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Read books online » Fiction » A Tale of Two Cities by Dave Mckay, Charles Dickens (easy readers .txt) 📖

Book online «A Tale of Two Cities by Dave Mckay, Charles Dickens (easy readers .txt) 📖». Author Dave Mckay, Charles Dickens



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out!"

What he was asking for was better than any other plan that the crowd had (because they had none), and so the people crowded around the two vehicles until they could no longer move. They too started shouting, "Pull them out! Pull them out!"

When they opened the door of the second coach, the man in it jumped out and was in their hands for a very short time. He was so alert and made such good use of that time that he was soon running up a side street, after losing his coat, hat, hand scarf, and other things that show one has come to cry at a funeral.

The people happily destroyed these pieces of his clothes, while the shop owners quickly closed up their shops. In those days, a crowd like this would stop at nothing, and it was feared by all. They had already opened the coach with the body in it when one of the smarter people in the crowd came up with a different plan: They would make a party out of burying it! Again, because there were so few thinkers there, any plan was happily received. Eight people jumped into the coach, with a dozen more outside it. As many as were able climbed on top of the coach with the body in it. One of the first ones inside the empty coach was Jerry Cruncher, who was careful to hide his messy head of hair from Tellson's by pushing into the far side of the coach.

The men driving the coach, who were there to do the burying, disagreed with these changes in the plans, but the river, being dangerously near, and someone from the crowd saying that the cold water in it could be used to bring some better thinking on the part of the drivers, it was not long before they changed their mind. The new plan called for a man who cleans chimneys to drive the first coach, with the real driver beside him to show the way. A man who sells pies was the new driver of the second coach, again with the real driver beside him. Before the group had moved far down the street they came to a man with a bear that could dance and do tricks. He and the bear were added to the crowd, and the bear, a black one, added a special touch to make the movement even more interesting.

So, with much beer drinking, pipe smoking, song singing, and many jokes about how sad they were, the wild crowd moved on, adding ever more people as they went, and forcing shops to close their doors and windows as they went. They were going to a church called Saint Pancras in the Fields. After some time they reached their target. They all forced their way into the burying ground and buried the body in their own way, to finish off their party.

With the job finished, and the crowd looking for other entertainment, another smart member (or maybe the same one as before) believed it would be fun to take hold of people on the street and say that they too had been found guilty of treason, just for the fun of scaring them. In this way, they ran after and roughly handled dozens of innocent people who had never been near the Old Bailey. From this it was easy for the wild crowd to change their sport to one of breaking windows, and then to breaking into pubs. At last, a few hours later, after a few summer houses had been pulled down and some fences broken to make weapons for the worst members of the crowd, word moved through the crowd that the police were coming. On hearing this, the crowd melted away, piece by piece. It is unclear if the police were coming or not, but this is the pattern for most such crowds.

Mr. Cruncher did not join in the other sports. Instead, he stayed behind in the church yard, to talk to and encourage the men who had been driving the coach before the trouble started. The place seemed to make him relax. He was able to get a pipe at a pub near there, and he smoked it while looking in through the bars on the fence around it, seriously studying the place where Roger Cly had been buried.

"Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher to himself as he often did, "you seed that there Cly that day in court, and you seed with your own eyes that he was a young one, and well made too."

Having finished his pipe and thought a little longer, he turned back, wanting to be at his place in front of Tellson's before closing time. It is not clear if his thinking about right and wrong had made him sick, or if he was not sick at all, or if he just wanted to visit an important man, but on his way home he stopped in to see an important doctor who he often visited.

Young Jerry had shown great interest in filling in for his father; he reported that no jobs had come up during that time. The bank closed, the very old men who worked there came out, the time was marked, and Mr. Cruncher and his son went home to tea.

"Now, I tell you where it is!" said Mr. Cruncher to his wife, on coming in. "If, as a honest worker my work goes wrong tonight, I will know that you have been praying against me, and I'll work you for it just the same as if I seen you do it."

Mrs. Cruncher shook her head sadly.

"Why, you're at it before my face!" said Mr. Cruncher, with signs of angry worry.

"I'm saying nothing."

"Well, then, don't think nothing. You might as well drop as think. You may as well go against me one way as another. Stop them both."

"Yes, Jerry."

"Yes, Jerry," repeated Mr. Cruncher sitting down to eat. "Ah! It is Yes, Jerry. That's about it. You may say Yes, Jerry."

Mr. Cruncher had no clear meaning in what he was saying, but he used her own words, as people often do, to let her see that he did not think they were good enough.

