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'Wo ho!' cried the guard, on his legs in a minute, and running to theleaders' heads. 'Is there ony genelmen there as can len' a hond here?Keep quiet, dang ye! Wo ho!'

'What's the matter?' demanded Nicholas, looking sleepily up.

'Matther mun, matter eneaf for one neight,' replied the guard; 'dang thewall-eyed bay, he's gane mad wi' glory I think, carse t'coorch is over.Here, can't ye len' a hond? Dom it, I'd ha' dean it if all my boans werebrokken.'

'Here!' cried Nicholas, staggering to his feet, 'I'm ready. I'm only alittle abroad, that's all.'

'Hoold 'em toight,' cried the guard, 'while ar coot treaces. Hang ontiv'em sumhoo. Well deane, my lod. That's it. Let'em goa noo. Dang 'em,they'll gang whoam fast eneaf!'

In truth, the animals were no sooner released than they trotted back,with much deliberation, to the stable they had just left, which wasdistant not a mile behind.

'Can you blo' a harn?' asked the guard, disengaging one of thecoach-lamps.

'I dare say I can,' replied Nicholas.

'Then just blo' away into that 'un as lies on the grund, fit to wakkenthe deead, will'ee,' said the man, 'while I stop sum o' this heresquealing inside. Cumin', cumin'. Dean't make that noise, wooman.'

As the man spoke, he proceeded to wrench open the uppermost door of thecoach, while Nicholas, seizing the horn, awoke the echoes far and widewith one of the most extraordinary performances on that instrument everheard by mortal ears. It had its effect, however, not only in rousingsuch of their fall, but in summoning assistance to their relief; forlights gleamed in the distance, and people were already astir.

In fact, a man on horseback galloped down, before the passengers werewell collected together; and a careful investigation being instituted,it appeared that the lady inside had broken her lamp, and the gentlemanhis head; that the two front outsides had escaped with black eyes; thebox with a bloody nose; the coachman with a contusion on the temple;Mr Squeers with a portmanteau bruise on his back; and the remainingpassengers without any injury at all--thanks to the softness of thesnow-drift in which they had been overturned. These facts were nosooner thoroughly ascertained, than the lady gave several indications offainting, but being forewarned that if she did, she must be carried onsome gentleman's shoulders to the nearest public-house, she prudentlythought better of it, and walked back with the rest.

They found on reaching it, that it was a lonely place with no very greataccommodation in the way of apartments--that portion of its resourcesbeing all comprised in one public room with a sanded floor, and a chairor two. However, a large faggot and a plentiful supply of coals beingheaped upon the fire, the appearance of things was not long in mending;and, by the time they had washed off all effaceable marks of the lateaccident, the room was warm and light, which was a most agreeableexchange for the cold and darkness out of doors.

'Well, Mr Nickleby,' said Squeers, insinuating himself into the warmestcorner, 'you did very right to catch hold of them horses. I should havedone it myself if I had come to in time, but I am very glad you did it.You did it very well; very well.'

'So well,' said the merry-faced gentleman, who did not seem to approvevery much of the patronising tone adopted by Squeers, 'that if they hadnot been firmly checked when they were, you would most probably have hadno brains left to teach with.'

This remark called up a discourse relative to the promptitudeNicholas had displayed, and he was overwhelmed with compliments andcommendations.

'I am very glad to have escaped, of course,' observed Squeers: 'everyman is glad when he escapes from danger; but if any one of my chargeshad been hurt--if I had been prevented from restoring any one of theselittle boys to his parents whole and sound as I received him--what wouldhave been my feelings? Why the wheel a-top of my head would have beenfar preferable to it.'

'Are they all brothers, sir?' inquired the lady who had carried the'Davy' or safety-lamp.

'In one sense they are, ma'am,' replied Squeers, diving into hisgreatcoat pocket for cards. 'They are all under the same parental andaffectionate treatment. Mrs Squeers and myself are a mother and fatherto every one of 'em. Mr Nickleby, hand the lady them cards, and offerthese to the gentleman. Perhaps they might know of some parents thatwould be glad to avail themselves of the establishment.'

Expressing himself to this effect, Mr Squeers, who lost no opportunityof advertising gratuitously, placed his hands upon his knees, and lookedat the pupils with as much benignity as he could possibly affect, whileNicholas, blushing with shame, handed round the cards as directed.

'I hope you suffer no inconvenience from the overturn, ma'am?' said themerry-faced gentleman, addressing the fastidious lady, as though he werecharitably desirous to change the subject.

'No bodily inconvenience,' replied the lady.

'No mental inconvenience, I hope?'

'The subject is a very painful one to my feelings, sir,' replied thelady with strong emotion; 'and I beg you as a gentleman, not to refer toit.'

'Dear me,' said the merry-faced gentleman, looking merrier still, 'Imerely intended to inquire--'

'I hope no inquiries will be made,' said the lady, 'or I shall becompelled to throw myself on the protection of the other gentlemen.Landlord, pray direct a boy to keep watch outside the door--and ifa green chariot passes in the direction of Grantham, to stop itinstantly.'

The people of the house were evidently overcome by this request, andwhen the lady charged the boy to remember, as a means of identifying theexpected green chariot, that it would have a coachman with a gold-lacedhat on the box, and a footman, most probably in silk stockings, behind,the attentions of the good woman of the inn were redoubled. Even thebox-passenger caught the infection, and growing wonderfully deferential,immediately inquired whether there was not very good society in thatneighbourhood, to which the lady replied yes, there was: in a mannerwhich sufficiently implied that she moved at the very tiptop and summitof it all.

