Le concours des thologiens, & des rituels, qui sont les rgles des diocses, paroit former une autorit qui termine la question presente; cependant le conseil de conscience considerant d'un ct, que le raisonnement des thologiens est uniquement fond sur une raison de convenance, & que la deffense des rituels suppose que l'on ne peut baptiser immediatement les enfans ainsi renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente; & d'un autre ct, considerant que les mmes thologiens enseignent, que l'on peut risquer les sacremens que _Jesus Christ_ a tablis comme des moyens faciles, mais ncessaires pour sanctifier les hommes; & d'ailleurs estimant, que les enfans renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient tre capables de salut, parcequ'ils sont capables de damnation; --pour ces considerations, & en egard l'expos, suivant lequel on assure avoir trouv un moyen certain de baptiser ces enfans ainsi renferms, sans faire aucun tort la mere, le Conseil estime que l'on pourroit se servir du moyen propos, dans la confiance qu'il a, que Dieu n'a point laiss ces sortes d'enfans sans aucuns secours, & supposant, comme il est expos, que le moyen dont il s'agit est propre leur procurer le baptme; cependant comme il s'agiroit, en autorisant la pratique propose, de changer une regie universellement tablie, le Conseil croit que celui qui consulte doit s'addresser son evque, & qui il appartient de juger de l'utilit, & du danger du moyen propos, & comme, sous le bon plaisir de l'evque, le Conseil estime qu'il faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le droit d'expliquer les rgles de l'eglise, & d'y droger dans le cas, ou la loi ne sauroit obliger, quelque sage & quelque utile que paroisse la manire de baptiser dont il s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit l'approuver sans le concours de ces deux autorits.

Le concours des thologiens, & des rituels, qui sont les rgles des diocses, paroit former une autorit qui termine la question presente; cependant le conseil de conscience considerant d'un ct, que le raisonnement des thologiens est uniquement fond sur une raison de convenance, & que la deffense des rituels suppose que l'on ne peut baptiser immediatement les enfans ainsi renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente; & d'un autre ct, considerant que les mmes thologiens enseignent, que l'on peut risquer les sacremens que Jesus Christ a tablis comme des moyens faciles, mais ncessaires pour sanctifier les hommes; & d'ailleurs estimant, que les enfans renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient tre capables de salut, parcequ'ils sont capables de damnation; -pour ces considerations, & en egard l'expos, suivant lequel on assure avoir trouv un moyen certain de baptiser ces enfans ainsi renferms, sans faire aucun tort la mere, le Conseil estime que l'on pourroit se servir du moyen propos, dans la confiance qu'il a, que Dieu n'a point laiss ces sortes d'enfans sans aucuns secours, & supposant, comme il est expos, que le moyen dont il s'agit est propre leur procurer le baptme; cependant comme il s'agiroit, en autorisant la pratique propose, de changer une regie universellement tablie, le Conseil croit que celui qui consulte doit s'addresser son evque, & qui il appartient de juger de l'utilit, & du danger du moyen propos, & comme, sous le bon plaisir de l'evque, le Conseil estime qu'il faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le droit d'expliquer les rgles de l'eglise, & d'y droger dans le cas, ou la loi ne sauroit obliger, quelque sage & quelque utile que paroisse la manire de baptiser dont il s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit l'approuver sans le concours de ces deux autorits.


On conseile au moins celui qui consulte, de s'addresser son evque, & de lui faire part de la presente dcision, afin que, si le prelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussigns s'appuyent, il puisse tre autoris dans le cas de ncessit, ou il risqueroit trop d'attendre que la permission ft demande & accorde d'employer le moyen qu'il propose si avantageux au salut de l'enfant. Au reste, le Conseil, en estimant que l'on pourroit s'en servir, croit cependant, que si les enfans dont il s'agit, venoient au monde, contre l'esperance de ceux qui se seroient servis du mme moyen, il seroit ncessaire de les baptiser sous condition; & en cela le Conseil se conforme tous les rituels, qui en autorisant le baptme d'un enfant qui fait parotre quelque partie de son corps, enjoignent nantmoins, & ordonnent de le baptiser sous condition, s'il vient heureusement au monde._

On conseile au moins celui qui consulte, de s'addresser son evque, & de lui faire part de la presente dcision, afin que, si le prelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussigns s'appuyent, il puisse tre autoris dans le cas de ncessit, ou il risqueroit trop d'attendre que la permission ft demande & accorde d'employer le moyen qu'il propose si avantageux au salut de l'enfant.
(Translation: No! If a child is not born it cannot be baptised. Though if you really must, perhaps it can.)


Deliber en _Sorbonne_, le 10 _Avril_, 1733.


Mr. _Tristram Shandy's_ compliments to Messrs. _Le Moyne_, _De Romigny_, and _De Marcilly_; hopes they all rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation.

Mr. Tristram Shandy's compliments to Messrs. Le Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly; he hopes they rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation.


--He begs to know, whether after the ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation, the baptizing all the HOMUNCULI at once, slapdash, by _injection_, would not be a shorter and safer cut still; on condition, as above, That if the HOMUNCULI do well, and come safe into the world after this, that each and every of them shall be baptized again (_sous condition_) ----And provided, in the second place, That the thing can be done, which _Mr. Shandy_ apprehends it may, _par le moyen d'une petite canulle_, and _sans faire aucun tort au pere_.

He begs to know whether after the ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation, the baptizing of all the Homunculi at once, slapdash, by injection, would not be a shorter and safer cut still; if they come safe into the world after this, they shall be baptized again.
- Provided that the thing can be done, which Mr. Shandy believes it may, par le moyen d'une petite canulle, and sans faire aucun tort au pere (by means of a tiny tube, and without doing any damage to the father.)


When Jos's fine carriage drove up to the inn door at Chatham, the first face which Amelia recognized was the friendly countenance of Captain Dobbin, who had been pacing the street for an hour past in expectation of his friends' arrival.

When Jos's carriage drove Amelia to the inn at Chatham, the first face she recognized was Captain Dobbin's. He had been pacing the street for an hour waiting for his friends' arrival.

Chapter 27: In Which Amelia Joins Her Regiment


The Captain, with shells on his frockcoat, and a crimson sash and sabre, presented a military appearance, which made Jos quite proud to be able to claim such an acquaintance, and the stout civilian hailed him with a cordiality very different from the reception which Jos vouchsafed to his friend in Brighton and Bond Street.

The Captain, with a crimson sash and sabre, had such a military appearance that Jos was quite proud to claim acquaintance with him, and he hailed him much more cordially than he had in London.


Along with the Captain was Ensign Stubble; who, as the barouche neared the inn, burst out with an exclamation of "By Jove!

With the Captain was Ensign Stubble; who, as the barouche approached, exclaimed "By Jove!


what a pretty girl"; highly applauding Osborne's choice.


Indeed, Amelia dressed in her wedding-pelisse and pink ribbons, with a flush in her face, occasioned by rapid travel through the open air, looked so fresh and pretty, as fully to justify the Ensign's compliment.

Indeed, Amelia, dressed in her wedding-pelisse, flushed with travel and the open air, looked so fresh and pretty as fully to justify the Ensign's compliment.


As he stepped forward to help the lady out of the carriage, Stubble saw what a pretty little hand she gave him, and what a sweet pretty little foot came tripping down the step.

As he helped her out of the carriage, Stubble saw what a pretty little hand she gave him, and what a sweet little foot came tripping down the step.


He blushed profusely, and made the very best bow of which he was capable; to which Amelia, seeing the number of the the regiment embroidered on the Ensign's cap, replied with a blushing smile, and a curtsey on her part; which finished the young Ensign on the spot.

He blushed profusely, and made his very best bow; to which Amelia replied with a smile and a curtsey which finished the young Ensign on the spot.


Dobbin took most kindly to Mr. Stubble from that day, and encouraged him to talk about Amelia in their private walks, and at each other's quarters.

Dobbin took most kindly to Mr. Stubble from that day, and encouraged him to talk about Amelia.


It became the fashion, indeed, among all the honest young fellows of the --th to adore and admire Mrs. Osborne.

It became the fashion, indeed, among all the honest young fellows of the Regiment to admire Mrs. Osborne.


Her simple artless behaviour, and modest kindness of demeanour, won all their unsophisticated hearts; all which simplicity and sweetness are quite impossible to describe in print.

Her artless behaviour and modest kindness won their unsophisticated hearts.


But who has not beheld these among women, and recognised the presence of all sorts of qualities in them, even though they say no more to you than that they are engaged to dance the next quadrille, or that it is very hot weather?


George, always the champion of his regiment, rose immensely in the opinion of the youth of the corps, by his gallantry in marrying this portionless young creature, and by his choice of such a pretty kind partner.

George, always the champion of his regiment, rose immensely in their opinion by his gallantry in marrying this portionless, pretty young creature.


In the sitting-room which was awaiting the travellers, Amelia, to her surprise, found a letter addressed to Mrs. Captain Osborne.

On her arrival, Amelia, to her surprise, found a letter addressed to her.


It was a triangular billet, on pink paper, and sealed with a dove and an olive branch, and a profusion of light blue sealing wax, and it was written in a very large, though undecided female hand.

It was on pink paper, and sealed with a dove and an olive branch, and a profusion of light blue sealing wax, and it was written in a very large female hand.


"It's Peggy O'Dowd's fist," said George, laughing.

"It's Peggy O'Dowd's writing," said George, laughing.


And in fact, it was a note from Mrs. Major O'Dowd, requesting the pleasure of Mrs. Osborne's company that very evening to a small friendly party.

And indeed it was a note from Mrs. Major O'Dowd, requesting the pleasure of Mrs. Osborne's company that evening at a small party.


"You will make acquaintance with the regiment there.


O'Dowd goes in command of the regiment, and Peggy goes in command."

"O'Dowd goes in command of the regiment, and Peggy just goes in command."


But they had not been for many minutes in the enjoyment of Mrs. O'Dowd's letter, when the door was flung open, and a stout jolly lady, in a riding-habit, followed by a couple of officers of Ours, entered the room.

But minutes later the door was flung open, and a stout jolly lady in a riding-habit, followed by a couple of officers, entered the room.


Present me, Garge, my dear fellow, to your lady.


