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at him by stealth, for it is afraid. But it always looks up, from adistance, at the prison on the crag; and in the evening, when the workof the day is achieved and it assembles to gossip at the fountain, allfaces are turned towards the prison. Formerly, they were turned towardsthe posting-house; now, they are turned towards the prison. Theywhisper at the fountain, that although condemned to death he will not beexecuted; they say that petitions have been presented in Paris, showingthat he was enraged and made mad by the death of his child; they saythat a petition has been presented to the King himself. What do I know?It is possible. Perhaps yes, perhaps no.”“Listen then, Jacques,” Number One of that name sternly interposed.“Know that a petition was presented to the King and Queen. All here,yourself excepted, saw the King take it, in his carriage in the street,sitting beside the Queen. It is Defarge whom you see here, who, at the | 1Dickens |
Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, andalso of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and amost unimpeachable Christmas goose.”“Which surely he restored to their owner?”“My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs.Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird’sleft leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are legibleupon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers,and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easyto restore lost property to any one of them.”“What, then, did Peterson do?”“He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning,knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. Thegoose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, inspite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten | 2Doyle |
“Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, butI shall only be away a couple of hours.”I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through thestreets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I layupon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel.The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to thedeep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attentionwander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flungit across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration ofthe events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man’s storywere absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutelyunforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between thetime when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back byhis screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and | 2Doyle |
from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of thedance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any giventime, what would have become of them next. And when oldFezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance;advance and retire, both hands to your partner, bow andcurtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again toyour place; Fezziwig "cut"--cut so deftly, that he appearedto wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again withoutWhen the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up.Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either sideof the door, and shaking hands with every person individuallyas he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas.When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they didthe same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away,and the lads were left to their beds; which were under acounter in the back-shop.During the whole of this time, Scrooge had acted like a | 1Dickens |
of Estella, I had said and done what I could to ease her mind. Nomatter with what other words we parted; we parted.Twilight was closing in when I went downstairs into the natural air. Icalled to the woman who had opened the gate when I entered, that Iwould not trouble her just yet, but would walk round the place beforeleaving. For I had a presentiment that I should never be there again,and I felt that the dying light was suited to my last view of it.By the wilderness of casks that I had walked on long ago, and on whichthe rain of years had fallen since, rotting them in many places, andleaving miniature swamps and pools of water upon those that stood onend, I made my way to the ruined garden. I went all round it; round bythe corner where Herbert and I had fought our battle; round by the | 1Dickens |
My faith, messieurs, I offer nothing.”“He is right there, Jacques,” murmured Defarge, to him who had“Good!” said the mender of roads, with an air of mystery. “The tall manis lost, and he is sought--how many months? Nine, ten, eleven?”“No matter, the number,” said Defarge. “He is well hidden, but at lasthe is unluckily found. Go on!”“I am again at work upon the hill-side, and the sun is again about togo to bed. I am collecting my tools to descend to my cottage down in thevillage below, where it is already dark, when I raise my eyes, and seecoming over the hill six soldiers. In the midst of them is a tall manwith his arms bound--tied to his sides--like this!”With the aid of his indispensable cap, he represented a man with hiselbows bound fast at his hips, with cords that were knotted behind him.“I stand aside, messieurs, by my heap of stones, to see the soldiers | 1Dickens |
which represent the family estate, and would accept in return thehospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes forweeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sentover to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah anda baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by thevillagers almost as much as their master.“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had nogreat pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for along time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at thetime of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even“Your sister is dead, then?”“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish tospeak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have | 2Doyle |
among such as were interested in the matter, that although Sydney Cartonwould never be a lion, he was an amazingly good jackal, and that herendered suit and service to Stryver in that humble capacity.“Ten o’clock, sir,” said the man at the tavern, whom he had charged towake him--“ten o’clock, sir.”“What do you mean? Ten o’clock at night?”“Yes, sir. Your honour told me to call you.”“Oh! I remember. Very well, very well.”After a few dull efforts to get to sleep again, which the mandexterously combated by stirring the fire continuously for five minutes,he got up, tossed his hat on, and walked out. He turned into the Temple,and, having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King’sBench-walk and Paper-buildings, turned into the Stryver chambers.The Stryver clerk, who never assisted at these conferences, had gonehome, and the Stryver principal opened the door. He had his slippers on,and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his greater ease. He | 1Dickens |
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guard, in gruff soliloquy. “Hallo you!”“Well! And hallo you!” said Jerry, more hoarsely than before.“Come on at a footpace! d’ye mind me? And if you’ve got holsters to thatsaddle o’ yourn, don’t let me see your hand go nigh ’em. For I’m a devilat a quick mistake, and when I make one it takes the form of Lead. Sonow let’s look at you.”The figures of a horse and rider came slowly through the eddying mist,and came to the side of the mail, where the passenger stood. The riderstooped, and, casting up his eyes at the guard, handed the passengera small folded paper. The rider’s horse was blown, and both horse andrider were covered with mud, from the hoofs of the horse to the hat of“Guard!” said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.The watchful guard, with his right hand at the stock of his raisedblunderbuss, his left at the barrel, and his eye on the horseman, | 1Dickens |
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Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with thetime," she said, "than wasting it asking riddles with no answers.""If you knew Time as well as I do," said the Hatter, "you wouldn't talkabout wasting _it_. It's _him_.""I don't know what you mean," said Alice."Of course you don't!" the Hatter said, tossing his head contemptuously."I daresay you never spoke to Time!""Perhaps not," Alice cautiously replied: "but I know I have to beat timewhen I learn music.""Ah! that accounts for it," said the Hatter. "He won't stand beating.Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he'd do almost anythingyou liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o'clock inthe morning, just time to begin lessons: you'd only have to whisper ahint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one,("I only wish it was," the March Hare said to itself in a whisper.) | 0Caroll |
Wednesday, you might do what you know of, if you felt disposed to tryWhen I had shown this to Herbert and had put it in the fire—but notbefore we had both got it by heart—we considered what to do. For, ofcourse my being disabled could now be no longer kept out of view.“I have thought it over again and again,” said Herbert, “and I think Iknow a better course than taking a Thames waterman. Take Startop. Agood fellow, a skilled hand, fond of us, and enthusiastic andI had thought of him more than once.“But how much would you tell him, Herbert?”“It is necessary to tell him very little. Let him suppose it a merefreak, but a secret one, until the morning comes: then let him knowthat there is urgent reason for your getting Provis aboard and away.You go with him?”It had seemed to me, in the many anxious considerations I had given the | 1Dickens |
hearing the sound of wheels. It came on briskly, and came up to thefront of the chateau.“Ask who is arrived.”It was the nephew of Monseigneur. He had been some few leagues behindMonseigneur, early in the afternoon. He had diminished the distancerapidly, but not so rapidly as to come up with Monseigneur on the road.He had heard of Monseigneur, at the posting-houses, as being before him.He was to be told (said Monseigneur) that supper awaited him then andthere, and that he was prayed to come to it. In a little while he came.He had been known in England as Charles Darnay.Monseigneur received him in a courtly manner, but they did not shake“You left Paris yesterday, sir?” he said to Monseigneur, as he took his“You have been a long time coming,” said the Marquis, with a smile.“On the contrary; I come direct.”“Pardon me! I mean, not a long time on the journey; a long time | 1Dickens |
