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远大前程|Great Expectations

第7章|Chapter 7

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 查尔斯-狄更斯] 阅读：[57306]
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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我站在乡村教堂墓地读家人墓碑上的字时，只不过刚学会如何拼写出上面那几个字，甚至对这些字最简单的解释也是牵强附会的。如我读“及上述者之妻”这几个字时，我以为是对我父亲的一种恭维赞词，以为他生活在天国之中，把“上述”误解为上天。幸亏在我已故的亲人中，没有一个人的墓碑上有“下”这个字，否则的话，我一定把“下”和地狱连在一起，以为他下了地狱。宗教教义问答手册要求我掌握正确的神学知识，而我当时也不可能理解得正确。现在，那些往事仍然栩栩如生，比如书中有言，“坚守常道，始终如一”，我把它理解成为这样一种应尽的义务，每次离家进村，我总是走一条道，永不变化，既不走车匠门口的那条路，也不绕道从磨坊那儿走。

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等我长到可以做学徒的年龄，乔便会收我当徒弟。在我获得那份尊敬之前，我绝不能成为我姐姐所说的“娇养烂了的”孩子。我对这个词的理解是“娇养坏了的”，所以我不仅仅是个守在打铁炉旁干杂活的小学徒，邻居们也会差我做些额外的事情，如到田里去赶鸟，去捡小石头，以及其他零活。当然，我们这个有着优越地位的家庭总不能没有体面，所以我姐姐在厨房的壁炉架上放了一个钱盒子，让所有的人都知道，我所赚来的钱全部都丢在了里面。我有个印象，这些钱最终是会被捐献给国家去还清国债的。至于我，我十分了解，是决没有可能去享有这份财富的。

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沃甫赛先生的姑婆在村子里创办了一所夜校。她是一个非常可笑的老太婆，有着有限的财产和无限的病痛。每天晚上六至七点钟，她总是沉沉酣睡。学校里的少年学生每星期要付两便士，以得到那个机会去观赏她睡觉。她租了一所很小的房子，沃甫赛先生占据着楼上的房间。我们学生坐在楼下，总是听到他大声朗诵。那个得意非凡的严肃劲儿真是十分骇人的。一高兴起来，他还会在楼板上嗵嗵地敲个不停。有人说沃甫赛先生每一个季度要“检查”一次学生的成绩。在检查的期间，他会卷起自己衣服的袖口，竖起根根头发，然后装扮成莎士比亚剧本《裘里斯·凯撒》中的角色，马克·安东尼，并且朗诵起他在凯撒大帝遗体旁的那段演说词。安东尼的角色一完，他又会朗诵起诗人柯林斯的《激情颂》。在他那些得意的角色中，我特别对沃甫赛先生所扮演的复仇之神敬佩之至。那真是出神人化，他把手中那柄被鲜血玷污的利剑向大地一丢，立刻化成雷霆万钧的霹雳，他用他那令人畏缩的眼光向大地一扫，战火纷飞的号角立时吹响。当时我对这些都无体验，后来我个人的生活也卷进了情感世界，再把它拿来和柯林斯及沃甫赛两位先生的杰作一比，才感到他们不免有所逊色。

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沃甫赛的姑婆除了创办这一所教育实体外，在同一间屋子中还开了一个小小的杂货铺。她根本就不知道这铺子里有些什么货，更不知道每一种货物的价格。不过，有一本油乎乎的买卖备忘录放在抽屉里，上面记载着各种货物品名及价格。毕蒂就把它捧为至宝，店铺的交易买卖全得依靠它。毕蒂是沃甫赛先生姑婆的一个远房孙女儿。话是这么说，其实我也搞不清其中头绪，不知道她与沃甫赛先生究竟有什么亲戚关系。我知道她和我一样是个孤儿，和我一样是由某人一手带大的。我想，她的寒酸必定很引人注目。她的头发总是乱蓬蓬的需要梳理，她的手总是脏兮兮的需要清洗，她的鞋子总是破破烂烂的需要修补，连鞋跟也丢了。当然，前面的叙述只限于她平常上班的时问，一到星期天，她却打扮得漂漂亮亮地去教堂。

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在学习上，沃甫赛先生的姑婆对我一无帮助，倒是多亏了毕蒂，再加上我的自我帮助。在学字母的时候，我战战兢兢，好像走进了一片荆棘，每一个字母都令我苦恼，都抓扯着我的皮肉。字母刚学完我仿佛又撞进了贼窝，从一到九这九个数字，就像九个贼，似乎每一个晚上都要变换一个新花样，伪装自己，让我辨认不出。我犹如笨鸟，瞎摸着前进，终于慢慢地读啊，写啊，算啊，掌握了一点小门道。

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一天晚上，我拿着石板坐在火炉边，费了天大的劲儿才写了一封信给乔。这离开我们去沼泽地看追捕逃犯的事大概已有整整一年了，总之已经过了一段很长的时间。这又是一个冬天，一个严霜季节。我把字母表放在脚边的炉罩上作为参考，花了一两个小时用石笔写啊抹啊，最后写成了下面这封信：

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“我的青爱的乔，我西王你生体见康，我西王很块教你，乔，那四我民可杜高心，等我当了你的土弟，乔，杜心运，请辛任我。皮普。”

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其实我根本没有任何必要非写信给乔不可，因为他就坐在我的身边，而且也只有我们两个人在一起，没有什么话不可以讲。但是，我还是亲手把这封用石笔写在石板上的信交给了乔。乔把石板拿在手上，真以为是一个大学问家所创造出的奇迹。

