the first, and betook herself to a second, nor long do in all its accidents, Richard Boxall was scarcely again before she left the second, and betook herself comparable, honest and just man as he was, to Cecil to a third. For her nature was like a fresh bracing Burton ; who, however, except that he was the wind, which, when admitted within the precincts father of Lucy, and so in some measure accounts of a hot-house where everything save the fire is for her, is below the western horizon of our story, neglected, proves a most unwelcome presence, yea, and therefore need scarcely be alluded to again. a dire dismay. Indeed, admirably as she had This behaviour of her brother was more galling to managed and borne with her own family, Mrs. Mrs. Burton than to her husband, who smiled down Boxall was quite unfit to come into such habitual any allusion to it; and when she was compelled to contact with another household as followed from accept Richard's kindness in the shape of money, her occupying a part of the same dwelling. Her upon the death of Mr. Burton, it was with a bitterfaith in what she had tried with success herself, ness of feeling which showed itself plainly enough and her repugnance to whatever she had not been to wound the self-love of the consciously benevolent accustomed to, were such that her troublesomeness man of business. But from the first there had been when she became familiar, was equal to the good- the friendliest relations between the mother and nature which at first so strongly recommended her. daughter, and it was only from her determination Hence her changes of residence were frequent. to avoid all ground of misunderstanding, that Mrs.

Up to the time when he became a sleeping part- Boxall had not consented to take up her abode ner, Mr. Blunt had resided in Guild Court—that with the Burtons. Consequently after the death of is, the house-door was in the court, while the lower Mr. Burton, the mother drew yet closer to the part of the house, forming the offices of the firm, daughter, while the breach between brother and was entered from what was properly a lape, though sister was widened. it was called Bagot Street. As soon as mother and Two years after the death of her husband, Mrs. son heard that Mr. Blunt had at length bought a Burton followed him. Then Mrs. Boxall took her house in the country, the same thought arose in grandchild Lucy home to Guild Court, and between the mind of each--might not Mrs. Boxall go and the two there never arose the question of which live there? The house belonged to the firm, and should be the greater. It often happens that even a they could not well let it, for there was more than severe mother becomes an indulgent grandmother, one available connection between the two portions partly from the softening and mellowing influences of the buildivg, although only one had lately been of time, partly from increase of confidence in childin use, a door, namely, by which Mr. Blunt used to nature generally, and perhaps also in part from a pass immediately from the glass-partitioned part of diminished sense of responsibility in regard to a the counting-house to the foot of the oak-staircase child not immediately her own. Hence grandalready described; while they used two of the rooms parents who have brought up their own children in the house as places of deposit for old books and well are in danger of spoiling severely those of their papers, for which there was no possible accommo- sons and daughters. And such might have been dation in the part devoted to active business. Hence the case with Mrs. Boxall and Lucy, had Lucy been nothing better could be devised than that Mrs. of a more spoilable nature. But she had no idea of Boxall, senior, should take up her abode in the how much she had her own way, nor would it have habitable region. This she made haste to do, ac- made any difference to her if she had known it. companied by a young servant. With her she soon There was a certain wonderful delicacy of moral quarrelled, however, and thereafter relied upon the touch about her in the discrimination of what was ministrations of a charwoman. The door between becoming, as well as of what was right, which rethe house and the counting-house was now locked, sulted in a freedom the legalist of society would and the key of it so seldom taken from the drawer have called boldness, and a restraint which the of Mr. Boxall, that it came to be regarded almost same judge would have designated particularity; for as a portion of the wall. So much for the inner Lucy's ways were not, and could not, be her ways, connection of Guild Court and Bagot Street. the one fearing and obeying, as she best could,

