Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived allalone by themselves, as the Story-books say -- and myblessing, with yours to back it I hope, on the Story-books, for saying anything in this workaday world!-- Caleb Plummer and his Blind Daughter lived allalone by themselves, in a little cracked nutshell of awooden house, which was, in truth, no better than apimple on the prominent red-brick nose of Gruff andTackleton. The premises of Gruff and Tackletonwere the great feature of the street; but you mighthave knocked down Caleb Plummer's dwelling witha hammer or two, and carried off the pieces in a cart.

If any one had done the dwelling-house of CalebPlummer the honour to miss it after such an inroad,it would have been, no doubt, to commend its demoli-tion as a vast improvement. It stuck to the premisesof Gruff and Tackleton, like a barnacle to a ship'skeel, or a snail to a door, or a little bunch of toad-stools to the stem of a tree. But, it was the germfrom which the full-grown trunk of Gruff and Tackle-ton had sprung; and, under its crazy roof, the Gruffbefore last, had, in a small way, made toys for ageneration of old boys and girls, who had playedwith them, and found them out, and broken them, andgone to sleep.

I have said that Caleb and his poor Blind Daugh-ter lived here. I should have said that Caleb livedhere, and his poor Blind Daughter somewhere else --in an enchanted home of Caleb's furnishing, wherescarcity and shabbiness were not, and trouble neverentered. Caleb was no sorcerer, but in the only magicart that still remains to us, the magic of devoted,deathless love, Nature had been the mistress of hisstudy; and from her teaching, all the wonder came.

The Blind Girl never knew that ceilings were dis-coloured, walls blotched and bare of plaster here andthere, high crevices unstopped, and widening everyday, beams mouldering and tending downward. TheBlind Girl never knew that iron was rusting, woodrotting, paper peeling off; the size, and shape, andtrue proportion of the dwelling, withering away.The Blind Girl never knew that ugly shapes of delfand earthenware were on the board; that sorrow andfaint-heartedness were in the house; that Caleb'sscanty hairs were turning greyer and more grey, be-fore her sightless face. The Blind Girl never knewthey had a master, cold, exacting, and uninterested --never knew that Tackleton was Tackleton in short;but lived in the belief of an eccentric humourist wholoved to have his jest with them, and who while hewas the Guardian Angel of their lives, disdained tohear one word of thankfulness.

And all was Caleb's doing; all the doing of hersimple father! But he too had a Cricket on hisHearth; and listening sadly to its music when themotherless Blind Child was very young, that Spirithad inspired him with the thought that even her greatdeprivation might be almost changed into a blessing,and the girl made happy by these little means. Forall the Cricket tribe are potent Spirits. even thoughthe people who hold converse with them do not knowit (which is frequently the case); and there are notin the unseen world, voices more gentle and more true,that may be so implicitly relied on, or that are so cer-tain to give none but tenderest counsel, as the Voicesin which the Spirits of the Fireside and the Hearthaddress themselves to human kind.

Caleb and his daughter were at work together intheir usual working-room, which served them fortheir ordinary living-room as well; and a strangeplace it was. There were houses in it, finished andunfinished, for Dolls of all stations in life. Suburbantenements for Dolls of moderate means; kitchens andsingle apartments for Dolls of the lower classes;capital town residences for Dolls of high estate.Some of these establishments were already furnishedaccording to estimate, with a view to the convenienceof Dolls of limited income; others, could be fitted onthe most expensive scale, at a moment's notice, fromwhole shelves of chairs and tables, sofas, bedsteads,and upholstery. The nobility and gentry, and publicin general, for whose accommodation these tenementswere designed, lay, here and there, in baskets, staringstraight up at the ceiling; but, in denoting their de-grees in society, and confining them to their respec-tive stations (which experience shows to be lament-ably difficult in real life), the makers of these Dollshad far improved on Nature, who is often frowardand perverse; for, they, not resting on such arbitrarymarks as satin, cotton-print, and bits of rag, hadsuperadded striking personal differences which allowedof no mistake. Thus, the Doll-lady of distinctionhad wax limbs of perfect symmetry; but, only sheand her compeers. The next grade in the social scalebeing made of leather, and the next of coarse linenstuff. As to the common-people, they had just somany matches out of tinder-boxes, for their arms andlegs, and there they were -- established in their sphereat once, beyond the possibility of getting out of it.

There were various other samples of his handicraft,besides Dolls, in Caleb Plummer's room. Therewere Noah's Arks, in which the Birds and Beastswere an uncommonly tight fit, I assure vou; thoughthey could be crammed in, anyhow, at the roof, andrattled and shaken into the smallest compass. By abold poetical licence, most of these Noah's Arks hadknockers on the doors; inconsistent appendages, per-haps, as suggestive of morning callers and a Post-man, yet a pleasant finish to the outside of the build-ing. There were scores of melancholy little cartswhich, when the wheels went round, performed mostdoleful music. Many small fiddles, drums, and otherinstruments of torture; no end of cannon, shields,swords, spears, and guns. There were little tumblersin red breeches, incessantly swarming up high ob-stacles of red-tape, and coming down, head first, onthe other side; and there were innumerable old gentle-men of respectable, not to say venerable, appearance,insanely flying over horizontal pegs, inserted, for thepurpose, in their own street doors. There were beastsof all sorts; horses, in particular, of every breed, fromthe spotted barrel on four pegs, with a small tippetfor a mane, to the thoroughbred rocker on his highestmettle. As it would have been hard to count thedozens upon dozens of grotesque figures that wereever ready to commit all sorts of absurdities on theturning of a handle, so it would have been no easytask to mention any human folly, vice, or weakness,that had not its type, immediate or remote, in CalebPlummer's room. And not in an exaggerated form,for very little handles will move men and womento as strange performances, as any Toy was evermade to undertake.

In the midst of all these objects, Caleb and hisdaughter sat at work. The Blind Girl busy as aDoll's dressmaker; Caleb painting and glazing thefour-pair front of a desirable family mansion.

The care imprinted in the lines of Caleb's face, andhis absorbed and dreamy manner, which would havesat well on some alchemist or abstruse student, wereat first sight an odd contrast to his occupation, andthe trivialities about him. But, trivial things, in-vented and pursued for bread, become very seriousmatters of fact; and, apart from this consideration,I am not at all prepared to say, myself, that if Calebhad been a Lord Chamberlain, or a Member of Parlia-ment, or a lawyer, or even a great speculator, hewould have dealt in toys one whit less whimsical,while I have a very great doubt whether they wouldhave been as harmless.

'So you were out in the rain last night, father, inyour beautiful new great-coat,' said Caleb's daughter.

'In my beautiful new great-coat,' answered Caleb,glancing towards a clothes-line in the room, on whichthe sack-cloth garment previously described, wascarefully hung up to dry.