'As the guard has gone on horseback to Grantham to get another coach,'said the good-tempered gentleman when they had been all sitting roundthe fire, for some time, in silence, 'and as he must be gone a coupleof hours at the very least, I propose a bowl of hot punch. What say you,sir?'

This question was addressed to the broken-headed inside, who was a manof very genteel appearance, dressed in mourning. He was not past themiddle age, but his hair was grey; it seemed to have been prematurelyturned by care or sorrow. He readily acceded to the proposal, andappeared to be prepossessed by the frank good-nature of the individualfrom whom it emanated.

This latter personage took upon himself the office of tapster when thepunch was ready, and after dispensing it all round, led the conversationto the antiquities of York, with which both he and the grey-hairedgentleman appeared to be well acquainted. When this topic flagged, heturned with a smile to the grey-headed gentleman, and asked if he couldsing.

'I cannot indeed,' replied gentleman, smiling in his turn.

'That's a pity,' said the owner of the good-humoured countenance. 'Isthere nobody here who can sing a song to lighten the time?'

The passengers, one and all, protested that they could not; that theywished they could; that they couldn't remember the words of anythingwithout the book; and so forth.

'Perhaps the lady would not object,' said the president with greatrespect, and a merry twinkle in his eye. 'Some little Italian thing outof the last opera brought out in town, would be most acceptable I amsure.'

As the lady condescended to make no reply, but tossed her headcontemptuously, and murmured some further expression of surpriseregarding the absence of the green chariot, one or two voices urgedupon the president himself, the propriety of making an attempt for thegeneral benefit.

'I would if I could,' said he of the good-tempered face; 'for I holdthat in this, as in all other cases where people who are strangers toeach other are thrown unexpectedly together, they should endeavourto render themselves as pleasant, for the joint sake of the littlecommunity, as possible.'

'I wish the maxim were more generally acted on, in all cases,' said thegrey-headed gentleman.

'I'm glad to hear it,' returned the other. 'Perhaps, as you can't sing,you'll tell us a story?'

'Nay. I should ask you.'

'After you, I will, with pleasure.'

'Indeed!' said the grey-haired gentleman, smiling, 'Well, let it be so.I fear the turn of my thoughts is not calculated to lighten the timeyou must pass here; but you have brought this upon yourselves, and shalljudge. We were speaking of York Minster just now. My story shall havesome reference to it. Let us call it

THE FIVE SISTERS OF YORK

After a murmur of approbation from the other passengers, during whichthe fastidious lady drank a glass of punch unobserved, the grey-headedgentleman thus went on:

'A great many years ago--for the fifteenth century was scarce twoyears old at the time, and King Henry the Fourth sat upon the throne ofEngland--there dwelt, in the ancient city of York, five maiden sisters,the subjects of my tale.

'These five sisters were all of surpassing beauty. The eldest was in hertwenty-third year, the second a year younger, the third a year youngerthan the second, and the fourth a year younger than the third. They weretall stately figures, with dark flashing eyes and hair of jet; dignityand grace were in their every movement; and the fame of their greatbeauty had spread through all the country round.

'But, if the four elder sisters were lovely, how beautiful was theyoungest, a fair creature of sixteen! The blushing tints in the softbloom on the fruit, or the delicate painting on the flower, are not moreexquisite than was the blending of the rose and lily in her gentle face,or the deep blue of her eye. The vine, in all its elegant luxuriance, isnot more graceful than were the clusters of rich brown hair that sportedround her brow.

'If we all had hearts like those which beat so lightly in the bosoms ofthe young and beautiful, what a heaven this earth would be! If, whileour bodies grow old and withered, our hearts could but retain theirearly youth and freshness, of what avail would be our sorrows andsufferings! But, the faint image of Eden which is stamped upon them inchildhood, chafes and rubs in our rough struggles with the world,and soon wears away: too often to leave nothing but a mournful blankremaining.

'The heart of this fair girl bounded with joy and gladness. Devotedattachment to her sisters, and a fervent love of all beautiful thingsin nature, were its pure affections. Her gleesome voice and merry laughwere the sweetest music of their home. She was its very light and life.The brightest flowers in the garden were reared by her; the cagedbirds sang when they heard her voice, and pined when they missed itssweetness. Alice, dear Alice; what living thing within the sphere of hergentle witchery, could fail to love her!

'You may seek in vain, now, for the spot on which these sisters lived,for their very names have passed away, and dusty antiquaries tell ofthem as of a fable. But they dwelt in an old wooden house--old even inthose days--with overhanging gables and balconies of rudely-carved oak,which stood within a pleasant orchard, and was surrounded by a roughstone wall, whence a stout archer might have winged an arrow to StMary's Abbey. The old abbey flourished then; and the five sisters,living on its fair domains, paid yearly dues to the black monks of StBenedict, to which fraternity it belonged.

'It was a bright and sunny morning in the pleasant time of summer, whenone of those black monks emerged from the abbey portal, and bent hissteps towards the house of the fair sisters. Heaven above was blue, andearth beneath was green; the river glistened like a path of diamonds inthe sun; the birds poured forth their songs from the shady trees; thelark soared high above the waving corn; and the deep buzz of insectsfilled the air. Everything looked gay and smiling; but the holy manwalked gloomily on, with his eyes bent upon the ground. The beauty ofthe earth is but a breath, and man is but a shadow. What sympathy shoulda holy preacher have with either?