was not far out, since he said, after smoking a little:—“You see, dear boy, when I was over yonder, t’other side the world, Iwas always a looking to this side; and it come flat to be there, forall I was a growing rich. Everybody knowed Magwitch, and Magwitch couldcome, and Magwitch could go, and nobody’s head would be troubled abouthim. They ain’t so easy concerning me here, dear boy,—wouldn’t be,leastwise, if they knowed where I was.”“If all goes well,” said I, “you will be perfectly free and safe againwithin a few hours.”“Well,” he returned, drawing a long breath, “I hope so.”He dipped his hand in the water over the boat’s gunwale, and said,smiling with that softened air upon him which was not new to me:—“Ay, I s’pose I think so, dear boy. We’d be puzzled to be more quietand easy-going than we are at present. But—it’s a flowing so soft and | 1Dickens |
small. Likewise you’re a oncommon scholar.”“No, I am ignorant and backward, Joe.”“Why, see what a letter you wrote last night! Wrote in print even! I’veseen letters—Ah! and from gentlefolks!—that I’ll swear weren’t wrote in“I have learnt next to nothing, Joe. You think much of me. It’s only“Well, Pip,” said Joe, “be it so or be it son’t, you must be a commonscholar afore you can be a oncommon one, I should hope! The king uponhis throne, with his crown upon his ed, can’t sit and write his acts ofParliament in print, without having begun, when he were a unpromotedPrince, with the alphabet.—Ah!” added Joe, with a shake of the headthat was full of meaning, “and begun at A too, and worked his way to Z.And _I_ know what that is to do, though I can’t say I’ve exactly doneThere was some hope in this piece of wisdom, and it rather encouraged | 1Dickens |
one of the moorland shepherds taking out his father’s dinner.” The least appearance of opposition struck fire out of the old autocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me, and his grey whiskers bristled like those of an angry cat. “Indeed, sir!” said he, pointing out over the wide-stretching moor. “Do you see that Black Tor over yonder? Well, do you see the low hill beyond with the thornbush upon it? It is the stoniest part of the whole moor. Is that a place where a shepherd would be likely to take his station? Your suggestion, sir, is a I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all the facts. My submission pleased him and led him to further “You may be sure, sir, that I have very good grounds before I come to an opinion. I have seen the boy again and again with his bundle. Every day, and sometimes twice a day, I have been | 2Doyle |
far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd.Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not allthe staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve himto remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbsbefore him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his effortsto control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colourrushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again.“Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?”“On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same“You are the young lady just now referred to?”“O! most unhappily, I am!”The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voiceof the Judge, as he said something fiercely: “Answer the questions putto you, and make no remark upon them.”“Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that | 1Dickens |
Mr. Barley’s breakfast for to-morrow, served out to be cooked. Twomutton-chops, three potatoes, some split peas, a little flour, twoounces of butter, a pinch of salt, and all this black pepper. It’sstewed up together, and taken hot, and it’s a nice thing for the gout,There was something so natural and winning in Clara’s resigned way oflooking at these stores in detail, as Herbert pointed them out; andsomething so confiding, loving, and innocent in her modest manner ofyielding herself to Herbert’s embracing arm; and something so gentle inher, so much needing protection on Mill Pond Bank, by Chinks’s Basin,and the Old Green Copper Rope-walk, with Old Barley growling in thebeam,—that I would not have undone the engagement between her andHerbert for all the money in the pocket-book I had never opened.I was looking at her with pleasure and admiration, when suddenly thegrowl swelled into a roar again, and a frightful bumping noise was | 1Dickens |
accountant, going straight to Clarriker’s and bringing Clarriker to me,I had the great satisfaction of concluding that arrangement. It was theonly good thing I had done, and the only completed thing I had done,since I was first apprised of my great expectations.Clarriker informing me on that occasion that the affairs of the Housewere steadily progressing, that he would now be able to establish asmall branch-house in the East which was much wanted for the extensionof the business, and that Herbert in his new partnership capacity wouldgo out and take charge of it, I found that I must have prepared for aseparation from my friend, even though my own affairs had been moresettled. And now, indeed, I felt as if my last anchor were looseningits hold, and I should soon be driving with the winds and waves.But there was recompense in the joy with which Herbert would come homeof a night and tell me of these changes, little imagining that he told | 1Dickens |
“You are Henry Peters, of Adelaide, late the Rev. Dr. Shlessinger, ofBaden and South America. I am as sure of that as that my own name isPeters, as I will now call him, started and stared hard at hisformidable pursuer. “I guess your name does not frighten me, Mr.Holmes,” said he coolly. “When a man’s conscience is easy you can’trattle him. What is your business in my house?”“I want to know what you have done with the Lady Frances Carfax, whomyou brought away with you from Baden.”“I’d be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be,” Petersanswered coolly. “I’ve a bill against her for nearly a hundred pounds,and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendants that thedealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and meat Baden—it is a fact that I was using another name at the time—and she | 2Doyle |
to some of those narratives with which you have afflicted along-suffering public, you will recognise how often the grotesque hasdeepened into the criminal. Think of that little affair of thered-headed men. That was grotesque enough in the outset, and yet itended in a desperate attempt at robbery. Or, again, there was that mostgrotesque affair of the five orange pips, which led straight to amurderous conspiracy. The word puts me on the alert.”“Have you it there?” I asked.He read the telegram aloud.“Have just had most incredible and grotesque experience. May I consult“Post Office, Charing Cross.”“Man or woman?” I asked.“Oh, man, of course. No woman would ever send a reply-paid telegram.She would have come.”“Will you see him?”“My dear Watson, you know how bored I have been since we locked upColonel Carruthers. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself topieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was | 2Doyle |
but the beginning of a long and glorious series of similar victories!We will work out one other Syllogism--a rather harder one than thelast--and then, I think, you may be safely left to play the Gameby yourself, or (better) with any friend whom you can find, thatis able and willing to take a share in the sport.Let us see what we can make of the two Premisses-- "All Dragons are uncanny; All Scotchmen are canny."Remember, I don't guarantee the Premisses to be FACTS. In thefirst place, I never even saw a Dragon: and, in the second place,it isn't of the slightest consequence to us, as LOGICIANS, whetherour Premisses are true or false: all WE have to do is to make outwhether they LEAD LOGICALLY TO THE CONCLUSION, so that, if THEYwere true, IT would be true also.You see, we must give up the "Cakes" now, or our cupboard willbe of no use to us. We must take, as our 'Universe', some class | 0Caroll |
and "no x are y" to mean "the Attributes x, y are INCOMPATIBLE"?27. What are the two kinds of 'Fallacies'?28. How may we detect 'Fallacious Premisses'?29. How may we detect a 'Fallacious Conclusion'?30. Sometimes the Conclusion, offered to us, is not identical withthe correct Conclusion, and yet cannot be fairly called 'Fallacious'.When does this happen? And what name may we give to such a2. Half of Smaller Diagram.Propositions to be represented.1. Some x are not-y.2. All x are not-y.3. Some x are y, and some are not-y.4. No x exist.5. Some x exist.6. No x are not-y.7. Some x are not-y, and some x exist.8. No judges are just.9. Some judges are unjust.10. All judges are just.11. Some plums are wholesome.12. There are no wholesome plums.13. Plums are some of them wholesome, and some not.14. All plums are unwholesome.[See pp. 59, 60]Taking y="diligent students"; x="successful";15. No diligent students are unsuccessful. | 0Caroll |
charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box.”“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when thealarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conducthad long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find anysatisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had beenfastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked byold-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured everynight. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quitesolid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, withthe same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four largestaples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone whenshe met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.” | 2Doyle |