Madam, I'm deloighted to see ye; and to present to you me husband, Meejor O'Dowd"; and with this, the jolly lady in the riding-habit grasped Amelia's hand very warmly, and the latter knew at once that the lady was before her whom her husband had so often laughed at.

Madam, I'm deloighted to see ye; and to present to you me husband, Meejor O'Dowd." The jolly lady grasped Amelia's hand very warmly.


"You've often heard of me from that husband of yours," said the lady, with great vivacity.

"You've often heard of me from that husband of yours," she said with vivacity.


"You've often heard of her," echoed her husband, the Major.


Amelia answered, smiling, "that she had."


"And small good he's told you of me," Mrs. O'Dowd replied; adding that "George was a wicked divvle."


"That I'll go bail for," said the Major, trying to look knowing, at which George laughed; and Mrs. O'Dowd, with a tap of her whip, told the Major to be quiet; and then requested to be presented in form to Mrs. Captain Osborne.


"This, my dear," said George with great gravity, "is my very good, kind, and excellent friend, Auralia Margaretta, otherwise called Peggy."

"This, my dear," said George, "is my very good excellent friend Auralia, otherwise called Peggy."


"Faith, you're right," interposed the Major.


"Otherwise called Peggy, lady of Major Michael O'Dowd, of our regiment, and daughter of Fitzjurld Ber'sford de Burgo Malony of Glenmalony, County Kildare."

"Lady of Major Michael O'Dowd, of our regiment, and daughter of Fitzjurld Ber'sford de Burgo Malony of Glenmalony, County Kildare."


"And Muryan Squeer, Doblin," said the lady with calm superiority.


"And Muryan Square, sure enough," the Major whispered.


"'Twas there ye coorted me, Meejor dear," the lady said; and the Major assented to this as to every other proposition which was made generally in company.

"'Twas there ye coorted me, Meejor dear," the lady said; and the Major assented to this as to every other thing she said.


Major O'Dowd, who had served his sovereign in every quarter of the world, and had paid for every step in his profession by some more than equivalent act of daring and gallantry, was the most modest, silent, sheep-faced and meek of little men, and as obedient to his wife as if he had been her tay-boy.

Major O'Dowd, who had served his sovereign gallantly in every quarter of the world, was the most modest and meek of little men, totally obedient to his wife.


At the mess-table he sat silently, and drank a great deal.


When full of liquor, he reeled silently home.


When he spoke, it was to agree with everybody on every conceivable point; and he passed through life in perfect ease and good-humour.

When he spoke, it was to agree with everybody; and he passed through life in perfect good-humour.


The hottest suns of India never heated his temper; and the Walcheren ague never shook it.


He walked up to a battery with just as much indifference as to a dinner-table; had dined on horse-flesh and turtle with equal relish and appetite; and had an old mother, Mrs. O'Dowd of O'Dowdstown indeed, whom he had never disobeyed but when he ran away and enlisted, and when he persisted in marrying that odious Peggy Malony.

He had an old mother whom he had never disobeyed except when he ran away and enlisted, and when he married that odious Peggy Malony.


Peggy was one of five sisters, and eleven children of the noble house of Glenmalony; but her husband, though her own cousin, was of the mother's side, and so had not the inestimable advantage of being allied to the Malonys, whom she believed to be the most famous family in the world.

Peggy was one of eleven children of the noble house of Glenmalony; her husband was her cousin on her mother's side.


Having tried nine seasons at Dublin and two at Bath and Cheltenham, and not finding a partner for life, Miss Malony ordered her cousin Mick to marry her when she was about thirty-three years of age; and the honest fellow obeying, carried her off to the West Indies, to preside over the ladies of the --th regiment, into which he had just exchanged.

Having tried nine seasons at Dublin and two at Bath without finding a husband, Miss Malony ordered her cousin Mick to marry her when she was about thirty-three; and the honest fellow obeyed.


Before Mrs. O'Dowd was half an hour in Amelia's (or indeed in anybody else's) company, this amiable lady told all her birth and pedigree to her new friend.

Before Mrs. O'Dowd was half an hour in Amelia's (or indeed in anybody's) company, this amiable lady told all her pedigree to her new friend.


"My dear," said she, good-naturedly, "it was my intention that Garge should be a brother of my own, and my sister Glorvina would have suited him entirely.

"My dear," said she, good-naturedly, "I meant for Garge to marry my sister Glorvina; she would have suited him entirely.


But as bygones are bygones, and he was engaged to yourself, why, I'm determined to take you as a sister instead, and to look upon you as such, and to love you as one of the family.

But as he was engaged to yourself, I'm determined to love you as a sister.


Faith, you've got such a nice good-natured face and way widg you, that I'm sure we'll agree; and that you'll be an addition to our family anyway."

Faith, I'm sure you'll be an addition to our family."


"'Deed and she will," said O'Dowd, with an approving air, and Amelia felt herself not a little amused and grateful to be thus suddenly introduced to so large a party of relations.

"'Deed and she will," said O'Dowd, and Amelia felt amused and grateful to be thus suddenly introduced to so many relations.


"We're all good fellows here," the Major's lady continued. "There's not a regiment in the service where you'll find a more united society nor a more agreeable mess-room.

"We're all good fellows in this regiment," the Major's lady continued.


There's no quarrelling, bickering, slandthering, nor small talk amongst us.

"There's no quarrelling, bickering, nor slandthering amongst us.


"Especially Mrs. Magenis," said George, laughing.


"Mrs. Captain Magenis and me has made up, though her treatment of me would bring me gray hairs with sorrow to the grave."

"Mrs. Captain Magenis and me has made up, though her treatment of me would bring me grey hairs."


"And you with such a beautiful front of black, Peggy, my dear," the Major cried.

"And you with such beautiful black locks, Peggy, my dear," the Major cried.


Them husbands are always in the way, Mrs. Osborne, my dear; and as for my Mick, I often tell him he should never open his mouth but to give the word of command, or to put meat and drink into it.

Them husbands are always in the way, Mrs. Osborne, my dear; and I often tell my Mick he should never open his mouth but to give the word of command, or to put meat and drink into it.


I'll tell you about the regiment, and warn you when we're alone.


Introduce me to your brother now; sure he's a mighty fine man, and reminds me of me cousin, Dan Malony (Malony of Ballymalony, my dear, you know who mar'ied Ophalia Scully, of Oystherstown, own cousin to Lord Poldoody).

Introduce me to your brother now; sure he's a mighty fine man.


Mr. Sedley, sir, I'm deloighted to be made known te ye.


I suppose you'll dine at the mess to-day.

I suppose you'll dine at the mess today."


(Mind that divvle of a docther, Mick, and whatever ye du, keep yourself sober for me party this evening.)"


"It's the 150th gives us a farewell dinner, my love," interposed the Major, "but we'll easy get a card for Mr. Sedley."

"It's a farewell dinner, my love," interposed the Major, "but we'll easy get a card for Mr. Sedley."


"Run Simple (Ensign Simple, of Ours, my dear Amelia. I forgot to introjuice him to ye). Run in a hurry, with Mrs. Major O'Dowd's compliments to Colonel Tavish, and Captain Osborne has brought his brothernlaw down, and will bring him to the 150th mess at five o'clock sharp--when you and I, my dear, will take a snack here, if you like."

"Ensign Simple, run with Mrs. Major O'Dowd's compliments to Colonel Tavish, and Captain Osborne has brought his brothernlaw down, and will bring him to the mess at five o'clock."


Before Mrs. O'Dowd's speech was concluded, the young Ensign was trotting downstairs on his commission.

Before Mrs. O'Dowd's speech was concluded, the young Ensign was trotting downstairs.


We will go to our duty while Mrs. O'Dowd will stay and enlighten you, Emmy," Captain Osborne said; and the two gentlemen, taking each a wing of the Major, walked out with that officer, grinning at each other over his head.

We will go to our duty while Mrs. O'Dowd will stay and enlighten you, Emmy," Captain Osborne said; and the two gentlemen walked out with the Major, grinning at each other.


And, now having her new friend to herself, the impetuous Mrs. O'Dowd proceeded to pour out such a quantity of information as no poor little woman's memory could ever tax itself to bear.

And, now having her new friend to herself, Mrs. O'Dowd poured out such a quantity of information as no poor little woman's memory could bear.


She told Amelia a thousand particulars relative to the very numerous family of which the amazed young lady found herself a member.

She told Amelia a thousand details of the regimental family.


"Mrs. Heavytop, the Colonel's wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart comboined, for the horrud old Colonel, with a head as bald as a cannon-ball, was making sheep's eyes at a half-caste girl there.

"Mrs. Heavytop, the Colonel's wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart, for the horrud old Colonel was making sheep's eyes at a half-caste girl there.


Mrs. Magenis, though without education, was a good woman, but she had the divvle's tongue, and would cheat her own mother at whist.


Mrs. Captain Kirk must turn up her lobster eyes forsooth at the idea of an honest round game (wherein me fawther, as pious a man as ever went to church, me uncle Dane Malony, and our cousin the Bishop, took a hand at loo, or whist, every night of their lives).

Mrs. Captain Kirk turns up her lobster eyes at the idea of an honest game (although me father and me cousin the Bishop played whist every night of their lives).


Nayther of 'em's goin' with the regiment this time," Mrs. O'Dowd added.


"Fanny Magenis stops with her mother, who sells small coal and potatoes, most likely, in Islington-town, hard by London, though she's always bragging of her father's ships, and pointing them out to us as they go up the river: and Mrs. Kirk and her children will stop here in Bethesda Place, to be nigh to her favourite preacher, Dr. Ramshorn.


Mrs. Bunny's in an interesting situation--faith, and she always is, then--and has given the Lieutenant seven already.

Mrs. Bunny's in an interesting situation - faith, she always is - and has given the Lieutenant seven already.


And Ensign Posky's wife, who joined two months before you, my dear, has quarl'd with Tom Posky a score of times, till you can hear'm all over the bar'ck (they say they're come to broken pleets, and Tom never accounted for his black oi), and she'll go back to her mother, who keeps a ladies' siminary at Richmond--bad luck to her for running away from it!

And Ensign Posky's wife, who joined two months before you, my dear, has quarl'd with Tom Posky a score of times, till you can hear'm all over the barrack; and Tom's never accounted for his black oi, and she'll go back to her mother at Richmond."


