ing shipwrecked boy, oh, where is he?

The Major don't know; that's for certain; and don't care. The Major,
having choked and slumbered, all the afternoon, has taken a late dinner
at his club, and now sits over his pint of wine, driving a modest young
man, with a fresh-coloured face, at the next table (who would give a
handsome sum to be able to rise and go away, but cannot do it) to the
verge of madness, by anecdotes of Bagstock, Sir, at Dombey's wedding,
and Old Joe's devilish gentle manly friend, Lord Feenix. While Cousin
Feenix, who ought to be at Long's, and in bed, finds himself, instead,
at a gaming-table, where his wilful legs have taken him, perhaps, in his
own despite.

Night, like a giant, fills the church, from pavement to roof, and holds
dominion through the silent hours. Pale dawn again comes peeping through
the windows: and, giving place to day, sees night withdraw into the
vaults, and follows it, and drives it out, and hides among the dead. The
timid mice again cower close together, when the great door clashes,
and Mr Sownds and Mrs Miff treading the circle of their daily lives,
unbroken as a marriage ring, come in. Again, the cocked hat and the
mortified bonnet stand in the background at the marriage hour; and
again this man taketh this woman, and this woman taketh this man, on the
solemn terms:

'To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for
richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,
until death do them part.'

The very words that Mr Carker rides into town repeating, with his mouth
stretched to the utmost, as he picks his dainty way.

CHAPTER 32. The Wooden Midshipman goes to Pieces

Honest Captain Cuttle, as the weeks flew over him in his fortified
retreat, by no means abated any of his prudent provisions against
surprise, because of the non-appearance of the enemy. The Captain argued
that his present security was too profound and wonderful to endure
much longer; he knew that when the wind stood in a fair quarter, the
weathercock was seldom nailed there; and he was too well acquainted with
the determined and dauntless character of Mrs MacStinger, to doubt that
that heroic woman had devoted herself to the task of his discovery and
capture. Trembling beneath the weight of these reasons, Captain Cuttle
lived a very close and retired life; seldom stirring abroad until after
dark; venturing even then only into the obscurest streets; never going