Nicholas starts for Yorkshire. Of his Leave-takingand his Fellow-Travellers, and what befell them onthe Road.

　　If tears dropped into a trunk were charms to preserve itsowner from sorrow and misfortune, Nicholas Nickleby wouldhave commenced his expedition under most happy auspices.

　　There was so much to be done, and so little time to do it in; somany kind words to be spoken, and such bitter pain in the heartsin which they rose to impede their utterance; that the littlepreparations for his journey were made mournfully indeed. Ahundred things which the anxious care of his mother and sisterdeemed indispensable for his comfort, Nicholas insisted on leavingbehind, as they might prove of some after use, or might beconvertible into money if occasion required. A hundredaffectionate contests on such points as these, took place on the sadnight which preceded his departure; and, as the termination ofevery angerless dispute brought them nearer and nearer to theclose of their slight preparations, Kate grew busier and busier, andwept more silently.

　　The box was packed at last, and then there came supper, withsome little delicacy provided for the occasion, and as a set-offagainst the expense of which, Kate and her mother had feigned todine when Nicholas was out. The poor lady nearly choked himselfby attempting to partake of it, and almost suffocated himself inaffecting a jest or two, and forcing a melancholy laugh. Thus, they lingered on till the hour of separating for the night was long past;and then they found that they might as well have given vent totheir real feelings before, for they could not suppress them, dowhat they would. So, they let them have their way, and even thatwas a relief.

　　Nicholas slept well till six next morning; dreamed of home, or ofwhat was home once—no matter which, for things that arechanged or gone will come back as they used to be, thank God! insleep—and rose quite brisk and gay. He wrote a few lines inpencil, to say the goodbye which he was afraid to pronouncehimself, and laying them, with half his scanty stock of money, athis sister’s door, shouldered his box and crept softly downstairs.

　　‘Is that you, Hannah?’ cried a voice from Miss La Creevy’ssitting-room, whence shone the light of a feeble candle.

　　‘It is I, Miss La Creevy,’ said Nicholas, putting down the boxand looking in.

　　‘Bless us!’ exclaimed Miss La Creevy, starting and putting herhand to her curl-papers. ‘You’re up very early, Mr Nickleby.’

　　‘So are you,’ replied Nicholas.

　　‘It’s the fine arts that bring me out of bed, Mr Nickleby,’

　　returned the lady. ‘I’m waiting for the light to carry out an idea.’

　　Miss La Creevy had got up early to put a fancy nose into aminiature of an ugly little boy, destined for his grandmother in thecountry, who was expected to bequeath him property if he waslike the family.

　　‘To carry out an idea,’ repeated Miss La Creevy; ‘and that’s thegreat convenience of living in a thoroughfare like the Strand.

　　When I want a nose or an eye for any particular sitter, I have onlyto look out of window and wait till I get one.’

　　 ‘Does it take long to get a nose, now?’ inquired Nicholas,smiling.

　　‘Why, that depends in a great measure on the pattern,’ repliedMiss La Creevy. ‘Snubs and Romans are plentiful enough, andthere are flats of all sorts and sizes when there’s a meeting atExeter Hall; but perfect aquilines, I am sorry to say, are scarce,and we generally use them for uniforms or public characters.’

　　‘Indeed!’ said Nicholas. ‘If I should meet with any in my travels,I’ll endeavour to sketch them for you.’

　　‘You don’t mean to say that you are really going all the waydown into Yorkshire this cold winter’s weather, Mr Nickleby?’

　　said Miss La Creevy. ‘I heard something of it last night.’

　　‘I do, indeed,’ replied Nicholas. ‘Needs must, you know, whensomebody drives. Necessity is my driver, and that is only anothername for the same gentleman.’

　　‘Well, I am very sorry for it; that’s all I can say,’ said Miss LaCreevy; ‘as much on your mother’s and sister’s account as onyours. Your sister is a very pretty young lady, Mr Nickleby, andthat is an additional reason why she should have somebody toprotect her. I persuaded her to give me a sitting or two, for thestreet-door case. ‘Ah! she’ll make a sweet miniature.’ As Miss LaCreevy spoke, she held up an ivory countenance intersected withvery perceptible sky-blue veins, and regarded it with so muchcomplacency, that Nicholas quite envied her.

　　‘If you ever have an opportunity of showing Kate some littlekindness,’ said Nicholas, presenting his hand, ‘I think you will.’

　　‘Depend upon that,’ said the good-natured miniature painter;‘and God bless you, Mr Nickleby; and I wish you well.’

