"
Walking the streets under the pattering
rain, Houselessness would
walk and walk and walk, seeing nothing but the interminable
tangle of streets, save at a
corner, here and there, two
policemen in
conversation, or the sergeant or inspector looking after his men. Now and then in the night - but rarely - Houselessness would become aware of a furtive head peering out of a doorway a few
yards before him, and, coming up with the head, would find a man standing bolt upright to keep within
the doorway's shadow, and evidently intent upon no particular service to society. Under a kind of fascination, and in a ghostly silence suitable to the time, Houselessness and this gentleman would eye one
another from head to
foot, and so, without exchange of speech, part, mutually
suspicious.
Drip, drip, drip, from ledge and coping, splash from pipes and water-spouts, and by-and-by the houseless shadow would fall upon the stones that
pave the way to Waterloo-bridge; it being in the houseless
mind to have a halfpenny worth of
excuse for saying "
Good-night" to the toll-keeper, and catching a glimpse of his fire. A good fire and a good
great-coat and a good woollen neck-shawl, were
comfortable things
to see in conjunction with the toll-keeper; also his brisk
wakefulness was excellent company when he rattled the change of halfpence down upon that metal
table of his, like a man who defied the night, with all its sorrowful
thoughts, and didn't care for the coming of dawn. There was need of encouragement on the
threshold of the
bridge, for the bridge was dreary. The [...] the
river had an awful look, the
buildings on the banks were muffled in black shrouds, and the
reflected lights seemed to originate deep in the water, as if the spectres of suicides were holding them to show where they went down. The wild
moon and
clouds were as restless as an evil conscience in a tumbled bed, and the very
shadow of the immensity of
London seemed to lie oppressively upon the river."
Charles Dickens, "Night Walks," originally published in the weekly journal
All Year Round in 1859, and appears as Chapter 13 of
The Uncommercial Traveller, 1861
