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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

'What of that? Be
merry, master. A stave of a roaring song now'--
'Sing you, if you desire to hear one,' replied the other, shaking him
roughly off; 'and don't touch me if you're a prudent man; I carry
arms which go off easily--they have done so, before now--and make it
dangerous for strangers who don't know the trick of them, to lay hands
upon me.'
'Do you threaten?' said the fellow.
'Yes,' returned the other, rising and turning upon him, and looking
fiercely round as if in apprehension of a general attack.
His voice, and look, and bearing--all expressive of the wildest
recklessness and desperation--daunted while they repelled the
bystanders. Although in a very different sphere of action now, they were
not without much of the effect they had wrought at the Maypole Inn.
'I am what you all are, and live as you all do,' said the man sternly,
after a short silence. 'I am in hiding here like the rest, and if we
were surprised would perhaps do my part with the best of ye. If it's my
humour to be left to myself, let me have it. Otherwise,'--and here
he swore a tremendous oath--'there'll be mischief done in this place,
though there ARE odds of a score against me.


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