No, sir. Nothink at all. Mr. Chadbands he wos a-prayin wunst at Mr. Sangsby’s and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he wos a- speakin to hisself, and not to me. He prayed a lot, but I couldn’t make out nothink on it. Different times there was other genlmen come down Tom-all-Alone’s a-prayin, but they all mostly sed as the t’other ‘wuns prayed wrong, and all mostly sounded to be a-talking to theirselves, or a-passing blame on the t’others, and not a- talkin to us. WE never knowd nothink. I never knowd what it wos all about.

Where they laid him as wos wery good to me, wery good to me indeed, he wos. It’s time fur me to go down to that there berryin ground, sir, and ask to be put along with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, ‘I am as poor as you to- day, Jo,’ he ses. I wants filagra 100 to tell him that I am as poor as him now and have come there to be laid along with him.

The place in Lincolnshire has shut its many eyes again, and the house in town is awake. In Lincolnshire the Dedlocks of the past doze in their picture-frames, and the low wind murmurs through the long drawing-room as if they were breathing pretty regularly. In town the Dedlocks of the present rattle in their fire-eyed carriages through the darkness of the night, and the Dedlock Mercuries, with ashes (or hair-powder) on their heads, symptomatic of their great humility, loll away the drowsy mornings in the little windows of the hall. The fashionable world–tremendous orb, nearly five miles round–is in full swing, and the solar system works respectfully at its appointed distances.

Where the throng is thickest, where the lights are brightest, where all the senses are ministered to with the greatest delicacy and refinement, Lady Dedlock is. From the shining heights she has scaled and taken, she is never absent. Though the belief she of old reposed in herself as one able to reserve whatsoever she would under her mantle of pride is beaten down, though she has no assurance that what she is to those around her she will remain another day, it is not in her nature when envious eyes are looking on to yield or to droop. They say of her that she has lately grown more handsome and more haughty. The debilitated cousin says of her that she’s beauty nough–tsetup shopofwomen–but rather larming kind–remindingmanfact–inconvenient woman–who WILL getoutofbedandbawthstahlishment–Shakespeare.

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    It matters little now how often I recalled the tones of my mother’s voice, wondered whether I should ever hear it again as I so longed to do, and thought how strange and desolate it was that it should be so new to me. It matters little that I watched for every public mention of my mother’s name; that I passed and repassed the door of her house in town, loving it, but afraid to look at it; that I once sat in the theatre when my mother was there and saw me, and when we were so wide asunder before the great company of all degrees that any link or confidence between us seemed a dream. It is all, all over. My lot has been so blest that I can relate little of myself which is not a story of goodness and generosity in others. I may well pass that little and go on.

    When we were settled at home again, Ada and I had many conversations with my guardian of which Richard was the theme. My dear girl was deeply grieved that he should do their kind cousin so much wrong, but she was so faithful to Richard that she could not bear to blame him even for that. My guardian was assured of it, and never coupled his name with a word of reproof. “Rick is mistaken, my dear,” he would say to her. “Well, well! We have all been mistaken over and over again. We must trust to you and time to set him right.”

    We knew afterwards what we suspected then, that he did not trust to time until he had often tried to open Richard’s eyes. That he buy propecia in australia had written to him, gone to him, talked with him, tried every gentle and persuasive art his kindness could devise. Our poor devoted Richard was deaf and blind to all. If he were wrong, he would make amends when the Chancery suit was over. If he were groping in the dark, he could not do better than do his utmost to clear away those clouds in which so much was confused and obscured. Suspicion and misunderstanding were the fault of the suit? Then let him work the suit out and come through it to his right mind. This was his unvarying reply. Jarndyce and Jarndyce had obtained such possession of his whole nature that it was impossible to place any consideration before him which he did not, with a distorted kind of reason, make a new argument in favour of his doing what he did. “So that it is even more mischievous,” said my guardian once to me, “to remonstrate with the poor dear fellow than to leave him alone.”

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      I asked the favour of seeing you for a few moments here,” said I, “in preference to calling at Mr. Kenge’s because, remembering what you said on an occasion when you spoke to me in confidence, I feared I might otherwise cause you some embarrassment, Mr. Guppy.

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      Something seemed to rise in his throat that he could not possibly swallow. He put his hand there, coughed, made faces, tried again to swallow it, coughed again, made faces again, looked all round the room, and fluttered his papers.

      My intention was to remark, miss,” said Mr. Guppy, “dear me– something bronchial, I think–hem!–to remark that you was so good on that occasion as to repel and repudiate that declaration. You– you wouldn’t perhaps object to admit that? Though no witnesses are present, it might be a satisfaction to–to your mind–if you was to put in that admission.