“I do not believe in such nonsense.” “But I do. If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away from a place which has always been fatal to his family. The world is wide. Why should he wish to live at the place of “Because it _is_ the place of danger. That is Sir Henry’s nature. I fear that unless you can give me some more definite information than this it would be impossible to get him to move.” “I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything “I would ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If you meant no more than this when you first spoke to me, why should you not wish your brother to overhear what you said? There is nothing to which he, or anyone else, could object.” “My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited, for he thinks it is for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. He | 2Doyle |
solicitude at her father, Doctor Manette keeping his eyes fixed on thereader, Madame Defarge never taking hers from the prisoner, Defargenever taking his from his feasting wife, and all the other eyes thereintent upon the Doctor, who saw none of them--the paper was read, asThe Substance of the Shadow“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, andafterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my dolefulcell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I writeit at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete itin the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made aplace of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when Iand my sorrows are dust.“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write withdifficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixedwith blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope | 1Dickens |
The room was very dark, too dark to be observed withany accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedienceto a secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room itwas. A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight uponthe bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept,uncared for, was the body of this man.Scrooge glanced towards the Phantom. Its steady handwas pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjustedthat the slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger uponScrooge's part, would have disclosed the face. He thoughtof it, felt how easy it would be to do, and longed to do it;but had no more power to withdraw the veil than to dismissthe spectre at his side.Oh cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altarhere, and dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thycommand: for this is thy dominion! But of the loved, | 1Dickens |
made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow thequick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricablemysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the verypossibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head.It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-lookinggroom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face anddisreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to myfriend’s amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look threetimes before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod hevanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutestweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into hispockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughedheartily for some minutes.“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until hewas obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. | 2Doyle |
We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his facetowards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He wasa middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with acoloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. Hewas, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime whichcovered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broadwheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by itscontraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that threeteeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright redhair grew low over his eyes and forehead.“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” said the inspector.“He certainly needs a wash,” remarked Holmes. “I had an idea that hemight, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.” He openedthe Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very | 2Doyle |
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interest which the hunter must feel as he watches the trap into which he hopes the game may wander. One struck, and two, and we had almost for the second time given it up in despair when in an instant we both sat bolt upright in our chairs with all our weary senses keenly on the alert once more. We had heard the creak of a step in the passage. Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in the distance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out in pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery and the corridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along until we had come into the other wing. We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded as he tiptoed down the passage. Then he passed through the same door as | 2Doyle |
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achieve, were, in truth, not a sound business; considered with anyreference to the scarecrows in the rags and nightcaps elsewhere (and notso far off, either, but that the watching towers of Notre Dame, almostequidistant from the two extremes, could see them both), they wouldhave been an exceedingly uncomfortable business--if that could havebeen anybody’s business, at the house of Monseigneur. Military officersdestitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship;civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of theworst world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives;all totally unfit for their several callings, all lying horribly inpretending to belong to them, but all nearly or remotely of the order ofMonseigneur, and therefore foisted on all public employments from whichanything was to be got; these were to be told off by the score and thescore. People not immediately connected with Monseigneur or the State,yet equally unconnected with anything that was real, or with lives | 1Dickens |
I read with my watch upon the table, purposing to close my book ateleven o’clock. As I shut it, Saint Paul’s, and all the manychurch-clocks in the City—some leading, some accompanying, somefollowing—struck that hour. The sound was curiously flawed by the wind;and I was listening, and thinking how the wind assailed and tore it,when I heard a footstep on the stair.What nervous folly made me start, and awfully connect it with thefootstep of my dead sister, matters not. It was past in a moment, and Ilistened again, and heard the footstep stumble in coming on.Remembering then, that the staircase-lights were blown out, I took upmy reading-lamp and went out to the stair-head. Whoever was below hadstopped on seeing my lamp, for all was quiet.“There is some one down there, is there not?” I called out, looking“Yes,” said a voice from the darkness beneath.“What floor do you want?”“The top. Mr. Pip.” | 1Dickens |
trimmings of the dress were like earthy paper, and that the face wasMiss Havisham’s, with a movement going over the whole countenance as ifshe were trying to call to me. In the terror of seeing the figure, andin the terror of being certain that it had not been there a momentbefore, I at first ran from it, and then ran towards it. And my terrorwas greatest of all when I found no figure there.Nothing less than the frosty light of the cheerful sky, the sight ofpeople passing beyond the bars of the court-yard gate, and the revivinginfluence of the rest of the bread and meat and beer, would havebrought me round. Even with those aids, I might not have come to myselfas soon as I did, but that I saw Estella approaching with the keys, tolet me out. She would have some fair reason for looking down upon me, I | 1Dickens |
cannot be read by your equipment.1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Rightof Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a | 1Dickens |
reply. I turned the handle and walked in. The room was empty, and thebed had never been slept in. He had gone with the rest. The foreignhost, the foreign footman, the foreign cook, all had vanished in thenight! That was the end of my visit to Wisteria Lodge.”Sherlock Holmes was rubbing his hands and chuckling as he added thisbizarre incident to his collection of strange episodes.“Your experience is, so far as I know, perfectly unique,” said he. “MayI ask, sir, what you did then?”“I was furious. My first idea was that I had been the victim of someabsurd practical joke. I packed my things, banged the hall door behindme, and set off for Esher, with my bag in my hand. I called at AllanBrothers’, the chief land agents in the village, and found that it wasfrom this firm that the villa had been rented. It struck me that thewhole proceeding could hardly be for the purpose of making a fool of | 2Doyle |
hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must havealmost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary andstiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked upto the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that Icould not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I coulddistinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from thethin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could lookover the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caughtthe glint of a light.At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then itlengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without anywarning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white,almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area | 2Doyle |
an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. Ihad remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turnto rain, with high autumnal winds, and the jezail bullet which I hadbrought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaignthrobbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and mylegs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapersuntil at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them allaside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon theenvelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s noble“Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. “Yourmorning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a“Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” heanswered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more interesting.This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon | 2Doyle |
