Chapter 22

by Charles Dickens

　　Nicholas, accompanied by Smike, sallies forth to seek his Fortune.He encounters Mr Vincent Crummles; and who he was, is herein mademanifestThe whole capital which Nicholas found himself entitled to, eitherin possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy, after paying hisrent and settling with the broker from whom he had hired his poorfurniture, did not exceed, by more than a few halfpence, the sum oftwenty shillings. And yet he hailed the morning on which he hadresolved to quit London, with a light heart, and sprang from his bedwith an elasticity of spirit which is happily the lot of youngpersons, or the world would never be stocked with old ones.It was a cold, dry, foggy morning in early spring. A few meagreshadows flitted to and fro in the misty streets, and occasionallythere loomed through the dull vapour, the heavy outline of somehackney coach wending homewards, which, drawing slowly nearer,rolled jangling by, scattering the thin crust of frost from itswhitened roof, and soon was lost again in the cloud. At intervalswere heard the tread of slipshod feet, and the chilly cry of thepoor sweep as he crept, shivering, to his early toil; the heavyfootfall of the official watcher of the night, pacing slowly up anddown and cursing the tardy hours that still intervened between himand sleep; the rambling of ponderous carts and waggons; the roll ofthe lighter vehicles which carried buyers and sellers to thedifferent markets; the sound of ineffectual knocking at the doors ofheavy sleepers--all these noises fell upon the ear from time totime, but all seemed muffled by the fog, and to be rendered almostas indistinct to the ear as was every object to the sight. Thesluggish darkness thickened as the day came on; and those who hadthe courage to rise and peep at the gloomy street from theircurtained windows, crept back to bed again, and coiled themselves upto sleep.Before even these indications of approaching morning were rife inbusy London, Nicholas had made his way alone to the city, and stoodbeneath the windows of his mother's house. It was dull and bare tosee, but it had light and life for him; for there was at least oneheart within its old walls to which insult or dishonour would bringthe same blood rushing, that flowed in his own veins.He crossed the road, and raised his eyes to the window of the roomwhere he knew his sister slept. It was closed and dark. 'Poorgirl,' thought Nicholas, 'she little thinks who lingers here!'He looked again, and felt, for the moment, almost vexed that Katewas not there to exchange one word at parting. 'Good God!' hethought, suddenly correcting himself, 'what a boy I am!''It is better as it is,' said Nicholas, after he had lounged on, afew paces, and returned to the same spot. 'When I left them before,and could have said goodbye a thousand times if I had chosen, Ispared them the pain of leave-taking, and why not now?' As he spoke,some fancied motion of the curtain almost persuaded him, for theinstant, that Kate was at the window, and by one of those strangecontradictions of feeling which are common to us all, he shrunkinvoluntarily into a doorway, that she might not see him. He smiledat his own weakness; said 'God bless them!' and walked away with alighter step.Smike was anxiously expecting him when he reached his old lodgings,and so was Newman, who had expended a day's income in a can of rumand milk to prepare them for the journey. They had tied up theluggage, Smike shouldered it, and away they went, with Newman Noggsin company; for he had insisted on walking as far as he could withthem, overnight.'Which way?' asked Newman, wistfully.'To Kingston first,' replied Nicholas.'And where afterwards?' asked Newman. 'Why won't you tell me?''Because I scarcely know myself, good friend,' rejoined Nicholas,laying his hand upon his shoulder; 'and if I did, I have neitherplan nor prospect yet, and might shift my quarters a hundred timesbefore you could possibly communicate with me.''I am afraid you have some deep scheme in your head,' said Newman,doubtfully.'So deep,' replied his young friend, 'that even I can't fathom it.Whatever I resolve upon, depend upon it I will write you soon.''You won't forget?' said Newman.'I am not very likely to,' rejoined Nicholas. 'I have not so manyfriends that I shall grow confused among the number, and forget mybest one.'Occupied in such discourse, they walked on for a couple of hours, asthey might have done for a couple of days if Nicholas had not sathimself down on a stone by the wayside, and resolutely declared hisintention of not moving another step until Newman Noggs turned back.Having pleaded ineffectually first for another half-mile, andafterwards for another quarter, Newman was fain to comply, and toshape his course towards Golden Square, after interchanging manyhearty and affectionate farewells, and many times turning back towave his hat to the two wayfarers when they had become mere specksin the distance.'Now listen to me, Smike,' said Nicholas, as they trudged with stouthearts onwards. 