- end_line
- 8132
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8075
- text
- Fourth’s equestrian statue.
The people were mostly mechanics and artisans in their holiday clothes;
but mixed with them were a good many soldiers, in lean, lank, and
dinnerless undresses, and sporting attenuated rattans. These troops
belonged to the various regiments then in town. Police officers, also,
were conspicuous in their uniforms. At first perfect silence and
decorum prevailed.
Addressing this orderly throng was a pale, hollow-eyed young man, in a
snuff-colored surtout, who looked worn with much watching, or much
toil, or too little food. His features were good, his whole air was
respectable, and there was no mistaking the fact, that he was strongly
in earnest in what he was saying.
In his hand was a soiled, inflammatory-looking pamphlet, from which he
frequently read; following up the quotations with nervous appeals to
his hearers, a rolling of his eyes, and sometimes the most frantic
gestures. I was not long within hearing of him, before I became aware
that this youth was a Chartist.
Presently the crowd increased, and some commotion was raised, when I
noticed the police officers augmenting in number; and by and by, they
began to glide through the crowd, politely hinting at the propriety of
dispersing. The first persons thus accosted were the soldiers, who
accordingly sauntered off, switching their rattans, and admiring their
high-polished shoes. It was plain that the Charter did not hang very
heavy round their hearts. For the rest, they also gradually broke up;
and at last I saw the speaker himself depart.
I do not know why, but I thought he must be some despairing elder son,
supporting by hard toil his mother and sisters; for of such many
political desperadoes are made.
That same Sunday afternoon, I strolled toward the outskirts of the
town, and attracted by the sight of two great Pompey’s pillars, in the
shape of black steeples, apparently rising directly from the soil, I
approached them with much curiosity. But looking over a low parapet
connecting them, what was my surprise to behold at my feet a smoky
hollow in the ground, with rocky walls, and dark holes at one end,
carrying out of view several lines of iron railways; while far beyond,
straight out toward the open country, ran an endless railroad. Over the
place, a handsome Moorish arch of stone was flung; and gradually, as I
gazed upon it, and at the little side arches at the bottom of the
hollow, there came over me an undefinable feeling, that I had
previously seen the whole thing before. Yet how could that be?
Certainly, I had never been in Liverpool before: but then, that Moorish
arch! surely I remembered that very well. It was not till several
months after reaching home in America, that my perplexity upon this
matter was cleared away. In glancing over an old number of the Penny
Magazine, there I saw a picture of the place to the life; and
remembered having seen the same print years previous. It was a
representation of the spot where the Manchester railroad enters the
outskirts of the town.
- title
- Chunk 5