Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the forty-second chapter of Great Expectations.

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San the book and let's see what we can find.

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My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Today we'll be continuing great expectations by.

Charles Dickens, chapter 42 Dear Boy and Pip's comrade I am not a going to fur to tell you my life like a song or a storybook, but to give it you short and handy, I'll put it at once in a mouthful of English.

In jail and out of jail.

In jail and out of jail.

In jail and out of jail.

There you've got it.

That's my life pretty much down to such times as I got shipped off arter Pip stood my friend.

I've been done everything too pretty well except hanged.

I've been locked up as much as a silver tea kittle.

I've been carted here and carted there and put out of this town and put out of that town and stuck in the stocks and whipped and worried and drove.

I've no more notion where I was born than you have, if so much.

I first become aware of myself down in Essex, a thieving turniffs for my living.

Someone had run away from me, a man, a tinker, and he'd took the fire with him and left me wary cold.

I knowed my name to be Magwitch, christened Abel.

How did I know it?

Much as I knowed the bird's names and the hedges to be chaffaninch, sparer, thrush.

I might have thought it was all lies together only as the bird's names come out true, I supposed mine did.

So far as I could find, there weren't a soul that see young Abel Magwitch with us.

Little on him is in him, but what caught frighted him, and either drove him off or took him up.

I was took up, took up, took up.

To that extent that I regularly growed up and took up.

This is the way it was that when I was a ragged little creature, as much as to be pitied as ever, I see.

Not that I looked in the glass, for there weren't many insides of furnished houses known to me.

I got the name of being hardened.

This is a terrible hardened one, they says to prison wizarders picking out me maybe said to live in jails, this boy.

Then they looked at me, and I looked at them, and they measured my head.

Some on him.

They had better measured my stomach and others on him.

Give me tracks.

What I couldn't read and made me speeches.

What I couldn't understand, they always went on aging me about the devil.

But what the devil was I to do?

I must put something in my stomach, mustn't I?

Howsomever I'm a giddin'low, and I know it's due, dear boy and Pip's comrade.

Don't you be afeared of me being low.

Trampin'beggin'thieving, working.

Sometimes when I could, though that weren't as often as you may think, till you put the question whether you would have been over ready to give me.

Work yourselves.

A bit of a poacher, a bit of a laborer, a bit of a wagoner, a bit of a haymaker, a bit of a hawker, a bit of most things that don't pay and lead to trouble.

I got to be a man, a deserting soldier in a traveler's rest.

What lay hid up to the chin under a lot of taters learned me to read.

And a traveling giant what signed his name at a penny a time learned me to write.

I weren't locked up as often now as formerly, but I wore out my good share of key metal.

Still, I'd absom race as a matter of over 20 years ago, I got acquainted with a man whose skull I'd cracked with this poker, like the claw of a lobster if I'd got it on this hob.

His right name was Compisin and that's the man, dear boy.

What you say?

Me pounding in the ditch according to what you truly told your comrade otter.

I was gone last night.

He set up for a gentleman, this compison, and he'd been to a public boarding school and had learning.

He was a smooth one to talk and was a dab at the ways of dental folks.

He was good looking too.

It was the night before the great race when I found him on the heath in a booth that I noted on him and some more was sitting among the tables when I went in and the landlord, which had knowledge of me and was a sporting one, called him out and said, I think this is a man that might suit you.

Meaning I was.

Combiesini looks at me very noticing and I look at him.

He has a watch and a chain and a ring and a breast pin and a handsome suit of clothes, to judge from appearances.

You're out of luck, said Compisin to me.

Yes, master, and I've been in it much.

I'd come out of Kingston jail last on a vagrancy committal.

No, but what it might have been for something else.

But it weren't.

Luck changes, says Compisson.

Perhaps yours is going to change, I says.

I hope it may be so.

There's room.

What can you do?

Says Compison.

Eat and drink, I says.

If you'll find the materials.

Compison laughed, looked at me again, very noticing.

Give me five shillings and appointed me for next night, same place.

I went to Compison next night, same place, and Compison took me on to be his man and partner.

And what was Compison's business in which we was to go partners?

Compison's business was the swindling handwriting, forging, stolen banknote passing and such like.

All sorts of traps.

If Compison could set with his head and keep his own legs out of and get the profits from and let another man in for was Compison's business.

