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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

'Once upon a time it was always too fast. It's got the other fault
now.'
'My friend,' cried the wretched creature, falling on his knees, 'my
dear friend--you always were my dear friend--there's some mistake. Some
letter has been mislaid, or some messenger has been stopped upon the
way. He may have fallen dead. I saw a man once, fall down dead in the
street, myself, and he had papers in his pocket. Send to inquire. Let
somebody go to inquire. They never will hang me. They never can.--Yes,
they will,' he cried, starting to his feet with a terrible scream.
'They'll hang me by a trick, and keep the pardon back. It's a plot
against me. I shall lose my life!' And uttering another yell, he fell in
a fit upon the ground.
'See the hangman when it comes home to him!' cried Hugh again, as they
bore him away--'Ha ha ha! Courage, bold Barnaby, what care we? Your
hand! They do well to put us out of the world, for if we got loose a
second time, we wouldn't let them off so easy, eh? Another shake! A man
can die but once. If you wake in the night, sing that out lustily, and
fall asleep again. Ha ha ha!'
Barnaby glanced once more through the grate into the empty yard;
and then watched Hugh as he strode to the steps leading to his
sleeping-cell.


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