CHARLES DICKENS DOMBEY AND SON CHAPTER I Dombey and ...

gloom. More than once upon this journey, and how again as he stood pondering
at this journey's end, tracing figures in the dust with his stick, the
thought came into his mind, what was there he could interpose between
himself and it?
The Major, who had been blowing and panting all the way down, like another
engine, and whose eye had often wandered from his newspaper to leer at the
prospect, as if there were a procession of discomfited Miss Toxes pouring
out in the smoke of the train, and flying away over the fields to hide
themselves in any place of refuge, aroused his friend by informing him that
the post-horses were harnessed and the carriage ready.
'Dombey,' said the Major, rapping him on the arm with his cane, 'don't be
thoughtful. It's a bad habit. Old Joe, Sir, wouldn't be as tough as you see
him, if he had ever encouraged it. You are too great a man, Dombey, to be
thoughtful. In your position, Sir, you're far above that kind of thing.'
The Major even in his friendly remonstrances, thus consulting the dignity
and honour of Mr. Dombey, and showing a lively sense of their importance,
Mr. Dombey felt more than ever disposed to defer to a gentleman possessing
so much good sense and such a well-regulated mind; accordingly he made an
effort to listen to the Major's stories, as they trotted along the turnpike
road; and the Major, finding both the pace and the road a great deal better
adapted to his conversational powers than the mode of travelling they had
just relinquished, came out for his entertainment.
In this flow of spirits and conversation, only interrupted by his usual
plethoric symptoms, and by intervals of lunch, and from time to time by some
violent assault upon the Native, who wore a pair of ear-rings in his
dark-brown ears, and on whom his European clothes sat with an outlandish
impossibility of adjustment--being, of their own accord, and without any
reference to the tailor's art, long where they ought to be short, short
where they ought to be long, tight where they ought to be loose, and loose
where they ought to be tight--and to which he imparted a new grace, whenever
the Major attacked him, by shrinking into them like a shrivelled nut, or a
cold monkey--in this flow of spirits and conversation, the Major continued