seemed, in his feeble way, to be squaring at existence. for having come upon him so unexpectedly.

"The house will once again, Mrs. Dombey," said Mr. Dombey," be not only in name but in fact Dombey and Son; Dom-bey and Son!"

The words had such a softening influence that he appended a term of endearment to Mrs. Dombey's name (though not without some hesitation, as being a man but little used to that form of address): and said, "Mrs. Dombey, my-my dear."

A transient flush of faint surprise overspread the sick lady's face as she raised her eyes towards him.

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He will be christened Paul, my-Mrs. Dombey-of course.'

She feebly echoed, "Of course," or rather expressed it by the motion of her lips, and closed her eyes again.

"His father's name, Mrs. Dombey, and his grandfather's! I wish his grandfather were alive this day!" And again he said "Dom-bey and Son," in exactly the same tone as before.

Those three words conveyed the one idea of Mr. Dombey's life. The earth was made for Dombey and Son to trade in,and the sun and moon were made to give them light. Rivers and seas were formed to float their ships; rainbows gave them promise of fair weather; winds blew for or against their enterprises; stars and planets circled in their orbits, to preserve inviolate a system of which they were the centre. Common abbreviations took new meanings in his eyes, and had sole reference to them. A. D. had no concern with anno Domini, but stood for anno Dombei-and son.

He had risen, as his father had before him, in the course of life and death, from Son to Dombey, and for nearly twenty years had been the sole representative of the firm. Of those years he had been married, ten-married, as some said, to a lady with no heart to give him; whose happiness was in the past, and who was content to bind her broken spirit to the dutiful and meek endurance of the present. Such idle talk was little likely to reach the ears of Mr. Dombey, whom it nearly concerned; and probably no one in the world would have received it with such utter incredulity as he, if it had reached him. Dombey and Son had often dealt in hides, but never in hearts. They left that fancy ware to boys and girls, and

boarding-schools and books. Mr. Dombey would have reasoned: That a matrimonial alliance with himself must, in the nature of things, be gratifying and honorable to any woman of common sense. That the hope of giving birth to a new partner in such a house could not fail to awaken a glorious and stirring ambition in the breast of the least ambitious of her sex. That Mrs. Dombey had entered on that social contract of matrimony: almost necessarily part of a genteel and wealthy station, even without reference to the perpetuation of family firms: with her eyes fully open to these advantages. That Mrs. Dombey had had daily practical knowledge of his position in society. That Mrs. Dombey had always sat at the head of his table, and done the honors of his house in a remarkably lady-like and becoming manner. That Mrs. Dombey must have been happy. That she couldn't help it.

Or, at all events, with one drawback. Yes. That he would have allowed. With only one; but that one certainly involving much. They had been married ten years, and until this present day on which Mr. Dombey sat jingling and jingling his heavy gold watch-chain in the great arm-chair by the side of his bed, had had no issue.

-To speak of; none worth mentioning. There had been a girl some six years before, and the child, who had stolen into the chamber unobserved, was now crouching timidly, in a corner whence she could see her mother's face. But what was a girl to Dombey and Son! In the capital of the House's name and dignity, such a child was merely a piece of base coin that couldn't be invested -a bad boy-nothing more.

Mr. Dombey's cup of satisfaction was so full at this moment, however, that he felt he could afford a drop or two of its contents, even to sprinkle on the dust in the by-path of his little daughter.

So he said, "Florence, you may go and look at your pretty brother, if you like, I dare say. Don't touch him!"

The child glanced keenly at the blue coat and stiff white cravat, which, with a pair of creaking boots and a very loud-ticking watch, embodied her idea of a father; but her eyes returned to her mother's face immediately, and she neither moved nor answered.

Next moment, the lady had opened her eyes and seen the child; and the child had run towards her; and, standing on tiptoe, the better to hide her face in her embrace, had clung about her with a desperate affection very much at variance with her years.

"Oh Lord bless me!" said Mr. Dombey, rising testily. "A very ill-advised and feverish proceeding this, I am sure. I had better ask Doctor Peps if he'll have the goodness to step up-stairs again perhaps. I'll go down. I'll go down. I needn't beg you," he added, pausing for a moment at the settee before the fire, " to take particular care of this young gentleman, Mrs.

"Blockitt, sir?" suggested the nurse, a simpering piece of faded gentility, who did not presume to state her name as a fact, but merely offered it as a mild suggestion.

"Of this young gentleman, Mrs. Blockitt."

