Jem Groves so highly eulogized, sparred scientifically at a 
 counterfeit Jem Groves, who was sparring at society in general from a black 
 frame over the chimney-piece, and applying a half-emptied glass of spirits and 
 water to his lips, drank Jem Groves's health. 
 
 The night being warm, there was a large screen drawn across the room, for 
 a barrier against the heat of the fire. It seemed as if somebody on the other 
 side of this screen had been insinuating doubts of Mr. Groves's prowess, and 
 had thereby given rise to these egotistical expressions, for Mr. Groves wound 
 up his defiance by giving a loud knock upon it with his knuckles and pausing 
 for a reply from the other side. 
 
 " There an't many men," said Mr. Groves, no answer being returned, 
 " who would ventur' to cross Jem Groves under his own roof. There's only 
 one man, I know, that has nerve enough for that, and that man's not a hundred 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 257 
 
 mile from here neither. But he's worth a dozen men, and I let him say of 
 me whatever he likes in consequence, — he knows that." 
 
 In return for this complimentary address, a very gruff hoarse voice bade 
 Mr. Groves " hold his noise and light a candle." And the same voice remarked 
 that the same gentleman " needn't waste his breath in brag, for most people 
 knew pretty well what sort of stuff he was made of." 
 
 " Nell, they're — they're playing cards," whispered the old man, suddenly 
 interested. " Don't you hear them V 
 
 " Look sharp with that candle," said the voice ; " it's as much as I can 
 do to see the pips on the cards as it is ; and get this shutter closed as 
 quick as you can, will you? Your beer will be the worse for to-night's 
 thunder I expect. — Game. Seven-and-sixpence to me, old Isaac. Hand 
 over." 
 
 " Do you hear, Nell, do you hear them V whispered the old man again, 
 with increased earnestness, as the money chinked upon the table. 
 
 " I haven't seen such a storm as this," said a sharp cracked voice of most 
 disagreeable quality, when a tremendous peal of thunder had died away, 
 " since the night when old Luke Withers won thirteen times running, upon 
 the red. We all said he had the Devil's luck and his own, and as it was the 
 kind of night for the Devil to be out and busy, I suppose he teas looking over 
 his shoulder, if any body could have seen him." 
 
 " Ah !" returned the gruff voice ; " for all old Luke's winning through 
 thick and thin of late years, I remember the time when he was the unluckiest 
 and unfortunatest of men. He never took a dice-box in his hand, or held a 
 card, but he was plucked, pigeoned, and cleaned out completely." 
 
 " Do you hear what he says V whispered the old man. " Do you hear 
 that, Nell ?" 
 
 The child saw with astonishment and alarm that his whole appearance 
 had undergone a complete change. His face was flushed and eager, his 
 eyes were strained, his teeth set, his breath came short and thick, and the 
 hand he laid upon her arm trembled so violently that she shook beneath 
 its grasp. 
 
 " Bear witness," he muttered, looking upward, " that I always said it ; 
 that I knew it, dreamed of it, felt it was the truth, and that it must be so ! 
 What money have we, Nell 1 Come, I saw you with money yesterday. What 
 money have we ? Give it to me." 
 
 " No, no, let me keep it, grandfather," said the frightened child. " Let us 
 go away from here. Do not mind the rain. Pray let us go." 
 
 " Give it to me, I say," returned the old man fiercely. " Hush, hush, don't 
 cry, Nell. If I spoke sharply, dear, I didn't mean it. It's for thy good. I 
 have wronged thee, Nell, but I will right thee yet, I will indeed. Where is 
 the money ?" 
 
 " Do not take it," said the child. " Pray do not take it, dear. For both 
 our sakes let me keep it, or let me throw it away — better let me throw it 
 away, than you take it now. Let us go ; do let us go." 
 
258 MASTER HUMPHREYS CLOCK. 
 
 " Give me the money," returned the old man, " I must have it. There- 
 there — that's my dear Nell. I'll right thee one day, child, I'll right thee, 
 never fear !" 
 
 She took from her pocket a little purse. He seized it with the same 
 rapid impatience which had characterized his speech, and hastily made his 
 way to the other side of the screen. It was impossible to restrain him, and 
 the trembling child followed close behind. 
 
 The landlord had placed a light upon the table, and was engaged in draw- 
 ing the curtain of the window. The speakers whom they had heard were two 
 men, who had a pack of cards and some silver money between them, while 
 upon the screen itself the games they had played were scored in chalk. The 
 man with the rough voice was a burly fellow of middle age, with large black 
 whiskers, broad cheeks, a coarse wide mouth, and bull neck, which was pretty 
 freely displayed as his shirt collar was only confined by a loose red neckerchief. 
 He wore his hat, which was of a brownish-white, and had beside him a thick 
 knotted stick. The other man, whom his companion had called Isaac, was of 
 a more slender figure — stooping, and high in the shoulders — with a very 
 ill-favoured face, and a most sinister and villanous squint. 
 
 " Now old gentleman," said Isaac, looking round. " Do you know either 
 of us ? This side of the screen is private, sir." 
 
 " No offence, I hope," returned the old man. 
 
 " But by G — , sir, there is offence," said the other interrupting him, 
 *' when you intrude yourself upon a couple of gentlemen who are particularly 
 engaged." 
 
 " I had no intention to offend," said the old man, looking anxiously at the 
 cards, " I thought that — " 
 
 " But you had no right to think, sir," retorted the other. " What the 
 devil has a man at your time of life to do with thinking V 
 
 " Now bully boy," said the stout man, raising his eyes from his cards for 
 the first time, " can't you let him speak I" 
 
 The landlord, who had apparently resolved to remain neutral until he knew 
 which side of the question the stout man would espouse, chimed in at this 
 place with " Ah, to be sure, can't you let him speak, Isaac List V 
 
 " Can't I let him speak," sneered Isaac in reply, mimicking as nearly as he 
 could, in his shrill voice, the tones of the landlord. " Yes, I can let him speak, 
 Jemmy Groves." 
 
 " Well then, do it, will you V said the landlord. 
 
 Mr. List's squint assumed a portentous character, which seemed to threaten 
 a prolongation of this controversy, when his companion, who had been looking 
 sharply at the old man, put a timely stop to it. 
 
 " Who knows," said he, with a cunning look, " but the gentleman may 
 have civilly meant to ask if he might have the honour to take a hand 
 with us !" 
 
 " I did mean it," cried the old man. " That is what I mean. That is 
 what I want now !" 
 
MASTER HUiMPHREY'S CLOCK. 259 
 
 " I thought 60," returned the same man. " Then who knows but the 
 gentleman, anticipating our objection to play for love, civilly desired to play 
 for money V 
 
 The old man repUed by shaking the little purse in his eager hand, and then 
 throwing it down upon the table, and gathering up the cards as a miser would 
 clutch at gold. 
 
 " Oh ! That indeed—" said Isaac ; " if that's what the gentleman meant, I 
 beg the gentleman's pardon. Is this the gentleman's Httle purse ? A very 
 pretty little purse. Eather a light purse," added Isaac, throwing it into the 
 air and catching it dexterously, " but enough to amuse a gentleman for half 
 an hour or so." 
 
 " We'll make a four-handed game of it, and take in Groves," said the stout 
 man. " Come Jemmy." 
 
 The landlord, who conducted himself like one who was well used to such 
 little parties, approached the table and took his seat. The child, in a perfect 
 agony, drew her grandfather aside, and implored him, even then, to come 
 away. 
 
 " Come ; and we may be so happy," said the child. 
 
 " We will be happy," replied the old man hastily. " Let me go, Nell. 
 The means of happiness are on the cards and in the dice. We must rise 
 from little winnings to great. There's little to be won here ; but great 
 will come in time. I shall but win back my own, and it's all for thee, my 
 darling." 
 
 " God help us !" cried the child. " Oh ! what hard fortune brought us 
 here !" 
 
 " Hush !" rejoined the old man laying his hand upon her mouth, " fortune 
 will not bear chiding. We must not reproach her, or she shuns us ; I have 
 found that out." 
 
 " Now, mister," said the stout man. " If you're not coming yourself, give 
 us the cards, will you V 
 
 " I am coming," cried the old man. " Sit thee down, Nell, sit thee down 
 and look on. Be of good heart, it's all for thee — all — every penny. I don't 
 tell them, no, no, or else they wouldn't play, dreading the chance that such a 
 cause must give me. Look at them. See what they are and what thou art. 
 Who doubts that we must win !" 
 
 " The gentleman has thought better of it, and isn't coming," said Isaac, 
 making as though ho would rise from the table. " I'm sorry the gentle- 
 man's daunted — nothing venture, nothing have — but the gentleman loiows 
 best." 
 
 " Why I am ready. You have alt been slow but me," said tho old man. 
 *' I wonder who's more anxious to begin than I." 
 
 As he spoke he drew a chair to the table ; and the other three closing round 
 it at the same time, the game commenced. 
 
 The ehild sat by, and watched its progress with a troubled mind. Regard- 
 less of the run of luck, and mindful only of the desperate passion which had its 
 
260 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 hold upon her grandfather, losses and gains were to her alike. Exulting in 
 some brief triumph, or cast down by a defeat, there he sat so wild and rest- 
 less, so feverishly and intensely anxious, so terribly eager, so ravenous for the 
 paltry stakes, that she could have almost better borne to see him dead. And 
 yet she was the innocent cause of all this torture, and he, gambling with Euch a 
 savage thirst for gain as the most insatiable gambler never felt, had not one 
 selfish thought ! 
 
 On the contrary, the other three — knaves and gamesters by their trade 
 —while intent upon their game, were yet as cool and quiet as if every virtue 
 had been centred in their breasts. Sometimes one would look up to smile to 
 another, or to snuff the feeble candle, or to glance at the lightning as it shot 
 through the open window and fluttering curtain, or to listen to some louder 
 peal of thunder than the rest, with a kind of momentary impatience, as if it 
 put him out ; but there they sat, with a calm indifference to everything but 
 their cards, perfect philosophers in appearance, and with no greater show of 
 passion or excitement than if they had been made of stone. 
 
 The storm had raged for full three hours ; the lightning had grown fainter 
 and less frequent ; the thunder, from seeming to roll and break above their 
 heads, had gradually died away into a deep hoarse distance; and still the 
 game went on, and still the anxious child was quite forgotten. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 261 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. 
 
 At length the play came to an end, and Mr. Isaac List rose the only winner. 
 Mat and the landlord bore their losses with professional fortitude. Isaac 
 pocketed his gains with the air of a man who had quite made up iiis mind to 
 win, all along, and was neither surprised nor pleased. 
 
 Nell's little purse was exhausted ; but, although it lay empty by his 
 side, and the other players had now risen from the table, the old man sat 
 poring over the cards, dealing them as they had been dealt before, and 
 turning up the different hands to see what each man would have held if they 
 had still been playing. He was quite absorbed in this occupation, when the 
 child drew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder, telling him it was near 
 midnight. 
 
 " See the curse of poverty, Nell," he said, pointing to the packs he had 
 spread out upon the table. " If I could have gone on a little longer, only a 
 little longer, the luck would have turned on my side. Yes, it's as plain as the 
 marks upon the cards. See here — and there — and here again." 
 
 " Put them away," urged the child. " Try to forget them." 
 
 " Try to forget them ! " he rejoined, raising his haggard face to hers, and 
 regarding her with an incredulous stare. " To forget them ! How are we 
 ever to grow rich if I forget them l" 
 
 The child could only shake her head. 
 
 " No, no, Nell," said the old man, patting her cheek ; " they must not be 
 forgotten. We must make amends for this as soon as we can. Patience — 
 patience, and we'll right thee yet, I promise thee. Lose to-day, win to- 
 morrow. And nothing can be won without anxiety and care — nothing. Come, 
 I am ready." 
 
 " Do you know what the time is?" said Mr. Groves, who was smoking with 
 his friends. " Past twelve o'clock — " 
 
 — " And a rainy night," added the stout man. 
 
 " The Valiant Soldier, by James Groves. Good beds. Cheap entertain- 
 ment for man and beast," said Mr. Groves, quoting his sign-board. " Half- 
 past twelve o'clock." 
 
 " It's very late," said the uneasy child. *' I wish we had gone before. What 
 will they think of us ! It will be two o'clock by the time we get back. What 
 would it cost, sir, if we stopped here 1 " 
 
 " Two good beds, one-and-sixpence ; supper and beer one shilling ; total, 
 two shillings and sixpence," replied the Valiant Soldier. 
 
 Now, Nell had still the piece of gold sewn in her dress; and when she came 
 to consider the lateness of the hour, and the somnolent habits of Mrs. Jarley, 
 and to imagine the state of consternation in which they would certainly throw 
 that good lady by knocking her up in the middle of the night — and when she 
 
2G2 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 reflected, on the other hand, that if they remained where they were, and rose 
 early in the morning, they might get back before she awoke, and could plead 
 the violence of the storm by which they had been overtaken, as a good apology 
 for their absence— she decided, after a great deal of hesitation, to remain. She 
 therefore took her grandfather aside, and telling him that she had still enough 
 left to defray the cost of their lodging, proposed that they should stay there 
 for the night. 
 
 " If I had had but that money before — If I had only knovm of it a few 
 minutes ago ! " muttered the old man. 
 
 " We will decide to stop here if you please," said Nell, turning hastily to 
 the landlord. 
 
 " I think that's prudent,"" returned Mr. Groves. You shall have your 
 suppers directly." 
 
 Accordingly, when Mr. Groves had smoked his pipe out, knocked out the 
 ashes, and placed it carefully in a corner of the fire-place, with the bowl 
 downwards, he brought in the bread and cheese, and beer, with many high 
 encomiums upon their excellence, and bade his guests to fall to, and make 
 themselves at home. Nell and her gi-andfather ate sparingly, for both were 
 occupied with their own reflections ; the other gentlemen, for whose constitu- 
 tions beer was too weak and tame a liquid, consoled themselves with spirits 
 and tobacco. 
 
 As they would leave the house very early in the morning, the child was 
 anxious to pay for their entertainment before they retired to bed. But as she 
 felt the necessity of concealing her little hoard from her grandfather, and had 
 to change the piece of gold, she took it secretly from its place of concealment, 
 and embraced an opportunity of following the landlord when he went out of 
 the room, and tendered it to him in the little bar. 
 
 " Will you give me the change here, if you please V said the child. 
 
 Mr. James Groves was evidently surprised, and looked at the money, and 
 rung it, and looked at the child, and at the money again, as though he had a 
 mind to inquire how she came by it. The coin being genuine, however, and 
 changed at his house, he probably felt, like a wise landlord, that it was no 
 business of his. At any rate, he counted out the change, and gave it her. The 
 child was returning to the room where they had passed the evening, when she 
 fancied she saw a figure just gliding in at the door. There was nothing but a 
 long dark passage between this door and the place where she had changed the 
 money, and, being very certain that no person had passed in or out while she 
 stood there, the thought struck her that she had been watched. 
 
 But by whom? AVhen she re-entered the room, she found its inmates 
 exactly as she had left them. The stout fellow lay upon two chairs, resting 
 his head on his hand, and the squinting man reposed in a similar attitude on 
 the opposite side of the table. Between them sat her grandfather, looking 
 intently at the winner with a kind of hungry admiration, and hanging upon his 
 words as if he were some superior being. She was puzzled for a moment, and 
 looked round to see if any one else were there. No. Then she asked her 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 263 
 
 grandfather in a whisper whether anybody had left the room while she was 
 absent. " No," he said, " nobody." 
 
 It must have been her fancy then ; and yet it was strange, that, without any- 
 thuag in her previous thoughts to lead to it, she should have imagined this 
 figure so very distinctly. She was stUl wondering and thinking of it, when a 
 ffirl came to light her to bed. 
 