Some years after Mrs. Boxall removed to London, existing laws hard to interpret, the other being Mr. Burton, the music-master, died. They had lived a law unto herself. The harmonies of the music from hand to mouth, as so many families of uncer- by which, from her earliest childhood, her growing tain income are compelled to do, and his unexpected brain had been interpenetrated, had, by her sweet death left his wife and child without the means will, been transformed into harmonies of thought, of procuring immediate necessities. Inheriting the feeling, and action. She was not clever, but then narrowness and prejudices of his descent and of his she did not think she was clever, and therefore it social position to a considerable degree, Mr. Boxall was of no consequence ; for she was not dependent had never come to regard his sister's match with a upon her intellect for those judgments which alone music-master as other than a degradation to the are of importance in the reality of things, and in family, and had, in his best bumours, never got which clever people are just as likely to go wrong farther in the humanities of the kingdom of heaven, as any other body. She had a great gift in musicthan to patronize his brother-in-law; though if size a gift which Thomas Worboise had never yet disand quality go for anything in existence itself, as they covered, and which, at this period of his history, he

was incapable of discovering, for he had not got frock printed with blue rose-buds, faded by many beyond the toffee of drawing-room sentiment—the waters and much soap. When she spoke, she used song which must be sent forth to the universe from only one side of her mouth for the purpose, and the pedestal of ivory shoulders. But two lines of a then the old-fashionedness of her look rose almost hallad from Lucy Burton were worth all the music, to the antique, so that you could have fancied her "She walks in beauty” included, that Mary Boxall one of the time-belated good people that, leaving the could sing or play.

green forest-rings, had wandered into the city and Lacy had not seen her cousins for years. Her become a Christian at a hundred years of age. unele Richard, though incapable of being other than “Well, Mattie,” said Lucy, “how are you this satisfied that the orphan should be an inmate of the morning ? horse in Guild Court, could not, or, at least, did “I am quite well, I thank you, miss,” answered not forget the mildly defiant look with which she Mattie. “I don't call this morning. The churchretreated from his outstretched hand, and took her clock struck eleven five minutes beside her mother, on the sole occasion on, This was uttered with a smile from the half of which he called upon his sister after her husband's her mouth which seemed to say, "I know you want death. She had heard remarks--and being her to have a little fun with me by using wrong names | mother's, she could not question the justice of them. for things because I am a little girl, and little girls Hence she had not once, since she had taken up her can be taken in ; but it is of no use with me, though abode with her grandmother, been invited to visit I can enjoy the joke of it.” her cousins ; and there was no affectation, but in Lucy smiled too, but not much, for she knew the trath, a little anxiety, in the question she asked child. Thomas Worboise about Mary Boxall's beauty. “What do you call the morning, then, Mattie ?” But, indeed, had she given her uncle no such offence, she asked. I have every reason to believe that her society “Well,"—she almost always began her sentences would not have been much courted by his family. with a Well—"I call it morning before the sun is up." When the good among rich relations can be loving “But how do you know when the sun is up? without condescension, and the good among poor London is so foggy, you know, Mattie.” relations can make sufficient allowance for the rich, “Is it? I didn't know. Are there places withthen the kingdom of heaven will be nigh at hand. out fog, miss ?” Mr. Boxall shook hands with his niece when he met “Oh yes; many." her, asked her after his mother, and passed on.

Well, about the sun. I always know what he's Bat Lucy was not dependent on her uncle, about, miss. I've got a almanack.” scarcely on her grandmother, even. Before her “But you don't understand the almanack, do mother's death, almost child as she still was, she you?” had begun to give lessons in music to a younger child “Well, I don't mean to say I understand all than herself, the daughter of one of her father's about it, but I always know what time the sun rises favourite pupils, who had married a rich merchant; and goes to bed, you know.” and these lessons she continued. She was a favour

Lucy had found she was rather early for the ite with the family, who were Jews, living in one of train, and from where she stood she could see the the older quarters of the west end of London ; and clock of St. Jacob's, which happened to be a reliable they paid her handsomely, her age and experience one. Therefore she went on to amuse herself with taken into account. Every morning, except Satur- the child. day, she went by the underground railway to give But how is it that we don't see him, if he gets an hour's lesson to Miriam Morgenstern, a gorgeous up when the almanack says, Mattie ?” little eastern, whom her parents had no right to “Well, you see, miss, he sleeps in a crib. And dress in such foggy colours as she wore.

the sides of it are houses and churches, and St. Now a long farewell to preliminaries.

