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Though
it
may
be
,
Jo
,
that
there
is
a
history
so
interesting
and
affecting
even
to
minds
as
near
the
brutes
as
thine
,
recording
deeds
done
on
this
earth
for
common
men
,
that
if
the
Chadbands
,
removing
their
own
persons
from
the
light
,
would
but
show
it
thee
in
simple
reverence
,
would
but
leave
it
unimproved
,
would
but
regard
it
as
being
eloquent
enough
without
their
modest
aid
—
it
might
hold
thee
awake
,
and
thou
might
learn
from
it
yet
!
Jo
never
heard
of
any
such
book
.
Its
compilers
and
the
Reverend
Chadband
are
all
one
to
him
,
except
that
he
knows
the
Reverend
Chadband
and
would
rather
run
away
from
him
for
an
hour
than
hear
him
talk
for
five
minutes
.
"
It
an
’
t
no
good
my
waiting
here
no
longer
,
"
thinks
Jo
.
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
an
’
t
a
-
going
to
say
nothink
to
me
to
-
night
.
"
And
downstairs
he
shuffles
.
But
downstairs
is
the
charitable
Guster
,
holding
by
the
handrail
of
the
kitchen
stairs
and
warding
off
a
fit
,
as
yet
doubtfully
,
the
same
having
been
induced
by
Mrs
.
Snagsby
’
s
screaming
.
She
has
her
own
supper
of
bread
and
cheese
to
hand
to
Jo
,
with
whom
she
ventures
to
interchange
a
word
or
so
for
the
first
time
.
"
Here
’
s
something
to
eat
,
poor
boy
,
"
says
Guster
.
"
Thank
’
ee
,
mum
,
"
says
Jo
.
"
Are
you
hungry
?
"
"
Jist
!
"
says
Jo
.
"
What
’
s
gone
of
your
father
and
your
mother
,
eh
?
"
Jo
stops
in
the
middle
of
a
bite
and
looks
petrified
.
For
this
orphan
charge
of
the
Christian
saint
whose
shrine
was
at
Tooting
has
patted
him
on
the
shoulder
,
and
it
is
the
first
time
in
his
life
that
any
decent
hand
has
been
so
laid
upon
him
.
"
I
never
know
’
d
nothink
about
’
em
,
"
says
Jo
.
"
No
more
didn
’
t
I
of
mine
,
"
cries
Guster
She
is
repressing
symptoms
favourable
to
the
fit
when
she
seems
to
take
alarm
at
something
and
vanishes
down
the
stairs
.
"
Jo
,
"
whispers
the
law
-
stationer
softly
as
the
boy
lingers
on
the
step
.
"
Here
I
am
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
!
"
"
I
didn
’
t
know
you
were
gone
—
there
’
s
another
half
-
crown
,
Jo
.
It
was
quite
right
of
you
to
say
nothing
about
the
lady
the
other
night
when
we
were
out
together
.
It
would
breed
trouble
.
You
can
’
t
be
too
quiet
,
Jo
.
"
"
I
am
fly
,
master
!
"
And
so
,
good
night
.
A
ghostly
shade
,
frilled
and
night
-
capped
,
follows
the
law
-
stationer
to
the
room
he
came
from
and
glides
higher
up
.
And
henceforth
he
begins
,
go
where
he
will
,
to
be
attended
by
another
shadow
than
his
own
,
hardly
less
constant
than
his
own
,
hardly
less
quiet
than
his
own
.
And
into
whatsoever
atmosphere
of
secrecy
his
own
shadow
may
pass
,
let
all
concerned
in
the
secrecy
beware
!
For
the
watchful
Mrs
.
Snagsby
is
there
too
—
bone
of
his
bone
,
flesh
of
his
flesh
,
shadow
of
his
shadow
.
Wintry
morning
,
looking
with
dull
eyes
and
sallow
face
upon
the
neighbourhood
of
Leicester
Square
,
finds
its
inhabitants
unwilling
to
get
out
of
bed
.
Many
of
them
are
not
early
risers
at
the
brightest
of
times
,
being
birds
of
night
who
roost
when
the
sun
is
high
and
are
wide
awake
and
keen
for
prey
when
the
stars
shine
out
.
