Works of Charles Dickens (200+ Works) The Adventures of Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, A Christmas Carol, A Tale of Two Cities, Bleak House, David Copperfield & more (mobi)

by Charles Dickens

  "Now Gran" says he, "oo tit down and don't oo touch ler people"--for he saw with every one of those diamonds of his that I was going to give him a squeeze.

  "Very well sir" I says "I am obedient in this good company I am sure." And I sits down in the easy-chair that was put for me, shaking my sides.

  But picture my admiration when the Major going on almost as quick as if he was conjuring sets out all the articles he names, and says "Three saucepans, an Italian iron, a hand-bell, a toasting-fork, a nutmeg-grater, four potlids, a spice-box, two egg-cups, and a chopping- board--how many?" and when that Mite instantly cries "Tifteen, tut down tive and carry ler 'toppin-board" and then claps his hands draws up his legs and dances on his chair.

  My dear with the same astonishing ease and correctness him and the Major added up the tables chairs and sofy, the picters fenders and fire-irons their own selves me and the cat and the eyes in Miss Wozenham's head, and whenever the sum was done Young Roses and Diamonds claps his hands and draws up his legs and dances on his chair.

  The pride of the Major! ("_Here's_ a mind Ma'am!" he says to me behind his hand.)

  Then he says aloud, "We now come to the next elementary rule,--which is called--"

  "Umtraction!" cries Jemmy.

  "Right," says the Major. "We have here a toasting-fork, a potato in its natural state, two potlids, one egg-cup, a wooden spoon, and two skewers, from which it is necessary for commercial purposes to subtract a sprat- gridiron, a small pickle-jar, two lemons, one pepper-castor, a blackbeetle-trap, and a knob of the dresser-drawer--what remains?"

  "Toatin-fork!" cries Jemmy.

  "In numbers how many?" says the Major.

  "One!" cries Jemmy.

  ("_Here's_ a boy, Ma'am!" says the Major to me behind his hand.) Then the Major goes on:

  "We now approach the next elementary rule,--which is entitled--"

  "Tickleication" cries Jemmy.

  "Correct" says the Major.

  But my dear to relate to you in detail the way in which they multiplied fourteen sticks of firewood by two bits of ginger and a larding needle, or divided pretty well everything else there was on the table by the heater of the Italian iron and a chamber candlestick, and got a lemon over, would make my head spin round and round and round as it did at the time. So I says "if you'll excuse my addressing the chair Professor Jackman I think the period of the lecture has now arrived when it becomes necessary that I should take a good hug of this young scholar." Upon which Jemmy calls out from his station on the chair, "Gran oo open oor arms and me'll make a 'pring into 'em." So I opened my arms to him as I had opened my sorrowful heart when his poor young mother lay a dying, and he had his jump and we had a good long hug together and the Major prouder than any peacock says to me behind his hand, "You need not let him know it Madam" (which I certainly need not for the Major was quite audible) "but he _is_ a boy!"

  In this way Jemmy grew and grew and went to day-school and continued under the Major too, and in summer we were as happy as the days were long, and in winter we were as happy as the days were short and there seemed to rest a Blessing on the Lodgings for they as good as Let themselves and would have done it if there had been twice the accommodation, when sore and hard against my will I one day says to the Major.

  "Major you know what I am going to break to you. Our boy must go to boarding-school."

  It was a sad sight to see the Major's countenance drop, and I pitied the good soul with all my heart.

  "Yes Major" I says, "though he is as popular with the Lodgers as you are yourself and though he is to you and me what only you and me know, still it is in the course of things and Life is made of partings and we must part with our Pet."

  Bold as I spoke, I saw two Majors and half-a-dozen fireplaces, and when the poor Major put one of his neat bright-varnished boots upon the fender and his elbow on his knee and his head upon his hand and rocked himself a little to and fro, I was dreadfully cut up.

