,
turning his eyes proudly up to Henry's.

"Oh, indeed! But you see that is not exactly what the doctor wants us
for."

"Nay; he's wrapped up in trout. If it wasn't for Billy and the trout,
he'd die right off."

Henry turned a look of silent pity on the boy, and left him in his
pleasing illusion. He wondered that Dr. Amboyne should have tacked this
biped on to him.

They entered Cheetham's works, and Henry marched grimly into the office,
and showed Mr. Bayne his credentials.

"Why, Little, you had no need of that."

"Oh, it is as well to have no misunderstanding with your employer's
masters. I visit these works for my present employer, Dr. Amboyne, with
the consent of Mr. Cheetham, here written."

"Very well, sir," said Bayne, obsequiously; "and I respectfully solicit
the honor of conducting our esteemed visitor."

A young man's ill-humor could not stand against this. "Come along, old
fellow," said Henry. "I'm a bear, with a sore heart; but who could be
such a brute as quarrel with you? Let us begin with the chaps who drove
me out--the grinders. I'm hired to philanthropize 'em--d--n 'em."

They went among the dry-grinders first; and Henry made the following
observations. The workman's hair and clothes were powdered with grit
and dust from the grindstones. The very air was impregnated with it,
and soon irritated his own lungs perceptibly. Here was early death,
by bronchitis and lung diseases, reduced to a certainty. But he
also learned from the men that the quantity of metal ground off
was prodigious, and entered their bodies they scarce knew how. A
razor-grinder showed him his shirt: it was a deep buff-color. "There,
sir," said he, "that was clean on yesterday. All the washerwomen in
Hillsbro' can't make a shirt of mine any other color but that." The
effect on life, health, and happiness was visible; a single glance
revealed rounded shoulders and narrow chests, caused partly by the
grinder's position on his horsing, a position very injurious to the
organs of breathing, and partly by the two devil's dusts that filled the
air; cadaverous faces, the muscles of which betrayed habitual suffering,
coughs short and dry, or with a frothy expectoration peculiar to the
trade. In answer to questions, many complained of a fearful tightness
across the chest, of inability to eat or to digest. One said it took him
five minutes to get up the factory stairs, and he had to lean against
the wall several times.

A razor-grind