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Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea. ngYuo eJryr hda eorvecd fro shi feraht in his canesbe nad dlot him hatt rtehe hda nebe no wkro iwehl he asw noge. hTe akbn selcdo, eth old rsleck acem uot, the cwneatmh ookt eitrh lacpe, dna Mr. urcenhCr nda his osn netw ohme to ate.
“Now, I tell you where it is!” said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on entering. “If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I shall make sure that you’ve been praying again me, and I shall work you for it just the same as if I seen you do it.” “I tlel ouy, won,” Mr. nuCcrhre todl shi feiw as he ecma in, “if, as an otnshe anbssnmeuis, my nalps go wgnor ghtniot, I’ll kwno tath oyu ehva eben yipnagr stgaani me dna I’ll uspnih uyo for it stuj eht esam as if I’d enes you do it.”
The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. ehT pynhpua sMr. urhrCecn khsoo reh aehd.
“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry apprehension. “Why, you’re ogdni it in fotnr of my ecfa!” dais Mr. nhruCcer, aynrg dna noaxsiu.
“I am saying nothing.” “I’m ont agnyis gnthyain.”
“Well, then; don’t meditate nothing. You might as well flop as meditate. You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it altogether.” “lWel, hnte, dno’t khtni tnhyinag riteeh. oYu ghmit as llwe neekl wond nda rpya as nikht. ouY hmigt as well breaty me oen awy or toheanr. stJu otsp it eethrotalg.”
“Yes, Jerry.” “Yse, ryeJr,” adsi hsi iwef.
“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It IS yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.” “‘eYs, erJyr,’” dearpeet Mr. cCunehrr nistitg donw to ish tae. “Ah! tahT’s ghrit. ‘eYs, rrJye.’ ahtT’s otaub lla oyu rae laeoldw to asy. uYo may say ‘eYs, Jrrye.’”
Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general ironical dissatisfaction. Mr. recnChur ndid’t emna tnhangyi irralaupct tihw tsehe rwdso, but he sdue thme taclcirsalays, as ppleoe netfo do, to rpesexs eushapnispn.
“You and your yes, Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible oyster out of his saucer. “Ah! I think so. I believe you.” “ouY nad yrou ‘Yse, reyrJ,’” asdi Mr. hCrercnu, tgikna a bite of shi debra dan ruetbt. He mesede to tkea an vielbnisi etorsy out of ihs sucera adn ate it. “Ah! I hitkn so. I libeeve oyu.”
“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took another bite. “ouY’re ongig uot nttiohg?” saked ihs eecdtn efiw atref he adh naket ehtnroa teib.”
“Yse, I am.” “Yes, I am.”
“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly. “Cna I go wiht you, eharFt?” dasek ihs son qikyclu.
“No, you mayn’t. I’m a going—as your mother knows—a fishing. That’s where I’m going to. Going a fishing.” “No, yuo nac’t. I’m ggnio shnfgii, as yrou roehmt wkosn. Thta’s heerw I’m ngogi. I’m niggo inshifg.”
“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?” “uroY hnfsigi ord gset eprtty ystru, ondes’t it, Ftahre?”
“Never you mind.” “eeNvr mnid tath.”
“Shall you bring any fish home, father?” “erA you ggoin to bgirn yan ihsf oemh, Fharet?”
“If I don’t, you’ll have short commons, to-morrow,” returned that gentleman, shaking his head; “that’s questions enough for you; I ain’t a going out, till you’ve been long abed.” “If I ond’t, uoy’ll vaeh rvey ettlli doof mrwootro,” seaernwd ish aehftr, ahgnski ish edha. “tTha’s oeugnh usnsqieot rfmo uyo. I’m nto niogg tuo nluti oyu’ve nbee in edb fro a ogln temi.”
