The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 130: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE VAULT IN THE CHURCH 107 self so long as he had a chance of carrying out his aims. He proceeded to the little door, he entered the church, and the light from the vault, glimmering feebly, seemed to be a dim, uncertain, ghostly halo hanging about the dead. But the moonbeams were shining through the windows, and they helped to subdue the light of the lantern, or to render it more sickly. They fell upon the pews of dark wood, upon the pulpit standing against one of the thick pillars, and upon three or four monuments with the sculptured effigies of the long defunct warriors whose remains had been buried there. It was evidently a very old church; in former times there had been a castle in the neighbourhood, and hence the monu- ments to which we have referred. The silence which pre- vailed until broken by the Burker’s heavy stamping feet would have struck solemnly to the soul of any other man, and would have induced him to tread lightly, but he was totally unsusceptible of such impressions, and he went tramp- ing along the aisle, indifferent to the mournful echoes which his nailed boots raised, and which might have been taken for the moanings of the spirits of the departed as they died away under the groined roofs at the farther extremity. On reaching the mouth of the vault, Barney the Burker descended into it by a flight of stone steps, and he very de- liberately seated himself upon a coffin near the block of stone on which Jonathan Carnabie was placed. The old man started at what he considered to be an act of impious dese- cration, but the Burker, not comprehending the meaning of that movement, fancied it was produced by a nearer view of his own hangdog features, and he exclaimed, ‘‘I tell you what it is, my old friend, I know I’m not so ’ansome as some people is, but I’m a deuced sight better; for try me at hard work, or question me as to my morals, or anythink of that sort, and you’ll just see what an admirable feller I am.” ‘““ T was not thinking of your personal appearance,” replied the old sexton, ‘‘ but I wish you would get off that coffin and go and sit down upon the steps.” “To be sure! ”’ exclaimed the Burker, obeying with alac- rity; and then bethinking himself of the sexton’s brandy- flask he gave a visible shudder, observing, “‘ It’s uncommon cold notwithstanding the season of the year.”’ ‘“ Refresh yourself,” said Jonathan, and he handed the flask. COMIC OOO Ss (GO)