As Mr Crummles had a strange four-legged animal in the inn stables,which he called a pony, and a vehicle of unknown design, on which hebestowed the appellation of a four-wheeled phaeton, Nicholas proceededon his journey next morning with greater ease than he had expected: themanager and himself occupying the front seat: and the Master Crummlesesand Smike being packed together behind, in company with a wicker basketdefended from wet by a stout oilskin, in which were the broad-swords,pistols, pigtails, nautical costumes, and other professional necessariesof the aforesaid young gentlemen.

The pony took his time upon the road, and--possibly in consequenceof his theatrical education--evinced, every now and then, a stronginclination to lie down. However, Mr Vincent Crummles kept him up prettywell, by jerking the rein, and plying the whip; and when these meansfailed, and the animal came to a stand, the elder Master Crummles gotout and kicked him. By dint of these encouragements, he was persuadedto move from time to time, and they jogged on (as Mr Crummles trulyobserved) very comfortably for all parties.

'He's a good pony at bottom,' said Mr Crummles, turning to Nicholas.

He might have been at bottom, but he certainly was not at top, seeingthat his coat was of the roughest and most ill-favoured kind. So,Nicholas merely observed that he shouldn't wonder if he was.

'Many and many is the circuit this pony has gone,' said Mr Crummles,flicking him skilfully on the eyelid for old acquaintance' sake. 'He isquite one of us. His mother was on the stage.'

'Was she?' rejoined Nicholas.

'She ate apple-pie at a circus for upwards of fourteen years,' said themanager; 'fired pistols, and went to bed in a nightcap; and, in short,took the low comedy entirely. His father was a dancer.'

'Was he at all distinguished?'

'Not very,' said the manager. 'He was rather a low sort of pony. Thefact is, he had been originally jobbed out by the day, and he neverquite got over his old habits. He was clever in melodrama too, but toobroad--too broad. When the mother died, he took the port-wine business.'

'The port-wine business!' cried Nicholas.

'Drinking port-wine with the clown,' said the manager; 'but he wasgreedy, and one night bit off the bowl of the glass, and choked himself,so his vulgarity was the death of him at last.'

The descendant of this ill-starred animal requiring increased attentionfrom Mr Crummles as he progressed in his day's work, that gentleman hadvery little time for conversation. Nicholas was thus left at leisureto entertain himself with his own thoughts, until they arrived at thedrawbridge at Portsmouth, when Mr Crummles pulled up.

'We'll get down here,' said the manager, 'and the boys will take himround to the stable, and call at my lodgings with the luggage. You hadbetter let yours be taken there, for the present.'

Thanking Mr Vincent Crummles for his obliging offer, Nicholas jumpedout, and, giving Smike his arm, accompanied the manager up High Streeton their way to the theatre; feeling nervous and uncomfortable enough atthe prospect of an immediate introduction to a scene so new to him.

They passed a great many bills, pasted against the walls and displayedin windows, wherein the names of Mr Vincent Crummles, Mrs VincentCrummles, Master Crummles, Master P. Crummles, and Miss Crummles, wereprinted in very large letters, and everything else in very small ones;and, turning at length into an entry, in which was a strong smell oforange-peel and lamp-oil, with an under-current of sawdust, groped theirway through a dark passage, and, descending a step or two, threaded alittle maze of canvas screens and paint pots, and emerged upon the stageof the Portsmouth Theatre.

'Here we are,' said Mr Crummles.

It was not very light, but Nicholas found himself close to the firstentrance on the prompt side, among bare walls, dusty scenes, mildewedclouds, heavily daubed draperies, and dirty floors. He looked about him;ceiling, pit, boxes, gallery, orchestra, fittings, and decorations ofevery kind,--all looked coarse, cold, gloomy, and wretched.

'Is this a theatre?' whispered Smike, in amazement; 'I thought it was ablaze of light and finery.'

'Why, so it is,' replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised; 'but not byday, Smike--not by day.'

The manager's voice recalled him from a more careful inspection of thebuilding, to the opposite side of the proscenium, where, at a smallmahogany table with rickety legs and of an oblong shape, sat a stout,portly female, apparently between forty and fifty, in a tarnished silkcloak, with her bonnet dangling by the strings in her hand, and her hair(of which she had a great quantity) braided in a large festoon over eachtemple.