'How glad I am you bought it, father!'

'And of such a tailor, too,' said Caleb. 'Quite afashionable tailor. It's too good for me.'

The Blind Girl rested from her work, and laughedwith delight. 'Too good, father! What can be toogood for you?'

'I'm half ashamed to wear it though,' said Caleb,watching the effect of what he said, upon her bright-ening face; 'upon my word! When I hear the boysand people say behind me, "Halloa! Here's a swell!"I don't know which way to look. And when thebeggar wouldn't go away last night; and when Isaid I was a very common man, said "No, yourHonour! Bless your Honour, don't say that!" Iwas quite ashamed. I really felt as if I hadn't a rightto wear it.'

Happy Blind Girl! How merry she was, in herexultation!

'I see you, father,' she said, clasping her hands, 'asplainly, as if I had the eyes I never want when youare with me. A blue coat --'

'Bright blue,' said Caleb.

'Yes, yes! Bright blue!' exclaimed the girl, turn-ing up her radiant face; 'the colour I can just-remem-ber in the blessed sky! You told me it was blue be-fore! A bright blue coat --'

'Made loose to the figure,' suggested Caleb.

'Made loose to the figure!' cried the Blind Girl,laughing heartily; 'and in it, you, dear father, withyour merry eye, your smiling face, your free step,and your dark hair --looking so young and hand-some!'

'Halloa! Halloa!' said Caleb. 'I shall be vain,presently!'

'I think you are, already,' cried the Blind Girl,pointing at him, in her glee. 'I know you, father!Ha, ha, ha! I've found you out, you see!'

How different the picture in her mind, from Caleb,as he sat observing her! She had spoken of his freestep. She was right in that. For years and years,he had never once crossed that threshold at his ownslow pace, but with a footfall counterfeited for herear; and never had he, when his heart was heaviest,forgotten the light tread that was to render hers socheerful and courageous!

Heaven knows! But I think Caleb's vague be-wilderment of manner may have half originated inhis having confused himself about himself and every-thing around him, for the love of his Blind Daughter.How could the little man be otherwise than bewil-dered, after labouring for so many years to destroyhis own identity, and that of all the objects that hadany bearing on it!

'There we are,' said Caleb, falling back a pace ortwo to form the better judgment of his work; 'asnear the real thing as sixpenn'orth of halfpence is tosixpence. What a pity that the whole front of thehouse opens at once! If there was only a staircasein it, now, and regular doors to the rooms to go in at!But that's the worst of my calling, I'm always de-luding myself, and swindling myself.'

'You are speaking quite softly. You are not tired,father?'

'Tired!' echoed Caleb, with a great burst of anima-tion, 'what should tire me, Bertha? I was never tired.What does it mean?'

To give the greater force to his words, he checkedhimself in an involuntary imitation of two half-length stretching and yawning figures on the mantel-shelf, who were represented as in one eternal state ofweariness from the waist upwards; and hummed afragment of a song. It was a Bacchanalian song,something about a Sparkling Bowl. He sang it withan assumption of a Devil-may-care voice, that madehis face a thousand times more meagre and morethoughtful than ever.

'What! You're singing, are you?' said Tackle-ton, putting his head in at the door. 'Go it! I can'tsing.'

Nobody would have suspected him of it. Hehadn't what is generally termed a singing face, byany means.

'I can't afford to sing,' said Tackleton. 'I'm gladyou can. I hope you can afford to work too. Hardlytime for both, I should think?'

'If you could only see him, Bertha, how he's wink-ing at me!' whispered Caleb. 'Such a man to joke!you'd think, if you didn't know him, he was in ear-nest -- wouldn't you now?'

The Blind Girl smiled and nodded.

'The bird that can sing and won't sing, must bemade to sing, they say,' grumbled Tackleton. 'Whatabout the owl that can't sing, and oughtn't to sing,and will sing; is there anything that he should bemade to do?'

'The extent to which he's winking at this moment!'whispered Caleb to his daughter. '0, my gracious!'

'Always merry and light-hearted with us!' criedthe smiling Bertha.

'0, you're there, are you?' answered Tackleton.'Poor Idiot!'

He really did believe she was an Idiot; and hefound the belief, I can't say whether consciously ornot, upon her being fond of him.

'Well! and being there, -- how are you?' said Tack-leton, in his grudging way.

'Oh! well; quite well. And as happy as even youcan wish me to be. As happy as you would make thewhole world, if you could!'

'Poor Idiot!' muttered Tackleton. 'No gleam ofreason. Not a gleam!'

The Blind Girl took his hand and kissed it; held itfor a moment in her own two hands; and laid hercheek against it tenderly, before releasing it. Therewas such unspeakable affection and such ferventgratitude in the act, that Tackleton himself wasmoved to say, in a milder growl than usual:

'What's the matter now?'

'stood it close beside my pillow when I went tosleep last night, and remembered it in my dreams.And when the day broke, and the glorious red sunthe red sun, father?'

'Red in the mornings and the evenings, Bertha,'said poor Caleb, with a woeful glance at his employer.

'When it rose, and the bright light I almost fear tostrike myself against in walking, came into the room,I turned the little tree towards it, and blessed Heavenfor making things so precious, and blessed you forsending them to cheer me!'

'Bedlam broke loose!' said Tackleton under hisbreath. 'We shall arrive at the strait-waistcoat andmufflers soon. We're getting on!'

Caleb, with his hands hooked loosely in each other,stared vacantly before him while his daughter spoke,as if he really were uncertain (I believe he was)whether Tackleton had done anything to deserve herthanks, or not. If he could have been a perfectlyfree agent, at that moment, required, on pain ofdeath, to kick the Toy-merchant, or fall at his feet,according to his merits, I believe it would have beenan even chance which course he would have taken.Yet, Caleb knew that with his own hands he hadbrought the little rose-tree home for her, so carefully'and that with his own lips he had forged the innocentdeception which should help to keep her from suspect-ing how much, how very much, he every day deniedhimself, that she might be the happier.

'Bertha!' said Tackleton, assuming, for the nonce,a little cordiality. 'Come here.'

'Oh! I can come straight to you! You needn'tguide me!' she rejoined.

'Shall I tell you a secret, Bertha?'

'If you will!' she answered, eagerly.

How bright the darkened face! How adorned withlight, the listening head!

'This is the day on which little what's-her-name,the spoilt child, Peerybingle's wife, pays her regularvisit to you -- makes her fantastic Pic-Nic here; an'tit?' said Tackleton, with a strong expression of dis-taste for the whole concern.

'Yes,' replied Bertha. 'This is the day.'

'I thought so,' said Tackleton. 'I should like tojoin the party.'

