CHAPTER VIII NEVER WONDER

leriversoftabularstatementsperiodicallyflowedintothehowlingoceanoftabularstatements,whichnodiverevergottoanydepthinandcameupsane.Itwasadishearteningcircumstance,butamelancholyfact,thateventhesereaderspersistedinwondering.Theywonderedabouthumannature,humanpassions,humanhopesandfears,thestruggles,triumphsanddefeats,thecaresandjoysandsorrows,thelivesanddeathsofcommonmenandwomen!Theysometimes,afterfifteenhours’work,satdowntoreadmerefablesaboutmenandwomen,moreorlesslikethemselves,andaboutchildren,moreorlessliketheirown.TheytookDeFoetotheirbosoms,insteadofEuclid,andseemedtobeonthewholemorecomfortedbyGoldsmiththanbyCocker.Mr.Gradgrindwasforeverworking,inprintandoutofprint,atthiseccentricsum,andhenevercouldmakeouthowityieldedthisunaccountableproduct. ‘Iamsickofmylife,Loo.I,hateitaltogether,andIhateeverybodyexceptyou,’saidtheunnaturalyoungThomasGradgrindinthehair-cuttingchamberattwilight. ‘Youdon’thateSissy,Tom?’ ‘IhatetobeobligedtocallherJupe.Andshehatesme,’saidTom,moodily. ‘No,shedoesnot,Tom,Iamsure!’ ‘Shemust,’saidTom.‘Shemustjusthateanddetestthewholeset-outofus.They’llbotherherheadoff,Ithink,beforetheyhavedonewithher.Alreadyshe’sgettingaspaleaswax,andasheavyas—Iam.’ YoungThomasexpressedthesesentimentssittingastrideofachairbeforethefire,withhisarmsontheback,andhissulkyfaceonhisarms.Hissistersatinthedarkercornerbythefireside,nowlookingathim,nowlookingatthebrightsparksastheydroppeduponthehearth. ‘Astome,’saidTom,tumblinghishairallmannerofwayswithhissulkyhands,‘IamaDonkey,that’swhatIam.Iamasobstinateasone,Iammorestupidthanone,Igetasmuchpleasureasone,andIshouldliketokicklikeone.’ ‘Notme,Ihope,Tom?’ ‘No,LooIwouldn’thurtyou.Imadeanexceptionofyouatfirst.Idon’tknowwhatthis—jollyold—JaundicedJail,’Tomhadpausedtofindasufficientlycomplimentaryandexpressivenamefortheparentalroof,andseemedtorelievehismindforamomentbythestrongalliterationofthisone,‘wouldbewithoutyou.’ ‘Inde