myself too; and when I pulled Daddy in arter
me, I guv us all three up for this world."
"Yes," said Doubleyear, "it must have
gone queer with us if Peggy had not come in
with the rake. How d' yee feel, old girl; for
you've had a narrow escape too. I wonder
we were not too heavy for you, and so pulled
you in to go with us."

elbow, and extended his hand to the miniatureframe. Directly he looked at it, he raised himself higher up-turned it about once or twice-then caught up the piece of parch ment, and uttering an ejaculation, which no one could have distinguished either as of joy or of pain, sank back fainting.

In brief, this parchment was a portion of "The Lord be praised!" fervently ejacu- the title-deeds he had lost; and though it did lated Peggy, pointing towards the pallid face not prove sufficient to enable him to recover that lay surrounded with ashes. A convulsive his fortune, it brought his opponent to a twitching passed over the features, the lips composition, which gave him an annuity for trembled, the ashes over the breast heaved, life. Small as this was, he determined that and a low moaning sound, which might have these poor people, who had so generously come from the bottom of the canal, was heard. saved his life at the risk of their own, should Again the moaning sound, and then the eyes be sharers in it. Finding that what they opened, but closed almost immediately. "Poor most desired was to have a cottage in the dear soul!" whispered Peggy, "how he neighbourhood of the Dust-heap, built large suffers in surviving. Lift him up a little. Softly. Don't be afeared. We're only your good angels, like only poor cinder-sifters don'tee be afeared."

By various kindly attentions and manoeuvres such as these poor people had been accustomed to practise on those who were taken out of the canal, the unfortunate gentleman was gradually brought to his senses. He gazed about him, as well he might-now looking in the anxious, though begrimed, faces of the three strange objects, all in their ". weeds and dust-and then up at the huge Dustheap, over which the moon was now slowly rising.

"Land of quiet Death!" murmured he, faintly, "or land of Life, as dark and still-I have passed from one into the other; but which of ye I am now in, seems doubtful to my senses.

"Here we are, poor gentleman," cried Peggy, "here we are, all friends about you. How did 'ee tumble into the canal?"

"The Earth, then, once more!" said the stranger, with a deep sigh. "I know where I am, now. I remember this great dark hill of ashes-like Death's kingdom, full of all sorts of strange things, and put to many uses."

"Where do you live?" asked Old Doubleyear; "shall we try and take you home, Sir?

The stranger shook his head mournfully. All this time, little Jem had been assiduously employed in rubbing his feet and then his hands; in doing which the piece of dirty parchment, with the miniature-frame, dropped out of his breast-pocket. A good thought instantly struck Peggy.

"Run, Jemmy dear-run with that golden thing to Mr. Spikechin, the pawnbroker'sget something upon it directly, and buy some nice brandy-and some Godfrey's cordial-and a blanket, Jemmy-and_call_a coach, and get up outside on it, and make the coachee drive back here as fast as you can."

But before Jemmy could attend to this, Mr. Waterhouse, the stranger whose life they had preserved, raised himself on one

enough for all three to live together, and keep a cow, Mr. Waterhouse paid a visit to Manchester Square, where the owner of the property resided. He told his story, as far as was needful, and proposed to purchase the field in question.

The great Dust-Contractor was much amused, and his daughter-a very accomplished young lady-was extremely interested. So the matter was speedily arranged to the satisfaction and pleasure of all parties. The acquaintance, however, did not end here. Mr. Waterhouse renewed his visits very frequently, and finally made proposals for the young lady's hand, she having already expressed her hopes of a propitious answer from her father."

"Well, Sir," said the latter, "you wish to marry my daughter, and she wishes to marry you. You are a gentleman and a scholar, but you have no money. My daughter is what you see, and she has no money. But I have; and therefore, as she likes you, and I like you, I'll make you both an offer. I will give my daughter twenty thousand pounds, or you shall have the Dust-heap. Choose!"

Mr. Waterhouse was puzzled and amused, and referred the matter entirely to the young lady. But she was for having the money, and no trouble. She said the Dustheap might be worth much, but they did not understand the business. "Very well," said her father, laughing, "then, there's the money."

This was the identical Dust-heap, as we know from authentic information, which was subsequently sold for forty thousand pounds, and was exported to Russia to rebuild Moscow.

