flag which had waved from the gilt ball of the summerhouse. All turned, and dimly saw the whole fabric fall in sideways, and disappear amidst a cloud of dust, which was blown full in their faces. No fixture could be found near, by which the single oar could be made of any avail to keep the boat out of the eddy. That there were fixed points was soon made known, however, by the repeated shocks which the boat underwent; shocks which threatened to drive in its bottom.
"Now God have mercy upon us!" cried the mother. "If we go down, it will be now."
A cry arose from the children and the servants. From Christian there was no cry, but a groan, which, though low, reached his mother's ear and heart. She saw that his hands were grasping the ribs of the boat.
"My boy, your pain is upon you."
"Never mind me," said the boy, in a voice patient through its agony.
"Let my Father take me. Save Luc. Save Roselyn."
The boat had been staved by the last shock, and was now rapidly sinking.
Help was, however, at hand. The dark object was really a boat. The cry had directed it to the right spot; it arrived in time to pick up every one of the party, not before they were wet, but before they were actually afloat. Christian was very nearly going down with the wreck, so firmly were his hands clenched to its sides: but his mother exerted her fast failing strength to rescue him, and afterwards to hold him on her knees during the fearful struggle with the enemy from which he would thankfully have been released by drowning.
The villagers who manned the rescuing boat respected the misery of the mother, whom they believed to be watching over her dying child. They spoke only to say that the passage to the village would be long and perilous, and that the earliest assistance would be procured by landing on the nearest point of the sea dyke, where succours could be brought, if there should not happen to be a house at hand.
Before the moon had gone down upon the watery waste, the party were received into the house of a hospitable fisherman, who, with his wife, did all that could be done for their safety and comfort till they could be removed to the abode of an acquaintance in Winkel; or, as Gertrude proposed, to her brother's country house at Saardam. To make the exertion of this removal was, she believed, the best thing for Mrs.
Snoek's spirits and for Christian's health, which might possibly be revived by the care which would be bestowed on him by those whom he most loved, in a familiar scene, far distant from the desolation which must meet his eye every time he looked abroad, if he remained at Winkel.
His mother consented with the less difficulty that there was every probability of a fever prevailing in the district which had been laid waste. She had suffered too much from the flood, to think of braving the pestilence which must ensue. When her farm servant and his wife came to condole and relate their share of the perils of the preceding night, they received her directions about saving the wreck of the property, and doing what might be practicable towards restoring the estate.
These people were full of indignation at having been left, with their mistress's family, to try their chance of escape from drowning, while those who deserved such a fate much more had taken good care of their own security. Jan and his household had chanced to sleep on board their boats for two or three nights past, after bustling about with extraordinary vigour during the day. Slyk and his daughter had also, most opportunely, been induced to pass a few days with an acquaintance whose abode was at some distance from the scene of disaster. They came to sympathize with the Snoeks; old Jakob glorifying Providence for having interfered in so marvellous a manner to preserve himself and Fransje; and Fransje full of anxiety to know whether Heins was likely to come to assist in the great work of reclaiming the section which now lay waste.
Heins came as appointed, attended by the pastor:--came to see his Danish cattle floating lifeless in the muddy lake; to try doubtfully to fix the point where his mother's pretty residence had stood; to ponder whether the extent of the damage and of his liabilities could be concealed from his partner; and to wonder how much Gertrude had been told, and what she would think of the issue of this his first grand scheme of enterprise.
Mrs. Snoek greeted the pastor with a hope that she need not look on this calamity as a judgment on her solicitude about worldly interests. The pastor had said much to her, and said it often, about sitting loose from the things of this world; and she trusted she had taken it to heart.
Unless she was much mistaken, she had only endeavoured to do what, as a mother, and the widow of an honourable man, it behoved her to improve her children's fortunes, and justify their father's ambition for them.
The pastor decided that she would best prove the purity of her views by her cheerful acquiescence in her present losses.
A Dutch lady of a later age would have found it easy to acquiesce in such losses for the sake of the amount of wealth which remained: but in the times of the high prosperity of the Dutch, desire grew with acquisition, and it was not enough to be rich, if it was possible to be richer, or if others were richer, or if the individual had been so at a preceding time. Though she and her children had more wealth than they could consume, the widow found it required all her resignation to bear patiently the loss of what she had no occasion for.
