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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

Finding none,
however, and observing in course of time that his guest was as cool and
unruffled, both in his dress and temper, as he had been all day, old
John at last heaved a deep sigh, and began to think no duel had been
fought that night.
'And now, Willet,' said Mr Chester, 'if the room's well aired, I'll try
the merits of that famous bed.'
'The room, sir,' returned John, taking up a candle, and nudging Barnaby
and Hugh to accompany them, in case the gentleman should unexpectedly
drop down faint or dead from some internal wound, 'the room's as warm as
any toast in a tankard. Barnaby, take you that other candle, and go on
before. Hugh! Follow up, sir, with the easy-chair.'
In this order--and still, in his earnest inspection, holding his candle
very close to the guest; now making him feel extremely warm about the
legs, now threatening to set his wig on fire, and constantly begging his
pardon with great awkwardness and embarrassment--John led the party to
the best bedroom, which was nearly as large as the chamber from which
they had come, and held, drawn out near the fire for warmth, a great old
spectral bedstead, hung with faded brocade, and ornamented, at the top
of each carved post, with a plume of feathers that had once been white,
but with dust and age had now grown hearse-like and funereal.


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