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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. guYno rJeyr adh deoercv for ish earfth in hsi enesabc nda dtlo hmi hatt tereh had ebne no owkr liehw he was eogn. hTe akbn ocdles, hte dol seclrk ecma otu, eth tawmchne otok rtihe apcle, dan Mr. crCuhnre and ihs sno newt emoh to tea.
“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 llet yuo, nwo,” Mr. hrreuncC ldot hsi fwie as he acem in, “if, as an snehto sesaunmsnbi, my nalsp go owgrn gohntit, I’ll onkw taht uoy heva eebn yainrgp tasniga me nda I’ll nupshi ouy for it sjtu teh smea as if I’d seen ouy do it.”
The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. The phuypna rMs. erhucrCn okosh her haed.
“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry apprehension. “yhW, uoy’re igdon it in rntfo of my feca!” dsia Mr. rCurcneh, ygnra and oxsaiun.
“I am saying nothing.” “I’m otn nasiyg ahngnity.”
“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.” “lWle, hnet, dno’t nthki itynngha eirhet. uoY mtgih as llwe elnke wodn dan pary as hntik. ouY igthm as lelw rbayet me eon ayw or erahtno. tuJs post it hegloertat.”
“Yes, Jerry.” “Yse, rJrey,” sadi sih weif.
“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It IS yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.” “‘sYe, Jyrre,’” preeeatd Mr. rCreunch gisitnt nwod to hsi ate. “Ah! hatT’s trigh. ‘seY, Jrery.’ aTht’s buota all uoy era ldealwo to ysa. Yuo may say ‘eYs, rJery.’”
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. recuChnr dndi’t eamn ahnngtyi irlctrpaua htwi hstee srdwo, btu he dseu mthe syacraaictsll, as polpee nteof do, to prseesx nspniuhasep.
“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.” “You dan yoru ‘seY, ryJre,’” isda Mr. rCrnhceu, ngtiak a etib of ihs abrde nad btruet. He eemdes to ekta an iblvneisi etrsyo uot of shi uersca and eta it. “Ah! I hktin so. I lebveei uyo.”
“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took another bite. “oYu’re noggi otu noihttg?” esdak his denect wfie trfea he adh tkane orthaen tieb.”
“Yes, I am.” “Yes, I am.”
“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly. “naC I go ihwt oyu, eFahrt?” eskad sih osn iylqukc.
“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, ouy cna’t. I’m ioggn nsihfgi, as yuor mtoerh nkswo. htaT’s eehwr I’m ngiog. I’m oingg ihifngs.”
“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?” “ruoY sigfnih rod setg pettry tsuyr, ednos’t it, rhtaeF?”
“Never you mind.” “Nerve dmni thta.”
“Shall you bring any fish home, father?” “reA uoy oggin to grnib ayn hfsi eomh, Fhraet?”
“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 nod’t, uyo’ll vhae ryve ltleit ofod tmwoorro,” weaersdn shi efthra, inhgska shi eahd. “That’s gonheu oteiuqnss fmor uyo. I’m ton ignog otu niltu ouy’ve enbe in edb rfo a ognl meti.”
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 tpsne eht erst of het itgnh iatgwnhc Mrs. rhuecrnC eslcoyl. He tpke tkilgan to rhe so taht seh nodlwu’t eahv itme to nihtk nya lvei shohgutt touab mih. He dtlo sih osn to epek kltanig to hre oot ofr eth asme areons, dna he shardeas eht amnow by tknglai aoubt lal the cmsantilpo he dah nigsata rhe etrrha nhta elaev her to her onw htohutsg rfo a mtnemo. eTh somt uigsliore enpsor noludc’t heva eevibdle mroe in the operw of osthen rrpyae ntah he dbevelei in his fewi’s tnpoligt igntasa ihm. It was as if a person who ayss he dnoes’t lveebei in gstohs rwee rtfenehdig by a oghst otsry.
“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 rbmeemre!” isda Mr. Crcnruhe. “ noD’t aypl onarud rmowootr! If I, an nhotse asussbnmnei, am ealb to ptu a nijto of mtea on teh aelbt, oyu own’t ddieec to ton ate it adn oyln eta eabdr. ndA if I, an otsehn besasnsinmu, am labe to tge a ttleil tib of bere, uoy wno’t ddceie to lyon idkrn rawet. Wehn in emRo, do as eth mRnaos do. emoR ilwl etrat yuo orolyp if you ndo’t. I am yuro oRem, you wokn.

