For the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round and rounda building of that sort, and moaning as it goes; and of trying, withits unseen hand, the windows and the doors; and seeking out somecrevices by which to enter. And when it has got in; as one not findingwhat it seeks, whatever that may be, it wails and howls to issue forthagain: and not content with stalking through the aisles, and gliding round and round the pillars, and tempting the deep organ,soars up to the roof, and strives to rend the rafters: then flingsitself despairingly upon the stones below, and passes, muttering, intothe vaults. Anon, it comes up stealthily, and creeps along the walls,seeming to read, in whispers, the Inscriptions sacred to the Dead. Atsome of these, it breaks out shrilly, as with laughter; and at others,moans and cries as if it were lamenting. It has a ghostly sound too,lingering within the altar; where it seems to chaunt, in its wild way,of Wrong and Murder done, and false Gods worshipped; in defiance ofthe Tables of the Law, which look so fair and smooth, but are so flawed and broken. Ugh! Heaven preserve us, sitting snugly round thefire! It has an awful voice, that wind at Midnight, singing in achurchl

But high up in the steeple! There the foul blast roars andwhistles! High up in the steeple, where it is free to come and gothrough many an airy arch and loophole, and to twist and twine itselfabout the giddy stair, and twirl the groaning weathercock, and makethe very tower shake and shiver! High up in the steeple,where the belfry is, and iron rails are ragged with rust; and sheetsof lead and copper shrivelled by the changing weather, crackle andheave beneath the unaccustomed tread; and birds stuff shabby nestsinto corners of old oaken joists and beams; and dust grows old andgrey; and speckled spiders, indolent and fat with long security, swingidly to and fro in the vibration of the bells, and never loose theirhold upon their thread-spun castles in the air, or climb upsailor-like in quick alarm, or drop upon the ground and ply a score ofnimble legs to save a life! High up in the steeple of an old church,far above the light and murmur of the town and far below the flyingclouds that shadow it, is the wild and dreary place at night: and highup in the steeple of an old church, dwelt the Chimes I tell of.

They were old Chimes, trust me. Centuries ago, these Bells had beenbaptized by bishops: so many centuries ago, that the register of theirbaptism was lost long, long before the memory of man, and no one knewtheir names. They had had their Godfathers and Godmothers,these Bells (for my own part, by the way, I would rather incur theresponsibility of being Godfather to a Bell than a Boy), and had hadtheir silver mugs no doubt, besides. But Time had mowed down theirsponsors, and Henry the Eighth had melted down their mugs; and theynow hung, nameless and mugless, in the church tower.

Not speechless, though. Far from it. They had clear, loud, lusty,sounding voices, had these Bells; and far and wide they might be heardupon the wind. Much too sturdy Chimes were they, to be dependent onthe pleasure of the wind, moreover; for, fighting gallantly against itwhen it took an adverse whim, they would pour their cheerful notesinto a listening ear right royally; and bent on being heard, on stormynights, by some poor mother watching a sick child, or some lone wifewhose husband was at sea, they had been sometimes known to beat ablustering Nor'-Wester, aye, ``all to fits,'' as Toby Veck said;-- for though they chose to call him Trotty Veck, his name wasToby, and nobody could make it anything else either (except Tobias)without a special act of parliament; he having been aslawfully christened in his day as the Bells had been in theirs, thoughwith not quite so much of solemnity or public rejoicing.

For my part, I confess myself of Toby Veck's belief, for I am surehe had opportunities enough of forming a correct one. And whateverTobyv Veck said, I say. And I take my stand by Toby Veck, although he

And a breezy, goose-skinned, blue-nosed red-eyed, stony-toed,tooth-chattering place it was, to wait in, in the winter-time, as TobyVeck well knew. The wind came tearing round the corner --especially the east wind -- as if it had sallied forth, express,from the confines of the earth, to have a blow at Toby. Andoftentimes it seemed to come upon him sooner than it had expected, forbouncing round the corner, and passing Toby, it would suddenly wheelround again, as if it cried ``Why, here he is!'' Incontinently his little white apron would be caught up over his head like a naughtyboy's garments, and his feeble little cane would be seen towrestle and struggle unavailingly in his hand, and his legs wouldundergo tremendous agitation, and Toby himself all aslant, and facingnow in this direction, now in that, would be so banged and buffeted,and touzled, and worried, and hustled, and lifted off his feet, as torender it a state of things but one degree removed from a positive miracle, that he wasn't carried up bodily into the air as a colony offrogs or snails or other portable creatures sometimes are, and raineddown again, to the great astonishment of the natives, on some strangecorner of the world where ticket-porters are unknown.