He'd no more heart than an iron file.

He was as cold as death and he had the head of the devil aforementioned.

There was another in with Compison, as was called Arthur, not as being so christened but as a surname.

He was in a decline and was a shadow to look at him and Compison had been in a bad thing with a rich lady some years before and they'd made a pot of money by it.

But Compison betted and gamed and he'd have run through the king's taxes.

So Arthur was a dying and a dying p*** with the whores on him and Compison's wife, which Compesin kicked mostly with a having pity on him when she could.

And Compieson was a having pity on nothing and nobody.

I might have took a warning by Arthur, but I didn't and I won't pretend I was particular for where'd be the good on it, dear boy and comrade?

So I begun with Combieson in a poor tool I was in his hands.

Arthur lived at the top of Compison's house overnight.

Brentford it was, and Compieson kept a careful account again for him, board in lodging, in case he should ever get better, to work it out.

But Arthur soon settled the account.

The second or third time as ever I see him.

He come a tearing down into Compison's parlor late at night in only a flannel gown with his hair all in a sweat.

And he says to Compison's wife Sally, she really is upstairs along with me now, and I can't get rid of her.

She's all in white, he says, with wide flowers in her hair, and she's awful mad and she's got a shroud hanging over her arm and she says she'll put it on me at five in the morning, says Compieson.

Why, you fool, don't you know she's got a living body?

And how should she be up there without coming through the door and at the window and up the stairs?

I don't know how she's there, says Arthur, shivering dreadful with the horrors, but she's standing in the corner at the foot of the bed, awful mad, and over where her hearts broke.

You broke it.

There's dobs of blood.

Combieson spoke hardly, but he was always a coward.

Go up along her, this drivelling sick man, he says to his wife and Magwitch, lender a hand, will you?

But he never come nigh himself.

Combieson's wife and me took him up to bed again and he raved most dreadful.

Why, look at her, he cries out.

She's the shaking shroud at me.

Don't you see her?

Look at her eyes.

Ain't it awful to see her so mad?

Next he cries, she'll put it on me and then I'm done for.

Take it away from her, take it away.

And then he catched hold of us and kept on talking to her and answering of her till I half believed I see her myself.

Compeson's wife being used to him.

Give him some liquor to get the horrors off.

And by and by he quieted.

Oh, she's gone.

Has her keeper been for her?

He says.

Yes, says Compison's wife.

Did you tell him to lock her and borrow her in?

Yes.

And to take that ugly thing away from her?

Yes, yes, all right.

You're a good creature, he says.

Don't leave me, whatever you do.

And thank you.

He rested pretty quiet till it might want a few minutes of five.

And then he starts up with a scream and screams out, here she is.

She's got the shroud again.

She's unfolding it.

She's coming out of the corner.

She's coming to the bed.

Hold me.

Both on you, one on each side.

Don't let her touch me with it.

Ah, she missed me that time.

Don't let her throw it over my shoulders.

Don't let her lift me up to get it round me.

She's lifting me up.

Keep me down.

Then he lifted himself up hard and was dead.

Combieson took it easy as good riddance for both sides.

Him and me were soon busy.

And first he swore me being ever artful on my own book.

This here little black book, dear boy, what?

I swore your comrade on not to go into the things that Combieson planned and I'd done, which had take a week.

I'll simply say to you, dear boy, and Pip's comrade, that man got me into such nets as made me his black slave.

I was always in debt to him, always under his thumb, always working, always getting into danger.

He was younger than me, but he'd got craft and he'd got learning, and he overmatched me 500 times, told in no mercy my mrs.

As I had the hard time with stop.

Though I ain't brought her in.

He looked about him in a confused.

Way, as if he had lost his.

Place in the book of his remembrance, and he turned his face to the fire and spread his hands broader on his knees and lifted them off and.

Put them on again.

There ain't no need to go into.

It, he said, looking round once more.

The time with Combieson was almost as hard as ever I had that said, all said.

Did I tell you as I was tried alone for misdemeanor while with Combieson?

I answered no.

Well, he said I was, and got convicted as to took up on suspicion.

That was twice or three times in the four or five year that it lasted.

But evidence was wanting.

At last me and Compison was both committed for felony on a charge of putting stolen notes in circulation.

And there was other charges behind, Compison says to me, separate defenses, no communication.

