Book + 

the First + 

Sowing + 

I + 

The One Thing Needful + 

тАЬNow, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to Facts, sir!тАЭ + 

The scene was a plain, bare, monotonous vault of a schoolroom, and the speakerтАЩs square forefinger emphasized his observations by underscoring every sentence with a line on the schoolmasterтАЩs sleeve. The emphasis was helped by the speakerтАЩs square wall of a forehead, which had his eyebrows for its base, while his eyes found commodious cellarage in two dark caves, overshadowed by the wall. The emphasis was helped by the speakerтАЩs mouth, which was wide, thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speakerтАЩs voice, which was inflexible, dry, and dictatorial. The emphasis was helped by the speakerтАЩs hair, which bristled on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface, all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-room for the hard facts stored inside. The speakerтАЩs obstinate carriage, square coat, square legs, square shouldersтБатАФnay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by the throat with an unaccommodating grasp, like a stubborn fact, as it wasтБатАФall helped the emphasis. + 

тАЬIn this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but Facts!тАЭ + 

The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown person present, all backed a little, and swept with their eyes the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in order, ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until they were full to the brim. + 

II + 

Murdering the Innocents + 

Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that two and two are four, and nothing over, and who is not to be talked into allowing for anything over. Thomas Gradgrind, sirтБатАФperemptorily ThomasтБатАФThomas Gradgrind. With a rule and a pair of scales, and the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir, ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature, and tell you exactly what it comes to. It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple arithmetic. You might hope to get some other nonsensical belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind (all supposititious, nonexistent persons), but into the head of Thomas GradgrindтБатАФno, sir! + 

In such terms Mr.┬аGradgrind always mentally introduced himself, whether to his private circle of acquaintance, or to the public in general. In such terms, no doubt, substituting the words тАЬboys and girls,тАЭ for тАЬsir,тАЭ Thomas Gradgrind now presented Thomas Gradgrind to the little pitchers before him, who were to be filled so full of facts. + 

Indeed, as he eagerly sparkled at them from the cellarage before mentioned, he seemed a kind of cannon loaded to the muzzle with facts, and prepared to blow them clean out of the regions of childhood at one discharge. He seemed a galvanizing apparatus, too, charged with a grim mechanical substitute for the tender young imaginations that were to be stormed away. + 

тАЬGirl number twenty,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, squarely pointing with his square forefinger, тАЬI donтАЩt know that girl. Who is that girl?тАЭ + 

тАЬSissy Jupe, sir,тАЭ explained number twenty, blushing, standing up, and curtseying. + 

тАЬSissy is not a name,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬDonтАЩt call yourself Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia.тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs father as calls me Sissy, sir,тАЭ returned the young girl in a trembling voice, and with another curtsey. + 

тАЬThen he has no business to do it,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬTell him he mustnтАЩt. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What is your father?тАЭ + 

тАЬHe belongs to the horse-riding, if you please, sir.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable calling with his hand. + 

тАЬWe donтАЩt want to know anything about that, here. You mustnтАЩt tell us about that, here. Your father breaks horses, donтАЩt he?тАЭ + 

тАЬIf you please, sir, when they can get any to break, they do break horses in the ring, sir.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou mustnтАЩt tell us about the ring, here. Very well, then. Describe your father as a horsebreaker. He doctors sick horses, I dare say?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh yes, sir.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery well, then. He is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier, and horsebreaker. Give me your definition of a horse.тАЭ + 

(Sissy Jupe thrown into the greatest alarm by this demand.) + 

тАЬGirl number twenty unable to define a horse!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, for the general behoof of all the little pitchers. тАЬGirl number twenty possessed of no facts, in reference to one of the commonest of animals! Some boyтАЩs definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours.тАЭ + 

The square finger, moving here and there, lighted suddenly on Bitzer, perhaps because he chanced to sit in the same ray of sunlight which, darting in at one of the bare windows of the intensely whitewashed room, irradiated Sissy. For, the boys and girls sat on the face of the inclined plane in two compact bodies, divided up the centre by a narrow interval; and Sissy, being at the corner of a row on the sunny side, came in for the beginning of a sunbeam, of which Bitzer, being at the corner of a row on the other side, a few rows in advance, caught the end. But, whereas the girl was so dark-eyed and dark-haired, that she seemed to receive a deeper and more lustrous colour from the sun, when it shone upon her, the boy was so light-eyed and light-haired that the selfsame rays appeared to draw out of him what little colour he ever possessed. His cold eyes would hardly have been eyes, but for the short ends of lashes which, by bringing them into immediate contrast with something paler than themselves, expressed their form. His short-cropped hair might have been a mere continuation of the sandy freckles on his forehead and face. His skin was so unwholesomely deficient in the natural tinge, that he looked as though, if he were cut, he would bleed white. + 

тАЬBitzer,тАЭ said Thomas Gradgrind. тАЬYour definition of a horse.тАЭ + 

тАЬQuadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth, namely twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisive. Sheds coat in the spring; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs, too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron. Age known by marks in mouth.тАЭ Thus (and much more) Bitzer. + 

тАЬNow girl number twenty,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬYou know what a horse is.тАЭ + 

She curtseyed again, and would have blushed deeper, if she could have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this time. Bitzer, after rapidly blinking at Thomas Gradgrind with both eyes at once, and so catching the light upon his quivering ends of lashes that they looked like the antenn├ж of busy insects, put his knuckles to his freckled forehead, and sat down again. + 

The third gentleman now stepped forth. A mighty man at cutting and drying, he was; a government officer; in his way (and in most other peopleтАЩs too), a professed pugilist; always in training, always with a system to force down the general throat like a bolus, always to be heard of at the bar of his little public-office, ready to fight all England. To continue in fistic phraseology, he had a genius for coming up to the scratch, wherever and whatever it was, and proving himself an ugly customer. He would go in and damage any subject whatever with his right, follow up with his left, stop, exchange, counter, bore his opponent (he always fought All England) to the ropes, and fall upon him neatly. He was certain to knock the wind out of common sense, and render that unlucky adversary deaf to the call of time. And he had it in charge from high authority to bring about the great public-office Millennium, when Commissioners should reign upon earth. + 

тАЬVery well,тАЭ said this gentleman, briskly smiling, and folding his arms. тАЬThatтАЩs a horse. Now, let me ask you girls and boys, Would you paper a room with representations of horses?тАЭ + 

After a pause, one half of the children cried in chorus, тАЬYes, sir!тАЭ Upon which the other half, seeing in the gentlemanтАЩs face that Yes was wrong, cried out in chorus, тАЬNo, sir!тАЭтБатАФas the custom is, in these examinations. + 

тАЬOf course, No. Why wouldnтАЩt you?тАЭ + 

A pause. One corpulent slow boy, with a wheezy manner of breathing, ventured the answer, Because he wouldnтАЩt paper a room at all, but would paint it. + 

тАЬYou must paper it,тАЭ said the gentleman, rather warmly. + 

тАЬYou must paper it,тАЭ said Thomas Gradgrind, тАЬwhether you like it or not. DonтАЩt tell us you wouldnтАЩt paper it. What do you mean, boy?тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll explain to you, then,тАЭ said the gentleman, after another and a dismal pause, тАЬwhy you wouldnтАЩt paper a room with representations of horses. Do you ever see horses walking up and down the sides of rooms in realityтБатАФin fact? Do you?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir!тАЭ from one half. тАЬNo, sir!тАЭ from the other. + 

тАЬOf course no,тАЭ said the gentleman, with an indignant look at the wrong half. тАЬWhy, then, you are not to see anywhere, what you donтАЩt see in fact; you are not to have anywhere, what you donтАЩt have in fact. What is called Taste, is only another name for Fact.тАЭ Thomas Gradgrind nodded his approbation. + 

тАЬThis is a new principle, a discovery, a great discovery,тАЭ said the gentleman. тАЬNow, IтАЩll try you again. Suppose you were going to carpet a room. Would you use a carpet having a representation of flowers upon it?тАЭ + 

There being a general conviction by this time that тАЬNo, sir!тАЭ was always the right answer to this gentleman, the chorus of No was very strong. Only a few feeble stragglers said Yes: among them Sissy Jupe. + 

тАЬGirl number twenty,тАЭ said the gentleman, smiling in the calm strength of knowledge. + 

Sissy blushed, and stood up. + 

тАЬSo you would carpet your roomтБатАФor your husbandтАЩs room, if you were a grown woman, and had a husbandтБатАФwith representations of flowers, would you?тАЭ said the gentleman. тАЬWhy would you?тАЭ + 

тАЬIf you please, sir, I am very fond of flowers,тАЭ returned the girl. + 

тАЬAnd is that why you would put tables and chairs upon them, and have people walking over them with heavy boots?тАЭ + 

тАЬIt wouldnтАЩt hurt them, sir. They wouldnтАЩt crush and wither, if you please, sir. They would be the pictures of what was very pretty and pleasant, and I would fancyтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬAy, ay, ay! But you mustnтАЩt fancy,тАЭ cried the gentleman, quite elated by coming so happily to his point. тАЬThatтАЩs it! You are never to fancy.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are not, Cecilia Jupe,тАЭ Thomas Gradgrind solemnly repeated, тАЬto do anything of that kind.тАЭ + 

тАЬFact, fact, fact!тАЭ said the gentleman. And тАЬFact, fact, fact!тАЭ repeated Thomas Gradgrind. + 

тАЬYou are to be in all things regulated and governed,тАЭ said the gentleman, тАЬby fact. We hope to have, before long, a board of fact, composed of commissioners of fact, who will force the people to be a people of fact, and of nothing but fact. You must discard the word Fancy altogether. You have nothing to do with it. You are not to have, in any object of use or ornament, what would be a contradiction in fact. You donтАЩt walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets. You donтАЩt find that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your crockery; you cannot be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon your crockery. You never meet with quadrupeds going up and down walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented upon walls. You must use,тАЭ said the gentleman, тАЬfor all these purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colours) of mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration. This is the new discovery. This is fact. This is taste.тАЭ + 

The girl curtseyed, and sat down. She was very young, and she looked as if she were frightened by the matter-of-fact prospect the world afforded. + 

тАЬNow, if Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild,тАЭ said the gentleman, тАЬwill proceed to give his first lesson here, Mr.┬аGradgrind, I shall be happy, at your request, to observe his mode of procedure.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind was much obliged. тАЬMr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild, we only wait for you.тАЭ + 

So, Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild began in his best manner. He and some one hundred and forty other schoolmasters, had been lately turned at the same time, in the same factory, on the same principles, like so many pianoforte legs. He had been put through an immense variety of paces, and had answered volumes of head-breaking questions. Orthography, etymology, syntax, and prosody, biography, astronomy, geography, and general cosmography, the sciences of compound proportion, algebra, land-surveying and levelling, vocal music, and drawing from models, were all at the ends of his ten chilled fingers. He had worked his stony way into Her MajestyтАЩs most Honourable Privy CouncilтАЩs Schedule B, and had taken the bloom off the higher branches of mathematics and physical science, French, German, Latin, and Greek. He knew all about all the watersheds of all the world (whatever they are), and all the histories of all the peoples, and all the names of all the rivers and mountains, and all the productions, manners, and customs of all the countries, and all their boundaries and bearings on the two and thirty points of the compass. Ah, rather overdone, MтАЩChoakumchild. If he had only learnt a little less, how infinitely better he might have taught much more! + 

He went to work in this preparatory lesson, not unlike Morgiana in the Forty Thieves: looking into all the vessels ranged before him, one after another, to see what they contained. Say, good MтАЩChoakumchild. When from thy boiling store, thou shalt fill each jar brim full by-and-by, dost thou think that thou wilt always kill outright the robber Fancy lurking withinтБатАФor sometimes only maim him and distort him! + 

III + 

A Loophole + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind walked homeward from the school, in a state of considerable satisfaction. It was his school, and he intended it to be a model. He intended every child in it to be a modelтБатАФjust as the young Gradgrinds were all models. + 

There were five young Gradgrinds, and they were models every one. They had been lectured at, from their tenderest years; coursed, like little hares. Almost as soon as they could run alone, they had been made to run to the lecture-room. The first object with which they had an association, or of which they had a remembrance, was a large black board with a dry ogre chalking ghastly white figures on it. + 

Not that they knew, by name or nature, anything about an ogre. Fact forbid! I only use the word to express a monster in a lecturing castle, with Heaven knows how many heads manipulated into one, taking childhood captive, and dragging it into gloomy statistical dens by the hair. + 

No little Gradgrind had ever seen a face in the moon; it was up in the moon before it could speak distinctly. No little Gradgrind had ever learnt the silly jingle, Twinkle, twinkle, little star; how I wonder what you are! No little Gradgrind had ever known wonder on the subject, each little Gradgrind having at five years old dissected the Great Bear like a Professor Owen, and driven CharlesтАЩs Wain like a locomotive engine-driver. No little Gradgrind had ever associated a cow in a field with that famous cow with the crumpled horn who tossed the dog who worried the cat who killed the rat who ate the malt, or with that yet more famous cow who swallowed Tom Thumb: it had never heard of those celebrities, and had only been introduced to a cow as a graminivorous ruminating quadruped with several stomachs. + 

To his matter-of-fact home, which was called Stone Lodge, Mr.┬аGradgrind directed his steps. He had virtually retired from the wholesale hardware trade before he built Stone Lodge, and was now looking about for a suitable opportunity of making an arithmetical figure in Parliament. Stone Lodge was situated on a moor within a mile or two of a great townтБатАФcalled Coketown in the present faithful guidebook. + 

A very regular feature on the face of the country, Stone Lodge was. Not the least disguise toned down or shaded off that uncompromising fact in the landscape. A great square house, with a heavy portico darkening the principal windows, as its masterтАЩs heavy brows overshadowed his eyes. A calculated, cast up, balanced, and proved house. Six windows on this side of the door, six on that side; a total of twelve in this wing, a total of twelve in the other wing; four-and-twenty carried over to the back wings. A lawn and garden and an infant avenue, all ruled straight like a botanical account-book. Gas and ventilation, drainage and water-service, all of the primest quality. Iron clamps and girders, fireproof from top to bottom; mechanical lifts for the housemaids, with all their brushes and brooms; everything that heart could desire. + 

Everything? Well, I suppose so. The little Gradgrinds had cabinets in various departments of science too. They had a little conchological cabinet, and a little metallurgical cabinet, and a little mineralogical cabinet; and the specimens were all arranged and labelled, and the bits of stone and ore looked as though they might have been broken from the parent substances by those tremendously hard instruments their own names; and, to paraphrase the idle legend of Peter Piper, who had never found his way into their nursery, if the greedy little Gradgrinds grasped at more than this, what was it for good gracious goodnessтАЩ sake, that the greedy little Gradgrinds grasped it! + 

Their father walked on in a hopeful and satisfied frame of mind. He was an affectionate father, after his manner; but he would probably have described himself (if he had been put, like Sissy Jupe, upon a definition) as тАЬan eminently practicalтАЭ father. He had a particular pride in the phrase eminently practical, which was considered to have a special application to him. Whatsoever the public meeting held in Coketown, and whatsoever the subject of such meeting, some Coketowner was sure to seize the occasion of alluding to his eminently practical friend Gradgrind. This always pleased the eminently practical friend. He knew it to be his due, but his due was acceptable. + 

He had reached the neutral ground upon the outskirts of the town, which was neither town nor country, and yet was either spoiled, when his ears were invaded by the sound of music. The clashing and banging band attached to the horse-riding establishment, which had there set up its rest in a wooden pavilion, was in full bray. A flag, floating from the summit of the temple, proclaimed to mankind that it was тАЬSlearyтАЩs Horse-RidingтАЭ which claimed their suffrages. Sleary himself, a stout modern statue with a money-box at its elbow, in an ecclesiastical niche of early Gothic architecture, took the money. Miss Josephine Sleary, as some very long and very narrow strips of printed bill announced, was then inaugurating the entertainments with her graceful equestrian Tyrolean flower-act. Among the other pleasing but always strictly moral wonders which must be seen to be believed, Signor Jupe was that afternoon to тАЬelucidate the diverting accomplishments of his highly trained performing dog Merrylegs.тАЭ He was also to exhibit тАЬhis astounding feat of throwing seventy-five hundredweight in rapid succession backhanded over his head, thus forming a fountain of solid iron in midair, a feat never before attempted in this or any other country, and which having elicited such rapturous plaudits from enthusiastic throngs it cannot be withdrawn.тАЭ The same Signor Jupe was to тАЬenliven the varied performances at frequent intervals with his chaste Shakespearean quips and retorts.тАЭ Lastly, he was to wind them up by appearing in his favourite character of Mr.┬аWilliam Button, of Tooley Street, in тАЬthe highly novel and laughable hippo-comedietta of The TailorтАЩs Journey to Brentford.тАЭ + 

Thomas Gradgrind took no heed of these trivialities of course, but passed on as a practical man ought to pass on, either brushing the noisy insects from his thoughts, or consigning them to the House of Correction. But, the turning of the road took him by the back of the booth, and at the back of the booth a number of children were congregated in a number of stealthy attitudes, striving to peep in at the hidden glories of the place. + 

This brought him to a stop. тАЬNow, to think of these vagabonds,тАЭ said he, тАЬattracting the young rabble from a model school.тАЭ + 

A space of stunted grass and dry rubbish being between him and the young rabble, he took his eyeglass out of his waistcoat to look for any child he knew by name, and might order off. Phenomenon almost incredible though distinctly seen, what did he then behold but his own metallurgical Louisa, peeping with all her might through a hole in a deal board, and his own mathematical Thomas abasing himself on the ground to catch but a hoof of the graceful equestrian Tyrolean flower-act! + 

Dumb with amazement, Mr.┬аGradgrind crossed to the spot where his family was thus disgraced, laid his hand upon each erring child, and said: + 

тАЬLouisa!! Thomas!!тАЭ + 

Both rose, red and disconcerted. But, Louisa looked at her father with more boldness than Thomas did. Indeed, Thomas did not look at him, but gave himself up to be taken home like a machine. + 

тАЬIn the name of wonder, idleness, and folly!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, leading each away by a hand; тАЬwhat do you do here?тАЭ + 

тАЬWanted to see what it was like,тАЭ returned Louisa, shortly. + 

тАЬWhat it was like?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, father.тАЭ + 

There was an air of jaded sullenness in them both, and particularly in the girl: yet, struggling through the dissatisfaction of her face, there was a light with nothing to rest upon, a fire with nothing to burn, a starved imagination keeping life in itself somehow, which brightened its expression. Not with the brightness natural to cheerful youth, but with uncertain, eager, doubtful flashes, which had something painful in them, analogous to the changes on a blind face groping its way. + 

She was a child now, of fifteen or sixteen; but at no distant day would seem to become a woman all at once. Her father thought so as he looked at her. She was pretty. Would have been self-willed (he thought in his eminently practical way) but for her bringing-up. + 

тАЬThomas, though I have the fact before me, I find it difficult to believe that you, with your education and resources, should have brought your sister to a scene like this.тАЭ + 

тАЬI brought him, father,тАЭ said Louisa, quickly. тАЬI asked him to come.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am sorry to hear it. I am very sorry indeed to hear it. It makes Thomas no better, and it makes you worse, Louisa.тАЭ + 

She looked at her father again, but no tear fell down her cheek. + 

тАЬYou! Thomas and you, to whom the circle of the sciences is open; Thomas and you, who may be said to be replete with facts; Thomas and you, who have been trained to mathematical exactness; Thomas and you, here!тАЭ cried Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬIn this degraded position! I am amazed.тАЭ + 

тАЬI was tired, father. I have been tired a long time,тАЭ said Louisa. + 

тАЬTired? Of what?тАЭ asked the astonished father. + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know of whatтБатАФof everything, I think.тАЭ + 

тАЬSay not another word,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬYou are childish. I will hear no more.тАЭ He did not speak again until they had walked some half-a-mile in silence, when he gravely broke out with: тАЬWhat would your best friends say, Louisa? Do you attach no value to their good opinion? What would Mr.┬аBounderby say?тАЭ At the mention of this name, his daughter stole a look at him, remarkable for its intense and searching character. He saw nothing of it, for before he looked at her, she had again cast down her eyes! + 

тАЬWhat,тАЭ he repeated presently, тАЬwould Mr.┬аBounderby say?тАЭ All the way to Stone Lodge, as with grave indignation he led the two delinquents home, he repeated at intervals тАЬWhat would Mr.┬аBounderby say?тАЭтБатАФas if Mr.┬аBounderby had been Mrs.┬аGrundy. + 

IV + 

Mr.┬аBounderby + 

Not being Mrs.┬аGrundy, who was Mr.┬аBounderby? + 

Why, Mr.┬аBounderby was as near being Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs bosom friend, as a man perfectly devoid of sentiment can approach that spiritual relationship towards another man perfectly devoid of sentiment. So near was Mr.┬аBounderbyтБатАФor, if the reader should prefer it, so far off. + 

He was a rich man: banker, merchant, manufacturer, and whatnot. A big, loud man, with a stare, and a metallic laugh. A man made out of a coarse material, which seemed to have been stretched to make so much of him. A man with a great puffed head and forehead, swelled veins in his temples, and such a strained skin to his face that it seemed to hold his eyes open, and lift his eyebrows up. A man with a pervading appearance on him of being inflated like a balloon, and ready to start. A man who could never sufficiently vaunt himself a self-made man. A man who was always proclaiming, through that brassy speaking-trumpet of a voice of his, his old ignorance and his old poverty. A man who was the bully of humility. + 

A year or two younger than his eminently practical friend, Mr.┬аBounderby looked older; his seven or eight and forty might have had the seven or eight added to it again, without surprising anybody. He had not much hair. One might have fancied he had talked it off; and that what was left, all standing up in disorder, was in that condition from being constantly blown about by his windy boastfulness. + 

In the formal drawing-room of Stone Lodge, standing on the hearthrug, warming himself before the fire, Mr.┬аBounderby delivered some observations to Mrs.┬аGradgrind on the circumstance of its being his birthday. He stood before the fire, partly because it was a cool spring afternoon, though the sun shone; partly because the shade of Stone Lodge was always haunted by the ghost of damp mortar; partly because he thus took up a commanding position, from which to subdue Mrs.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬI hadnтАЩt a shoe to my foot. As to a stocking, I didnтАЩt know such a thing by name. I passed the day in a ditch, and the night in a pigsty. ThatтАЩs the way I spent my tenth birthday. Not that a ditch was new to me, for I was born in a ditch.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аGradgrind, a little, thin, white, pink-eyed bundle of shawls, of surpassing feebleness, mental and bodily; who was always taking physic without any effect, and who, whenever she showed a symptom of coming to life, was invariably stunned by some weighty piece of fact tumbling on her; Mrs.┬аGradgrind hoped it was a dry ditch? + 

тАЬNo! As wet as a sop. A foot of water in it,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬEnough to give a baby cold,тАЭ Mrs.┬аGradgrind considered. + 

тАЬCold? I was born with inflammation of the lungs, and of everything else, I believe, that was capable of inflammation,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬFor years, maтАЩam, I was one of the most miserable little wretches ever seen. I was so sickly, that I was always moaning and groaning. I was so ragged and dirty, that you wouldnтАЩt have touched me with a pair of tongs.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аGradgrind faintly looked at the tongs, as the most appropriate thing her imbecility could think of doing. + 

