" Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS."—

HOUSEHOLD WOKDS,A WEEKLY JOURNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.

212.] SATURDAY, APEIL 15, 1854. [PRICE 'Id.

HARD TIMES.BY CHARLES DICKENS.

CHAPTER VI.THE name of the public house was the

Pegasus'a Arms. The Pegasus's legs mighthave been more to the purpose ; but, under-neath the winged horse upon the sign-board,the Pegasus's Arms was inscribed in Romanletters. Beneath that inscription again, ina flowing scroll, the painter had touched offthe lines:

Good malt makes good beer,Walk in, and they'll draw it here,Good wine makes good brandy,Give us a call, and you'll find it handy.

Framed and glazed upon the wall behindthe dingy little bar, was another Pegasus—atheatrical one—with real gauze let in for hiswings, golden stars stuck on all over him, andhis ethereal harness made of red silk.

As it had grown too dusky without, to seethe sign, and as it had not grown light enoughwithin to see the picture,^Mr. Gradgrind andMr. Bounderby received,*no~ offence from theseidealities. They followed the girl up somesteep corner-stairs without meeting any one,and stopped in the dark while she went onfor a candle. They expected every momentto hear Merry legs give tongue, but the highly-trained performing dog had not barked when,the girl and the candle appeared together.

" Father is not in our room, sir," she said,with a face of great surprise. " If youwouldn't mind walking in, I'll find himdirectly."

They walked in ; and Sissy, having set twochairs for them, sped away with a quick lightstep. It was a mean, shabbily - furnishedroom, with a bed in it. The white nightcap,embellished with two peacock's feathers anda pigtail bolt upright, in which Signor Jupehad that very afternoon enlivened the variedperformances with his chaste Shaksperianquips and retorts, hung upon a nail; but noother portion of his wardrobe, or other tokenof himself or his pursuits, was to be seen any-where. As to Merrylegs, that respectableancestor of the highly-trained animal whowent aboard the ark, might have been acci-dentally shut out of it, for any sign of a dog

that was manifest to eye or ear in the Pegasus'sArms.

They heard the doors of rooms above,opening and shutting as Sissy went from oneto another in quest of her father; and presentlythey heard voices expressing surprise. Shecame bounding down again in a great hurry,opened a battered and mangey old hair-trunk,found it empty, and looked round with herhands clasped and her face full of terror.

" Father must have gone down to the Booth,sir. I don't know why he should go there,but he must be there ; I'll bring him in aminute !" She was gone directly, without herbonnet; with her long, dark, .childish hairstreaming behind her.

" What does she mean ! " said Mr. Grad-grind. " Back in a minute ] It's more than amile off."

Before Mr. Bounderby could reply, a youngman appeared at the door, and introducinghimself with the words, "By your leaves,gentlemen ! " walked in with his hands in hispockets. His face, close-shaven, thin, andsallow, was shaded by a great quantity ofdark hair brushed into a roll all round hishead, and parted up the centre. His legswere very robust, but shorter than legs ofgood proportions should have been. Hischest and back were as much too broad, ashis legs were too short. He was dressed in aNewmarket coat and tight-fitting trousers ;wore a shawl round his neck ; smelt of lamp-oil, straw, orange-peel, horses' provender, andsawdust; and looked a mgst remarkable sortof Centaur, compounded of the stable and theplay-house. Where the one began, and the othe rended, nobody could have told with any preci-sion. This gentleman, was mentioned in the billsof the day as Mr. E. W. B. Childers, so justlycelebrated for bis daring vaulting act as theWild Huntsman of the North AmericanPrairies; in which popular performance, adiminutive boy with an old face, who nowaccompanied him, assisted as his infantson: being carried upside down over hisfather's shoulder, by one foot, and held bythe crown of his head, heels upwards, inthe palm of his father's hand, accordingto the violent paternal manner in whichwild huntsmen may be observed tofondle their offspring. Made up with curls,wreaths, wings, white bismuth, and carmine,

212.

190 HOUSEHOLD WOBDS. [Conducted by

this hopeful yonng person soared into sopleasing a Cupid as to constitute the chiefdelight of the maternal part of the spectators ;but, in private, where his characteristics werea precocious cutaway coat and an extremelygruff voice, he became of the Turf, turfy.

"By your leaves, gentlemen," said Mr.E. W. B. Childers, glancing round the room." It \vas you, I believe, that were wishing tosee Jupe 1"

" It was," said. Mr. Gradgrind. " Hiadaughter has gone to fetch Mm, but I eait'twait; therefore, if you please, I will leave amessage for him with you."

" You see, my friend," Mr. Bounderby putin, " we are the kind of people who know thevalue of time, and you are the kind of peoplewho don't know the value of time."

" I have not," retorted Mr. Childera, aftersurveying him from head to foot, " thehonor of knowing you ;—but if you mean thatyou can make more money of your time thanI can of mine, I should judge from yourappearance, that you are about right."

"And when you have made it, you can keepit too, I should think," said Cupid.

tt Kidderminster, stow that ! " said Mr.Childers, (Master Kidderminster was Cupid'smortal name).

" What does he come here cheeking us for,then?" cried Master Kidderminster, showinga very irascible temperament. " If you wantto cheek us, pay your ochre at the doors andtake it out."

"Kidderminster," said Mr. Childers, raisinghis voice, "stow that!—Sir," to Mr. Gradgrind," I was addressing myself to you. You mayor you may not be aware (for perhaps youhave not been much in the audience), thatJupe has missed his tip very often, lately."

" Has—what has he missed ? " asked Mr.Gradgrind, glancing at the potent Bounderbyfor assistance.

" Missed his tip.""Offered at the Garters four times last

night, and never done 'em onee," said MasterKidderminster. "Missed his tip at thebanners,too, and was loose in his ponging."

"Didn't do what he ought to do. Wasshort in his leaps and bad in his tumbling,"Mr. Childers interpreted.

" Oh ! " said Mr. Gradgrind, " that is tip, isit?"

"In a general way that's missing his tip,"Mr. E. W. B. Childera answered.

" Nine-oils, Merrylegs, missing tips, garters,banners, and Ponging, eh !" ejaculatedBounderby with his laugh of laughs. " Queersort of company too, for a man who has raisedhimself."

"Lower yourself, then," retorted Cupid." Oh Lord ! If you've raised yourself so highas all that .comes to, let yourself down a bit."

"This is a very obtrusive lad ! " said Mr.Gradgrind, turning, and knitting his browson him.

"We'd have had a young gentleman to

meet you, if we had known you were coming,"retorted Master Kidderminster, nothingabashed. " It's a pity you don't have- a be-speak, being so particular. You're on theTignt-Jeff, ain't you 1"

" What does this unmannerly boy mean,"asked Mr. Gradgriud, eyeing him in a sort ofdesperation, "by Tight-Jeff? "

" There ! Get out, get out!" said Mr.Childers, thrusting his young friend from theroom, rather in the prairie manner. " Tight-Jeff or &laek-Jeff. it don't much signify ; it'sonly tight-rope and slack rope. You weregoing to give me a message for Jupe ? "

" Yes, I was.""Then," continued Mr. Childers, quickly,

" my opinion is, he will never receive it. Doyou know much of him ? "

" I never saw the man in my life."" I doubt if you ever will see him now. It's

pretty plain to me, he is off."" Do you mean that he has deserted his

daughter ?"" Ay ! I mean," said Mr. Childers, with a

nod, " that he has cut. He was goosed lastnight, he was goosed the night before last, hewas goosed to-day. He has lately got in theway of being always goosed, and he can'tstand it."