"You and your Yes, Jerry," said Mr. Cruncher, taking a bite out of his bread and butter, and acting like he was adding something very special to it by picking up a very little piece that fell in the plate. "Ah! I think so. I believe you."

"You were going out tonight?” asked his good wife, when he took another bite.

"Yes, I am."

"Can I go with you, father?” his son asked quickly.

"No, you may not. I'm a going, as your mother knows, fishing.

"There's a lot of rust on your fishing stick, is there not, father?”

"Never you mind."

"Will you be bringing fish home, father?"

"If I don't, you'll have little to help you tomorrow," returned the man, shaking his head. "Anyway, that's questions enough for you. I'm not going out until long after you go to bed."

For what was left of the night, he kept a very careful watch over Mrs. Cruncher, keeping her busy with his angry talk, to stop her from thinking any prayers that could be used to hurt his plans. He encouraged his son to keep her busy with talk too, and made her life hard by saying anything bad that he could think of about her, just so she would not have time to think or pray. The most religious person could not show more faith in the power of prayer than he did in the way he feared his wife praying. It was like a person who does not believe in ghosts being afraid of a ghost story.

"And mind you!" said Mr. Cruncher. "No games tomorrow! If I, as an honest worker, am able to bring home a piece or two of meat, I'll have none of your not touching it and eating only bread. If I, as an honest worker, am able to buy a little beer, I'll have none of you saying that you only want water. When you go to Rome, do as Rome does. Rome will be an ugly friend to you if you don't. I'm your Rome, you know."

Then he returned to talking about his problems.

"With you flying in the face of your own food and drink! I don't know how hard you will make it for us to get food and drink here, by your dropping tricks and your cruel actions. Look at your boy: he is yours, isn't he? He's as thin as a stick. Do you call yourself a mother and not know that a mother's first job is to fill her boy out?"

This touched young Jerry's heart, who pushed his mother to do her first job, and whatever else she did or did not do, above all things to give special interest to that first job of a mother, so kindly and wisely pointed to by his other parent.

This is how the evening went with the Cruncher family, until young Jerry was told to go to bed, and his mother was given the same rule. They both obeyed. Mr. Cruncher got through the first part of the night smoking pipes, and did not start his trip until one in the morning. About that time, he got up from his chair, took a key out of his pocket, opened a locked cabinet, and brought out a bag, a strong iron bar of a good size to carry, a rope and chain, and other things like that to be used to do his 'fishing'. Pulling these things around himself in a way that was easy to carry, he said one more angry word to Mrs. Cruncher, put out the light, and left.

Young Jerry, who had not taken his clothes off when he went to bed, left a short time after his father. Under cover of darkness, he moved out of the room, down the steps, and out into the streets. He had no worries about getting back into the house later, because many people lived in it, and the door was always open.

Pushed on by a deep interest in knowing the secrets of his father's honest work, young Jerry stayed as close to walls and door openings as his eyes were to each other. He stayed close enough to see his loved parent without being seen himself. His loved parent had not gone far before he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and the two walked on together.*

(*Izaak Walton wrote a book on fishing at that time.)

In less than half an hour they were on an open road, past the winking eyes of lanterns and the more than winking eyes of the watchmen. Out here, another "fisherman" joined the first two so quietly that young Jerry could have believed that the second man had changed to two by magic.

The three went on, and young Jerry went on, until the three stopped where the ground on one side of the road was much higher than the road itself. There was a low brick wall on the high ground, with a low iron fence on top of that. The three turned up a narrow road leading to the side, where the low wall grew to be eight or ten feet high. Hiding at the corner, young Jerry saw, by the light of the moon, the shape of his loved parent climbing over an iron gate. He was soon over, and then the second fisherman got over, and then the third. They all dropped softly on the ground inside the gate, and lay there for a while, maybe listening. Then they moved away on their hands and knees.

It was now young Jerry's turn to move up to the gate, which he did. He looked in through the bars to see the three fishermen moving on all fours through some long grass! The white stones marking where people were buried there -- for this was a big church burying ground -- looked like ghosts watching the men. And the church tower looked over it all like a giant ghost. The men had not moved far before they stopped and stood up. And then they started to fish.

They fished with a spade at first. A short while later, the loved parent pulled out another tool. Whatever tools they used, they worked hard with them, until the ringing of the church bell filled young Jerry with such fear that he turned and ran, with his hair sticking up as much as his father's.

The great interest he had held for so long about what his father did when he went out at night soon stopped him in his run, and led him back to the gate. When he looked in, he could see that they were still fishing, but that they now had a bite. There were sounds of movement down below, and they were bent over as if pulling at something very heavy down in the hole. Little by little the weight broke away from the dirt that was still holding

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