pony s head. Irresistibly attracted, he advanced slowly, pace by pace,
down the lane.
Edgware had been a scene of confusion, Chalk Farm a riotous tumult, but
this was a whole population in movement. It is hard to imagine that
host. It had no character of its own. The figures poured out past the
corner, and receded with their backs to the group in the lane. Along
the margin came those who were on foot threatened by the wheels,
stumbling in the ditches, blundering into one another.
The carts and carriages crowded close upon one another, making little
way for those swifter and more impatient vehicles that darted forward
every now and then when an opportunity showed itself of doing so,
sending the people scattering against the fences and gates of the
villas.
Push on! was the cry. Push on! They are coming!
In one cart stood a blind man in the uniform of the Salvation Army,
gesticulating with his crooked fingers and bawling, Eternity!
Eternity! His voice was hoarse and very loud so that my brother could
hear him long after he was lost to sight in the dust. Some of the
people who crowded in the carts whipped stupidly at their horses and
quarrelled with other drivers; some sat motionless, staring at nothing
with miserable eyes; some gnawed their hands with thirst, or lay
prostrate in the bottoms of their conveyances. The horses bits were
covered with foam, their eyes bloodshot.
There were cabs, carriages, shop-carts, waggons, beyond counting; a
mail cart, a road-cleaner s cart marked Vestry of St. Pancras, a huge
timber waggon crowded with roughs. A brewer s dray rumbled by with its
two near wheels splashed with fresh blood.
Clear the way! cried the voices. Clear the way!
Eter-nity! Eter-nity! came echoing down the road.
There were sad, haggard women tramping by, well dressed, with children
that cried and stumbled, their dainty clothes smothered in dust, their
weary faces smeared with tears. With many of these came men, sometimes
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