""Why has he been—so very much—Goosed?"asked Mr. Gradgrind, forcing the word out ofhimself, with great solemnity and reluctance.

"His joints are turning stiff, and he isgetting used up," said Childers. He hashis points as a Cackler still, but he can'tget a living out of them."

" A Caekler !" Bounderby repeated. "Herewe go again ! "

"A speaker, if the gentleman likes it better,'*said Mr. E. W. B. Childers, superciliouslythrowing the interpretation over his shoulder,and accompanying it with a shake of his longhair—which all shook at once. " Now, it's aremarkable fact, sir, that it cut that mandeeper, to know that his daughter knew othis being goosed, than to go through with it."

" Good ! " interrupted Mr. Bounderby." This is good, Gradgrind ! A man so fondof his daughter, that he runs away from her !This is devilish good ! Ha ! ha ! Now, I'lltell you what, young man. I haven't alwaysoccupied my present station of life. I knowwhat these things are. You may teastonished^to hear it, but my mother ran away from ~nie?

E. W. B. Childers replied pointedly, thathe was not at all astonished to hear it.

"Very well," said Bounderby. "I wasborn in a ditch, and my mother raa awayfrom me. Do I excuse her for it 1 No. HaveI ever excused her for it ? Not I. What doI call her for it ? I call her probably the veryworst woman that ever lived in the world,except my drunken grandmother. There'sno family pride about me, there's no imagina-tive sentimental humbug about me. I call aspade a spade; and I call the mother of JosiahBounderby of Coketown, without any fear or

Charles Dickens.] HARD TIMES. 191

any favour, what I should call her if she hadbeen the mother of Dick Jones of "Wapping.So, with this man. He is a runaway rogueand a vagabond, that's what he is, in English."

" It's all the same to me what he is orwhat he is not, whether in English orwhether in French," retorted Mr. E. W.B. Childers, facing about. " I am tellingyour friend what's the fact ; if you don'tlike to hear it, you can avail yourself ofthe open air. You give it mouth enough,you do; but givebuilding at least,"with stern irony.

it mouth in your ownremonstrated E. W. B." Don't give it mouth

in this building, till you're called upon.You have got some building of your own,I dare say, now 1"

" Perhaps so," replied Mr. Eounderby,rattling his money and laughing.

" Then give it mouth in your own building,will you, if you please ?" said Childers."Because this isn't a strong building, andtoo much of you might bring it down ! "

Eyeing Mr. Bounderby from head to footagain, he turned from him, as from a manfinally disposed of, to Mr. Gradgrind.

" Jupe sent his daughter out on an errandnot an hour ago, and then was seen to slipout himself, with his hat over his eyes and abundle tied up in a handkerchief under hisarm. She will never believe it of him; but hehas cut away and left her."

"Pray," said Mr. Gradgrind,•*'• why will

of Mr. Bounderby's existence, " that she wasto be taught the deuce-and-all of education.How it got into his Lead, I can't say ; I canonly say that it never got out. He has beenpicking up a bit of reading for her, here—and a bit of writing tor her, there—and a bitof cyphering for her, somewhere else—theseseven years."

Mr. E. W. B. Childers took one of his handsout of his pockets, stroked his face and chin,and looked, with a good deal of doubt and alittle hope, at Mr. Gradgrind. From thefirst he had sought to conciliate that gentle-man, for the sake of the deserted girl.

" When Sissy got into the school here," hepursued, " her father was as pleased as Punch.I couldn't altogether make out why, myself,as we were not stationary here, being butcomers and goers anywhere. I suppose,however, he had this move in his mind—hewas always half cracked—and then consideredher provided for. If you should happen tohave looked in to-night, for the purpose oftelling him that you were going to do her anylittle service," said Mr. Childers, strokinghis face again, and repeating his look, "itwould be very fortunate and well timed;very fortunate and well timed."

" On the contrary," returned Mr. Grad-grind. " I came to tell him that her con-nexions made her not an object for the school,and that she must not attend any more.Still, if her father really has left her, withoutany connivance on her part—Bounderby, letshe never believe it of him ]:

" Because those two were one. Becausethey were never asunder. Because, up to | Upon this, Mr. Childers politely betookthis time, he seemed to dote upon her," said himself, with his equestrian walk, to the

me have a word with you."

Childers, taking a step or two to look intothe empty trunk. Both Mr. Childers andMaster Kidderminster walked in a curiousmanner ; with their legs wider apart thanthe general run of men, and with a veryknowing assumption of being stiff in the knees.This walk was common to all the malemembers of Sleary's company, and wasunderstood to express, that they were alwayson horseback.

"Poor Sissy ! He had better have apprenticedher, " said Childers, giving his hair anothershake, as he looked up from the empty box."Now, he leaves her without anything totake to."

"It is creditable to you who have neverbeen apprenticed, to express that opinion,"returned Mr. Gradgrind. approvingly.

" /never apprenticed ? I was apprenticedwhen I was seven year old."

" Oh ! Indeed 1" said Mr. Gradgrind,rather resentfully, as having been defraudedof his good opinion. " I was not aware ofits being the custom to apprentice youngpersons to "

"Idleness," Mr. Bounderby put in with aloud laugh.Nor I!"

" No, by the Lord Harry!

" Her father always had it in his head,"resumed Childers,. feigning unconsciousness

landing outside the door, and there stoodstroking his face and softly whistling. Whilethus engaged, he overheard such phrases inMr. Bounderby's voice, as " No. 1 say no.I advise you not. I say by no means."While, from Mr. Gradgrind, he heard in hismuch lower tone the words, " But even as anexample to Louisa, of what this pursuit whichhas been the subject of a vulgar curiosity, leadsto and ends in. Think of it, Bounderby, inthat point of view."

Meanwhile, the various members of Sleary'scompany gradually gathered together fromthe upper regions, where they were quartered,and, from standing about, talking in lowvoices to one another and to Mr. Childers,gradually insinuated themselves and him intothe room. There were two or three handsomeyoung women among-them, with their two orthree husbands, and their two or threemothers, and their eight or nine little chil-dren, who did the fairy business when re-quired. The father of one of the families wasin the habit of balancing the father of anotherof the families on the top of a great pole ; thefather of a third family often made a pyramidof both those fathers, with Master Kidder-minster for the/apex, and himself for the base;all the fathers- could dance \ipon rollingcasks, stand upon bottles,, catch knives and

192 HOUSEHOLD WOEDS. [Conducted by

balls, twirl hand-basins, ride upon anything,jump over everything, and stick at nothing.All the mothers could (and did) dance, upon theslack wire and the tight rope, and performrapid acts on bare-backed steeds; none of themwere at all particular in respect of showingtheir legs ; and one of them, alone in a Greekchariot, drove six in hand into every townthey came to. They all assumed to be mightyrakish and knowing, they were not very tidyin their private dresses, they were not at allorderly in their domestic arrangements, andthe combined literature of the whole companywould have produced but a poor letter on anysubject. Yet there was a remarkable gentle-ness and childishness about these people, aspecial inaptitude for any kind of sharppractice, and an untiring readiness to helpand pity one another, deserving, often ofas much respect, and always of as muchgenerous construction, as the every-day vir-tues of any class of people in the world.

