Chapter 40 In which Nicholas falls in love. He employs a mediator, whose proceedings are crowned with unexpected success, accepting in one solitary particular. Once more out of the clutches of his old persecutor, it needed no fresh stimulation to call forth the utmost energy and exertion that Smyke was capable of summoning to his aid. Without pausing for a moment to reflect upon the course he was taking, or the probability of its leading him homewards or the reverse, he fled away, with surprising swiftness and constancy of purpose, born upon such wings as only fear can wear, and impelled by imaginary shouts in the well-remembered voice of squeers, who, with a host of pursuers, seemed to the poor fellow's disordered senses to press hard upon his track, now left at a greater distance in the rear and now gaining faster and faster upon him as the alternations of hope and terror agitated him by turns. Long after he had become assured that these sounds were but the creation of his excited brain, he still held on, at a pace which even weakness and exhaustion could scarcely retard. It was not until the darkness and quiet of a country road recalled him to a sense of external objects, and the starry sky above warned him of the rapid flight of time that, covered with dust and panting for breath, he stopped to listen and look about him. All was still and silent. A glare of light in the distance, casting a warm glow upon the sky, marked where the huge city lay. Solitary fields, divided by hedges and ditches, through many of which he had crashed and scrambled in his flight, skirted the road, both by the way he had come and upon the opposite side. It was late now. They could scarcely trace him by such paths as he had taken, and if he could hope to regain his own dwelling, it must surely be at such a time as that, an undercover of the darkness. This, by degrees, became pretty plain even to the mind of Smyke. He had, at first, entertained some vague and childish idea of travelling into the country for ten or a dozen miles, and then returning homewards by a wide circuit, which should keep him clear of London. So great was his apprehension of traversing the streets alone, lest he should again encounter his dreaded enemy. But yielding to the conviction which these thoughts inspired, he turned back, and taking the open road, though not without many fears and misgivings, made for London again, with scarcely less speed of foot than that with which he had left the temporary abode of Mr. Squeers. By the time he re-entered it, at the western extremity, the greater part of the shops were closed. Of the throngs of people who had been tempted abroad after the heat of the day, but few remained in the streets, and they were lounging home. But of these he asked his way from time to time, and by dint of repeated inquiries he at length reached the dwelling of Newmanogs. All that evening Newman had been hunting and searching in byways and corners for the very person who now knocked at his door, while Nicholas had been pursuing the same inquiry in other directions. He was sitting, with the melancholy air, at his poor supper, when Smyke's timorous and uncertain knock reached his ears. Alive to every sound in his anxious and expectant state, Newman hurried downstairs, and uttering a cry of joyful surprise dragged the welcome visitor into the passage and up the stairs, and said not a word until he had him safe in his own garret, and the door was shut behind them, when he mixed a great mugful of gin and water, and holding it to Smyke's mouth, as one might hold a bowl of medicine to the lips of a refractory child, commanded him to drain it to the last drop. Newman looked uncommonly blank when he found that Smyke did little more than put his lips to the precious mixture. He was in the act of raising the mug to his own mouth, with a deep sigh of compassion for his poor friend's weakness, when Smyke, beginning to relate the adventures which had befallen him, arrested him half way, and he stood listening, with the mug in his hand. It was odd enough to see the change that came over Newman as Smyke proceeded.  Then, at the mention of squeers, he took the mug under his arm, and opening his eyes very wide, looked on, in the utmost astonishment. When Smyke came to the assault upon himself in the hackney-coach, he hastily deposited the mug upon the table, and limped up and down the room in a state of the greatest excitement, stopping himself with a jerk every now and then, as if to listen more attentively. When John Browdy came to be spoken of, he dropped, by slow and gradual degrees, into a chair, and rubbing his hands upon his knees, quicker and quicker as the story reached its climax, burst at last into a laugh, composed of one loud sonorous ha-ha, having given vent to which his countenance immediately fell again as he inquired, with the utmost anxiety, whether it was probable that John Browdy and squeers had come to blows. No, I think not, replied Smyke. I don't think he could have missed me till I had got quite away. Newman scratched his head with a shout of great disappointment, and once more lifting up the mug, applied himself to the contents, smiling, meanwhile, over the rim, with a grim and ghastly smile at Smyke. You shall stay here, said Newman. You're tired, fagged. I'll tell them you're coming back. They have been half mad about you, Mr. Nicholas. God bless him, cried Smyke. Amen, returned Newman. He hasn't had a minute's rest or peace. No more has the old lady, nor Miss Nicolby. No. No. Has she thought about me, said Smyke? Has she, though? Oh, has she, has she? Don't tell me so if she has not. She has, cried Newman. She is as noble-hearted as she is beautiful. Yes, yes, cried Smyke, well said. So mild and gentle, said Newman. Yes, yes, cried Smyke, with increasing eagerness. And yet, with such a true and gallant spirit, pursued Newman. He was going on in his enthusiasm, when, chancing to look at his companion, he saw that he had covered his face with his hands and that tears were stealing out between his fingers. A moment before, the boy's eyes were sparkling with unwanted fire, and every feature had been lighted up with an excitement which made him appear, for the moment, quite a different being. Well, well, muttered Newman, as if he were a little puzzled. It has touched me, more than once, to think such a nature should have been exposed to such trials. This poor fellow, yes, yes, he feels that too. It softens him, makes him think of his former misery. Ha! That's it? Yes, that's hum. It was by no means clear, from the tone of these broken reflections, that Newman-Nogs considered them as explaining, at all satisfactorily, the emotion which had suggested them. He sat, in amusing attitude, for some time, regarding Smyke occasionally with an anxious and doubtful glance, which sufficiently showed that he was not very remotely connected with his thoughts. At length, he repeated his proposition that Smyke should remain where he was for that night, and that he, Nogs, should straightway repair to the cottage to relieve the suspense of the family. But, as Smyke would not hear of this, pleading his anxiety to see his friends again, they eventually sallied forth together, and the night being, by this time, far advanced, and Smyke being besides so foot-sore that he could hardly crawl along, it was within an hour of sunrise when they reached their destination. At the first sound of their voices outside the house, Nicholas, who had passed a sleepless night, devising schemes for the recovery of his lost charge, started from his bed and joyfully admitted them. There was so much noisy conversation, and congratulation, and indignation, that the remainder of the family were soon awakened, and Smyke received a warm and cordial welcome, not only from Kate, but from Mrs. Nicolby also, who assured him of her future favour and regard, and was so obliging as to relate, for his entertainment and that of the assembled circle, a most remarkable account extracted from some work the name of which she had never known, of a miraculous escape from some prison, but what one she couldn't remember, effected by an officer whose name she had forgotten, confined for some crime which she didn't clearly recollect. At first Nicholas was disposed to give his uncle credit for some portion of this bold attempt, which had so nearly proved successful, to carry off Smyke, but on more mature consideration he was inclined to think that the full merit of it rested with Mr. Squeers. Determined to ascertain, if he could, through John Browdy, how the case really stood, he betook himself to his daily occupation, meditating as he went on a great variety of schemes for the punishment of the Yorkshire schoolmaster, all of which had their foundation in the strictest principles of retributive justice, and had but the one drawback of being wholly impracticable. "'A fine morning, Mr. Lincoln-Water,' said Nicholas, entering the office. "'Ah,' replied Tim. "'Talk of the country, indeed. What do you think of this now, for a day, a London day, eh?' "'It's a little clearer out of town,' said Nicholas. "'Clearer,' echoed Tim Lincoln-Water. "'You should see it from my bedroom window. You should see it from mine,' replied Nicholas, with a smile. "'Poo-poo,' said Tim Lincoln-Water. "'Don't tell me, country.' Bo was quite a rustic place to Tim. "'Nonsense! What can you get in the country but new-laid eggs and flowers? I can buy new-laid eggs in Leadenhall Market any morning before breakfast. And as to flowers, it's worth a run upstairs to smell my mignonette, or to see the double-wall flower in the back attic window at number six in the court. "'There is a double-wall flower at number six in the court? Is there?' said Nicholas. "'Yes, is there,' replied Tim, and planted in a cracked jug without a spout. "'There were hyacinths there, this last spring, blossoming in. But you'll laugh at that, of course.' "'At what?' "'At their blossoming in old blacking-bottles,' said Tim. "'Not I, indeed,' returned Nicholas. Tim looked wistfully at him for a moment, as if he were encouraged by the tone of this reply to be more communicative on the subject, and sticking behind his ear a pen that he had been making, and shutting up his knife with a smart click, said, "'They belong to a sickly, bed-ridden, hump-backed boy, and seem to be the only pleasure, Mr. Nicolby, of his sad existence.' "'How many years is it?' said Tim, pondering, since I first noticed him, quite a little child, dragging himself about on a pair of tiny crutches. "'Well, well, not many. But though they would appear nothing if I thought of other things, they seem a long, long time when I think of him.' "'It is a sad thing,' said Tim, breaking off, to see a little deformed child sitting apart from other children, who are active and merry, watching the games he has denied the power to share in. He made my heart ache very often. "'It is a good heart,' said Nicholas, that disentangles itself from the close avocations of every day to heed such things. "'You were saying, that the flowers belonged to this poor boy,' said Tim, "'that's all. When it is fine weather, and he can crawl out of bed, he draws a chair close to the window and sits there, looking at them and arranging them, all day long. He used to nod at first, and then we came to speak. Formerly, when I called to him of a morning, and asked him how he was, he would smile and say, better. But now he shakes his head, and only bends more closely over his old plants. It must be dull to watch the dark housetops and the flying clouds for so many months, but he is very patient. "'Is there nobody in the house to cheer or help him?' asked Nicholas. "'His father lives there, I believe,' replied Tim, and other people, too. But no one seems to care much for the poor sickly cripple. I have asked him very often if I can do nothing for him. His answer is always the same. Nothing. His voice is growing week of late, but I can see that he makes the old reply. He can't leave his bed now, so they have moved it close beside the window, and there he lies all day, now looking at the sky and now at his flowers, which he still makes shift to trim and water with his own thin hands. At night, when he