Paulses, and the likes of that." | Lucy was just leaving her home one morning to

"Yes, yes; but some days we see him, and a to her pupil, and bad turned into the flagged others we don't. We don't see him to-day, now.” fassage which led from the archway into the court, Well, miss, I daresay he's cross some mornings, when she met a little girl of her acquaintance, and keeps the blankets about him after he's got his wbom, with her help, I shall now present to my head up." I readers. Sbe was a child of eight, but very small Lucy could not help thinking of Milton's line

Her hair was neatly parted and for of the few poems she knew, one was the “Ode on brushed on each side of a large smooth forehead, the Nativity: projecting over quiet eyes of blue, made yet quieter by the shadow of those brows. The rest of her face

So, when the Sun in bed,

Curtain'd with cloudy red, was very diminutive. A soberness as of complete

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave. womanhood, tried and chastened, lay upon her. She looked as if she had pondered upon life and its But the child laughed so queerly, that it was imzoal

, and had made up ber little mind to meet its possible to tell whether or how much those were troubles with patience. She was dressed in a cotton her real ideas about the sunrise.

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for her age.

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** How is your father?” Lucy asked.

"Well, but I call him my mother. I can't have ^^ Do you mean my father or my mother?” two fathers, you know. So I call Mr. Spelt my "I mean your father, of course, when I say so." mother; and so he is." “Yes, but I have a mother, too."

Here she looked up and smiled knowingly to the Lucy let her have her way, for she did not quite little tailor, who, leaning forward to the window, Anderstand her. Only she knew that the child's through which, reaching from roof to floor of his mother had died two or three years ago.

cage, his whole form was visible, nodded friendlily "Well,” resumed the child, “my father is quite to the little girl in acknowledgment of her greeting. ull, thank God; and so is my mother. There he But it was now time for Lucy to go. is, looking down at us."

As soon as she had disappeared beyond the arch• Who do you mean, Mattie ?” asked Lucy, now way, Mattie turned towards the workshops. Mr. Jewildered.

Spelt saw her coming, and before she had reached “Well, my mother," answered the child, with a them, the upper half of the door was open, and ilodder half-smile.