Last of all appeared Mr. Sleary : a stoutman as already mentioned, with one fixed eyeand one loose eye, a voice (if it can be calledso) like the efforts of a broken old pair ofbellows, a flabby surface, and a muddled headwhich was never sober and never drunk.

" Thquire ! " said Mr. Sleary, who wastroubled with asthma, and whose breath camefar too thick and heavy for the letter s," Your thervant! Thith ith a bad piethe ofbithnith, thith ith. You've heard of myClown and hith dog being thuppothed to havemorrithed ?"

He addressed Mr. Gradgrind,who answered"Yes."

"Well Thquire," he returned, taking offhis hat, and rubbing the lining with hispocket-handkerchief, which he kept inside itfor the purpose. " Ith it your intentionth todo anything for the poor girl, Thquire 1"

" I shall have something to propose to herwhen she comes back," said Mr. Gradgrind.

tied on a horse at two years old, and hadmade a will at twelve, which she alwayscarried about with her, expressive of herdying desire to be drawn to the grave by thetwo piebald ponies—cried " Father, hush !she has come back !" Then came Sissy Jupe,running into the room as she had run out ofit. And when she saw them all assembled,and saw their looks, and saw no father there,she broke into a most deplorable cry, and tookrefuge on the bosom of the most accomplishedtight-rope lady (herself in the family way),who knelt down on the floor to nurse her, andto weep over her.

" Ith an infernal thame, upon my thout itith," said Sleary.

" O my dear father, my good kind father,where are you gone 1 You are gone to tryto do me some good, I know ! You are goneaway for my sake, I am sure. And howmiserable and helpless you will be withoutme, poor, poor father, until you come back ! "It was so pathetic to hear her saying manythings of this kind, with her face turnedupward, and her arms stretched out as if shewere trying to stop his departing shadow andembrace it, that no one spoke a word untilMr. Bounderby (growing impatient) took thecase in hand.

" Now, good people all," said he, " this iswanton waste of time. Let the girl understandthe fact. Let her take it from me, if youlike, who have been run away from, myself.Here, what's your name ! Your father hasabsconded—deserted you—and you mustn'texpect to see him again as long as you live."

They cared so little for plain Fact, thesepeople, and were in that advanced state ofdegeneracy on the subject, that instead ofbeing impressed by the speaker's strongcommon sense, they took it in extraordinarydudgeon. The men muttered "Shame!" andthe women " Brute ! " and Sleary, in somehaste, communicated the following hint, apart

" Glad to hear it, Thquire. Not that I! to Mr. Bounderby.want to get rid of the child, any more than I "I tell you what, Thquire. To thpeak plainwant to thtand in her way. I'm willing totake her prentith, though at her age ith late.

to you, my opinion ith that you had bettevcut it thorfr, and drop it. They're a very good

My voithe ith a little huthky, Thquire, and j natur'd people, my people, but they're accuth-not eathy heard by them ath don't know me ; j tomed to be quick in their movementh ; andbut if you'd been chilled and heated, heated i if you don't act upon my advithe, I'm damnedand chilled, chilled and heated, in the ringwhen you wath young, ath often ath I havebeen, your voithe would 'nt have lathted out,Thquire, no more than mine."

" I dare say not," said Mr. Gradgrind." What thall it be, Thquire, while you

wait ? Thall it be Therry ? Give it a name,Thquire !" said Mr. Sleary, with hospitableease.

" Nothing for me, I thank you," said Mr.Gradgrind.

"Don't thay nothing, Thquire. What dothyour friend thay? If you have'nt took yourfeed yet, have a glath of bitterth."

Here his daughter Josephine—a prettyfair-haired girl of eighteen, who had been.

if I don't believe they'll pith you out a'winder."

Mr. Bounderby being restrained by thismild suggestion, Mr. Gradgrind found aaopening for his eminently practical expositionof the subject.

" It is of no moment," said he, " whetherthis person is to be expected back at anytime, or the contrary. He is gone away, andthere is no present expectation of his return.That, I believe, is agreed on all hands."

" Thath agreed, Thquire. Thtick to that!"From Sleary.

" Well then. I, who came here to informthe father of the poor girl, Jupe, that shecould not be received at the school any more,

Charles Dickens.] HAED TIMES. 193

in consequence of there being practical ob-jections, into which I need not enter, to thereception there of the children of persons soemployed, am prepared in these altered cir-cumstances to make a proposal. I am willingto take charge of you, Jupe, and to educateyou, and provide for you. The only condition(over and above your good behaviour) I makeis, that you decide now, at once, whether toaccompany me or remain here. Also, that ifyou accompany me now, it is understood thatyou communicate no more with any of yourfriends, who are here present. These obser-vations comprise the whole of the case."

"At the thame time," said Sleary, "Imutht put in my word, Thquire, tho that boththides of the banner may be equally theen.If you like, Thethilia, to be preutitht, youknow the natur of the work and you knowyour companionth. Emma Gordon, in whothelap you're a lyin' at prethent, would be amother to you, and Joth'pbine would be athithter to you. I don't pretend to be of theangel breed mythelf, and I dont thay butwhat, when you rnith'd your tip, you'd findme cut up rough, and thwear a oath or two atyou. But what I thay, Thquire, ith, that goodtempered or bad tempered I never did ahorthe a injury yet, no more than thwearing athim went, and that I don't expect I thall beginotherwithe at my time of life, with a rider.I never wath muth of a Cackler, Thquire, andI have thed my thay."

The latter part of this speech was addressedto Mr. Gradgrind, who received it with a graveinclination of his head, and then remarked.

" The only observation I will make to youJupe, in the way of influencing your decision,is, that it is highly desirable to have a soundpractical education, and that even your fatherhimself (from what I understand) appears,on your behalf, to have known and felt thatmuch."

The last words had a visible effect upon her.She stopped in her wild crying, a little de-tached herself from Emma Gordon, and turnedher face full upon her patron. The wholecompany perceived the force of the change,and drew a long breath together, that plainlysaid, " she will go ! "

" Be sure you know your own mind, Jupe,"Mr. Gradgrind cautioned her ; " I say no more.Be sure you know your own mind !"

" When father comes back," cried the girl,bursting into tears again after a minute'ssilence, "how will he ever find me if I goaway !"

" You may be quite at ease," said Mr. Grad-grind, calmly ; he worked out the whole matterlike a sum ; " you may be quite at ease, Jupe,on that score. In such a case, your father, Iapprehend, must find out Mr. "

" Thleary. Thath my name, Thquire. Notathamed of it. Known all over England, andalwayth paythe ith way."

" Must find out Mr. Sleary, who would thenlet him know where you went. I should have

no power of keeping you against his wish, andhe would have no difficulty, at any time, infinding Mr. Thomas Gradgrind of Coketown,I am well known."