"You always told me," said Christian to the pastor, "to take care not to love any people or things too much, because I should most likely have to leave them all very soon. But you see they have left me.--O, I do not mean my mother, and Gertrude, and Luc and Roselyn; but I have lost my pretty calf; and my tame heron has flown away; and my tulips,----that beautiful late-blower! There was not such a Bybloemen in all the district as the best of mine. When I bade it farewell for this year, and looked for the last time into its cup, with its white bottom, so beautifully broken with cherry, I did not think it would be rotting under the water so soon. I never saw such a cup as that flower had. I shall never see such another."
The pastor shook his head. Christian, taking this for sympathy in his grief, went on, "And my calf had got to know me, and to let me do what I liked with him.
He stood quite still to let me help to put on his jacket yesterday when the evening chill was coming on. I am glad I did not see him die, if he splashed in the water like one poor cow that I saw. I shall never love another calf. O, now I know why you shake your head so. You think that I should soon have left them, if they had not left me. Perhaps I may never get better than I am to-day; and to-day I cannot sit up at all. But, tell me one thing I want to know. Do you think animals live again? It seems very hard that my calf should die so soon, if it is not to live any more: and, if I am to die soon too----" "You would like to meet whatever you have loved," said the pastor, finishing his sentence for him. "I think God will give you beings to love wherever you are, Christian; because I think you cannot live without loving; and I am very sure that, wherever you are, there will be some to love you."
Christian smiled, and said that people loved him now out of kindness, because they were sorry for his pain, and that he could not do what other children did: and he loved them because they were so good as not to mind the trouble he was always giving them. He was sure they would not forget him when he had ceased to be a trouble to any body; and perhaps he could do something for them when there should be an end of all pain, and when he might perhaps be as strong as the angel that stood between heaven and earth, and cried out so that the thunders answered him. This reminded Christian to tell how he now knew what the voices were like that came from under God's throne. Last night, he had learned what was the sound of many waters. Just when his pain came on, he thought these voices were calling for him. He seemed now disappointed that it had not been so. The pastor told him that it should be left to God to call him away in whispers or in thunders. His only care should be to hold himself ready to depart.
CHAPTER VIII.
NEWS AT HOME.
Heins consented, at the earnest request of his friend Jakob, to remain at Winkel for a few days, to superintend the necessary operations there, instead of returning southwards with his family. Jakob himself set out in search of labourers, and of wherewithal to pay them. His absence was considered necessary, as the suspicion had got abroad that he was somehow the cause of the mischief that had happened. Justice moved slow in Holland at that time; which did not usually signify, as Dutchmen also moved slow; but whether Jakob had become infused with liveliness by his intercourse with the French, or whether he had learned celerity by his enterprises at sea, he acted little like a Dutchman on the present occasion. While the magistrate was yet suffering from the fatigue of having been on horseback, and his advisers were weighing the amount of suspicion against Slyk, Slyk was gone--to return presently, of course; he would certainly return immediately, because he said so, and because his friend Heins said so, and because his daughter remained with her servant in full repose.
Heins believed this, and wrought patiently for a few days, being carefully tended in the intervals of his labours by Francesca, who lavished all her attentions upon him: for her father's sake, as she declared. He was so grieved that Heins should have been involved in any disaster through his means, that the least that could be done to console him was to make Heins as comfortable as possible. Jakob did not, however, return; and when he was fairly on the high seas, Jan had the conscience to let Heins know that the old rogue had set sail from the bay on the night of his departure, and was now on his way to collect some foreign debts, with the proceeds of which he would re-appear when the storm which was ready to burst upon him at home should have blown over. In much wrath, Heins took his passage home without a moment's delay, being accompanied by Francesca and her duenna; no place being now, as Heins admitted, so proper for her as her father's residence at Amsterdam.
On their arrival, her apparent surprise was as great as Heins's real consternation at finding Slyk's house shut up, the furniture gone, and no provision made for his daughter's residence. Francesca was not slow in finding a reason for this, and in conveying her opinion to Heins. Her father had concluded that, as Mr. Snoek's wife, she would not want any residence but his; and it would have been a great piece of extravagance to leave a handsome house and furniture to the care of servants, while the master was taking a foreign journey. Heins could not agree in this interpretation; but it was impossible to leave the lady and her duenna to take care of themselves in the midst of Amsterdam. He took them to the house of his partner, in order to commend them to Gertrude's care.