Where did ye get your finishing, my dear?


I had moin, and no expince spared, at Madame Flanahan's, at Ilyssus Grove, Booterstown, near Dublin, wid a Marchioness to teach us the true Parisian pronunciation, and a retired Mejor-General of the French service to put us through the exercise."


Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself all of a sudden a member: with Mrs. O'Dowd as an elder sister.

Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself suddenly a member: with Mrs. O'Dowd as an elder sister.


She was presented to her other female relations at tea-time, on whom, as she was quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made rather an agreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen from the mess of the 150th, who all admired her so, that her sisters began, of course, to find fault with her.

She was presented to her other female relations at tea-time; and being quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made an agreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen, who all admired her; so that her sisters began, of course, to find fault with her.


"I hope Osborne has sown his wild oats," said Mrs. Magenis to Mrs. Bunny.


"If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure it's she will have the fine chance with Garge," Mrs. O'Dowd remarked to Posky, who had lost her position as bride in the regiment, and was quite angry with the usurper.

"If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure she'll have a fine chance with Garge," said Mrs. O'Dowd.


And as for Mrs. Kirk: that disciple of Dr. Ramshorn put one or two leading professional questions to Amelia, to see whether she was awakened, whether she was a professing Christian and so forth, and finding from the simplicity of Mrs. Osborne's replies that she was yet in utter darkness, put into her hands three little penny books with pictures, viz., the "Howling Wilderness," the "Washerwoman of Wandsworth Common," and the "British Soldier's best Bayonet," which, bent upon awakening her before she slept, Mrs. Kirk begged Amelia to read that night ere she went to bed.


But all the men, like good fellows as they were, rallied round their comrade's pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly gallantry. She had a little triumph, which flushed her spirits and made her eyes sparkle.

But the men rallied round their comrade's pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly gallantry, making her eyes sparkle.


George was proud of her popularity, and pleased with the manner (which was very gay and graceful, though naive and a little timid) with which she received the gentlemen's attentions, and answered their compliments.

George was proud of her popularity, and pleased with the graceful, gay manner with which she received the gentlemen's attentions.


And he in his uniform--how much handsomer he was than any man in the room!


She felt that he was affectionately watching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness.

She felt him watching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness.


"I will make all his friends welcome," she resolved in her heart.

"I will make all his friends welcome," she resolved.


"I will always try and be gay and good-humoured and make his home happy."


The regiment indeed adopted her with acclamation.

The regiment indeed adopted her with acclaim.


The Captains approved, the Lieutenants applauded, the Ensigns admired.


Old Cutler, the Doctor, made one or two jokes, which, being professional, need not be repeated; and Cackle, the Assistant M.D.


of Edinburgh, condescended to examine her upon leeterature, and tried her with his three best French quotations.


Young Stubble went about from man to man whispering, "Jove, isn't she a pretty gal?"

Young Stubble kept whispering, "Jove, isn't she a pretty gal?"


and never took his eyes off her except when the negus came in.


As for Captain Dobbin, he never so much as spoke to her during the whole evening.

As for Captain Dobbin, he never spoke to her the whole evening.


But he and Captain Porter of the 150th took home Jos to the hotel, who was in a very maudlin state, and had told his tiger-hunt story with great effect, both at the mess-table and at the soiree, to Mrs. O'Dowd in her turban and bird of paradise.

But he and Captain Porter took Jos, who was in a very maudlin state, back to the hotel.


Having put the Collector into the hands of his servant, Dobbin loitered about, smoking his cigar before the inn door.

Having put him into the hands of his servant, Dobbin loitered about, smoking his cigar before the inn door.


George had meanwhile very carefully shawled his wife, and brought her away from Mrs. O'Dowd's after a general handshaking from the young officers, who accompanied her to the fly, and cheered that vehicle as it drove off.

George had meanwhile brought his wife away from Mrs. O'Dowd's.


So Amelia gave Dobbin her little hand as she got out of the carriage, and rebuked him smilingly for not having taken any notice of her all night.

Amelia gave Dobbin her hand as she got out of the carriage, and rebuked him smilingly for not having taken any notice of her all night.


The Captain continued that deleterious amusement of smoking, long after the inn and the street were gone to bed.

The Captain kept smoking, long after everyone had gone to bed.


He watched the lights vanish from George's sitting-room windows, and shine out in the bedroom close at hand.

He watched the lights vanish from George's sitting-room windows, and shine out in the bedroom.


It was almost morning when he returned to his own quarters.


He could hear the cheering from the ships in the river, where the transports were already taking in their cargoes preparatory to dropping down the Thames.

He could hear the cheering from the ships in the river, where the transports were taking in their cargoes before moving down the Thames.


We must suppose little George Osborne has ridden from Knightsbridge towards Fulham, and will stop and make inquiries at that village regarding some friends whom we have left there.

We must now make inquiries at Fulham about some friends whom we have left there.

Chapter 38: A Family in a Very Small Way


How is Mrs. Amelia after the storm of Waterloo?


What has come of Major Dobbin, whose cab was always hankering about her premises?


And is there any news of the Collector of Boggley Wollah?


The facts concerning the latter are briefly these:


Our worthy fat friend Joseph Sedley returned to India not long after his escape from Brussels. Either his furlough was up, or he dreaded to meet any witnesses of his Waterloo flight. However it might be, he went back to his duties in Bengal very soon after Napoleon had taken up his residence at St. Helena, where Jos saw the ex-Emperor.

Our worthy friend Joseph Sedley returned to India not long after his escape from Brussels, soon after Napoleon had been confined to St. Helena.


To hear Mr. Sedley talk on board ship you would have supposed that it was not the first time he and the Corsican had met, and that the civilian had bearded the French General at Mount St. John.

To hear Mr. Sedley talk on board ship, you would have supposed that he had confronted the French General personally.


He had a thousand anecdotes about the famous battles; he knew the position of every regiment and the loss which each had incurred.

He had a thousand tales about the famous battles; he knew the position of every regiment.


He did not deny that he had been concerned in those victories--that he had been with the army and carried despatches for the Duke of Wellington.

He did not deny that he had carried despatches for the Duke of Wellington.


And he described what the Duke did and said on every conceivable moment of the day of Waterloo, with such an accurate knowledge of his Grace's sentiments and proceedings that it was clear he must have been by the conqueror's side throughout the day; though, as a non-combatant, his name was not mentioned in the public documents relative to the battle.

He described what the Duke did and said at Waterloo with such accurate knowledge that it was clear he must have been by the conqueror's side throughout the day.


Perhaps he actually worked himself up to believe that he had been engaged with the army; certain it is that he made a prodigious sensation for some time at Calcutta, and was called Waterloo Sedley during the whole of his subsequent stay in Bengal.

Perhaps he actually worked himself up to believe that he had been engaged with the army; certainly he made a sensation for some time at Calcutta, and was called Waterloo Sedley during his stay in Bengal.


The bills which Jos had given for the purchase of those unlucky horses were paid without question by him and his agents.


He never was heard to allude to the bargain, and nobody knows for a certainty what became of the horses, or how he got rid of them, or of Isidor, his Belgian servant, who sold a grey horse, very like the one which Jos rode, at Valenciennes sometime during the autumn of 1815.


Jos's London agents had orders to pay one hundred and twenty pounds yearly to his parents at Fulham.

His agents had orders to pay one hundred and twenty pounds yearly to his parents at Fulham.


It was the chief support of the old couple; for Mr. Sedley's speculations in life subsequent to his bankruptcy did not by any means retrieve the broken old gentleman's fortune.

It was the couple's chief support; for old Mr. Sedley's speculations did not succeed.


He tried to be a wine-merchant, a coal-merchant, a commission lottery agent, &c., &c. He sent round prospectuses to his friends whenever he took a new trade, and ordered a new brass plate for the door, and talked pompously about making his fortune still.

He tried to be a wine-merchant, a coal-merchant, and a lottery agent; he sent round prospectuses, and ordered a new brass plate for the door, and talked pompously about making his fortune.


But Fortune never came back to the feeble and stricken old man.

But Fortune never came back to the feeble old man.


One by one his friends dropped off, and were weary of buying dear coals and bad wine from him; and there was only his wife in all the world who fancied, when he tottered off to the City of a morning, that he was still doing any business there.

His friends dropped off, weary of buying dear coals and bad wine from him.


At evening he crawled slowly back; and he used to go of nights to a little club at a tavern, where he disposed of the finances of the nation. It was wonderful to hear him talk about millions, and agios, and discounts, and what Rothschild was doing, and Baring Brothers.

He used to go of nights to a little club at a tavern, where he talked about millions, what Rothschild was doing, and Baring Brothers.


He talked of such vast sums that the gentlemen of the club (the apothecary, the undertaker, the great carpenter and builder, the parish clerk, who was allowed to come stealthily, and Mr. Clapp, our old acquaintance,) respected the old gentleman.


"I was better off once, sir," he did not fail to tell everybody who "used the room."

"I was better off once, sir," he told everybody.


"My son, sir, is at this minute chief magistrate of Ramgunge in the Presidency of Bengal, and touching his four thousand rupees per mensem.

"My son, sir, is chief magistrate of Ramgunge in Bengal.


My daughter might be a Colonel's lady if she liked.


I might draw upon my son, the first magistrate, sir, for two thousand pounds to-morrow, and Alexander would cash my bill, down sir, down on the counter, sir.

I might draw upon my son, sir, for two thousand pounds tomorrow.


But the Sedleys were always a proud family."


You and I, my dear reader, may drop into this condition one day: for have not many of our friends attained it?


Our luck may fail: our powers forsake us: our place on the boards be taken by better and younger mimes--the chance of life roll away and leave us shattered and stranded.


Then men will walk across the road when they meet you--or, worse still, hold you out a couple of fingers and patronize you in a pitying way--then you will know, as soon as your back is turned, that your friend begins with a "Poor devil, what imprudences he has committed, what chances that chap has thrown away!"


Well, well--a carriage and three thousand a year is not the summit of the reward nor the end of God's judgment of men.