'With eyes bent upon the ground, then, or only raised enough to preventhis stumbling over such obstacles as lay in his way, the religious manmoved slowly forward until he reached a small postern in the wall of thesisters' orchard, through which he passed, closing it behind him. Thenoise of soft voices in conversation, and of merry laughter, fell uponhis ears ere he had advanced many paces; and raising his eyes higherthan was his humble wont, he descried, at no great distance, the fivesisters seated on the grass, with Alice in the centre: all busily plyingtheir customary task of embroidering.

'"Save you, fair daughters!" said the friar; and fair in truth theywere. Even a monk might have loved them as choice masterpieces of hisMaker's hand.

'The sisters saluted the holy man with becoming reverence, and theeldest motioned him to a mossy seat beside them. But the good friarshook his head, and bumped himself down on a very hard stone,--at which,no doubt, approving angels were gratified.

'"Ye were merry, daughters," said the monk.

'"You know how light of heart sweet Alice is," replied the eldestsister, passing her fingers through the tresses of the smiling girl.

'"And what joy and cheerfulness it wakes up within us, to see all naturebeaming in brightness and sunshine, father," added Alice, blushingbeneath the stern look of the recluse.

'The monk answered not, save by a grave inclination of the head, and thesisters pursued their task in silence.

'"Still wasting the precious hours," said the monk at length, turning tothe eldest sister as he spoke, "still wasting the precious hours onthis vain trifling. Alas, alas! that the few bubbles on the surfaceof eternity--all that Heaven wills we should see of that dark deepstream--should be so lightly scattered!"

'"Father," urged the maiden, pausing, as did each of the others, inher busy task, "we have prayed at matins, our daily alms have beendistributed at the gate, the sick peasants have been tended,--all ourmorning tasks have been performed. I hope our occupation is a blamelessone?'

'"See here," said the friar, taking the frame from her hand, "anintricate winding of gaudy colours, without purpose or object, unlessit be that one day it is destined for some vain ornament, to minister tothe pride of your frail and giddy sex. Day after day has been employedupon this senseless task, and yet it is not half accomplished. The shadeof each departed day falls upon our graves, and the worm exults as hebeholds it, to know that we are hastening thither. Daughters, is thereno better way to pass the fleeting hours?"

'The four elder sisters cast down their eyes as if abashed by the holyman's reproof, but Alice raised hers, and bent them mildly on the friar.

'"Our dear mother," said the maiden; "Heaven rest her soul!"

'"Amen!" cried the friar in a deep voice.

'"Our dear mother," faltered the fair Alice, "was living when these longtasks began, and bade us, when she should be no more, ply them in alldiscretion and cheerfulness, in our leisure hours; she said that if inharmless mirth and maidenly pursuits we passed those hours together,they would prove the happiest and most peaceful of our lives, and thatif, in later times, we went forth into the world, and mingled with itscares and trials--if, allured by its temptations and dazzled by itsglitter, we ever forgot that love and duty which should bind, in holyties, the children of one loved parent--a glance at the old work of ourcommon girlhood would awaken good thoughts of bygone days, and softenour hearts to affection and love."

'"Alice speaks truly, father," said the elder sister, somewhat proudly.And so saying she resumed her work, as did the others.

'It was a kind of sampler of large size, that each sister had beforeher; the device was of a complex and intricate description, andthe pattern and colours of all five were the same. The sisters bentgracefully over their work; the monk, resting his chin upon his hands,looked from one to the other in silence.

'"How much better," he said at length, "to shun all such thoughts andchances, and, in the peaceful shelter of the church, devote your livesto Heaven! Infancy, childhood, the prime of life, and old age, wither asrapidly as they crowd upon each other. Think how human dust rolls onwardto the tomb, and turning your faces steadily towards that goal, avoidthe cloud which takes its rise among the pleasures of the world, andcheats the senses of their votaries. The veil, daughters, the veil!"

'"Never, sisters," cried Alice. "Barter not the light and air of heaven,and the freshness of earth and all the beautiful things which breatheupon it, for the cold cloister and the cell. Nature's own blessings arethe proper goods of life, and we may share them sinlessly together. Todie is our heavy portion, but, oh, let us die with life about us; whenour cold hearts cease to beat, let warm hearts be beating near; let ourlast look be upon the bounds which God has set to his own bright skies,and not on stone walls and bars of iron! Dear sisters, let us live anddie, if you list, in this green garden's compass; only shun the gloomand sadness of a cloister, and we shall be happy."

'The tears fell fast from the maiden's eyes as she closed herimpassioned appeal, and hid her face in the bosom of her sister.

'"Take comfort, Alice," said the eldest, kissing her fair forehead."The veil shall never cast its shadow on thy young brow. How say you,sisters? For yourselves you speak, and not for Alice, or for me."

'The sisters, as with one accord, cried that their lot was casttogether, and that there were dwellings for peace and virtue beyond theconvent's walls.

'"Father," said the eldest lady, rising with dignity, "you hear ourfinal resolve. The same pious care which enriched the abbey of StMary, and left us, orphans, to its holy guardianship, directed that noconstraint should be imposed upon our inclinations, but that we shouldbe free to live according to our choice. Let us hear no more of this,we pray you. Sisters, it is nearly noon. Let us take shelter untilevening!" With a reverence to the friar, the lady rose and walkedtowards the house, hand in hand with Alice; the other sisters followed.

