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and ghostly hour, he rose up from his chair, took a key out of his
pocket, opened a locked cupboard, and brought forth a sack, a
crowbar of convenient size, a rope and chain, and other fishing
tackle of that nature. Disposing these articles about him in skilful
manner, he bestowed a parting defiance on Mrs. Cruncher,
extinguished the light, and went out.
Young Jerry, who had only made a feint of undressing when he
went to bed, was not long after his father. Under cover of the
darkness he followed out of the room, followed down the stairs,
followed down the court, followed out into the streets. He was in
no uneasiness concerning his getting into the house again, for it
was full of lodgers, and the door stood ajar all night.
Impelled by a laudable ambition to study the art and mystery of
his father’s honest calling, Young Jerry, keeping as close to house
fronts, walls, and doorways, as his eyes were close to one another,
held his honoured parent in view.
The honoured parent steering Northward, had not gone far, when
he was joined by another disciple of Izaak Walton, and the two
trudged on together.
Within half an hour from the first starting, they were beyond the
winking lamps, and the more than winking watchmen, and were
out upon a lonely road.
Another fisherman was picked up here-and that so silently, that if
Young Jerry had been superstitious, he might have supposed the
second follower of the gentle craft to have, all of a sudden, split
himself into two.
The three went on, and Young Jerry went on, until the three
stopped under a bank overhanging the road. Upon the top of the
bank was a low brick wall, surmounted by an iron railing. In the
shadow of bank and wall the three turned out of the road, and up a
blind lane, of which the wall-there, risen to some eight or ten feet
high-formed one side. Crouching down in a corner, peeping up
the lane, the next object that Young Jerry saw, was the form of his
honoured parent, pretty well defined against a watery and clouded
moon, nimbly scaling an iron gate. He was soon over, and then the
second fisherman got over, and then the third. They all dropped
softly on the ground within the gate, and lay there a little-listening
perhaps. Then, they moved away on their hands and knees.
It was now Young Jerry’s turn to approach the gate: which he did,
holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and
looking in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some
rank grass! and all the gravestones in the churchyard-it was a
large churchyard that they were in-looking on like ghosts in white,
while the church tower itself looked on like the ghost of a