sees my candle, he draws back his curtain and leaves it so till I am in bed. It seems such company to him to know that I am there, that I often sit at my window for an hour or more, that he may see I am still awake, and sometimes I get up in the night to look at the dull melancholy light in his little room, and wonder whether he is awake or sleeping. "'The night will not be long coming,' said Tim, when he will sleep and never wake again on earth. We have never so much as shaken hands in all our lives, and yet I shall miss him like an old friend. Are there any country flowers that could interest me like these, do you think? Or do you suppose that the withering of a hundred kinds of the choicest flowers that blow, called by the hardest Latin names that were ever invented, would give me one fraction of the pain that I shall feel when these old jugs and bottles are swept away as lumber? Country! cried Tim, with the contemptuous emphasis. Don't you know that I couldn't have such a court under my bedroom window anywhere but in London? With which inquiry, Tim turned his back, and pretending to be absorbed in his accounts, took an opportunity of hastily wiping his eyes when he supposed Nicholas was looking another way. Whether it was that Tim's accounts were more than usually intricate that morning, or whether it was that his habitual serenity had been a little disturbed by these recollections, it so happened that when Nicholas returned from executing some commission, and inquired whether Mr. Charles Cheerable was alone in his room, Tim promptly, and without the smallest hesitation, replied in the affirmative, although somebody had passed into the room not ten minutes before, and Tim took a special and particular pride in preventing any intrusion on either of the brothers when they were engaged with any visitor whatsoever. I'll take this letter to him at once, said Nicholas, if that's the case, and with that he walked to the room and knocked at the door. No answer. Another knock, and still no answer. He can't be here, thought Nicholas. I'll lay it on his table. So Nicholas opened the door and walked in, and very quickly he turned to walk out again when he saw to his great astonishment and discomforture a young lady upon her knees at Mr. Cheerable's feet, and Mr. Cheerable beseeching her to rise, and in treating a third person, who had the appearance of the young lady's female attendant, to add her persuasions to his to induce her to do so. Nicholas stammered out an awkward apology, and was precipitately retiring when the young lady, turning her head a little, presented to his view the features of the lovely girl whom he had seen at the register office on his first visit long before. Glancing from her to the attendant, he recognized the same clumsy servant who had accompanied her then, and between his admiration of the young lady's beauty and the confusion and surprise of this unexpected recognition, he stood, stock still, in such a bewildered state of surprise and embarrassment that for the moment he was quite bereft of the power either to speak or move.  As he spoke, he raised the young lady, who stackered to a chair, and swooned away. She has fainted, sir, said Nicholas, darting eagerly forward. Poor dear, poor dear, cried Brother Charles, where is my brother Ned? Ned, my dear brother, come here, pray. Brother Charles, my dear fellow, replied his brother, hurrying into the room. What is the—ah, what? Hush, hush, not a word for your life, Brother Ned, returned the other, ring for the housekeeper, my dear brother, call Tim Lincoln water. Here, Tim Lincoln water, sir. Mr. Nicolby, my dear sir, leave the room I beg and beseech of you. I think she is better now, said Nicholas, who had been watching the patient so eagerly that he had not heard the request. Poor bird, cried Brother Charles, gently taking her hand in his, and laying her head upon his arm. Brother Ned, my dear fellow, you will be surprised, I know, to witness this in business hours, but—here he was again reminded of the presence of Nicholas, and shaking him by the hand, earnestly requested him to leave the room, and to send Tim Lincoln water without an instance delay. Nicholas immediately withdrew, and on his way to the counting-house, met both the old housekeeper and Tim Lincoln water, jostling each other in the passage and hurrying to the scene of action with extraordinary speed. Without waiting to hear his message, Tim Lincoln water darted into the room, and presently afterwards Nicholas heard the door shut and locked on the inside. He had abundance of time to ruminate on this discovery, for Tim Lincoln water was absent during the greater part of an hour, during the whole of which time Nicholas thought of nothing but the young lady, and her exceeding beauty, and what could possibly have brought her there, and why they made such a mystery of it. The more he thought of all this, the more it perplexed him, and the more anxious he became to know who and what she was. I should have known her among ten thousand, thought Nicholas.   Is she quite recovered? said Nicholas impetuously. Who? returned Tim Lincoln water. Who? repeated Nicholas, the young lady.  What do you make of four hundred and twenty-seven times three thousand two hundred and thirty-eight? Nay! returned Nicholas. What do you make of my question first? I asked you about the young lady, said Tim Lincoln water, putting on his spectacles. To be sure. Yes. Oh, she's very well. Very well is she? returned Nicholas. Very well, replied Mr. Lincoln water, gravely. Will she be able to go home today? asked Nicholas. She's gone, said Tim. Gone. Yes. I hope she has not far to go, said Nicholas, looking earnestly at the other. I replied the immovable Tim. I hope she hasn't. Nicholas hazarded one or two further remarks, but it was evident that Tim Lincoln water had his own reasons for evading the subject, and that he was determined to afford no further information respecting the fair unknown, who had awakened so much curiosity in the breast of his young friend. Nothing daunted by this repulse. Nicholas returned to the charge next day, emboldened by the circumstance of Mr. Lincoln water being in a very talkative and communicative mood. But directly he resumed the theme. Tim relapsed into a state of most provoking taciturnity, and from answering in monosyllables came to returning no answers at all, save such as were to be inferred from several grave nods and shrugs, which only served to wet that appetite for intelligence in Nicholas, which had already attained a most unreasonable height. Foiled in these attempts, he was feigned to content himself with watching for the young lady's next visit, but here again he was disappointed, day after day passed, and she did not return. He looked eagerly at the superscription of all the notes and letters, but there was not one among them which he could fancy to be in her handwriting. On two or three occasions he was employed on business which took him to a distance, and had formerly been transacted by Tim Lincoln water. Nicholas could not help suspecting that, for some reason or other, he was sent out of the way on purpose, and that the young lady was there in his absence. Nothing transpired, however, to confirm this suspicion, and Tim could not be entrapped into any confession or admission tending to support it in the smallest degree. Mystery and disappointment are not absolutely indispensable to the growth of love, but they are, very often, its powerful auxiliaries. Out of sight, out of mind is well enough as a proverb applicable to cases of friendship, though absence is not always necessary to hollowness of heart, even between friends, and truth and honesty, like precious stones, are perhaps most easily imitated at a distance when the counterfeits often pass for real. Love, however, is very materially assisted by a warm and active imagination which has a long memory and will thrive for a considerable time on very slight and sparing food. Thus it is that it often attains its most luxuriant growth in separation and under circumstances of the utmost difficulty, and thus it was that Nicholas, thinking of nothing but the unknown young lady, from day to day and from hour to hour, began at last to think that he was very desperately in love with her, and that never was such an ill-used and persecuted lover as he. Still, though he loved and languished after the most orthodox models, and was only deterred from making a confidant of Kate by the slight considerations of having never, in all his life, spoken to the object of his passion, and having never set eyes upon her except on two occasions, on both of which she had come and gone like a flash of lightning, or, as Nicholas himself said, in the numerous conversations he held with himself, like a vision of youth and beauty much too bright to last. His ardor and devotion remained without its reward. The young lady appeared no more, so there was a great deal of love wasted, enough indeed to have set up half a dozen young gentlemen as times go with the utmost decency, and nobody was a bit the wiser for it, not even Nicholas himself, who, on the contrary, became more dull, sentimental, and lackadaisical every day. While matters were in this state, the failure of a correspondent of the brothers cheerable in Germany imposed upon Tim Lincoln-Water and Nicholas the necessity of going through some very long and complicated accounts, extending over a considerable space of time. To get through them with the greater dispatch, Tim Lincoln-Water proposed they should remain at the counting-house for a week or so until ten o'clock at night. To this, as nothing damped the zeal of Nicholas in the service of his kind patrons, not even romance, which has seldom business habits, he cheerfully assented. On the very first night of these later hours, at nine exactly, there came not the young lady herself, but her servant, who, being closeted with brother Charles for some time, went away, and returned next night at the same hour, and on the next, and on the next again. These repeated visits inflamed the curiosity of Nicholas to the very highest pitch. Tantalized and excited beyond all bearing, and unable to fathom the mystery without neglecting his duty, he confided the whole secret to Newman Noggs, imploring him to be on the watch next night, to follow the girl home, to set on foot such inquiries relative to the name, condition, and history of her mistress as he could without exciting suspicion, and to report the result to him with the least possible delay. Beyond all measure proud of this commission, Newman Noggs took up his post, in the square, on the following evening, a full hour before the needful time, and planting himself behind the pump, and pulling his hat over his eyes, began his watch with an elaborate appearance of mystery, admirably calculated to excite the suspicion of all beholders.  Punctual to her time the messenger came again, and after an interview of rather longer duration than usual departed, Newman had made two appointments with Nicholas, one for the next evening, conditional on his success, and one the next night following, which was to be kept under all circumstances. The first night he was not at the place of meeting, a certain tavern about half way between the city and Golden Square, but on the second night he was there before Nicholas, and received him with open arms. It's all right, whispered Newman, sit down, sit down, there's a dear young man, and let me tell you all about it. Nicholas needed no second invitation, and eagerly inquired what was the news. There's a great deal of news, said Newman in a flutter of exultation. It's all right, don't be anxious, I don't know where to begin, never mind that, keep up your spirits, it's all right. Well, said Nicholas eagerly, yes? Yes, replied Newman, that's it. What's it, said Nicholas, the name, the name, my dear fellow. The names, Bobster, replied Newman. Bobster, repeated Nicholas indignantly. That's the name, said Newman, I remember it by lobster. Bobster, repeated Nicholas more emphatically than before, that must be the servant's name. No, it ain't, said Newman, shaking his head with great positiveness. Miss Cecilia Bobster. Cecilia A. returned Nicholas, muttering the two names together over and over in every variety of tone to try the effect. Well, Cecilia is a pretty name. Very, and a pretty creature too, said Newman. Who? said Nicholas. Miss Bobster. Why, where have you seen her? demanded Nicholas. Never mind, my dear boy, retorted nogs, clapping him on the shoulder. I have seen her. You shall see her. I've managed it all. My dear Newman, cried Nicholas, grasping his hand.  