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Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was
Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you
will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great
town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to
sweep, and plenty of money for Tom to earn and his master to spend.
He could not read nor write, and did not care to do either; and he
never washed himself, for there was no water up the court where he
lived. He had never been taught to say his prayers. He never had
heard of God, or of Christ, except in words which you never have
heard, and which it would have been well if he had never heard. He
cried half his time, and laughed the other half. He cried when he
had to climb the dark flues, rubbing his poor knees and elbows raw;
and when the soot got into his eyes, which it did every day in the
week; and when his master beat him, which he did every day in the
week; and when he had not enough to eat, which happened every day
in the week likewise. And he laughed the other half of the day,
when he was tossing halfpennies with the other boys, or playing
leap-frog over the posts, or bowling stones at the horses' legs as
they trotted by, which last was excellent fun, when there was a
wall at hand behind which to hide. As for chimney-sweeping, and
being hungry, and being beaten, he took all that for the way of the
world, like the rain and snow and thunder, and stood manfully with
his back to it till it was over, as his old donkey did to a hailstorm;
and then shook his ears and was as jolly as ever; and
thought of the fine times coming, when he would be a man, and a
master sweep, and sit in the public-house with a quart of beer and
a long pipe, and play cards for silver money, and wear velveteens
and ankle-jacks, and keep a white bull-dog with one gray ear, and
carry her puppies in his pocket, just like a man. And he would
have apprentices, one, two, three, if he could. How he would bully
them, and knock them about, just as his master did to him; and make
them carry home the soot sacks, while he rode before them on his
donkey, with a pipe in his mouth and a flower in his button-hole,
like a king at the head of his army. Yes, there were good times
coming; and, when his master let him have a pull at the leavings of
his beer, Tom was the jolliest boy in the whole town.
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