'The holy man, who had often urged the same point before, but had nevermet with so direct a repulse, walked some little distance behind, withhis eyes bent upon the earth, and his lips moving AS IF in prayer. Asthe sisters reached the porch, he quickened his pace, and called uponthem to stop.

'"Stay!" said the monk, raising his right hand in the air, and directingan angry glance by turns at Alice and the eldest sister. "Stay, andhear from me what these recollections are, which you would cherish aboveeternity, and awaken--if in mercy they slumbered--by means of idle toys.The memory of earthly things is charged, in after life, with bitterdisappointment, affliction, death; with dreary change and wastingsorrow. The time will one day come, when a glance at those unmeaningbaubles will tear open deep wounds in the hearts of some among you, andstrike to your inmost souls. When that hour arrives--and, mark me, comeit will--turn from the world to which you clung, to the refuge which youspurned. Find me the cell which shall be colder than the fire of mortalsgrows, when dimmed by calamity and trial, and there weep for the dreamsof youth. These things are Heaven's will, not mine," said the friar,subduing his voice as he looked round upon the shrinking girls. "TheVirgin's blessing be upon you, daughters!"

'With these words he disappeared through the postern; and the sistershastening into the house were seen no more that day.

'But nature will smile though priests may frown, and next day thesun shone brightly, and on the next, and the next again. And in themorning's glare, and the evening's soft repose, the five sisters stillwalked, or worked, or beguiled the time by cheerful conversation, intheir quiet orchard.

'Time passed away as a tale that is told; faster indeed than many talesthat are told, of which number I fear this may be one. The house of thefive sisters stood where it did, and the same trees cast their pleasantshade upon the orchard grass. The sisters too were there, and lovely asat first, but a change had come over their dwelling. Sometimes, therewas the clash of armour, and the gleaming of the moon on caps of steel;and, at others, jaded coursers were spurred up to the gate, and a femaleform glided hurriedly forth, as if eager to demand tidings of the wearymessenger. A goodly train of knights and ladies lodged one night withinthe abbey walls, and next day rode away, with two of the fair sistersamong them. Then, horsemen began to come less frequently, and seemed tobring bad tidings when they did, and at length they ceased to come atall, and footsore peasants slunk to the gate after sunset, and did theirerrand there, by stealth. Once, a vassal was dispatched in haste to theabbey at dead of night, and when morning came, there were sounds of woeand wailing in the sisters' house; and after this, a mournful silencefell upon it, and knight or lady, horse or armour, was seen about it nomore.

'There was a sullen darkness in the sky, and the sun had gone angrilydown, tinting the dull clouds with the last traces of his wrath,when the same black monk walked slowly on, with folded arms, within astone's-throw of the abbey. A blight had fallen on the trees and shrubs;and the wind, at length beginning to break the unnatural stillnessthat had prevailed all day, sighed heavily from time to time, as thoughforetelling in grief the ravages of the coming storm. The bat skimmed infantastic flights through the heavy air, and the ground was alive withcrawling things, whose instinct brought them forth to swell and fattenin the rain.

'No longer were the friar's eyes directed to the earth; they were castabroad, and roamed from point to point, as if the gloom and desolationof the scene found a quick response in his own bosom. Again he pausednear the sisters' house, and again he entered by the postern.

'But not again did his ear encounter the sound of laughter, or his eyesrest upon the beautiful figures of the five sisters. All was silent anddeserted. The boughs of the trees were bent and broken, and the grasshad grown long and rank. No light feet had pressed it for many, many aday.

'With the indifference or abstraction of one well accustomed to thechange, the monk glided into the house, and entered a low, dark room.Four sisters sat there. Their black garments made their pale faceswhiter still, and time and sorrow had worked deep ravages. They werestately yet; but the flush and pride of beauty were gone.

'And Alice--where was she? In Heaven.

'The monk--even the monk--could bear with some grief here; for itwas long since these sisters had met, and there were furrows in theirblanched faces which years could never plough. He took his seat insilence, and motioned them to continue their speech.

'"They are here, sisters," said the elder lady in a trembling voice. "Ihave never borne to look upon them since, and now I blame myself for myweakness. What is there in her memory that we should dread? To call upour old days shall be a solemn pleasure yet."

'She glanced at the monk as she spoke, and, opening a cabinet, broughtforth the five frames of work, completed long before. Her step wasfirm, but her hand trembled as she produced the last one; and, when thefeelings of the other sisters gushed forth at sight of it, her pent-uptears made way, and she sobbed "God bless her!"

'The monk rose and advanced towards them. "It was almost the last thingshe touched in health," he said in a low voice.

'"It was," cried the elder lady, weeping bitterly.

'The monk turned to the second sister.

'"The gallant youth who looked into thine eyes, and hung upon thy verybreath when first he saw thee intent upon this pastime, lies buried ona plain whereof the turf is red with blood. Rusty fragments of armour,once brightly burnished, lie rotting on the ground, and are as littledistinguishable for his, as are the bones that crumble in the mould!"

'The lady groaned, and wrung her hands.

'"The policy of courts," he continued, turning to the two other sisters,"drew ye from your peaceful home to scenes of revelry and splendour.The same policy, and the restless ambition of--proud and fiery men, havesent ye back, widowed maidens, and humbled outcasts. Do I speak truly?"

'The sobs of the two sisters were their only reply.

'"There is little need," said the monk, with a meaning look, "to fritteraway the time in gewgaws which shall raise up the pale ghosts of hopesof early years. Bury them, heap penance and mortification on theirheads, keep them down, and let the convent be their grave!"