I am, replied Newman. I mean it all, every word. You shall see her tomorrow night. She consents to hear you speak for yourself. I persuaded her. She is all affability, goodness, sweetness, and beauty. I know she is. I know she must be Newman, said Nicholas, ringing his hand. You are right, returned Newman. Where does she live, cried Nicholas? What have you learnt of her history? Has she a father, mother, any brothers, sisters? What did she say? How came you to see her? Was she not very much surprised? Did you say how passionately I've longed to speak to her? Did you tell her where I had seen her? Did you tell her how, and when, and where, and how long, and how often I have thought of that sweet face which came upon me in my bitterest distress, like a glimpse of some better world? Did you, Newman? Did you? Poor Nogs literally gasped for breath as this flood of questions rushed upon him, and moved spasmodically in his chair at every fresh inquiry, staring at Nicholas, meanwhile, with a most ludicrous expression of perplexity. No, said Newman, I didn't tell her that. Didn't tell her which, asked Nicholas. About the glimpse of the better world, said Newman. I didn't tell her who you were either or where you'd seen her. I said you loved her to distraction. That's true, Newman, replied Nicholas with his characteristic vehemence. Heaven knows I do. I said, too, that you had admired her for a long time in secret, said Newman. Yes, yes, what did she say to that, asked Nicholas. Blushed, said Newman. To be sure, of course she would, said Nicholas approvingly. Newman then went on to say that the young lady was an only child, that her mother was dead, that she resided with her father, and that she had been induced to allow her lover a secret interview at the intercession of her servant who had great influence with her. He further related how it required much moving and great eloquence to bring the young lady to this pass, how it was expressly understood that she merely afforded Nicholas an opportunity of declaring his passion, and how she, by no means, pledged herself to be favorably impressed with his attentions. The mystery of her visits to the brother's cheerable remained wholly unexplained, for Newman had not alluded to them, either in his preliminary conversations with the servant or his subsequent interview with the mistress, merely remarking that he had been instructed to watch the girl home and plead his young friend's cause, and not saying how far he had followed her or from what point. But Newman hinted that from what had fallen from the confidant, he had been led to suspect that the young lady led a very miserable and unhappy life, under the strict control of her only parent, who was of a violent and brutal temper, a circumstance which he thought might in some degree account, both for her having sought the protection and friendship of the brother's, and her suffering herself to be prevailed upon to grant the promised interview. The last he held to be a very logical deduction from the premises, in as much as it was but natural to suppose that a young lady, whose present condition was so unenviable, would be more than commonly desirous to change it. It appeared, on further questioning, for it was only by a very long and arduous process that all this could be got out of Newman-nogs, that Newman, in explanation of his shabby appearance, had represented himself as being, for certain wise and indispensable purposes, connected with that intrigue in disguise, and being questioned to how he had come to exceed his commission so far as to procure an interview, he responded that the lady appearing willing to grant it, he considered himself bound, both in duty and gallantry, to avail himself of such a golden means of enabling Nicholas to prosecute his addresses. After these and all possible questions had been asked and answered twenty times over, they parted, undertaking to meet on the following night, at half past ten, for the purpose of fulfilling the appointment, which was four eleven o'clock. Things come about very strangely, thought Nicholas as he walked home. I never contemplated anything of this kind, never dreamt of the possibility of it, to know something of the life of one in whom I felt such interest, to see her in the street, to pass the house in which she lived, to meet her sometimes in her walks, to hope that a day might come when I might be in a condition to tell her of my love, this was the utmost extent of my thoughts. Now, however, but I should be a fool indeed to repine my own good fortune. Still, Nicholas was dissatisfied, and there was more in the dissatisfaction than mere revulsion of feeling. He was angry with the young lady for being so easily won, because, reasoned Nicholas, it is not as if she knew it was I, but it might have been anybody, which was certainly not pleasant. The next moment he was angry with himself for entertaining such thoughts, arguing that nothing but goodness could dwell in such a temple, and that the behaviour of the brothers sufficiently showed the estimation in which they held her. The fact is, she's a mystery altogether, said Nicholas. This was not more satisfactory than his previous course of reflection, and only drove him out upon a new sea of speculation and conjecture, where he tossed and tumbled in great discomfort of mind, until the clock struck ten, and the hour of meeting drew nigh. Nicholas had dressed himself with great care, and even Newman-Nogs had trimmed himself up a little, his coat presenting the phenomenon of two consecutive buttons, and the supplementary pins being inserted at tolerably regular intervals. He wore his hat, too, in the newest taste, with a pocket-hankerchief in the crown, and a twisted end of it straggling out behind after the fashion of a pigtail, though he could scarcely lay claim to the ingenuity of inventing the slatter decoration in as much as he was utterly unconscious of it. Being in a nervous and excited condition, which rendered him quite insensible to everything but the great object of the expedition, they traversed the streets in profound silence, and after walking at a round pace for some distance, arrived in one of a gloomy appearance and very little frequented near the Edgeware Road. Number twelve, said Newman. Oh! replied Nicholas, looking about him. Good Street, said Newman. Yes, returned Nicholas, rather dull. Newman made no answer to this remark, but halting abruptly, planted Nicholas with his back to some area railings, and gave him to understand that he was to wait there without moving hand or foot until it was satisfactorily ascertained that the coast was clear. This done, Noggs limped away with great alacrity, looking over his shoulder every instant to make quite certain that Nicholas was obeying his directions, and ascending the steps of a house some half-dozen doors off was lost to view. After a short delay he reappeared, and limping back again halted midway and beckoned Nicholas to follow him. Well, said Nicholas, advancing towards him on tiptoe. All right, replied Newman in high glee. Already nobody at home couldn't be better, ha-ha! With this fortifying assurance he stole past a street door, on which Nicholas caught a glimpse of a brass plate with bobster in very large letters, and stopping at the area gate, which was open, signed to his young friend to descend. What the devil! cried Nicholas, drawing back. Are we to sneak into the kitchen, as if we came after the forks? Hush, replied Newman. Old bobster, ferocious turk.  Box the young lady's ears. He does, often. What! cried Nicholas in high wrath. Do you mean to tell me that any man would dare to box the ears of such a— He had no time to sing the praises of his mistress just then, for Newman gave him a gentle push, which had nearly precipitated him to the bottom of the area steps, thinking it best to take the hint in good part. Nicholas descended without further remonstrance, but with a countenance bespeaking anything rather than the hope and rapture of a passionate lover. Newman followed. He would have followed headfirst but for the timely assistance of Nicholas, and taking his hand, led him through a stone passage, profoundly dark, into a back-kitchen or cellar, of the blackest and most pitchy obscurity, where they stopped. Well, said Nicholas, in a discontented whisper, This is not all, I suppose, is it? No, no, rejoined Nogs. They'll be here directly. It's all right. I am glad to hear it, said Nicholas. I shouldn't have thought it, I confess. They exchanged no further words, and there Nicholas stood, listening to the loud breathing of Newman Nogs, and imagining that his nose seemed to glow like a red-hot coal, even in the midst of the darkness which enshrouded them. Suddenly the sound of cautious footsteps attracted his ear, and directly afterwards a female voice inquired if the gentleman was there. Yes, replied Nicholas, turning towards the corner from which the voice proceeded. Who is that? Only me, sir, replied the voice. Now if you please, ma'am, a gleam of light shone into the place, and presently the servant girl appeared, bearing a light, and followed by her young mistress, who seemed to be overwhelmed by modesty and confusion. At sight of the young lady Nicholas started and changed color, his heart beat violently, and he stood rooted to the spot. At that instant, and almost simultaneously with her arrival in that of the candle, there was heard a loud and furious knocking at the street door, which caused Newman Nogs to jump up with great agility, from a beer-barrel on which he had been seated astride, and to exclaim abruptly and with a face of ashy paleness, Bobster, by the Lord! The young lady shrieked, the attendant wrung her hands, Nicholas gazed from one to the other in apparent stupefaction, and Newman hurried to and fro, thrusting his hands into all his pockets successively, and drawing out the linings of every one in the excess of his resolution. It was but a moment, but the confusion crowded into that one moment no imagination can exaggerate. Leave the house for heaven's sake, we have done wrong, we deserve it all, cried the young lady, leave the house or I am ruined and undone for ever. Will you hear me say but one word, cried Nicholas, only one, I will not detain you. Will you hear me say one word and explanation of this mischance? But Nicholas might as well have spoken to the wind for the young lady with distracted looks hurried up the stairs. He would have followed her, but Newman, twisting his hand in his coat collar, dragged him towards the passage by which they had entered. Let me go, Newman, in the devil's name, cried Nicholas, I must speak to her, I will, I will not leave this house without. Reputation, character, violence, consider! said Newman, clinging round him with both arms and hurrying him away. Let them open the door, we'll go as we came directly at shut. Come, this way, here, overpowered by the remonstrances of Newman, and the tears and prayers of the girl and the tremendous knocking above which had never ceased, and precisely as Mr. Bobster made his entrance by the street door, he and Noggs made their exit by the area gate. They hurried away through several streets without stopping or speaking. At last they halted and confronted each other with blank and rueful faces. Never mind, said Newman, gasping for breath. Don't be cast down. It's all right. More fortunate next time. It couldn't be helped. I did my part. Excellently, replied Nicholas, taking his hand, excellently, and like the true and zealous friend you are. Only, mind, I am not disappointed, Newman, and feel just as much indebted to you. Only it was the wrong lady! A. cried Newman Noggs, taken in by the servant. Newman, Newman, said Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder. It was