Читать книгу Charles Peace, or The Adventures of a Notorious Burglar онлайн

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These loved the bright air and the green fresh meadows too well to sing many voluntaries in the smoky atmosphere of the furnace and factory.

Thus the cheap concerts of these songsters cost the operatives of the mills long walks beyond the brick and mortar mazes of the town.

But thousands thought them cheap at that price.

“Ah! I mind the time when I sang that very song in this room, more than twenty years agone,” said Nat.

“Aye—​better than that,” said a middle-aged man. “It was on the very night that Lord Ethalwood lost his son—​the last on ’em as was left. He aint bin the same man since.”

“And who might that be?” enquired Peace.

“Well, his lordship,” returned the other—​“the owner of the foine estate on the top of the hill, called Broxbridge Hall.”

“Ah! a fine place, is it?”

“Yes, surely—​a should think it was.”

“Well, never mind about that, his lordship aint half so happy as we are, I’ll bet a crown,” said another of the company. “Who’s for the next song? Come, Nelly, can’t you give us something soft and sentimental, eh?”