Mr. Squod tacks out, all on one side, to execute the word of command; and the trooper, having smoked his pipe, lays it by. Jo is brought in. He is not one of Mrs. Pardiggle's Tockahoopo Indians; he is not one of Mrs. Jellyby's lambs, being wholly unconnected with Borrioboola-Gha; he is not softened by distance and unfamiliarity; he is not a genuine foreign-grown savage; he is the ordinary home-made article. Dirty, ugly, disagreeable to all the senses, in body a common creature of the common streets, only in soul a heathen. Homely filth begrimes him, homely parasites devour him, homely sores are in him, homely rags are on him; native ignorance, the growth of English soil and climate, sinks his immortal nature lower than the beasts that perish. Stand forth, Jo, in uncompromising colours! From the sole of thy foot to the crown of thy head, there is nothing interesting about thee.

Mr. Squod tacks out on one side to do so; and Jo is brought in. He is not one of Mrs. Jellyby's lambs of Borrioboola-Gha; he is not softened by distance and unfamiliarity; he is the ordinary home-made article. Dirty, ugly, disagreeable to all the senses; homely filth begrimes him, homely parasites devour him, homely rags are on him; native ignorance sinks his immortal nature lower than the beasts.
