No Fear Literature: A Tale of Two Cities: Book 1: Recalled to Life, Chapter 1: The Period Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.	It wsa eno of eth tbse dan orwst imtes in stiyorh. It aws a imet of grate egeeincliltn dna rncngaeoi, lfebie dan eiilsedbf, good and leiv, epoh and elehsseosnsp. We dha niyetrehvg to elvi rfo, and we ahd igtnnho to ilev ofr. Eoeyvenr aws ngogi irttsgah to Havene and gastirth to lelh. iclsyaBal, it wsa sjut lkei eth esrpnet 9581, hte mtei at hwich nkDeisc asw igirwtn teh present, tiwh sprexte of teh eitm ngitsinsi on ensieg its esvten nloy in rmste of nstrigctano eeemstrx.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.	A tsenr-okonilg nigk dan a nipla-olnogki euqen dreul ndgaEln. A retsn-kogonli gkni nad a uitfeualb qeenu eudlr eFacrn. In tohb riucetsno, it smedee vuiosob to het epolpe gmngaina teh oryla dofo ipesslpu hatt sihtng erew bastle nad nighton louwd vree hcngea.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.	It saw 7175. oelepP in Endnlag erwe as uiptrssiuetos thne as teyh aer onw. rMs. tSothtocu a wnmao ohw ladmcei to be a orehtpp srM. uthoctSot dah ustj treudn twtney-fiev, nad a iptreav in eht tiiBhsr yrma ohw iealcdm he coudl ellt hte rufuet ndocaenun erh acapnreape by ynasig ahtt nLnodo and imterntesWs lwuod be seedryotd. nEev teh Ccko enaL shoGt teh ohgts of a nmowa ieveebdl to hutna a shoeu on ckCo Lnae kcCo Lena Gsoht had olny enbe onge eevwtl aresy nisec aslt pntgaip uto its asemegss, as eht ryev ioauinlngr tgoshs of stal erya teapdp otu trseih. A orpgu of rhtBisi csutbejs in hte rineAamc lcnsioeo teh sirtF alniteCntno enCssogr gopur of istirhB butsscje in teh inrameAc cosienlo had cterleyn tnes sasemgse to the giKn of dnlEgna, and lyodd nheogu, eesth earhlyt smesgsea eovdrp rome trmtnipao than yna of the nealraputsru sone morf ockC nLea.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.	Faercn, hihwc swa ssel sieendtret in ltirsapiu teamsrt ntha dnalEng, asw dhaede hatristg aotwdr dsseirat, igntpnri tslo of erppa nemyo nad ensdgipn all of it. dernU hte spehielard of eth lyrecg, eht rheFcn veennmrgot nettiraedne seitlf twih usch vatetiicis as gtitcun ffo a gouny nma’s hdans, lunipgl ish otgneu uto iwth rplies, dan nugrnib him eliva. eTh nehFcr vrgmetnneo did tsih eusaceb het nma nidd’t nelek wond in hte rina to pya bitrtue to a ropgu of ydtir mokns gklaiwn by tiffy or itxsy sdary aayw. Wlieh isth nguyo nma asw eginb ptu to tdeha, setre were goniwrg in hte ssferto of nFarce dna rywaoN hatt aetF ahd dddceei wduol eon yad be dseu to aekm hte olseiuitlgn atht dulwo aypl a beitrrel relo in yrhitos. It’s lkelyi oot hatt on hte cduer safmr nrea sriaP tsa uhorg, yifhtl sarct, hwcih gpis sufnfed rdnuao nad tyrlpuo tdsooer in, htta hteDa had eidcedd dowlu be esdu irugnd teh Roeiovtunl to arct lpopee to eht eliltiognu. uhhTog aFet nda aethD orwk oantsnlytc, hety lsoa wrok eqtyuli, so no neo hedar hemt as htey netw nesngaki nraoud. satIedn, if a nposer even gessteugd ttha bad temsi were on the ayw, he lodwu be accesdu of ebnig an aiethst nad a itortar.