Gertrude was at Saardam; but her brother offered to send for her; which proposal seemed very agreeable to Visscher, who was smoking his pipe with Vanderput at the time of the entrance of the somewhat forlorn party from Winkel.
Heins was not slow in assenting, desiring, if he could be spared from business, to be the messenger to Saardam the very next morning. In his own mind, he thought it but fair that, in return for his enforced civility to a lady whom he did not care for, he should be favoured with the charge of her whom he was most anxious to please. Visscher, however, resented the idea of any one assuming that which he called his office; and Vanderput supported him, by intimating to his partner that his future brother-in-law was the proper person to fetch his sister home.
Francesca took upon herself to say how fully Mr. Snoek approved, as she also did, of the proposed connexion. It was but the day before that they had been agreeing on the absurdity of the prevalent opinion that M.
Aymond would carry off the prize, just because Gertrude had a particularly religious turn. Mr. Snoek had eagerly assented to her opinion that any one who understood Gertrude might long have seen that she was thinking of a very different person from the pastor.
Heins was stung with rage and mortification on hearing this. If his attachment to Gertrude had been real, and worthy of her, any disappointment which he might now have testified would have been regarded with respect. As it was, the best thing he could do was to seize a pipe and surround himself with as dense a smoke as he could raise; a smoke which drove even Francesca from the apartment.
The sense of this mortification was somewhat blunted by the occurrence of others. Visscher began a story of which Heins could not at first perceive the drift, about his return, once upon a time, from a winter expedition to Rotterdam. He had skaited from Leyden to Rotterdam for the purpose of skaiting back again; and when he returned, he found that the world had not stood still during his absence; but that tidings of loss and gain, and of many kinds of change awaited him.
"Just so," he went on, "our friend Heins has been afloat himself, and setting the country afloat, and he comes back, taking for granted that all is as he left it."
"And is it not?" asked Heins. "What has happened?"
"Only such a variation in the exchange with England as will frighten you, if you are no wiser than our Bank Directors. You should see their emissaries peering about on 'change----" Vanderput put a stop to this mode of exemplification of the state of commerce. He would allow no disrespectful mention in his presence of the body of which he was a member. It was the business of the reigning burgomasters to ascertain daily the course of exchange: but they could see an inch before their noses, as well as any bill broker on 'change, and left it to women and the superannuated to tremble at the sentence, that the exchange had turned against Holland.
"What becomes of our profits now?" said Heins. "Must we let them be swallowed up by the premium which I suppose bills on England now bear in the market?"
"Only your extraordinary profits. You are not going to be rich so soon as you dreamed you should be: but neither are you going to be impoverished."
"By the variation in the exchange," added Vanderput, gravely. "If Mr.
Snoek is to be impoverished, it will be by other accidents."
Before Heins had time to ask the meaning of this, Mr. Visscher went on.
"You should see the bustle of the exporters on our quays. There are Toll and Co., who so lately stood enviously watching the briskness of your doings, you remember, Mr. Snoek; their time is now come. You and your brethren imported at such a rate that you made bills on England scarce in the market. Toll and Co., of course, got such a premium on those which they held, as to be able to ship off many more kinds of goods than they could have ventured upon while they had to part with their bills at a discount. They have been lading ship after ship; and you may now have time to see them clear out; for I conclude you will not go on to import as you have done of late."
"To be sure not," said Vanderput. "Our profits on many articles are not such as to afford the premium on bills made necessary by the present scarcity. We must, for the present, confine our business to exporting only those articles which will afford the usual profits, after the premium is paid."
Heins sighed deeply at the prospect of his grand schemes remaining in abeyance at the very time that he fancied he should be making all Amsterdam stare at the magnificence of his importations. The cool, sagacious Vanderput rebuked the sigh.
"You must have known," he said, "that things would take this turn. If it answered well to us to import largely while bills were cheap, it must have answered in the same way to others; and the extent to which importation was consequently carried, must turn the balance, rendering it necessary for us to pay our excess of debt either by sending metal money, or by bidding against one another for bills. You must be quite as certain that the balance will turn again when these busy exporters have brought down bills to a discount in our exchange market."
"Hear, all ye rulers who tremble on your thrones when the balance is not even!" cried Visscher. "All ye rulers, from the Keiser of the Russias to the worshipful burgomasters of Amsterdam!"
