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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Yes; you see I don't feel that I can give up my lifelong employment all at once. So I've been thinking that I'll come to the old workshop, now and then, and do a bit of cobbling just for a change." Here he paused, and moved uneasily in his chair.
Sailing about with a grave-yard tray! But never mind. We workers in woods make bridal-bedsteads and card-tables, as well as coffins and hearses. We work by the month, or by the job, or by the profit; not for us to ask the why and wherefore of our work, unless it be too confounded cobbling, and then we stash it if we can. Hem! I'll do the job, now, tenderly.
While in the Academy he coloured prints, made backgrounds for other painters, drew architect's plans, and in that way made money. He had been sent to a drawing master to study "the art of perspective," but having no mathematical knowledge he had been unable to learn it, and the teacher had advised his father to put little Turner to cobbling or making clothes.
Now the cobbler was as patient about fishing as he had been about cobbling. From dawn to dark he stood on the banks of the little stream, without hooking anything better than an eel, or a few old shoes, that even he, clever though he was, felt were not worth mending.
I like to take in hand none but clean, virgin, fair-and-square mathematical jobs, something that regularly begins at the beginning, and is at the middle when midway, and comes to an end at the conclusion; not a cobbler's job, that's at an end in the middle, and at the beginning at the end. It's the old woman's tricks to be giving cobbling jobs.
And who ever called more people's attention to that fact than an impractical, unbalanced nobleman who took to cobbling shoes for the peace of his soul? There wasn't a particle of sense to what Tolstoi did, but " He stopped, hesitating in an uncertainty that Lydia understood with a touching humility. "Oh, you needn't explain who Tolstoi is. I've heard of him."
While he was wondering that no soul appeared, suddenly he was hailed from a dark little window, where sat an old man cobbling shoes, while an old woman standing by his side was thrusting her head into the passage, intently eyeing the stranger.
We pushed along, unheeding its fiery signal to bring to; and declining, she let fly a swivel loaded with grape, and again another, riddling our sail; but we were travelling with wind and tide, and we soon left the indignant patrol behind. Towards evening came a freshening wind and a cobbling sea, and I thought it best to make for shore. So, easing the sail, we brought our shallop before the wind.
"Look here, Bunny; what have you got in your head?" "Hidees, Master Waller. Never you mind what I have got in my head; it's what have you got up in your room where you are always cobbling and tinkering and making things?" "Bunny!" cried Waller, staggered for the moment out of his assurance. "Yes; that's me, Master Waller, and I want fifty pound. Lot of money, ar'n't it? And I want money.
I'd like a pair of the stoutest and thickest lace-up waterproofers as I could get not a pair of old Fatty's cobbling, but real down good uns, out of Southampton's town." "Yes!" panted Waller, "And what else would you do with the money?" "Waal, I don't know about what else," said the man thoughtfully. "That there weskit and them boots would about do for the present."
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