were very small, and strongly impregnated with. tobacco smoke, but snug enough: everything being stowed away as if there were an earthquake regularly every half-hour.

"How's Gills?" inquired the captain.

Walter, who had by this time recovered his breath, and lost his spirits-or such temporary spirits as his rapid journey had given himlooked at his questioner for a moment, said, "Oh, Captain Cuttle!" and burst into tears.

No words can describe the captain's conster-nation at this sight. Mrs. MacStinger faded into nothing before it. He dropped the potato and the fork-and would have dropped the knife too if he could-and sat gazing at the boy, as if he expected to hear next moment that a gulf had opened in the City, which had swallowed up his old friend, coffee-coloured suit, buttons, chronometer, spectacles, and all.

But when Walter told him what was really the matter, Captain Cuttle, after a moment's reflection, started up into full activity. He emptied out of a little tin canister, on the top shelf of the cupboard, his whole stock of ready money (amounting to thirteen pounds and half-a-crown), which he transferred to one of the pockets of his square blue coat: further enriched that repository with the contents of his plate chest, consisting of two withered atomies of tea-spoons and an obsolete pair of knock-kneed sugar-tongs; pulled up his immense double-cased silver watch from the depths in which it reposed, to assure himself that that valuable was sound and whole; re-attached the hook to his right wrist; and seizing the stick covered over with knobs, bade Walter come along.

Remembering, however, in the midst of his virtuous excitement, that Mrs. MacStinger might be lying in wait below, Captain Cuttle hesitated at last, not without glancing at the window, as if he had some thought of escaping by that unusual means of egress, rather than encounter his terrible enemy. He decided, however, in favour of stratagem.

"Wal'r," said the captain with a timid wink, go afore, my lad. Sing out, Good-bye, Captain Cuttle,' when you're in the passage, and shut the door. Then wait at the corner of the street till you see me."

These directions were not issued without a previous knowledge of the enemy's tactics, for when Walter got down-stairs, Mrs. MacStinger glided out of the little back-kitchen like an avenging spirit. But not gliding out upon the captain, as she had expected, she merely made a further allusion to the knocker, and glided in again.

Some five minutes elapsed before Captain Cuttle could summon courage to attempt his escape; for Walter waited so long at the street corner, looking back at the house, before there were any symptoms of the hard glazed hat. At length the captain burst out of the door with the suddenness of an explosion, and coming towards him at a great pace, and never once looking over his shoulder, pretended, as soon as they were well out of the street, to whistle a tune.

"Uncle much hove down, Wal'r?" inquired the captain as they were walking along.

"I am afraid so. If you had seen him this morning, you would never have forgotten it."

"Walk fast, Wal'r, my lad," returned the captain, mending his pace; "and walk the same all the days of your life. Overhaul the catechism for that advice, and keep it!"

The captain was too busy with his own thoughts of Solomon Gills, mingled, perhaps, with some reflections on his late escape from Mrs. MacStinger, to offer any further quotations on the way for Walter's moral improvement. They interchanged no other word until they arrived at old Sol's door, where the unfortunate Wooden Midshipman, with his instrument at his eye, seemed to be surveying the whole horizon in search of some friend to help him out of his difficulty.

"Gills!" said the captain, hurrying into the back-parlour, and taking him by the hand quite tenderly. "Lay your head well to the wind, and we'll fight through it. All you've got to do," said the captain, with the solemnity of a man who was delivering himself of one of the most precious practical tenets ever discovered by human wisdom, “is to lay your head well to the wind, and we'll fight through it!"

Old Sol returned the pressure of his hand, and thanked him.

Captain Cuttle then, with a gravity suitable to the nature of the occasion, put down upon the table the two tea-spoons and the sugar-tongs, the silver watch, and the ready money; and asked Mr. Brogley, the broker, what the damage

"Certainly," said Mr. Brogley. an't whales, you know.”

"But sprats

The philosophy of this observation seemed to strike the captain. He ruminated for a minute; eyeing the broker, meanwhile, as a deep genius; and then called the instrumentmaker aside.