 The old man took leave of the company at the same time, and they went up 
 stairs together. It was a great, rambling house, with dull corridors and wide 
 staircases which the flaring candles seemed to make more gloomy. She left 
 her grandfather in his chamber, and followed her guide to another, which 
 was at the end of a passage, and approached by some half-dozen crazy 
 steps. This was prepared for her. The girl lingered a Httle while to talk, 
 and tell her grievances. She had not a good place, she said; the wages 
 were low, and the work was hard. She was going to leave it in a fortnight ; 
 the child couldn't recommend her to another, she supposed ? Indeed she was 
 afraid another would be difficult to get after li\ang there, for the house had a 
 very indifferent character ; there was far too much card-playing, and such like. 
 She was very much mistaken if some of the people who came there oftenest 
 were quite as honest as they might be, but she wouldn't have it kno\\Ti that she 
 had said so, for the world. Then there were some rambling allusions to a 
 rejected sweetheart, who had threatened to go a soldiering— a final promise of 
 knocking at the door early in the morning — and " Good night." 
 
 The child did not feel comfortable when she was left alone. She could not 
 help thinking of the figure stealing through the passage down stairs ; and what 
 the girl had said did not tend to reassure her. The men were very ill-looking. 
 They might get their living by robbing and murdering travellers. Who could 
 teU? 
 
 Reasoning herself out of these fears, or losing sight of them for a little while, 
 there came the anxiety to which the adventures of the night gave rise. Here 
 was the old passion awakened again in her grandfather's breast, and to what 
 further distraction it might tempt him Heaven only knew. What fears their 
 absence might have occasioned already ! Persons might be seeking for them 
 even then. Would they be forgiven in the morning, or turned adrift again 2 
 Oh ! why had they stopped in that strange place. It would have been better, 
 under any circumstances, to have gone on ! 
 
 At last, sleep gradually stole upon her — a broken, fitful sleep, troubled by 
 dreams of falling from high towers, and waking with a start and in great 
 
 terror. A deeper slumber followed this — and then \Vhat ! That figure 
 
 in the room ! 
 
 A figure was there. Yes, she had drawn up the blind to admit the light 
 when it should dawn, and there, between the foot of the bed and the dark case- 
 ment, it crouched and slunk along, groping its way with noiseless hands, and 
 stealing round the bed. She had no voice to cry for help, no power to move, 
 but lay still, watching it. 
 
 On it came — on, silently and stealthily, to the bed's head. The breath so 
 
264< MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 near her pillow, that she shrunk back into it, lest those wandering hands should 
 light upon her face. Back again it stole to the window — then turned its head 
 towards her. 
 
 The dark form was a mere blot upon the lighter dai'kness of the room, but 
 she saw the turning of the head, and felt and knew how the eyes looked and 
 the ears listened. There it remained, motionless as she. At length, still 
 keeping the face towards her, it busied its hands in something, and she heard 
 the chink of money. 
 
 Then, on it came again, silent and stealthy as before, and, replacing the 
 garments it had taken from the bed-side, dropped upon its hands and knees, 
 and crawled away. How slowly it seemed to move, now that she could hear 
 but not see it, creeping along the floor ! It reached the door at last, and stood 
 upon its feet. The steps creaked beneath its noiseless tread, and it was 
 gone. 
 
 The first impulse of the child was to fly from the terror of being by herself 
 in that room — to have somebody by — not to be alone — and then her power of 
 speech would be restored. With no consciousness of having moved, she gained 
 the door. 
 
 There was the dreadful shadow, pausing at the bottom of the steps. 
 
 She could not pass it ; she might have done so, perhaps, in the darkness, 
 without being seized, but her blood curdled at the thought. The figure stood 
 quite still, and so did she ; not boldly, but of necessity ; for going back into the 
 room was hardly less terrible than going on. 
 
 The rain beat fast and furiously without, and ran down in plashing streams 
 from the thatched roof. Some summer insect, with no escape into the air, 
 flew blindly to and fro, beating his body against the walls and ceiling, and 
 filling the silent place with his murmurs. The figure moved again. The child 
 involuntarily did the same. Once in her grandfather's room, she would be 
 safe. 
 
 It crept along the passage until it came to the very door she longed so 
 ardently to reach. The child, in the agony of being so near, had almost 
 darted forward with the design of bursting into the room and closing it behind 
 her, when the figure stopped again. 
 
 The idea flashed suddenly upon her — what if it entered there, and had a 
 design upon the old man''s life ! She turned faint and sick. It did. It 
 went in. There was a light inside. The figure was now within the chamber, 
 and she, still dumb — quite dumb, and almost senseless — stood looking on. 
 
 The door was partly open. Not knowing what she meant to do, but meaning 
 to preserve him or be killed herself, she staggered forward and looked in. 
 What sight was that wliich met her view ! 
 
 The bed had not been lain on, but was smooth and empty. And at a table sat 
 the old man himself, the only living creature there, his white face pinched and 
 sharpened by the greediness which made his eyes unnaturally bright, counting 
 the money of which his hands had robbed her. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 265 
 
 '^f^z Ola OTuriositg ^jbop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST. 
 
 With steps more faltering and misteady than those with which she had 
 approached the room, the child withdrew from the door, and groped her v,ay 
 back to her own chamber. The terror she had lately felt was notliing com- 
 pared with that which now oppressed her. No strange robber, no treacherous 
 host conniving at the plunder of his guests, or stealing to their beds to kill 
 them in their sleep, no nightly prowler, however terrible and cruel, could have 
 awakened in her bosom half the dread which the recognition of her silent visitor 
 inspired. The grey-headed old man gliding like a ghost into her room and 
 acting the thief while he supposed her fast asleep, then bearing off his prize 
 and hanging over it with the ghastly exultation she had witnessed, was worse 
 — immeasurably worse, and far more dreadful, for the moment, to reflect upon 
 —than anything her wildest fancy could have suggested. If he should return — 
 there was no lock or bolt upon the door, and if, distrustful of having left some 
 money yet behind, he should come back to seek for more — a vague awe and 
 horror surrounded the idea of his slinking in again with stealthy tread, and 
 turning his face toward the empty bed, while she shrank down close at his 
 feet to avoid his touch, which was almost insupportable. She sat and listened. 
 Hark ! A footstep on the stairs, and now the door was slowly opening. It 
 was but imagination, yet imagination had all the terrors of reality ; nay, it 
 was worse, for the reality would have come and gone, and there an end, but 
 in imagination it was always coming, and never went away. 
 
 The feeling which beset the child was one of dim uncertain horror. She 
 had no fear of the dear old grandfather, in whose love for her this disease of 
 the brain had been engendered ; but the man she had seen that night, A\Tapt 
 in the game of chance, lurking in her room, and counting the money by the 
 glimmering light, seemed like another creature in his shape, a monstrous dis- 
 tortion of his image, a something to recoil from, and be the more afraid of, 
 because it bore a likeness to him, and kept close about her, as he did. She 
 could scarcely connect her own affectionate companion, save by his loss, with 
 this old man, so like yet so unlike him. She had wept to see him dull and 
 quiet. How much greater cause she had for weeping now ! 
 
 The child sat watching and thinking of these things, until the phantom in 
 her mind so increased in gloom and terror, that she felt it would bo a relief to 
 hear the old man's voice, or, if ho were asleep, even to see him, and banish 
 some of the fears that clustered round his image. She stole down the stairs 
 and passage again. The door was still ajar as she had left it, and the candle 
 burning as before. 
 
 She had her own candle in her hand, prepared to say, if he were waking, 
 
 23. A A 
 
266 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 that she was uneasy and could not rest, and, had come to see if his were 
 still alight. Looking into the room, she saw him lying calmly on his bed, 
 and so took courage to enter. 
 
 Fast asleep — no passion in the face, no avarice, no anxiety, no wild desire ; 
 all gentle, tranquil, and at peace. This was not the gambler, or the shadow 
 in her room ; this was not even the worn and jaded man whose face had so 
 often met her own in the grey morning light ; this was her dear old friend, 
 her harmless fellow-traveller, her good, kind grandfather. 
 
 She had no fear as she looked upon his slumbering features, but she had 
 a deep and v/eighty sorrow, and it found its relief in tears. 
 
 " God bless him !"" said the child, stooping softly to kiss his placid cheek. 
 " I see too well now, that they would indeed part us if they found us out, and 
 shut him up from the light of the sun and sky. He has only me to help him. 
 God bless us both !" 
 
 Lighting her candle, she retreated as silently as she had come, and, gaining 
 her own room once more, sat up during the remainder of that long, long, 
 miserable night. 
 
 At last the day turned her waning candle pale, and she fell asleep. She 
 was quickly roused by the girl who had shown her up to bed ; and, as soon as 
 she was dressed, prepared to go down to her grandfather. But first she 
 searched her pocket and found that her money was all gone — not a sixpence 
 remained. 
 
 The old man was ready, and in a few seconds they were on their road. 
 The child thought he rather avoided her eye, and appeared to expect that 
 she would tell him of her loss. She felt she must do that, or he might 
 suspect the truth. 
 
 " Grandfather," she said in a tremulous voice, after they had walked about 
 a mile in silence, " do you think they are honest people at the house yonder V 
 
 " Whyf returned the old man trembling. " Do I think them honest — 
 yes, they played honestly." 
 
 " I'll tell you why I ask," rejoined Nell. " I lost some money last night — 
 out of my bedroom I am sure. Unless it was taken by somebody in jest — 
 only in jest, dear grandfather, which would make me laugh heartily if I could 
 but know it — " 
 
 " Who w.ould take money in jest V returned the old man in a hurried 
 manner. " Those who take money, take it to keep. Don't talk of jest." 
 
 " Then it was stolen out of my room, dear," said the child, whose last hope 
 was destroyed by the manner of this reply. 
 
 " But is there no more, Nell?" said the old man; "no more anywhere? 
 Was it all taken — every farthing of it — was there nothing left I" 
 
 " Nothing," replied the child. 
 
 " We must get more," said the old man, " we must earn it, Nell, hoard it 
 up, scrape it together, come by it somehow. Never mind this loss. Tell 
 nobody of it, and perhaps we may regain it. Don't ask how ; — we may regain 
 it, and a great deal more ; — but tell nobody, or trouble may come of it. And 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 2G7 
 
 SO they took it out of thy room, when thou wert asleep !" he added in a com- 
 passionate tone, very different from the secret, cunning way in which he had 
 spoken until now. " Poor Nell, poor little Nell !" 
 
 The child hung down her head and wept. The sympathising tone in which 
 he spoke, was quite sincere ; she was sure of that. It was not the lightest 
 part of her sorrow to know that this was done for her. 
 
 " Not a word about it to any one but me,"" said the old man, " no, not 
 even to me," he added hastily, " for it can do no good. All the losses that 
 ever were, are not worth tears from thy eyes, darling. Why should they be, 
 when we will win them back I" 
 
 " Let them go," said the child looking up. " Let them go, once and for 
 ever, and I would never shed another tear if every penny had been a thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 " Well, well," returned the old man, checking himself as some impetuous 
 answer rose to his lips, " she knows no better. I should be thankful for it." 
 
 " But listen to me," said the child earnestly, " will you listen to me I" 
 
 *' Aye, aye, I'll listen," returned the old man, still without looking at her ; 
 " a pretty voice. It has always a sweet sound to me. It always had when it 
 was her mother's, poor child." 
 
 " Let me persuade you, then, — oh, do let me persuade you," said the child, 
 " to think no more of gains or losses, and to try no fortune but the fortune 
 we pursue together." 
 
 *' We pursue this aim together," retorted her grandfather, still looking 
 away and seeming to confer with himself. " Whose image sanctifies the 
 game V 
 
 " Have we been worse off," resumed the child, " since you forgot these 
 cares, and we have been travelling on together ? Have we not been much better 
 and happier without a home to shelter us, than ever we were in that unhappy 
 house, when they were on your mind V 
 
 " She speaks the truth," murmured the old man in the same tone as before. 
 *' It must not turn me, but it is the truth — no doubt it is." 
 
 " Only remember what we have been since that bright morning when we 
 turned our backs upon it for the last time," said Nell, " only remember what 
 we have been since we have been free of all those miseries — what peaceful days 
 and quiet nights we have had — what pleasant times we have known — what 
 happiness we have enjoyed. If we have been tired or hungry, we have been 
 soon refreshed, and slept the sounder for it. Think what beautiful things we 
 have seen, and how contented we have felt. And why was this blessed 
 change 1" 
 
 He stopped her with a motion of his hand, and bade her talk to him no 
 more just then, for he was busy. After a time he kissed her check, still 
 motioning her to silence, and walked on, looking far before him, and some- 
 times stopping and gazing with a puckered brow upon the ground, as if ho 
 were painfully trying to collect his disordered thoughts. Once she saw tears 
 in his eyes. When he had gone on thus for some time, he took her hand in 
 
268 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 his as he wvas accustomed to do, with nothing of the violence or animation of 
 his late manner ; and so, by degrees so fine that the child could not trace 
 them, settled down into his usual quiet way, and suffered her to lead him 
 where she would. 
 
 When they presented themselves in the midst of the stupendous collection, 
 they found, as Nell had anticipated, that Mrs. Jarley was not yet out of bed, 
 and that, although she had suffered some uneasiness on their account over- 
 night, and had indeed sat up for them until past eleven o'clock, she had retired 
 in the persuasion, that, being overtaken by storm at some distance from home, 
 they had sought the nearest shelter, and would not return before morning. 
 Nell immediately applied herself with great assiduity to the decoration and 
 preparation of the room, and had the satisfaction of completing her task, and 
 dressing herself neatly, before the beloved of the Royal Family came down to 
 breakfast. 
 
 " We haven't had," said Mrs. Jarley when the meal was over, " more than 
 eight of Miss Monflathers's young ladies all the time we've been here, and 
 there''s twenty-six of 'em, as I was told by the cook when I asked her a ques- 
 tion or two and put her on the free-list. We must try ""em with a parcel of 
 new bills, and you shall take it, my dear, and see what effect that has upon 
 em. 
 
 The proposed expedition being one of paramount importance, Mrs. Jarley 
 adjusted Nell's bonnet with her own hands, and declaring that she cer- 
 tainly did look very pretty, and reflected credit on the establishment, dis- 
 missed her with many commendations, and certain needful directions as to 
 the turnings on the right which she was to take, and the turnings on the 
 left which she was to avoid. Thus instructed, Nell had no difficulty in 
 finding out Miss Monflathers's Boarding and Day Establishment, which was a 
 large house, with a high wall, and a large garden-gate with a large brass plate, 
 and a small grating through which Miss Monflathers's parlour-maid inspected 
 all visitors before admitting them ; for nothing in the shape of a man — no, not 
 even a milkman — was suffered, without special licence, to pass that gate. Even 
 the tax-gatherer, who was stout, and wore spectacles and a broad-brimmed 
 hat, had the taxes handed through the grating. More obdurate than gate of 
 adamant or brass, this gate of Miss Monflathers's frowned on all mankind. 
 The very butcher respected it as a gate of mystery, and left off whistling when 
 he rang the bell. 
 
 As Nell approached the awful door, it turned slowly upon its hinges with a 
 creaking noise, and, forth from the solemn grove beyond, came a long file of 
 young ladies, two and two, all with open books in their hands, and some with 
 parasols likewise. And last of the goodly procession came Miss Monflathers, 
 bearing herself a parasol of lilac silk, and supported by two smiling teachers, 
 each mortally envious of the other, and devoted unto Miss Monflathers. 
 
 Confused by the looks and whispers of the girls, Nell stood with downcast 
 eyes and suffered the procession to pass on, until Miss Monflathers, bringing 
 up the rear, approached her, when she curtseyed and presented her little 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 269 
 
 packet ; on receipt whereof Miss Monflathers commanded that the line 
 should halt. 
 
 " You're the wax- work child, are you not?" said Miss Monflathers. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," replied Nell, colouring deeply, for the young ladies had 
 collected about her, and she was the centre on which all eyes were fixed. 
 
 " And don't you think you must be a very wicked little child,"" said Miss 
 Monflathers, who was of rather uncertain temper, and lost no opportunity of 
 impressing moral truths upon the tender minds of the young ladies, " to be a 
 wax- work child at all V 
 
 Poor Nell had never viewed her position in this light, and not knowing what 
 to say, remained silent, blushing more deeply than before. 
 