тАЬHow I fought through it, I donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬI was determined, I suppose. I have been a determined character in later life, and I suppose I was then. Here I am, Mrs.┬аGradgrind, anyhow, and nobody to thank for my being here, but myself.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аGradgrind meekly and weakly hoped that his motherтБатАФ + 

тАЬMy mother? Bolted, maтАЩam!тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

Mrs.┬аGradgrind, stunned as usual, collapsed and gave it up. + 

тАЬMy mother left me to my grandmother,тАЭ said Bounderby; тАЬand, according to the best of my remembrance, my grandmother was the wickedest and the worst old woman that ever lived. If I got a little pair of shoes by any chance, she would take тАЩem off and sell тАЩem for drink. Why, I have known that grandmother of mine lie in her bed and drink her fourteen glasses of liquor before breakfast!тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аGradgrind, weakly smiling, and giving no other sign of vitality, looked (as she always did) like an indifferently executed transparency of a small female figure, without enough light behind it. + 

тАЬShe kept a chandlerтАЩs shop,тАЭ pursued Bounderby, тАЬand kept me in an egg-box. That was the cot of my infancy; an old egg-box. As soon as I was big enough to run away, of course I ran away. Then I became a young vagabond; and instead of one old woman knocking me about and starving me, everybody of all ages knocked me about and starved me. They were right; they had no business to do anything else. I was a nuisance, an incumbrance, and a pest. I know that very well.тАЭ + 

His pride in having at any time of his life achieved such a great social distinction as to be a nuisance, an incumbrance, and a pest, was only to be satisfied by three sonorous repetitions of the boast. + 

тАЬI was to pull through it, I suppose, Mrs.┬аGradgrind. Whether I was to do it or not, maтАЩam, I did it. I pulled through it, though nobody threw me out a rope. Vagabond, errand-boy, vagabond, labourer, porter, clerk, chief manager, small partner, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. Those are the antecedents, and the culmination. Josiah Bounderby of Coketown learnt his letters from the outsides of the shops, Mrs.┬аGradgrind, and was first able to tell the time upon a dial-plate, from studying the steeple clock of St.┬аGilesтАЩs Church, London, under the direction of a drunken cripple, who was a convicted thief, and an incorrigible vagrant. Tell Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, of your district schools and your model schools, and your training schools, and your whole kettle-of-fish of schools; and Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, tells you plainly, all right, all correctтБатАФhe hadnтАЩt such advantagesтБатАФbut let us have hardheaded, solid-fisted peopleтБатАФthe education that made him wonтАЩt do for everybody, he knows wellтБатАФsuch and such his education was, however, and you may force him to swallow boiling fat, but you shall never force him to suppress the facts of his life.тАЭ + 

Being heated when he arrived at this climax, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown stopped. He stopped just as his eminently practical friend, still accompanied by the two young culprits, entered the room. His eminently practical friend, on seeing him, stopped also, and gave Louisa a reproachful look that plainly said, тАЬBehold your Bounderby!тАЭ + 

тАЬWell!тАЭ blustered Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬwhatтАЩs the matter? What is young Thomas in the dumps about?тАЭ + 

He spoke of young Thomas, but he looked at Louisa. + 

тАЬWe were peeping at the circus,тАЭ muttered Louisa, haughtily, without lifting up her eyes, тАЬand father caught us.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd, Mrs.┬аGradgrind,тАЭ said her husband in a lofty manner, тАЬI should as soon have expected to find my children reading poetry.тАЭ + 

тАЬDear me,тАЭ whimpered Mrs.┬аGradgrind. тАЬHow can you, Louisa and Thomas! I wonder at you. I declare youтАЩre enough to make one regret ever having had a family at all. I have a great mind to say I wish I hadnтАЩt. Then what would you have done, I should like to know?тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind did not seem favourably impressed by these cogent remarks. He frowned impatiently. + 

тАЬAs if, with my head in its present throbbing state, you couldnтАЩt go and look at the shells and minerals and things provided for you, instead of circuses!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind. тАЬYou know, as well as I do, no young people have circus masters, or keep circuses in cabinets, or attend lectures about circuses. What can you possibly want to know of circuses then? I am sure you have enough to do, if thatтАЩs what you want. With my head in its present state, I couldnтАЩt remember the mere names of half the facts you have got to attend to.тАЭ + 

тАЬThatтАЩs the reason!тАЭ pouted Louisa. + 

тАЬDonтАЩt tell me thatтАЩs the reason, because it canтАЩt be nothing of the sort,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind. тАЬGo and be somethingological directly.тАЭ Mrs.┬аGradgrind was not a scientific character, and usually dismissed her children to their studies with this general injunction to choose their pursuit. + 

In truth, Mrs.┬аGradgrindтАЩs stock of facts in general was woefully defective; but Mr.┬аGradgrind in raising her to her high matrimonial position, had been influenced by two reasons. Firstly, she was most satisfactory as a question of figures; and, secondly, she had тАЬno nonsenseтАЭ about her. By nonsense he meant fancy; and truly it is probable she was as free from any alloy of that nature, as any human being not arrived at the perfection of an absolute idiot, ever was. + 

The simple circumstance of being left alone with her husband and Mr.┬аBounderby, was sufficient to stun this admirable lady again without collision between herself and any other fact. So, she once more died away, and nobody minded her. + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, drawing a chair to the fireside, тАЬyou are always so interested in my young peopleтБатАФparticularly in LouisaтБатАФthat I make no apology for saying to you, I am very much vexed by this discovery. I have systematically devoted myself (as you know) to the education of the reason of my family. The reason is (as you know) the only faculty to which education should be addressed. And yet, Bounderby, it would appear from this unexpected circumstance of today, though in itself a trifling one, as if something had crept into ThomasтАЩs and LouisaтАЩs minds which isтБатАФor rather, which is notтБатАФI donтАЩt know that I can express myself better than by sayingтБатАФwhich has never been intended to be developed, and in which their reason has no part.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere certainly is no reason in looking with interest at a parcel of vagabonds,тАЭ returned Bounderby. тАЬWhen I was a vagabond myself, nobody looked with any interest at me; I know that.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen comes the question,тАЭ said the eminently practical father, with his eyes on the fire, тАЬin what has this vulgar curiosity its rise?тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll tell you in what. In idle imagination.тАЭ + 

тАЬI hope not,тАЭ said the eminently practical; тАЬI confess, however, that the misgiving has crossed me on my way home.тАЭ + 

тАЬIn idle imagination, Gradgrind,тАЭ repeated Bounderby. тАЬA very bad thing for anybody, but a cursed bad thing for a girl like Louisa. I should ask Mrs.┬аGradgrindтАЩs pardon for strong expressions, but that she knows very well I am not a refined character. Whoever expects refinement in me will be disappointed. I hadnтАЩt a refined bringing up.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhether,тАЭ said Gradgrind, pondering with his hands in his pockets, and his cavernous eyes on the fire, тАЬwhether any instructor or servant can have suggested anything? Whether Louisa or Thomas can have been reading anything? Whether, in spite of all precautions, any idle storybook can have got into the house? Because, in minds that have been practically formed by rule and line, from the cradle upwards, this is so curious, so incomprehensible.тАЭ + 

тАЬStop a bit!тАЭ cried Bounderby, who all this time had been standing, as before, on the hearth, bursting at the very furniture of the room with explosive humility. тАЬYou have one of those strollersтАЩ children in the school.тАЭ + 

тАЬCecilia Jupe, by name,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, with something of a stricken look at his friend. + 

тАЬNow, stop a bit!тАЭ cried Bounderby again. тАЬHow did she come there?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, the fact is, I saw the girl myself, for the first time, only just now. She specially applied here at the house to be admitted, as not regularly belonging to our town, andтБатАФyes, you are right, Bounderby, you are right.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, stop a bit!тАЭ cried Bounderby, once more. тАЬLouisa saw her when she came?тАЭ + 

тАЬLouisa certainly did see her, for she mentioned the application to me. But Louisa saw her, I have no doubt, in Mrs.┬аGradgrindтАЩs presence.тАЭ + 

тАЬPray, Mrs.┬аGradgrind,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬwhat passed?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh, my poor health!тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аGradgrind. тАЬThe girl wanted to come to the school, and Mr.┬аGradgrind wanted girls to come to the school, and Louisa and Thomas both said that the girl wanted to come, and that Mr.┬аGradgrind wanted girls to come, and how was it possible to contradict them when such was the fact!тАЭ + 

тАЬNow I tell you what, Gradgrind!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬTurn this girl to the right about, and thereтАЩs an end of it.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am much of your opinion.тАЭ + 

тАЬDo it at once,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬhas always been my motto from a child. When I thought I would run away from my egg-box and my grandmother, I did it at once. Do you the same. Do this at once!тАЭ + 

тАЬAre you walking?тАЭ asked his friend. тАЬI have the fatherтАЩs address. Perhaps you would not mind walking to town with me?тАЭ + 

тАЬNot the least in the world,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬas long as you do it at once!тАЭ + 

So, Mr.┬аBounderby threw on his hatтБатАФhe always threw it on, as expressing a man who had been far too busily employed in making himself, to acquire any fashion of wearing his hatтБатАФand with his hands in his pockets, sauntered out into the hall. тАЬI never wear gloves,тАЭ it was his custom to say. тАЬI didnтАЩt climb up the ladder in them.тБатАФShouldnтАЩt be so high up, if I had.тАЭ + 

Being left to saunter in the hall a minute or two while Mr.┬аGradgrind went upstairs for the address, he opened the door of the childrenтАЩs study and looked into that serene floor-clothed apartment, which, notwithstanding its bookcases and its cabinets and its variety of learned and philosophical appliances, had much of the genial aspect of a room devoted to hair-cutting. Louisa languidly leaned upon the window looking out, without looking at anything, while young Thomas stood sniffing revengefully at the fire. Adam Smith and Malthus, two younger Gradgrinds, were out at lecture in custody; and little Jane, after manufacturing a good deal of moist pipe-clay on her face with slate-pencil and tears, had fallen asleep over vulgar fractions. + 

тАЬItтАЩs all right now, Louisa: itтАЩs all right, young Thomas,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby; тАЬyou wonтАЩt do so any more. IтАЩll answer for itтАЩs being all over with father. Well, Louisa, thatтАЩs worth a kiss, isnтАЩt it?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou can take one, Mr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ returned Louisa, when she had coldly paused, and slowly walked across the room, and ungraciously raised her cheek towards him, with her face turned away. + 

тАЬAlways my pet; ainтАЩt you, Louisa?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬGoodbye, Louisa!тАЭ + 

He went his way, but she stood on the same spot, rubbing the cheek he had kissed, with her handkerchief, until it was burning red. She was still doing this, five minutes afterwards. + 

тАЬWhat are you about, Loo?тАЭ her brother sulkily remonstrated. тАЬYouтАЩll rub a hole in your face.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou may cut the piece out with your penknife if you like, Tom. I wouldnтАЩt cry!тАЭ + 

V + 

The Keynote + 

Coketown, to which Messrs. Bounderby and Gradgrind now walked, was a triumph of fact; it had no greater taint of fancy in it than Mrs.┬аGradgrind herself. Let us strike the keynote, Coketown, before pursuing our tune. + 

It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood, it was a town of unnatural red and black like the painted face of a savage. It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves forever and ever, and never got uncoiled. It had a black canal in it, and a river that ran purple with ill-smelling dye, and vast piles of building full of windows where there was a rattling and a trembling all day long, and where the piston of the steam-engine worked monotonously up and down, like the head of an elephant in a state of melancholy madness. It contained several large streets all very like one another, and many small streets still more like one another, inhabited by people equally like one another, who all went in and out at the same hours, with the same sound upon the same pavements, to do the same work, and to whom every day was the same as yesterday and tomorrow, and every year the counterpart of the last and the next. + 

These attributes of Coketown were in the main inseparable from the work by which it was sustained; against them were to be set off, comforts of life which found their way all over the world, and elegancies of life which made, we will not ask how much of the fine lady, who could scarcely bear to hear the place mentioned. The rest of its features were voluntary, and they were these. + 

You saw nothing in Coketown but what was severely workful. If the members of a religious persuasion built a chapel thereтБатАФas the members of eighteen religious persuasions had doneтБатАФthey made it a pious warehouse of red brick, with sometimes (but this is only in highly ornamental examples) a bell in a birdcage on the top of it. The solitary exception was the New Church; a stuccoed edifice with a square steeple over the door, terminating in four short pinnacles like florid wooden legs. All the public inscriptions in the town were painted alike, in severe characters of black and white. The jail might have been the infirmary, the infirmary might have been the jail, the town-hall might have been either, or both, or anything else, for anything that appeared to the contrary in the graces of their construction. Fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the material aspect of the town; fact, fact, fact, everywhere in the immaterial. The MтАЩChoakumchild school was all fact, and the school of design was all fact, and the relations between master and man were all fact, and everything was fact between the lying-in hospital and the cemetery, and what you couldnтАЩt state in figures, or show to be purchaseable in the cheapest market and saleable in the dearest, was not, and never should be, world without end, Amen. + 

A town so sacred to fact, and so triumphant in its assertion, of course got on well? Why no, not quite well. No? Dear me! + 

No. Coketown did not come out of its own furnaces, in all respects like gold that had stood the fire. First, the perplexing mystery of the place was, Who belonged to the eighteen denominations? Because, whoever did, the labouring people did not. It was very strange to walk through the streets on a Sunday morning, and note how few of them the barbarous jangling of bells that was driving the sick and nervous mad, called away from their own quarter, from their own close rooms, from the corners of their own streets, where they lounged listlessly, gazing at all the church and chapel going, as at a thing with which they had no manner of concern. Nor was it merely the stranger who noticed this, because there was a native organization in Coketown itself, whose members were to be heard of in the House of Commons every session, indignantly petitioning for acts of parliament that should make these people religious by main force. Then came the Teetotal Society, who complained that these same people would get drunk, and showed in tabular statements that they did get drunk, and proved at tea parties that no inducement, human or Divine (except a medal), would induce them to forego their custom of getting drunk. Then came the chemist and druggist, with other tabular statements, showing that when they didnтАЩt get drunk, they took opium. Then came the experienced chaplain of the jail, with more tabular statements, outdoing all the previous tabular statements, and showing that the same people would resort to low haunts, hidden from the public eye, where they heard low singing and saw low dancing, and mayhap joined in it; and where A. B., aged twenty-four next birthday, and committed for eighteen monthsтАЩ solitary, had himself said (not that he had ever shown himself particularly worthy of belief) his ruin began, as he was perfectly sure and confident that otherwise he would have been a tip-top moral specimen. Then came Mr.┬аGradgrind and Mr.┬аBounderby, the two gentlemen at this present moment walking through Coketown, and both eminently practical, who could, on occasion, furnish more tabular statements derived from their own personal experience, and illustrated by cases they had known and seen, from which it clearly appearedтБатАФin short, it was the only clear thing in the caseтБатАФthat these same people were a bad lot altogether, gentlemen; that do what you would for them they were never thankful for it, gentlemen; that they were restless, gentlemen; that they never knew what they wanted; that they lived upon the best, and bought fresh butter; and insisted on Mocha coffee, and rejected all but prime parts of meat, and yet were eternally dissatisfied and unmanageable. In short, it was the moral of the old nursery fable: + 

There was an old woman, and what do you think? + 

She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink; + 

Victuals and drink were the whole of her diet, + 

And yet this old woman would never be quiet. + 

Is it possible, I wonder, that there was any analogy between the case of the Coketown population and the case of the little Gradgrinds? Surely, none of us in our sober senses and acquainted with figures, are to be told at this time of day, that one of the foremost elements in the existence of the Coketown working-people had been for scores of years, deliberately set at nought? That there was any Fancy in them demanding to be brought into healthy existence instead of struggling on in convulsions? That exactly in the ratio as they worked long and monotonously, the craving grew within them for some physical reliefтБатАФsome relaxation, encouraging good humour and good spirits, and giving them a ventтБатАФsome recognized holiday, though it were but for an honest dance to a stirring band of musicтБатАФsome occasional light pie in which even MтАЩChoakumchild had no fingerтБатАФwhich craving must and would be satisfied aright, or must and would inevitably go wrong, until the laws of the Creation were repealed? + 

тАЬThis man lives at PodтАЩs End, and I donтАЩt quite know PodтАЩs End,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬWhich is it, Bounderby?тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby knew it was somewhere down town, but knew no more respecting it. So they stopped for a moment, looking about. + 

Almost as they did so, there came running round the corner of the street at a quick pace and with a frightened look, a girl whom Mr.┬аGradgrind recognized. тАЬHalloa!тАЭ said he. тАЬStop! Where are you going! Stop!тАЭ Girl number twenty stopped then, palpitating, and made him a curtsey. + 

тАЬWhy are you tearing about the streets,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬin this improper manner?тАЭ + 

тАЬI wasтБатАФI was run after, sir,тАЭ the girl panted, тАЬand I wanted to get away.тАЭ + 

тАЬRun after?тАЭ repeated Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬWho would run after you?тАЭ + 

The question was unexpectedly and suddenly answered for her, by the colourless boy, Bitzer, who came round the corner with such blind speed and so little anticipating a stoppage on the pavement, that he brought himself up against Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs waistcoat and rebounded into the road. + 

тАЬWhat do you mean, boy?тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬWhat are you doing? How dare you dash againstтБатАФeverybodyтБатАФin this manner?тАЭ Bitzer picked up his cap, which the concussion had knocked off; and backing, and knuckling his forehead, pleaded that it was an accident. + 

тАЬWas this boy running after you, Jupe?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ said the girl reluctantly. + 

тАЬNo, I wasnтАЩt, sir!тАЭ cried Bitzer. тАЬNot till she run away from me. But the horse-riders never mind what they say, sir; theyтАЩre famous for it. You know the horse-riders are famous for never minding what they say,тАЭ addressing Sissy. тАЬItтАЩs as well known in the town asтБатАФplease, sir, as the multiplication table isnтАЩt known to the horse-riders.тАЭ Bitzer tried Mr.┬аBounderby with this. + 

тАЬHe frightened me so,тАЭ said the girl, тАЬwith his cruel faces!тАЭ + 

тАЬOh!тАЭ cried Bitzer. тАЬOh! AnтАЩt you one of the rest! AnтАЩt you a horse-rider! I never looked at her, sir. I asked her if she would know how to define a horse tomorrow, and offered to tell her again, and she ran away, and I ran after her, sir, that she might know how to answer when she was asked. You wouldnтАЩt have thought of saying such mischief if you hadnтАЩt been a horse-rider?тАЭ + 

тАЬHer calling seems to be pretty well known among тАЩem,тАЭ observed Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬYouтАЩd have had the whole school peeping in a row, in a week.тАЭ + 

тАЬTruly, I think so,тАЭ returned his friend. тАЬBitzer, turn you about and take yourself home. Jupe, stay here a moment. Let me hear of your running in this manner any more, boy, and you will hear of me through the master of the school. You understand what I mean. Go along.тАЭ + 

The boy stopped in his rapid blinking, knuckled his forehead again, glanced at Sissy, turned about, and retreated. + 

тАЬNow, girl,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬtake this gentleman and me to your fatherтАЩs; we are going there. What have you got in that bottle you are carrying?тАЭ + 

тАЬGin,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬDear, no, sir! ItтАЩs the nine oils.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe what?тАЭ cried Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬThe nine oils, sir, to rub father with.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, with a loud short laugh, тАЬwhat the devil do you rub your father with nine oils for?тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs what our people aways use, sir, when they get any hurts in the ring,тАЭ replied the girl, looking over her shoulder, to assure herself that her pursuer was gone. тАЬThey bruise themselves very bad sometimes.тАЭ + 

тАЬServe тАЩem right,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬfor being idle.тАЭ She glanced up at his face, with mingled astonishment and dread. + 

тАЬBy George!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬwhen I was four or five years younger than you, I had worse bruises upon me than ten oils, twenty oils, forty oils, would have rubbed off. I didnтАЩt get тАЩem by posture-making, but by being banged about. There was no rope-dancing for me; I danced on the bare ground and was larruped with the rope.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind, though hard enough, was by no means so rough a man as Mr.┬аBounderby. His character was not unkind, all things considered; it might have been a very kind one indeed, if he had only made some round mistake in the arithmetic that balanced it, years ago. He said, in what he meant for a reassuring tone, as they turned down a narrow road, тАЬAnd this is PodтАЩs End; is it, Jupe?тАЭ + 

тАЬThis is it, sir, andтБатАФif you wouldnтАЩt mind, sirтБатАФthis is the house.тАЭ + 

She stopped, at twilight, at the door of a mean little public-house, with dim red lights in it. As haggard and as shabby, as if, for want of custom, it had itself taken to drinking, and had gone the way all drunkards go, and was very near the end of it. + 

тАЬItтАЩs only crossing the bar, sir, and up the stairs, if you wouldnтАЩt mind, and waiting there for a moment till I get a candle. If you should hear a dog, sir, itтАЩs only Merrylegs, and he only barks.тАЭ + 

тАЬMerrylegs and nine oils, eh!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, entering last with his metallic laugh. тАЬPretty well this, for a self-made man!тАЭ + 

VI + 

SlearyтАЩs Horsemanship + 

The name of the public-house was the PegasusтАЩs Arms. The PegasusтАЩs legs might have been more to the purpose; but, underneath the winged horse upon the signboard, the PegasusтАЩs Arms was inscribed in Roman letters. Beneath that inscription again, in a flowing scroll, the painter had touched off the lines: + 

Good malt makes good beer, + 

Walk in, and theyтАЩll draw it here; + 

Good wine makes good brandy, + 

Give us a call, and youтАЩll find it handy. + 

Framed and glazed upon the wall behind the dingy little bar, was another PegasusтБатАФa theatrical oneтБатАФwith real gauze let in for his wings, golden stars stuck on all over him, and his ethereal harness made of red silk. + 

As it had grown too dusky without, to see the sign, and as it had not grown light enough within to see the picture, Mr.┬аGradgrind and Mr.┬аBounderby received no offence from these idealities. They followed the girl up some steep corner-stairs without meeting anyone, and stopped in the dark while she went on for a candle. They expected every moment to hear Merrylegs give tongue, but the highly trained performing dog had not barked when the girl and the candle appeared together. + 

тАЬFather is not in our room, sir,тАЭ she said, with a face of great surprise. тАЬIf you wouldnтАЩt mind walking in, IтАЩll find him directly.тАЭ They walked in; and Sissy, having set two chairs for them, sped away with a quick light step. It was a mean, shabbily furnished room, with a bed in it. The white nightcap, embellished with two peacockтАЩs feathers and a pigtail bolt upright, in which Signor Jupe had that very afternoon enlivened the varied performances with his chaste Shakespearean quips and retorts, hung upon a nail; but no other portion of his wardrobe, or other token of himself or his pursuits, was to be seen anywhere. As to Merrylegs, that respectable ancestor of the highly trained animal who went aboard the ark, might have been accidentally shut out of it, for any sign of a dog that was manifest to eye or ear in the PegasusтАЩs Arms. + 

They heard the doors of rooms above, opening and shutting as Sissy went from one to another in quest of her father; and presently they heard voices expressing surprise. She came bounding down again in a great hurry, opened a battered and mangy old hair trunk, found it empty, and looked round with her hands clasped and her face full of terror. + 

тАЬFather must have gone down to the Booth, sir. I donтАЩt know why he should go there, but he must be there; IтАЩll bring him in a minute!тАЭ She was gone directly, without her bonnet; with her long, dark, childish hair streaming behind her. + 

