Family Column. TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND.

Wellington Independent, Volume XVII, Issue 1793, 18 November 1862, Page 3

Family Column. TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND.

The last Christmas Tale by Dtckkns.

(IS SEVEN CHAPTEBB;)

CHAPTER VI. " PICKING UP MISS kIMMEKNS. The day was by this time waning, when the gafce. again opened, and, with the brilliant goMcn light' that streamed from the declining sun and touched the very bars of the sooty creature's den, there passed in a little child ; a little girl with beautiful bright hair. She wore a plain straw hat, had a door-key in her hand, and tripped towards Mr. Traveller as if she were pleased to see him; and - were going to repose some childish' confidence in him, when she caught sight of the figure behind the bars, and started back in terror. . " Don't be alarmed, darling !'' said Mr. Travel. ler, taking her by the hand. . . .->... " Oh, but I don't like it !" urged the shrinking child; " it's dreadful." : " Well ! 1 don't like it, either,'.' said Mr. Traveller. . • : '."".)- "Who has put it there ?" asked the little girl. : » Does it bite ?" , : ' • "No, — only barks. But can't you make, up your mind to see it, my dear?" For she was covering her eyes. • " O no, no, no !". returned the child. " I cannot bear to look at it !" . . , - - Mr. Traveller turned his head toward his friend in there, as much as to ask him how he liked that instance of his success, and then took the child: . out at the still open gate, and. stood talking to her, 5 j for some half an hour in the mellow sunlight; At length he returned, encouraging her as she held ; his arm with both her hands j and laying hig pro- t tecting hand upon her head and smoothing her . pretty hair, he addressed his friend behind th<r . bars as follows : . . ~ : . - • Miss Pupfprd's establishment for six young ladies of tender age, is an establishment of a compact nature, an establishment in miniature, quite a pocket establishment. Miss " : Pupfordi ' Mis'sT 1 Pupford's assistant, with the Parisian accent, Misa Pupford's cook, and Miss Pupford'a housemaid, complete what Miss Pupford callß the educational and domestic staff of her Liliputian College. ■ r ■ Miss Pupford is. one of the most amiable of her sex ; it necessarily follows that she possesses a sweet temper; and would own to the. possession of a great deal of sentiment if she considered it quite - reconcilable with her duty to parents. Deeming it not in the bond, Miss Pupford keeps it' as far out of sight as she can— which (God bless her tyis not very far. , Miss Pupford's assistant with the Parisian accent, may be regarded as' in some sort an inspired lady, for she never conversed with a Parisian, and was never out of England — except once in the plea- . sure -boat, Lively, in the foreign waters that ebb and flow two miles off Margate at 'high' water. Even under those geographically favorable circumstances for the acquisition of the French lan^' guage in its utmost politeness and purity, Miss Pupford's assistant did not fully profit by the opportunity ; for, the pleasure-boat, Lively, so Z strongly asserted its title to ita name on that oc- ' casskm, that she was reduced to the condition of lying in the bottom of the boat pickling in brine — as if she were being salted down for the use of ' r the Navy— undergoing at the' same time great '_' mental alarm, corporeal distress, and clear.atarcliing derangement. ' ""''." V " When Miss Pupford and her assistant first fora- " gathered, is not known to men, or pupila. But; it was long ago. ; A belief would have established itself among pupils that the two once went to school together, were it not for the difficulty and audacity of imagining Miss Pup-; ford born without mittens, and without a front, and without a bit of gold wire among her front " teeth, and without little dabs of powder on her heat little face and nose: Indeed,. whenever Miss Pupford gives a little lecture on the mythology of the misguided heathens (always carefully exclud - ing Cupid from recognition), and tells how Minerva sprang, perfectly equipped, from the brain of Jupiter, she is half supposed to hint, "So I myself came into the world, completely up in Pinnock, Mangnall,* Tables, artd the use of thai " Globes."