 " Don't you know,"' said Miss Monflathers, " that it's very naughty and 
 unfeminine, and a perversion of the properties wisely and benignantly trans- 
 mitted to us, with expansive powers to be roused from their dormant state 
 through the medium of cultivation 1" 
 
 The two teachers murmured their respectful approval of this home-thrust, 
 and looked at Nell as though they would have said that there indeed Miss 
 Monflathers had hit her very hard. Then they smiled and glanced at Miss 
 Monflathers, and then, their eyes meeting, they exchanged looks which plainly 
 said that each considered herself smiler in ordinary to Miss Monflathers, and 
 regarded the other as having no right to smile, and that her so doing was an 
 act of presumption and impertinence. 
 
 " Don't you feel how naughty it is of you," resumed Miss Monflathers, " to 
 be a wax-work child, when you might have the proud consciousness of assist- 
 ing, to the extent of your infant powers, the manufactures of your country ; of 
 improving your mind by the constant contemplation of the steam-engine ; and 
 of earning a comfortable and independent subsistence of from two-and-nine- 
 pence to three shillings per week 1 Don't you know that the harder you are 
 at work, the happier you are I" 
 
 " ' How doth the little — ' " murmured one of the teachers, in quotation 
 from Doctor Watts. 
 
 " Eh?" said Miss Monflathers, turning smartly round. " Who said that?"' 
 
 Of course the teacher who had not said it, indicated the rival who had, 
 whom Miss Monflathers frowningly requested to hold her peace ; by that 
 means throwing the informing teacher into raptures of joy. 
 
 " The little busy bee," said Miss Monflathers, drawing herself up, " is 
 applicable only to genteel children. 
 
 ' In books, or work, or healthful play ' 
 
 is quite right as far as they are concerned; and the work m'bans painting on 
 velvet, fancy needle-work, or embroidery. In such cases as these," pointing 
 to Nell, with her parasol, " and in the case of all poor people's chihhen, \vc 
 should read it thus : 
 
 ' In work, work, work. In work alway 
 Let my firet years be past, 
 That I may give for tv'ry day 
 Some good account at last.' " 
 
270 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 A deep hum of applause rose not only from the two teachers, but from all 
 the pupils, who were equally astonished to hoar Miss Monflathers improvising 
 after this brilliant style ; for although she had been long known as a politician, 
 she had never appeared before as an original poet. Just then somebody 
 happened to discover that Nell was crying, and all eyes were again turned 
 towards her. 
 
 There were indeed tears in her eyes, and drawing out her handkerchief to 
 brush them away, she happened to let it fall. Before she could stoop to pick 
 it up, one young lady of about fifteen or sixteen, who had been standing a little 
 apart from the others, as though she had no i-ecognised place among them, 
 sprang forward and put it in her hand. She was gliding timidly away again, 
 when she was arrested by the governess. 
 
 " It was Miss Edwards who did that, I ^wo?y," said Miss Monflathers pre- 
 dictively. " Now I am sure that was Miss Edwards," 
 
 It was Miss Edwards, and everybody said it was Miss Edwards, and Miss 
 Edwards herself admitted that it was. 
 
 " Is it not," said Miss Monflathers, putting down her parasol to take a 
 severer view of the offender, " a most remarkable thing, Miss Edwards, that you 
 have an attachment to the lower classes which always draws you to their sides; 
 or, rather, is it not a most extraordinary thing that all I say and do will not 
 wean you from propensities which your original station in life have unhappily 
 rendered habitual to you, you extremely vulgar-minded girl?" 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 271 
 
 " I really intended no harm, ma'am," said a sweet voice. " It was a 
 momentary impulse, indeed." 
 
 "An impulse!" repeated Miss Monflathers scornfully. "I wonder that 
 you presume to speak of impulses to me" — both the teachers assented — 
 " I am astonished " — both the teachers were astonished — " I suppose it 
 is an impulse which induces you to take the part of every grovelling and 
 debased person that comes in your way" — both the teachers supposed 
 so too. 
 
 " But I would have you know, Miss Edwards," resumed the governess in a 
 tone of increased severity, "that you cannot be permitted— if it be only for 
 the sake of preserving a proper example and decorum in this establishment — 
 that you cannot be permitted, and that you shall not be permitted, to fly in the 
 face of your superiors in this exceedingly gross manner. If you have no reason 
 to feci a becoming pride before wax-work children, there are young ladies here 
 who have, and you must either defer to those young ladies or leave the 
 establishment, INIiss Edwards." 
 
 This young lady, being motherless and poor, was apprenticed at the school 
 — taught for nothing — teaching othei's what she learnt, for nothing — boarded 
 for nothing — lodged for nothing — and set down and rated as something 
 immeasurably less than nothing, by all the dwellers in the house. The 
 servant-maids felt her inferiority, for they w'cre better treated ; free to come 
 and go, and regarded in their stations with much more respect. The 
 teachers were infinitely superior, for they had paid to go to school in their 
 time, and were paid now. The pupils cared little for a companion who had 
 no grand stories to tell about home ; no friends to come Mith post-horses, 
 and be received in all humility, with cake and wine, by the governess ; no 
 deferential servant to attend and bear her home for the holidays ; nothing 
 genteel to talk about, and nothing to display. But why was Miss Mon- 
 flathers always vexed and irritated with the poor apprentice — how did that 
 come to pass ? 
 
 Why, the gayest feather in Miss jNIonflathers's cap, and the brightest glory 
 of Miss Monflathers''s school, was a baronet's daughter — the real live daughter 
 of a real live baronet — who, by some extraordinary reversal of the Laws of 
 Nature, was not only plain in features but dull in intellect, while the poor 
 apprentice had both a ready wit, and a handsome face and figure. It seems 
 incredible. Here was Miss Edwards, who only paid a small premium which 
 had been spent long ago, every day outshining and excelling the baronet's 
 daughter, who learned all the extras (or was taught them all) and whose half- 
 yearly bill came to double that of any other young lady's in the school, 
 making no account of the honour and reputation of her pupilage. Therefore, 
 and because she was a dependant. Miss JNIonfiathers had a great dislike to 
 Miss Edwards, and was spiteful to her, and aggravated by her, and, when 
 she had compassion on little Nell, verbally fell upon and maltreated her as 
 we have already seen. 
 
 " You will not take the air to-day. Miss Edwards," said Miss Monflathers. 
 
272 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Have the goodness to retire to your own room, and not to leave it without 
 permission." 
 
 The poor girl was moving hastily away, when she was suddenly, in nautical 
 phrase, " brought to "" by a subdued shriek from Miss Monflathers. 
 
 " She has passed me without any salute !" cried the governess, raising her 
 eyes to the sky. " She has actually passed me without the slightest acknow- 
 ledgment of my presence ! " 
 
 The young lady turned and curtsied. Nell could see that she raised her 
 dark eyes to the face of her superior, and tliat their expression, and that of her 
 whole attitude for the instant, was one of mute but most touching appeal against 
 this ungenerous usage. Miss Monflathers only tossed her head in reply, and 
 the great gate closed upon a bursting heart. 
 
 " As for you, you wicked child," said Miss Monflathers, turning to Nell, "tell 
 your mistress that if she presumes to take the liberty of sending to me any 
 more, I will write to the legislative authorities and have her put in the stocks, 
 or compelled to do penance in a white sheet ; and you may depend upon it 
 that you shall certainly experience the treadmill if you dare to come here again. 
 Now ladies, on." 
 
 The procession filed off", two and two, with the books and parasols, and Miss 
 ]\Ionflathers, calling the Baronet's daughter to walk with her and smooth her 
 ruffled feelings, discarded the two teachers — who by this time had exchanged 
 their smiles for looks of sympathy — and left them to bring up the rear, and 
 hate each other a little more for being obliged to walk together. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND. 
 
 Mrs. Jarley's \\Tath on first learning that she had been threatened with 
 the indignity of Stocks and Penance, passed all description. The genuine and 
 only Jarley exposed to public scorn, jeered by children, and flouted by beadles ! 
 The delight of the Nobility and Gentry shorn of a bonnet which a Lady 
 Mayoress might have sighed to wear, and arrayed in a white sheet as a 
 spectacle of mortification and humility ! And ISIiss Monflathers, the audacious 
 creature who presumed, even in the dimmest and remotest distance of her 
 imagination, to conjure up the degrading picture, " I am a"" most inclined," 
 said Mrs. Jarley, bursting with the fullness of her anger and the weakness of 
 her means of revenge, " to turn atheist when I think of it." 
 
 But instead of adopting this course of retaliation, Mrs. Jarley, on second 
 thoughts, brought out the suspicious bottle, and ordering glasses to be set 
 forth upon her favourite drum, and sinking into a chair behind it, called 
 her satellites about her, and to them several times recounted word for word 
 the affronts she had received. This done, she begged them in a kind of 
 deep despair to drink ; then laughed, then cried, then took a little sip 
 herself, then laughed and cried again, and took a little more ; and so 
 by degrees the worthy lady went on, increasing in smiles and decreasing 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 273 
 
 in tears, until at last she could not laugh enough at Miss IMonflathers, 
 who, from being an object of dire vexation, became one of sheer ridicule and 
 absurdity. 
 
 " For which of us is best off, I wonder,"" quoth Mrs. Jarley, " she or me. 
 It's only talking when all is said and done, and if she talks of me in the 
 stocks, why I can talk of her in the stocks, which is a good deal funnier if we 
 come to that. Lord, what does it matter, after all !" 
 
 Having arrived at this comfortable frame of mind (to which she had been 
 greatly assisted by certain short interjectional remai-ks of the philosophic 
 George), Mrs. Jarley consoled Nell with many kind words, and requested as 
 a personal favor that whenever she thought of Miss Monflathers she would 
 do nothing else but laugh at her, all the days of her life. 
 
 So ended Mrs. Jarley*'s wrath, which subsided long before the going down 
 of the sun. Nell's anxieties, however, were of a deeper kind, and the checks 
 they imposed upon her cheerfulness were not so easily removed. 
 
 That evening, as she had dreaded, her grandfather stole away, and did not 
 come back until the night was far spent. Worn out as she was, and fatigued 
 in mind and bod)'^, she sat up alone, counting the minutes, until he returned — ■ 
 penniless, broken -spirited, and wTetched, but still hotly bent upon his 
 infatuation. 
 
 " Get me money," he said wildly, as they parted for the night. " I must 
 have money, Nell. It shall be paid thee back with gallant interest one day, 
 but all the money that comes unto thy hands, must be mine — not for myself, 
 but to use for thee. Remember, Nell, to use for thee !" 
 
 What could the child do, with the knowledge she had, but give him every 
 penny that came into her hands, lest he should be tempted on to rob their 
 benefactress ? If she told the truth (so thought the child) he would be treated 
 as a madman ; if she did not supply him with money, he would supply 
 himself; supplying him, she fed the fire that burnt him up, and put him 
 perhaps beyond recovery. Distracted by these thoughts, borne down by 
 the weight of the sorrow which she dared not tell, tortured by a crowd 
 of apprehensions whenever the old man was absent, and dreading alike his 
 stay and his return, the colour forsook her cheek, her eye grew dim, and 
 her heart was oppressed and heavy. All her old sorrows had come back 
 upon her, augmented by new fears and doubts ; by day they were ever present 
 to her mind ; by night they hovered round her pillow, and haunted her in 
 dreams. 
 
 It was natural that, in the midst of her affliction, she should often revert to 
 that sweet young lady of whom she had only caught a hasty glance, but 
 whose sympathy, expressed in one slight brief action, dwelt in her memory 
 like the kindnesses of years. She would often think, if she had such a friend 
 as that to whom to tell her griefs, how much lighter her lieart would bo 
 — that if she were but free to hear that voice, she would be happier. Then 
 she would wish that she were something better, that slie were not quite so 
 
274 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 poor and humble, that she dared address her without fearing a repulse ; and 
 then feel that there was an immeasurable distance between them, and have 
 no hope that the young lady thought of her any more. 
 
 It was now holiday-time at the schools, and the young ladies had gone 
 home, and ^Miss Monflathers was reported to be flourishing in London and 
 damaging the hearts of middle-aged gentlemen, but nobody said anything 
 about Miss Edwards, whether she had gone home, or whether she had 
 any home to go to, whether she was still at the school, or anything 
 about her. But one evening, as Nell was returning from a lonely walk, 
 she happened to pass the inn where the stage-coaches stopped, just as one 
 drove up, and there was the beautiful girl she so well remembered, pressing 
 forward to embrace a young child whom they were helping down from the 
 roof. 
 
 Well, this was her sister, her little sister, much younger than Nell, whom 
 she had not seen (so the story went afterwards) for five years, and to bring 
 whom to that place on a short visit, she had been saving her poor means all 
 that time. Nell felt as if her heart would break when she saw them meet. 
 They went a little apart from the knot of people who had congregated about 
 the coach, and fell upon each other's neck, and sobbed, and wept with joy. 
 Their plain and simple dress, the distance which the child had come alone, 
 their agitation and delight, and the tears they shed, would have told their 
 history by themselves. 
 
 They became a little more composed in a short time, and went away, not so 
 much hand in hand as clinging to each other. " Are you sure you're happy, 
 sister V said the child as they passed where Nell was standing. " Quite happy 
 now," she answered. "But always?" said the child. "Ah, sister, why do 
 you turn away your face I " 
 
 Nell could not help following at a little distance. They went to the house 
 of an old nurse, where the elder sister had engaged a bed-room for the child. 
 " I shall come to you early every morning," she said, " and we can be together 
 all the day." — " Why not at night-time too? Dear sister, would they be 
 angry with you for that?" 
 
 Why were the eyes of little Nell wet, that night, with tears like those of the 
 two sisters ? Why did she bear a grateful heart because they had met, and 
 feel it pain to think that they would shortly part ? Let us not believe that 
 any selfish reference — unconscious though it might have been — to her own 
 trials awoke this sympathy, but thank God that the innocent joys o( others 
 can strongly move us, and that we, even in our fallen nature, have one source 
 of pure emotion which must be prized in Heaven ! 
 
 By morning"'s cheerful glow, but oftener still by evening's gentle light, the 
 child, with a respect for the short and happy intercourse of these two sisters 
 v.liicU forbade her to approach and say a thankful word, although she yearned 
 to do so, followed them at a distance in their walks and rambles, stopping 
 when they stopped, sitting on the grass when they sat down, rising when they 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 275 
 
 went on, and feeling it a companionship and delight to be so near them. Their 
 evening walk was by a river's side. Here, every night, the child was too, 
 unseen by them, unthought of, unregarded ; but feeling as if they were her 
 friends, as if they had confidences and trusts together, as if her load were 
 lightened and less hard to bear ; as if they mingled their sorrows, and found 
 mutual consolation. It was a weak fancy perhaps, the childish fancy of a 
 young and lonely creature ; but, night after night, and still the sisters loitered 
 in the same place, and still the child followed with a mild and softened 
 heart. 
 
 She was much startled, on returning home one night, to find that Mrs. Jarley 
 had commanded an announcement to be prepared, to the effect that the 
 stupendous collection would only remain in its present quarters one day longer; 
 in fulfilment of which threat (for all announcements connected with public 
 amusements are well known to be irrevocable and most exact), the stupendous 
 collection shut up next day. 
 
 " Are we going from this place directly, ma''am?'" said Nell. 
 
 *' Look here, child," returned Mrs. Jarley. " That'll inform you." And so 
 saying, Mrs. Jarley produced another announcement, wherein it was stated, 
 that, in consequence of numerous inquiries at the wax- work door, and in 
 consequence of crowds having been disappointed in obtaining admission, the 
 Exhibition would be continued for one week longer, and would re-open 
 next day. 
 
 " For now that the schools are gone, and the regular sight-seers ex- 
 hausted," said Mrs. Jarley, "we come to the General Public, and they want 
 stimulating." 
 