'Do you hear that, father!' cried the Blind Girl inan ecstasy.

'Yes, yes, I hear it,' murmured Caleb, with the fixedlook of a sleep-walker; 'but I don't believe it. It'sone of my lies, I've no doubt.'

'You see I -- I want to bring the Peerybingles alittle more into company with May Fielding,' saidTackleton. 'I am going to be married to May.'

'Married!' cried the Blind Girl, starting from him.

'She's such a con-founded Idiot,' muttered Tack-leton, 'that I was afraid she'd never comprehend me.Ah, Bertha! Married! Church, parson, clerk, beadle,glass-coach, bells, breakfast, bride-cake, favours, mar-row-bones, cleavers, and all the rest of the tom-foolery. A wedding, you know; a wedding. Don'tyou know what a wedding is?'

'I know,' replied the Blind Girl, in a gentle tone.'I understand!'

'Do you?' muttered Tackleton. 'It's more than Iexpected. Well! On that account I want to jointhe party, and to bring May and her mother. I'llsend in a little something or other, before the after-noon. A cold leg of mutton, or some comfortabletrifle of that sort. You'll expect me?'

'Yes,' she answered.

She had drooped her head, and turned away; andso stood, with her hands crossed, musing.

'I don't think you will,' muttered Tackleton, look-ing at her; 'for you seem to have forgotten all aboutit already. Caleb!'

'I may venture to say I'm here, I suppose,' thoughtCaleb. 'Sir!'

'Take care she don't forget what I've been sayingto her.'

'She never forgets,' returned Caleb. 'It's one ofthe few things she an't clever in.'

'Every man thinks his own geese swans,' observedthe Toy-merchant, with a shrug. 'Poor devil!'

Having delivered himself of which remark, with in-finite contempt, old Gruff and Tackleton withdrew.

Bertha remained where he had left her, lost in med-itation. The gaiety had vanished from her downcastface, and it was very sad. Three or four times, sheshook her head, as if bewailing some remembranceor some loss; but, her sorrowful reflections found novent in words.

It was not until Caleb had been occupied, sometime, in yoking a team of horses to a wagon by thesummary process of nailing the harness to the vitalparts of their bodies, that she drew near to his work-ing-stool, and sitting down beside him, said:

'Father, I am lonely in the dark. I want my eyes,my patient, willing eyes.'

'Here they are,' said Caleb. 'Always ready. Theyare more yours than mine, Bertha, any hour in thefour-and-twenty. What shall your eyes do for you,dear?'

'Look round the room, father.'

'All right,' said Caleb. 'No sooner said that doneBertha.'

'Tell me about it.'

'It's much the same as usual,' said Caleb. 'Homelybut very snug. The gay colours on the walls; thebright flowers on the plates and dishes; the shiningwood, where there are beams or panels; the generalcheerfulness and neatness of the building; make itvery pretty.'

Cheerful and neat it was wherever Bertha's handscould busy themselves. But nowhere else, were cheer-fulness and neatness possible, in the old crazy shedwhich Caleb's fancy so transformed.

'You have your working dress on, and are not sogallant as when you wear the handsome coat?' saidBertha, touching him.

'Not quite so gallant,' answered Caleb. 'Prettybrisk though.'

'Father,' said the Blind Girl, drawing close to hisside, and stealing one arm round his neck, 'tell mesomething about May. She is very fair?'

'She is indeed,' said Caleb. And she was indeed.It was quite a rare thing to Caleb, not to have todraw on his invention.

'Her hair is dark,' said Bertha, pensively, 'darkerthan mine. Her voice is sweet and musical, I know.I have often loved to hear it. Her shape --'

'There's not a Doll's in all the room to equal it,'said Caleb. 'And her eyes!' --

He stopped; for Bertha had drawn closer roundhis neck, and, from the arm that clung about him,came a warning pressure which he understood toowell.

He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment,and then fell back upon the song about the sparklingbowl, his infallible resource in all such difficulties.

'Our friend, father, our benefactor. I am nevertired you know of hearing about him. -- Now, wasI ever?' she said, hastily.

'Of course not,' answered Caleb, 'and with reason.'

'Ah! With how much reason!' cried the BlindGirl. With such fervency, that Caleb, though hismotives were so pure, could not endure to meet herface; but dropped his eyes, as if she could have readin them his innocent deceit.

'Then, tell me again about him, dear father,' saidBertha. 'Many times again! His face is benevolent,kind, and tender. Honest and true, I am sure it is.The manly heart that tries to cloak all favours with ashow of roughness and unwillingness, beats in itsevery look and glance.'

'And makes it noble,' added Caleb, in his quietdesperation

'And makes it noble!' cried the Blind Girl. 'He isolder than May, father.'

'Ye-es,' said Caleb, reluctantly. 'He's a little olderthan May. But that don't signify.'

'Oh father, yes! To be his patient companion ininfirmity and age; to be his gentle nurse in sickness,and his constant friend in suffering and sorrow; toknow no weariness in working for his sake; to watchhim, tend him, sit beside his bed and talk to himawake, and pray for him asleep; what privileges thesewould be! What opportunities for proving all hertruth and devotion to him! Would she do all this,dear father?'

'No doubt of it,' said Caleb.

'I love her, father; I can love her from my soul!'exclaimed the Blind Girl. And saying so, she laidher poor blind face on Caleb's shoulder, and so weptand wept, that he was almost sorry to have broughtthat tearful happiness upon her.

In the meantime, there had been a pretty sharpcommotion at John Peerybingle's, for, little Mrs.Peerybingle naturally couldn't think of going any-where without the Baby; and to get the Baby underweigh, took time. Not that there was much of theBaby, speaking of it as a thing of weight and meas-ure, but, there was a vast deal to do about and aboutit, and it all had to be done by easy stages. Forinstance, when the Baby was got, by hook and bycrook, to a certain point of dressing, and you mighthave rationally supposed that another touch or twowould finish him off, and turn him out a tip-topBaby challenging the world, he was unexpectedly ex-tinguished in a flannel cap, and hustled off to bed;where he simmered (so to speak) between two blanketsfor the best part of an hour. From this state ofinaction he was then recalled, shining very much androaring violently, to partake of -- well? I would rathersay, if you'll permit me to speak generally -- of aslight repast. After which, he went to sleep again.Mrs. Peerybingle took advantage of this interval, tomake herself as smart in a small way as ever yousaw anybody in all your life; and, during the sameshort truce, Miss Slowboy insinuated herself intoa spencer of a fashion so surprising and ingenious,that it had no connection with herself, or anythingelse in the universe, but was a shrunken, dog's-eared,independent fact, pursuing its lonely course withoutthe least regard to anybody. By this time, the Baby,being all alive again, was invested, by the unitedefforts of Mrs. Peerybingle and Miss Slowboy, witha cream-coloured mantle for its body, and a sort of -nankeen raised-pie for its head; and so in course oftime they all three got down to the door, where theold horse had already taken more than the full valueof his day's toll out of the Turnpike Trust, by tear-ing up the road with his impatient autographs; andwhence Boxer might be dimly seen in the remoteperspective, standing looking back, and tempting himto come on without orders.