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“我说，皮普，我的老弟！”乔惊呼着，把他的蓝眼睛睁得大大的，说道，“你可真是一个了不起的学者，是不是？”

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“要是我真成了个大学者就好了。”我望着他端在手上的石板，看到上面写的字好像画的一座座小山丘一样，不禁疑惑地说道。

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“嗳，这是个J，’乔说道，“这里是O，写得真棒！一个J和一个O，连在一起是J－O，不就是‘乔’吗？”

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除了这个单音节的词外，我从来没有听到乔大声地读过其他的什么词。上个星期天，我在教堂里偶然地把祈祷书拿颠倒了，却发现他丝毫未感不便，似乎颠倒着才是正确的拿法。于是我抓紧这个时机，希望发现是否要从头开始教他认字，于是对他说：“噢，乔，读下去。”

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“皮普，嗯，你要我读下去？”乔用他的眼睛慢慢地打量了一下皮普写的信，说道，“一，二，三，这里有三个J，还有三个O，三个J和O连起来，不就是三个乔吗，皮普，是吗？”

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我把身子俯在乔的身上，用食指指点着，给他念了整封信。

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“你真伟大！”我一读完，乔便称赞起来，“你是个伟大的学者了！”

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“乔，你怎么拼你的‘葛奇里’？”我摆出几分降恩施惠的神气问道。

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“我根本不要拼这个词。”乔答道。

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“假使你想拼，你又怎么拼呢？”

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“没有什么想不想，”乔说道，“不过，话说回来，我也很喜欢读书的。”

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“你真喜欢读书吗，乔？”

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“不是一般的喜欢，”乔答道，“你不妨给我一本好书，或者给我一张好报，在我座位的前面生上一炉好火，我会满足得其他什么都不要。天啦！”他擦了一会儿膝头，又继续说道：“你看，这里一个J，那里一个O，于是你说，‘瞧，J和O连在一起就是一个乔，’你看读书是多么有趣！”

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从乔的话中我可以断定，乔受教育的程度和蒸气机差不多，还处于幼稚的萌芽状态。我于是抓紧机会趁热打铁地问道：

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“乔，你像我这般小时，上过学没有？”

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“没有，皮普。”

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“乔，你像我这么小时，为什么不上学呢？”

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“是这样的，皮普。”乔说道。这时，他像平时一样又陷入了沉思，慢吞吞地拿起火钳，拨弄着炉条之间的火。“我现在告诉你，皮普。我爸爸一天到晚喝酒，一旦喝醉了，就无情地用拳头捶我的妈妈。我也是他经常捶打的铁砧子。除我外，就是我的妈妈，他几乎从不捶打别的。他总是用打铁时的力气来打我，根本不用这力气去打铁。皮普，你是不是在听我讲，你懂不懂？”

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“乔，我在听着，我懂。”

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“后来是这样的，我的妈妈和我两个人从爸爸那里逃走了好几次。我们住在外面，妈妈出去当帮工。她总是对我说，‘乔，’她就这样对我说，‘但愿上帝保佑，你得去上学识字，孩子。’于是她把我送到学校去。可是，爸爸又是那么好心，没有我们就活不下去。于是他纠集了一大帮子人，来到我们住的那家门口，吵吵闹闹，弄得人家没有办法，也再不能让我们呆下去，便把我们交给了他。他把我们带回家去后，又开始捶打我们。皮普，你看，”乔说到这里，停下了他漫不经意的拨火动作，望着我说，“我就是这样又失去了上学的机会。”

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“的确如此，我可怜的乔！”

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“皮普，话是如此，我有我的看法，”乔一面说着，一面用火钳拨了两下炉子上层的炉条，似乎公正地评论道，“看人要看全面，评人要一视同仁，我看我爸爸心中有他善良的一面，你说对吗？”

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我看不出他有什么善良的一面，但是我没有把心里想的说出口。

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“事情总是如此！”乔接着说下去，“总要有人让锅子里冒热气，让大家有饭吃，皮普，否则，锅子连热气也没有。你懂我说的吗？”

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我看得出这点是对的，也就告诉了他。

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“再后来，我爸爸也不再反对我出去干活，于是我便开始干我现在干的行当。当然，这也是他干的行当，如果他愿意干就好了。不过我倒是很努力地干活，皮普，我的确是这样。一段时间后，我就能够养活他了，我一直把他养到患麻风病死去。我有个想法，想在他的墓碑上刻几个字：无论他身上有什么缺点，他心中自有善良的一面。”

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乔得意非凡地朗诵着这两行诗，而且读得很清楚。我不禁问他这两行诗是不是他自己作的。

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乔说道：“我写的，是我自己写的。我一下子便写了出来，就好像打出一块马蹄铁一样，只要一锤就成。在我一生中从来没有像写这诗句时一样惊讶过，我不能相信我的脑袋瓜子。对你讲大实话吧，我真不敢相信这是从我脑袋中冒出来的。皮普，刚才我说我有个想法，把这两行诗句刻在他的墓碑上面。可是要把诗刻在墓碑上，无论你怎么刻，刻大还是刻小，都是需要花钱的，所以最终还是没有刻成功。除掉付出丧时抬棺木人的钱外，所有能够节省下来的钱全部都留给我妈妈了。她的身体衰弱，而且整个心都碎了。她也没有活多久，这可怜的灵魂旋即也随着父亲分享极乐世界的平静生活去了。”