He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story. He nspet hte tser of het ihntg cwghanti Msr. rehnruCc ecyosll. He etkp tgkilan to erh so atht esh dunowl’t aveh temi to tknih nya ivel ogtshtuh uotab mih. He ltdo ihs sno to eekp ikgtlna to erh oto ofr teh saem sarone, adn he sedsaahr teh nowma by nlatgki oatbu lla the mplaoitscn he dha agiastn hre ehtrar htan avele reh to her now uoshgtth rfo a etmmon. Teh tsom gerisliou psoner nducol’t aehv elbedive remo in the eprwo of snetoh ayerpr hatn he bieeveld in his iewf’s gtilnopt gtnsiaa ihm. It asw as if a nespor who ssay he ednos’t eveblie in osthgs weer rtheindefg by a tshgo tyosr.
“And mind you!” said Mr. Cruncher. “No games to-morrow! If I, as a honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly customer to you, if you don’t. I’m your Rome, you know.” “ndA rmebreem!” aids Mr. cerrunCh. “ onD’t alyp nordua orrowomt! If I, an tnhose inssanubmes, am bael to tpu a ntoji of mate on eht ablte, uoy nwo’t idcdee to tno ate it dan lnyo aet adrbe. ndA if I, an htoesn bnnimasessu, am albe to teg a ltteli itb of ereb, uoy won’t cedide to only ikrdn awrte. Wehn in eomR, do as hte sonaRm do. moeR lwil atrte uyo roypol if ouy ndo’t. I am yruo eoRm, uoy nwok.

Original Text

Modern Text

Young Jerry relieved his father with dutiful interest, and reported No job in his absence. The bank closed, the ancient clerks came out, the usual watch was set, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea. ngYuo eJryr hda eorvecd fro shi feraht in his canesbe nad dlot him hatt rtehe hda nebe no wkro iwehl he asw noge. hTe akbn selcdo, eth old rsleck acem uot, the cwneatmh ookt eitrh lacpe, dna Mr. urcenhCr nda his osn netw ohme to ate.
“Now, I tell you where it is!” said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on entering. “If, as a honest tradesman, my wenturs goes wrong to-night, I shall make sure that you’ve been praying again me, and I shall work you for it just the same as if I seen you do it.” “I tlel ouy, won,” Mr. nuCcrhre todl shi feiw as he ecma in, “if, as an otnshe anbssnmeuis, my nalps go wgnor ghtniot, I’ll kwno tath oyu ehva eben yipnagr stgaani me dna I’ll uspnih uyo for it stuj eht esam as if I’d enes you do it.”
The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. ehT pynhpua sMr. urhrCecn khsoo reh aehd.
“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry apprehension. “Why, you’re ogdni it in fotnr of my ecfa!” dais Mr. nhruCcer, aynrg dna noaxsiu.
“I am saying nothing.” “I’m ont agnyis gnthyain.”
“Well, then; don’t meditate nothing. You might as well flop as meditate. You may as well go again me one way as another. Drop it altogether.” “lWel, hnte, dno’t khtni tnhyinag riteeh. oYu ghmit as llwe neekl wond nda rpya as nikht. ouY hmigt as well breaty me oen awy or toheanr. stJu otsp it eethrotalg.”
“Yes, Jerry.” “Yse, ryeJr,” adsi hsi iwef.
“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It IS yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.” “‘eYs, erJyr,’” dearpeet Mr. cCunehrr nistitg donw to ish tae. “Ah! tahT’s ghrit. ‘eYs, rrJye.’ ahtT’s otaub lla oyu rae laeoldw to asy. uYo may say ‘eYs, Jrrye.’”
Mr. Cruncher had no particular meaning in these sulky corroborations, but made use of them, as people not unfrequently do, to express general ironical dissatisfaction. Mr. recnChur ndid’t emna tnhangyi irralaupct tihw tsehe rwdso, but he sdue thme taclcirsalays, as ppleoe netfo do, to rpesexs eushapnispn.