If quacks prosper as often as they go to the wall--if zanies succeed and knaves arrive at fortune, and, vice versa, sharing ill luck and prosperity for all the world like the ablest and most honest amongst us--I say, brother, the gifts and pleasures of Vanity Fair cannot be held of any great account, and that it is probable . . .


but we are wandering out of the domain of the story.


Had Mrs. Sedley been a woman of energy, she would have exerted it after her husband's ruin and, occupying a large house, would have taken in boarders.

Had Mrs. Sedley been a woman of energy, she would have taken in boarders.


The broken Sedley would have acted well as the boarding-house landlady's husband; the Munoz of private life; the titular lord and master: the carver, house-steward, and humble husband of the occupier of the dingy throne.

The broken Sedley would have acted well as a boarding-house carver and steward.


I have seen men of good brains and breeding, and of good hopes and vigour once, who feasted squires and kept hunters in their youth, meekly cutting up legs of mutton for rancorous old harridans and pretending to preside over their dreary tables--but Mrs. Sedley, we say, had not spirit enough to bustle about for "a few select inmates to join a cheerful musical family," such as one reads of in the Times.

But Mrs. Sedley had not spirit enough for that.


She was content to lie on the shore where fortune had stranded her--and you could see that the career of this old couple was over.

She was content to lie on the shore where fortune had stranded her; and you could see that the career of this old couple was over.


Perhaps they were a little prouder in their downfall than in their prosperity.


Mrs. Sedley was always a great person for her landlady, Mrs. Clapp, when she descended and passed many hours with her in the basement or ornamented kitchen.

Mrs. Sedley was always a great person for her landlady, Mrs. Clapp.


The Irish maid Betty Flanagan's bonnets and ribbons, her sauciness, her idleness, her reckless prodigality of kitchen candles, her consumption of tea and sugar, and so forth occupied and amused the old lady almost as much as the doings of her former household, when she had Sambo and the coachman, and a groom, and a footboy, and a housekeeper with a regiment of female domestics--her former household, about which the good lady talked a hundred times a day.

The Irish maid's bonnets and ribbons, her sauciness, her idleness, her reckless prodigality of candles, amused the old lady almost as much as the doings of her former household, when she had a regiment of female domestics.


And besides Betty Flanagan, Mrs. Sedley had all the maids-of-all-work in the street to superintend.

And besides Betty, Mrs. Sedley had all the maids in the street to superintend.


She knew how each tenant of the cottages paid or owed his little rent.


She stepped aside when Mrs. Rougemont the actress passed with her dubious family.


She flung up her head when Mrs. Pestler, the apothecary's lady, drove by in her husband's professional one-horse chaise.


She had colloquies with the greengrocer about the pennorth of turnips which Mr. Sedley loved; she kept an eye upon the milkman and the baker's boy; and made visitations to the butcher, who sold hundreds of oxen very likely with less ado than was made about Mrs. Sedley's loin of mutton: and she counted the potatoes under the joint on Sundays, on which days, dressed in her best, she went to church twice and read Blair's Sermons in the evening.
On that day, for "business" prevented him on weekdays from taking such a pleasure, it was old Sedley's delight to take out his little grandson Georgy to the neighbouring parks or Kensington Gardens, to see the soldiers or to feed the ducks.

On Sundays, it was old Sedley's delight to take his little grandson Georgy to the neighbouring parks or Kensington Gardens, to see the soldiers or to feed the ducks.


Georgy loved the redcoats, and his grandpapa told him how his father had been a famous soldier, and introduced him to many sergeants and others with Waterloo medals on their breasts, to whom the old grandfather pompously presented the child as the son of Captain Osborne of the --th, who died gloriously on the glorious eighteenth.

Georgy loved the redcoats, and his grandpapa told him how his father had been a famous soldier, and introduced him to many sergeants and others wearing Waterloo medals, to whom the old grandfather pompously presented the child as the son of Captain Osborne, who died gloriously on the glorious eighteenth.


He has been known to treat some of these non-commissioned gentlemen to a glass of porter, and, indeed, in their first Sunday walks was disposed to spoil little Georgy, sadly gorging the boy with apples and parliament, to the detriment of his health--until Amelia declared that George should never go out with his grandpapa unless the latter promised solemnly, and on his honour, not to give the child any cakes, lollipops, or stall produce whatever.

He spoiled little Georgy, sadly gorging the boy until Amelia declared that George should never go out with his grandpapa unless the latter promised solemnly not to give the child any cakes or lollipops.


Between Mrs. Sedley and her daughter there was a sort of coolness about this boy, and a secret jealousy--for one evening in George's very early days, Amelia, who had been seated at work in their little parlour scarcely remarking that the old lady had quitted the room, ran upstairs instinctively to the nursery at the cries of the child, who had been asleep until that moment--and there found Mrs. Sedley in the act of surreptitiously administering Daffy's Elixir to the infant.

Between Mrs. Sedley and her daughter there was a coolness about this boy, and a secret jealousy. For one evening in George's very early days, Amelia ran upstairs to the nursery at the cries of the child, who had been asleep until that moment - and there found Mrs. Sedley surreptitiously giving him Daffy's Elixir.


Amelia, the gentlest and sweetest of everyday mortals, when she found this meddling with her maternal authority, thrilled and trembled all over with anger.

Amelia, the gentlest of everyday mortals, trembled all over with anger.


Her cheeks, ordinarily pale, now flushed up, until they were as red as they used to be when she was a child of twelve years old. She seized the baby out of her mother's arms and then grasped at the bottle, leaving the old lady gaping at her, furious, and holding the guilty tea-spoon.

Her pale cheeks flushed up; she seized the baby from her mother's arms and grasped the bottle, leaving the old lady gaping at her, and holding the guilty tea-spoon.


Amelia flung the bottle crashing into the fire-place.


"I will NOT have baby poisoned, Mamma," cried Emmy, rocking the infant about violently with both her arms round him and turning with flashing eyes at her mother.

"I will not have baby poisoned, Mamma," she cried, turning with flashing eyes at her mother.


said the old lady; "this language to me?"


"He shall not have any medicine but that which Mr. Pestler sends for him.

"He shall not have any medicine but that which Mr. Pestler sends.


He told me that Daffy's Elixir was poison."


"Very good: you think I'm a murderess then," replied Mrs. Sedley.

"Very good: you think I'm a murderess," replied Mrs. Sedley.


"This is the language you use to your mother.


I have met with misfortunes: I have sunk low in life: I have kept my carriage, and now walk on foot: but I did not know I was a murderess before, and thank you for the NEWS."

I have sunk low in life: but I did not know I was a murderess, and thank you for the news."


"Mamma," said the poor girl, who was always ready for tears--"you shouldn't be hard upon me. I--I didn't mean--I mean, I did not wish to say you would do any wrong to this dear child, only--"

"Mamma," said the poor girl, who was always ready for tears, "I didn't mean - I did not wish to say you would do any wrong to the dear child, only-"


"Oh, no, my love,--only that I was a murderess; in which case I had better go to the Old Bailey.

"Oh, no, my love, only that I was a murderess.


Though I didn't poison YOU, when you were a child, but gave you the best of education and the most expensive masters money could procure.

Though I didn't poison you, when you were a child, but gave you the best education money could buy.


Yes; I've nursed five children and buried three; and the one I loved the best of all, and tended through croup, and teething, and measles, and hooping-cough, and brought up with foreign masters, regardless of expense, and with accomplishments at Minerva House--which I never had when I was a girl--when I was too glad to honour my father and mother, that I might live long in the land, and to be useful, and not to mope all day in my room and act the fine lady--says I'm a murderess.

Yes; I've nursed five children and buried three; and the one I loved the best of all, and tended through croup, and measles, and whooping-cough, and brought up with foreign masters, regardless of expense, which I never had when I was a girl - says I'm a murderess."


may YOU never nourish a viper in your bosom, that's MY prayer."


cried the bewildered girl; and the child in her arms set up a frantic chorus of shouts.


Go down on your knees and pray to God to cleanse your wicked ungrateful heart, Amelia, and may He forgive you as I do."

"Pray to God to cleanse your wicked ungrateful heart, Amelia, and may He forgive you as I do."


And Mrs. Sedley tossed out of the room, hissing out the word poison once more, and so ending her charitable benediction.


Till the termination of her natural life, this breach between Mrs. Sedley and her daughter was never thoroughly mended.

Till the end of her life, this breach between Mrs. Sedley and her daughter was never thoroughly mended.


The quarrel gave the elder lady numberless advantages which she did not fail to turn to account with female ingenuity and perseverance. For instance, she scarcely spoke to Amelia for many weeks afterwards.

The elder lady scarcely spoke to Amelia for many weeks.


She warned the domestics not to touch the child, as Mrs. Osborne might be offended.


She asked her daughter to see and satisfy herself that there was no poison prepared in the little daily messes that were concocted for Georgy.

She asked her daughter to satisfy herself that there was no poison in the little daily messes that were concocted for Georgy.


When neighbours asked after the boy's health, she referred them pointedly to Mrs. Osborne.


SHE never ventured to ask whether the baby was well or not.


SHE would not touch the child although he was her grandson, and own precious darling, for she was not USED to children, and might kill it.

She would not touch the child although he was her own precious darling, for she might kill him.


And whenever Mr. Pestler came upon his healing inquisition, she received the doctor with such a sarcastic and scornful demeanour, as made the surgeon declare that not Lady Thistlewood herself, whom he had the honour of attending professionally, could give herself greater airs than old Mrs. Sedley, from whom he never took a fee.

And whenever Mr. Pestler called, she received the doctor with such a sarcastic manner that he declared that even Lady Thistlewood could not give herself greater airs than old Mrs. Sedley, from whom he never took a fee.


And very likely Emmy was jealous too, upon her own part, as what mother is not, of those who would manage her children for her, or become candidates for the first place in their affections.

Very likely Emmy was jealous too, as what mother is not, of those who would manage her children for her.


It is certain that when anybody nursed the child, she was uneasy, and that she would no more allow Mrs. Clapp or the domestic to dress or tend him than she would have let them wash her husband's miniature which hung up over her little bed--the same little bed from which the poor girl had gone to his; and to which she retired now for many long, silent, tearful, but happy years.

When anybody nursed the child, she was uneasy; and she would no more allow Mrs. Clapp to tend him than she would have let them wash her husband's miniature, which hung in the room to which she retired now for many silent, tearful, but happy years.


