Chapter 1

           AlthoughIamanoldman,nightisgenerallymytimeforwalking.InthesummerIoftenleavehomeearlyinthemorning,androamaboutfieldsandlanesallday,orevenescapefordaysorweekstogether;but,savinginthecountry,Iseldomgooutuntilafterdark,though,Heavenbethanked,Iloveitslightandfeelthecheerfulnessitshedsupontheearth,asmuchasanycreatureliving.

           Ihavefalleninsensiblyintothishabit,bothbecauseitfavoursmyinfirmityandbecauseitaffordsmegreateropportunityofspeculatingonthecharactersandoccupationsofthosewhofillthestreets.Theglareandhurryofbroadnoonarenotadaptedtoidlepursuitslikemine;aglimpseofpassingfacescaughtbythelightofastreet-lamporashopwindowisoftenbetterformypurposethantheirfullrevelationinthedaylight;and,ifImustaddthetruth,nightiskinderinthisrespectthanday,whichtoooftendestroysanair-builtcastleatthemomentofitscompletion,withouttheleastceremonyorremorse.

           Thatconstantpacingtoandfro,thatnever-endingrestlessness,thatincessanttreadoffeetwearingtheroughstonessmoothandglossyisitnotawonderhowthedwellersinnarrowswayscanbeartohearit!ThinkofasickmaninsuchaplaceasSaintMartin’sCourt,listeningtothefootsteps,andinthemidstofpainandwearinessobliged,despitehimself(asthoughitwereataskhemustperform)todetectthechild’sstepfromtheman’s,theslipshodbeggarfromthebootedexquisite,theloungingfromthebusy,thedullheelofthesaunteringoutcastfromthequicktreadofanexpectantpleasure-seekerthinkofthehumandnoisealwaysbeingpresenttohissense,andofthestreamoflifethatwillnotstop,pouringon,on,on,throughallhisrestlessdreams,asifhewerecondemnedtolie,deadbutconscious,inanoisychurchyard,andhadnohopeofrestforcenturiestocome.

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