Behind
dingy
blind
and
curtain
,
in
upper
story
and
garret
,
skulking
more
or
less
under
false
names
,
false
hair
,
false
titles
,
false
jewellery
,
and
false
histories
,
a
colony
of
brigands
lie
in
their
first
sleep
.
Gentlemen
of
the
green
-
baize
road
who
could
discourse
from
personal
experience
of
foreign
galleys
and
home
treadmills
;
spies
of
strong
governments
that
eternally
quake
with
weakness
and
miserable
fear
,
broken
traitors
,
cowards
,
bullies
,
gamesters
,
shufflers
,
swindlers
,
and
false
witnesses
;
some
not
unmarked
by
the
branding
-
iron
beneath
their
dirty
braid
;
all
with
more
cruelty
in
them
than
was
in
Nero
,
and
more
crime
than
is
in
Newgate
.
For
howsoever
bad
the
devil
can
be
in
fustian
or
smock
-
frock
(
and
he
can
be
very
bad
in
both
)
,
he
is
a
more
designing
,
callous
,
and
intolerable
devil
when
he
sticks
a
pin
in
his
shirt
-
front
,
calls
himself
a
gentleman
,
backs
a
card
or
colour
,
plays
a
game
or
so
of
billiards
,
and
knows
a
little
about
bills
and
promissory
notes
than
in
any
other
form
he
wears
.
And
in
such
form
Mr
.
Bucket
shall
find
him
,
when
he
will
,
still
pervading
the
tributary
channels
of
Leicester
Square
.
But
the
wintry
morning
wants
him
not
and
wakes
him
not
.
It
wakes
Mr
.
George
of
the
shooting
gallery
and
his
familiar
.
They
arise
,
roll
up
and
stow
away
their
mattresses
.
Mr
.
George
,
having
shaved
himself
before
a
looking
-
glass
of
minute
proportions
,
then
marches
out
,
bare
-
headed
and
bare
-
chested
,
to
the
pump
in
the
little
yard
and
anon
comes
back
shining
with
yellow
soap
,
friction
,
drifting
rain
,
and
exceedingly
cold
water
.
As
he
rubs
himself
upon
a
large
jack
-
towel
,
blowing
like
a
military
sort
of
diver
just
come
up
,
his
hair
curling
tighter
and
tighter
on
his
sunburnt
temples
the
more
he
rubs
it
so
that
it
looks
as
if
it
never
could
be
loosened
by
any
less
coercive
instrument
than
an
iron
rake
or
a
curry
-
comb
—
as
he
rubs
,
and
puffs
,
and
polishes
,
and
blows
,
turning
his
head
from
side
to
side
the
more
conveniently
to
excoriate
his
throat
,
and
standing
with
his
body
well
bent
forward
to
keep
the
wet
from
his
martial
legs
,
Phil
,
on
his
knees
lighting
a
fire
,
looks
round
as
if
it
were
enough
washing
for
him
to
see
all
that
done
,
and
sufficient
renovation
for
one
day
to
take
in
the
superfluous
health
his
master
throws
off
.
When
Mr
.
George
is
dry
,
he
goes
to
work
to
brush
his
head
with
two
hard
brushes
at
once
,
to
that
unmerciful
degree
that
Phil
,
shouldering
his
way
round
the
gallery
in
the
act
of
sweeping
it
,
winks
with
sympathy
.
This
chafing
over
,
the
ornamental
part
of
Mr
.
George
’
s
toilet
is
soon
performed
.
He
fills
his
pipe
,
lights
it
,
and
marches
up
and
down
smoking
,
as
his
custom
is
,
while
Phil
,
raising
a
powerful
odour
of
hot
rolls
and
coffee
,
prepares
breakfast
.
He
smokes
gravely
and
marches
in
slow
time
.
Perhaps
this
morning
’
s
pipe
is
devoted
to
the
memory
of
Gridley
in
his
grave
.
"
And
so
,
Phil
,
"
says
George
of
the
shooting
gallery
after
several
turns
in
silence
,
"
you
were
dreaming
of
the
country
last
night
?
"
Phil
,
by
the
by
,
said
as
much
in
a
tone
of
surprise
as
he
scrambled
out
of
bed
.
"
Yes
,
guv
’
ner
.
"
"
What
was
it
like
?
"
"
I
hardly
know
what
it
was
like
,
guv
’
ner
,
"
said
Phil
,
considering
.
