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PinkMonkey.com-Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens




919

trees, and not in the midst of dreadful engines which make young
children old before they know what childhood is, and give them
the exhaustion and infirmity of age, without, like age, the privilege
to die. God send that old nursery tales were true, and that gypsies
stole such children by the score!

The great race of the day had just been run; and the close lines
of people, on either side of the course, suddenly breaking up and
pouring into it, imparted a new liveliness to the scene, which was
again all busy movement. Some hurried eagerly to catch a glimpse
of the winning horse; others darted to and fro, searching, no less
eagerly, for the carriages they had left in quest of better stations.
Here, a little knot gathered round a pea and thimble table to watch
the plucking of some unhappy greenhorn; and there, another
proprietor with his confederates in various disguises--one man in
spectacles; another, with an eyeglass and a stylish hat; a third,
dressed as a farmer well to do in the world, with his top-coat over
his arm and his flash notes in a large leathern pocket-book; and all
with heavy-handled whips to represent most innocent country
fellows who had trotted there on horseback--sought, by loud and
noisy talk and pretended play, to entrap some unwary customer,
while the gentlemen confederates (of more villainous aspect still,
in clean linen and good clothes), betrayed their close interest in
the concern by the anxious furtive glance they cast on all new
comers. These would be hanging on the outskirts of a wide circle
of people assembled round some itinerant juggler, opposed, in his
turn, by a noisy band of music, or the classic game of ‘Ring the
Bull,’ while ventriloquists holding dialogues with wooden dolls,
and fortune-telling women smothering the cries of real babies,
divided with them, and many more, the general attention of the


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