CHAPTER XLVI. 



A MOURNFUL i'KOCESSION. * 



• 



I WAS sitting before my comfortable library fire in mid- 

 winter, 1854, and had been reflecting upon the mutability 

 of human affairs generally, and the uncertainty of Shang- 

 hae-ism more particularly, ivhen I finally dropped mto a 

 gentle sljimber in my easy-chair, where I dozed away an 

 hour, and dreamed, 



My thoughts took a very curious turn. I fancied myself 

 sitting before a lai'ge window that opened into a broad pub- 

 lie street, in which I suddenly discovered a multitude 'of 

 people moving actively about ; and I thought it was some 

 gala^day in the city, for the throng appeared to be excited 

 and anxious. " The people " were evidently abroad ; and 

 the crowds finally packed themselves along the sidewalks, 

 leaving the wide street open and clear ; and I could over- 

 hear the words " They 're coming ! " " Here they are ! " 



I looked out, and beheld an immense gathering of human 

 beings approaching in a line that stretched away as far as 

 the eye could reach, — a dense mass of moving mortality. 