As to a chair, or anything of that kind for helpingMrs. Peerybingle into the cart, you know very littleof John, if you think that was necessary. Beforeyou could have seen him lift her from the ground,there she was in her place, fresh and rosy, saying,'John! How can you! Think of Tilly!'

If I might be allowed to mention a young lady'slegs, on any terms, I would observe of Miss Slow-boy's that there was a fatality about them which ren-dered them singularly liable to be grazed; and thatshe never effected the smallest ascent or descent,without recording the circumstance upon them with anotch, as Robinson Crusoe marked the days uponhis wooden calendar. But as this might be consideredungenteel, I'll think of it.

'John? You've got the basket with the Veal andHam-Pie and things, and the bottles of Beer?' saidDot. 'If you haven't you must turn round again,this very minute.'

'You're a nice little article,' returned the Carrier,'to be talking about turning round, after keeping mea full quarter of an hour behind my time.'

'I am sorry for it, John,' said Dot in a great bustle,'but I really could not think of going to Bertha's --I would not do it, John, on any account -- without theVeal and Ham-Pie and things, and the bottles ofBeer. Way!'

This monosyllable was addressed to the horse, whodidn't mind it at all.

'Oh do way, John!' said Mrs. Peerybingle. 'Please!'

'It'll be time enough to do that,' returned John,'when I begin to leave things behind me. The basket'shere, safe enough.'

'What a hard-hearted monster you must be, John,not to have said so, at once, and save me such aturn! I declared I wouldn't go to Bertha's withoutthe Veal and Ham-Pie and things, and the bottles ofBeer, for any money. Regularly once a fortnight eversince we have been married, John, have we made ourlittle Pic-Nic there. If anything was to go wrongwith it, I should almost think we were never to belucky again.'

'It was a kind thought in the first instance,' saidthe Carrier: 'and I honour you for it, little woman.'

'My dear John,' replied Dot, turning very red,'Don't talk about honouring me. Good Gracious!'

'By the bye --' observed the Carrier. 'That old gentleman,' --

Again so visibly, and instantly embarrassed!

'He's an odd fish,' said the Carrier, looking straightalong the road before them. 'I can't make him out.I don't believe there's any harm in him.'

'None at all. I'm -- I'm sure there's none at all.'

'Yes,' said the Carrier, with his eyes attracted toher face by the great earnestness of her manner. 'Iam glad you feel so certain of it, because it's a con-firmation to me. It's curious that he should havetaken it into his head to ask leave to go on lodgingwith us; an't it? Things come about so strangely.'

'So very strangely,' she rejoined in a low voice,scarcely audible.

'However, he's a good-natured old gentleman,'said John, 'and pays as a gentleman, and I think hisword is to be relied upon, like a gentleman's. I hadquite a long talk with him this morning: he can hearme better already, he says, as he gets more used tomy voice. He told me a great deal about himself,and I told him a good deal about myself, and a rare lot of questions he asked me. I gave him informationabout my having two beats, you know, in my busi-ness; one day to the right from our house and backagain; another day to the left from our house andback again (for he's a stranger and don't know thenames of places about here); and he seemed quitepleased. "Why, then I shall be returning home to-night your way," he says, "when I thought you'd becoming in an exactly opposite direction. That'scapital! I may trouble you for another lift perhaps,but I'll engage not to fall so sound asleep again."He was sound asleep, sure-ly! -- Dot! what are youthinking of?'

'Thinking of, John? I -- I was listening to you.'

'O! That's all right!' said the honest Carrier.'I was afraid, from the look of your face, that I hadgone rambling on so long, as to set you thinking aboutsomething else. I was very near it, I'll be bound.'

Dot making no reply, they jogged on, for somelittle time, in silence. But, it was not easy to remainsilent very long in John Peerybingle's cart, for, every-body on the road had something to say. Though itmight only be 'How are you!' and indeed it wasvery often nothing else, still, to give that back againin the right spirit of cordiality, required, not merelya nod and a smile, but as wholesome an action of thelungs withal, as a long-winded Parliamentary speech.Sometimes, passengers on foot, or horseback, ploddedon a little way beside the cart, for the express pur-pose of having a chat; and then there was a greatdeal to be said, on both sides.

Then, Boxer gave occasion to more good-naturedrecognitions of, and by, the Carrier, than half a dozenChristians could have done! Everybody knew him,all along the road -- especially the fowls and pigs,who when they saw him approaching, with his bodyall on one side, and his ears pricked up inquisitively,and that knob of a tail making the most of itself inthe air, immediately withdrew into remote back settle-ments, without waiting for the honour of a neareracquaintance. He had business everywhere; goingdown all the turnings, looking into all the wells, bolt-ing in and out of all the cottages, dashing into themidst of all the Dame-Schools, fluttering all thepigeons, magnifying the tails of all the cats, and trot-ting into the public-houses like a regular customer.Wherever he went, somebody or other might havebeen heard to cry, 'Halloa! Here's Boxer!' and outcame that somebody forthwith, accompanied by atleast two or three other somebodies, to give JohnPeerybingle and his pretty wife, Good-Day.

The packages and parcels for the errand cart, werenumerous; and there were many stoppages to takethem in and give them out, which were not by anymeans the worst parts of the journey. Some peoplewere so full of expectation about their parcels, andother people were so full of wonder about theirparcels, and other people were so full of inexhaustibledirections about their parcels, and John had such alively interest in all the parcels, that it was as goodas a play. Likewise, there were articles to carry,which required to be considered and discussed, and inreference to the adjustment and disposition of which,councils had to be holden by the Carrier and thesenders: at which Boxer usually assisted, in short fitsof the closest attention, and long fits of tearing roundand round the assembled sages and barking himselfhoarse. Of all these little incidents, Dot was theamused and open-eyed spectatress from her chair inthe cart; and as she sat there, looking on -- a charm-ing little portrait framed to admiration by the tilt --there was no lack of nudgings and glancings andwhisperings and envyings among the younger men.And this delighted John the Carrier, beyond measure;for he was proud to have his little wife admired,knowing that she didn't mind it -- that, if anything,she rather liked it perhaps.