тАЬWhat does she mean!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬBack in a minute? ItтАЩs more than a mile off.тАЭ + 

Before Mr.┬аBounderby could reply, a young man appeared at the door, and introducing himself with the words, тАЬBy your leaves, gentlemen!тАЭ walked in with his hands in his pockets. His face, close-shaven, thin, and sallow, was shaded by a great quantity of dark hair, brushed into a roll all round his head, and parted up the centre. His legs were very robust, but shorter than legs of good proportions should have been. His chest and back were as much too broad, as his legs were too short. He was dressed in a Newmarket coat and tight-fitting trousers; wore a shawl round his neck; smelt of lamp-oil, straw, orange-peel, horsesтАЩ provender, and sawdust; and looked a most remarkable sort of Centaur, compounded of the stable and the playhouse. Where the one began, and the other ended, nobody could have told with any precision. This gentleman was mentioned in the bills of the day as Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers, so justly celebrated for his daring vaulting act as the Wild Huntsman of the North American Prairies; in which popular performance, a diminutive boy with an old face, who now accompanied him, assisted as his infant son: being carried upside down over his fatherтАЩs shoulder, by one foot, and held by the crown of his head, heels upwards, in the palm of his fatherтАЩs hand, according to the violent paternal manner in which wild huntsmen may be observed to fondle their offspring. Made up with curls, wreaths, wings, white bismuth, and carmine, this hopeful young person soared into so pleasing a Cupid as to constitute the chief delight of the maternal part of the spectators; but in private, where his characteristics were a precocious cutaway coat and an extremely gruff voice, he became of the Turf, turfy. + 

тАЬBy your leaves, gentlemen,тАЭ said Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers, glancing round the room. тАЬIt was you, I believe, that were wishing to see Jupe!тАЭ + 

тАЬIt was,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬHis daughter has gone to fetch him, but I canтАЩt wait; therefore, if you please, I will leave a message for him with you.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou see, my friend,тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby put in, тАЬwe are the kind of people who know the value of time, and you are the kind of people who donтАЩt know the value of time.тАЭ + 

тАЬI have not,тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аChilders, after surveying him from head to foot, тАЬthe honour of knowing youтБатАФbut if you mean that you can make more money of your time than I can of mine, I should judge from your appearance, that you are about right.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd when you have made it, you can keep it too, I should think,тАЭ said Cupid. + 

тАЬKidderminster, stow that!тАЭ said Mr.┬аChilders. (Master Kidderminster was CupidтАЩs mortal name.) + 

тАЬWhat does he come here cheeking us for, then?тАЭ cried Master Kidderminster, showing a very irascible temperament. тАЬIf you want to cheek us, pay your ochre at the doors and take it out.тАЭ + 

тАЬKidderminster,тАЭ said Mr.┬аChilders, raising his voice, тАЬstow that!тБатАФSir,тАЭ to Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬI was addressing myself to you. You may or you may not be aware (for perhaps you have not been much in the audience), that Jupe has missed his tip very often, lately.тАЭ + 

тАЬHasтБатАФwhat has he missed?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind, glancing at the potent Bounderby for assistance. + 

тАЬMissed his tip.тАЭ + 

тАЬOffered at the Garters four times last night, and never done тАЩem once,тАЭ said Master Kidderminster. тАЬMissed his tip at the banners, too, and was loose in his ponging.тАЭ + 

тАЬDidnтАЩt do what he ought to do. Was short in his leaps and bad in his tumbling,тАЭ Mr.┬аChilders interpreted. + 

тАЬOh!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthat is tip, is it?тАЭ + 

тАЬIn a general way thatтАЩs missing his tip,тАЭ Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers answered. + 

тАЬNine oils, Merrylegs, missing tips, garters, banners, and Ponging, eh!тАЭ ejaculated Bounderby, with his laugh of laughs. тАЬQueer sort of company, too, for a man who has raised himself!тАЭ + 

тАЬLower yourself, then,тАЭ retorted Cupid. тАЬOh Lord! if youтАЩve raised yourself so high as all that comes to, let yourself down a bit.тАЭ + 

тАЬThis is a very obtrusive lad!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, turning, and knitting his brows on him. + 

тАЬWeтАЩd have had a young gentleman to meet you, if we had known you were coming,тАЭ retorted Master Kidderminster, nothing abashed. тАЬItтАЩs a pity you donтАЩt have a bespeak, being so particular. YouтАЩre on the Tight-Jeff, ainтАЩt you?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat does this unmannerly boy mean,тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind, eyeing him in a sort of desperation, тАЬby Tight-Jeff?тАЭ + 

тАЬThere! Get out, get out!тАЭ said Mr.┬аChilders, thrusting his young friend from the room, rather in the prairie manner. тАЬTight-Jeff or Slack-Jeff, it donтАЩt much signify: itтАЩs only tightrope and slack-rope. You were going to give me a message for Jupe?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, I was.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen,тАЭ continued Mr.┬аChilders, quickly, тАЬmy opinion is, he will never receive it. Do you know much of him?тАЭ + 

тАЬI never saw the man in my life.тАЭ + 

тАЬI doubt if you ever will see him now. ItтАЩs pretty plain to me, heтАЩs off.тАЭ + 

тАЬDo you mean that he has deserted his daughter?тАЭ + 

тАЬAy! I mean,тАЭ said Mr.┬аChilders, with a nod, тАЬthat he has cut. He was goosed last night, he was goosed the night before last, he was goosed today. He has lately got in the way of being always goosed, and he canтАЩt stand it.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy has he beenтБатАФso very muchтБатАФgoosed?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind, forcing the word out of himself, with great solemnity and reluctance. + 

тАЬHis joints are turning stiff, and he is getting used up,тАЭ said Childers. тАЬHe has his points as a Cackler still, but he canтАЩt get a living out of them.тАЭ + 

тАЬA Cackler!тАЭ Bounderby repeated. тАЬHere we go again!тАЭ + 

тАЬA speaker, if the gentleman likes it better,тАЭ said Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers, superciliously throwing the interpretation over his shoulder, and accompanying it with a shake of his long hairтБатАФwhich all shook at once. тАЬNow, itтАЩs a remarkable fact, sir, that it cut that man deeper, to know that his daughter knew of his being goosed, than to go through with it.тАЭ + 

тАЬGood!тАЭ interrupted Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬThis is good, Gradgrind! A man so fond of his daughter, that he runs away from her! This is devilish good! Ha! ha! Now, IтАЩll tell you what, young man. I havenтАЩt always occupied my present station of life. I know what these things are. You may be astonished to hear it, but my motherтБатАФran away from me.тАЭ + 

E. W. B. Childers replied pointedly, that he was not at all astonished to hear it. + 

тАЬVery well,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬI was born in a ditch, and my mother ran away from me. Do I excuse her for it? No. Have I ever excused her for it? Not I. What do I call her for it? I call her probably the very worst woman that ever lived in the world, except my drunken grandmother. ThereтАЩs no family pride about me, thereтАЩs no imaginative sentimental humbug about me. I call a spade a spade; and I call the mother of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, without any fear or any favour, what I should call her if she had been the mother of Dick Jones of Wapping. So, with this man. He is a runaway rogue and a vagabond, thatтАЩs what he is, in English.тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs all the same to me what he is or what he is not, whether in English or whether in French,тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers, facing about. тАЬI am telling your friend whatтАЩs the fact; if you donтАЩt like to hear it, you can avail yourself of the open air. You give it mouth enough, you do; but give it mouth in your own building at least,тАЭ remonstrated E. W. B. with stern irony. тАЬDonтАЩt give it mouth in this building, till youтАЩre called upon. You have got some building of your own I dare say, now?тАЭ + 

тАЬPerhaps so,тАЭ replied Mr.┬аBounderby, rattling his money and laughing. + 

тАЬThen give it mouth in your own building, will you, if you please?тАЭ said Childers. тАЬBecause this isnтАЩt a strong building, and too much of you might bring it down!тАЭ + 

Eyeing Mr.┬аBounderby from head to foot again, he turned from him, as from a man finally disposed of, to Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬJupe sent his daughter out on an errand not an hour ago, and then was seen to slip out himself, with his hat over his eyes, and a bundle tied up in a handkerchief under his arm. She will never believe it of him, but he has cut away and left her.тАЭ + 

тАЬPray,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬwhy will she never believe it of him?тАЭ + 

тАЬBecause those two were one. Because they were never asunder. Because, up to this time, he seemed to dote upon her,тАЭ said Childers, taking a step or two to look into the empty trunk. Both Mr.┬аChilders and Master Kidderminster walked in a curious manner; with their legs wider apart than the general run of men, and with a very knowing assumption of being stiff in the knees. This walk was common to all the male members of SlearyтАЩs company, and was understood to express, that they were always on horseback. + 

тАЬPoor Sissy! He had better have apprenticed her,тАЭ said Childers, giving his hair another shake, as he looked up from the empty box. тАЬNow, he leaves her without anything to take to.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt is creditable to you, who have never been apprenticed, to express that opinion,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind, approvingly. + 

тАЬI never apprenticed? I was apprenticed when I was seven year old.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! Indeed?тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, rather resentfully, as having been defrauded of his good opinion. тАЬI was not aware of its being the custom to apprentice young persons toтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬIdleness,тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby put in with a loud laugh. тАЬNo, by the Lord Harry! Nor I!тАЭ + 

тАЬHer father always had it in his head,тАЭ resumed Childers, feigning unconsciousness of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs existence, тАЬthat she was to be taught the deuce-and-all of education. How it got into his head, I canтАЩt say; I can only say that it never got out. He has been picking up a bit of reading for her, hereтБатАФand a bit of writing for her, thereтБатАФand a bit of ciphering for her, somewhere elseтБатАФthese seven years.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аE. W. B. Childers took one of his hands out of his pockets, stroked his face and chin, and looked, with a good deal of doubt and a little hope, at Mr.┬аGradgrind. From the first he had sought to conciliate that gentleman, for the sake of the deserted girl. + 

тАЬWhen Sissy got into the school here,тАЭ he pursued, тАЬher father was as pleased as Punch. I couldnтАЩt altogether make out why, myself, as we were not stationary here, being but comers and goers anywhere. I suppose, however, he had this move in his mindтБатАФhe was always half-crackedтБатАФand then considered her provided for. If you should happen to have looked in tonight, for the purpose of telling him that you were going to do her any little service,тАЭ said Mr.┬аChilders, stroking his face again, and repeating his look, тАЬit would be very fortunate and well-timed; very fortunate and well-timed.тАЭ + 

тАЬOn the contrary,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬI came to tell him that her connections made her not an object for the school, and that she must not attend any more. Still, if her father really has left her, without any connivance on her partтБатАФBounderby, let me have a word with you.тАЭ + 

Upon this, Mr.┬аChilders politely betook himself, with his equestrian walk, to the landing outside the door, and there stood stroking his face, and softly whistling. While thus engaged, he overheard such phrases in Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs voice as тАЬNo. I say no. I advise you not. I say by no means.тАЭ While, from Mr.┬аGradgrind, he heard in his much lower tone the words, тАЬBut even as an example to Louisa, of what this pursuit which has been the subject of a vulgar curiosity, leads to and ends in. Think of it, Bounderby, in that point of view.тАЭ + 

Meanwhile, the various members of SlearyтАЩs company gradually gathered together from the upper regions, where they were quartered, and, from standing about, talking in low voices to one another and to Mr.┬аChilders, gradually insinuated themselves and him into the room. There were two or three handsome young women among them, with their two or three husbands, and their two or three mothers, and their eight or nine little children, who did the fairy business when required. The father of one of the families was in the habit of balancing the father of another of the families on the top of a great pole; the father of a third family often made a pyramid of both those fathers, with Master Kidderminster for the apex, and himself for the base; all the fathers could dance upon rolling casks, stand upon bottles, catch knives and balls, twirl hand-basins, ride upon anything, jump over everything, and stick at nothing. All the mothers could (and did) dance, upon the slack wire and the tightrope, and perform rapid acts on barebacked steeds; none of them were at all particular in respect of showing their legs; and one of them, alone in a Greek chariot, drove six in hand into every town they came to. They all assumed to be mighty rakish and knowing, they were not very tidy in their private dresses, they were not at all orderly in their domestic arrangements, and the combined literature of the whole company would have produced but a poor letter on any subject. Yet there was a remarkable gentleness and childishness about these people, a special inaptitude for any kind of sharp practice, and an untiring readiness to help and pity one another, deserving often of as much respect, and always of as much generous construction, as the everyday virtues of any class of people in the world. + 

Last of all appeared Mr.┬аSleary: a stout man as already mentioned, with one fixed eye, and one loose eye, a voice (if it can be called so) like the efforts of a broken old pair of bellows, a flabby surface, and a muddled head which was never sober and never drunk. + 

тАЬThquire!тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, who was troubled with asthma, and whose breath came far too thick and heavy for the letter s, тАЬYour thervant! Thith ith a bad piethe of bithnith, thith ith. YouтАЩve heard of my Clown and hith dog being thuppothed to have morrithed?тАЭ + 

He addressed Mr.┬аGradgrind, who answered тАЬYes.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, Thquire,тАЭ he returned, taking off his hat, and rubbing the lining with his pocket-handkerchief, which he kept inside for the purpose. тАЬIth it your intenthion to do anything for the poor girl, Thquire?тАЭ + 

тАЬI shall have something to propose to her when she comes back,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬGlad to hear it, Thquire. Not that I want to get rid of the child, any more than I want to thtand in her way. IтАЩm willing to take her prentith, though at her age ith late. My voithe ith a little huthky, Thquire, and not eathy heard by them ath donтАЩt know me; but if youтАЩd been chilled and heated, heated and chilled, chilled and heated in the ring when you wath young, ath often ath I have been, your voithe wouldnтАЩt have lathted out, Thquire, no more than mine.тАЭ + 

тАЬI dare say not,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬWhat thall it be, Thquire, while you wait? Thall it be Therry? Give it a name, Thquire!тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, with hospitable ease. + 

тАЬNothing for me, I thank you,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬDonтАЩt thay nothing, Thquire. What doth your friend thay? If you havenтАЩt took your feed yet, have a glath of bitterth.тАЭ + 

Here his daughter JosephineтБатАФa pretty fair-haired girl of eighteen, who had been tied on a horse at two years old, and had made a will at twelve, which she always carried about with her, expressive of her dying desire to be drawn to the grave by the two piebald poniesтБатАФcried, тАЬFather, hush! she has come back!тАЭ Then came Sissy Jupe, running into the room as she had run out of it. And when she saw them all assembled, and saw their looks, and saw no father there, she broke into a most deplorable cry, and took refuge on the bosom of the most accomplished tightrope lady (herself in the family-way), who knelt down on the floor to nurse her, and to weep over her. + 

тАЬIth an internal thame, upon my thoul it ith,тАЭ said Sleary. + 

тАЬO my dear father, my good kind father, where are you gone? You are gone to try to do me some good, I know! You are gone away for my sake, I am sure! And how miserable and helpless you will be without me, poor, poor father, until you come back!тАЭ It was so pathetic to hear her saying many things of this kind, with her face turned upward, and her arms stretched out as if she were trying to stop his departing shadow and embrace it, that no one spoke a word until Mr.┬аBounderby (growing impatient) took the case in hand. + 

тАЬNow, good people all,тАЭ said he, тАЬthis is wanton waste of time. Let the girl understand the fact. Let her take it from me, if you like, who have been run away from, myself. Here, whatтАЩs your name! Your father has abscondedтБатАФdeserted youтБатАФand you mustnтАЩt expect to see him again as long as you live.тАЭ + 

They cared so little for plain Fact, these people, and were in that advanced state of degeneracy on the subject, that instead of being impressed by the speakerтАЩs strong common sense, they took it in extraordinary dudgeon. The men muttered тАЬShame!тАЭ and the women тАЬBrute!тАЭ and Sleary, in some haste, communicated the following hint, apart to Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬI tell you what, Thquire. To thpeak plain to you, my opinion ith that you had better cut it thort, and drop it. TheyтАЩre a very good naturтАЩd people, my people, but theyтАЩre accuthtomed to be quick in their movementh; and if you donтАЩt act upon my advithe, IтАЩm damned if I donтАЩt believe theyтАЩll pith you out oтАЩ winder.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby being restrained by this mild suggestion, Mr.┬аGradgrind found an opening for his eminently practical exposition of the subject. + 

тАЬIt is of no moment,тАЭ said he, тАЬwhether this person is to be expected back at any time, or the contrary. He is gone away, and there is no present expectation of his return. That, I believe, is agreed on all hands.тАЭ + 

тАЬThath agreed, Thquire. Thick to that!тАЭ From Sleary. + 

тАЬWell then. I, who came here to inform the father of the poor girl, Jupe, that she could not be received at the school any more, in consequence of there being practical objections, into which I need not enter, to the reception there of the children of persons so employed, am prepared in these altered circumstances to make a proposal. I am willing to take charge of you, Jupe, and to educate you, and provide for you. The only condition (over and above your good behaviour) I make is, that you decide now, at once, whether to accompany me or remain here. Also, that if you accompany me now, it is understood that you communicate no more with any of your friends who are here present. These observations comprise the whole of the case.тАЭ + 

тАЬAt the thame time,тАЭ said Sleary, тАЬI mutht put in my word, Thquire, tho that both thides of the banner may be equally theen. If you like, Thethilia, to be prentitht, you know the natur of the work and you know your companionth. Emma Gordon, in whothe lap youтАЩre a lying at prethent, would be a mother to you, and JothтАЩphine would be a thithter to you. I donтАЩt pretend to be of the angel breed myself, and I donтАЩt thay but what, when you mithтАЩd your tip, youтАЩd find me cut up rough, and thwear an oath or two at you. But what I thay, Thquire, ith, that good tempered or bad tempered, I never did a horthe a injury yet, no more than thwearing at him went, and that I donтАЩt expect I thall begin otherwithe at my time of life, with a rider. I never wath much of a Cackler, Thquire, and I have thed my thay.тАЭ + 

The latter part of this speech was addressed to Mr.┬аGradgrind, who received it with a grave inclination of his head, and then remarked: + 

тАЬThe only observation I will make to you, Jupe, in the way of influencing your decision, is, that it is highly desirable to have a sound practical education, and that even your father himself (from what I understand) appears, on your behalf, to have known and felt that much.тАЭ + 

The last words had a visible effect upon her. She stopped in her wild crying, a little detached herself from Emma Gordon, and turned her face full upon her patron. The whole company perceived the force of the change, and drew a long breath together, that plainly said, тАЬshe will go!тАЭ + 

тАЬBe sure you know your own mind, Jupe,тАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind cautioned her; тАЬI say no more. Be sure you know your own mind!тАЭ + 

тАЬWhen father comes back,тАЭ cried the girl, bursting into tears again after a minuteтАЩs silence, тАЬhow will he ever find me if I go away!тАЭ + 

тАЬYou may be quite at ease,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, calmly; he worked out the whole matter like a sum: тАЬyou may be quite at ease, Jupe, on that score. In such a case, your father, I apprehend, must find out Mr.тБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬThleary. Thath my name, Thquire. Not athamed of it. Known all over England, and alwayth paythe ith way.тАЭ + 

тАЬMust find out Mr.┬аSleary, who would then let him know where you went. I should have no power of keeping you against his wish, and he would have no difficulty, at any time, in finding Mr.┬аThomas Gradgrind of Coketown. I am well known.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell known,тАЭ assented Mr.┬аSleary, rolling his loose eye. тАЬYouтАЩre one of the thort, Thquire, that keepth a prethiouth thight of money out of the houthe. But never mind that at prethent.тАЭ + 

There was another silence; and then she exclaimed, sobbing with her hands before her face, тАЬOh, give me my clothes, give me my clothes, and let me go away before I break my heart!тАЭ + 

The women sadly bestirred themselves to get the clothes togetherтБатАФit was soon done, for they were not manyтБатАФand to pack them in a basket which had often travelled with them. Sissy sat all the time upon the ground, still sobbing, and covering her eyes. Mr.┬аGradgrind and his friend Bounderby stood near the door, ready to take her away. Mr.┬аSleary stood in the middle of the room, with the male members of the company about him, exactly as he would have stood in the centre of the ring during his daughter JosephineтАЩs performance. He wanted nothing but his whip. + 

The basket packed in silence, they brought her bonnet to her, and smoothed her disordered hair, and put it on. Then they pressed about her, and bent over her in very natural attitudes, kissing and embracing her: and brought the children to take leave of her; and were a tenderhearted, simple, foolish set of women altogether. + 

тАЬNow, Jupe,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬIf you are quite determined, come!тАЭ + 

But she had to take her farewell of the male part of the company yet, and every one of them had to unfold his arms (for they all assumed the professional attitude when they found themselves near Sleary), and give her a parting kissтБатАФMaster Kidderminster excepted, in whose young nature there was an original flavour of the misanthrope, who was also known to have harboured matrimonial views, and who moodily withdrew. Mr.┬аSleary was reserved until the last. Opening his arms wide he took her by both her hands, and would have sprung her up and down, after the riding-master manner of congratulating young ladies on their dismounting from a rapid act; but there was no rebound in Sissy, and she only stood before him crying. + 

тАЬGoodbye, my dear!тАЭ said Sleary. тАЬYouтАЩll make your fortun, I hope, and none of our poor folkth will ever trouble you, IтАЩll pound it. I with your father hadnтАЩt taken hith dog with him; ith a ill-conwenienth to have the dog out of the billth. But on thecond thoughth, he wouldnтАЩt have performed without hith mathter, tho ith ath broad ath ith long!тАЭ + 

With that he regarded her attentively with his fixed eye, surveyed his company with his loose one, kissed her, shook his head, and handed her to Mr.┬аGradgrind as to a horse. + 

тАЬThere the ith, Thquire,тАЭ he said, sweeping her with a professional glance as if she were being adjusted in her seat, тАЬand theтАЩll do you juthtithe. Goodbye, Thethilia!тАЭ + 

тАЬGoodbye, Cecilia!тАЭ тАЬGoodbye, Sissy!тАЭ тАЬGod bless you, dear!тАЭ In a variety of voices from all the room. + 

But the riding-master eye had observed the bottle of the nine oils in her bosom, and he now interposed with тАЬLeave the bottle, my dear; ith large to carry; it will be of no uthe to you now. Give it to me!тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, no!тАЭ she said, in another burst of tears. тАЬOh, no! Pray let me keep it for father till he comes back! He will want it when he comes back. He had never thought of going away, when he sent me for it. I must keep it for him, if you please!тАЭ + 

тАЬTho be it, my dear. (You thee how it ith, Thquire!) Farewell, Thethilia! My latht wordth to you ith thith, Thtick to the termth of your engagement, be obedient to the Thquire, and forget uth. But if, when youтАЩre grown up and married and well off, you come upon any horthe-riding ever, donтАЩt be hard upon it, donтАЩt be croth with it, give it a Bethpeak if you can, and think you might do wurth. People mutht be amuthed, Thquire, thomehow,тАЭ continued Sleary, rendered more pursy than ever, by so much talking; тАЬthey canтАЩt be alwayth a working, nor yet they canтАЩt be alwayth a learning. Make the betht of uth; not the wurtht. IтАЩve got my living out of the horthe-riding all my life, I know; but I conthider that I lay down the philothophy of the thubject when I thay to you, Thquire, make the betht of uth: not the wurtht!тАЭ + 

The Sleary philosophy was propounded as they went downstairs and the fixed eye of PhilosophyтБатАФand its rolling eye, tooтБатАФsoon lost the three figures and the basket in the darkness of the street. + 

