would go into the outer office and talk to
Wemmick.

The fact was, that when the five hundred
pounds had come into my pocket, a thought
had come into my head which had been often
there before; and it appeared to me that
Wemmick was a good person to advise with,
concerning such thought.

He had already locked up his safe, and made
preparations for going home. He had left his
desk, brought out his two greasy office candle-
sticks and stood them in line with the snuffers
on a slab near the door, ready to be extinguished;
He had raked his fire low, put. his hat and greatcoat
ready, and was beating himself all over the
chest with his safe-key, as an athletic exercise
after business.

"Mr. Wemmick, " said I, "I want to ask
your opinion. I am very desirous to serve a
friend."

Wemmick tightened his post-office and shook
his head, as if his opinion were dead against any
fatal weakness of that sort.

"This friend," I pursued, " is trying to get
on in commercial life, but has no money and
finds it difficult and disheartening to make a
beginning. Now, I want somehow to help him
to a beginning."

"With money down?" said Wemmick, in a
tone drier than any sawdust.

With some money down," I replied, for an
uneasy remembrance shot across me of that
symmetrical bundle of papers at home; " with
some money down, and perhaps some
anticipation of my expectations."

"Mr. Pip,"  said Wemmick, " I should like
just to run over with you on my fingers, if you
please, the names of the various bridges up as
high as Chelsea Reach. Let's see: there's
London, one; Southwark, two; Blackfriars,
three; Waterloo, four; Westminster, five;
"Vauxhall, six."  He had checked off each
bridge in its turn, with the handle of his safe-
key on the palm of his hand. " There's as many
as six, you see, to choose from."

I don't understand you," said I.

"Choose your bridge, Mr. Pip," returned
Wemmick, "and take a walk upon your bridge,
and pitch your money into the Thames over the
centre arch of your bridge, and you know the
end of it.  Serve a friend with it, and you may
know the end of it too—but it's a less pleasant
and profitable end."

I could have posted a newspaper in his mouth,
he made it so wide after saying this.

"This is very discouraging," said I.

"Meant to be," said Wemmick.

"Then is it your opinion," I inquired, with
some little indignation, "that a man should
never—"

"—Invest portable property in a friend ?" said
Wemmick. "Certainly he should not. Unless
he wants to get rid of the friend—and then it
becomes a question how much portable property
it may be worth to get rid of him."

"And that," said I, "is your deliberate
opinion, Mr. Wemmick?''

"That," he returned " is my deliberate
opinion in this office."

"Ah!" said I, pressing him, for I thought I
saw him near a loophole here; "but would
that be your opinion at Walworth?"

"Mr. Pip," he replied, with gravity, "Walworth
is one place, and this office is another.
Much as the Aged is one person, and Mr. Jaggers
is another. They must not be confounded
together. My Walworth sentiments must be
taken at Walworth; none but my official
sentiments can be taken in this office."

Very well," said I, much relieved, "then I
shall look you up at Walworth, you may depend
upon it."

"Mr. Pip," he returned, " you will be
welcome there, in a private and personal
capacity."

We had held this conversation in a low voice,
well knowing my guardian's ears to be the
sharpest of the sharp. As he now appeared in
his doorway, towelling his hands, Wemmick got
on his great-coat and stood by to snuff out the
candles. We all three went into the street
together, and from the door-step Wemmick
turned his way, and Mr. Jaggers and I turned
ours.

I could not help wishing more than once that
evening that Mr. Jaggers had had an Aged in
Gerrard-street, or a Stinger, or a Something, or a
Somebody, to unbend his brows a little. It was
an uncomfortable consideration on a twenty-first
birthday, that coming of age at all seemed
hardly worth while in such a guarded and
suspicious world as he made of it. He was a
thousand times better informed and cleverer than
Wemmick, and yet I would a thousand times
rather have had Wemmick to dinner. And Mr.
Jaggers made not me alone intensely melancholy,
because, after he was gone, Herbert
said of himself, with his eyes fixed on the fire,
that he thought he must have committed a
felony and forgotten it, he felt so dejected and
guilty.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

DEEMING Sunday the best day for taking Mr.
Wemmick's Walworth sentiments, I devoted the
next ensuing Sunday afternoon to a pilgrimage
to the Castle. On arriving before the battlements,
I found the Union Jack flying and the
drawbridge up; but undeterred by this show of
defiance and resistance, I rang at the gate, and
was admitted in a most pacific manner by the
Aged.

"My son, sir," said the old man, after securing
the drawbridge, "rather had it in his mind
that you might happen to drop in, and he left
word that he would soon be home from his
afternoon's walk. He is very regular in his
walks, is my son. Very regular in everything,
is my son."

I nodded at the old gentleman as Wemmick
himself might have nodded, and we went in and
sat down by the fireside.

"You made acquaintance with my son, sir,"