But, windyweather, in spite of its using him so roughly, was, after all, a sortof holiday for Toby. That's the fact. He didn't seem to wait so longfor sixpence in the wind, as at other times; for the having to fightwith that boisterous element took off his attention, and quitefreshened him up when he was getting hungry and low-spirited. A hardfrost too, or a fall of snow, was an Event; and it seemed to do himgood, somehow or other -- it would have been hard to say in whatrespect though, Toby! So wind and frost and snow, and perhapsa good stiff storm of hail, were Toby Veck's red-letter days.

Wet weather was the worst; the cold damp, clammy wet, that wrappedhim up like a moist great-coat -- the only kind of great-coatToby owned, or could have added to his comfort by dispensing with. Wetdays, when the rain came slowly, thickly, obstinately down; when thestreets's throat, like his own, was choked with mist; when smokingumbrellas passed and re-passed, spinning round and round like so many teetotums, as they knocked against each other on the crowded footway,throwing off a little whirlpool of uncomfortable sprinklings; whengutters brawled and waterspouts were full and noisy; when the wet fromthe projecting stones and ledges of the church fell drip, drip, drip,on Toby, making the wisp of straw on which he stood mere mud in notime; those were the days that tried him. Then indeed, you might see Toby looking anxiously out from his shelter in an angle of the churchwall -- such a meagre shelter that in summer time it never cast ashadow thicker than a good-sized walking-stick upon the sunny pavement-- with a disconsolate and lengthened face. But

They called him Trotty from his pace, which meant speed if itdidn't make it. He could have Walked faster perhaps; most likely; butrob him of his trot, and Toby would have taken to his bed and died.It bespattered him with mud in dirty weather; it cost him a world oftrouble; he could have walked with infinitely greater ease; but thatwas one reason for his clinging to it so tenaciously. A weak, small, spare old man, he was a very Hercules, this Toby, in his goodintentions. He loved to earn his money. He delighted to believe-- Toby was very poor, and couldn't well afford to part with adelight -- that he was worth his salt. With a shilling or aneighteenpenny message or small parcel in hand, his courage, alwayshigh, rose higher. As he trotted on, he would call out to fast Postmenahead of him, to get out of the way; devoutly believing that in thenatural course of things he must inevitably overtake and run themdown; and he had perfect faith -- not often tested --

Thus, even when he came out of his nook to warm himself on a wetday, Toby trotted. Making, with his leaky shoes, a crooked line ofslushy footprints in the mire; and blowing on his chilly hands andrubbing them against each other, poorly defended from the searchingcold by threadbare mufflers of grey worsted, with a private apartmentonly for the thumb, and a common room or tap for the rest of thefingers; Toby, with his knees bent and his cane beneath his arm, stilltrotted. Falling out into the road to look up at the belfry when theChimes resounded, Toby trotted still.

He made this last excursion several times a day, for they werecompany to him; and when he heard their voices, he had an interest inglancing at their lodging-place, and thinking how they were moved, andwhat hammers beat upon them. Perhaps he was the more curious aboutthese Bells, because there were points of resemblance betweenthemselves and him. They hung there, in all weathers, with the wind andrain driving in upon them; facing only the outsides of all thosehouses; never getting any nearer to the blazing fires thatgleamed and shone upon the windows, or came puffing out of the chimneytops; and incapable of participation in any of the good things thatwere constantly being handed, through the street doors and the arearailings, to prodigious cooks. Faces came and went at many windows:sometimes pretty faces, youthful faces, pleasant faces: sometimes thereverse: but Toby knew no more (though he often speculated on thesetrifles, standing idle in the streets) whence they came, or where theywent, or whether, when the lips moved, one kind word was said of himin all the year, than did the Chimes themselves.

Toby was not a casuist -- that he knew of, at least -- and I don't mean to say that when he began to take to the Bells, andto knit up his first rough acquaintance with them into something of acloser and more delicate woof, he passed through these considerations one by one, or held any formal review or great field-day in histhoughts. But what I mean to say, and do say is, that as the functionsof Toby's body, his digestive organs for example, did of their owncunning, and by a great many operations of which he was altogetherignorant, and the knowledge of which would have astonishedhim very much, arrive at a certain end; so his mental faculties,without his privity or concurrence, set all these wheels and springsin motion, with a thousand others, when they worked to bring abouthis liking for the Bells.

And though I had said his love, I would not have recalled the word,though it would scarcely have expressed his complicated feeling. For,being but a simple man, he invested them with a strange and solemncharacter. They were so mysterious, often heard and never seen; sohigh up, so far off, so full of such a deep strong melody, that heregarded them with a species of awe; and sometimes when he looked upat the dark arched windows in the tower, he half expected to bebeckoned to by something which was not a Bell, and yet was what he hadheard so often sounding in the Chimes. For all this. Toby scouted with indignation a certain flying rumour that the Chimes were haunted,as implying the possibility of their being connected with any Evilthing. In short, they were very often in his ears, and very often inhis thoughts, but always in his good opinion; and he very often

The very thing he was in the act of doing one cold day, when thelast drowsy sound of Twelve o'clock, just struck, was humming like amelodious monster of a Bee, and not by any means a busy bee, all through the steeple.