  "But" says I clearing my throat "you have so well prepared him Major--he has had such a Tutor in you--that he will have none of the first drudgery to go through. And he is so clever besides that he'll soon make his way to the front rank."

  "He is a boy" says the Major--having sniffed--"that has not his like on the face of the earth."

  "True as you say Major, and it is not for us merely for our own sakes to do anything to keep him back from being a credit and an ornament wherever he goes and perhaps even rising to be a great man, is it Major? He will have all my little savings when my work is done (being all the world to me) and we must try to make him a wise man and a good man, mustn't we Major?"

  "Madam" says the Major rising "Jemmy Jackman is becoming an older file than I was aware of, and you put him to shame. You are thoroughly right Madam. You are simply and undeniably right.--And if you'll excuse me, I'll take a walk."

  So the Major being gone out and Jemmy being at home, I got the child into my little room here and I stood him by my chair and I took his mother's own curls in my hand and I spoke to him loving and serious. And when I had reminded the darling how that he was now in his tenth year and when I had said to him about his getting on in life pretty much what I had said to the Major I broke to him how that we must have this same parting, and there I was forced to stop for there I saw of a sudden the well-remembered lip with its tremble, and it so brought back that time! But with the spirit that was in him he controlled it soon and he says gravely nodding through his tears, "I understand Gran--I know it _must_ be, Gran--go on Gran, don't be afraid of _me_." And when I had said all that ever I could think of, he turned his bright steady face to mine and he says just a little broken here and there "You shall see Gran that I can be a man and that I can do anything that is grateful and loving to you--and if I don't grow up to be what you would like to have me--I hope it will be--because I shall die." And with that he sat down by me and I went on to tell him of the school of which I had excellent recommendations and where it was and how many scholars and what games they played as I had heard and what length of holidays, to all of which he listened bright and clear. And so it came that at last he says "And now dear Gran let me kneel down here where I have been used to say my prayers and let me fold my face for just a minute in your gown and let me cry, for you have been more than father--more than mother--more than brothers sisters friends--to me!" And so he did cry and I too and we were both much the better for it.

  From that time forth he was true to his word and ever blithe and ready, and even when me and the Major took him down into Lincolnshire he was far the gayest of the party though for sure and certain he might easily have been that, but he really was and put life into us only when it came to the last Good-bye, he says with a wistful look, "You wouldn't have me not really sorry would you Gran?" and when I says "No dear, Lord forbid!" he says "I am glad of that!" and ran in out of sight.

  But now that the child was gone out of the Lodgings the Major fell into a regularly moping state. It was taken notice of by all the Lodgers that the Major moped. He hadn't even the same air of being rather tall than he used to have, and if he varnished his boots with a single gleam of interest it was as much as he did.

  One evening the Major came into my little room to take a cup of tea and a morsel of buttered toast and to read Jemmy's newest letter which had arrived that afternoon (by the very same postman more than middle-aged upon the Beat now), and the letter raising him up a little I says to the Major:

  "Major you mustn't get into a moping way."

  The Major shook his head. "Jemmy Jackman Madam," he says with a deep sigh, "is an older file than I thought him."

  "Moping is not the way to grow younger Major."

  "My dear Madam," says the Major, "is there _any_ way of growing younger?"

  Feeling that the Major was getting rather the best of that point I made a diversion to another.

  "Thirteen years! Thir-teen years! Many Lodgers have come and gone, in the thirteen years that you have lived in the parlours Major."

 
; "Hah!" says the Major warming. "Many Madam, many."

  "And I should say you have been familiar with them all?"

  "As a rule (with its exceptions like all rules) my dear Madam" says the Major, "they have honoured me with their acquaintance, and not unfrequently with their confidence."

  Watching the Major as he drooped his white head and stroked his black mustachios and moped again, a thought which I think must have been going about looking for an owner somewhere dropped into my old noddle if you will excuse the expression.

  "The walls of my Lodgings" I says in a casual way--for my dear it is of no use going straight at a man who mopes--"might have something to tell if they could tell it."

