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Men
born
and
reared
upon
the
Bridge
found
life
unendurably
dull
and
inane
elsewhere
.
History
tells
of
one
of
these
who
left
the
Bridge
at
the
age
of
seventy-one
and
retired
to
the
country
.
But
he
could
only
fret
and
toss
in
his
bed
;
he
could
not
go
to
sleep
,
the
deep
stillness
was
so
painful
,
so
awful
,
so
oppressive
.
When
he
was
worn
out
with
it
,
at
last
,
he
fled
back
to
his
old
home
,
a
lean
and
haggard
spectre
,
and
fell
peacefully
to
rest
and
pleasant
dreams
under
the
lulling
music
of
the
lashing
waters
and
the
boom
and
crash
and
thunder
of
London
Bridge
.
In
the
times
of
which
we
are
writing
,
the
Bridge
furnished
'
object
lessons
'
in
English
history
for
its
children
--
namely
,
the
livid
and
decaying
heads
of
renowned
men
impaled
upon
iron
spikes
atop
of
its
gateways
.
But
we
digress
.
Hendon
's
lodgings
were
in
the
little
inn
on
the
Bridge
.
As
he
neared
the
door
with
his
small
friend
,
a
rough
voice
said
--
"
So
,
thou
'
rt
come
at
last
!
Thou
'
lt
not
escape
again
,
I
warrant
thee
;
and
if
pounding
thy
bones
to
a
pudding
can
teach
thee
somewhat
,
thou
'
lt
not
keep
us
waiting
another
time
,
mayhap
,
"
--
and
John
Canty
put
out
his
hand
to
seize
the
boy
.
Miles
Hendon
stepped
in
the
way
and
said
--
"
Not
too
fast
,
friend
.
Thou
art
needlessly
rough
,
methinks
.
What
is
the
lad
to
thee
?
"
"
If
it
be
any
business
of
thine
to
make
and
meddle
in
others
'
affairs
,
he
is
my
son
.
"
"
'
Tis
a
lie
!
"
cried
the
little
King
,
hotly
.
"
Boldly
said
,
and
I
believe
thee
,
whether
thy
small
headpiece
be
sound
or
cracked
,
my
boy
.
But
whether
this
scurvy
ruffian
be
thy
father
or
no
,
'
tis
all
one
,
he
shall
not
have
thee
to
beat
thee
and
abuse
,
according
to
his
threat
,
so
thou
prefer
to
bide
with
me
.
"