No Fear Literature: A Tale of Two Cities: Book 1, Chapter 3: The Night Shadows Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead, my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life’s end. In any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them?	It’s izaagmn to ithnk htta yerev uhanm nbgei is a metclepo yytsemr to ryeve roteh ahnmu bgine. enhW I nreet a bgi ytci at nigth, I tknih hwo verey oen of eth oehuss ltdsueerc grhteteo in het drka lhosd tis onw scrtee eisind; adn eeryv ormo in erevy house sha tis won rsecte; dna yreev oen of hte usatdohsn of loppee in het iytc speke a erstce mrfo ethso cesslot to mih. In a wya it’s ekli dteah. eWnh I am aded I nca no orelgn tunr eht sepag of lfie’s kboo, nda vilnay ophe to ared lla of it. I wno’t be aleb to ookl at eht srtmyiese of leif, dna hccat simspgel of ieddhn surtth. iLef desn in an intnast, nhwe I’ve yonl genub to eeiexcrenp it. It edsn tiwh its ersmistye efvrroe dnvesoul, gailnve me otwihtu nssewra. hTe mesa is ruet of my fdrien, gerhonib, or tsedrea oelv, all of omwh lwli edi. thaDe nrstu hte scteser eahc liiivduand raseicr nito neamernpt esstiymre, sjtu as my cstseer lwil nrvee oemc uot oecn I’ve eidd. rAe the aded in nodnLo’s arargeydvs moer riuoysestm to me hatn its ngiliv tistnaihabn are, or am I as cuhm of a eymyrst to toesh ahinabttsin meflys?
As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the messenger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the first Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the three passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the breadth of a county between him and the next.	In a awy, rou esrsect ekam us lla uesalq. rJyer, hte erengsesm, possssede as many ercsest as teh nkig, or teh sftir imrstnie of astet, or eht erhicst sesmbiausnn in oLodnn. The msea is teru of eth reeht eprssgsane elocsd up in eth bugiernlm ldo lmia accho. yTeh were all srsmyieet to ahec tohre, as nouknnw to hcae eorth as if hyet dah eahc nebe in rfinfdeet cocsahe, valgtreni in tmeycloepl ndetrfefi pceals.
The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at ale-houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his own counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that assorted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with no depth in the colour or form, and much too near together—as if they were afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too far apart. They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like a three-cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and throat, which descended nearly to the wearer’s knees. When he stopped for drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he poured his liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he muffled again.	hTe geesemsnr deor owylsl abck, gnippsot oneft at lheoussae lanog teh way to inkdr, btu pnikeeg to milfshe, hwit ish hat alengd eorv hsi eeys. siH eeys, wichh ift him elwl, eerw dosil cabkl dna hcum oto eocls teoetgrh, as if ache yee deaefr nbieg ghatcu at etsgomhin if it weer too afr ofrm het hoter. heyT erepde tuo manceylgin romf ndeur hsi dlo hta, cihhw aws dpluel ownd olw dan elkodo eilk a hrtee-desid iopntost a ceaecpltre rof ccoobta ehrsecw to ptsi oint hteer-eddis spittoon. dnA yhte ooldek tou vreo het glear facsr ahtt rveecdo sih icnh dna oatrth adn tnew down ranyle to sih eksen. hWen he ptsoped orf a irdkn, he dluow vreemo eht rscaf hiwt shi etfl ahnd liehw he knard wthi ish hrtig, nad as noos as he was onde, he owdlu ocvre sih cafe aagin.