he was stretching down his arms to lift her across Lucy looked up, and saw -But a little descrip- the shoemaking region, into his own more celestial tion is necessary. They were standing, as I have realm of tailoring. In a moment sbe was sitting in szid already, in the flagged passage which led to, the furthest and spuggest corner, not cross-legged, aud post-officially considered, formed part of Guild but with her feet invisible in a heap of cuttings, Court. The archway from Bagot Street into this from which she was choosing what she would222582 ge was as it were tuonelled through a house always with a reference to Mr. Spelt – for the facing the street, and from this house a wall, dressing of a boy-doll wbich he had given her. stretching inwards to the first house in the court This was a very usual proceeding-80 much so proper, formed one side of the passage. About the that Mattie and the tailor sat for nearly an hour middle, this wall broke into two workshops, the without a word passing between them beyond smallest and strangest ever seen out of the east. what sprung from the constructive exigencies of There was no roof visible—that lay behind the the child. Neither of them was given to much curtain-wall; but from top to bottom of the wall, a utterance, though each had something of the pe. Breight of about nine feet, there was glass, divided culiar gift of the Ancient Mariner, namely, “strange in the middle so as to form two windows, one above power of speech.” They would sit together somethe other. So likewise on the right hand side of times for half a day without saying a word ; and the glass were two doors, or hatches, one above the then again there would be an oasis of the strangest other. The tepement looked as if the smallest of conversation in the desert of their silence-a bad Ilonas had been divided into two horizontally by a simile, for their silence must have been a thought. door in the middle, thus forming two cells, which ful one to blossom into such speech. But the first could not have been more than five feet by four, and words Mattie uttered on this occasion, were of a four feet in height. In the lower, however, a little somewhat mundane character. She heard a footheight had been gained by sinking the floor, to step pass below. She was too far back in the cell which a single step led down. In this under cell a to see who it was, and she did not lift her eyes cobbler sat, hammering away at his lap-stone-a from her work. little man, else he could hardly have sat there, or “When the cat's away, the mice will play," she oven got in without discomfort. Every now and then said. he glanced up at the girl and the child, but never “What are you thinking about, Mattie?” asked Awitted a blow in consequence. Over his head, the tailor. on the thin floor between, sat a still smaller man, “Well, wasn't that Mr. Worboise that passed ? cross-legged like a Turk, busily “plying his needle Mr. Boxall must be out. But he needn't go there, |! aud thread.” His hair, which standing straight up for somebody's always out this time o' day.” gave a look of terror to his thin pale counte- “What do you mean, Mattie?” again asked the sance, almost touched the roof. It was the only tailor. luxuriance about him. As plants run to seed, he “Well, perhaps you don't understand such things, :seemed to have run to hair. A calm keen eye Mr. Spelt, not being a married man." sunderneath its towering forest, revealed obser- Poor Mr. Spelt had had a wife who had killed vation and peacefulness. He, too, occasionally herself by drinking all his earnings; but perhaps looked from his work, but only in the act of draw. Mattie knew nothing about that. bug the horizontal thread, when his eyes had mo- “ No more I am. You must explain it to me." mentary furlough, moving in alternate oscillation “Well, you see, young people will be young with his hand. At the moment when the child people.” said so, he was looking down in a pause in which “Who told you that?" He seemed for the moment to bave forgotten his “Old Mrs. Boxall says so. And that's why Mr. work in his interest in the pair below. He might Worboise goes to see Miss Burton, I know. I told Sad fonty, or tifty, or sixty-no one could tell which you so," she added, as she heard his step returning.

Lucy looked up, and said, “That is Mr. Spelt; But Thomas bore a huge ledger under his arm, that is not your mother."

for which Mr. Stopper had sent him round to the

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court. Very likely, however, had Lucy been at of a great truth—that all the discords we hear home, he might have laid a few minutes more to in the universe around us, are God's trumpets the account of the errand.

sounding a réveillé to the sleeping human will, “So, so !” said the tailor. ** That's it, is it, which once working harmoniously with his, will Mattie !"

soon bring all things into a pure and healthy rectie "Yes; but we don't say anything about such tude of operation. Till a man has learned to be things, you know.”

bappy without the sunshine, and therein becomes "Oh, of course not," answered Mr. Spelt; and capable of enjoying it perfectly, it is well that the the conversation ceased.

shine and the shadow should be mingled, so as God After a long pause, the child spoke again. only knows how to mingle them. To effect the "Is God good to you to-day, mother?”

blessedness for wbich God made him, man must "Yes, Mattie. God is always good to us. become a fellow-worker with God. “But he's better some days than others, isn't he?" After a little while Mattie resumed operations. To this question the tailor did not know what to “But you can't say, mother, that God isn't better reply, and therefore, like a wise man, did not make to some people than to other people. He's surely the attempt. He asked her instead, as he bad often gooder to you and me than he is to Poppie." occasion to do with Mattie, what she meant.

“Who's Poppie ?” asked Mr. Spelt, sending out "Don't

you know what I mean, mother? Don't a flag of negotiation. you know God's better to us some days than others ? “Well, there she is—down in the gutter, I supYes; and he's better to some people than he is to pose, as usual," answered Mattie, without bifting

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her eyes.