``Dinner-time, eh!'' said Toby, trotting up and down beforethe church. ``Ah!''

Toby's nose was very red, and his eyelids were very red, and hewinked very much, and his shoulders were very near his ears, and hislegs were very stiff, and altogether he was evidently a long way uponthe frosty side of cool.

``Dinner-time, eh!'' repeated Toby, using his right-hand muffler like an infantine boxing-glove, and punishing his chest forbeing cold. ``Ah-h-h-h!''

He took a silent trot, after that, for a minute or two.

``There's nothing,'' said Toby, breaking forth afresh --but here he stopped short in his trot, and with a face ofgreat interest and some alarm, felt his nose carefully all the way up.It was but a little way (not being much of a nose) and he had soonfinished.

``I thought it was gone,'' said Toby, trotting off again.``It's all right, however. I am sure I couldn't blame it if it wasto go. It has precious hard service of it in the bitter weather, andprecious little to look forward to; for I don't take snuff myself. It's a good deal tried, poor creetur, at the best of times; for whenit

The reflection reminded him of that other reflection, which he hadleft unfinished

``There's nothing,'' said Toby, ``more regular in its coming round than dinner-time, and nothing less regular in its cominground than dinner. That's the great difference between 'em. It's tookme a long time to find it out. I wonder whether it would be worth anygentleman's while now, to buy that obserwation for the Papers; or theParliament!''

Toby was only joking, for he gravelyshook his head in self-depreciation.

``Why! Lord!'' said Toby. ``The Papers is full of obserwations as it is; and so's the Parliament. Here's last week'spaper, now``; taking a very dirty one from his pocket, and holdingit from him at arm's length; ``full of obserwations! Full ofobserwations! I like to know the news as well as any man,'' said Toby, slowly; folding it a little smaller, and putting it in hispocket again; ``but it almost goes against the grain with me toread a paper now. It frightens me almost. I don't know what we poorpeople are coming to. Lord send we may be coming to something betterin the New Year nigh upon us!''

``Why, father, father!'' said a pleasant voice, hard by.

But Toby, not hearing it, continued to trot backwards and forwards;musing as he went, and talking to himself.

``It seems as if we can't go right, or do right, or be righted,'' said Toby. ``I hadn't much schooling, myself, when Iwas young; and I can't make out whether we have any businesson the face of the earth, or not. Sometimes I think we must have alittle; and sometimes I think we must be intruding. I get so puzzled sometimes that I am not even able to make up my mind whether there isany good at all in us, or whether we are born bad. We seem to bedreadful things; we seem to give a deal of trouble; we are alwaysbeing complained of and guarded against. One way or other, we fillthe papers. Talk of a New Year!'' said Toby, mournfully. ``I canbear up as well as another man at most times; better than a good many,for I am as strong as a lion, and all men an't; but supposing itshould really be that we have no right to a New Year -- supposingwe really

``Why, father, father!'' said the pleasant voice again.

Toby heard it this time; started; stopped; and shortening hissight, which had been directed a long way off as seeking forenlightenment in the very heart of the approaching year, found himselfface to face with his own child, and looking close into her eyes.

Bright eyes they were. Eyes that would bear a world oflooking in, before their depth was fathomed. Dark eyes, that reflectedback the eyes which searched them; not flashingly, or at the owner'swill, but with a clear, calm, honest, patient radiance, claimingkindred with that light which Heaven called into being. Eyes that werebeautiful and true, and beaming with Hope. With Hope so young andfresh; with Hope so buoyant, vigorous, and bright, despite the twenty years of work and poverty on which they had looked that they became avoice to Trotty Veck, and said. ``I think we have some businesshere -- a little!''

Trotty kissed the lips belonging to the eyes, and squeezed theblooming face between his hands.

``Why, Pet,'' said Trotty. ``What's to-do? I didn't expectyou to-day, Meg.''

``Neither did I expect to come, father,'' cried the girl,nodding her head and smiling as she spoke. ``But here I am! And notalone; not alone!''

``Why you don't mean to say,'' observed Trotty, lookingcuriously at a covered basket which she carried in her hand, ``thatyou --''

``Smell it, father dear,'' saidMeg. ``Only smell it!''

Trotty was going to lift up the cover at once, in a great hurry,when she gaily interposed her hand.

``No, no, no,'' said Meg, with the glee of a child. ``Lengthen it out a little. Let me just lift up the corner; justthe lit-tle ti-ny cor-ner, vou know,'' said Meg, suiting the actionto the word with the utmost gentleness, and speaking very softly, asif she were afraid of being overheard by something inside the basket;``there. Now. What's that?''

Toby took the shortest possible sniff at the edge of the basket,and cried out in a rapture:

``Why, it's hot!''

