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Dead London
IhadhalfamindtobreakintotheNaturalHistoryMuseumandfindmywayuptothesummitsofthetowers,inordertoseeacrossthepark. ButIdecidedtokeeptotheground,wherequickhidingwaspossible,andsowentonuptheExhibitionRoad. Allthelargemansionsoneachsideoftheroadwereemptyandstill,andmyfootstepsechoedagainstthesidesofthehouses. Atthetop,neartheparkgate,Icameuponastrangesight—abusoverturned,andtheskeletonofahorsepickedclean. Ipuzzledoverthisforatime,andthenwentontothebridgeovertheSerpentine. Thevoicegrewstrongerandstronger,thoughIcouldseenothingabovethehousetopsonthenorthsideofthepark,saveahazeofsmoketothenorthwest.
"Ulla,ulla,ulla,ulla,"criedthevoice,coming,asitseemedtome,fromthedistrictaboutRegent’sPark. Thedesolatingcryworkeduponmymind. Themoodthathadsustainedmepassed. Thewailingtookpossessionofme. IfoundIwasintenselyweary,footsore,andnowagainhungryandthirsty.
Itwasalreadypastnoon. WhywasIwanderingaloneinthiscityofthedead?WhywasIalonewhenallLondonwaslyinginstate,andinitsblackshroud? Ifeltintolerablylonely. MymindranonoldfriendsthatIhadforgottenforyears. Ithoughtofthepoisonsinthechemists’shops,oftheliquorsthewinemerchantsstored; Irecalledthetwosoddencreaturesofdespair,whosofarasIknew,sharedthecitywithmyself....
IcameintoOxfordStreetbytheMarbleArch,andhereagainwereblackpowderandseveralbodies,andanevil,ominoussmellfromthegratingsofthecellarsofsomeofthehouses. Igrewverythirstyaftertheheatofmylongwalk.