"Neither the Keiser you speak of, nor our burgomasters entertain the horror you suppose," observed Vanderput. "They leave it to the legislators of Great Britain, France, and Spain to dread that either scale of a self-rectifying balance can kick the beam. They leave it to the children of their nation to be particularly happy when the exports of their merchants exceed the imports;--happy because they suppose the money owing to the country to be so much additional wealth; so much pure gain. The Russian Keiser knows too well the toil and outlay by which his subjects prepare their tallow and hides, to suppose that the money they fetch from abroad is more than an adequate exchange. He knows the wants of his people too well not to think that the commodities which are brought them from other countries are not worth more to them than any money that ever was coined. The reason why he is anxious to improve the commerce of his empire is, that its inhabitants may gather more and more wealth from abroad; and he looks on exportation only as a means to importation, as the desirable end."
Heins was somewhat surprised at the confidence with which his partner spoke of the views of the mighty Keiser of a distant empire. Before he had time to ask whence he derived his information, Vanderput gravely turned to his melancholy partner, and told him that he wished, from his heart, that nothing worse betided Heins's fortunes than the temporary slackening of his trade. It was a pity that he had so trifled with his private funds as to indorse the bills drawn by Slyk, Geysbuk, and Cats on each other. Slyk, as he perceived, was gone; Geysbuk had failed; and as for Cats,--he had been made a mere tool. One or two careless indorsers, besides Heins, had become liable for the amounts of bills; and the banks which had been taken into the circle, had also suffered; but the largest bills had been indorsed first by Heins, who must now suffer severely for his credulity and carelessness.
Vanderput was probably of opinion that evil tidings are most easily borne when they come all at once; for he proceeded to say that as it was impossible for him, one of the head merchants of Amsterdam, to remain in connexion with a man who would be presently known as having been made the dupe of a swindler, through his own spirit of speculation, the firm of Vanderput and Snoek must be dissolved at the earliest practicable term. The want of confidence, he added, of which Heins had been guilty in entering into extensive schemes without the slightest hint to the partner of his father, and the steady friend of his family, would have constituted a sufficient reason for dissolving partnership, if the speculation had issued in complete success.
Heins began by making light of the matter, and proving how rich he should remain, even if all the claims of Slyk's creditors were established against him; but when it appeared that Vanderput was far from disputing his wealth, but only thought that it did not affect the question, he became desperate, and stormed more like an Italian than a Dutchman, as the travelled bill-broker declared. When Heins perceived, however, that his threats fell powerless on the imperturbable Vanderput, he assumed a more imposing mood, and dropped grand hints, as he left the apartment (which he threatened never to re-enter), of the mighty things that he would do when released from the thraldom of a partnership which had never accorded with his commercial principles any more than with his tastes.
CHAPTER IX.
CLOSE OF A BRIEF STORY.
Gertrude had long ago told Christian that he must visit Saardam again, some day, and see Master Peter. Christian was as little disposed to forget Gertrude's promises as Gertrude herself; and he repeatedly reminded her of this one. The invitation to Saardam was renewed with all earnestness, but Gertrude would now no longer answer for Master Peter being visible there. She would not say that he was gone; but neither would she engage that Christian should ever see him again: and her reserve on the subject perplexed her little friend. He found he must wait for light upon the matter till he reached Saardam; if that day should ever come.
That day came; and the drooping, worn-out boy found himself, after much toil and many restings by the way, once more placed within view of his favourite prospect, with the beams of the declining sun glistering on the heaving surface of the sound, and the nearer dock-yards chequered with long shadows from the timber-stacks and half-built vessels. It did not diminish the interest of the view that about a furlong of the dyke came within its range, with its trains of passengers hastening to and fro, and all the bustle taking place upon it which Luc and Roselyn thought much better worth attending to than the regular labours of the dock-yard. Christian cast an occasional glance that way while the children were looking out, the afternoon after the arrival of Gertrude and Christian from the north. The rest of the party had been settled some days; but Christian and his nurse had stopped to rest at the abode of the good dame who had offered her hospitality, in case of the invalid passing her way. This old woman had infused a further spirit of thankfulness into the suffering boy; so that, though he felt himself declining daily, he grew more patient as he had more need of patience.
The pastor was now sitting by his side, speaking little, and keeping his eye fixed on the gleaming sea.
"O, look, look!" cried Christian, pointing in the direction of the road.