"Gills," said Captain Cuttle, "what's the bearings of this business? Who's the creditor ?" "Hush!" returned the old man. "Come away. Don't speak before Wally. It's a matter of security for Wally's father-an old bond. I've paid a good deal of it, Ned, but the times are so bad with me that I can't do more just now. I've foreseen it, but I couldn't help it. Not a word before Wally, for all the world."

"You have got some money, haven't you?" whispered the captain.

"Yes, yes-oh yes-I've got some," returned old Sol, first putting his hands into his empty pockets, and then squeezing his Welsh wig between them, as if he thought he might wring some gold out of it; "but I-the little I have got isn't convertible, Ned; it can't be got at. I have been trying to do something with it for Wally, and I'm old-fashioned, and behind the time. It's here and there, and-and, in short, it's as good as nowhere," said the old man, looking in bewilderment about him.

He had so much the air of a half-witted person who had been hiding his money in a variety of places, and had forgotten where, that the captain followed his eyes, not without a faint hope that he might remember some few hundred pounds concealed up the chimney, or down in the cellar. But Solomon Gills knew better than that.

"I'm behind the time altogether, my dear Ned," said Sol in resigned despair, "a long way. It's no use my lagging on so far behind it. The stock had better be sold-it's worth more than this debt-and I had better go and die somewhere on the balance. I haven't any energy left. I don't understand things. This had better be the end of it. Let 'em sell the stock and take him down," said the old man, pointing feebly to the Wooden Midshipman, "and let us both be broken up together."

If

"And what d'ye mean to do with Wal'r?" said the captain. "There, there! Sit ye down, Gills, sit ye down, and let me think o' this. I warn't a man on a small annuity, that was large enough till to-day, I hadn't need to think

of it. But you lay your head well to the wind," said the captain, again administering that unanswerable piece of consolation, "and you're all right!"

Old Sol thanked him from his heart, and went

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and laid it against the back-parlour fire-place instead.

Captain Cuttle walked up and down the shop for some time, cogitating profoundly, and bringing his bushy black eyebrows to bear so heavily on his nose, like clouds settling on a mountain, that Walter was afraid to offer any interruption to the current of his reflections. Mr. Brogley, who was averse to being any constraint upon the party, and who had an ingenious cast of mind, went, softly whistling, among the stock; rattling weather-glasses, shaking compasses as if they were physic, catching up keys with loadstones, looking through telescopes, endeavouring to make himself acquainted with the use of the globes, setting parallel rulers astride on his nose, and amusing himself with other philosophical transactions.

"Wal'r!" said the captain at last. "I've got it."

"Have you, Captain Cuttle?" cried Walter with great animation.

"Come this way, my lad," said the captain. "The stock's one security. I'm another. Your governor's the man to advance the money."

"Mr. Dombey?" faltered Walter.

The captain nodded gravely. "Look at him," he said. "Look at Gills. If they was to sell off these things now, he'd die of it. You know he would. We mustn't leave a stone unturned -and there's a stone for you."

"A stone !—Mr. Dombey!" faltered Walter. "You run round to the office, first of all, and see if he's there," said Captain Cuttle, clapping him on the back. "Quick!"

Walter felt he must not dispute the command -a glance at his uncle would have determined him if he had felt otherwise-and disappeared to execute it. He soon returned, out of breath, to say that Mr. Dombey was not there. It was Saturday, and he had gone to Brighton.

"I tell you what, Wal'r!" said the captain, who seemed to have prepared himself for this contingency in his absence. "We'll go to Brighton. I'll back you, my boy. I'll back you, Wal'r. We'll go to Brighton by the afternoon's coach."'

If the application must be made to Mr. Dombey at all, which was awful to think of, Walter felt that he would rather prefer it alone and unassisted than backed by the personal influence of Captain Cuttle, to which he hardly thought Mr. Dombey would attach much weight. But as the captain appeared to be of quite another opinion, and was bent upon it, and as his friendship was too zealous and serious to be trifled with by one so much younger than himself, he

forbore to hint the least objection. Cuttle, therefore, taking a hurried leave of Solomon Gills, and returning the ready money, the teaspoons, the sugar-tongs, and the silver watch to his pocket-with a view, as Walter thought with horror, to making a gorgeous impression on Mr. Dombey-bore him off to the coach-office without a minute's delay, and repeatedly assured him, on the road, that he would stick by him to the last.