  The Major neither moved nor said anything but I saw he was attending with his shoulders my dear--attending with his shoulders to what I said. In fact I saw that his shoulders were struck by it.

  "The dear boy was always fond of story-books" I went on, like as if I was talking to myself. "I am sure this house--his own home--might write a story or two for his reading one day or another."

  The Major's shoulders gave a dip and a curve and his head came up in his shirt-collar. The Major's head came up in his shirt-collar as I hadn't seen it come up since Jemmy went to school.

  "It is unquestionable that in intervals of cribbage and a friendly rubber, my dear Madam," says the Major, "and also over what used to be called in my young times--in the salad days of Jemmy Jackman--the social glass, I have exchanged many a reminiscence with your Lodgers."

  My remark was--I confess I made it with the deepest and artfullest of intentions--"I wish our dear boy had heard them!"

  "Are you serious Madam?" asked the Major starting and turning full round.

  "Why not Major?"

  "Madam" says the Major, turning up one of his cuffs, "they shall be written for him."

  "Ah! Now you speak" I says giving my hands a pleased clap. "Now you are in a way out of moping Major!"

  "Between this and my holidays--I mean the dear boy's" says the Major turning up his other cuff, "a good deal may be done towards it."

  "Major you are a clever man and you have seen much and not a doubt of it."

  "I'll begin," says the Major looking as tall as ever he did, "to-morrow."

  My dear the Major was another man in three days and he was himself again in a week and he wrote and wrote and wrote with his pen scratching like rats behind the wainscot, and whether he had many grounds to go upon or whether he did at all romance I cannot tell you, but what he has written is in the left-hand glass closet of the little bookcase close behind you.

  CHAPTER II--HOW THE PARLOURS ADDED A FEW WORDS

  I have the honour of presenting myself by the name of Jackman. I esteem it a proud privilege to go down to posterity through the instrumentality of the most remarkable boy that ever lived,--by the name of JEMMY JACKMAN LIRRIPER,--and of my most worthy and most highly respected friend, Mrs. Emma Lirriper, of Eighty-one, Norfolk Street, Strand, in the County of Middlesex, in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

  It is not for me to express the rapture with which we received that dear and eminently remarkable boy, on the occurrence of his first Christmas holidays. Suffice it to observe that when he came flying into the house with two splendid prizes (Arithmetic, and Exemplary Conduct), Mrs. Lirriper and myself embraced with emotion, and instantly took him to the Play, where we were all three admirably entertained.

  Nor is it to render homage to the virtues of the best of her good and honoured sex--whom, in deference to her unassuming worth, I will only here designate by the initials E. L.--that I add this record to the bundle of papers with which our, in a most distinguished degree, remarkable boy has expressed himself delighted, before re-consigning the same to the left-hand glass closet of Mrs. Lirriper's little bookcase.

  Neither is it to obtrude the name of the old original superannuated obscure Jemmy Jackman, once (to his degradation) of Wozenham's, long (to his elevation) of Lirriper's. If I could be consciously guilty of that piece of bad taste, it would indeed be a work of supererogation, now that the name is borne by JEMMY JACKMAN LIRRIPER.

  No, I take up my humble pen to register a little record of our strikingly remarkable boy, which my poor capacity regards as presenting a pleasant little picture of the dear boy's mind. The picture may be interesting to himself when he is a man.

  Our first reunited Christmas-day was the most delightful one we have ever passed together. Jemmy was never silent for five minutes, except in church-time. He talked as we sat by the fire, he talked when we were out walking, he talked as we sat by the fire again, he talked incessantly at dinner, though he made a dinner almost as remarkable as himself. It was the spring of happiness in his fresh young heart flowing and flowing, and it fertilised (if I may be allowed so bold a figure) my much-esteemed friend, and J. J. the present writer.