　　It was very little that Nicholas knew of the world, but he guessed enough about its ways to think, that if he gave Miss LaCreevy one little kiss, perhaps she might not be the less kindlydisposed towards those he was leaving behind. So, he gave herthree or four with a kind of jocose gallantry, and Miss La Creevyevinced no greater symptoms of displeasure than declaring, as sheadjusted her yellow turban, that she had never heard of such athing, and couldn’t have believed it possible.

　　Having terminated the unexpected interview in this satisfactorymanner, Nicholas hastily withdrew himself from the house. By thetime he had found a man to carry his box it was only seven o’clock,so he walked slowly on, a little in advance of the porter, and veryprobably with not half as light a heart in his breast as the manhad, although he had no waistcoat to cover it with, and hadevidently, from the appearance of his other garments, beenspending the night in a stable, and taking his breakfast at a pump.

　　Regarding, with no small curiosity and interest, all the busypreparations for the coming day which every street and almostevery house displayed; and thinking, now and then, that it seemedrather hard that so many people of all ranks and stations couldearn a livelihood in London, and that he should be compelled tojourney so far in search of one; Nicholas speedily arrived at theSaracen’s Head, Snow Hill. Having dismissed his attendant, andseen the box safely deposited in the coach-office, he looked intothe coffee-room in search of Mr Squeers.

　　He found that learned gentleman sitting at breakfast, with thethree little boys before noticed, and two others who had turned upby some lucky chance since the interview of the previous day,ranged in a row on the opposite seat. Mr Squeers had before him asmall measure of coffee, a plate of hot toast, and a cold round of beef; but he was at that moment intent on preparing breakfast forthe little boys.

　　‘This is twopenn’orth of milk, is it, waiter?’ said Mr Squeers,looking down into a large blue mug, and slanting it gently, so as toget an accurate view of the quantity of liquid contained in it.

　　‘That’s twopenn’orth, sir,’ replied the waiter.

　　‘What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London!’ said MrSqueers, with a sigh. ‘Just fill that mug up with lukewarm water,William, will you?’

　　‘To the wery top, sir?’ inquired the waiter. ‘Why, the milk willbe drownded.’

　　‘Never you mind that,’ replied Mr Squeers. ‘Serve it right forbeing so dear. You ordered that thick bread and butter for three,did you?’

　　‘Coming directly, sir.’

　　‘You needn’t hurry yourself,’ said Squeers; ‘there’s plenty oftime. Conquer your passions, boys, and don’t be eager aftervittles.’ As he uttered this moral precept, Mr Squeers took a largebite out of the cold beef, and recognised Nicholas.

　　‘Sit down, Mr Nickleby,’ said Squeers. ‘Here we are, abreakfasting you see!’

　　Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting, except MrSqueers; but he bowed with all becoming reverence, and looked ascheerful as he could.

　　‘Oh! that’s the milk and water, is it, William?’ said Squeers.

　　‘Very good; don’t forget the bread and butter presently.’

　　At this fresh mention of the bread and butter, the five little boyslooked very eager, and followed the waiter out, with their eyes;meanwhile Mr Squeers tasted the milk and water.

　　 ‘Ah!’ said that gentleman, smacking his lips, ‘here’s richness!

　　Think of the many beggars and orphans in the streets that wouldbe glad of this, little boys. A shocking thing hunger, isn’t it, MrNickleby?’

　　‘Very shocking, sir,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘When I say number one,’ pursued Mr Squeers, putting the mugbefore the children, ‘the boy on the left hand nearest the windowmay take a drink; and when I say number two, the boy next himwill go in, and so till we come to number five, which is the last boy.

　　Are you ready?’

　　‘Yes, sir,’ cried all the little boys with great eagerness.

　　‘That’s right,’ said Squeers, calmly getting on with hisbreakfast; ‘keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue yourappetites, my dears, and you’ve conquered human nature. This isthe way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr Nickleby,’ said theschoolmaster, turning to Nicholas, and speaking with his mouthvery full of beef and toast.

　　Nicholas murmured something—he knew not what—in reply;and the little boys, dividing their gaze between the mug, the breadand butter (which had by this time arrived), and every morselwhich Mr Squeers took into his mouth, remained with strainedeyes in torments of expectation.

　　‘Thank God for a good breakfast,’ said Squeers, when he hadfinished. ‘Number one may take a drink.’

　　Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just drunkenough to make him wish for more, when Mr Squeers gave thesignal for number two, who gave up at the same interestingmoment to number three; and the process was repeated until themilk and water terminated with number five.

