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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Thus--a vision
of coarse faces, with here and there a blot of flaring, smoky light; a
dream of demon heads and savage eyes, and sticks and iron bars uplifted
in the air, and whirled about; a bewildering horror, in which so much
was seen, and yet so little, which seemed so long, and yet so short, in
which there were so many phantoms, not to be forgotten all through life,
and yet so many things that could not be observed in one distracting
glimpse--it flitted onward, and was gone.
As it passed away upon its work of wrath and ruin, a piercing scream was
heard. A knot of persons ran towards the spot; Gashford, who just then
emerged into the street, among them. He was on the outskirts of the
little concourse, and could not see or hear what passed within; but one
who had a better place, informed him that a widow woman had descried her
son among the rioters.
'Is that all?' said the secretary, turning his face homewards. 'Well! I
think this looks a little more like business!'

Chapter 51

Promising as these outrages were to Gashford's view, and much like
business as they looked, they extended that night no farther. The
soldiers were again called out, again they took half-a-dozen prisoners,
and again the crowd dispersed after a short and bloodless scuffle.


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