take, for they have seen them every morning (Sundays excepted) during the last twenty years, but speaking to no one. If they do happen to overtake a personal acquaintance, they just exchange a hurried salutation, and keep walking on either by his side, or in front of him, as his rate of walking may chance to be. As to stopping to shake hands, or to take the friend's arm, they seem to think that as it is not included in their salary, they have no right to do it. Small office lads in large hats, who are made men before they are boys, hurry along in pairs, with their first coat carefully brushed, and the white trousers of last Sunday plentifully besmeared with dust and ink. It evidently requires a considerable mental struggle to avoid investing a part of the day's dinner-money in the purchase of the stale tarts so temptingly exposed in dusty tins at the pastry-cook's doors; but a consciousseven shillings a-week, with the prospect of an early rise to eight, comes to their aid, and they accordingly put their hats a little more on one side, and look under the bonnets of all the milliners' and staymakers' apprentices they meetpoor girls!—the hardest worked, the worst paid, and too often the worst used class of the community.-Sketches (Scenes), Chap. 1. still demanding the blind admiration of all ensuing generations, and determined to do so until they tumbled down, frowned upon the twilight. Parasite little tenements with the cramp in their whole frame, from the dwarf hall-door on the giant model of His Grace's in the Square, to the squeezed window of the boudoir commanding the dunghills in the Mews, made the evening doleful. Rickety dwellings of undoubted fashion, but of a capacity to hold nothing comfortably except a dismal smell, looked like the last result of the great mansions' breeding in and-in; and, where their little supplementary bows and balconies were supported on thin iron columns, seemed to be scrofulously resting upon crutches. Here and there a Hatchment, with the whole science of Heraldry in it, loomed down upon the street, like an Archbishop discoursing on Vanity. The shops, few in number, made no show; for pop-ness of their own importance and the receipt of ular opinion was as nothing to them. The pastry-cook knew who was on his books, and in that knowledge could be calm, with a few glass cylinders of dowager peppermint-drops in his window, and half-a-dozen ancient specimens of currant-jelly. A few oranges formed the greengrocer's whole concession to the vulgar mind. A single basket made of moss, once containing plovers' eggs, held all that the poulterer had to say to the rabble. Everybody in those streets seemed (which is always the case at that hour and season) to be gone out to dinner, and nobody seemed to be giving the dinners they had gone to. On the doorsteps there were lounging, footmen with bright parti-colored plumage and white polls, like an extinct race of monstrous birds; and butlers, solitary men of recluse demeanor, each of whom appeared distrustful of all other butlers. The roll of carriages in the Park was done for the day; the street lamps were lighting; and wicked little grooms in the tightest fitting garments, with twists in their legs answering to the twists in their minds, hung about in pairs, chewing straws and exchanging fraudulent secrets. The spotted dogs who went out with the carriages, and who were so associated with splendid equipages, that it looked like a condescension in those animals to come out without them, accompanied helpers to and fro on messages. Here and there was a retiring publichouse which did not require to be supported on the shoulders of the people, and where gentlemen out of livery were not much wanted. Little Dorrit, Book I., Chap. 27. STREET SCENES In London ("The Dials"). It is odd enough that one class of men in London appear to have no enjoyment beyond leaning against posts. We never saw a regular bricklayer's laborer take any other recreation, fighting excepted. Pass through St. Giles's in the evening of a week-day, there they are in their fustian dresses, spotted with brick-dust and whitewash, leaning against posts. Walk through Seven Dials on Sunday morning: there they are again, drab or light corduroy trousers, Blucher boots, blue coats, and great yellow waistcoats, leaning against posts. The idea of a man dressing himself in his best clothes, to lean against a post all day! The peculiar character of these streets, and the close resemblance each one bears to its neighbor, by no means tends to decrease the bewilderment in which the unexperienced wayfarer through "The Dials" finds himself involved. He traverses streets of dirty, strag gling houses, with now and then an unexpected court composed of buildings as ill-proportioned and deformed as the half naked children that wallow in the kennels. Here and there, a little dark chandler's shop, with a cracked bell hung STREET SCENES-In London (Morning). up behind the door to announce the entrance The shops are now completely opened, and of a customer, or betray the