There was one man who stands in my note-book as J.J. John Johnson, I had under my care several times, and we came to be very good friends, for under that sooty skin of his I never saw it once really clean there was a great deal of true humanity and tenderness of heart, as I soon found from the way in which he behaved to his wife.
Why dont you chimney sweeps Ramoneurs as you call yourselves now invent a better cry than svi-thee-up?
Ramoneur, he said with a husky chuckle. Yes, thats it, doctor. Fine, aint it? I allus calls myself a plain sweep, though. Thats good enough for me.
But you might do without that yell of yours, I said. London cries are a terrible nuisance, though I dont know that Id care to have them done away with. Your svi-thee-up dont sound much like sweep.
Svi-thee-up, svi-thee-up , he cried, as he lay there in bed, to the utter astonishment of his wife. Dont sound much like sweep? No, it dont; but then one has to have ones own regular cry, as folks may know us by. Why, listen to any of them of a morning about the street, and whod think it was creases as this one was a hollering, or Yarmouth bloaters that one; or that Yow-hoo! meant new milk? It aint what we say its the sound of our voices. Dont the servant gals as hears us of a morning know what it means well enough when the bell rings, and them sleepy a-bed? Oh, no, not at all! But theres no mussy for em, and we jangles away at the bell, and hollers a good un till they lets us in; for, you see, it comes natral when youre obliged to be up yourself, and out in the cold, to not like other folks to be snugging it in bed.
But, then, its ones work, you know, and I dunno whether it was that or the sutt as give me this here coarse voice, which nothing clears now most likely it was the sutt. How times are altered, though, since I was a boy! That there climbing boy Act o Parliament made a reglar revolution in our business, and now here we goes with this here bundle o canes, with a round brush at the end, like a great, long screw fishing-rod, you know, all in jints, and made o the best Malacky cane, so as to go into all the ins and outs, and bend about anywhere, till its right above the pot, and bending and swinging down. But theyre poor things, bless you, and dont sweep a chimbley half like a boy used. You never hears the rattle of a brush at the top of a chimbley-pot now, and the boy giving his hillo hallo hullo o o o! to show as hed not been shamming and skulking half-way up the flue. Why, that was one of the cheery sounds as you used to hear early in the mornin, when you was tucked up warm in bed; for there was always somebodys chimbley a being swept.
Puts me in mind again of when I was a little bit of a fellow, and at home with mother, as I can recollect with her nice pleasant face, and a widders cap round it. Hard pushed, poor thing, when she took me to Joe Barkby, the chimbley sweep, as said hed teach me the trade if she liked. And there was I, shivering along aside her one morning, when she was obliged to take me to Joe, and we got there to find him sitting over his brexfass, and he arst mother to have some; but her heart was too full, poor thing, and she wouldnt, and was going away, and Joe sent me to the door to let her out; and thats one of the things as I shall never forget no, not if I lives to a hundred my mothers poor, sad, weary face, and the longing look she give me when wed said Good bye, and I was going to shut the door after her. Such a sad, longing look, as if she could have caught me up and run off with me. I saw it as she stood on the step, and me with the door in my hand that there green door, with a bright brass knocker, and brass plate with Barkby, Chimbley Sweep, on it. There was tears in her eyes, too; and I felt so miserable myself I didnt know what to do as I stood watching her, and she came and give me one more kiss, saying, God bless you! and then I shut the door a little more, and a little more, till I could see the same sad look through quite a little crack;
and then it was close shut, and I was wiping my eyes with my knuckles.
Ah! Ive often thought since as I shut that door a deal too soon; but I was too young to know all as that poor thing must have suffered.
Barkby warnt a bad sort; but then, what can you expect from a sweep? He didnt behave so very bad to us little chummies; but there it was up at four, and tramp through the cold, dark streets, hot or cold, wet or dry; and then stand shivering till you could wake up the servants an hour, perhaps, sometimes. Then in you went to the cold, miserable house, with the carpets all up, or praps you had to wait no one knows how long while the gal was yawning, and knick-knick-knicking with a flint and steel over a tinder-box, and then blowing the spark till you could get a brimstone match alight. Then there was the forks to get for us to stick the black cloth in front of the fireplace, and then there was ones brush, and the black cap to pull down over ones face, pass under the cloth, and begin swarming up the chimbley all in the dark.