Andrew Golding - A Tale of the Great Plague by Annie E. Keeling
page 108 of 122 (88%)
page 108 of 122 (88%)
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'That coachman had fain learnt from me who it was I had carried down to the river; but I can be deaf upon occasion;' from which I gathered that he had been commissioned to restore the coach to its owner. The sun came up as we began to glide down the stream, and a million little sparkling waves flashed back his reflection as we rowed on; which was the only cheerful part of the scene, I thought; for all our company were grave and silent, and Andrew, though the calmest of us, looked so like death that I could find no pleasure in his peaceful aspect. And the river itself, which I had formerly seen so gay with all kinds of craft, watermen plying up and down constantly, and great sea-going ships coming and going, and lesser vessels crowding the noble stream, now seemed as desolate as the town that lay on its banks; only as we went on we came to many ships lying at anchor, by two and two; sometimes two or three lines of these ships lay in the breadth of the river, and as we threaded our way between them, men, women, and children came and looked over the sides at us. I was glad to break the silence that had settled on us, and I asked what was the reason of these long rows of ships being thus moored idly near the shores? on which the good Mary Giles, who had again the office of supporting Andrew, speaking softly, told me how they were the refuge of many hundreds of families, fled out of London, who hoped in this way to escape the contagion. 'I do not know,' she said however, 'that they do always escape as they hope. Many a device did I practise myself to keep myself whole and sound, and some mighty foolish ones; but it pleased the Lord to drive me |
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