week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next.I’ve been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet.”“I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I’vehad one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree withyou that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however,and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom,Watson and I will follow in the second.”Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive andlay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in theafternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streetsuntil we emerged into Farrington Street.“We are close there now,” my friend remarked. “This fellow Merryweatheris a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I thoughtit as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though | 2Doyle |
old grudge again, is it, with your shameful impositions upon tradesmen!I’d catch hold of your throat and choke you for half a guinea.”Sydney Carton, who, with Mr. Lorry, had been lost in amazement atthis turn of the business, here requested Mr. Cruncher to moderate and“At another time, sir,” he returned, evasively, “the present time isill-conwenient for explainin’. What I stand to, is, that he knows wellwot that there Cly was never in that there coffin. Let him say he was,in so much as a word of one syllable, and I’ll either catch hold of histhroat and choke him for half a guinea;” Mr. Cruncher dwelt upon this asquite a liberal offer; “or I’ll out and announce him.”“Humph! I see one thing,” said Carton. “I hold another card, Mr. Barsad.Impossible, here in raging Paris, with Suspicion filling the air, foryou to outlive denunciation, when you are in communication with anotheraristocratic spy of the same antecedents as yourself, who, moreover, has | 1Dickens |
“And as for _you_,” she went on, turning fiercely upon the Red Queen,whom she considered as the cause of all the mischief—but the Queen wasno longer at her side—she had suddenly dwindled down to the size of alittle doll, and was now on the table, merrily running round and roundafter her own shawl, which was trailing behind her.At any other time, Alice would have felt surprised at this, but she wasfar too much excited to be surprised at anything _now_. “As for _you_,”she repeated, catching hold of the little creature in the very act ofjumping over a bottle which had just lighted upon the table, “I’llshake you into a kitten, that I will!”She took her off the table as she spoke, and shook her backwards andforwards with all her might.The Red Queen made no resistance whatever; only her face grew verysmall, and her eyes got large and green: and still, as Alice went on | 0Caroll |
“To what last degree?”“Murder.—Does it strike too cold on that sensitive place?”“I don’t feel it. How did she murder? Whom did she murder?”“Why, the deed may not have merited quite so terrible a name,” saidHerbert, “but, she was tried for it, and Mr. Jaggers defended her, andthe reputation of that defence first made his name known to Provis. Itwas another and a stronger woman who was the victim, and there had beena struggle—in a barn. Who began it, or how fair it was, or how unfair,may be doubtful; but how it ended is certainly not doubtful, for thevictim was found throttled.”“Was the woman brought in guilty?”“No; she was acquitted.—My poor Handel, I hurt you!”“It is impossible to be gentler, Herbert. Yes? What else?”“This acquitted young woman and Provis had a little child; a littlechild of whom Provis was exceedingly fond. On the evening of the verynight when the object of her jealousy was strangled as I tell you, the | 1Dickens |
We walked to town, my sister leading the way in a very large beaverbonnet, and carrying a basket like the Great Seal of England in plaitedStraw, a pair of pattens, a spare shawl, and an umbrella, though it wasa fine bright day. I am not quite clear whether these articles werecarried penitentially or ostentatiously; but I rather think they weredisplayed as articles of property,—much as Cleopatra or any othersovereign lady on the Rampage might exhibit her wealth in a pageant orWhen we came to Pumblechook’s, my sister bounced in and left us. As itwas almost noon, Joe and I held straight on to Miss Havisham’s house.Estella opened the gate as usual, and, the moment she appeared, Joetook his hat off and stood weighing it by the brim in both his hands;as if he had some urgent reason in his mind for being particular tohalf a quarter of an ounce.Estella took no notice of either of us, but led us the way that I knew | 1Dickens |
fancied that I could detect in his manner a consciousness of this, anda purpose of always holding her in suspense.Dinner went off gayly, and although my guardian seemed to follow ratherthan originate subjects, I knew that he wrenched the weakest part ofour dispositions out of us. For myself, I found that I was expressingmy tendency to lavish expenditure, and to patronise Herbert, and toboast of my great prospects, before I quite knew that I had opened mylips. It was so with all of us, but with no one more than Drummle: thedevelopment of whose inclination to gird in a grudging and suspiciousway at the rest, was screwed out of him before the fish was taken off.It was not then, but when we had got to the cheese, that ourconversation turned upon our rowing feats, and that Drummle was ralliedfor coming up behind of a night in that slow amphibious way of his. | 1Dickens |
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, includingany word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide accessto or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a formatother than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the officialversion posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expenseto the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a meansof obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “PlainVanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include thefull Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ worksunless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing | 2Doyle |
what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn,wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours ofburrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. Iwalked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on ourfriend’s premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When youdrove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon thechairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen.”“And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?” I“Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that theycared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson’s presence—in other words, thatthey had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they shoulduse it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might beremoved. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as itwould give them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I | 2Doyle |
“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.“Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note thepeculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have fromall quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have writtenthat. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It onlyremains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German whowrites upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing hisface. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all ourAs he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses’ hoofs and gratingwheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes“A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out ofthe window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundredand fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case, Watson, if there“I think that I had better go, Holmes.” | 2Doyle |
single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the“Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes. “And now it is timethat we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matterswill come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must put thescreen over that dark lantern.”“And sit in the dark?”“I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and Ithought that, as we were a _partie carrée_, you might have your rubberafter all. But I see that the enemy’s preparations have gone so farthat we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we mustchoose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall takethem at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful.I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behindthose. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they | 2Doyle |
back-water, when our own two boats were breaking the sunset or theHerbert was my intimate companion and friend. I presented him with ahalf-share in my boat, which was the occasion of his often coming downto Hammersmith; and my possession of a half-share in his chambers oftentook me up to London. We used to walk between the two places at allhours. I have an affection for the road yet (though it is not sopleasant a road as it was then), formed in the impressibility ofuntried youth and hope.When I had been in Mr. Pocket’s family a month or two, Mr. and Mrs.Camilla turned up. Camilla was Mr. Pocket’s sister. Georgiana, whom Ihad seen at Miss Havisham’s on the same occasion, also turned up. Shewas a cousin,—an indigestive single woman, who called her rigidityreligion, and her liver love. These people hated me with the hatred ofcupidity and disappointment. As a matter of course, they fawned upon me | 1Dickens |
