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Updated: May 7, 2025
Crisparkle sat in a waiting-room in the London chief offices of the Haven of Philanthropy, until he could have audience of Mr. Honeythunder. In his college days of athletic exercises, Mr. Crisparkle had known professors of the Noble Art of fisticuffs, and had attended two or three of their gloved gatherings.
'What do you call the doer of that deed, sir? 'A murderer, said the Minor Canon. 'I am glad to hear you admit so much, sir, retorted Mr. Honeythunder, in his most offensive manner; 'and I candidly tell you that I didn't expect it. Here he lowered heavily at Mr. Crisparkle again. 'Be so good as to explain what you mean by those very unjustifiable expressions.
Honeythunder, I hoped when I came in here that I might be under no necessity of commenting on the introduction of platform manners or platform manoeuvres among the decent forbearances of private life. But you have given me such a specimen of both, that I should be a fit subject for both if I remained silent respecting them. They are detestable. 'They don't suit YOU, I dare say, sir.
Honeythunder, "Come up and be blessed, or I'll knock you down!" We may find a preference for cheap finery very exasperating, but our own example is far more likely to be followed in the long run if we do not insist upon it too much at first. Begin by teaching the homemaker to mend and keep the clothing in good order, and give her some of your own experience as to which materials wear the best.
'Readily admitted. But you began by saying that we took different views, you know. Pray, what views HAVE you set up as mine? 'Here is a man and a young man, said Mr. Honeythunder, as if that made the matter infinitely worse, and he could have easily borne the loss of an old one, 'swept off the face of the earth by a deed of violence. What do you call that? 'Murder, said the Minor Canon.
Crisparkle interposed, remonstrating aside, in a friendly voice: 'Joe, Joe, Joe! don't forget yourself, Joe, my good fellow! and then, when Joe peaceably touched his hat, accosting the passenger with: 'Mr. Honeythunder? 'That is my name, sir. 'My name is Crisparkle. 'Reverend Mr. Septimus? Glad to see you, sir. Neville and Helena are inside.
It is just as true that texts from Dickens are rapturously quoted on all our platforms by Podsnap and Honeythunder, by Pardiggle and Veneering, by Tigg when he is forming a company, or Pott when he is founding a newspaper. People joke about Bumble in defence of Bumbledom; people allude playfully to Mrs. Jellyby while agitating for Borrioboola Gha.
Honeythunder walked in the middle of the road, shouldering the natives out of his way, and loudly developing a scheme he had, for making a raid on all the unemployed persons in the United Kingdom, laying them every one by the heels in jail, and forcing them, on pain of prompt extermination, to become philanthropists. Mrs.
He walked out of the Haven at a great rate, but soon fell into his regular brisk pace, and soon had a smile upon his face as he went along, wondering what the china shepherdess would have said if she had seen him pounding Mr. Honeythunder in the late little lively affair. For Mr.
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