　　 ‘And now,’ said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and butterfor three into as many portions as there were children, ‘you hadbetter look sharp with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in aminute or two, and then every boy leaves off.’

　　Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to eatvoraciously, and in desperate haste: while the schoolmaster (whowas in high good humour after his meal) picked his teeth with afork, and looked smilingly on. In a very short time, the horn washeard.

　　‘I thought it wouldn’t be long,’ said Squeers, jumping up andproducing a little basket from under the seat; ‘put what youhaven’t had time to eat, in here, boys! You’ll want it on the road!’

　　Nicholas was considerably startled by these very economicalarrangements; but he had no time to reflect upon them, for thelittle boys had to be got up to the top of the coach, and their boxeshad to be brought out and put in, and Mr Squeers’s luggage was tobe seen carefully deposited in the boot, and all these offices werein his department. He was in the full heat and bustle of concludingthese operations, when his uncle, Mr Ralph Nickleby, accostedhim.

　　‘Oh! here you are, sir!’ said Ralph. ‘Here are your mother andsister, sir.’

　　‘Where?’ cried Nicholas, looking hastily round.

　　‘Here!’ replied his uncle. ‘Having too much money and nothingat all to do with it, they were paying a hackney coach as I came up,sir.’

　　‘We were afraid of being too late to see him before he wentaway from us,’ said Mrs Nickleby, embracing her son, heedless ofthe unconcerned lookers-on in the coach-yard.

　　 ‘Very good, ma’am,’ returned Ralph, ‘you’re the best judge ofcourse. I merely said that you were paying a hackney coach. Inever pay a hackney coach, ma’am; I never hire one. I haven’tbeen in a hackney coach of my own hiring, for thirty years, and Ihope I shan’t be for thirty more, if I live as long.’

　　‘I should never have forgiven myself if I had not seen him,’ saidMrs Nickleby. ‘Poor dear boy—going away without his breakfasttoo, because he feared to distress us!’

　　‘Mighty fine certainly,’ said Ralph, with great testiness. ‘When Ifirst went to business, ma’am, I took a penny loaf and a ha’porth ofmilk for my breakfast as I walked to the city every morning; whatdo you say to that, ma’am? Breakfast! Bah!’

　　‘Now, Nickleby,’ said Squeers, coming up at the momentbuttoning his greatcoat; ‘I think you’d better get up behind. I’mafraid of one of them boys falling off and then there’s twentypound a year gone.’

　　‘Dear Nicholas,’ whispered Kate, touching her brother’s arm,‘who is that vulgar man?’

　　‘Eh!’ growled Ralph, whose quick ears had caught the inquiry.

　　‘Do you wish to be introduced to Mr Squeers, my dear?’

　　‘That the schoolmaster! No, uncle. Oh no!’ replied Kate,shrinking back.

　　‘I’m sure I heard you say as much, my dear,’ retorted Ralph inhis cold sarcastic manner. ‘Mr Squeers, here’s my niece:

　　Nicholas’s sister!’

　　‘Very glad to make your acquaintance, miss,’ said Squeers,raising his hat an inch or two. ‘I wish Mrs Squeers took gals, andwe had you for a teacher. I don’t know, though, whether shemightn’t grow jealous if we had. Ha! ha! ha!’

　　 If the proprietor of Dotheboys Hall could have known what waspassing in his assistant’s breast at that moment, he would havediscovered, with some surprise, that he was as near being soundlypummelled as he had ever been in his life. Kate Nickleby, having aquicker perception of her brother’s emotions, led him gently aside,and thus prevented Mr Squeers from being impressed with thefact in a peculiarly disagreeable manner.

　　‘My dear Nicholas,’ said the young lady, ‘who is this man? Whatkind of place can it be that you are going to?’

　　‘I hardly know, Kate,’ replied Nicholas, pressing his sister’shand. ‘I suppose the Yorkshire folks are rather rough anduncultivated; that’s all.’

　　‘But this person,’ urged Kate.

　　‘Is my employer, or master, or whatever the proper name maybe,’ replied Nicholas quickly; ‘and I was an ass to take hiscoarseness ill. They are looking this way, and it is time I was in myplace. Bless you, love, and goodbye! Mother, look forward to ourmeeting again someday! Uncle, farewell! Thank you heartily for allyou have done and all you mean to do. Quite ready, sir!’

　　With these hasty adieux, Nicholas mounted nimbly to his seat,and waved his hand as gallantly as if his heart went with it.

