coat to the church where
he was christened) to open his heavy eyes, and clap his hot hands, and
cry, "More, father, more." Will and Dulcie looked gladly into each
other's eyes at his animation, and boasted what a stamping, thundering
man he would yet live to be--that midge, that sprite, with Dulcie's
small skeleton bones, and Will's dry, lustreless, fair hair!

Anon while Dulcie was still rocking one of these weary children moaning
in its sleep, Will must needs strike a light to resume his beloved
labours; but first he directed his candle to his canvas, and called on
Dulcie to contemplate and comprehend, while he murmured and raved to her
of the group of fallen men and women crouching in the den--of the wind
of horror raising their hair,--of the dawn of hope bursting in the
eastern sky, and high above them the fiendish crew, and the captains of
the Blessed still swaying to and fro in the burdened air, and striking
deadly blows for supremacy. And Dulcie, open-eyed and open-mouthed as of
old, looked at the captives, as if listening to the strife that was to
come, and wellnigh heard the thunder of the captains and the shouting,
while her eye was always eagerly pointed to that pearly streak which was
to herald the one long, cool, calm, bright day of humanity. No wonder
Dulcie was as demented as Will, and thought it would be a very little
matter though the milk-porridge were sour on the morrow, or if the
carrier did not come with the price in his pocket for these sweet pots,
and bowls, and pipkins: she believed her poor babies were well at rest
from the impending dust, and din, and danger; and smiled deep, quiet
smiles at Clary--poor Clary, with her cut velvet, her coach, and her
black boy. Verily Will and Dulcie could afford to refer not only
pleasantly but mercifully, to Sam Winnington and Clary that night.

"It is contemptible to lose sight of the sublimity of life even to enjoy
perfect ease and happiness." That is a very grand saying; but, oh dear!
we are poor creatures; and though Dulcie is an infinitely nobler being
now than then, the tears are fit to start into our eyes when we remember
the little brown head which "bridled finely," the little feet which
pranced lightly, and the little tongue which wagged, free from care, in
the stage waggon on the country road yon clear September day.

VI.--SAM AND CLARISSA IN COMPANY IN LEICESTER SQUARE.

Sam and Clarissa were worshipful people now. Uncle Barnet no longer
invite