"Not a bit not a bit," said Jem in words; but his tone and manner said, "And so it is."

Oh, I saw it—in a minute, Jem; and I see it now, dear little fellow. He'd ha' been dead, stone-dead in the morning, if I had n't come up as I did!"

And Jem, placing his hands upon his knees, and staring in his wife's face, asked, "And where did you find him?” Whereupon, Mrs. Aniseed-with commendable brevity for her sexnarrated the incident of discovery, already known to the reader. Well, poor little chap," said Jem, resuming his seat and his pipe, "he's welcome to board and lodging for one night."

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Mrs. Aniseed made no answer. It was the more extraordinary in her, inasmuch as she had one at her tongue's-end. However,

as the child began to wake, she bustled about the room, and soon prepared for it a sufficiency of supper. sufficiency of supper. In a surprisingly few minutes, she had the child upon her lap with its bare legs almost roasting at the fire, and with more than infantine energy, trying to swallow the victuals, spoon and all.

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Why, if he does n't eat like a young sparrow," said Jem, eyeing the little feeder askance. He's not strange in a strange

place, any how.”

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Oh, Jem!" cried Mrs. Aniseed, as though she was unburthening her heart of its dearest wish-" Oh, Jem, how I should like to keep it!" Jem said nothing; but slowly taking the pipe from his mouth, he looked all the amazement he was master of. Of course his wife took no notice of this. She merely continued: "I'm sure, Jem, the dear little soul would bring a blessing on us.'

"Yes, and another belly to fill; and another back to cover; and two more feet to shoe; and "”—and we know not what inventory of obligations Jem would have made out; but his wife-a fine tactician-began to chirrup, and cry to the child, and make all those legendary noises of the nursery, faithfully handed down to us from the time that Eve nursed Cain. Jem was in a moment silenced. Whereupon, in due time, Mrs. Aniseed set the child up, and then danced it in the very face of Jem, calling upon to remark its extraordinary loveliness, and by consequence, its extraordinary resemblance to their lost Dick.

him

"He's a sharp little shaver," said Jem, gently pinching the baby's cheeks when the baby laughed.

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"If it does n't seem to know what you say, Jem," cried Mrs. Aniseed; and then with new vehemence she added, "Something tells me it would be lucky to us."

"Nonsense, woman!" cried Jem; "how can we afford such fancies? You'll be thinking of keeping pug-dogs and parrots next. Besides, it's impossible, with the playhouse going down as it is."

Mrs. Aniseed ceased to urge her point, and thereby showed her admirable knowledge, if not of human nature, of the nature of her lord and master; for he was tenacious of his authority, and never directly ceded it upon any of his wife's arguments, however wise and subtle. No : when he gave up a point, he chose to surrender it as the sole working-the pure result of his own wisdom, taking counsel with itself, unawed by the smaller wisdom of the weaker vessel. Therefore, when Mrs. Aniseed found that her husband gave way, even one step, she paused, lest by following him, he should be piqued to retrace more than the ground he had lost. "I've been quite in the way of babies to-night," said Mrs. Aniseed; "young master's come to town." Oh, a boy is it?" grumbled Jem. "Well, he's a better chance of it than that little chap." Mrs. Aniseed drew a very long, deep sigh, intending it for an emphatic affirmation. "He's a good big gold spoon in his mouth already. Humph!-a boy, is it? And what, after all, Mrs. Aniseed, what business had you there? You know I do n't like it-and you will go."

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Now this remonstrance applied to the visits of Mrs. Aniseed to a certain house in St. James's-square; at which house a younger spinster sister of the linkman's wife flourished as under kitchenmaid She was, however, sufficiently ennobled by the genius loci to have a very commendable contempt for St. Giles's, and all its dwellers; and on certain occasions had not scrupled to express her wonderment that her sister, "who after all was not sich a very plain gal," should ever have taken up with so low a husband as a nasty linkman. She had somehow compared the big bouquets of the footman with the pitch and hemp with which Bright Jem was wont to earn what she called " his low, dirty bread," and her nice sense of sweetness was grievously offended by the foul contrast. Sometimes, too, out of purest condescension, Kitty Muggs-for Muggs was the virgin name which no odoriferous footman had as yet robbed her of― would visit Short's Gardens. At such times, it was impossible for her not to make it known to St. Giles the vast debt of gratitude due from it to St. James: a debt which Bright Jem-as one of the representatives of the meaner locality-never by the smallest instalment ever permitted himself to pay.

"As for Kitty, he was always very glad to see her if she'd leave her nonsense behind her but she always walked into the room as if she walked upon eggs; always brushed the chair afore she 'd sit down; and always moved with her petticoats lifted up, as if the white honest deal boards of the floor was so much gutter-mud. And then the tea was always so coarse, and not a bit like their gunpowder; and the bacon was rusty, not a bit like their hams; and in fact there was nothing, no, not even the flesh and blood of Short's Gardens, at all like the flesh and blood of the West-End. Why didn't she keep to her own dripping, and not cast her nose up like a flounder's tail, at the clean, wholesome food of other people? He hated all such stuff; and what's more, he would n't have it." Such, again and again, had been the words of Bright Jem; and he never heard of the sisterly visits of his wife to the aristocratic kitchen-maid, that he did n't protest against them.

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Well," said Mrs. Aniseed, "she's the only relation I have in the world, and I can't help seeing her. Poor girl! she's young and giddy, but she does n't mean nothing."

