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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Forgetful
of all other things in the ecstasy of the moment, his face flushed and
his eyes sparkling with delight, heedless of the weight of the great
banner he carried, and mindful only of its flashing in the sun and
rustling in the summer breeze, on he went, proud, happy, elated past
all telling:--the only light-hearted, undesigning creature, in the whole
assembly.
'What do you think of this?' asked Hugh, as they passed through the
crowded streets, and looked up at the windows which were thronged with
spectators. 'They have all turned out to see our flags and streamers?
Eh, Barnaby? Why, Barnaby's the greatest man of all the pack! His flag's
the largest of the lot, the brightest too. There's nothing in the show,
like Barnaby. All eyes are turned on him. Ha ha ha!'
'Don't make that din, brother,' growled the hangman, glancing with
no very approving eyes at Barnaby as he spoke: 'I hope he don't think
there's nothing to be done, but carrying that there piece of blue rag,
like a boy at a breaking up. You're ready for action I hope, eh? You, I
mean,' he added, nudging Barnaby roughly with his elbow. 'What are you
staring at? Why don't you speak?'
Barnaby had been gazing at his flag, and looked vacantly from his
questioner to Hugh.


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