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- Чарльз Диккенс
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George
,
who
has
been
looking
first
at
one
of
them
and
then
at
the
other
,
as
if
he
were
demented
,
takes
his
venerable
acquaintance
by
the
throat
on
receiving
this
request
,
and
dragging
him
upright
in
his
chair
as
easily
as
if
he
were
a
doll
,
appears
in
two
minds
whether
or
no
to
shake
all
future
power
of
cushioning
out
of
him
and
shake
him
into
his
grave
.
Resisting
the
temptation
,
but
agitating
him
violently
enough
to
make
his
head
roll
like
a
harlequin
’
s
,
he
puts
him
smartly
down
in
his
chair
again
and
adjusts
his
skull
-
cap
with
such
a
rub
that
the
old
man
winks
with
both
eyes
for
a
minute
afterwards
.
"
O
Lord
!
"
gasps
Mr
.
Smallweed
.
"
That
’
ll
do
.
Thank
you
,
my
dear
friend
,
that
’
ll
do
.
Oh
,
dear
me
,
I
’
m
out
of
breath
.
O
Lord
!
"
And
Mr
.
Smallweed
says
it
not
without
evident
apprehensions
of
his
dear
friend
,
who
still
stands
over
him
looming
larger
than
ever
.
The
alarming
presence
,
however
,
gradually
subsides
into
its
chair
and
falls
to
smoking
in
long
puffs
,
consoling
itself
with
the
philosophical
reflection
,
"
The
name
of
your
friend
in
the
city
begins
with
a
D
,
comrade
,
and
you
’
re
about
right
respecting
the
bond
.
"
"
Did
you
speak
,
Mr
.
George
?
"
inquires
the
old
man
.
The
trooper
shakes
his
head
,
and
leaning
forward
with
his
right
elbow
on
his
right
knee
and
his
pipe
supported
in
that
hand
,
while
his
other
hand
,
resting
on
his
left
leg
,
squares
his
left
elbow
in
a
martial
manner
,
continues
to
smoke
.
Meanwhile
he
looks
at
Mr
.
Smallweed
with
grave
attention
and
now
and
then
fans
the
cloud
of
smoke
away
in
order
that
he
may
see
him
the
more
clearly
.
"
I
take
it
,
"
he
says
,
making
just
as
much
and
as
little
change
in
his
position
as
will
enable
him
to
reach
the
glass
to
his
lips
with
a
round
,
full
action
,
"
that
I
am
the
only
man
alive
(
or
dead
either
)
that
gets
the
value
of
a
pipe
out
of
YOU
?
"
"
Well
,
"
returns
the
old
man
,
"
it
’
s
true
that
I
don
’
t
see
company
,
Mr
.
George
,
and
that
I
don
’
t
treat
.
I
can
’
t
afford
to
it
.
But
as
you
,
in
your
pleasant
way
,
made
your
pipe
a
condition
—
"
"
Why
,
it
’
s
not
for
the
value
of
it
;
that
’
s
no
great
thing
.
It
was
a
fancy
to
get
it
out
of
you
.
To
have
something
in
for
my
money
.
"
"
Ha
!
You
’
re
prudent
,
prudent
,
sir
!
"
cries
Grandfather
Smallweed
,
rubbing
his
legs
.
"
Very
.
I
always
was
.
"
Puff
.
"
It
’
s
a
sure
sign
of
my
prudence
that
I
ever
found
the
way
here
.
"
Puff
.
"
Also
,
that
I
am
what
I
am
.
"
Puff
.
"
I
am
well
known
to
be
prudent
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
composedly
smoking
.
"
I
rose
in
life
that
way
.
"
"
Don
’
t
be
down
-
hearted
,
sir
.
You
may
rise
yet
.
"
Mr
.
George
laughs
and
drinks
.
"
Ha
’
n
’
t
you
no
relations
,
now
,
"
asks
Grandfather
Smallweed
with
a
twinkle
in
his
eyes
,
"
who
would
pay
off
this
little
principal
or
who
would
lend
you
a
good
name
or
two
that
I
could
persuade
my
friend
in
the
city
to
make
you
a
further
advance
upon
?
Two
good
names
would
be
sufficient
for
my
friend
in
the
city
.
Ha
’
n
’
t
you
no
such
relations
,
Mr
.
George
?