"Young and giddy!" cried Jem; "well, I don't know at what time of life geese leave off their giddiness, but she's old enough to be the mother of a good many goslings. Got a boy, have they? -ha! they've been wanting one long enough. Got a young St. James? Well, babies in that quarter may be made of finer sort of stuff than hereabouts; but he can hardly be a handsomer little thing than young St. Giles here." Saying this, Jem held out his arms, and in an instant Mrs. Aniseed had placed the baby in them. "Well, he is a capital little fellow," cried Jem. Has he done sucking, I wonder?"

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To be sure he has," averred Mrs. Aniseed on her own responsibility.

"Did n't you see how he ate?"

"A lively little dog, is n't he?" and Jem danced the child upon his knee, and snapped his fingers at it, and the child leapt up, and laughed, and crowed. And then Jem looking sadly at the infant, said, "And he is like poor little Dick. I see it now, Susan; he is like Dick."

Mrs. Aniseed made no answer; but with great alacrity bustled about the room, and prepared supper. Such preparation was soon made. "Now I'll take him-you can't eat with him in your lap," she said.

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Well,

Let him be; I'll manage it-I used to do it once. well-what's gone can't be helped. It's no use a grievin', Susan, is it?-no, not a bit. If times was n't so bad, now-to be

sure he won't take much as he is; but then he 'll grow bigger,

and"

"And I'm sure he 'd be a comfort to us," cried Mrs. Aniseed, "he looks like it."

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If he is n't fast asleep-Lord! Lord!" cried Jem, gazing at the child, "who to look upon a sleeping baby, and to know what things are every day done in the world, would ever think that all men was sleeping babes once. Put it to bed, Sue; stop a minute ”—and Jem tenderly kissed the child. Then turning round, and looking in the fire, he said to himself, "it is like little Dick."

Though late when she went to bed, Mrs. Aniseed was in the morning an early riser. She had prepared breakfast, and had fed her baby charge before her husband was stirring; and it was plain had determined within herself to place all things in the very rosiest light before the eyes of her helpmate. She had already conned and got by heart twenty different arguments to prove the exceeding comfortnay, the ultimate profit, the child would be to them. And with these arguments simmering in her head, she moved actively about, setting her room in order, at the same time expressing the most endearing pantomime to the infant that lay rolling before the fire. Never since the first quarter of her honeymoon had Mrs. Aniseed shown herself in sweeter temper. Bright Jem was not slow to feel its influence. "Why, Susan, you're as lively as May-day this morning," said he, commencing his toilette. "Where's the little chap?"

"There he is, bless him!" cried Mrs. Aniseed, "and as much at home as if he'd been born here. Well, I don't know-I never thought I could love any baby again after Dick.'

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Pooh! women can love no end o' babies," said Jem. "They 're made a purpose for it." Jem seated himself to breakfast, yet ere he began his meal, recreated himself by tickling the child at his foot with his fore-finger, to the mutual delectation of baby and man; whilst Mrs. Aniseed, pausing in a half-cut slice of breadand-butter, looked over the table, quite delighted with the sport. How she laughed—and how frequently she assured Jem that she always said he was the best nurse in the world. She then remained solely attentive to the duties of the table, until Jem having achieved his morning bacon, turned himself round, and with his elbows upon his knees, looked thoughtfully down upon the child.

"Well, that's a better place than a door-step, any how," said Jem, as the baby kicked before the fire.

"Yet that 's what it must come to again, Jem, if we're hardhearted enough to turn it out."

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Humph! It's a shame they should be born, Sue; a downright shame," said Jem mournfully.

"La! how can the man talk such wickedness!" cried Mrs. Aniseed.

"I always think so, when I see 'em running about-poor dirty creturs as if they 'd been spawned in gutter-mud."

"With nobody to teach 'em nothing," chimed in Mrs.

Aniseed.

"Oh, yes; they all of 'em go to school, such as it is," cried Jem bitterly.

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'I'm sure, Jem, they don't," said his wife. "There ar'n't schools enough for 'em; and then again how many of their parents do n't care whether they know no more than headstrong pigs.'

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I've seen him

Oh, yes; they all listen to a schoolmaster. talking among 'em under gateways, and in corners, and in courts, and afore shop-windows, and in all sorts o' places in the streets; yes, a schoolmaster teaching little things-and how they do learn, to be sure no taller than that;' " and here Jem, with impressive action, held up a wire toasting-fork.

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"I never heard of him in the parish," said Mrs, Aniseed, “what schoolmaster do you mean

?"

"The devil, Susan, the devil: I've seen him among the children, horns, tail, and all-ha! quite as natʼral as he's shewn in any pantomine-I've seen him as plain, as I see you; and whilst he's been taching 'em, I 've seen beside him, Jack Ketch a-grinning, and a rubbin' his hands, and a smackin' his mouth like a fellow as sees a hearty meal, and wants to fall to. I say it, Susan, and I'll stand to it-it's a shame they 're born."

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Won't it be a blessed thing to snatch this darling cretur-if it does n't look sensible as though it knew what we was talkin' ofthis pretty cretur from all such trouble, all such wickedness ?" asked Mrs. Aniseed, moving closer to her husband.

"Why, there was little Tom Jumper"-mused Jem-" and pretty Jack Needles-and that sarcy little chap, but no real harm in him at first, Bob Winkin-did n't you and me know 'em all? And was n't they all ruined afore they knew what ruin was?