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一些小小的泪珠从乔的蓝眼睛中涌了出来。他用火钳柄上的圆把手先擦擦左眼，又擦擦右眼，看上去极不愉快，极为难受。

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“我一个人留下来，很寂寞，”乔说道，“孤独地住在这里，以后我就和你姐姐相识了。嗳，皮普，”乔一面说着，一面盯住我望，好像早就猜到我是不会赞成他所说的话的，“你姐姐是一个长得十分漂亮的女人。”

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十分坦然地说，我对这点抱怀疑态度，所以不得不盯住火炉，一声不发。

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“对于这一点，无论我们家中怎么议论，也无论邻居街坊如何议论，皮普，你姐姐确实是——”乔说到这里，便开始每说一词就用火钳敲一下上面的炉条，“一个——十分漂亮的——女人！”

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“乔，你这样想我真高兴。”说实话，我只能这样回答，因为想不出更恰当的表达。

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“我也是，”乔立刻接着我的话说，“我这样想自己也高兴呢。说她这里有一点儿红，那里骨头大一些，其实，这些对我说来都没有意义，是吗？”

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我便机灵地对他说，如果这对他没有意义，那么还对谁有意义呢？

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“倒也是，”乔同意地说道，“确实如此。你的话太正确了，我的老弟！我记得刚开始和你姐姐认识的时候，就听到人们在谈论她是如何如何把你一手带大的。大家都称赞她是一个心地多么善良的人，我自然也和大家说的一样，认定她有多么善良。再说到你，”乔说到这里，装出一副似乎看到什么令人作呕的东西时的表情，说道，“那时你长得那么一点儿小，又软弱无力，又非常难看，天啦，你要是自己看到自己的模样，你也会瞧不起你自己的。”

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对他这些话我不敢恭维，只是说：“乔，不必总想着我的事。”

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“皮普，我怎能不想着你呢。”他继续说道，言语中含着纯朴和温情，“在我正式向你姐姐提出要成为终身伴侣时，我就邀她一起到教堂去举行仪式，她也就同意嫁到了我这个铁匠铺。我当时对她说：‘带上这个可怜的孩子吧，上帝会赐福给这个可怜的孩子的！’我又对你姐姐说：‘铁匠铺子并不多他一个人！’”

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听到这里，我不禁放声大哭，再三请他原谅我，用双手抱着他的脖子。乔这时也把火钳丢在一旁，紧紧地抱住我，说：“永远是最好的朋友，皮普，你说是不是？不要哭了，我的老弟。”

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乔的话被打断了一会儿，然后又开始接下去说道：

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“事情就是这样，你看，皮普，我们俩就在一起了！这总算是幸运的，我们俩就在一起了。现在，你就要手把手地教我学习，皮普，不过话要说在前面，我很笨，而且是非常非常的笨，再说，教我认字这种事可不能让乔夫人发现。所以，我说我们要秘密地干。为什么我们要秘密地学呢？皮普，我来告诉你这其中的原因。”

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他又把火钳拿起来。我真怀疑，要是他不拿起火钳，恐怕也不能说明他的理由了。

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“你姐姐喜欢官。”

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“什么，乔，喜欢官？”我吃惊不小。这句话使我模模糊糊地有一种想法，其实，我也希望这种想法实现，那就是乔要和她离婚了，因为她喜欢上了海军大臣或者财政大臣。

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“她喜欢官，’乔说道，“我的意思是说她喜欢官你和我两个人。”

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“噢！是这么回事！”我这才弄清他说的是管人。

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“你姐姐最不喜欢的是家里有一个有学问的人，”乔接下去说，“特别不喜欢我成为一个有学问的人，因为她怕我比她有本领，有本领就要造反。你懂这意思吗？”

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我正打算提出一个问题对他进行反驳，但刚说出了一个“为什么”，话头就被他打断了。

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“不要急，我知道你正准备说什么，皮普，你待会儿再说。我不否认，你姐姐总是像一个蒙古暴君骑在我们头上作威作福。我也不否认，她不仅要把我们打个背朝地，而且还要再狠狠地踩我们几脚。要是在你姐姐暴跳如雷的时候，皮普，”乔这时压低了声音低语起来，并且偷视了一下门，“讲句公平话，我不得不承认她是一个怪物。”

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乔在说到“怪物”时，从他的神情来看，仿佛这怪物长了十二个头。

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“皮普，刚才我打断了你说的话。你想问为什么我不起来造反，是吗？”

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“是的，乔。”

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“要知道，”乔说着，把火钳换到左手上，这样他便可以用右手摸他的胡子了。我知道，一巳他做出这种平静的姿态，就不必对他再抱什么希望了。“‘你姐姐可是个大智之人啊。大智之人。”

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“什么是大智之人？”我问道，希望这个问题能将他一军。但出乎意料之外，我根本没有想到他早已胸有成竹。他用凝神的目光注视着我，说道：“大智之人就是她呗。”他兜了一个圈子，把我说得无以答对。

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“我不是大智之人。”乔又说道。这时，他已收回目光，又去摸胡子了。“最后还有一点不得不说，皮普，而且我得很严肃认真地对你说，我的老弟。从我不幸的妈妈那里，我悟出些道理。她是个受苦受难、做牛做马、肠断心碎的诚实人，可是在有生之年没有过过一天平静安稳的日子。所以，我就最怕把好心当坏意而亏待了女人，要亏待就亏待我，而不亏待她，宁愿自己吃亏麻烦。皮普，我希望一切错儿由我来承担，老弟，我希望那粗粗的呵痒棍不落在你的身上，希望棍子都打在我身上。事情就是这样曲曲直直的，皮普，有时不是我的力量所能及的，不免有缺点，你得原谅我。”