CHAPTER X.

CONTAINING THE SEQUEL OF THE MIDSHIPMAN'S

M

DISASTER.

AJOR BAGSTOCK, after long and frequent observation of Paul, across Princess's Place, through his doublebarrelled opera-glass; and after receiving many minute reports, daily, weekly, and monthly, on that subject from the native, who kept himself in constant communication with Miss Tox's maid for that purpose: came to the conclusion that Dombey, sir, was a man to be known, and that J. B. was the boy to make his acquaintance.

Miss Tox, however, maintaining her reserved. behaviour, and frigidly declining to understand the major whenever he called (which he often did) on any little fishing excursion connected with this project, the major, in spite of his constitutional toughness and slyness, was fain to leave the accomplishment of his desire in some measure to chance, "which," as he was used to observe with chuckles at his club, "has been fifty to one in favour of Joey B., sir, ever since his elder brother died of Yellow Jack in the West Indies."

It was some time coming to his aid in the present instance, but it befriended him at last. When the dark servant, with full particulars, reported Miss Tox absent on Brighton service, the major was suddenly touched with affectionate reminiscences of his friend Bill Bitherstone of Bengal, who had written to ask him, if he ever went that way, to bestow a call upon his only son. But when the same dark servant reported Paul at Mrs. Pipchin's, and the major, referring to the letter favoured by Master Bitherstone on his arrival in England-to which he had never had the least idea of paying any attention-saw the opening that presented itself, he was made so rabid by the gout, with which he happened to be then laid up, that he threw a footstool at the dark servant in return for his intelligence, and

swore he would be the death of the rascal before he had done with him: which the dark servant was more than half disposed to believe.

At length the major, being released from his fit, went one Saturday growling down to Brighton, with the native behind him: apostrophizing Miss Tox all the way, and gloating over the prospect of carrying by storm the distinguished friend to whom she attached so much mystery, and for whom she had deserted him.

"Would you, ma'am, would you?" said the major, straining with vindictiveness, and swelling every already swollen vein in his head. "Would you give Joey B. the go-by, ma'am? Not yet, ma'am, not yet! Damme, not yet, sir. Joe is awake, ma'am. Bagstock is alive, sir. J. B. knows a move or two, ma'am. Josh has his weather-eye open, sir. You'll find him tough, ma'am. Tough, sir, tough is Joseph. Tough and de-vil-ish sly!"

And very tough indeed Master Bitherstone found him, when he took that young gentleman out for a walk. But the major, with his complexion like a Stilton cheese, and his eyes like a prawn's, went roving about, perfectly indifferent to Master Bitherstone's amusement, and dragging Master Bitherstone along, while he looked about him high and low for Mr. Dombey and his children.

In good time the major, previously instructed by Mrs. Pipchin, spied out Paul and Florence, and bore down upon them; there being a stately gentleman (Mr. Dombey, doubtless) in their company. Charging with Master Bitherstone into the very heart of the little squadron, it fell out, of course, that Master Bitherstone spoke to his fellow-sufferers. Upon that the major stopped to notice and admire them; remembered with amazement that he had seen and spoken to them at his friend Miss Tox's in Princess's Place; opined that Paul was a devilish fine fellow, and his own little friend; inquired if he remembered Joey B. the major; and finally, with a sudden recollection of the conventionalities of life, turned and apologised to Mr. Dombey.

But my little friend here, sir," said the major, "makes a boy of me again. An old soldier, sir -Major Bagstock, at your service-is not ashamed to confess it." Here the major lifted his hat. "Damme, sir," cried the major with sudden warmth, "I envy you." Then he recollected himself, and added, "Excuse my freedom."

Mr. Dombey begged he wouldn't mention it. "An old campaigner, sir," said the major, "a smoke-dried, sunburnt, used-up, invalided old

dog of a major, sir, was not afraid of being condemned for his whim by a man like Mr. Dombey. I have the honour of addressing Mr. Dombey, I believe ?"

