thetic and most of the comic portions of the tale were
happily preserved. When, in the persons of the Tugbys, "fat company,
rosy-cheeked company, comfortable company," came to be introduced, there
was an instant sense of exhilaration among the audience.

A roar invariably greeted the remark, "They were but two, but they
were red enough for ten." Similarly pronounced was the reception of the
casual announcement of the "stone pitcher of terrific size," in which
the good wife brought her contribution of "a little flip" to the final
merry-making. "Mrs. Chicken-stalker's notion of a little flip did honour
to her character," elicited a burst of laughter that was instantly
renewed when the Reader added, that "the pitcher reeked like a
volcano," and that "the man who carried it was faint." The Drum, by
the way--braced tight enough, as any one might admit in the original
narrative--seemed rather slackened, and was certainly less effective,
in the Reading. One listened in vain for the well-remembered parenthesis
indicative of its being the man himself, and not the instrument. "The
Drum (who was a private friend of Trotty's) then stepped forward,
and" offered--evidently with a hiccough or two--his greeting of good
fellowship, "which," as we learn from the book, "was received with
a general shout." The Humorist added thereupon, in his character as
Storyteller, not in his capacity as Reader, "The Drum was rather drunk,
by-the-bye; but never mind." A band of music, with marrow-bones
and cleavers and a set of hand-bells--clearly all of them under the
direction of the Drum--then struck up the dance at Meg's wedding.
But, after due mention had been made of how Trotty danced with Mrs.
Chickenstalker "in a step unknown before or since, founded on his own
peculiar trot," the story closed in the book, and closed also in the
Reading, with words that, in their gentle and harmonious flow, seemed
to come from the neighbouring church-tower as final echoes from "The
Chimes" themselves.

THE STORY OF LITTLE DOMBEY.

[Illustration: Little-Dombey.jpg]

The hushed silence with which the concluding passages of this Reading
were always listened to, spoke more eloquently than any applause could
possibly have done, of the sincerity of the emotions it awakened. A
cursory glance at the audience confirmed the impression produced by
that earlier evidence of their rapt and breathless attention. It is
the simplest truth to say that at those times man