tones or soil or asill, Even as of your freedom—and I feel, despite myself, t of excitement. But tement becomes unease. I  rising, straig

    supposed it  complete: but nocretc red land, and gaping trenc  celess roofs and jutting spars of wood, naked as bones.

    Nos upon ts in train begins to rise. I dont like tion. e begin to cross streets—grey streets, black streets—so many monotonous streets, I to tell t! Sucalloton aste. ords, every.—Broug Carriages.—Paper-Stainers.—Supported Entirely.—to Let!— to Let!—By Voluntary Subscription.—

    t,  train and cast t, vast, vaulting roof of tarnis eam and fluttering birds. e so a frig. t seems to me—of a thousand people.

    Paddington terminus, says Richard. Come on.

    look at me—I ake our bags. e stand in a line of people—a queue, I kno for a carriage—a  y ells ones driver to go about ts Park. I knoy of opportunities fulfilled. tling and clamour, I do not kno is t understand. It is marked  I cannot read it. ty, tition, of

    brick, of reet, of person—of dress, and feature, and expression—stuns and exs me. I stand at Ricle is blos—ordinary men, gentlemen—pass by us, running-

    e take our place in t last, and are jerked out of terminus into cense. Are you startled, by treets?  pass t did you expect? ty,  mind it. Dont mind it at all. e are going to your new home.

    to our , I , I will sleep.

    to our udies me a moment longer, t troubles you— he blind.

    And so once again , and so tion of a co