I see him becoming qualified without waste of time for the career on which he is destined to enter, I am satisfied. He will make what powerful friends he pleases in after-life, when he is actively maintaining and extending, if that is possible - the dignity and credit of the Firm. Until then, I am enough for him, perhaps, and all in all. I have no wish that people should step in between us. I would much rather show my sense of the obliging conduct of a deserving person like your friend. Therefore let it be so: and your husband and myself will do well enough for the other sponsors, I dare say." In the course of these remarks, delivered with great majesty and grandeur, Mr. Dombey had truly revealed the secret feelings of his breast. An indescribable distrust of anybody stepping in between himself and his son; a haughty dread of having any rival or partner in the boy's respect and deference; a sharp misgiving, recently acquired, that he was not infallible in his power of bending and binding human wills; as sharp a jealousy of any second check or cross; these were, at that time, the master keys of his soul. In all his life, he had never made a friend. His cold and distant nature had neither sought one, nor found one. And now, when that nature concentrated its whole force so strongly on a partial scheme of parental interest and ambition, it seemed as if its icy current, instead of being released by this influence, and running clear and free, had thawed for but an instant to admit its burden, and then frozen with it into one unyielding block. Elevated thus to the godmothership of little Paul, in virtue of her insignificance, Miss Tox was from that hour chosen and appointed to office; and Mr. Dombey further signified his pleasure that the ceremony, already long delayed, should take place without further postponement. His sister, who had been far from anticipating so signal a success, withdrew as soon as she could, to communicate it to her best of friends; and Mr. Dombey was left alone in his library. There was anything but solitude in the nursery; for there Mrs. Chick and Miss Tox were enjoying a social evening, so much to the disgust of Miss Susan Nipper, that that young lady embraced every opportunity of making wry faces behind the door. Her feelings were so much excited on the occasion, that she found it indispensable to afford them this relief, even without having the comfort of any audience or sympathy whatever. As the knight-errants of old relieved their minds by carv. ing their mistress's names in deserts, and wildernesses, and other savage places where there was no probability of there ever being anybody to read them, so did Miss Susan Nipper curl her snub nose into drawers and wardrobes, put away winks of disparagement in cupboards, shed derisive squints into stone pitchers, and contradict and call names out in the passage. The two interlopers, however, blissfully uncenscious of the young lady's sentiments, saw little Paul safe through all the stages of undressing, airy exercise, supper and bed; and then sat down to tea before the fire. The two children now lay, through the good offices of Polly, in one room; and it was not until the ladies were established at their tea-table that, happening to look towards the little beds, they thought of Florence. "How sound she sleeps!" said Miss Tox. "Why, you know, my dear, she takes a great deal of exercise in the course of the day," returned Mrs. Chick, "playing about little Paul so much." "She is a curious child," said Miss Tox. 66 "My dear," retorted Mrs. Chick, in a low voice, "Her mamma, all over!" "In-deed!" said Miss Tox. "Ah dear me!" A tone of most extraordinary compassion Miss Tox said it in, though she had no distinct idea why, except that it was expected of her. "Florence will never, never, never, be a Dombey," said Mrs. Chick, "not if she lives to be a thousand years old.” Miss Tox elevated her eyebrows, and was again full of commiseration. "I quite fret and worry myself about her," said Mrs. Chick, with a sigh of modest merit. "I really don't see what is to become of her when she grows older, or what position she is to take. She don't gain on her papa in the least. How can one expect she should, when she is so very unlike a Dombey?" Miss Tox looked as if she saw no way out of such a cogent argument as that, at all. "And the child, you see," said Mrs. Chick, in deep confidence, "has poor dear Fanny's nature. She'll never make an effort in after-life, I'll venture to say. Never! She'll never wind and twine herself about her papa's heart like-" "Like the ivy?" suggested Miss Tox. "Like the ivy," Mrs. Chick assented. "Never! She'll never glide and nestle into the bosom of her papa's affections like-the-" "Startled fawn?" suggested Miss Tox. "Like the startled fawn," said Mrs. Chick. "Never! Poor Fanny! Yet, how I loved her!" "You must not distress yourself, my dear," said Miss Tox, in a soothing voice. Now, really! You have too much feeling." was. -a "We have all our faults," said Mrs. Chick, weeping and shaking her head. "I dare say we have. I never was blind to hers. I never said I Far from it. Yet how I loved her!" What a satisfaction