Pelle the Conqueror — Volume 02 by Martin Andersen Nexø
page 18 of 362 (04%)
page 18 of 362 (04%)
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"Then you can pull a waxed end--but make it as long as a bad year!"
said the journeyman. The old master was all on fire at the idea. He went over and watched Pelle closely, his tongue hanging out of his mouth; he felt quite young again, and began to descant upon his own apprenticeship in Copenhagen, sixty years ago. Those were times! The apprentices didn't lie in bed and snore in those days till six o'clock in the morning, and throw down their work on the very stroke of eight, simply to go out and run about. No; up they got at four, and stuck at it as long as there was work to do. Then fellows _could_ work--and then they still learned something; they were told things just once, and then--the knee-strap! Then, too, the manual crafts still enjoyed some reputation; even the kings had to learn a handicraft. It was very different to the present, with its bungling and cheap retailing and pinching and paring everywhere. The apprentices winked at one another. Master Andres and the journeyman were silent. You might as well quarrel with the sewing-machine because it purred. Jeppe was allowed to spin his yarn alone. "Are you waxing it well?" said little Nikas. "It's for pigskin." The others laughed, but Pelle rubbed the thread with a feeling as though he were building his own scaffold. "Now I am ready!" he said, in a low voice. The largest pair of men's lasts was taken down from the shelf, and |
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