" Well known," assented Mr. Sleary, rollinghis loose eye. "You're one of the thort,Thquire, that keepth a prethious thight ofmoney out of the houthe. But never mind thatat prethent."

There was another silence ; and then sheexclaimed, sobbing with her hands before herface, " Oh give me my clothes, give meclothes, and let me go away before I breakmy heart! "

The women sadly bestirred themselves toget the clothes together—it was soon done,for they were not many—and to pack themin a basket which had often travelled withthem. Sissy sat all the time, upon the ground,still sobbing and covering her eyes. Mi'.Gradgrind and his friend Bounderby stoodnear the door, ready to take her away. Mr.Sleary stood in the middle of the room, withthe male members of the company about him,exactly as he would have stood in the centreof the ring during his daughter Josephine's per-formance. He wanted nothing but his whip.

The basket packed in silence, they broughther bonnet to her, and smoothed her disor-dered hair, and put it on. Then they pressedabout her, and bent over her in very naturalattitudes, kissing and embracing her ; andbrought the children to take leave of her;and were a tender-hearted, simple, foolish setof women altogether.

"Now, Jupe," said Mr. Gradgrind. "Ifyou are quite determined, come ! "

But she had to take her farewell of the malepart of the company yet, and every one ofthem had to unfold his arms (for they allassumed the professional attitude when theyfound themselves near Sleary), and give her aparting kiss—Master Kidderminster excepted,in whose young nature there was an originalflavour of the misanthrope, who was alsoknown to have harboured matrimonial views,and who moodily withdrew. Mr. Sleary wasreserved until the last. Opening his armswide he took her by both her hands, and wouldhave sprung her up and down, after the riding-master manner of congratulating young ladieson their dismounting from a rapid act; butthere was no rebound in Sissy, and she onlystood before him crying.

" Good bye, my dear!" said Sleary. " You'llmake your fortun, I hope, and none of ourpoor folkth will ever trouble you, I'll pound it.I with your father hadn't taken hith dog withhim; ith a ill-conwenienth to have the dogout of the billth. But on thecond thoughth,he wouldn't have performed without hithmathter, tho ith ath broad ath ith long ! "

With that, he regarded her attentively withhis fixed eye, surveyed his company with theloose one, kissed her, shook his head, andhanded her to Mr. Gradgrind as to a horse.

" There the ith, Thquire," he said, sweeping

194 HOUSEHOLD WOBDS. t'Conductedby

her with a professional glance as if she werebeing adjusted in her seat, "and the'll do youjttthtithe. Good bye Thethilia ! " -

" Good bye Cecilia ! " Good bye Sissy ! "" God bless you dear! *' In a variety of voicesfrom all the room.

But the riding-master eye had observedthe bottle of the nine oils in her bosom, andhe now interposed with " Leave the bottle, mydear ; ith large to carry ; it will be of no utheto you. now. Give it to me ! "

" No, no ! " she said, in another burst oftears. " Oh no! Pray let me keep it forfather till he comes back ! He will want it,when he comes back. He had never thoughtof going away, when he sent me for it. Imust keep it lor him, if you please ! "

"Tho be it, my dear. (You thee how itith, Th quire !) Farewell, Thethilia ! My lathtwordth to you ith thith, Thtick to thetermth of your engagement, be obedient tothe Thquire, and forget uth. But if, whenyou're grown up and married and well off,you come upon any horthe-riding ever, don'tbe hard upon it, don't be croth with it, giveit a Bethpeak if you can, and think you mightdowurth. People mutht be amuthed, Thquire,thomehow," continued Sleary, rendered morepursy than ever, by so much talking ; " theycan't be alwayth a working, nor yet they can'tbe alwayth a learning. Make the betht of uth :not the wurtht. I've got my living out of thehorthe-riding all my life, I know ; but I con-thider that I lay down the philothophy of thethubject when I thay to you, Thquire, makethe betht of uth : not the wurtht! "

The Sleary philosophy was propounded asthey went down stairs ; and the fixed eye ofPhilosophy—and its rolling eye, too—soonlost the three figures and the basket in thedarkness of the street.

OUT IN THE DESERT.

THERE is no word which suggests morevague and horrible ideas than the Desert."We are prone, rather from the impressionsleft by classical writers and poets than fromexact geographical study, to imagine it as a seaX>f sand, now stretching in level uniformity onevery side to a circular horizon, now raisedas it were into white billows by the wind.There are places to which such a descriptionwould apply ; and the writer of this pagehas himself passed over limited expanseswhere he could discover no landmark, —nothing to guide his steps, and where it waseasier to navigate, if that expression may beused, at night, when the stars had taken uptheir immutable stations, than by the dazzlinglight of day.

But, in -general, the Desert is far lessdreary and dismal than this. Even thatbroad belt of country, so long indicatedby a cloud of dots in our maps, extendingbetween the Barbary States and the BlackKingdoms of Central Africa, is full of resting-

places, though small, and in this way onlycan we account for the fact, that as far ashistory or tradition takes us back, we hear ofcaravan routes crossing it in every direction,with regular stations and places of rendezvous.There are difficulties and dangers to be over-come certainly; but imagination is a greatcoward, and requires to be comforted byscience. Wonderful was the story of theSimoom ; but, although a recent travellerpersuaded himself that he saw water boilbeneath its influence, two-thirds of what wehear of it may be ranked with the marvels ofthe Arabian Nights' Entertainments.

Yet there is something fascinating in theway in which the Orientals tell of the perilsof desert-travelling, especially when we knowthat however those perils may have beenexaggerated, they have a real existence afterall, that lives have been lost, that whole cara-vans have truly "foundered " in a sea of sand,and that every difficult traject is strewed withbones, not always of camels. Although, there-fore, after some time spent in the Libyanwaste, I had begun to look upon it as a A^erycomfortable sort of place indeed—the chancesof dying by thirst or heat, or frays withrobbers, not always suggesting themselves—•yet, when I left a well announced as the lastfor four days, a slight feeling of awe seemednot inappropriate. Silence prevailed in thecaravan for some time—all my companionsbeing in the same mood of mind.

There are several sorts of caravans orKafilas. Ours was composed simply of travel-lers ; and ife is worth while saying a word ortwo of its economy, in order that readersaccustomed to a rather more expeditiousmode of proceeding may be enabled to realisethe slowness of our progress. We had withus nine camels to carry baggage, provisions,and water for nine men ; whilst for "eques-trian " purposes we had six animals whichwe rather vulgarly designated Jerusalemponies. The four travellers walked or rodeas they chose ; their two servants generallywalked ; whilst the escort of three Bedouinsshuffled along in their slippers or climbed upand sat between the water-skins or on thetent-gear. Our average rate of progresswas two miles and a half per hour; forwhatever was gained "by pasting forward ata more rapid rate, was sure to Ta# *4ost after~wards by idling on the way. When thecountry was absolutely arid we went steadilyon ia a compact body; but occasionally inthe beds of valleys or in almost impercep-tible hollows in the plain were expansescovered by a growth of dwarf plants withmore weed than leaf, or even by sparethickets of rather lively green. Then thecamels stretched down their long necks, nowto one side, now to the other ; not absolutelystepping but pausing to snatch mouthfuls,which they munched as they went. If theywere denied the privilege, say the Bedouins,they would soon be exhausted and unable to

Charles Dickens.] OUT THE DESEET.

continue work. It is scarcely necessary tosay that the camel carries water for othersthan itself; and that only at copious wells isit allowed to drink.