it was to Mrs. Chick common-place piece of folly enough, compared with whom her sister-in-law had been a very angel of womanly intelligence and gentleness-to pa. tronize and be tender to the memory of that lady: in exact pursuance of her conduct to her in her life-time: and to thoroughly believe herself, and take herself in, and make herself uncommonly comfortable on the strength of her toleration! What a mighty pleasant virtue toleration should be when we are right, to be so very pleasant when we are wrong, and quite unable to demonstrate how we come to be invested with the privilege of exercising it! But Mrs. Chick was yet drying her eyes and shak. ing her head, when Richards made bold to caution her that Miss Florence was awake and sitting in her bed. She had risen, as the nurse said, and the lashes of her eyes were wet with tears. no one saw them glistening save Polly. No one else leant over her, and whispered soothing words to her, or was near enough to hear the flutter of her beating heart. "Oh! dear nurse!" said the child, looking earnestly up in her face," let me lie by my brother!" Why, my pet?" said Richards. "Oh! I think he loves me," cried the child wildly. "Let me lie by him. Pray do!" Mrs. Chick interposed with some motherly words about going to sleep like a dear, but Florence repeated her supplication, with a frightened look, and in a voice broken by sobs and tears. "I'll not wake him," she said, covering her face and hanging down her head. "I'll only touch him with my hand, and go to sleep. Oh, pray, pray, let me lie by my brother to-night, for I believe he's fond of me!" Richards took her without a word, and carrying her to the little bed in which the infant was sleeping, laid her down by his side. She crept as near him as she could without disturbing his rest; and stretching out one arm so that it timidly embraced his neck, and hiding her face on the other, over which her damp and scattered hair fell loose, lay motionless. "Poor little thing," said Miss Tox; "she has been dreaming, I dare say." This trivial incident had so interrupted the current of conversation, that it was difficult of resumption; and Mrs. Chick moreover had been so affected by the contemplation of her own tolerant nature, that she was not in spirits. The two friends accordingly soon made an end of their tea, and a servant was despatched to fetch a hackney cabriolet for Miss Tox. Miss Tox had great experience in hackney cabs, and her starting in one was generally a work of time, as she was systematic in the preparatory arrangements. "Have the goodness, if you please, Towlinson," said Miss Tox, "first of all, to carry out a pen and ink and take his number legibly." "Yes, Miss," said Towlinson. "Then, if you please, Towlinson," said Miss Tox, "have the goodness to turn the cushion. Which," said Miss Tox apart to Mrs. Chick," is generally damp, my dear." "Yes, Miss," said Towlinson. “I'll trouble you also, if you please, Towlinson," Said Miss Tox," with this card and this shilling. He's to drive to the card, and is to understand that he will not on any account have more than the shilling." "No, Miss," said Towlinson. "And-I'm sorry to give you so much trouble, Towlinson," said Miss Tox, looking at him pensively. "Not at all, Miss," said Towlinson. "Mention to the man, then, if you please, Towlinson," said Miss Tox, "that the lady's uncle is a magistrate, and that if he gives her any of his impertinence he will be punished terribly. You can pretend to say that, if you please, Towlinson, in a friendly way, and because you know it was done to another man who died." "Certainly, Miss," said Towlinson. "And now good night to my sweet, sweet, sweet, godson," said Miss Tox, with a soft shower of kisses at each repetition of the adjective; "and Louisa, my dear friend, promise me to take a little something warm before you go to bed, and not to distress yourself!" It was with extreme difficulty that Nipper, the black-eyed, who looked on steadfastly, contained herself at this crisis, and until the subsequent departure of Mrs. Chick. But the nursery being at length free of visitors, she made herself some recompense for her late restraint. "You might keep me in a strait-waistcoat for six weeks," said Nipper, "and when I got it off I'd only be more aggravated, who ever heard the like of them two Griffins, Mrs. Richards?" "And then to talk of her having been dreaming, poor dear!" said Polly. "Oh you beauties!" cried Susan Nipper, af fecting to salute the door by which the ladies had departed. 