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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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


Heedless of the fresh air that blew upon his heated brow, of the
pleasant meadows from which he turned, of the piles of roofs and
chimneys upon which he looked, of the smoke and rising mist he vainly
sought to pierce, of the shrill cries of children at their evening
sports, the distant hum and turmoil of the town, the cheerful country
breath that rustled past to meet it, and to droop, and die; he watched,
and watched, till it was dark save for the specks of light that twinkled
in the streets below and far away--and, as the darkness deepened,
strained his gaze and grew more eager yet.
'Nothing but gloom in that direction, still!' he muttered restlessly.
'Dog! where is the redness in the sky, you promised me!'

Chapter 54

Rumours of the prevailing disturbances had, by this time, begun to be
pretty generally circulated through the towns and villages round London,
and the tidings were everywhere received with that appetite for the
marvellous and love of the terrible which have probably been among the
natural characteristics of mankind since the creation of the world.
These accounts, however, appeared, to many persons at that day--as
they would to us at the present, but that we know them to be matter of
history--so monstrous and improbable, that a great number of those who
were resident at a distance, and who were credulous enough on other
points, were really unable to bring their minds to believe that such
things could be; and rejected the intelligence they received on all
hands, as wholly fabulous and absurd.


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