'The sisters asked for three days to deliberate; and felt, that night,as though the veil were indeed the fitting shroud for their dead joys.But, morning came again, and though the boughs of the orchard treesdrooped and ran wild upon the ground, it was the same orchard still. Thegrass was coarse and high, but there was yet the spot on which they hadso often sat together, when change and sorrow were but names. There wasevery walk and nook which Alice had made glad; and in the minster navewas one flat stone beneath which she slept in peace.

'And could they, remembering how her young heart had sickened at thethought of cloistered walls, look upon her grave, in garbs which wouldchill the very ashes within it? Could they bow down in prayer, and whenall Heaven turned to hear them, bring the dark shade of sadness on oneangel's face? No.

'They sent abroad, to artists of great celebrity in those times, andhaving obtained the church's sanction to their work of piety, causedto be executed, in five large compartments of richly stained glass, afaithful copy of their old embroidery work. These were fitted into alarge window until that time bare of ornament; and when the sun shonebrightly, as she had so well loved to see it, the familiar patterns werereflected in their original colours, and throwing a stream of brilliantlight upon the pavement, fell warmly on the name of Alice.

'For many hours in every day, the sisters paced slowly up and down thenave, or knelt by the side of the flat broad stone. Only three were seenin the customary place, after many years; then but two, and, for a longtime afterwards, but one solitary female bent with age. At length shecame no more, and the stone bore five plain Christian names.

'That stone has worn away and been replaced by others, and manygenerations have come and gone since then. Time has softened down thecolours, but the same stream of light still falls upon the forgottentomb, of which no trace remains; and, to this day, the stranger is shownin York Cathedral, an old window called the Five Sisters.'

'That's a melancholy tale,' said the merry-faced gentleman, emptying hisglass.

'It is a tale of life, and life is made up of such sorrows,' returnedthe other, courteously, but in a grave and sad tone of voice.

'There are shades in all good pictures, but there are lights too, ifwe choose to contemplate them,' said the gentleman with the merry face.'The youngest sister in your tale was always light-hearted.'

'And died early,' said the other, gently.

'She would have died earlier, perhaps, had she been less happy,' saidthe first speaker, with much feeling. 'Do you think the sisters wholoved her so well, would have grieved the less if her life had been oneof gloom and sadness? If anything could soothe the first sharp pain of aheavy loss, it would be--with me--the reflection, that those I mourned,by being innocently happy here, and loving all about them, had preparedthemselves for a purer and happier world. The sun does not shine uponthis fair earth to meet frowning eyes, depend upon it.'

'I believe you are right,' said the gentleman who had told the story.

'Believe!' retorted the other, 'can anybody doubt it? Take any subjectof sorrowful regret, and see with how much pleasure it is associated.The recollection of past pleasure may become pain--'

'It does,' interposed the other.

'Well; it does. To remember happiness which cannot be restored, is pain,but of a softened kind. Our recollections are unfortunately mingled withmuch that we deplore, and with many actions which we bitterly repent;still in the most chequered life I firmly think there are so many littlerays of sunshine to look back upon, that I do not believe any mortal(unless he had put himself without the pale of hope) would deliberatelydrain a goblet of the waters of Lethe, if he had it in his power.'

'Possibly you are correct in that belief,' said the grey-hairedgentleman after a short reflection. 'I am inclined to think you are.'

'Why, then,' replied the other, 'the good in this state of existencepreponderates over the bad, let miscalled philosophers tell us what theywill. If our affections be tried, our affections are our consolation andcomfort; and memory, however sad, is the best and purest link betweenthis world and a better. But come! I'll tell you a story of anotherkind.'

After a very brief silence, the merry-faced gentleman sent round thepunch, and glancing slyly at the fastidious lady, who seemed desperatelyapprehensive that he was going to relate something improper, began

THE BARON OF GROGZWIG

'The Baron Von Koeldwethout, of Grogzwig in Germany, was as likely ayoung baron as you would wish to see. I needn't say that he lived in acastle, because that's of course; neither need I say that he lived inan old castle; for what German baron ever lived in a new one? There weremany strange circumstances connected with this venerable building, amongwhich, not the least startling and mysterious were, that when the windblew, it rumbled in the chimneys, or even howled among the trees in theneighbouring forest; and that when the moon shone, she found her waythrough certain small loopholes in the wall, and actually made someparts of the wide halls and galleries quite light, while she left othersin gloomy shadow. I believe that one of the baron's ancestors, beingshort of money, had inserted a dagger in a gentleman who calledone night to ask his way, and it WAS supposed that these miraculousoccurrences took place in consequence. And yet I hardly know how thatcould have been, either, because the baron's ancestor, who was anamiable man, felt very sorry afterwards for having been so rash, andlaying violent hands upon a quantity of stone and timber which belongedto a weaker baron, built a chapel as an apology, and so took a receiptfrom Heaven, in full of all demands.

'Talking of the baron's ancestor puts me in mind of the baron's greatclaims to respect, on the score of his pedigree. I am afraid to say,I am sure, how many ancestors the baron had; but I know that he had agreat many more than any other man of his time; and I only wish thathe had lived in these latter days, that he might have had more. It is avery hard thing upon the great men of past centuries, that they shouldhave come into the world so soon, because a man who was born three orfour hundred years ago, cannot reasonably be expected to have had asmany relations before him, as a man who is born now. The last man,whoever he is--and he may be a cobbler or some low vulgar dog for aughtwe know--will have a longer pedigree than the greatest nobleman nowalive; and I contend that this is not fair.

