calculations when he took to his trade or when he didn’t. A

honouring and obeying wife would let his trade alone altogether.

Call yourself a religious woman? If you’re a religious woman, give

me a irreligious one! You have no more nat’ral sense of duty than

the bed of this here Thames river has of a pile, and similarly it

must be knocked into you.”

The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and

terminated in the honest tradesman’s kicking off his clay-soiled

boots, and lying down at his length on the floor. After taking a

timid peep at him lying on his back, with his rusty hands under his

head for a pillow, his son lay down too, and fell asleep again.

There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else.

Mr. Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of temper, and kept an

iron pot-lid by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs.

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

Cruncher, in case he should observe any symptoms of her saying

Grace. He was brushed and washed at the usual hour, and set off

with his son to pursue his ostensible calling.

Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his

father’s side along sunny and crowded Fleet Street, was a very

different Young Jerry from him of the previous night, running

home through the darkness and solitude from his grim pursuer.

His cunning was fresh with t