"No, sir, indeed. I remember when Miss Florence was born-”

"Ay, ay, ay," said Mr. Dombey, bending over the basket bedstead, and slightly bending his brows at the same time. "Miss Florence was all very well, but this is another matter. This young gentleman has to accomplish a destiny. A destiny, little fellow!" As he thus apostrophised the infant he raised one of his hands. to his lips, and kissed it; then, seeming to fear that the action involved some compromise of his dignity went, awkwardly enough, away.

Doctor Parker Peps, one of the court physicians, and a man of immense reputation for assisting at the increase of great families, was walking up and down the drawing-room with his hands behind him, to the unspeakable admiration of the family surgeon, who had regularly puffed the case for the last six weeks, among all his patients, friends, and acquaintances, as one to which he was in hourly expectation day and night of being summoned in conjunction with Doctor Parker Peps.

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Well sir," said Doctor Parker Peps, in a round, deep, sonorous voice, muffled for the occasion, like the knocker; "do you find that your dear lady is at all roused by your visit?"

"Stimulated as it were?" said the family practitioner faintly bowing at the same time to the doctor, as much

as to say "Excuse my putting in a word, but this is a valuable connexion."

Mr. Dombey was quite discomfited by the question. He had thought so little of the patient that he was not in a condition to answer it. He said that it would be a satisfaction to him if Doctor Parker Peps would walk up-stairs again.

"Good! We must not disguise from you, sir,” said Doctor Parker Peps, "that there is a want of power in Her Grace the Duchess-I beg your pardon; I confound names; I should say, in your amiable lady. There is a certain degree of languor, and a general absence of elasticity, which we would rather-not-"

"See," interposed the family practitioner with another inclination of the head.

"Quite so," said Doctor Parker Peps, "which we would rather not see. It would appear that the system of Lady Cankaby-excuse me: I should say of Mrs. Dombey: I confuse the names of cases-"

So very numerous," murmured the family practitioner-" can't be expected I'm sure--quite wonderful if otherwise-Doctor Parker Peps's west-end practice-" "Thank you," said the doctor, "quite so. It would appear, I was observing, that the system of our patient has sustained a shock from which it can only hope to rally by a great and strong-"

"And vigorous," murmured the family practitioner. "Quite so," assented the doctor-"and vigorous effort. Mr. Pilkins here, who from his position of medical adviser in this family-no one better qualified to fill that position, I am sure.

"Oh!" murmured the family practitioner. "Praise from Sir Hubert Stanley!""

"You are good enough," returned Doctor Parker Peps, "to say so. Mr. Pilkins who, from his position, is best acquainted with the patient's constitution in its normal state (an acquaintance very valuable to us in forming our opinions on these occasions), is of opinion. with me, that Nature must be called upon to make a vigorous effort in this instance; and that if our interesting friend the Countess of Dombey-I beg your pardon! Mrs. Dombey-should not be-

"Able," said the family practitioner.

"To make that effort successfully," said Docter

Parker Peps, "then a crisis might arise, which we should both sincerely deplore."

With that, they stood for a few seconds looking at the ground. Then, on the motion-made in dumb show -of Doctor Parker Peps, they went up-stairs; the family practitioner opening the room door for that distinguished professional, and following him out with most obsequious politeness.

To record of Mr. Dombey that he was not in his way affected by this intelligence would be to do him an injustice. He was not a man of whom it could properly be said that he was ever startled or shocked; but he certainly had a sense within him that if his wife should sicken and decay he would be very sorry, and that he .would find a something gone from among his plate and furniture, and other household possessions, which was well worth the having, and could not be lost without sincere regret. Though it would be a cool, businesslike, gentlemanly, self-possessed regret, no doubt.

His meditations on the subject were soon interrupted, first by the rustling of garments on the staircase, and then by the sudden whisking into the room of a lady rather past the middle age than otherwise, but dressed in a very juvenile manner, particularly as to the tightness of her boddice, who, running up to him with a kind of screw in her face and carriage, expressive of suppressed emotion, flung her arms round his neck, and said in a choking voice.

"My dear Paul! He's quite a Dombey!"

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Well, well!" returned her brother-for Mr. Dombey was her brother" I think he is like the family. Don't agitate yourself, Louisa."

"It's very foolish of me," said Louisa, sitting down, and taking out her pocket-handkerchief, "but he'she's such a perfect Dombey! I never saw anything like it in my life!

"But what is this about Fanny, herself?" said Mr. Dombey. "How is Fanny?"

"My dear Paul," returned Louisa, "it's nothing whatever. Take my word, it's nothing whatever. There is exhaustion, certainly, but nothing like what I underwent myself, either with George or Frederick. effort is necessary. That's all. If dear Fanny were a Dombey!-But I dare say she'll make it; I have no doubt

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