never been in the way of learning compliments
myself, and "l don't profess to
understand the art of paying 'em. In fact, I
despise 'em. But, your bringing-up was
different from mine; mine was a real thing,
by George! You're a gentleman, and I
don't pretend to be one. I am Josiah
Bounderby of Coketown, and that's enough
for me. However, though I am not
influenced by manners and station, Loo Bounderby
may be. She hadn't my advantages—
disadvantages you would call 'em, but I call 'em
advantages— so you'll not waste your power,
I dare say."

"Mr. Bounderby," said Jem, turning with
a smile to Louisa, " is a noble animal in a
comparatively natural state, quite free from
the harness in which a conventional hack
like myself works."

"You respect Mr. Bounderby very much,"
she quietly returned. " It is natural that
you should."

He was disgracefully thrown out, for a
gentleman who had seen so much of the
world, and thought, " Now, how am I to take
this?"

"You are going to devote yourself, as I
gather from what Mr. Bounderby has said,
to the service of your country. You have
made up your mind," said Louisa, still
standing before him where she had first
stopped— in all the singular contrariety of her
self-possession, and her being obviously so
very ill at ease— " to show the nation the way
out of all its difficulties."

"Mrs. Bounderby," he returned laughing,
"upon my honour, no. I will make no such
pretence to you. I have seen a little, here and
there, up and down; I have found it all to be
very worthless, as everybody has, and as some
confess they have, and some do not; and I am
going in for your respected father's opinions
—really because I have no choice of opinions,
and may as well back them as anything else."

"Have you none of your own? " asked
Louisa.

"I have not so much as the slightest
predilection left. I assure you I attach not the
least importance to any opinions. The result
of the varieties of boredom I have undergone,
is a conviction (unless conviction is too
industrious a word for the lazy sentiment
I entertain on the subject), that any set
of ideas will do just as much good as
any other set, and just as much harm as
any other set. There's an English family
with a capital Italian motto. What will be,
will be. It's the only truth going!"

This vicious assumption of honesty in
dishonesty— a vice so dangerous, so deadly, and
so common— seemed, he observed, a little to
impress her in his favor. He followed up
the advantage, by saying in his pleasantest
manner: a manner to which she might
attach as much or as little meaning as she
pleased: "The side that can prove anything in
a line of units, tens, hundreds, and thousands.
Mrs. Bounderby, seems to me to afford the most
fun, and to give a man the best chance. I
am quite as much attached to it as if I
believed it. I am quite ready to go in for it,
to the same extent as if I believed it. And
what more could I possibly do, if I did
believe it!"

"You are a singular politician," said
Louisa.

"Pardon me; I have not even that merit.
We are the largest party in the state, I
assure you, Mrs. Bounderby, if we all fell
out of our adopted ranks and were reviewed
together."

Mr. Bounderby, who had been in danger of
bursting in silence, interposed here with a
project for postponing the family dinner to
half-past six, and taking Mr. James
Harthouse in the meantime on a round of visits
to the voting and interesting notabilities
of Coketown and its vicinity. The round of
visits was made; and Mr. James Harthouse,
with a discreet use of his blue coaching,
came off triumphantly, though with a
considerable accession of boredom.

In the evening, he found the dinner-table
laid for four, but they sat down only three.
It was an appropriate occasion for Mr. Bounderby
to discuss the flavour of the hap'orth
of stewed eels he had purchased in the streets
at eight years old, and also of the inferior
water, specially used for laying the dust,
with which he had washed down that repast.
He likewise entertained his guest, over the
soup and fish, with the calculation that he
(Bounderby) had eaten in his youth at least
three horses under the guise of polonies and
saveloys. These recitals, Jem, in a languid
manner, received with " charming! " every
now and then; and they probably would
have decided him to go in for Jerusalem again
to-morrow-morning, had he been less curious
respecting Louisa.

"Is there nothing," he thought, glancing
at her as she sat at the head of the table,
where her youthful figure, small and slight,
but very graceful, looked as pretty as it
looked misplaced; " is there nothing that
will move that face?"

Yes! By Jupiter, there was something,
and here it was, in an unexpected shape!
Tom appeared. She changed as the door
opened, and broke into a beaming smile.

A beautiful smile. Mr. James Harthouse
might not have thought so much of it, but
that he had wondered so long at her impassive
face. She put out her hand— a pretty
little soft hand; and her fingers closed upon
her brother's, as if she would have carried
them to her lips.

"Ay, ay?" thought the visitor. "This
whelp is the only creature she cares for.
So, so!"

The whelp was presented, and took his
chair. The appellation was not flattering,
but not unmerited.

"When I was your age, young Tom," said