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!’
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.
Mr Willet—not so much, perhaps, on account
of his having argued and settled the matter with himself,
as by reason of his constitutional obstinacy—was
one of those who positively refused to entertain the
current topic for a moment. On this very evening,
and perhaps at the very time when Gashford kept his
solitary watch, old John was so red in the face with
perpetually shaking his head in contradiction of his
three ancient cronies and pot companions, that he
was quite a phenomenon to behold, and lighted up the
Maypole Porch wherein they sat together, like a monstrous
carbuncle in a fairy tale.
‘Do you think, sir,’ said Mr Willet, looking
hard at Solomon Daisy—for it was his custom
in cases of personal altercation to fasten upon the
smallest man in the party—’do you
think, sir, that I’m a born fool?’
‘No, no, Johnny,’ returned Solomon, looking
round upon the little circle of which he formed a
part: ’We all know better than that.
You’re no fool, Johnny. No, no!’
Mr Cobb and Mr Parkes shook their heads in unison,
muttering, ’No, no, Johnny, not you!’
But as such compliments had usually the effect of
making Mr Willet rather more dogged than before, he
surveyed them with a look of deep disdain, and returned
for answer:
’Then what do you mean by coming here, and telling
me that this evening you’re a-going to walk
up to London together—you three—you—and
have the evidence of your own senses? An’t,’
said Mr Willet, putting his pipe in his mouth with
an air of solemn disgust, ’an’t the evidence
of my senses enough for you?’