'We are bound for Portsmouth.'Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressed no other emotion;for whether they had been bound for Portsmouth or Port Royal wouldhave been alike to him, so they had been bound together.'I don't know much of these matters,' resumed Nicholas; 'butPortsmouth is a seaport town, and if no other employment is to beobtained, I should think we might get on board some ship. I amyoung and active, and could be useful in many ways. So could you.''I hope so,' replied Smike. 'When I was at that--you know where Imean?''Yes, I know,' said Nicholas. 'You needn't name the place.''Well, when I was there,' resumed Smike; his eyes sparkling at theprospect of displaying his abilities; 'I could milk a cow, and grooma horse, with anybody.''Ha!' said Nicholas, gravely. 'I am afraid they don't keep manyanimals of either kind on board ship, Smike, and even when they havehorses, that they are not very particular about rubbing them down;still you can learn to do something else, you know. Where there's awill, there's a way.''And I am very willing,' said Smike, brightening up again.'God knows you are,' rejoined Nicholas; 'and if you fail, it shallgo hard but I'll do enough for us both.''Do we go all the way today?' asked Smike, after a short silence.'That would be too severe a trial, even for your willing legs,' saidNicholas, with a good-humoured smile. 'No. Godalming is somethirty and odd miles from London--as I found from a map I borrowed--and I purpose to rest there. We must push on again tomorrow, for weare not rich enough to loiter. Let me relieve you of that bundle!Come!''No, no,' rejoined Smike, falling back a few steps. 'Don't ask meto give it up to you.''Why not?' asked Nicholas.'Let me do something for you, at least,' said Smike. 'You willnever let me serve you as I ought. You will never know how I think,day and night, of ways to please you.''You are a foolish fellow to say it, for I know it well, and see it,or I should be a blind and senseless beast,' rejoined Nicholas.'Let me ask you a question while I think of it, and there is no oneby,' he added, looking him steadily in the face. 'Have you a goodmemory?''I don't know,' said Smike, shaking his head sorrowfully. 'I thinkI had once; but it's all gone now--all gone.''Why do you think you had once?' asked Nicholas, turning quicklyupon him as though the answer in some way helped out the purport ofhis question.'Because I could remember, when I was a child,' said Smike, 'butthat is very, very long ago, or at least it seems so. I was alwaysconfused and giddy at that place you took me from; and could neverremember, and sometimes couldn't even understand, what they said tome. I--let me see--let me see!''You are wandering now,' said Nicholas, touching him on the arm.'No,' replied his companion, with a vacant look 'I was only thinkinghow--' He shivered involuntarily as he spoke.'Think no more of that place, for it is all over,' retortedNicholas, fixing his eyes full upon that of his companion, which wasfast settling into an unmeaning stupefied gaze, once habitual tohim, and common even then. 'What of the first day you went toYorkshire?''Eh!' cried the lad.'That was before you began to lose your recollection, you know,'said Nicholas quietly. 'Was the weather hot or cold?''Wet,' replied the boy. 'Very wet. I have always said, when it hasrained hard, that it was like the night I came: and they used tocrowd round and laugh to see me cry when the rain fell heavily. Itwas like a child, they said, and that made me think of it more. Iturned cold all over sometimes, for I could see myself as I wasthen, coming in at the very same door.''As you were then,' repeated Nicholas, with assumed carelessness;'how was that?''Such a little creature,' said Smike, 'that they might have had pityand mercy upon me, only to remember it.''You didn't find your way there, alone!' remarked Nicholas.'No,' rejoined Smike, 'oh no.''Who was with you?''A man--a dark, withered man. I have heard them say so, at theschool, and I remembered that before. I was glad to leave him, Iwas afraid of him; but they made me more afraid of them, and used meharder too.''Look at me,' said Nicholas, wishing to attract his full attention.'There; don't turn away. Do you remember no woman, no kind woman,who hung over you once, and kissed your lips, and called you herchild?''No,' said the poor creature, shaking his head, 'no, never.''Nor any house but that house in Yorkshire?''No,' rejoined the youth, with a melancholy look; 'a room--Iremember