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Chapter 6. The Father of the Marshalsea

           

           Oneafternoonhehadbeendoingthehonoursoftheplacetoaratherlargepartyofcollegians,whohappenedtobegoingout,when,ashewascomingback,heencounteredonefromthepoorsidewhohadbeentakeninexecutionforasmallsumaweekbefore,had‘settled’inthecourseofthatafternoon,andwasgoingouttoo.ThemanwasamerePlastererinhisworkingdress;hadhiswifewithhim,andabundle;andwasinhighspirits.

           ‘Godblessyou,sir,’hesaidinpassing.

           ‘Andyou,’benignantlyreturnedtheFatheroftheMarshalsea.

           Theywereprettyfardivided,goingtheirseveralways,whenthePlasterercalledout,‘Isay!—sir!’andcamebacktohim.

           ‘Itain’tmuch,’saidthePlasterer,puttingalittlepileofhalfpenceinhishand,‘butit’swellmeant.’

           TheFatheroftheMarshalseahadneverbeenofferedtributeincopperyet.Hischildrenoftenhad,andwithhisperfectacquiescenceithadgoneintothecommonpursetobuymeatthathehadeaten,anddrinkthathehaddrunk;butfustiansplashedwithwhitelime,bestowinghalfpenceonhim,fronttofront,wasnew.

           ‘Howdareyou!’hesaidtotheman,andfeeblyburstintotears.

           ThePlastererturnedhimtowardsthewall,thathisfacemightnotbeseen;andtheactionwassodelicate,andthemanwassopenetratedwithrepentance,andaskedpardonsohonestly,thathecouldmakehimnolessacknowledgmentthan,‘Iknowyoumeantitkindly.Saynomore.’

           ‘Blessyoursoul,sir,’urgedthePlasterer,‘Ididindeed.I’ddomorebyyouthantherestof‘emdo,Ifancy.’

           ‘Whatwouldyoudo?’heasked

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