presence of some apprentices and shopmen are busily engaged in young gentleman in whom a passion for shop cleaning and decking the windows for the day. tills has developed itself at an early age; others, The bakers' shops in town are filled with ser- as if for support, against some handsome lofty vants and children waiting for the drawing of building, which usurps the place of a low, dinthe first batch of rolls—an operation which was gy public-house; long rows of broken and performed a full hour ago in the suburbs; for patched windows expose plants that may have the early clerk population of Somers and Cam- flourished when “The Dials” were built, in vesden Towns, Islington and Pentonville, are fast sels as dirty as "The Dials" themselves; and pouring into the city, or directing their steps shops for the purchase of rags, bones, old iron, towards Chancery Lane and the Inns of Court. and kitchen-stuff, vie in cleanliness with the Middle-aged men, whose salaries have by no bird-fanciers and rabbit-dealers, which one means increased in the same proportion as their might fancy so many arks, but for the irresisti families, plod steadily along, apparently with no ble conviction that no bird in its proper senses, object in view but the counting-house; knowing who was permitted to leave one of them, would by sight almost everybody they meet or over-ever come back again. Brokers' shops, which STREET-SINGER 460 SWIVELLER would seem to have been established by humane ing down the figures with evident delight, and individuals as refuges for destitute bugs, inter- working like a steam-engine. There stood spersed with announcements of day-schools, Dick, gazing, now at the green gown, now at the penny theatres, petition-writers, mangles, and brown head-dress, now at the face, and now at music for balls or routs, complete the "still the rapid pen, in a state of stupid perplexity, life" of the subject; and dirty men, filthy wondering how he got into the company of that women, squalid children, fluttering shuttlecocks, strange monster, and whether it was a dream, noisy battledores, reeking pipes, bad fruit, more and he would ever wake. At last he heaved a than doubtful oysters, attenuated cats, depressed deep sigh, and began slowly pulling off his coat. dogs, and anatomical fowls, are its cheerful accompaniments. Mr. Swiveller pulled off his coat, and folded it up with great elaboration, staring at Miss Sally all the time; then put on a blue jacket, with a double row of gilt buttons, which he had originally ordered for aquatic expeditions, but had brought with him that morning for office purposes; and, still keeping his eye upon her, suffered himself to drop down silently on Mr. Brass's stool. Then he underwent a relapse, and becoming powerless again, rested his chin upon his hand, and opened his eyes so wide that it appeared quite out of the question that he could ever close them any more. Now, anybody who passed through The Dials on a hot summer's evening, and saw the different women of the house gossiping on the steps, would be apt to think that all was harmony among them, and that a more primitive set of people than the native Diallers could not be imagined. Alas! the man in the shop ill-treats his family; the carpet-beater extends his professional pursuits to his wife; the one-pair front has an undying feud with the two-pair front, in consequence of the two-pair front persisting When he had looked so long that he could see in dancing over his (the one-pair front's) head, nothing, Dick took his eyes off the fair object when he and his family have retired for the of his amazement, turned over the leaves of the night; the two-pair back will interfere with the draft he was to copy, dipped his pen into the front kitchen's children; the Irishman comes ink-stand, and at last, and by slow approaches, home drunk every other night, and attacks every- began to write. But he had not written half-abody; and the one-pair back screams at every-dozen words when, reaching over to the inkthing. Animosities spring up between floor and floor; the very cellar asserts his equality. Mrs. A. "smacks" Mrs. B.'s child, for "making faces." Mrs. B. forthwith throws cold water over Mrs. A.'s child, for "calling names." The husbands are embroiled-the quarrel becomes general-an assault is the consequence, and a police-officer the result.