``It's burning hot!'' cried Meg. ``Ha, ha, ha! It's scalding hot!''

``Ha, ha, ha!'' roared Toby, with a sort of kick. ``It'sscalding hot.''

``But what is it, father?'' said Meg. ``Come. You haven'tguessed what it is. And you must guess what it is. I can't think oftaking it out, till you guess what it is. Don't be in such a hurry!Wait a minute! A little bit more of the cover. Now guess!''

Meg was in a perfect fright lest he should guess right toosoon; shrinking away, as she held the basket towards him; curling upher pretty shoulders; stopping her ear with her hand, as if by sodoing she could keep the right word out of Toby's lips; and laughingsoftly the whole time.

Meanwhile Toby, putting a hand on each knee, bent down his nose tothe basket, and took a long inspiration at the lid; the grin upon hiswithered face expanding in the process, as if he were inhaling laughing gas.

``Ah! It's very nice,'' said Toby. ``It an't -- I suppose it an't Polonies?''

``No, no, no!'' cried Meg, delighted. ``Nothing like Polonies!''

``No,'' said Toby, after another sniff. ``It's -- it'smellower than Polonies. It's very nice. It improves every moment.It's too decided for Trotters. An't, it?''

Meg was in an ecstasy. He could

``Liver?'' said Toby, communing with himself. ``No. There's a mildness about it that don't answer to liver. Pettitoes? No. It an't faint enough for pettitoes.''

``It wants the stringiness of Cock's heads. And I know it an'tsausages. I'll tell you what it is. It's chitterlings!''

``No, it an't!'' cried Meg, in a burst of delight. ``No, it an't!''

``Why, what am I a-thinking of!'' said Toby, suddenly recovering a position as near the perpendicular as it was possible forhim to assume. ``I shall forget my own name next. It's tripe!''

Tripe it was; and Meg, in high joy, protested he should say, inhalf a minute more, it was the best tripe ever stewed.

``And so,'' said Meg, busying herself exultingly with thebasket, ``I'll lay the cloth at once, father, for I have broughtthe tripe in a basin, and tied the basin up in a pocket-handkerchief;and if I like to be proud for once, and spread that for a cloth, andcall it a cloth, there's no law to prevent me; is there, father?''

``Not that I know of, my dear,'' said Toby. ``But they'realways a bringing up some new law or other.''

``Andaccording to what I was reading you in the paper the other day,father; what the Judge said, you know; we poor people are supposed toknow them all Ha, ha! What a mistake! My goodness me, how clever theythink us!''

``Yes, my dear,'' cried Trotty; ``and they'd be very fondof any one of us that

``He'd eat his dinner with an appetite, whoever he was, if itsmelt like this,'' said Meg, cheerfully ``Make haste, forthere's a hot potato besides. and half a pint of fresh-drawn beer in abottle. Where will you dine, father? On the Post, or on the Steps? Dear, dear, how grand we are. Two places to choose from!''

``The steps to-day, my Pct,'' said Trotty. ``Steps in dryweather. Post in wet. There's a greater conveniency in the steps atall times, because of the sitting down; but they're rheumatic in thedamp.

``Then here,'' said Meg, clapping her hands, after amoment's bustle; ``here it is, all ready! And beautiful it looks!Come, father. Come!''

Since his discovery of the contents of the basket, Trotty had beenstanding looking at her -- and had been speaking too -- inan abstracted manner, which showed that though she was the object ofhis thoughts and eyes, to the exclusion even of tripe, he neither saw nor thought about her as she was at that moment, but had before himsome imaginary rough sketch or drama of her future life. Roused, now,by her cheerful summons, he shook off a melancholy shake of the headwhich was just coming upon him, and trotted to her side. As she wasstooping to sit down, the Chimes rang.

``Amen!'' said Trotty, pulling off his hat and looking uptowards them.

``Amen to the Bells, father?'' cried Meg.

``They broke in like a grace, my dear,'' said Trotty, takinghis seat. ``They'd say a good one, I am sure, if they could. Many'sthe kind thing they say to me.''

``The Bells do, father!'' laughed Meg, as she set the basin,and a knife and fork before him. ``Well!''

``Seem to, my Pet,'' said Trotty, falling to with greatvigour. ``And where's the difference? If I hear 'em, what does itmatter whether they speak it or not? Why bless you, my dear,'' saidToby, pointing at the tower with his fork, and becoming more animatedunder the influence of dinner, ``how often have I heard them bellssay &onq;Toby Veck, Toby Veck, keep a good heart, Toby! Toby Veck,Toby Veck, keep a good heart, Toby!&cnq; A million times? More!''

``Well, I never!'' cried Meg.

She had, though -- over and over again. For it was Toby'sconstant topic.

``When things is very bad,'' said Trotty; ``very bad indeed, I mean; almost at the worst; then it's &onq;Toby Veck, TobyVeck, job coming soon, Toby! Toby Veck, Toby Veck, job coming soon,Toby!&cnq; That way.''

