The calm night awoke with clamorous sounds—charpoys overturning; a yabble-yabble of highpitched, frightened voices; a tinkle of broken glass; the rattle of whistles as the askaris took up the alarm and thudded in their bare feet through the dusty streets looking for the disturbance.

He said the people in the stamperies and many others were armed with sticks to support them.

[…]a ſtronger then I commeth after me / whos ſhue latchett I am not worthy to ſtoupe doune and vnloſe.

Mamma set up a card table, and one of the men said,You don't want a table for a picnic.She said,I do. I can't stand dirt. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.She had started saying that a lot, like a habit, and I did, too.