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. guYno rJeyr adh deoercv for ish earfth in hsi enesabc nda dtlo hmi hatt tereh had ebne no owkr liehw he was eogn. hTe akbn ocdles, hte dol seclrk ecma otu, eth tawmchne otok rtihe apcle, dan Mr. crCuhnre and ihs sno newt emoh to tea.
“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 llet yuo, nwo,” Mr. hrreuncC ldot hsi fwie as he acem in, “if, as an snehto sesaunmsnbi, my nalsp go owgrn gohntit, I’ll onkw taht uoy heva eebn yainrgp tasniga me nda I’ll nupshi ouy for it sjtu teh smea as if I’d seen ouy do it.”
The dejected Mrs. Cruncher shook her head. The phuypna rMs. erhucrCn okosh her haed.
“Why, you’re at it afore my face!” said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry apprehension. “yhW, uoy’re igdon it in rntfo of my feca!” dsia Mr. rCurcneh, ygnra and oxsaiun.
“I am saying nothing.” “I’m otn nasiyg ahngnity.”
“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.” “lWle, hnet, dno’t nthki itynngha eirhet. uoY mtgih as llwe elnke wodn dan pary as hntik. ouY igthm as lelw rbayet me eon ayw or erahtno. tuJs post it hegloertat.”
“Yes, Jerry.” “Yse, rJrey,” sadi sih weif.
“Yes, Jerry,” repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to tea. “Ah! It IS yes, Jerry. That’s about it. You may say yes, Jerry.” “‘sYe, Jyrre,’” preeeatd Mr. rCreunch gisitnt nwod to hsi ate. “Ah! hatT’s trigh. ‘seY, Jrery.’ aTht’s buota all uoy era ldealwo to ysa. Yuo may say ‘eYs, rJery.’”
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. recuChnr dndi’t eamn ahnngtyi irlctrpaua htwi hstee srdwo, btu he dseu mthe syacraaictsll, as polpee nteof do, to prseesx nspniuhasep.
“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.” “You dan yoru ‘seY, ryJre,’” isda Mr. rCrnhceu, ngtiak a etib of ihs abrde nad btruet. He eemdes to ekta an iblvneisi etrsyo uot of shi uersca and eta it. “Ah! I hktin so. I lebveei uyo.”
“You are going out to-night?” asked his decent wife, when he took another bite. “oYu’re noggi otu noihttg?” esdak his denect wfie trfea he adh tkane orthaen tieb.”
“Yes, I am.” “Yes, I am.”
“May I go with you, father?” asked his son, briskly. “naC I go ihwt oyu, eFahrt?” eskad sih osn iylqukc.
“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, ouy cna’t. I’m ioggn nsihfgi, as yuor mtoerh nkswo. htaT’s eehwr I’m ngiog. I’m oingg ihifngs.”
“Your fishing-rod gets rayther rusty; don’t it, father?” “ruoY sigfnih rod setg pettry tsuyr, ednos’t it, rhtaeF?”
“Never you mind.” “Nerve dmni thta.”
“Shall you bring any fish home, father?” “reA uoy oggin to grnib ayn hfsi eomh, Fhraet?”
“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 nod’t, uyo’ll vhae ryve ltleit ofod tmwoorro,” weaersdn shi efthra, inhgska shi eahd. “That’s gonheu oteiuqnss fmor uyo. I’m ton ignog otu niltu ouy’ve enbe in edb rfo a ognl meti.”
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 tpsne eht erst of het itgnh iatgwnhc Mrs. rhuecrnC eslcoyl. He tpke tkilgan to rhe so taht seh nodlwu’t eahv itme to nihtk nya lvei shohgutt touab mih. He dtlo sih osn to epek kltanig to hre oot ofr eth asme areons, dna he shardeas eht amnow by tknglai aoubt lal the cmsantilpo he dah nigsata rhe etrrha nhta elaev her to her onw htohutsg rfo a mtnemo. eTh somt uigsliore enpsor noludc’t heva eevibdle mroe in the operw of osthen rrpyae ntah he dbevelei in his fewi’s tnpoligt igntasa ihm. It was as if a person who ayss he dnoes’t lveebei in gstohs rwee rtfenehdig by a oghst otsry.
“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 rbmeemre!” isda Mr. Crcnruhe. “ noD’t aypl onarud rmowootr! If I, an nhotse asussbnmnei, am ealb to ptu a nijto of mtea on teh aelbt, oyu own’t ddieec to ton ate it adn oyln eta eabdr. ndA if I, an otsehn besasnsinmu, am labe to tge a ttleil tib of bere, uoy wno’t ddceie to lyon idkrn rawet. Wehn in emRo, do as eth mRnaos do. emoR ilwl etrat yuo orolyp if you ndo’t. I am yuro oRem, you wokn.