The trip was a little foggy, to be sure, in the Jan-uary weather; and was raw and cold. But who caredfor such trifles? Not Dot, decidedly. Not TillySlowboy, for she deemed sitting in a cart, on anyterms, to be the highest point of human joys; thecrowning circumstance of earthly hopes. Not theBaby, I'll be sworn; for it's not in Baby nature to bewarmer or more sound asleep, though its capacity isgreat in both respects, than that blessed young Peery-bingle was, all the way.

You couldn't see very far in the fog, of course: butyou could see a great deal! It's astonishing howmuch you may see, in a thicker fog than that, if youwill only take the trouble to look for it. Why, evento sit watching for the Fairy-rings in the fields, andfor the patches of hoar-frost still lingering in theshade, near hedges and by trees, was a pleasant occu-pation: to make no mention of the unexpected shapesin which the trees themselves came starting out of themist and glided into it again. The hedges weretangled and bare, and waved a multitude of blightedgarlands in the wind; but, there was no discourage-ment in this. It was agreebale to contemplate; for,it made the fireside warmer in possession, and thesummer greener in expectancy. The river lookedchilly; but it was in motion, and moving at a goodpace -- which was a great point. The canal was ratherslow and torpid; that must be admitted. Never mind.It would freeze the sooner when the frost set fairlyin, and then there would be skating, and sliding; andthe heavy old barges, frozen up somewhere near awharf, would smoke their rusty iron chimney pipesall day, and have a lazy time of it.

In one place, there was a great mount of weeds orstubble burning; and they watched the fire, so whitein the day time, flaring through the fog, with onlyhere and there a dash of red in it, until, in consequenceas she observed of the smoke 'getting up her nose,'Miss Slowboy choked -- she could do anything of thatsort, on the smallest provocation -- and woke theBaby, who wouldn't go to sleep again. But, Boxer,who was in advance some quarter of a mile or so,had already passed the outposts of the town, andgained the corner of the street where Caleb and hisdaughter lived; and long before they had reached thedoor, he and the Blind Girl were on the pavementwaiting to receive them.

Boxer, by the way, made certain delicate distinc-tions of his own, in his communication with Berthawhich persuade me fully that he knew her to be blind.He never sought to attract her attention by lookingat her, as he often did with other people, but touchedher invariably. What experience he could ever havehad of blind people or blind dogs, I don't knowHe had never lived with a blind master; nor had Mr.Boxer the elder, nor Mrs. Boxer, nor any of his re-spectable family on either side, ever been visited withblindness, that I am aware of. He may have foundit out for himself, perhaps, but he had got hold of itsomehow; and therefore he had hold of Bertha too,by the skirt, and kept hold, until Mrs. Peerybingleand the Baby, and Miss Slowboy, and the basket,were all got safely within doors.

May Fielding was already come; and so was hermother -- a little querulous chip of an old lady with apeevish face, who, in right of having preserved awaist like a bedpost, was supposed to be a most tran-scendent figure; and who, in consequence of havingonce been better of, or of labouring under an impres-sion that she might have been, if something had hap-pened which never did happen, and seemed to havenever been particularly likely to come to pass -- butit's all the same -- was very genteel and patronisingindeed. Gruff and Tackleton was also there, doingthe agreeable, with the evident sensation of being asperfectly at home, and as unquestionably in his ownelement, as a fresh young salmon on the top of theGreat Pyramid.

'May! My dear old friend!' cried Dot, runningup to meet her. 'What a happiness to see you.'

Her old friend was, to the full, as hearty and asglad as she; and it really was, if you'll believe me,quite a pleasant sight to see them embrace. Tackle-ton was a man of taste, beyond all question. Maywas very pretty.

You know sometimes, when you are used to apretty face, how, when it comes into contact and com-parison with another pretty face, it seems for the mo-ment to be homely and faded, and hardly to deservethe high opinion you have had of it. Now, this wasnot at all the case, either with Dot or May; for May'sface set off Dot's, and Dot's face set off May's, sonaturally and agreeably, that, as John Peerybinglewas very near saying when he came into the room,they ought to have been born sisters -- which was theonly improvement you could have suggested.

Tackleton had brought his leg of mutton, and,wonderful to relate, a tart beside -- but we don't minda little dissipation when our brides are in the case;we don't get married every day -- and in addition tothese dainties, there were the Veal and Ham-Pie, and'things,' as Mrs. Peerybingle called them; which werechiefly nuts and oranges, and cakes, and such smalldeer. When the repast was set forth on the board,flanked by Caleb's contribution, which was a greatwooden bowl of smoking potatoes (he was prohibited,by solemn compact, from producing any other viands),Tackleton led his intended mother-in-law to the postof honour. For the better gracing of this place atthe high festival, the majestic old soul had adornedherself with a cap, calculated to inspire the thought-less with sentiments of awe. She also wore her gloves.But let us be genteel, or die!

Caleb sat next his daughter; Dot and her old school-fellow were side by side; the good Carrier took careof the bottom of the table. Miss Slowboy was iso-lated, for the time being, from every article of fur-niture but the chair she sat on, that she might havenothing else to knock the Baby's head against.

As Tilly stared about her at the dolls and toys, theystared at her and at the company. The venerable oldgentlemen at the street-doors (who were all in fullaction) showed especial interest in the party, pausingoccasionally before leaping, as if they were listeningto the conversation, and then plunging wildly overand over, a great many times, without halting forbreath -- as in a frantic state of delight with the wholeproceedings.

Certainly, if these old gentlemen were inclined tohave a fiendish joy in the contemplation of Tackle-ton's discomfiture, they had good reason to be satis-fied. Tackleton couldn't get on at all; and the morecheerful his intended bride became in Dot's society,the less he liked it, though he had brought them to-gether for that purpose. For he was a regular dogin the manger, was Tackleton; and when they laughedand he couldn't, he took it into his head, immediately,that they must be laughing at him.

'Ah May!' said Dot. 'Dear, dear, what changes!To talk of those merry school-days makes one youngagain.'

'Why, you an't particularly old, at any time; areyou?' said Tackleton.

'Look at my sober plodding husband there,' re-turned Dot. 'He adds twenty years to my age atleast. Don't you, John?'

'Forty,' John replied.

'How many you'll add to May's, I'm sure I don'tknow,' said Dot, laughing. 'But she can't be muchless than a hundred years of age on her next birth-day.'

'Ha ho!' laughed Tackleton. Hollow as a drum,that laugh though. And he looked as if he couldhave twisted Dot's neck, comfortably.

'Dear dear!' said Dot. 'Only to remember howwe used to talk, at school, about the husbands wewould choose. I don't know how young, and howhandsome, and how gay, and how lively, mine wasnot to be! And as to May's -- Ah dear! I don't knowwhether to laugh or cry, when I think what sillygirls we were.'

May seemed to know which to do; for the colourflushed into her face, and tears stood in her eyes.

