If I were you, Mr Nacelles," said Childermass, softly, "I would speak more guardedly. You are in the north now. In John Glass's own country. Our towns and cities and abbeys were built by him. Our laws were made by him. He is in our minds and hearts and speech. Were it summer you would see a carpet of tiny flowers beneath every hedgerow, of a bluish-white color. We call them John's Farthings. When the weather is contrary, and we have warm weather in winter, or it rains in summer the country people say that JohnUskglass is in love again and neglects his business. And when we are sure of something we say it is as safe as a pebble in John Glass's pocket.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell