Dinah Craik

“ While he spoke, I could hardly hear him for the bellowings outside. More savage still grew the cry—
"Burn 'em out! burn 'em out! They be only Quakers!"
"There's not a minute to lose—stop—let me think—Jael, is that a pistol?" ”

“ It was well then that I appeared as Jem Watkins. But no one noticed me, except one man, who skulked behind a tree, and of whom I was rather afraid, as he was apparently intent on watching.
"Ready, lads? Now for the rosin! Blaze 'un out."
But, in the eager scuffle, the torch, the only one alight, was knocked down and trodden out. A volley of oaths arose, though whose fault it was no one seemed to know; but I missed my man from behind the tree—nor found him till after the angry throng had rushed on to the nearest lamp. One of them was left behind, standing close to our own railings. ”

“ He is not a man to be threatened."
This seemed to be taken rather angrily; but John went on speaking, as if he did not observe the fact.
"Nor am I one to be threatened, neither. Look here—the first one of you who attempted to break into Mr. Fletcher's house I should most certainly have shot. But I'd rather not shoot you, poor, starving fellows! I know what it is to be hungry. I'm sorry for you—sorry from the bottom of my heart."
There was no mistaking that compassionate accent, nor the murmur which followed it.
"But what must us do, Mr. Halifax?" cried Jacob Baines: "us be starved a'most. ”

“ It is your part to sign them, Phineas."
I obeyed.
"Isn't this better than hanging?" said John to the men, when he had distributed the little bits of paper—precious as pound-notes—and made them all fully understand the same. "Why, there isn't another gentleman in Norton Bury, who, if you had come to burn HIS house down, would not have had the constables or the soldiers, have shot down one-half of you like mad dogs, and sent the other half to the county gaol. Now, for all your misdoings, we let you go quietly home, well fed, and with food for children, too. WHY, think you?" ”

“ John continued. "All because he would not sell you, or give you, his wheat. Even so—it was HIS wheat, not yours. May not a man do what he likes with his own?"
The argument seemed to strike home. There is always a lurking sense of rude justice in a mob—at least a British mob. ”

“ Our house—and perhaps John within it!
On I ran, speeded by a dull murmur, which I fancied I heard; but still there was no one in the street—no one except the Abbey-watchman lounging in his box. I roused him, and asked if all was safe?—where were the rioters?
"What rioters?"
"At Abel Fletcher's mill; they may be at his house now—"
"Ay, I think they be."
"And will not one man in the town help him; no constables—no law?"
"Oh! he's a Quaker; the law don't help Quakers."
That was the truth—the hard, grinding truth—in those days. Liberty, justice, were idle names to Nonconformists of every kind ”

“ To burn down a gentleman's house is—hanging."
There was a hush, and then a shout of derision.
"Not a Quaker's! nobody'll get hanged for burning out a Quaker!"
"That be true enough," muttered Jael between her teeth. "We must e'en fight, as Mordecai's people fought, hand to hand, until they slew their enemies."
"Fight!" repeated John, half to himself, as he stood at the now- closed window, against which more than one blazing torch began to rattle. "Fight—with these?—What are you doing, Jael?" ”