the wrong servant, too. Newman's underjaw dropped, and he gazed at Nicholas, with his sound eye fixed fast and motionless in his head. Don't take it to heart, said Nicholas. It's of no consequence. You see, I don't care about it. You followed the wrong person, that's all. That was all. Whether Newman Noggs had looked round the pump in a slanting direction so long that his sight became impaired, or whether finding that there was time to spare, he had recruited himself with the few drops of something stronger than the pump could yield, by whatsoever means it had come to pass, this was his mistake. And Nicholas went home to brood upon it, and to meditate upon the charms of the unknown young lady, now as far beyond his reach as ever. the gentleman in the small clothes, next door. Ever since her last momentous conversation with her son, Mrs. Nickelby had begun to display unusual care in the adornment of her person, gradually super-adding to those staid and matronly habiliments which had up to that time formed her ordinary attire, a variety of embellishments and decorations, slight perhaps in themselves, but taken together and considered with reference to the subject of her disclosure of no mean importance. Even her black dress assumed something of a deadly lively air from the jointy style in which it was worn, and, eaked out as its lingering attractions were, by a prudent disposal here and there of certain juvenile ornaments of little or no value, which had, for that reason alone, escaped the general wreck and been permitted to slumber peacefully in odd corners of old drawers and boxes where daylight seldom shone, her mourning garments assumed quite a new character. From being the outward tokens of respect and sorrow for the dead, they became converted into signals of very slaughtrous and killing designs upon the living. Mrs. Nickelby might have been stimulated to this proceeding by a lofty sense of duty and impasses of unquestionable excellence. She might by this time have become impressed with the symphonies of long indulgence in unavailing woe, or the necessity of setting a proper example of neatness and decorum to her blooming daughter. Considerations of duty and responsibility apart, the change might have taken its rise in feelings of the purest and most disinterested charity.  And for these attacks upon his understanding, Mrs. Nickelby was in some sort accountable. She might have felt that it was the act of a good Christian to show by all means in her power that the abused gentleman was neither the one nor the other. And what better means could she adopt towards so virtuous and laudable an end than proving to all men in her own person that his passion was the most rational and reasonable in the world, and just the very result of all others which discreet and thinking persons might have foreseen from her unconsciously displaying her matured charms without reserve under the very eyes it were of an ardent and too susceptible man. Ah! said Mrs. Nickelby, gravely shaking her head. If Nicholas knew what his poor dear papa suffered before we were engaged when I used to hate him, he would have a little more feeling. Shall I ever forget the morning I looked scornfully at him when he offered to carry my parasol, or that night when I frowned at him? It was mercy he didn't emigrate. If any needed drove him to it. Whether the deceased might not have been better off if he had emigrated in his bachelor days was a question which his relict did not stop to consider. For Kate entered the room with her work-box in this stage of her reflections, and a much slighter interruption or no interruption at all would have diverted Mrs. Nickelby's thoughts into a new channel at any time. Kate, my dear, said Mrs. Nickelby. I don't know how it is, but a fine warm summer day like this with the birds singing in every direction always puts me in mind of roast pig with sage and onion sauce and made gravy. That's a curious association of ideas, is it not, Mama? Upon my word, my dear, I don't know, replied Mrs. Nickelby. Roast pig. Let me see. On the day five weeks after you were christened, we had a roast—no, that couldn't have been a pig, either, because I recollect there were a pair of them to carve, and your poor papa and I could never have thought of sitting down to two pigs. They must have been partridges. Roast pig. I hardly think we ever could have had one, I come to remember, for your papa could never bear the sight of them in the shops, and used to say that they always put him in mind of very little babies. Only the pigs have much fairer complexions, and he had a horror of little babies too, because he couldn't very well afford any increase in his family, and had a natural dislike to the subject. It's very odd now, what could have put that in my head? I recollect dining once at Mrs. Bevin's in that broad street round the corner by the coach-makers, where the tipsy man fell through the cellar flap of an empty house nearly a week before the quarter-day, and wasn't found till the new tenant went in.   And he's not a little bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing exactly for he talked and swore dreadfully. But I think it must be that. Indeed, I'm sure it must. Shouldn't you say so, my dear? I should say there was not a doubt about it, my marr. Returned Kate with a cheerful smile. No, but do you think so, Kate? said Mrs. Nicolaby, with as much gravity as if it were a question of the most imminent and thrilling interest. If you don't, say it once, you know, because it's just as well to be correct, particularly on a point of this kind, which is very curious and worth settling while one thinks about it. Kate laughingly replied that she was quite convinced, and as I'm a marr, still appeared undetermined whether it was not absolutely essential that the subject should be renewed, proposed that they should take their work into the summer house, and enjoy the beauty of the afternoon. Mrs. Nicolaby readily assented, and to the summer house they repaired without further discussion. Well, I will say, observed Mrs. Nicolaby, as she took her seat, that there never was such a good creature as Smike. Upon my word, the pains he has taken in putting this little arbiter right and training the sweetest flowers about it are beyond anything I could have— I wish he wouldn't put all the gravel on your side, Kate, my dear, though, and leave nothing but mould for me. Dear Mamar, returned Kate hastily, take this seat to blight me, Mamar. No indeed, my dear, I shall keep my own side. Said Mrs. Nicolaby. Well, I declare! Kate looked up inquirily. If it hasn't been, said Mrs. Nicolaby, and got from some or other a couple of roots of those flowers that I said I was so fond of the other night, and ask you if you were not— No, that you said you were so fond of the other night, and ask me if I wasn't— Oh, it's the same thing. Now, upon my word, I take that as very kind and attentive indeed. I don't see, had it Mrs. Nicolaby looking narrowly about her, any of them on my side, but I suppose they grow best near the gravel. You may depend upon it they do, Kate, and that's the reason they are all near you, and he's put the gravel there because it's the sunny side. Upon my word, that's very clever now. I shouldn't have had half as much thought myself. Mamar, said Kate, bending over her work so that her face was almost hidden. Before you were married. Dear me, Kate, interrupted Mrs. Nicolaby, what in the name of goodness graciousness makes you fly off to the time before I was married, when I'm talking to you about his thoughtfulness and attention to me, you don't seem to take the smallest interest in the garden. Oh, Mamar, said Kate, raising her face again. You know I do. Well then, my dear, why don't you praise the neatness and prettiness with which it's kept, said Mrs. Nicolaby. How very odd you are, Kate. I do praise it, Mamar. Answered Kate gently. Poor fellow. I scarcely ever hear you, my dear, retorted Mrs. Nicolaby. That's all I've got to say. By this time the good lady had been a long while upon one topic, so she fell up once into her daughter's little trap, if trapped were, and inquired what she'd been going to say. About what, Mamar, said Kate, who had apparently quite forgotten her diversion. Lord Kate, my dear, returned her mother.  About the time before I was married. Oh, yes, said Kate. I remember. I was going to ask Mamar before you were married. Had you many suitors? Suitors, my dear, cried Mrs. Nicolaby, with a smile of wonderful complacency. First and last, Kate, I must have had a dozen at least. Mamar returned Kate in a tone of remonstrance. I had indeed, my dear, said Mrs. Nicolaby. Not including your poor papa, or a young gentleman who used to go that time to the same dancing school and who would send go-watches-and-braces to our housing-kill-taged paper, which was always returned, and who afterwards, unfortunately, went out to Botany Bay in a cadet ship, a convict ship, I mean, and escaped into a bush and killed sheep. I didn't know how they got there, and was going to be hung, only accidentally choked himself and the government pardoned him. Then there was young Luke in, said Mrs. Nicolaby, beginning with her left thumb and checking off the names on her fingers. Mowgli, Tipslark, Cabery, Smithser, having now reached her little finger, Mrs. Nicolaby was carrying the account over to the other hand, when allowed, which appeared to come from the very foundation of the garden wall, gave both herself and her daughter a violent start. Mamar, what was that? said Kate in a low tone of voice. Upon my word, my dear, returned Mrs. Nicolaby considerably startled, and as she was the gentleman belonging to the next house, I don't know what he could possibly— Ahem! cried the same voice, and that, not in the tone of an ordinary clearing of the throat, but in a kind of bellow, which woke up all the echoes in the neighbourhood, and was prolonged to an extent which must have made the unseen bellow quite black in the face. I understand it now, my dear, said Mrs. Nicolaby, laying her hand on Kate's. Don't be alarmed, my love, it's not directed to you, and is not intended to frighten anybody. Let us give everybody their due, Kate. I am bound to say that. So, say, Mrs. Nicolaby had nodded her head, and patted the back of her daughter's hand a great many times, and looked as if she could tell something vastly important if she chose, but had self-denial, thank heaven, and wouldn't do it. What do you mean, Mamar? demanded Kate in evident surprise. Don't be flurry, my dear, replied Mrs. Nicolaby, looking towards the garden wall. For you see, I am not, and if it would be excusable in anybody to be flurried, it certainly would, under all these circumstances, be excusable in me. But I am not, Kate, not at all. It seems designed to attract our attention, Mamar, said Kate. It is designed to attract our attention, my dear. At least rejoin Mrs. Nicolaby at drawing herself up, and patting her daughter's hand more blandly than before, to attract the attention of one of us. You needn't be at all uneasy, my dear. Kate looked very much perplexed, and was apparently about to ask for further explanation, when a shouting and scuffling noise, as of an elderly gentleman whooping, and kicking up his legs on loose gravel with great violence, was heard to proceed from the same direction as the former sands. And before they had subsided, a large cucumber was seen to shoot up in the air with the velocity of a skyrocket, whence it descended, tumbling over and over, until it fell at Mrs. Nicolaby's feet. This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of a precisely similar description. Then a fine vegetable marrow of unusually large dimensions was seen to whirl a loft and come toppling down. Then several cucumbers shot up together, and finally the air was darkened by a shire of onions, turnip radishes, and other small vegetables, which fell rolling and scattering and bumping about in all directions.  "'Mama,' cried Kate, really terrified for the moment, "'why do you stop? Why do you lose an instant? Mama, pray, come in!' "'Kate, my dear,' returned her mother, still holding black, "'how can you be so foolish? I'm ashamed of you!   "'This goblet sip!' "'Nonsense, sir,' said Mrs. Nicolaby. "'Kate, my love, pray be quiet!' "'Won't you sip the goblet?' urged the stranger, with his head imploringly on one side, and his right hand on his breast. "'Oh, do sip the goblet!' "'I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir,' said Mrs. Nicolaby. "'Pray be gone!' "'Why is it?' said the old gentleman, coming up a step higher, and kneeling his elbows on the wall, with its much complacency as if he were looking out of a window. "'Why is it the beauty is always obdurate, even when admiration is as honorable and respectful as mine?' Here he smiled, kissed his hand, and made several low bows. Is he towing to the bees, who when the honey season is over, and they are supposed to be killed with brimstone, in reality fly to Barbary and lull the captive moors to sleep with their drowsy songs? "'Or is it?' he added, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, in consequence of the statue at Charing Cross, having been lately seen on the stock exchange of midnight, walking arm in arm with the pump from Aldergate in a riding habit?' "'Mama,' murmured Kate, did you hear him?' "'Hush, my dear,' replied Mrs. Nicolaby, in the same tone of voice. "'He's very polite, and I think that was a quotation from the poets. Pray don't worry me so, you'll pinch my arm back to black and blue. Go away, sir.' "'Quite away?' said the gentleman, with a languishing look. "'Oh, quite away?' "'Yes,' returned Mrs. Nicolaby. "'Certainly. You have no business here. This is private property, sir. You ought to know that.' "'I do know,' said the old gentleman, laying his finger on his nose with an air of familiarity, most reprehensible, that this is a sacred and enchanted spot where the most divine charms—' Here he kissed his hand and bowed again, waft, malifluousness over the neighbour's gardens, and forced the fruits and vegetables into premature existence. That fact I am acquainted with. But will you permit me, fairest creature, to ask you one question in the absence of the planet Venus, who has gone on business to the horse-guards, and would otherwise, jealous of your superior charms, interpose between us?' "'And Kate,' observed Mrs. Nicolaby, turning to her daughter, "'it's very awkward, positively. I really don't know what to say to this gentleman. One ought to be civil, you know.' "'Dear Mamar, rejoin Kate. Don't say a word to him. But let us run away as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholas comes home.' Mrs. Nicolaby looked very grand, not to say contemptuous, at this humiliating proposal. And turn into the old gentleman who watched them join these whispers with absorbing eagerness, said, "'If you will conduct yourself, sir, like the gentleman I should imagine you to be, from your language and appearance, quite the counterpart of your grandpa part, Kate, my dear, in his best days, and will put your quest to be in plain words, I will answer it. If Mrs. Nicolaby's excellent papa had born in his best days a resemblance to the neighbour now looking over the wall, he must have been, to say the least, a very queer-looking old gentleman in his prime. Perhaps Kate thought so, for she ventured to glance at his living portrait with some attention, as he took off his black velvet cap, and, exhibiting a perfectly bald head, made a long series of bows, each accompanied with a fresh kiss of the hand. After exhausting himself to all appearance with this fatiguing performance, he covered his head once more, pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of his ears, and, resuming his former attitude, said, "'The question is—' Here he broke off to look round in every direction, satisfy himself beyond all doubt that there were no listeners near. Assured that there were not, he tapped his nose several times, accompanying the action with a cunning look, as though congratulating himself on his caution, and stretching out his neck, said in a loud whisper, "'Are you a princess?' "'You are mocking me, sir,' replied Mrs. Nuckabee, making a faint of retreating towards the house. "'No, but are you?' said the old gentleman. "'You know I am not, sir,' replied Mrs. Nuckabee. "'Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canterbury?' inquired the old gentleman with great anxiety. "'Or to the Pope of Rome, or the Speaker of the House of Commons? Forgive me if I am wrong, but I was told you were niece to the commissioners of paving, and daughter-in-law to the Lord Mayor and Court of Common Council, which would account for your relationship to all three.' "'Whoever has spread such reports, sir,' returned Mrs. Nuckabee with some warmth, "'has taken great liberties with my name, and one which I am sure my son Nicholas, if he was aware of it, would not allow for an instant. "'The idea,' said Mrs. Nuckabee, drawing herself up, niece to the commissioners of paving. "'Prae, Mama, come away,' whispered Kate. "'Prae, Mama, nonsense, Kate,' said Mrs. Nuckabee angrily, but that's just the way. If they had said I was niece to a piping wolf-inch, what would you care? But I have no sympathy,' whimpered Mrs. Nuckabee. "'I don't expect it. That's one thing.' "'Tears,' cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic jump, that he fell down two or three steps and grated his chin against the wall. "'Catch the crystal globules, catch them, bottle them up, cork them tight, put seeding-macks on the top, seal them with a cupid, label them best quality, and sterm away in the fourteen bin with a bar of iron on the top to keep the thunder off.' Issuing these commands, as if there were a dozen attendants all actively engaged in their execution, he turned his velvet cap inside out, put it on with great dignity so as to obscure his right eye and three-fourths of his nose, and sticking his arms akimbo, looked very fiercely at a sparrow hard-buy till the bird flew away, when he put his cap in his pocket with an air of great satisfaction, and addressed himself with respectful demeanour to Mrs. Nuckabee. "'Beautiful madam,' such were his words, "'if I've made a mistake with regard to your family or connections, I humbly beseech you to pardon me. If I suppose you appear to be related to foreign powers or native boards, it is because you have a manner, a carriage, a dignity which you will excuse by saying that none but yourself, with a single exception perhaps of the tragic muse when playing extemporaneously on the barrel-organ before the East India Company, can parallel. I'm not a youth, ma'am, as you see, and although beings like you can never grow old, I venture to presume that we are fitted for each other.' "'Really, Kate, my love,' said Mrs. Nuckabee faintly, and looking another way. "'I have a state, ma'am,' said the old gentleman, flourishing his right hand negligently, as if he made very light of such matters, and speaking very fast. Jewels, light-houses, fishponds, a wailery of my own in the North Sea, and several oyster-beds of great profit in the Pacific Ocean. If you will have the kindness to step down to the royal exchange and to take the cocked hat off the stoutish beetle's head, you will find my card in the lining of the crown wrapped up in a piece of blue paper. My walking-stick is also to be seen on application to the chapter of the House of Commons, who is strictly forbidden to take any money for showing it. I have enemies about me, ma'am.' He looked toward his house, and spoke very low, who tacked me on all occasions and wished to secure my property. If you bless me with your hand and heart, you can apply to the Lord Chancellor, or call out the military if necessary, sending my toothpicked that the Commander-in-Chief will be sufficient, and so clear the house of them before all the ceremony is performed. After that, love, bliss, and rapture, rapture, love, and bliss, be mine, be mine! Repeating these last words with great rapture and enthusiasm, the old gentleman put on his black velvet capigain, and looking up to the sky in a hasty manner, said something that was not quite intelligible concerning a balloon, he expected, and which was rather after its time. Be mine, be mine! repeated the old gentleman. Cate, my dear, said Mrs. Nicolby, I have hard in the part to speak. But it is necessary for the happiness of all parties that this matter should be set at rest for ever. Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word, mama! Reasoned Cate. You allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for myself, said Mrs. Nicolby. Be mine, be mine! cried the old gentleman. It can scarcely be expected, sir, said Mrs. Nicolby, fixing her eyes modestly on the ground, that I should tell a stranger whether I feel flattered and obliged by such proposals or not. They certainly are made under very singular circumstances, still at the same time, as far as it goes, and to a certain extent, of course, Mrs. Nicolby's customary qualification, they must be gratifying and agreeable to one's feelings. Be mine, be mine! cried the old gentleman. Gog and Magog, Gog and Magog, be mine, be mine! It will be sufficient for me to say, sir, resumed Mrs. Nicolby, with perfect seriousness, and I am sure you'll see the propriety of taking an answer and going away, that I have made up my mind to remain a widow and to devote myself to my children. You may not suppose I am the mother of two children. Indeed, many people have doubted it, and said that nothing on earth could ever make them believe it possible. But it is the case, and they are both grown up. We shall be very glad to have you for a neighbour, very delighted, I'm sure, but in any other character it's quite impossible, quite. As to my being young enough to marry again, that perhaps may be so, or it may not be, but I couldn't think it for an instant, not at any account, whatever. I said I never would, and I never will. It's a very painful thing to have to reject proposals, and I am much rather that none were made. At the same time, this is the answer that I determined long ago to make, and this is the answer I shall always give. These observations were partly addressed to the old lady, partly to Kate, and partly delivered in Soliloquy. Towards their conclusion the suitor evinced a very irreverent degree of inattention, and Mrs. Nicolby had scarcely finished speaking when, to the great terror both of that lady and her daughter, he suddenly flung off his coat, and, springing on the top of the wall, threw himself into an attitude which displayed his small clothes and grey worsteds to the fullest advantage, and concluded by standing on one leg and repeating his favourite bellow with increased vehemence. While he was still dwelling on the last note and embellishing it with a prolonged flourish, a dirty ham was observed to glide stealthily and swiftly along the top of the wall as if in pursuit of a fly, and then to clasp, with the utmost dexterity, one of the old gentleman's ankles. This done the companion hand appeared and clasped the other ankle. Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awkwardly once or twice as if they were very clumsy and imperfect pieces of machinery, and then, looking down his own side of the wall, burst into a loud laugh. It's you, is it, said the old gentleman. Yes, it's me, replied a gruff voice. How's the Emperor of Tartary, said the old gentleman? Oh, he's much the same as usual, as reply, no better and no worse. The young Prince of China, said the old gentleman with much interest, is he reconciled to his father-in-law the great potato salesman? No, answered the gruff voice, and he says he never will be that small. If that's the case, observed the old gentleman, perhaps I'd better come down. Well, said the man on the other side, I think you have perhaps. One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old gentleman dropped into a sitting posture, and was looking round to smile and bow to Mrs. Nicolby, when he disappeared with some precipitation as if his legs had been pulled from below. Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning to speak to her mama, when the dirty hands again became visible, and were immediately followed by the figure of a coarse squat man, who ascended by the steps which had been recently occupied by their singular neighbour. Make your pardon, ladies, said this newcomer, grinning and touching his head. Has he been making love to either of you? Yes, said Kate. Ah, rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of his hat and wiping his face. He always will, you know. Nothing will prevent his making love. I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor creature, said Kate. Why, no, replied the man, looking into his hat, throwing his handkerchief in at one dab and putting it on again. That's pretty plain, that is. Has he been long so, said Kate? A long while. And is there no hope for him? said Kate compassionately. Not a bit, don't deserve to be, replied the keeper. He's a deal pleasant and without his senses, then with him. He was the cruelest, wickedest, out-and-out dressed old flint that ever drawed breath. Indeed, said Kate. By George, replied the keeper, shaking his head so emphatically that he was obliged to frown to keep his hat on. I never come across such a vagabond, and my mate says the same.  It was a blessing he went mad at last through evil tempers, and covetousness, and selfishness, and guzzling, and drinking. Or did he have drove many others so? Hope for him, an old rip. There isn't too much hope going, but I'll better crown that what there is saved from all deserving the chaps than him, anyhow. With which confession of his face? The keeper shook his head again, as much to say that nothing short of this would do. If things were to go on at all. And touching his hat subtly, not that he was in an ill humour, but that his subject ruffled him, descended the ladder, and took it away. During this conversation Mrs. Nicolby had regarded the man with a severe and steadfast look.  Poor creature! said Kate. Ah! poor indeed! rejoined Mrs. Nicolby. It's shameful that such things should be allowed. Shameful! How can they be helped, Mama? said Kate mournfully. The infirmities of nature! Nature! said Mrs. Nicolby. What! Do you suppose this poor gentleman is out of his mind? Can anybody who see him entertain any other opinion of Mama? Why, then, I just tell you this, Kate, return, Mrs. Nicolby, that he is nothing of the kind, and I'm surprised you can be so imposed upon it some plot of these people to possess themselves of his property. Didn't he say so himself? He may be a little odd and flighty, perhaps, many of us are that. But downright mad, and express himself as he does respectfully and in quite practical language, making offers with so much thought and care and prudence. Not as if he ran into the streets and went down upon his knees to the first chit of a girl he met as a madman would. No, no, Kate! There's a great dual-too-much method in his madness. Depend upon that, my dear. End of Chapter 41 Recording by Simon Evers Chapter 42 of Nicholas Nicolby by Charles Dickens This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Timothy Pinkham Nicholas Nicolby by Charles Dickens Chapter 42 Illustrative of the convivial sentiment that the best of friends must sometimes part The pavement of Snow Hill had been baking and frying all day in the heat, and the twain Saracen's heads guarding the entrance to the hostelry of whose name and sign they are the duplicate presentments, looked, or seemed in the eyes of jaded and foot-sore passers-by to look more vicious than usual after blistering and scorching in the sun, when in one of the inn's smallest sitting rooms, through whose open window there rose in a palpable steam, wholesome exhalations from reeking coach horses, the usual furniture of a tea table was displayed in neat and inviting order, flanked by large joints of roast and boiled, a tongue, a pigeon pie, a cold fowl, a tanker to veil, and other little matters of the like kind, which, in degenerate towns and cities, are generally understood to belong more particularly to solid lunches, stagecoach dinners, or unusually substantial breakfasts. Mr. John Brody with his hands in his pockets hovered restlessly about these delicacies, stopping occasionally to whisk the flies out of the sugar-basin with his wife's pocket handkerchief, or to dip a teaspoon in the milk pot and carry it to his mouth, or to cut off a little knob of crust and a little corner of meat and swallow them at two gulps like a couple of pills. After every one of these flirtations with the eatables, he pulled out his watch and declared with an earnestness quite pathetic that he couldn't undertake to hold out two minutes longer. Tilly! said John to his lady, who was reclining half awake and half asleep upon a sofa. Well, John! Well, John! retorted her husband impatiently. Does thou feel hungry, lass? Not very, said Mrs. Brody. Not very, repeated John, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Hear her say not very, and thus dine in at three and lunchen off pestre that aggravates a man stead of pacifying him. Not very. Here's a gentleman for you, sir, said the waiter, looking in. Oh, what for me? cried John, as though he thought it must be a letter or a parcel. A gentleman, sir? Stars and garthers, chap, said John. What dost thou come and say that for? Inwitten! Are you at home, sir? At home? cried John. I wish I were. I'd had stayed two hours ago. Why, I told the other chap to look sharp outside door, and tell him directly he come, that we were faint with hunger. Inwitten! Aha! The hand, Mr. Nickel Bay! This is naive to be the prudest day of my life, sir. Who be all wait ye? Ding! But I'm glad of this! Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his salutation, John Brody shook Nicholas by the hand again and again. Slapping his palm with great violence between each shake, to add warmth to the reception. Ah, there she be! said John, observing the look which Nicholas directed towards his wife. There she be! We shan't quarrel about her new, eh? He called when I think of that. But thou wantst so much to eat? Fall to, man, fall to! And for what we are about to receive! No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing more was heard, for John had already begun to play such a knife and fork that his speech was, for the time, gone. I shall take the usual license, Mr. Brody, said Nicholas as he placed a chair for the bride. Talk whatever thou likest, said John, and when asked gain, car for more. Without stopping to explain, Nicholas kissed the blushing Mrs. Brody and handed her to her seat. I say, said John, rather astounded for the moment, mak thee self quiet at home, will ye? You may depend upon that, replied Nicholas, on one condition. And what may that be? asked John. That you make me a godfather the very first time you have occasion for one. Aye, do ye hear that? cried John, laying down his knife and fork. A godfather! Ha, ha, ha, Tilly, hear, Tillon, a godfather! Didn't say a word more, you'll never be at that. Occasion for one, a godfather! Never was man so tickled with a respectable old joke as John Brody was with this. He chuckled, roared, half suffocated himself by laughing large pieces of beef into his windpipe. Roared again, persisted in eating at the same time, got red in the face and black in the forehead, coughed, cried, got better, went off again laughing inwardly, got worse, choked, had his back thumped, stamped about, frightened his wife, and at last recovered in a state of the last exhaustion and with the water streaming from his eyes, but still faintly ejaculating, a godfather, a godfather, Tilly, in a tone bespeaking an exquisite relish of the Sally which no suffering could diminish. You remember the night of our first tea drinking? said Nicholas. Shall I air forget it, man? replied John Brody. He was a desperate fellow that night though, was he not, Mrs. Brody? said Nicholas. Quite a monster. If you had only heard him as we were going home, Mr. Nickelby, you'd have said so indeed, returned to the bride. I never was so frightened in all my life. Come, come, said John with a broad grin, though most better than that, Tilly. So I was, replied Mrs. Brody. I almost made up my mind never to speak to you again. Amost, said John with a broader grin than the last, amost made up her mind, and she were coaxing and coaxing and weedling and weedling, had a blessed wear. What did Salette Yonchap make up to be for, says I. I didn't, John, says she, a squeegee in my arm. You didn't, says I. Nor, says she, a squeegee of me again. Lord John, interposed his wife, colouring very much, how can you talk such nonsense, as if I should have dreamt of such a thing? I did not know whether, though ever dreamt of it, though I think that's like an F, retorted John. But thou didst it.  Not fecal, John, says she. Yes, says I. Fecal, dumbed fecal. Do not tell me thou bent, if Teryonchap at school messed hers, says I. Him, says she, quite screeching. Ah, him, says I. Why, John, says she. And she'd come a deal closer and squeegee a deal harder, than she'd den a foar, dost thou think it's natural, no, that having such a proper man as thou to keep company wit, I'd ever take up with such a little scanty weper snapper as Yonchap. She says, ha, ha, ha. She said, weper snapper. Ecod, I says. After that, name the dead, let's have a tour. Ha, ha, ha. Nicholas laughed very heartily at this story, both on account of its telling against himself, and his being desirous to spare the blushes of Mrs. Brody, whose protestations were drowned in peels of laughter from her husband. His good nature soon put her at ease, and although she still denied the charge, she laughed so heartily at it, that Nicholas had the satisfaction of feeling assured that in all essential respects it was strictly true. This is the second time, said Nicholas, that we have ever taken a meal together, and only third I have ever seen you, and yet it really seems to me as if I were among old friends. We'll, observed the Yorkshireman, so I say. And I am sure I do, had it his young wife. I have the best reason to be impressed with the feeling mind, said Nicholas, for if it had not been for your kindness of heart, my good friend, when I had no right or reason to expect it, I know not what might have become of me, or what plight I should have been in by this time. Talk about summer else, replied John gruffly, and do not bother. It must be a new song to the same tune, then, said Nicholas, smiling. I told you in my letter that I deeply felt and admired your sympathy with that poor lad, whom you released at the risk of involving yourself in trouble and difficulty. But I can never tell you how grateful he and I, and others whom you don't know, are to you for taking pity on him. Ikkod, rejoined John Brodie, drawing up his chair, and I can never tell you who grateful some folks that we do know would be likewise if they nod I had taken pity on him. Ah, exclaimed Mrs. Brodie.  Were they at all disposed to give you credit for assisting in the escape? inquired Nicholas of John Brodie. Not a bit, replied the Yorkshireman, extending his mouth from ear to ear. There I lay, snug in school master's bed, long after it was dark, and nobody come nor the place. Will, thinks I, he's got a pretty good start, and if he bent home by now, he never will be, so you may come as quick as you like and find us ready. That is, you know, school master might come. I understand, said Nicholas. Presently, resumed John. He did come. I hear the door shut downstairs, and him a workin' open to dark. Slow and steady, I says to myself, tack your time, sir, no hurry. He comes to the door, turns the key, turns the key when there warn't nothing to hold the look, and calls out, Hello there! Yes, thinks I, you may do that again and not whacking anybody, sir. Hello there, he says, and then he stops. Thou'd better not aggravate me, says school master, after a little time. I'll break every bone in your body, smite, he says, after another little time. Then all of a sudden, he sings out for a light, and when it comes, it cuts such a hurly burly. What's the matter, says I. His gang, says he, start mad with vengeance. Have you ear not? He says I. I hear the straight door shut, no time at all go. I hear the person run doin' there, pointin' to other way. Help, he cries. I'll help you, says I. And off we set, the wrong way. Ho, ho, ho! Did you go far? asked Nicholas. Far, replied John. I run him clean off his legs and quarter of an oar.  