'Never be a Dombey won't she, it's to be hoped she won't, we don't want any more such, one's enough." "Don't wake the children, Susan dear," said Polly. "I'm very much beholden to you, Mrs. Richards," said Susan, who was not by any means dis criminating in her wrath, "and really feel it as a honour to receive your commands, being a black slave and a mulotter. Mrs. Richards, if there's any other orders you can give me, pray mention 'em." Nonsense; orders," said Polly. "Oh! bless your heart, Mrs. Richards," cried Susan, "temporaries always orders permanencies here, didn't you know that, why wherever was you born, Mrs. Richards? But wherever you was born, Mrs. Richards," pursued Spitfire, shaking her head resolutely, "and whenever, and however (which is best known to yourself), you may bear in mind, please, that it's one thing to give orders, and quite another thing to take 'em. A person may tell a person to dive off a bridge head foremost into five-and-forty feet of water, Mrs. Richards, but a person may be very far from diving." "There now," said Polly, "you're angry be cause you're a good little thing, and fond of Miss Florence; and yet you turn round on me, because there's nobody else." "It's very easy for some to keep their tempers, and be soft-spoken, Mrs. Richards," returned Susan, slightly mollified, "when their child's made as much of as a prince, and is petted and patted till it wishes its friends further, but when a sweet young pretty innocent, that never ought to have a cross word spoken to or of it, is run down, the case is very different indeed. My goodness gra. cious me, Miss Floy, you naughty, sinful child, if you don't shut your eyes this minute, I'll call in them hobblins that lives in the cock-loft to come and eat you up alive!" Here Miss Nipper made a horrible lowing, supposed to issue from a conscientious goblin of the bull species, impatient to discharge the severe duty of his position. Having further composed her young charge by covering her head with the bed-clothes, and making three or four angry dabs at the pillow, she folded her arms, and screwed up her mouth, and sat looking at the fire for the rest of the evening. Though little Paul was said, in nursery phrase, "to take a deal of notice for his age," he took as little notice of all this as of the preparations for his christening on the next day but one; which nevertheless went on about him, as to his personal apparel, and that of his sister and the two nurses with great activity. Neither did he, on the arrival of the appointed morning, show any sense of its im portance; being, on the contrary, unusually inclined to sleep, and unusually inclined to take it ill in his attendants that they dressed him to go out. It happened to be an iron-grey autumnal day with a shrewd east wind blowing-a day in keeping with the proceedings. Mr. Dombey represent. ed in himself the wind, the shade, and autumn of kiss it. The baby soon appeared, carried in great glory by Richards; while Florence, in custody of that active young constable, Susan Nipper, brought up the rear. Though the whole nursery party were dressed by this time in lighter mourning than at first, there was enough in the appearance of the bereaved children to make the day no brighter. The baby too-it might have been Miss Tox's nose- began to cry. Thereby, as it happened, preventing Mr. Chick from the awkward fulfil the christening. He stood in his library to receive If Miss Tox could believe the evidence of one the company, as hard and cold as the weather; of her senses, it was a very cold day. That was and when he looked out through the glass room, quite clear. She took an early opportunity of at the trees in the little garden, their brown and promoting the circulation in the tip of her nose by yellow leaves came fluttering down, as if he blight. secretly chafing it with her pocket handkerchief, ed them. lest, by its very low temperature, it should disa. Ugh! They were black, cold rooms; and seem-greeably astonish the baby when she came to ed to be in mourning, like the inmates of the house. The books precisely matched as to size, and drawn up in line, like soldiers, looked in their cold, hard, slippery uniforms, as if they had but one idea among them, and that was a freezer. The bookcase, glazed and locked, repudiated all familiarities. Mr. Pitt, in bronze, on the top, with no trace of his celestial origin about him, guarded the unattainable treasure like an enchanted Moor. A dusty urn at each high corner, dug up from an ancient tomb, preached desolation and decay, as from two pulpits; and the chimney-glass, reflect-ment of a very honest purpose he had; which was, ing Mr. Dombey and his portrait at one blow, seemed fraught with melancholy meditations. The stiff and stark fire-irons appeared to claim a nearer relationship than anything else there to Mr. Dombey, with his buttoned coat, his white cravat, his heavy gold watch-chain, and his creaking boots. But this was before the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Chick, his lawful relatives, who soon presented themselves. My dear Paul," Mrs. Chick murmured, as she embraced him, "the beginning, I hope, of many joyful days!" "Thank you, Louisa," said Mr. Dombey, grimly. "How do you do, Mr. John ?" "How do you do, Sir," said Chick. He gave Mr. Dombey his hand, as if he feared it might electrify him. Mr. Dombey took it as if it were a fish, or seaweed, or some such clammy substance, and immediately returned it to him with exalted politeness. "Perhaps, Louisa," said Mr. Dombey, slightly turning his head in his cravat, as if it were a socket, "you would have preferred a fire?" "Oh, my dear Paul, no," said Mrs. Chick, who had much ado to keep her teeth from chattering; "not for me." "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey, "you