"
How
did
you
know
it
was
the
country
?
"
"
On
account
of
the
grass
,
I
think
.
And
the
swans
upon
it
,
"
says
Phil
after
further
consideration
.
"
What
were
the
swans
doing
on
the
grass
?
"
"
They
was
a
-
eating
of
it
,
I
expect
,
"
says
Phil
.
The
master
resumes
his
march
,
and
the
man
resumes
his
preparation
of
breakfast
.
It
is
not
necessarily
a
lengthened
preparation
,
being
limited
to
the
setting
forth
of
very
simple
breakfast
requisites
for
two
and
the
broiling
of
a
rasher
of
bacon
at
the
fire
in
the
rusty
grate
;
but
as
Phil
has
to
sidle
round
a
considerable
part
of
the
gallery
for
every
object
he
wants
,
and
never
brings
two
objects
at
once
,
it
takes
time
under
the
circumstances
.
At
length
the
breakfast
is
ready
.
Phil
announcing
it
,
Mr
.
George
knocks
the
ashes
out
of
his
pipe
on
the
hob
,
stands
his
pipe
itself
in
the
chimney
corner
,
and
sits
down
to
the
meal
.
When
he
has
helped
himself
,
Phil
follows
suit
,
sitting
at
the
extreme
end
of
the
little
oblong
table
and
taking
his
plate
on
his
knees
.
Either
in
humility
,
or
to
hide
his
blackened
hands
,
or
because
it
is
his
natural
manner
of
eating
.
"
The
country
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
plying
his
knife
and
fork
;
"
why
,
I
suppose
you
never
clapped
your
eyes
on
the
country
,
Phil
?
"
"
I
see
the
marshes
once
,
"
says
Phil
,
contentedly
eating
his
breakfast
.
"
What
marshes
?
"
"
THE
marshes
,
commander
,
"
returns
Phil
.
"
Where
are
they
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
where
they
are
,
"
says
Phil
;
"
but
I
see
’
em
,
guv
’
ner
.
They
was
flat
.
And
miste
.
"
Governor
and
commander
are
interchangeable
terms
with
Phil
,
expressive
of
the
same
respect
and
deference
and
applicable
to
nobody
but
Mr
.
George
.
"
I
was
born
in
the
country
,
Phil
.
"
"
Was
you
indeed
,
commander
?
"
"
Yes
.
And
bred
there
.
"
Phil
elevates
his
one
eyebrow
,
and
after
respectfully
staring
at
his
master
to
express
interest
,
swallows
a
great
gulp
of
coffee
,
still
staring
at
him
.
"
There
’
s
not
a
bird
’
s
note
that
I
don
’
t
know
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
.
"
Not
many
an
English
leaf
or
berry
that
I
couldn
’
t
name
.
Not
many
a
tree
that
I
couldn
’
t
climb
yet
if
I
was
put
to
it
.
I
was
a
real
country
boy
,
once
.
My
good
mother
lived
in
the
country
.
"
"
She
must
have
been
a
fine
old
lady
,
guv
’
ner
,
"
Phil
observes
.
"
Aye
!
And
not
so
old
either
,
five
and
thirty
years
ago
,
"
says
Mr
.
George
.
"
But
I
’
ll
wager
that
at
ninety
she
would
be
near
as
upright
as
me
,
and
near
as
broad
across
the
shoulders
.
"
"
Did
she
die
at
ninety
,
guv
’
ner
?
"
inquires
Phil
.
"
No
.
Bosh
!
Let
her
rest
in
peace
,
God
bless
her
!
"
says
the
trooper
.
"
What
set
me
on
about
country
boys
,
and
runaways
,
and
good
-
for
-
nothings
?
You
,
to
be
sure
!
So
you
never
clapped
your
eyes
upon
the
country
—
marshes
and
dreams
excepted
.
Eh
?
"
Phil
shakes
his
head
.
"
Do
you
want
to
see
it
?
"
"
N
-
no
,
I
don
’
t
know
as
I
do
,
particular
,
"
says
Phil
.
"
The
town
’
s
enough
for
you
,
eh
?
"
"
Why
,
you
see
,
commander
,
"
says
Phil
,
"
I
ain
’
t
acquainted
with
anythink
else
,
and
I
doubt
if
I
ain
’
t
a
-
getting
too
old
to
take
to
novelties
.