"
Mr
.
George
,
still
composedly
smoking
,
replies
,
"
If
I
had
,
I
shouldn
’
t
trouble
them
.
I
have
been
trouble
enough
to
my
belongings
in
my
day
.
It
MAY
be
a
very
good
sort
of
penitence
in
a
vagabond
,
who
has
wasted
the
best
time
of
his
life
,
to
go
back
then
to
decent
people
that
he
never
was
a
credit
to
and
live
upon
them
,
but
it
’
s
not
my
sort
.
The
best
kind
of
amends
then
for
having
gone
away
is
to
keep
away
,
in
my
opinion
.
"
"
But
natural
affection
,
Mr
.
George
,
"
hints
Grandfather
Smallweed
.
"
For
two
good
names
,
hey
?
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
shaking
his
head
and
still
composedly
smoking
.
"
No
.
That
’
s
not
my
sort
either
.
"
Grandfather
Smallweed
has
been
gradually
sliding
down
in
his
chair
since
his
last
adjustment
and
is
now
a
bundle
of
clothes
with
a
voice
in
it
calling
for
Judy
.
That
houri
,
appearing
,
shakes
him
up
in
the
usual
manner
and
is
charged
by
the
old
gentleman
to
remain
near
him
.
For
he
seems
chary
of
putting
his
visitor
to
the
trouble
of
repeating
his
late
attentions
.
"
Ha
!
"
he
observes
when
he
is
in
trim
again
.
"
If
you
could
have
traced
out
the
captain
,
Mr
.
George
,
it
would
have
been
the
making
of
you
.
If
when
you
first
came
here
,
in
consequence
of
our
advertisement
in
the
newspapers
—
when
I
say
’
our
,
’
I
’
m
alluding
to
the
advertisements
of
my
friend
in
the
city
,
and
one
or
two
others
who
embark
their
capital
in
the
same
way
,
and
are
so
friendly
towards
me
as
sometimes
to
give
me
a
lift
with
my
little
pittance
—
if
at
that
time
you
could
have
helped
us
,
Mr
.
George
,
it
would
have
been
the
making
of
you
.
"
"
I
was
willing
enough
to
be
’
made
,
’
as
you
call
it
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
smoking
not
quite
so
placidly
as
before
,
for
since
the
entrance
of
Judy
he
has
been
in
some
measure
disturbed
by
a
fascination
,
not
of
the
admiring
kind
,
which
obliges
him
to
look
at
her
as
she
stands
by
her
grandfather
’
s
chair
,
"
but
on
the
whole
,
I
am
glad
I
wasn
’
t
now
.
"
"
Why
,
Mr
.
George
?
In
the
name
of
—
of
brimstone
,
why
?
"
says
Grandfather
Smallweed
with
a
plain
appearance
of
exasperation
.
(
Brimstone
apparently
suggested
by
his
eye
lighting
on
Mrs
.
Smallweed
in
her
slumber
.
)
"
For
two
reasons
,
comrade
.
"
"
And
what
two
reasons
,
Mr
.
George
?
In
the
name
of
the
—
"
"
Of
our
friend
in
the
city
?
"
suggests
Mr
.
George
,
composedly
drinking
.
"
Aye
,
if
you
like
.
What
two
reasons
?
"
"
In
the
first
place
,
"
returns
Mr
.
George
,
but
still
looking
at
Judy
as
if
she
being
so
old
and
so
like
her
grandfather
it
is
indifferent
which
of
the
two
he
addresses
,
"
you
gentlemen
took
me
in
.
You
advertised
that
Mr
.
Hawdon
(
Captain
Hawdon
,
if
you
hold
to
the
saying
’
Once
a
captain
,
always
a
captain
’
)
was
to
hear
of
something
to
his
advantage
.
"
"
Well
?
"
returns
the
old
man
shrilly
and
sharply
.
"
Well
!
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
smoking
on
.
"
It
wouldn
’
t
have
been
much
to
his
advantage
to
have
been
clapped
into
prison
by
the
whole
bill
and
judgment
trade
of
London
.
"
"
How
do
you
know
that
?
Some
of
his
rich
relations
might
have
paid
his
debts
or
compounded
for
’
em
.
Besides
,
he
had
taken
US
in
.
He
owed
us
immense
sums
all
round
.