　　At this moment, when the coachman and guard werecomparing notes for the last time before starting, on the subject ofthe way-bill; when porters were screwing out the last reluctantsixpences, itinerant newsmen making the last offer of a morningpaper, and the horses giving the last impatient rattle to theirharness; Nicholas felt somebody pulling softly at his leg. He lookeddown, and there stood Newman Noggs, who pushed up into hishand a dirty letter.

　　 ‘What’s this?’ inquired Nicholas.

　　‘Hush!’ rejoined Noggs, pointing to Mr Ralph Nickleby, whowas saying a few earnest words to Squeers, a short distance off:

　　‘Take it. Read it. Nobody knows. That’s all.’

　　‘Stop!’ cried Nicholas.

　　‘No,’ replied Noggs.

　　Nicholas cried stop, again, but Newman Noggs was gone.

　　A minute’s bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaying ofthe vehicle to one side, as the heavy coachman, and still heavierguard, climbed into their seats; a cry of all right, a few notes fromthe horn, a hasty glance of two sorrowful faces below, and the hardfeatures of Mr Ralph Nickleby—and the coach was gone too, andrattling over the stones of Smithfield.

　　The little boys’ legs being too short to admit of their feet restingupon anything as they sat, and the little boys’ bodies beingconsequently in imminent hazard of being jerked off the coach,Nicholas had enough to do over the stones to hold them on.

　　Between the manual exertion and the mental anxiety attendantupon this task, he was not a little relieved when the coach stoppedat the Peacock at Islington. He was still more relieved when ahearty-looking gentleman, with a very good-humoured face, and avery fresh colour, got up behind, and proposed to take the othercorner of the seat.

　　‘If we put some of these youngsters in the middle,’ said thenewcomer, ‘they’ll be safer in case of their going to sleep; eh?’

　　‘If you’ll have the goodness, sir,’ replied Squeers, ‘that’ll be thevery thing. Mr Nickleby, take three of them boys between you andthe gentleman. Belling and the youngest Snawley can sit betweenme and the guard. Three children,’ said Squeers, explaining to the stranger, ‘books as two.’

　　‘I have not the least objection I am sure,’ said the fresh-colouredgentleman; ‘I have a brother who wouldn’t object to book his sixchildren as two at any butcher’s or baker’s in the kingdom, I daresay. Far from it.’

　　‘Six children, sir?’ exclaimed Squeers.

　　‘Yes, and all boys,’ replied the stranger.

　　‘Mr Nickleby,’ said Squeers, in great haste, ‘catch hold of thatbasket. Let me give you a card, sir, of an establishment wherethose six boys can be brought up in an enlightened, liberal, andmoral manner, with no mistake at all about it, for twenty guineas ayear each—twenty guineas, sir—or I’d take all the boys togetherupon a average right through, and say a hundred pound a year forthe lot.’

　　‘Oh!’ said the gentleman, glancing at the card, ‘you are the MrSqueers mentioned here, I presume?’

　　‘Yes, I am, sir,’ replied the worthy pedagogue; ‘Mr WackfordSqueers is my name, and I’m very far from being ashamed of it.

　　These are some of my boys, sir; that’s one of my assistants, sir—MrNickleby, a gentleman’s son, and a good scholar, mathematical,classical, and commercial. We don’t do things by halves at ourshop. All manner of learning my boys take down, sir; the expenseis never thought of; and they get paternal treatment and washingin.’

　　‘Upon my word,’ said the gentleman, glancing at Nicholas witha half-smile, and a more than half expression of surprise, ‘theseare advantages indeed.’

　　‘You may say that, sir,’ rejoined Squeers, thrusting his handsinto his great-coat pockets. ‘The most unexceptionable references are given and required. I wouldn’t take a reference with any boy,that wasn’t responsible for the payment of five pound five aquarter, no, not if you went down on your knees, and asked me,with the tears running down your face, to do it.’

　　‘Highly considerate,’ said the passenger.

　　‘It’s my great aim and end to be considerate, sir,’ rejoinedSqueers. ‘Snawley, junior, if you don’t leave off chattering yourteeth, and shaking with the cold, I’ll warm you with a severethrashing in about half a minute’s time.’

　　‘Sit fast here, genelmen,’ said the guard as he clambered up.

　　‘All right behind there, Dick?’ cried the coachman.

　　‘All right,’ was the reply. ‘Off she goes!’ And off she did go—ifcoaches be feminine—amidst a loud flourish from the guard’shorn, and the calm approval of all the judges of coaches andcoach-horses congregated at the Peacock, but more especially ofthe helpers, who stood, with the cloths over their arms, watchingthe coach till it disappeared, and then lounged admiringlystablewards, bestowing various gruff encomiums on the beauty ofthe turn-out.