Howbeit, Miss Pupford aad s Miss Pupford's assistant are old friend. And it is thought by pupils that, after pupils are gone .to bed, they even call one another by their Christian names in the quiet little parlour. For, once upon a time on a thun- . derous afternoon, when Miss Pupford's assistant (never heard before or since, to address her otherwise than as Miss Pupford) ran, to. her, crying out "My dearest Euphemia!" And Euphemia is . Miss Pupford's Christian name on the sampler (date . picked out) hanging up in the College-hall, where , the two peacocks, terrified to death by some. German text that is waddling down hill after them out of a cottage, are scuttling away to " hide their". 7 . profiles in two immense bean-stalks growing out of flower-pota. . ... Also, there is a notion latent among pupils, that Miss Pupford was once in' love, arid that' the beloved - object still move 3 upon this ball. Also, that he is a public character, and a personage of vast consequence. Also, that Miss Pupford's assistant knows all about it. For, sometimes of an afternoon when. Miss Pupford has been reading, the paper through , hot little gold eye-class (it is necessary to read it on the spot, as the boy calls for it,* with ill-con-, ditioned punctuality, in an hour), she has become agitated and has said to her assistant, " G !" Then. Mias Pupford's assistaut has gone to Miss Pupford, and Miss Pupford has pointed out, with her eyeglass, Gin the paper, and then Miss, PupfordV assistant has read about G, and has shown sympathy. So stimulated has the pupil-mind been in its time to curiosity on the subject of G, that . once under temporary circumstances favorable to * tj*e bold sally, one fearless pupil did actually ob- . tain possession of the paper, and range all over .it in search of G, who had been discovered therein by Miss Pupford not ten minutes before. But no G could be identified," except one capital offender who had been executed in a state of, great ha,rdi~ . hood, and it was not. to be supposed that Misa Pupford could ever have loved hint. Besides, he couldn't be always, being executed. Besides, . . he got into the paper again alive within a month. . On the whole, ,it is suspected by the pupil-mind that G is a short chubby old gentleman, with little black sealing-wax boot's up to his knees, whom a" sharply observant pupil, Miss Linx.wheti she onco went to Tunbridge Wells with Miss Pupford for the holidays, reported on her return ' (privately and confidentially) to have seen oome capering up to Miss Pupford on the Promenade, and to have detected in the act of squeezing Miss Piipford'a hand, and to have heard pronounce the words, . I " Cruel Euphemia, ever thine !"-Hjr something [ like that. Miss Linx hhazardedr r ded a guess, ,shat, ,hQ~. might be the House of Commons, or Money. i Market, or Court Circular, or Fashionable Move? ments; w;hich would account for his. getting .into 1 the paper so often. But it was fatally objected hy the pupil-mind, that hone of those notabilities . could possibly be spelt with aG. : . . ' , ■,' 1 There are other occasions,. closely watched and j perfectly comprehended by the pupil-mind, when Miss Pupford imparts with mystery to her assis- . tant that there is special excitement in the mom--ing paper. These' occasions are, when Misa Pup* :, , ford finds an old pupil coming out under the head of Births, or Marriages. Affectionate tears are .. invariably seen in Miss Pupford's meek little, eyes , when this is the case ; and the pupil-mind, -per* , ceivihg that its order has distinguished .itself-r- ," though the fact isnev.er mentioned by. Miss.> Pupford—becomes elevated, and feels that it likewise i 9 reserved for greatness. . „ , „ . : -' Miss' Pupford's assistant with the Parisian i accent; ",' " has a little more bone than. Miss Pupford, buV.ia^ . of the same trim orderly diminutive cast, ancU, from long contemplation, admiration, and itnita* ! '" tion of Miss Pupford,. has grown likp h_e"r> : " Bein^ '" entirely devoted to Miss Fupf6i;d,, and ha.viog „\ pretty talent for pencil drawing, ;ahe. ouce ; made^ ''"""" a" portrait of that lady ; /. whicli ,.",vy^s, jso instantly „ identified and hailed; by the p^pUa,, that it .'was '-,"'' done ,oq stonp at^ve . Suraiyytk^qiifce*!:.and milkiest stone ihat .ever was \ quarried, r&»- V ceiye^ thatlikeneaa bf^Mi^s Pupfordii , i VJx9 ' *jp«%i/ of her placid little, n^q are ep undecided in it th^fe,- c stranger? tq the work^Qf.: a^-fc^ -are ■ , ojbjjejpy^;^} ~ps^ exceedingly perplexed) as tfy wEergi, '$$ '< flc^e ]gops .> • o disconcerted manner. Miss Pupford being repre-< sented in a state of dejeption at^ao open window!

