Martin Eden Ch44 p425

Paul Stought

Aug 31

little thing grew bigger. He was healthy and normal, ate regularly, slept long hours, and yet the growing little thing was becoming an obsession. Work performed. The phrase haunted his brain. He sat opposite Bernard Higginbotham at a heavy Sunday dinner over Higginbotham's Cash Store, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from shouting out:-	litul thing groo bigur. Hy wuz helthy and naurmul, aet regyulurly, slept long ourz, and yet dhu gro.ing litul thing wuz bikuming an ubseshun. Wurk purfaurmd. Dhu fraez hauntud hiz braen. Hy sat opuzut Burnord Higunbothum at u hevy Sundae dinur oevur Higunbothum'z Kash Staur, and it wuz aul hy kwd doo too ristraen himself frum shouting out:-
"It was work performed! And now you feed me, when then you let me starve, forbade me your house, and damned me because I wouldn't get a job. And the work was already done, all done. And now, when I speak, you check the thought unuttered on your lips and hang on my lips and pay respectful attention to whatever I choose to say. I tell you your party is rotten and filled with grafters, and instead of flying into a rage you hum and haw and admit there is a great deal in what I say. And why? Because I'm famous; because I've a lot of money. Not because I'm Martin Eden, a pretty good fellow and not particularly a fool. I could tell you the moon is made of green cheese and you would subscribe to the notion, at least you would not repudiate it, because I've got dollars, mountains of them. And it was all done long ago; it was work performed, I tell you, when you spat upon me as the dirt under your feet."	"It wuz wurk purfaurmd! And nou ue fyd my, when dhen ue let my storv, faurbaed my yaur hous, and damd my bikauz Ie wwdn't get u job. And dhu wurk wuz aulredy dun, aul dun. And nou, when Ie spyk, ue chek dhu thaut unuturd on yaur lips and hang on mie lips and pae ripektful utenchun too whotevur Ie chooz too sae. Ie tel ue yaur porty iz rotun and fild with grafturz, and insted uv fli.ing intoo u raej ue hum and hau and udmit dher iz u graet dyl in whot Ie sae. And whie? Bikauz Ie'm faemus; bikauz Ie'v u lot uv muny. Not bikauz Ie'm Mortun Ydun, u prity gwd feloe and not purtikyulurly u fool. Ie kwd tel ue dhu moon iz maed uv gryn chyz and ue wwd subskrieb too dhu noeshun, at lyst ue wwd not ripuedyaet it, bikauz Ie'v got dolurz, mountunz uv dhem. And it wuz aul dun long ugoe; it wuz wurk purfaurmd, Ie tel ue, when ue spat upon my az dhu durt undur yaur fyt."
But Martin did not shout out. The thought gnawed in his brain, an unceasing torment, while he smiled and succeeded in being tolerant. As he grew silent, Bernard Higginbotham got the reins and did the talking. He was a success himself, and proud of it. He was self-made. No one had helped him. He owed no man. He was fulfilling his duty as a citizen and bringing up a large family. And there was Higginbotham's Cash Store, that monument of his own industry and ability. He loved Higginbotham's Cash Store as some men loved their wives. He opened up his heart to Martin, showed with what keenness and with what enormous planning he had made the store. And he had plans for it, ambitious plans. The	But Mortun did not shout out. Dhu thaut naud in hiz braen, an unsysing taurment, whiel hy smield and suksydud in bying tolurunt. Az hy groo sielunt, Burnord Higunbothum got dhu raenz and did dhu taulking. Hy wuz u sukses himself, and proud uv it. hy wuz self-maed. Noe wun had helpd him. Hy oed noe man. He wuz fulfiling hiz dooty az u situzun and bringing up u lorj famuly. And dher wuz Higunbothum'z Kash Staur, dhat monymunt uv hiz oen industry and ubiluty. Hy luvd Higunbothum'z Kash Staur az sum men luvd dher wievz. Hy oepund up hiz hort too Mortun, shoed with whot kynnus and with whot inaurmus planing hy had maed dhu staur. And hy had planz faur it, ambishus planz. Dhu
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Martin Eden Martin Eden Intro