'Mr Johnson,' said the manager (for Nicholas had given the namewhich Newman Noggs had bestowed upon him in his conversation with MrsKenwigs), 'let me introduce Mrs Vincent Crummles.'

'I am glad to see you, sir,' said Mrs Vincent Crummles, in a sepulchralvoice. 'I am very glad to see you, and still more happy to hail you as apromising member of our corps.'

The lady shook Nicholas by the hand as she addressed him in these terms;he saw it was a large one, but had not expected quite such an iron gripas that with which she honoured him.

'And this,' said the lady, crossing to Smike, as tragic actresses crosswhen they obey a stage direction, 'and this is the other. You too, arewelcome, sir.'

'He'll do, I think, my dear?' said the manager, taking a pinch of snuff.

'He is admirable,' replied the lady. 'An acquisition indeed.'

As Mrs Vincent Crummles recrossed back to the table, there bounded onto the stage from some mysterious inlet, a little girl in a dirty whitefrock with tucks up to the knees, short trousers, sandaled shoes, whitespencer, pink gauze bonnet, green veil and curl papers; who turned apirouette, cut twice in the air, turned another pirouette, then, lookingoff at the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded forward to within six inchesof the footlights, and fell into a beautiful attitude of terror, as ashabby gentleman in an old pair of buff slippers came in at one powerfulslide, and chattering his teeth, fiercely brandished a walking-stick.

'They are going through the Indian Savage and the Maiden,' said MrsCrummles.

'Oh!' said the manager, 'the little ballet interlude. Very good, go on.A little this way, if you please, Mr Johnson. That'll do. Now!'

The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed, and the savage,becoming ferocious, made a slide towards the maiden; but the maidenavoided him in six twirls, and came down, at the end of the last one,upon the very points of her toes. This seemed to make some impressionupon the savage; for, after a little more ferocity and chasing of themaiden into corners, he began to relent, and stroked his face severaltimes with his right thumb and four fingers, thereby intimating thathe was struck with admiration of the maiden's beauty. Acting upon theimpulse of this passion, he (the savage) began to hit himself severethumps in the chest, and to exhibit other indications of beingdesperately in love, which being rather a prosy proceeding, was verylikely the cause of the maiden's falling asleep; whether it was orno, asleep she did fall, sound as a church, on a sloping bank, and thesavage perceiving it, leant his left ear on his left hand, and noddedsideways, to intimate to all whom it might concern that she WAS asleep,and no shamming. Being left to himself, the savage had a dance, allalone. Just as he left off, the maiden woke up, rubbed her eyes, got offthe bank, and had a dance all alone too--such a dance that the savagelooked on in ecstasy all the while, and when it was done, plucked froma neighbouring tree some botanical curiosity, resembling a small pickledcabbage, and offered it to the maiden, who at first wouldn't have it,but on the savage shedding tears relented. Then the savage jumpedfor joy; then the maiden jumped for rapture at the sweet smell ofthe pickled cabbage. Then the savage and the maiden danced violentlytogether, and, finally, the savage dropped down on one knee, and themaiden stood on one leg upon his other knee; thus concluding the ballet,and leaving the spectators in a state of pleasing uncertainty, whethershe would ultimately marry the savage, or return to her friends.

'Very well indeed,' said Mr Crummles; 'bravo!'

'Bravo!' cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of everything.'Beautiful!'

'This, sir,' said Mr Vincent Crummles, bringing the maiden forward,'this is the infant phenomenon--Miss Ninetta Crummles.'

'Your daughter?' inquired Nicholas.

'My daughter--my daughter,' replied Mr Vincent Crummles; 'the idol ofevery place we go into, sir. We have had complimentary letters aboutthis girl, sir, from the nobility and gentry of almost every town inEngland.'

'I am not surprised at that,' said Nicholas; 'she must be quite anatural genius.'

'Quite a--!' Mr Crummles stopped: language was not powerful enough todescribe the infant phenomenon. 'I'll tell you what, sir,' he said;'the talent of this child is not to be imagined. She must be seen,sir--seen--to be ever so faintly appreciated. There; go to your mother,my dear.'

'May I ask how old she is?' inquired Nicholas.

'You may, sir,' replied Mr Crummles, looking steadily in hisquestioner's face, as some men do when they have doubts about beingimplicitly believed in what they are going to say. 'She is ten years ofage, sir.'