"I am sure be's always good to you and me, The tailor peeped out of his house front, and samt Jfattie."

a bare-footed child in the court below. Wbat she "Well, yes ; generally.”

was like I shall take a better opportunity of inform"Why don't you say always ?

ing my reader. For at this moment the sound of "Because I'm not sure about it. Now to-day strong nails tapping sharply reached the ear of Mr. it's all very well. But yesterday the sup shone in Spelt and his friend. The sound came from a at the window a whole hour."

window just over the archway, hence at rightangles "And I drew down the blind to shut it out," to Mr. Spelt's workshop. It was very dingy with said Mr. Spelt, thoughtfully.

dust and smoke, allowing only the outline of a "Well,” Mattie went on, without heeding her man's figure to be seen from the court. This much friend's remark, “he could make the sun shine Poppie saw, and taking the tapping to be intended every day, if he liked. I suppose he could," she for her, fled from the court on soundless feet. But added, doubtfully.

Mattie rose at once from her corner, and, laying “I don't think we should like it, if he did,” | aside cuttings and doll, stuck her needle and thread retarted Mr. Spelt, “ for the drain down below carefully in the bosom of her frock, saying, smell bed in the hot weather.”

That's my father a-wanting of me. I wonder “Bat the rain might come—at night, I mean, what he wants now. I'm sure I don't know how het not in the daytime—and wash them all out. would get on without me. And that is a comfort. Mighto't it, mother?"

Poor man! he misses my mother more than I do, I "Yes; but the heat makes people ill. And if believe. He's always after me. Well, I'll see you you had such hot weather as they have in some again in the afternoon, if I can. And, if not, you parts, as I am told, you would be glad enough of a may expect me about the same hour to-morrow. day like this."

While she thus spoke she was let down fronts "Well, why haven't they a day like this, when the not very airy height of the workshop on to they want it?”

the firm pavement below; the tailor stretching búa ** God knows,” said Mr. Spelt, wbose magazine arms with her from above, like a bird of prey with 789 Dearly exhausted, and the enemy pressing on a lamb in his talons. The last words she spoke rigoronsly.

from the ground, her head thrown back betweet "Well

, that's what I say. God knows, and why her shoulders that she might look the tailor in the doesn't he help it?”

face, who was stooping over her like an angel frous And Mr. Spelt surrendered, if silence was sur- a cloud in the family-bible. render. Mattie did not press her advantage, how- Very well, Mattie,” returned Mr. Spelt; " your ever, and the besieged plucked up heart a little. know your own corner well enough by this time,

“I fancy perhaps, Mattie, he leaves something I should think.” for us to do. You know they cut out the slop- So saying, he drew himself carefully into his work at the shop, and I can't do much more with shell, for the place was hardly more, except that that but put the pieces together. But when a re- he could just work without having to get ontsila pairing job comes in, I can contrive a bit then, and of it first. A soft half smile glimmered on his I like that better."

face; for although he was so used to Mattie's oldMr. Spelt's meaning was not very clear, either to fashioned ways, that they scarcely appeared strange himself or to Mattie. But it involved the shadow to him now, the questions that she raised were fost