no use,” said Biddy, laying her hand upon my arm, as I was for runningout, “you know I would not deceive you; he was not there a minute, andIt revived my utmost indignation to find that she was still pursued bythis fellow, and I felt inveterate against him. I told her so, and toldher that I would spend any money or take any pains to drive him out ofthat country. By degrees she led me into more temperate talk, and shetold me how Joe loved me, and how Joe never complained of anything,—shedidn’t say, of me; she had no need; I knew what she meant,—but ever didhis duty in his way of life, with a strong hand, a quiet tongue, and a“Indeed, it would be hard to say too much for him,” said I; “and Biddy,we must often speak of these things, for of course I shall be oftendown here now. I am not going to leave poor Joe alone.” | 1Dickens |
keenly, and the frost was white and hard. A man would die to-night oflying out on the marshes, I thought. And then I looked at the stars,and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up tothem as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the“Here comes the mare,” said Joe, “ringing like a peal of bells!”The sound of her iron shoes upon the hard road was quite musical, asshe came along at a much brisker trot than usual. We got a chair out,ready for Mrs. Joe’s alighting, and stirred up the fire that they mightsee a bright window, and took a final survey of the kitchen thatnothing might be out of its place. When we had completed thesepreparations, they drove up, wrapped to the eyes. Mrs. Joe was soonlanded, and Uncle Pumblechook was soon down too, covering the mare with | 1Dickens |
he pulled out a napkin, as if it were a magic clue without which hecouldn’t find the way upstairs, and led us to the black hole of theestablishment, fitted up with a diminishing mirror (quite a superfluousarticle, considering the hole’s proportions), an anchovy sauce-cruet,and somebody’s pattens. On my objecting to this retreat, he took usinto another room with a dinner-table for thirty, and in the grate ascorched leaf of a copy-book under a bushel of coal-dust. Having lookedat this extinct conflagration and shaken his head, he took my order;which, proving to be merely, “Some tea for the lady,” sent him out ofthe room in a very low state of mind.I was, and I am, sensible that the air of this chamber, in its strongcombination of stable with soup-stock, might have led one to infer thatthe coaching department was not doing well, and that the enterprisingproprietor was boiling down the horses for the refreshment department. | 1Dickens |
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending awritten explanation to the person you received the work from. If youreceived the work on a physical medium, you must return the mediumwith your written explanation. The person or entity that provided youwith the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy inlieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the personor entity providing it to you may choose to give you a secondopportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If | 1Dickens |
they’ve each got ‘TWEEDLE’ round at the back of the collar,” she saidThey stood so still that she quite forgot they were alive, and she wasjust looking round to see if the word ‘TWEEDLE’ was written at the backof each collar, when she was startled by a voice coming from the one“If you think we’re wax-works,” he said, “you ought to pay, you know.Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!”“Contrariwise,” added the one marked “DEE,” “if you think we’re alive,you ought to speak.”“I’m sure I’m very sorry,” was all Alice could say; for the words ofthe old song kept ringing through her head like the ticking of a clock,and she could hardly help saying them out loud:— Agreed to have a battle;For Tweedledum said Tweedledee Had spoiled his nice new rattle.Just then flew down a monstrous crow, As black as a tar-barrel;Which frightened both the heroes so, | 0Caroll |
half to itself, half to Alice."What _is_ the fun?" said Alice."Why, _she_," said the Gryphon. "It's all her fancy, that: they neverexecutes nobody, you know. Come on!""Everybody says 'come on!' here," thought Alice, as she went slowlyafter it: "I never was so ordered about in my life, never!"They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance,sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they camenearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. Shepitied him deeply. "What is his sorrow?" she asked the Gryphon, and theGryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, "It's allhis fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!"So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyesfull of tears, but said nothing."This here young lady," said the Gryphon, "she wants to know your | 0Caroll |
magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which Ihave alluded are there as well.”Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. “I cannotwaste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,” he said. “Ifyou can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done“Certainly,” said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in thedoor. “I let you know, then, that I have caught him!”“What! where?” shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips andglancing about him like a rat in a trap.“Oh, it won’t do—really it won’t,” said Holmes suavely. “There is nopossible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent,and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossiblefor me to solve so simple a question. That’s right! Sit down and let usOur visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter | 2Doyle |
seasons of pestilence, some of us will have a secret attraction to thedisease--a terrible passing inclination to die of it. And all of us havelike wonders hidden in our breasts, only needing circumstances to evokeThe passage to the Conciergerie was short and dark; the night in itsvermin-haunted cells was long and cold. Next day, fifteen prisoners wereput to the bar before Charles Darnay’s name was called. All the fifteenwere condemned, and the trials of the whole occupied an hour and a half.“Charles Evrémonde, called Darnay,” was at length arraigned.His judges sat upon the Bench in feathered hats; but the rough red capand tricoloured cockade was the head-dress otherwise prevailing. Lookingat the Jury and the turbulent audience, he might have thought that theusual order of things was reversed, and that the felons were trying thehonest men. The lowest, cruelest, and worst populace of a city, neverwithout its quantity of low, cruel, and bad, were the directing | 1Dickens |
only a subordinate. I can’t take it. Don’t go on in that way with asubordinate. If you are unable to make up your quantum, my boy, you hadbetter address yourself to a principal; there are plenty of principalsin the profession, you know, and what is not worth the while of one,may be worth the while of another; that’s my recommendation to you,speaking as a subordinate. Don’t try on useless measures. Why shouldyou? Now, who’s next?”Thus, we walked through Wemmick’s greenhouse, until he turned to me andsaid, “Notice the man I shall shake hands with.” I should have done so,without the preparation, as he had shaken hands with no one yet.Almost as soon as he had spoken, a portly upright man (whom I can seenow, as I write) in a well-worn olive-coloured frock-coat, with apeculiar pallor overspreading the red in his complexion, and eyes thatwent wandering about when he tried to fix them, came up to a corner of | 1Dickens |
And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentarygleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it washeavy--cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords inwaiting on the saintly presence--nobles of great power all of them;but, most especially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone aterrible grinding and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in thefabulous mill which ground old people young, shivered at every corner,passed in and out at every doorway, looked from every window, flutteredin every vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill whichhad worked them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; thechildren had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon thegrown faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh,was the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed outof the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and | 1Dickens |
windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went asfast as the horse could go.”“One horse?” interjected Holmes.“Did you observe the colour?”“Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into thecarriage. It was a chestnut.”“Oh, fresh and glossy.”“Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most“Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel LysanderStark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think, fromthe rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that itmust have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in silence all thetime, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced in his direction,that he was looking at me with great intensity. The country roads seemto be not very good in that part of the world, for we lurched andjolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows to see something of | 2Doyle |
quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road.“You did it very nicely, Doctor,” he remarked. “Nothing could have beenbetter. It is all right.”“You have the photograph?”“I know where it is.”“And how did you find out?”“She showed me, as I told you she would.”“I am still in the dark.”“I do not wish to make a mystery,” said he, laughing. “The matter wasperfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street wasan accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening.”“I guessed as much.”“Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in thepalm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to myface, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick.”“That also I could fathom.”“Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else couldshe do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I | 2Doyle |
