The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

18 REYNOLDS’ WORKS of any of those whose proceedings Christian had been watching, he descended from the tree. | It was now two o’clock in the afternoon, and he knew not whether to retrace his way to Ramsgate, or to linger in that neighbourhood with the chance of seeing anything more that might throw the faintest light on what was going on within the precincts of Verner House. He was, however, fearful of being detected in that vicinage, in which case his presence might possibly do. more harm than good to Laura’s interests. He had less misgiving in respect to the intentions harboured toward her than he had previously entertained; that is to say, he no longer thought it was for an outrageously vile purpose that she had been brought thither, but that matrimonial views were entertained, —or else why the presence of that gentleman in black, who was evidently a minister of religion of some denomination or another? He began to retrace his way toward the town, partially with the idea of acquainting the landlord of the hotel with all he had seen, and asking his advice and assistance; yet his mind was not altogether made up to the adoption of this step, inasmuch as he naturally reflected that the landlord had quite enough to do in attending to his own business without attending to that of others, and that he might, moreover, be reluctant to perform a hostile part toward a man of wealth and influence in the neighbourhood. For an instant Christian thought of boldly addressing himself to a magistrate, but it required only another moment’s thought to make him aware that there was not sufficient ground for legal interference in any shape or way. In a word, our young hero could settle his mind to no decisive course of action, and yet he was determined not to abandon the enterprise in which he had embarked. He entered Ramsgate, and as he was proceeding toward the hotel, he beheld a group of mountebanks exhibiting their antics in the market-place. Three or four, apparelled in a quaint costume, were mounted on high stilts, while a companion in plain clothes was beating a huge drum and running his lips rapidly along a set of Pandean pipes con- veniently thrust into his buttoned-up waistcoat. This individual’s head was thrown back in the most approved style adopted by those artistes who exercise their powers of harmony on that humble and unpretending instrument. ECORMIClIOOKS (E(0)