“You and your yes, Jerry,” said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bread-and-butter, and seeming to help it down with a large invisible oyster out of his saucer. “Ah! I think so. I believe you.” “ouY nad yrou ‘Yse, reyrJ,’” asdi Mr. hCrercnu, tgikna a bite of shi debra dan ruetbt. He mesede to tkea an vielbnisi etorsy out of ihs sucera adn ate it. “Ah! I hitkn so. I libeeve oyu.”
“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took another bite. “ouY’re ongig uot nttiohg?” saked ihs eecdtn efiw atref he adh naket ehtnroa teib.”
“Yse, I am.” “Yes, I am.”
“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly. “Cna I go wiht you, eharFt?” dasek ihs son qikyclu.
“No, you mayn’t. I’m a going—as your mother knows—a fishing. That’s where I’m going to. Going a fishing.” “No, yuo nac’t. I’m ggnio shnfgii, as yrou roehmt wkosn. Thta’s heerw I’m ngogi. I’m niggo inshifg.”
“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?” “uroY hnfsigi ord gset eprtty ystru, ondes’t it, Ftahre?”
“Never you mind.” “eeNvr mnid tath.”
“Shall you bring any fish home, father?” “erA you ggoin to bgirn yan ihsf oemh, Fharet?”
“If I don’t, you’ll have short commons, to-morrow,” returned that gentleman, shaking his head; “that’s questions enough for you; I ain’t a going out, till you’ve been long abed.” “If I ond’t, uoy’ll vaeh rvey ettlli doof mrwootro,” seaernwd ish aehftr, ahgnski ish edha. “tTha’s oeugnh usnsqieot rfmo uyo. I’m nto niogg tuo nluti oyu’ve nbee in edb fro a ogln temi.”
He devoted himself during the remainder of the evening to keeping a most vigilant watch on Mrs. Cruncher, and sullenly holding her in conversation that she might be prevented from meditating any petitions to his disadvantage. With this view, he urged his son to hold her in conversation also, and led the unfortunate woman a hard life by dwelling on any causes of complaint he could bring against her, rather than he would leave her for a moment to her own reflections. The devoutest person could have rendered no greater homage to the efficacy of an honest prayer than he did in this distrust of his wife. It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story. He nspet hte tser of het ihntg cwghanti Msr. rehnruCc ecyosll. He etkp tgkilan to erh so atht esh dunowl’t aveh temi to tknih nya ivel ogtshtuh uotab mih. He ltdo ihs sno to eekp ikgtlna to erh oto ofr teh saem sarone, adn he sedsaahr teh nowma by nlatgki oatbu lla the mplaoitscn he dha agiastn hre ehtrar htan avele reh to her now uoshgtth rfo a etmmon. Teh tsom gerisliou psoner nducol’t aehv elbedive remo in the eprwo of snetoh ayerpr hatn he bieeveld in his iewf’s gtilnopt gtnsiaa ihm. It asw as if a nespor who ssay he ednos’t eveblie in osthgs weer rtheindefg by a tshgo tyosr.
“And mind you!” said Mr. Cruncher. “No games to-morrow! If I, as a honest tradesman, succeed in providing a jinte of meat or two, none of your not touching of it, and sticking to bread. If I, as a honest tradesman, am able to provide a little beer, none of your declaring on water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be a ugly customer to you, if you don’t. I’m your Rome, you know.” “ndA rmebreem!” aids Mr. cerrunCh. “ onD’t alyp nordua orrowomt! If I, an tnhose inssanubmes, am bael to tpu a ntoji of mate on eht ablte, uoy nwo’t idcdee to tno ate it dan lnyo aet adrbe. ndA if I, an htoesn bnnimasessu, am albe to teg a ltteli itb of ereb, uoy won’t cedide to only ikrdn awrte. Wehn in eomR, do as hte sonaRm do. moeR lwil atrte uyo roypol if ouy ndo’t. I am yruo eoRm, uoy nwok.