Bleak House Charles Dickens (classic books to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
Book online «Bleak House Charles Dickens (classic books to read .TXT) đ». Author Charles Dickens
Mr. George, slowly putting down his saucer without tasting its contents, is laughingly beginning, âWhy, what the deuce, Philâ ââ when he stops, seeing that Phil is counting on his dirty fingers.
âI was just eight,â says Phil, âagreeable 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, âWould you like to come along a me, my man?â I says âYes,â 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, âNow, old chap, youâre one and a eight in it.â April Fool Day after that, I says, âNow, old chap, youâre two and a eight in it.â 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 thereâs a eight in it.â
âAh!â says Mr. George, resuming his breakfast. âAnd whereâs the tinker?â
âDrink put him in the hospital, guvâner, and the hospital put himâ âin a glass-case, I have heerd,â Phil replies mysteriously.
âBy that means you got promotion? Took the business, Phil?â
âYes, commander, I took the business. Such as it was. It wasnât much of a beatâ âround Saffron Hill, Hatton Garden, Clerkenwell, Smiffeld, and thereâ âpoor neighbourhood, where they uses up the kettles till theyâre past mending. Most of the tramping tinkers used to come and lodge at our place; that was the best part of my masterâs earnings. But they didnât come to me. I warnât like him. He could sing âem a good song. I couldnât! He could play âem 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 itâ ânever had a note of music in me. Besides, I was too ill-looking, and their wives complained of me.â
âThey were mighty particular. You would pass muster in a crowd, Phil!â says the trooper with a pleasant smile.
âNo, guvâner,â returns Phil, shaking his head. âNo, I shouldnât. 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 natârally unfortânate 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 drinkâ âwhich was almost alwaysâ âmy 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 gasworks, and what with being blowed out of winder case-filling at the firework business, I am ugly enough to be made a show on!â
Resigning himself to which condition with a perfectly satisfied manner, Phil begs the favour of another cup of coffee. While drinking it, he says, âIt was after the case-filling blowup when I first see you, commander. You remember?â
âI remember, Phil. You were walking along in the sun.â
âCrawling, guvâner, again a wallâ ââ
âTrue, Philâ âshouldering your way onâ ââ
âIn a nightcap!â exclaims Phil, excited.
âIn a nightcapâ ââ
âAnd hobbling with a couple of sticks!â cries Phil, still more excited.
âWith a couple of sticks. Whenâ ââ
âWhen you stops, you know,â cries Phil, putting down his cup and saucer and hastily removing his plate from his knees, âand says to me, âWhat, comrade! You have been in the wars!â I didnât 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, âWhat accident have you met with? You have been badly hurt. Whatâs amiss, old boy? Cheer up, and tell us about it!â 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!â cries Phil, who has started from his chair and unaccountably begun to sidle away. âIf a markâs wanted, or if it will improve the business, let the customers take aim at me. They canât spoil my beauty. Iâm all right. Come on! If they want a man to box at, let âem box at me. Let âem knock me well about the head. I donât mind. If they want a lightweight to be throwed for practice, Cornwall, Devonshire, or Lancashire, let âem throw me. They wonât hurt me. I have been throwed, all sorts of styles, all my life!â
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 dumbbells, and afterwards weighing himself and opining that he is getting âtoo fleshy,â engages with great gravity in solitary broadsword practice. Meanwhile Phil has fallen to work at his usual table, where he screws and unscrews, and cleans, and files, and whistles into
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