The Sun.
London, England, 1848-04-13 00:00:00

inimitably felicitous. Boxer is altogether, eclipse 4
by Diogenes; and the description of railivar tra:
yelling is one of the happiest sketches- of our
novelist. Captain Cuttle, moreover, is one of the very
best characters ever painted by him—a.tcli'aracter
which will after this occupy a prominent iksition in
the Boz Gallery. Before we conclude our stragsking
but earnest notice of the work, we must transcribe a
capital glimpse of every-day life, contained in the
final number : it is the account of the auction at Mr.
Dombey's private residence immediately after all his
servants have departed :

" The house stands, large and weatherproof, in the
long dull street; but it is a ruin, and the rats fly from it.
' " The men in the carpet caps go on tumbling the fur-
niture about; and the gentlemen with pens and ink make
out inventories of it, and sit upon pieces of furniture
never made to be sat upon, and eat bread and cheese
from the public house on other pieces of furniture never
made to be eaten on, and seem to have a delight
in appropriating precious articles to strange uses.
Chaotic combinations of furniture also take place. Mat-
tresses and bedding appear in the dining•room; the glass
and china get into the conservatory; the great dinner
service is set out in heaps on the long divan in the large
drawing-room ; and the stair-wires, made into fasces,
decorate the marble chimney-pieces. Finally, a rug,
with a printed bill upon it, is hung out from the balcony;
and a similar appendage graces either side of the hall
door.

" Then, all day long, there is a retinue of mouldy gigs
and chaise-carts in the street; and herds of shabby vam-
pires, Jew and Christian, over-run the house, sounding
the plate• glass mirrors with their knuckles, striking dis-
cordant octaves on the Grand Piano, drawing wet fore-
fingers over the pictures, breathing on the blades of the
best dinner•knives, punching the squabs of chairs and
sofas with their dirty fists, tousling the feather-beds,
opening and shutting all the drawers, balancing the
silver spoons and forks, looking into the very threads of
the drapery and linen, and disparaging everything.
There is not a secret place in the whole house. Fluffy
and snuffy strangers stare into the kitchen-range as
curiously as into the attic clothes-press. Stout men with
napless hats on, look out of the bed-room windows, and
cut jokes with friends in the street. Quiet, calculating
spirits, withdraw into the dressing-rooms with catalogues,
and make marginal notes thereon, with stumps of pencils.
Two brokers invade the very fire escape, and take a
panoramic survey of the neighbourhood from the top of
the house. The swarm and buzz, and going up and down,
endure for days. The Capital Modern Household Fur-
niture, &c., is on view.

" Then there is a palisade of tables made in the best
drawing-room; and on the capital, French polished,
extending, telescopic range of Spanish mahogany dining
tables with turned legs, the pulpit of the auctioneer is
erected; and the herd of shabby 'vampires, Jew and
Christian, the strangers fluffy and snuffy, and the stout
men with the napless hats, congregate about it and sit
upon everything within reach, mantel-pieces included,
and begin to bid. Hot, humming, and dusty, are the
rooms all day; and—high above the heat, hum, and dust
—the head and shoulders, and voice and hammer of the
auctioneer, are ever at work. The men in the carpet
caps get flustered and vicious with tumbling the Lots
about, and still the Lots are going, going, gone; still
coming on. Sometimes there is joking and a general
roar. This lasts all day and three days following. The
Capital Modern Household Furniture, &c., is on sale.
" Then the mouldy gigs and chaise-carts re-appear; and
with them come spring-vans and waggons, and an army
of porters with knots. Ail day long, the men with
carpet bags are screwing at screw-drivers and bed-
winches, or staggering by the dozen together on the
staircase under heavy burdens, or upheaving perfect
rocks of Spanish mahogany, best rosewood, or plate-
glass, into the gigs, chaise carts, vans and waggons. All
sorts of vehicles of burden are in attendance, from a
tilted waggon to a wheel-barrow. Poor Paul's little
bedstead is carried off in a donkey-tandem. For nearly
a whole week, the Capital Modern Household Furniture,
&c., is in course of removal.
"At last it is all gone. Nothing is left about the
house but scattered leaves of catalogues, littered scraps
of straw and hay, and a battery of pewter pots behind
ethe i ha
screw-le drivers i v earls The
mennd with
bed-winches earipnetto-cbaps
bldegatherouupr
them, and walk off. One of the pen and ink gentlemen
shoulder
them,
goes over the house as a last attention; sticking up bills
in the windows respecting the lease of this desirable
family mansion, and shutting the shutters. At length
he follows the men with the carpet caps. None of the
invaders remain. The house is a ruin, and the rats fly
from it."

As a pendant to our previous notices of the fiction,
as it appeared in periodical instalments, we must ob-
serve that extraordinary changes are effected in the
situation of the dramatis personce before its termina-
tion. Mr. Morfin marries Harriet Carker ! Mr.
Feeder marries Coreelia Blimber I Captain Bunsby
marries Mrs. Mac Stinger And Mr. Toots marries—
Susan Nipper! Dombey himself is utterly beg-
gared, and the account of his desolation in the empty,
house, and of his ultimate reconciliation with Flo-
rence,is wonderfully touching. Through the interven-
tion of Cousin Feenix, Florence and Edith are brought
together again for an instant, and are then very un-
satisfactorily separated. At last the solitary bottle of
Madeira is broached, and the ruined merchant him-
self declares it to be " a very rare and most delicious
wine !" Phiz has been singularly successful in the
illustration of the volume, some of his etchings being
really admirable. May his artistic powers be very
speedily required again in the embellishment of some
new creation of the genius of Charles Dickens !