only add to her trouble. Don’t speak of me to her. As I said to you whenI first came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do anylittle helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that.You are going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-night.”“I am going now, directly.”“I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and relianceon you. How does she look?”“Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.”It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh--almost like a sob. Itattracted Mr. Lorry’s eyes to Carton’s face, which was turned to thefire. A light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which),passed from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on awild bright day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little | 1Dickens |
“What is he prepared to swear?”“Well, Mas’r Jaggers,” said Mike, wiping his nose on his fur cap thistime; “in a general way, anythink.”Mr. Jaggers suddenly became most irate. “Now, I warned you before,”said he, throwing his forefinger at the terrified client, “that if youever presumed to talk in that way here, I’d make an example of you. Youinfernal scoundrel, how dare you tell ME that?”The client looked scared, but bewildered too, as if he were unconsciouswhat he had done.“Spooney!” said the clerk, in a low voice, giving him a stir with hiselbow. “Soft Head! Need you say it face to face?”“Now, I ask you, you blundering booby,” said my guardian, very sternly,“once more and for the last time, what the man you have brought here isMike looked hard at my guardian, as if he were trying to learn a lessonfrom his face, and slowly replied, “Ayther to character, or to having | 1Dickens |
laid aside now, with other old belongings. Let us make one more roundof the garden, and then go in. Come! You shall not shed tears for mycruelty to-day; you shall be my Page, and give me your shoulder.”Her handsome dress had trailed upon the ground. She held it in one handnow, and with the other lightly touched my shoulder as we walked. Wewalked round the ruined garden twice or thrice more, and it was all inbloom for me. If the green and yellow growth of weed in the chinks ofthe old wall had been the most precious flowers that ever blew, itcould not have been more cherished in my remembrance.There was no discrepancy of years between us to remove her far from me;we were of nearly the same age, though of course the age told for morein her case than in mine; but the air of inaccessibility which herbeauty and her manner gave her, tormented me in the midst of my | 1Dickens |
Sherlock Holmes was too irritable for conversation and too restless forsleep. I left him smoking hard, with his heavy, dark brows knottedtogether, and his long, nervous fingers tapping upon the arms of hischair, as he turned over in his mind every possible solution of themystery. Several times in the course of the night I heard him prowlingabout the house. Finally, just after I had been called in the morning,he rushed into my room. He was in his dressing-gown, but his pale,hollow-eyed face told me that his night had been a sleepless one.“What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?” he asked eagerly.“Well, it is 7:20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of anybrains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It’s life or death—ahundred chances on death to one on life. I’ll never forgive myself,never, if we are too late!”Five minutes had not passed before we were flying in a hansom down | 2Doyle |
“Thankye,” said Wemmick, shaking hands with him. “Same to you,“If what I had upon me when taken had been real, Mr. Wemmick,” said theman, unwilling to let his hand go, “I should have asked the favour ofyour wearing another ring—in acknowledgment of your attentions.”“I’ll accept the will for the deed,” said Wemmick. “By the by; you werequite a pigeon-fancier.” The man looked up at the sky. “I am told youhad a remarkable breed of tumblers. _Could_ you commission any friendof yours to bring me a pair, if you’ve no further use for ’em?”“It shall be done, sir.”“All right,” said Wemmick, “they shall be taken care of.Good-afternoon, Colonel. Good-bye!” They shook hands again, and as wewalked away Wemmick said to me, “A Coiner, a very good workman. TheRecorder’s report is made to-day, and he is sure to be executed onMonday. Still you see, as far as it goes, a pair of pigeons are | 1Dickens |
my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having had some sympathy forthe miserable people, and having abandoned something to them,” he spokehere in his former thoughtful manner, “that one might be listened to,and might have the power to persuade to some restraint. Only last night,after you had left us, when I was talking to Lucie--”“When you were talking to Lucie,” Mr. Lorry repeated. “Yes. I wonder youare not ashamed to mention the name of Lucie! Wishing you were going toFrance at this time of day!”“However, I am not going,” said Charles Darnay, with a smile. “It ismore to the purpose that you say you are.”“And I am, in plain reality. The truth is, my dear Charles,” Mr. Lorryglanced at the distant House, and lowered his voice, “you can have noconception of the difficulty with which our business is transacted, andof the peril in which our books and papers over yonder are involved. The | 1Dickens |
When she came to that, and to a wild cry that followed that, I caughther round the waist. For she rose up in the chair, in her shroud of adress, and struck at the air as if she would as soon have struckherself against the wall and fallen dead.All this passed in a few seconds. As I drew her down into her chair, Iwas conscious of a scent that I knew, and turning, saw my guardian inHe always carried (I have not yet mentioned it, I think) apocket-handkerchief of rich silk and of imposing proportions, which wasof great value to him in his profession. I have seen him so terrify aclient or a witness by ceremoniously unfolding this pocket-handkerchiefas if he were immediately going to blow his nose, and then pausing, asif he knew he should not have time to do it before such client orwitness committed himself, that the self-committal has followed | 1Dickens |
I had my key to the secrets of the establishment.“Curious people, Watson! I don’t pretend to understand it all yet, butvery curious people anyway. It’s a double-winged house, and theservants live on one side, the family on the other. There’s no linkbetween the two save for Henderson’s own servant, who serves thefamily’s meals. Everything is carried to a certain door, which formsthe one connection. Governess and children hardly go out at all, exceptinto the garden. Henderson never by any chance walks alone. His darksecretary is like his shadow. The gossip among the servants is thattheir master is terribly afraid of something. ‘Sold his soul to thedevil in exchange for money,’ says Warner, ‘and expects his creditor tocome up and claim his own.’ Where they came from, or who they are,nobody has an idea. They are very violent. Twice Henderson has lashedat folk with his dog-whip, and only his long purse and heavy | 2Doyle |
musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrencesmuch out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busyand ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringingup long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker onSaturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in thehand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door ofWestminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer,and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer’s boy ofAll these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and closeupon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five.Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded,those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and thefair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rightswith a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred | 1Dickens |
"I'll tell it her," said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone; "sitdown, both of you, and don't speak a word till I've finished."So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought toherself, "I don't see how he can _ever_ finish, if he doesn't begin."But she waited patiently."Once," said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, "I was a realThese words were followed by a very long silence, broken only by anoccasional exclamation of "Hjckrrh!" from the Gryphon, and the constantheavy sobbing of the Mock Turtle. Alice was very nearly getting up andsaying "Thank you, sir, for your interesting story," but she could nothelp thinking there _must_ be more to come, so she sat still and said"When we were little," the Mock Turtle went on at last, more calmly,though still sobbing a little now and then, "we went to school in thesea. The master was an old Turtle--we used to call him Tortoise----" | 0Caroll |
cellar,—rot of rat and mouse and bug and coaching-stables near at handbesides—addressed themselves faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned,So imperfect was this realisation of the first of my greatexpectations, that I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmick. “Ah!” said he,mistaking me; “the retirement reminds you of the country. So it doesHe led me into a corner and conducted me up a flight of stairs,—whichappeared to me to be slowly collapsing into sawdust, so that one ofthose days the upper lodgers would look out at their doors and findthemselves without the means of coming down,—to a set of chambers onthe top floor. MR. POCKET, JUN., was painted on the door, and there wasa label on the letter-box, “Return shortly.”“He hardly thought you’d come so soon,” Mr. Wemmick explained. “Youdon’t want me any more?”“No, thank you,” said I.“As I keep the cash,” Mr. Wemmick observed, “we shall most likely meet | 1Dickens |
“Come!” said Defarge. “Here is monsieur, who knows a well-made shoe whenhe sees one. Show him that shoe you are working at. Take it, monsieur.”Mr. Lorry took it in his hand.“Tell monsieur what kind of shoe it is, and the maker’s name.”There was a longer pause than usual, before the shoemaker replied:“I forget what it was you asked me. What did you say?”“I said, couldn’t you describe the kind of shoe, for monsieur’s“It is a lady’s shoe. It is a young lady’s walking-shoe. It is in thepresent mode. I never saw the mode. I have had a pattern in my hand.” Heglanced at the shoe with some little passing touch of pride.“And the maker’s name?” said Defarge.Now that he had no work to hold, he laid the knuckles of the right handin the hollow of the left, and then the knuckles of the left hand in thehollow of the right, and then passed a hand across his bearded chin, and | 1Dickens |
spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company ofthe bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must besomeone from America because she had spent so short a time in thiscountry that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep aninfluence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her tochange her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by aprocess of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American.Then who could this American be, and why should he possess so muchinfluence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Heryoung womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and understrange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St.Simon’s narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in | 2Doyle |
your life was not your own.”“But there are no such decrees yet?”“What do I know!” said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; “theremay be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?”They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the night, andthen rode forward again when all the town was asleep. Among the manywild changes observable on familiar things which made this wild rideunreal, not the least was the seeming rarity of sleep. After long andlonely spurring over dreary roads, they would come to a cluster of poorcottages, not steeped in darkness, but all glittering with lights, andwould find the people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night,circling hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawnup together singing a Liberty song. Happily, however, there was sleep inBeauvais that night to help them out of it and they passed on once more | 1Dickens |
“Hold!” said Monsieur the Marquis. “Hold the horses! Who threw that?”He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine had stood, amoment before; but the wretched father was grovelling on his face onthe pavement in that spot, and the figure that stood beside him was thefigure of a dark stout woman, knitting.“You dogs!” said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with an unchanged front,except as to the spots on his nose: “I would ride over any of you verywillingly, and exterminate you from the earth. If I knew which rascalthrew at the carriage, and if that brigand were sufficiently near it, heshould be crushed under the wheels.”So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard their experience ofwhat such a man could do to them, within the law and beyond it, that nota voice, or a hand, or even an eye was raised. Among the men, not one. | 1Dickens |
Partickler when he see the ghost. Though I put it to yourself, sir,whether it were calc’lated to keep a man up to his work with a goodhart, to be continiwally cutting in betwixt him and the Ghost with“Amen!” A man may have had a misfortun’ and been in the Church,” saidJoe, lowering his voice to an argumentative and feeling tone, “but thatis no reason why you should put him out at such a time. Which Imeantersay, if the ghost of a man’s own father cannot be allowed toclaim his attention, what can, Sir? Still more, when his mourning ’atis unfortunately made so small as that the weight of the black feathersbrings it off, try to keep it on how you may.”A ghost-seeing effect in Joe’s own countenance informed me that Herberthad entered the room. So, I presented Joe to Herbert, who held out hishand; but Joe backed from it, and held on by the bird’s-nest. | 1Dickens |
it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosomof its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that thewigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr.Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sittingopposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court.Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation.What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn’tprecisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody’s.Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Verydistant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtors’prison? Didn’t see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtors’prison?--Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or threetimes. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Everbeen kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? | 1Dickens |
“There is one correspondent who is a sure draw, Watson. That is thebank. Single ladies must live, and their passbooks are compresseddiaries. She banks at Silvester’s. I have glanced over her account. Thelast check but one paid her bill at Lausanne, but it was a large oneand probably left her with cash in hand. Only one check has been drawn“To whom, and where?”“To Miss Marie Devine. There is nothing to show where the check wasdrawn. It was cashed at the Crédit Lyonnais at Montpellier less thanthree weeks ago. The sum was fifty pounds.”“And who is Miss Marie Devine?”“That also I have been able to discover. Miss Marie Devine was the maidof Lady Frances Carfax. Why she should have paid her this check we havenot yet determined. I have no doubt, however, that your researches willsoon clear the matter up.”“Hence the health-giving expedition to Lausanne. You know that I cannotpossibly leave London while old Abrahams is in such mortal terror of | 2Doyle |
“You will be good to my poor husband. You will do him no harm. You willhelp me to see him if you can?”“Your husband is not my business here,” returned Madame Defarge, lookingdown at her with perfect composure. “It is the daughter of your fatherwho is my business here.”“For my sake, then, be merciful to my husband. For my child’s sake! Shewill put her hands together and pray you to be merciful. We are moreafraid of you than of these others.”Madame Defarge received it as a compliment, and looked at her husband.Defarge, who had been uneasily biting his thumb-nail and looking at her,collected his face into a sterner expression.“What is it that your husband says in that little letter?” asked MadameDefarge, with a lowering smile. “Influence; he says something touching“That my father,” said Lucie, hurriedly taking the paper from herbreast, but with her alarmed eyes on her questioner and not on it, “has | 1Dickens |
glance at him, and then a keener, and then a keener, and then advancedto him herself, and asked him what it was he had ordered.He repeated what he had already said.“English?” asked Madame Defarge, inquisitively raising her darkAfter looking at her, as if the sound of even a single French word wereslow to express itself to him, he answered, in his former strong foreignaccent. “Yes, madame, yes. I am English!”Madame Defarge returned to her counter to get the wine, and, as hetook up a Jacobin journal and feigned to pore over it puzzling out itsmeaning, he heard her say, “I swear to you, like Evrémonde!”Defarge brought him the wine, and gave him Good Evening.“Oh! Good evening, citizen,” filling his glass. “Ah! and good wine. Idrink to the Republic.”Defarge went back to the counter, and said, “Certainly, a little like.” Madame sternly retorted, “I tell you a good deal like.” Jacques Three | 1Dickens |
watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and thattherefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time—a deductionwhich was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case. All theseI may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present suchsingular features as the strange train of circumstances which I havenow taken up my pen to describe.It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales hadset in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and therain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart ofgreat, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for theinstant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of thosegreat elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of hiscivilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, thestorm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a | 2Doyle |
The Queen never left off quarrelling with the other players, and shouting "Off with his head!" or, "Off with her The Mock Turtle drew a long breath and said, "That's very curious" 132 Who stole the Tarts? 140 At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her 158[Sidenote: _Down the Rabbit-Hole_]ALICE was beginning to get very tired of sitting by hersister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she hadpeeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures orconversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice,"without pictures or conversations?"So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for thehot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid) whether the pleasure ofmaking a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up andpicking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran | 0Caroll |
asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he put to me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated with excitement. “I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for | 2Doyle |
grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on hiseyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own lowtemperature always about with him; he iced his office inthe dog-days; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.External heat and cold had little influence onScrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weatherchill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he,no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, nopelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn'tknow where to have him. The heaviest rain, andsnow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantageover him in only one respect. They often "came down"handsomely, and Scrooge never did.Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, withgladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you?When will you come to see me?" No beggars imploredhim to bestow a trifle, no children asked himwhat it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all | 1Dickens |
