Pollock, with all
her peculiar fancies, and as it 'as grown upon us.--We formerly had a
butcher's shop in Buffington, and it was naturally a great
responsibility. Mr. Heaven's nerves are not strong, and at last he
wanted a life of more quietude, more quietude was what he craved. The
life of a retail butcher is a most exciting and wearying one. Nobody
satisfied with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of change!
Everybody complaining of too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing
tough chops or cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it's
against reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets
tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always
asking you to remember the trimmin's, always wanting their beef well
'ung, and then if you 'ang it a minute too long, it's left on your 'ands!
I often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes many's the time I've said it, that
if people would think more of the great 'ereafter and less about their
own little stomachs, it would be a deal better for them, yes, a deal
better, and make it much more comfortable for the butchers!"
* * *
Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.
His spouse took a brief promenade with him. To be sure, it was during an
absence of the flock on the other side of the hedge so that the moral
effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was quite lost upon them. I
strongly suspect that she would not have granted anything but a secret
interview.
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