You may have heard of the counting
house of Murdstone and Grinby, in the wine trade? Mr. Quinion manages the
business, and he suggests thit it gives employment to some other boys, and
that he sees no reason why it shouldn't give employment to you. You will
earn enough to provide for your eating, and drinking, and pocket money.
Your lodging will be paid by me. So will your washing. Your clothes will
be looked after for you, too," said Mr. Murdstone, "as you will not be
able, yet awhile, to get them for yourself. So you are now going to
London, David, to begin the world on your own account."
Behold me, on the morrow, in a much-worn little white hat, with a crape
band round it, a black jacket, and stiff corduroy trousers! Behold me so
attired, and with my little worldly all in a small trunk, sitting, a lone,
lorn child, in the post-chaise, journeying to London with Mr. Quinion!
Behold me at ten years old, a little labouring hind in Murdstone and
Grinby's warehouse on the waterside at Blackfriars! It was a crazy old
house with a wharf of its own, but rotting with dirt and age. Their trade
was among many kinds of people, chiefly supplying wines and spirits to
certain packet ships.
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