In this room was all Amelia's heart and treasure.


Here it was that she tended her boy and watched him through the many ills of childhood, with a constant passion of love.

Here she tended her boy and watched him through the many ills of childhood, with a constant passion of love.


The elder George returned in him somehow, only improved, and as if come back from heaven.

The elder George returned in him somehow, only improved, as if come back from heaven.


In a hundred little tones, looks, and movements, the child was so like his father that the widow's heart thrilled as she held him to it; and he would often ask the cause of her tears.

In a hundred little ways the child was so like his father that her heart thrilled.


It was because of his likeness to his father, she did not scruple to tell him.


She talked constantly to him about this dead father, and spoke of her love for George to the innocent and wondering child; much more than she ever had done to George himself, or to any confidante of her youth.

She talked constantly to him about this dead father, and spoke of her love for George to the innocent and wondering child.


To her parents she never talked about this matter, shrinking from baring her heart to them. Little George very likely could understand no better than they, but into his ears she poured her sentimental secrets unreservedly, and into his only.

To her parents she never talked about this matter, but into little George's uncomprehending ears she poured her sentimental secrets.


The very joy of this woman was a sort of grief, or so tender, at least, that its expression was tears.


Her sensibilities were so weak and tremulous that perhaps they ought not to be talked about in a book.


I was told by Dr. Pestler (now a most flourishing lady's physician, with a sumptuous dark green carriage, a prospect of speedy knighthood, and a house in Manchester Square) that her grief at weaning the child was a sight that would have unmanned a Herod.


He was very soft-hearted many years ago, and his wife was mortally jealous of Mrs. Amelia, then and long afterwards.


Perhaps the doctor's lady had good reason for her jealousy: most women shared it, of those who formed the small circle of Amelia's acquaintance, and were quite angry at the enthusiasm with which the other sex regarded her.


For almost all men who came near her loved her; though no doubt they would be at a loss to tell you why.

Most men who came near her loved her; though they would be at a loss to tell you why.


She was not brilliant, nor witty, nor wise over much, nor extraordinarily handsome.

She was not brilliant, nor witty, nor extraordinarily handsome.


But wherever she went she touched and charmed every one of the male sex, as invariably as she awakened the scorn and incredulity of her own sisterhood.

But she charmed every one of the male sex, as invariably as she awakened the scorn and incredulity of her own sisterhood.


I think it was her weakness which was her principal charm--a kind of sweet submission and softness, which seemed to appeal to each man she met for his sympathy and protection.

I think it was her weakness which was her principal charm - a kind of sweet submission, which seemed to appeal to men for sympathy and protection.


We have seen how in the regiment, though she spoke but to few of George's comrades there, all the swords of the young fellows at the mess-table would have leapt from their scabbards to fight round her; and so it was in the little narrow lodging-house and circle at Fulham, she interested and pleased everybody.

In the regiment, the young officers would have leapt to fight round her; and so it was in the little circle at Fulham, where she interested and pleased everybody.


If she had been Mrs. Mango herself, of the great house of Mango, Plantain, and Co., Crutched Friars, and the magnificent proprietress of the Pineries, Fulham, who gave summer dejeuners frequented by Dukes and Earls, and drove about the parish with magnificent yellow liveries and bay horses, such as the royal stables at Kensington themselves could not turn out--I say had she been Mrs. Mango herself, or her son's wife, Lady Mary Mango (daughter of the Earl of Castlemouldy, who condescended to marry the head of the firm), the tradesmen of the neighbourhood could not pay her more honour than they invariably showed to the gentle young widow, when she passed by their doors, or made her humble purchases at their shops.


Thus it was not only Mr. Pestler, the medical man, but Mr. Linton the young assistant, who doctored the servant maids and small tradesmen, and might be seen any day reading the Times in the surgery, who openly declared himself the slave of Mrs. Osborne.

Mr. Linton, the doctor's young assistant, openly declared himself her slave.


He was a personable young gentleman, more welcome at Mrs. Sedley's lodgings than his principal; and if anything went wrong with Georgy, he would drop in twice or thrice in the day to see the little chap, and without so much as the thought of a fee.

He was a personable young gentleman, and if anything went wrong with Georgy, he would drop in twice or thrice in the day to see the little chap, without thinking of a fee.


He would abstract lozenges, tamarinds, and other produce from the surgery-drawers for little Georgy's benefit, and compounded draughts and mixtures for him of miraculous sweetness, so that it was quite a pleasure to the child to be ailing.

He would bring Georgy lozenges, and made such sweet mixtures for him that it was quite a pleasure to the child to be ailing.


He and Pestler, his chief, sat up two whole nights by the boy in that momentous and awful week when Georgy had the measles; and when you would have thought, from the mother's terror, that there had never been measles in the world before.

He and Dr. Pestler sat up two whole nights by the boy in that awful week when Georgy had the measles; and when you would have thought, from the mother's terror, that there had never been measles in the world before.


Would they have done as much for other people?


Did they sit up for the folks at the Pineries, when Ralph Plantagenet, and Gwendoline, and Guinever Mango had the same juvenile complaint?


Did they sit up for little Mary Clapp, the landlord's daughter, who actually caught the disease of little Georgy?

Did they sit up for little Polly Clapp, the landlord's daughter, who caught the disease from Georgy?


They slept quite undisturbed, at least as far as she was concerned--pronounced hers to be a slight case, which would almost cure itself, sent her in a draught or two, and threw in bark when the child rallied, with perfect indifference, and just for form's sake.

They pronounced hers a slight case, which would cure itself, and sent her a draught or two.


Again, there was the little French chevalier opposite, who gave lessons in his native tongue at various schools in the neighbourhood, and who might be heard in his apartment of nights playing tremulous old gavottes and minuets on a wheezy old fiddle.

Again, there was the little French chevalier opposite, who gave lessons in French at various schools, at night playing tremulous gavottes on a wheezy old fiddle.


Whenever this powdered and courteous old man, who never missed a Sunday at the convent chapel at Hammersmith, and who was in all respects, thoughts, conduct, and bearing utterly unlike the bearded savages of his nation, who curse perfidious Albion, and scowl at you from over their cigars, in the Quadrant arcades at the present day--whenever the old Chevalier de Talonrouge spoke of Mistress Osborne, he would first finish his pinch of snuff, flick away the remaining particles of dust with a graceful wave of his hand, gather up his fingers again into a bunch, and, bringing them up to his mouth, blow them open with a kiss, exclaiming, Ah!

Whenever this courteous old man spoke of Mistress Osborne, he would gather his fingers into a bunch, and blow them open with a kiss, exclaiming, Ah!


He vowed and protested that when Amelia walked in the Brompton Lanes flowers grew in profusion under her feet.

He vowed that when Amelia walked, flowers grew under her feet.


He called little Georgy Cupid, and asked him news of Venus, his mamma; and told the astonished Betty Flanagan that she was one of the Graces, and the favourite attendant of the Reine des Amours.

He called Georgy Cupid, and asked him news of Venus, his mamma.


Instances might be multiplied of this easily gained and unconscious popularity.


Did not Mr. Binny, the mild and genteel curate of the district chapel, which the family attended, call assiduously upon the widow, dandle the little boy on his knee, and offer to teach him Latin, to the anger of the elderly virgin, his sister, who kept house for him?

And did not Mr. Binny, the mild curate of the chapel, call assiduously upon the widow, dandle the little boy on his knee, and offer to teach him Latin, to the anger of his sister, who kept house for him?


"There is nothing in her, Beilby," the latter lady would say.

"There is nothing in her, Beilby," his sister would say.


"When she comes to tea here she does not speak a word during the whole evening.

"When she comes to tea she does not speak a word.


She is but a poor lackadaisical creature, and it is my belief has no heart at all. It is only her pretty face which all you gentlemen admire so.

She is a poor lackadaisical creature, and it is only her pretty face which you gentlemen admire so."


Miss Grits, who has five thousand pounds, and expectations besides, has twice as much character, and is a thousand times more agreeable to my taste; and if she were good-looking I know that you would think her perfection."


Very likely Miss Binny was right to a great extent.


It IS the pretty face which creates sympathy in the hearts of men, those wicked rogues.

It is the pretty face which creates sympathy in the hearts of men.


A woman may possess the wisdom and chastity of Minerva, and we give no heed to her, if she has a plain face.

A woman may possess the wisdom of Minerva, and we give no heed to her, if she is plain.


What folly will not a pair of bright eyes make pardonable?


What dulness may not red lips and sweet accents render pleasant?


And so, with their usual sense of justice, ladies argue that because a woman is handsome, therefore she is a fool.


there are some of you who are neither handsome nor wise.


These are but trivial incidents to recount in the life of our heroine.


Her tale does not deal in wonders, as the gentle reader has already no doubt perceived; and if a journal had been kept of her proceedings during the seven years after the birth of her son, there would be found few incidents more remarkable in it than that of the measles, recorded in the foregoing page.

During the seven years after the birth of Amelia's son, the most notable event that occurred to her was Georgy's measles.


Yes, one day, and greatly to her wonder, the Reverend Mr. Binny, just mentioned, asked her to change her name of Osborne for his own; when, with deep blushes and tears in her eyes and voice, she thanked him for his regard for her, expressed gratitude for his attentions to her and to her poor little boy, but said that she never, never could think of any but--but the husband whom she had lost.

And one day, greatly to her wonder, the Reverend Mr. Binny asked her to marry him. With deep blushes and tears in her eyes, she thanked him, but said that she never could think of any but the husband whom she had lost.


On the twenty-fifth of April, and the eighteenth of June, the days of marriage and widowhood, she kept her room entirely, consecrating them (and we do not know how many hours of solitary night-thought, her little boy sleeping in his crib by her bedside) to the memory of that departed friend.

On the twenty-fifth of April, and the eighteenth of June, the days of her marriage and widowhood, she kept to her room.


During the day she was more active. She had to teach George to read and to write and a little to draw.

On other days she was more active, teaching George to read, write and draw.


She read books, in order that she might tell him stories from them.