　　When the guard (who was a stout old Yorkshireman) had blownhimself quite out of breath, he put the horn into a little tunnel of abasket fastened to the coach-side for the purpose, and givinghimself a plentiful shower of blows on the chest and shoulders,observed it was uncommon cold; after which, he demanded ofevery person separately whether he was going right through, andif not, where he was going. Satisfactory replies being made tothese queries, he surmised that the roads were pretty heavy afterthat fall last night, and took the liberty of asking whether any ofthem gentlemen carried a snuff-box. It happening that nobody did, he remarked with a mysterious air that he had heard a medicalgentleman as went down to Grantham last week, say how thatsnuff-taking was bad for the eyes; but for his part he had neverfound it so, and what he said was, that everybody should speak asthey found. Nobody attempting to controvert this position, he tooka small brown-paper parcel out of his hat, and putting on a pair ofhorn spectacles (the writing being crabbed) read the directionhalf-a-dozen times over; having done which, he consigned theparcel to its old place, put up his spectacles again, and stared ateverybody in turn. After this, he took another blow at the horn byway of refreshment; and, having now exhausted his usual topics ofconversation, folded his arms as well as he could in so many coats,and falling into a solemn silence, looked carelessly at the familiarobjects which met his eye on every side as the coach rolled on; theonly things he seemed to care for, being horses and droves ofcattle, which he scrutinised with a critical air as they were passedupon the road.

　　The weather was intensely and bitterly cold; a great deal ofsnow fell from time to time; and the wind was intolerably keen. MrSqueers got down at almost every stage—to stretch his legs as hesaid—and as he always came back from such excursions with avery red nose, and composed himself to sleep directly, there isreason to suppose that he derived great benefit from the process.

　　The little pupils having been stimulated with the remains of theirbreakfast, and further invigorated by sundry small cups of acurious cordial carried by Mr Squeers, which tasted very liketoast-and-water put into a brandy bottle by mistake, went to sleep,woke, shivered, and cried, as their feelings prompted. Nicholasand the good-tempered man found so many things to talk about, that between conversing together, and cheering up the boys, thetime passed with them as rapidly as it could, under such adversecircumstances.

　　So the day wore on. At Eton Slocomb there was a good coachdinner, of which the box, the four front outsides, the one inside,Nicholas, the good-tempered man, and Mr Squeers, partook; whilethe five little boys were put to thaw by the fire, and regaled withsandwiches. A stage or two further on, the lamps were lighted, anda great to-do occasioned by the taking up, at a roadside inn, of avery fastidious lady with an infinite variety of cloaks and smallparcels, who loudly lamented, for the behoof of the outsides, thenon-arrival of her own carriage which was to have taken her on,and made the guard solemnly promise to stop every green chariothe saw coming; which, as it was a dark night and he was sittingwith his face the other way, that officer undertook, with manyfervent asseverations, to do. Lastly, the fastidious lady, findingthere was a solitary gentleman inside, had a small lamp lightedwhich she carried in reticule, and being after much trouble shutin, the horses were put into a brisk canter and the coach was oncemore in rapid motion.

　　The night and the snow came on together, and dismal enoughthey were. There was no sound to be heard but the howling of thewind; for the noise of the wheels, and the tread of the horses’ feet,were rendered inaudible by the thick coating of snow whichcovered the ground, and was fast increasing every moment. Thestreets of Stamford were deserted as they passed through thetown; and its old churches rose, frowning and dark, from thewhitened ground. Twenty miles further on, two of the frontoutside passengers, wisely availing themselves of their arrival at one of the best inns in England, turned in, for the night, at theGeorge at Grantham. The remainder wrapped themselves moreclosely in their coats and cloaks, and leaving the light and warmthof the town behind them, pillowed themselves against the luggage,and prepared, with many half-suppressed moans, again toencounter the piercing blast which swept across the open country.

　　They were little more than a stage out of Grantham, or abouthalfway between it and Newark, when Nicholas, who had beenasleep for a short time, was suddenly roused by a violent jerkwhich nearly threw him from his seat. Grasping the rail, he foundthat the coach had sunk greatly on one side, though it was stilldragged forward by the horses; and while—confused by theirplunging and the loud screams of the lady inside—he hesitated, foran instant, whether to jump off or not, the vehicle turned easilyover, and relieved him from all further uncertainty by flinging himinto the road.