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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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


'Well!' said Simon, in a low voice; 'is all right?'
'Right enough,' replied Hugh, in the same tone. 'They're dispersing
now--had begun before I came away.'
'And is the coast clear?'
'Clear enough before our men, I take it,' said Hugh. 'There are not many
who, knowing of their work over yonder, will want to meddle with 'em
to-night.--Who's got some drink here?'
Everybody had some plunder from the cellar; half-a-dozen flasks and
bottles were offered directly. He selected the largest, and putting it
to his mouth, sent the wine gurgling down his throat. Having emptied
it, he threw it down, and stretched out his hand for another, which he
emptied likewise, at a draught. Another was given him, and this he half
emptied too. Reserving what remained to finish with, he asked:
'Have you got anything to eat, any of you? I'm as ravenous as a hungry
wolf. Which of you was in the larder--come?'
'I was, brother,' said Dennis, pulling off his hat, and fumbling in
the crown. 'There's a matter of cold venison pasty somewhere or another
here, if that'll do.'
'Do!' cried Hugh, seating himself on the pathway. 'Bring it out! Quick!
Show a light here, and gather round! Let me sup in state, my lads! Ha ha
ha!'
Entering into his boisterous humour, for they all had drunk deeply, and
were as wild as he, they crowded about him, while two of their number
who had torches, held them up, one on either side of him, that his
banquet might not be despatched in the dark.


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