pretence of watching it, fell hollow on my
heart.

On the Monday morning at a quarter before
nine, Herbert went to the counting-house to
report himself—to look about him, too, I
suppose—and I bore him company. He was to
come away in an hour or two to attend me to
Hammersmith, and I was to wait about for him.
It appeared to me that the eggs from which
young Insurers were hatched, were incubated
in dust and heat, like the eggs of ostriches,
judging from the places to which those incipient
giants repaired on a Monday morning. Nor did
the counting-house where Herbert assisted, show
in my eyes as at all a good Observatory; being
a back second floor up a yard, of a grimy
presence in all particulars, and with a look into
another back second floor rather than a look
out.

I waited about until it was noon, and I went
upon 'Change, and I saw fluey men sitting there
under the bills about shipping, whom I took to
be great merchants, though I couldn't understand
why they should all be out of spirits.
When Herbert came, we went and had lunch
at a celebrated house which I then quite
venerated, but now believe to have been the most
abject superstition in Europe, and where I could
not help noticing, even then, that there was
much more gravy on the tablecloths and knives
and waiters' clothes, than in the steaks. This
collation disposed of at a moderate price
(considering the grease, which was not charged for),
we went back to Barnard's Inn and got my little
portmanteau, and then took coach for Hammersmith.
We arrived there at two or three o'clock
in the afternoon, and had very little way to walk
to Mr. Pocket's house. Lifting the latch of a
gate, we passed direct into a little garden
overlooking the river, where Mr. Pocket's children
were playing about. And unless I deceive myself
on a point where my interests or prepossessions
are certainly not concerned, I saw that Mr.
and Mrs. Pocket's children were not growing up
or being brought up, but were tumbling up.

Mrs. Pocket was sitting on a garden chair
under a tree, reading, with her legs upon
another garden chair; and Mrs. Pocket's two
nursemaids, were looking about them while the
children played. " Mamma," said Herbert, " this
is young Mr. Pip." Upon which Mrs. Pocket
received me with an appearance of amiable
dignity.

"Master Alick and Miss Jane," cried one of
the nurses to two of the children, "if you go
a bouncing up against them bushes you'll fall
over into the river and be drownded, and what'll
your pa say then!"

At the same time this nurse picked up Mrs.
Pocket's handkerchief, and said, " If that don't
make six times you've dropped it, Mum!"
Upon which Mrs. Pocket laughed and said,
"Thank you, Flopson," and settling herself
in one chair only, resumed her book. Her
countenance immediately assumed a knitted and
intent expression as if she had been reading for
a week, but before she could have read half a
dozen lines, she fixed her eyes upon me, and
said, " I hope your mamma is quite well?"
This unexpected inquiry put me into such a
difficulty that I began saying in the absurdest
way that if there had been any such person I
had no doubt she would have been quite well
and would have been very much obliged and
would have sent her compliments, when the
nurse came to my rescue.

"Well!" she cried, picking up the pocket-
handkerchief, " if that don't make seven times!
What ARE you a doing of this afternoon, Mum!"
Mrs. Pocket received her property at first with
a look of unutterable surprise as it she had never
seen it before, and then with a laugh of
recognition, and said, " Thank you, Flopson," and
forgot me, and went on reading.

I found, now I had leisure to count them,
that there were no fewer than six little Pockets
present, in various stages of tumbling up. I
had scarcely arrived at the total when a seventh
was heard, as in the region of air, wailing dolefully.

"If there ain't Baby!" said Flopson, appearing
to think it most surprising. " Make haste
up, Millers."

Millers, who was the other nurse, retired into
the house, and by degrees the child's wailing
was hushed and stopped, as if it were a young
ventriloquist with something in its mouth. Mrs.
Pocket read all the time, and I was curious to
know what the book could be.

We were waiting, I supposed, for Mr. Pocket
to come out to us; at any rate we waited there,
and so I had an opportunity of observing the
remarkable family phenomenon that whenever
any of the children strayed near Mrs. Pocket in
their play, they always tripped themselves up and
tumbled over her—always very much to her
momentary astonishment, and their own more
enduring lamentation. I was at a loss to
account for this surprising circumstance, and could
not help giving my mind to speculations about
it, until by-and-by Millers came down with
the baby, which baby was handed to Flopson,
which Flopson was handing it to Mrs. Pocket,
when she too went fairly head-foremost over
Mrs. Pocket, baby and all, and was caught by
Herbert and myself.

"Gracious me, Flopson!" said Mrs. Pocket,
looking off her book for a moment, "everybody's
tumbling!"

"Gracious you, indeed, Mum!" returned
Flopson, very red in the face; " what have you
got there?"

"I got here, Flopson?" asked Mrs. Pocket.

"Why, if it ain't your footstool!" cried
Flopson. "And if you keep it under your
skirts like that, who's to help tumbling! Here!
Take the baby, Mum, and give me your book."

Mrs. Pocket acted on the advice, and
inexpertly danced the infant a little in her lap, while
the other children played about it. This had
lasted but a very short time, when Mrs. Pocket
issued summary orders that they were all to be
taken into the house for a nap. Thus I made the
second discovery on that first occasion, that the