      Thank you, miss,” he returned, measuring the table with his troubled hands. “So far that’s satisfactory, and it does you credit. Er–this is certainly bronchial!–must be in the tubes– er–you wouldn’t perhaps be offended if I was to mention–not that it’s necessary, for your own good sense or any person’s sense must show ‘em that–if I was to mention that such declaration on my part was final, and there terminated?

      Thank you,” returned Mr. Guppy. “Very honourable, I am sure. I regret that my arrangements in life, combined with circumstances over which I have no control, will put it out of my power ever to fall back upon that offer or to renew it in any shape or form whatever, but it will ever be a retrospect entwined–er–with friendship’s bowers.” Mr. Guppy’s bronchitis came to his relief and stopped his measurement of the table.

      I shall be honoured, I am sure,” said Mr. Guppy. “I am so persuaded that your own good sense and right feeling, miss, will– will keep you as square as possible–that I can have nothing but pleasure, I am sure, in hearing any observations you may wish to offer.

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        First I complimented Charley on the room, and indeed it was so fresh and airy, so spotless and neat, that I could scarce believe I had been lying there so long. This delighted Charley, and her face was brighter than before.

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        I had thought of this very often. I was now certain of it. I could thank God that it was not a shock to me now. I called Charley back, and when she came–at first pretending to smile, but as she drew nearer to me, looking grieved–I took her in my arms and said, “It matters very little, Charley. I hope I can do without my old face very well.”

        I was presently so far advanced as to be able to sit up in a great chair and even giddily to walk into the adjoining room, leaning on Charley. The mirror was gone from its usual place in that room too, but what I had to bear was none the harder to bear for that.

        My guardian had throughout been earnest to visit me, and there was now no good reason why I should deny myself that happiness. He came one morning, and when he first came in, could only hold me in his embrace and say, “My dear, dear girl!” I had long known–who could know better?–what a deep fountain of affection and generosity his heart was; and was it not worth my trivial suffering and change to fill such a place in it? “Oh, yes!” I thought. “He has seen me, and he loves me better than he did; he has seen me and is even fonder of me than he was before; and what have I to mourn for!”

        He sat down by me on the sofa, supporting me with his arm. For a little while he sat with his hand over his face, but when he removed it, fell into his usual manner. There never can have been, there never can be, a pleasanter manner.

        “For the best?” he repeated tenderly. “Of course, for the best. But here have Ada and I been perfectly forlorn and miserable; here has your friend Caddy been coming and going late and early; here has every one about the house been utterly lost and dejected; here has even poor Rick been writing–to ME too–in his anxiety for you!”

        “He thinks he could, my love,” returned my guardian, “and to many a better. The truth is, he wrote to me under a sort of protest while unable to write to you with any hope of an answer–wrote coldly, haughtily, distantly, resentfully. Well, dearest little woman, we must look forbearingly on it. He is not to blame. Jarndyce and Jarndyce has warped him out of himself and perverted me in his eyes. I have known it do as bad deeds, and worse, many a time. If two angels could be concerned in it, I believe it would change their nature.”

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          There ensues the carrying of Mr. Smallweed upstairs, which is done to perfection with the trooper’s help. He is borne into Mr. Tulkinghorn’s great room and deposited on the Turkey rug before the fire. Mr. Tulkinghorn is not within at the present moment but will be back directly. The occupant of the pew in the hall, having said thus much, stirs the fire and leaves the triumvirate to warm themselves.

          This reply is cut short by Mr. Tulkinghorn’s arrival. There is no change in him, of course. Rustily drest, with his spectacles in his hand, and their very case worn threadbare. In manner, close and dry. In voice, husky and low. In face, watchful behind a blind; habitually not uncensorious and contemptuous perhaps. The peerage may have warmer worshippers and faithfuller believers than Mr. Tulkinghorn, after all, if everything were known.

          Sit down, sergeant,” he repeats as he comes to his table, which is set on one side of the fire, and takes his easy-chair. “Cold and raw this morning, cold and raw!” Mr. Tulkinghorn warms before the bars, alternately, the palms and knuckles of his hands and looks (from behind that blind which is always down) at the trio sitting in a little semicircle before him.

          This is so very trying to Mr. Smallweed’s temper that he suddenly breaks out with “You’re a brimstone beast!” and as suddenly asks pardon of Mr. Tulkinghorn, excusing himself for this slip of the tongue by saying to Judy, “I was thinking of your grandmother, my dear.”

          “I supposed, sergeant,” Mr. Tulkinghorn resumes as he leans on one side of his chair and crosses his legs, “that Mr. Smallweed might have sufficiently explained the matter. It lies i

          “Therefore you may happen to have in your possession something– anything, no matter what; accounts, instructions, orders, a letter, anything–in Captain Hawdon’s writing. duromine I wish to compare his writing with some that I have. If you can give me the opportunity, you shall be rewarded for your trouble. Three, four, five, guineas, you would consider handsome, I dare say.”

