Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twentieth chapter of Great Expectations.

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Today we'll be continuing great Expectations by Charles Dickens Chapter 20 the Journey from Our town to the metropolis was a journey of about 5 hours.

It was a little past midday when the four horse stagecoach, by which I was a passenger, got into the ravel.

Of traffic frayed out about the crosskeys.

Wood Street, Cheapside London.

We Britons had at that time particularly settled that it was treasonable to doubt our having and our being the best of everything.

Otherwise, while I was scared by the immensity of London, I think I might have had some faint doubts whether it was not rather ugly, crooked, narrow, and dirty.

Mr.

Jaggers had duly sent me his address.

It was Little Britain, and he had written after it on his card just out of Smithfield and close by the coach office.

Nevertheless, the Hackney coachman, who seemed to have as many capes to his greasy great coat as he was years old, packed me up in his coach and hemmed me in with a folding and jingling barrier of steps as if he were going to take me 50 miles.

His getting on his box, which I remember to have been decorated with an old weather stained pea green hammercloth moth eaten into rags, was quite a work of time.

It was a wonderful equipage, with six great coronets outside and ragged things behind, for I don't know how many footmen to hold on by, and a harrow below them to prevent amateur footmen from yielding to the temptation, I had scarcely had time to enjoy the coach, and to think how like a straw yard it was, and yet how like a rag shop, and to wonder why the horse's nosebags were kept inside, when I observed the coachman beginning to get down, as if we were going to stop presently, and stop we presently did, in a gloomy street at certain offices with an open door whereon was painted Mr.

Jaggers.

How much?

I asked the coachman.

The coachman answered, a shilling, unless you wish to make it more.

I naturally said I had no wish to make it more.

Then it must be a shilling, observed the coachman.

I don't want to get into trouble.

I know him.

He darkly closed an eye at Mr.

Jaggers'name and shook his head.

When he had got his shilling, and had in course of time, completed the ascent to his box, and it got away, which appeared to relieve his mind, I went into the front office with my little Portman toe in my hand and asked, was Mr.

Jaggers at home?

He is not returned, the clerk.

He is in court at present.

Am I addressing Mr.

Pip?

I signified that he was addressing Mr.

Pip.

Mr.

Jaggers left word.

Would you wait in his room?

He couldn't say how long he might be having a case on, but it stands to reason, his time being valuable, that he won't be longer than he can help.

With those words, the clerk opened a door and ushered me into an inner chamber at the back.

Here we found a gentleman with one eye in a velveteen suit and knee breeches, who wiped his nose with his sleeve on being interrupted in the perusal of the newspaper.

Go and wait outside, Mike, said the clerk.

I began to say that I hoped I was not interrupting when the clerk shoved this gentleman out with as little ceremony as ever I saw used, and tossing his fur cap out after him, left me alone.

Mr.

Jaggers'room was lighted by a skylight only, and was a most dismal place, the skylight eccentrically pitched like a broken head, and the distorted adjoining houses looking as if they had twisted themselves to peep down at me through it.

There were not so many papers about as I should have expected to see, and there were some OD objects about that I should not have expected to see, such as an old rusty pistol, a sword and a scabbard, several strange looking boxes and packages, and two dreadful casts on a shelf of faces peculiarly swollen and twitchy about the nose.

Mr.

Jaggers'own high backed chair was of deadly black horse hair, with rows of brass nails round it like a coffin, and I fancied I could see how he leaned back in it and bit his forefinger at the clients.

The room was but small, and the.

Client seemed to have had a habit of backing up against the wall, the wall especially opposite to Mr.

Jaggers'chair being greasy with shoulders.

I recalled, too, that the one eyed gentleman had shuffled forth against the wall when I was the innocent cause of his being turned out.

I sat down in the clientel chair placed over against Mr.

Jaggers'chair and became fascinated by the dismal atmosphere of the place I called to mind.

The clerk had the same air of knowing something to everybody else's disadvantage as his master had.

I wondered how many other clerks there were upstairs, and whether they all claimed to have the same detrimental mastery of their fellow creatures.

I wondered what was the history of all the odd litter about the room and how it came there.

I wondered whether the two swollen faces were of Mr.

Jaggers'family and if he were so unfortunate as to have had a pair of such ill looking relations, why he stuck them on that dusty perch for the blacks and flies to settle on instead of giving them a place at home.

Of course, I had no experience of a London summer day, and my spirits may have been oppressed by the hot, exhausted air and by the dust and grit that lay thick on everything.

But I sat wondering and waiting in Mr.

Jaggers'close room until I really could not bear the two casts on the shelf above Mr.

Jaggers'chair and got up and went out.

When I told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I waited, he advised me to go round the corner and I should come into Smithfield.

So I came into Smithfield, and this shameful place, being all a smear with filth and fat and blood and foam, seemed to stick to me.

