I took the stick, as he called it, and found that as fast as I placed a letter in, it seemed to do its best to jump out again; then one letter got upon another, or two or three appeared to quarrel and join in a regular squabble, so that their awkwardness and utter refusal to lie quietly side by side at last put me in a profuse perspiration. I was busily fumbling about when Mr Grimstone, whose voice I had often heard scolding different men, came round, saw what I was doing, and snatched the composing-stick away. "Tchah! What waste of time! Come along here," he cried angrily, and I followed him to his glass office, where he sat down upon a worn stool. "Now then," he said, sharply, "I've decided to give you a trial." I remember thinking that he was very stupid to assume that he had full authority, when I knew that he had not, but, of course, I was silent. "And now mind this, sir: I am overseer here, and what I say I will have done, I have done. You hear?" "Yes, sir," I said. "And now we understand one another." Saying this, he bounced down from his stool again, and led me to the end of the large room and through a door into a dirty place with a great leaden sink, water, and brushes, and a pot containing some liquid. Jem Smith was there, having just brought in a long narrow tray containing a column of type. "Here, Smith, show this boy how to wash a galley; and see that he does it well." Jem Smith grinned at me as soon as we were left alone, and I saw plainly enough that he meant to have some compensation for the box on the ear he had received; but I tried hard to contain myself, and meant to submit patiently to anything that might follow. "Here, ketch hold o' that galley," he said sharply, "and look here, young man, don't you get trying to play the sneak here, and begin getting old Hallett to take your part. He's only a sneak, and everybody here hates him 'cause he won't take his beer. You keep away from him, or it'll be the worse for you. I've only got to tell the other boys, and they'll make it so warm for you as you'll wish as you'd never come here. Now, then, why don't you ketch hold o' that galley?" "I don't know what a galley is," I said sturdily. "Don't know what a galley is," he said, imitating my way of speaking; "you're a pretty sort of fellow to come and get work at a printing-office. There, ketch holt, stoopid: that's the galley; put it here, and you needn't be so precious frightened of getting your fingers black. There's the brush, dip it, and fetch all that ink off." I took the brush, dipped it in the liquor in the pot, and on brushing the surface of the type found that the strong solution easily brought off all the black ink; and I ended as instructed, by thoroughly rinsing the type and placing it to drain.