The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 38: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“Bless you all! I think ’ll go home.” “Not yet, Mr. Tulip,” * said Ben; “you had better sit down again—we’ve got something to say to you.” “Young man, young man, let me pass. If you do not, you will endanger your soul.” “T ain’t got none,” said Ben; “I’m only a beef-eater, and don’t pretend to such luxuries.” “The heathen!” exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, “the horrid heathen! but there’s one consolation, and that is, that he will be fried in his own fat for everlasting.” “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Ben; “I think I shall like it, especially if it’s any pleasure to you. I suppose that’s what you call a Christian consolation. Will you sit down, Tulip?” “My name ain’t Mr. Tulip, but Lupin; but if you wish it, I don’t mind sitting down, of course.” The beef-eater, with a movement of his foot, kicked away the reverend gentleman’s chair, and down he sat with a dab upon the floor. “My dear,” said Mr. Oakley to Johanna, “you go to bed, and then your mother can’t say you have anything to do with this affair. I intend to rid my house of this man. Good night, my dear, good night.” Johanna kissed her father on the cheek, and then left the room, not at all sorry that so vigorous a movement was about being made for the suppression of Mr. Lupin. When she was gone, Mrs. Oakley spoke, saying,— “Mr. Lupin, I bid you good night, and of course after the rough treatment of these wretches, I can hardly expect you to come again. Good night, Mr. Lupin, good night.” “That’s all very well, marm,” said Ben, “but before this ’ere wild beast of a parson goes away, I want to admonish him. He don’t seem to be wide awake, and I must rouse him up.” Ben took hold of the reverend gentleman’s nose, and gave it such an awful pinch that when he took his finger and thumb away, it was perfectly blue. “Murder! oh murder! my nose! my nose!” shrieked Mr. Lupin, and at that moment Mrs. Oakley, who was afraid to attack Ben, gave her husband such an open-handed whack on the side of his head, that the little man reeled again, and saw a great many more lights than the Rev. Mr. Lupin had done under the influence of the mulled wine. “Very good,” said Ben, “now we are getting into the thick of it.” With this Ben took from his pocket a coil of rope, one end of which was a noose, and that he dexterously threw over Mrs. Oakley’s head. “Murder!” she shrieked. “Oakley, are you going to see me murdered before your eyes?” “There is such a singing in my ears,” said Mr. Oakley, “that I can’t see anything.” “This is the way,” said Ben, “we manages the wild beasteses when they shuts their ears to all sorts of argument. Now, marm, if you please, a little this way.” Ben looked about until he found a strong hook in the wall, over which, in consequence of his great height, he was enabled to draw the rope, and then the other end of it he tied securely to the leg of a heavy secretaire that was in the room, so that Mrs. Oakley was well secured. “Murder!” she cried. “Oakley, are you a man, that you stand by and see me treated in this way by this big brute?” “T can’t see anything,” said Mr. Oakley; “there is such a singing in my ears; I told you so before—I can’t see anything.” “Now, Marm, you may just say what you like,” said Ben; “it won’t matter a bit, any more than the grumbling of a bear with a sore head; and as for you, Mr. Tulip, you’ll just get down on your knees, and beg Mr. Oakley’s pardon for coming and drinking his tea without his leave, and having the infernal impudence to speak to his daughter.” “Don’t do it, Mr. Lupin,” cried Mrs. Oakley—“don’t do it.” “You hear,” said Ben, “what the lady advises. Now, I am quite different; I advise you to do it—for, if you don’t, I shan’t hurt you; but it strikes me I shall be obliged to fall on you and crush you.” “T think I will,” said Mr. Lupin; “the saints were always forced to yield to the Philistines.” ® “Tf you call me any names,” said Ben, “T’Il just wring your neck.” “Young man, young man, let me exhort you. Allow me to go, and I will put up prayers for your conversion.” “Confound your impudence! what do you suppose the beasts in the Tower would do, if I was converted? Why, that ’ere tiger we have had lately, would eat his own tail, to think I had turned out such an ass. Come, I can’t waste any more of my precious time; and if you don’t get down on your knees directly, we’ll see what we can do.” “T must,” said Mr. Lupin, “I must, I suppose;” and down he flopped on his knees. “Very good; now repeat after me.—I am a wolf that stole sheeps’ clothing.” “Yes; ‘I am a wolf that stole sheep’s clothing’—the Lord forgive me.” “Perhaps he may, and perhaps he mayn’t. Now go on—all that’s wirtuous is my loathing.” “Oh dear, yes—“all that’s wirtuous is my loathing.’” “Mr. Oakley; I have offended.” “Yes; [am a miserable sinner, ‘Mr. Oakley, I have offended.’” “And ask his pardon, on my bended—” “Oh dear, yes—‘I asks his pardon on my bended’—The Lord have mercy on us miserable sinners!” CORniclooo S CO)