So I rubbed it off with all possible speed by turning into a street, where I saw the great black dome of St Paul's bulging at me from behind a Grimstone building, which a bystander said was Newgate Prison.

Following the wall of the jail, I found the roadway covered with straw to deaden the noise of passing vehicles.

And from this, and from the quantity.

Of people standing about, smelling strongly of spirits and beer, I inferred that the trials were on.

While I looked about me here, an exceedingly dirty and partially drunk Minister of Justice asked me if I would like to step in and hear a trial or so, informing me that he could give me a front place for half a crown.

Once I should command a full view of the Lord Chief justice in his wig and robes, mentioning that awful personage like waxwork, and presently offering him at the reduced price of 18 pence.

As I declined the proposal on the plea of an appointment, he was so good as to take me into a yard and show me where the gallows was kept, and also where people were publicly whipped.

And then he showed me the debtor's door, out of which culprits came to be hanged, heightening the interest of that dreadful portal by giving me to understand that four onum would come out at that door the day after tomorrow at eight in the morning, to be killed in a row.

This was horrible, and gave me a sickening idea of London, the more so as the Lord Chief justice's proprietor, wore from his hat down to his boots, and up again to his pocket handkerchief, inclusive.

No dude clothes, which had evidently not belonged to him originally, and which I took into my heart, he had bought cheap of the executioner.

Under these circumstances, I thought myself well rid of him for a shilling.

I dropped into the office to ask if Mr.

Jaggers had come in yet, and I found he had not.

And I strolled out again.

This time I made the tour of Little Britain and turned into Bartholomew close.

And now I became aware that other people were waiting about for Mr.

Jaggers as well as I.

There were two men of secret appearance lounging in Bartholomew close and thoughtfully fitting their feet into the cracks of the pavement as they talked together, one of whom said to the other when they first passed me, that Jaggers would do it if it was to be done.

There was a knot of three men and two women standing at a corner, and one of the women was crying on her dirty shawl, and the other comforted her by saying, as she pulled her own shawl over her shoulders, Jaggers is for him, Malia.

And what more could you have?

There was a red eyed little Jew who came into the close while I was loitering there in the company with a second little Jew, whom he sent upon an errand.

And while the messenger was gone, I remarked this Jew, who was of a highly excitable temperament, performing a jig of anxiety under a lamppost and accompanying himself in a kind of frenzy with the words, O Jaggereth, Jaggereth, Jaggereth all othereth if Cadmagareth give me Jaggereth.

These testimonies to the popularity of my guardian made a deep impression on me, and I admired and wondered more than ever.

At length, as I was looking out at the Iron gate of Bartholomew, close into Little Britain, I saw Mr.

Jaggers coming across the road towards me.

All the others who were waiting saw him at the same time, and there was quite a rush at him.

Mr.

Jaggers, putting a hand on my shoulder and walking me on at his side without saying anything to me, addressed himself to his followers.

First, he took the two secret men.

No, I have nothing to say to.

You, said Mr.

Jaggers, throwing his finger at them.

I want to know no more than I know as to the result.

It's a toss up.

I told you from the first it.

Was a toss up.

Have you paid Wimick?

We made the money up this morning.

Sir, said one of the men submissively, while the other proved Mr.

Jaggers's face.

Yes, sir, said both the men together.

Very well, then.

You may go now.

I won't have it, said Mr.

Jaggers.

Waving his hand at them to put them behind him.

If you say a word to me, I'll throw up the case.

We thought Mr.

Jaggers, one of the men began pulling off his hat.

That's what I told you not to.

Do, said Mr.

Jaggers.

You thought I think for you, that's enough for you.

If I want you, I know where to find you.

I don't want you to find me now.

I won't have it.

I won't hear a word.

The two men looked at one another as Mr.

Jaggers waved them behind again and humbly fell back and were heard no more.

And now you, said Mr.

Jaggers, suddenly stopping and turning on the two women.

With the shawls, from whom the three men had meekly separated.

Oh, Amelia, is it?

Yes, Mr.

Jaggers.

And you remember, retorted Mr.

Jaggers.

But for me, you wouldn't be here and couldn't be here.

Oh, yes, sir.

Exclaimed both women together.

Lord bless you, sir, while we knows that.

Then why, said Mr.

Jaggers, do you come here?

My bill, sir, the crying woman pleaded.

Now, I tell you what, said Mr.

Jaggers once for all.

If you don't know that your bill's in good hands, I know it.

And if you come here bothering about your bill, I'll make an example of both your bill and you and let him slip through my fingers.

Have you paid Wimick?

Oh, yes, sir, every farden.

Very well, then.

You've done all you have got to do.

Say another word, one single word, and women shall give you your money back.

This terrible threat caused the two women.

To fall off immediately.

No one remained now but the excitable Jew, who'd already raised the skirts of Mr.

Jaggers'coat to his lips several times.

I don't know this man, said Mr.

Jaggers, in the same devastating strain.