Monthly Supplement of 'HOUSEHOLD WORDS,'
Conducted by CHARLES DICKENS.
Price 2d., Stamped 3d.,
THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE

OF

CURRENT EVENTS.

The Number, containing a history of the past month, was issued with the Magazines.

Published at the Office, No 16, Wellington Street North, Strand. Printed by BRADBURY & EVANS, Whitefriars, London.

HOUSEHOLD WORDS.

No. 17.]

A WEEKLY JOURNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.

SATURDAY, JULY 20, 1850.

THE GHOST OF ART.

I AM a bachelor, residing in rather a dreary set of chambers in the Temple. They are situated in a square court of high houses, which would be a complete well, but for the want of water and the absence of a bucket. I live at the top of the house, among the tiles and sparrows. Like the little man in the nursery-story, I live by myself, and all the bread and cheese I get which is not much-I put upon a shelf. I need scarcely add, perhaps, that I am in love, and that the father of my charming Julia objects to our union.

I mention these little particulars as I might deliver a letter of introduction. The reader is now acquainted with me, and perhaps will condescend to listen to my narrative.

I am naturally of a dreamy turn of mind; and my abundant leisure-for I am called to the bar-coupled with much lonely listening to the twittering of sparrows, and the pattering of rain, has encouraged that disposition. In my "top set," I hear the wind howl, on a winter night, when the man on the ground floor believes it is perfectly still weather. The dim lamps with which our Honourable Society (supposed to be as yet unconscious of the new discovery called Gas) make the horrors of the staircase visible, deepen the gloom which generally settles on my soul when I go home at night.

I am in the Law, but not of it. I can't exactly make out what it means. I sit in Westminster Hall sometimes (in character) from ten to four; and when I go out of Court, I don't know whether I am standing on my wig or my boots.

[PRICE 2d.

to possess me beforehand with a knowledge of most of the subjects to which a Painter is likely to have recourse; and, although I might be in some doubt as to the rightful fashion of the scabbard of King Lear's sword, for instance, I think I should know King Lear tolerably well, if I happened to meet with him.

I go to all the Modern Exhibitions every season, and of course I revere the Royal Academy. I stand by its forty Academical articles almost as firmly as I stand by the thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England. I am convinced that in neither case could

there be, by any rightful possibility, one article more or less.

It is now exactly three years-three years ago, this very month-since I went from Westminster to the Temple, one Thursday afternoon, in a cheap steam-boat. The sky was black, when I imprudently walked on board. It began to thunder and lighten immediately afterwards, and the rain poured down in torrents. The deck seeming to smoke with the wet, I went below; but so many passengers were there, smoking too, that 1 came up again, and buttoning my pea-coat, and standing in the shadow of the paddle-box, stood as upright as I could, and made the best of it.

It was at this moment that I first beheld the terrible Being, who is the subject of my present recollections.

Standing against the funnel, apparently with the intention of drying himself by the heat as fast as he got wet, was a shabby man in threadbare black, and with his hands in his pockets, who fascinated me from the meIt appears to me (I mention this in con-morable instant when I caught his eye. fidence) as if there were too much talk and too much law as if some grains of truth were started overboard into a tempestuous sea of chaff.

Where had I caught that eye before? Who was he? Why did I connect him, all at once, with the Vicar of Wakefield, Alfred the Great, Gil Blas, Charles the Second, Joseph and his Brethren, the Fairy Queen, Tom Jones, the Decameron of Boccaccio, Tam O'Shanter, the Marriage of the Doge of Venice with the Adriatic, and the Great Plague of London? Why, when he bent one leg, and placed one hand upon the back of the seat near him, did my mind associate him wildly with the words," Number one hundred and forty-two, Portrait of a gentleman ?" Could it be that I was going mad?

17

I looked at him again, and now I could! weeks together, a eating nothing, out of half have taken my affidavit that he belonged to the gold and silver dishes as has ever been the Vicar of Wakefield's family. Whether he i lent for the purpose out of Storrses, and Morwas the Vicar, or Moses, or Mr. Burchill, or timerses, or Garrardses, and Davenportseseses." the Squire, or a conglomeration of all four, I' Excited, as it appeared, by a sense of injury, knew not; but I was impelled to seize him by I thought he never would have found an end the throat, and charge him with being, in some for the last word. But, at length it rolled fell way, connected with the Primrose blood. sullenly away with the thunder. He looked up at the rain, and then- oh ' "Pardon me," said I, "you are a wellHeaven!--he became Saint John. He folded favored, well-made man, and yet-forgive me his arms, resigning himself to the weather,—I find, on examining my mind, that I assoand I was frantically inclined to address ciate you with-that my recollection indishim as the Spectator, and firmly demand to tinctly makes you, in short—excuse me—a know what he had done with Sir Roger de kind of powerful monster." Coverley.