As his eyes opened and his mind expanded under the influence of the outward nature round about him, she taught the child, to the best of her humble power, to acknowledge the Maker of all, and every night and every morning he and she--(in that awful and touching communion which I think must bring a thrill to the heart of every man who witnesses or who remembers it)--the mother and the little boy--prayed to Our Father together, the mother pleading with all her gentle heart, the child lisping after her as she spoke. And each time they prayed to God to bless dear Papa, as if he were alive and in the room with them.

She taught the child, to the best of her humble power, to acknowledge the Maker of all, and every night and morning they prayed together, asking God to bless dear Papa, as if he were in the room.


To wash and dress this young gentleman--to take him for a run of the mornings, before breakfast, and the retreat of grandpapa for "business"--to make for him the most wonderful and ingenious dresses, for which end the thrifty widow cut up and altered every available little bit of finery which she possessed out of her wardrobe during her marriage--for Mrs. Osborne herself (greatly to her mother's vexation, who preferred fine clothes, especially since her misfortunes) always wore a black gown and a straw bonnet with a black ribbon--occupied her many hours of the day.

To wash and dress this young gentleman - to take him for a run in the mornings - to make him the most ingenious outfits, for which the thrifty widow cut up every bit of finery she possessed - occupied her many hours of the day.


Others she had to spare, at the service of her mother and her old father.

Others she spent at the service of her parents.


She had taken the pains to learn, and used to play cribbage with this gentleman on the nights when he did not go to his club. She sang for him when he was so minded, and it was a good sign, for he invariably fell into a comfortable sleep during the music. She wrote out his numerous memorials, letters, prospectuses, and projects.

She played cribbage with her father, and sang for him; she wrote out his letters, prospectuses, and projects.


It was in her handwriting that most of the old gentleman's former acquaintances were informed that he had become an agent for the Black Diamond and Anti-Cinder Coal Company and could supply his friends and the public with the best coals at --s. per chaldron.

It was in her handwriting that the old gentleman's acquaintances were informed that he had become an agent for the Anti-Cinder Coal Company and could supply the public with the best coals.


All he did was to sign the circulars with his flourish and signature, and direct them in a shaky, clerklike hand.


One of these papers was sent to Major Dobbin,--Regt., care of Messrs. Cox and Greenwood; but the Major being in Madras at the time, had no particular call for coals.

One of these papers was sent to Major Dobbin, through his agents; but the Major, being in Madras at the time, had no call for coals.


He knew, though, the hand which had written the prospectus.


what would he not have given to hold it in his own!


A second prospectus came out, informing the Major that J. Sedley and Company, having established agencies at Oporto, Bordeaux, and St. Mary's, were enabled to offer to their friends and the public generally the finest and most celebrated growths of ports, sherries, and claret wines at reasonable prices and under extraordinary advantages.

A second prospectus followed, informing the Major that J. Sedley and Company offered to their friends and the public the finest ports, sherries, and claret wines at reasonable prices.


Acting upon this hint, Dobbin furiously canvassed the governor, the commander-in-chief, the judges, the regiments, and everybody whom he knew in the Presidency, and sent home to Sedley and Co. orders for wine which perfectly astonished Mr. Sedley and Mr. Clapp, who was the Co. in the business.

Dobbin furiously canvassed the governor, the commander-in-chief, the regiments, and everybody he knew, and sent home to Sedley and Co. orders for wine which perfectly astonished Mr. Sedley and Mr. Clapp, who was the Co. in the business.


But no more orders came after that first burst of good fortune, on which poor old Sedley was about to build a house in the City, a regiment of clerks, a dock to himself, and correspondents all over the world.

But no more orders came after that first burst of good fortune.


The old gentleman's former taste in wine had gone: the curses of the mess-room assailed Major Dobbin for the vile drinks he had been the means of introducing there; and he bought back a great quantity of the wine and sold it at public outcry, at an enormous loss to himself.

The curses of the mess-room assailed Major Dobbin for the vile drinks he had introduced; and he bought back a great quantity of the wine, at an enormous loss to himself.


As for Jos, who was by this time promoted to a seat at the Revenue Board at Calcutta, he was wild with rage when the post brought him out a bundle of these Bacchanalian prospectuses, with a private note from his father, telling Jos that his senior counted upon him in this enterprise, and had consigned a quantity of select wines to him, as per invoice, drawing bills upon him for the amount of the same.

As for Jos, who had been promoted to the Revenue Board at Calcutta, he was wild with rage when the post brought him a bundle of these prospectuses, with a note from his father telling Jos that he had consigned a quantity of select wines to him, as per invoice, asking for payment.


Jos, who would no more have it supposed that his father, Jos Sedley's father, of the Board of Revenue, was a wine merchant asking for orders, than that he was Jack Ketch, refused the bills with scorn, wrote back contumeliously to the old gentleman, bidding him to mind his own affairs; and the protested paper coming back, Sedley and Co. had to take it up, with the profits which they had made out of the Madras venture, and with a little portion of Emmy's savings.

Jos refused the bills with scorn, and wrote back bidding the old gentleman to mind his own affairs. Sedley and Co. had to pay for the order with the profits which they had made from Madras, and with some of Emmy's savings.


Besides her pension of fifty pounds a year, there had been five hundred pounds, as her husband's executor stated, left in the agent's hands at the time of Osborne's demise, which sum, as George's guardian, Dobbin proposed to put out at 8 per cent in an Indian house of agency.

Besides her pension of fifty pounds a year, there had been five hundred pounds, left in the agent's hands at Osborne's death, which Dobbin, as George's guardian, proposed to invest at 8 per cent in an Indian house of agency.


Mr. Sedley, who thought the Major had some roguish intentions of his own about the money, was strongly against this plan; and he went to the agents to protest personally against the employment of the money in question, when he learned, to his surprise, that there had been no such sum in their hands, that all the late Captain's assets did not amount to a hundred pounds, and that the five hundred pounds in question must be a separate sum, of which Major Dobbin knew the particulars.

Mr. Sedley, who thought the Major had some roguish intentions about the money, went to the agents to protest; and he learned, to his surprise, that the late Captain had not left anywhere near five hundred pounds, and that it must be a separate sum, of which Major Dobbin knew the details.


More than ever convinced that there was some roguery, old Sedley pursued the Major. As his daughter's nearest friend, he demanded with a high hand a statement of the late Captain's accounts.

Old Sedley pursued the Major and demanded a statement of the late Captain's accounts.


Dobbin's stammering, blushing, and awkwardness added to the other's convictions that he had a rogue to deal with, and in a majestic tone he told that officer a piece of his mind, as he called it, simply stating his belief that the Major was unlawfully detaining his late son-in-law's money.

Dobbin's stammering, blushing, and awkwardness added to the other's convictions that he had a rogue to deal with, and in a majestic tone he stated his belief that the Major was unlawfully keeping his late son-in-law's money.


Dobbin at this lost all patience, and if his accuser had not been so old and so broken, a quarrel might have ensued between them at the Slaughters' Coffee-house, in a box of which place of entertainment the gentlemen had their colloquy.

Dobbin at this lost all patience, and if his accuser had not been so old and so broken, a quarrel might have ensued.


"Come upstairs, sir," lisped out the Major. "I insist on your coming up the stairs, and I will show which is the injured party, poor George or I"; and, dragging the old gentleman up to his bedroom, he produced from his desk Osborne's accounts, and a bundle of IOU's which the latter had given, who, to do him justice, was always ready to give an IOU.

"Come upstairs, sir," said the Major, "and I will show which is the injured party, poor George or I." Dragging the old gentleman up to his room, he produced Osborne's accounts, and a bundle of IOU's which George had given.


"He paid his bills in England," Dobbin added, "but he had not a hundred pounds in the world when he fell.

"He paid his bills in England," Dobbin said, "but he had not a hundred pounds in the world when he fell.


I and one or two of his brother officers made up the little sum, which was all that we could spare, and you dare tell us that we are trying to cheat the widow and the orphan."


Sedley was very contrite and humbled, though the fact is that William Dobbin had told a great falsehood to the old gentleman; having himself given every shilling of the money, having buried his friend, and paid all the fees and charges incident upon the calamity and removal of poor Amelia.

Sedley was very contrite, though in fact William Dobbin had told him a great falsehood; having himself given every shilling of the money.


About these expenses old Osborne had never given himself any trouble to think, nor any other relative of Amelia, nor Amelia herself, indeed.

Amelia herself had never given any thought to all this.


She trusted to Major Dobbin as an accountant, took his somewhat confused calculations for granted, and never once suspected how much she was in his debt.

She trusted to Major Dobbin as an accountant, took his somewhat confused calculations for granted, and never suspected how much she was in his debt.


Twice or thrice in the year, according to her promise, she wrote him letters to Madras, letters all about little Georgy.

Twice or thrice a year, as promised, she wrote him letters, all about little Georgy.


Whenever Amelia wrote he answered, and not until then.


But he sent over endless remembrances of himself to his godson and to her. He ordered and sent a box of scarfs and a grand ivory set of chess-men from China. The pawns were little green and white men, with real swords and shields; the knights were on horseback, the castles were on the backs of elephants.

But he sent over endless gifts to his godson and to her: a box of scarfs and a grand ivory set of chess-men from China, with real swords and shields, and the castles on the backs of elephants.


"Mrs. Mango's own set at the Pineries was not so fine," Mr. Pestler remarked.


These chess-men were the delight of Georgy's life, who printed his first letter in acknowledgement of this gift of his godpapa.

These chess-men delighted Georgy, who wrote his first letter in acknowledgement of this gift.


He sent over preserves and pickles, which latter the young gentleman tried surreptitiously in the sideboard and half-killed himself with eating. He thought it was a judgement upon him for stealing, they were so hot.

Dobbin sent over preserves and pickles, which Georgy tried surreptitiously and half-killed himself with eating, they were so hot.


Emmy wrote a comical little account of this mishap to the Major: it pleased him to think that her spirits were rallying and that she could be merry sometimes now.

Emmy wrote a comical little account of this mishap to the Major: it pleased him to think that she could be merry sometimes now.


He sent over a pair of shawls, a white one for her and a black one with palm-leaves for her mother, and a pair of red scarfs, as winter wrappers, for old Mr. Sedley and George. The shawls were worth fifty guineas apiece at the very least, as Mrs. Sedley knew.

He sent over a pair of shawls, a white one for her and a black one with palm-leaves for her mother, worth fifty guineas apiece at the very least, as Mrs. Sedley knew.