'Well, but the Baron Von Koeldwethout of Grogzwig! He was a fine swarthyfellow, with dark hair and large moustachios, who rode a-hunting inclothes of Lincoln green, with russet boots on his feet, and a bugleslung over his shoulder like the guard of a long stage. When he blewthis bugle, four-and-twenty other gentlemen of inferior rank, in Lincolngreen a little coarser, and russet boots with a little thicker soles,turned out directly: and away galloped the whole train, with spears intheir hands like lacquered area railings, to hunt down the boars, orperhaps encounter a bear: in which latter case the baron killed himfirst, and greased his whiskers with him afterwards.

'This was a merry life for the Baron of Grogzwig, and a merrier stillfor the baron's retainers, who drank Rhine wine every night till theyfell under the table, and then had the bottles on the floor, and calledfor pipes. Never were such jolly, roystering, rollicking, merry-makingblades, as the jovial crew of Grogzwig.

'But the pleasures of the table, or the pleasures of under the table,require a little variety; especially when the same five-and-twentypeople sit daily down to the same board, to discuss the same subjects,and tell the same stories. The baron grew weary, and wanted excitement.He took to quarrelling with his gentlemen, and tried kicking two orthree of them every day after dinner. This was a pleasant change atfirst; but it became monotonous after a week or so, and the baron feltquite out of sorts, and cast about, in despair, for some new amusement.

'One night, after a day's sport in which he had outdone Nimrod orGillingwater, and slaughtered "another fine bear," and brought him homein triumph, the Baron Von Koeldwethout sat moodily at the head of histable, eyeing the smoky roof of the hall with a discontented aspect. Heswallowed huge bumpers of wine, but the more he swallowed, the morehe frowned. The gentlemen who had been honoured with the dangerousdistinction of sitting on his right and left, imitated him to a miraclein the drinking, and frowned at each other.

'"I will!" cried the baron suddenly, smiting the table with his righthand, and twirling his moustache with his left. "Fill to the Lady ofGrogzwig!"

'The four-and-twenty Lincoln greens turned pale, with the exception oftheir four-and-twenty noses, which were unchangeable.

'"I said to the Lady of Grogzwig," repeated the baron, looking round theboard.

'"To the Lady of Grogzwig!" shouted the Lincoln greens; and down theirfour-and-twenty throats went four-and-twenty imperial pints of suchrare old hock, that they smacked their eight-and-forty lips, and winkedagain.

'"The fair daughter of the Baron Von Swillenhausen," said Koeldwethout,condescending to explain. "We will demand her in marriage of her father,ere the sun goes down tomorrow. If he refuse our suit, we will cut offhis nose."

'A hoarse murmur arose from the company; every man touched, firstthe hilt of his sword, and then the tip of his nose, with appallingsignificance.

'What a pleasant thing filial piety is to contemplate! If the daughterof the Baron Von Swillenhausen had pleaded a preoccupied heart, orfallen at her father's feet and corned them in salt tears, oronly fainted away, and complimented the old gentleman in franticejaculations, the odds are a hundred to one but Swillenhausen Castlewould have been turned out at window, or rather the baron turned out atwindow, and the castle demolished. The damsel held her peace, however,when an early messenger bore the request of Von Koeldwethout nextmorning, and modestly retired to her chamber, from the casement of whichshe watched the coming of the suitor and his retinue. She was no soonerassured that the horseman with the large moustachios was her profferedhusband, than she hastened to her father's presence, and expressed herreadiness to sacrifice herself to secure his peace. The venerable baroncaught his child to his arms, and shed a wink of joy.

'There was great feasting at the castle, that day. The four-and-twentyLincoln greens of Von Koeldwethout exchanged vows of eternal friendshipwith twelve Lincoln greens of Von Swillenhausen, and promised theold baron that they would drink his wine "Till all was blue"--meaningprobably until their whole countenances had acquired the same tint astheir noses. Everybody slapped everybody else's back, when the timefor parting came; and the Baron Von Koeldwethout and his followers rodegaily home.

'For six mortal weeks, the bears and boars had a holiday. The houses ofKoeldwethout and Swillenhausen were united; the spears rusted; and thebaron's bugle grew hoarse for lack of blowing.

'Those were great times for the four-and-twenty; but, alas! their highand palmy days had taken boots to themselves, and were already walkingoff.

'"My dear," said the baroness.

'"My love," said the baron.

'"Those coarse, noisy men--"

'"Which, ma'am?" said the baron, starting.

'The baroness pointed, from the window at which they stood, to thecourtyard beneath, where the unconscious Lincoln greens were taking acopious stirrup-cup, preparatory to issuing forth after a boar or two.

'"My hunting train, ma'am," said the baron.

'"Disband them, love," murmured the baroness.

'"Disband them!" cried the baron, in amazement.

'"To please me, love," replied the baroness.

'"To please the devil, ma'am," answered the baron.

'Whereupon the baroness uttered a great cry, and swooned away at thebaron's feet.

'What could the baron do? He called for the lady's maid, and roaredfor the doctor; and then, rushing into the yard, kicked the two Lincolngreens who were the most used to it, and cursing the others all round,bade them go--but never mind where. I don't know the German for it, or Iwould put it delicately that way.