What does this fellow want.

Brother to Abraham Lazareth.

Who's he?

Said Mr.

Jaggers.

Let go of my coat.

The suitor kissing the hymn of the.

Garment again before relinquishing it, replied Abraham.

Lazarus on Sith a pizzen of plate.

You're too late, said Mr.

Jaggers.

I am over the way, Holy Father.

Mithra Jaggerith, cried my excitable acquaintance, turning white.

Don't say you're again Abraham Lazarus.

I am, said Mr.

Daggers, and there's.

An end of it.

Get out of the way.

Mithur Daggerith have a moment, my hound.

Contents con to Mithur Hemwick at this present moment, the hoffer in many terms, Mr.

Daggerith have a quarter of a moment.

You'd have the content incon to be bought off from this other side at Hemi superior price.

Money no object.

Mithur Jaggerth Mithher, my guardian, threw his supplicant off with supreme indifference and left him dancing on the pavement as if it were red hot.

Without further interruption, we reached the front office, where we found the clerk and the man in velveteen with the fur cap.

Here's Mike, said the clerk, getting down.

From his stool and approaching Mr.

Jaggers confidently.

Oh, said Mr.

Jaggers, turning to the man who was pulling a lock of hair in the middle of his forehead like the bull in cockrobin pulling at.

The bellrope, your man comes on this afternoon.

Well, well, Master Jaggers, returned Mike in.

The voice of a sufferer from a.

Constitutional cold outer deal of trouble.

I found one Siris might do.

What is he prepared to swear?

Well, Master Jaggers, said Mike, wiping his.

Nose on his fur cap, this time.

In a general way, anything.

Mr.

Jaggers suddenly became most irate.

Now, I warned you before, said he.

Throwing his forefinger at the terrified client.

That if you ever presumed to talk in that way here, I'd make an example of you.

You infernal scoundrel.

How dare you tell me that?

The client looked scared but bewildered, too, as if he were unconscious.

What he had done.

Spoony, said the clerk in a low voice, giving him a stir with his elbow soft head.

Need you say it face to face?

Now I ask you, you blundering booby, said my guardian very sternly, once more, and for the last time, what the man you've brought here is prepared to swear.

Mike looked hard at my guardian, as if he were trying to learn a lesson from his face, and slowly replied.

Ather to character, or to having been in his company, and never left him all the night in question.

Now be careful.

In what Station of life is this man?

Mike looked at his cap and looked.

At the floor, and looked at the.

Ceiling, and looked at the clerk, and even looked at me, before beginning to reply in a nervous manner, we've dressed him up like when my guardian blustered.

Out what you will, will you, Spoony?

Added the clerk again with another stir.

After some helpless casting about, Mike brightened and began again.

He is dressed like a spectacle pie man, a sort of pastry cook.

Is he here?

Asked my guardian.

I left him, said Mike, setting on some doorsteps round the corner.

Take him past that window and let me see him.

The window indicated was the office window.

We all three went to it behind the wire blind, and presently saw the client go by in an accidental manner, with a murderous looking tall individual in a short suit of white linen and a paper cap.

This guileless confectioner was not by any means sober, and had a black eye in the green stage of recovery, which was painted over.

Tell him to take his witness away.

Directly, said my guardian to the clerk in extreme disgust, and ask him what.

He means by bringing such a fellow as that.

My guardian then took me into his own room, and while he lunched, standing from a sandwich box and a pocket flask of sherry, Heath seemed to bully his very sandwich as he ate it informed me what arrangements he had made for me.

I was to go to Barnard's Inn.

To Young Mr.

Pocket's rooms, where a.

Bed had been sent in for my accommodation.

I was to remain with Young Mr.

Pocket until Monday.

On Monday I was to go with him to his father's house on a visit, that I might try how I liked it.

Also I was told what my allowance was to be, it was a very liberal one, and had handed to me from one of my guardian's drawers the cards of certain tradesmen, with whom I was to deal with for all kinds of clothes, and such other things as I could in reason want.

You will find your credit good, Mr.

Pip, said my guardian, whose flask of sherry smelt like a whole cask full, as he hastily refreshed himself.

But I shall by this means, be able to check your bills and pull.

You up if I find you out running the constable.

Of course, you'll go wrong somehow, but.

That'S no fault of mine.

After I'd pondered a little over this encouraging sentiment, I asked Mr.

Jaggers if I could send for a coach.

He said it was not worthwhile.

I was so near my destination, Wimick should walk round with me if I pleased.

I then found that Wimick was the clerk in the next room.

Another clerk was rung down from upstairs to take his place while he was out, and I accompanied him into the street.

After shaking hands with my guardian, we found a new set of people lingering outside, but Wimick made a way among them by saying coolly yet decisively, I.

Tell you, it's no use.

He won't have a word to say to one of you.

And we soon got clear of them and went on side by side.

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 Carlisle, and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of great expectations.

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