"
"
How
old
ARE
you
,
Phil
?
"
asks
the
trooper
,
pausing
as
he
conveys
his
smoking
saucer
to
his
lips
.
"
I
’
m
something
with
a
eight
in
it
,
"
says
Phil
.
"
It
can
’
t
be
eighty
.
Nor
yet
eighteen
.
It
’
s
betwixt
’
em
,
somewheres
.
"
Mr
.
George
,
slowly
putting
down
his
saucer
without
tasting
its
contents
,
is
laughingly
beginning
,
"
Why
,
what
the
deuce
,
Phil
—
"
when
he
stops
,
seeing
that
Phil
is
counting
on
his
dirty
fingers
.
"
I
was
just
eight
,
"
says
Phil
,
"
agreeable
to
the
parish
calculation
,
when
I
went
with
the
tinker
.
I
was
sent
on
a
errand
,
and
I
see
him
a
-
sittin
under
a
old
buildin
with
a
fire
all
to
himself
wery
comfortable
,
and
he
says
,
’
Would
you
like
to
come
along
a
me
,
my
man
?
’
I
says
’
Yes
,
’
and
him
and
me
and
the
fire
goes
home
to
Clerkenwell
together
.
That
was
April
Fool
Day
.
I
was
able
to
count
up
to
ten
;
and
when
April
Fool
Day
come
round
again
,
I
says
to
myself
,
’
Now
,
old
chap
,
you
’
re
one
and
a
eight
in
it
.
’
April
Fool
Day
after
that
,
I
says
,
’
Now
,
old
chap
,
you
’
re
two
and
a
eight
in
it
.
’
In
course
of
time
,
I
come
to
ten
and
a
eight
in
it
;
two
tens
and
a
eight
in
it
.
When
it
got
so
high
,
it
got
the
upper
hand
of
me
,
but
this
is
how
I
always
know
there
’
s
a
eight
in
it
.
"
"
Ah
!
"
says
Mr
.
George
,
resuming
his
breakfast
.
"
And
where
’
s
the
tinker
?
"
"
Drink
put
him
in
the
hospital
,
guv
’
ner
,
and
the
hospital
put
him
—
in
a
glass
-
case
,
I
HAVE
heerd
,
"
Phil
replies
mysteriously
.
"
By
that
means
you
got
promotion
?
Took
the
business
,
Phil
?
"
"
Yes
,
commander
,
I
took
the
business
.
Such
as
it
was
.
It
wasn
’
t
much
of
a
beat
—
round
Saffron
Hill
,
Hatton
Garden
,
Clerkenwell
,
Smiffeld
,
and
there
—
poor
neighbourhood
,
where
they
uses
up
the
kettles
till
they
’
re
past
mending
.
Most
of
the
tramping
tinkers
used
to
come
and
lodge
at
our
place
;
that
was
the
best
part
of
my
master
’
s
earnings
.
But
they
didn
’
t
come
to
me
.
I
warn
’
t
like
him
.
He
could
sing
’
em
a
good
song
.
I
couldn
’
t
!
He
could
play
’
em
a
tune
on
any
sort
of
pot
you
please
,
so
as
it
was
iron
or
block
tin
.
I
never
could
do
nothing
with
a
pot
but
mend
it
or
bile
it
—
never
had
a
note
of
music
in
me
.
Besides
,
I
was
too
ill
-
looking
,
and
their
wives
complained
of
me
.
"
"
They
were
mighty
particular
.
You
would
pass
muster
in
a
crowd
,
Phil
!
"
says
the
trooper
with
a
pleasant
smile
.
"
No
,
guv
’
ner
,
"
returns
Phil
,
shaking
his
head
.
"
No
,
I
shouldn
’
t
.
I
was
passable
enough
when
I
went
with
the
tinker
,
though
nothing
to
boast
of
then
;
but
what
with
blowing
the
fire
with
my
mouth
when
I
was
young
,
and
spileing
my
complexion
,
and
singeing
my
hair
off
,
and
swallering
the
smoke
,
and
what
with
being
nat
’
rally
unfort
’
nate
in
the
way
of
running
against
hot
metal
and
marking
myself
by
sich
means
,
and
what
with
having
turn
-
ups
with
the
tinker
as
I
got
older
,
almost
whenever
he
was
too
far
gone
in
drink
—
which
was
almost
always
—
my
beauty
was
queer
,
wery
queer
,
even
at
that
time
.
