Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his eyes for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then, mastering his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket and buttoned it up. After this, he stirred the fire; after that, he rubbed his hands and looked at Sam.

“Oh, my young friend,” said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence, in a very low voice, “here’s a sorrowful affliction!”

Sam nodded very slightly.

“For the man of wrath, too!” added Mr. Stiggins; “it makes a vessel’s heart bleed!”

Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something relative to making a vessel’s nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heard him not.