are not sensible of any chill?" Mr. John, who had already got both his hands in his pockets over the wrists, and was on the very threshold of that same canine chorus which had given Mrs. Chick so much offence on a former occasion, protested that he was perfectly comfortable. He added in a low voice, "With my tiddle tol toor rul"-when he was providentially stopped by Towlinson, who announced: "Miss Tox!" And enter that fair enslaver, with a blue nose and an indescribably frosty face, referable to her being very thinly clad in a maze of fluttering odds and ends, to do honour to the ceremony. to make much of Florence. For this gentleman, insensible to the superior claims of a perfect Dom. bey (perhaps on account of having the honour to be united to a Dombey himself, and being familiar with excellence), really liked her, and showed that he liked her, and was about to show it in his own way now, when Paul cried, and his helpmate stopped him short. "Now Florence child!" said her aunt, briskly, "what are you doing, love? Show yourself to him. Engage his attention, my dear!" The atmosphere became or might have become colder and colder, when Mr. Dombey stood frigidly watching his little daughter, who, clapping her hands, and standing on tiptoe before the throne of his son and heir, lured him to bend down from his high estate, and look at her. Some honest act of Richards' may have aided the effect, but he did look down, and held his peace. As his sister hid behind her nurse, he followed her with his eyes; and when she peeped out with a merry cry to him, he sprang up and crowed lustily- laughing outright when she ran in upon him; and seeming to fondle her curls with his tiny hands, while she smothered him with kisses. Was Mr. Dombey pleased to see this? He testified no pleasure by the relaxation of a nerve; but outward tokens of any kind of feeling were unusual with him. If any sunbeam stole into the room to light the children at their play, it never reached his face. He looked on so fixedly and coldly, that the warm light vanished even from the laughing eyes of little Florence, when, at last, they happened to meet his. It was a dull, grey, autumn day indeed, and in a minute's pause and silence that took place, the leaves fell sorrowfully. "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey, referring to his watch, and assuming his hat and gloves. "Take my sister, if you please: my arm to-day is Miss Tox's. You had better go first with Master Paul, Richards. Be very careful." "How do you do, Miss Tox," said Mr. Dombey. In Mr. Dombey's carriage, Dombey and Son, Miss Tox in the midst of her spreading gauzes, Miss Tox, Mrs. Chick, Richards, and Florence. went down altogether like an opera-glass shutting-In a little carriage following it, Susan Nipper and up; she curtseyed so low, in acknowledgment of Mr. Dombey's advancing a step or two to meet her. the owner Mr. Chick. Susan looking out of window, without intermission, as a relief from the embarrassment of confronting the large face of that gentleman, and thinking whenever anything rattled that he was putting up in paper an appropriate pecuniary compliment for herself. Once upon the road to church, Mr. Dombey clapped his hands for the amusement of his son. At which instance of parental enthusiasm Miss Tox was enchanted. But exclusive of this incident, the chief difference between the christening party and a party in a mourning coach, consisted in the colours of the carriage and horses. Arrived at the church steps, they were received by a portentous beadle. Mr. Dombey dismount. ing first to help the ladies out, and standing near him at the coach door, looked like another beadle. A beadle less gorgeous, but more dreadful; the beadle of private life; the beadle of our business and our bosoms. Miss Tox's hand trembled as she slipped it through Mr. Dombey's arm, and felt herself escorted up the steps, preceded by a cocked hat and a Babylonian collar. It seemed for a moment like that other solemn institution " Wilt thou have this man, Lucretia ?" "Yes, I will.” "Please to bring the child in quick out of the air there," whispered the beadle, holding open the inner door of the church. Little Paul might have asked with Hamlet "into my grave?" so chill and earthy was the place. The tall shrouded pulpit and reading desk; the dreary perspective of empty pews stretching away under the galleries, and empty benches mounting to the roof and lost in the shadow of the great grim organ; the dusty matting and cold stone slabs; the grisly free seats in the aisles; and the damp corner by the bell-rope, where the black tressels used for funerals were stowed away, along with some shovels and baskets, and a coil or two of deadly-looking rope; the strange, unusual, uncomfortable smell, and the cadaverous light; were all in unison. It was a cold and dismal scene. "There's a wedding just on, sir," said the beadle, but it'll be over directly, if you'll walk into the westry here." Before he turned again to lead the way, he gave Mr. Dombey a bow and a half smile of recogni. tion, importing that he (the beadle) remembered to have had the pleasure of attending on him when he buried his wife, and hoped he had enjoyed himself since. The very wedding looked dismal as they passed in front of the altar. The bride was too old and the bridegroom too young, and a superannuated beau, with one eye and an eye-glass stuck in its blank companion, was giving away the lady, while the friends were shivering. In the vestry the fire was smoking; and an over-aged and over-worked and underpaid attorney's clerk," making a search," was running his forefinger, down the parchment pages of an immense register (one of a long series of similar volumes) gorged with burials. Over the fireplace was a ground-plan of the vaults underneath the church; and Mr. Chick, skimming the literary portion of it aloud, by way of enliven ing the company, read the reference to Mrs. Dombey's tomb in full, before he could stop himself. After another cold interval, a wheezy little pewopener afflicted with an asthma, appropriate to the churchyard, if not to the church, summoned them to the font. Here they waited some little time while the marriage party enrolled themselves; and meanwhile the wheezy little pew-opener-partly in consequence of her infirmity, and partly that the marriage party might not forget her-went about the building coughing like a grampus. Presently the clerk (the only cheerful-looking object there, and he was an undertaker) came up with a jug of warm water, and said something, as he poured it into the font, about taking the chill off; which millions of gallons boiling hot could not have done for the occasion. Then the clergyman, an amiable and mild-looking young curate, but obviously afraid of the baby, appeared like the principal character in a ghost-story, "a tall figure all in white;" at sight of whom Paul rent the air with his cries, and never left off again till he was taken out black in the face. Even when that event had happened, to the great relief of everybody, he was heard under the portico, during the rest of the ceremony, now fainter, now louder, now hushed, now bursting forth again with an irrepressible sense of his wrongs. This so distracted the attention of the two ladies, that Mrs. Chick was constantly deploying into the centre aisle, to send out messages by the pew-opener, while Miss Tox kept her Prayer-book open at the Gunpowder Plot, and occasionally read responses from that service. During the whole of these proceedings, Mr. Dombey remained as impassive and gentlemanly as ever, and perhaps assisted in making it so cold, that the young curate smoked at the mouth as he read. The only time that he unbent his visage in the least, was when the clergyman, in delivering (very unaffectedly and simply) the closing exhortation, relative to the future examination of the child by the sponsors, happened to rest his eye on Mr. Chick; and then Mr. Dombey might have been seen to express by a majestic look. that he would like to catch him at it. It might have been well for Mr. Dombey, if he had thought of his own dignity a little less; and had thought of the great origin and purpose of the ceremony in which he took so formal and so stiff a part, a little more. His arrogance contrasted strangely with its history. When it was all over, he again gave his arm to Miss Tox, and conducted her, to the vestry, where he informed the clergyman how much pleasure it would have given him to have solicited the honour of his company at dinner, but for the unfortunate state of his household affairs. The register signed, and the fees paid, and the pew-opener (whose cough was very bad again) remembered, and the beadle gratified, and the sexton (who was accidentally on the door-steps, looking with great interest at the weather) not forgotten, they got into the carriages again, and drove home in the same bleak fellowship. There they found Mr. Pitt turning up his nose at a cold collation, set forth in a cold pomp of glass and silver, and looking more like a dead dinner lying in state than a social refreshment. On their arrival, Miss Tox produced a mug for her godson, and Mr. Chick a knife and fork and spoon in a case. Mr. Dombey also produced a bracelet for Miss Tox; and, on the receipt of this token, Miss Tox was tenderly affected. "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey, "will you take the bottom of the table, if you please. What have you got there, Mr. John ?" "I have got a cold fillet of veal here, Sir," replied Mr. Chick, rubbing his numbed hands hard together, "what have you got there, Sir ?" "This," returned Mr. Dombey, "is some cold preparation of calf's head, I think I see cold fowls-ham-patties-salad-lobster. Miss Tox will do me the honour of taking some wine? Champagne to Miss Tox." There was a toothache in everything. The wine was so bitter cold that it forced a little scream from Miss Tox, which she had great difficulty in turning into a "Hem!" The veal had come from such an airy pantry, that the first taste of it struck a sensation as of cold lead to Mr. Chick's extremities. Mr. Dombey alone remained unmoved. He might have been hung up for sale at a Russian fair as a specimen of a frozen gentleman. The prevailing influence was too much even for his sister. She made no effort