I slept in a room, a large lonesome room at the top of ahouse, where there was a trap-door in the ceiling. I have coveredmy head with the clothes often, not to see it, for it frightened me:a young child with no one near at night: and I used to wonder whatwas on the other side. There was a clock too, an old clock, in onecorner. I remember that. I have never forgotten that room; forwhen I have terrible dreams, it comes back, just as it was. I seethings and people in it that I had never seen then, but there is theroom just as it used to be; that never changes.''Will you let me take the bundle now?' asked Nicholas, abruptlychanging the theme.'No,' said Smike, 'no. Come, let us walk on.'He quickened his pace as he said this, apparently under theimpression that they had been standing still during the whole of theprevious dialogue. Nicholas marked him closely, and every word ofthis conversation remained upon his memory.It was, by this time, within an hour of noon, and although a densevapour still enveloped the city they had left, as if the very breathof its busy people hung over their schemes of gain and profit, andfound greater attraction there than in the quiet region above, inthe open country it was clear and fair. Occasionally, in some lowspots they came upon patches of mist which the sun had not yetdriven from their strongholds; but these were soon passed, and asthey laboured up the hills beyond, it was pleasant to look down, andsee how the sluggish mass rolled heavily off, before the cheeringinfluence of day. A broad, fine, honest sun lighted up the greenpastures and dimpled water with the semblance of summer, while itleft the travellers all the invigorating freshness of that earlytime of year. The ground seemed elastic under their feet; thesheep-bells were music to their ears; and exhilarated by exercise,and stimulated by hope, they pushed onward with the strength oflions.The day wore on, and all these bright colours subsided, and assumeda quieter tint, like young hopes softened down by time, or youthfulfeatures by degrees resolving into the calm and serenity of age.But they were scarcely less beautiful in their slow decline, thanthey had been in their prime; for nature gives to every time andseason some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as fromthe cradle to the grave, is but a succession of changes so gentleand easy, that we can scarcely mark their progress.To Godalming they came at last, and here they bargained for twohumble beds, and slept soundly. In the morning they were astir:though not quite so early as the sun: and again afoot; if not withall the freshness of yesterday, still, with enough of hope andspirit to bear them cheerily on.It was a harder day's journey than yesterday's, for there were longand weary hills to climb; and in journeys, as in life, it is a greatdeal easier to go down hill than up. However, they kept on, withunabated perseverance, and the hill has not yet lifted its face toheaven that perseverance will not gain the summit of at last.They walked upon the rim of the Devil's Punch Bowl; and Smikelistened with greedy interest as Nicholas read the inscription uponthe stone which, reared upon that wild spot, tells of a murdercommitted there by night. The grass on which they stood, had oncebeen dyed with gore; and the blood of the murdered man had run down,drop by drop, into the hollow which gives the place its name. 'TheDevil's Bowl,' thought Nicholas, as he looked into the void, 'neverheld fitter liquor than that!'Onward they kept, with steady purpose, and entered at length upon awide and spacious tract of downs, with every variety of little hilland plain to change their verdant surface. Here, there shot up,almost perpendicularly, into the sky, a height so steep, as to behardly accessible to any but the sheep and goats that fed upon itssides, and there, stood a mound of green, sloping and tapering offso delicately, and merging so gently into the level ground, that youcould scarce define its limits. Hills swelling above each other;and undulations shapely and uncouth, smooth and rugged, graceful andgrotesque, thrown negligently side by side, bounded the view in eachdirection; while frequently, with unexpected noise, there uprosefrom the ground a flight of crows, who, cawing and wheeling roundthe nearest hills, as if uncertain of their course, suddenly poisedthemselves upon the wing and skimmed down the long vista of someopening valley, with the speed of light itself.By degrees, the prospect receded more and more on either hand, andas they had been shut out from rich and extensive scenery, so theyemerged once again upon the open country. The knowledge that theywere drawing near their place of destination, gave them freshcourage to proceed; but the way had been difficult, and they hadloitered on the road, and Smike was tired. Thus, twilight hadalready closed in, when they turned off the path to the door of aroadside inn, yet twelve miles short of Portsmouth.'Twelve miles,' said Nicholas, leaning with both hands on his stick,and looking doubtfully at Smike.'Twelve long miles,' repeated the landlord.'Is it a good road?' inquired Nicholas.'Very bad,' said the landlord. As of course, being a landlord, hewould say.'I want to get on,' observed Nicholas. hesitating. 