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CHAPTER II. 



THE NIGHT SIDE OF NATURE. 



I well remember what, as a country lad, im- 

 pressed me most upon my first visit to London. 

 It was the recollection of the fact that I had, 

 during the small hours of the morning, stood 

 alone in the Strand. I had walked into the 

 city from a suburban house. As I paced rapidly 

 along the pavement my footsteps echoed, and 

 I listened to them until, startled, I came to a 

 dead stop. The great artery of life was still ; 

 the pulse of the city had ceased to beat. Not 

 a moving object was visible. Although I had 

 been bred among the lonely hills, I felt for the 

 first time that this was to be alone ; that this 

 was solitude. I felt a sense such as Macaulay's 

 New Zealander may experience when he sits 

 upon the ruins of London Bridge ; and then for 