``And it comes -- at last, father,'' said Meg, with a touch of sadness in her pleasant voice.

``Always,'' answered the unconscious Toby. ``Never fails.''

While this discourse was holding, Trotty made no pausein his attack upon the savoury meat before him, but cut and ate, andcut and drank, and cut and chewed, and dodged about, from tripe to hotpotato, and from hot potato back again to tripe, with an unctuous andunflagging relish. But happening now to look all round the street-- in case anybody should be beckoning from any door or window,for a porter -- his eyes, in coming back again, encountered Meg;sitting opposite to him, with her arms folded: and only busy inwatching his progress with a smile of bappiness.

``Why, Lord forgive me!'' said Trotty, dropping his knife andfork. ``My dove! Meg! Why didn't you tell me what a beast Iwas?''

``Father?''

``Sitting here,'' said Trotty, in penitent explanation, ``cramming, and stuffing, and gorging myself; and you before methere, never so much as breaking your precious fast, not wanting to,when --''

``But I have broken it, father,'' interposed his daughter,laughing, ``all to bits. I have had my dinner.''

``Nonsense,'' said Trotty. ``Two dinners in one day! Itan't possible! You might as well tell me that two New Year's days willcome together, or that I have had a gold head all my life, and neverchanged it.''

``I have had my dinner, father, for all that,'' said Meg,coming nearer to him. ``And if you'll go on with yours, I'll tellyou how and where; and how your dinner came to be bought; and --and something else besides.''

Toby still appeared incredulous; but she looked into his face withher clear eyes, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, motioned him togo on while the meat was hot. So Trotty took up his knife and fork again, and went to work. But much more slowly than before, and shakinghis head, as if he were not at all pleased with himself.

``I had my dinner, father,'' said Meg, after a little hesitation, ``with -- with Richard. His dinner-time was early;and as he brought his dinner with him when he came to see me, we-- we had it together, father.''

Trotty took a little beer, and smacked his lips. Then he said``Oh!'' -- because she waited.

``And Richard says, father --'' Meg resumed. Thenstopped.

``What does Richard say, Meg?'' asked Toby.

``Richard says, father --'' another stoppage.

``Richard's a long time saying it,'' said Toby.

``He says then, father,'' Meg continued, lifting up her eyesat last, and speaking in a tremble, but quite plainly; ``anotheryear is nearly gone, and where is the use of waiting on from year toyear, when it is so unlikely we shall ever be better off than we are now? He says we are poor now, father, and we shall be poor then, butwe are young now, and years will make us old before we know it. Hesays that if we wait: people in our condition: until we see our way quite clearly, the way will be a narrow one indeed -- the commonway. the Grave, father.''

A bolder man than Trotty Veck must needs have drawn upon hisboldness largely, to deny it. Trotty held his peace.

``And how hard, father, to grow old, and die, and think we might have cheered and helped each other! How hard in all ourlives to love each other; and to grieve, apart, to see each otherworking, changing, growing old and grey. Even if I got the better of it, and forgot him (which I never could), oh father dear, how hard tohave a heart so full as mine is now and live to have it slowly drainedout every drop without the recollection of one happy moment of a woman's life, to stay behind and comfort me, and make me better!''

Trotty sat quite still. Meg dried her eyes, and said more gaily:that is to say, with here a laugh, and there a sob, and here a laughand sob together:

``So Richard says, father; as his work was yesterday madecertain for some time to come, and as I love him, and have loved himfull three years -- ah! longer than that, if he knew it! --will I marry him on New Year's Day; the best and happiest day, hesays, in the whole year, and one that is almost sure to bring goodfortune with it. It's a short notice, father -- isn't it? --but I haven't my fortune to be settled or my wedding dresses to bemade, like the great ladies, father, have I? And he said somuch, and said it in his way; so strong and earnest, and all the timeso kind and gentle; that I said I'd come and talk to you, father. Andas they paid the money for that work of mine this morning(unexpectedly, I am sure!) and as you have fared very poorly for awhole week, and as I couldn't help wishing there should be somethingto make this day a sort of holiday to you as well as a dear and happyday to me, father, I made a little treat and brought it to surpriseyou.''

``And see how he leaves it cooling on the step!'' saidanother voice.

It was the voice of this same Richard. who had come upon themunobserved, and stood before the father and daughter; looking downupon them with a face as glowing as the iron on which his stout sledge-hammer daily rung. A handsome, well-made powerful youngster hewas; with eyes that sparkled like the red-hot droppings from a furnacefire; black hair that curled about his swarthy temples rarely; and asmile -- a smile that bore out Meg's eulogium on his style ofconversation.

``See how he leaves it cooling on thestep!'' said Richard. ``Meg don't know what he likes. Notshe!''