'I scarcelyknow what to do.''Don't let me influence you,' rejoined the landlord. 'I wouldn't goon if it was me.''Wouldn't you?' asked Nicholas, with the same uncertainty.'Not if I knew when I was well off,' said the landlord. And havingsaid it he pulled up his apron, put his hands into his pockets, and,taking a step or two outside the door, looked down the dark roadwith an assumption of great indifference.A glance at the toil-worn face of Smike determined Nicholas, sowithout any further consideration he made up his mind to stay wherehe was.The landlord led them into the kitchen, and as there was a good firehe remarked that it was very cold. If there had happened to be abad one he would have observed that it was very warm.'What can you give us for supper?' was Nicholas's natural question.'Why--what would you like?' was the landlord's no less naturalanswer.Nicholas suggested cold meat, but there was no cold meat--poachedeggs, but there were no eggs--mutton chops, but there wasn't amutton chop within three miles, though there had been more last weekthan they knew what to do with, and would be an extraordinary supplythe day after tomorrow.'Then,' said Nicholas, 'I must leave it entirely to you, as I wouldhave done, at first, if you had allowed me.''Why, then I'll tell you what,' rejoined the landlord. 'There's agentleman in the parlour that's ordered a hot beef-steak pudding andpotatoes, at nine. There's more of it than he can manage, and Ihave very little doubt that if I ask leave, you can sup with him.I'll do that, in a minute.''No, no,' said Nicholas, detaining him. 'I would rather not. I--atleast--pshaw! why cannot I speak out? Here; you see that I amtravelling in a very humble manner, and have made my way hither onfoot. It is more than probable, I think, that the gentleman may notrelish my company; and although I am the dusty figure you see, I amtoo proud to thrust myself into his.''Lord love you,' said the landlord, 'it's only Mr Crummles; he isn'tparticular.''Is he not?' asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the truth, theprospect of the savoury pudding was making some impression.'Not he,' replied the landlord. 'He'll like your way of talking, Iknow. But we'll soon see all about that. Just wait a minute.'The landlord hurried into the parlour, without staying for furtherpermission, nor did Nicholas strive to prevent him: wiselyconsidering that supper, under the circumstances, was too serious amatter to be trifled with. It was not long before the hostreturned, in a condition of much excitement.'All right,' he said in a low voice. 'I knew he would. You'll seesomething rather worth seeing, in there. Ecod, how they are a-goingof it!'There was no time to inquire to what this exclamation, which wasdelivered in a very rapturous tone, referred; for he had alreadythrown open the door of the room; into which Nicholas, followed bySmike with the bundle on his shoulder (he carried it about with himas vigilantly as if it had been a sack of gold), straightwayrepaired.Nicholas was prepared for something odd, but not for something quiteso odd as the sight he encountered. At the upper end of the room,were a couple of boys, one of them very tall and the other veryshort, both dressed as sailors--or at least as theatrical sailors,with belts, buckles, pigtails, and pistols complete--fighting whatis called in play-bills a terrific combat, with two of those shortbroad-swords with basket hilts which are commonly used at our minortheatres. The short boy had gained a great advantage over the tallboy, who was reduced to mortal strait, and both were overlooked by alarge heavy man, perched against the corner of a table, whoemphatically adjured them to strike a little more fire out of theswords, and they couldn't fail to bring the house down, on the veryfirst night.'Mr Vincent Crummles,' said the landlord with an air of greatdeference. 'This is the young gentleman.'Mr Vincent Crummles received Nicholas with an inclination of thehead, something between the courtesy of a Roman emperor and the nodof a pot companion; and bade the landlord shut the door and begone.'There's a picture,' said Mr Crummles, motioning Nicholas not toadvance and spoil it. 