—Sketches (Scenes), Chap. 5. STREET-SINGER-The. stand to take a fresh dip, he happened to raise his eyes. There was the intolerable brown head-dress-there was the green gown-there, in short, was Miss Sally Brass, arrayed in all her charms, and more tremendous than ever. This happened so often, that Mr. Swiveller by degrees began to feel strange influences creeping over him-horrible desires to annihilate this Sally Brass-mysterious promptings to knock her head-dress off and try how she looked without it. There was a very large ruler on the table; a large, black, shining ruler. Mr. Swiveller took it up and began to rub his nose with it. That wretched woman with the infant in her arms, round whose meagre form the remnant of her own scanty shawl is carefully wrapped, has been attempting to sing some popular ballad, From rubbing his nose with the ruler, to in the hope of wringing a few pence from the poising it in his hand and giving it an occacompassionate passer-by. A brutal laugh at her sional flourish after the tomahawk manner, the weak voice is all she has gained. The tears fall transition was easy and natural. In some of thick and fast down her own pale face; the these flourishes it went close to Miss Sally's child is cold and hungry, and its low, half-head; the ragged edges of the head-dress flutstifled wailing adds to the misery of its wretched mother, as she moans aloud, and sinks despairingly down, on a cold, damp door-step. Singing! How few of those who pass such a miserable creature as this, think of the anguish of heart, the sinking of soul and spirit, which the very effort of singing produces. Bitter mockery! Disease, neglect, and starvation, faintly articulating the words of the joyous ditty that has enlivened your hours of feasting and merriment-God knows how often! It is no subject of jeering. The weak, tremulous voice tells a fearful tale of want and famishing; and the feeble singer of this roaring song may turn away, only to die of cold and hunger. tered with the wind it raised; advance it but an inch, and that great brown knot was on the ground: yet still the unconscious maiden worked away, and never raised her eyes. Well, this was a great relief. It was a good thing to write doggedly and obstinately until he was desperate, and then snatch up the ruler and whirl it about the brown head-dress with the consciousness that he could have it off if he liked. It was a good thing to draw it back, and rub his nose very hard with it, if he thought Miss Sally was going to look up, and to recompense himself with more hardy flourishes when he found she was still absorbed. By these means Mr. Swiveller calmed the agitation of his feelings, until his applications to the ruler became less fierce and frequent, and he could even write as many as half-a-dozen consecutive lines withstu-out having recourse to it,-which was a great victory.-Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 33. Sketches (Scenes), Chap. 2. SWIVELLER-Dick, and Sally Brass. Dick stood at the desk in a state of utter pefaction, staring with all his might at the beauteous Sally, as if she had been some curious animal whose like had never lived. Miss Brass being by this time deep in the bill of costs, took no notice whatever of Dick, but went scratching on with a noisy pen, scor SWIVELLER - Dick - His apology for 'Sit down," repeated his companion. ture, and associating them strangely with patches of fresh turf, while the yellow ground between made gravel-walks, and so helped out a long perspective of trim gardens. him with a propitiatory smile, observed that last week was a fine week for the ducks, and this week was a fine week for the dust; he also observed that whilst standing by the post at the street corner, he had observed a pig with a straw He was rambling in imagination on these terin his mouth issuing out of the tobacco-shop, races, and had quite lost himself among them, from which appearance he argued that another indeed, when he heard the cough once more. fine week for the ducks was approaching, and The walls shrunk into stripes again at the sound, that rain would certainly ensue. He further- and raising himself a little in the bed, and holdmore took occasion to apologize for any negli-ing the curtain open with one hand, he looked gence that might be perceptible in his dress, on the ground that last night he had had "the sun very strong in his eyes; by which expression he was understood to convey to his hearers in the most delicate manner possible, the information that he had been extremely drunk. " out. The same room certainly, and still by candlelight; but with what unbounded astonishment did he see all those bottles, and basins, and articles of linen airing by the fire, and such-like furniture of a sick chamber-all very clean and neat, but all quite different from anything he left there, when he went to bed! The atmosphere, too, filled with the cool smell of herbs and vinegar; the floor newly sprinkled; the-the But what," said Mr. Swiveller with a sigh, SWIVELLER-Dick-His sweetheart. Yes; playing cribbage with herself at the table. There she sat, intent upon her game, coughing now and then in a subdued manner, as if she feared to disturb him-shuffling the cards, cutting, dealing, playing, counting, pegging-going through all the mysteries of cribbage as if she had been in full practice from her cradle. Mr. Swiveller contemplated these things for a short time, and suffering the curtain to fall into its former position, laid his head on the pillow again. see through 'em. If this is not a dream, I have woke up, by mistake, in an Arabian Night, instead of a London one. But I have no doubt I'm asleep. Not the least." SWIVELLER-Sickness of Dick. Tossing to and fro upon his hot, uneasy bed; tormented by a fierce thirst which nothing could appease; unable to find, in any change of posture, a moment's peace or ease; and rambling. 