“’Consequence, my father didn’t make objections to my going to work; so I went to work at my present calling, which were his too, if he would have followed it, and I worked tolerable hard, I assure _you_, Pip. In time I were able to keep him, and I kep him till he went off in a purple leptic fit. And it were my intentions to have had put upon his tombstone that Whatsume’er the failings on his part, Remember reader he were that good in his hart.” Joe recited this couplet with such manifest pride and careful perspicuity, that I asked him if he had made it himself. “I made it,” said Joe, “my own self. I made it in a moment. It was like striking out a horseshoe complete, in a single blow. I never was so much surprised in all my life--couldn’t credit my own ed--to tell you the truth, hardly believed it were _my_ own ed. As I was saying, Pip, it were my intentions to have had it cut over him; but poetry costs money, cut it how you will, small or large, and it were not done. Not to mention bearers, all the money that could be spared were wanted for my mother. She were in poor elth, and quite broke. She waren’t long of following, poor soul, and her share of peace come round at last.” Joe’s blue eyes turned a little watery; he rubbed, first one of them, and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner, with the round knob on the top of the poker. “It were but lonesome then,” said Joe, “living here alone, and I got acquainted with your sister. Now, Pip”; Joe looked firmly at me, as if he knew I was not going to agree with him; “your sister is a fine figure of a woman.” I could not help looking at the fire, in an obvious state of doubt. “Whatever family opinions, or whatever the world’s opinions, on that subject may be, Pip, your sister is,” Joe tapped the top bar with the poker after every word following, “a--fine--figure--of--a--woman!” I could think of nothing better to say than “I am glad you think so, Joe.” “So am I,” returned Joe, catching me up. “_I_ am glad I think so, Pip. A little redness, or a little matter of Bone, here or there, what does it signify to Me?” I sagaciously observed, if it didn’t signify to him, to whom did it signify? “Certainly!” assented Joe. “That’s it. You’re right, old chap! When I got acquainted with your sister, it were the talk how she was bringing you up by hand. Very kind of her too, all the folks said, and I said, along with all the folks. As to you,” Joe pursued, with a countenance expressive of saying something very nasty indeed: “if you could have been aware how small and flabby and mean you was, dear me, you’d have formed the most contemptible opinions of yourself!” Not exactly relishing this, I said, “Never mind me, Joe.”