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            For Tom-all-Alone’s and Lincoln’s Inn Fields persist in harnessing themselves, a pair of ungovernable penegra 100mg coursers, to the chariot of Mr. Snagsby’s imagination; and Mr. Bucket drives; and the passengers are Jo and Mr. Tulkinghorn; and the complete equipage whirls though the law-stationery business at wild speed all round the clock. Even in the little front kitchen where the family meals are taken, it rattles away at a smoking pace from the dinner-table, when Mr. Snagsby pauses in carving the first slice of the leg of mutton baked with potatoes and stares at the kitchen wall.

            Mr. Snagsby cannot make out what it is that he has had to do with. Something is wrong somewhere, but what something, what may come of it, to whom, when, and from which unthought of and unheard of quarter is the puzzle of his life. His remote impressions of the robes and coronets, the stars and garters, that sparkle through the surface-dust of Mr. Tulkinghorn’s chambers; his veneration for the mysteries presided over by that best and closest of his customers, whom all the Inns of Court, all Chancery Lane, and all the legal neighbourhood agree to hold in awe; his remembrance of Detective Mr. Bucket with his forefinger and his confidential manner, impossible to be evaded or declined, persuade him that he is a party to some dangerous secret without knowing what it is. And it is the fearful peculiarity of this condition that, at any hour of his daily life, at any opening of the shop-door, at any pull of the bell, at any entrance of a messenger, or any delivery of a letter, the secret may take air and fire, explode, and blow up–Mr. Bucket only knows whom.

            For which reason, whenever a man unknown comes into the shop (as many men unknown do) and says, “Is Mr. Snagsby in?” or words to that innocent effect, Mr. Snagsby’s heart knocks hard at his guilty breast. He undergoes so much from such inquiries that when they are made by boys he revenges himself by flipping at their ears over the counter and asking the young dogs what they mean by it and why they can’t speak out at once? More impracticable men and boys persist in walking into Mr. Snagsby’s sleep and terrifying him with unaccountable questions, so that often when the cock at the little dairy in Cursitor Street breaks out in his usual absurd way about the morning, Mr. Snagsby finds himself in a crisis of nightmare, with his little woman shaking him and saying “What’s the matter with the man!”

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              A Chancery judge once had the kindness to inform me, as one of a company of some hundred and fifty men and women not labouring under any suspicions of lunacy, that the Court of Chancery, though the shining subject of much popular prejudice (at which point I thought the judge’s eye had a cast in my direction), was almost immaculate. There had been, he admitted, a trivial blemish or so in its rate of progress, but this was exaggerated and had been entirely owing to the “parsimony of the public,” which guilty public, it appeared, had been until lately bent in the most determined manner on by no means enlarging the number of Chancery judges appointed–I believe by Richard the Second, but any other king will do as well.

              This seemed to me too profound a joke to be inserted in the body of this book or I should have restored it to Conversation Kenge or to Mr. Vholes, with one or other of whom I think it must have originated. In such mouths I might have coupled it with an apt quotation from one of Shakespeare’s sonnets:

              But as it is wholesome that the parsimonious public should know what has been doing, and still is doing, in this connexion, I mention here that everything set forth in these pages concerning the Court of Chancery is substantially true, and within the truth. The case of Gridley is in no essential altered from one of actual occurrence, made public by a disinterested person who was professionally acquainted with the whole of the monstrous wrong from beginning to end. At the present moment (August, 1853) there is a suit before the court which was commenced nearly twenty years ago, in which from thirty to forty counsel have been known to appear at one time, in which costs have been incurred to the amount of seventy thousand pounds, which is A FRIENDLY SUIT, and which is (I am assured) no nearer to its termination now than when it was begun. There is another well-known suit in Chancery, not yet decided, which was commenced before the close of the last century and in which more than double the amount of seventy thousand pounds has been swallowed supplement store up in costs. If I wanted other authorities for Jarndyce and Jarndyce, I could rain them on these pages, to the shame of–a parsimonious public.

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                On the afternoon of the 28th, the finishing touches were given. It was necessary to put supports for the sides of the slide in some places where the ice had melted quickly. Then everyone was allowed to rest from 4 o’clock p.m. The captain had double rations served out to all hands, and well they merited this extra supply of spirits; they had indeed worked hard during the week. I repeat that every sign of mutiny had disappeared. The crew thought of nothing except this great operation of the launching. The Halbrane in the sea would mean departure, it would also mean return! For Dirk Peters and me it would be the definite abandonment of Arthur Pym.