  There were only we three. We dined in my esteemed friend's little room, and our entertainment was perfect. But everything in the establishment is, in neatness, order, and comfort, always perfect. After dinner our boy slipped away to his old stool at my esteemed friend's knee, and there, with his hot chestnuts and his glass of brown sherry (really, a most excellent wine!) on a chair for a table, his face outshone the apples in the dish.

  We talked of these jottings of mine, which Jemmy had read through and through by that time; and so it came about that my esteemed friend remarked, as she sat smoothing Jemmy's curls:

  "And as you belong to the house too, Jemmy,--and so much more than the Lodgers, having been born in it,--why, your story ought to be added to the rest, I think, one of these days."

  Jemmy's eyes sparkled at this, and he said, "So _I_ think, Gran."

  Then he sat looking at the fire, and then he began to laugh in a sort of confidence with the fire, and then he said, folding his arms across my esteemed friend's lap, and raising his bright face to hers. "Would you like to hear a boy's story, Gran?"

  "Of all things," replied my esteemed friend.

  "Would you, godfather?"

  "Of all things," I too replied.

  "Well, then," said Jemmy, "I'll tell you one."

  Here our indisputably remarkable boy gave himself a hug, and laughed again, musically, at the idea of his coming out in that new line. Then he once more took the fire into the same sort of confidence as before, and began:

  "Once upon a time, When pigs drank wine, And monkeys chewed tobaccer, 'Twas neither in your time nor mine, But that's no macker--"

  "Bless the child!" cried my esteemed friend, "what's amiss with his brain?"

  "It's poetry, Gran," returned Jemmy, shouting with laughter. "We always begin stories that way at school."

  "Gave me quite a turn, Major," said my esteemed friend, fanning herself with a plate. "Thought he was light-headed!"

  "In those remarkable times, Gran and godfather, there was once a boy,--not me, you know."

  "No, no," says my respected friend, "not you. Not him, Major, you understand?"

  "No, no," says I.

  "And he went to school in Rutlandshire--"

  "Why not Lincolnshire?" says my respected friend.

  "Why not, you dear old Gran? Because _I_ go to school in Lincolnshire, don't I?"

  "Ah, to be sure!" says my respected friend. "And it's not Jemmy, you understand, Major?"

  "No, no," says I.

  "Well!" our boy proceeded, hugging himself comfortably, and laughing merrily (again in confidence with the fire), before he again looked up in Mrs. Lirriper's face, "and so he was tremendously in love with his schoolmaster's daughter, and she was the most beautiful creature that ever was seen, and she had brown eyes, and she had brown hair all curling beautifully, and she had a delicious voice, and she was delicious altogether, and her name was Seraphina."

  "What's the name of _your_ schoolmaster's daughter, Jemmy?" asks my respected friend.

  "Polly!" replied Jemmy, pointing his forefinger at her. "There now! Caught you! Ha, ha, ha!"

  When he and my r
espected friend had had a laugh and a hug together, our admittedly remarkable boy resumed with a great relish:

  "Well! And so he loved her. And so he thought about her, and dreamed about her, and made her presents of oranges and nuts, and would have made her presents of pearls and diamonds if he could have afforded it out of his pocket-money, but he couldn't. And so her father--O, he WAS a Tartar! Keeping the boys up to the mark, holding examinations once a month, lecturing upon all sorts of subjects at all sorts of times, and knowing everything in the world out of book. And so this boy--"

  "Had he any name?" asks my respected friend.

  "No, he hadn't, Gran. Ha, ha! There now! Caught you again!"

  After this, they had another laugh and another hug, and then our boy went on.

  "Well! And so this boy, he had a friend about as old as himself at the same school, and his name (for He _had_ a name, as it happened) was--let me remember--was Bobbo."

  "Not Bob," says my respected friend.

  "Of course not," says Jemmy. "What made you think it was, Gran? Well! And so this friend was the cleverest and bravest and best-looking and most generous of all the friends that ever were, and so he was in love with Seraphina's sister, and so Seraphina's sister was in love with him, and so they all grew up."

  "Bless us!" says my respected friend. "They were very sudden about it."