Then, in a moment, by the magic of eloquence, the great day of retribution was no longer faint and distant, but upon them in all its terrors; and they who in the morning had leaned forward eagerly to catch the message of mercy now shrank and cowered from the thunder that pealed over their heads, and the lightning of awful words that showed them by flashes the earth quaking and casting forth her dead--the sea trembling and casting forth her dead--the terrible trumpet pealing from pole to pole-the books opened--the dread Judge seated--and hell yawning for the guilty.
“Well, sir, how did you like this sermon?” said Fry, respectfully.
“He won't preach many more such, (imperative mood) him. I'll teach him to preach at people from the pulpit.”
“Well, that is what I say, sir, but you said you liked to hear him preach at folk.”
“So I do,” replied Hawes angrily, “but not at me, ye fool!”
This afternoon two of the prisoners rang their bells, and on the warder coming to them begged in much agitation to see the chaplain. Mr. Eden was always at the prisoners' orders and came to both of these; one was a man about thirty, the other a mere boy. The same evening Mr. Hawes sat down, his features working wrathfully, and dispatched a note to Mr. Locock, one of the visiting justices and a particular admirer of his.
Meeting Mr. Eden in the prison, he did not return that gentleman's salute. This was his way of implying war; events were thickening, a storm was brewing. This same evening there was a tap at Mr. Eden's private door and Evans entered the room. The man's manner was peculiar. He wore outside a dogged look, as if fighting against some inward feeling; he entered looking down most perniciously at the floor. “Well, Evans?”
Evans approached, his eyes still glued upon the floor. He shoved a printed paper roughly into Mr. Eden's hand, and said in a tone of sulky reproach, “Saw ye fret because ye could not get it, and couldn't bear to see ye fret.”
“You are very welcome, sir,” said Evans, with momentary deference and kindness. Then turning suddenly at the door in great wrath, with a tendency to whimper, he roared out, “Ye'll get me turned out of my place, that's what ye'll do!” and went off apparently in tremendous dudgeon. The printed paper contained “the rules of the prison,” a copy of which Mr. Eden had asked from Hawes and been refused. Evans had watched his opportunity, got them from another warder in return for two glasses of grog outside the jail.