VII + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit + 

Mr.┬аBounderby being a bachelor, an elderly lady presided over his establishment, in consideration of a certain annual stipend. Mrs.┬аSparsit was this ladyтАЩs name; and she was a prominent figure in attendance on Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs car, as it rolled along in triumph with the Bully of humility inside. + 

For, Mrs.┬аSparsit had not only seen different days, but was highly connected. She had a great aunt living in these very times called Lady Scadgers. Mr.┬аSparsit, deceased, of whom she was the relict, had been by the motherтАЩs side what Mrs.┬аSparsit still called тАЬa Powler.тАЭ Strangers of limited information and dull apprehension were sometimes observed not to know what a Powler was, and even to appear uncertain whether it might be a business, or a political party, or a profession of faith. The better class of minds, however, did not need to be informed that the Powlers were an ancient stock, who could trace themselves so exceedingly far back that it was not surprising if they sometimes lost themselvesтБатАФwhich they had rather frequently done, as respected horseflesh, blind-hookey, Hebrew monetary transactions, and the Insolvent DebtorsтАЩ Court. + 

The late Mr.┬аSparsit, being by the motherтАЩs side a Powler, married this lady, being by the fatherтАЩs side a Scadgers. Lady Scadgers (an immensely fat old woman, with an inordinate appetite for butcherтАЩs meat, and a mysterious leg which had now refused to get out of bed for fourteen years) contrived the marriage, at a period when Sparsit was just of age, and chiefly noticeable for a slender body, weakly supported on two long slim props, and surmounted by no head worth mentioning. He inherited a fair fortune from his uncle, but owed it all before he came into it, and spent it twice over immediately afterwards. Thus, when he died, at twenty-four (the scene of his decease, Calais, and the cause, brandy), he did not leave his widow, from whom he had been separated soon after the honeymoon, in affluent circumstances. That bereaved lady, fifteen years older than he, fell presently at deadly feud with her only relative, Lady Scadgers; and, partly to spite her ladyship, and partly to maintain herself, went out at a salary. And here she was now, in her elderly days, with the Coriolanian style of nose and the dense black eyebrows which had captivated Sparsit, making Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs tea as he took his breakfast. + 

If Bounderby had been a conqueror, and Mrs.┬аSparsit a captive Princess whom he took about as a feature in his state-processions, he could not have made a greater flourish with her than he habitually did. Just as it belonged to his boastfulness to depreciate his own extraction, so it belonged to it to exalt Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs. In the measure that he would not allow his own youth to have been attended by a single favourable circumstance, he brightened Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs juvenile career with every possible advantage, and showered wagon-loads of early roses all over that ladyтАЩs path. тАЬAnd yet, sir,тАЭ he would say, тАЬhow does it turn out after all? Why here she is at a hundred a year (I give her a hundred, which she is pleased to term handsome), keeping the house of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown!тАЭ + 

Nay, he made this foil of his so very widely known, that third parties took it up, and handled it on some occasions with considerable briskness. It was one of the most exasperating attributes of Bounderby, that he not only sang his own praises but stimulated other men to sing them. There was a moral infection of claptrap in him. Strangers, modest enough elsewhere, started up at dinners in Coketown, and boasted, in quite a rampant way, of Bounderby. They made him out to be the Royal arms, the Union-Jack, Magna Charta, John Bull, Habeas Corpus, the Bill of Rights, An EnglishmanтАЩs house is his castle, Church and State, and God save the Queen, all put together. And as often (and it was very often) as an orator of this kind brought into his perorationтБатАФ + 

тАЬPrinces and lords may flourish or may fade, + 

A breath can make them, as a breath has made,тАЭ + 

it was, for certain, more or less understood among the company that he had heard of Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬyou are unusually slow, sir, with your breakfast this morning.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, maтАЩam,тАЭ he returned, тАЬI am thinking about Tom GradgrindтАЩs whim;тАЭ Tom Gradgrind, for a bluff independent manner of speakingтБатАФas if somebody were always endeavouring to bribe him with immense sums to say Thomas, and he wouldnтАЩt; тАЬTom GradgrindтАЩs whim, maтАЩam, of bringing up the tumbling-girl.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe girl is now waiting to know,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬwhether she is to go straight to the school, or up to the Lodge.тАЭ + 

тАЬShe must wait, maтАЩam,тАЭ answered Bounderby, тАЬtill I know myself. We shall have Tom Gradgrind down here presently, I suppose. If he should wish her to remain here a day or two longer, of course she can, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course she can if you wish it, Mr.┬аBounderby.тАЭ + 

тАЬI told him I would give her a shakedown here, last night, in order that he might sleep on it before he decided to let her have any association with Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, Mr.┬аBounderby? Very thoughtful of you!тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs Coriolanian nose underwent a slight expansion of the nostrils, and her black eyebrows contracted as she took a sip of tea. + 

тАЬItтАЩs tolerably clear to me,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬthat the little puss can get small good out of such companionship.тАЭ + 

тАЬAre you speaking of young Miss Gradgrind, Mr.┬аBounderby?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam, IтАЩm speaking of Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour observation being limited to тАШlittle puss,тАЩтАКтАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬand there being two little girls in question, I did not know which might be indicated by that expression.тАЭ + 

тАЬLouisa,тАЭ repeated Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬLouisa, Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are quite another father to Louisa, sir.тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit took a little more tea; and, as she bent her again contracted eyebrows over her steaming cup, rather looked as if her classical countenance were invoking the infernal gods. + 

тАЬIf you had said I was another father to TomтБатАФyoung Tom, I mean, not my friend Tom GradgrindтБатАФyou might have been nearer the mark. I am going to take young Tom into my office. Going to have him under my wing, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed? Rather young for that, is he not, sir?тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs тАЬsir,тАЭ in addressing Mr.┬аBounderby, was a word of ceremony, rather exacting consideration for herself in the use, than honouring him. + 

тАЬIтАЩm not going to take him at once; he is to finish his educational cramming before then,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬBy the Lord Harry, heтАЩll have enough of it, first and last! HeтАЩd open his eyes, that boy would, if he knew how empty of learning my young maw was, at his time of life.тАЭ Which, by the by, he probably did know, for he had heard of it often enough. тАЬBut itтАЩs extraordinary the difficulty I have on scores of such subjects, in speaking to anyone on equal terms. Here, for example, I have been speaking to you this morning about tumblers. Why, what do you know about tumblers? At the time when, to have been a tumbler in the mud of the streets, would have been a godsend to me, a prize in the lottery to me, you were at the Italian Opera. You were coming out of the Italian Opera, maтАЩam, in white satin and jewels, a blaze of splendour, when I hadnтАЩt a penny to buy a link to light you.тАЭ + 

тАЬI certainly, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a dignity serenely mournful, тАЬwas familiar with the Italian Opera at a very early age.тАЭ + 

тАЬEgad, maтАЩam, so was I,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬтБатАФwith the wrong side of it. A hard bed the pavement of its Arcade used to make, I assure you. People like you, maтАЩam, accustomed from infancy to lie on down feathers, have no idea how hard a paving-stone is, without trying it. No, no, itтАЩs of no use my talking to you about tumblers. I should speak of foreign dancers, and the West End of London, and Mayfair, and lords and ladies and honourables.тАЭ + 

тАЬI trust, sir,тАЭ rejoined Mrs.┬аSparsit, with decent resignation, тАЬit is not necessary that you should do anything of that kind. I hope I have learnt how to accommodate myself to the changes of life. If I have acquired an interest in hearing of your instructive experiences, and can scarcely hear enough of them, I claim no merit for that, since I believe it is a general sentiment.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam,тАЭ said her patron, тАЬperhaps some people may be pleased to say that they do like to hear, in his own unpolished way, what Josiah Bounderby, of Coketown, has gone through. But you must confess that you were born in the lap of luxury, yourself. Come, maтАЩam, you know you were born in the lap of luxury.тАЭ + 

тАЬI do not, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit with a shake of her head, тАЬdeny it.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby was obliged to get up from table, and stand with his back to the fire, looking at her; she was such an enhancement of his position. + 

тАЬAnd you were in crack society. Devilish high society,тАЭ he said, warming his legs. + 

тАЬIt is true, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, with an affectation of humility the very opposite of his, and therefore in no danger of jostling it. + 

тАЬYou were in the tiptop fashion, and all the rest of it,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a kind of social widowhood upon her. тАЬIt is unquestionably true.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, bending himself at the knees, literally embraced his legs in his great satisfaction and laughed aloud. Mr.┬аand Miss Gradgrind being then announced, he received the former with a shake of the hand, and the latter with a kiss. + 

тАЬCan Jupe be sent here, Bounderby?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

Certainly. So Jupe was sent there. On coming in, she curtseyed to Mr.┬аBounderby, and to his friend Tom Gradgrind, and also to Louisa; but in her confusion unluckily omitted Mrs.┬аSparsit. Observing this, the blustrous Bounderby had the following remarks to make: + 

тАЬNow, I tell you what, my girl. The name of that lady by the teapot, is Mrs.┬аSparsit. That lady acts as mistress of this house, and she is a highly connected lady. Consequently, if ever you come again into any room in this house, you will make a short stay in it if you donтАЩt behave towards that lady in your most respectful manner. Now, I donтАЩt care a button what you do to me, because I donтАЩt affect to be anybody. So far from having high connections I have no connections at all, and I come of the scum of the earth. But towards that lady, I do care what you do; and you shall do what is deferential and respectful, or you shall not come here.тАЭ + 

тАЬI hope, Bounderby,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, in a conciliatory voice, тАЬthat this was merely an oversight.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy friend Tom Gradgrind suggests, Mrs.┬аSparsit,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬthat this was merely an oversight. Very likely. However, as you are aware, maтАЩam, I donтАЩt allow of even oversights towards you.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are very good indeed, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, shaking her head with her State humility. тАЬIt is not worth speaking of.тАЭ + 

Sissy, who all this time had been faintly excusing herself with tears in her eyes, was now waved over by the master of the house to Mr.┬аGradgrind. She stood looking intently at him, and Louisa stood coldly by, with her eyes upon the ground, while he proceeded thus: + 

тАЬJupe, I have made up my mind to take you into my house; and, when you are not in attendance at the school, to employ you about Mrs.┬аGradgrind, who is rather an invalid. I have explained to Miss LouisaтБатАФthis is Miss LouisaтБатАФthe miserable but natural end of your late career; and you are to expressly understand that the whole of that subject is past, and is not to be referred to any more. From this time you begin your history. You are, at present, ignorant, I know.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir, very,тАЭ she answered, curtseying. + 

тАЬI shall have the satisfaction of causing you to be strictly educated; and you will be a living proof to all who come into communication with you, of the advantages of the training you will receive. You will be reclaimed and formed. You have been in the habit now of reading to your father, and those people I found you among, I dare say?тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, beckoning her nearer to him before he said so, and dropping his voice. + 

тАЬOnly to father and Merrylegs, sir. At least I mean to father, when Merrylegs was always there.тАЭ + 

тАЬNever mind Merrylegs, Jupe,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, with a passing frown. тАЬI donтАЩt ask about him. I understand you to have been in the habit of reading to your father?тАЭ + 

тАЬO, yes, sir, thousands of times. They were the happiestтБатАФO, of all the happy times we had together, sir!тАЭ + 

It was only now when her sorrow broke out, that Louisa looked at her. + 

тАЬAnd what,тАЭ asked Mr.┬аGradgrind, in a still lower voice, тАЬdid you read to your father, Jupe?тАЭ + 

тАЬAbout the Fairies, sir, and the Dwarf, and the Hunchback, and the Genies,тАЭ she sobbed out; тАЬand aboutтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬHush!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthat is enough. Never breathe a word of such destructive nonsense any more. Bounderby, this is a case for rigid training, and I shall observe it with interest.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬI have given you my opinion already, and I shouldnтАЩt do as you do. But, very well, very well. Since you are bent upon it, very well!тАЭ + 

So, Mr.┬аGradgrind and his daughter took Cecilia Jupe off with them to Stone Lodge, and on the way Louisa never spoke one word, good or bad. And Mr.┬аBounderby went about his daily pursuits. And Mrs.┬аSparsit got behind her eyebrows and meditated in the gloom of that retreat, all the evening. + 

VIII + 

Never Wonder + 

Let us strike the keynote again, before pursuing the tune. + 

When she was half a dozen years younger, Louisa had been overheard to begin a conversation with her brother one day, by saying тАЬTom, I wonderтАЭтБатАФupon which Mr.┬аGradgrind, who was the person overhearing, stepped forth into the light and said, тАЬLouisa, never wonder!тАЭ + 

Herein lay the spring of the mechanical art and mystery of educating the reason without stooping to the cultivation of the sentiments and affections. Never wonder. By means of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, settle everything somehow, and never wonder. Bring to me, says MтАЩChoakumchild, yonder baby just able to walk, and I will engage that it shall never wonder. + 

Now, besides very many babies just able to walk, there happened to be in Coketown a considerable population of babies who had been walking against time towards the infinite world, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years and more. These portentous infants being alarming creatures to stalk about in any human society, the eighteen denominations incessantly scratched one anotherтАЩs faces and pulled one anotherтАЩs hair by way of agreeing on the steps to be taken for their improvementтБатАФwhich they never did; a surprising circumstance, when the happy adaptation of the means to the end is considered. Still, although they differed in every other particular, conceivable and inconceivable (especially inconceivable), they were pretty well united on the point that these unlucky infants were never to wonder. Body number one, said they must take everything on trust. Body number two, said they must take everything on political economy. Body number three, wrote leaden little books for them, showing how the good grownup baby invariably got to the savings-bank, and the bad grownup baby invariably got transported. Body number four, under dreary pretences of being droll (when it was very melancholy indeed), made the shallowest pretences of concealing pitfalls of knowledge, into which it was the duty of these babies to be smuggled and inveigled. But, all the bodies agreed that they were never to wonder. + 

There was a library in Coketown, to which general access was easy. Mr.┬аGradgrind greatly tormented his mind about what the people read in this library: a point whereon little rivers of tabular statements periodically flowed into the howling ocean of tabular statements, which no diver ever got to any depth in and came up sane. It was a disheartening circumstance, but a melancholy fact, that even these readers persisted in wondering. They wondered about human nature, human passions, human hopes and fears, the struggles, triumphs and defeats, the cares and joys and sorrows, the lives and deaths of common men and women! They sometimes, after fifteen hoursтАЩ work, sat down to read mere fables about men and women, more or less like themselves, and about children, more or less like their own. They took Defoe to their bosoms, instead of Euclid, and seemed to be on the whole more comforted by Goldsmith than by Cocker. Mr.┬аGradgrind was forever working, in print and out of print, at this eccentric sum, and he never could make out how it yielded this unaccountable product. + 

тАЬI am sick of my life, Loo. I, hate it altogether, and I hate everybody except you,тАЭ said the unnatural young Thomas Gradgrind in the hair-cutting chamber at twilight. + 

тАЬYou donтАЩt hate Sissy, Tom?тАЭ + 

тАЬI hate to be obliged to call her Jupe. And she hates me,тАЭ said Tom, moodily. + 

тАЬNo, she does not, Tom, I am sure!тАЭ + 

тАЬShe must,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬShe must just hate and detest the whole set-out of us. TheyтАЩll bother her head off, I think, before they have done with her. Already sheтАЩs getting as pale as wax, and as heavy asтБатАФI am.тАЭ + 

Young Thomas expressed these sentiments sitting astride of a chair before the fire, with his arms on the back, and his sulky face on his arms. His sister sat in the darker corner by the fireside, now looking at him, now looking at the bright sparks as they dropped upon the hearth. + 

тАЬAs to me,тАЭ said Tom, tumbling his hair all manner of ways with his sulky hands, тАЬI am a donkey, thatтАЩs what I am. I am as obstinate as one, I am more stupid than one, I get as much pleasure as one, and I should like to kick like one.тАЭ + 

тАЬNot me, I hope, Tom?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Loo; I wouldnтАЩt hurt you. I made an exception of you at first. I donтАЩt know what thisтБатАФjolly oldтБатАФJaundiced jail,тАЭ Tom had paused to find a sufficiently complimentary and expressive name for the parental roof, and seemed to relieve his mind for a moment by the strong alliteration of this one, тАЬwould be without you.тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, Tom? Do you really and truly say so?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, of course I do. WhatтАЩs the use of talking about it!тАЭ returned Tom, chafing his face on his coat-sleeve, as if to mortify his flesh, and have it in unison with his spirit. + 

тАЬBecause, Tom,тАЭ said his sister, after silently watching the sparks awhile, тАЬas I get older, and nearer growing up, I often sit wondering here, and think how unfortunate it is for me that I canтАЩt reconcile you to home better than I am able to do. I donтАЩt know what other girls know. I canтАЩt play to you, or sing to you. I canтАЩt talk to you so as to lighten your mind, for I never see any amusing sights or read any amusing books that it would be a pleasure or a relief to you to talk about, when you are tired.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, no more do I. I am as bad as you in that respect; and I am a mule too, which youтАЩre not. If father was determined to make me either a prig or a mule, and I am not a prig, why, it stands to reason, I must be a mule. And so I am,тАЭ said Tom, desperately. + 

тАЬItтАЩs a great pity,тАЭ said Louisa, after another pause, and speaking thoughtfully out of her dark corner: тАЬitтАЩs a great pity, Tom. ItтАЩs very unfortunate for both of us.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! You,тАЭ said Tom; тАЬyou are a girl, Loo, and a girl comes out of it better than a boy does. I donтАЩt miss anything in you. You are the only pleasure I haveтБатАФyou can brighten even this placeтБатАФand you can always lead me as you like.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are a dear brother, Tom; and while you think I can do such things, I donтАЩt so much mind knowing better. Though I do know better, Tom, and am very sorry for it.тАЭ She came and kissed him, and went back into her corner again. + 

тАЬI wish I could collect all the Facts we hear so much about,тАЭ said Tom, spitefully setting his teeth, тАЬand all the Figures, and all the people who found them out: and I wish I could put a thousand barrels of gunpowder under them, and blow them all up together! However, when I go to live with old Bounderby, IтАЩll have my revenge.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour revenge, Tom?тАЭ + 

тАЬI mean, IтАЩll enjoy myself a little, and go about and see something, and hear something. IтАЩll recompense myself for the way in which I have been brought up.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut donтАЩt disappoint yourself beforehand, Tom. Mr.┬аBounderby thinks as father thinks, and is a great deal rougher, and not half so kind.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh!тАЭ said Tom, laughing; тАЬI donтАЩt mind that. I shall very well know how to manage and smooth old Bounderby!тАЭ + 

Their shadows were defined upon the wall, but those of the high presses in the room were all blended together on the wall and on the ceiling, as if the brother and sister were overhung by a dark cavern. Or, a fanciful imaginationтБатАФif such treason could have been thereтБатАФmight have made it out to be the shadow of their subject, and of its lowering association with their future. + 

тАЬWhat is your great mode of smoothing and managing, Tom? Is it a secret?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh!тАЭ said Tom, тАЬif it is a secret, itтАЩs not far off. ItтАЩs you. You are his little pet, you are his favourite; heтАЩll do anything for you. When he says to me what I donтАЩt like, I shall say to him, тАШMy sister Loo will be hurt and disappointed, Mr.┬аBounderby. She always used to tell me she was sure you would be easier with me than this.тАЩ ThatтАЩll bring him about, or nothing will.тАЭ + 

After waiting for some answering remark, and getting none, Tom wearily relapsed into the present time, and twined himself yawning round and about the rails of his chair, and rumpled his head more and more, until he suddenly looked up, and asked: + 

тАЬHave you gone to sleep, Loo?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Tom. I am looking at the fire.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou seem to find more to look at in it than ever I could find,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬAnother of the advantages, I suppose, of being a girl.тАЭ + 

тАЬTom,тАЭ enquired his sister, slowly, and in a curious tone, as if she were reading what she asked in the fire, and it was not quite plainly written there, тАЬdo you look forward with any satisfaction to this change to Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, thereтАЩs one thing to be said of it,тАЭ returned Tom, pushing his chair from him, and standing up; тАЬit will be getting away from home.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere is one thing to be said of it,тАЭ Louisa repeated in her former curious tone; тАЬit will be getting away from home. Yes.тАЭ + 

тАЬNot but what I shall be very unwilling, both to leave you, Loo, and to leave you here. But I must go, you know, whether I like it or not; and I had better go where I can take with me some advantage of your influence, than where I should lose it altogether. DonтАЩt you see?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, Tom.тАЭ + 

The answer was so long in coming, though there was no indecision in it, that Tom went and leaned on the back of her chair, to contemplate the fire which so engrossed her, from her point of view, and see what he could make of it. + 

тАЬExcept that it is a fire,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬit looks to me as stupid and blank as everything else looks. What do you see in it? Not a circus?тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt see anything in it, Tom, particularly. But since I have been looking at it, I have been wondering about you and me, grown up.тАЭ + 

тАЬWondering again!тАЭ said Tom. + 

тАЬI have such unmanageable thoughts,тАЭ returned his sister, тАЬthat they will wonder.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen I beg of you, Louisa,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, who had opened the door without being heard, тАЬto do nothing of that description, for goodnessтАЩ sake, you inconsiderate girl, or I shall never hear the last of it from your father. And, Thomas, it is really shameful, with my poor head continually wearing me out, that a boy brought up as you have been, and whose education has cost what yours has, should be found encouraging his sister to wonder, when he knows his father has expressly said that she is not to do it.тАЭ + 

Louisa denied TomтАЩs participation in the offence; but her mother stopped her with the conclusive answer, тАЬLouisa, donтАЩt tell me, in my state of health; for unless you had been encouraged, it is morally and physically impossible that you could have done it.тАЭ + 

тАЬI was encouraged by nothing, mother, but by looking at the red sparks dropping out of the fire, and whitening and dying. It made me think, after all, how short my life would be, and how little I could hope to do in it.тАЭ + 

тАЬNonsense!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, rendered almost energetic. тАЬNonsense! DonтАЩt stand there and tell me such stuff, Louisa, to my face, when you know very well that if it was ever to reach your fatherтАЩs ears I should never hear the last of it. After all the trouble that has been taken with you! After the lectures you have attended, and the experiments you have seen! After I have heard you myself, when the whole of my right side has been benumbed, going on with your master about combustion, and calcination, and calorification, and I may say every kind of ation that could drive a poor invalid distracted, to hear you talking in this absurd way about sparks and ashes! I wish,тАЭ whimpered Mrs.┬аGradgrind, taking a chair, and discharging her strongest point before succumbing under these mere shadows of facts, тАЬyes, I really do wish that I had never had a family, and then you would have known what it was to do without me!тАЭ + 

IX + 

SissyтАЩs Progress + 

Sissy Jupe had not an easy time of it, between Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild and Mrs.┬аGradgrind, and was not without strong impulses, in the first months of her probation, to run away. It hailed facts all day long so very hard, and life in general was opened to her as such a closely ruled ciphering-book, that assuredly she would have run away, but for only one restraint. + 

It is lamentable to think of; but this restraint was the result of no arithmetical process, was self-imposed in defiance of all calculation, and went dead against any table of probabilities that any actuary would have drawn up from the premises. The girl believed that her father had not deserted her; she lived in the hope that he would come back, and in the faith that he would be made the happier by her remaining where she was. + 