'Not more!'

'Not a day.'

'Dear me!' said Nicholas, 'it's extraordinary.'

It was; for the infant phenomenon, though of short stature, had acomparatively aged countenance, and had moreover been precisely thesame age--not perhaps to the full extent of the memory of the oldestinhabitant, but certainly for five good years. But she had been kept uplate every night, and put upon an unlimited allowance of gin-and-waterfrom infancy, to prevent her growing tall, and perhaps this systemof training had produced in the infant phenomenon these additionalphenomena.

While this short dialogue was going on, the gentleman who had enactedthe savage, came up, with his walking shoes on his feet, and hisslippers in his hand, to within a few paces, as if desirous to join inthe conversation. Deeming this a good opportunity, he put in his word.

'Talent there, sir!' said the savage, nodding towards Miss Crummles.

Nicholas assented.

'Ah!' said the actor, setting his teeth together, and drawing in hisbreath with a hissing sound, 'she oughtn't to be in the provinces, sheoughtn't.'

'What do you mean?' asked the manager.

'I mean to say,' replied the other, warmly, 'that she is too good forcountry boards, and that she ought to be in one of the large houses inLondon, or nowhere; and I tell you more, without mincing the matter,that if it wasn't for envy and jealousy in some quarter that you knowof, she would be. Perhaps you'll introduce me here, Mr Crummles.'

'Mr Folair,' said the manager, presenting him to Nicholas.

'Happy to know you, sir.' Mr Folair touched the brim of his hat with hisforefinger, and then shook hands. 'A recruit, sir, I understand?'

'An unworthy one,' replied Nicholas.

'Did you ever see such a set-out as that?' whispered the actor, drawinghim away, as Crummles left them to speak to his wife.

'As what?'

Mr Folair made a funny face from his pantomime collection, and pointedover his shoulder.

'You don't mean the infant phenomenon?'

'Infant humbug, sir,' replied Mr Folair. 'There isn't a female child ofcommon sharpness in a charity school, that couldn't do better than that.She may thank her stars she was born a manager's daughter.'

'You seem to take it to heart,' observed Nicholas, with a smile.

'Yes, by Jove, and well I may,' said Mr Folair, drawing his arm throughhis, and walking him up and down the stage. 'Isn't it enough to make aman crusty to see that little sprawler put up in the best business everynight, and actually keeping money out of the house, by being forceddown the people's throats, while other people are passed over? Isn'tit extraordinary to see a man's confounded family conceit blinding him,even to his own interest? Why I KNOW of fifteen and sixpence that cameto Southampton one night last month, to see me dance the Highland Fling;and what's the consequence? I've never been put up in it since--neveronce--while the "infant phenomenon" has been grinning through artificialflowers at five people and a baby in the pit, and two boys in thegallery, every night.'

'If I may judge from what I have seen of you,' said Nicholas, 'you mustbe a valuable member of the company.'

'Oh!' replied Mr Folair, beating his slippers together, to knock thedust out; 'I CAN come it pretty well--nobody better, perhaps, in my ownline--but having such business as one gets here, is like putting lead onone's feet instead of chalk, and dancing in fetters without the creditof it. Holloa, old fellow, how are you?'

The gentleman addressed in these latter words was a dark-complexionedman, inclining indeed to sallow, with long thick black hair, and veryevident inclinations (although he was close shaved) of a stiff beard,and whiskers of the same deep shade. His age did not appear to exceedthirty, though many at first sight would have considered him much older,as his face was long, and very pale, from the constant application ofstage paint. He wore a checked shirt, an old green coat with new giltbuttons, a neckerchief of broad red and green stripes, and full bluetrousers; he carried, too, a common ash walking-stick, apparentlymore for show than use, as he flourished it about, with the hooked enddownwards, except when he raised it for a few seconds, and throwinghimself into a fencing attitude, made a pass or two at the side-scenes,or at any other object, animate or inanimate, that chanced to afford hima pretty good mark at the moment.

'Well, Tommy,' said this gentleman, making a thrust at his friend, whoparried it dexterously with his slipper, 'what's the news?'

'A new appearance, that's all,' replied Mr Folair, looking at Nicholas.

'Do the honours, Tommy, do the honours,' said the other gentleman,tapping him reproachfully on the crown of the hat with his stick.

'This is Mr Lenville, who does our first tragedy, Mr Johnson,' said thepantomimist.

'Except when old bricks and mortar takes it into his head to do ithimself, you should add, Tommy,' remarked Mr Lenville. 'You know whobricks and mortar is, I suppose, sir?'

'I do not, indeed,' replied Nicholas.

'We call Crummles that, because his style of acting is rather in theheavy and ponderous way,' said Mr Lenville. 'I mustn't be cracking jokesthough, for I've got a part of twelve lengths here, which I must beup in tomorrow night, and I haven't had time to look at it yet; I'm aconfounded quick study, that's one comfort.'

Consoling himself with this reflection, Mr Lenville drew from his coatpocket a greasy and crumpled manuscript, and, having made another passat his friend, proceeded to walk to and fro, conning it to himself andindulging occasionally in such appropriate action as his imagination andthe text suggested.

A pretty general muster of the company had by this time taken place;for besides Mr Lenville and his friend Tommy, there were present, a slimyoung gentleman with weak eyes, who played the low-spirited loversand sang tenor songs, and who had come arm-in-arm with the comiccountryman--a man with a turned-up nose, large mouth, broad face, andstaring eyes. Making himself very amiable to the infant phenomenon, wasan inebriated elderly gentleman in the last depths of shabbiness, whoplayed the calm and virtuous old men; and paying especial court to MrsCrummles was another elderly gentleman, a shade more respectable, whoplayed the irascible old men--those funny fellows who have nephews inthe army and perpetually run about with thick sticks to compel them tomarry heiresses. Besides these, there was a roving-looking person ina rough great-coat, who strode up and down in front of the lamps,flourishing a dress cane, and rattling away, in an undertone, with greatvivacity for the amusement of an ideal audience. He was not quite soyoung as he had been, and his figure was rather running to seed; butthere was an air of exaggerated gentility about him, which bespoke thehero of swaggering comedy. There was, also, a little group of three orfour young men with lantern jaws and thick eyebrows, who were conversingin one corner; but they seemed to be of secondary importance, andlaughed and talked together without attracting any attention.

The ladies were gathered in a little knot by themselves round therickety table before mentioned. There was Miss Snevellicci--who coulddo anything, from a medley dance to Lady Macbeth, and also always playedsome part in blue silk knee-smalls at her benefit--glancing, from thedepths of her coal-scuttle straw bonnet, at Nicholas, and affectingto be absorbed in the recital of a diverting story to her friend MissLedrook, who had brought her work, and was making up a ruff in the mostnatural manner possible. There was Miss Belvawney--who seldom aspiredto speaking parts, and usually went on as a page in white silk hose, tostand with one leg bent, and contemplate the audience, or to go in andout after Mr Crummles in stately tragedy--twisting up the ringlets ofthe beautiful Miss Bravassa, who had once had her likeness taken 'incharacter' by an engraver's apprentice, whereof impressions were hung upfor sale in the pastry-cook's window, and the greengrocer's, and at thecirculating library, and the box-office, whenever the announce billscame out for her annual night. There was Mrs Lenville, in a very limpbonnet and veil, decidedly in that way in which she would wish to be ifshe truly loved Mr Lenville; there was Miss Gazingi, with an imitationermine boa tied in a loose knot round her neck, flogging Mr Crummles,junior, with both ends, in fun. Lastly, there was Mrs Grudden in a browncloth pelisse and a beaver bonnet, who assisted Mrs Crummles in herdomestic affairs, and took money at the doors, and dressed the ladies,and swept the house, and held the prompt book when everybody else was onfor the last scene, and acted any kind of part on any emergency withoutever learning it, and was put down in the bills under any name or nameswhatever, that occurred to Mr Crummles as looking well in print.

Mr Folair having obligingly confided these particulars to Nicholas, lefthim to mingle with his fellows; the work of personal introduction wascompleted by Mr Vincent Crummles, who publicly heralded the new actor asa prodigy of genius and learning.

'I beg your pardon,' said Miss Snevellicci, sidling towards Nicholas,'but did you ever play at Canterbury?'

'I never did,' replied Nicholas.

'I recollect meeting a gentleman at Canterbury,' said Miss Snevellicci,'only for a few moments, for I was leaving the company as he joined it,so like you that I felt almost certain it was the same.'

'I see you now for the first time,' rejoined Nicholas with all duegallantry. 'I am sure I never saw you before; I couldn't have forgottenit.'