'Even the very persons themselves -- real live youngmen -- were fixed on sometimes,' said Dot. 'We littlethought how things would come about. I never fixedon John I'm sure; I never so much as thought ofhim. And if I had told you, you were ever to bemarried to Mr. Tackleton, why you'd have slappedme. Wouldn't you, May?'

Though May didn't say yes, she certainly didn'tsay no, or express no, by any means.

Tackleton laughed -- quite shouted, he laughed soloud. John Peerybingle laughed too, in his ordinarygood-natured and contented manner; but his was amere whisper of a laugh, to Tackleton's.

'You couldn't help yourselves for all that. Youcouldn't resist us, you see,' said Tackleton. 'Here weare! Here we are! Where are your gay young bride-grooms now!'

'Some of them are dead,' said Dot; 'and some ofthem forgotten. Some of them, if they could standamong us at this moment, would not believe we werethe same creatures; would not believe that what theysaw and heard was real, and we could forget them so.No! they would not believe one word of it!'

'Why, Dot! exclaimed the Carrier. 'Little woman!'

She had spoken with such earnestness and fire, thatshe stood in need of some recalling to herself, withoutdoubt. Her husband's check was very gentle, for hemerely interfered, as he supposed, to shield old Tack-leton; but it proved effectual, for she stopped, andsaid no more. There was an uncommon agitation,even in her silence, which the wary Tackleton, whohad brought his half-shut eye to bear upon her, notedclosely, and remembered to some purpose too.

May uttered no word, good or bad, but sat quitestill, with her eyes cast down, and made no sign ofinterest in what had passed. The good lady hermother now interposed, observing, in the first in-stance, that girls were girls, and byegones byegones,and that so long as young people were young andthoughtless, they would probably conduct themselveslike young and thoughtless persons: with two or threeother positions of a no less sound and incontrovertiblecharacter. She then remarked, in a devout spirit,that she thanked Heaven she had always found inher daughter May, a dutiful and obedient child;for which she took no credit to herself, though shohad every reason to believe it was entirely owingto herself. With regard to Mr. Tackleton she said,That he was in a moral point of view an undeniableindividual, and That he was in an eligible point ofview a son-in-law to be desired, no one in their sensescould doubt. (She was very emphatic here.) Withregard to the family into which he was so soon about,after some solicitation, to be admitted, she believedMr. Tackleton knew that, although reduced in purse,it had some pretensions to gentility; and if certaincircumstances, not wholly unconnected, she would goso far as to say, with the Indigo Trade, but to whichshe would not more particularly refer, had happeneddifferently, it might perhaps have been in possessionof wealth. She then remarked that she would notallude to the past, and would not mention that herdaughter had for some time rejected the suit of Mr.Tackleton; and that she would not say a great manyother things which she did say, at great length.Finally, she delivered it as the general result of herobservation and experience, that those marriages inwhich there was least of what was romantically andsillily called love, were always the happiest; and thatshe anticipated the greatest possible amount of bliss --not rapturous bliss; but the solid, steady-going articlefrom the approaching nuptials. She concluded byinforming the company that to-morrow was the dayshe had lived for, expressly; and that when it wasover, she wuld desire nothing better than to bepacked up and disposed of, in any genteel place ofburial.

As these remarks were quite unanswerable -- whichis the happy property of all remarks that are suffi-ciently wide of the purpose -- they changed the cur-rent of the conversation, and diverted the generalattention to the Veal and Ham-Pie, the cold mutton,the potatoes, and the tart. In order that the bottledbeer might not be slighted, John Peerybingle pro-posed To-morrow: the Wedding-Day; and calledupon them to drink a bumper to it, before he pro-ceeded on his journey.

For you ought to know that he only rested there,and gave the old horse a bait. He had to go somefour or five miles farther on; and when he returnedin the evening, he called for Dot, and took anotherrest on his way home. This was the order of the dayon all the Pic-Nic occasions, and had been, ever sincetheir institution.

There were two persons present, beside the brideand bridegroom elect, who did but indifferent honourto the toast. One of these was Dot, too flushed anddiscomposed to adapt herself to any small occurrenceof the moment; the other, Bertha, who rose up hur-riedly, before the rest, and left the table.

'Good-bye!' said stout John Peerybingle, pullingon his dreadnought coat. 'I shall be back at the oldtime. Good bye all!'

'Good-bye, John,' returned Caleb.

He seemed to say it by rote, and to wave his handin the same unconscious manner; for he stood observ-ing Bertha with an anxious wondering face, thatnever altered its expression.

'Good-bye, young shaver!' said the jolly Carrier, bending down to kiss the child; which Tilly Slowboy,now intent upon her knife and fork, had depositedasleep (and strange to say, without damage) in alittle cot of Bertha's furnishing; 'good-bye! Timewill come, I suppose, when you'll turn out into thecold, my little friend, and leave your old father toenjoy his pipe and his rheumatics in the chimney-corner; eh? Where's Dot?'

'I'm here, John!' she said, starting.

'Come, come!' returned the Carrier, clapping hissounding hands. 'Where's the pipe?'

'I quite forgot the pipe, John.'

'Forgot the pipe! Was such a wonder ever heardof! She! Forgot the pipe!'

'I'll -- I'll fill it directly. It's soon done.'

But it was not so soon done, either. It lay in theusual place -- the Carrier's dreadnought pocket -- withthe little pouch, her own work, from which she wasused to fill it; but her hand shook so, that she en-tangled it (and yet her hand was small enough tohave come out easily, I am sure), and bungled ter-ribly. The filling of the pipe and lighting it, thoselittle offices in which I have commended her discre-tion, were vilely done, from first to last. During thewhole process, Tackleton stood looking on maliciouslywith the half-closed eye; which, whenever it met hers-- or caught it, for it can hardly be said to have evermet another eye: rather being a kind of trap to snatchit up -- augmented her confusion in a most remark-able degree.

'Why, what a clumsy Dot you are, this afternoon!'said John. 'I could have done it better myself, Iverily believe!'

With these good-natured words, he strode away,and presently was heard, in company with Boxer, andthe old horse, and the cart, making lively music downthe road. What time the dreamy Caleb still stood,watching his blind daughter, with the same expres-sion on his face.

'Bertha!' said Caleb, softly. 'What has happened?How changed you are, my darling, in a few hours --since this morning. You silent and dull all day!What is it? Tell me!'

'Oh father, father!' cried the Blind Girl, burstinginto tears. 'Oh my hard, hard fate!'

Caleb drew his hand across his eyes before he an-swered her.

'But think how cheerful and how happy you havebeen, Bertha! How good, and how much loved, bymany people.'

'That strikes me to the heart, dear father! Alwaysso mindful of me! Always so kind to me!'