'The little 'un has him; if the big 'undoesn't knock under, in three seconds, he's a dead man. Do thatagain, boys.'The two combatants went to work afresh, and chopped away until theswords emitted a shower of sparks: to the great satisfaction of MrCrummles, who appeared to consider this a very great point indeed.The engagement commenced with about two hundred chops administeredby the short sailor and the tall sailor alternately, withoutproducing any particular result, until the short sailor was choppeddown on one knee; but this was nothing to him, for he worked himselfabout on the one knee with the assistance of his left hand, andfought most desperately until the tall sailor chopped his sword outof his grasp. Now, the inference was, that the short sailor,reduced to this extremity, would give in at once and cry quarter,but, instead of that, he all of a sudden drew a large pistol fromhis belt and presented it at the face of the tall sailor, who was soovercome at this (not expecting it) that he let the short sailorpick up his sword and begin again. Then, the chopping recommenced,and a variety of fancy chops were administered on both sides; suchas chops dealt with the left hand, and under the leg, and over theright shoulder, and over the left; and when the short sailor made avigorous cut at the tall sailor's legs, which would have shaved themclean off if it had taken effect, the tall sailor jumped over theshort sailor's sword, wherefore to balance the matter, and make itall fair, the tall sailor administered the same cut, and the shortsailor jumped over his sword. After this, there was a good deal ofdodging about, and hitching up of the inexpressibles in the absenceof braces, and then the short sailor (who was the moral characterevidently, for he always had the best of it) made a violentdemonstration and closed with the tall sailor, who, after a fewunavailing struggles, went down, and expired in great torture as theshort sailor put his foot upon his breast, and bored a hole in himthrough and through.'That'll be a double encore if you take care, boys,' said MrCrummles. 'You had better get your wind now and change yourclothes.'Having addressed these words to the combatants, he saluted Nicholas,who then observed that the face of Mr Crummles was quiteproportionate in size to his body; that he had a very full under-lip, a hoarse voice, as though he were in the habit of shouting verymuch, and very short black hair, shaved off nearly to the crown ofhis head--to admit (as he afterwards learnt) of his more easilywearing character wigs of any shape or pattern.'What did you think of that, sir?' inquired Mr Crummles.'Very good, indeed--capital,' answered Nicholas.'You won't see such boys as those very often, I think,' said MrCrummles.Nicholas assented--observing that if they were a little bettermatch--'Match!' cried Mr Crummles.'I mean if they were a little more of a size,' said Nicholas,explaining himself.'Size!' repeated Mr Crummles; 'why, it's the essence of the combatthat there should be a foot or two between them. How are you to getup the sympathies of the audience in a legitimate manner, if thereisn't a little man contending against a big one?--unless there's atleast five to one, and we haven't hands enough for that business inour company.''I see,' replied Nicholas. 'I beg your pardon. That didn't occurto me, I confess.''It's the main point,' said Mr Crummles. 'I open at Portsmouth theday after tomorrow. If you're going there, look into the theatre,and see how that'll tell.'Nicholas promised to do so, if he could, and drawing a chair nearthe fire, fell into conversation with the manager at once. He wasvery talkative and communicative, stimulated perhaps, not only byhis natural disposition, but by the spirits and water he sipped veryplentifully, or the snuff he took in large quantities from a pieceof whitey-brown paper in his waistcoat pocket. He laid open hisaffairs without the smallest reserve, and descanted at some lengthupon the merits of his company, and the acquirements of his family;of both of which, the two broad-sword boys formed an honourableportion. There was to be a gathering, it seemed, of the differentladies and gentlemen at Portsmouth on the morrow, whither the fatherand sons were proceeding (not for the regular season, but in thecourse of a wandering speculation), after fulfilling an engagementat Guildford with the greatest applause.'You are going that way?' asked the manager.'Ye-yes,' said Nicholas. 