Bartleby the Scrivener: A Tale of Wall Street

62 THE PIAZZA TALES
this should not be so vile a place. Nothing reproachful
attaches to you by being here. And see, it is not so
sad a place as one might think.
and here is the grass.'
Look, there is the sky,
'
I know where I am,' he replied, but would say
nothing more, and so I left him.
As I entered the corridor again, a broad meat-like man,
in an apron, accosted me, and, jerking his thumb over
his shoulder, said, '
'
Is that your friend ?
'
Yes.'
*
Does he want to starve ? If he does, let him live
on the prison fare, that 's all.'
1 '
Who are you 1 asked I, not knowing what to make
of such an unofficially speaking person in such a place.
*
I am the grub-man. Such gentlemen as have friends
here, hire me to provide them with something good
to eat.'
1
'
Is this so ?
He said it was.
'
said I, turning to the turnkey.
Well, then,' said I, slipping some silver into the
I want you
grub-man's hands (for so they called him), *
to give particular attention to my friend there let him
;
have the best dinner you can get. And you must be
as polite to him as possible.'
'
'
Introduce me, will ? you
said the grub-man, looking
at me with an expression which seemed to say he was all
impatience for an opportunity to give a specimen of his
breeding.
Thinking it would prove of benefit to the scrivener,
I acquiesced ; and, asking the grub-man his name, went
up with him to Bartleby.
'
Bartleby, this is a friend ; you will find him very
useful to you.'
'
Your sarvant, sir, your sarvant,' said the grub-man,
making a low salutation behind his apron.
'
Hope you