 Upon the following day at noon, Mrs. Jarley established herself behind the 
 highly-ornamented table, attended by the distinguished effigies before men- 
 tioned, and ordered the doors to be thrown open for the readmission of a 
 discerning and enlightened public. But the first day's operations were by no 
 means of a successful character, inasnmch as the general public, though they 
 manifested a lively interest in Mrs. Jarley personally, and such of her waxen 
 satellites as were to be seen for nothing, were not affected by any impulses 
 moving them to the payment of sixpence a head. Thus, notwithstanding 
 that a great many people continued to stq,re at the entry and the figures 
 therein displayed ; and remained there with great perseverance, by the 
 hour at a time, to hear the barrel-organ played and to read the bills ; and 
 notwithstanding that they were kind enough to recommend their friends to 
 patronise the exhibition in the like manner, until the door-way was regu- 
 larly blockaded by half the population of the town, who, when they went 
 off duty, were reheved by the other half; it was not found that the treasury 
 was any the richer, or that the prospects of the cstablislinient were at all 
 encouraging. 
 
 In this depressed state of the classical mai'ket, Mrs. Jarley made extra- 
 ordinary efforts to stimulate the popular taste, and whet the popular curiosity. 
 
27G 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 Certain machinery in the body of the nun on the leads over the door was 
 cleaned up and put in motion, so that the figure shook its head paralytically 
 all day long, to the great admii'ation of a di'unken, but very Protestant, barber 
 over the way, who looked upon the said paralytic motion as typical of the 
 degrading effect wrought upon the human mind by the ceremonies of the 
 Romish Church, and discoursed upon that theme with great eloquence and 
 morality. The two carters constantly passed in and out of the exhibition- 
 room, under various disguises, protesting aloud that the sight was better worth 
 the money than anything they had beheld in all their lives, and urging the 
 bystanders, with tears in their eyes, not to neglect such a brilliant gratifica- 
 tion. Mrs. Jarley sat in the pay-place, chinking silver moneys from noon till 
 night, and solemnly calling upon the crowd to take notice that the price of 
 admission was only sixpence, and that the departure of the whole collection, on 
 a short tour among the Crowned Heads of Europe, was positively fixed for 
 that day week. 
 
 " So be in time, be in time, be in time," said Mrs. Jarley, at the close of every 
 such address. " Remember that this is Jarley's stupendous collection of up- 
 wards of one Hundred Figures, and that it is the only collection in the 
 world ; all others being impostors and deceptions. Be in time, be in time, 
 be in time !" 
 
 
 r - V 
 
 :>-/^jK^^ ^^fj^^t^i?^ 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 277 
 
 ^l^e (Bin (fTuriositn ^[)op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD. 
 
 As the course of this tale requires that we should become acquainted, some- 
 where hereabouts, with a few particulars connected with the domestic economy 
 of Mr. Sampson Brass, and as a more convenient place than the present is 
 not likely to occur for that purpose, the historian takes the friendly reader by 
 the hand, and springing ^vith him into the air, and cleaving the same at a 
 greater rate than ever Don Cleophas Leandro Perez Zambullo and his 
 familiar travelled through that pleasant region in company, alights with him 
 upon the pavement of Bevis Marks. 
 
 The intrepid aeronauts alight before a small dark house, once the residence 
 of Mr. Sampson Brass. 
 
 In the parlour window of this little habitation, which is so close upon the 
 footway that the passenger who takes the wall brushes the dim glass 'svith 
 his coat sleeve — much to its improvement, for it is very dirty — in this parlour 
 window in the days of its occupation by Sampson Brass, there hung, all awry 
 and slack, and discoloured by the sun, a curtain of faded green, so threadbare 
 from long service as by no means to intercept the view of the little dark 
 room, but rather to afford a favourable medium through which to observe it 
 accurately. There was not much to look at. A rickety table, with spare 
 bundles of papers, yellow and ragged fi'om long carriage in the pocket, osten- 
 tatiously displayed upon its top ; a couple of stools set face to face on opposite 
 sides of this crazy piece of furniture ; a treacherous old chair by the fire-place, 
 "whose withered arms had hugged full many a client and helped to squeeze- 
 him dry ; a second-hand wig box, used as a depository for blank writs and 
 declarations and other small forms of law, once the sole contents of the head 
 which belonged to the wig which belonged to the box, as they were now of 
 the box itself; two or three common books of practice ; a jar of ink, a pounce 
 box, a stunted hearth-broom, a carpet trodden to shreds but still clinging 
 with the tightness of desperation to its tacks — these, with the yellow wainscoat 
 of the walls, the smoke- discoloured ceiling, the dust and cobwebs, were among 
 the most prominent decorations of the office of Mr. Sampson Brass- 
 But this was mere still-life, of no greater importance than the plate, 
 *' Brass, Solicitor," upon the door, and the bill, " First floor to let to a single 
 gentleman," which was tied to the knocker. The office commonly held two 
 examples of animated nature, more to the purpose of this liistory, and in 
 whom it has a stronger interest and more particular concern. 
 
 Of these, one was Mr. Brass himself, who has already appeared in these 
 pages. The other was his clerk, assistant, housekeeper, secretary, confidential 
 plotter, adviser, intriguer, and bill of cost increaser. Miss Brass — a kind of 
 
 24. B B 
 
278 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 amazon at common law, of whom it may be desirable to offer a brief 
 description. 
 
 Miss Sally Brass, then, was a lady of thirty-five or thereabouts, of a gaunt 
 and bony figure, and a resolute bearing, which if it repressed the softer 
 emotions of love, and kept admirers at a distance, certainly inspired a feeling 
 akin to awe in the breasts of those male strangers who had the happiness 
 to approach her. In face she bore a striking resemblance to her brother, 
 Sampson — so exact, indeed, was the likeness between them, that had it con- 
 sorted with Miss Brass's maiden modesty and gentle womanhood to have 
 assumed her brother''s clothes in a frolic and sat down beside him, it would 
 have been difficult for the oldest friend of the family to determine which was 
 Sampson and which Sally, especially as the lady carried upon her upper lip 
 certain reddish demonstrations, which, if the imagination had been assisted by 
 her attire, might have been mistaken for a beard. These were, however, in 
 all probability, nothing more than eye-lashes in a wrong place, as the eyes of 
 Miss Brass were quite free from any such natural impertinencies. In com- 
 plexion Miss Brass was sallow — rather a dirty-sallow, so to speak — but this 
 hue was agreeably relieved by the healthy glow which mantled in the extreme 
 tip of her laughing nose. Her voice was exceedingly impressive — deep and 
 rich in quality, and, once heard, not easily forgotten. Her usual dress was a 
 green gown, in colour not unlike the curtain of the office window, made tight 
 to the figure, and terminating at the throat, where it was fastened behind 
 by a peculiarly large and massive button. Feeling, no doubt, that simplicity 
 and plainness are the soul of elegance, Miss Brass wore no collar or kerchief 
 except upon her head, which was invariably ornamented with a brown gauze 
 scarf, like the wing of the fabled vampire, and which, twisted into any form 
 that happened to suggest itself, formed an easy and graceful head-dress. 
 
 Such was Miss Brass in person. In mind, she was of a strong and vigor- 
 ous turn, having from her earliest youth devoted herself with uncommon 
 ardour to the study of the law ; not wasting her speculations upon its eagle 
 flights, which are rare, but tracing it attentively through all the slippery and 
 eel-like crawlings in which it commonly pursues its way. Nor had she, like 
 many persons of great intellect, confined herself to theory, or stopped short 
 where practical usefulness begins ; inasmuch as she could ingress, fair-copy, 
 fill up printed forms with perfect accuracy, and in short transact any ordi- 
 nary duty of the office down to pouncing a skin of parchment or mending 
 a pen. It is difficult to understand how, possessed of these combined attrac- 
 tions, she should remain Miss Brass ; but whether she had steeled her heart 
 against mankind, or whether those who might have wooed and won her, \\ere 
 deterred by fears that, being learned in the law, she might have too near her 
 fingers' ends those particular statutes which regulate what are familiarly 
 termed actions for breach, certain it is that she was still in a state of 
 celibacy, and still in daily occupation of her old stool opposite to that of her 
 brother Sampson. And equally certain it is, by the way, that between the.se 
 two stools a great many people had come to the ground. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 279 
 
 One morning Mr. Sampson Brass sat upon his stool copying some legal 
 process, and viciously digging liis pen deep into the paper, as if he were 
 writing upon the very heart of the party against whom it was directed ; and 
 Miss Sally Brass sat upon her stool making a new pen preparatory to drawing 
 out a little bill, which was her favourite occupation ; and so they sat in silence 
 for a long time, until Miss Brass broke silence. 
 
 " Have you nearly done, Sammy 1 " said Miss Brass ; for in her mild and 
 feminine lips, Sampson became Sammy, and all things were softened down. 
 
 " No," returned her brother. " It would have been all done though, if you 
 had helped at the right time." 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed," cried Miss Sally ; " you want my help, don't you \—yoUy 
 too, that are going to keep a clerk ! " 
 
 " Am I going to keep a clerk for my own pleasure, or because of my own 
 wish, you provoking rascal V said Mr. Brass, putting his pen in his mouth, 
 and grinning spitefully at his sister. " What do you taunt me about going to 
 keep a clerk for \ " 
 
 It may be observed in this place, lest the fact of Mr. Brass calling a lady, a 
 rascal, should occasion any wonderment or surprise, that he was so habituated 
 to having her near him in a man*'s capacity, that he had gradually accustomed 
 himself to talk to her as though she were really a man. And this feeling was 
 so perfectly reciprocal, that not only did Mr. Brass often call Miss Brass a 
 rascal, or even put an adjective before the rascal, but Miss Brass looked upon 
 it as quite a matter of course, and was as little moved as any other lady would 
 be by being called an angel. 
 
 " AVhat do }ou taunt me, after three hours' talk last night, with going to 
 keep a clerk for?" repeated Mr. Brass, grinning again with the pen in his 
 mouth, like some nobleman's or gentleman's crest. " Is it my fault?" 
 
 " All I know is," said Miss Sally, smiling drily, for she delighted in nothing 
 so much as irritating her brother, " that if every one of your clients is to 
 force us to keep a clerk, whether we want to or not, you had better leave 
 off business, strike yourself off the roll, and get taken in execution as soon as 
 you can." 
 
 " Have we got any other client like him?" said Brass. " Have we got 
 another client like him, now — will you answer me that?" 
 
 " Do you mean in the face?" said his sister. 
 
 " Do I mean in the face !" sneered Sampson Brass, reaching over to take 
 up the bill-book, and fluttering its leaves rapidly. " Look here — Daniel Quilp, 
 Esquire — Daniel Quilp, Esquire — Daniel Quilp, Esquire — all through. AVhe- 
 thor should I take a clerk that he recommends, and says ' this is the man for 
 you,"" or lose all this — eh?" 
 
 Miss Sally deigned to make no reply, but smiled again, and went on with 
 her work. 
 
 " But I know ^\hat it is," resumed Brass after a short silence. " YouVe 
 afraid you won't have as long a finger in the business as you've been used to 
 have. Do vou think I don't see throujih that?" 
 
280 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " The business wouldn't go on very long, I expect, without me," retunied 
 his sister composedly. " Don't you bo a fool and provoke me, Sammy, but 
 mind what you're doing, and do it."" 
 
 Sampson Brass, who was at heart in great fear of his sister, sulkily bent 
 over his writing again, and listened as she said : 
 
 " If I determined that the clerk ought not to come, of course he wouldn't be 
 allowed to come. You know that well enough, so don't talk nonsense." 
 
 Mr. Brass received this observation with increased meekness, merely remark- 
 ing, under his breath, that he didn't like that kind of joking, and that Miss 
 Sally would be " a much better fellow" if she forbore to aggravate him. To 
 this compliment Miss Sally replied, that she had a relish for the amusement, 
 and had no intention to forego its gratification. Mr. Bi*ass not caring, as 
 it seemed, to pursue the subject any further, they both plied their pens at a 
 great pace, and there the discussion ended. 
 
 While they were thus employed, the window was suddenly darkened, as by 
 some person standing close' against it. As Mr. Brass and Miss Sally looked 
 up to ascertain the cause, the top sash was nimbly lowered from without, and 
 Quilp thrust in his head.' 
 
 " Hallo ! " he said, standing on tip-toe on the window-sill, and looking down 
 into the room. " Is there anybody at home 2 Is there any of the Devil's ware 
 here? Is Brass at a premium, ehl" 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 281 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha !" laughed the lawyer in an affected ecstacy. " Oh, very good, 
 sir ! Oh, very good indeed ! Quite eccentric ! Dear me, what humour he 
 has!" 
 
 " Is that ray Sally?"" croaked the dwarf, ogling the fair Miss Brass. " Is it 
 Justice with the bandage off her eyes, and without the sword and scales I Is 
 it the Strong Arm of the Law ? Is it the Virgin of Bevis V 
 
 " What an amazing flow of spirits !" cried Brass. " Upon my word, it's 
 quite extraordinary ! " 
 
 " Open the door," said Quilp. "I've got him here. Such a clerk for you, 
 Brass, such a prize, such an ace of trumps. Be quick and open the door, or, 
 if thei-e's another lawyer near and he should happen to look out of window, 
 hell snap him up before your eyes, he will." 
 
 It is probable that the loss of the phoenix of clerks, even to a rival practi- 
 tioner, would not have broken Mr. Brass''s heart; but, pretending great 
 alacrity, he rose from his seat, and going to the door, returned, introducing 
 his client, who led by the hand no less a person than Mr. Richard Swivellcr. 
 
 " There she is," said Quilp, stopping short at the door, and wrinkling up his 
 eyebrows as he looked towards Miss Sally ; " there is the woman I ought to 
 have married — there is the beautiful Sarah — there is the female who has all 
 the charms of her sex and none of their weaknesses. Oh Sally, Sally !" 
 
 To this amorous address Miss Brass briefly responded " Bother !" 
 
 *' Hard-hearted as the metal from which she takes her name," said Quilp. 
 " Why don't she change it — melt down the brass, and take another name V 
 
 " Hold your nonsense, Mr. Quilp, do," returned Miss Sally, with a grim 
 smile. " I wonder you're not ashamed of yourself before a strange young 
 man." 
 
 " The strange young man," said Quilp, handing Dick Swiveller forward, " is 
 too susceptible himself, not to understand mc well. This is Mr. Swiveller, my 
 intimate friend — a gentleman of good family and great expectations, but who, 
 having rather involved himself by youthful indiscretion, is content for a time to 
 fill the humble station of a clerk — humble, but here most enviable. What a 
 delicious atmosphere ! " 
 
 If Mr. Quilp spoke figuratively, and meant to imply that the air breathed 
 by Miss Sally Brass was sweetened and rarefied by that dainty creature, he 
 had doubtless good reason for what ho said. But if he spoke of the delights 
 of the atmosphere of Mr. Brass's ofiice in a literal sense, he had certainly a 
 peculiar taste, as it was of a close and earthy kind, and, besides being fre(|uently 
 impregnated with strong whiffs of the second-hand wearing apparel exposed 
 for sale in Duke's Place and Houndsditch, had a decided flavour of rats and 
 mice, and a taint of mouldiness. Perhaps some doubts of its pure delight 
 presented themselves to Mr. Swiveller, as he gave vent to one or two short 
 abrupt sniffs, and looked incredulously at the grinning dwarf. 
 
 " Mr. Swiveller," said Quilp, " being pretty well accustomed to the agricul- 
 tural pursuits of sowing wild oats. Miss Sally, prudently considers that half a 
 loaf is better than no bread. To be out of harm's way he prudently thinlis is 
 
282 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 something too, and therefore he accepts your brother's offer. Brass, Mr. 
 Swiveller is yours." 
 
 " I am very glad, sir," said Mr. Brass, " very glad indeed. Mr. Swiveller, 
 sir, is fortunate to have your friendship. You may be very proud, sir, to have 
 the friendship of Mr. Quilp." 
 
 Dick murmured something about never wanting a friend or a bottle to give 
 him, and also gasped forth his favourite allusion to the wing of friendship and 
 its never moulting a feather ; but his faculties appeared to be absorbed in the 
 contemplation of Miss Sally Brass, at whom he stared with blank and rueful 
 looks, which delighted the watchful dwarf beyond measure. As to the divine 
 Miss Sally herself, she rubbed her hands as men of business do, and took a few 
 turns up and down the office with her pen behind her ear. 
 