for the little tailor's meditation-all day long, upon When two strokes of the five had sounded in the occasion. For some tailors are given to thinking, ears of Mr. Spelt, he laid his work aside, took his and when they are they have good opportunity of tall hat from one of the corners where it hung on a indulging their inclinations. And it is wonderful peg, leaped lightly from his perch into the court, what a tailor's thinking may come to, especially shut his half of the door, told the shoemaker below if he reads his New Testament. Now, strange that he was going to Mr. Kitely's to tea, and would perhaps to tell, though Mr. Spelt never went to be obliged if he would fetch him should any one church, he did read his New Testament. And the want him, and went through the archway. There little tailor was a living soul He was one of those was a door to Mr. Kitely's house under the archway, few who seem to be born with a certain law of order but the tailor preferred going round the corner to in themselves, a certain tidiness of mind, as it were, the shop-door in Bagot Street. By this he entered which would gladly see all the rooms or regions of Jacob Kitely's domain, an old-book-shop, of which thought swept and arranged; and not only makes it required some previous knowledge to find the way them orderly, but prompts them to search after the to the back premises. For the whole cubical space order of the universe. They would gladly believe of the shop was divided and subdivided into a labyin the harmony of things; and although the ques- rinth of book-shelves, those in front filled with tions they feel the necessity of answering take the decently if not elegantly bound books, and those crudest forms and the most limited and individual behind with a multitude innumerable of books in application, they yet are sure to have something all conditions of dinginess, mustiness, and general to do with the laws that govern the world. shabbiness. Amongst these Jacob Kitely spent his Hence it was that the partial misfit of a pair of time patching and mending them, and drawing up moleskin or fustian trowsers--for seldom did his catalogues. He was not one of those booksellers originality find nobler material to exercise itself who are so fond of their books that they cannot upon—would make him quite miserable, even though bear to part with them, and therefore when they the navvy or dock-labourer might be perfectly satis- are fortunate enough to lay their hands upon a rare fied with the result, and ready to pay the money volume, the higbest pleasure they know in life, for them willingly. But it was seldom, too, that justify themselves in keeping it by laying a manuhe had even such a chance of indulging in the script price upon it, and considering it so much creative element of the tailor's calling, though he actual property. Such men, perhaps, know somemight have done something of the sort, if he would, thing about the contents of their wares ; but while in the way of altering. Of that branch of the trade, few surpassed Jacob in a knowledge of the outsides however, he was shy, knowing that it was most of books, from the proper treatment of covers in frequently in request with garments unrighteously the varying stages of dilapidation, and of leaves come by; and Mr. Spelt's thin hands were clean. when water-stained or mildewed or dry-rotted, to

He had not sat long after Mattie left him, before the different values of better and best editions, cut she reappeared from under the archway,

and uncut leaves, tall copies, and folios shortened “No, no, mother,” she said, “I ain't going to by the plough into doubtful quartos, he never adperch this time. But father sends his compli- vanced beyond the title-page, except when one meuts, and will you come and take a dish of tea edition differed from another, and some examination with him and me this afternoon ?"

was necessary to determine to which the copy be“Yes, Mattie ; if you will come and fetch me longed. And not only did he lay no fancy-prices when the tea's ready."

upon his books, but he was proud of selling them “Well, you had better not depend on me; for I under the market-value-which he understood well shall have a herring to cook, and a muffin to toast, enough, though he used the knowledge only to besides the tea to make and set on the hob, and the regulate his buying. The rate at which he sold best china to get out of the black cupboard, and no was determined entirely by the rate at which he end o' things to see to.”

bought. Do not think, my reader, that I have the “But you needn't get out the best china for me, thinnest ghost of a political-economy-theory under

this : I am simply and only describing character. "Well, I like to do what's proper. And you Hence he sold his books cheaper than any other just keep your eye on St. Jacob’s, Mr. Spelt, and bookseller in London, contenting himself with at five o'clock, when it has struck two of them, profit proportioned to his expenditure, and taking you get down and come in, and you'll find your tea his pleasure in the rapidity with which the stream a waiting of you. There !"

of books flowed through his shop. I have known With which conclusive form of speech, Mattie him take threepence off the price he had first affixed turned and walked back through the archway. She to a book, because he found that he had not advernever ran, still less skipped as most children do, tised it, and therefore it had not to bear its share of but held feet and head alike steadily progressive, the expense of the catalogue. save for the slightest occasional toss of the latter, Mr. Spelt made his way through the maze of books which, as well as her mode of speech, revealed the into the back shop, no one confronting him, and element of conceit which had its share in the there found Mr. Kitely busy over his next catalogue, oddity of the little damsel.

which he was making out in a schoolboy's hand.

you know."

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