the New Road, and then he hailed a cruising Hansom, which he had
previously observed was well horsed.

"'Tis the gondola of London," said Lothair as he sprang in.

"Drive on till I tell you to stop."

And the Hansom drove on, through, endless boulevards, some bustling,
some dingy, some tawdry and flaring, some melancholy and mean; rows of
garden gods, planted on the walls of yards full of vases and divinities
of concrete, huge railway halls, monster hotels, dissenting chapels in
the form of Gothic churches, quaint ancient almshouses that were once
built in the fields, and tea-gardens and stingo-houses and knackers'
yards. They were in a district far beyond the experience of Lothair,
which indeed had been exhausted when he had passed Eustonia, and from
that he had been long separated. The way was broad but ill-lit, with
houses of irregular size but generally of low elevation, and sometimes
detached in smoke-dried gardens. The road was becoming a bridge which
crossed a canal, with barges and wharves and timber-yards, when their
progress was arrested by a crowd. It seemed a sort of procession; there
was a banner, and the lamp-light fell upon a religious emblem. Lothair
was interested, and desired the driver not to endeavor to advance. The
procession was crossing the road and entering a building.

"It's a Roman Catholic chapel," said a bystander in answer to Lothair.
"I believe it is a meeting about one of their schools. They always have
banners."

"I think I will get out," said Lothair to his driver. "This, I suppose,
will pay your fare."