"I am the present unworthy representative of that name, major," returned Mr. Dombey.

"By G――, sir," said the major, "it's a great name. It's a name, sir," said the major firmly, as if he defied Mr. Dombey to contradict him, and would feel it his painful duty to bully him if he did, "that is known and honoured in the British possessions abroad. It is a name, sir, that a man is proud to recognise. There is nothing adulatory in Joseph Bagstock, sir. His Royal Highness the Duke of York observed, on more than one occasion, 'There is no adulation in Joey. He is a plain old soldier, is Joe. He is tough to a fault, is Joseph :' but it's a great name, sir. By the Lord, it's a great name!" said the major solemnly.

"You are good enough to rate it higher than it deserves, perhaps, major," returned Mr. Dombey.

"No, sir," said the major. "My little friend. here, sir, will certify for Joseph Bagstock that he is a thorough-going, downright, plain-spoken old Trump, sir, and nothing more. That boy, sir," said the major in a lower tone, "will live in history. That boy, sir, is not a common production. Take care of him, Mr. Dombey."

Mr. Dombey seemed to intimate that he would endeavour to do so.

"Here is a boy here, sir," pursued the major confidentially, and giving him a thrust with his cane. "Son of Bitherstone of Bengal. Bill Bitherstone, formerly of Ours. That boy's father and myself, sir, were sworn friends. Wherever you went, sir, you heard of nothing but Bill Bitherstone and Joe Bagstock. Am I blind to that boy's defects? By no means. He's a fool,

sir."

Mr. Dombey glanced at the libelled Master Bitherstone, of whom he knew at least as much as the major did, and said, in quite a complacent manner, "Really?"

"That is what he is, sir," said the major. "He's a fool. Joe Bagstock never minces matters. The son of my old friend Bill Bitherstone of Bengal is a born fool, sir." Here the major laughed till he was almost black. "My little friend is destined for a public school, I presume, Mr. Dombey?" said the major when he had recovered.

"I am not quite decided," returned Mr. Dombey. "I think not. He is delicate."

"If he's delicate, sir," said the major, "you are right. None but the tough fellows could DOMBEY AND SON, 5.

65

live through it, sir, at Sandhurst. We put each other to the torture there, sir. We roasted the new fellows at a slow fire, and hung 'em out of a three pair of stairs window, with their heads downwards. Joseph Bagstock, sir, was held out of the window by the heels of his boots for thirteen minutes by the college clock."

The major might have appealed to his countenance in corroboration of this story. It certainly looked as if he had hung out a little too long.

"But it made us what we were, sir," said the major, settling his shirt-frill. "We were iron, sir, and it forged us. Are you remaining here, Mr. Dombey?"

"I generally come down once a week, major," returned that gentleman. "I stay at the Bedford."

"I shall have the honour of calling at the Bedford, sir, if you'll permit me," said the major. "Joey B., sir, is not in general a calling man, but Mr. Dombey's is not a common name. I am much indebted to my little friend, sir, for the honour of this introduction."

Mr. Dombey made a very gracious reply; and Major Bagstock, having patted Paul on the head, and said of Florence that her eyes would play the devil with the youngsters before long"and the oldsters too, sir, if you come to that," added the major, chuckling very much-stirred up Master Bitherstone with his walking-stick, and departed with that young gentleman at a kind of half-trot; rolling his head and coughing with great dignity, as he staggered away with his legs very wide asunder.

In fulfilment of his promise, the major afterwards called on Mr. Dombey; and Mr. Dombey, having referred to the Army List, afterwards called on the major. Then the major called at Mr. Dombey's house in town; and came down again, in the same coach as Mr. Dombey. In short, Mr. Dombey and the major got on uncommonly well together, and uncommonly fast : and Mr. Dombey observed of the major, to his sister, that besides being quite a military man, he was really something more, as he had a very admirable idea of the importance of things unconnected with his own profession.