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虽然当时我尚年幼，却相信自那夜开始，我对乔又添加了一分敬慕之情。我们自此以后，仍与从前一样，情如手足，平等共处。但是，每逢平静的时刻，当我坐在那儿，看着乔，想着乔时，会陡生一种新的情怀，内心中对他敬仰不已。

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“可是，”乔说着，站起来添了些燃料，“这台荷兰自鸣钟已经做好准备，就要敲响八点了，而她还没有回来！但愿彭波契克舅舅的那匹母马没有把脚踩在冰块上，也没有摔倒在地上。”

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乔夫人有时候要陪着彭波契克舅舅去赶集，帮助他购买日常家居所需要的东西，如吃的和用的。买这类东西总该听听女人的意见，而彭波契克舅舅是个单身汉，对家中的佣人又不敢相信。今天就是赶集的日子，乔夫人便去帮他忙了。

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乔把火生好，又把火炉清扫干净，然后我们走到门口，听听路上是否有马车的声音。这是一个严寒之夜，风刺骨地迎面吹来，整个大地铺上了一层白霜，冻得结结实实。我不禁想到，今晚要是有人睡在沼泽地上，肯定是要冻死的。我举首仰望，一片星空，不禁又想起，一个人在被冻得快要死时仰望灿烂的群星，却从中得不到任何帮助、任何怜悯，那有多么可怕。

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“有马来了！”乔这时说道，“这声音多像铃声啊！”

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马儿的铁蹄声在坚硬的地上得得得地如乐曲一样有节奏。这匹母马今天显得比以往更加轻快，一路小跑而来。我们从屋里搬出一张椅子，好让乔夫人踩着从马车上下来。我们又把炉火拨得旺旺的，使马车上的人一眼便会看到明亮的窗户。我们对厨房做了最后一次检查，看看一切东西是不是都放得整齐。我们刚做完各项准备工作，马车也到了门口。乔夫人全身裹得紧紧的，只有眼睛露在外面。她下车后，彭波契克舅舅也跟着下了车，并且一下车便在马身上盖了一块遮寒布。然后，我们一起进了厨房，一股冷空气也随着我们给带了进去，似乎一下子就把炉火中的热气赶跑了。

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“听我说。”乔夫人匆匆忙忙而又兴致勃勃地解开外衣，把头上的帽子向后面一推，挂在肩后，帽子上的带子扎在颈前。她说：“这孩子今晚如果还不感谢别人，今生今世也不会再感谢别人了。”

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我尽力表现出一副感恩的样子，其实在心里，我根本就不知道为什么要做出这种感恩的表情。

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“我只不过是希望，”我姐姐说道，“他不要给宠坏了。总之，我心中有些担心。”

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“她不是那号人，夫人，”彭波契克先生说道，“她见多识广呢。”

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“她”是指谁？我望着乔，撅撅嘴唇，抬抬眉毛，意思是“她是谁？”而乔也望着我挤眉撅嘴，仿佛也在说“她是谁呢？”可是他的这个动作被姐姐看到了，于是他采取了平常一贯的那种免得惹是生非的态度，抬起手背擦擦鼻子，两眼望着她。

74
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“你在干啥？”我姐姐暴躁地说道，“睁着大眼看什么？难道家里失火了不成？”

75
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“某个人，”乔十分谦恭地暗示说，“刚才提到什么她——”

76
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“我告诉你，她就是她，”我姐姐说道，“你总不会把郝维仙小姐称为他吧。我看就是你也不至于傻到这种地步吧。”

77
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“是住在镇上的郝维仙小姐吗？”乔问道。

78
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“还有哪一位郝维仙小姐住在镇下？”我姐姐回敬道，“她要这个孩子到她那儿去玩。他自然是要去的，而且最好是去那儿玩。”我姐姐说着，对我晃动着头，好像在鼓励我要表现出特别的轻松活泼、爱闹爱玩。“否则的话，我会给你好看的。”

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我早就听说过镇上的郝维仙小姐，几乎周围几英里一带的每一个人都听说过镇上的郝维仙小姐，说她家产无限，但生性冷酷无情。她住在一所既大又阴森的房子里，整所住宅保护严密，防范盗贼，而她自己过着一种隐居的生活。

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“真有这口事！”乔大吃一惊，说道，“我真不知道她怎么晓得皮普的！”

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“你这个傻家伙！”我姐姐叫道，“谁说她晓得皮普的？”

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“某个人，”乔又一次谦恭地暗示说，“刚才提到的，说她要他去她那儿玩。”

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“难道她不会问彭波契克舅舅是不是能帮她找一个孩子去她那儿玩？难道彭波契克舅舅就不可能是她的房客，难道他就不可能有时，比如一个季度一次，或者半年一次，到她那儿去付房屋租金？对你多说这些也是多余的。彭波契克舅舅到她那儿去，难道她就不会问问他，能不能帮她找一个孩子去玩玩？难道彭波契克舅舅不总是在体贴我们想到我们吗？当然你是不会想到这些的，约瑟夫。”我姐姐用沉重的责备口吻说着（并且用了约瑟夫这个正式名字），好像他是一个最冷酷无情的外甥， “那么，他难道不会提到这个孩子吗？可这个孩子却耀武扬威地站在这里。”其实我可以郑重声明，我一点儿也不耀武扬威。“这个孩子，我一辈子都得心甘情愿地做他的奴隶。”

