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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

He heard him shout, and burst into a roar of laughter,
and saw him flourish his hat. Then he turned away himself, like one who
walked in his sleep; and, without any sense of fear or sorrow, lay down
on his pallet, listening for the clock to strike again.

Chapter 77

The time wore on. The noises in the streets became less frequent by
degrees, until silence was scarcely broken save by the bells in church
towers, marking the progress--softer and more stealthy while the city
slumbered--of that Great Watcher with the hoary head, who never sleeps
or rests. In the brief interval of darkness and repose which feverish
towns enjoy, all busy sounds were hushed; and those who awoke from
dreams lay listening in their beds, and longed for dawn, and wished the
dead of the night were past.
Into the street outside the jail's main wall, workmen came straggling at
this solemn hour, in groups of two or three, and meeting in the centre,
cast their tools upon the ground and spoke in whispers. Others soon
issued from the jail itself, bearing on their shoulders planks and
beams: these materials being all brought forth, the rest bestirred
themselves, and the dull sound of hammers began to echo through the
stillness.


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