I
would
sooner
have
strangled
him
than
had
no
return
.
If
I
sit
here
thinking
of
him
,
"
snarls
the
old
man
,
holding
up
his
impotent
ten
fingers
,
"
I
want
to
strangle
him
now
.
"
And
in
a
sudden
access
of
fury
,
he
throws
the
cushion
at
the
unoffending
Mrs
.
Smallweed
,
but
it
passes
harmlessly
on
one
side
of
her
chair
.
"
I
don
’
t
need
to
be
told
,
"
returns
the
trooper
,
taking
his
pipe
from
his
lips
for
a
moment
and
carrying
his
eyes
back
from
following
the
progress
of
the
cushion
to
the
pipe
-
bowl
which
is
burning
low
,
"
that
he
carried
on
heavily
and
went
to
ruin
.
I
have
been
at
his
right
hand
many
a
day
when
he
was
charging
upon
ruin
full
-
gallop
.
I
was
with
him
when
he
was
sick
and
well
,
rich
and
poor
.
I
laid
this
hand
upon
him
after
he
had
run
through
everything
and
broken
down
everything
beneath
him
—
when
he
held
a
pistol
to
his
head
.
"
"
I
wish
he
had
let
it
off
,
"
says
the
benevolent
old
man
,
"
and
blown
his
head
into
as
many
pieces
as
he
owed
pounds
!
"
"
That
would
have
been
a
smash
indeed
,
"
returns
the
trooper
coolly
;
"
any
way
,
he
had
been
young
,
hopeful
,
and
handsome
in
the
days
gone
by
,
and
I
am
glad
I
never
found
him
,
when
he
was
neither
,
to
lead
to
a
result
so
much
to
his
advantage
.
That
’
s
reason
number
one
.
"
"
I
hope
number
two
’
s
as
good
?
"
snarls
the
old
man
.
"
Why
,
no
.
It
’
s
more
of
a
selfish
reason
.
If
I
had
found
him
,
I
must
have
gone
to
the
other
world
to
look
.
He
was
there
.
"
"
How
do
you
know
he
was
there
?
"
"
He
wasn
’
t
here
.
"
"
How
do
you
know
he
wasn
’
t
here
?
"
"
Don
’
t
lose
your
temper
as
well
as
your
money
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
calmly
knocking
the
ashes
out
of
his
pipe
.
"
He
was
drowned
long
before
.
I
am
convinced
of
it
.
He
went
over
a
ship
’
s
side
.
Whether
intentionally
or
accidentally
,
I
don
’
t
know
.
Perhaps
your
friend
in
the
city
does
.
Do
you
know
what
that
tune
is
,
Mr
.
Smallweed
?
"
he
adds
after
breaking
off
to
whistle
one
,
accompanied
on
the
table
with
the
empty
pipe
.
"
Tune
!
"
replied
the
old
man
.
"
No
.
We
never
have
tunes
here
.
"
"
That
’
s
the
Dead
March
in
Saul
.
They
bury
soldiers
to
it
,
so
it
’
s
the
natural
end
of
the
subject
.
Now
,
if
your
pretty
granddaughter
—
excuse
me
,
miss
—
will
condescend
to
take
care
of
this
pipe
for
two
months
,
we
shall
save
the
cost
of
one
next
time
.
Good
evening
,
Mr
.
Smallweed
!
"
"
My
dear
friend
!
"
the
old
man
gives
him
both
his
hands
.
"
So
you
think
your
friend
in
the
city
will
be
hard
upon
me
if
I
fall
in
a
payment
?
"
says
the
trooper
,
looking
down
upon
him
like
a
giant
.
"
My
dear
friend
,
I
am
afraid
he
will
,
"
returns
the
old
man
,
looking
up
at
him
like
a
pygmy
.
Mr
.
George
laughs
,
and
with
a
glance
at
Mr
.
Smallweed
and
a
parting
salutation
to
the
scornful
Judy
,
strides
out
of
the
parlour
,
clashing
imaginary
sabres
and
other
metallic
appurtenances
as
he
goes
.
"
You
’
re
a
damned
rogue
,
"
says
the
old
gentleman
,
making
a
hideous
grimace
at
the
door
as
he
shuts
it
.
"
But
I
’
ll
lime
you
,
you
dog
,
I
’
ll
lime
you
!