 " I suppose," said the dwarf, turning briskly to his legal friend, " that Mr. 
 Swiveller enters upon his duties at once ? It's Mondaj' morning." 
 
 " At once, if you please, sir, by all means," returned Brass. 
 
 " Miss Sally will teach himlaw, the delightful study of the law," said Quilp; 
 *' she'll be his guide, his friend, his companion, his Blackstone, his Coke upon 
 Littleton, his Young Lawyer s Best Companion." 
 
 " He is exceedingly eloquent," said Brass, like a raan abstracted, and look- 
 ing at the roofs of the opposite houses, with his hands in his pockets ; " he 
 has an extraordinary flow of language. Beautiful, really." 
 
 " With Miss Sally," Quilp went on, " and the beautiful fictions of the law, 
 his days will pass like minutes. Those charming creations of the poet, John 
 Doe and Richard Roe, when they first dawn upon him, will open a new world 
 for the enlargement of his mind and the improvement of his heart." 
 
 " Oh, beautiful, beautiful ! Beau-ti-ful indeed !" cried Brass. " It's a treat 
 to hear him ! " 
 
 " Where will Mr. Swiveller sitT' said Quilp, looking round. 
 
 " Why, well buy another stool, sir," returned Brass. " We hadn't any 
 thoughts of having a gentleman with us, sir, until you were kind enough to 
 suggest it, and our accommodation's not extensive. We'll look about for 
 a second-hand stool, sir. In the meantime, if Mr. Swiveller will take my 
 seat, and try his hand at a fair copy of this ejectment, as I shall be out 
 pretty well all the morning — — " 
 
 " Walk with me," said Quilp. " I have a word or two to say to you on 
 points of business. Can you spare the time V 
 
 " Can I spare the time to walk with ?/ou, sir ? You're joking, sir, you're 
 joking with me," replied the lawyer, putting on his hat. " I'm ready, sir, quite 
 ready. My time must be fully occupied indeed, sir, not to leave me time to 
 walk with you. It's not everybody, sir, who has an opportunity of improving 
 himself by the conversation of Mr. Quilp." 
 
 The dwarf glanced sarcastically at his brazen friend, and, with a short dry 
 cough, turned upon his heel to bid adieu to Miss Sally. After a very gallant 
 parting on his side, and a very cool and gentlemanly sort of one on hers, he 
 nodded to Dick Swiveller. and withdrew with the attorney. 
 
MASTER flUXIPHREY'S CLOCK. 283 
 
 Dick stood at the desk in a state of utter stupefaction, staring with all his 
 might at the beauteous Sally, as if she had been some curious animal whose 
 like had never lived. When the dwarf got into the street, he mounted again 
 upon the window-sill, and looked into the office for a moment with a grinning 
 face, as a man might peep into a cage. Dick glanced upward at him, but 
 without any token of recognition ; and long after he had disappeared, still 
 stood gazing upon Miss Sally Brass, seeing or thinking of nothing else, and 
 rooted to the spot. 
 
 Miss Brass being by this time deep in the bill of costs, took no notice what- 
 ever of Dick, but went scratching on, with a noisy pen, scoring down the 
 figures with evident delight, and working like a steam-engine. There stood 
 Dick, gazing now at the green gown, now at the brown head-dress, now at the 
 face, and now at the rapid pen, in a state of stupid perplexity, wondering how 
 he got into the company of that strange monster, and whether it was a dream 
 and he would ever wake. At last he heaved a deep sigh, and began slowly 
 pulling off his coat. 
 
 Mr. Swiveller pulled off his coat, and folded it up with great elaboration, 
 staring at Miss Sally all the time ; then put on a blue jacket with a double 
 row of gilt buttons, which he had originally ordered for aquatic expeditious, 
 but had brought with him that morning for office purposes ; and, still keeping 
 his eye upon her, suffered himself to drop down silently upon Mr. Brass's stool. 
 Then he underwent a relapse, and becoming powerless again, rested his chin 
 upon his hand, and opened his eyes so wide, that it appeared quite out of the 
 question that he could ever close them any more. 
 
 When he had looked so long that he could see nothing, Dick took his eyes 
 off the fair object of his amazement, turned over the leaves of the draft ho was 
 to copy, dipped his pen into the inkstand, and at last, and by slow approaches, 
 began to write. But he had not \M-itten half-a-dozen words when, reaching 
 over to the inkstand to take a fresh dip, he happened to raise his eyes, and 
 there was the intolerable brown head-dress — thei'e was the green gown — there, 
 in short, was Miss Sally Brass, arrayed in all her charms, and more tremendous 
 than ever. 
 
 This happened so often, that Mr. Swiveller by degi'ees began to feel strange 
 influences creeping over him — horrible desires to annihilate this Sally Brass — 
 mysterious promptings to knock her head-dress off and try how she looked 
 without it. There was a very large ruler on the table — a large, black, sliining 
 ruler. Mr. Swiveller took it up and began to rub his nose with it. 
 
 From rubbing his nose with the ruler, to poising it in his hand and giving 
 it an occasional flourish after the tomahawk manner, the transition was easy 
 and natural. In some of these flourishes it went close to Miss Sally's head ; 
 the ragged edges of the head-dress fluttered with the wind it raised ; advance 
 it but an inch, and that great brown knot was on the ground : yet still the 
 unconscious maiden worked away, and never raised her eyes. 
 
 Well, this was a great relief. It was a good thing to wTite doggedly and 
 obstinately until he was desperate, and then snatch up the ruler and whirl it 
 
284 MASTER IIUMniREY'S CLOCK'. 
 
 about the brown head-dress with the consciousness that he could have it off if 
 he liked. It was a good thing to draw it back, and rub his nose very hard with 
 it, if he thought Miss Sally was going to look up, and to recompense himself 
 with more hardy flourishes when he found she was still absorbed. By these 
 means Mr. Swiveller calmed the agitation of his feelings, until his applications 
 to the ruler became less fierce and frequent, and he could even write as many 
 as half-a-dozen consecutive lines without having recourse to it, — which was a 
 great victory. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH. 
 
 In course of time, that is to say, after a couple of hours or so, of diligent 
 application, Miss Brass arrived at the conclusion of her task, and recorded 
 the fact by wiping her pen upon the green gown, and taking a pinch of snuff 
 from a little round tin box which she carried in her pocket. Having disposed 
 of this temperate refreshment, she arose from her stool, tied her papers 
 into a formal packet with red tape, and taking them under her arm, marched 
 out of the office. 
 
 Mr. Swiveller had scarcely sprung off his seat and commenced the perform- 
 ance of a maniac hornpipe, when he was interrupted, in the fulness of his joy 
 at being again alone, by the opening of the door, and the reappearance of Miss 
 Sally's head. 
 
 " I am going out," said Miss Brass. 
 
 " Very good, ma'am," returned Dick. " And don't hurry yourself on 
 my account to come back, ma'am," he added inwardly. 
 
 " If anybody comes on office business, take their messages, and say that 
 the gentleman who attends to that matter isn't in at present, will youT said 
 Miss Brass. 
 
 " I will, ma''am,"" replied Dick. 
 
 " I shan't be very long," said Miss Brass, retiring. 
 
 " Fm sorry to hear it, ma'am," rejoined Dick when she had shut the door. 
 *' 1 hope you may be unexpectedly detained, ma'am. If you could manage to 
 be run over, ma'am, but not seriously, so much the better." 
 
 Uttering these expressions of good-will with extreme gravity, Mr. Swiveller 
 sat down in the client's chair and pondered ; then took a few turns up and 
 down the room and fell into the chair again. 
 
 " So I'm Brass's clerk, am I V said Dick. " Brass's clerk, eh ? And the 
 clerk of Brass's sister — clerk to a female Dragon. Very good, very good ! 
 What shall I be next? Shall I be a convict in a felt hat and a grey suit, 
 trotting about a dockyard with my number neatly embroidered on my 
 uniform, and the order of the garter on my leg, restrained from chafing 
 my ancle by a twisted belcher handkerchief I Shall I be that ? AVlll that 
 do, or is it too genteel? Whatever you please, have it your own way of 
 course." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 285 
 
 As he was entirely alone, it may be presumed that, in these remarks, Mr. 
 Swiveller addressed himself to his fate or destiny, whom, as we learn by the 
 precedents, it is the custom of heroes to taunt in a very bitter and ironical 
 manner when they find themselves in situations of an unpleasant nature. This 
 is the more probable from the circumstance of Mr. Swiveller directing his 
 observations to the ceiling which these bodiless personages are usually sup- 
 posed to inhabit— except in theatrical cases, when they live in the heart of the 
 great chandelier. 
 
 " Quilp offers me this place, which he says he can ensure me," resumed 
 Dick after a thoughtful silence, and telling off the circumstances of his position, 
 one by one, upon his fingers ; " Fred, who, I could have taken my affidavit, 
 would not have heard of such a thing, backs Quilp to my astonishment, and 
 urges me to take it also — staggerer, number one. My aunt in the country 
 stops the supplies, and writes an affectionate note to say that she has made a 
 new will, and left me out of it — staggerer, number two. No money; no credit; 
 no support from Fred, who seems to turn steady all at once ; notice to quit the 
 old lodgings — staggerers three, four, five, and six. Under an accumulation 
 of staggerers, no man can be considered a free agent. No man knocks himself 
 down ; if his destiny knocks him down, his destiny must pick him up again. 
 Then Fm very glad that mine has brought all this upon itself, and I shall be 
 as careless as I can and make myself quite at home to spite it. So go on, my 
 buck," said Mr. Swiveller, taking his leave of the ceiling with a significant nod, 
 *' and let us see which of us will be tired first."" 
 
 Dismissing the subject of his downfall with these reflections, which were no 
 doubt very profound, and are indeed not altogether unknown in certain 
 systems of moral philosophy, Mr. Swiveller shook off" his despondency and 
 assumed the cheerful ease of an irresponsible clerk. 
 
 As a means towards his composure and self-possession, he entered into a 
 more minute examination of the office than he had yet had time to make ; 
 looked into the wig-box, the books, and ink-bottle ; untied and inspected all 
 the papers ; carved a few devices on the table with the sharp blade of Mr. 
 Brass's penknife ; and wrote his name on the inside of the wooden coal-scuttle. 
 Having, as it were, taken formal possession of his clerkship in virtue of these 
 proceedings, he opened the window and leaned negligently out of it until a 
 beer-boy happened to pass, whom he commanded to set down his tray and to 
 serve him with a pint of mild porter, which he drank upon the spot and 
 promptly paid for, with the view of breaking ground for a system of future 
 credit and opening a correspondence tending thereto, without loss of time. 
 Then three or four little boys dropped in on legal errands from three or 
 four attorneys of the Brass grade, whom Mr. Swiveller received and dismissed 
 with about as professional a manner, and as correct and comprehensive an 
 understanding of their business, as would have been shown by a clown in a 
 pantomime under similar circumstances. These things done and over, he got 
 upon his stool again and tried his hand at drawing caricatures of Miss Brass 
 with a pen and ink, whistling very cheerfully all the time. 
 
286 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 He was occupied in this diversion when a coach stopped near the door, 
 and presently afterwards there was a loud double-knock. As this was no 
 business of Mr. Swiveller's, the person not ringing the office bell, he pursued 
 his diversion with perfect composure, notwithstanding that he rather thought 
 there was nobody else in the house. 
 
 In this, however, he was mistaken ; for after the knock had been repeated 
 with increased impatience, the door was opened, and somebody with a very 
 heavy tread went up the stairs and into the room above. Mr. Swiveller was 
 wondering whether this might be another Miss Brass, twin sister to the 
 Dragon, when there came a rapping of knuckles at the office door. 
 
 " Come in !"" said Dick. " Don't stand upon ceremony. The business will 
 get rather complicated if I've many more customers. Come in !" 
 
 " Oh, please," said a little voice very low down in the doorway, " will you 
 come and show the lodgings I" 
 
 Dick leant over the table, and descried a small slipshod girl in a dirty coarse 
 apron and bib, which left nothing of her visible but her face and feet. She 
 might as well have been dressed in a violin-case. 
 
 " Why, who are you V said Dick. 
 
 To which the only reply was, " Oh, please will you come and show the 
 lodgings ?" 
 
 There never was such an old-fashioned child in her looks and manner. She 
 must have been at work from her cradle. She seemed as much afraid of Dick 
 as Dick v/as amazed at her. 
 
 " I haven't got anytliing to do with the lodgings," said Dick. " Tell 'em 
 to call again." 
 
 " Oh, but please will you come and show the lodgings," returned the girl ; 
 " it's eighteen shillings a week and us finding plate and linen. Boots and 
 clothes is extra, and fires in winter-time is eightpence a day." 
 
 " Why don't you show 'em yourself 2 You seem to know all about 'em," 
 said Dick. 
 
 " Miss Sally said I wasn't to, because people wouldn't believe the attend- 
 ance was good if they saw how small I was first." 
 
 " Well, but they'll see how small you are afterwards, won't they V said 
 Dick. 
 
 " Ah ! But then they'll have taken 'em for a fortnight certain," replied 
 the child with a shrewd look ; " and people don't hke moving when they're 
 once settled." 
 
 " This is a queer sort of thing," muttered Dick, rising. " What do you 
 mean to say you are — the cook V 
 
 " Yes, I do plain cooking ;" replied the child. " I'm housemaid too ; I do 
 all the work of the house." 
 
 " I suppose Brass and the Dragon and I do the dirtiest part of it," thought 
 Dick. And he might have thought much more, being in a doubtful and hesi- 
 tating mood, but that the girl again urged her request, and certain mysterious 
 bumping sounds on the passage and staircase seemed to give note of the appli- 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 28T 
 
 cant's impatience. Richard Swiveller, therefore, sticking a pen behind each 
 ear, and carrying another in his mouth as a token of his great importance 
 and devotion to business, hurried out to meet and treat with the single 
 gentleman. 
 
 He was a little surprised to perceive that the bumping sounds were occa- 
 sioned by the progress up-stairs of the single gentleman's trunk, which, being 
 nearly twice as wide as the staircase, and exceedingly heavy withal, it was no 
 easy matter for the united exertions of the single gentleman and the coach- 
 man to convey up the steep ascent. But there they were, crushing each 
 other, and pushing and pulling with all their might, and getting the trunk 
 tight and fast in all kinds of impossible angles, and to pass them was out of 
 the question ; for which sufficient reason, Mr. Swiveller followed slowly behind, 
 entering a new protest on every stair against the house of Mr. Sampson Brass 
 being thus taken by storm. 
 
 To these remonstrances, the single gentleman answered not a word, but 
 when the trunk was at last got into the bed-room, sat down upon it and wiped 
 his bald head and face with his handkerchief. He was very warm, and well he 
 might be ; for, not to mention the exertion of getting the trunk up stairs, ho 
 was closely muffled up in winter garments, though the thermometer had stood 
 all day at eighty-one in the shade. 
 
 " I believe, sir," said Richard Swiveller, taking his pen out of his mouth, 
 " that you desire to look at these apartments. They are very charming 
 apartments, sir. They command an uninterrupted view of — of over the way, 
 and they are within one minute's walk of — of the corner of the street. There 
 is exceedingly mild porter, sir, in the immediate vicinity, and the contingent 
 advantages are extraordinary." 
 
 " What's the rent V said the single gentleman. 
 
 *' One pound per week," replied Dick, improving on the terms. 
 
 " ril take 'em." 
 
 *' The boots and clothes are extras," said Dick ; " and the fires in winter 
 time arc "" 
 
 " Are all agreed to," answered the single gentleman. 
 
 " Two weeks certain," said Dick, " are the " 
 
 " Two weeks !" cried the single gentleman gruffly, eyeing him from top to 
 toe. " Two years. I shall live here for two years. Here. Ten pounds 
 down. The bargain's made." 
 
 " Why, you see," said Dick, " my name's not Brass, and " 
 
 '"■ Who said it was ? i\f^ name's not Brass. What then T' 
 
 " The name of the master of the house is," said Dick. 
 