"One, two, four teams of dogs! and the carts piled as high as they can bear. They must be going to the fair.--O, how tired I am!" he continued, languidly. "Here I lie, while that stream of people passes on, on, on,--all busy, all expecting something, and thinking only of being as busy always."
"You are not the only one, Christian, that feels this," said the pastor.
"Some who are as strong as the strongest of yon traffickers and pleasure-seekers feel, like you, that the hand of God is upon them, to fix them apart while the world passes on. It is not you alone, my boy."
"I know whom you mean," said Christian, in a low voice. "Christ stood on the mount and on the shore, and saw all the people going up to the feast."
"He did," replied the pastor, speaking in a manner which convinced Christian that he had not met his friend's thought.
"Would you have been busier in France than you are here," he asked, "if the French king had not sent you away?"
"Perhaps I might; but God appoints his servants their station; and I am content. I am content to be the minister of his grace, and bless him for lightening the hearts of others. He will strengthen me to bear the burden of my own."
After a moment's thought on the peculiar sadness of the pastor's tone, Christian laid his arm on his friend's shoulder, and whispered, "_I_ love Gertrude very much too; and I always thought----I was so surprised when she told me----" "Say no more about it, my boy. Talk rather of my country, or of my kindred, or of anything else that I have lost."
"I cannot talk at all," said the boy, whose tears were fast flowing for the pastor, though it was some time since he had shed any for himself.
He lay quietly listening to the pastor's consolations, till his mother appeared to say that Master Peter had come to see him. She was evidently wishing to tell something more, if Master Peter had not followed at her heels. The pastor hastened to disengage himself from Christian, that he might rise and make a profound obeisance. Christian, who had never seen his friend offer so low a reverence, especially to a carpenter in his workman's dress, laughed aloud. Mrs. Snoek, much alarmed at this ill-timed mirth, uttered at once what she had been wanting to say;--that Master Peter was a very different Peter from what they had imagined,--no other than the Keiser of all the Russias.
While Christian looked wistfully in Peter's face to learn if this was true, the Emperor lifted him gently from his couch, and held him in his arms as he had done on the first day of their acquaintance, assuring him that, as he would not allow his fellow-workmen to treat him differently now that they knew who he was, he should be very sorry if Christian grew afraid of him. As he spoke, he looked with a smile towards the opposite side of the room, where Luc had backed into a corner, and Roselyn was peeping from behind her mother's ample skirt.
"Luc looks afraid of you," said Christian; "and I might be afraid, if I were Luc. But, sir, I am just going where a great Keiser is no more than a pastor; and I dare say not so much. If I see you there very soon, you will not be a Keiser, and I shall be no more afraid of you than when you were only Master Peter."
"Very soon, Christian? I hope we shall not meet there very soon."
"O, yes: ask the pastor," said the boy, eagerly. "He will tell you that I am going very, very soon."
This the pastor unhesitatingly confirmed; but added that the Keiser had, he trusted, a long work to achieve before he was called into the presence of the King of Kings.
"O, yes," said Christian, "how busy you are all going to be; and you, Master Peter, the busiest of all. You are learning to build fleets and cities;--at least, I heard them say so about the Keiser;--and you are getting wise men to teach you all that they know; while I am going to a place where there is no device nor knowledge."
The pastor suggested that this probably applied only to the place where his body would be laid. This hint sufficed to excite the boy to pour out upon the Emperor a torrent of perplexing questions about what he thought would become of the spirit. The readiest answer was,--(what was true enough,)--that Christian was completely exhausted, and must not talk any more at present. Peter would come in at the end of his day's work, and tell him about the fleet he intended to build, to ride in the harbour of his new city. Meanwhile, he desired Christian not to think he was going to die so very soon. It was not at all likely. He would send for his best physician from Russia, and tell him to restore Christian, so that the boy should visit him in his new capital, some time or other, when the cough should be gone, and the mysterious pain cured, and life a very different thing to Christian from what he had ever felt it yet.
The upright pastor could not silently let pass any observations of this nature. He reminded the Keiser that, though placed by the hand of God in a position of absolute dominion over multitudes of men,--over their lives and worldly lot,--he was no more the Lord of Life, in a higher sense, than the meanest of his serfs. It was not for him to say that the bowl should not be broken, or the silver cord loosed, when neither was given into his hand.