' raraifiaaf^^rrbßM^T?gsm: fishTtrie pupil? mind has settled,thfit the ; bowl was presented by G, and that he^Wreathed the bowi with flowers of soul, and that Miss Pupford is depicted as waiting for him on a memorable occasion wti,en he was behind his time,. . \ The approach of the last Midsummer, holidays had a particular interest for the pupil-mra&r Jay' reason of its knowing that Miss Pupford was bidden, on the second day of those holidays, to the nuptials of a former pupil. As it was impossible to conceal the fact— so extensive were the dress-making preparations — Miss Pupford openly announced it. But, she held it due to parents to make the announcement with in air of gentle' melancholy j as if marriage were (as indeed it exceptionally has been) rather a calimity. With an air of softened resignation and pity, therefore, Miss Pupford went on with her preparations ; and meanwhile -no' pupil ever went up-stairs, or came down, without peeping in at the door of Miss Pupford'a bedroom (when Miss Pupford wasn't there), ! and bringing back some surprising intelligence concerning the bonnet. 3Phe extensive preparations being completed on the day before the holidays, an unanimous entreaty- was- preferred to Miss -Pupford by the pupil-mind — finding expression through Miss Pupford'S' assistant— that she would deign to appear in all her splendour. Miss Pupford consenting, presented a lovely spectacle. And although the oldest pupil was s barely thirteen, every one of the six became in two minutes perfect in the shape, cut, color, price, and quality, of every article Miss Pupford wore. • ' ' ■Thus delightfully 'ushered in, the holidays began. Five of the six pupils kissed little Eitty Kirameens 'twenty times over (round total, one hundred times, for she was- very popular), and bo went home. Miss Kitty Kimmeens remained behind, for her relations and friends were all in India; far away. A self-helpful steady little child is Miss Kitty Kimmeens; a dimpled child too, and a loving* .-.'■' - So, the great marriage-day came, and Miss Popfprd, quite as much fluttered as any bride could, l>e(G !, ; thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens) went way, splendid; to behold, in the carriage that was sent forher. But, not Miss Pupford. onjy 'went away ; for Miss Pupford 'is assistant went away; with her, on a dutiful visit to an aged uncle— though surely the venerable gentleman couldn't live in the gallery of the church where the marriage was to be, thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens—and yet Miss Pupford's assistant had let out that she was going there. Where the cook wm, going, didn't appear, but she generally conveyed .to Miss 1 Kimmeens, that she was bound, rather ! agayist her will, on a pilgrimage to perform Borne.pious office that rendered new ribbons necessary to. her best bonnet, and also sandals to her shoes. ",So you see," said the housemaid, when they were all gone, " there's nobody left in the house but you and me, Miss Kimmeens.'' "Nobody else," said Miss Kitty Kimmeens, shaking her curls a little sadly. " Nobody !'* '.♦And you wouldn't, like your, Bejla, to go, too.; Vquld you .Miss Kirameens ?" said the housemaid..- (She being Bella). „. , '.' N^-ho," .answered little Miss Kimmeens. " Your prior Bella is forced to stay with you, whether Bhelikef itj or not ; ain't she, Miss Kimmeens?" ' „ ' . "Don'iyoulikeit?" inquired Kitty. ".Why,, you're such a darling Miss, that it would be. unkind of your .Bella to make objections. Yet my, brother-in-law has been took unexpected bad. by this' morning's post. And your poor Bella is much attached to him, letting alone her favorite sister, Mies, Kimmeens." "■ Is;he very ill ?" asked little Kitty. ' ♦•Your poor Bella has.her fears so, Mis Kimmeehs," returned the housemaid, with her apron at tier' eyesl "It was but his inside, it is true, but it might mount, and the doctor said that if it mounted he ; vfpuldn't answer." ; Here the housemaid was so overcome" that l£itty administered the only comfort she had ready : which was a kiss. "If it hadh't been, for disappoint! ng Cook, dear Miss' Kimmeens," said the housemaid, "your Bella would have asked her to stay with you. For Cook is svyeet'cbmpany, Mias Kimmeens; much more so than your own poor Bella-" '« But you are very nice, Bella." '• Your Bella could wish to \>e so, Miss Kimmeens," returned