 " I'm glad of it," returned the single gentleman ; " it's a good name for a 
 lawyer. Coachman, you may go. So may you, sir." 
 
 Mr. Swiveller was so much confounded by the single gentleman riding rough- 
 shod over him at this rate, that he stood looking at him almost as liard as he 
 had looked at Miss Sally. The single gentleman, however, was not in the 
 
288 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 slightest degree affected by this circumstance, but proceeded with perfect 
 composure to unwind the shawl which was tied round his neck, and 
 then to pull off his boots. Freed of these encumbrances, he went on to 
 divest himself of his other clothing, which he folded up piece by piece, and 
 ranged in order upon the trunk. Then he pulled down the window-blinds, 
 drew the curtains, wound up his watch, and, quite leisurely and methodically, 
 got into bed. 
 
 " Take down the bill," were his parting words, as he looked out from between 
 the curtains ; "■ and let nobody call me till 1 ring the bell." 
 
 With that the curtains closed, and he seemed to snore immediately. 
 
 " This is a most remarkable and supernatural sort of house ! " said Mr. 
 Swiveller, as he walked into the office with the bill in his hand. " She-dragons 
 in the business, conducting themselves like professional gentlemen ; plain cooks 
 of three feet high appearing mysteriously from under ground ; strangers 
 walking in and going to bed without leave or licence in the middle of 
 the day ! If he should be one of the miraculous fellows that turn up now 
 and then, and has gone to sleep for two years, I shall be in a pleasant 
 situation. It's my destiny, however, and I hope Brass may like it. I shall 
 be sorry if he don't. But it's no business of mine — I have nothing whatever 
 to do with it ! " 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 289 
 
 '<!Ll)z (Bid GTuviosity ^Ijop. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH, 
 
 Mr. Brass on returning home received the report of his clerk with much 
 complacency and satisfaction, and was particular in inquiring after the ten- 
 pound note, which proving on examination to be a good and lawful note of the 
 Governor and Company of the Bank of England, increased his good-humour 
 considerably. Indeed he so overflowed with liberality and condescension, that 
 in the fullness of his heart he invited Mr. Swiveller to partake of a bowl of 
 punch with him at that remote and indefinite period which is currently deno- 
 minated " one of these days," and paid him many handsome compliments on 
 the uncommon aptitude for business which his conduct on the first day of his 
 devotion to it had so plainly evinced. 
 
 It was a maxim with Mr. Brass that the habit of paying compUments kept 
 a man's tongue oiled without any expense ; and, as that useful member ought 
 never to grow rusty or creak in turning on its hinges in the case of a prac- 
 titioner of the law, in whom it should be always glib and easy, he lost few 
 opportunities of improving himself by the utterance of handsome speeches and 
 eulogistic expressions. And this had passed into such a habit with him, that, 
 if he could not be correctly said to have his tongue at his fingcr*'s ends, he 
 might certainly be said to have it anywhere but in his face ; which, being, as 
 we have already seen, of a harsh and repulsive character, was not oiled so 
 easily, but frowned above all the smooth speeches ; one of nature's beacons, 
 warning off those who navigated the shoals and breakers of the AVorld, or of 
 that dangerous strait the Law, and admonishing them to seek less treacherous 
 harbours and try their fortune elsewhere. 
 
 While Mr. Brass by turns overwhelmed his clerk with compliments, and 
 inspected the ten-pound note. Miss Sally showed little emotion and that of no 
 pleasurable kind, for as the tendency of her legal practice had been to fix her 
 thoughts on small gains and gripings, and to whet and sharpen her natural wis- 
 dom, she was not a little disappointed that the single gentleman had obtained 
 the lodgings at such an easy rate, arguing that when ho was seen to have set his 
 mind upon them, he should have been at the least charged double or treble the 
 usual terms, and that, in exact proportion as he pressed forward, ^Ir. Swiveller 
 should have hung back. But neither the good opinion of Mr. Brass, nor the 
 dissatisfaction of Miss Sally, wrought any impression upon that young gentle- 
 man, who, throwing the responsibility of this and all other acts and deeds 
 thereafter to be done by him, upon his unlucky destiny, was quite resigned 
 and comfortable : fully prepared for the worst, and pliilosophically indifferent 
 to the best. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Bichard,"" said Brass, on the second day of Mr. 
 Swiveller's clerkship. " Sally found you a second-hand stool, sir, yesterday 
 25. c 
 
290 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 evening in Whitechapel. She's a rare fellow at a bargain, I can tell you, Mr. 
 Richard. You'll find that a first-rate stool, sir, take ray word for it." 
 
 " It's rather a crazy one to look at," said Dick. 
 
 " You'll find it a most amazing stool to sit down upon, you may depend," 
 returned Mr. Brass. " It was bought in the open street just opposite the 
 hospital, and as it has been standing there a month or two, it has got rather 
 dusty and a little brown from being in the sun, that's all." 
 
 " I hope it hasn't got any fevers or anything of that sort in it,"" said Dick, 
 sitting himself down discontentedly, between Mr. Sampson and the chaste 
 Sally. " One of the legs is longer than the others." 
 
 " Then we get a bit of timber in, sir," retorted Brass. " Ha, ha, ha ! 
 We get a bit of timber in, sir, and that's another advantage of my sister's 
 going to market for us. Miss Brass, Mr. Richard is the " 
 
 " Will you keep quiet V interrupted the fair subject of these remarks, look- 
 ing up from her papers. " How am I to work if you keep on chattering ?" 
 
 " What an uncertain chap you are !" returned the lawyer. " Sometimes 
 you're all for a chat. At another time you're all for work. A man never knows 
 what humour he'll find you in." 
 
 " Tm in a working humour now," said Miss Sally, " so don't disturb me if 
 you please. And don't take him," Miss Sally pointed with the feather of her pen 
 to Richard, " off" his business. He won't do more than he can help, I dare say." 
 
 Mr. Brass had evidently a strong inclination to make an angry reply, but 
 was deterred by prudent or timid considerations, as he only muttered some- 
 thing about aggravation, and a vagabond ; not associating the terms with any 
 individual, but mentioning them as connected with some abstract ideas which 
 happened to occur to him. They went on writing for a long time in silence 
 after this — in such a dull silence that Mr. Swiveller (who required excitement) 
 had several times fallen asleep, and written divers strange words in an 
 unknown character with his eyes shut, when Miss Sally at length broke in 
 upon the monotony of the office by pulling out the little tin box, taking a 
 noisy pinch of snuff, and then expressing her opinion that Mr. Richard 
 Swiveller had " done it." 
 
 " Done what, ma'am V said Richard. 
 
 " Do you know," returned jNIiss Brass, " that the lodger isn't up yet — that 
 nothing has been seen or heard of him since he went to bed yesterday afternoon?" 
 
 " Well, ma'am," said Dick, " I suppose he may sleep his ten pound out, in 
 peace and quietness, if he likes." 
 
 " Ah ! I begin to think he'll never wake," observed Miss Sally. 
 
 "It's a very remarkable circumstance," said Brass, laying down his pen; 
 " really, very remarkable. Mr. Richard, you'll remember, if this gentleman 
 should be found to have hung himself to the bed-post, or any unpleasant acci- 
 dent of that kind should happen — you'll remember, Mr. Richard, that this 
 ten-pound note was given to you in part payment of two years' rent ? You'll 
 bear that in mind, Mr. Richard ; you had better make a note of it, sir, in 
 case you sliould ever be called upon to give evidence." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 291 
 
 Mr. Swiveller took a large sheet of foolscap, and with a countenance of 
 profound gravity, began to make a very small note in one corner. 
 
 " We can never be too cautious," said Mr. Brass. " There is a deal of 
 wickedness going about the world, a deal of wickedness. Did the gentleman 
 
 happen to say, sir but never mind that at present, sir ; finish that little 
 
 memorandum first."" 
 
 Dick did so, and handed it to Mr. Brass, who had dismounted from his 
 stool and was walking up and down the office. 
 
 "Oh, this is the memorandum, is it V said Brass, running his eye over the docu- 
 ment. " Very good. Now, Mr. Richard, did the gentleman say anything else?*" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you sure, Mr. Richard," said Brass, solemnly, " that the gentleman 
 said nothing else?" 
 
 " Devil a word, sir," replied Dick. 
 
 " Think again, sir," said Brass ; " it's my duty, sir, in the position in which 
 I stand, and as an honourable member of the legal profession, the first profes- 
 sion in this country, sir, or in any other country, or in any of the planets that 
 shine above us at night and are supposed to be inhabited — it's my duty, sir, as 
 an honourable member of that profession, not to put to you a leading question 
 in a matter of this delicac}' and importance. Did the gentleman, sir, who 
 took the first floor of you yesterday afternoon, and who brought with him a 
 box of property — a box of property — say anything more than is set down in 
 this memorandum ?" 
 
 " Come, don't be a fool," said Miss Sally. 
 
 Dick looked at her, and then at Brass, and then at Miss Sally again, and 
 still said " No." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! Deuce take it, Mr. Richard, how dull you are ! " cried 
 Brass, relaxing into a smile. " Did he say anything about his property? — 
 there." 
 
 " That's the way to put it," said Miss Sally, nodding to her brother. 
 
 " Did he say, for instance," added Brass, in a kind of comfortable, cozy 
 tone — " I don't assert that ho did say so, mind ; I only ask you, to refresh 
 your memory — did he say, for instance, that he was a stranger in London — 
 that it was not his humour or within his ability to give any references — that 
 he felt we had a right to require them — and that, in case anything should 
 happen to him, at any time, he particularly desired that whatever property he 
 had upon the premises should be considered mine, as some slight recompense 
 for the trouble and annoyance I should sustain — and were you, in short,"" 
 added Brass, still more comfortably and cozily than before, " were you induced 
 to accept him on my behalf, as a tenant, upon those conditions V 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Dick. 
 
 " Why then, Mr. Richard," said Brass, darting at him a supercilious and 
 reproachful look, ''■ it's my opinion that you've mistaken your calling, and will 
 never make a lawyer." 
 
 " Not if you live a thousand years," added Miss Sally. Whereupon the 
 
29ii MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 brother and sister took each a noisy pinch of snuff from the little tin box, and 
 fell into a gloomy thoughtfulness. 
 
 Nothing further passed up to Mr. Swiveller's dinner-time, which was at 
 three o'clock, and seemed about three weeks in coming. At the first stroke of 
 the hour, the new clerk disappeared. At tlie last stroke of five, ho reappeared, 
 and the office, as if by magic, became fragrant with the smell of gin and water 
 and lemon- peel. 
 
 " Mr. Richard," said Brass, *' this man's not up yet. Nothing will wako 
 him, sir. What's to be done?" 
 
 " I should let him have his sleep out," returned Dick. 
 
 "Sleep out!" cried Brass; "why he has been asleep now, six-and-tvventy 
 hours. We have been moving chests of drawers over his head, we have 
 knocked double knocks at the street-door, we have made the servant-girl fall 
 down stairs several times, (she"'s a light weight, and it don't hurt her much,) 
 but nothing wakes him." 
 
 " Perhaps a ladder," suggested Dick, " and getting in at the first-floor 
 window " 
 
 " But then there's a door between ; besides, the neighbourhood would be up 
 in arms," said Brass. 
 
 '• What do you say to getting on the roof of the house through the trap- 
 door, and dropping down the chimney I" suggested Dick. 
 
 " That would be an excellent plan," said Brass, " if anybody would be — " 
 and here he looked very hard at Mr. Swiveller — " would be kind, and friendly, 
 and generous enough, to undertake it. I dare say it would not bo anything 
 like as disagreeable as one supposes." 
 
 Dick had made the suggestion, thinking that the duty might possibly fall 
 within Miss Sally''s department. As he said nothing further, and declined 
 taking the hint, Mr. Brass was fain to propose that they should go up stairs 
 together, and make a last effort to awaken the sleeper by some less violent 
 means, which, if they failed on this last trial, must positively be succeeded by 
 stronger measures. Mr. Swiveller, assenting, armed himself witli his stool and 
 the large ruler, and repaired with his employer to the scene of action, where 
 Miss Brass was already ringing a hand-bell with all her might, and yet without 
 producing the smallest effect upon their mysterious lodger. 
 
 " There are his boots, Mr. Richard," said Brass. 
 
 " Very obstinate-looking articles they are too," quoth Richard Swiveller. 
 And truly they were as sturdy and bluff a pair of boots as one would wish 
 to see ; as firmly planted on the ground as if their owner's legs and feet had 
 been in them, and seeming, with their broad soles and blunt toes, to hold 
 possession of their place by main force. 
 
 " I can''t see anything but the curtain of the bed," said Brass, applying his 
 eye to the keyhole of the door. " Is he a strong man, Mr. Richard!" 
 
 " Very," answered Dick. 
 
 " It would be an extremely unpleasant circumstance if he was to bounce out 
 suddenly," said Brass. " Keep the stairs clear. I should be more than a 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 293 
 
 match for him of course, but I'm the master of the house, and the laws of 
 hospitahty must be respected. — Hallo there ! Hallo, hallo !" 
 
 AVhile Mr. Brass, with his eye curiously twisted into the keyhole, uttered 
 these sounds as a means of attracting the lodger's attention, and while Miss 
 Brass plied the hand-bell, Mr. Svviveller put his stool close against the wall by 
 the side of the door, and mounting on the top and standing bolt upright, so 
 that if the lodger did make a rush, he would most probably pass him in its 
 onward fury, began a violent battery with the ruler upon the upper panels of 
 the door. Captivated with his own ingenuity, and confident in the strength of 
 his position, which he had taken up after the method of those hardy individuals 
 who open the pit and gallery doors of theatres on crowded nights, Mr. Swiveller 
 rained down such a shower of blows that the noise of the bell was drowned ; and 
 the small servant, who lingered on the stairs below, ready to fly at a moment's 
 notice, was oblisred to hold her ears lest she should be rendered deaf for life. 
 
 Suddenly the door was unlocked on the inside and flung violently open. 
 The smaU servant fled to the coal cellar ; Miss Sally dived into her own bed- 
 room ; Mr. Brass, who was not remarkable for pci'sonal courage, ran into the 
 next street, and finding that nobody followed him, armed with a poker or other 
 offensive weapon, put his hands in his pockets, wallied very slowly all at once, 
 and whistled. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Swiveller, on the top of the stool, drew himself into as 
 flat a shape as possible against the wall, and looked, not unconcernedly, down 
 
294 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 upon the single gentleman, who appeared at the door growling and cursing in 
 a very awful manner, and, with the boots in his hand, seemed to have an 
 intention of hurling them down stairs on speculation. This idea, however, he 
 abandoned, and he was turning into his room again, still growling vengcfuUy, 
 when his eyes met those of the watchful Richard. 
 
 " Have you been making that horrible noise \ " said the single gentleman. 
 
 " I have been helping, sir," returned Dick, keeping his eye upon him, and 
 waving the ruler gently in his right hand, as an indication of what the single 
 gentleman had to expect if ho attempted any violence. 
 
 " How dare you then," said the lodger, " Eh V 
 
 To this, Dick made no other reply than by inquiring whether the lodger held 
 it to be consistent with the conduct and character of a gentleman to go to 
 sleep for six-and-twenty hours at a stretch, and whether the peace of an amiable 
 and virtuous family was to weigh as nothing in the balance. 
 
 " Is my peace nothing ? " said the single gentleman. 
 
 *' Is their peace nothing sir ? "'"' returned Dick. " I don't wish to hold out 
 any threats sir — indeed the law does not allow of threats, for to threaten is 
 an indictable offence — but if ever you do that again, take care you're not sat 
 upon by the coroner and buried in a cross road before you wake. We have 
 been distracted with fears that you were dead sir," said Dick, gently sliding 
 to the ground, " and the short and the long of it, is, that we cannot allow 
 single gentlemen to come into this establishment and sleep like double gentle- 
 men without paying extra for it." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried the lodger. 
 
 " Yes sir, indeed," returned Dick, yielding to his destiny and saying what- 
 ever came uppermost ; "an equal quantity of slumber was never got out of one 
 bed and bedstead, and if you*'re going to sleep in that way, you must pay for a 
 double-bedded room." 
 
