Book The First: Poverty Chapter 2 Fellow Travellers

'No more of yesterday's howling over yonder to-day, Sir; is there?'

'I have heard none.' 'Then you may be sure there is none. When these people howl, they howl
to be heard.' 'Most people do, I suppose.'

'Ah! but these people are always howling. Never happy otherwise.' 'Do you mean the Marseilles people?'

'I mean the French people. They're always at it. As to Marseilles, we
know what Marseilles is. It sent the most insurrectionary tune into the
world that was ever composed. It couldn't exist without allonging and
marshonging to something or other--victory or death, or blazes, or
something.'

The speaker, with a whimsical good humour upon him all the time, looked
over the parapet-wall with the greatest disparagement of Marseilles; and
taking up a determined position by putting his hands in his pockets and
rattling his money at it, apostrophised it with a short laugh. '

Allong and marshong, indeed. It would be more creditable to you,
I think, to let other people allong and marshong about their lawful
business, instead of shutting 'em up in quarantine!'

'Tiresome enough,' said the other.

'But we shall be out to-day.' 'Out to-day!' repeated the first. 'It's almost an aggravation of the
enormity, that we shall be out to-day. Out! What have we ever been in
for?' 'For no very strong reason, I must say. But as we come from the East,
and as the East is the country of the plague--'