'I'm dreaming," thought Richard, "that's ever, through deserts of thought where there clear. When I went to bed, my hands were was no resting-place, no sight or sound sugges-not made of egg-shells, and now I can almost tive of refreshment or repose, nothing but a dull eternal weariness, with no change but the restless shiftings of his miserable body, and the weary wandering of his mind, constant still to one ever-present anxiety-to a sense of something left undone, of some fearful obstacle to be surmounted, of some carking care that would not be driven away, and which haunted the distempered brain, now in this form, now in that; always shadowy and dim, but recognizable for the same phantom in every shape it took; darkening every vision like an evil conscience, and making siumber horrible-in these slow tortures of his dread disease, the unfortunate Richard lay wasting and consuming inch by inch, until, at last, when he seemed to fight and strug. gle to rise up, and to be held down by devils, he sank into a deep sleep, and dreamed no more. He awoke. With a sensation of most blissful rest, better than sleep itself, be began gradually to remember something of these sufferings, and to think what a long night it had been, and whether he had not been delirious twice or thrice. Happening, in the midst of these cogitations, to raise his hand, he was astonished to find how heavy it seemed, and yet how thin and light it really was. Still, he felt indifferent and happy; and having no curiosity to pursue the subject, remained in the same waking slumber until his attention was attracted by a cough. This made him doubt whether he had locked his door last night, and feel a little surprised at having a companion in the room. Still, he lacked energy to follow up this train of thought; and unconsciously fell, in a luxury of repose, to staring at some green stripes on the bed-furni Here the small servant had another cough. "Very remarkable!" thought Mr. Swiveller. "I never dreamt such a real cough as that, before. I don't know, indeed, that I ever dreamt either a cough or a sneeze. Perhaps it's part of the philosophy of dreams that one never does. There's another-and another. I say! I'm dreaming rather fast!" For the purpose of testing his real condition, Mr. Swiveller, after some reflection, pinched himself in the arm. "Queerer still!" he thought. "I came to bed rather plump than otherwise, and now there's nothing to lay hold of. I'll take another survey." The result of this additional inspection was, to convince Mr. Swiveller that the objects by which he was surrounded were real, and that he saw them, beyond all question, with his waking eyes. "It's an Arabian Night; that's what it is," said Richard. "I'm in Damascus or Grand Cairo. The Marchioness is a Genie, and hav ing had a wager with another Genie about who is the handsomest young man alive, and the worthiest to be the husband of the Princess of China, has brought me away, room and all, to compare us together. Perhaps," said Mr. Swiveller, turning languidly round on his pillow, and looking on that side of his bed which was next the wall, "the Princess may be still-No, she's gone." Not feeling quite satisfied with this explana SWIVELLER 462 SWIVELLER "Seen her!" cried the small servant. "Bless you, I've run away!" tion, as, even taking it to be the correct one, it still involved a little mystery and doubt, Mr. Swiveller raised the curtain again, determined Mr. Swiveller immediately laid himself down to take the first favorable opportunity of ad- again quite flat, and so remained for about five dressing his companion. An occasion soon minutes. By slow degrees he resumed his site presented itself. The Marchioness dealt, turn-ting posture after that lapse of time, and ined up a knave, and omitted to take the usual advantage: upon which Mr. Swiveller called out as loud as he could-"Two for his heels!" The Marchioness jumped up quickly, and clapped her hands. "Arabian Night, certainly," thought Mr. Swiveller; "they always clap their hands instead of ringing the bell. Now for the two thousand black slaves, with jars of jewels on their heads!" It appeared, however, that she had only clapped her hands for joy; as, directly afterwards she began to laugh, and then to cry; declaring, not in choice Arabic but in familiar English, that she was "so glad, she didn't know what to do." Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 64. SWIVELLER-The Marchioness nurse. as his Mr. Swiveller was silent for a long while. By-and-bye, he began to talk again, inquiring how long he had been there. "Three weeks to-morrow," replied the small servant. "Three what?" said Dick. "Weeks," returned the Marchioness emphatically, "three long, slow weeks." The bare thought of having been in such extremity caused Richard to fall into another silence, and to lie flat down again, at his full length. The Marchioness, having arranged the bed-clothes more comfortably, and felt that his hands and forehead were quite cool-a discovery that filled her with delight-cried a little more, and then applied herself to getting tea ready, and making some thin dry toast. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Swiveller looked on with a grateful heart, very much astonished to see how thoroughly at home she made herself, and attributing this attention, in its origin, to Sally Brass, whom, in his own mind, he could not thank enough. When the Marchioness had finished her toasting, she spread a clean cloth on a tray, and brought him some crisp slices and a great basin of weak tea, with which (she said) the doctor had left word he night refresh himself when he awoke. She propped him up with pillows, if not as skillfully as if she had been a professional nurse all her life, at least as tenderly; and looke on with unutterable satisfaction while the patie. t-stopping every now and then to shake her by the hand-took his poor meal with an appetite and relish, which the greatest dainties of the earth, under any other circumstances, would have failed to provoke. Having cleared away, and disposed everything comfortably about him again, she sat down at the table to take her own tea. "Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "how's Sally?" The small servant screwed her face into an expression of the very uttermost entanglement of slyness, and shook her head. "What, haven't you seen her lately?" said Dick. quired: "Here!" "And where do you live, Marchioness?” And with that he fell down flat again, as suddenly as if he had been shot. Thus he remained, motionless and bereft of speech, until she had finished her meal, put everything in its place, and swept the hearth; when he motioned her to bring a chair to the bedside, and being propped up again, opened a farther conversation. "And so," said Dick, "you have run away?" "Yes," said the Marchioness, "and they've been a tizing of me." "Been-I beg your pardon," said Dick— "what have they been doing?" Her "Been a tizing of me-tizing you know-in the newspapers," rejoined the Marchioness. “Aye, aye,” said Dick, "advertising?" The small servant nodded and winked. eyes were so red with waking and crying, that the Tragic Muse might have winked with greater consistency. And so Dick felt. "Tell me," said he, "how it was that you thought of coming here.” "Why, you see," returned the Marchioness, "when you was gone, I hadn't any friend at all, because the lodger he never come back, and I didn't know where either him or you was to be found, you know. But one morning, when I was-' "Was near a keyhole," suggested Mr. Swiveller, observing that she faltered. "Well then," said the small servant, nodding; "when I was near the office keyhole-as you see me through, you know-I heard somebody saying that she lived here, and was the lady whose house you lodged at, and that you was took very bad, and wouldn't nobody come and take care of you. Mr. Brass, he says, 'It's no business of mine,' he says; and Miss Sally, she says, 'He's a funny chap, but it's no business of mine;' and the lady went away, and slammed the door to, when she went out, I can tell you. So I run away that night, and come here, and told 'em you was my brother, and they believed me, and I've been here ever since." 64 串 * Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, plucking off his nightcap and flinging it to the other end of the room; "if you'll do me the favor to retire for a few minutes and see what sort of a night it is, I'll get up.' 44 You mustn't think of such a thing," cried his nurse. "I must indeed," said the patient, looking round the room. "Whereabouts are my clothes?" "Oh, I'm so glad-you haven't got any," replied the Marchioness. 'Ma'am !" said Mr. Swiveller, in great astonishment. "I've been obliged to sell them, every one, to get the things that was ordered for you. But don't take on about that," urged the Marchioness, as Dick fell back upon his pillow. “You're too weak to stand, indeed." "I suppose," said Dick, as she closed the door slowly, and peeped into the room again, to make sure that he was comfortable, "I suppose there's nothing left-not so much as a waistcoat even?" - “No, nothing." 44 about a dockyard with my number neatly embroidered on my uniform, and the order of the garter on my leg, restrained from chafing my ankle by a twisted belcher handkerchief? Shall I be that? Will that do, or is it too genteel? It's embarrassing," said Mr. Swiveller, "in | Whatever you please, have it your own way, of case of fire-even an umbrella would be some-course." thing-but you did quite right, dear Marchioness, I should have died without you!" Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 64. SWIVELLER-The observations of Dick. Emboldened, as it seemed, to enter into a more general conversation, Mr. Swiveller plainly laid himself out to captivate our attention. As he was entirely alone, it may be presumed that, in these remarks, Mr. Swiveller addressed himself to his fate or destiny, whom, as we learn by the precedents, it is the custom of heroes to taunt in a very bitter and ironical manner when they find themselves in situations of an unpleasant nature. This is the more probable from the circumstance of Mr. Swiveller directing his observations to the ceiling, which these bodily personages are usually supposed to inhabit-except in theatrical cases, when they live in the heart of the great chandelier. He began by remarking that soda-water, though a good thing in the abstract, was apt to lie cold upon the stomach unless qualified with ginger, or a small infusion of brandy, which latter article he held to be preferable in all cases, "Quilp offers me this place, which he says he saving for the one consideration of expense. can insure me," resumed Dick, after a thoughtNobody venturing to dispute these positions, he ful silence, and telling off the circumstances of proceeded to observe that the human hair was his position, one by one, upon his fingers; a great retainer of tobacco-smoke, and that the "Fred, who, I could have taken my affidavit, young gentlemen of Westminster and Eton, would not have heard of such a thing, backs after eating vast quantities of apples to conceal Quilp, to my astonishment, and urges me to any scent of cigars from their anxious friends, take it also-staggerer, number one! My aunt were usually detected in consequence of their in the country stops the supplies, and writes an heads possessing this remarkable property; affectionate note to say that she has made a new whence he concluded that if the Royal Society will, and left me out of it-staggerer, number would turn their attention to the circumstance, two. No money; no credit; no support from and endeavor to find, in the resources of science. Fred, who seems to turn steady all at once; a means of preventing such untoward revela- notice to quit the old lodgings-staggerers, three, tions, they might indeed be looked upon as four, five, and six! Under an accumulation of benefactors to mankind. These opinions being staggerers, no man can be considered a free equally incontrovertible with those he had al- agent. No man knocks himself down; if his ready pronounced, he went on to inform us that destiny knocks him down, his destiny must pick Jamaica rum, though unquestionably an agreea-him up again. Then I'm very glad that mine ble spirit of great richness and flavor, had the drawback of remaining constantly present to the taste next day; and nobody being venturous enough to argue this point either, he increased in confidence and became yet more companion able and communicative. "Its a devil of a thing, gentlemen," said Mr. Swiveller, "when relations fall out and disagree. If the wing of friendship should never moult a feather, the wing of relationship should never be clipped, but be always expanded and serene. Why should a grandson and grandfather peg away at each other with mutual wiolence when all might be bliss and concord? Why not jine hands and forget it?" Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 2. has brought all this upon itself, and I shall be as careless as I can, and make myself quite at home to spite it. So go on, my buck," said Mr. Swiveller, taking his leave of the ceiling with a significant nod, "and let us see which of us will be tired first?" 44 Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 34. SWIVELLER-Dick-On extra sleep. "I have been helping, sir," returned Dick, keeping his eye upon him, and waving the ruler gently in his right hand, as an indication of what the single gentleman had to expect if he attempted any violence. "How dare you, then," said the lodger, “I say "—quoth Miss Brass, abruptly break-“Eh?” ing silence, "you haven't seen a silver pencilcase this morning, have you?" "I didn't meet many in the street," rejoined Mr. Swiveller. "I saw one-a stout pencil-case of respectable appearance-but as he was in company with an elderly penknife and a young toothpick, with whom he was in earnest conversation, I felt a delicacy in speaking to him." Old Curiosity Shop, Chap. 58. SWIVELLER-Dick, soliloquises on his destiny. "So I'm Brass's clerk, am I?" said Dick. "Brass's clerk, eh! And the clerk of Brass's sister-clerk to a female Dragon. Very good, very good! What shall I be next? Shall I be a convict in a felt hat and a gray suit, trotting To this, Dick made no other reply than by inquiring whether the lodger held it to be consistent with the conduct and character of a gentleman, to go to sleep for six-and-twenty hours at a stretch, and whether the peace of an amiable and virtuous family was to weigh as nothing in the balance ? "Is my peace nothing?" said the single gentleman. "Is their peace nothing, sir?" returned Dick. "I don't wish to hold out any threats, sirindeed, the law does not allow of threats, for to threaten is an indictable offence-but if ever you do that again, take care you are not set upon by the coroner and buried in a cross-road before you wake. We have been distracted with fears that you were dead, sir," said Dick, gently slid |
