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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

This tender being amicably received, they marched
in together; Joe and Dolly followed, arm-in-arm, (happiness again!) and
Varden brought up the rear.
Old John would have it that they must sit in the bar, and nobody
objecting, into the bar they went. All bars are snug places, but the
Maypole's was the very snuggest, cosiest, and completest bar, that ever
the wit of man devised. Such amazing bottles in old oaken pigeon-holes;
such gleaming tankards dangling from pegs at about the same inclination
as thirsty men would hold them to their lips; such sturdy little Dutch
kegs ranged in rows on shelves; so many lemons hanging in separate nets,
and forming the fragrant grove already mentioned in this chronicle,
suggestive, with goodly loaves of snowy sugar stowed away hard by,
of punch, idealised beyond all mortal knowledge; such closets, such
presses, such drawers full of pipes, such places for putting things
away in hollow window-seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables,
drinkables, or savoury condiments; lastly, and to crown all, as typical
of the immense resources of the establishment, and its defiances to all
visitors to cut and come again, such a stupendous cheese!
It is a poor heart that never rejoices--it must have been the poorest,
weakest, and most watery heart that ever beat, which would not have
warmed towards the Maypole bar.


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