'It would be a wonder if it didn't," he "Do you know what my points are ?" "No," said I.

said.

The frightful suspicion that I was becoming deranged, returned upon me with redoubled force. Meantime, this awful stranger, inex- "My throat and my legs," said he: "When plicably linked to my distress, stood drying I don't set for a head, I mostly sets for a himself at the funnel; and ever, as the steam throat and a pair of legs. Now, granted you rose from his clothes, diffusing a mist around was a painter, and was to work at my throat him, I saw through the ghostly medium all the for a week together, I suppose you'd see a people I have mentioned, and a score more, lot of lumps and bumps there, that would sacred and profane. never be there at all, if you looked at me, complete, instead of only my throat. Wouldn't you?"

I am conscious of a dreadful inclination that stole upon me, as it thundered and lightened, to grapple with this man, or demon, and plunge him over the side. But, I constrained myself-I know not how-to speak to him," and in a pause of the storm, I crossed the deck, and said:

"What are you?"

He replied, hoarsely, "A Model." "A what?" said I.

"A Model," he replied. "I sets to the profession for a bob a-hour." (All through this narrative I give his own words, which are indelibly imprinted on my memory.)

The relief which this disclosure gave me, the exquisite delight of the restoration of my confidence in my own sanity, I cannot describe. I should have fallen on his neck, but for the consciousness of being observed by the man at the wheel.

"You then," said I, shaking him so warmly by the hand, that I wrung the rain out of his coat-cuff, "are the gentleman whom I have so frequently contemplated, in connection with a high-backed chair with a red cushion, and a table with twisted legs."

"I am that Model," he rejoined moodily, "and I wish I was anything else."

"Say not so," I returned. "I have seen you in the society of many beautiful young women;" as in truth I had, and always (I now remembered) in the act of making the most of his legs.

"No doubt," said he. "And you've seen me along with warses of flowers, and any number of table-kivers, and antique cabinets, and warious gammon.' "Sir?" said I.

"And warious gammon," he repeated, in a louder voice. "You might have seen me in armour, too, if you had looked sharp. Blessed if I ha'n't stood in half the suits of armour as ever came out of Pratts's shop and sat, for

.

"Probably," said I, surveying him.

"Why, it stands to reason," said the Model. Work another week at my legs, and it'll be the same thing. You'll make 'em out as knotty and as knobby, at last, as if they was the trunks of two old trees. Then, take and stick my legs and throat on to another man's body, and you'll make a reg'lar monster. And that's the way the public gets their reg'lar monsters, every first Monday in May, when the Royal Academy Exhibition opens."

"You are a critic," said I, with an air of deference.

"I'm in an uncommon ill humour, if that's it," rejoined the Model, with great indignation. "As if it warn't bad enough for a bob a-hour, for a man to be mixing himself up with that there jolly old furniter that one 'ad think the public know'd the wery nails in by this time or to be putting on greasy old ats and cloaks, and playing tambourines in the Bay o' Naples, with Wesuvius a smokin' according to pattern in the background, and the wines a bearing wonderful in the middle distance or to be unpolitely kicking up his legs among a lot o' gals, with no reason whatever in his mind, but to show 'em-as if this warn't bad enough, I'm to go and be thrown out of employment too!"

"Surely no!" said I.

Surely yes," said the indignant Model. "BUT I'LL GROW ONE."

The gloomy and threatening manner in which he muttered the last words, can never be effaced from my remembrance. My blood ran cold.

I asked of myself, what was it that this desperate Being was resolved to grow? My breast made no response.

I ventured to implore him to explain his

meaning. With a scornful laugh, he uttered of his mouth; and hanging down upon his this dark prophecy :

"I'LL GROW ONE. AND, MARK MY WORDS, IT SHALL HAUNT YOU!"

a

We parted in the storm, after I had forced half-a-crown on his acceptance, with trembling hand. I conclude that something supernatural happened to the steam-boat, as it bore his reeking figure down the river; but it never got into the papers.

breast.