Caleb was very much perplexed to understand her.

'To be -- to be blind, Bertha, my poor dear,' hefaltered, 'is a great affliction; but --'

'I have never felt it!' cried the Blind Girl. 'I havenever felt it, in its fulness. Never! I have some-times wished that I could see you, or could see him-- only once, dear father, only for one little minute --that I might know what it is I treasure up,' she laidher hands upon her breast, 'and hold here! That Imight be sure and have it right! And sometimes(but then I was a child) I have wept in my prayers atnight, to think that when your images ascended frommy heart to Heaven, they might not be the true re-semblance of yourselves. But I have never had thesefeelings long. They have passed away and left metranquil and contented.'

'And they will again,' said Caleb.

'But father! Oh my good, gentle father, bear withme, if I am wicked!' said the Blind Girl. 'This isnot the sorrow that so weighs me down!'

Her father could not choose but let his moist eyesoverflow; she was so earnest and pathetic, but he didnot understand her, yet.

'Bring her to me,' said Bertha. 'I cannot hold itclosed and shut within myself. Bring her to me,father!'

She knew he hesitated, and said, 'May. BringMay!'

May heard the mention of her name, and comingquietly towards her, touched her on the arm. TheBlind Girl turned immediately, and held her by bothhands.

'Look into my face, Dear heart, Sweet heart!' saidBertha. 'Read it with your beautiful eyes, and tellme if the truth is written on it.'

'Dear Bertha, Yes!'

The Blind Girl still, upturning the blank sightlessface, down which the tears were coursing fast, ad-dressed her in these words:

'There is not, in my soul, a wish or thought that isnot for your good, bright May! There is not, in mysoul, a grateful recollection stronger than the deepremembrance which is stored there, of the many manytimes when, in the full pride of sight and beauty,you have had consideration for Blind Bertha, evenwhen we two were children, or when Bertha was asmuch a child as ever blindness can be! Every bless-ing on your head! Light upon your happy course!Not the less, my dear May'; and she drew towardsher, in a closer grasp; 'not the less, my bird, because,to-day, the knowledge that you are to be His wife haswrung my heart almost to breaking! Father, May,Mary! oh forgive me that it is so, for the sake of allhe has done to relieve the weariness of my dark life:and for the sake of the belief you have in me, when Icall Haven to witness that I could not wish himmarried to a wife more worthy of his goodness!'

While speaking, she had released May Fielding'shands, and clasped her garments in an attitude ofmingled supplication and love. Sinking lower andlower down, as she proceeded in her strange confes-sion, she dropped at last at the feet of her friend, andhid her blind face in the folds of her dress.

'Great Power!' exclaimed her father, smitten at oneblow with the truth, 'have I deceived her from hercradle, but to break her heart at last!'

It was well for all of them that Dot, that beaming,useful, busy little Dot -- for such she was, whateverfaults she had, and however you may learn to hateher, in good time -- it was well for all of them, I say,that she was there: or where this would have ended,it were hard to tell. But Dot, recovering her self-possession, interposed, before May could reply, orCaleb say another word.

'Come come, dear Bertha! come away with me!Give her your arm, May. So! How composed sheis, you see, already; and how good it is of her tomind us,' said the cheery little woman, kissing herupon the forehead. 'Come away, dear Bertha. Come!and here's her good father will come with her; won'tyou, Caleb? To -- be -- sure!'

Well, well! she was a noble little Dot in suchthings, and it must have been an obdurate nature thatcould have withstood her influence. When she hadgot poor Caleb and his Bertha away, that they mightcomfort and console each other, as she knew they onlycould, she presently came bouncing back, -- the sayingis, as fresh as any daisy; I say fresher -- to mountguard over that bridling little piece of consequencein the cap and gloves, and prevent the dear old crea-ture from making discoveries.

'So bring me the precious Baby, Tilly,' said shedrawing a chair to the fire; 'and while I have it inmy lap, here's Mrs. Fielding, Tilly, will tell me allabout the management of Babies, and put me rightin twenty points where I'm as wrong as can beWon't you, Mrs. Fielding~'

Not even the Welsh Giant, who according to thepopular expression, was so 'slow' as to perform a fatalsurgical operation upon himself, in emulation of ajuggling-trick achieved by his arch-enemy at break-fast-time; not even he fell half so readily into thesnare prepared for him, as the old lady did into thisartful pitfall. The fact of Tackleton having walkedout; and furthermore, of two or three people havingbeen talking together at a distance, for two minutes,leaving her to her own resources; was quite enough tohave put her on her dignity, and the bewailment ofthat mysterious convulsion in the Indigo trade, forfour-and-twenty hours. But this becoming deferenceto her experience, on the part of the young mother;was so irresistible, that after a short affectation ofhumility, she began to enlighten her with the bestgrace in the world; and sitting bolt upright before thewicked Dot, she did, half an hour, deliver more in-fallible domestic recipes and precepts, that would (ifacted on) have utterly destroyed and done up thatYoung Peerybingle, though he had been an InfantSamson.

To change the theme, Dot did a little needlework --she carried the contents of a whole workbox in herpocket; however she contrived it, I don't know -- thendid a little nursing; then a little more needlework;then had a little whispering chat with May, while theold lady dozed; and so in little bits of bustle, whichwas quite her manner always, found it a very shortafternoon. Then, as it grew dark, and as it was asolemn part of this Institution of the Pic-Nic that sheshould perform all Bertha's household tasks, shetrimmed the fire, and swept the hearth, and set thetea-board out, and drew the curtain, and lighted acandle. Then she played an air or two on a rudekind of harp, which Caleb had contrived for Bertha,and played them very well; for Nature had made herdelicate little ear as choice a one for music as itwould have been for jewels, if she had had any towear. By this time it was the established hour forhaving tea; and Tackleton came back again, to sharethe meal, and spend the evening.

Caleb and Bertha had returned some time before,and Caleb had sat down to his afternoon's work.But he couldn't settle to it, poor fellow, being anxiousand remorseful for his daughter. It was touching tosee him sitting idle on his working-stool, regardingher so wistfully, and always saying in his face, 'HaveI deceived her from her cradle, but to break herHeart!'

When it was night, and tea was done, and Dot hadnothing more to do in washing up the cups and sau-cers; in a word -- for I must come to it, and there isno use in putting it off -- when the time drew nigh forexpecting the Carrier's return in every sound of dis-tant wheels, her manner changed again, her colourcame and went, and she was very restless. Not asgood wives are, when listening for their husbands.No, no, no. It was another sort of restlessness fromthat.

Wheels heard. A horse's feet. The barking of adog. The gradual approach of all the sounds. Thescratching paw of Boxer at the door!

'Whose step is that!' cried Bertha, starting up.