The donkeys by their nature claimed bettertreatment ; and generally, when we haltedabout evening time, a tin tray of water wasput under their noses. Sometimes, it is true,they had to be satisfied with no more than adraught once in forty-eight hours ; and then,poor things, they drooped, and we were obligedto dismount and walk with their halters roundour arms. The rate at which a donkey travelsis about four miles to the hour; so that whenour animals were well refreshed we used toride on ahead and wait for the slow movingcaravan, enjoying our pipes, and sometimeseven making coffee, though rarely could apatch of shade be found.

We were in motion at all hours of the dayand night. Whenever possible, we halted attwelve, and rested till the assez, or aboutthree. Then we proceeded until somset; and,halting again, waited one, two, or three hoursfor the rising of the moon, by favour of whichwe completed our task. For every day it wasnecessary to get over so much space, and anyfailure, we knew, might lead to disaster.There can be no dallying by the way in theDesert. Water is taken in only for a definitenumber of days; and the Bedouins are sochary of their camels, that they almost alwaysmiscalculate on the wrong side, and preparefor a short period of suffering before the -endof the journey. On one occasion I rememberthat, in order to advance more rapidly, theyactually emptied out a small supply we hadleft, so that we were compelled to toil on,beneath a sun that raised our thermometer toabove a hundred in the tent, for eight hourswithout one single drop to wet our parchedlips withal. There was a well ahead. Whatmattered a little suffering, if the camels wereeased of a few pounds weight 1 We arrived,and were denied water by the Arabs duringa tedious parley. But the warning wasthrown away. The Desert has its routine;and on no single occasion, I believe, was asufficient supply laid in.

On the particular occasion of which., I speaka rather serious ground of alarm had beensuggested. .Some of the water-skins wereaoi so solid as they might be; and it waspossible that in the course of four or five daysthey might run dry. The danger was asgreat as that- of a ship springing a leak athousand miles from land. Should we be leftwithout anything to drink in the midst of therocky range we had to traverse, there werefew chances of safety for even a remnant ofthe party. However, we were off; and itwas best not to allow the mind to dwell onall possible dangers. In an hour or so we gotrid of the seriousness, it could scarcely becalled gloom, that had come over us 4 andregained the somewhat reckless confidence bywhich we had been, until then, upheld.

The aspect of the Desert in that particularspot was somewhat dreary. The ground overwhich we moved was nearly level; but OHeither hand were low stony ridges thatopened here and there, and allowed us to seesimilar ridges beyond. Grey lady-birds, but-terflies of small size and sombre colour, andlizards that darted to and fro, were the onlyliving things that presented themselves ; butas I have said, there were now and theupatches of meagre vegetation. Night atlength came on ; but for some reason orother our guides, instead of as usual waitingfor the moon, lighted a lantern and endea-voured to follow the track by its means.Presently they hesitated, stopped, went onagain, laid their heads together, separated oneither hand, shouted one to the other ; and atlast when we, uncertain and anxious, halted"and called for an explanation, they admittedthat they had lost their way and were per-fectly unable to determine whether we oughtto advance or to retreat, to turn to the righthand or to the left. Would it not be best tostop and wait for the moon ? The positionwas exposed ; and a cold bleak wind hadbegun to blow.' We moved on a little further,and at length it was resolved to spread themat—no one talked of setting up the tent—and watch or sleep until morning came.

The Bedouins did not then explain the rea-son of their unusual anxiety. We afterwardslearned that there was only one pass throughthe range of rocks that lay between us andour place of destination, and that, once themarked track missed, there existed no meansof making what seamen term " a good fall."However, we were quite certain that thingshad gone very wrong indeed ; and those whohad most gaily made light of the dangers ofthe desert—going to the extreme of repre-senting them as no greater than those whichmay be encountered in an omnibus ride fromPimlico to the Bank—now began to feel peni-tent and humble. There is nothing we regretso much as the insults we have foolishlyheaped on peril when it really presents itself.The French peasant who had threatened totake Satan by the nose, merely doffed his hatwhen that gentleman appeared. For mypart, I tried to persuade myself that I hadbeen more reasonable than my companions ;and did continue to recollect that I had ex-postulated with when he audaciously

" Sad was the hour and luckless was the day,When first from Shiraz walls I bent my way."

The real state of the case was this : wemight utterly fail in falling into the trackagain, such things having occurred, howeverunlikely it might seem, seeing that we couldnot have diverged above a mile ; or we mightonly succeed after we had exhausted a con-siderable portion of our supply of water,which might involve great privation towardsihe end of the jauraey, or the necessity of

" Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS"—SHAKESPEARE.

HOUSEHOLD WORDS.A WEEKLY JOURNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.

SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1854. [PRICE Id.

MR.

H A R D TIMES.BY CHARLES DICKENS.

CHAPTER VII.BOUNDERBY beinsr a bachelor,

elderly lady presided over his establishment,in consideration of a certain annual stipend.

Scadgers ; and, partly to spite her ladyship,and partly to maintain herself, went out at asalary. An^l here she was now, in herelderly days, with the Coriolanian style of noseand the dense black eyebrows which had cap-tivated Sparsit, making Mr. Bounderby's teaas he took his breakfast.

If Bounderby had been a Conqueror, andMrs. Sparsit was this lady's name ; and she j Mrs. Sparsit a captive Princess whom hewas a prominent figure in attendance on Mr.! took about as a feature in his state-processions,Bounderby's car, as it rolled along in triumphwith the Bully of humility inside.

For, Mrs. Sparsit had not only seen different,days, but was highly connected. She had agreat aunt living in these very times called

he could not have made a greater flourish,with her than he habitually did. Just as itbelonged to his boastfultiess to depreciate hisown extraction, so it belonged to it to exaltMrs. Sparsit's. In the measure that he would

Lady Scadgers. Mr. Sparsit, deceased, of whom ! not allow his own youth to have been attendedshe was the relict, had been by the mother'sside what Mrs. Sparsit still called "a Powler."Strangers of limited information and dull ap-prehension were sometimes observed not toknow what a Powler was, and even to appearuncertain whether it might be a business, ora political party, or a profession of faith. Thebetter class of minds, however, did not needto be informed that the Powlers were anancient stock, who could trace themselves soexceedingly far back that it was not surpris-ing if they sometimes lost themselves—whichthey had rather frequently done, as respectedhorse-flesh, blind-hookey, Hebrew monetary

by a single favourable circumstance, hebrightened Mrs. Sparsit's juvenile career withevery possible advantage, and showeredwagon-loads of early roses all over that lady'spath. " And yet, sir," he would say, " howdoes it turn out after all ? Why here she is ata hundred a year (I give her a hundred,which she is pleased to term handsome), keep-ing the house of Josiah Bouuderby of Coke-town !"