"What is this?" I exclaimed involuntarily, "and what have you become?"

I am the Ghost of Art!" said he. The effect of these words, slowly uttered in the thunderstorm at midnight, was appalling in the last degree. More dead than alive, I surveyed him in silence.

"The German taste came up," said he, and threw me out of bread. I am ready for the taste now."

He made his beard a little jagged with his hands, folded his arms, and said, "Severity!"

Two years elapsed, during which I followed" my profession without any vicissitudes; never holding so much as a motion, of course. At the expiration of that period, I found myself making my way home to the Temple, one night, in precisely such another storm of thunder and lightning as that by which I had been overtaken on board the steam-boat-except that this storm, bursting over the town at midnight, was rendered much more awful by the darkness and the hour.

As I turned into my court, I really thought a thunderbolt would fall, and plough the pavement up. Every brick and stone in the place seemed to have an echo of its own for the thunder. The water-spouts were overcharged, and the rain came tearing down from the house-tops as if they had been mountain-tops.

Mrs. Parkins, my laundress wife of Parkins the porter, then newly dead of a dropsy had particular instructions to place a bedroom candle and a match under the staircase lamp on my landing, in order that I might light my candle there, whenever I came home. Mrs. Parkins invariably disregarding all instructions, they were never there. Thus it happened that on this occasion I groped my way into my sitting-room to find the candle, and came out to light it.

What were my emotions when, underneath the staircase lamp, shining with wet as if he had never been dry since our last meeting, stood the mysterious Being whom I had encountered on the steam-boat in a thunderstorm, two years before! His prediction rushed upon my mind, and I turned faint.

"I said I'd do it," he observed, in a hollow voice, "and I have done it. May I come in?"

"Misguided creature, what have you done?" I returned.

"I'll let you know," was his reply, "if you'll let me in."

Could it be murder that he had done? And had he been so successful that he wanted to do it again, at my expense?

I hesitated.

"May I come in?" said he.

I shuddered. It was so severe. He made his beard flowing on his breast, and, leaning both hands on the staff of a carpetbroom which Mrs. Parkins had left among my books, said:

"Benevolence.”

I stood transfixed. The change of sentiment was entirely in the beard. The man might have left his face alone, or had no face. The beard did everything.

He laid down, on his back, on my table, and with that action of his head threw up his beard at the chin.

"That's death!" said he.

He got off my table and, looking up at the ceiling, cocked his beard a little awry; at the same time making it stick out before him.

"Adoration, or a vow of vengeance," he ob served.

He turned his profile to me, making his upper lip very bulgy with the upper part of his beard.

"Romantic character," said he.

He looked sideways out of his beard, as if it were an ivy-bush. "Jealousy," said he. He gave it an ingenious twist in the air, and informed me that he was carousing. He made it shaggy with his fingers and it was Despair; lank--and it was avarice; tossed it all kinds of ways-and it was rage. The beard did everything.

"I am the Ghost of Art," said he. "Two bob a-day now, and more when its longer! Hair's the true expression. There is no other. I SAID I'D GROW IT, AND I'VE GROWN IT, AND IT SHALL HAUNT YOU!"

He may have tumbled down stairs in the dark, but he never walked down or ran down. I looked over the bannisters, and I was alone with the thunder.

Need I add more of my terrific fate? It HAS haunted me ever since. It glares upon me from the walls of the Royal Academy, (exI inclined my head, with as much presence cept when MACLISE subdues it to his genius,) it of mind as I could command, and he followed fills my soul with terror at the British Instime into my chambers. There, I saw that the tution, it lures young artists on to their delower part of his face was tied up, in what is struction. Go where I will, the Ghost of Art, commonly called a Belcher handkerchief. eternally working the passions in hair, and He slowly removed this bandage, and ex-expressing everything by beard, pursues me. posed to view a long dark beard, curling The prediction is accomplished, and the Victim over his upper lip, twisting about the corners has no rest.

THE WONDERS OF 1851.