'It is not for me to say by what means, or by what degrees, some wivesmanage to keep down some husbands as they do, although I may havemy private opinion on the subject, and may think that no Member ofParliament ought to be married, inasmuch as three married members out ofevery four, must vote according to their wives' consciences (if there besuch things), and not according to their own. All I need say, just now,is, that the Baroness Von Koeldwethout somehow or other acquired greatcontrol over the Baron Von Koeldwethout, and that, little by little, andbit by bit, and day by day, and year by year, the baron got the worst ofsome disputed question, or was slyly unhorsed from some old hobby;and that by the time he was a fat hearty fellow of forty-eight orthereabouts, he had no feasting, no revelry, no hunting train, and nohunting--nothing in short that he liked, or used to have; and that,although he was as fierce as a lion, and as bold as brass, he wasdecidedly snubbed and put down, by his own lady, in his own castle ofGrogzwig.

'Nor was this the whole extent of the baron's misfortunes. About a yearafter his nuptials, there came into the world a lusty young baron,in whose honour a great many fireworks were let off, and a great manydozens of wine drunk; but next year there came a young baroness, andnext year another young baron, and so on, every year, either a baron orbaroness (and one year both together), until the baron found himselfthe father of a small family of twelve. Upon every one of theseanniversaries, the venerable Baroness Von Swillenhausen was nervouslysensitive for the well-being of her child the Baroness Von Koeldwethout;and although it was not found that the good lady ever did anythingmaterial towards contributing to her child's recovery, still she made ita point of duty to be as nervous as possible at the castle of Grogzwig,and to divide her time between moral observations on the baron'shousekeeping, and bewailing the hard lot of her unhappy daughter. And ifthe Baron of Grogzwig, a little hurt and irritated at this, took heart,and ventured to suggest that his wife was at least no worse off than thewives of other barons, the Baroness Von Swillenhausen begged allpersons to take notice, that nobody but she, sympathised with her deardaughter's sufferings; upon which, her relations and friends remarked,that to be sure she did cry a great deal more than her son-in-law, andthat if there were a hard-hearted brute alive, it was that Baron ofGrogzwig.

'The poor baron bore it all as long as he could, and when he could bearit no longer lost his appetite and his spirits, and sat himself gloomilyand dejectedly down. But there were worse troubles yet in store forhim, and as they came on, his melancholy and sadness increased. Timeschanged. He got into debt. The Grogzwig coffers ran low, though theSwillenhausen family had looked upon them as inexhaustible; and justwhen the baroness was on the point of making a thirteenth addition tothe family pedigree, Von Koeldwethout discovered that he had no means ofreplenishing them.

'"I don't see what is to be done," said the baron. "I think I'll killmyself."

'This was a bright idea. The baron took an old hunting-knife from acupboard hard by, and having sharpened it on his boot, made what boyscall "an offer" at his throat.

'"Hem!" said the baron, stopping short. "Perhaps it's not sharp enough."

'The baron sharpened it again, and made another offer, when his hand wasarrested by a loud screaming among the young barons and baronesses, whohad a nursery in an upstairs tower with iron bars outside the window, toprevent their tumbling out into the moat.

'"If I had been a bachelor," said the baron sighing, "I might have doneit fifty times over, without being interrupted. Hallo! Put a flask ofwine and the largest pipe in the little vaulted room behind the hall."

'One of the domestics, in a very kind manner, executed the baron's orderin the course of half an hour or so, and Von Koeldwethout being apprisedthereof, strode to the vaulted room, the walls of which, being of darkshining wood, gleamed in the light of the blazing logs which were piledupon the hearth. The bottle and pipe were ready, and, upon the whole,the place looked very comfortable.

'"Leave the lamp," said the baron.

'"Anything else, my lord?" inquired the domestic.

'"The room," replied the baron. The domestic obeyed, and the baronlocked the door.

'"I'll smoke a last pipe," said the baron, "and then I'll be off." So,putting the knife upon the table till he wanted it, and tossing off agoodly measure of wine, the Lord of Grogzwig threw himself back in hischair, stretched his legs out before the fire, and puffed away.

'He thought about a great many things--about his present troubles andpast days of bachelorship, and about the Lincoln greens, long sincedispersed up and down the country, no one knew whither: with theexception of two who had been unfortunately beheaded, and four who hadkilled themselves with drinking. His mind was running upon bears andboars, when, in the process of draining his glass to the bottom,he raised his eyes, and saw, for the first time and with unboundedastonishment, that he was not alone.

'No, he was not; for, on the opposite side of the fire, there sat withfolded arms a wrinkled hideous figure, with deeply sunk and bloodshoteyes, and an immensely long cadaverous face, shadowed by jagged andmatted locks of coarse black hair. He wore a kind of tunic of a dullbluish colour, which, the baron observed, on regarding it attentively,was clasped or ornamented down the front with coffin handles. His legs,too, were encased in coffin plates as though in armour; and over hisleft shoulder he wore a short dusky cloak, which seemed made of aremnant of some pall. He took no notice of the baron, but was intentlyeyeing the fire.

'"Halloa!" said the baron, stamping his foot to attract attention.

'"Halloa!" replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards the baron, butnot his face or himself "What now?"

'"What now!" replied the baron, nothing daunted by his hollow voice andlustreless eyes. "I should ask that question. How did you get here?"

'"Through the door," replied the figure.

'"What are you?" says the baron.

'"A man," replied the figure.

'"I don't believe it," says the baron.

'"Disbelieve it then," says the figure.

'"I will," rejoined the baron.

'The figure looked at the bold Baron of Grogzwig for some time, and thensaid familiarly,

'"There's no coming over you, I see. I'm not a man!"

'"What are you then?" asked the baron.