As
to
since
,
what
with
a
dozen
years
in
a
dark
forge
where
the
men
was
given
to
larking
,
and
what
with
being
scorched
in
a
accident
at
a
gas
-
works
,
and
what
with
being
blowed
out
of
winder
case
-
filling
at
the
firework
business
,
I
am
ugly
enough
to
be
made
a
show
on
!
"
Resigning
himself
to
which
condition
with
a
perfectly
satisfied
manner
,
Phil
begs
the
favour
of
another
cup
of
coffee
.
While
drinking
it
,
he
says
,
"
It
was
after
the
case
-
filling
blow
-
up
when
I
first
see
you
,
commander
.
You
remember
?
"
"
I
remember
,
Phil
.
You
were
walking
along
in
the
sun
.
"
"
Crawling
,
guv
’
ner
,
again
a
wall
—
"
"
True
,
Phil
—
shouldering
your
way
on
—
"
"
In
a
night
-
cap
!
"
exclaims
Phil
,
excited
.
"
In
a
night
-
cap
—
"
"
And
hobbling
with
a
couple
of
sticks
!
"
cries
Phil
,
still
more
excited
.
"
With
a
couple
of
sticks
.
When
—
"
"
When
you
stops
,
you
know
,
"
cries
Phil
,
putting
down
his
cup
and
saucer
and
hastily
removing
his
plate
from
his
knees
,
"
and
says
to
me
,
’
What
,
comrade
!
You
have
been
in
the
wars
!
’
I
didn
’
t
say
much
to
you
,
commander
,
then
,
for
I
was
took
by
surprise
that
a
person
so
strong
and
healthy
and
bold
as
you
was
should
stop
to
speak
to
such
a
limping
bag
of
bones
as
I
was
.
But
you
says
to
me
,
says
you
,
delivering
it
out
of
your
chest
as
hearty
as
possible
,
so
that
it
was
like
a
glass
of
something
hot
,
’
What
accident
have
you
met
with
?
You
have
been
badly
hurt
.
What
’
s
amiss
,
old
boy
?
Cheer
up
,
and
tell
us
about
it
!
’
Cheer
up
!
I
was
cheered
already
!
I
says
as
much
to
you
,
you
says
more
to
me
,
I
says
more
to
you
,
you
says
more
to
me
,
and
here
I
am
,
commander
!
Here
I
am
,
commander
!
"
cries
Phil
,
who
has
started
from
his
chair
and
unaccountably
begun
to
sidle
away
.
"
If
a
mark
’
s
wanted
,
or
if
it
will
improve
the
business
,
let
the
customers
take
aim
at
me
.
They
can
’
t
spoil
MY
beauty
.
I
’
M
all
right
.
Come
on
!
If
they
want
a
man
to
box
at
,
let
’
em
box
at
me
.
Let
’
em
knock
me
well
about
the
head
.
I
don
’
t
mind
.
If
they
want
a
light
-
weight
to
be
throwed
for
practice
,
Cornwall
,
Devonshire
,
or
Lancashire
,
let
’
em
throw
me
.
They
won
’
t
hurt
ME
.
I
have
been
throwed
,
all
sorts
of
styles
,
all
my
life
!
"
With
this
unexpected
speech
,
energetically
delivered
and
accompanied
by
action
illustrative
of
the
various
exercises
referred
to
,
Phil
Squod
shoulders
his
way
round
three
sides
of
the
gallery
,
and
abruptly
tacking
off
at
his
commander
,
makes
a
butt
at
him
with
his
head
,
intended
to
express
devotion
to
his
service
.
He
then
begins
to
clear
away
the
breakfast
.
Mr
.
George
,
after
laughing
cheerfully
and
clapping
him
on
the
shoulder
,
assists
in
these
arrangements
and
helps
to
get
the
gallery
into
business
order
.
That
done
,
he
takes
a
turn
at
the
dumb
-
bells
,
and
afterwards
weighing
himself
and
opining
that
he
is
getting
"
too
fleshy
,
"
engages
with
great
gravity
in
solitary
broadsword
practice
.
