Papers from LilliputPriestley, J. B. (John Boynton)
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Papers from Lilliput
Priestley, J. B. (John Boynton)
English essays -- 20th century
I have lately received a visit from an old acquaintance who floated in
my direction on such a sea of trouble that I have been in low spirits
ever since. Moreover, as it was a family affair, I could not interfere
in any way, and the knowledge of my own impotence has only increased my
depression. My only hope of keeping my thoughts from what is, after all,
no business of mine lies in passing on the tale--if such a mournful
recital of family dissensions can be called a tale--and thus making
others share the burden.
I cannot remember, for the moment, when and where I first met old Tom
Cribcrack, my late visitor, but we have been acquainted for a good many
years. He must be past fifty now (how the time goes on!), but being a
fine upstanding fellow, closely shaved and with his bristly hair always
cropped short, he looks considerably younger. His father, a dear old
man--I met him once--was in the coining business in its best days, but
such a sedentary occupation did not suit young Cribcrack, and he was
soon apprenticed to a successful burglar. In his own way, Tom was an
enthusiastic, clever lad, and it was not long before he became an expert
craftsman himself. He decided to devote his life to the profession, and
though, like other men, he has had his bad times, he has been on the
whole a very successful practitioner, respected by all workers in the
same field. He has had a good connection, mostly among the upper
middle-class, and has always preferred a rather slow but steady run of
business to a few brilliant coups; he has kept away from the showy work,
and has never had the slightest desire for publicity, which is probably
the reason why his name is not so well known to the general public as
that of many an inferior craftsman. ‘No fancy work for Tom Cribcrack,’
he has said more than once in my hearing. ‘Punctuality, neat
workmanship, despatch--that’s the motto for a man what wants to get on
in my line.’ In short, he was a good specimen of the modest self-made
Englishman, and is still, to this day, though now subdued in spirit by a
great disappointment, as you shall learn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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