oorsteps, and continually stopping, in the midst of a thousand
extravagances, to look back at Florence, and bark until all the dogs
within hearing answered, and all the dogs who could come out, came out
to stare at him.

With this last adherent, Florence hurried away in the advancing morning,
and the strengthening sunshine, to the City. The roar soon grew more
loud, the passengers more numerous, the shops more busy, until she
was carried onward in a stream of life setting that way, and
flowing, indifferently, past marts and mansions, prisons, churches,
market-places, wealth, poverty, good, and evil, like the broad river
side by side with it, awakened from its dreams of rushes, willows, and
green moss, and rolling on, turbid and troubled, among the works and
cares of men, to the deep sea.

At length the quarters of the little Midshipman arose in view. Nearer
yet, and the little Midshipman himself was seen upon his post, intent as
ever on his observations. Nearer yet, and the door stood open, inviting
her to enter. Florence, who had again quickened her pace, as she
approached the end of her journey, ran across the road (closely followed
by Diogenes, whom the bustle had somewhat confused), ran in, and sank
upon the threshold of the well-remembered little parlour.

The Captain, in his glazed hat, was standing over the fire, making
his morning's cocoa, with that elegant trifle, his watch, upon the
chimney-piece, for easy reference during the progress of the cookery.
Hearing a footstep and the rustle of a dress, the Captain turned with a
palpitating remembrance of the dreadful Mrs MacStinger, at the instant
when Florence made a motion with her hand towards him, reeled, and fell
upon the floor.

The Captain, pale as Florence, pale in the very knobs upon his face
raised her like a baby, and laid her on the same old sofa upon which she
had slumbered long ago.

'It's Heart's Delight!' said the Captain, looking intently in her face.
'It's the sweet creetur grow'd a woman!'

Captain Cuttle was so respectful of her, and had such a reverence for
her, in this new character, that he would not have held her in his arms,
while she was unconscious, for a thousand pounds.

'My Heart's Delight!' said the Captain, withdrawing to a little
distance, with the greatest alarm and sympathy depicted on his
countenance. 'If you can hail Ned Cuttle with a finger, do it!'

But Florence did not stir.

'My Heart's Delight!' said the trembling