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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Waking or sleeping,
nothing.'
Barnaby looked curiously at his eyes, and touching them with his
fingers, as an inquisitive child might, led him towards the house.
'You have come a long distance, 'said the widow, meeting him at the
door. 'How have you found your way so far?'
'Use and necessity are good teachers, as I have heard--the best of any,'
said the blind man, sitting down upon the chair to which Barnaby had
led him, and putting his hat and stick upon the red-tiled floor. 'May
neither you nor your son ever learn under them. They are rough masters.'
'You have wandered from the road, too,' said the widow, in a tone of
pity.
'Maybe, maybe,' returned the blind man with a sigh, and yet with
something of a smile upon his face, 'that's likely. Handposts and
milestones are dumb, indeed, to me. Thank you the more for this rest,
and this refreshing drink!'
As he spoke, he raised the mug of water to his mouth. It was clear, and
cold, and sparkling, but not to his taste nevertheless, or his thirst
was not very great, for he only wetted his lips and put it down again.
He wore, hanging with a long strap round his neck, a kind of scrip or
wallet, in which to carry food.


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