The mischief,--or what the pastor considered mischief,--was however done. After Peter had left the apartment, Christian employed himself in speaking when he could, and musing when he could not speak, on what he should see, and hear, and learn, and do, if he recovered enough to visit the new capital of all the Russias. He gave notice, from time to time, that he did not at all expect that this would ever happen; it was unlikely that his pain should ever go away entirely, and that Peter should remember him when he should be the great Keiser again. Yet, as his strength ebbed away, minute by minute, his convictions that he was not going to die just yet grew more vigorous. Observing him unable to finish something he wished to say, his mother feared that his pain was coming.
"No, I do not think it will come. No! no pain--" Yet his face expressed terror of an approaching paroxysm.
"I wish the Keiser had not come, or had not spoken presumptuously, as the potentates of this world do ever," said Gertrude, more moved to displeasure than was common to her gentle nature.
"The Keiser wishes it too," said Peter, who had entered the room softly, and saw at a glance that Christian's short day of life was likely to close nearly as soon as his own day's work, at the end of which he had promised to entertain the boy with stories that could have no charm for a dying ear. "My poor boy, I deceived you. I have tainted your dying hours. Can you forgive me?"
Christian's now rigid countenance relaxed into the radiant smile which betokened his highest mood of faith. The movement, whether of body or spirit, summoned his pain; but its very first touch released him. He left the greatest of this world's potentates treasuring up the forgiveness of a feeble child, and wondering, as at a new thought, that one who had power over millions of lives should have no more interest than others with the supreme Lord of Life.
_Summary of Principles illustrated in this Volume._ Nations exchange commodities, as individuals do, for mutual accommodation; each imparting of its superfluity to obtain that in which it is deficient.
The imparting is therefore only a means of obtaining. Exportation is the means of obtaining importation,--the end for which the traffic is instituted.
The importation of money into a country where money is deficient is desirable on the same principle which renders desirable the supply of any deficient commodity.
The importation of money into a country where money is not deficient is no more desirable than it is to create an excess of any other commodity.
That money is the commodity most generally bought and sold is no reason for its being a more desirable article of importation than commodities which are as much wanted in the country which imports it.
That money is the commodity most generally bought and sold is a reason for its being the commodity fixed upon for measuring the relative amounts of other articles of national interchange.
Money bearing different denominations in the different trading countries, a computation of the relative values of these denominations was made in the infancy of commerce, and the result expressed in terms which are retained through all changes in the value of these denominations.
The term by which in each country the original equal proportion was expressed is adopted as the fixed point of measurement called the par of exchange; and any variation in the relative amount of the total money debts of trading nations is called a variation from par.
This variation is of two kinds, nominal and real.
The nominal variation from par is caused by an alteration in the value of the currency of any country, which, of course, destroys the relative proportion of its denominations to the denominations of the currency of other countries. But it does not affect the amount of commodities exchanged.
The real variation from par takes place when any two countries import respectively more money and less of other commodities, or less money and more of other commodities.
This kind of variation is sure to correct itself, since the country which receives the larger proportion of money will return it for other commodities when it becomes a superfluity; and the country which receives the smaller proportion of money will gladly import more as it becomes deficient.
The real variation from par can never therefore exceed a certain limit.
This limit is determined by the cost of substituting for each other metal money and one of its representatives,--viz., that species of paper currency which is called Bills of Exchange.
When this representative becomes scarce in proportion to commodities, and thereby mounts up to a higher value than the represented metal money, with the cost of transmission added; metal money is transmitted as a substitute for Bills of Exchange, and the course of Exchange is reversed and restored to par.
Even the range of variation above described is much contracted by the operations of dealers in bills of exchange, who equalize their value by transmitting those of all countries from places where they are abundant to places where they are scarce.
A self-balancing power being thus inherent in the entire system of commercial exchange, all apprehensions about the results of its unimpeded operation are absurd.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.
No. XVII.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.
PART I.
=A Tale.= BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.
LONDON: CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
--- 833.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES, Stamford Street.
THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.
PART I.
=A Tale.= BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.
------------------ LONDON: CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
--- 833.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE 1. Taking an Order 1 2. Giving an Order 16 3. Dumb Duty 26 4. An Afternoon Trip 45 5. Morning Walks 63 6. A Night Watch 92 7. Hear the News! 113 THE LOOM AND THE LUGGER.
PART I.
TAKING AN ORDER.
Mr. Culver, the silk-manufacturer, arrived at home later than the usual