The wretched ignorance with which Jupe clung to this consolation, rejecting the superior comfort of knowing, on a sound arithmetical basis, that her father was an unnatural vagabond, filled Mr.┬аGradgrind with pity. Yet, what was to be done? MтАЩChoakumchild reported that she had a very dense head for figures; that, once possessed with a general idea of the globe, she took the smallest conceivable interest in its exact measurements; that she was extremely slow in the acquisition of dates, unless some pitiful incident happened to be connected therewith; that she would burst into tears on being required (by the mental process) immediately to name the cost of two hundred and forty-seven muslin caps at fourteen-pence halfpenny; that she was as low down, in the school, as low could be; that after eight weeks of induction into the elements of Political Economy, she had only yesterday been set right by a prattler three feet high, for returning to the question, тАЬWhat is the first principle of this science?тАЭ the absurd answer, тАЬTo do unto others as I would that they should do unto me.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind observed, shaking his head, that all this was very bad; that it showed the necessity of infinite grinding at the mill of knowledge, as per system, schedule, blue book, report, and tabular statements A to Z; and that Jupe тАЬmust be kept to it.тАЭ So Jupe was kept to it, and became low-spirited, but no wiser. + 

тАЬIt would be a fine thing to be you, Miss Louisa!тАЭ she said, one night, when Louisa had endeavoured to make her perplexities for next day something clearer to her. + 

тАЬDo you think so?тАЭ + 

тАЬI should know so much, Miss Louisa. All that is difficult to me now, would be so easy then.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou might not be the better for it, Sissy.тАЭ + 

Sissy submitted, after a little hesitation, тАЬI should not be the worse, Miss Louisa.тАЭ To which Miss Louisa answered, тАЬI donтАЩt know that.тАЭ + 

There had been so little communication between these twoтБатАФboth because life at Stone Lodge went monotonously round like a piece of machinery which discouraged human interference, and because of the prohibition relative to SissyтАЩs past careerтБатАФthat they were still almost strangers. Sissy, with her dark eyes wonderingly directed to LouisaтАЩs face, was uncertain whether to say more or to remain silent. + 

тАЬYou are more useful to my mother, and more pleasant with her than I can ever be,тАЭ Louisa resumed. тАЬYou are pleasanter to yourself, than I am to myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut, if you please, Miss Louisa,тАЭ Sissy pleaded, тАЬI amтБатАФO so stupid!тАЭ + 

Louisa, with a brighter laugh than usual, told her she would be wiser by-and-by. + 

тАЬYou donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Sissy, half crying, тАЬwhat a stupid girl I am. All through school hours I make mistakes. Mr.┬аand Mrs.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild call me up, over and over again, regularly to make mistakes. I canтАЩt help them. They seem to come natural to me.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аand Mrs.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild never make any mistakes themselves, I suppose, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬO no!тАЭ she eagerly returned. тАЬThey know everything.тАЭ + 

тАЬTell me some of your mistakes.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am almost ashamed,тАЭ said Sissy, with reluctance. тАЬBut today, for instance, Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild was explaining to us about Natural Prosperity.тАЭ + 

тАЬNational, I think it must have been,тАЭ observed Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, it was.тБатАФBut isnтАЩt it the same?тАЭ she timidly asked. + 

тАЬYou had better say, National, as he said so,тАЭ returned Louisa, with her dry reserve. + 

тАЬNational Prosperity. And he said, Now, this schoolroom is a Nation. And in this nation, there are fifty millions of money. IsnтАЩt this a prosperous nation? Girl number twenty, isnтАЩt this a prosperous nation, and aтАЩnтАЩt you in a thriving state?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat did you say?тАЭ asked Louisa. + 

тАЬMiss Louisa, I said I didnтАЩt know. I thought I couldnтАЩt know whether it was a prosperous nation or not, and whether I was in a thriving state or not, unless I knew who had got the money, and whether any of it was mine. But that had nothing to do with it. It was not in the figures at all,тАЭ said Sissy, wiping her eyes. + 

тАЬThat was a great mistake of yours,тАЭ observed Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, Miss Louisa, I know it was, now. Then Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said he would try me again. And he said, This schoolroom is an immense town, and in it there are a million of inhabitants, and only five-and-twenty are starved to death in the streets, in the course of a year. What is your remark on that proportion? And my remark wasтБатАФfor I couldnтАЩt think of a better oneтБатАФthat I thought it must be just as hard upon those who were starved, whether the others were a million, or a million million. And that was wrong, too.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course it was.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said he would try me once more. And he said, Here are the stutteringsтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬStatistics,тАЭ said Louisa. + 

тАЬYes, Miss LouisaтБатАФthey always remind me of stutterings, and thatтАЩs another of my mistakesтБатАФof accidents upon the sea. And I find (Mr.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild said) that in a given time a hundred thousand persons went to sea on long voyages, and only five hundred of them were drowned or burnt to death. What is the percentage? And I said, Miss;тАЭ here Sissy fairly sobbed as confessing with extreme contrition to her greatest error; тАЬI said it was nothing.тАЭ + 

тАЬNothing, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬNothing, MissтБатАФto the relations and friends of the people who were killed. I shall never learn,тАЭ said Sissy. тАЬAnd the worst of all is, that although my poor father wished me so much to learn, and although I am so anxious to learn, because he wished me to, I am afraid I donтАЩt like it.тАЭ + 

Louisa stood looking at the pretty modest head, as it drooped abashed before her, until it was raised again to glance at her face. Then she asked: + 

тАЬDid your father know so much himself, that he wished you to be well taught too, Sissy?тАЭ + 

Sissy hesitated before replying, and so plainly showed her sense that they were entering on forbidden ground, that Louisa added, тАЬNo one hears us; and if anyone did, I am sure no harm could be found in such an innocent question.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Miss Louisa,тАЭ answered Sissy, upon this encouragement, shaking her head; тАЬfather knows very little indeed. ItтАЩs as much as he can do to write; and itтАЩs more than people in general can do to read his writing. Though itтАЩs plain to me.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour mother?тАЭ + 

тАЬFather says she was quite a scholar. She died when I was born. She was;тАЭ Sissy made the terrible communication nervously; тАЬshe was a dancer.тАЭ + 

тАЬDid your father love her?тАЭ Louisa asked these questions with a strong, wild, wandering interest peculiar to her; an interest gone astray like a banished creature, and hiding in solitary places. + 

тАЬO yes! As dearly as he loves me. Father loved me, first, for her sake. He carried me about with him when I was quite a baby. We have never been asunder from that time.тАЭ + 

тАЬYet he leaves you now, Sissy?тАЭ + 

тАЬOnly for my good. Nobody understands him as I do; nobody knows him as I do. When he left me for my goodтБатАФhe never would have left me for his ownтБатАФI know he was almost brokenhearted with the trial. He will not be happy for a single minute, till he comes back.тАЭ + 

тАЬTell me more about him,тАЭ said Louisa, тАЬI will never ask you again. Where did you live?тАЭ + 

тАЬWe travelled about the country, and had no fixed place to live in. FatherтАЩs aтБатАФтАЭ Sissy whispered the awful word, тАЬa clown.тАЭ + 

тАЬTo make the people laugh?тАЭ said Louisa, with a nod of intelligence. + 

тАЬYes. But they wouldnтАЩt laugh sometimes, and then father cried. Lately, they very often wouldnтАЩt laugh, and he used to come home despairing. FatherтАЩs not like most. Those who didnтАЩt know him as well as I do, and didnтАЩt love him as dearly as I do, might believe he was not quite right. Sometimes they played tricks upon him; but they never knew how he felt them, and shrunk up, when he was alone with me. He was far, far timider than they thought!тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd you were his comfort through everything?тАЭ + 

She nodded, with the tears rolling down her face. тАЬI hope so, and father said I was. It was because he grew so scared and trembling, and because he felt himself to be a poor, weak, ignorant, helpless man (those used to be his words), that he wanted me so much to know a great deal, and be different from him. I used to read to him to cheer his courage, and he was very fond of that. They were wrong booksтБатАФI am never to speak of them hereтБатАФbut we didnтАЩt know there was any harm in them.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd he liked them?тАЭ said Louisa, with a searching gaze on Sissy all this time. + 

тАЬO very much! They kept him, many times, from what did him real harm. And often and often of a night, he used to forget all his troubles in wondering whether the Sultan would let the lady go on with the story, or would have her head cut off before it was finished.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd your father was always kind? To the last?тАЭ asked Louisa contravening the great principle, and wondering very much. + 

тАЬAlways, always!тАЭ returned Sissy, clasping her hands. тАЬKinder and kinder than I can tell. He was angry only one night, and that was not to me, but Merrylegs. MerrylegsтБатАФтАЭ she whispered the awful fact; тАЬis his performing dog.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy was he angry with the dog?тАЭ Louisa demanded. + 

тАЬFather, soon after they came home from performing, told Merrylegs to jump up on the backs of the two chairs and stand across themтБатАФwhich is one of his tricks. He looked at father, and didnтАЩt do it at once. Everything of fatherтАЩs had gone wrong that night, and he hadnтАЩt pleased the public at all. He cried out that the very dog knew he was failing, and had no compassion on him. Then he beat the dog, and I was frightened, and said, тАШFather, father! Pray donтАЩt hurt the creature who is so fond of you! O Heaven forgive you, father, stop!тАЩ And he stopped, and the dog was bloody, and father lay down crying on the floor with the dog in his arms, and the dog licked his face.тАЭ + 

Louisa saw that she was sobbing; and going to her, kissed her, took her hand, and sat down beside her. + 

тАЬFinish by telling me how your father left you, Sissy. Now that I have asked you so much, tell me the end. The blame, if there is any blame, is mine, not yours.тАЭ + 

тАЬDear Miss Louisa,тАЭ said Sissy, covering her eyes, and sobbing yet; тАЬI came home from the school that afternoon, and found poor father just come home too, from the booth. And he sat rocking himself over the fire, as if he was in pain. And I said, тАШHave you hurt yourself, father?тАЩ (as he did sometimes, like they all did), and he said, тАШA little, my darling.тАЩ And when I came to stoop down and look up at his face, I saw that he was crying. The more I spoke to him, the more he hid his face; and at first he shook all over, and said nothing but тАШMy darling;тАЩ and тАШMy love!тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

Here Tom came lounging in, and stared at the two with a coolness not particularly savouring of interest in anything but himself, and not much of that at present. + 

тАЬI am asking Sissy a few questions, Tom,тАЭ observed his sister. тАЬYou have no occasion to go away; but donтАЩt interrupt us for a moment, Tom dear.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! very well!тАЭ returned Tom. тАЬOnly father has brought old Bounderby home, and I want you to come into the drawing-room. Because if you come, thereтАЩs a good chance of old BounderbyтАЩs asking me to dinner; and if you donтАЩt, thereтАЩs none.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll come directly.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll wait for you,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬto make sure.тАЭ + 

Sissy resumed in a lower voice. тАЬAt last poor father said that he had given no satisfaction again, and never did give any satisfaction now, and that he was a shame and disgrace, and I should have done better without him all along. I said all the affectionate things to him that came into my heart, and presently he was quiet and I sat down by him, and told him all about the school and everything that had been said and done there. When I had no more left to tell, he put his arms round my neck, and kissed me a great many times. Then he asked me to fetch some of the stuff he used, for the little hurt he had had, and to get it at the best place, which was at the other end of town from there; and then, after kissing me again, he let me go. When I had gone downstairs, I turned back that I might be a little bit more company to him yet, and looked in at the door, and said, тАШFather dear, shall I take Merrylegs?тАЩ Father shook his head and said, тАШNo, Sissy, no; take nothing thatтАЩs known to be mine, my darling;тАЩ and I left him sitting by the fire. Then the thought must have come upon him, poor, poor father! of going away to try something for my sake; for when I came back, he was gone.тАЭ + 

тАЬI say! Look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!тАЭ Tom remonstrated. + 

тАЬThereтАЩs no more to tell, Miss Louisa. I keep the nine oils ready for him, and I know he will come back. Every letter that I see in Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs hand takes my breath away and blinds my eyes, for I think it comes from father, or from Mr.┬аSleary about father. Mr.┬аSleary promised to write as soon as ever father should be heard of, and I trust to him to keep his word.тАЭ + 

тАЬDo look sharp for old Bounderby, Loo!тАЭ said Tom, with an impatient whistle. тАЬHeтАЩll be off if you donтАЩt look sharp!тАЭ + 

After this, whenever Sissy dropped a curtsey to Mr.┬аGradgrind in the presence of his family, and said in a faltering way, тАЬI beg your pardon, sir, for being troublesomeтБатАФbutтБатАФhave you had any letter yet about me?тАЭ Louisa would suspend the occupation of the moment, whatever it was, and look for the reply as earnestly as Sissy did. And when Mr.┬аGradgrind regularly answered, тАЬNo, Jupe, nothing of the sort,тАЭ the trembling of SissyтАЩs lip would be repeated in LouisaтАЩs face, and her eyes would follow Sissy with compassion to the door. Mr.┬аGradgrind usually improved these occasions by remarking, when she was gone, that if Jupe had been properly trained from an early age she would have remonstrated to herself on sound principles the baselessness of these fantastic hopes. Yet it did seem (though not to him, for he saw nothing of it) as if fantastic hope could take as strong a hold as Fact. + 

This observation must be limited exclusively to his daughter. As to Tom, he was becoming that not unprecedented triumph of calculation which is usually at work on number one. As to Mrs.┬аGradgrind, if she said anything on the subject, she would come a little way out of her wrappers, like a feminine dormouse, and say: + 

тАЬGood gracious bless me, how my poor head is vexed and worried by that girl JupeтАЩs so perseveringly asking, over and over again, about her tiresome letters! Upon my word and honour I seem to be fated, and destined, and ordained, to live in the midst of things that I am never to hear the last of. It really is a most extraordinary circumstance that it appears as if I never was to hear the last of anything!тАЭ + 

At about this point, Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs eye would fall upon her; and under the influence of that wintry piece of fact, she would become torpid again. + 

X + 

Stephen Blackpool + 

I entertain a weak idea that the English people are as hard-worked as any people upon whom the sun shines. I acknowledge to this ridiculous idiosyncrasy, as a reason why I would give them a little more play. + 

In the hardest working part of Coketown; in the innermost fortifications of that ugly citadel, where Nature was as strongly bricked out as killing airs and gases were bricked in; at the heart of the labyrinth of narrow courts upon courts, and close streets upon streets, which had come into existence piecemeal, every piece in a violent hurry for some one manтАЩs purpose, and the whole an unnatural family, shouldering, and trampling, and pressing one another to death; in the last close nook of this great exhausted receiver, where the chimneys, for want of air to make a draught, were built in an immense variety of stunted and crooked shapes, as though every house put out a sign of the kind of people who might be expected to be born in it; among the multitude of Coketown, generically called тАЬthe hands,тАЭтБатАФa race who would have found more favour with some people, if Providence had seen fit to make them only hands, or, like the lower creatures of the seashore, only hands and stomachsтБатАФlived a certain Stephen Blackpool, forty years of age. + 

Stephen looked older, but he had had a hard life. It is said that every life has its roses and thorns; there seemed, however, to have been a misadventure or mistake in StephenтАЩs case, whereby somebody else had become possessed of his roses, and he had become possessed of the same somebody elseтАЩs thorns in addition to his own. He had known, to use his words, a peck of trouble. He was usually called Old Stephen, in a kind of rough homage to the fact. + 

A rather stooping man, with a knitted brow, a pondering expression of face, and a hard-looking head sufficiently capacious, on which his iron-grey hair lay long and thin, Old Stephen might have passed for a particularly intelligent man in his condition. Yet he was not. He took no place among those remarkable тАЬhands,тАЭ who, piecing together their broken intervals of leisure through many years, had mastered difficult sciences, and acquired a knowledge of most unlikely things. He held no station among the hands who could make speeches and carry on debates. Thousands of his compeers could talk much better than he, at any time. He was a good power-loom weaver, and a man of perfect integrity. What more he was, or what else he had in him, if anything, let him show for himself. + 

The lights in the great factories, which looked, when they were illuminated, like fairy palacesтБатАФor the travellers by express-train said soтБатАФwere all extinguished; and the bells had rung for knocking off for the night, and had ceased again; and the hands, men and women, boy and girl, were clattering home. Old Stephen was standing in the street, with the old sensation upon him which the stoppage of the machinery always producedтБатАФthe sensation of its having worked and stopped in his own head. + 

тАЬYet I donтАЩt see Rachael, still!тАЭ said he. + 

It was a wet night, and many groups of young women passed him, with their shawls drawn over their bare heads and held close under their chins to keep the rain out. He knew Rachael well, for a glance at any one of these groups was sufficient to show him that she was not there. At last, there were no more to come; and then he turned away, saying in a tone of disappointment, тАЬWhy, then, haтАЩ missed her!тАЭ + 

But, he had not gone the length of three streets, when he saw another of the shawled figures in advance of him, at which he looked so keenly that perhaps its mere shadow indistinctly reflected on the wet pavementтБатАФif he could have seen it without the figure itself moving along from lamp to lamp, brightening and fading as it wentтБатАФwould have been enough to tell him who was there. Making his pace at once much quicker and much softer, he darted on until he was very near this figure, then fell into his former walk, and called тАЬRachael!тАЭ + 

She turned, being then in the brightness of a lamp; and raising her hood a little, showed a quiet oval face, dark and rather delicate, irradiated by a pair of very gentle eyes, and further set off by the perfect order of her shining black hair. It was not a face in its first bloom; she was a woman five and thirty years of age. + 

тАЬAh, lad! тАЩTis thou?тАЭ When she had said this, with a smile which would have been quite expressed, though nothing of her had been seen but her pleasant eyes, she replaced her hood again, and they went on together. + 

тАЬI thought thou wast ahind me, Rachael?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo.тАЭ + 

тАЬEarly tтАЩnight, lass?тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTimes IтАЩm a little early, Stephen! тАЩtimes a little late. IтАЩm never to be counted on, going home.тАЭ + 

тАЬNor going tтАЩother way, neither, тАЩt seems to me, Rachael?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Stephen.тАЭ + 

He looked at her with some disappointment in his face, but with a respectful and patient conviction that she must be right in whatever she did. The expression was not lost upon her; she laid her hand lightly on his arm a moment as if to thank him for it. + 

тАЬWe are such true friends, lad, and such old friends, and getting to be such old folk, now.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Rachael, thouтАЩrt as young as ever thou wast.тАЭ + 

тАЬOne of us would be puzzled how to get old, Stephen, without тАЩt other getting so too, both being alive,тАЭ she answered, laughing; тАЬbut, anyways, weтАЩre such old friends, and tтАЩ hide a word of honest truth froтАЩ one another would be a sin and a pity. тАЩTis better not to walk too much together. тАЩTimes, yes! тАЩTwould be hard, indeed, if тАЩtwas not to be at all,тАЭ she said, with a cheerfulness she sought to communicate to him. + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTis hard, anyways, Rachael.тАЭ + 

тАЬTry to think not; and тАЩtwill seem better.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩve tried a long time, and тАЩtaтАЩnt got better. But thouтАЩrt right; тАЩt might mak fok talk, even of thee. Thou hast been that to me, Rachael, through so many year: thou hast done me so much good, and heartened of me in that cheering way, that thy word is a law to me. Ah, lass, and a bright good law! Better than some real ones.тАЭ + 

тАЬNever fret about them, Stephen,тАЭ she answered quickly, and not without an anxious glance at his face. тАЬLet the laws be.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ he said, with a slow nod or two. тАЬLet тАЩem be. Let everything be. Let all sorts alone. тАЩTis a muddle, and thatтАЩs aw.тАЭ + 

тАЬAlways a muddle?тАЭ said Rachael, with another gentle touch upon his arm, as if to recall him out of the thoughtfulness, in which he was biting the long ends of his loose neckerchief as he walked along. The touch had its instantaneous effect. He let them fall, turned a smiling face upon her, and said, as he broke into a good-humoured laugh, тАЬAy, Rachael, lass, awlus a muddle. ThatтАЩs where I stick. I come to the muddle many times and agen, and I never get beyond it.тАЭ + 

They had walked some distance, and were near their own homes. The womanтАЩs was the first reached. It was in one of the many small streets for which the favourite undertaker (who turned a handsome sum out of the one poor ghastly pomp of the neighbourhood) kept a black ladder, in order that those who had done their daily groping up and down the narrow stairs might slide out of this working world by the windows. She stopped at the corner, and putting her hand in his, wished him good night. + 

тАЬGood night, dear lass; good night!тАЭ + 

She went, with her neat figure and her sober womanly step, down the dark street, and he stood looking after her until she turned into one of the small houses. There was not a flutter of her coarse shawl, perhaps, but had its interest in this manтАЩs eyes; not a tone of her voice but had its echo in his innermost heart. + 

When she was lost to his view, he pursued his homeward way, glancing up sometimes at the sky, where the clouds were sailing fast and wildly. But, they were broken now, and the rain had ceased, and the moon shoneтБатАФlooking down the high chimneys of Coketown on the deep furnaces below, and casting titanic shadows of the steam-engines at rest, upon the walls where they were lodged. The man seemed to have brightened with the night, as he went on. + 

His home, in such another street as the first, saving that it was narrower, was over a little shop. How it came to pass that any people found it worth their while to sell or buy the wretched little toys, mixed up in its window with cheap newspapers and pork (there was a leg to be raffled for tomorrow-night), matters not here. He took his end of candle from a shelf, lighted it at another end of candle on the counter, without disturbing the mistress of the shop who was asleep in her little room, and went upstairs into his lodging. + 

It was a room, not unacquainted with the black ladder under various tenants; but as neat, at present, as such a room could be. A few books and writings were on an old bureau in a corner, the furniture was decent and sufficient, and, though the atmosphere was tainted, the room was clean. + 

Going to the hearth to set the candle down upon a round three-legged table standing there, he stumbled against something. As he recoiled, looking down at it, it raised itself up into the form of a woman in a sitting attitude. + 

тАЬHeavenтАЩs mercy, woman!тАЭ he cried, falling farther off from the figure. тАЬHast thou come back again!тАЭ + 

Such a woman! A disabled, drunken creature, barely able to preserve her sitting posture by steadying herself with one begrimed hand on the floor, while the other was so purposeless in trying to push away her tangled hair from her face, that it only blinded her the more with the dirt upon it. A creature so foul to look at, in her tatters, stains and splashes, but so much fouler than that in her moral infamy, that it was a shameful thing even to see her. + 

After an impatient oath or two, and some stupid clawing of herself with the hand not necessary to her support, she got her hair away from her eyes sufficiently to obtain a sight of him. Then she sat swaying her body to and fro, and making gestures with her unnerved arm, which seemed intended as the accompaniment to a fit of laughter, though her face was stolid and drowsy. + 

тАЬEigh, lad? What, yoтАЩr there?тАЭ Some hoarse sounds meant for this, came mockingly out of her at last; and her head dropped forward on her breast. + 

тАЬBack agen?тАЭ she screeched, after some minutes, as if he had that moment said it. тАЬYes! And back agen. Back agen ever and ever so often. Back? Yes, back. Why not?тАЭ + 

Roused by the unmeaning violence with which she cried it out, she scrambled up, and stood supporting herself with her shoulders against the wall; dangling in one hand by the string, a dunghill-fragment of a bonnet, and trying to look scornfully at him. + 