She wore hers in state at church at Brompton, and was congratulated by her female friends upon the splendid acquisition.

She wore hers in state to church, and was congratulated by her female friends.


Emmy's, too, became prettily her modest black gown.


"What a pity it is she won't think of him!"


Mrs. Sedley remarked to Mrs. Clapp and to all her friends of Brompton.


"Jos never sent us such presents, I am sure, and grudges us everything.

"Jos never sent us such presents, and grudges us everything.


It is evident that the Major is over head and ears in love with her; and yet, whenever I so much as hint it, she turns red and begins to cry and goes and sits upstairs with her miniature.

The Major is clearly head over heels in love with her; and yet, whenever I hint it, she begins to cry and goes and sits upstairs with her miniature.


I wish we had never seen those odious purse-proud Osbornes."

I wish we had never seen those odious Osbornes."


Amidst such humble scenes and associates George's early youth was passed, and the boy grew up delicate, sensitive, imperious, woman-bred--domineering the gentle mother whom he loved with passionate affection. He ruled all the rest of the little world round about him.

Amidst such humble scenes George's early youth was passed. The boy grew up delicate, sensitive, imperious, woman-bred - domineering his gentle mother and ruling the rest of the little world around him.


As he grew, the elders were amazed at his haughty manner and his constant likeness to his father.

The elders were amazed at his haughty manner and his likeness to his father.


He asked questions about everything, as inquiring youth will do. The profundity of his remarks and interrogatories astonished his old grandfather, who perfectly bored the club at the tavern with stories about the little lad's learning and genius. He suffered his grandmother with a good-humoured indifference. The small circle round about him believed that the equal of the boy did not exist upon the earth.

He asked questions about everything, astonishing his old grandfather; the small circle about Georgy believed that the boy had no equal upon the earth.


Georgy inherited his father's pride, and perhaps thought they were not wrong.


When he grew to be about six years old, Dobbin began to write to him very much.

When he was about six, Dobbin began to write to him.


The Major wanted to hear that Georgy was going to a school and hoped he would acquit himself with credit there: or would he have a good tutor at home?

The Major wanted to hear that Georgy was going to school: or would he have a good tutor at home?


It was time that he should begin to learn; and his godfather and guardian hinted that he hoped to be allowed to defray the charges of the boy's education, which would fall heavily upon his mother's straitened income.

It was time that he should begin to learn; and Dobbin hinted that he hoped to be allowed to pay for the boy's education.


The Major, in a word, was always thinking about Amelia and her little boy, and by orders to his agents kept the latter provided with picture-books, paint-boxes, desks, and all conceivable implements of amusement and instruction.

The Major, in a word, was always thinking about Amelia and her little boy, and through his agents sent him picture-books, paint-boxes and desks.


Three days before George's sixth birthday a gentleman in a gig, accompanied by a servant, drove up to Mr. Sedley's house and asked to see Master George Osborne: it was Mr. Woolsey, military tailor, of Conduit Street, who came at the Major's order to measure the young gentleman for a suit of clothes.

Three days before George's sixth birthday a gentleman in a gig drove up to Mr. Sedley's house and asked to see Master George Osborne: it was a military tailor, who came at the Major's order to measure the young gentleman for a suit.


He had had the honour of making for the Captain, the young gentleman's father.


Sometimes, too, and by the Major's desire no doubt, his sisters, the Misses Dobbin, would call in the family carriage to take Amelia and the little boy to drive if they were so inclined.

Sometimes, too, by the Major's desire no doubt, his sisters would call in the family carriage to take Amelia and the little boy for a drive.


The patronage and kindness of these ladies was very uncomfortable to Amelia, but she bore it meekly enough, for her nature was to yield; and, besides, the carriage and its splendours gave little Georgy immense pleasure.

This kind patronage was very uncomfortable to Amelia, but she bore it meekly, and the carriage and its splendours gave little Georgy immense pleasure.


The ladies begged occasionally that the child might pass a day with them, and he was always glad to go to that fine garden-house at Denmark Hill, where they lived, and where there were such fine grapes in the hot-houses and peaches on the walls.

The ladies begged occasionally that the child might pass a day with them, and he was always glad to go to their fine house, where there were grapes in the hot-houses and peaches on the walls.


One day they kindly came over to Amelia with news which they were SURE would delight her--something VERY interesting about their dear William.

One day they kindly came over to Amelia with news which they were sure would delight her, about their dear William.


she asked with pleasure beaming in her eyes.


"Oh, no--not the least--but they had very good reason to believe that dear William was about to be married--and to a relation of a very dear friend of Amelia's--to Miss Glorvina O'Dowd, Sir Michael O'Dowd's sister, who had gone out to join Lady O'Dowd at Madras--a very beautiful and accomplished girl, everybody said."

"Oh, no - but they had good reason to believe that dear William was about to be married - and to a relation of a very dear friend of Amelia's - to Miss Glorvina O'Dowd, who had gone out to join Lady O'Dowd - a very beautiful and accomplished girl, everybody said."


Amelia was very VERY happy indeed. But she supposed Glorvina could not be like her old acquaintance, who was most kind--but--but she was very happy indeed.

She was very happy, although - but she was very happy indeed.


And by some impulse of which I cannot explain the meaning, she took George in her arms and kissed him with an extraordinary tenderness. Her eyes were quite moist when she put the child down; and she scarcely spoke a word during the whole of the drive--though she was so very happy indeed.

She took George in her arms and kissed him, and her eyes were quite moist when she put the child down. She scarcely spoke a word during the drive - though she was so very happy indeed.


While the present century was in its teens, and on one sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour.

Early in this nineteenth century, on a sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies on Chiswick Mall a large coach, driven by a fat coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig.


A black servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat coachman, uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton's shining brass plate, and as he pulled the bell at least a score of young heads were seen peering out of the narrow windows of the stately old brick house.

A black servant, who sat on the box beside the coachman, uncurled his legs as the coach drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton's, and when he rang the bell twenty young heads were seen peering out of the narrow windows of the stately old house.


Nay, the acute observer might have recognized the little red nose of good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some geranium pots in the window of that lady's own drawing-room.

Amongst them was good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton, looking from the window of her drawing-room.


"It is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister," said Miss Jemima.


"Sambo, the black servant, has just rung the bell; and the coachman has a new red waistcoat."


"Have you completed all the necessary preparations incident to Miss Sedley's departure, Miss Jemima?"


asked Miss Pinkerton herself, that majestic lady; the Semiramis of Hammersmith, the friend of Doctor Johnson, the correspondent of Mrs. Chapone herself.

asked Miss Pinkerton, that majestic lady; queen of Hammersmith, and friend of Doctor Johnson.


"The girls were up at four this morning, packing her trunks, sister," replied Miss Jemima; "we have made her a bow-pot."

"The girls were up at four this morning, packing her trunks, sister," replied Miss Jemima. "We have made her a bunch of flowers."


"Say a bouquet, sister Jemima, 'tis more genteel."


"Well, a booky as big almost as a haystack; I have put up two bottles of the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley, and the receipt for making it, in Amelia's box."

"Well, a booky almost as big as a haystack."


"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of Miss Sedley's account.

"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of Miss Sedley's account?


Very good--ninety-three pounds, four shillings.


Be kind enough to address it to John Sedley, Esquire, and to seal this billet which I have written to his lady."

Please address it to John Sedley, Esquire, and seal this letter which I have written to his lady."


In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her sister, Miss Pinkerton, was an object of as deep veneration as would have been a letter from a sovereign.

In Miss Jemima's eyes a signed letter from her sister, Miss Pinkerton, was an object of deep veneration.


Only when her pupils quitted the establishment, or when they were about to be married, and once, when poor Miss Birch died of the scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known to write personally to the parents of her pupils; and it was Jemima's opinion that if anything could console Mrs. Birch for her daughter's loss, it would be that pious and eloquent composition in which Miss Pinkerton announced the event.

Only when her pupils left the school, or when they were about to be married, and once when poor Miss Birch died of the scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known to write personally to the parents of her pupils. Jemima thought that if anything could console Mrs. Birch for her daughter's loss, it would be that pious and eloquent letter in which Miss Pinkerton announced her death.


In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's "billet" was to the following effect:--

In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's letter went thus:


MADAM,--After her six years' residence at the Mall, I have the honour and happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents, as a young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their polished and refined circle.

Madam, - After her six years' residence at the Mall, I have the honour and happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents, as a young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their refined circle.


Those virtues which characterize the young English gentlewoman, those accomplishments which become her birth and station, will not be found wanting in the amiable Miss Sedley, whose INDUSTRY and OBEDIENCE have endeared her to her instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper has charmed her AGED and her YOUTHFUL companions.

Those virtues and accomplishments which characterize the young English gentlewoman will not be found lacking in the amiable Miss Sedley, whose INDUSTRY and OBEDIENCE have endeared her to her instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper has charmed her AGED and YOUTHFUL companions.


In music, in dancing, in orthography, in every variety of embroidery and needlework, she will be found to have realized her friends' fondest wishes.

In music, in dancing, in writing, in every variety of needlework, she will realize her friends' fondest wishes.


In geography there is still much to be desired; and a careful and undeviating use of the backboard, for four hours daily during the next three years, is recommended as necessary to the acquirement of that dignified DEPORTMENT AND CARRIAGE, so requisite for every young lady of FASHION.

In geography there is still much to be desired; and an undeviating use of the backboard, for four hours daily during the next three years, is recommended for that dignified DEPORTMENT so requisite for every young lady of FASHION.


In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedley will be found worthy of an establishment which has been honoured by the presence of THE GREAT LEXICOGRAPHER, and the patronage of the admirable Mrs. Chapone.

In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedley will be found worthy of an establishment which has been honoured by the presence of THE GREAT LEXICOGRAPHER Dr Johnson.


In leaving the Mall, Miss Amelia carries with her the hearts of her companions, and the affectionate regards of her mistress, who has the honour to subscribe herself,

In leaving us, Miss Amelia carries with her the hearts of her companions, and the affectionate regards of her head-mistress, who has the honour to subscribe herself,


Madam, Your most obliged humble servant, BARBARA PINKERTON


P.S.--Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley.

