London in 1857. 509 



past ten ! all my clerks expecting me (for no work is ever I believe 

 seriously begun till the master is descried looming into the offing}, to 

 set their quills in motion and their tongues at rest, and perhaps no 

 end of people on business awaiting me in the antechamber of my 

 counting-house. 



I thought of little but my hurry and anger as I descended the 

 stairs. All was silent below, so I stepped into the drawing-room and 

 pulled the bell, determined to open my fire the moment the enemy 

 should come within range. Betty, however, did not think proper to 

 come up stairs probably conscience-struck and consequently cau- 

 tious. There is an instinct sometimes in these matters, but n'importe. 

 I pulled a second time and had no better luck ! " She must have fallen 

 asleep," said I, "but it was not ill of her to do her work first. The 

 fire is lighted, but looks as if it had long wanted looking after; the 

 apartment is put in order, and the breakfast things are upon the table. 

 However, / must have hot water and she must have her scolding." 



After a few more ineffectual rings I walked down stairs to the 

 kitchen, but found it vacant. Where could she be ? where could she 

 have got to ? Her bedroom door was open. I looked in, but nobody 

 was there. I re-ascended the stairs, rather more hurriedly than 

 before, and with a vague feeling- of alarm. She was neither in the 

 parlours, drawing-rooms, in short, in no part of the house ! Quite 

 amazed, and with a very anxious and cloudy brow, I walked to the 

 drawing-room window. The odd, the utter silence of the street, 

 populous enough all day yesterday, for the first time struck me. Not 

 a person was in sight, though the shutters of the houses were open, 

 and all looked as it ought to have done. Not a soul could I see, 

 either up or down the pavement. Not a wheel could I hear, but 

 the street in which I lived was dull, though a good many pedestrians 

 were accustomed in the course of the day to pass through it, and so 

 I did not so much wonder at the latter circumstance. I may as well 

 mention to the reader that my street was the old one called Queen 

 Anne Street, and that the house I inhabited, as well as the adjoining 

 one, were erected in the room of a large one, the lease of which 

 expired in the year 1839, and which being very old was pulled down, 

 and the present brace of smaller, though more convenient, messuages 

 raised up in its room. 



With a strange and disagreeable feeling creeping over me I seized 

 my hat, opened the street door, and sallied into the street. At the 

 first turning I paused, and looked up and down the street which 

 crossed mine, and which led, at no great distance, into Cavendish 

 Square. I stared, as well I might : not a soul was to be seen ! not 

 a carriage was to be distinguished! I hurried along, crossed the 

 square, turned down Princes Street, shot across Oxford Street, and 

 arrived at the top of that usually crowded and justly celebrated 

 thoroughfare along which so many are daily wont to pass I mean 

 Regent Street. It was here just the same. Not a soul, however dis- 

 tant, was to be discerned; not a wheel broke upon the astounded ear, all 

 was deathlike silence ; the silence of the country, rather, for two crows 

 came winging blackly along above me, and gave a fearful ca-aw as 

 they looked down upon the empty, the utterlv deserted streets I 



