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Could scarcely say, “Weep! Weep! Weep! Weep!” So your chimneys I sweep and in dust I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved ; so I

said, “ Hush, Tom! Never mind it, for when your head's

bare You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.”

And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was asleeping, he had such a sight;
That thousands of sleepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and

Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free.
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they

And bathe in the river and shine in the sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds and they sport in the wind; And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy, He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.

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And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work,
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and

So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

William Blake.



house-keep-er flues

flues un-der-ground




fu-nil-ure whim-per hearth-uug




crooked flow-et-ed pitch-y





Tom and his master did not go into Harthover House by the great iron gates, as if they had been dukes or bishops, but round the back way, and a very long way round it was; and into a little back door, and then in a passage the housekeeper met them, in such a flowered chintz dressing-gown, that Tom mistook her for my lady herself; and she gave Grimes solemn orders about “ You will take care of this, and take care of that,” as if he was going up the chimneys and not Tom. And Grimes listened, and said every now and then, under his voice, “ You 'll mind that, you little beggar !” and Tom did mind, at least all that he could. And then the housekeeper turned them into a grand room, all covered up in sheets of brown paper, and bade them begin, in a lofty and tremendous voice : and so after a whisper or two, and a kick from his master, into the grate

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Tom went, and up the chimney, while a housemaid stayed in the room to watch the furniture.

How many chimneys he swept I cannot say ; but he swept so many that he got quite tired, and puzzled too, for they were not like the town flues to which he was used, but such as are to be found in old countryhouses, large and crooked chimneys, which had been altered again and again, till they ran into one another. So Tom fairly lost his way in them; not that he cared much for that, though he was in pitchy darkness, for he was as much at home in a chimney, as a mole is under ground; but at last, coming down as he thought the right chimney, he came down the wrong one, and found himself standing on the hearthrug in a room the like of which he had never seen before.

Tom had never seen the like. He had never been in gentlefolks' rooms but when the carpets were all up and the curtains down, and the furniture huddled together under a cloth, and the pictures covered with aprons and dusters; and he had often enough wondered what the rooms were like when they were all ready for the quality to sit in. And now he saw, and he thought the sight very pretty.

The room was all dressed in white; white window curtains, white bed curtains, white furniture, and white walls, with just a few lines of pink here and there. The carpet was all over gay little flowers, and the walls hung with pictures in gilt frames, which amused Tom very much. There were pictures of ladies and gentlemen, and pictures of dogs and horses. The horses he liked, but the dogs he did not care for much, for there were no bull dogs amongst them,


not even a terrier. But of the two pictures which took his fancy the most, one was a man in long garments, with little children and their mothers round him, who was laying his hand upon the children's heads. That was a very pretty picture, Tom thought, to hang in a lady's room; for he could see that it was a lady's room by the dresses which lay about.


CHIMNEY-SWEEP (continued.)

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The other picture was that of a man nailed to a cross, which surprised Tom much. He fancied that

, he had seen something like it in a shop window. But why was it there? "Poor man,” thought Tom, “and he looks so kind and quiet. But why should the lady have such a sad picture in her room? Perhaps it was some relation of hers, who had been murdered by savages in foreign parts, and she kept it there for a

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remembrance.” And Tom felt sad, and awed, and turned to look at something else.

The next thing he saw, and that too puzzled him, was a washing-stand, with jugs and basons, and soap and brushes and towels, and a large bath—full of clean water—“What a heap of things all for washing ! " “She must be a very dirty lady,” thought Tom, "to want as much scrubbing as all that. But she must be very cunning to put the dirt so well out of the way afterwards, for I don't see a speck about the room, not even on the very towels.”

And then, looking towards the bed, he saw that dirty lady, and held his breath with astonishment.

Under the snow-white coverlet upon the snow-white pillow, lay the most beautiful little girl Tom had ever seen. Her cheeks were almost as white as the pillow, and her hair was like threads of gold spread all about over the bed. She might have been as old as Tom, or may be a year or two older, but Tom did not think of that; he thought only of her delicate skin and golden hair, and wondered if she were a real live person, or one of the wax dolls he had seen in the shops. But when he saw her breathe, he made up his mind that she was alive, and stood staring at her as if she had been an angel out of heaven.

“No, she cannot be dirty—she never could have been dirty”—thought Tom to himself, and then he thought, “Are all people like that when they are washed ?" And he looked at his own wrist, and tried to rub the soot off, and wondered if it ever would come of. “Certainly I should look much prettier then, if I grew at all like her.”

And looking round, he suddenly saw, standing

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