Even such a thing as this,' said Mr Pecksniff, laying the fore-finger of his left hand upon the brown paper patch on the top of his head, 'slight casual baldness though it be, reminds us that we are but'-- he was going to say 'worms,' but recollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair, he substituted 'flesh and blood.' 'Which,' cried Mr Pecksniff after a pause, during which he seemed to have been casting about for a new moral, and not quite successfully, 'which is also very soothing.

Mercy, my dear, stir the fire and throw up the cinders.' The young lady obeyed, and having done so, resumed her stool, reposed one arm upon her father's knee, and laid her blooming cheek upon it.

Miss Charity drew her chair nearer the fire, as one prepared for conversation, and looked towards her father.
'Yes,' said Mr Pecksniff, after a short pause, during which he had been silently smiling, and shaking his head at the fire--'I have again been fortunate in the attainment of my object.

A new inmate will very shortly come among us.' 'A youth, papa ?' asked Charity.
'Ye-es, a youth,' said Mr Pecksniff.

'He will avail himself of the eligible opportunity which now offers, for uniting the advantages of the best practical architectural education with the comforts of a home, and the constant association with some who (however humble their sphere, and limited their capacity) are not unmindful of their moral responsibilities.' 'Oh Pa!' cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly.