"I don't spell it at all," said Joe.

"But supposing you did?"

"It can't be supposed," said Joe. "Tho'
I'm uncommon fond of reading, too."

"Are you, Joe?"

"On-common. Give me," said Joe, "a
good book, or a good newspaper, and sit me
down afore a good fire, and I ask no better.
Lord!" he continued, after rubbing his knees
a little, "when you do come to a J and a O, and
says you, 'Here, at last, is a J-0, Joe,' how
interesting reading is!"

I derived from this, that Joe's education, like
Steam, was yet in its infancy. Pursuing the
subject, I inquired:

"Didn't you ever go to school, Joe, when you
were as little as me?"

"No, Pip."

"Why didn't you ever go to school, Joe, when
  you were as little as me?"

"Well, Pip," said Joe, taking up the poker
and settling himself to his usual occupation
when he was thoughtful, of slowly raking the
fire between the lower bars: "I'll tell you. My
father, Pip, he were given to drink, and when he
were overtook with drink, he hammered away at
my mother, most onmerciful. It were a'most the
only hammering he did, indeed, 'xcepting at
myself. And he hammered at me with a wigour
only to be equalled by the wigour with which he
didn't hammer at his anwil.—You're a listening
and understanding, Pip?"

"Yes, Joe."

"'Consequence, my mother and me we ran
away from my father, several times; and then
my mother she'd go out to work, and she'd say,
'Joe,' she'd say, 'now, please God, you shall
have some schooling, child,' and she'd put me
to school. But my father were that good in his
hart he couldn't abear to be without us.
So, he'd come with a most tremenjous crowd and
make such a row at the doors of the houses
where we was, that they used to be obligated
to have no more to do with us and to give us up
to him. And then he took us home and hammered
us. Which, you see, Pip," said Joe, pausing in
his meditative raking of the fire, and looking at
me, "were a drawback on my learning."

"Certainly, poor Joe!"

"Though mind you, Pip," said Joe, with
judicial touch or two of the poker on the top bar,
"rendering unto all their doo, and maintaining
equal justice betwixt man and man, my father
were that good in his hart, don't you see?"

I didn't see; but I didn't say so.

"Well!" Joe pursued," somebody must keep
the pot a biling, Pip, or the pot won't bile,
don't you know?"

I saw that, and said so.

"'Consequence, my father didn't make objections
to my going to work; so I went to work
at my present calling, which were his too, if he
would have followed it, and I worked tolerable
hard, I assure you, Pip. In time I were able to
keep him, and I kep him till he went off in a
purple leptic lit. And it were iny intentions to
have had put upon his tombstone that
Whatsume'er the failings on his part, Remember
reader he were that good in his hart."

Joe recited this couplet with such manifest
pride and careful perspicuity, that I asked him
if he had made it himself?

"I made it," said Joe, "my own self. I
made it in a moment. It was like striking out
a horseshoe complete, in a single blow. I never
was so much surprised in all my life—couldn't
credit my own ed—to tell you the truth, hardly
believed it were my own ed. As I was saying,
Pip, it were my intentions to have had it cut
over him; but poetry costs money, cut it how
you will, small or large, and it were not done.
Not to mention bearers, all the money that
could be spared were wanted for my mother.
She were in poor elth, and quite broke. She
weren't long of following, poor soul, and her
share of peace come round at last."

Joe's blue eyes turned a little watery; he
rubbed, first one of them, and then the other, in
a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner,
with the round knob on the top of the poker.

"It were but lonesome then, said Joe, "living
here alone, and I got acquainted with your
sister. Now, Pip;" Joe looked firmly at me, as
if he knew I was not going to agree with him;
"your sister is a fine figure of a woman."

I could not help looking at the fire, in an
obvious state of doubt.

"Whatever family opinions, or whatever the
world's opinions, on that subject may be, Pip,
your sister is," Joe tapped the top bar with the
poker after every word following, "a—fine—
figure—of—a—woman!"

I could think of nothing better to say than
"I am glad you think so, Joe."

"So am I," returned Joe, catching me up.
"I am glad I think so, Pip. A little redness,
or a little matter of Bone, here or there, what
does it signify to Me?"

I sagaciously observed, if it didn't signify to
him, to whom did it signify?

"Certainly!" assented Joe. "That's it.
You're right, old chap! When I got acquainted
with your sister, it were the talk how she was
bringing you up by hand. Very kind of her too,
all the folks said, and I said, along with all the
folks. As to you," Joe pursued, with a
countenance expressive of seeing something very
nasty indeed: "if you could have been aware
how small and flabby and mean you was, dear
me, you'd have formed the most contemptible
opinions of yourself!"

Not exactly relishing this, I said, "Never
mind me, Joe."

"But I did mind you, Pip," he returned, with
tender simplicity. "When I offered to your sister
to keep company, and to be asked in church at
such times as she was willing and ready to come
to the forge, I said to her, 'And bring the poor
little child. God bless the poor little child,' I
said to your sister, 'there's room for him at the
forge!'"

I broke out crying and begging pardon, and
hugged Joe round the neck: who dropped
the poker to hug me, and to say, "Ever the