Trotty, all action and enthusiasm, immediately reached up his handto Richard, and was going to address him in a great hurry, when thehouse-door opened without any warning, and a footman very nearly puthis foot into the tripe.

``Out of the vays here, will you! You must always go and bea-settin' on our steps, must you! You can't go and give a turn to noneof the neighbours never can't you!

Strictly speaking, the last question was irrelevant, as they hadalready done it.

``What's the matter, what's the matter!'' said the gentlemanfor whom the door was opened; coming out of the house at that kind oflight-heavy pace -- that peculiar compromise between a walk and ajog-trot -- with which a gentleman upon the smooth down-hill oflife, wearing creaking boots, a watch-chain, and clean linen,

``You're always a-being begged, and prayed, upon your bendedknees you are,'' said the footman with great emphasis to TrottyVeck, ``to let our door-steps be. Why don't you let 'em be?

``There! That'll do, that'll do!'' said the gentleman. ``Halloa there! Porter!'' beckoning with his head to TrottyVeck. ``Come here. What's that? Your dinner?''

``Yes, sir,'' said Trotty, leaving it behind him in a corner.

``Don't leave it there,'' exclaimed the gentleman. ``Bringit here, bring it here. So! This is your dinner, is it?''

``Yes, sir,'' repeated Trotty, looking with a fixed eye and awatery mouth, at the piece of tripe he had reserved for a lastdelicious tit-bit; which the gentleman was now turning over and overon the end of the fork.

Two other gentlemen had come out with him. One was alow-spirited gentleman of middle age, of a meagre habit, and adisconsolate face who kept his hands continually in the pockets of hisscanty pepper-and-salt trousers; very large and dog's-eared from thatcustom; and was not particularly well brushed or washed. The other, afull-sized, sleek, well-conditioned gentleman, in a blue coat withbright buttons, and a white cravat. This gentleman had a very redface, as if an undue proportion of the blood in his body were squeezedup into his head; which perhaps accounted for his having also theappearance of being rather cold about the heart.

He who had Toby's meat upon the fork, called to the first one bythe name of Filer; and they both drew near together. Mr. Filer beingexceedingly short-sighted, was obliged to go so close to the remnant of Toby's dinner before he could make out what it was, that Toby'sheart leaped up into his mouth. But Mr. Filer didn't eat it.

``This is a description of animal food, Alderman,'' saidFiler, making little punches in it, with a pencil-case, ``commonlyknown to the labouring population of this country, by the name oftripe.''

The Alderman laughed, and winked; for he was a merry fellow, Alderman Cute. Oh, and a sly fellow too! A knowingfellow. Up to everything. Not to be imposed upon. Deep in the people'shearts! He knew them, Cute did. I believe you!

``But who eats tripe?'' said Mr. Filer, looking round. ``Tripe is without an exception the least economical, and the mostwasteful article of consumption that the markets of this country canby possibility produce. The loss upon a pound of tripe has been found to be, in the boiling, seven-eights of a fifth more than the loss upona pound of any other animal substance whatever. Tripe is moreexpensive, properly understood, than the hothouse pineapple. Taking into account the number of animals slaughtered yearly within the billsof mortality alone; and forming a low estimate of the quantity oftripe which the carcasses of those animals, reasonably well butchered,would yield; I find that the waste on that amount of tripe, ifboiled, would victual a garrison of five hundred men for five monthsof thirty-one days each, and a February over. The Waste, theWaste!''

Trotty stood aghast, and his legsshook under him. He seemed to have starved a garrison of five hundred men with his own hand.

``Who eats tripe?'' said Mr.Filer, warmly. ``Who eats tripe?''

Trotty made a miserable bow.

``You do, do you?'' said Mr. Filer. ``Then I'll tell yousomething. You snatch your tripe, my friend, out of the mouths ofwidows and orphans.''

``I hope not, Sir,'' said Trotty, faintly. ``I'd sooner die of want!''

``Divide the amount of tripe before mentioned, Alderman,''said Mr. Filer, ``by the estimated number of existing widows andorphans, and the result will be one pennyweight of tripe to each. Nota grain is left for that man. Consequently, he's a robber.''

Trotty was so shocked, that it gave him no concern to see theAlderman finish the tripe himself. It was a relief to get rid of it,anyhow.

``And what do you say?'' asked the Alderman jocosely, of thered-faced gentleman in the blue coat. ``You have heard friendFiler. What do

``What's it possible to say?'' returned the gentleman. ``What

The gentleman didn't specify what particular times he alluded to;nor did he say whether he objected to the present times; from adistinterested consciousness that they had done nothing veryremarkable in producing himself.

``The good old times, the good old times,'' repeated thegentleman. ``What times they were! They were the only times. It'sno use talking about any other times, or discussing what the peopleare in these times. You don't call these, times, do you? I don't. Look into Strutt's Costumes, and see what a Porter used to be, in any ofthe good old English reigns.''