'Oh, I'm sure--it's very flattering of you to say so,' retorted MissSnevellicci with a graceful bend. 'Now I look at you again, I see thatthe gentleman at Canterbury hadn't the same eyes as you--you'll think mevery foolish for taking notice of such things, won't you?'

'Not at all,' said Nicholas. 'How can I feel otherwise than flattered byyour notice in any way?'

'Oh! you men are such vain creatures!' cried Miss Snevellicci.Whereupon, she became charmingly confused, and, pulling out herpocket-handkerchief from a faded pink silk reticule with a gilt clasp,called to Miss Ledrook--

'Led, my dear,' said Miss Snevellicci.

'Well, what is the matter?' said Miss Ledrook.

'It's not the same.'

'Not the same what?'

'Canterbury--you know what I mean. Come here! I want to speak to you.'

But Miss Ledrook wouldn't come to Miss Snevellicci, so Miss Snevellicciwas obliged to go to Miss Ledrook, which she did, in a skipping mannerthat was quite fascinating; and Miss Ledrook evidently joked MissSnevellicci about being struck with Nicholas; for, after some playfulwhispering, Miss Snevellicci hit Miss Ledrook very hard on the backs ofher hands, and retired up, in a state of pleasing confusion.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' said Mr Vincent Crummles, who had been writingon a piece of paper, 'we'll call the Mortal Struggle tomorrow at ten;everybody for the procession. Intrigue, and Ways and Means, you're allup in, so we shall only want one rehearsal. Everybody at ten, if youplease.'

'Everybody at ten,' repeated Mrs Grudden, looking about her.

'On Monday morning we shall read a new piece,' said Mr Crummles; 'thename's not known yet, but everybody will have a good part. Mr Johnsonwill take care of that.'

'Hallo!' said Nicholas, starting. 'I--'

'On Monday morning,' repeated Mr Crummles, raising his voice, to drownthe unfortunate Mr Johnson's remonstrance; 'that'll do, ladies andgentlemen.'

The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to quit; and, ina few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by the Crummles family,Nicholas, and Smike.

'Upon my word,' said Nicholas, taking the manager aside, 'I don't thinkI can be ready by Monday.'

'Pooh, pooh,' replied Mr Crummles.

'But really I can't,' returned Nicholas; 'my invention is not accustomedto these demands, or possibly I might produce--'

'Invention! what the devil's that got to do with it!' cried the managerhastily.

'Everything, my dear sir.'

'Nothing, my dear sir,' retorted the manager, with evident impatience.'Do you understand French?'

'Perfectly well.'

'Very good,' said the manager, opening the table drawer, and giving aroll of paper from it to Nicholas. 'There! Just turn that into English,and put your name on the title-page. Damn me,' said Mr Crummles,angrily, 'if I haven't often said that I wouldn't have a man or woman inmy company that wasn't master of the language, so that they might learnit from the original, and play it in English, and save all this troubleand expense.'

Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play.

'What are you going to do about your lodgings?' said Mr Crummles.

Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week, it would bean uncommon convenience to have a turn-up bedstead in the pit, but hemerely remarked that he had not turned his thoughts that way.

'Come home with me then,' said Mr Crummles, 'and my boys shall go withyou after dinner, and show you the most likely place.'

The offer was not to be refused; Nicholas and Mr Crummles gave MrsCrummles an arm each, and walked up the street in stately array. Smike,the boys, and the phenomenon, went home by a shorter cut, and MrsGrudden remained behind to take some cold Irish stew and a pint ofporter in the box-office.

Mrs Crummles trod the pavement as if she were going to immediateexecution with an animating consciousness of innocence, and that heroicfortitude which virtue alone inspires. Mr Crummles, on the other hand,assumed the look and gait of a hardened despot; but they both attractedsome notice from many of the passers-by, and when they heard a whisperof 'Mr and Mrs Crummles!' or saw a little boy run back to stare them inthe face, the severe expression of their countenances relaxed, for theyfelt it was popularity.

Mr Crummles lived in St Thomas's Street, at the house of one Bulph, apilot, who sported a boat-green door, with window-frames of the samecolour, and had the little finger of a drowned man on his parlourmantelshelf, with other maritime and natural curiosities. He displayedalso a brass knocker, a brass plate, and a brass bell-handle, all verybright and shining; and had a mast, with a vane on the top of it, in hisback yard.