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“说得好极了！”彭波契克舅舅大声说道，“真棒！观点明确！确实有道理！约瑟夫，现在你总该明白了吧。”

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“不，约瑟夫，”我姐姐依旧用那一种责备的口吻说道，而乔则怀着歉意似的举起手擦了擦他的鼻子，“你不会明白的，你根本想不到其中的道理。也许你认为你明白了，然而你却不明白，约瑟夫。因为你不了解，这是彭波契克舅舅，他对我们一番好意。这孩子的远大前程就全靠他把他送到郝维仙小姐家去了，他答应今天晚上就用他的马车把这孩子先带到镇上，住在他家中，明天早晨他就会亲手把这孩子送到郝维仙小姐家中去。但愿我主保佑！”我姐姐高声喊着，突然用力一拉，把帽子拉掉了下来。“我只顾站着和两个傻瓜讲话，倒忘了彭波契克舅舅正等着呢，那匹马站在门外也会感冒的，而这孩子，从头发直到脚底板全都是泥啊、灰啊！”

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她说完便向着我冲过来，那副架势就像老鹰扑向小羊羔一样，一把揪住我的头就把我的脸按进了放在水槽中的木盆里。我的头正好在大水桶的龙头下面，接着便给满头满脸地涂上了肥皂，揉啊，搓啊，擦啊，拍啊，搔啊，刮啊，一直挨到我几乎要发疯。我不妨在这里说明一下，我看当今的任何一位权威也没有我更了解这件事了，即用一只结婚戒指无情地在一张人的面孔上来来回回地擦，那会给面孔带来什么样的后果，会擦出多少条隆起的痕迹。

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我的这一次“洗礼”完成后，便给穿上了一件干净的亚麻布衣服。衣服硬挺得真难受，就好像少年犯穿的麻袋服装一样。接着，我身上又被捆绑上一件外衣，紧得不得了，难受极了。一切完毕，我姐姐把我移交给彭波契克先生，他产然如一位行政司法长官般地正式接收了我，然后对我作了他早有准备的讲演，最后说：“孩子，永远要对所有的朋友感恩，特别是要对一手把你带大的人们感恩！”

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“乔，再见了！”

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“皮普，老弟，愿上帝保佑你！”

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在这以前我从来没有和乔分过手，所以心中有一种特殊的感情，再加上眼睛上还留着刚才的肥皂水，一时在马车上竟看不到天上的繁星了。然后，这些星星在天空中一个接一个地闪烁出现，却并不能解答我心中的难题：究竟我为什么要到郝维仙小姐家中去玩？究竟她要我到她家中玩什么？

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AT the time when I stood in the churchyard, reading the family tombstones, I had just enough learning to be able to spell them out. My construction even of their simple meaning was not very correct, for I read `wife of the Above’ as a complimentary reference to my father’s exaltation to a better world; and if any one of my deceased relations had been referred to as `Below,’ I have no doubt I should have formed the worst opinions of that member of the family. Neither, were my notions of the theological positions to which my Catechism bound me, at all accurate; for, I have a lively remembrance that I supposed my declaration that I was to `walk in the same all the days of my life,’ laid me under an obligation always to go through the village from our house in one particular direction, and never to vary it by turning down by the wheelwright’s or up by the mill.

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When I was old enough, I was to be apprenticed to Joe, and until I could assume that dignity I was not to be what Mrs Joe called `Pompeyed,’ or (as I render it) pampered. Therefore, I was not only odd-boy about the forge, but if any neighbour happened to want an extra boy to frighten birds, or pick up stones, or do any such job, I was favoured with the employment. In order, however, that our superior position might not be compromised thereby, a money-box was kept on the kitchen mantel-shelf, in to which it was publicly made known that all my earnings were dropped. I have an impression that they were to be contributed eventually towards the liquidation of the National Debt, but I know I had no hope of any personal participation in the treasure.

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Mr Wopsle’s great-aunt kept an evening school in the village; that is to say, she was a ridiculous old woman of limited means and unlimited infirmity, who used to go to sleep from six to seven every evening, in the society of youth who paid twopence per week each, for the improving opportunity of seeing her do it. She rented a small cottage, and Mr Wopsle had the room up-stairs, where we students used to overhear him reading aloud in a most dignified and terrific manner, and occasionally bumping on the ceiling. There was a fiction that Mr Wopsle `examined’ the scholars, once a quarter. What he did on those occasions was to turn up his cuffs, stick up his hair, and give us Mark Antony’s oration over the body of Caesar. This was always followed by Collins’s Ode on the Passions, wherein I particularly venerated Mr Wopsle as Revenge, throwing his blood-stained sword in thunder down, and taking the War-denouncing trumpet with a withering look. It was not with me then, as it was in later life, when I fell into the society of the Passions, and compared them with Collins and Wopsle, rather to the disadvantage of both gentlemen.

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Mr. Wopsle’s great-aunt, besides keeping this Educational Institution, kept - in the same room - a little general shop. She had no idea what stock she had, or what the price of anything in it was; but there was a little greasy memorandum-book kept in a drawer, which served as a Catalogue of Prices, and by this oracle Biddy arranged all the shop transaction. Biddy was Mr Wopsle’s great-aunt’s granddaughter; I confess myself quiet unequal to the working out of the problem, what relation she was to Mr Wopsle. She was an orphan like myself; like me, too, had been brought up by hand. She was most noticeable, I thought, in respect of her extremities; for, her hair always wanted brushing, her hands always wanted washing, and her shoes always wanted mending and pulling up at heel. This description must be received with a week-day limitation. On Sundays, she went to church elaborated.