Now, in the name of all worthily striving spirits, of all those who have devoted their A CERTAIN Government office having a talents, time, and money to the production of more than usual need of some new ideas, and models, designs, or plans,-of all those who wishing to obtain them from the collective have laboured hard by day or by night, permind of the country, consulted Mr. Trappem, haps amidst other arduous and necessary the official solicitor--a gentleman of great avocations,-in the name of all those, who, experience on the subject. "A new idea," possessing real knowledge and skill, have said he, "is not the only thing you will want ; naturally and inevitably been led to indulge these new ideas, to be worth anything, must in high hopes, if not of entire success, at least be reduced to practical demonstration, by of fair play and of some advantage to themmodels, plans, or experiments. This will cost selves in reward, remuneration for reasonable much time, labour, and money, and be at- and necessary expenses incurred, or, at any tended through its progress with many dis- rate, in receiving honourable mention,-and, appointments. The rule, therefore, is to finally, in the name of common justice, we do throw it open to the public. Let the inventive most loudly and earnestly protest against all spirits of the whole public be set to work; these and similar appeals to the collective let them make the calculations, designs, intellect of the public, unless conducted upon models, plans; let them try all the expe- some liberal and definite method of compenriments at their own expense; let them all sation for all eminently meritorious labours. be encouraged to proceed by those suggestions which are sure to excite the greatest hopes and the utmost emulation, without committing the Honourable Board to anything. When at length two or three succeed, then the Honourable Board steps in, and taking a bit from one, and a bit from another, but the whole, or chief part, from no one in a direct way, rejects them all individually and collec- yet no one work selected as the work desired, tively, and escapes all claims and contingencies. A few compliments, enough to keep alive hope, and at the same time keep the best men quiet, should finally be held out, and the competitors may then be safely left to long delays and the course of events. That's the way."

That one great prize-either as a substantial tribute, or in the exclusive adoption of an entire plan-should be awarded to one man, and that the half-dozen next to him in merit, perhaps equal or superior, should derive no benefit at all, is manifestly a most clumsy and unjust arrangement. But when we find great appeals to the public, nobly answered, and

-no one rewarded-but every one used and got rid of-then, indeed, we see an abuse of that kind which ought to be most fully exposed, so that it may serve as a warning in future "to all whom it may concern."

It is curious to observe how much more Too true, Mr. Trappem—that is the way; and quickly some nations, as well as individuals, many a Government office, or other imposing take a hint than others. Among the models array of Committee-men, and Honourable and plans sent in answer to the public invitaBoards, have practised this same expedient tion of the Commissioners of the Exhibition upon the inventive genius and collective know- of Industry, there are a great many, and of a ledge and talent of the public. The last in- most excellent kind, from our sprightly and stances which deserve to be recorded, not merely sanguine friends, the French-while, notbecause they are the most recent, but rather on withstanding the chief originator and patron account of their magnitude and completeness, is from the Faderland, not one of those who are the invitations to competitors for models are more especially distinguished as entitled and plans, issued by the Metropolitan Commis- to the highest honours, is from Germany! sioners of Sewers,-and by the Commissioners Out of the eighteen names thus selected, no of the Exhibition of Industry of all Nations. less than twelve are Frenchmen; four are In order to supersede prevaricating denials English; one Austrian; and a solitary Dutchand evasions of what we have to say concern-man. In all Prussia, there was not found one ing the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers, man to venture. It would seem as though it may be as well to premise that they have they were aware of these tricks. But how is for some time adopted the cunning "fence" it that so few of our own countrymen are thus of a "Committee of Commissioners," behind distinguished and complimented? Is it bewhich the Commissioners make a dodge on all cause they are deficient in the requisite talent, difficult, alarming, and responsible occasions. or do they not take sufficient interest in the When all is safe, and clear, and sunshiny, it is matter? Surely neither of these reasons will the Commissioners who have done the thing; be satisfactory to account for the fact of our directly matters look awkward, and a bad native architects and designers having been business, the diplomatic bo-peeps leap away so palpably beaten at this first trial of skill. from the bursting clouds-and the Committee We shall probably be told that the best men of Commissioners have done it all, for which of France have entered the lists in this comthe main body of the Right Honourable Board petition; whereas our best men have stood is by no means responsible. A similar aloof. Why is this? May it not be that manoeuvre has been adopted by the Commis-"old birds are not caught with chaff?" Our sioners of the Exhibition of Industry, who best men are generally well employed, and it have got two Committees to screen them. is not worth their while to waste their time