And that was all.

And I was so miserable poor that I sold all the clothes I had except what hung on my back before I could get jaggers.

When we was put in the dock I noticed first of all what a gentleman compison looked with his curly hair and his black clothes and his white pocket handkerchief and what a common sort of wretch I looked when the prosecution opened and the evidence was put short beforehand.

I noticed how heavily it all bore on me and how light on him when the evidence was given the box.

I noticed how it was always me that had come forward and could be swore to how it was always me that the money had been paid to how it was always me that had seemed to work the thing and get the profit.

But when the defense come on then I see the plain, plainer Ford, says the counselor for compisant.

My lord and gentlemen, here you has a for you side by side two persons as your eyes can separate wide one the younger well brought up who will be spoke to as such one the elder ill brought up who'll be spoke to as such one the younger seldom hath ever seen in these here transactions and only suspected neither the elder always seen in them and always with his guilt brought home.

Can you doubt if there is but one in it which is the one and if there is two in it which is much the worst one and such like when it come to character, warn't it compieson as had been to the school?

And warned it his schoolfellows as was in its position and in that and warned it him as had been knowed by witnesses in such clubs and societies and now to his disadvantage and warranted me as had been tried before and as had been knowed uphill and down Dale and Bridewell's knock ups?

And when it come to speech making, weren't it compieson as could speak to him with his face dropping every now and then into his white pocket handkerchief?

Ah.

And with verses in his speech too?

And weren't it me as could only say, gentlemen, this man at my side is most precious rascal.

And when the verdict come, weren't it compisant as was recommended to mercy on the account of good character and bad company and giving up all the information he could, asian me and warranted me as got never a word but guilty?

And when I says to compison once out of this court I'll smash that face of yorn.

Ain't it compisin has prayed the judge to be protected and gets two turnkey stood betwixt us and when we're sentenced, ain't it him as gets seven year and me 14?

And ain't it him as the judge is sorry for because he might have done so well?

And ain't it me as the judge perceives to be an old offender of violent passion likely to come to worse?

He had worked himself into a state of great excitement.

Lydia checked it, took two or three short breaths, swallowed as often, and stretching out his hands towards me, said in.

A reassuring manner, I ain't going to be low, dear boy.

He had so heeded himself that he took out his handkerchief and wiped his.

Face and head and neck and hands.

Before he could go on.

I had said to Compuson that I'd smashed that face of his, and I swore Lord smashed mine to do it.

We was in the same prison ship, but I couldn't get at him for long, though I tried.

At last I come behind him and hit him on the cheek to turn him round and get a smashing one at him.

When I was seen and seized, the black hole of that ship weren't a strong one to a judge of black holes that could swim and dive.

I escaped to the shore and I was hiding among the graves there, envying them as was in them and all over.

When I first see my boy, he.

Regarded me with a look of affection.

That made him almost abhorrent to me again.

Though I had felt great pity for.

Him by my boy, I was given to understand as compison was out on them marshes too.

Upon my soul, I half believe he escaped in his terror to get quit of me, not knowing it was me.

As had got ashore.

I hunted him down.

I smashed his face.

And now, says I, as the worst thing I can do, caring nothing for myself, I'll drag you back.

And I'd have swam off, towing him by the hair if it had come to that, and I'd have got him aboard without the soldiers, of course, he'd much the best of it to the last.

His character was so good he had escaped when he was made half wild by me and my murderous intentions, and his punishment was light.

I was put in irons, brought to trial again, and sent for life.

I didn't stop for life, dear boy, and Pip's comrade being here.

He wiped himself again as he had.

Done before, and then slowly took his tangle of tobacco from his pocket and plucked his pipe from his buttonhole and slowly filled it and began to smoke.

Is he dead?

I asked after a silence.

Is who dead, dear boy combieson?

He hopes I am.

If he's alive, you may be sure.

With a fierce look, I never heard no more of him.

Herbert had been writing with his pencil.

In the COVID of a book.

He softly pushed the book over to me as Provis stood smoking with his eyes on the fire, and I read in it young Havisham's name was Arthur Compyson is the man who professed to be Miss Havisham's lover.

I shut the book and nodded slightly.

To Herbert and put the book by.

But we neither of us said anything and both looked at Provis as he stood smoking by the fire.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next byte of great expectations.

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