P.S. Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley.


It is particularly requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may not exceed ten days.


The family of distinction with whom she is engaged, desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as possible.

The family with whom she is engaged wish to avail themselves of her services as soon as possible.


This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded to write her own name, and Miss Sedley's, in the fly-leaf of a Johnson's Dictionary--the interesting work which she invariably presented to her scholars, on their departure from the Mall.

Next Miss Pinkerton wrote her own name, and Miss Sedley's, in the fly-leaf of a Johnson's Dictionary - the work which she always presented to her scholars on their departure.


On the cover was inserted a copy of "Lines addressed to a young lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton's school, at the Mall; by the late revered Doctor Samuel Johnson."

On the cover was a copy of "Lines addressed to a young lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton's school, by the late revered Doctor Samuel Johnson."


In fact, the Lexicographer's name was always on the lips of this majestic woman, and a visit he had paid to her was the cause of her reputation and her fortune.

In fact, the Lexicographer's name was always on Miss Pinkerton's lips, and a visit he had once paid to her was the cause of her reputation and her fortune.


Being commanded by her elder sister to get "the Dictionary" from the cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copies of the book from the receptacle in question.

Being commanded by her elder sister to get "the Dictionary" from the cupboard, Miss Jemima had taken out two copies of the book.


When Miss Pinkerton had finished the inscription in the first, Jemima, with rather a dubious and timid air, handed her the second.

When Miss Pinkerton had finished writing in the first, Jemima timidly handed her the second.


said Miss Pinkerton, with awful coldness.


"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling very much, and blushing over her withered face and neck, as she turned her back on her sister.

"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling and blushing.


exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the largest capitals.


Replace the Dixonary in the closet, and never venture to take such a liberty in future."

Replace the Dictionary in the closet, and never take such a liberty again."


"Well, sister, it's only two-and-ninepence, and poor Becky will be miserable if she don't get one."


"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," said Miss Pinkerton.

"Send Miss Amelia Sedley instantly to me," said Miss Pinkerton.


And so venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off, exceedingly flurried and nervous.

Not daring to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off, exceedingly flurried and nervous.


Miss Sedley's papa was a merchant in London, and a man of some wealth; whereas Miss Sharp was an articled pupil, for whom Miss Pinkerton had done, as she thought, quite enough, without conferring upon her at parting the high honour of the Dixonary.

Miss Sedley's papa was a wealthy merchant in London; whereas Miss Sharp was an articled pupil, working as an assistant teacher. For her, Miss Pinkerton thought she had done quite enough, without giving her the honour of the Dictionary.


Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted no more nor less than churchyard epitaphs; yet, as it sometimes happens that a person departs this life who is really deserving of all the praises the stone cutter carves over his bones; who IS a good Christian, a good parent, child, wife, or husband; who actually DOES leave a disconsolate family to mourn his loss; so in academies of the male and female sex it occurs every now and then that the pupil is fully worthy of the praises bestowed by the disinterested instructor.

Although schoolmistresses' letters are to be trusted no more than churchyard epitaphs, yet sometimes a person is really deserving of all the praises carved on his gravestone; and so in academies, every now and then a pupil is fully worthy of the praises bestowed by their teacher.


Now, Miss Amelia Sedley was a young lady of this singular species; and deserved not only all that Miss Pinkerton said in her praise, but had many charming qualities which that pompous old Minerva of a woman could not see, from the differences of rank and age between her pupil and herself.

Miss Amelia Sedley was a young lady of this sort. She deserved not only all that Miss Pinkerton said in her praise, but had many charming qualities which that pompous old woman could not see.


For she could not only sing like a lark, or a Mrs. Billington, and dance like Hillisberg or Parisot; and embroider beautifully; and spell as well as a Dixonary itself; but she had such a kindly, smiling, tender, gentle, generous heart of her own, as won the love of everybody who came near her, from Minerva herself down to the poor girl in the scullery, and the one-eyed tart-woman's daughter, who was permitted to vend her wares once a week to the young ladies in the Mall.

For she could not only sing like a lark, dance, embroider beautifully, and spell as well as a Dictionary; but she had such a kindly, smiling, tender, generous heart, as won the love of everybody who came near her, right down to the poor girl in the scullery.


She had twelve intimate and bosom friends out of the twenty-four young ladies.

She had twelve intimate friends out of the twenty-four young ladies.


Even envious Miss Briggs never spoke ill of her; high and mighty Miss Saltire (Lord Dexter's granddaughter) allowed that her figure was genteel; and as for Miss Swartz, the rich woolly-haired mulatto from St. Kitt's, on the day Amelia went away, she was in such a passion of tears that they were obliged to send for Dr. Floss, and half tipsify her with salvolatile.

Even envious Miss Briggs never spoke ill of her; high and mighty Miss Saltire allowed that she was genteel; and as for Miss Swartz, the rich mulatto from St. Kitt's, when Amelia went away, she was in a passion of tears.


Miss Pinkerton's attachment was, as may be supposed from the high position and eminent virtues of that lady, calm and dignified; but Miss Jemima had already whimpered several times at the idea of Amelia's departure; and, but for fear of her sister, would have gone off in downright hysterics, like the heiress (who paid double) of St. Kitt's.

Miss Jemima had already whimpered several times at the idea of Amelia's departure; and, but for fear of her sister, would have had downright hysterics.


Such luxury of grief, however, is only allowed to parlour-boarders.


Honest Jemima had all the bills, and the washing, and the mending, and the puddings, and the plate and crockery, and the servants to superintend.

Honest Jemima had all the bills, and the washing, and the mending, and the puddings, and the crockery, and the servants to superintend.


It is probable that we shall not hear of her again from this moment to the end of time, and that when the great filigree iron gates are once closed on her, she and her awful sister will never issue therefrom into this little world of history.

We shall probably not hear of her again from this moment to the end of time.


But as we are to see a great deal of Amelia, there is no harm in saying, at the outset of our acquaintance, that she was a dear little creature; and a great mercy it is, both in life and in novels, which (and the latter especially) abound in villains of the most sombre sort, that we are to have for a constant companion so guileless and good-natured a person.

But as we are to see a great deal of Amelia, there is no harm in saying at the outset that she was a dear little creature; and a great mercy it is, both in life and in novels, to have so guileless and good-natured a companion.


As she is not a heroine, there is no need to describe her person; indeed I am afraid that her nose was rather short than otherwise, and her cheeks a great deal too round and red for a heroine; but her face blushed with rosy health, and her lips with the freshest of smiles, and she had a pair of eyes which sparkled with the brightest and honestest good-humour, except indeed when they filled with tears, and that was a great deal too often; for the silly thing would cry over a dead canary-bird; or over a mouse, that the cat haply had seized upon; or over the end of a novel, were it ever so stupid; and as for saying an unkind word to her, were any persons hard-hearted enough to do so--why, so much the worse for them.

As she is not a heroine, there is no need to describe her looks. Indeed I am afraid that her nose was rather short, and her cheeks a great deal too round and red for a heroine; but her face blushed with rosy health, and her lips with the freshest of smiles, and her eyes sparkled with bright good-humour, except when they filled with tears, and that was a great deal too often; for the silly thing would cry over a dead canary-bird, or the end of a novel, even a stupid one. If anybody were so hard-hearted as to say an unkind word to her, so much the worse for them.


Even Miss Pinkerton, that austere and godlike woman, ceased scolding her after the first time, and though she no more comprehended sensibility than she did Algebra, gave all masters and teachers particular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmost gentleness, as harsh treatment was injurious to her.

Even the austere Miss Pinkerton ceased scolding her after the first time, and gave all the teachers particular orders to treat Miss Sedley with the utmost gentleness.


So that when the day of departure came, between her two customs of laughing and crying, Miss Sedley was greatly puzzled how to act. She was glad to go home, and yet most woefully sad at leaving school.

When the day of departure came, Miss Sedley was glad to go home, and yet woefully sad at leaving school.


For three days before, little Laura Martin, the orphan, followed her about like a little dog.

For three days before, little Laura Martin, the orphan, followed her about like a dog.


She had to make and receive at least fourteen presents--to make fourteen solemn promises of writing every week: "Send my letters under cover to my grandpapa, the Earl of Dexter," said Miss Saltire (who, by the way, was rather shabby).

She had to make and receive fourteen presents - to make fourteen solemn promises of writing every week.


"Never mind the postage, but write every day, you dear darling," said the impetuous and woolly-headed, but generous and affectionate Miss Swartz; and the orphan little Laura Martin (who was just in round-hand), took her friend's hand and said, looking up in her face wistfully, "Amelia, when I write to you I shall call you Mamma."

"Write every day, you dear darling," said the impetuous but affectionate Miss Swartz; and Laura Martin took her hand and said wistfully, "Amelia, when I write to you I shall call you Mamma."


All which details, I have no doubt, JONES, who reads this book at his Club, will pronounce to be excessively foolish, trivial, twaddling, and ultra-sentimental.

All of which details, no doubt Jones, who reads this book at his Club, will pronounce to be excessively foolish, trivial, twaddling, and ultra-sentimental.


Yes; I can see Jones at this minute (rather flushed with his joint of mutton and half pint of wine), taking out his pencil and scoring under the words "foolish, twaddling," &c., and adding to them his own remark of "QUITE TRUE."


Well, he is a lofty man of genius, and admires the great and heroic in life and novels; and so had better take warning and go elsewhere.

Well, he is a lofty man of genius, and admires the great and heroic; and so he had better take warning and go elsewhere.


The flowers, and the presents, and the trunks, and bonnet-boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr. Sambo in the carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old cow's-skin trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which was delivered by Sambo with a grin, and packed by the coachman with a corresponding sneer--the hour for parting came; and the grief of that moment was considerably lessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkerton addressed to her pupil. Not that the parting speech caused Amelia to philosophise, or that it armed her in any way with a calmness, the result of argument; but it was intolerably dull, pompous, and tedious; and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly before her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give way to any ebullitions of private grief.

Miss Sedley's flowers, presents, trunks, and bonnet-boxes were arranged by Mr. Sambo in the carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old trunk with Miss Sharp's card nailed to it. The grief of parting was considerably lessened by the speech which Miss Pinkerton addressed to her pupil, and which was intolerably dull.