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tabular statements； showing that when they didn’t get drunk； they
took opium。 Then came the experienced chaplain of the jail； with
more tabular statements； outdoing all the previous tabular
statements； and showing that the same people would resort to low
haunts； hidden from the public eye； where they heard low singing
and saw low dancing； and mayhap joined in it； and where A。 B。；
aged twenty…four next birthday； and committed for eighteen
months’ solitary； had himself said （not that he had ever shown
himself particularly worthy of belief） his ruin began； as he was
perfectly sure and confident that otherwise he would have been a
tip…top moral specimen。 Then came Mr Gradgrind and Mr
Bounderby； the two gentlemen at this present moment walking
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through Coketown； and both eminently practical； who could； on
occasion； furnish more tabular statements derived from their own
personal experience； and illustrated by cases they had known and
seen； from which it clearly appeared—in short； it was the only
clear thing in the case—that these same people were a bad lot
altogether； gentlemen； that do what you would for them they were
never thankful for it； gentlemen； that they were restless；
gentlemen； that they never knew what they wanted； that they live
upon the best； and bought fresh butter； and insisted on Mocha
coffee； and rejected all but prime parts of meat； and yet were
eternally dissatisfied and unmanageable。 In short it was the moral
of the old nursery fable：
There was an old woman； and what do you think？
She lived upon nothing but victuals and drink；
Victuals and drink were the whole of her diet；
And yet this old woman would NEVER be quiet。
Is it possible； I wonder； that there was any analogy between the
case of the Coketown population and the case of the little
Gradgrinds？ Surely none of us in our sober senses and acquainted
with figures； are to be told at this time of day； that one of the
foremost elements in the existence of the Coketown working…
people had been for scores of years； deliberately set at naught？
That there was any Fancy in them demanding to be brought into
healthy existence instead of struggling on in convulsions？ That
exactly in the ratio as they worked long and monotonously； the
craving grew within them for some physical relief—some
relaxation； encouraging good humour and good spirits； and giving
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them a vent—some recognised holiday； though it were but for an
honest dance to a stirring band of music；—some occasional light
pie in which even M’Choakumchild had no finger—which craving
must and would be satisfied aright； or must and would inevitably
go wrong； until the laws of the Creation were repealed？
“This man lives at Pod’s End； and I don’t quite know Pod’s
End；” said Mr Gradgrind。 “Which is it； Bounderby？”
Mr Bounderby knew it was somewhere down town； but knew
no more respecting it。 So they stopped for a moment； looking
about。
Almost as they did so； there came running round the corner of
the street at a quick pace and with a frightened look； a girl whom
Mr Gradgrind recognised。 “Halloa！” said he。 “Stop！ Where are you
going？ Stop！” Girl number twenty stopped then； palpitating； and
made him a curtsey。
“Why are you tearing about the streets；” said Mr Gradgrind； “in
this improper manner？”
“I was—I was run after； sir；” the girl panted； “and I wanted to
get away。”
“Run after？” repeated Mr Gradgrind。 “Who would run after
you？”
The question was unexpectedly and suddenly answered for her；
by the colourless boy； Bitzer； who came round the corner with
such blind speed and so little anticipating a stoppage on the
pavement； that he brought himself up against Mr Gradgrind’s
waistcoat and rebounded into the road。
“What do you mean； boy？” said Mr Gradgrind。 “What are you
doing？ How dare you dash against—everybody—in this manner？”
Bitzer picked up his cap； which the concussion had knocked off；
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and backing； and knuckling his forehead； pleaded that it was an
accident。
“Was this boy running after you； Jupe？” asked Mr Gradgrind。
“Yes； sir；” said the girl reluctantly。
“No； I wasn’t； sir！” cried Bitzer。 “Not till she run away from me。
But the horse…riders never mind what they say； sir； they’re famous
for it。 You know the horse…riders are famous for never minding
what they say；” addressing Sissy。 “It’s as well known in the town
as—please； sir； as the multiplication table isn’t known to the horse…
riders。” Bitzer tried Mr Bounderby with this。
“He frightened me so；” said the girl； “with his cruel faces！”
“Oh！” cried Bitzer。 “Oh！ An’t you one of the rest！ An’t you a
horse…rider！ I never looked at her； sir。 I asked her if she would
know how to define a horse tomorrow； and offered to tell her
again； and she ran away； and I ran after her； sir； that she might
know how to answer when she was asked。 You wouldn’t have
thought of saying such mischief if you hadn’t been a horse…rider！”
“Her calling seems to be pretty well known among ’em；”
observed Mr Bounderby。 “You’d have had the whole school
peeping in a row； in a week。”
“Truly； I think so；” returned his friend。 “Bitzer； turn you about
and take yourself home。 Jupe； stay here a moment。 Let me hear of
your running in this manner any more； boy； and you will hear of
me through the master of the school。 You understand what I
mean。 Go along。”
The boy stopped in his rapid blinking； knuckled his forehead
again； glanced at Sissy； turned about； and retreated。
“Now； girl；” said Mr Gradgrind； “take this gentleman and me to
your father’s； we are going there。 What have you got in that bottle
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you are carrying？”
“Gin；” said Mr Bounderby。
“Dear； no sir！ It’s the nine oils。”
“The what？” cried Mr Bounderby。
“The nine oils； sir。 To rub father with。”
“Then；” said Mr Bounderby； with a loud short laugh； “what the
devil do you rub your father with nine oils for？”
“It’s what our people always use； sir； when they get any hurts in
the ring；” replied the girl； looking over her shoulder； to assure
herself that her pursuer was gone。 “They bruise themselves very
bad sometimes。”
“Serve ’em right；” said Mr Bounderby； “for being idle。” She
glanced up at his face； with mingled astonishment and dread。
“By George！” said Mr Bounderby； “when I was four or five
years younger than you； I had worse bruises upon me than ten
oils； twenty oils； forty oils would have rubbed off。 I didn’t get ’em
by posture…making； but by being banged about。 There was no
rope…dancing for me； I danced on the bare ground and was
larruped with the rope。”
Mr Gradgrind； though hard enough； was by no means so rough
a man as Mr Bounderby。 His character was not unkind； all things
considered； it might have been a very kind one indeed； if he had
only made some round mistake in the arithmetic that balanced it；
years ago。 He said； in what he meant for a reassuring tone； as they