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Much of my unassisted self, and more by the help of Biddy than of Mr Wopsle’s great-aunt, I struggled through the alphabet as if it had been a bramble-bush; getting considerably worried and scratched by every letter. After that, I fell among those thieves, the nine figures, who seemed every evening to do something new to disguise themselves and baffle recognition. But, at last I began, in a purblind groping way, to read, write, and cipher, on the very smallest scale.

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One night, I was sitting in the chimney-corner with my slate, expending great efforts on the production of a letter to Joe. I think it must have been a fully year after our hunt upon the marshes, for it was a long time after, and it was winter and a hard frost. With an alphabet on the hearth at my feet for reference, I contrived in an hour or two to print and smear this epistle:

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`MI DEER JO i OPE U R KR WITE WELL i OPE i SHAL SON B HABELL 4 2 TEEDGE U JO AN THEN WE SHORL B SO GLODD AN WEN i M PRENGTD 2 U JO WOT LARX AN BLEVE ME INF XN PIP.’

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There was no indispensable necessity for my communicating with Joe by letter, inasmuch as he sat beside me and we were alone. But, I delivered this written communication (slate and all) with my own hand, and Joe received it as a miracle of erudition.

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`I say, Pip, old chap!’ cried Joe, opening his blue eyes wide, `what a scholar you are! An’t you?’

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`I should like to be,’ said I, glancing at the slate as he held it: with a misgiving that the writing was rather hilly.

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`Why, here’s a J,’ said Joe, `and a O equal to anythink! Here’s a J and a O, Pip, and a J-O, Joe.’

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I had never heard Joe read aloud to any greater extent than this monosyllable, and I had observed at church last Sunday when I accidentally held our Prayer-Book upside down, that it seemed to suit his convenience quite as well as if it had been right. Wishing to embrace the present occasion of finding out whether in teaching Joe, I should have to begin quite at the beginning, I said, `Ah! But read the rest, Jo.’

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`The rest, eh, Pip?’ said Joe, looking at it with a slowly searching eye, `One, two, three. Why, here’s three Js, and three Os, and three J-O, Joes in it, Pip!’

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I leaned over Joe, and, with the aid of my forefinger, read him the whole letter.

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`Astonishing!’ said Joe, when I had finished. `You ARE a scholar.’

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`How do you spell Gargery, Joe?’ I asked him, with a modest patronage.

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`I don’t spell it at all,’ said Joe.

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`But supposing you did?’

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`It can’t be supposed,’ said Joe. `Tho’ I’m oncommon fond of reading, too.’

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`Are you, Joe?’

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`On-common. Give me,’ said Joe, `a good book, or a good newspaper, and sit me down afore a good fire, and I ask no better. Lord!’ he continued, after rubbing his knees a little, `when you do come to a J and a O, and says you, "Here, at last, is a J-O, Joe," how interesting reading is!’

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I derived from this last, that Joe’s education, like Steam, was yet in its infancy, Pursuing the subject, I inquired:

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`Didn’t you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as little as me?’

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`No, Pip.’

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`Why didn’t you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as little as me?’

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`Well, Pip,’ said Joe, taking up the poker, and settling himself to his usual occupation when he was thoughtful, of slowly raking the fire between the lower bars: `I’ll tell you. My father, Pip, he were given to drink, and when he were overtook with drink, he hammered away at my mother, most onmerciful. It were a’most the only hammering he did, indeed, ’xcepting at myself. And he hammered at me with a wigour only to be equalled by the wigour with which he didn’t hammer at his anwil. - You’re listening and understanding, Pip?’

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`Yes, Joe.’

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` ’Consequence, my mother and me we ran away from my father, several times; and then my mother she’d go out to work, and she’d say, "Joe," she’d say, "now, please God, you shall have some schooling, child," and she’d put me to school. But my father were that good in his hart that he couldn’t abear to be without us. So, he’d come with a most tremenjous crowd and make such a row at the doors of the houses where we was, that they used to be obligated to have no more to do with us and to give us up to him. And then he took us home and hammered us. Which, you see, Pip,’ said Joe, pausing in his meditative raking of the fire, and looking at me, `were a drawback on my learning.’

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`Certainly, poor Joe!’

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`Though mind you, Pip,’ said Joe, with a judicial touch or two of the poker on the top bar, `rendering unto all their doo, and maintaining equal justice betwixt man and man, my father were that good in his hart, don’t you see?’

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I didn’t see; but I didn’t say so.

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`Well!’ Joe pursued, `somebody must keep the pot a biling, Pip, or the pot won’t bile, don’t you know?’

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I saw that, and said so.

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` ’Consequence, my father didn’t make objections to my going to work; so I went to work to work at my present calling, which were his too, if he would have followed it, and I worked tolerable hard, I assure you, Pip. In time I were able to keep him, and I kept him till he went off in a purple leptic fit. And it were my intentions to have had put upon his tombstone that Whatsume’er the failings on his part, Remember reader he were that good in his hart.’

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Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful perspicuity, that I asked him if he had made it himself.