the housemaid^ " but she knows full Well that it do riot lay in her power this day." With which despondent conviction, the house-, maid drew a heavy sigh, and shook her head, and dropped it on one side. . •) If it" had been anyways right' to disappoint Cobk,' I . she pursued iri a contemplative and abstracted; manner, "it might have been so easy done! I c6uld have got to my brother-in-law's, and had the best part of the day there, and got back,' lorig befote our ladies came home at night,, and neither tlie one "nor the other of them need never have' known it. Not that Mies, Pupford would at all object, but that it might put her out, being tender-hearted. Howsever, you own poor Bern, Miss Kimmeens," said the housemaid, rousing herself, "is forced to stay with you, and you're a precious love, if not a liberty." "Bella,'' said little Kitty, after a short silence. *-• Call you?, own poor Bella, your Bella, dear," the housemaid besought her. " My Bella, then." "\Bless your considerate heart!" said the housemaid. : \ "If you .would not mind leaving me, I should not mind being left. lam not afraid to stay in the house alone. ' And you need not be uneasy on my account, for I would be very careful to do no harm.": '''Oh'! Ai to harm, you more "than Bweetest, if not a. liberty," exclaimed the housemaid, in. a rapture, " your Bella could trust you anywhere, being so steady, and so answerable. , Ihe oldest head in, this house (me and Cook says),, but for its bright hair is Miss Kimmeens. But no, I will. not leave you; for you would think your' Bella unkind." " t ßut if you are my Bolla, you must go," returned the child? \. . '* Must' I?" said the housemaid," rising, on the whole with alacrity. " What must be, must be, Miss Kimmeens. Your own poor Bella acts according, though unwilling. , But go or stay, your owif poor Bella loves you, Miss Kimmeens"" % It was certainly go, arid riot stay, for within five minutes Miss Kimmeens's own poor Bella— so much improved in point' of" spirits as to have grown, almost sanguine on the subject of her brother-in, law— went her way,, in apparel that seemed to have been expressly prepared for some festive occasion; Such are the changes of this fleeting world, and so ahort-sigh ted are we poor mortals! ' ' When the house door closed with a bang and a shake, ie seemed to Miss Kimmeens, to be a very 'heavy house door, shutting her up in a wilderness of a house. But, Miss Kimmeens being, as Before stated, of a self-reliant and methodical character, presently began to parcel out the long summer day before her.' ' Arid first she thought she would go all over 1 the house, t to make quite' sure that . nobody with a great-coat on anil a in it, had got under bne'of the beds or into one of the cupboards. Not that she had ever before been troubled by the image of anybody armed with a great-coat and a carVirig-kriife, but that it seemed to have been shaken into existence by the shake arid the bang of this Street dobr, reverberating through the solitary, house. . So, little Miss Kimmeens looked under the' five emptjr beds of "the Rv6 departed pupils, ah^ looked under her 6wn bed, and looked under' Miss Pupford's bed, arid looked under Miss Popford's assistant's bed. Arid when she had done this, and was making the four of the cupboards, the disagreeable thought came into her young; head, What a Very' alarming thing it would be to find somebody with a mask on, . like. Guy Fawkes, hiding bolt upright in a corner and pretending not to be alive! However, Miss Kimmeens having finished her inspection without making; any 1 such uncomfortable discovery, sat down in her tidy little mariner to needlework, and began stitching away at a great rate. The silence' all about her soon grew very oppressive, arid the more so because of the odd inconsistency jtHas the more silent it was, the more noifoatheitf were. The noise of her own needle and thread as she stitched, was infinitely louder in her ears, than the; stitching of the whole six pupß>V arid f of -Miss Pupfords; arid of Miss Pupsord'a assistant; aH stitching away at once on a highly iemtilative afternboij. Then, the schoolroom |lock couatict^d itaelf in aw; in which it