``He hadn't, in hisvery best circumstances, a shirt to his back, or a stocking to hisfoot; and there was scarcely a vegetable in all England for him to putinto his mouth,'' said Mr. Filer. ``I can prove it, bytables.''

But still the red-faced gentleman extolled the good old times, thegrand old times, the great old times. No matter what anybody elsesaid, he still went turning round and round in one set form of words concerning them; as a poor squirrel turns and turns in its revolvingcage; touching the mechanism, and trick of which, it has probablyquite as distinct perceptions, as ever this red-faced gentleman had ofhis deceased Millennium.

It is possible that poor Trotty's faith in these very vague OldTimes was not entirely destroyed, for he felt vague enough, at thatmoment. One thing, however, was plain to him, in the midst of hisdistress; to wit, that however these gentlemen might differ in details, his misgivings of that morning, and of many other mornings,were well founded. ``No, no. We can't go right or do right,''thought Trotty in despair. ``There is no good in us. Weare born bad!''

But Trotty had a father's heart within him; which had somehow gotinto his breast in spite of this decree; and he could not bear thatMeg, in the blush of her brief joy, should have her fortune read bythese wise gentlemen. ``God help her,'' thought poor Trotty. ``She will know it soon enough.''

He anxiously signed, therefore, to the young smith, to take heraway. But he was so busy, talking to her softly at a little distance,that he only became conscious of this desire, simultaneously withAlderman Cute. Now, the Alderman had not yet had his say, but

``Now, you know,'' said the Alderman, addressing his twofriends, with a self-complacent smile upon his face which was habitualto him, ``I am a plain man, and a practical man; and I go to workin a plain practical way. That's my way. There is not the leastmystery or difficulty in dealing with this sort of people ifyou only understand 'em, and can talk to 'em in their own manner. Now,you Porter! Don't you ever tell me, or anybody else, my friend, thatyou haven't always enough to eat, and of the best: because I knowbetter. I have tasted your tripe, you know, and you can't

Famous man for the common people, Alderman Cute! Never out oftemper with them! Easy, affable, joking, knowing gentleman!

``You see, my friend,'' pursued the Alderman, ``there's agreat deal of nonsense talked about Want --

Trotty took Meg's hand and drew it through his arm. He didn't seemto know what he was doing though.

``Your daughter, eh?'' said the Alderman, chucking herfamiliarly under the chin.

Always affable with the working classes, Alderman Cute! Knew whatpleased them! Not a bit of pride.

``Where's her mother?'' asked the worthy gentleman.

``Dead,'' said Toby. ``Her mother got up linen; and wascalled to Heaven when She was born.''

``Not to get up linen

Toby might or might not have been able to separate his wife inHeaven from her old pursuits. But query: If Mrs. Alderman Cute hadgone to Heaven, would Mr. Alderman Cute have pictured her as holding any state or station there?

``And you're making love to her, are you?'' said Cute to theyoung smith.

``Yes,'' returned Richard quickly, forhe was nettled by the question. ``And we are going to be married on New Year's Day.''

``What do you mean!'' cried Filer sharply. ``Married!''

``Why, yes, we're thinking of it, Master,'' said Richard.``We're rather in a hurry, you see, in case it should be Put Downfirst.''

``Ah!'' cried Filer, with a groan. ``Put

Well? They were worth looking at. And marriage seemed as reasonableand fair a deed as they need have in contemplation.

``A man may live to be as old as Methuselah,'' sald Mr.Filer, ``and may labour all his life for the benefit of such peopleas those; and may heap up facts on figures, facts on figures, facts onfigures, mountains high and dry; and he can no more hope topersuade 'em that they have no right or business to be married, thanhe can hope to persuade 'em that they have no earthly right orbusiness to be born. And

Alderman Cute was mightily diverted, and laid his right forefingeron the side of his nose, as much as to say to both his friends,``Observe me, will you! Keep your eye on the practical man!''-- and called Meg to him.

``Come here, my girl!'' said Alderman Cute.

The young blood of her lover had been mounting, wrathfully, withinthe last few minutes; and he was indisposed to let her come. But,setting a constraint upon himself, he came forward with a stride asMeg approached, and stood beside her. Trotty kept her hand within hisarm still, but looked from face to face as wildly as a sleeper in adream.

``Now, I'm going to give you a word or two of good advice, mygirl,'' said the Alderman, in his nice easy way. ``It's my placeto give advice, you know, because I'm a Justice. You knowI'm a Justice, don't you?''

Meg timidly said, ``Yes.'' But everybody knew Alderman Cutewas a Justice! Oh dear, so active a Justice always! Who such a mote ofbrightness in the public eye, as Cute!

