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by G. K. Chesterton (Author)
Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III THE YOUTH OF DICKENS There are popular phrases so picturesque that even when they are intentionally funny they are unintentionally poetical. I remember, to take one instance out of many, hearing a heated Secularist in Hyde Park apply to some parson or other the exquisite expression, " a sky-pilot." Subsequent inquiry has taught me that the term is intended to be comic and even contemptuous; but in that first freshness of it I went home repeating it to myself like a new poem. Few of the pious legends have conceived so strange and yet celestial a picture as this of the pilot in the sky, leaning on his helm above the empty heavens, and carrying his cargo of souls higher than the loneliest cloud. The phrase is like a lyric of Shelley. Or, to take another instance from another language, the French have an incomparable idiom for a boy playing truant: " II fait 1'ecole buissonniere " "he goes to the bushy school, or the school among the bushes. How admirably this accidental expression, " the bushy school " (not to be lightly confounded with the Art School at Bushey) "how admirably this " bushy school " expresses half the modern notions of a more natural education The two words express the whole poetry of Wordsworth, the whole philosophy of Thoreau, and are quite as good literature as either. Now, among a million of such scraps of inspired slang there is one which describes a certain side of Dickens better than pages of explanation. The phrase, appropriately enough, occurs at least once in his works, and that on a fitting occasion. When Job Trotter is sent by Sam on a wild chase after Mr. Perker, the solicitor, Mr. Perker's clerk condoles with Job upon the lateness of the hour, and the fact that all habitable places are shut up. " My friend," says Mr. Perker's clerk,
