money-box with all its treasure, which she
innocently poured out into Timothy's hands,
begging him not to beat his little boy any
more. Of course neither Nicholas nor his
mother were any the better for this gift,
though Nicholas would gladly have taken
half-a-dozen beatings for the pleasure it gave
him to know that his " little lady," as he
called her, had thought of him.

Madam Trevor, the old lady, on hearing
what had been done, gave orders that Mrs.
Salt should come every day for any broken
meat there might be, an order which the old
cook translated into making the decent
woman sit down and have a comfortable meal
with something to take home besides.

At length Timothy pronounced Nicholas
to be worth looking at. The caravan scheme
had fallen through; but Timothy made a
bargain with the manager of a circus company
who were come into the neighbourhood.
Nicholas and his father went through a full-
dress performance for the amusement of the
little lady, who looked on from her window.
It had cost him so much pains to learn that
Nicholas had lost all sense of the shame with
which he had at first regarded being made a
Merry Andrew.

His mother parted from Nicholas with a
heavy heart. She had no more tears to shed.
Her sense that it was her own folly and her
own fault which had brought him to it, was
a sharp burning remorse which left her silent
and tearless. She got Nicholas to make her
a promise to touch nothing stronger than
water, and saw him depart on his very
questionable calling.

The company which Nicholas and Timothy
joined were not worse than the average
of people in their class of life. Timothy
was the only ruffian amongst them, and
even his fierce temper was under some
control, for all stood in awe of the manager.
The wife of the clown, who was the leading
performer in the various lines of
dancing, riding, and acting, was very good
to Nicholas; and, under her protection, no
one ventured to molest him. There were
two caravans, in one of which the company
lived and transacted their natural lives; in
the other, they performed and appeared to
the world in all the splendour of velvet,
and spangles, and hats, and with feathers.
Nicholas made his first appearance attired in
tight flesh-coloured hose and blue velvet
tunic covered with silver, and his head bound
with a gilt circlet, under the name of the Young
Dareall, and met with great success, whilst
Timothy, attired in a dress similar to that in
which he won the heart of poor Mrs.
Fleming, resumed his old name of Don
Prosper Saltero.

Nicholas by no means disliked this sort of
life. The excitement of the performances,
and the dangerous charm that lurks in
vagabondism and vagrancy began to work on
him. The sense of adventure and the constant
change of scene had great fascinations
for a boy, and it is doubtful whether he would
ever have been able to quit it for a more
respectable career if it had lasted long. His
one great drawback was the difficulty he had
to secrete any of the extra gifts which were
bestowed on him for his good looks and
tender years, by good-natured mothers or
admiring youngsters, to whom he seemed
little less than supernatural. His father
called him to strict account for all the pence
he suspected him of receiving.

The caravan and company extended their
circuit. The poor mother wept bitterly to
receive a letter instead of seeing her son at the
time appointed for his return; but Nicholas,
though he tried to console her, was, in his
heart, rejoiced that he was going to see more
of the world. At last the engagement was
concluded. Nicholas and his father were
both free to return home. Nicholas shouldered
his bundle, and set off to find his way home
on foot. Timothy lingered behind to drink,
having been for him wonderfully sober during
their travels.

When Nicholas reached the cottage, his
heart failed him. He stopped to look through
the window before he dared to enter. His
mother was sitting over the embers of the
fire in a deep reverie. She looked worn and
aged since he left. The cottage had a more
desolate look than ever. All the furniture
except the chair she sat on was gone, and
there was a great dilapidated mark against
the wall, showing where the corner cupboard
had been roughly removed. Nicholas knocked
at the door, but his mother did not hear him,
so he entered, and roused her by flinging his
arms round her neck. She cried. She was
grown so weak and helpless that joy frightened
her. She had been reduced to great
distress; for, in addition to every thing else,
she had fallen down and broken her wrist.
If it had not been for the ladies at the great
house she must have starved or gone to the
workhouse, which, in her ideas, was many
degrees worse. Nicholas had brought home
a trifle in money, and for a few days mother
and son were left in peace. But it was too
good to last. Timothy did not make his
appearance for a week, and they had begun
to hope he had taken himself off on another
journey; but one morning, when Mrs.
Salt was gone up to the great house and
Nicholas was trying to mend the door of the
cottage, he felt himself suddenly seized as in
the grip of a wild beast. His father had
entered unperceived. Unable to extricate
himself, or even to struggle, Nicholas was
beaten, kicked, and flung on the ground,
where he lay like one dead; but Timothy did
not desist from beating and kicking: he was
in a state of furious delirium tremens, and
seemed to possess the strength of a legion of
devils. He, however, desisted from his work
as suddenly as he had begun. He seemed to
catch sight of some object, and darted off