Nay, he made this foil of his so very widelyknown, that third parties took it up, andhandled it on some occasions with considerablebriskness. It was one of the most exasperat-ing attributes of Bouuderby, that he not onlysang his own praises but stimulated othermen to sing them. There was a moral infec-tion of claptrap in him. Strangers, modest

father's side a Scadgers. Lady Scadgers (an enough elsewhere, started up at dinners inimmensely fat old woman, with an inordinate Coketown, and boasted, in quite a rampant

transactions,Court.

and the Insolvent Debtors

The late Mr. Sparsit, being by the mother'sside a Powler, married this lady, being by the

way, of Bounderby. They made him out tobe *the Royal arms, the Union-Jack, MagnaCharta, John Bull, Habeas Corpus, the Bill of

appetite for butcher's meat, and a mysteriousleg, which had now refused to get out of bed forfourteen years) contrived the marriage, at aperiod when Sparsit was just of age, and Rights, An Englishman's house is his castle,chiefly noticeable for a slender body, weakly j Church and State, and God save the Queen,supported on two long slim props, and sur-! all put together. And as often (and it wasmounted by no head worth mentioning. Heinherited a fair fortune from his uncle, butowed it all before^be came into it, and spentit twice over iuimetiiately afterwards. Thus,when he died, at twenty-four (the scene ofhis decease Calais, and the cause brandy), hedid not leave his widow, from whom he hadbeen separated soon Slter the honeymoon, inaffluent circumstancesirC^hat bereaved lady,fifteen years older than he, fell presently atdeadly feud with Hife. only relative, Lady > this morning."

very often) as an orator of this kind broughtinto his peroration," Princes and Lords may flourish or may fade,

A breath can make them, as a breath has made :"

—it was, for certain, more or less understoodamong the company that he had heard ofMrs. Sparsifc.

"Mr. Bounderby," said Mrs. Sparsit, "youare unusually slow, sir, with your breakfast

213

214 HOUSEHOLD WOBDS. [Conducted by

" Why, ma'am," he returned, " I am think-ing about Tom Gradgrind's whim ;" TomGradgrind, for a bluff independent manner ofspeaking—as if somebody were always endea-vouring to bribe him with immense sums tosay Thomas, and he wouldn't ; " Tom Grad-grind's whim, ma'am, of bringing up thetumbling-girl."

" The girl is now waiting to know," saidMrs. Sparsit, " whether she is to go straightto the school, or up to the Lodge."

" She must wait, ma'am," answered Boun-derby, " till I know myself. We shall haveTom Gradgrind down here presently, I sup-pose. If he should wish her to remain here aday or two longer, of course she can, ma'am."

"Of course she can if you wish it, Mr.Bounderby."

"I told him I would give her a shake-downhere, last night, in order that he might sleepon it before he decided to let her have anyassociation with Louisa."

" Indeed, Mr. Bounderby ? Very thoughtfulof you !"

Mrs. Sparsit's Coriolanian nose underwent.a slight expansion of the nostrils, and herblack eyebrows contracted as she took a sipof tea.

"It'stolerably clear to me," said Bounderby," that the little puss can get small good out ofsuch companionship."

" Are you speaking of young Miss Grad-grind, Mr. Bounderby ? "

" Yes, ma'am, I am speaking of Louisa."" Your observation being limited to ' little

puss,'" said Mrs. Sparsit, " and there beingtwo little girls in question, I did not knowwhich might be indicated by that expression."

" Louisa," repeated Mr. Bounderby." Louisa,Louisa."

" You are quite another father to Louisa,sir." Mrs. Sparsit took a little more tea; and,as she bent her again contracted eyebrowsover her steaming cup, rather looked as if herclassical countenance were invoking theinfernal gods.

"If you had said I was another father toTom—young Tom, I mean, not my friendTom Gradgrind—you might have been nearerthe mark. I am going to take young Tominto my office. Going to have him under mywing, ma'am."

" Indeed ? Bather young for that, is he not,sir ?" Mrs. Sparsit's " sir," in addressing Mr.Bounderby, was a word of ceremony, ratherexacting consideration for herself in the use,than honouring him.

" I'm not going to take him at once ; he isto finish his educational cramming beforethen," said Bounderby. " By the LordHarry, he'll have enough of it, first and last!He'd open Ms «yea, that boy would, if heknew how empty of learning my young mawwas, at his time of life." Which, by the by,he probably did know, for he had heard of itoften enough. "But it's extraordinary thedifficulty I have on scores of such subjects, in

speaking to any one on equal terms. Here,for example, I have been speaking to you thismorning about Tumblers. Why, what do youknow about tumblers ? At the time when, tohave been a tumbler in the mud of the streets,would have been a godsend to me, a prizein the lottery to me, you were at the ItalianOpera. You were coming out of the ItalianOpera, ma'am, in white satin and jewels, ablaze of splendor, when I hadn't a penny tobuy a link to light you."

"I certainly, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit,with a dignity serenely mournful, " wasfamiliar with the Italian Opera at a veryearly age."

" -Egad, ma'am, so was I," said Bounderby,"—with the wrong side of it. A hard bed thepavement of its Arcade used to make, I as-sure you. People like you, ma'am, accus-tomed from infancy to lie on Down feathers,have no idea how hard a- paving-stone is,without trying it. No no, it's of no use mytalking to you about tumblers. I shouldspeak of foreign dancers, and the West End ofLondon, and May Fair, and lords and ladiesand honorables."

" I trust, sir," rejoined Mrs. Sparsit, withdecent resignation, " it is not necessary thatyou should do anything of that kind. I hopeI have learnt how to accommodate myself tothe changes of life. If I have acquired aninterest in hearing of your instructive ex-periences, and can scarcely hear enough ofthem, I claim no merit for that, since I believeit is a general sentiment."

" Wellj ma'am," said her patron, " perhapssome people may be pleased to say that they dolike to hear, in his own unpolished way, whatJosiah Bounderby of Coketown has gonethrough. Bat you must confess that youwere born in the lap of luxury, yourself.Come, ma'am, you know you were born in thelap of luxury."

" I do not, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit witha shake of her head, " deny it."

Mr. Bounderby was obliged to get up fromtable, and stand with his back to the fire,looking at her ; she was such an enhancementof his merits.

" And you were in crack society. DeviliBhhigh society," he said, warming his legs.

" It is true, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit, withan affectation of humility the very opposite ofhis, and therefore in no danger of jostling it.

"You were in the tiptop fashion, and allthe rest of it," said Mr. Bounderby.

" Yes, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit, with akind of social widowhood upon her. " It isunquestionably true."

Mr. Bounderby, bending himself at theknees, literally embraced his legs in his greatsatisfaction, and laughed aloud. Mr. and MissGradgrind being then announced, he receivedthe former with a shake of the hand, and thelatter with a kiss.

" Can Jupebesent here, Bounderby ?" askedMr. Gradgrind.