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must complyeither with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 orobtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is postedwith the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distributionmust comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and anyadditional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional termswill be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all worksposted with the permission of the copyright holder found at thebeginning of this work.1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of thiswork or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with | 1Dickens |
prisoner. I want to be a Queen.”“So you will, when you’ve crossed the next brook,” said the WhiteKnight. “I’ll see you safe to the end of the wood—and then I must goback, you know. That’s the end of my move.”“Thank you very much,” said Alice. “May I help you off with yourhelmet?” It was evidently more than he could manage by himself;however, she managed to shake him out of it at last.“Now one can breathe more easily,” said the Knight, putting back hisshaggy hair with both hands, and turning his gentle face and large mildeyes to Alice. She thought she had never seen such a strange-lookingsoldier in all her life.He was dressed in tin armour, which seemed to fit him very badly, andhe had a queer-shaped little deal box fastened across his shoulder,upside-down, and with the lid hanging open. Alice looked at it with“I see you’re admiring my little box.” the Knight said in a friendly | 0Caroll |
“Do you see him?” pursued my convict. “Do you see what a villain he is?Do you see those grovelling and wandering eyes? That’s how he lookedwhen we were tried together. He never looked at me.”The other, always working and working his dry lips and turning his eyesrestlessly about him far and near, did at last turn them for a momenton the speaker, with the words, “You are not much to look at,” and witha half-taunting glance at the bound hands. At that point, my convictbecame so frantically exasperated, that he would have rushed upon himbut for the interposition of the soldiers. “Didn’t I tell you,” saidthe other convict then, “that he would murder me, if he could?” And anyone could see that he shook with fear, and that there broke out uponhis lips curious white flakes, like thin snow.“Enough of this parley,” said the sergeant. “Light those torches.”As one of the soldiers, who carried a basket in lieu of a gun, went | 1Dickens |
finger at Mr. Wopsle heavily,—“that same man might be summoned as ajuryman upon this very trial, and, having thus deeply committedhimself, might return to the bosom of his family and lay his head uponhis pillow, after deliberately swearing that he would well and trulytry the issue joined between Our Sovereign Lord the King and theprisoner at the bar, and would a true verdict give according to theevidence, so help him God!”We were all deeply persuaded that the unfortunate Wopsle had gone toofar, and had better stop in his reckless career while there was yetThe strange gentleman, with an air of authority not to be disputed, andwith a manner expressive of knowing something secret about every one ofus that would effectually do for each individual if he chose todisclose it, left the back of the settle, and came into the spacebetween the two settles, in front of the fire, where he remained | 1Dickens |
out of his sight for fear he should lose his influence over her. It was for this reason that he took her to London with him. They lodged, I find, at the Mexborough Private Hotel, in Craven Street, which was actually one of those called upon by my agent in search of evidence. Here he kept his wife imprisoned in her room while he, disguised in a beard, followed Dr. Mortimer to Baker Street and afterwards to the station and to the Northumberland Hotel. His wife had some inkling of his plans; but she had such a fear of her husband—a fear founded upon brutal ill-treatment—that she dare not write to warn the man whom she knew to be in danger. If the letter should fall into Stapleton’s hands her own life would not be safe. Eventually, as we know, she adopted the expedient of cutting out the words which would form | 2Doyle |
walks a good deal.” “Then I was right.” “But that was all.” “No, no, my dear Watson, not all—by no means all. I would suggest, for example, that a presentation to a doctor is more likely to come from a hospital than from a hunt, and that when the initials ‘C.C.’ are placed before that hospital the words ‘Charing Cross’ very naturally suggest themselves.” “You may be right.” “The probability lies in that direction. And if we take this as a working hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start our construction of this unknown visitor.” “Well, then, supposing that ‘C.C.H.’ does stand for ‘Charing Cross Hospital,’ what further inferences may we draw?” “Do none suggest themselves? You know my methods. Apply them!” “I can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practised in town before going to the country.” “I think that we might venture a little farther than this. Look | 2Doyle |
will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longertime they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor—as nodoubt you have divined—in the cellar of the City branch of one of theprincipal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors,and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daringcriminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We have had severalwarnings that an attempt might be made upon it.”“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources andborrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. Ithas become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money,and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sitcontains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Ourreserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a | 2Doyle |
“His ticket, of course, would show that.”“There was no ticket in his pockets.”“No ticket! Dear me, Watson, this is really very singular. According tomy experience it is not possible to reach the platform of aMetropolitan train without exhibiting one’s ticket. Presumably, then,the young man had one. Was it taken from him in order to conceal thestation from which he came? It is possible. Or did he drop it in thecarriage? That is also possible. But the point is of curious interest.I understand that there was no sign of robbery?”“Apparently not. There is a list here of his possessions. His pursecontained two pounds fifteen. He had also a check-book on the Woolwichbranch of the Capital and Counties Bank. Through this his identity wasestablished. There were also two dress-circle tickets for the WoolwichTheatre, dated for that very evening. Also a small packet of technicalHolmes gave an exclamation of satisfaction.“There we have it at last, Watson! British government—Woolwich. | 2Doyle |
too far to the right, and consequently had to try back along theriver-side, on the bank of loose stones above the mud and the stakesthat staked the tide out. Making my way along here with all despatch, Ihad just crossed a ditch which I knew to be very near the Battery, andhad just scrambled up the mound beyond the ditch, when I saw the mansitting before me. His back was towards me, and he had his arms folded,and was nodding forward, heavy with sleep.I thought he would be more glad if I came upon him with his breakfast,in that unexpected manner, so I went forward softly and touched him onthe shoulder. He instantly jumped up, and it was not the same man, butAnd yet this man was dressed in coarse grey, too, and had a great ironon his leg, and was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was everything that | 1Dickens |
“You shall share our knowledge before you leave this room, Sir Henry. I promise you that,” said Sherlock Holmes. “We will confine ourselves for the present with your permission to this very interesting document, which must have been put together and posted yesterday evening. Have you yesterday’s _Times_, Watson?” “It is here in the corner.” “Might I trouble you for it—the inside page, please, with the leading articles?” He glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and down the columns. “Capital article this on free trade. Permit me to give you an extract from it. ‘You may be cajoled into imagining that your own special trade or your own industry will be encouraged by a protective tariff, but it stands to reason that such legislation must in the long run keep away wealth from the country, diminish the value of our imports, and lower the general conditions of life in this island.’ | 2Doyle |
it. The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task all struck a chill into my heart. The boy was nowhere to be seen. But down beneath me in a cleft of the hills there was a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle of them there was one which retained sufficient roof to act as a screen against the weather. My heart leaped within me as I saw it. This must be the burrow where the stranger lurked. At last my foot was on the threshold of his hiding place—his secret was As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton would do when with poised net he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfied myself that the place had indeed been used as a habitation. A vague pathway among the boulders led to the dilapidated opening which served as a door. All was silent | 2Doyle |
communication with you, I have always adhered to the strict line offact. There has never been the least departure from the strict line offact. You are quite aware of that?”“I communicated to Magwitch—in New South Wales—when he first wrote tome—from New South Wales—the caution that he must not expect me ever todeviate from the strict line of fact. I also communicated to himanother caution. He appeared to me to have obscurely hinted in hisletter at some distant idea he had of seeing you in England here. Icautioned him that I must hear no more of that; that he was not at alllikely to obtain a pardon; that he was expatriated for the term of hisnatural life; and that his presenting himself in this country would bean act of felony, rendering him liable to the extreme penalty of thelaw. I gave Magwitch that caution,” said Mr. Jaggers, looking hard atme; “I wrote it to New South Wales. He guided himself by it, no doubt.” | 1Dickens |
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