{"product_id":"2940013696440","title":"The Silkworms of Florence","description":"\"How old do you say it is?\" asked Mr. Pringle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Let me see,\" reflected the beadle, stroking his long grey beard. \"He\u003cbr\u003ekilled Mr. Grebble in 1742, I think it was--the date's on the tombstone\u003cbr\u003eover yonder in the church--and he hung in these irons a matter of sixty or\u003cbr\u003eseventy year. I don't rightly know the spot where the gibbet stood, but\u003cbr\u003eit was in a field they used to call in my young days 'Gibbet Marsh.'\u003cbr\u003eYou'll find it round by the Tillingham, back of the windmill.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And is this the gibbet? How dreadful!\" chorused the two daughters of a\u003cbr\u003eclergyman, very summery, very gushing, and very inquisitive, who with\u003cbr\u003etheir father completed the party.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Lor, no, miss! Why, that's the Rye pillory. It's stood up here nigh a\u003cbr\u003ehundred year! And now I'll show you the town charters.\" And the beadle,\u003cbr\u003ewith some senile hesitation of gait, led the way into a small attic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMr. Pringle's mythical literary agency being able to take care of itself,\u003cbr\u003ehis chambers in Furnival's Inn had not seen him for a\u003cbr\u003emonth past. To a man of his cultured and fastidious bent the Bank Holiday\u003cbr\u003eresort was especially odious; he affected regions unknown to the tripper,\u003cbr\u003eand his presence at Rye had been determined by Jeakes' quaint\u003cbr\u003e\"Perambulation of the Cinque Ports,\" which he had lately picked up in\u003cbr\u003eBooksellers' Row. Wandering with his camera from one decayed city to\u003cbr\u003eanother, he had left Rye only to hasten back when disgusted with the\u003cbr\u003emodernity of the other ports, and for the last fortnight his tall slim\u003cbr\u003efigure had haunted the town, his fair complexion swarthy and his\u003cbr\u003eport-wine mark almost lost in the tanning begotten of the marsh winds and\u003cbr\u003ethe sun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The town's had a rare lot of charters and privileges granted to it,\"\u003cbr\u003eboasted the beadle, turning to a chest on which for all its cobwebs and\u003cbr\u003emildew the lines of elaborate carving showed distinctly. Opening it, he\u003cbr\u003ebegan to dredge up parchments from the huddled mass inside, giving very\u003cbr\u003efree translations of the old Norman-French or Latin the while.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Musty, dirty old things!\" was the comment of the two ladies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePringle turned to a smaller chest standing neglected in a dark corner,\u003cbr\u003ewhose lid, when he tried it, he found also unlocked, and which was nearly\u003cbr\u003eas full of papers as the larger one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Are these town records also?\" inquired Pringle, as the beadle gathered\u003cbr\u003eup his robes preparatory to moving on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not they,\" was the contemptuous reply. \"That there chest was found in\u003cbr\u003ethe attic of an old house that's just been pulled down to build the noo\u003cbr\u003ebank, and it's offered to the Corporation; but I don't think they'll\u003cbr\u003espend money on rubbish like that!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Here's something with a big seal!\" exclaimed the clergyman, pouncing on\u003cbr\u003ea discoloured parchment with the avid interest of an antiquary. The folds\u003cbr\u003ewere glued with damp, and endeavouring to smooth them out the parchment\u003cbr\u003eslipped through his fingers; it dropped plumb by the weight of its heavy\u003cbr\u003eseal, and as he sprang to save it his glasses fell off and buried\u003cbr\u003ethemselves among the papers. While he hunted for them Pringle picked up\u003cbr\u003ethe document, and began to read.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not much account, I should say,\" commented the beadle, with a\u003cbr\u003esupercilious snort. \"Ah! you should have seen our Jubilee Address, with\u003cbr\u003ethe town seal to it, all in blue and red and gold--cost every penny of\u003cbr\u003efifty pound! That's the noo bank what you're looking at from this window.\u003cbr\u003eHow the town is improving, to be sure!\" He indicated a nightmare in red\u003cbr\u003ebrick and stucco which had displaced a Jacobean mansion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd while the beadle prosed Pringle read:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"CINQUE PORTS TO WIT:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"TO ALL and every the Barons Bailiffs Jurats and Commonalty of the Cinque\u003cbr\u003ePort of Rye and to Anthony Shipperbolt to Mayor thereof","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47152658153712,"sku":"2940013696440","price":2.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013696440_p0.jpg?v=1763584511","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013696440","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}