The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2 No 4, October, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2 No 4, October, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
That I might fairly appreciate the character of the fog, my companion
proposed that we should 'put off into the unknown dark.' Not till I had
got into the street, and was groping my way among the pedestrians,
instead of watching them in security from the topmost of a flight of
steps, could I estimate its real nature. To my bewildered eyes it had
the appearance of a solid wall constantly opposing our further progress.
The blazing torches that we met were invisible at fifty yards' distance.
The tradesmen had closed their stores from fear of thieves, who are
remarkably active at such seasons. I afterward learned that in one of
the leading thoroughfares a vender of hams and bacon, who had a quantity
of goods exposed in front of his open store, was robbed in a most daring
manner at an early hour of the evening. The thieves drove a cart to his
door, and had nearly filled the vehicle with spoil before they were
observed. The tradesman rushed into the street, but the villains had
urged on the horse, and although he heard the noise of the wheels,
pursuit was an utter impossibility. Robberies on the person are of
frequent occurrence at such times, even in the most crowded streets, the
security with which the thief attacks a single individual rendering his
audacity almost incredible. Before assistance can arrive he has darted
across the road, and is in safety at a few yards' distance from the
scene of his violence.
We were about a quarter of a mile from the hotel, and were on the point
of retracing our steps when a cry of 'Fire!' was raised in our vicinity,
followed by a rush of several persons in the direction from which the
alarm proceeded. In a few minutes all the torches in the street seemed
to be collected in one spot, and the crowd grew rapidly. I expected to
hear the fire-bell, but I was told that the Londoners have no alarm-bell
of any kind. The glare of a conflagration is usually the first warning
conveyed to the firemen, when instantly a score of engines are turned
out, horses, that are always kept ready harnessed, are fastened to the
shafts, and away they go, pell-mell, through the streets, every vehicle,
to the Lord Mayor's or Prime Minister's carriage, being compelled to
draw aside and give them room to pass. On this occasion their services
were not required, the fire being confined to the basement-story of the
building in which it had originated, and extinguished by the exertions
of the inmates before any material injury was sustained. The crowd that
had collected was not a small one, and the congregation of so many
torches dispelled in part the oppressive gloom of the fog. But when they
had dispersed, and the unnatural darkness was made more palpable by the
sudden contrast effected by the withdrawal of such a glare of light, I
found that my companion had disappeared. Once I fancied that my name was
called, and I thought that he was perhaps searching for me in a wrong
direction. I ran, as I conjectured, in pursuit of his retreating
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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