' AFTER LONDON ' 257 



cattle, the forest cats, and the black, yellow, and white 

 wood dogs, four kinds of wild swine, two of wild horses. 

 Tradition speaks of famous racehorses in the old time : 

 ' Did but one exist, how eagerly would it be sought out, 

 for in these days it would be worth its weight in gold, 

 unless, indeed, as some affirm, such speed only endured 

 for a mile or two.' Poultry and deer have become wild ; 

 the beaver, escaping from ' the dens of the ancients,' has 

 re-established itself. The richer and more cultivated 

 men left the country long ago, and the unlettered survivors 

 have few arts, no gunpowder and no steam. The railway 

 embankments are overgrown by thickets, the tunnels 

 broken down. 



The Bushmen of the woods, descended from tramps, 

 are utterly savage and depraved. The gipsies still remain 

 apart in tents and on horses, attacking travellers. The 

 few cities are on the shores of the great lake. ' In the 

 provinces and kingdoms round about the lake there is 

 hardly a town where the slaves do not outnumber the free 

 as ten to one. ... If a man in his hunger steals a loaf, he 

 becomes a slave.' The mark of a noble is that he can 

 read and write. The nobles have no culture, and are dis- 

 tinguished chiefly by their courage. ' There are few books,' 

 says the historian, ' and still fewer to read them ; and these 

 all in manuscript, for though the way to print is not lost, it 

 is not employed, since no one wants books.' On the margin 

 of this state the Welsh and Irish wait for an opportunity 

 to rush in and destroy. Their ships hover in the lake. 



' Never, as I observed before, was there so beautiful an 

 expanse of water. How much must we sorrow that it has 

 so often proved only the easiest mode of bringing the 

 miseries of war to the doors of the unoffending ! Yet 

 men are never weary of saihng to and fro upon it, and 

 most of the cities of the present time are upon its shores. 

 And in the evening we walk by the beach, and from the 

 rising grounds look over its waters, as if to gaze upon their 

 loveliness were reward to us for the labour of the day.'* 



* After London. 



17 