'You are welcome,' said Mrs Crummles, turning round to Nicholas whenthey reached the bow-windowed front room on the first floor.

Nicholas bowed his acknowledgments, and was unfeignedly glad to see thecloth laid.

'We have but a shoulder of mutton with onion sauce,' said Mrs Crummles,in the same charnel-house voice; 'but such as our dinner is, we beg youto partake of it.'

'You are very good,' replied Nicholas, 'I shall do it ample justice.'

'Vincent,' said Mrs Crummles, 'what is the hour?'

'Five minutes past dinner-time,' said Mr Crummles.

Mrs Crummles rang the bell. 'Let the mutton and onion sauce appear.'

The slave who attended upon Mr Bulph's lodgers, disappeared, and aftera short interval reappeared with the festive banquet. Nicholas and theinfant phenomenon opposed each other at the pembroke-table, and Smikeand the master Crummleses dined on the sofa bedstead.

'Are they very theatrical people here?' asked Nicholas.

'No,' replied Mr Crummles, shaking his head, 'far from it--far from it.'

'I pity them,' observed Mrs Crummles.

'So do I,' said Nicholas; 'if they have no relish for theatricalentertainments, properly conducted.'

'Then they have none, sir,' rejoined Mr Crummles. 'To the infant'sbenefit, last year, on which occasion she repeated three of her mostpopular characters, and also appeared in the Fairy Porcupine, asoriginally performed by her, there was a house of no more than fourpound twelve.'

'Is it possible?' cried Nicholas.

'And two pound of that was trust, pa,' said the phenomenon.

'And two pound of that was trust,' repeated Mr Crummles. 'Mrs Crummlesherself has played to mere handfuls.'

'But they are always a taking audience, Vincent,' said the manager'swife.

'Most audiences are, when they have good acting--real good acting--theregular thing,' replied Mr Crummles, forcibly.

'Do you give lessons, ma'am?' inquired Nicholas.

'I do,' said Mrs Crummles.

'There is no teaching here, I suppose?'

'There has been,' said Mrs Crummles. 'I have received pupils here. Iimparted tuition to the daughter of a dealer in ships' provision; butit afterwards appeared that she was insane when she first came to me. Itwas very extraordinary that she should come, under such circumstances.'

Not feeling quite so sure of that, Nicholas thought it best to hold hispeace.

'Let me see,' said the manager cogitating after dinner. 'Would you likesome nice little part with the infant?'

'You are very good,' replied Nicholas hastily; 'but I think perhaps itwould be better if I had somebody of my own size at first, in case Ishould turn out awkward. I should feel more at home, perhaps.'

'True,' said the manager. 'Perhaps you would. And you could play up tothe infant, in time, you know.'

'Certainly,' replied Nicholas: devoutly hoping that it would be a verylong time before he was honoured with this distinction.

'Then I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Mr Crummles. 'You shall studyRomeo when you've done that piece--don't forget to throw the pumpand tubs in by-the-bye--Juliet Miss Snevellicci, old Grudden thenurse.--Yes, that'll do very well. Rover too;--you might get up Roverwhile you were about it, and Cassio, and Jeremy Diddler. You can easilyknock them off; one part helps the other so much. Here they are, cuesand all.'

With these hasty general directions Mr Crummles thrust a number oflittle books into the faltering hands of Nicholas, and bidding hiseldest son go with him and show where lodgings were to be had, shook himby the hand, and wished him good night.

There is no lack of comfortable furnished apartments in Portsmouth, andno difficulty in finding some that are proportionate to very slenderfinances; but the former were too good, and the latter too bad, and theywent into so many houses, and came out unsuited, that Nicholas seriouslybegan to think he should be obliged to ask permission to spend the nightin the theatre, after all.

Eventually, however, they stumbled upon two small rooms up three pair ofstairs, or rather two pair and a ladder, at a tobacconist's shop, on theCommon Hard: a dirty street leading down to the dockyard. These Nicholasengaged, only too happy to have escaped any request for payment of aweek's rent beforehand.

'There! Lay down our personal property, Smike,' he said, after showingyoung Crummles downstairs. 'We have fallen upon strange times, andHeaven only knows the end of them; but I am tired with the events ofthese three days, and will postpone reflection till tomorrow--if I can.'