had' never- conducted itself before^-fell~iame, somehow, and. yet persisted in running on as hard and as loud as it could : the consequence of which behaviour was, that it staggered among the minutes in a state of the greatest confusion and knocked them about in all directions without appearing to get on with its regular work* Perhaps this alarmed the stairs ; but be that as it . might, they, began to creak in a most unusual manner, and then the furniture began. to crack, and then . poor little Miss Kimmeens, not liking the furtive aspect of things in general, began, to sing as she stitched. But, it was not her own voice she heard — ■ -it was somebody else making believe to be Kitty, and singing excessively flat, without any heart — so as that would never mend matters, she left off again. By-and-by, the stitching became so palpable a failure that Miss Kitty Kimmeens folded her work neatly, and put it away in its box, and gave it up. Then the question arose about reading. But no : the book that was so delightful when there was somebody she loved for her eyes to fall on when they rose from the page,, had not more heart in it than her own singing now. The book went to its shelf as the needlework had gone to its box, and. since something must be done-^ thought the child, " I'll go put my room to rights." ...... She shared her room with her dearest little friend among the other five pupils, and why then should she now conceive a lurking dread of the little friend's bedstead ? But, she did. There was a stealthy air about its innocent white curtains, and there were even dark hints of a dead girl lying under the coverlet. The great want of human company, the great need of a human face, began, now to express itself in the facility with which the furniture put on strange exaggerated resemblances" to human looks. A chair with a menacing frown was horribly out of temper in a corner ; a most vicious chest of drawers snarled at her from between the windows. It was no relief to escape from those monsters to the lookingglass, ( for the reflexion said, " What? Is that you all alone there ? How you stare !" And the back ground was all a great void stare as well. The day dragged on, dragging Kitty with it very, slowly, by .the hair of her head,, until it was time to eat. There were good provisions in the pantry, but their right flavor and relish had evaporated with the five pupils, and Miss Pupford, and Miss Pupford'a assistant, and the cook and housemaid. Where was the use of laying the cloth symmetrically for one small guest, who had gone on ever since the morning growing smaller and smaller, while the empty house had gone on swelling lai'ger and larger ? The very Grace came out wrong, for who were " we" who were going to receive and be thankful ? So, Miss Kimmeens was not thankful, and found herself taking her dinner in very slovenly style — gobbling it up, in short, rather after the manner of the lower animals, not to particularise the piga. But this was by no means the worst of the change wrought out in the naturally loving and cheery little creature as the solitary day wore on. She, began to brood and be , suspicious. She discovered that she was fnll of wrongs and injuries. All the people she knew, got tainted by her lonely thoughts and turned bad. It was all very well for Papa, a widower in India, to send her home to be, educated, and to pay a handsome round sum every year for her to Miss Pupford, and to write charming letters to his darling little daughter ; but what did he care for her being left by herself, when he was (as no doubt he always was) enjoying himself in company from morning till night? Perhaps he only sent her here, after all, to get her out of the way. It looked like it— looked. like it to-day, that is, for 6he had never dreamed of such a thing before. And this old pupil who was being married. It was insupportably conceited and selfish in the old pupil to be married. She was very vain, and very glad to show off; but it was highly probable that she wasn't pretty ; and even if she were pretty, (which,/ Miss Kimnieens now totally denied), she had no business to.be, married ; and, even if macriage were conceded, she had no business to ask Miss Pupford to her wedding. As to Misa Pupford, she was too old to go to any wedding. She ought to know that. She had much better attend to her business. She had thought she looked nice in the morning, but 6he didn't look nice. She was a stupid old thing. G was another stupid old thing. Miss Pupford's assistant was another. They were all stupid old things