His father had brought him up to
his own trade, and, after his death, Joseph came to work in
London, whither his sister had preceded him. He was now thirty,
and had from the first been saving what he could of his wages in
the hope of one day having a smithy of his own, and his time more
at his ordering.
Mary saw too that in his violin he possessed a grand fundamental
undeveloped education; he was like a man going about the world
with a ten-thousand-pound-note in his pocket, and not many
sixpences to pay his way with. But there was another education
working in him far deeper, and already more developed, than that
which divine music even was giving him; this also Mary thoroughly
recognized; this it was in him that chiefly attracted her; and
the man himself knew it as underlying all his consciousness.
Though he could ill read aloud, he could read well for his inward
nourishment; he could write tolerably, and, if he could not
spell, that mattered a straw, and no more; he had never read a
play of Shakespeare--had never seen a play; knew nothing of
grammar or geography--or of history, except the one history
comprising all. He knew nothing of science; but he could shoe a
horse as well as any man in the three Eidings, and make his
violin talk about things far beyond the ken of most men of
science.
So much of a change had passed upon Tom in his illness, that Mary
saw it not unreasonable to try upon him now and then a poem of
her favorite singer.
Pages:
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491