Dabbling




















Grewgious

Pistol



Who could have told, by looking at Mr. Grewgious, whether he had ever known ambition or disappointment? He had been bred to the Bar, and had laid himself out for chamber practice; to draw deeds; 'say the wise it call,' as Pistol says. But the law and he had made such a very indifferent marriage of it that they had separated by consent - if there can be said to be separation where there has never been coming together. No. Coy legal practice would not come to Mr. Grewgious. She was wooed, not won, and they went on their several ways. But an Arbitration being blown towards him by some unaccountable wind, and he gaining great credit in it as one indefatigable about seeking out right and doing right, a pretty fat Receivership was next blown into his pocket by a wind more traceable to its source. Hence, by chance, he had found his niche. Receiver and Agent now, to two rich estates, and deputing their legal business, in an amount worth having, to a firm of lawyers on the floor below, he had snuffed out his ambition (supposing him to have ever lighted it), and had settled down with his snuffers for the rest of his life under the dry vine and fig-tree of P. J. T., who planted in seventeen-forty-seven. Lots of account-books, many files of correspondence, and several strong boxes, garnished Mr. Grewgious's room. They can scarcely be represented as having lumbered it, so conscientious and precise was their orderly arrangement. The apprehension of dying suddenly, and leaving one fact or one figure with any incompleteness or obscurity attaching to it, would have stretched Mr. Grewgious stone-dead any day. The largest fidelity to a trust was the life-blood of the man. Agreed, there are sorts of life-blood that course more quickly, ever more gaily, even more attractively, but there is no better sort in circulation. There was no luxury in his room. Even its comforts were limited to its being dry and warm, plus having a snug though faded fireside.
is interesting for every second of thirty minutes, but the TV paymasters
would have you believe it CAN BE and certainly is in the world of soaps.
Trouble is they dont have to live in our world, they produce one of their own.
Also fostering the notion
IT CAN BE PAID FOR LATER WITH NOTHING, but that is
another story, PRODUCE THE DESIRE, FUND IT WITH MONOPOLY
MONEY, then who pays at the end of the day, mum and dad, or a very rude awakening to
your long life of work, or thieving jail.
ALL that is DUE TO THE TV ADVERTISING PAYMASTERS
INSTILLING A NEED FOR GREED, PAID ON WEED AT SPEED.




















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