together. More than that: it began to bw, obvious that this was a plot. They had said to one another, " Never mind Kitty ; you get off, and ill get off.; and we'll leave Kitty to look after herself. Who cares for her?" To be sure they were right in that question ; for who did care for her, a poor little lonely thing against whom they all planned and plotted ? Nobody, nobody ! Here Kitty sobbed. : At all other times she was the pet of the whole house, and loved her five companions in return with a child's tenderest and most ingenuous attachment ; but now, the five companions put on ugly colours, and appeared for the" ; first time under a sullen cloud. There they were, all at their homes that day, being made much of, being taken out, being spoilt and made disagreeable, and r earing' nothing for her! ..It was. like their artful selfishness always to tell her when they came back, under pretence of confidence and friendship, all those details about where they had been, aud what they had done and seen, and how often they had said "0 ! If we had only darling little Kitty here !" Here indeed ! I dare say ! When they ! came back after the holidays, they were used 'to being received by Kitty, and to 6aying that coming to Kitty was like coming to another home. Very weil then, why did they go away? If they meant it, why did they go away? Let them answer that. But they didn't mean it, and couldn't answer that, and they didn't tell the truth, and people who didn't tell the truth weie hateful. When they came back next time, they, should be received .in a new manner ; they should be avoided and shunned. And there, the while she sat all alone revolving ' how ill, she was used, and how much better she was than the people who were not alone, the wedding breakfast was going on : no question of it ! With a nasty great bride-cake, and with those ridiculous orange flowers, and with that conceited bride, and that hideous bridegroom, and those heartless bridesmaids, and Miss Pupford stuck up at the table I They thought they were enjoying themselves, but it would come home to them one day to have thought so. They would all be dead in a few years, let. them enjoy themselves ever so much. , It was a religious comfort to know that. It was such a comfort to know it, that little Miss Kitty Kimmeens suddenly sprang from the chair in which she had been musing in a corner, and cried out, " O those enyious thoughts are not mine, O this wicked creature isn't me ! Help me sotaebody ! Igo wrong, along by my weak self. Help me anybody !" . '.' —Miss Kimmeens is not a professed philososopher, sir," said Mr. Traveller, presenting her at the barred window, and smoothing her shining hap, " but I apprehend there was some tincture of philosophy in her words, and in the prompt action with which she followed them. That action was, to emerge from her unnatural solitude, and look abroad for wholesome sympathy, to bestow and to receive. Her footsteps strayed fo this gte, bringing her;here by chance, as an apposite contrast to you. . The child came out, sir. If you have the wisdom to learn from a child (but I doubt it, for that requires more wisdom than one in your condition would seem to possess), you caririothSS better than imitate the child, and come out too— from that very demoralising hutch of yours." vir. , . PICKING UP THE TINKER. It was now sunset. The Hermit had betaken himself to bis bed of cinders half an hour ago, anji ' lying on it in his blanket and skewer with his back to the window, took not the smallest heed of the appeal addressed to him. All that has been said for the last two hours, had been said to a tinkling accompaniment per- | fornied by the Tinker, who had got to work upon some villager's pot or kettle, and was working briskly outside. This music still continuing, seemed to put into Mr. Traveller's mind to have another word or two with the Tinker. So, holding Miss Kimmeena (with whom he was now on the most friendly terms) by the hand, he went out at the gate to where the Tinker was seated at ai9 work on the patch of grass on the opposite