I thought I should have dropped doin' and killed myself with laughin'. John laughed so heartily at the mere recollection that he communicated the contagion to both his hearers, and all three burst into peels of laughter, which were renewed again and again, until they could laugh no longer. Is a baton, said John, wiping his eyes. A very baton, his school master. I can't bear the sight of him, John, said his wife. Coom, retorted John. That's tidy in you, that is. If it weren't along a you, we shouldn't know not a bouton. Thou nodden first till he didn't, thou? I couldn't help know and fanny squee as John, returned his wife. She was an old playmate of mine, you know. Well, replied John, didn't I say so last? It's best to be neighborly and to keep up old acquaintance like. And what I say is, day and quarrel if he can help it. Do not think so, Mr. Nicolbe? Certainly, returned Nicolus. And you acted upon that principle when I met you on horseback on the road after our memorable evening. Surely, said John, what I say I stick by. And that's a fine thing to do, and manly, too, said Nicolus, though it's not exactly what we understand by coming yorkshire over us in London.  Yes, replied John.  She won't be a bride in a hurry, I reckon. For shine, John, said Mrs. Brody, with an acute perception of the joke, though, being a bride herself. The groom will be a blessed man, said John, his eyes twinkling at the idea. He'll be unlucky will. You see, Mr. Nicolbe, said his wife, that it was in consequence of her being here that John wrote to you in Fixed Tonight, because we thought that it wouldn't be pleasant for you to meet after what has passed. Unquestionably, you were quite right on that, said Nicolus, interrupting. Especially, observed Mrs. Brody, looking very sly, after what we know about past and gone love matters. We know indeed, said Nicolus, shaking his head. You behaved rather wickedly there, I suspect. Of course she did, said John Brody, passing his huge forefinger through one of his wife's pretty ringlets and looking very proud of her. She were always as skittish and full of tricks as a... Well, as a what? said his wife. As a woman, returned John. Ding, but I do not know what else that comes near it. You were speaking about Mrs. Squiz, said Nicolus, with the view of stopping some slight cannubialities, which had begun to pass between Mr. and Mrs. Brody, and which rendered the position of a third party in some degree embarrassing, as occasioning him to feel rather in the way than otherwise. Oh yes, rejoined Mrs. Brody. John had done. John fixed tonight because she had settled that she would go and drink tea with her father, and to make quite sure of there being nothing amiss, and if you're being quite alone with us, he settled to go out there and fetch her home. That was a very good arrangement, said Nicolus. Though I am sorry to be the occasion of so much trouble. Not the least in the world, returned Mrs. Brody. For we have looked forward to see you, John and I, have, with the greatest possible pleasure. Do you know, Mr. Nicolby? said Mrs. Brody, with her archist's smile, that I really think Fanny Squiz was very fond of you? I am very much obliged to her, said Nicolus, but upon my word I never aspired to making any impression upon her virgin heart. How you talk, tittered Mrs. Brody. No, but do you know that really? Seriously now and without any joking, I was given to understand by Fanny herself that you had made an offer to her, and that you two were going to be engaged quite solemn and regular. Was you, ma'am? Was you? cried a shrill female voice. Was you given to understand that I, I was going to be engaged to an assassinating thief that shed the gore of my paw? Do you, do you think, ma'am, that I was very fond of such dirt beneath my feet, as I couldn't condescent a touch with kitchen tongs, without blacking and crocking myself by the contract? Do you, ma'am? Do you? O, basin degrading tilde! With these reproaches, Ms. Squire's flung the door wide open, and disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Brody's Aunt Nicolus, not only her own symmetrical form, arrayed in the chased white garments before described, a little dirtier, but the form of her brother and father, the pair of Wackford's. This is the hen, is it? continued Ms. Squire's, who, being excited, aspirated her H's strongly. This is the hen, is it, of all my forbearance and friendship for that double-faced thing, that viper, that, that mermaid? Ms. Squire's hesitated long time for this last epithet, and brought it out triumphantly at last, as if it quite clinched the business. This is the hen, is it, of all my bearing with her deceitfulness, her lowness, her falseness, her laying herself out to catch the admiration of vulgar minds in a way which made me blush for my, for my... Gender? suggested Mr. Squire's regarding the spectators with a malevolent eye, literally a malevolent eye. Yes, said Ms. Squire's, but I think my stars and my mars of the same... Here, here, remarked Mr. Squire's, and all I wish she was here to have a scratch at this company. This is the hen, is it? said Ms. Squire's, tossing her head and looking contemptuously at the floor, of my taking notice of that rubbishing creature and demeaning myself to patronise her. How come? rejoined Mrs. Brody, disregarding all the endeavors of her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself into a front row. Don't talk such nonsense as that. Have I not patronised you, ma'am? demanded Ms. Squire's. No, returned Mrs. Brody. I will not look for blushes in such a quarter, said Ms. Squire's heartily, for that countenance is a stranger to everything but ignominiousness and red-faced boldness. I say, interposed John Brody, nettled by these accumulated attacks on his wife. Draw it mild, draw it mild. You, Mr. Brody, said Ms. Squire's, taking him up very quickly. I pity. I have no feeling for you, sir, but one of unliquidated pity. Oh, said John. No, said Ms. Squire's, looking sideways at her parent.  Here Ms. Squire's looks sideways at her father again, who looks sideways at her, as much as to say, there you had him. I know what you've got to go through, said Ms. Squire's, shaking her curls violently. I know what life is before you, and if you was my bitterest and deadliest enemy, I could wish you nothing worse. Couldn't you wish to be married to him yourself, if that was the case? inquired Mrs. Brody, with great suavity of manner. Oh, ma'am, how witty you are! retorted Ms. Squire's with a low curtsy. Almost as witty, ma'am, as you are clever, how very clever it was in you, ma'am, to choose a time when I had gone to tea with my pa, and was sure not to come back without being fetched. What a pity you never thought that other people might be as clever as yourself and spoil your plans. You won't vex me, child, with such heirs as these, said the late Ms. Price, assuming the matron. Don't miss me, ma'am, if you please, returned Ms. Squire's sharply. I'll not bear it. Is this the end? Dangator, cried John Brody impatiently. Say the say out, Fanny, and make sure it's the end, and do not ask nobody whether it is or not. Thanking you for your advice which was not required, Mr. Brody, returned Ms. Squire's with laborious politeness. Have the goodness not presumed to meddle with my Christian name.  Tilda, said Ms. Squire's with such a sudden accession of violence that John started in his boots.  I abandon you. I renounce you. I wouldn't, cried Ms. Squire's in a solemn voice. Have a child named Tilda, not to save it from its grave. As for the matron that, observed John, it'll be time and air to think about ne'ermen of it when it calms. John, interposed his wife, don't tease her. Oh, tease indeed, cried Ms. Squire's bridling up. Tease indeed. Tease too. No, don't tease her. Consider her feelings, pray. If it's fated that listeners are never to hear any good of themselves, said Ms. Brody, I can't help it, and I am very sorry for it, but I will say, Fanny, that times out of number I have spoken so kindly of you behind your back that even you could have found no fault with what I said. Oh, I dare say not, ma'am! cried Ms. Squire's with another curtsy. Best thanks to you for your goodness and begging and praying you not to be hard upon me another time. I don't know, resumed Ms. Brody, that I have said anything very bad of you even now. At all events what I did say was quite true, but if I have I am very sorry for it, and I beg your pardon. You have said much worse of me scalls of times, Fanny, but I have never borne any malice to you, and I hope you'll not bear any to me. Ms. Squire's made no more direct reply than surveying her former friend from top to toe, and elevating her nose in the air with ineffable disdain. But some indistinct allusions to a puss and a minx and a contemptible creature escaped her. And this, together with a severe biting of the lips, great difficulty in swallowing and very frequent comings and goings of breath, seemed to imply that feelings were swelling in Ms. Squire's bosom too great for utterance. While the foregoing conversation was proceeding, Master Wackford, finding himself unnoticed and feeling his preponderating inclination strong upon him, had by little and little sidled up to the table, and attacked the food with such slight skirmishing as drawing his fingers round and round the inside of the plates, and afterwards sucking them with infinite relish, picking the bread, and dragging the pieces over the surface of the butter, pocketing lumps of sugar, pretending all the time to be absorbed in thought, and so forth. Finding that no interference was attempted with these small liberties, he gradually mounted to greater, and after helping himself to a moderately good cold collation was by this time deep in the pie. Nothing of this had been unobserved by Mr. Squire's, who, so long as the attention of the company was fixed upon other objects, hugged himself to think that his son and heir should be fattening at the enemy's expense. But there being now an appearance of a temporary calm in which the proceedings of little Wackford could scarcely fail to be observed, he feigned to be aware of the circumstance for the first time, and inflicted upon the face of that young gentleman a slap that made the very teacups ring.  It went hurt him, said John, apparently very much relieved by the prospect of having a man in the quarrel. Latin neat. I wish the whole school was here. I'd give him so much to stay their unfortunate stomachs with if I spent the last penny I had.  It was a face of remarkable capability, too, in that way, and shook his fists stealthily. Come, come, schoolmeister. Said John. Do not make a fool of thyself, for if I was to shake mine only once, thou'd fud down with the wind o' it. It was you, was it? Returned Squire's. That helped off my runaway boy. It was you, was it? Me. Returned John in a loud tone. Yes, it wore me, come. What o' that? It wore me, no then. You hear him say he did it, my child, said Squire's, appealing to his daughter. You hear him say he did it? Did it? cried John. I'll tell him more. Hear this, too. If thou'd got another runaway boy, I'd do it again. If thou'd got twenty runaway boys, I'd do it twenty times more, and twenty more to that. And I tell thee more, said John. Knew my blood is up, that thou retin' old ratascal, and that is wheel for thou, thou based on olden, or I'd have pounded thee to flower when thou'd told an honest man who thou'd licked that poor chap into corch. An honest man, cried Squire's with a sneer. Ah, an honest man, replied John. Honest in art, but ever put in legs on their same table with such as thou. Scandal, said Squire's exultingly. Two witnesses to it. Wackford knows the nature of an oath he does. We shall have you there, sir. Rascal, eh? Mr. Squire's took out his pocketbook and made a note of it. Very good. I should say that was worth full twenty pound at the next of Soyses, without the honesty, sir. Soyses, cried John. Thou would bet her not talk to me as Soyses. Yorkshire schools have been shown up at Soyses a foreign woman, and it's a ticklish subject to revive, I can tell ye. Mr. Squire's shook his head in a threatening manner, looking very white with passion, and taking his daughter's arm and dragging little Wackford by the hand, retreated towards the door. As for you, said Squire's turning round and addressing Nicholas, who, as he had caused him to smart pretty soundly on a former occasion, purposely abstained from taking any part in the discussion. See if I ain't down upon you before long. You'll go a kidnapping of boys, will you?  