h the medium of such a very
apt instrument as my savage friend here, may further our real ends;
and to express at all becoming seasons, in moderate and polite terms,
a disapprobation of his proceedings, though we agree with him in
principle, will certainly be to gain a character for honesty and
uprightness of purpose, which cannot fail to do us infinite service, and
to raise us into some importance. Good! So much for public grounds. As
to private considerations, I confess that if these vagabonds WOULD make
some riotous demonstration (which does not appear impossible), and WOULD
inflict some little chastisement on Haredale as a not inactive man among
his sect, it would be extremely agreeable to my feelings, and would
amuse me beyond measure. Good again! Perhaps better!'

When he came to this point, he took a pinch of snuff; then beginning
slowly to undress, he resumed his meditations, by saying with a smile:

'I fear, I DO fear exceedingly, that my friend is following fast in the
footsteps of his mother. His intimacy with Mr Dennis is very ominous.
But I have no doubt he must have come to that end any way. If I lend
him a helping hand, the only difference is, that he may, upon the whole,
possibly drink a few gallons, or puncheons, or hogsheads, less in this
life than he otherwise would. It's no business of mine. It's a matter of
very small importance!'

So he took another pinch of snuff, and went to bed.

Chapter 41

From the workshop of the Golden Key, there issued forth a tinkling
sound, so merry and good-humoured, that it suggested the idea of some
one working blithely, and made quite pleasant music. No man who hammered
on at a dull monotonous duty, could have brought such cheerful notes
from steel and iron; none but a chirping, healthy, honest-hearted
fellow, who made the best of everything, and felt kindly towards
everybody, could have done it for an instant. He might have been a
coppersmith, and still been musical. If he had sat in a jolting waggon,
full of rods of iron, it seemed as if he would have brought some harmony
out of it.

Tink, tink, tink--clear as a silver bell, and audible at every pause of
the streets' harsher noises, as though it said, 'I don't care; nothing
puts me out; I am resolved to be happy.' Women scolded, children
squalled, heavy carts went rumbling by, horrible cries proceeded from
the lungs of hawkers; still it struck in again, no higher, no lower,
no louder, no softer; not thr