HAED TIMES. 215

Certainly. So Jupe was sent there. Oncoming in, she curtseyed to Mr. Bounderby,and to his friend Tom Gradgrind, and alsoto Louisa ; but in her confusion unluckilyomitted Mrs. Sparsit. Observing this, theblustrous Bounderby had the following re-marks to make:

" Now, I tell you what, my girl. The nameof that lady by the teapot, is Mrs. Sparsit.That lady acts as mistress of this house,and she is a highly connected lady. Conse-quently, if ever you come again into any roomin this house, you will make a short stay in itif you don't behave towards that lady in yourmost respectful manner. Now, I don't care abutton what you do to me, because I don'taffect to be anybody. So far from having highconnections, I have no connections at all, andI come of the scum of the earth. But towardsthat lady, I do care what you do ; and youshall do what is deferential and respectful, oryou shall not come here."

" I hope, Bounderby," said Mr. Gradgrind,in a conciliatory voice, " that this was merelyan oversight."

" My friend Tom Gradgrind suggests, Mrs.Sparsit," said Bounderby, "that this wasmerely an oversight. Very likely. However,as you are aware, ma'am, I don't allow of evenoversights towards you."

" You are very good indeed, sir," returnedMrs. Sparsit, shaking her head with her Statehumility. " It is not worth speaking of."

Sissy, who all this time had been faintlyexcusing herself with tears in her eyes, wasnow waved over by the master of the houseto Mr. Gradgrind. She stood, looking intentlyat him, and Louisa stood coldly by, with hereyes upon the ground, while he proceededthus :

"Jupe, I have made up my mind to takeyou into my house ; and, when you are not inattendance at the school, to employ youabout Mrs. Gradgrind, who is rather aninvalid. I have explained to Miss Louisa—this is Miss Louisa — the miserable butnatural end of your late career ; and you areto expressly understand that the whole ofthat subject is past, and is not to be referredto any more. From this time you begin yourhistory. You are, at present, ignorant, Iknow."

" Yes, sir, very," she answered, curtseying."I shall have the satisfaction of causing

you to be strictly educated ; and you will bea living proof to all who come into com-munication with you, of the advantages ofthe training you will receive. You will bereclaimed and formed. You have been in thehabit, now, of reading to your father, and thosepeople I found you among, 1 dare say ?" saidMr. Gradgrind, beckoning her nearer to himbefore he said so, and dropping his voice.

" Only to father an<f Merrylegs, sir. Atleast I mean to fath/er, when Merrylega wasalways there."

" Never mind Merrylegs, Jupe," said Mr.

Gradgrind, with a passing frown. " I don'task about him. I understand you to havebeen in the habit of reading to your father ?"

" O yes, sir, thousands of times. Theywere the happiest—O, of all the happy timeswe had together, sir ! "

It was only now, when her grief broke out,that Louisa looked at her.

"And what," asked Mr. Gradgrind, in. astill lower voice, " did you read to yourfather, Jupe ? "

" About the Fairies, sir, and the Dwarf, andthe Hunchback, and the Genies," she sobbedout.

"There!" said Mr. Gradgrind, "that isenough. Never breathe a word of suchdestructive nonsense any more. Bounderby,this is a case for rigid training, and I shallobserve it with interest."

" Well," returned Mr. Bounderby, " I havegiven you my opinion already, and J shouldn'tdo as you do. But, very well, very well.Since you are bent upon it, very well ! "

So, Mr. Gradgrind and his daughter tookCecilia Jupe off with them to Stone Lodge,and on the way Louisa never spoke one word,good or bad. And Mr. Bounderby wentabout his daily pursuits. And Mrs. Sparsitgot behind her eyebrows and meditated inthe gloom of that retreat, all the morning.

CHAPTER VIII.

LET us strike the key note again, beforepursuing the tune.

When she was half a dozen years younger,Louisa had been overheard to begin a con-versation with her brother one day, bysaying " Tom, I wonder "—upon which Mr.Gradgrind, who was the person overhearing,stepped forth into the light, and said,*'Louisa,never wonder ! "

Herein lay the spring of the mechanicalart and mystery of educating the reasonwithout stooping *to the cultivation of thesentiments and affections. Never wonder. Bymeans of addition, subtraction, multiplication,and division, settle everything somehow, andnever wonder. Bring to me, says M'Choak-umchild, yonder baby just able to walk, andI will engage that it shall never wonder.

Now, besides very many babies just able towalk, there happened to be in Coketown aconsiderable population of babies who hadbeen walking against time towards the infiniteworld, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years andmore. These portentous infants being alarm-ing creatures to stalk about in any humansociety, the eighteen denominations inces-santly scratched one another's faces andpulled one another's hair, by way of agree-ing on the steps to be jtaken for theirimprovement — which they never did; asurprising circumstance, when the happyadaptation of the means to the end is con-sidered. Still, although they differed inevery other particular, conceivable and incon-ceivable (especially inconceivable), they were

216 HOUSEHOLD WOKD8. [Conducted by

pretty well united on the point thab theseunlucky infants were never to wonder. Bodynumber one, said they must take everythingon trust. Body number two, said they musttake everything on political economy. Bodynumber three, wrote leaden little books forthem, showing how the good grown-up babyinvariably got to the Savings Bank, and thebad grown-up baby invariably got transported.Body number four, under dreary pretences ofbeing droll (when it was very melancholyindeed), made the shallowest pretences ofconcealing pitfalls of knowledge, into which itwas the duty of these babies to be smuggledand inveigled. But, all the bodies agreedthat they were never to wonder.

There was a library in Coketown, to whichgeneral access was easy. Mr. Gradgriudgreatly tormented his mind about what thepeople read in this library : a point whereonlittle riverg of tabular statements periodicallyflowed into the howling ocean of tabularstatements, which no diver ever got to anydepth in and came up sane. It was a dis-heartening circumstance, but a melancholyfact, that even these readers persisted in won-dering. They wondered about human nature,human passions, human hopes and fears, thestruggles, triumphs and defeats, the cares andjoys and sorrows, the lives and deaths, ofcommon men and women. They some-times, after fifteen hours' work, sat downto read mere fables about men and women,more or less like themselves, and children,more or less like their own. They took DeFoe to their bosoms, instead of Euclid, andseemed to be on the whole more comforted byGoldsmith than by Cocker. Mr. Gradgrinclwas for ever working, in print and out of print,at this eccentric sum, and he never could makeout how it yielded this unaccountable product.

" I am sick of my life, Loo. I hate it alto-gether, and I hate everybody except you,"said the unnatural young Thomas Gradgrindin the hair-cutting chamber at twilight.

" You don't hate Sissy, Tom."" I hate to be obliged to call her Jupe.

And she hates me," said Tom moodily."No she does not, Tom, I am sure."" She must," said Tom. " She must just

hate and detest the whole set-out of us.They'll bother her head off, I think, before

"Not me, I hope, Tom?""No, Loo ; I wouldn't hurt you. I made

they have done with her. Already she's get-ting as pale as wax, and as heavy as-^-I am."

Young Thomas expressed these sentiments,sitting astride of a chair'before the fire, with

an exception of you at first. I don't knowwhat this—-jolly old—Jaundiced Jail—" Tomhad paused to find a sufficiently compli-mentary and expressive name for the parentalroof, and seemed to relieve his mind for amoment by the strong alliteration of this one," would be without you."

" Indeed, Tom ? Do you really and trulysay so ?"