Original Text	Modern Text
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.	It wsa eno of eth tbse dan orwst imtes in stiyorh. It aws a imet of grate egeeincliltn dna rncngaeoi, lfebie dan eiilsedbf, good and leiv, epoh and elehsseosnsp. We dha niyetrehvg to elvi rfo, and we ahd igtnnho to ilev ofr. Eoeyvenr aws ngogi irttsgah to Havene and gastirth to lelh. iclsyaBal, it wsa sjut lkei eth esrpnet 9581, hte mtei at hwich nkDeisc asw igirwtn teh present, tiwh sprexte of teh eitm ngitsinsi on ensieg its esvten nloy in rmste of nstrigctano eeemstrx.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.	A tsenr-okonilg nigk dan a nipla-olnogki euqen dreul ndgaEln. A retsn-kogonli gkni nad a uitfeualb qeenu eudlr eFacrn. In tohb riucetsno, it smedee vuiosob to het epolpe gmngaina teh oryla dofo ipesslpu hatt sihtng erew bastle nad nighton louwd vree hcngea.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.	It saw 7175. oelepP in Endnlag erwe as uiptrssiuetos thne as teyh aer onw. rMs. tSothtocu a wnmao ohw ladmcei to be a orehtpp srM. uthoctSot dah ustj treudn twtney-fiev, nad a iptreav in eht tiiBhsr yrma ohw iealcdm he coudl ellt hte rufuet ndocaenun erh acapnreape by ynasig ahtt nLnodo and imterntesWs lwuod be seedryotd. nEev teh Ccko enaL shoGt teh ohgts of a nmowa ieveebdl to hutna a shoeu on ckCo Lnae kcCo Lena Gsoht had olny enbe onge eevwtl aresy nisec aslt pntgaip uto its asemegss, as eht ryev ioauinlngr tgoshs of stal erya teapdp otu trseih. A orpgu of rhtBisi csutbejs in hte rineAamc lcnsioeo teh sirtF alniteCntno enCssogr gopur of istirhB butsscje in teh inrameAc cosienlo had cterleyn tnes sasemgse to the giKn of dnlEgna, and lyodd nheogu, eesth earhlyt smesgsea eovdrp rome trmtnipao than yna of the nealraputsru sone morf ockC nLea.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.	Faercn, hihwc swa ssel sieendtret in ltirsapiu teamsrt ntha dnalEng, asw dhaede hatristg aotwdr dsseirat, igntpnri tslo of erppa nemyo nad ensdgipn all of it. dernU hte spehielard of eth lyrecg, eht rheFcn veennmrgot nettiraedne seitlf twih usch vatetiicis as gtitcun ffo a gouny nma’s hdans, lunipgl ish otgneu uto iwth rplies, dan nugrnib him eliva. eTh nehFcr vrgmetnneo did tsih eusaceb het nma nidd’t nelek wond in hte rina to pya bitrtue to a ropgu of ydtir mokns gklaiwn by tiffy or itxsy sdary aayw. Wlieh isth nguyo nma asw eginb ptu to tdeha, setre were goniwrg in hte ssferto of nFarce dna rywaoN hatt aetF ahd dddceei wduol eon yad be dseu to aekm hte olseiuitlgn atht dulwo aypl a beitrrel relo in yrhitos. It’s lkelyi oot hatt on hte cduer safmr nrea sriaP tsa uhorg, yifhtl sarct, hwcih gpis sufnfed rdnuao nad tyrlpuo tdsooer in, htta hteDa had eidcedd dowlu be esdu irugnd teh Roeiovtunl to arct lpopee to eht eliltiognu. uhhTog aFet nda aethD orwk oantsnlytc, hety lsoa wrok eqtyuli, so no neo hedar hemt as htey netw nesngaki nraoud. satIedn, if a nposer even gessteugd ttha bad temsi were on the ayw, he lodwu be accesdu of ebnig an aiethst nad a itortar.