 Instead of being thrown into a greater passion by these remarks, the lodger 
 lapsed into a broad grin and looked at Mr. Swiveller with twinkling eyes. He 
 was a brown-faced sun-burnt man, and appeared browner and more sun-burnt 
 from having a white nightcap on. As it was clear that he was a choleric 
 fellow in some respects, Mr. Swiveller was relieved to find him in such good 
 humour, and, to encourage him in it, smiled himself. 
 
 The lodger, in the testiness of being so rudely roused, had pushed his nightcap 
 very much on one side of his bald head. This gave him a rakish eccentric air 
 ■which, now that he had leisure to observe it, charmed Mr. Swiveller exceedingly; 
 therefore, by way of propitiation, he expressed his hope that the gentleman was 
 going to get up, and further that he would never do so any more. 
 
 " Come here, you impudent rascal," was the lodger's answer as he re-entered 
 his room. 
 
 Mr. Swiveller followed him in, leaving the stool outside, but reserving the 
 ruler in case of a surprise. He rather congratulated himself upon his prudence 
 when the single gentleman, without notice or explanation of any kind, double- 
 locked the door. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 295 
 
 " Can you drink anything ? " was his next inquiry. 
 
 Mr. Swiveller replied that he had very recently been assuaging the pangs of 
 thirst, but that he was still open to " a modest quencher," if the materials 
 were at hand. Without another word spoken on either side, the lodger took 
 from his great trunk a kind of temple, shining as of polished silver, and 
 placed it carefully on the table. 
 
 Greatly interested in his proceedings, Mr. Swiveller observed him closely. 
 Into one little chamber of this temple he dropped an egg, into another some 
 coffee, into a third a compact piece of raw steak from a neat tin case, into a 
 fourth he poured some water. Then, with the aid of a phosphorus-box and 
 some matches, he procured a light and applied it to a spirit-lamp which had a 
 place of its own below the temple ; then he shut down the lids of all the little 
 chambers, then he opened them ; and then, by some wonderful and unseen 
 agency, the steak was done, the egg was boiled, the coffee was accurately pre- 
 pared, and his breakfast was ready. 
 
 " Hot water — ^ said the lodger, handing it to Mr. Swiveller with as much 
 coolness as if he had a kitchen fire before him — " extraordinarv rum — su<;ar — 
 and a travelling glass. Mix for yourself. And make haste." 
 
 Dick complied, his eyes wandering all the time from the temple on the table 
 which seemed to do everything, to the great trunk which seemed to hold every- 
 thing. The lodger took his breakfast like a man who was used to work these 
 miracles, and thought nothing of them. 
 
 " The man of the house is a lawyer, is he not I " said the lodger. 
 
 Dick nodded. The rum was amazing. 
 
 " The woman of the house — wha^s she I" 
 
 " A dragon," said Dick. 
 
 The single gentleman, perhaps because he had met with such things in his 
 travels, or perhaps because he teas a single gentleman, evinced no surprise, 
 but merely inquired " Wife or sister V " Sister," said Dick. — " So nmch 
 the better," said the single gentleman, " he can get rid of her when he 
 likes." 
 
 " I want to do as I like, young man," he added after a short silence ; " to 
 go to bed when I like, get up when I like, come in when I like, go out when 
 I like, — to be asked no questions and bo surrounded by no spies. In this 
 last respect, servants are the devil. There's only one here." 
 
 " And a very little one," said Dick. 
 
 " And a very little one," repeated the lodger. " Well, the place will suit 
 me, will it V 
 
 " Yes," said Dick. 
 
 " Sharks, I suppose V said the lodger. 
 
 Dick nodded assent, and drained his glass. 
 
 " Let them know my humour," said the single gentleman, rising. " If they 
 disturb me, they lose a good tenant. If they know mo to be that, they know 
 enough. If th(;y try to know more, it's a notice to quit. It's better to 
 understand these things at once. Good day." 
 
296 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Dick, halting in his passage to the door, which 
 the lodger prepared to open. " When he who adores thee has left but the 
 name — " 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " — But the name," said Dick — " has left but the name — in case of letters 
 or parcels — "" 
 
 " I never have any," returned the lodger. 
 
 " Or in case anybody should call." 
 
 " Nobody ever calls on me." 
 
 " If any mistake should arise from not having the name, don't say it was 
 my fault, sir," added Dick, still lingering. — " Oh blame not the bard — '* 
 
 " I'll blame nobody," said the lodger, with such irascibility that in a 
 moment Dick found himself upon the staircase, and the locked door between 
 tliem. 
 
 Mr. Brass and Miss Sally were lurking hard by, having been, indeed, only 
 routed from the keyhole by~ Mr. Swiveller's abrupt exit. As their utmost 
 exertions had not enabled them to ovei'hear a word of the interview, however, 
 in consequence of a quarrel for precedence, which, though limited of necessity 
 to pushes and pinches and such quiet pantomime, had lasted the whole time, 
 they hurried him down to the office to hear his account of the con- 
 versation. 
 
 This, Mr. Swiveller gave them — faithfully as regarded the wishes and 
 character of the single gentleman, and poetically as concerned the great trunk, 
 of which he gave a description more remarkable for brilliancy of imagination 
 than a strict adherence to truth ; declaring, with many strong asseverations, 
 that it contained a specimen of every kind of rich food and wine, known in 
 these times, and in particular that it was of a self-acting kind and served up 
 whatever was required, as he supposed by clock-work. He also gave them to 
 understand that the cooking apparatus roasted a fine piece of sirloin of beef 
 weighing about six pounds avoirdupoise, in two minutes and a quarter, as he 
 had himself witnessed, and proved by his sense of taste ; and further that, 
 however the effect was produced, he had distinctly seen water boil and bubble 
 np when the single gentleman winked ; from which facts he (Mr. Swiveller) 
 was led to infer that the lodger was some great conjuror or chemist, or 
 both, whose residence under that roof could not fail at some future day to 
 shed a great credit and distinction upon the name of Brass, and add a new 
 interest to the history of Bevis Marks. 
 
 There was one point which Mr. Swiveller deemed it unnecessary to enlarge 
 upon, and that was the fact of the modest quencher, which, by reason of its 
 intrinsic strength and its coming close upon the heels of the temperate 
 beverage he had discussed at dinner, awakened a slight degree of fever, and 
 rendered necessary two or three other modest quenchers at the public-house 
 in the course of the eveninsr. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 297 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH. 
 
 As the single gentleman, after some weeks'' occupation of his lodgings, still 
 declined to correspond by word or gesture either with Mr. Brass or his sister 
 Sally, but invariably chose Richard Swiveller as his channel of communication; 
 and as he proved himself in all respects a highly desirable inmate, paying for 
 everything beforehand, giving very little trouble, making no noise, and keeping 
 early hours ; Mr. Richard imperceptibly rose to an important position in the 
 family, as one who had influence over this mysterious lodger, and could nego- 
 tiate with him, for good or evil, when nobody else durst approach his person. 
 
 If the truth must be told, even Mr. Swivellcr's approaches to the single 
 gentleman were of a very distant kind, and met with small encouragement ; 
 but as he never returned from a monosyllabic conference with the unknowm, 
 without quoting such expressions as " Swiveller, I know I can rely upon you," 
 — " I have no hesitation in saying, Swiveller, that I entertain a regard for 
 you," — " Swiveller, you are my friend, and will stand by me I am sure," with 
 many other short speeches of the same familiar and confiding kind, purporting 
 to have been addressed by the single gentleman to himself, and to form the 
 staple of their ordinary discourse, neither Mr, Brass nor Miss Sally for a 
 moment questioned the extent of his influence, but accorded to him their fullest 
 and most unqualified belief. 
 
 But quite apart from and independent of this source of popularity, Mr. 
 Swiveller had another, which promised to be equally enduring, and to lighten 
 his position considerably. 
 
 He found favour in the eyes of Miss Sally Brass. Let not the light 
 scorners of female fascination erect their ears to listen to a new tale of lore 
 which shall serve them for a jest ; for Miss Brass, however accurately formed 
 to be beloved, was not of the loving kind. That amiable virgin, having clung 
 to the skirts of the Law from her earliest youth, having sustained herself by 
 their aid, as it were, in her first running alone, and maintained a firm grasp 
 upon them ever since, had passed her life in a kind of legal childhood. She 
 had been remarkable, when a tender prattler, for an uncommon talent in 
 counterfeiting the walk and manner of a bailiff; in which character she had 
 learned to tap her little playfellows on the shoulder, and to carry them off" to 
 imaginary sponging-houses, with a correctness of imitation which w-as the 
 surprise and delight of all who witnessed her performances, and which was 
 only to be exceeded by her exquisite manner of putting an execution into her 
 doll's house, and taking an exact inventory of the chairs and tables. These 
 artless sports had naturally soothed and cheered the decline of her widowed 
 father, a most exemplary gentleman, (called " old Foxey" by his friends from 
 his extreme sagacity,) who encouraged them to the utmost, and whose chief 
 regret on finding that he drew near to Houndsditch churchyard was, that his 
 daughter could not take out an attorney's certificate and lu)ld a place upon 
 the roll. Filled with this affectionate and touching sorrow, he had solonmly 
 confided her to his son Sampson as an invaluable auxiliary; and from the old 
 
298 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 gentleman"'8 decease to the period of which we treat, Miss Sally Brass had 
 been the prop and pillar of his business. 
 
 It is obvious that, having devoted herself from infancy to this one pursuit 
 and study, JNliss Brass could know but little of the world, otherwise than in 
 connexion with the law ; and that from a lady gifted with such high tastes, 
 proficiency in those gentler and softer arts in which women usually excel, was 
 scarcely to be looked for. Miss Sally's accomplishments were all of a masculine 
 and strictly legal kind. They began with the practice of an attorney and they 
 ended with it. She was in a state of lawful innocence, so to speak. The law had 
 been her nurse, and, as bandy-legs or such physical defoi'mities in children are 
 held to be the consequence of bad nursing, so, if in a mind so beautiful any moral 
 twist or bandiness could be found, Miss Sally Brass's nui«e was alone to blame. 
 
 It was upon this lady, then, that Mr. Swiveller burst in full freshness as 
 something new and hitherto undreamed of, lighting up the office with scraps 
 of song and merriment, conjuring with inkstands and boxes of wafers, catching 
 three oranges in one hand, balancing stools upon his chin and penknives on 
 his nose, and constantly performing a hundred other feats of equal ingenuity ; 
 lor with such unbendings did Richard, in Mr. Brass's absence, relieve the 
 tedium of his confinement. These social qualities, which Miss Sally first dis- 
 covered by accident, gradually made such an impression upon her, that she 
 would entreat JNIr. Swiveller to relax as though she were not by, which Mr. 
 Swiveller, nothing loth, would readily consent to do. By these means a friend- 
 ship sprung up between them. Mr. Swiveller gradually came to look upon 
 her as her brother Sampson did, and as he would have looked upon any other 
 clerk. He imparted to her the mystery of going the odd man or plain New- 
 market for fruit, ginger-beer, baked potatoes, or even a modest quencher, of 
 which Miss Brass did not scruple to partake. He would often persuade her 
 to undertake his share of writing in addition to her own ; nay, he would some- 
 times reward her with a hearty slap on the back, and protest that she was a 
 devilish good fellew, a jolly dog, and so forth ; all of which compliments Miss 
 Sally would receive in entire good part and with perfect satisfaction. 
 
 One circumstance troubled Mr. Swiveller's mind very much, and that was that 
 the small servant always remained somewhere in the bowels of the earth under 
 Bevis Marks, and never came to the surface unless the single gentleman rang his 
 bell, when she would answer it and immediately disappear again. She never went 
 out, or came into the office, or had a clean face, or took off the coarse apron, 
 or looked out of any one of the windows, or stood at the street-door for a 
 breath of air, or had any rest or enjoyment whatever. Nobody ever came to see 
 her, nobody spoke of her, nobody cared about her. Mr. Brass had said once, 
 that he believed she was " a love-child,"" (which means anything but a child of 
 love,) and that was all the information Richard Swiveller could obtain. 
 
 " It's of no use asking the dragon," thought Dick one day, as he sat con- 
 templating the features of Miss Sally Brass. " I suspect if I asked any 
 questions on that head, our alliance would be at an end. I wonder whether 
 she is a dragon by the bye, or something in the mermaid way. She has rather 
 a scaly appearance. But mermaids are fond of looking at themselves in the 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 299 
 
 glass, which she can't be. And they have a habit of combing their hah*, 
 which she hasn't. No, she's a dragon." 
 
 " Where are you going, old fellow," said Dick aloud, as Miss Sally wiped 
 her pen as usual on the green dress, and uprose from her seat. 
 
 " To dinner," answered the dragon. 
 
 " To dinner !" thought Dick, " that's another circumstance. I don*'t believo 
 that small servant ever has anything to eat." 
 
 " Sammy won't be home," said Miss Brass. " Stop 'till I come back. I 
 shan't be long." 
 
 Dick nodded and followed Miss Brass with his eyes to the door, and with 
 his ears to a little back parlour, where she and her brother took their meals. 
 
 " Now," said Dick, walking up and down with his hands in his pockets, 
 " I'd give something — if I had it — to know how they use that child, and 
 where they keep her. My mother must have been a very inquisitive woman ; 
 I have no doubt I'm marked with a note of interrogation somewhere. jNIy 
 feelings I smother, but thou hast been the cause of this anguish my — upon ray 
 word," said Mr. Swiveller, checking himself and falling thoughtfully into the 
 client"'s chair, " I should like to know how they use her !" 
 
 After running on in this way for some time, Mr. Swiveller softly opened the 
 office door with the intention of darting across the street for a glass of the 
 mild porter. A t that moment he caught a parting glimpse of the brown head- 
 dress of Miss Brass flitting down the kitchen stairs. " And by Jove !" thought 
 Dick, " she's going to feed the servant. Now or never !" 
 
 First peeping over the handrail and allowing the head-dress to disappear in 
 the darkness below, he groped his way down, and arrived at the door of a 
 back kitchen immediately after Miss Brass had entered the same, bearing in 
 her hand a cold leg of mutton. It was a very dark miserable place, very low, 
 and very damp, the walls disfigured by a thousand rents and blotches. The water 
 was trickling out of a leaky butt, and a most wretched cat was lapping up the 
 drops with the sickly eagerness of starvation. The grate, which was a wide 
 one, was wound and screwed up tight, so as to hold no more than a little thin 
 sandwich of fire. Everything was locked up ; the coal-cellar, the candle-box, 
 the salt-box, the meat-safe, were all padlocked. There was nothing that a beetle 
 could have lunched upon. The pinched and meagre aspect of the place would 
 have killed a chamelion. He would have known at the first mouthful that the 
 air was not eatable, and must have given up the ghost in despair. — The small 
 servant stood with humility in presence of Miss Sally, and hung her head. 
 
 " Are you there V said Miss Sally. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," was the answer in a weak voice. 
 
 *' Go farther away from the leg of mutton or you'll be picking it, I know," 
 said Miss Sally. 
 
 The girl withdrew into a corner, while Miss Brass took a key from her 
 pocket, and opening the safe, brought from it a dreary waste of cold potatoes, 
 looking as eatable as Stonehcnge. This she placed before the small servant, 
 ordering her to sit down before it, and then, taking up a great carving-knife, 
 made a mighty show of sharpening it upon the carving-fork. 
 
300 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Do you see this?" said Miss Brass, slicing off about two square inches of cold 
 mutton after all this preparation, and holding it out on the point of the fork. 
 
 The small servant looked hard enough at it with her hungry eyes to see 
 every shred of it, small as it was, and answered, " yes." 
 
 " Then don't you ever go and say," retorted Miss Sally, " that you hadn't 
 meat here. There, eat it up." 
 
 This was soon done. " Now, do you want any moref said Miss Sally. 
 
 The hungry creature answered with a faint " No." They were evidently 
 going through an established form. 
 
