. Dicken's works . other room of this house but the kitchen. — Illallow my daughter and her husband one hundredand fifty pounds a year, and never see their facesagain; and, damme ! maam, Ill bring in a bill forthe abolition of finishing schools ! Some time has elapsed since this passionate decla-ration. Mr. and Mrs. Butler are at present rusticat-ing in a small cottage at Balls Pond, pleasantlysituated in the immediate vicinity of a have no family. Mr, Theodosius looks veryimportant, and writes incessantly ; but, in conse-quence of a gross combination on the part of thepublish
. Dicken's works . other room of this house but the kitchen. — Illallow my daughter and her husband one hundredand fifty pounds a year, and never see their facesagain; and, damme ! maam, Ill bring in a bill forthe abolition of finishing schools ! Some time has elapsed since this passionate decla-ration. Mr. and Mrs. Butler are at present rusticat-ing in a small cottage at Balls Pond, pleasantlysituated in the immediate vicinity of a have no family. Mr, Theodosius looks veryimportant, and writes incessantly ; but, in conse-quence of a gross combination on the part of thepublishers, none of his productions appear in young wife begins to think that ideal misery ispreferable to real unhappiness; and that a marriagecontracted in haste, and repented at leisure, is thecause of more substantial wretchedness than sheever anticipated. On cool reflection, Cornelius Dingwall, Esq., ,was reluctantly compelled to admit that the untowardresult of his admirable arrangements was attribu-. SKETCHES BY BOZ. S3 table, not to the Miss Crumptons, but his own diplo-macy. He however consoles himself, like some othersmall diplomatists, by satisfactorily proving that ifhis plans did not succeed, they ought to have done House is m static quo, and The MissesCrumpton remain in the peaceable and undisturbedenjoyment of all the advantages resulting from theirFinishing School. VOL. CHAPTER IV. THE TUGGSS AT RAMSGATE, Once upon a time, there dwelt, in a narrow streeton the Surrey side of the water, within three min-utes walk of old London Bridge, Mr. Joseph Tuggs— a little dark-faced man, with shiny hair, twink-ling eyes, short legs, and a body of very considerablethickness, measuring from the centre button of hiswaistcoat in front, to the ornamental buttons of hiscoat behind. The figure of the amiable Mrs. Tuggs,if not perfectly symmetrical, was decidedly com-fortable; and the form of her only daughter, theaccomplished Miss Charlotte Tuggs, was
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