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`I made it,’ said Joe, `my own self. I made it in a moment. It was like striking out a horseshoe complete, in a single blow. I never was so much surprised in all my life - couldn’t credit my own ed - to tell you the truth, hardly believed it were my own ed. As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions to have had it cut over him; but poetry costs money, cut it how you will, small or large, and it were not done. Not to mention bearers, all the money that could be spared were wanted for my mother. She were in poor elth, and quite broke. She weren’t long of following, poor soul, and her share of peace come round at last.’

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Joe’s blue eyes turned a little watery; he rubbed, first one of them, and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner, with the round knob on the top of the poker.

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`It were but lonesome then,’ said Joe, `living here alone, and I got acquainted with your sister. Now, Pip;’ Joe looked firmly at me, as if he knew I was not going to agree with him; `your sister is a fine figure of a woman.’

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I could not help looking at the fire, in an obvious state of doubt.

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`Whatever family opinions, or whatever the world’s opinions, on that subject may be, Pip, your sister is,’ Joe tapped the top bar with the poker after every word following, `a - fine - figure - of - a - woman!’

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I could think of nothing better to say than `I am glad you think so, Joe.’

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`So am I,’ returned Joe, catching me up. `I am glad I think so, Pip. A little redness or a little matter of Bone, here or there, what does it signify to Me?’

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I sagaciously observed, if it didn’t signify to him, to whom did it signify?

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`Certainly!’ assented Joe. `That’s it. You’re right, old chap!When I got acquainted with your sister, it were the talk how she was bringing you up by hand. Very kind of her too, all the folks said, and I said, along with all the folks. As to you,’ Joe pursued with a countenance expressive of seeing something very nasty indeed: `if you could have been aware how small and flabby and mean you was, dear me, you’d have formed the most contemptible opinions of yourself!’

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Not exactly relishing this, I said, `Never mind me, Joe.’

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`But I did mind you, Pip,’ he returned with tender simplicity. `When I offered to your sister to keep company, and to be asked in church at such times as she was willing and ready to come to the forge, I said to her, "And bring the poor little child. God bless the poor little child," I said to your sister, "there’s room for him at the forge!"’

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I broke out crying and begging pardon, and hugged Joe round the neck: who dropped the poker to hug me, and to say, `Ever the best of friends; an’t us, Pip? Don’t cry, old chap!’

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When this little interruption was over, Joe resumed:

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`Well, you see, Pip, and here we are! That’s about where it lights; here we are! Now, when you take me in hand in my learning, Pip (and I tell you beforehand I am awful dull, most awful dull), Mrs Joe mustn’t see too much of what we’re up to. It must be done, as I may say, on the sly. And why on the sly? I’ll tell you why, Pip.’

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He had taken up the poker again; without which, I doubt if he could have proceeded in his demonstration.

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`Your sister is given to government.’

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`Given to government, Joe?’ I was startled, for I had some shadowy idea (and I am afraid I must add, hope) that Joe had divorced her in a favour of the Lords of the Admiralty, or Treasury.

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`Given to government,’ said Joe. `Which I meantersay the government of you and myself.’

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`Oh!’

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`And she an’t over partial to having scholars on the premises,’ Joe continued, `and in partickler would not be over partial to my being a scholar, for fear as I might rise. Like a sort or rebel, don’t you see?’

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I was going to retort with an inquiry, and had got as far as `Why--’ when Joe stopped me.

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`Stay a bit. I know what you’re a-going to say, Pip; stay a bit!I don’t deny that your sister comes the Mo-gul over us, now and again. I don’t deny that she do throw us back-falls, and that she do drop down upon us heavy. At such times as when your sister is on the Ram-page, Pip,’ Joe sank his voice to a whisper and glanced at the door, `candour compels fur to admit that she is a Buster.’

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Joe pronounced this word, as if it began with at least twelve capital Bs.

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`Why don’t I rise? That were your observation when I broke it off, Pip?’

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`Yes, Joe.’

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`Well,’ said Joe, passing the poker into his left hand, that he might feel his whisker; and I had no hope of him whenever he took to that placid occupation; `your sister’s a master-mind. A master-mind.’

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`What’s that?’ I asked, in some hope of bringing him to a stand. But, Joe was readier with his definition than I had excepted, and completely stopped me by arguing circularly, and answering with a fixed look, `Her.’

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`And I an’t a master-mind,’ Joe resumed, when he had unfixed his look, and got back to his whisker. `And last of all, Pip - and this I want to say very serous to you, old chap - I see so much in my poor mother, of a woman drudging and slaving and breaking her honest hart and never getting no peace in her mortal days, that I’m dead afeerd of going wrong in the way of not doing what’s right by a woman, and I’d fur rather of the two go wrong the t’other way, and be a little ill-conwenienced myself. I wish it was only me that got put out, Pip; I wish there warn’t no Tickler for you, old chap; I wish I could take it all on myself; but this is the up-and-down-and-straight on it, Pip, and I hope you’ll overlook shortcomings.’

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Young as I was, I believe that I dated a new admiration of Joe from that night. We were equals afterwards, as we had been before; but, afterwards at quiet times when I sat looking at Joe and thinking about him, I had a new sensation of feeling conscious that I was looking up to Joe in my heart.

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`However,’ said Joe, rising to replenish the fire; `here’s the Dutch-clock a working himself up to being equal to strike Eight of ’em, and she’s not come home yet! I hope Uncle Pumblechook’s mare mayn’t have set a fore-foot on a piece o’ice, and gone down.’