'Whose step?' returned the Carrier, standing in theportal, with his browr face ruddy as a winter berryfrom the keen night air. 'Why, mine.'

'The other step,' said Bertha. 'The man's treadbehind you!'

'She is not to be deceived,' observed the Carrier,laughing. 'Come along, sir. You'll be welcomenever fear!'

He spoke in a loud tone; and as he spoke, the deafold gentleman entered.

He's not so much a stranger, that you haven't seenhim once, Caleb,' said the Carrier. 'You give himhouse-room till we go?'

'Oh surely, John, and take it as an honour.'

'He's the best company on earth, to talk secrets in,'said John. 'I have reasonable good lungs, but hetries 'em, I can tell you. Sit down, sir. All friendshere, and glad to see you!'

When he had imparted this assurance, in a voicethat amply corroborated what he had said about hislungs, he added in his natural tone, 'A chair in thechimney-corner, and leave to sit quite silent and lookpleasantly about him, is all he cares for. He's easilypleased.'

Bertha had been listening intently. She calledCaleb to her side, when he had set the chair, andasked him, in a low voice, to describe their visitor.When he had done so (truly now: with scrupulousfidelity), she moved, for the first time since he hadcome in, and sighed, and seemed to have no furtherinterest concerning him.

The Carrier was in high spirits, good fellow thathe was, and fonder of his little wife than ever.

'A clumsy Dot she was, this afternoon!' he said,encircling her with his rough arm, as she stood, re-moved from the rest; 'and yet I like her somehow.See yonder, Dot!'

He pointed to the old man. She looked down. Ithink she trembled.

'He's -- ha ha ha! -- he's full of admiration for you!'said the Carrier. 'Talked of nothing else, the wholeway here. Why, he's a brave old boy. I like himfor it!'

'I wish he had had a better subject, John,' shesaid, with an uneasy glance about the room. AtTackleton especially.

'A better subject!' cried the jovial John. 'There'sno such thing. Come, off with the great-coat, offwith the thick shawl, off with the heavy wrappers!and a cosy half-hour by the fire! My humble service,Mistress. A game at cribbage, you and I? That'shearty. The cards and board, Dot. And a glass ofbeer here, if there's any left, small wife!'

His challenge was addressed to the old lady, whoaccepting it with gracious readiness, they were soonengaged upon the game. At first, the Carrier lookedabout him sometimes, with a smile, or now and thencalled Dot to peep over his shoulder at his hand,and advise him on some knotty point. But his ad-versary being a rigid disciplinarian, and subject toan occasional weakness in respect of pegging morethan she was entitled to, required such vigilance onhis part, as left him neither eyes nor ears to spare.Thus, his whole attention gradually became absorbedupon the cards; and he thought of nothing else, untila hand upon his shoulder restored him to a conscious-ness of Tackleton.

'I am sorry to disturb you -- but a word, directly.'

'I'm going to deal,' returned the Carrier. 'It's acrisis.'

'It is,' said Tackleton. 'Come here, man!'

There was that in his pale face which made theother rise immediately, and ask him, in a hurry, whatthe matter was.

'Hush! John Peerybingle,' said Tackleton. 'I amsorry for this. I am indeed. I have been afraid ofit. I have suspected it from the first.'

'What is it?' asked the Carrier, with a frightenedaspect.

'Hush! I'll show you, if you'll come with me.'

The Carrier accompanied him, without anotherword. They went across a yard, where the stars wereshining, and by a little side-door, into Tackleton'sown counting-house, where there was a glass windowcommanding the ware-room, which was closed forthe night. There was no light in the counting-houseitself, but there were lamps in the long narrow ware-room; and consequently the window was bright.

'A moment! ' said Tackleton. 'Can you bear tolook through that window, do you think?'

'Why not?' returned the Carrier.

'A moment more,' said Tackleton. 'Don't commitany violence. It's of no use. It's dangerous too.You're a strong-made man; and you might do mur-der before you know it.'

The carrier looked him in the face. and recoiled astep as if he had been struck. In one stride he wasat the window, and he saw --

Oh Shadow on the Hearth! Oh truthful Cricket!Oh perfidious Wife!

He saw her, with the oId man -- old no longer, buterect and gallant -- bearing in his hand the false whitehair that had won his way into their desolate andmiserable home. He saw her listening to him, as hebent his head to whisper in her ear; and sufferinghim to clasp her round the waist, as they movedslowly down the dim wooden gallery towards the doorby which they had entered it. He saw them stop,and saw her turn -- to have the face, the face he lovedso, so presented to his view! -- and saw her, with herown hands, adjust the lie upon his head, laughing,as she did it, at his unsuspicious nature!

He clenched his strong right hand at first, as ifit would have beaten down a lion. But opening itimmediately again, he spread it out before the eyesof Tackleton (for he was tender of her, even then),and so, as they passed out, fell down upon a desk,and was as weak as any infant.

He was wrapped up to the chin, and busy withhis horse and parcels, when she came into the room,prepared for going home.

'Now John, dear! Good night May! Good nightBertha!'

Could she kiss them? Could she be blithe andcheerful in her parting? Could she venture to re-veal her face to them without a blush? Yes. Tackle-ton observed her closely, and she did all this.

Tilly was hushing the Baby, and she crossed andre-crossed Tackleton, a dozen times, repeatingdrowsily:

'Did the knowledge that it was to be its wifes, then,wring its hearts almost to breaking; and did itsfathers deceive it from its cradles but to break itshearts at last!'

'Now Tilly, give me the Baby! Good-night, Mr.Tackleton. Where's John, for goodness' sake?'

'He's going to walk, beside the horse's head,' saidTackleton; who helped her to her seat.

'My dear John. Walk? To-night?'

The muffled figure of her husband made a hastysign in the affirmative; and the false stranger andthe little nurse being in their places, the old horsemoved off. Boxer, the unconscious Boxer, runningon before, running back, running round and roundthe cart, and barking as triumphantly and merrilyas ever.

When Tackleton had gone off likewise, escortingMay and her mother home, poor Caleb sat downby the fire beside his daughter; anxious and remorse-ful at the core; and still saying in his wistful con-templation of her, 'Have I deceived her from hercradle, but to break her heart at last!'

The toys that had been set in motion for the Baby,had all stopped, and run down, long ago. In thefaint light and silence, the imperturbably calm dolls,the agitated rocking-horses with distended eyes andnostrils, the old gentlemen at the street-doors, stand-ing half doubled up upon their failing knees andankles, the wry-faced nut-crackers, the very Beastsupon their way into the Ark, in twos, like a BoardingSchool out walking, might have been imagined tobe stricken motionless with fantastic wonder, at Dotbeing false, or Tackleton beloved, under any com-bination of circumstances.