side-*of trw road-, -witbr hisr-wallefrof tools-open^ before him, and his little fire smoking. " I am glaid to see you employed, 1 ' said Mr. Traveller. " I am glad to be employed," returned the Tinker, looking up as he put the finishing touches to his job.. " But why are you glad? 1 ' " I thought you were a lazy fellow when I saw you this morning." : , " I, was only disgusted," said the Tinker. " Do you mean with trie fine weather ?" " With the fine weather ?" repeated the Tinker, staring. "You told me you were not particular as lo weather, and I thought " " Ha, ha ! How should such as me get on, if we was par tickler as to weather ? We must take it as it comes, and make the best of it. There's something good in all weathers. If it dewi't happen to be good for my work to-day, it's good. for some other man's to-day, and will come round to me to-morrow. We must all live." 11 Pray shake hands ?" said Mr. Traveller. •' Take care, sir," was the Tinker's oaution, as as he reached up his hand in surprise ; " the black comes off." . , " I am glad of it," said Mr. Traveller. " I have been for several hours among other black that does not come off." . : " You are speaking of Tom in there ?" "Yes." " Well now," said the Tinker, Mowing the dust off his job : which was finished. " Ain't it enough to disgust a pig, if he could give his mind to it?" •• If he could give his mind to it," returned the other smiling, " the probability is that he would'nt he a pig." "There you clench the. nail." returned the Tinker. " Then what's to be said for Tom?" " Truly, very little." I *• Truly nothing you mean, air," said the j Tinker, as he put away his tools. " A better answer, and (I freely acknowledge) my meaning. I infer that he was the cause of your disgust?" " Why look'ee here, sir," said the Tinker, rising to his feet, and wiping his face on the corner of his black apron energetically ; " Heave you to judge ! — I ask you !— Last night I has a job that needs to be done in the night, and I works all night. Well, there's nothing in that. But this morning I come's along this road here, looking for a sunny and soft spot to sleep in, and I sees this desolation and ruination. I've lived myself in desolation and ruination ; I knows many a fellow-creetur that's forced to live, life long, in desolation and ruination ; and I sits me down and takes pity on it as 1 cast 9my eyes about. Then comes up the long-winded one as I told you of, from that gate, and spins himself out like a silkworm concerning the Donkey (if my Donkey at home will excuse me) as has made it all — made it of his own choice ! And tells me, if you please, of his likewise choosing to go ragged and naked, and grimy — maskerading, mountebanking in what is the real hard lot of thousands and thousands .! Why then I say it's a unbearable and nonsensical piece of inconsistency, I'm disgusted. I'm ashamed and disgusted. "I wish you would come and look at him," said Ijiv. Traveller, clapping the tinker on the . shoulder. . ' i 11 Not I, sir," he rejoined. " I ain't a going to flatter him up, by looking at him 1", " But he is asleep." " Are you sure he is asleep?" asked the Tinker, with an unwilling air,, as he shouldered his wallet. "Sure." " Then I'll look at him for a quarter of a mm- J ute," said the Tinker, " since you so much wish it ; but not a moment longer." They all three went back across the road ; and, through the barred window, by the dying glow of the sunset coming in at the gate — which the child held open for its admission— he could he pretty clearly discerned lying on his bed. " You see him ?" asked Mr. Traveller. " Yes," returned the Tinker, "and he's worse than I thought him." Mr. Traveller then whispered in few words what he had done since morning; and asked the Tinker what he thought ot that? \ " I think." returned the Tinker, as he turned from the window, " that you've wasted a day on him." . " I think so too; though not, I hope, upon myself. Do you happen to be going anywhere near the Peal of Bells ?" ," That's my direct way, sir," said ihe Tinker. "I invite you to supper there. And we learn from this young lady that she goes about threequarters of a mile in the same direction; we will drop her on the road, and we will spare time to keep her company at her garden gate until her own Bella comes home. 1 ' So, Mr. Traveller, and the child, and the Tinker, went along very amicably in the sweet-scented evening ; and the moral with which tho Tinker dismissed the subject was, that he said iv his trade that metal that rotted for want of use, had better be left to rot, and couldn't rot too soon, considering how much true metal rotted from over use and hard service.