'Yes, I am.''Do you know the town at all?' inquired the manager, who seemed toconsider himself entitled to the same degree of confidence as he hadhimself exhibited.'No,' replied Nicholas.'Never there?''Never.'Mr Vincent Crummles gave a short dry cough, as much as to say, 'Ifyou won't be communicative, you won't;' and took so many pinches ofsnuff from the piece of paper, one after another, that Nicholasquite wondered where it all went to.While he was thus engaged, Mr Crummles looked, from time to time,with great interest at Smike, with whom he had appeared considerablystruck from the first. He had now fallen asleep, and was nodding inhis chair.'Excuse my saying so,' said the manager, leaning over to Nicholas,and sinking his voice, 'but what a capital countenance your friendhas got!''Poor fellow!' said Nicholas, with a half-smile, 'I wish it were alittle more plump, and less haggard.''Plump!' exclaimed the manager, quite horrified, 'you'd spoil it forever.''Do you think so?''Think so, sir! Why, as he is now,' said the manager, striking hisknee emphatically; 'without a pad upon his body, and hardly a touchof paint upon his face, he'd make such an actor for the starvedbusiness as was never seen in this country. Only let him betolerably well up in the Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, with theslightest possible dab of red on the tip of his nose, and he'd becertain of three rounds the moment he put his head out of thepracticable door in the front grooves O.P.''You view him with a professional eye,' said Nicholas, laughing.'And well I may,' rejoined the manager. 'I never saw a young fellowso regularly cut out for that line, since I've been in theprofession. And I played the heavy children when I was eighteenmonths old.'The appearance of the beef-steak pudding, which came insimultaneously with the junior Vincent Crummleses, turned theconversation to other matters, and indeed, for a time, stopped italtogether. These two young gentlemen wielded their knives andforks with scarcely less address than their broad-swords, and as thewhole party were quite as sharp set as either class of weapons,there was no time for talking until the supper had been disposed of.The Master Crummleses had no sooner swallowed the last procurablemorsel of food, than they evinced, by various half-suppressed yawnsand stretchings of their limbs, an obvious inclination to retire forthe night, which Smike had betrayed still more strongly: he having,in the course of the meal, fallen asleep several times while in thevery act of eating. Nicholas therefore proposed that they shouldbreak up at once, but the manager would by no means hear of it;vowing that he had promised himself the pleasure of inviting his newacquaintance to share a bowl of punch, and that if he declined, heshould deem it very unhandsome behaviour.'Let them go,' said Mr Vincent Crummles, 'and we'll have it snuglyand cosily together by the fire.'Nicholas was not much disposed to sleep--being in truth too anxious--so, after a little demur, he accepted the offer, and havingexchanged a shake of the hand with the young Crummleses, and themanager having on his part bestowed a most affectionate benedictionon Smike, he sat himself down opposite to that gentleman by thefireside to assist in emptying the bowl, which soon afterwardsappeared, steaming in a manner which was quite exhilarating tobehold, and sending forth a most grateful and inviting fragrance.But, despite the punch and the manager, who told a variety ofstories, and smoked tobacco from a pipe, and inhaled it in the shapeof snuff, with a most astonishing power, Nicholas was absent anddispirited. His thoughts were in his old home, and when theyreverted to his present condition, the uncertainty of the morrowcast a gloom upon him, which his utmost efforts were unable todispel. His attention wandered; although he heard the manager'svoice, he was deaf to what he said; and when Mr Vincent Crummlesconcluded the history of some long adventure with a loud laugh, andan inquiry what Nicholas would have done under the samecircumstances, he was obliged to make the best apology in his power,and to confess his entire ignorance of all he had been talkingabout.'Why, so I saw,' observed Mr Crummles. 'You're uneasy in your mind.What's the matter?'Nicholas could not refrain from smiling at the abruptness of thequestion; but, thinking it scarcely worth while to parry it, ownedthat he was under some apprehensions lest he might not succeed inthe object which had brought him to that part of the country.'And what's that?' asked the manager.'Getting something to do which will keep me and my poor fellow-traveller in the common necessaries of life,' said Nicholas.'That's the truth. You guessed it long ago, I dare say, so I may aswell have the credit of telling it you with a good grace.''What's to be got to do at Portsmouth more than anywhere else?'asked Mr Vincent Crummles, melting the sealing-wax on the stem ofhis pipe in the candle, and rolling it out afresh with his littlefinger.'There are many vessels leaving the port, I suppose,' repliedNicholas. 