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Yazar: Charles Dickens

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They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the
night, and then rode forward again when all the town was asleep.
Among the many wild changes observable on familiar things which
made this wild ride unreal, not the least was the seeming rarity
of sleep. After long and lonely spurring over dreary roads, they
would come to a cluster of poor cottages, not steeped in
darkness, but all glittering with lights, and would find the
people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night, circling
hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawn up
together singing a Liberty song.

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