 " You've been helped once to meat," said Miss Brass, summing up the facts ; 
 *' you have had as much as you can eat, you're asked if you want any more, and 
 you answer, 'no !' Then don't you ever go and say you were allowanced, mind that." 
 
 With those words, Miss Sally put the meat away and locked the safe, and then 
 drawing near to the small servant, overlooked her while she finished the potatoes. 
 
 It was plain that some extraordinary grudge was working in ^liss Brass's 
 gentle breast, and that it was this which impelled her, without the smallest 
 present cause, to rap the Child with the blade of the knife, now on her hand, now 
 on her head, and now on her back, as if she found it quite impossible to stand so 
 close to her without administering a few slight knocks. But Mr. Swivellor was 
 not a little surprised to see his fellow-clerk, after walking slowly backwards to- 
 wards the door as if she were trying to withdraw herself from the room but could 
 not accomplish it, dart suddenly forward, and falling on the small servant give 
 her some hard blows with her clenched hand. The victim cried, but in a subdued 
 manner as if she feared to raise her voice, and Miss Sally, comforting herself with 
 a pinch of snuff, ascended the stairs, just as Hichard had safely reached the office. 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK 301 
 
 S!)e ©Itr GTunositP ^[)op. 
 
 CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. 
 The single gentleman among his other peculiarities — and he had a very 
 plentiful stock of which he every day furnished some new specimen — took a 
 most extraordinary and remarkable interest in the exhibition of Punch. If 
 the sound of a Punch's voice, at ever so remote a distance, reached 
 Bevis Marks, the single gentleman, though in bed and asleep, would 
 start up, and hurrying on his clothes, make for the spot with all speed, and 
 presently return at the head of a long procession of idlers, having in the midst 
 the theatre and its proprietors. Straightway, the stage would be set up in 
 front of Mr. Brass's house ; the single gentleman would establish himself 
 at the first floor window ; and the entertainment would proceed with all its 
 exciting accompaniments of fife and drum and shout, to the excessive conster- 
 nation of all sober votaries of business in that silent thoroughfare. It might 
 have been expected that when the play w^as done, both players and audience 
 would have dispersed ; but the epilogue was as bad as the play, for no sooner 
 was the Devil dead, than the manager of the puppets and his partner were 
 summoned by tho single gentleman to his chamber, where they were regaled 
 with strong waters from his private store, and where they held with him long 
 conversations, the purport of which no human being could fathom. But the 
 secret of these discussions was of little importance. It was sufficient to know- 
 that while they were proceeding the concourse without still lingered round the 
 liouse ; that boys beat upon the drum with their fists, and imitated Punch wath 
 their tender voices ; that the office-window was rendered opaque by flattened 
 noses, and the key-hole of the street-door luminous with eyes : that every time 
 the single gentleman or either of his guests was seen at the upper window, or so 
 much as the end of one of their noses was visible, there was a great shout of exe- 
 cration from the excluded mob, who remained howling and yelling, and refusing 
 consolation, until the exhibitors were delivered up to them to be attended else- 
 where. It was sufficient, in short, to know that Bevis Marks was revolutionised 
 by these popular movements, and that peace and quietness fled from its precincts. 
 Nobody was rendered more indignant by these proceedings than Mr. Sampson 
 Brass, who, as he could by no means afford to lose so profitable an inmate, 
 deemed it prudent to pocket his lodger's affront along with his cash, and 
 to annoy tho audiences who clustered round his door by such imperfect 
 means of retaliation as were open to him, and which wore confined to the 
 trickling down of foul water on their heads from unseen watering pots, 
 pelting them with fragments of tile and mortar from the roof of tho 
 house, and bribing the drivers of hackney cabriolets to come suddenly 
 round the corner and dash in among them precipitately. It may at first 
 eight be matter of surprise to tho thoughtless few that Mr. Brass, being 
 a professional gentleman, should not have legally indicted some party or 
 parties, active in the promotion of the nuisance ; but they will be good enough 
 26. n D 
 
302 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 to remember that as Doctors seldom take their own prescriptions and Divines 
 do not always practise what they prcacli, so lawyers are sliy of meddling with 
 the Law on their own account, knowing it to be an edged tool of uncertain 
 application, very expensive in the working, and rather remarkable for its pro- 
 perties of close shaving, tlian for its always shaving the right person. 
 
 "Come," said Mr. Brass one afternoon, " this is two days without a Punch. 
 Fm in hopes he has run through 'em all, at last." 
 
 " Why are you in hopes ?" returned Miss Sally. " What harm do they do V 
 
 "• Here's a pretty sort of fellow ! " cried Brass, laying down his pen in 
 despair. " Now here's an aggravating animal !" 
 
 " Well, what harm do they do?" retorted Sally. 
 
 " What harm !" cried Brass. " Is it no harm to have a constant hallooing 
 find hooting under one's very nose, distracting one from business, and making 
 one grind one's teeth with vexation ? Is it no harm to be blinded and choked 
 up, and have the king's highway stopped, with a set of screamers and roarers 
 whose throats must be made of — of — " 
 
 " Brass," suggested Mr. Swiveller. 
 
 " Ah ! of brass," said rhe lawyer, glancing at his clerk, to assure himself that 
 he had suggested the word in good faith and without any sinister intention. 
 " Is that no harm '" 
 
 The lawyer stopped short in his invective, and listening for a moment, and 
 recognising the well-known voice, rested his head upon his hand, raised his 
 eyes to the ceiling, and muttered faintl}^ " There's another ! " 
 
 Up went the single gentleman's window directly. 
 
 " There's another," repeated Brass ; " and if I could get a break and four 
 blood horses to cut into the Marks when the crowd is at its thickest, Td give 
 eighteenpence and never grudge it." 
 
 The distant squeak was heard again. The single gentleman's door burst 
 open. He ran violently down the stairs, out into the street, and so past the 
 window, without any hat, towards the quarter whence the sound proceeded — 
 bent, no doubt, upon securing the strangers' services directly. 
 
 " I wish I only knew who his friends were," muttered Sampson filling his 
 pocket with papers ; " if they'd just get up a pretty little Commission de 
 lunatico at the Gray's Inn Coffee House and give me the job, I'd be content to 
 have the lodgings empty for one while, at all events." 
 
 With which words, and knocking his liat over his eyes as if for the purpose 
 of shutting out even a glimpse of the drcailful visitation, Mr. Brass rushed 
 from the house and hurried away. 
 
 As Mr. Swiveller was decidedly favourable to these performances, upon the 
 ground that looking at a Punch, or indeed looking at anything out of win- 
 dow, was better than working, and as he had been for tliis reason at some 
 pains to awaken in his fellow clerk a sense of their beauties and manifold 
 deserts, both he and Miss Sally rose as with one accord and took up their 
 positions at the window : upon the sill whereof, as in a post of honour, sundry 
 young ladies and gentlemen who were employed in the dry nurture of babies, 
 and who made a point of being present, with tlicir young charges, on such 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 303 
 
 occasions, had already established themselves as comfortably as the circum- 
 stances would allow. 
 
 The glass being dim, ]\Ir, Swiveller, agreeably to a friendly custom which 
 he had established between them, hitched off the brown head-dress from Miss 
 Sally's head, and dusted it carefully therewith. By the time he had handed 
 it back and its beautiful wearer had put it on again (wliich she did with 
 perfect composure and indifference), the lodger returned with the show and 
 showmen at his heels, and a strong addition to the body of spectators. 
 The exhibitor disappeared with all speed behind the drapery, and his partner, 
 stationing himself by the side of the Theatre, surveyed the audience with a 
 remarkable expression of melancholy ; which became more remarkable still 
 when he breathed a hornpipe tune into that sweet musical instrument which 
 is popularly termed a mouth-organ, without at all changing the mournful 
 expression of the upper part of his face, though his mouth and chin were, of 
 necessity, in lively spasms. 
 
 The drama proceeded to its close, and held the spectators enchained in tho 
 customary manner. The sensation which kindles in large assemblies, when they 
 are relieved from a state of breathless suspense and are again free to speak and 
 move, was yet ripe, when the lodger, as usual, summoned the men up stairs. 
 
 "' Both of you,'' he called from the window ; for only the actual exhibitor — 
 a little fat man — prepared to obey the summons. '' I want to talk to you. 
 Come both of you." 
 
 " Come, Tommy," said the little man. 
 
 " 1 an't a talker," replied the other. " Tell him so. What should 1 go 
 and talk for f 
 
 " Don't you see the gentleman's got a bottle and glass up there I" returned 
 the little man. 
 
 " And couldn't you have said so at first V retorted the other with sudden 
 alacrity. " Now, what are you waiting for I Are you going to keep the 
 crentleman expecting us all day ? haven't you no manners '" 
 
 With this remonstrance, the melancholy man, who was no other than 
 ;Mr. Thomas Codlin, pushed past his friend and brother in the craft, Mr. 
 Harris, otherwise Short or Trotters, and hurried before him to the single 
 gentleman's apartment. 
 
 " Now my men," said the single gentleman ; " you have done very well. 
 What will you take ? Tell that little man behind, to shut the door." 
 
 " Shut the door, can't you V' said Mr. Codlin, turning gruffly to his friend. 
 " You might have knowed that the gentleman wanted the door shut, without 
 beinfj told, I think." 
 
 Mr. Short obeyed, observing under his breath that his friend seemed 
 unusually '• cranky," and expressing a hope that there was no dairy in tho 
 neighbourhood, or his temper would certainly spoil its contents. 
 
 The gentleman pointed to a couple of chairs, and intimated by an emphatic 
 nod of his head that he expected them to be seated. Messrs. Codlin and 
 Short, after looking at each other with considerable doubt and indecision, at 
 length sat down— each on the extreme edge of the chair pointed out to him— 
 
S04 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 and held their hats very tight, wliile the single gentlema« filled a couple of 
 glasses from a bottle on the table beside him, and presented tUem in due form 
 
 " You're pretty well browned by the sun, both of you," said their enter- 
 tainer. " Have you been travelling V 
 
 Mr. Short replied in the affirmative with a nod and a smile, Mr. Codlin 
 added a corroborative nod and a short groan, as if he still felt the weight of 
 the Temple upon his shoulders. 
 
 "To fairs, markets, races, and so forth, I suppose V pursued the single gentleman . 
 
 " Yes, sir," returned Short, " pretty nigh all over the West of England." 
 
 " I have talked to men of your craft from North, East, and South," 
 returned their host, in rather a hasty manner ; " but I never lighted on any 
 from the West before." 
 
 " It's our reg'lar summer circuit is the West, master," said Short ; " that's 
 where it is. We take the East of London in the spring and winter, and the 
 West of England in the summer time. Many's the hard day's walking in rain 
 and mud, and with never a penny earned, we've had down in the West." 
 
 " Let me fill your glass again." 
 
 " Much obleeged to you sir, I think I will," said Mr. Codlin, suddenly 
 thrusting in his own and turning Short's aside. " I'm the sufferer, sir, in all 
 the travelling, and in all the staying at homo. In town or country, wet or 
 dry, hot or cold, Tom Codlin suffers. But Tom Codlin isn't to complain for all 
 that. Oh, no. Short may complain, but if Codlin grumbles by so much as 
 a word— oh dear, down with him, down with Imii directly. It isn't his place to 
 grumble. That's quite out of the question." 
 
MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 305 
 
 " Codlin ant without his usefulness," observed Short with an arch look, 
 " but he don't always keep his eyes open. He falls asleep sometimes, you 
 know. Remember them last races, Tommy." 
 
 " Will you never leave off aggravating a man T' said Codlin. " It's very 
 likely I was asleep when five-and-tenpence was collected, in one round, isn't it ? 
 I was attending to my business, and couldn't have my eyes in twenty places at 
 once, like a peacock, no more than you could. If 1 an't a match for an old 
 man and a young child, you an't neither, so don't throw that out against me, 
 for the cap fits your head quite as correct as it fits mine," 
 
 " You may as well drop the subject, Tom,"" said Short. " It isn't particular 
 agreeable to the gentleman, I dare say." 
 
 " Then you shouldn't have brought it up," returned Mr. Codlin ; " and I 
 .".skthe gentleman's pardon on your account, as a giddy chap that likes to hear 
 himself talk, and don't much care what he talks about, so that he does talk." 
 
 Their entertainer had sat perfectly quiet in the beginning of this dispute, 
 looking first at one man and then at the other, as if he were lying in wait for 
 an opportunity of putting some further question, or reverting to that from 
 Avhich the discourse had strayed. But from the point where Mr. Codlin was 
 charged with sleepiness, he had shown an increasing interest in the discussion, 
 which now attained a very high pitch. 
 
 " You are the two men I want," he said, "the two men I have been looking for, 
 and searching after. Where are that old man and that child you speak off' 
 
 " Sir?" said Short, hesitating, and looking towards his friend. 
 
 *■' The old man and his grandchild who travelled with you — where are they? 
 It will be worth your while to speak out, I assure you ; much better worth 
 your while than you believe. They left you, you say, — at those races, as I 
 understand. They have been traced to that place, and there lost sight of. 
 Have you no clue, can you suggest no clue, to their I'ccovery ?" 
 
 " Did I always say, Thomas," cried Short, turning with a look of amazement 
 to his friend, " that there was sure to be an inquiry after them two travellers?" 
 
 " You said !" returned Mr. Codlin. " Did I always say that that 'ere blessed 
 child was the most interesting I ever see ? Did I always say I loved her, and 
 doatcd on her ? Pretty creetur, I think I hear her now. ' Codlin's my friend, 
 she says, with a tear of gratitude a trickling down her little eye ; ' Codlin's my 
 friend,' she says — ' not Short. Short's very well,' she says ; ' I've no quarrel 
 with Short ; he means to be kind, I dare say ; but Codlin,' she says, ' has the 
 feelings for my money, though ho mayn't look it.' " 
 
 Kepeating these words with great emotion, Mr. Codlin rubbed the bridge 
 of his nose with his coat-sleeve, and shaking his head mournfully from side to 
 side, left the single gentleman to infer that, from the moment when ho lost 
 sight of his dear young charge, his peace of mind and happiness had fled. 
 
 "Good God !" said the single gentleman, pacing up and down the room, 
 " have I found these men at last, only to discover that they can give me no 
 information or assistance ! It would have been better to have lived on in hope 
 from day to day, and never to have lighted on them, than to have my expecta- 
 tions scattered." 
 
506 
 
 MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK. 
 
 " Stay a minute," said Short. " A man of the name of Jerry — you know 
 Jerry, Thomas V -r 
 
 " Oh, don't talk to me of Jerrys,*" replied Mr. Codlin. " How can I caro 
 a pinch of snuff for Jerrys, when I think of that 'ere darling child ! ' Codlin's 
 my friend,' she says, ' dear, good, kind Codlin, as is always a devising pleasures 
 for me ! I don't object to Short,' she says, ' but I cotton to Codlin.' Once," 
 said that gentleman reflectively, " she called me Father Codlin. I thought I 
 should have bust ! " 
 
 " A man of the name of Jerry, sir," said Short, turning from his selfish 
 colleague to their new acquaintance, " wot keeps a company of dancing-dogs, 
 told me in a accidental sort of way, that ho had seen the old gentleman in 
 connexion with a travelling wax-work, unbeknown to him. As they'd given 
 us the slip, and nothing had come of it, and this was down in the country that 
 he'd been seen, I took no measures about it, and asked no questions — But I 
 can, if you like." 
 
 " Is this man in town V said the impatient single gentleman. " Speak faster," 
 
 " No he isn't, but he will be to-morrow, for he lodges in our house," replied 
 Mr. Short rapidly. 
 
 *' Then bring him here," said the single gentleman, " Here's a sovereign 
 a-piece. If I can find these people through your means, it is but a prelude to 
 twenty more. Return to me to-morrow, and keep your own counsel upon this 
 subject — though I need hardly tell you that, for you'll do so for your own 
 sakes. Now, give me your address, and leave me." 
 
 The address was given, the two men departed, the crowd went with them, 
 and the single gentleman for two mortal hours walked in uncommon agitation 
 up and down his room, over the wondering heads of Mr. Swiveller and Miss 
 Sally Brass. 
 
 END OF VOL. I, 
 

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