'I shall try for a berth in some ship or other. There ismeat and drink there at all events.''Salt meat and new rum; pease-pudding and chaff-biscuits,' said themanager, taking a whiff at his pipe to keep it alight, and returningto his work of embellishment.'One may do worse than that,' said Nicholas. 'I can rough it, Ibelieve, as well as most young men of my age and previous habits.''You need be able to,' said the manager, 'if you go on board ship;but you won't.''Why not?''Because there's not a skipper or mate that would think you worthyour salt, when he could get a practised hand,' replied the manager;'and they as plentiful there, as the oysters in the streets.''What do you mean?' asked Nicholas, alarmed by this prediction, andthe confident tone in which it had been uttered. 'Men are not bornable seamen. They must be reared, I suppose?'Mr Vincent Crummles nodded his head. 'They must; but not at yourage, or from young gentlemen like you.'There was a pause. The countenance of Nicholas fell, and he gazedruefully at the fire.'Does no other profession occur to you, which a young man of yourfigure and address could take up easily, and see the world toadvantage in?' asked the manager.'No,' said Nicholas, shaking his head.'Why, then, I'll tell you one,' said Mr Crummles, throwing his pipeinto the fire, and raising his voice. 'The stage.''The stage!' cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud.'The theatrical profession,' said Mr Vincent Crummles. 'I am in thetheatrical profession myself, my wife is in the theatricalprofession, my children are in the theatrical profession. I had adog that lived and died in it from a puppy; and my chaise-pony goeson, in Timour the Tartar. I'll bring you out, and your friend too.Say the word. I want a novelty.''I don't know anything about it,' rejoined Nicholas, whose breathhad been almost taken away by this sudden proposal. 'I never acteda part in my life, except at school.''There's genteel comedy in your walk and manner, juvenile tragedy inyour eye, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh,' said Mr VincentCrummles. 'You'll do as well as if you had thought of nothing elsebut the lamps, from your birth downwards.'Nicholas thought of the small amount of small change that wouldremain in his pocket after paying the tavern bill; and he hesitated.'You can be useful to us in a hundred ways,' said Mr Crummles.'Think what capital bills a man of your education could write forthe shop-windows.''Well, I think I could manage that department,' said Nicholas.'To be sure you could,' replied Mr Crummles. '"For furtherparticulars see small hand-bills"--we might have half a volume inevery one of 'em. Pieces too; why, you could write us a piece tobring out the whole strength of the company, whenever we wantedone.''I am not quite so confident about that,' replied Nicholas. 'But Idare say I could scribble something now and then, that would suityou.''We'll have a new show-piece out directly,' said the manager. 'Letme see--peculiar resources of this establishment--new and splendidscenery--you must manage to introduce a real pump and two washing-tubs.''Into the piece?' said Nicholas.'Yes,' replied the manager. 'I bought 'em cheap, at a sale theother day, and they'll come in admirably. That's the London plan.They look up some dresses, and properties, and have a piece writtento fit 'em. Most of the theatres keep an author on purpose.''Indeed!' cried Nicholas.'Oh, yes,' said the manager; 'a common thing. It'll look very wellin the bills in separate lines--Real pumpGreatattraction! You don't happen to be anything of an artist, do you?''That is not one of my accomplishments,' rejoined Nicholas.'Ah! Then it can't be helped,' said the manager. 'If you had been,we might have had a large woodcut of the last scene for the posters,showing the whole depth of the stage, with the pump and tubs in themiddle; but, however, if you're not, it can't be helped.''What should I get for all this?' inquired Nicholas, after a fewmoments' reflection. 'Could I live by it?''Live by it!' said the manager. 'Like a prince! With your ownsalary, and your friend's, and your writings, you'd make--ah! you'dmake a pound a week!''You don't say so!''I do indeed, and if we had a run of good houses, nearly double themoney.'Nicholas shrugged his shoulders; but sheer destitution was beforehim; and if he could summon fortitude to undergo the extremes ofwant and hardship, for what had he rescued his helpless charge if itwere only to bear as hard a fate as that from which he had wrestedhim? It was easy to think of seventy miles as nothing, when he wasin the same town with the man who had treated him so ill and rousedhis bitterest thoughts; but now, it seemed far enough. What if hewent abroad, and his mother or Kate were to die the while?Without more deliberation, he hastily declared that it was abargain, and gave Mr Vincent Crummles his hand upon it.