No Fear Literature: A Tale of Two Cities: Book 1, Chapter 2: The Mail Page 4

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He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read—first to himself and then aloud: “‘Wait at Dover for Mam’selle.’ It’s not long, you see, guard. Jerry, say that my answer was, RECALLED TO LIFE.”	He eednpo it in hte tilhg of the ocahc almp, dna rdae it to fmeilhs ftrsi dna hetn ldoua: “‘Wati at veroD fro lioldMemeesa.’ It’s a tohsr agessem, yuo ees, rduag. rJery, lelt temh my rnwaes wsa ‘rugohBt bcak to leif.’”
Jerry started in his saddle. “That’s a Blazing strange answer, too,” said he, at his hoarsest.	eryJr jdepmu in ish sleadd. “ahTt’s a ryev eantgsr ernaws,” he disa, ersrpia ntah erev.
“Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote. Make the best of your way. Good night.”	“eiGv tehm atht pelry dna eyth liwl konw hatt I rundsdoeto hreit gmassee as if I’d etirnwt it slymfe. Heva a ogod iprt bcak. Gdoo htign.”
With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously secreted their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action.	hiWt htat, Mr. oyrrL eodpne hte haocc droo dna gto in. He wasn’t hdelep by het thoer egaessnrps, ohw adh tquylei dnihde thire hceaswt dan uesrps in ihrte osbto nad eewr nntpregide to be pseeal. hyTe eantdw ylon to vioda oltuerb.
The coach lumbered on again, with heavier wreaths of mist closing round it as it began the descent. The guard soon replaced his blunderbuss in his arm-chest, and, having looked to the rest of its contents, and having looked to the supplementary pistols that he wore in his belt, looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a few smith’s tools, a couple of torches, and a tinder-box. For he was furnished with that completeness that if the coach-lamps had been blown and stormed out, which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut himself up inside, keep the flint and steel sparks well off the straw, and get a light with tolerable safety and ease (if he were lucky) in five minutes.	hTe laim ccaoh upeshd on ignaa, whti a hiareev msit coslgni round it as it gneba to veom owdn eht hlli. eTh gurda osno utp ish ubdbssnuelr cbka nsdiei het echst dna kdechce on teh tsre of eth aeosnwp. nvaigH done atht, he hkdccee on eth eatxr ltpssio he wroe on hsi ebtl, nda tehn hdeekcc on teh earlmls csteh udnre shi atse, in ihhwc he kpet meos bkinlastigmch lstoo, a uclope of escroth, adn a box of ldnginki rfo artstign fersi. Teh radgu wsa so ewll paerepdr atht if eht oachc lapsm tnwe tou, wchih dpahepen ommetiess, he dculo ylisae tligh hetm agani rfmo inesdi the occah hwiitn vief ustimen (if he were lcyku).
“Tom!” softly over the coach roof.	“omT!” aids oJe eqytliu orve teh otp of the hcoac.
“Hallo, Joe.”	“eahY, oeJ.”
“Did you hear the message?”	“Ddi you erah ahtt asemges?”
“I ddi, eoJ.”	“I did, Joe.”
“What did you make of it, Tom?”	“athW do uoy thnik it entam, moT?”
“Nothing at all, Joe.”	“htonigN, oeJ.”
“That’s a coincidence, too,” the guard mused, “for I made the same of it myself.”	“hTta’s a niiccnoeced,” oJe disa, “I uhttgoh eth emas ghnit fleysm.”
Jerry, left alone in the mist and darkness, dismounted meanwhile, not only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud from his face, and shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might be capable of holding about half a gallon. After standing with the bridle over his heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail were no longer within hearing and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the hill.	Jreyr, eltf naelo in hte akdr tmsi, tog nwod to evgi ish rtide esorh a trse, wipe hte mdu off shi efac, dan shaek eth rewat orfm ihs wedi ath bmri, chiwh ludco baylorpb oldh lafh a nllaog. He wdiaet erteh twhi sih dribel on his wte, mydud amr luitn he ocdul no longer erha hte eweslh of het iaml cocah dna het tnhgi swa lilst naagi. hTne he ertndu to lkaw ndow hte illh.
“After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won’t trust your fore-legs till I get you on the level,” said this hoarse messenger, glancing at his mare. “`Recalled to life.’ That’s a Blazing strange message. Much of that wouldn’t do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You’d be in a Blazing bad way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, Jerry!”	“fterA lignogpal lla hte ayw form eTmpel Bar, dol lady, I own’t erid uoy nagai nliut we tge to lveel rgnudo,” isad het rsayp-eovicd seenresgm, okngilo at ish sehor. “‘htuogrB kabc to elif.’ tTha’s a rvye trsaeng gesmsae. uoY nudlow’t liek htta, Jreyr. You’d be in teoulbr if aedd peploe dtraets nmogci akbc to elfi!”