тАЬIтАЩll sell thee off again, and IтАЩll sell thee off again, and IтАЩll sell thee off a score of times!тАЭ she cried, with something between a furious menace and an effort at a defiant dance. тАЬCome awaтАЩ from thтАЩ bed!тАЭ He was sitting on the side of it, with his face hidden in his hands. тАЬCome awa! from тАЩt. тАЩTis mine, and IтАЩve a right to tтАЩ!тАЭ + 

As she staggered to it, he avoided her with a shudder, and passedтБатАФhis face still hiddenтБатАФto the opposite end of the room. She threw herself upon the bed heavily, and soon was snoring hard. He sunk into a chair, and moved but once all that night. It was to throw a covering over her; as if his hands were not enough to hide her, even in the darkness. + 

XI + 

No Way Out + 

The fairy palaces burst into illumination, before pale morning showed the monstrous serpents of smoke trailing themselves over Coketown. A clattering of clogs upon the pavement; a rapid ringing of bells; and all the melancholy mad elephants, polished and oiled up for the dayтАЩs monotony, were at their heavy exercise again. + 

Stephen bent over his loom, quiet, watchful, and steady. A special contrast, as every man was in the forest of looms where Stephen worked, to the crashing, smashing, tearing piece of mechanism at which he laboured. Never fear, good people of an anxious turn of mind, that Art will consign Nature to oblivion. Set anywhere, side by side, the work of God and the work of man; and the former, even though it be a troop of hands of very small account, will gain in dignity from the comparison. + 

So many hundred hands in this mill; so many hundred horse steam power. It is known, to the force of a single pound weight, what the engine will do; but, not all the calculators of the National Debt can tell me the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, for patriotism or discontent, for the decomposition of virtue into vice, or the reverse, at any single moment in the soul of one of these its quiet servants, with the composed faces and the regulated actions. There is no mystery in it; there is an unfathomable mystery in the meanest of them, forever.тБатАФSupposing we were to reverse our arithmetic for material objects, and to govern these awful unknown quantities by other means! + 

The day grew strong, and showed itself outside, even against the flaming lights within. The lights were turned out, and the work went on. The rain fell, and the smoke-serpents, submissive to the curse of all that tribe, trailed themselves upon the earth. In the waste-yard outside, the steam from the escape pipe, the litter of barrels and old iron, the shining heaps of coals, the ashes everywhere, were shrouded in a veil of mist and rain. + 

The work went on, until the noon-bell rang. More clattering upon the pavements. The looms, and wheels, and hands all out of gear for an hour. + 

Stephen came out of the hot mill into the damp wind and cold wet streets, haggard and worn. He turned from his own class and his own quarter, taking nothing but a little bread as he walked along, towards the hill on which his principal employer lived, in a red house with black outside shutters, green inside blinds, a black street door, up two white steps, Bounderby (in letters very like himself) upon a brazen plate, and a round brazen door-handle underneath it, like a brazen full-stop. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby was at his lunch. So Stephen had expected. Would his servant say that one of the hands begged leave to speak to him? Message in return, requiring name of such hand. Stephen Blackpool. There was nothing troublesome against Stephen Blackpool; yes, he might come in. + 

Stephen Blackpool in the parlour. Mr.┬аBounderby (whom he just knew by sight), at lunch on chop and sherry. Mrs.┬аSparsit netting at the fireside, in a sidesaddle attitude, with one foot in a cotton stirrup. It was a part, at once of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs dignity and service, not to lunch. She supervised the meal officially, but implied that in her own stately person she considered lunch a weakness. + 

тАЬNow, Stephen,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬwhatтАЩs the matter with you?тАЭ + 

Stephen made a bow. Not a servile oneтБатАФthese hands will never do that! Lord bless you, sir, youтАЩll never catch them at that, if they have been with you twenty years!тБатАФand, as a complimentary toilet for Mrs.┬аSparsit, tucked his neckerchief ends into his waistcoat. + 

тАЬNow, you know,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, taking some sherry, тАЬwe have never had any difficulty with you, and you have never been one of the unreasonable ones. You donтАЩt expect to be set up in a coach and six, and to be fed on turtle soup and venison, with a gold spoon, as a good many of тАЩem do!тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby always represented this to be the sole, immediate, and direct object of any hand who was not entirely satisfied; тАЬand therefore I know already that you have not come here to make a complaint. Now, you know, I am certain of that, beforehand.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, sir, sure I haтАЩ not coom for nowt oтАЩ thтАЩ kind.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby seemed agreeably surprised, notwithstanding his previous strong conviction. тАЬVery well,тАЭ he returned. тАЬYouтАЩre a steady hand, and I was not mistaken. Now, let me hear what itтАЩs all about. As itтАЩs not that, let me hear what it is. What have you got to say? Out with it, lad!тАЭ + 

Stephen happened to glance towards Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬI can go, Mr.┬аBounderby, if you wish it,тАЭ said that self-sacrificing lady, making a feint of taking her foot out of the stirrup. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby stayed her, by holding a mouthful of chop in suspension before swallowing it, and putting out his left hand. Then, withdrawing his hand and swallowing his mouthful of chop, he said to Stephen: + 

тАЬNow you know, this good lady is a born lady, a high lady. You are not to suppose because she keeps my house for me, that she hasnтАЩt been very high up the treeтБатАФah, up at the top of the tree! Now, if you have got anything to say that canтАЩt be said before a born lady, this lady will leave the room. If what you have got to say can be said before a born lady, this lady will stay where she is.тАЭ + 

тАЬSir, I hope I never had nowt to say, not fitten for a born lady to year, sinтАЩ I were born mysenтАЩ,тАЭ was the reply, accompanied with a slight flush. + 

тАЬVery well,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, pushing away his plate, and leaning back. тАЬFire away!тАЭ + 

тАЬI haтАЩ coom,тАЭ Stephen began, raising his eyes from the floor, after a momentтАЩs consideration, тАЬto ask yo yor advice. I need тАЩt overmuch. I were married on EasтАЩr Monday nineteen year sin, long and dree. She were a young lassтБатАФpretty enowтБатАФwiтАЩ good accounts of herseln. Well! She went badтБатАФsoon. Not along of me. Gonnows I were not a unkind husband to her.тАЭ + 

тАЬI have heard all this before,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬShe took to drinking, left off working, sold the furniture, pawned the clothes, and played old Gooseberry.тАЭ + 

тАЬI were patient wiтАЩ her.тАЭ + 

(тАЬThe more fool you, I think,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, in confidence to his wineglass.) + 

тАЬI were very patient wiтАЩ her. I tried to wean her fra тАЩt ower and ower agen. I tried this, I tried that, I tried tтАЩother. I haтАЩ gone home, manyтАЩs the time, and found all vanished as I had in the world, and her without a sense left to bless herseln lying on bare ground. I haтАЩ dun тАЩt not once, not twiceтБатАФtwenty time!тАЭ + 

Every line in his face deepened as he said it, and put in its affecting evidence of the suffering he had undergone. + 

тАЬFrom bad to worse, from worse to worsen. She left me. She disgraced herseln everyways, bitter and bad. She coom back, she coom back, she coom back. What could I do tтАЩ hinder her? I haтАЩ walked the streets nights long, ere ever IтАЩd go home. I haтАЩ gone tтАЩ thтАЩ brigg, minded to fling myseln ower, and haтАЩ no more onтАЩt. I haтАЩ bore that much, that I were owd when I were young.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit, easily ambling along with her netting-needles, raised the Coriolanian eyebrows and shook her head, as much as to say, тАЬThe great know trouble as well as the small. Please to turn your humble eye in my direction.тАЭ + 

тАЬI haтАЩ paid her to keep awaтАЩ fraтАЩ me. These five year I haтАЩ paid her. I haтАЩ gotten decent fewtrils about me agen. I haтАЩ lived hard and sad, but not ashamed and fearfoтАЩ aтАЩ the minnits oтАЩ my life. Last night, I went home. There she lay upon my har-stone! There she is!тАЭ + 

In the strength of his misfortune, and the energy of his distress, he fired for the moment like a proud man. In another moment, he stood as he had stood all the timeтБатАФhis usual stoop upon him; his pondering face addressed to Mr.┬аBounderby, with a curious expression on it, half shrewd, half perplexed, as if his mind were set upon unravelling something very difficult; his hat held tight in his left hand, which rested on his hip; his right arm, with a rugged propriety and force of action, very earnestly emphasizing what he said: not least so when it always paused, a little bent, but not withdrawn, as he paused. + 

тАЬI was acquainted with all this, you know,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬexcept the last clause, long ago. ItтАЩs a bad job; thatтАЩs what it is. You had better have been satisfied as you were, and not have got married. However, itтАЩs too late to say that.тАЭ + 

тАЬWas it an unequal marriage, sir, in point of years?тАЭ asked Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬYou hear what this lady asks. Was it an unequal marriage in point of years, this unlucky job of yours?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬNot eтАЩen so. I were one-and-twenty myseln; she were twenty nighbut.тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, sir?тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit to her chief, with great placidity. тАЬI inferred, from its being so miserable a marriage, that it was probably an unequal one in point of years.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby looked very hard at the good lady in a sidelong way that had an odd sheepishness about it. He fortified himself with a little more sherry. + 

тАЬWell? Why donтАЩt you go on?тАЭ he then asked, turning rather irritably on Stephen Blackpool. + 

тАЬI haтАЩ coom to ask yo, sir, how I am to be ridded oтАЩ this woman.тАЭ Stephen infused a yet deeper gravity into the mixed expression of his attentive face. Mrs.┬аSparsit uttered a gentle ejaculation, as having received a moral shock. + 

тАЬWhat do you mean?тАЭ said Bounderby, getting up to lean his back against the chimneypiece. тАЬWhat are you talking about? You took her for better for worse.тАЭ + 

тАЬI munтАЩ be ridden oтАЩ her. I cannot bear тАЩt nommore. I haтАЩ lived under тАЩt so long, for that I haтАЩ hadтАЩn the pity and comforting words oтАЩ thтАЩ best lass living or dead. Haply, but for her, I should haтАЩ gone battering mad.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe wishes to be free, to marry the female of whom he speaks, I fear, sir,тАЭ observed Mrs.┬аSparsit in an undertone, and much dejected by the immorality of the people. + 

тАЬI do. The lady says whatтАЩs right. I do. I were a coming to тАЩt. I haтАЩ read iтАЩ thтАЩ papers that great folk (fair faw тАЩem aтАЩ! I wishes тАЩem no hurt!) are not bonded together for better for worst so fast, but that they can be set free froтАЩ their misfortnet marriages, anтАЩ marry ower agen. When they dunnot agree, for that their tempers is ill-sorted, they has rooms oтАЩ one kind anтАЩ another in their houses, above a bit, and they can live asunders. We fok haтАЩ only one room, and we canтАЩt. When that wonтАЩt do, they haтАЩ gowd anтАЩ other cash, anтАЩ they can say тАШThis for yoтАЩ anтАЩ that for me,тАЩ anтАЩ they can go their separate ways. We canтАЩt. Spite oтАЩ all that, they can be set free for smaller wrongs than mine. So, I mun be ridden oтАЩ this woman, and I want tтАЩ know how?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo how,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬIf I do her any hurt, sir, thereтАЩs a law to punish me?тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course there is.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf I flee from her, thereтАЩs a law to punish me?тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course there is.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf I marry tтАЩoother dear lass, thereтАЩs a law to punish me?тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course there is.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf I was to live wiтАЩ her anтАЩ not marry herтБатАФsaying such a thing could be, which it never could or would, anтАЩ her so goodтБатАФthereтАЩs a law to punish me, in every innocent child belonging to me?тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course there is.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, aтАЩ GodтАЩs name,тАЭ said Stephen Blackpool, тАЬshow me the law to help me!тАЭ + 

тАЬHem! ThereтАЩs a sanctity in this relation of life,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬandтБатАФandтБатАФit must be kept up.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo no, dunnot say that, sir. тАЩTanтАЩt kepтАЩ up that way. Not that way. тАЩTis kepтАЩ down that way. IтАЩm a weaver, I were in a factтАЩry when a chilt, but I haтАЩ gotten een to see wiтАЩ and eern to year wiтАЩ. I read in thтАЩ papers every тАЩSizes, every SessionsтБатАФand you read tooтБатАФI know it!тБатАФwith dismayтБатАФhow thтАЩ supposed unpossibility oтАЩ ever getting unchained from one another, at any price, on any terms, brings blood upon this land, and brings many common married fok to battle, murder, and sudden death. Let us haтАЩ this, right understood. MineтАЩs a grievous case, anтАЩ I wantтБатАФif yo will be so goodтБатАФtтАЩ know the law that helps me.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, I tell you what!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, putting his hands in his pockets. тАЬThere is such a law.тАЭ + 

Stephen, subsiding into his quiet manner, and never wandering in his attention, gave a nod. + 

тАЬBut itтАЩs not for you at all. It costs money. It costs a mint of money.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow much might that be?тАЭ Stephen calmly asked. + 

тАЬWhy, youтАЩd have to go to DoctorsтАЩ Commons with a suit, and youтАЩd have to go to a court of Common Law with a suit, and youтАЩd have to go to the House of Lords with a suit, and youтАЩd have to get an Act of Parliament to enable you to marry again, and it would cost you (if it was a case of very plain sailing), I suppose from a thousand to fifteen hundred pound,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬPerhaps twice the money.тАЭ + 

тАЬThereтАЩs no other law?тАЭ + 

тАЬCertainly not.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy then, sir,тАЭ said Stephen, turning white, and motioning with that right hand of his, as if he gave everything to the four winds, тАЬтАКтАЩtis a muddle. тАЩTis just a muddle aтАЩtoogether, anтАЩ the sooner I am dead, the better.тАЭ + 

(Mrs.┬аSparsit again dejected by the impiety of the people.) + 

тАЬPooh, pooh! DonтАЩt you talk nonsense, my good fellow,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬabout things you donтАЩt understand; and donтАЩt you call the institutions of your country a muddle, or youтАЩll get yourself into a real muddle one of these fine mornings. The institutions of your country are not your piecework, and the only thing you have got to do, is, to mind your piecework. You didnтАЩt take your wife for fast and for loose; but for better for worse. If she has turned out worseтБатАФwhy, all we have got to say is, she might have turned out better.тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTis a muddle,тАЭ said Stephen, shaking his head as he moved to the door. тАЬтАКтАЩTis aтАЩ a muddle!тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, IтАЩll tell you what!тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby resumed, as a valedictory address. тАЬWith what I shall call your unhallowed opinions, you have been quite shocking this lady: who, as I have already told you, is a born lady, and who, as I have not already told you, has had her own marriage misfortunes to the tune of tens of thousands of poundsтБатАФtens of thousands of pounds!тАЭ (he repeated it with great relish). тАЬNow, you have always been a steady hand hitherto; but my opinion is, and so I tell you plainly, that you are turning into the wrong road. You have been listening to some mischievous stranger or otherтБатАФtheyтАЩre always aboutтБатАФand the best thing you can do is, to come out of that. Now you know;тАЭ here his countenance expressed marvellous acuteness; тАЬI can see as far into a grindstone as another man; farther than a good many, perhaps, because I had my nose well kept to it when I was young. I see traces of the turtle soup, and venison, and gold spoon in this. Yes, I do!тАЭ cried Mr.┬аBounderby, shaking his head with obstinate cunning. тАЬBy the Lord Harry, I do!тАЭ + 

With a very different shake of the head and deep sigh, Stephen said, тАЬThank you, sir, I wish you good day.тАЭ So he left Mr.┬аBounderby swelling at his own portrait on the wall, as if he were going to explode himself into it; and Mrs.┬аSparsit still ambling on with her foot in her stirrup, looking quite cast down by the popular vices. + 

XII + 

The Old Woman + 

Old Stephen descended the two white steps, shutting the black door with the brazen doorplate, by the aid of the brazen full-stop, to which he gave a parting polish with the sleeve of his coat, observing that his hot hand clouded it. He crossed the street with his eyes bent upon the ground, and thus was walking sorrowfully away, when he felt a touch upon his arm. + 

It was not the touch he needed most at such a momentтБатАФthe touch that could calm the wild waters of his soul, as the uplifted hand of the sublimest love and patience could abate the raging of the seaтБатАФyet it was a womanтАЩs hand too. It was an old woman, tall and shapely still, though withered by time, on whom his eyes fell when he stopped and turned. She was very cleanly and plainly dressed, had country mud upon her shoes, and was newly come from a journey. The flutter of her manner, in the unwonted noise of the streets; the spare shawl, carried unfolded on her arm; the heavy umbrella, and little basket; the loose long-fingered gloves, to which her hands were unused; all bespoke an old woman from the country, in her plain holiday clothes, come into Coketown on an expedition of rare occurrence. Remarking this at a glance, with the quick observation of his class, Stephen Blackpool bent his attentive faceтБатАФhis face, which, like the faces of many of his order, by dint of long working with eyes and hands in the midst of a prodigious noise, had acquired the concentrated look with which we are familiar in the countenances of the deafтБатАФthe better to hear what she asked him. + 

тАЬPray, sir,тАЭ said the old woman, тАЬdidnтАЩt I see you come out of that gentlemanтАЩs house?тАЭ pointing back to Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs. тАЬI believe it was you, unless I have had the bad luck to mistake the person in following?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, missus,тАЭ returned Stephen, тАЬit were me.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave youтБатАФyouтАЩll excuse an old womanтАЩs curiosityтБатАФhave you seen the gentleman?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, missus.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd how did he look, sir? Was he portly, bold, outspoken, and hearty?тАЭ As she straightened her own figure, and held up her head in adapting her action to her words, the idea crossed Stephen that he had seen this old woman before, and had not quite liked her. + 

тАЬO yes,тАЭ he returned, observing her more attentively, тАЬhe were all that.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd healthy,тАЭ said the old woman, тАЬas the fresh wind?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ returned Stephen. тАЬHe were ettтАЩn and drinkingтБатАФas large and as loud as a Hummobee.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you!тАЭ said the old woman, with infinite content. тАЬThank you!тАЭ + 

He certainly never had seen this old woman before. Yet there was a vague remembrance in his mind, as if he had more than once dreamed of some old woman like her. + 

She walked along at his side, and, gently accommodating himself to her humour, he said Coketown was a busy place, was it not? To which she answered тАЬEigh sure! Dreadful busy!тАЭ Then he said, she came from the country, he saw? To which she answered in the affirmative. + 

тАЬBy Parliamentary, this morning. I came forty mile by Parliamentary this morning, and IтАЩm going back the same forty mile this afternoon. I walked nine mile to the station this morning, and if I find nobody on the road to give me a lift, I shall walk the nine mile back tonight. ThatтАЩs pretty well, sir, at my age!тАЭ said the chatty old woman, her eye brightening with exultation. + 

тАЬтАКтАЩDeed тАЩtis. DonтАЩt doтАЩt too often, missus.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, no. Once a year,тАЭ she answered, shaking her head. тАЬI spend my savings so, once every year. I come regular, to tramp about the streets, and see the gentlemen.тАЭ + 

тАЬOnly to see тАЩem?тАЭ returned Stephen. + 

тАЬThatтАЩs enough for me,тАЭ she replied, with great earnestness and interest of manner. тАЬI ask no more! I have been standing about, on this side of the way, to see that gentleman,тАЭ turning her head back towards Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs again, тАЬcome out. But, heтАЩs late this year, and I have not seen him. You came out instead. Now, if I am obliged to go back without a glimpse of himтБатАФI only want a glimpseтБатАФwell! I have seen you, and you have seen him, and I must make that do.тАЭ Saying this, she looked at Stephen as if to fix his features in her mind, and her eye was not so bright as it had been. + 

With a large allowance for difference of tastes, and with all submission to the patricians of Coketown, this seemed so extraordinary a source of interest to take so much trouble about, that it perplexed him. But they were passing the church now, and as his eye caught the clock, he quickened his pace. + 

He was going to his work? the old woman said, quickening hers, too, quite easily. Yes, time was nearly out. On his telling her where he worked, the old woman became a more singular old woman than before. + 

тАЬAnтАЩt you happy?тАЭ she asked him. + 

тАЬWhyтБатАФthereтАЩs awmost nobbody but has their troubles, missus.тАЭ He answered evasively, because the old woman appeared to take it for granted that he would be very happy indeed, and he had not the heart to disappoint her. He knew that there was trouble enough in the world; and if the old woman had lived so long, and could count upon his having so little, why so much the better for her, and none the worse for him. + 

тАЬAy, ay! You have your troubles at home, you mean?тАЭ she said. + 

тАЬTimes. Just now and then,тАЭ he answered, slightly. + 

тАЬBut, working under such a gentleman, they donтАЩt follow you to the factory?тАЭ + 

No, no; they didnтАЩt follow him there, said Stephen. All correct there. Everything accordant there. (He did not go so far as to say, for her pleasure, that there was a sort of Divine Right there; but, I have heard claims almost as magnificent of late years.) + 

They were now in the black byroad near the place, and the hands were crowding in. The bell was ringing, and the Serpent was a Serpent of many coils, and the Elephant was getting ready. The strange old woman was delighted with the very bell. It was the beautifullest bell she had ever heard, she said, and sounded grand! + 

She asked him, when he stopped good-naturedly to shake hands with her before going in, how long he had worked there? + 

тАЬA dozen year,тАЭ he told her. + 

тАЬI must kiss the hand,тАЭ said she, тАЬthat has worked in this fine factory for a dozen year!тАЭ And she lifted it, though he would have prevented her, and put it to her lips. What harmony, besides her age and her simplicity, surrounded her, he did not know, but even in this fantastic action there was a something neither out of time nor place: a something which it seemed as if nobody else could have made as serious, or done with such a natural and touching air. + 

He had been at his loom full half an hour, thinking about this old woman, when, having occasion to move round the loom for its adjustment, he glanced through a window which was in his corner, and saw her still looking up at the pile of building, lost in admiration. Heedless of the smoke and mud and wet, and of her two long journeys, she was gazing at it, as if the heavy thrum that issued from its many stories were proud music to her. + 

She was gone by and by, and the day went after her, and the lights sprung up again, and the Express whirled in full sight of the Fairy Palace over the arches near: little felt amid the jarring of the machinery, and scarcely heard above its crash and rattle. Long before then his thoughts had gone back to the dreary room above the little shop, and to the shameful figure heavy on the bed, but heavier on his heart. + 

Machinery slackened; throbbing feebly like a fainting pulse; stopped. The bell again; the glare of light and heat dispelled; the factories, looming heavy in the black wet nightтБатАФtheir tall chimneys rising up into the air like competing Towers of Babel. + 

He had spoken to Rachael only last night, it was true, and had walked with her a little way; but he had his new misfortune on him, in which no one else could give him a momentтАЩs relief, and, for the sake of it, and because he knew himself to want that softening of his anger which no voice but hers could effect, he felt he might so far disregard what she had said as to wait for her again. He waited, but she had eluded him. She was gone. On no other night in the year could he so ill have spared her patient face. + 

O! Better to have no home in which to lay his head, than to have a home and dread to go to it, through such a cause. He ate and drank, for he was exhaustedтБатАФbut he little knew or cared what; and he wandered about in the chill rain, thinking and thinking, and brooding and brooding. + 

