people; whiffs of industrial smell, of leather, of brewing, drifted into
the carriage; the sky darkened, I rumbled thunderously over bridges,
van-crowded streets, peered down on and crossed the Thames with an
abrupt eclat of sound. I got an effect of tall warehouses, of grey
water, barge crowded, of broad banks of indescribable mud, and then
I was in Cannon Street Station--a monstrous dirty cavern with trains
packed across its vast floor and more porters standing along the
platform than I had ever been in my life before. I alighted with my
portmanteau and struggled along, realising for the first time just how
small and weak I could still upon occasion feel. In this world, I felt,
an Honours medal in Electricity and magnetism counted for nothing at
all.

Afterwards I drove in a cab down a canon of rushing street between high
warehouses, and peeped up astonished at the blackened greys of Saint
Paul's. The traffic of Cheapside--it was mostly in horse omnibuses in
those days--seemed stupendous, its roar was stupendous; I wondered where
the money came from to employ so many cabs, what industry could support
the endless jostling stream of silk-hatted, frock-coated, hurrying men.
Down a turning I found the Temperance Hotel Mr. Mantell had recommended
to me. The porter in a green uniform who took over my portmanteau,
seemed, I thought, to despise me a good deal.

V

Matriculation kept me for four full days and then came an afternoon
to spare, and I sought out Tottenham Court Road through a perplexing
network of various and crowded streets. But this London was vast! it was
endless! it seemed the whole world had changed into packed frontages and
hoardings and street spaces. I got there at last and made inquiries,