Mark that. Take care their fathers don't turn up, and send them back to me to do as I like with, in spite of you. I am not afraid of that. Replied Nicholas, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously and turning away. Ain't you? Retorted Squire's with a diabolical look. Now then, come along. I leave such society with my paw for ever. Said Miss Squire's, looking contemptuously and loftily round. I am defiled by breathing the air with such creatures. Poor Mr. Brody. I do pity him that I do. He's so deluded. Artful and designing tilde. With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most majestic wrath, Miss Squire's swept from the room and having sustained her dignity until the last possible moment was heard to sob and scream and struggle in the passage. John Brody remained standing behind the table, looking from his wife to Nicholas and back again, with his mouth wide open until his hand accidentally fell upon the tankard of ale when he took it up, and having obscured his features therewith for some time drew a long breath, handed it over to Nicholas, and rang the bell. Here wait her, said John briskly. Look alive here, tack these things away, and let's have some at broil for supper. Very comfortable and plenty o'er it. At ten o'clock bring some brandy and some water and a pair of slippers, the largest pair in the house, and be quick about it. Dush my wig, said John rubbing his hands. There is no gang in it to need no to fetch anybody home, and E. Codd will begin to spend the evening in earnest.


Hello, hello, hello. I'm here today to talk to you about Jotun. There are quite a few reasons why you should play it. The most important one is simple, really. It's a very good game. But before I get into the specifics, a bit of background first. Jotun was developed by Tender Lossers Games after a successful kickstart in June of last year. Sadly at the time I couldn't support it, but I'm happy to say that after taking a careful look at the campaign, Tender Lossers Games have successfully hit the mark. Well done, bravo. And now I should probably catch you up with the narrative framework of the game. Long story short, your name is Tora.  You died. Now you're trying to get to Valhalla by killing five Jotun. That, Derry, is the entire premise of the game. Why don't you go to Valhalla when you died in the first place, you may ask?  You only go there in the Hall of the Gods if you died in battle with honour.  Not too shabby, eh? Anyway, oh and the benefactor of this entire venture, your second chance, is none other than Odin, your father. Because, spoilers. But it's hardly the story that makes this game good. No, no, that goes to the boss battles and the exploration. To start with, exactly when you go into the game, you'll notice that Jotun doesn't actually explain much. I can count on the fingers of one hand, the hints and tips. The game shows, no, what Jotun instead does is show you, and that results loudly.  The move is admirable in my opinion and it works very much in the game's favour. I won't lie. The voice acting is really quite good. And it's entirely in Icelandic, which really quite helps with immersing the player in the world.  But hey, you don't know me, I don't know you. You have no reason to trust me, not yet anyway, so I'm going to show you just what I mean.  We have known each other for centuries. With my mother-in-law, my father-in-law and my mother-in-law, my mother-in-law knows how to be completely independent. I have had my parents, my ancestors and my father-in-law, and lived more than just in the far-away land. She has never been left alone. And yes, in case you were wondering, those are the only two voice actors in the game. If you expected more, sorry to disappoint. Now, now, now, when it comes to the voice acting, it is not actually the greatest asset of the sound department. That honor belongs, that's right, to the soundtrack. The music is, quite honestly, brilliant. It builds on the atmosphere, captures the experience and helps craft the effects. Both of the stunning vistas and of the battles against the gigantic jotten you will encounter on your journey. In fact, as you might have noticed already, it is the background to my horrid voice. I'll show you, it's far better than anything I can offer. Well, maybe not everything. Ah, but I like dress. Yes, I did mention the jotten. You fight five of these, by the way, giants of all varieties. You've got a furry one, you've got a planty one, a stormy one, snow one, well, snowy, kind of like a giant snowman. A lot less friendly, so I must admit, not big on the friendship is magic thing, I suppose. And there's one more, and it's the giant shielded dwarfish goddess one, I suppose, that's his official name. It should be, it certainly looks like it. At any rate, they're all quite a lot of fun. If, and only if, by fun you understand dying multiple times, and in my experience, most people don't. All jokes aside, you will probably die during the boss battles, but that's okay. In the same way that it's okay when you die in Dark Souls because you learn from your mistakes. Most importantly, it is fun and it is glorious combat, whatever viking. Each and every battle with the jotten is exceptionally well crafted and with care. They're all very different and very interesting in their own ways. No one tactic will defeat all of them, and you will have to spend quite a lot of time learning some of the most difficult patterns and avoiding them. Three of the jotten were very challenging. The other two I defeated fairly easily. One of them I actually managed to exploit a bug, which probably should get fixed if it hasn't been already. And as you see in the video, the boss design is quite splendid and memorable, in addition to being hand drawn as is everything else in the game, but we'll get to that in a moment. By far the easiest of all the jotten is the ice one who lives in Jottenheim, I believe the name of the world is. At any rate, if you'd like to see me defeat him, feast your eyes on this. Yes, yes, you can make the point that the combat doesn't have enough to it in terms of complexity and depth. You only have a single weapon, a giant two-handed axe, the aforementioned one, given by Dario, which has normal and heavy attack. There's a dojo as well as a variety of blessings, which spice up the boss fights, another bit of depth, let's just say. And they mostly save your life. Yeah, they don't add depth, they just save you on so many occasions. The blessings are obviously a gift by your friendly neighborhood god watch. How nice of them, I should send them a thank you note. You know, I've seen people compare this to Bastion and there are reasons to the comparison. Sure, they're both 2D third-person real-time action games, both of them are beautiful and both are full of character. A very different character, that's for sure, but character nonetheless. But if I have to compare the art of Jotun to any 2D game from recent memory, I'd have to go with the banner saga. Remember the banner saga? It was also heavy on the Norse mythology stuff. It was beautiful. It might actually be more beautiful than this game, but it wasn't an action game. It was very strategic in nature. Yes, yes, the difference in gameplay is obvious, but the similarities between the banner saga and Jotun are thematic. For example, both are hand drawn and both are very reminiscent of the Lord of the Rings movie from 1978 and the other work, Work King is of its director, one Ralph Bakshi. If you don't believe me, look at the fluidity in the animations in the Lord of the Rings, the 1978 version obviously, and then come and tell me that this is not the case, that there is not at least an inspiration taken from that movie and it's well-renowned director, exactly for sad animation. But I digress once again back to Jotun. In your exploration, well, there's hardly as much fighting in Jotun as you'd imagine. Most of the gameplay outside of the boss battles is centered on elementary puzzle solving and the exploration of different places of interest in Norse mythology. You will see beautifully drawn areas of the Niner worlds, the Iceworld Jotunheim and the molten home of the fire giants, Muspelheim, if that's how you pronounce it. You will explore from the highest points of the world, three Yggdrasil to its very roots. You will even meet a serpent, a ship built of dead men's nails, a wolf, no wait, I'm just quoting a poem, sorry. In between killing elemental giants and exploring, you spend some time bonding with Odin's crows, healing and milling in Gigungagap. Yeah, however you pronounce that. Right, thanks Odin, much obliged. As your exploration nears its end, you will clash with the most frustrating part of the game, which comes in the last fifth in Muspelheim, courtesy of rock-loping fire giants and lava.  In conclusion, I have to ask myself, is Jotun a great game? No, probably not. Its story shows promise and is a complete feel for anyone who loves Norse mythology, but it never quite delivers. And the battle system is just a bit to barebones, but it is a beautiful experience in a gorgeously drawn world with incredible vistas and memorable boss battles. Is it worth the 15 euro or whatever your regional equivalent is? Absolutely. It will be a memorable experience. But if you're looking for a richer world as that of Bastion, you will have to look elsewhere. Thank you for watching. If you enjoyed this video, please like, share and subscribe. I hope I'll see you next time.


The machine came back and then a couple hours later the Clubot followed him. The Yankees had a busy day after being relatively quiet during the entire off-season. A watch pot never seems to boil and just when you thought the Yankees stove would remain cold it got to temperature in a hurry. DJ Lameju is back and starter Corey Kluber is hitched to the 2021 Yankees rotation engine that is pulled of course by the coal train. We all know what bringing Lameju back does for Aaron Boone. Giving him a Swiss Army knife in the infield and a steady everyday major league hitter. Lameju was a throwback to a not too distant baseball pass hitting the ball where it's pitched taking what the guy 60 feet six inches away is giving him. Speaking of guys standing 60 feet six inches away in Kluber the Yankees get a veteran righty who has been at the apex of his craft more than once. Kluber won the AL Cy Young in 2014 and 2017 in over a five-year stretch from 2014 through 2018. He finished in the top three four times for the coveted prize amongst hurlers. During that same stretch he averaged 218 innings pitched 32 starts per season at a 285 ERA. While he was putting up those fantastic numbers for the Indians Matt Blake was their assistant director for pitching development. Now Blake of course is the Yankees pitching coach. Familiarity will do the opposite of breeding contempt in this case. In this case it could be the formula to provide Kluber with his redemption song and resurrection back to his dominating self potentially. Why does he need that? Well because over the past two seasons he has made just seven starts covering 35 and 2 third innings back in 2019 and just a single inning last season for the Rangers. He fractured his forearm on a comeback in 2019 while with Cleveland and had a torn shoulder muscle after that one inning in Texas last season. Enter Eric Cressy the Yankees director of player health and performance. He has been running Kluber's rehab so who would be better along with Blake to do a six million dollar man type rebuild on the Klubot? Well it's actually the 11 million dollar man according to his contract. Apologies to the bionic man Steve Austin. Google the kids. There are still question marks hovering over the Yankees rotation but a rejuvenated Kluber who turns 35 in April is definitely a step in the right direction.