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410 the manager, taking a whiff at his pipe to keep it alight, and returning to his work of embellishment. ‘One may do worse than that,’ said Nicholas. ‘I can rough it, I believe, as well as most young men of my age and previous habits.’ ‘You need be able to,’ said the manager, ‘if you go on board ship; but you won’t.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because there’s not a skipper or mate that would think you worth your salt, when he could get a practised hand,’ replied the manager; ‘and they as plentiful there, as the oysters in the streets.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asked Nicholas, alarmed by this prediction, and the confident tone in which it had been uttered. ‘Men are not born able seamen. They must be reared, I suppose?’ Mr Vincent Crummles nodded his head. ‘They must; but not at your age, or from young gentlemen like you.’ There was a pause. The countenance of Nicholas fell, and he gazed ruefully at the fire. ‘Does no other profession occur to you, which a young man of your figure and address could take up easily, and see the world to advantage in?’ asked the manager. ‘No,’ said Nicholas, shaking his head. ‘Why, then, I’ll tell you one,’ said Mr Crummles, throwing his pipe into the fire, and raising his voice. ‘The stage.’ ‘The stage!’ cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud. ‘The theatrical profession,’ said Mr Vincent Crummles. ‘I am in the theatrical profession myself, my wife is in the theatrical profession, my children are in the theatrical profession. I had a dog that lived and died in it from a puppy; and my chaise-pony goes on, in Timour the Tartar. I’ll bring you out, and your friend |