"
After
this
amiable
remark
,
his
spirit
soars
into
those
enchanting
regions
of
reflection
which
its
education
and
pursuits
have
opened
to
it
,
and
again
he
and
Mrs
.
Smallweed
while
away
the
rosy
hours
,
two
unrelieved
sentinels
forgotten
as
aforesaid
by
the
Black
Serjeant
.
While
the
twain
are
faithful
to
their
post
,
Mr
.
George
strides
through
the
streets
with
a
massive
kind
of
swagger
and
a
grave
-
enough
face
.
It
is
eight
o
’
clock
now
,
and
the
day
is
fast
drawing
in
.
He
stops
hard
by
Waterloo
Bridge
and
reads
a
playbill
,
decides
to
go
to
Astley
’
s
Theatre
.
Being
there
,
is
much
delighted
with
the
horses
and
the
feats
of
strength
;
looks
at
the
weapons
with
a
critical
eye
;
disapproves
of
the
combats
as
giving
evidences
of
unskilful
swordsmanship
;
but
is
touched
home
by
the
sentiments
.
In
the
last
scene
,
when
the
Emperor
of
Tartary
gets
up
into
a
cart
and
condescends
to
bless
the
united
lovers
by
hovering
over
them
with
the
Union
Jack
,
his
eyelashes
are
moistened
with
emotion
.
The
theatre
over
,
Mr
.
George
comes
across
the
water
again
and
makes
his
way
to
that
curious
region
lying
about
the
Haymarket
and
Leicester
Square
which
is
a
centre
of
attraction
to
indifferent
foreign
hotels
and
indifferent
foreigners
,
racket
-
courts
,
fighting
-
men
,
swordsmen
,
footguards
,
old
china
,
gaming
-
houses
,
exhibitions
,
and
a
large
medley
of
shabbiness
and
shrinking
out
of
sight
.
Penetrating
to
the
heart
of
this
region
,
he
arrives
by
a
court
and
a
long
whitewashed
passage
at
a
great
brick
building
composed
of
bare
walls
,
floors
,
roof
-
rafters
,
and
skylights
,
on
the
front
of
which
,
if
it
can
be
said
to
have
any
front
,
is
painted
GEORGE
’
S
SHOOTING
GALLERY
,
&
c
.
Into
George
’
s
Shooting
Gallery
,
&
c
.
,
he
goes
;
and
in
it
there
are
gaslights
(
partly
turned
off
now
)
,
and
two
whitened
targets
for
rifle
-
shooting
,
and
archery
accommodation
,
and
fencing
appliances
,
and
all
necessaries
for
the
British
art
of
boxing
.
None
of
these
sports
or
exercises
being
pursued
in
George
’
s
Shooting
Gallery
to
-
night
,
which
is
so
devoid
of
company
that
a
little
grotesque
man
with
a
large
head
has
it
all
to
himself
and
lies
asleep
upon
the
floor
.
The
little
man
is
dressed
something
like
a
gunsmith
,
in
a
green
-
baize
apron
and
cap
;
and
his
face
and
hands
are
dirty
with
gunpowder
and
begrimed
with
the
loading
of
guns
.
As
he
lies
in
the
light
before
a
glaring
white
target
,
the
black
upon
him
shines
again
.
Not
far
off
is
the
strong
,
rough
,
primitive
table
with
a
vice
upon
it
at
which
he
has
been
working
.
He
is
a
little
man
with
a
face
all
crushed
together
,
who
appears
,
from
a
certain
blue
and
speckled
appearance
that
one
of
his
cheeks
presents
,
to
have
been
blown
up
,
in
the
way
of
business
,
at
some
odd
time
or
times
.
"
Phil
!
"
says
the
trooper
in
a
quiet
voice
.
"
All
right
!
"
cries
Phil
,
scrambling
to
his
feet
.
"
Anything
been
doing
?
"
"
Flat
as
ever
so
much
swipes
,
"
says
Phil
.
"
Five
dozen
rifle
and
a
dozen
pistol
.
As
to
aim
!
"
Phil
gives
a
howl
at
the
recollection
.
"
Shut
up
shop
,
Phil
!
"
As
Phil
moves
about
to
execute
this
order
,
it
appears
that
he
is
lame
,
though
able
to
move
very
quickly
.
