Clinical Anatomy by Regions 9th Edition by
Richard Snell 1451110324 978-1451110326 pdf
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,I ate it ravenously, for I was feeling very hungry.
"By cripes! you've a stomach," said my companion, when I had
finished eating. "Where are you for, anyhow?"
"I don't know. I'm looking for work."
"It's not work you need; it's rest," said the stranger.
"You've been working," I replied, looking at his covering of muck.
"Why don't you clean your trousers and shoes?"
"If you were well fed you'd be as impudent as myself," said the man.
"And clean my trousers and shoes! What's the good of being clean?"
"It puts the dirt away."
"It does not; it only shifts it from one place to another. And as to
work—well, I work now and again, I'm sorry to say, although I done
all the work that a man is put into the world to do before I was
twenty-one. What's your name?"
"Dermod Flynn. What's yours?"
"Joe—Moleskin Joe, my mates calls me. Have you any tin?"
"Twopence," I replied, showing the man the remainder of the
eightpence which I had picked up the night before.
"You're savin' up your fortune," he said with fine irony. "I haven't a
penny itself."
"Where did you get the currant cake?" I asked.
"Stole it."
"And the waistcoat?"
"Stole it," said the man, and then continued with thinly-veiled
sarcasm in his voice. "My name's Moleskin Joe, as I've told you
already. I don't mind havin' seen my father or mother, and I was
, bred in a workhouse. I'm forty years of age—more or less—and I
started work when I was seven. I've been in workhouse,
reformatory, prison, and church. I went to prison of my own free will
when the times were bad and I couldn't get a mouthful of food
outside, but it was always against my will that I went to church. I
can fight like hell and drink like blazes, and now that you know as
much about my life as I know myself you'll maybe be satisfied.
You're the most impudent brat that I have ever met."
The man made the last assertion in a quiet voice, as if stating a fact
which could not be contradicted. I did not feel angry or annoyed
with the man who made sarcastic remarks so frankly and good-
humouredly. For a long while I kept silence and the two of us
plodded on together.
"Why do you drink?" I asked at last.
"Why do I drink?" repeated the man in a voice of wonder. "Such a
funny question! If God causes a man to thirst He'll allow him to
drink, for He's not as bad a chap as some of the parsons make Him
out to be. Drink draws a man nearer to heaven and multiplies the
stars; and 'Drink when you can, the drouth will come' is my motto.
Do you smoke or chew?"
He pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket, bit a piece from the end
of it, and handed the plug to me. Now and again I had taken a whiff
at Micky's Jim's pipe, and I liked a chew of tobacco. Without
answering Moleskin's question I took the proffered tobacco and bit a
piece off it.
"There's some hope for you yet," was all he said.
We walked along together, and my mate asked a farmer who was
standing by the roadside for a few coppers to help us on our way.
"Go to the devil!" said the farmer.
"Never mind," Moleskin remarked to me when we got out of hearing.
"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it in
Richard Snell 1451110324 978-1451110326 pdf
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,I ate it ravenously, for I was feeling very hungry.
"By cripes! you've a stomach," said my companion, when I had
finished eating. "Where are you for, anyhow?"
"I don't know. I'm looking for work."
"It's not work you need; it's rest," said the stranger.
"You've been working," I replied, looking at his covering of muck.
"Why don't you clean your trousers and shoes?"
"If you were well fed you'd be as impudent as myself," said the man.
"And clean my trousers and shoes! What's the good of being clean?"
"It puts the dirt away."
"It does not; it only shifts it from one place to another. And as to
work—well, I work now and again, I'm sorry to say, although I done
all the work that a man is put into the world to do before I was
twenty-one. What's your name?"
"Dermod Flynn. What's yours?"
"Joe—Moleskin Joe, my mates calls me. Have you any tin?"
"Twopence," I replied, showing the man the remainder of the
eightpence which I had picked up the night before.
"You're savin' up your fortune," he said with fine irony. "I haven't a
penny itself."
"Where did you get the currant cake?" I asked.
"Stole it."
"And the waistcoat?"
"Stole it," said the man, and then continued with thinly-veiled
sarcasm in his voice. "My name's Moleskin Joe, as I've told you
already. I don't mind havin' seen my father or mother, and I was
, bred in a workhouse. I'm forty years of age—more or less—and I
started work when I was seven. I've been in workhouse,
reformatory, prison, and church. I went to prison of my own free will
when the times were bad and I couldn't get a mouthful of food
outside, but it was always against my will that I went to church. I
can fight like hell and drink like blazes, and now that you know as
much about my life as I know myself you'll maybe be satisfied.
You're the most impudent brat that I have ever met."
The man made the last assertion in a quiet voice, as if stating a fact
which could not be contradicted. I did not feel angry or annoyed
with the man who made sarcastic remarks so frankly and good-
humouredly. For a long while I kept silence and the two of us
plodded on together.
"Why do you drink?" I asked at last.
"Why do I drink?" repeated the man in a voice of wonder. "Such a
funny question! If God causes a man to thirst He'll allow him to
drink, for He's not as bad a chap as some of the parsons make Him
out to be. Drink draws a man nearer to heaven and multiplies the
stars; and 'Drink when you can, the drouth will come' is my motto.
Do you smoke or chew?"
He pulled a plug of tobacco from his pocket, bit a piece from the end
of it, and handed the plug to me. Now and again I had taken a whiff
at Micky's Jim's pipe, and I liked a chew of tobacco. Without
answering Moleskin's question I took the proffered tobacco and bit a
piece off it.
"There's some hope for you yet," was all he said.
We walked along together, and my mate asked a farmer who was
standing by the roadside for a few coppers to help us on our way.
"Go to the devil!" said the farmer.
"Never mind," Moleskin remarked to me when we got out of hearing.
"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it in
