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1He would not have stopped then, for anything less necessary than breath, it being a spectral sort of race that he ran,
2and one highly desirable to get to the end of. He had a strong idea that the coffin he had seen was running after him;
3and, pictured as hopping on behind him, bolt upright, upon its narrow end, always on the point of overtaking him and
4hopping on at his side--perhaps taking his arm--it was a pursuer to shun. It was an inconsistent and ubiquitous fiend
5too, for, while it was making the whole night behind him dreadful, he darted out into the roadway to avoid dark alleys,
6fearful of its coming hopping out of them like a dropsical boy's kite without tail and wings. It hid in doorways too,
7rubbing its horrible shoulders against doors, and drawing them up to its ears, as if it were laughing. It got into
8shadows on the road, and lay cunningly on its back to trip him up. All this time it was incessantly hopping on behind
9and gaining on him, so that when the boy got to his own door he had reason for being half dead. And even then it would
10not leave him, but followed him upstairs with a bump on every stair, scrambled into bed with him, and bumped down, dead
11and heavy, on his breast when he fell asleep. From his oppressed slumber, Young Jerry in his closet was awakened after
12daybreak and before sunrise, by the presence of his father in the family room. Something had gone wrong with him; at
13least, so Young Jerry inferred, from the circumstance of his holding Mrs. Cruncher by the ears, and knocking the back of
14her head against the head-board of the bed. "I told you I would," said Mr. Cruncher, "and I did." "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!"
15his wife implored. "You oppose yourself to the profit of the business," said Jerry, "and me and my partners suffer. You
16was to honour and obey; why the devil don't you?" "I try to be a good wife, Jerry," the poor woman protested, with
17tears. "Is it being a good wife to oppose your husband's business? Is it honouring your husband to dishonour his
18business? Is it obeying your husband to disobey him on the wital subject of his business?" "You hadn't taken to the
19dreadful business then, Jerry." "It's enough for you," retorted Mr. Cruncher, "to be the wife of a honest tradesman, and
20not to occupy your female mind with calculations when he took to his trade or when he didn't. A honouring and obeying
21wife would let his trade alone altogether. Call yourself a religious woman? If you're a religious woman, give me a
22irreligious one! You have no more nat'ral sense of duty than the bed of this here Thames river has of a pile, and
23similarly it must be knocked into you." The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated in the
24honest tradesman's kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying down at his length on the floor. After taking a timid
25peep at him lying on his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay down too, and fell asleep
26again. There was no fish for breakfast, and not much of anything else. Mr. Cruncher was out of spirits, and out of
27temper, and kept an iron pot-lid by him as a projectile for the correction of Mrs. Cruncher, in case he should observe
28any symptoms of her saying Grace. He was brushed and washed at the usual hour, and set off with his son to pursue his
29ostensible calling. Young Jerry, walking with the stool under his arm at his father's side along sunny and crowded
30Fleet-street, was a very different Young Jerry from him of the previous night, running home through darkness and
31solitude from his grim pursuer. His cunning was fresh with the day, and his qualms were gone with the night--in which
32particulars it is not improbable that he had compeers in Fleet-street and the City of London, that fine morning.
33"Father," said Young Jerry, as they walked along: taking care to keep at arm's length and to have the stool well between
34them: "what's a Resurrection-Man?" Mr. Cruncher came to a stop on the pavement before he answered, "How should I know?"
35"I thought you knowed everything, father," said the artless boy. "Hem! Well," returned Mr. Cruncher, going on again, and
36lifting off his hat to give his spikes free play, "he's a tradesman." "What's his goods, father?" asked the brisk Young
37Jerry. "His goods," said Mr. Cruncher, after turning it over in his mind, "is a branch of Scientific goods." "Persons'
38bodies, ain't it, father?" asked the lively boy. "I believe it is something of that sort," said Mr. Cruncher. "Oh,
39father, I should so like to be a Resurrection-Man when I'm quite growed up!" Mr. Cruncher was soothed, but shook his
40head in a dubious and moral way. "It depends upon how you dewelop your talents. Be careful to dewelop your talents, and
41never to say no more than you can help to nobody, and there's no telling at the present time what you may not come to be
42fit for." As Young Jerry, thus encouraged, went on a few yards in advance, to plant the stool in the shadow of the Bar,
43Mr. Cruncher added to himself: "Jerry, you honest tradesman, there's hopes wot that boy will yet be a blessing to you,
44and a recompense to you for his mother!"
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