to a depression of spirits and withdrew into himself. Cousin Feenix and the young lady were very lively and humorous, and the young lady laughed so much at something Cousin Feenix related to her, that Major Bagstock begged leave to inquire on behalf of Mrs. Skewton (they were sitting opposite, a little lower down), whether that might not be considered public property.

`Why, upon my life,' said Cousin Feenix, `there's nothing in it; it really is not worth repeating; in point of fact, it's merely an anecdote of Jack Adams. I dare say my friend Dombey;' for the general attention was concentrated on Cousin Feenix; `may remember Jack Adams, Jack Adams, not Joe; that was his brother. Jack--little Jack--man with a cast in his eye, and slight impediment in his speech--man who sat for somebody's borough. We used to call him in my parliamentary time W. P. Adams, in consequence of his being Warming Pan for a young fellow who was in his minority. Perhaps my friend Dombey may have known the man?'

Mr. Dombey, who was as likely to have known Guy Fawkes, replied in the negative. But one of the seven mild men unexpectedly leaped into distinction, by saying he had known him, and adding--`always wore Hessian boots!'

`Exactly,' said Cousin Feenix, bending forward to see the mild man, and smile encouragement at his down the table. `That was Jack. Joe wore--'

`Tops!' cried the mild man, rising in public estimation every instant.

`Of course,' said Cousin Feenix, `you were intimate with 'em?'

`I knew them both,' said the mild man. With whom Mr. Dombey immediately took wine.

`Devilish good fellow, Jack!' said Cousin Feenix, again bending forward, and smiling.

`Excellent,' returned the mild man, becoming bold on his success. `One of the best fellows I ever knew.'

`No doubt you have heard the story?' said Cousin Feenix.

`I shall know,' replied the bold mild man, `when I have heard your Ludship tell it.' With that, he leaned back in his chair and smiled at the ceiling, as knowing it by heart, and being already tickled.

`In point of fact, it's nothing of a story in itself,' said Cousin Feenix, addressing the table with a smile, and a gay shake of his head, `and not worth a word of preface. But it's illustrative of the neatness of Jack's humour. The fact is, that Jack was invited down to a marriage--which I think took place in Barkshire?'

`Shropshire,' said the bold mild man, finding himself appealed to.

`Was it? Well! In point of fact it might have been in any shire,' said Cousin Feenix. `So my friend being invited down to this marriage in Anyshire,' with a pleasant sense of the readiness of this joke, `goes. Just as some of us, having had the honour of being invited to the marriage of my lovely and accomplished relative with my friend Dombey, didn't require to be asked twice, and were devilish glad to be present on so interesting an occasion.--Goes--Jack goes. Now, this marriage was, in point of fact, the marriage of an uncommonly fine girl with a man for whom she didn't care a button, but whom she accepted on account of his property, which was immense. When Jack returned to town, after the nuptials, a man he knew, meeting him in the lobby of the House of Commons, says,' "Well, Jack, how are the ill-matched couple?" "Illmatched," says Jack. "Not at all. It's a perfectly fair and equal transaction. She is regularly bought, and you may take your oath he is as regularly sold!"'

In his full enjoyment of this culminating point of his story, the shudder, which had gone all round the table like an electric spark, struck Cousin Feenix, and he stopped. Not a smile occasioned by the only general topic of conversation broached that day, appeared on any face. A profound silence ensued; and the wretched mild man, who had been as innocent of any real foreknowledge of the story as the child


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