Channel than so
many tired butterflies. A boat an' a crew they desired to sail 'em over to
France, where yet awhile folks hadn't tore down the Images. They couldn't
abide cruel Canterbury Bells ringin' to Bulverhithe for more pore men an'
women to be burnded, nor the King's proud messenger ridin' through the
land givin' orders to tear down the Images. They couldn't abide it no
shape. Nor yet they couldn't get their boat an' crew to flit by without
Leave an' Good-will from Flesh an' Blood; an' Flesh an' Blood came an'
went about its own business the while the Marsh was swarvin' up, an'
swarvin' up with Pharisees from all England over, striving all means to
get _through_ at Flesh an' Blood to tell 'en their sore need.... I don't
know as you've ever heard say Pharisees are like chickens?'

'My woman used to say that too,' said Hobden, folding his brown arms.

'They be. You run too many chickens together, an' the ground sickens like,
an' you get a squat, an' your chickens die. 'Same way, you crowd Pharisees
all in one place--_they_ don't die, but Flesh an' Blood walkin' among 'em
is apt to sick up an' pine off. _They_ don't mean it, an' Flesh an' Blood
don't know it, but that's the truth--as I've heard. The Pharisees through
bein' all stenched up an' frighted, an' tryin' to come _through_ with
their supplications, they nature-ally changed the thin airs and humours in
Flesh an' Blood. It lay on the Marsh like thunder. Men saw their churches
ablaze with the wildfire in the windows after dark; they saw their cattle
scatterin' and no man scarin'; their sheep flockin' and no man drivin';
their horses latherin' an' no man leadin'; they saw the liddle low green
lights more than ever in the dik-sides; they heard the liddle feet
patterin' more than ever round the houses; an' night an' day, day an'
night, 'twas all as though they were bein' creeped up on, and hinted at by
some One or Other that couldn't rightly shape their trouble. Oh, I lay
they sweated! Man an' maid, woman an' child, their Nature done 'em no
service all the weeks while the Marsh was swarvin' up with Pharisees. But
they was Flesh an' Blood, an' Marsh men before all. They reckoned the
signs sinnified trouble for the Marsh. Or that the sea 'ud rear up against
Dymchurch Wall an' they'd be drownded like Old Winchelsea; or that the
Plague was comin'. So they looked for the meanin' in the sea or in the
clouds--far an' high up. They never thought to look near an' knee-high