Identifier: twiceroundclocko00sala (find matches)
Title: Twice round the clock; or, The hours of the day and night in London
Year: 1859 (1850s)
Authors: Sala, George Augustus, 1828-1895 McConnell, William, 1833-1867
Subjects:
Publisher: London, Houlston and Wright
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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ose nepotism had grown intolerable in the nostrils of the nation. The Right Honourable Caucasian, who doesnt wear his hat, is sent for by a certain friend of his—a noble Earl, who is generally considered a first-rate hand at making up a book for the Derby. He in his turn is sent for by his Most Gracious Sovereign; and, for the next three or four days, there is nothing but running about and getting upstairs between Buckingham Palace, St. Jamess Square, and Grosvenor Gate ; and at the end of that time, the right honourable Caucasian finds himself snugly ensconced in Downing Street, with full liberty to wear his gold robe again. Past, long past two in the morning. The much-suffering House of Commons at last shut up, and deserted save by the police and the nightwatchmen. The last cabs in Palace Yard driven away : the charioteers grumbling horribly on their boxes, for they have members of Parliament inside, who never pay more than the legal fare. Irish members 372 TWICE HOUND THE CLOCK:. ■!!
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TWO A.M.—THE TURNSTILE OF WATERLOO BRIDGE. 373 walked round the corner to Manchester Buildings or Victoria Street,there dwelling. Some members do all but sleep in the House. As for the noble and defeated Viscount, he trots cheerily home—scorning either cab or carriage—shouldering his umbrella, as though nothing in the world had happened to ruffle his equanimity. And now, for the first time since this clock was set in motion, some-thing like a deep sleep falleth over London. Not that the city is all hushed; it never is. There are night revellers abroad, night prowlers afoot. There is houseless wretchedness knowing not where to hide its head; there is furtive crime stalking about, and seeking whom it may devour. Yet all has a solemn, ghastly, unearthly aspect; the gas-lamps flicker like corpse candles ; and the distant scream of a profligate, in conflict with the police, courses up and down the streets in weird and shuddering echoes. The Strand is so still that you may count the footstep

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