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Mrs Joe made occasional trips with Uncle Pumblechook on market-days, to assist him in buying such household stuffs and goods as required a woman’s judgment; Uncle Pumblechook being a bachelor and reposing no confidences in his domestic servant. This was market-day, and Mrs Joe was out on one of these expeditions.

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Joe made the fire and swept the hearth, and then we went to the door to listen for the chaise-cart. It was a dry cold night, and the wind blew keenly, and the frost was white and hard. A man would die to-night of lying out on the marshes, I thought. And then I looked at the stars, and considered how awful if would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.

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`Here comes the mare,’ said Joe, `ringing like a peal of bells!’

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The sound of her iron shoes upon the hard road was quite musical, as she came along at a much brisker trot than usual. We got a chair out, ready for Mrs Joe’s alighting, and stirred up the fire that they might see a bright window, and took a final survey of the kitchen that nothing might be out of its place. When we had completed these preparations, they drove up, wrapped to the eyes. Mrs Joe was soon landed, and Uncle Pumblechook was soon down too, covering the mare with a cloth, and we were soon all in the kitchen, carrying so much cold air in with us that it seemed to drive all the heat out of the fire.

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`Now,’ said Mrs Joe, unwrapping herself with haste and excitement, and throwing her bonnet back on her shoulders where it hung by the strings: `if this boy an’t grateful this night, he never will be!’

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I looked as grateful as any boy possibly could, who was wholly uninformed why he ought to assume that expression.

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`It’s only to be hoped,’ said my sister, `that he won’t be Pomp-eyed. But I have my fears.’

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`She an’t in that line, Mum,’ said Mr Pumblechook. `She knows better.’

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She? I looked at Joe, making the motion with my lips and eyebrows, `She?’ Joe looked at me, making the motion with his lips and eyebrows, `She?’ My sister catching him in the act, he drew the back of his hand across his nose with his usual conciliatory air on such occasions, and looked at her.

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`Well?’ said my sister, in her snappish way. `What are you staring at? Is the house a-fire?’

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` - Which some individual,’ Joe politely hinted, `mentioned - she.’

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`And she is a she, I suppose?’ said my sister. `Unless you call Miss Havisham a he. And I doubt if even you’ll go so far as that.’

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`Miss Havisham, up town?’ said Joe.

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`Is there any Miss Havisham down town?’ returned my sister.

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`She wants this boy to go and play there. And of course he’s going. And he had better play there,’ said my sister, shaking her head at me as an encouragement to be extremely light and sportive, `or I’ll work him.’

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I had heard of Miss Havisham up town - everybody for miles round, had heard of Miss Havisham up town - as an immensely rich and grim lady who lived in a large and dismal house barricaded against robbers, and who led a life of seclusion.

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`Well to be sure!’ said Joe, astounded. `I wonder how she come to know Pip!’

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`Noodle!’ cried my sister. `Who said she knew him?’

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` - Which some individual,’ Joe again politely hinted, `mentioned that she wanted him to go and play there.’

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`And couldn’t she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? Isn’t it just barely possible that Uncle Pumblechook may be a tenant of hers, and that he may sometimes - we won’t say quarterly or half-yearly, for that would be requiring too much of you - but sometimes - go there to pay his rent? And couldn’t she then ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? And couldn’t Uncle Pumblechook, being always considerate and thoughtful for us - though you may not think it, Joseph,’ in a tone of the deepest reproach, as if he were the most callous of nephews, `then mention this boy, standing Prancing here’ - which I solemnly declare I was not doing - `that I have for ever been a willing slave to?’

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`Good again!’ cried Uncle Pumblechook. `Well put! Prettily pointed! Good indeed! Now Joseph, you know the case.’

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`No, Joseph,’ said my sister, still in a reproachful manner, while Joe apologetically drew the back of his hand across and across his nose, `you do not yet - though you may not think it - know the case. You may consider that you do, but you do not, Joseph. For you do not know that Uncle Pumblechook, being sensible that for anything we can tell, this boy’s fortune may be made by his going to Miss Havisham’s, has offered to take him into town to-night in his own chaise-cart, and to keep him to-night, and to take him with his own hands to Miss Havisham’s to-morrow morning. And Lor-a-mussy me!’ cried my sister, casting off her bonnet in sudden desperation, `here I stand talking to mere Mooncalfs, with Uncle Pumblechook waiting, and the mare catching cold at the door, and the boy grimed with crock and dirt from the hair of his head to the sole of his foot!’

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With that, she pounced upon me, like an eagle on a lamb, and my face was squeezed into wooden bowls in sinks, and my head was put under taps of water-butts, and I was soaped, and kneaded, and towelled, and thumped, and harrowed, and rasped, until I really was quite beside myself. (I may here remark that I suppose myself to be better acquainted than any living authority, with the ridgy effect of a wedding-ring, passing unsympathetically over the human countenance.)

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When my ablutions were completed, I was put into clean linen of the stiffest character, like a young penitent into sackcloth, and was trussed up in my tightest and fearfullest suit. I was then delivered over to Mr Pumblechook, who formally received me as if he were the Sheriff, and who let off upon me the speech that I knew he had been dying to make all along: `Boy, be for ever grateful to all friends, but especially unto them which brought you up by hand!’

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`Good-bye, Joe!’

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`God bless you, Pip, old chap!’

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I had never parted from his before, and what with my feelings and what with soap-suds, I could at first see no stars from the chaise-cart. But they twinkled out one by one, without throwing any light on the questions why on earth I was going to play at Miss Havisham’s, and what on earth I was expected to play at.

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