No word of a new marriage had ever passed between them; but Rachael had taken great pity on him years ago, and to her alone he had opened his closed heart all this time, on the subject of his miseries; and he knew very well that if he were free to ask her, she would take him. He thought of the home he might at that moment have been seeking with pleasure and pride; of the different man he might have been that night; of the lightness then in his now heavy-laden breast; of the then restored honour, self-respect, and tranquillity all torn to pieces. He thought of the waste of the best part of his life, of the change it made in his character for the worse every day, of the dreadful nature of his existence, bound hand and foot, to a dead woman, and tormented by a demon in her shape. He thought of Rachael, how young when they were first brought together in these circumstances, how mature now, how soon to grow old. He thought of the number of girls and women she had seen marry, how many homes with children in them she had seen grow up around her, how she had contentedly pursued her own lone quiet pathтБатАФfor himтБатАФand how he had sometimes seen a shade of melancholy on her blessed face, that smote him with remorse and despair. He set the picture of her up, beside the infamous image of last night; and thought, Could it be, that the whole earthly course of one so gentle, good, and self-denying, was subjugate to such a wretch as that! + 

Filled with these thoughtsтБатАФso filled that he had an unwholesome sense of growing larger, of being placed in some new and diseased relation towards the objects among which he passed, of seeing the iris round every misty light turn redтБатАФhe went home for shelter. + 

XIII + 

Rachael + 

A candle faintly burned in the window, to which the black ladder had often been raised for the sliding away of all that was most precious in this world to a striving wife and a brood of hungry babies; and Stephen added to his other thoughts the stern reflection, that of all the casualties of this existence upon earth, not one was dealt out with so unequal a hand as death. The inequality of birth was nothing to it. For, say that the child of a king and the child of a weaver were born tonight in the same moment, what was that disparity, to the death of any human creature who was serviceable to, or beloved by, another, while this abandoned woman lived on! + 

From the outside of his home he gloomily passed to the inside, with suspended breath and with a slow footstep. He went up to his door, opened it, and so into the room. + 

Quiet and peace were there. Rachael was there, sitting by the bed. + 

She turned her head, and the light of her face shone in upon the midnight of his mind. She sat by the bed, watching and tending his wife. That is to say, he saw that someone lay there, and he knew too well it must be she; but RachaelтАЩs hands had put a curtain up, so that she was screened from his eyes. Her disgraceful garments were removed, and some of RachaelтАЩs were in the room. Everything was in its place and order as he had always kept it, the little fire was newly trimmed, and the hearth was freshly swept. It appeared to him that he saw all this in RachaelтАЩs face, and looked at nothing besides. While looking at it, it was shut out from his view by the softened tears that filled his eyes; but not before he had seen how earnestly she looked at him, and how her own eyes were filled too. + 

She turned again towards the bed, and satisfying herself that all was quiet there, spoke in a low, calm, cheerful voice. + 

тАЬI am glad you have come at last, Stephen. You are very late.тАЭ + 

тАЬI haтАЩ been walking up anтАЩ down.тАЭ + 

тАЬI thought so. But тАЩtis too bad a night for that. The rain falls very heavy, and the wind has risen.тАЭ + 

The wind? True. It was blowing hard. Hark to the thundering in the chimney, and the surging noise! To have been out in such a wind, and not to have known it was blowing! + 

тАЬI have been here once before, today, Stephen. Landlady came round for me at dinnertime. There was someone here that needed looking to, she said. And тАЩdeed she was right. All wandering and lost, Stephen. Wounded too, and bruised.тАЭ + 

He slowly moved to a chair and sat down, drooping his head before her. + 

тАЬI came to do what little I could, Stephen; first, for that she worked with me when we were girls both, and for that you courted her and married her when I was her friendтБатАФтАЭ + 

He laid his furrowed forehead on his hand, with a low groan. + 

тАЬAnd next, for that I know your heart, and am right sure and certain that тАЩtis far too merciful to let her die, or even so much as suffer, for want of aid. Thou knowest who said, тАШLet him who is without sin among you cast the first stone at her!тАЩ There have been plenty to do that. Thou art not the man to cast the last stone, Stephen, when she is brought so low.тАЭ + 

тАЬO Rachael, Rachael!тАЭ + 

тАЬThou hast been a cruel sufferer, Heaven reward thee!тАЭ she said, in compassionate accents. тАЬI am thy poor friend, with all my heart and mind.тАЭ + 

The wounds of which she had spoken, seemed to be about the neck of the self-made outcast. She dressed them now, still without showing her. She steeped a piece of linen in a basin, into which she poured some liquid from a bottle, and laid it with a gentle hand upon the sore. The three-legged table had been drawn close to the bedside, and on it there were two bottles. This was one. + 

It was not so far off, but that Stephen, following her hands with his eyes, could read what was printed on it in large letters. He turned of a deadly hue, and a sudden horror seemed to fall upon him. + 

тАЬI will stay here, Stephen,тАЭ said Rachael, quietly resuming her seat, тАЬtill the bells go three. тАЩTis to be done again at three, and then she may be left till morning.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut thy rest agen tomorrowтАЩs work, my dear.тАЭ + 

тАЬI slept sound last night. I can wake many nights, when I am put to it. тАЩTis thou who art in need of restтБатАФso white and tired. Try to sleep in the chair there, while I watch. Thou hadst no sleep last night, I can well believe. TomorrowтАЩs work is far harder for thee than for me.тАЭ + 

He heard the thundering and surging out of doors, and it seemed to him as if his late angry mood were going about trying to get at him. She had cast it out; she would keep it out; he trusted to her to defend him from himself. + 

тАЬShe donтАЩt know me, Stephen; she just drowsily mutters and stares. I have spoken to her times and again, but she donтАЩt notice! тАЩTis as well so. When she comes to her right mind once more, I shall have done what I can, and she never the wiser.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow long, Rachael, is тАЩt looked for, that sheтАЩll be so?тАЭ + 

тАЬDoctor said she would haply come to her mind tomorrow.тАЭ + 

His eyes fell again on the bottle, and a tremble passed over him, causing him to shiver in every limb. She thought he was chilled with the wet. тАЬNo,тАЭ he said, тАЬit was not that. He had had a fright.тАЭ + 

тАЬA fright?тАЭ + 

тАЬAy, ay! coming in. When I were walking. When I were thinking. When IтБатАФтАЭ It seized him again; and he stood up, holding by the mantelshelf, as he pressed his dank cold hair down with a hand that shook as if it were palsied. + 

тАЬStephen!тАЭ + 

She was coming to him, but he stretched out his arm to stop her. + 

тАЬNo! DonтАЩt, please; donтАЩt. Let me see thee setten by the bed. Let me see thee, aтАЩ so good, and so forgiving. Let me see thee as I see thee when I coom in. I can never see thee better than so. Never, never, never!тАЭ + 

He had a violent fit of trembling, and then sunk into his chair. After a time he controlled himself, and, resting with an elbow on one knee, and his head upon that hand, could look towards Rachael. Seen across the dim candle with his moistened eyes, she looked as if she had a glory shining round her head. He could have believed she had. He did believe it, as the noise without shook the window, rattled at the door below, and went about the house clamouring and lamenting. + 

тАЬWhen she gets better, Stephen, тАЩtis to be hoped sheтАЩll leave thee to thyself again, and do thee no more hurt. Anyways we will hope so now. And now I shall keep silence, for I want thee to sleep.тАЭ + 

He closed his eyes, more to please her than to rest his weary head; but, by slow degrees as he listened to the great noise of the wind, he ceased to hear it, or it changed into the working of his loom, or even into the voices of the day (his own included) saying what had been really said. Even this imperfect consciousness faded away at last, and he dreamed a long, troubled dream. + 

He thought that he, and someone on whom his heart had long been setтБатАФbut she was not Rachael, and that surprised him, even in the midst of his imaginary happinessтБатАФstood in the church being married. While the ceremony was performing, and while he recognized among the witnesses some whom he knew to be living, and many whom he knew to be dead, darkness came on, succeeded by the shining of a tremendous light. It broke from one line in the table of commandments at the altar, and illuminated the building with the words. They were sounded through the church, too, as if there were voices in the fiery letters. Upon this, the whole appearance before him and around him changed, and nothing was left as it had been, but himself and the clergyman. They stood in the daylight before a crowd so vast, that if all the people in the world could have been brought together into one space, they could not have looked, he thought, more numerous; and they all abhorred him, and there was not one pitying or friendly eye among the millions that were fastened on his face. He stood on a raised stage, under his own loom; and, looking up at the shape the loom took, and hearing the burial service distinctly read, he knew that he was there to suffer death. In an instant what he stood on fell below him, and he was gone. + 

тАФOut of what mystery he came back to his usual life, and to places that he knew, he was unable to consider; but he was back in those places by some means, and with this condemnation upon him, that he was never, in this world or the next, through all the unimaginable ages of eternity, to look on RachaelтАЩs face or hear her voice. Wandering to and fro, unceasingly, without hope, and in search of he knew not what (he only knew that he was doomed to seek it), he was the subject of a nameless, horrible dread, a mortal fear of one particular shape which everything took. Whatsoever he looked at, grew into that form sooner or later. The object of his miserable existence was to prevent its recognition by anyone among the various people he encountered. Hopeless labour! If he led them out of rooms where it was, if he shut up drawers and closets where it stood, if he drew the curious from places where he knew it to be secreted, and got them out into the streets, the very chimneys of the mills assumed that shape, and round them was the printed word. + 

The wind was blowing again, the rain was beating on the housetops, and the larger spaces through which he had strayed contracted to the four walls of his room. Saving that the fire had died out, it was as his eyes had closed upon it. Rachael seemed to have fallen into a doze, in the chair by the bed. She sat wrapped in her shawl, perfectly still. The table stood in the same place, close by the bedside, and on it, in its real proportions and appearance, was the shape so often repeated. + 

He thought he saw the curtain move. He looked again, and he was sure it moved. He saw a hand come forth and grope about a little. Then the curtain moved more perceptibly, and the woman in the bed put it back, and sat up. + 

With her woeful eyes, so haggard and wild, so heavy and large, she looked all round the room, and passed the corner where he slept in his chair. Her eyes returned to that corner, and she put her hand over them as a shade, while she looked into it. Again they went all round the room, scarcely heeding Rachael if at all, and returned to that corner. He thought, as she once more shaded themтБатАФnot so much looking at him, as looking for him with a brutish instinct that he was thereтБатАФthat no single trace was left in those debauched features, or in the mind that went along with them, of the woman he had married eighteen years before. But that he had seen her come to this by inches, he never could have believed her to be the same. + 

All this time, as if a spell were on him, he was motionless and powerless, except to watch her. + 

Stupidly dozing, or communing with her incapable self about nothing, she sat for a little while with her hands at her ears, and her head resting on them. Presently, she resumed her staring round the room. And now, for the first time, her eyes stopped at the table with the bottles on it. + 

Straightway she turned her eyes back to his corner, with the defiance of last night, and moving very cautiously and softly, stretched out her greedy hand. She drew a mug into the bed, and sat for a while considering which of the two bottles she should choose. Finally, she laid her insensate grasp upon the bottle that had swift and certain death in it, and, before his eyes, pulled out the cork with her teeth. + 

Dream or reality, he had no voice, nor had he power to stir. If this be real, and her allotted time be not yet come, wake, Rachael, wake! + 

She thought of that, too. She looked at Rachael, and very slowly, very cautiously, poured out the contents. The draught was at her lips. A moment and she would be past all help, let the whole world wake and come about her with its utmost power. But in that moment Rachael started up with a suppressed cry. The creature struggled, struck her, seized her by the hair; but Rachael had the cup. + 

Stephen broke out of his chair. тАЬRachael, am I wakinтАЩ or dreaminтАЩ this dreadfoтАЩ night?тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTis all well, Stephen. I have been asleep, myself. тАЩTis near three. Hush! I hear the bells.тАЭ + 

The wind brought the sounds of the church clock to the window. They listened, and it struck three. Stephen looked at her, saw how pale she was, noted the disorder of her hair, and the red marks of fingers on her forehead, and felt assured that his senses of sight and hearing had been awake. She held the cup in her hand even now. + 

тАЬI thought it must be near three,тАЭ she said, calmly pouring from the cup into the basin, and steeping the linen as before. тАЬI am thankful I stayed! тАЩTis done now, when I have put this on. There! And now sheтАЩs quiet again. The few drops in the basin IтАЩll pour away, for тАЩtis bad stuff to leave about, though ever so little of it.тАЭ As she spoke, she drained the basin into the ashes of the fire, and broke the bottle on the hearth. + 

She had nothing to do, then, but to cover herself with her shawl before going out into the wind and rain. + 

тАЬThouтАЩlt let me walk wiтАЩ thee at this hour, Rachael?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Stephen. тАЩTis but a minute, and IтАЩm home.тАЭ + 

тАЬThouтАЩrt not fearfoтАЩ;тАЭ he said it in a low voice, as they went out at the door; тАЬto leave me alone wiтАЩ her!тАЭ + 

As she looked at him, saying, тАЬStephen?тАЭ he went down on his knee before her, on the poor mean stairs, and put an end of her shawl to his lips. + 

тАЬThou art an angel. Bless thee, bless thee!тАЭ + 

тАЬI am, as I have told thee, Stephen, thy poor friend. Angels are not like me. Between them, and a working woman fuтАЩ of faults, there is a deep gulf set. My little sister is among them, but she is changed.тАЭ + 

She raised her eyes for a moment as she said the words; and then they fell again, in all their gentleness and mildness, on his face. + 

тАЬThou changest me from bad to good. Thou makтАЩst me humbly wishfoтАЩ to be more like thee, and fearfoтАЩ to lose thee when this life is ower, and aтАЩ the muddle cleared awaтАЩ. ThouтАЩrt an angel; it may be, thou hast saved my soul alive!тАЭ + 

She looked at him, on his knee at her feet, with her shawl still in his hand, and the reproof on her lips died away when she saw the working of his face. + 

тАЬI coom home despтАЩrate. I coom home wiтАЩout a hope, and mad wiтАЩ thinking that when I said a word oтАЩ complaint I was reckoned a unreasonable hand. I told thee I had had a fright. It were the Poison-bottle on table. I never hurt a livinтАЩ creetur; but happeninтАЩ so suddenly upon тАЩt, I thowt, тАШHow can I say what I might haтАЩ done to myseln, or her, or both!тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

She put her two hands on his mouth, with a face of terror, to stop him from saying more. He caught them in his unoccupied hand, and holding them, and still clasping the border of her shawl, said hurriedly: + 

тАЬBut I see thee, Rachael, setten by the bed. I haтАЩ seen thee, aw this night. In my troublous sleep I haтАЩ known thee still to be there. Evermore I will see thee there. I nevermore will see her or think oтАЩ her, but thou shalt be beside her. I nevermore will see or think oтАЩ anything that angers me, but thou, so much better than me, shalt be by thтАЩ side onтАЩt. And so I will try tтАЩ look tтАЩ thтАЩ time, and so I will try tтАЩ trust tтАЩ thтАЩ time, when thou and me at last shall walk together far awaтАЩ, beyond the deep gulf, in thтАЩ country where thy little sister is.тАЭ + 

He kissed the border of her shawl again, and let her go. She bade him good night in a broken voice, and went out into the street. + 

The wind blew from the quarter where the day would soon appear, and still blew strongly. It had cleared the sky before it, and the rain had spent itself or travelled elsewhere, and the stars were bright. He stood bareheaded in the road, watching her quick disappearance. As the shining stars were to the heavy candle in the window, so was Rachael, in the rugged fancy of this man, to the common experiences of his life. + 

XIV + 

The Great Manufacturer + 

Time went on in Coketown like its own machinery: so much material wrought up, so much fuel consumed, so many powers worn out, so much money made. But, less inexorable than iron, steel, and brass, it brought its varying seasons even into that wilderness of smoke and brick, and made the only stand that ever was made in the place against its direful uniformity. + 

тАЬLouisa is becoming,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬalmost a young woman.тАЭ + 

Time, with his innumerable horsepower, worked away, not minding what anybody said, and presently turned out young Thomas a foot taller than when his father had last taken particular notice of him. + 

тАЬThomas is becoming,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬalmost a young man.тАЭ + 

Time passed Thomas on in the mill, while his father was thinking about it, and there he stood in a long-tailed coat and a stiff shirt-collar. + 

тАЬReally,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthe period has arrived when Thomas ought to go to Bounderby.тАЭ + 

Time, sticking to him, passed him on into BounderbyтАЩs Bank, made him an inmate of BounderbyтАЩs house, necessitated the purchase of his first razor, and exercised him diligently in his calculations relative to number one. + 

The same great manufacturer, always with an immense variety of work on hand, in every stage of development, passed Sissy onward in his mill, and worked her up into a very pretty article indeed. + 

тАЬI fear, Jupe,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthat your continuance at the school any longer would be useless.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am afraid it would, sir,тАЭ Sissy answered with a curtsey. + 

тАЬI cannot disguise from you, Jupe,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, knitting his brow, тАЬthat the result of your probation there has disappointed me; has greatly disappointed me. You have not acquired, under Mr.┬аand Mrs.┬аMтАЩChoakumchild, anything like that amount of exact knowledge which I looked for. You are extremely deficient in your facts. Your acquaintance with figures is very limited. You are altogether backward, and below the mark.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am sorry, sir,тАЭ she returned; тАЬbut I know it is quite true. Yet I have tried hard, sir.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬyes, I believe you have tried hard; I have observed you, and I can find no fault in that respect.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, sir. I have thought sometimes;тАЭ Sissy very timid here; тАЬthat perhaps I tried to learn too much, and that if I had asked to be allowed to try a little less, I might haveтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Jupe, no,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, shaking his head in his profoundest and most eminently practical way. тАЬNo. The course you pursued, you pursued according to the systemтБатАФthe systemтБатАФand there is no more to be said about it. I can only suppose that the circumstances of your early life were too unfavourable to the development of your reasoning powers, and that we began too late. Still, as I have said already, I am disappointed.тАЭ + 

тАЬI wish I could have made a better acknowledgment, sir, of your kindness to a poor forlorn girl who had no claim upon you, and of your protection of her.тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt shed tears,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬDonтАЩt shed tears. I donтАЩt complain of you. You are an affectionate, earnest, good young womanтБатАФandтБатАФand we must make that do.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, sir, very much,тАЭ said Sissy, with a grateful curtsey. + 

тАЬYou are useful to Mrs.┬аGradgrind, and (in a generally pervading way) you are serviceable in the family also; so I understand from Miss Louisa, and, indeed, so I have observed myself. I therefore hope,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthat you can make yourself happy in those relations.тАЭ + 

тАЬI should have nothing to wish, sir, ifтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬI understand you,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind; тАЬyou still refer to your father. I have heard from Miss Louisa that you still preserve that bottle. Well! If your training in the science of arriving at exact results had been more successful, you would have been wiser on these points. I will say no more.тАЭ + 

He really liked Sissy too well to have a contempt for her; otherwise he held her calculating powers in such very slight estimation that he must have fallen upon that conclusion. Somehow or other, he had become possessed by an idea that there was something in this girl which could hardly be set forth in a tabular form. Her capacity of definition might be easily stated at a very low figure, her mathematical knowledge at nothing; yet he was not sure that if he had been required, for example, to tick her off into columns in a parliamentary return, he would have quite known how to divide her. + 

In some stages of his manufacture of the human fabric, the processes of Time are very rapid. Young Thomas and Sissy being both at such a stage of their working up, these changes were effected in a year or two; while Mr.┬аGradgrind himself seemed stationary in his course, and underwent no alteration. + 

Except one, which was apart from his necessary progress through the mill. Time hustled him into a little noisy and rather dirty machinery, in a by-comer, and made him Member of Parliament for Coketown: one of the respected members for ounce weights and measures, one of the representatives of the multiplication table, one of the deaf honourable gentlemen, dumb honourable gentlemen, blind honourable gentlemen, lame honourable gentlemen, dead honourable gentlemen, to every other consideration. Else wherefore live we in a Christian land, eighteen hundred and odd years after our Master? + 

All this while, Louisa had been passing on, so quiet and reserved, and so much given to watching the bright ashes at twilight as they fell into the grate, and became extinct, that from the period when her father had said she was almost a young womanтБатАФwhich seemed but yesterdayтБатАФshe had scarcely attracted his notice again, when he found her quite a young woman. + 

тАЬQuite a young woman,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, musing. тАЬDear me!тАЭ + 

Soon after this discovery, he became more thoughtful than usual for several days, and seemed much engrossed by one subject. On a certain night, when he was going out, and Louisa came to bid him goodbye before his departureтБатАФas he was not to be home until late and she would not see him again until the morningтБатАФhe held her in his arms, looking at her in his kindest manner, and said: + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa, you are a woman!тАЭ + 

She answered with the old, quick, searching look of the night when she was found at the Circus; then cast down her eyes. тАЬYes, father.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬI must speak with you alone and seriously. Come to me in my room after breakfast tomorrow, will you?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, father.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour hands are rather cold, Louisa. Are you not well?тАЭ + 

тАЬQuite well, father.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd cheerful?тАЭ + 

She looked at him again, and smiled in her peculiar manner. тАЬI am as cheerful, father, as I usually am, or usually have been.тАЭ + 

тАЬThatтАЩs well,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. So, he kissed her and went away; and Louisa returned to the serene apartment of the hair-cutting character, and leaning her elbow on her hand, looked again at the short-lived sparks that so soon subsided into ashes. + 

тАЬAre you there, Loo?тАЭ said her brother, looking in at the door. He was quite a young gentleman of pleasure now, and not quite a prepossessing one. + 

тАЬDear Tom,тАЭ she answered, rising and embracing him, тАЬhow long it is since you have been to see me!тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, I have been otherwise engaged, Loo, in the evenings; and in the daytime old Bounderby has been keeping me at it rather. But I touch him up with you when he comes it too strong, and so we preserve an understanding. I say! Has father said anything particular to you today or yesterday, Loo?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, Tom. But he told me tonight that he wished to do so in the morning.тАЭ + 

тАЬAh! ThatтАЩs what I mean,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬDo you know where he is tonight?тАЭтБатАФwith a very deep expression. + 

тАЬNo.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen IтАЩll tell you. HeтАЩs with old Bounderby. They are having a regular confab together up at the Bank. Why at the Bank, do you think? Well, IтАЩll tell you again. To keep Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs ears as far off as possible, I expect.тАЭ + 

With her hand upon her brotherтАЩs shoulder, Louisa still stood looking at the fire. Her brother glanced at her face with greater interest than usual, and, encircling her waist with his arm, drew her coaxingly to him. + 

тАЬYou are very fond of me, anтАЩt you, Loo?тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed I am, Tom, though you do let such long intervals go by without coming to see me.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, sister of mine,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬwhen you say that, you are near my thoughts. We might be so much oftener togetherтБатАФmightnтАЩt we? Always together, almostтБатАФmightnтАЩt we? It would do me a great deal of good if you were to make up your mind to I know what, Loo. It would be a splendid thing for me. It would be uncommonly jolly!тАЭ + 

Her thoughtfulness baffled his cunning scrutiny. He could make nothing of her face. He pressed her in his arm, and kissed her cheek. She returned the kiss, but still looked at the fire. + 

тАЬI say, Loo! I thought IтАЩd come, and just hint to you what was going on: though I supposed youтАЩd most likely guess, even if you didnтАЩt know. I canтАЩt stay, because IтАЩm engaged to some fellows tonight. You wonтАЩt forget how fond you are of me?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, dear Tom, I wonтАЩt forget.тАЭ + 

тАЬThatтАЩs a capital girl,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬGoodbye, Loo.тАЭ + 

She gave him an affectionate good night, and went out with him to the door, whence the fires of Coketown could be seen, making the distance lurid. She stood there, looking steadfastly towards them, and listening to his departing steps. They retreated quickly, as glad to get away from Stone Lodge; and she stood there yet, when he was gone and all was quiet. It seemed as if, first in her own fire within the house, and then in the fiery haze without, she tried to discover what kind of woof Old Time, that greatest and longest-established Spinner of all, would weave from the threads he had already spun into a woman. But his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his hands are mutes. + 

XV + 

Father and Daughter + 

Although Mr.┬аGradgrind did not take after Bluebeard, his room was quite a blue chamber in its abundance of blue books. Whatever they could prove (which is usually anything you like), they proved there, in an army constantly strengthening by the arrival of new recruits. In that charmed apartment, the most complicated social questions were cast up, got into exact totals, and finally settledтБатАФif those concerned could only have been brought to know it. As if an astronomical observatory should be made without any windows, and the astronomer within should arrange the starry universe solely by pen, ink, and paper, so Mr.┬аGradgrind, in his Observatory (and there are many like it), had no need to cast an eye upon the teeming myriads of human beings around him, but could settle all their destinies on a slate, and wipe out all their tears with one dirty little bit of sponge. + 

To this Observatory, then: a stern room, with a deadly statistical clock in it, which measured every second with a beat like a rap upon a coffin-lid; Louisa repaired on the appointed morning. A window looked towards Coketown; and when she sat down near her fatherтАЩs table, she saw the high chimneys and the long tracts of smoke looming in the heavy distance gloomily. + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa,тАЭ said her father, тАЬI prepared you last night to give me your serious attention in the conversation we are now going to have together. You have been so well trained, and you do, I am happy to say, so much justice to the education you have received, that I have perfect confidence in your good sense. You are not impulsive, you are not romantic, you are accustomed to view everything from the strong dispassionate ground of reason and calculation. From that ground alone, I know you will view and consider what I am going to communicate.тАЭ + 

He waited, as if he would have been glad that she said something. But she said never a word. + 

тАЬLouisa, my dear, you are the subject of a proposal of marriage that has been made to me.тАЭ + 

Again he waited, and again she answered not one word. This so far surprised him, as to induce him gently to repeat, тАЬa proposal of marriage, my dear.тАЭ To which she returned, without any visible emotion whatever: + 

тАЬI hear you, father. I am attending, I assure you.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, breaking into a smile, after being for the moment at a loss, тАЬyou are even more dispassionate than I expected, Louisa. Or, perhaps, you are not unprepared for the announcement I have it in charge to make?тАЭ + 

тАЬI cannot say that, father, until I hear it. Prepared or unprepared, I wish to hear it all from you. I wish to hear you state it to me, father.тАЭ + 

Strange to relate, Mr.┬аGradgrind was not so collected at this moment as his daughter was. He took a paper-knife in his hand, turned it over, laid it down, took it up again, and even then had to look along the blade of it, considering how to go on. + 

тАЬWhat you say, my dear Louisa, is perfectly reasonable. I have undertaken then to let you know thatтБатАФin short, that Mr.┬аBounderby has informed me that he has long watched your progress with particular interest and pleasure, and has long hoped that the time might ultimately arrive when he should offer you his hand in marriage. That time, to which he has so long, and certainly with great constancy, looked forward, is now come. Mr.┬аBounderby has made his proposal of marriage to me, and has entreated me to make it known to you, and to express his hope that you will take it into your favourable consideration.тАЭ + 

Silence between them. The deadly statistical clock very hollow. The distant smoke very black and heavy. + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ said Louisa, тАЬdo you think I love Mr.┬аBounderby?тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind was extremely discomfited by this unexpected question. тАЬWell, my child,тАЭ he returned, тАЬIтБатАФreallyтБатАФcannot take upon myself to say.тАЭ + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ pursued Louisa in exactly the same voice as before, тАЬdo you ask me to love Mr.┬аBounderby?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa, no. No. I ask nothing.тАЭ + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ she still pursued, тАЬdoes Mr.┬аBounderby ask me to love him?тАЭ + 

тАЬReally, my dear,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬit is difficult to answer your questionтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬDifficult to answer it, Yes or No, father?тАЭ + 

тАЬCertainly, my dear. Because;тАЭ here was something to demonstrate, and it set him up again; тАЬbecause the reply depends so materially, Louisa, on the sense in which we use the expression. Now, Mr.┬аBounderby does not do you the injustice, and does not do himself the injustice, of pretending to anything fanciful, fantastic, or (I am using synonymous terms) sentimental. Mr.┬аBounderby would have seen you grow up under his eyes, to very little purpose, if he could so far forget what is due to your good sense, not to say to his, as to address you from any such ground. Therefore, perhaps the expression itselfтБатАФI merely suggest this to you, my dearтБатАФmay be a little misplaced.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat would you advise me to use in its stead, father?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, my dear Louisa,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, completely recovered by this time, тАЬI would advise you (since you ask me) to consider this question, as you have been accustomed to consider every other question, simply as one of tangible Fact. The ignorant and the giddy may embarrass such subjects with irrelevant fancies, and other absurdities that have no existence, properly viewedтБатАФreally no existenceтБатАФbut it is no compliment to you to say, that you know better. Now, what are the Facts of this case? You are, we will say in round numbers, twenty years of age; Mr.┬аBounderby is, we will say in round numbers, fifty. There is some disparity in your respective years, but in your means and positions there is none; on the contrary, there is a great suitability. Then the question arises, Is this one disparity sufficient to operate as a bar to such a marriage? In considering this question, it is not unimportant to take into account the statistics of marriage, so far as they have yet been obtained, in England and Wales. I find, on reference to the figures, that a large proportion of these marriages are contracted between parties of very unequal ages, and that the elder of these contracting parties is, in rather more than three-fourths of these instances, the bridegroom. It is remarkable as showing the wide prevalence of this law, that among the natives of the British possessions in India, also in a considerable part of China, and among the Calmucks of Tartary, the best means of computation yet furnished us by travellers, yield similar results. The disparity I have mentioned, therefore, almost ceases to be disparity, and (virtually) all but disappears.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat do you recommend, father,тАЭ asked Louisa, her reserved composure not in the least affected by these gratifying results, тАЬthat I should substitute for the term I used just now? For the misplaced expression?тАЭ + 

тАЬLouisa,тАЭ returned her father, тАЬit appears to me that nothing can be plainer. Confining yourself rigidly to Fact, the question of Fact you state to yourself is: Does Mr.┬аBounderby ask me to marry him? Yes, he does. The sole remaining question then is: Shall I marry him? I think nothing can be plainer than that?тАЭ + 

тАЬShall I marry him?тАЭ repeated Louisa, with great deliberation. + 

тАЬPrecisely. And it is satisfactory to me, as your father, my dear Louisa, to know that you do not come to the consideration of that question with the previous habits of mind, and habits of life, that belong to many young women.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, father,тАЭ she returned, тАЬI do not.тАЭ + 

тАЬI now leave you to judge for yourself,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬI have stated the case, as such cases are usually stated among practical minds; I have stated it, as the case of your mother and myself was stated in its time. The rest, my dear Louisa, is for you to decide.тАЭ + 

From the beginning, she had sat looking at him fixedly. As he now leaned back in his chair, and bent his deep-set eyes upon her in his turn, perhaps he might have seen one wavering moment in her, when she was impelled to throw herself upon his breast, and give him the pent-up confidences of her heart. But, to see it, he must have overleaped at a bound the artificial barriers he had for many years been erecting, between himself and all those subtle essences of humanity which will elude the utmost cunning of algebra until the last trumpet ever to be sounded shall blow even algebra to wreck. The barriers were too many and too high for such a leap. With his unbending, utilitarian, matter-of-fact face, he hardened her again; and the moment shot away into the plumbless depths of the past, to mingle with all the lost opportunities that are drowned there. + 

Removing her eyes from him, she sat so long looking silently towards the town, that he said, at length: тАЬAre you consulting the chimneys of the Coketown works, Louisa?тАЭ + 

тАЬThere seems to be nothing there but languid and monotonous smoke. Yet when the night comes, fire bursts out, father!тАЭ she answered, turning quickly. + 

тАЬOf course I know that, Louisa. I do not see the application of the remark.тАЭ To do him justice he did not, at all. + 

She passed it away with a slight motion of her hand, and concentrating her attention upon him again, said, тАЬFather, I have often thought that life is very short.тАЭтБатАФThis was so distinctly one of his subjects that he interposed. + 

тАЬIt is short, no doubt, my dear. Still, the average duration of human life is proved to have increased of late years. The calculations of various life assurance and annuity offices, among other figures which cannot go wrong, have established the fact.тАЭ + 

тАЬI speak of my own life, father.тАЭ + 

тАЬO indeed? Still,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬI need not point out to you, Louisa, that it is governed by the laws which govern lives in the aggregate.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhile it lasts, I would wish to do the little I can, and the little I am fit for. What does it matter?тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind seemed rather at a loss to understand the last four words; replying, тАЬHow, matter? What matter, my dear?тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ she went on in a steady, straight way, without regarding this, тАЬasks me to marry him. The question I have to ask myself is, shall I marry him? That is so, father, is it not? You have told me so, father. Have you not?тАЭ + 

тАЬCertainly, my dear.тАЭ + 

тАЬLet it be so. Since Mr.┬аBounderby likes to take me thus, I am satisfied to accept his proposal. Tell him, father, as soon as you please, that this was my answer. Repeat it, word for word, if you can, because I should wish him to know what I said.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt is quite right, my dear,тАЭ retorted her father approvingly, тАЬto be exact. I will observe your very proper request. Have you any wish in reference to the period of your marriage, my child?тАЭ + 

тАЬNone, father. What does it matter!тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind had drawn his chair a little nearer to her, and taken her hand. But, her repetition of these words seemed to strike with some little discord on his ear. He paused to look at her, and, still holding her hand, said: + 

тАЬLouisa, I have not considered it essential to ask you one question, because the possibility implied in it appeared to me to be too remote. But perhaps I ought to do so. You have never entertained in secret any other proposal?тАЭ + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ she returned, almost scornfully, тАЬwhat other proposal can have been made to me? Whom have I seen? Where have I been? What are my heartтАЩs experiences?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind, reassured and satisfied. тАЬYou correct me justly. I merely wished to discharge my duty.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat do I know, father,тАЭ said Louisa in her quiet manner, тАЬof tastes and fancies; of aspirations and affections; of all that part of my nature in which such light things might have been nourished? What escape have I had from problems that could be demonstrated, and realities that could be grasped?тАЭ As she said it, she unconsciously closed her hand, as if upon a solid object, and slowly opened it as though she were releasing dust or ash. + 

тАЬMy dear,тАЭ assented her eminently practical parent, тАЬquite true, quite true.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, father,тАЭ she pursued, тАЬwhat a strange question to ask me! The baby-preference that even I have heard of as common among children, has never had its innocent resting-place in my breast. You have been so careful of me, that I never had a childтАЩs heart. You have trained me so well, that I never dreamed a childтАЩs dream. You have dealt so wisely with me, father, from my cradle to this hour, that I never had a childтАЩs belief or a childтАЩs fear.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind was quite moved by his success, and by this testimony to it. тАЬMy dear Louisa,тАЭ said he, тАЬyou abundantly repay my care. Kiss me, my dear girl.тАЭ + 

So, his daughter kissed him. Detaining her in his embrace, he said, тАЬI may assure you now, my favourite child, that I am made happy by the sound decision at which you have arrived. Mr.┬аBounderby is a very remarkable man; and what little disparity can be said to exist between youтБатАФif anyтБатАФis more than counterbalanced by the tone your mind has acquired. It has always been my object so to educate you, as that you might, while still in your early youth, be (if I may so express myself) almost any age. Kiss me once more, Louisa. Now, let us go and find your mother.тАЭ + 

Accordingly, they went down to the drawing-room, where the esteemed lady with no nonsense about her, was recumbent as usual, while Sissy worked beside her. She gave some feeble signs of returning animation when they entered, and presently the faint transparency was presented in a sitting attitude. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аGradgrind,тАЭ said her husband, who had waited for the achievement of this feat with some impatience, тАЬallow me to present to you Mrs.┬аBounderby.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, тАЬso you have settled it! Well, IтАЩm sure I hope your health may be good, Louisa; for if your head begins to split as soon as you are married, which was the case with mine, I cannot consider that you are to be envied, though I have no doubt you think you are, as all girls do. However, I give you joy, my dearтБатАФand I hope you may now turn all your ological studies to good account, I am sure I do! I must give you a kiss of congratulation, Louisa; but donтАЩt touch my right shoulder, for thereтАЩs something running down it all day long. And now you see,тАЭ whimpered Mrs.┬аGradgrind, adjusting her shawls after the affectionate ceremony, тАЬI shall be worrying myself, morning, noon, and night, to know what I am to call him!тАЭ + 

тАЬMrs.┬аGradgrind,тАЭ said her husband, solemnly, тАЬwhat do you mean?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhatever I am to call him, Mr.┬аGradgrind, when he is married to Louisa! I must call him something. ItтАЩs impossible,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, with a mingled sense of politeness and injury, тАЬto be constantly addressing him and never giving him a name. I cannot call him Josiah, for the name is insupportable to me. You yourself wouldnтАЩt hear of Joe, you very well know. Am I to call my own son-in-law, Mister! Not, I believe, unless the time has arrived when, as an invalid, I am to be trampled upon by my relations. Then, what am I to call him!тАЭ + 

Nobody present having any suggestion to offer in the remarkable emergency, Mrs.┬аGradgrind departed this life for the time being, after delivering the following codicil to her remarks already executed: + 

тАЬAs to the wedding, all I ask, Louisa, isтБатАФand I ask it with a fluttering in my chest, which actually extends to the soles of my feetтБатАФthat it may take place soon. Otherwise, I know it is one of those subjects I shall never hear the last of.тАЭ + 

When Mr.┬аGradgrind had presented Mrs.┬аBounderby, Sissy had suddenly turned her head, and looked, in wonder, in pity, in sorrow, in doubt, in a multitude of emotions, towards Louisa. Louisa had known it, and seen it, without looking at her. From that moment she was impassive, proud and coldтБатАФheld Sissy at a distanceтБатАФchanged to her altogether. + 

XVI + 

Husband and Wife + 

Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs first disquietude on hearing of his happiness, was occasioned by the necessity of imparting it to Mrs.┬аSparsit. He could not make up his mind how to do that, or what the consequences of the step might be. Whether she would instantly depart, bag and baggage, to Lady Scadgers, or would positively refuse to budge from the premises; whether she would be plaintive or abusive, tearful or tearing; whether she would break her heart, or break the looking-glass; Mr.┬аBounderby could not all foresee. However, as it must be done, he had no choice but to do it; so, after attempting several letters, and failing in them all, he resolved to do it by word of mouth. + 

On his way home, on the evening he set aside for this momentous purpose, he took the precaution of stepping into a chemistтАЩs shop and buying a bottle of the very strongest smelling-salts. тАЬBy George!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬif she takes it in the fainting way, IтАЩll have the skin off her nose, at all events!тАЭ But, in spite of being thus forearmed, he entered his own house with anything but a courageous air; and appeared before the object of his misgivings, like a dog who was conscious of coming direct from the pantry. + 

тАЬGood evening, Mr.┬аBounderby!тАЭ + 

тАЬGood evening, maтАЩam, good evening.тАЭ He drew up his chair, and Mrs.┬аSparsit drew back hers, as who should say, тАЬYour fireside, sir. I freely admit it. It is for you to occupy it all, if you think proper.тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt go to the North Pole, maтАЩam!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬThank you, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, and returned, though short of her former position. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby sat looking at her, as, with the points of a stiff, sharp pair of scissors, she picked out holes for some inscrutable ornamental purpose, in a piece of cambric. An operation which, taken in connection with the bushy eyebrows and the Roman nose, suggested with some liveliness the idea of a hawk engaged upon the eyes of a tough little bird. She was so steadfastly occupied, that many minutes elapsed before she looked up from her work; when she did so Mr.┬аBounderby bespoke her attention with a hitch of his head. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, putting his hands in his pockets, and assuring himself with his right hand that the cork of the little bottle was ready for use, тАЬI have no occasion to say to you, that you are not only a lady born and bred, but a devilish sensible woman.тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ returned the lady, тАЬthis is indeed not the first time that you have honoured me with similar expressions of your good opinion.тАЭ + 

тАЬMrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬI am going to astonish you.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir?тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, interrogatively, and in the most tranquil manner possible. She generally wore mittens, and she now laid down her work, and smoothed those mittens. + 

тАЬI am going, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬto marry Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬI hope you may be happy, Mr.┬аBounderby. Oh, indeed I hope you may be happy, sir!тАЭ And she said it with such great condescension as well as with such great compassion for him, that BounderbyтБатАФfar more disconcerted than if she had thrown her workbox at the mirror, or swooned on the hearthrugтБатАФcorked up the smelling-salts tight in his pocket, and thought, тАЬNow confound this woman, who could have even guessed that she would take it in this way!тАЭ + 

тАЬI wish with all my heart, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, in a highly superior manner; somehow she seemed, in a moment, to have established a right to pity him ever afterwards; тАЬthat you may be in all respects very happy.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned Bounderby, with some resentment in his tone: which was clearly lowered, though in spite of himself, тАЬI am obliged to you. I hope I shall be.тАЭ + 

тАЬDo you, sir!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with great affability. тАЬBut naturally you do; of course you do.тАЭ + 

A very awkward pause on Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs part, succeeded. Mrs.┬аSparsit sedately resumed her work and occasionally gave a small cough, which sounded like the cough of conscious strength and forbearance. + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam,тАЭ resumed Bounderby, тАЬunder these circumstances, I imagine it would not be agreeable to a character like yours to remain here, though you would be very welcome here.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh, dear no, sir, I could on no account think of that!тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit shook her head, still in her highly superior manner, and a little changed the small coughтБатАФcoughing now, as if the spirit of prophecy rose within her, but had better be coughed down. + 

тАЬHowever, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬthere are apartments at the Bank, where a born and bred lady, as keeper of the place, would be rather a catch than otherwise; and if the same termsтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬI beg your pardon, sir. You were so good as to promise that you would always substitute the phrase, annual compliment.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam, annual compliment. If the same annual compliment would be acceptable there, why, I see nothing to part us, unless you do.тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬThe proposal is like yourself, and if the position I shall assume at the Bank is one that I could occupy without descending lower in the social scaleтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, of course it is,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬIf it was not, maтАЩam, you donтАЩt suppose that I should offer it to a lady who has moved in the society you have moved in. Not that I care for such society, you know! But you do.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby, you are very considerate.тАЭ + 

тАЬYouтАЩll have your own private apartments, and youтАЩll have your coals and your candles, and all the rest of it, and youтАЩll have your maid to attend upon you, and youтАЩll have your light porter to protect you, and youтАЩll be what I take the liberty of considering precious comfortable,тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ rejoined Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬsay no more. In yielding up my trust here, I shall not be freed from the necessity of eating the bread of dependence:тАЭ she might have said the sweetbread, for that delicate article in a savoury brown sauce was her favourite supper: тАЬand I would rather receive it from your hand, than from any other. Therefore, sir, I accept your offer gratefully, and with many sincere acknowledgments for past favours. And I hope, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, concluding in an impressively compassionate manner, тАЬI fondly hope that Miss Gradgrind may be all you desire, and deserve!тАЭ + 

Nothing moved Mrs.┬аSparsit from that position any more. It was in vain for Bounderby to bluster or to assert himself in any of his explosive ways; Mrs.┬аSparsit was resolved to have compassion on him, as a victim. She was polite, obliging, cheerful, hopeful; but, the more polite, the more obliging, the more cheerful, the more hopeful, the more exemplary altogether, she; the forlorner sacrifice and victim, he. She had that tenderness for his melancholy fate, that his great red countenance used to break out into cold perspirations when she looked at him. + 

Meanwhile the marriage was appointed to be solemnized in eight weeksтАЩ time, and Mr.┬аBounderby went every evening to Stone Lodge as an accepted wooer. Love was made on these occasions in the form of bracelets; and, on all occasions during the period of betrothal, took a manufacturing aspect. Dresses were made, jewellery was made, cakes and gloves were made, settlements were made, and an extensive assortment of Facts did appropriate honour to the contract. The business was all Fact, from first to last. The Hours did not go through any of those rosy performances, which foolish poets have ascribed to them at such times; neither did the clocks go any faster, or any slower, than at other seasons. The deadly statistical recorder in the Gradgrind observatory knocked every second on the head as it was born, and buried it with his accustomed regularity. + 

So the day came, as all other days come to people who will only stick to reason; and when it came, there were married in the church of the florid wooden legsтБатАФthat popular order of architectureтБатАФJosiah Bounderby Esquire of Coketown, to Louisa eldest daughter of Thomas Gradgrind Esquire of Stone Lodge, M.P. for that borough. And when they were united in holy matrimony, they went home to breakfast at Stone Lodge aforesaid. + 

There was an improving party assembled on the auspicious occasion, who knew what everything they had to eat and drink was made of, and how it was imported or exported, and in what quantities, and in what bottoms, whether native or foreign, and all about it. The bridesmaids, down to little Jane Gradgrind, were, in an intellectual point of view, fit helpmates for the calculating boy; and there was no nonsense about any of the company. + 

After breakfast, the bridegroom addressed them in the following terms: + 

тАЬLadies and gentlemen, I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. Since you have done my wife and myself the honour of drinking our healths and happiness, I suppose I must acknowledge the same; though, as you all know me, and know what I am, and what my extraction was, you wonтАЩt expect a speech from a man who, when he sees a post, says тАШthatтАЩs a post,тАЩ and when he sees a pump, says тАШthatтАЩs a pump,тАЩ and is not to be got to call a post a pump, or a pump a post, or either of them a toothpick. If you want a speech this morning, my friend and father-in-law, Tom Gradgrind, is a Member of Parliament, and you know where to get it. I am not your man. However, if I feel a little independent when I look around this table today, and reflect how little I thought of marrying Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter when I was a ragged street-boy, who never washed his face unless it was at a pump, and that not oftener than once a fortnight, I hope I may be excused. So, I hope you like my feeling independent; if you donтАЩt, I canтАЩt help it. I do feel independent. Now I have mentioned, and you have mentioned, that I am this day married to Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter. I am very glad to be so. It has long been my wish to be so. I have watched her bringing-up, and I believe she is worthy of me. At the same timeтБатАФnot to deceive youтБатАФI believe I am worthy of her. So, I thank you, on both our parts, for the goodwill you have shown towards us; and the best wish I can give the unmarried part of the present company, is this: I hope every bachelor may find as good a wife as I have found. And I hope every spinster may find as good a husband as my wife has found.тАЭ + 

Shortly after which oration, as they were going on a nuptial trip to Lyons, in order that Mr.┬аBounderby might take the opportunity of seeing how the hands got on in those parts, and whether they, too, required to be fed with gold spoons; the happy pair departed for the railroad. The bride, in passing downstairs, dressed for her journey, found Tom waiting for herтБатАФflushed, either with his feelings, or the vinous part of the breakfast. + 

тАЬWhat a game girl you are, to be such a first-rate sister, Loo!тАЭ whispered Tom. + 

She clung to him as she should have clung to some far better nature that day, and was a little shaken in her reserved composure for the first time. + 

тАЬOld BounderbyтАЩs quite ready,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬTimeтАЩs up. Goodbye! I shall be on the lookout for you, when you come back. I say, my dear Loo! AnтАЩt it uncommonly jolly now!тАЭ + 