At length Mr. Dombey, bringing down Miss Tox and Mrs. Chick to see the children, and finding the major again at Brighton, invited him to dinner at the Bedford, and complimented Miss Tox highly, beforehand, on her neighbour and acquaintance. Notwithstanding the palpitation of the heart which these allusions occasioned her, they were anything but disagreeable to Miss Tox, as they enabled her to be extremely

29.5

interesting, and to manifest an occasional incoherence and distraction which she was not at all unwilling to display. The major gave her abundant opportunities of exhibiting this emotion: being profuse in his complaints, at dinner, of her desertion of him and Princess's Place : and, as he appeared to derive great enjoyment from making them, they all got on very well.

None the worse on account of the major taking charge of the whole conversation, and showing as great an appetite in that respect as in regard of the various dainties on the table, among which he may be almost said to have wallowed greatly to the aggravation of his inflammatory tendencies. Mr. Dombey's habitual silence and reserve yielding readily to this usurpation, the major felt that he was coming out and shining and, in the flow of spirits thus engendered, rang such an infinite number of new changes on his own name that he quite astonished himself. In a word, they were all very well pleased. The major was considered to possess an inexhaustible fund of conversation; and when he took a late farewell, after a long rubber, Mr. Dombey again complimented the blushing Miss Tox on her neighbour and acquaintance.

But all the way home to his own hotel, the major incessantly said to himself, and of himself, "Sly, sir-sly, sir-de-vil-ish sly!" And, when he got there, sat down in a chair, and fell into a silent fit of laughter, with which he was sometimes seized, and which was always particularly awful. It held him so long on this occasion that the dark servant, who stood watching him at a distance, but dared not for his life approach, twice or thrice gave him over for lost. His whole form, but especially his face and head, dilated beyond all former experience; and presented to the dark man's view nothing but a heaving mass of indigo. At length he burst into a violent paroxysm of coughing, and, when that was a little better, burst into such ejaculations as the following:

Mrs.

"Would you, ma'am, would you? Dombey, eh, ma'am? I think not, ma'am. Not while Joe B. can put a spoke in your wheel, ma'am. J. B.'s even with you now, ma'am. He isn't altogether bowled out yet, sir, isn't Bagstock. She's deep, sir, deep, but Josh is deeper. Wide awake is old Joe-broad awake, and staring, sir!" There was no doubt of this last assertion being true, and to a very fearful extent; as it continued to be during the greater part of that night, which the major chiefly passed in similar exclamations, diversified with fits of

coughing and choking that startled the whole house.

It was on the day after this occasion (being Sunday) when, as Mr. Dombey, Mrs. Chick, and Miss Tox were sitting at breakfast, still eulogising the major, Florence came running in : her face suffused with a bright colour, and her eyes sparkling joyfully and cried,

"Papa! Papa! Here's Walter! and he won't come in."

"Who?" cried Mr. Dombey. "What does she mean? What is this?"

"Walter, papa," said Florence timidly; sensible of having approached the presence with too much familiarity. "Who found me when I was lost."

"Does she mean young Gay, Louisa?" inquired Mr. Dombey, knitting his brows. "Really, this child's manners have become very boisterous. She cannot mean young Gay, I think. See what it is, will you?"

Mrs. Chick hurried into the passage, and returned with the information that it was young Gay, accompanied by a very strange-looking person; and that young Gay said he would not take the liberty of coming in, hearing Mr. Dombey was at breakfast, but would wait until Mr. Dombey should signify that he might approach.

"Tell the boy to come in now," said Mr. Dombey. "Now, Gay, what is the matter? Who sent you down here? Was there nobody else to come?"

66

"I beg your pardon, sir," returned Walter. I have not been sent. I have been so bold as to come on my own account, which I hope you'll pardon when I mention the cause."

But Mr. Dombey, without attending to what he said, was looking impatiently on either side of him (as if he were a pillar in his way), at some object behind.

"What's that?" said Mr. Dombey. "Who is that? I think you have made some mistake in the door, sir."

"Oh, I'm very sorry to intrude with any one, sir," cried Walter hastily: "but this is-this is Captain Cuttle, sir."