Bleak House Charles Dickens (classic books to read .TXT) š
- Author: Charles Dickens
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His spirit shone through his son, to whom he had always preached of āgoing outā early in life and whom he made a clerk in a sharp scrivenerās office at twelve years old. There the young gentleman improved his mind, which was of a lean and anxious character, and developing the family gifts, gradually elevated himself into the discounting profession. Going out early in life and marrying late, as his father had done before him, he too begat a lean and anxious-minded son, who in his turn, going out early in life and marrying late, became the father of Bartholomew and Judith Smallweed, twins. During the whole time consumed in the slow growth of this family tree, the house of Smallweed, always early to go out and late to marry, has strengthened itself in its practical character, has discarded all amusements, discountenanced all storybooks, fairytales, fictions, and fables, and banished all levities whatsoever. Hence the gratifying fact that it has had no child born to it and that the complete little men and women whom it has produced have been observed to bear a likeness to old monkeys with something depressing on their minds.
At the present time, in the dark little parlour certain feet below the level of the streetā āa grim, hard, uncouth parlour, only ornamented with the coarsest of baize table-covers, and the hardest of sheet-iron tea-trays, and offering in its decorative character no bad allegorical representation of Grandfather Smallweedās mindā āseated in two black horsehair porterās chairs, one on each side of the fireplace, the superannuated Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed while away the rosy hours. On the stove are a couple of trivets for the pots and kettles which it is Grandfather Smallweedās usual occupation to watch, and projecting from the chimneypiece between them is a sort of brass gallows for roasting, which he also superintends when it is in action. Under the venerable Mr. Smallweedās seat and guarded by his spindle legs is a drawer in his chair, reported to contain property to a fabulous amount. Beside him is a spare cushion with which he is always provided in order that he may have something to throw at the venerable partner of his respected age whenever she makes an allusion to moneyā āa subject on which he is particularly sensitive.
āAnd whereās Bart?ā Grandfather Smallweed inquires of Judy, Bartās twin sister.
āHe anāt come in yet,ā says Judy.
āItās his teatime, isnāt it?ā
āNo.ā
āHow much do you mean to say it wants then?ā
āTen minutes.ā
āHey?ā
āTen minutes.ā (Loud on the part of Judy.)
āHo!ā says Grandfather Smallweed. āTen minutes.ā
Grandmother Smallweed, who has been mumbling and shaking her head at the trivets, hearing figures mentioned, connects them with money and screeches like a horrible old parrot without any plumage, āTen ten-pound notes!ā
Grandfather Smallweed immediately throws the cushion at her.
āDrat you, be quiet!ā says the good old man.
The effect of this act of jaculation is twofold. It not only doubles up Mrs. Smallweedās head against the side of her porterās chair and causes her to present, when extricated by her granddaughter, a highly unbecoming state of cap, but the necessary exertion recoils on Mr. Smallweed himself, whom it throws back into his porterās chair like a broken puppet. The excellent old gentleman being at these times a mere clothes-bag with a black skullcap on the top of it, does not present a very animated appearance until he has undergone the two operations at the hands of his granddaughter of being shaken up like a great bottle and poked and punched like a great bolster. Some indication of a neck being developed in him by these means, he and the sharer of his lifeās evening again fronting one another in their two porterās chairs, like a couple of sentinels long forgotten on their post by the Black Serjeant, Death.
Judy the twin is worthy company for these associates. She is so indubitably sister to Mr. Smallweed the younger that the two kneaded into one would hardly make a young person of average proportions, while she so happily exemplifies the before-mentioned family likeness to the monkey tribe that attired in a spangled robe and cap she might walk about the tableland on the top of a barrel-organ without exciting much remark as an unusual specimen. Under existing circumstances, however, she is dressed in a plain, spare gown of brown stuff.
Judy never owned a doll, never heard of Cinderella, never played at any game. She once or twice fell into childrenās company when she was about ten years old, but the children couldnāt get on with Judy, and Judy couldnāt get on with them. She seemed like an animal of another species, and there was instinctive repugnance on both sides. It is very doubtful whether Judy knows how to laugh. She has so rarely seen the thing done that the probabilities are strong the other way. Of anything like a youthful laugh, she certainly can have no conception. If she were to try one, she would find her teeth in her way, modelling that action of her face, as she has unconsciously modelled all its other expressions, on her pattern of sordid age. Such is Judy.
And her twin brother couldnāt wind up a top for his life. He knows no more of Jack the Giant Killer or of Sinbad the Sailor than he knows of the people in the stars. He could as soon play at leapfrog or at cricket as change into a cricket or
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