On
the
speckled
side
of
his
face
he
has
no
eyebrow
,
and
on
the
other
side
he
has
a
bushy
black
one
,
which
want
of
uniformity
gives
him
a
very
singular
and
rather
sinister
appearance
.
Everything
seems
to
have
happened
to
his
hands
that
could
possibly
take
place
consistently
with
the
retention
of
all
the
fingers
,
for
they
are
notched
,
and
seamed
,
and
crumpled
all
over
.
He
appears
to
be
very
strong
and
lifts
heavy
benches
about
as
if
he
had
no
idea
what
weight
was
He
has
a
curious
way
of
limping
round
the
gallery
with
his
shoulder
against
the
wall
and
tacking
off
at
objects
he
wants
to
lay
hold
of
instead
of
going
straight
to
them
,
which
has
left
a
smear
all
round
the
four
walls
,
conventionally
called
"
Phil
’
s
mark
.
"
This
custodian
of
George
’
s
Gallery
in
George
’
s
absence
concludes
his
proceedings
,
when
he
has
locked
the
great
doors
and
turned
out
all
the
lights
but
one
,
which
he
leaves
to
glimmer
,
by
dragging
out
from
a
wooden
cabin
in
a
corner
two
mattresses
and
bedding
.
These
being
drawn
to
opposite
ends
of
the
gallery
,
the
trooper
makes
his
own
bed
and
Phil
makes
his
.
"
Phil
!
"
says
the
master
,
walking
towards
him
without
his
coat
and
waistcoat
,
and
looking
more
soldierly
than
ever
in
his
braces
.
"
You
were
found
in
a
doorway
,
weren
’
t
you
?
"
"
Gutter
,
"
says
Phil
.
"
Watchman
tumbled
over
me
.
"
"
Then
vagabondizing
came
natural
to
YOU
from
the
beginning
.
"
"
As
nat
’
ral
as
possible
,
"
says
Phil
.
"
Good
night
!
"
"
Good
night
,
guv
’
ner
.
"
Phil
cannot
even
go
straight
to
bed
,
but
finds
it
necessary
to
shoulder
round
two
sides
of
the
gallery
and
then
tack
off
at
his
mattress
.
The
trooper
,
after
taking
a
turn
or
two
in
the
rifle
-
distance
and
looking
up
at
the
moon
now
shining
through
the
skylights
,
strides
to
his
own
mattress
by
a
shorter
route
and
goes
to
bed
too
.
Allegory
looks
pretty
cool
in
Lincoln
’
s
Inn
Fields
,
though
the
evening
is
hot
,
for
both
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
’
s
windows
are
wide
open
,
and
the
room
is
lofty
,
gusty
,
and
gloomy
.
These
may
not
be
desirable
characteristics
when
November
comes
with
fog
and
sleet
or
January
with
ice
and
snow
,
but
they
have
their
merits
in
the
sultry
long
vacation
weather
.
They
enable
Allegory
,
though
it
has
cheeks
like
peaches
,
and
knees
like
bunches
of
blossoms
,
and
rosy
swellings
for
calves
to
its
legs
and
muscles
to
its
arms
,
to
look
tolerably
cool
to
-
night
.
Plenty
of
dust
comes
in
at
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
’
s
windows
,
and
plenty
more
has
generated
among
his
furniture
and
papers
.
It
lies
thick
everywhere
.
When
a
breeze
from
the
country
that
has
lost
its
way
takes
fright
and
makes
a
blind
hurry
to
rush
out
again
,
it
flings
as
much
dust
in
the
eyes
of
Allegory
as
the
law
—
or
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
one
of
its
trustiest
representatives
—
may
scatter
,
on
occasion
,
in
the
eyes
of
the
laity
.
In
his
lowering
magazine
of
dust
,
the
universal
article
into
which
his
papers
and
himself
,
and
all
his
clients
,
and
all
things
of
earth
,
animate
and
inanimate
,
are
resolving
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
sits
at
one
of
the
open
windows
enjoying
a
bottle
of
old
port
.
Though
a
hard
-
grained
man
,
close
,
dry
,
and
silent
,
he
can
enjoy
old
wine
with
the
best
.
He
has
a
priceless
bin
of
port
in
some
artful
cellar
under
the
Fields
,
which
is
one
of
his
many
secrets
.
