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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

The lengthened shadows of the
trees, softened as if reflected in still water, threw their carpet on
the path the travellers pursued, and the light wind stirred yet more
softly than before, as though it were soothing Nature in her sleep. By
little and little they ceased talking, and rode on side by side in a
pleasant silence.
'The Maypole lights are brilliant to-night,' said Edward, as they rode
along the lane from which, while the intervening trees were bare of
leaves, that hostelry was visible.
'Brilliant indeed, sir,' returned Joe, rising in his stirrups to get
a better view. 'Lights in the large room, and a fire glimmering in the
best bedchamber? Why, what company can this be for, I wonder!'
'Some benighted horseman wending towards London, and deterred from
going on to-night by the marvellous tales of my friend the highwayman, I
suppose,' said Edward.
'He must be a horseman of good quality to have such accommodations. Your
bed too, sir--!'
'No matter, Joe. Any other room will do for me. But come--there's nine
striking. We may push on.'
They cantered forward at as brisk a pace as Joe's charger could attain,
and presently stopped in the little copse where he had left her in the
morning.


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