at flattery or smalltalk, and directed all her efforts to looking as warm as she could. “Well, Sir,” said Mr. Chick, making a desperate plunge, after a long silence, and filling a glass of sherry; "I shall drink this, if you'll allow me, Sir, to little Paul." "Bless him!" murmured Miss Tox, taking a sip of wine. "Dear little Dombey!" murmured Mrs. Chick. "Mr. John," said Mr. Dombey, with severe gravity, "my son would feel and express himself obliged to you, I have no doubt, if he could appreciate the favour you have done him. He will prove, in time to come, I trust, equal to any responsibility that the obliging disposition of his relations and friends, in private, or the onerous nature of our position, in public, may impose upon him." Oh, hush if you please!" said Miss Tox. "I was about to say to you, Richards," resumed Mr. Dombey, with an appalling glance at Mr. John, "that I was further assisted in my decision, by the recollection of a conversation I held with your husband in this room, on the occasion of your being hired, when he disclosed to me the melancholy fact that your family, himself at their head, were sunk and steeped in ignorance." Richards quailed under the magnificence of the reproof. "I am far from being friendly," pursued Mr. Dombey, "to what is called by persons of levelling sentiments, general education. But it is necessary that the inferior classes should continue to be taught to know their position, and to conduct themselves properly. So far I approve of schools. Having the power of nominating a child on the foundation of an ancient establishment, called (from a worshipful company) the Charitable Grinders; where not only is a wholesome education bestowed upon the scholars, but where a dress and badge is likewise provided for them; I have (first communicating, through Mrs. Chick, with your family) nominated your eldest son to an existing vacancy; and he has this day, I am informed, assumed the habit. The number of her son, I believe," said Mr. Dombey, turning to his sister and speaking of the child as if he were a hackney coach, "is one hundred and forty-seven. Louisa, you can tell her.” "One hundred and forty-seven," said Mrs. Chick. "The dress, Richards, is a nice, warm, blue baize tailed coat and cap, turned up with orange-coloured binding; red worsted stockings; and very strong leather small-clothes. One might wear the articles one's-self," said Mrs. Chick, with enthusiasın, The tone in which this was said admitting of nothing more, Mr. Chick relapsed into low spirits and silence. Not so Miss Tox, who, having listened to Mr. Dombey with even a more emphatic attention than usual, and with a more expressive" and be grateful." tendency of her head to one side, now leant across the table, and said to Mrs. Chick softly: "Louisa!" "My dear," said Mrs. Chick. 66 There, Richards!" said Miss Tox. "Now, indeed, you may be proud. The Charitable Grinders!" "Onerous nature of our position in public, may turned Richards faintly, "and take it very kind -I have forgotten the exact term." "Expose him to," said Mrs. Chick. "I am sure I am very much obliged, Sir," rethat you should remember my little ones." At the same time a vision of Biler as a Charitable Grinder, with his very small legs encased in the serviceable clothing described by Mrs. Chick, swam before Richards' eyes, and made them "Pardon me, my dear," returned Miss Tox, "I think not. It was more rounded and flowing. Obliging disposition of relations and friends in private, or onerous nature of position in public-water. may-impose upon him?" 66 Impose upon him, to be sure," said Mrs. Chick. Miss Tox struck her delicate hands together lightly, in triumph; and added, casting up her eyes, "eloquence indeed!" Mr. Dombey, in the meanwhile, had issued orders for the attendance of Richards, who now entered curtseying, but without the baby; Paul being asleep after the fatigues of the morning. Mr. Dombey, having delivered a glass of wine to this vassal, addressed her in the following words: Miss Tox previously settling her head on one side, and making other little arrangements for engraving them on her heart. "I am very glad to see you have so much feeling, Richards," said Miss Tox. "It makes one almost hope, it really does," said Mrs. Chick, who prided herself on taking trustful views of human nature, “that there may yet be some faint spark of gratitude and right feeling left in the world." Richards deferred to these compliments by curtseying and murmuring her thanks; but find. ing it quite impossible to recover her spirits from the disorder into which they had been thrown by the image of her son in his precocious nether garments, she gradually approached the door and was heartily relieved to escape by it. Such temporary indications of a partial thaw as had appeared with her, vanished with her; and the frost set in again, as cold and hard as ever. Mr. Chick was twice heard to hum a tune at the bottom of the table, but on both occasions it was a fragment of the Dead March in Saul. The party seemed to get colder and colder, and to be gradually resolving itself into a congealed and solid state, like the collation round which it was |