The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. “It is no good playing a game. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. There it is. I don't believe he is much past forty. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day.
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