He was a mild, good-natured, sweet-tempered, easy-going, foolish, dear fellow. Joe was a fair man, with curls of flaxen hair on each side of his smooth face, and with blue eyes. She was not a good-looking woman, my sister and I had a general impression that she must have made Joe Gargery marry her by hand.
Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than I, and had established a great reputation with herself and the neighbors because she had brought me up “by hand. “Good night, sir,” I faltered and ran away.
“Now,” he said, “you remember what you’ve promised, and you remember that man, and you get home!” I said that I would get him the file, and I would get him some food I could, and I would come to him early in the morning. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open. If you do not do this, my friend will take your heart and liver out. You will do it, and you will never say a word about me. “You bring me, tomorrow morning early, that file and the wittles. He held me by the arms, and went on in these fearful terms:. Joe Gargery – wife of Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, sir.” “And is that your father with your mother?” I pointed to where our village lay, a mile or more from the church. “Oh! Don’t cut my throat, sir,” I pleaded in terror. A man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied round his head. “Keep still, you little devil!” cried a terrible voice, and a man stood up among the graves, “or I’ll cut your throat!”Ī fearful man with a great chain on his leg. The shape of the letters on my father’s, gave me an odd idea that he was a stout, dark man, with curly black hair. My father’s family name was Pirrip, and my Christian name was Philip.
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