BOOK THE SECOND - REAPING
2. Chapter Ii - Mr. James Harthouse (continued)
Mr. Harthouse would be charmed.
'Don't be too sure of that,' said Bounderby. 'I don't promise it.
First of all, you see our smoke. That's meat and drink to us.
It's the healthiest thing in the world in all respects, and
particularly for the lungs. If you are one of those who want us to
consume it, I differ from you. We are not going to wear the
bottoms of our boilers out any faster than we wear 'em out now, for
all the humbugging sentiment in Great Britain and Ireland.'
By way of 'going in' to the fullest extent, Mr. Harthouse rejoined,
'Mr. Bounderby, I assure you I am entirely and completely of your
way of thinking. On conviction.'
'I am glad to hear it,' said Bounderby. 'Now, you have heard a lot
of talk about the work in our mills, no doubt. You have? Very
good. I'll state the fact of it to you. It's the pleasantest work
there is, and it's the lightest work there is, and it's the best-
paid work there is. More than that, we couldn't improve the mills
themselves, unless we laid down Turkey carpets on the floors.
Which we're not a-going to do.'
'Mr. Bounderby, perfectly right.'
'Lastly,' said Bounderby, 'as to our Hands. There's not a Hand in
this town, sir, man, woman, or child, but has one ultimate object
in life. That object is, to be fed on turtle soup and venison with
a gold spoon. Now, they're not a-going - none of 'em - ever to be
fed on turtle soup and venison with a gold spoon. And now you know
the place.'
Mr. Harthouse professed himself in the highest degree instructed
and refreshed, by this condensed epitome of the whole Coketown
question.
'Why, you see,' replied Mr. Bounderby, 'it suits my disposition to
have a full understanding with a man, particularly with a public
man, when I make his acquaintance. I have only one thing more to
say to you, Mr. Harthouse, before assuring you of the pleasure with
which I shall respond, to the utmost of my poor ability, to my
friend Tom Gradgrind's letter of introduction. You are a man of
family. Don't you deceive yourself by supposing for a moment that
I am a man of family. I am a bit of dirty riff-raff, and a genuine
scrap of tag, rag, and bobtail.'
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