The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 168: what you’re looking at

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stunther? says I, ‘is it fighting ye mane, when I’ve as good as taken ye prisoner before-hand ?’— and griping him by the throat, I throttled him, sir, in less time than ye’d be in tossing off a thimbleful of potheen. But pray go on telling me about the Charter House, my friend—and let’s hear all yourlittlegravances. Ye wero spaking of the discipline of the place just now; and suro it’s meself that knows what discipline ought to be.” “Ah! my dear sir, tho discipline of tho Army and that of the Church are two very different things,’ said Mr. Scales. ‘‘ We’re eighty Poor Brothers in this establishment; and every night the curfew rings—eight strokes of the bell! When one dies, there are only seventy-nine strokes until the vacancy is filled up ; and you may believe me when I tell you that there is something horrid in sitting in one’s lonely room of a dark wintry night, and counting the bell to see whether a Brother has not died since we all mct in the common hall in the afternoon. For there are somo very, very old men here; and old men go off, you know, like the snuff of a candle. Then, when one does die, and we hear the bell stop at seventy-nine, it sends the blood all cold and icelike to the heart—and ? No.73* —Mrsrnrain3s or Lonpon, THE MYSTERINS OF LONDON, t 2 shudder creeps over the frame, from head to foot,—for there’s no saying whose turn it may be next. Ah! captain, it may seem but a trifling thing to you—a vory trifling and paltry thing, this tolling of the curfew-bell: but I can assure you that to us, who aro pent up here, itis no such trivial matter. For, in the deep, deep silence of this cloistral building, the dreary, dull, monoto- nous tolling of that bell suddenly arouses the most painful thoughts—thoughts of approaching death, and coffins, and shronds, and new-made graves, and all the sombro ceremony of funerals. But to hear that bell toll one less—to know that a Brother has succumbed to the icy hand of the destroyer— to feel that thereis a gap in our fraternity—a va- cancy in ourassociation,—even though we may not have loved—perhaps not even respected the indi- vidualwho is gone,—still tohaveforced upon us, by tho deep-toned monitor, the conviction that he is gons,—this—this is terrible in our loneliness !”’ The captain made no observation; but he evi- dently listened with profound attention ;—and Mr. Scales, warming in his subjeet, went on. “T told you just now that I am naturally of a gay and cheerful disposition, andthatI can make myself | | | (C(O) DOO SS (SO)