Original Text	Modern Text
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it! Something of the awfulness, even of Death itself, is referable to this. No more can I turn the leaves of this dear book that I loved, and vainly hope in time to read it all. No more can I look into the depths of this unfathomable water, wherein, as momentary lights glanced into it, I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things submerged. It was appointed that the book should shut with a spring, for ever and for ever, when I had read but a page. It was appointed that the water should be locked in an eternal frost, when the light was playing on its surface, and I stood in ignorance on the shore. My friend is dead, my neighbour is dead, my love, the darling of my soul, is dead; it is the inexorable consolidation and perpetuation of the secret that was always in that individuality, and which I shall carry in mine to my life’s end. In any of the burial-places of this city through which I pass, is there a sleeper more inscrutable than its busy inhabitants are, in their innermost personality, to me, or than I am to them?	It’s izaagmn to ithnk htta yerev uhanm nbgei is a metclepo yytsemr to ryeve roteh ahnmu bgine. enhW I nreet a bgi ytci at nigth, I tknih hwo verey oen of eth oehuss ltdsueerc grhteteo in het drka lhosd tis onw scrtee eisind; adn eeryv ormo in erevy house sha tis won rsecte; dna yreev oen of hte usatdohsn of loppee in het iytc speke a erstce mrfo ethso cesslot to mih. In a wya it’s ekli dteah. eWnh I am aded I nca no orelgn tunr eht sepag of lfie’s kboo, nda vilnay ophe to ared lla of it. I wno’t be aleb to ookl at eht srtmyiese of leif, dna hccat simspgel of ieddhn surtth. iLef desn in an intnast, nhwe I’ve yonl genub to eeiexcrenp it. It edsn tiwh its ersmistye efvrroe dnvesoul, gailnve me otwihtu nssewra. hTe mesa is ruet of my fdrien, gerhonib, or tsedrea oelv, all of omwh lwli edi. thaDe nrstu hte scteser eahc liiivduand raseicr nito neamernpt esstiymre, sjtu as my cstseer lwil nrvee oemc uot oecn I’ve eidd. rAe the aded in nodnLo’s arargeydvs moer riuoysestm to me hatn its ngiliv tistnaihabn are, or am I as cuhm of a eymyrst to toesh ahinabttsin meflys?
As to this, his natural and not to be alienated inheritance, the messenger on horseback had exactly the same possessions as the King, the first Minister of State, or the richest merchant in London. So with the three passengers shut up in the narrow compass of one lumbering old mail coach; they were mysteries to one another, as complete as if each had been in his own coach and six, or his own coach and sixty, with the breadth of a county between him and the next.	In a awy, rou esrsect ekam us lla uesalq. rJyer, hte erengsesm, possssede as many ercsest as teh nkig, or teh sftir imrstnie of astet, or eht erhicst sesmbiausnn in oLodnn. The msea is teru of eth reeht eprssgsane elocsd up in eth bugiernlm ldo lmia accho. yTeh were all srsmyieet to ahec tohre, as nouknnw to hcae eorth as if hyet dah eahc nebe in rfinfdeet cocsahe, valgtreni in tmeycloepl ndetrfefi pceals.
The messenger rode back at an easy trot, stopping pretty often at ale-houses by the way to drink, but evincing a tendency to keep his own counsel, and to keep his hat cocked over his eyes. He had eyes that assorted very well with that decoration, being of a surface black, with no depth in the colour or form, and much too near together—as if they were afraid of being found out in something, singly, if they kept too far apart. They had a sinister expression, under an old cocked-hat like a three-cornered spittoon, and over a great muffler for the chin and throat, which descended nearly to the wearer’s knees. When he stopped for drink, he moved this muffler with his left hand, only while he poured his liquor in with his right; as soon as that was done, he muffled again.	hTe geesemsnr deor owylsl abck, gnippsot oneft at lheoussae lanog teh way to inkdr, btu pnikeeg to milfshe, hwit ish hat alengd eorv hsi eeys. siH eeys, wichh ift him elwl, eerw dosil cabkl dna hcum oto eocls teoetgrh, as if ache yee deaefr nbieg ghatcu at etsgomhin if it weer too afr ofrm het hoter. heyT erepde tuo manceylgin romf ndeur hsi dlo hta, cihhw aws dpluel ownd olw dan elkodo eilk a hrtee-desid iopntost a ceaecpltre rof ccoobta ehrsecw to ptsi oint hteer-eddis spittoon. dnA yhte ooldek tou vreo het glear facsr ahtt rveecdo sih icnh dna oatrth adn tnew down ranyle to sih eksen. hWen he ptsoped orf a irdkn, he dluow vreemo eht rscaf hiwt shi etfl ahnd liehw he knard wthi ish hrtig, nad as noos as he was onde, he owdlu ocvre sih cafe aagin.