And under cover of this truthful announcement we escaped.
It was midday before I laid down my pen and gathered my scattered sheets together. Harry had been done before me, but he had only written eleven sheets, so our pace was about equal.
“Done?” said he, as I sat back in my chair.
“Yes; lock the door,” said I.
I must beg the reader’s pardon if I do not lay before them the whole of the two lucubrations. They must be content with a few impartially chosen selections.
My chapter began with a poetical description of London in early morning.
“London in the morning! What a scene! The whistle of the workmen’s trains sounds, and the noise of vegetable carts going to Covent Garden Market, give the place an animated appearance. Very few people are awake, and those that are look sleepy.
“In such a scene as this a hideous-looking woman, about fifty years old, with a long nose and a shabby barrel-organ, wended her way from some of the slums near Farringdon Street Station in the direction of Euston Square.
“It was not a very pretty walk. There were no birds twittering in the trees, or cuckoos. You could not hear the gentle roar of the ocean, and what flowers there were, were in pots on the window-sills.
“The ugly woman chose the road where there were most public-houses, and I am sorry to say that any one who had walked close beside her would have heard her talking to herself in very bad language.”