1829-3 from Whitechapel to Highgate Archway. 373 



road runs through Kentish To^vn, and along it we of course proceeded ; 

 but, just before we arrived at the two-mile stone from St. Giles's 

 Pound, I shook hands with Thompson, and we parted. He was going 

 to his uncle's — I to Highgate Archway ; he to mingle with friends who 

 loved him — I to wander a lonely traveller among strangers. There was 

 something overpowering in the thought ! We had set forth together in 

 the morning ; and now, when it was hardly twelve o'clock, we were to 

 separate ; — we had commenced the journey as fellow-travellers ; but I 

 was left to finish it, alone ! I could not help thinking, as I leaned against 

 the mile-stone, and watched my friend till he turned round the comer, 

 by the Bunch of Grapes, and was out of sight, that, in the agitation of 

 the moment, he had forgotten to settle with me for his half of the 

 breakfast. But this was not surprising. I, who had greater cause to 

 remember, had equally forgotten to remind him of it. So true it is, 

 that when the heart feasts, the pocket starves ! 



I now pursued my solitary route, with a sort of pensive foreboding 

 that my money might run short before I got to the end of it. At length 

 the lofty hill of Highgate stretched before me, and I began its toilsome 

 ascent. When I reached the top, and had advanced about two or three 

 hundred yards beyond it, I saw the whole of Highgate at one view. 

 But where was the Archway ? I looked on every side : not only was 

 there no Archway — there was no gate either. I searched in all direc- 

 tions ; and at last discovered, upon inquiry, that Highgate Archway was 

 at Holloway, and that Highgate itself never had a gate in the memory 

 of the oldest inhabitant. Yet there is a place called the Gate-house, 

 where, a* I have been told, in former times every body used to be 

 sworn, under a large pair of horns, which some people say once belonged 

 to an alderman of the city of London. But this / do not believe ; 

 though it is certainly true, that the practice of swearing people anciently 

 existed. I had no books to refer to, and could not, therefore, ascertain 

 what was the nature of the oath ; but I have myself heard the expression, 

 " You have been sworn at Highgate," applied to persons who have con- 

 fessed they liked strong beer better than table beer j that they would 

 rather kiss the mistress than the maid ; and so forth. These, however, 

 are such natural preferences, that I cannot think it was ever found neces- 

 sary to make men swear to observe them ; and I conclude that the tra- 

 ditional phrase has come down to us, while the origin of it has been lost 

 in the obscurity of remote ages. 



I now experienced the annoyance of wandering about a town without 

 knowing any of its inhabitants. I pictured to myself in every house a 

 pleasant family — the father hospitable, the mother accomplished, and 

 the daughters angelic — according to the style and appearance of the 

 mansion ; and I felt, more acutely than ever, my separation from my 

 friend, who, I had no doubt, was sitting down comfortably to dinner at 

 that moment with his revered uncle. I, too, was getting hungry again ; 

 but I was determined to accomplish the great object of my journey 

 before I would allow myself to eat. Bending my steps, therefore, in 

 the direction that had been pointed out to me, I once more set forward, 

 l)ade adieu to Highgate, and explored the paths which led to the Arch- 

 way. I tliink I must have walked at least a couple of miles, exj)ecting 

 every moment to seie the stupendous fabric, when I stopped an old 

 woman with a basket on her head, who informed me I was on the road 

 to Barnet, and that the Archway was belund me. I was electrified. 