'"A genius," replied the figure.

'"You don't look much like one," returned the baron scornfully.

'"I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide," said the apparition. "Now youknow me."

'With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as ifcomposing himself for a talk--and, what was very remarkable, was, thathe threw his cloak aside, and displaying a stake, which was run throughthe centre of his body, pulled it out with a jerk, and laid it on thetable, as composedly as if it had been a walking-stick.

'"Now," said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife, "are you readyfor me?"

'"Not quite," rejoined the baron; "I must finish this pipe first."

'"Look sharp then," said the figure.

'"You seem in a hurry," said the baron.

'"Why, yes, I am," answered the figure; "they're doing a pretty briskbusiness in my way, over in England and France just now, and my time isa good deal taken up."

'"Do you drink?" said the baron, touching the bottle with the bowl ofhis pipe.

'"Nine times out of ten, and then very hard," rejoined the figure,drily.

'"Never in moderation?" asked the baron.

'"Never," replied the figure, with a shudder, "that breedscheerfulness."

'The baron took another look at his new friend, whom he thought anuncommonly queer customer, and at length inquired whether he tookany active part in such little proceedings as that which he had incontemplation.

'"No," replied the figure evasively; "but I am always present."

'"Just to see fair, I suppose?" said the baron.

'"Just that," replied the figure, playing with his stake, and examiningthe ferule. "Be as quick as you can, will you, for there's a younggentleman who is afflicted with too much money and leisure wanting menow, I find."

'"Going to kill himself because he has too much money!" exclaimed thebaron, quite tickled. "Ha! ha! that's a good one." (This was the firsttime the baron had laughed for many a long day.)

'"I say," expostulated the figure, looking very much scared; "don't dothat again."

'"Why not?" demanded the baron.

'"Because it gives me pain all over," replied the figure. "Sigh as muchas you please: that does me good."

'The baron sighed mechanically at the mention of the word; the figure,brightening up again, handed him the hunting-knife with most winningpoliteness.

'"It's not a bad idea though," said the baron, feeling the edge of theweapon; "a man killing himself because he has too much money."

'"Pooh!" said the apparition, petulantly, "no better than a man'skilling himself because he has none or little."

'Whether the genius unintentionally committed himself in saying this,or whether he thought the baron's mind was so thoroughly made up that itdidn't matter what he said, I have no means of knowing. I only know thatthe baron stopped his hand, all of a sudden, opened his eyes wide, andlooked as if quite a new light had come upon him for the first time.

'"Why, certainly," said Von Koeldwethout, "nothing is too bad to beretrieved."

'"Except empty coffers," cried the genius.

'"Well; but they may be one day filled again," said the baron.

'"Scolding wives," snarled the genius.

'"Oh! They may be made quiet," said the baron.

'"Thirteen children," shouted the genius.

'"Can't all go wrong, surely," said the baron.

'The genius was evidently growing very savage with the baron, forholding these opinions all at once; but he tried to laugh it off, andsaid if he would let him know when he had left off joking he should feelobliged to him.

'"But I am not joking; I was never farther from it," remonstrated thebaron.

'"Well, I am glad to hear that," said the genius, looking very grim,"because a joke, without any figure of speech, IS the death of me. Come!Quit this dreary world at once."

'"I don't know," said the baron, playing with the knife; "it's a drearyone certainly, but I don't think yours is much better, for you havenot the appearance of being particularly comfortable. That puts me inmind--what security have I, that I shall be any the better for goingout of the world after all!" he cried, starting up; "I never thought ofthat."

'"Dispatch," cried the figure, gnashing his teeth.

'"Keep off!" said the baron. 'I'll brood over miseries no longer, butput a good face on the matter, and try the fresh air and the bearsagain; and if that don't do, I'll talk to the baroness soundly, and cutthe Von Swillenhausens dead.' With this the baron fell into his chair,and laughed so loud and boisterously, that the room rang with it.

'The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron meanwhile witha look of intense terror, and when he had ceased, caught up the stake,plunged it violently into its body, uttered a frightful howl, anddisappeared.

'Von Koeldwethout never saw it again. Having once made up his mindto action, he soon brought the baroness and the Von Swillenhausens toreason, and died many years afterwards: not a rich man that I am awareof, but certainly a happy one: leaving behind him a numerous family,who had been carefully educated in bear and boar-hunting under his ownpersonal eye. And my advice to all men is, that if ever they becomehipped and melancholy from similar causes (as very many men do), theylook at both sides of the question, applying a magnifying-glass to thebest one; and if they still feel tempted to retire without leave, thatthey smoke a large pipe and drink a full bottle first, and profit by thelaudable example of the Baron of Grogzwig.'

'The fresh coach is ready, ladies and gentlemen, if you please,' said anew driver, looking in.

This intelligence caused the punch to be finished in a great hurry,and prevented any discussion relative to the last story. Mr Squeers wasobserved to draw the grey-headed gentleman on one side, and to ask aquestion with great apparent interest; it bore reference to the FiveSisters of York, and was, in fact, an inquiry whether he could informhim how much per annum the Yorkshire convents got in those days withtheir boarders.

The journey was then resumed. Nicholas fell asleep towards morning, and,when he awoke, found, with great regret, that, during his nap, both theBaron of Grogzwig and the grey-haired gentleman had got down and weregone. The day dragged on uncomfortably enough. At about six o'clock thatnight, he and Mr Squeers, and the little boys, and their united luggage,were all put down together at the George and New Inn, Greta Bridge.