``You are going to be married, you say,'' pursued theAlderman. ``Very unbecoming and indelicate in one of your sex! Butnever mind that. After you are married, you'll quarrel with yourhusband and come to be a distressed wife. You may think not-- but you will, because I tell you so. Now, I give you fair warning,that I have made up my mind to Put distressed wives Down. So, don't bebrought before me. You'll have children -- boys. Those boys willgrow up bad, of course, and run wild in the streets, without shoes andstockings. Mind my young friend! I'll convict 'em summarily, everyone, for I am determined to Put boys without shoes and stockings, Down. Perhaps your husband will die young (most likely) and leave youwith a baby. Then you'll be turned out of doors, and wander up and down the streets. Now, don't wander near me, my dear, for Iam resolved to Put all wandering mothers Down. All young mothers, ofall sorts and kinds, it's my determination to Put Down. Don't think toplead illness as an excuse with me; or babies as an excuse with me;for all sick persons and young children (I hope you know thechurch-service, but I'm afraid not) I am determined to Put Down. Andif you attempt, desperately, and ungratefullv. and impiously, andfraudulently attempt, to drown yourself, or hang yourself, I'll haveno pity for you, for I have made up my mind to Put all suicide Down!If there is one thing,'' said the Alderman, with his self-satisfiedsmile, ``on which I can be said to have made up my mind more thanon another, it is to Put suicide Down. So don't try it on. That's thephrase, isn't it? Ha, ha! now we understand each other.''

Toby knew not whether to be agonised or glad, to see that Meg hadturned a deadly white, and dropped her lover's hand.

``And as for you, you dull dog,'' said the Alderman, turningwith even increased cheerfulness and urbanity to the youngsmith, ``what are you thinking of being married for? What do youwant to be married for, you silly fellow? If I was a fine, young,strapping chap like you, I should be ashamed of being milksop enoughto pin myself to a woman's apron-strings! Why, she'll be an old womanbefore you're a middle-aged man! And a pretty figure you'll cut then,with a draggle-tailed wife and a crowd of squalling children cryingafter you wherever you go!''

0h, he knew how to banter the common people, Alderman Cute!

``There! Go along with you,'' said the Alderman, ``andrepent. Don't make such a fool of yourself as to get married on NewYear's Day. You'll think very differently of it, long before next NewYear's Day; a trim young fellow like you, with all the girls lookingafter you. There! Go along with you!''

They went along. Not arm in arm, or hand in hand, or interchangingbright glances; but, she in tears; he gloomy and down-looking. Werethese the hearts that had so lately made old Toby's leap up from itsfaintness? No, no. The Alderman (a blessing on his head!)had Put

``As you happen to be here,'' said the Alderman to Toby,``you shall carry a letter for me. Can you be quick? You're an oldman.''

Toby, who had been looking after Meg, quite stupidly, made shift tomurmur out that he was very quick, and very strong.

``How old are you?'' inquired the Alderman.

``I'm over sixty, sir,'' said Toby.

``O! This man's a great deal past the average, you know,''cried Mr. Filer, breaking in as if his patience would bear sometrying, but this really was carrying matters a little too far.

``I feel I'm intruding, sir,'' said Toby. ``I -- Imis-doubted it this morning. Oh dear me!''

The Alderman cut him short by giving him the letter from hispocket. Toby would have got a shilling too; but Mr. Filer clearlyshowing that in that case he would rob a certain given number of persons of ninepence-halfpenny a-piece, he only got sixpence; andthought himself very well off to get that.

Then theAlderman gave an arm to each of his friends, and walked off in highfeather; but, he immediately came hurrying back alone, as if he had forgotten something

``Porter!'' said the Alderman.

``Sir!'' said Toby.

``Take care of that daughter of yours. She's much toohandsome.''

``Even her good looks are stolen from somebody or other Isuppose,'' thought Toby, looking at the sixpence in his hand, andthinking of the tripe. ``She's been and robbed five hundred ladiesof a bloom apiece, I shouldn't wonder. It's very dreadful!''

``She's much too handsome, my man,'' repeated the Alderman.``The chances are, that she'll come to no good, I clearly see.Observe what I say. Take care of her!'' With which, he hurried offagain.

``Wrong every way. Wrong every way!'' said Trotty, claspinghis hands. ``Born bad. No business here!''

The Chimes came clashing in upon him as he said the words. Full,loud, and sounding -- but with no encouragement. No, not a drop.

``The tune's changed,'' cried the old man, as he listened. ``There's not a word of all that fancy in it. Why shouldthere be? I have no business with the New Year nor with the old oneneither. Let me die!''

Still the Bells, pealing forth their changes, made the very airspin. Put 'em down, Put 'em down! Good old Times, Good old Times!Facts and Figures, Facts and Figures! Put 'em down, Put 'em down. Ifthey said anything they said this, until the brain of Toby reeled.

He pressed his bewildered head between his hands, as if to keep itfrom splitting asunder. A well-timed action, as it happened; forfinding the letter in one of them, and being by that means reminded ofhis charge, he fell, mechanically, into his usual trot, and trottedoff.