"Why, of course I do. What's the use oftalking about it ! " returned Tom, chafinghis face on his coat-sleeve as if to mortifyhis flesh, and have it in unison with hisspirit.

"Because, Tom," said his sister, aftersilently watching the sparks awhile, "as I getolder, and nearer growing up, I often sit won-dering here, and think how unfortunate it isfor me that I can't reconcile you to homebetter than I am able to do. I don't knowwhat other girls know. I can't play to you,or sing to you. I can't talk to you so as tolighten your mind, for I never see any amusingsights or read any amusing books that it wouldbe a pleasure or a relief to you to talk about,when you are tired."

" Well, no more do I. I am as bad as youin that respect ; and I am a Mule too, whichyou're not. If father was determined to makeme either a Prig or a Mule, and I am not aPrig, why, it stands to reason, I must be aMule. And so I am," said Tom, desperately.

" It's a great pity," said Louisa, after ano-ther pause, and speaking thoughtfully out ofher dark corner; " it's a great pity, Tom.It's very unfortunate for both of us."

" Oh ! You," said Tom ; " you are a girl,Loo, and a girl comes out of it better than aboy does. I don't miss anything in you. Youare the only pleasure I have—you can brighteneven this place—and you can always lead meas you like."

" You are a dear brother, Tom ; and whileyou think I can do such things, I don't somuch mind knowing better. Though I doknow better, Tom, and am very sorry for it."She came and kissed him, and went back intoher corner again.

" I wish I could collect all the Facts we hearso much about," said Tom, spitefully settinghis teeth, " and all the Figures, and all thepeople who found them out; and I wish Icould put a thousand barrels of gunpowderunder them, and blow them all up together !

his arms on the back, and his sulky face on i However, when I go to live with old Boun-his arms. His sister sat in the darker corner j derby, I'll have my revenge."by the fireside, now looking at him, now i " Your revenge, Tom ? "looking at the bright sparks as they dropped "I mean, I'll enjoy myself a little, and goupon the hearth.

" As to me," said Tom, tumbling his hairall manner of ways with his sulky hands, " Iam a Donkey, that's what 1 am. I am asobstinate as one, I am more stupid than one,I get as much pleasure as one, and I shouldlike to kick like one."

about and see something, and hear something.I'll recompense myself for the way in whichI have been brought up."

" But don't disappoint yourself beforehand,Tom. Mr. Bounderby thinks as father thinks,and is a great deal rougher, and not half so

jkind."

diaries Dickens.} WIRE-DBAWING. 217

" Oh ! " said Tom, laughing ; " I don't mindtbat. I shall very well know how to manageand smoothe old Bounderby ! "

Their shadows were denned upon the wall,but those of the high presses in the roomwere all blended together on the wall and onthe ceiling, as if the brother and sister wereoverhung by a dark cavern. Or, a fancitulimagination—if such treason could have beenthere—might have made it out to be theshadow of their subject, and of its loweringassociation with their future.

" What is your great mode of smoothing andmanaging, Tom 1 Is it a secret ? "

" Oh ! " said Tom, " if it is a secret, it's notfar off. It's you. You are his little pet,you are his favourite ; he'll do anything foryou. When he says to me what I don't like,I shall say to him, ' My sister Loo will behurt and disappointed, Mr. Bounderby. Shealways used to tell me she was sure you wouldbe easier with me than this.' That'll bringhim about, or nothing will."

After waiting for some answering remark,and getting none, Tom wearily relapsed intothe present time, and twined himseIt yawninground and about the rails of his chair, andrumpled his head more and more, until hesuddenly looked up, and asked :

" Have you gone to sleep, Loo ? "" No, Tom. I am looking at the fire."" You seem to find more to look at in it

than ever I could find," said Tom. " Anotherof the advantages, I suppose, of being a girl."

" Tom," enquired his sister, slowly, and in«, curious tone, as if she were reading whatshe asked, in the fire, and it were not quiteplainly written there, " do you look forwardwith any satisfaction to this change to Mr.Bounderby's 1"

" Why, there's one thing to be said of it," re-turned Tom, pushing his chair from him, andstanding up; "it will be getting away fromhome."

" There is one thing to be said of it," Louisarepeated in her former curious tone ; "it willbe getting away from home. Yes."

" Nob but what I shall be very unwilling,both to leave you, Loo, and to* leave youhere. But I must go, you know, whether Ilike it or not; and 1 had better go where I cantake with me some advantage of your in-fluence, than where I should lose it altogether.Dou't you see ?"

"Yes, Tom."The answer was so long in coming, though

there was no indecision in it, that Tom wentand leaned on the back of her chair, to con-template the fire which so engrossed her, fromher point of view, and see what he could makeof it.

"Except that it is a fire," said Tom, "itlooks to me as stupid and blank as everythingelse looks. What do you see in it ? Not acircus 1"

" I don't see anything in it, Tom, parti-cularly. But since I have been looking at it,

I have been wondering about you and me,grown up."

" Wondering again ! " said Tom." I have such unmanageable thoughts,"

returned his sister, " that they will wonder."" Then I beg of you, Louisa," said Mrs.

Gradgrind, who had opened the door withoutbeing heard, " to do nothing of that descrip-tion, for goodness sake you inconsiderate girl,or I shall never hear the last of it from yourfather. And Thomas, it is really shameful,with my poor head continually wearing meout, that a boy brought up as you have been,and whose education has cost what yours has,should be found encouraging his sister to won-der, when he knows his father has expresslysaid that she is not to do it."

Louisa denied Tom's participation in theoffence ; but her mother stopped her with theconclusive answer, " Louisa, don't tell me, inmy state of health ; for unless you*had beenencouraged, it is morally and physically im-possible that you could have done it."

" I was encouragedby nothing, mother, but bylooking at the red sparks dropping out of thefire, and whitening and dying. It made methink, after all, how short my life would be,and how little I could hope to do in it."

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Gradgrind, renderedalmost energetic. "Nonsense ! Don't standthere and tell me such stuff, Louisa, to myface; when you know very well that if it wasever to reach your lather's ears I should neverhear the last of it. After all the trouble thathas been taken with you ! After the lecturesyou have attended, and the experiments youhave seen! After 1 have heard you myself, whenthe whole of my right side has been benumbed,going on with your master about combustion,and calcination, and calorification, and I maysay every kind of ation that could drive a poorinvalid distracted, to hear you talking in thisabsurd way about sparks and ashes ! I wish,"whimpered Mrs. Gradgrind, taking a chair,and discharging her strongest point before suc-cumbing under these mere shadows of facts," yes, I really do wish that I had never hada family, and then you would have knownwhat it was to do without me ! "

WIRE-DRAWING.

WIRE was not always made by drawing. Inearly days metal-workers were wont to beatout their metal into thin plates or leaves, tocut the plates into narrow strips, and to roundthese strips by a hammer and a file untilthey assumed the form of wire. In thedescription of the sacerdotal garments pre-pared for Aaron, it is stated that the makersof the ephod, " did beat thgjgoid into thinplates, and cut it into wires, fo work it in theblue, and in the purple, and in the scarlet,and in the fine linen, with cunning work."In the regions of fable, Vulcan is declared tohave forged a net of delicate wirework toentrap Venus and Mars; and if that most