                That night the temperature was the highest we had so far experienced. The thermometer registered 53° (11° 67’ C. below zero). So, although the sun was nearing the horizon, the ice was melting, and thousands of small streams flowed in every direction. The early birds awoke at four o’clock, and I was one of their number. I had scarcely slept, and I fancy that Dirk Peters did not sleep much, haunted as he was by the sad thought of having to turn back!

                The launch was to take place at ten o’clock. Taking every possible difficulty into account, and allowing for the minutest precautions, the captain hoped that it would be completed before the close of the day. Everyone believed that by evening the schooner would be at the foot of the berg.

                Of course we had all to lend a hand to this difficult task. To each man a special duty was assigned; some were employed to facilitate the sliding with wooden rollers, if necessary; others to moderate the speed of the hull, in case it became too great, by means of hawsers and cables.

                We breakfasted at nine o’clock in the tents. Our sailors were perfectly confident, and could not refrain from drinking “success to the event”; and although this was a little premature, we added our hurrahs to theirs. Success seemed very nearly assured, as the captain and the mate had worked out the matter so carefully and skilfully. At last we were about to leave our encampment and take up our stations (some of the sailors were there already), when cries of amazement and fear were raised. What a frightful scene, and, short as it may have mexican steroids been, what an impression of terror it left on our minds!

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                  steroide muskelaufbau

                  Die „vergnügenssüchtigen“ berauschten Herren der Schöpfung schlichen barfuß in die Frauengemächer und schmuggelten sich in die — ausgelosten Betten. Wurde von einer oder der anderen Frau der schmähliche Betrug irgendwie erkannt und Lärm geschlagen, so flüchteten die Herren sofort aus den Stuben, bevor Licht erzeugt werden konnte. „Dank“ Feuerstein und Schwefelfaden, der Langsamkeit, mit diesen Hilfsmitteln Licht zu machen, vermochten sich die „Witzbolde“ rechtzeitig in Sicherheit zu bringen. Und dies des öfteren!

                  Wegen dieses „witzigen Frauenspieles“, das noch immer in der Erinnerung lebt und auch mir im Jahre 1912 in Kroatien erzählt wurde, hat Dr. von Tkalac um 1840 einen seiner Verwandten interpelliert, der an diesem „Weibertausch“ damals „aktiv“ beteiligt war. Die Antwort ist in Tkalac „Jugenderinnerungen“ wie folgt festgehalten: „Was willst du, es war eine tolle Zeit! Da wir beinahe alle Hörner trugen und dabei keiner erfuhr, wer von uns ihn damit gekrönt hatte, war es das klügste, zu schweigen. Hätten wir uns alle etwa wie die närrischen Franzosen schlagen und gegenseitig niedersäbeln sollen? Was nun einmal geschehen war, konnte man doch nicht ungeschehen machen. Und wenn die Frauen keinen Lärm schlugen, mußte man annehmen, daß sie … zufrieden waren.“

                  Auf die tolle Zeit folgte 1817 eine schreckliche allgemeine Hungersnot und bitterste Verarmung. Der Wucher kam zu höchster Blüte und richtete besonders die Grundbesitzer völlig zugrunde. Um sich über Wasser zu halten, nahmen sie nominell zu zehn und zwölf vom Hundert Geld auf, und da sie nicht mit Bargeld zurückzahlen konnten, zahlten sie in Naturalien — Wein, Getreide, Pflaumen (zum Branntweinbrennen), Heu, Bau- und Brennholz — , die ihre Gläubiger ihnen zu wahren Spottpreisen abkauften, wodurch sich die Zinsen auf dreißig und vierzig Prozent erhöhten. Oder die Grundbesitzer suchten sich dadurch zu helfen, daß sie einen Teil ihres Allodialbesitzes oder ihrer Untertanen mit Haus und Grundstücken verpfändeten, so daß manchem Grundbesitzer, der fünfzig und mehr Untertanenhäuser besessen hatte, schließlich nur fünf oder sechs übrigblieben, mit denen er außerstande war, sein Gut zu bewirtschaften, und deshalb gänzlich verarmen[13] mußte.

                  Erst der neue Staatsbankrott von 1817 mit der fürchterlichen Hungersnot konnte die Menschen ernüchtern und dem gedankenlosen „lustigen“ Leben ein trauriges Ende bereiten. Für die meisten war es schon zu spät. Die wenigen, die sich aus dem allgemeinen Schiffbruch retteten, waren zur größten Einschränkung ihrer Bedürfnisse genötigt….

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                    With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck twice or thrice upon the door–evidently with no other object than to make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it, three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned it as heavily as he could.

                    Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him.

                    Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, took out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round.

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                    The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from the street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any other door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. Such a scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit alone could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face towards the window where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.

                    The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die.

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