Chapter XXX

ty,recallthedayswhenthehugecitywasagreat,stragglingvillage,whenthesedan-chairwasameansoflocomotion,andladiesworepatchesandhoopswhenepigramwasthefashionandproprietywasnot. Presently,astheywatchedthegleamingwater,apennysteamboatapproachedtheadjoiningstage,andgaveBerthaanidea. “WouldyouliketotakemetoGreenwich?”shecried.“AuntPolly’sdiningoutwecanhavedinnerattheShipandcomebackbytrain.” “ByJove,itwillberipping.” Theybolteddownthegangwayandtooktheirticketstheboatstarted,andBertha,panting,sankonaseat.Shefeltalittlereckless,pleasedwithherself,andamusedtoseeGerald’sunmeasureddelight. “Ifeelasifwewereeloping,”shesaid,withalaugh“I’msureAuntPollywillbedreadfullyshocked.” Theboatwenton,stoppingeverynowandthentotakeinpassengers.TheycametothetotteringwharvesofMillbank,andthentothefootstoolturretsofSt.John’s,theeightredblocksofSt.Thomas’sHospital,andtheHousesofParliament.TheypassedWestminsterBridge,andthemassivestrengthofNewScotlandYard,thehotelsandpublicbuildingswhichlinetheVictoriaEmbankment,theTempleGardensandoppositethisgrandeur,ontheSurreyside,werethedingywarehousesandfactoriesofLambeth.AtLondonBridgeBerthafoundnewinterestinthevaryingsceneshestoodinthebowswithGeraldbyherside,notspeakingtheywerehappyinbeingnearoneanother.Thetrafficbecamedenserandtheboatmorecrowded—withartisans,clerks,noisygirls,goingeastwardstoRotherhitheandDeptford.Greatmerchantmenlaybytheriver-side,orslowlymadetheirwaydownstreamundertheTowerBridgeandthenthebroadwaterswerecrowdedwitheveryimaginablecraft,withlazybargesaspicturesquewiththeirredsailsasthefishing-boatsofVenice,withlittletugs,puffingandblowing,withoceantramps,andwithhugepackets.AndastheypassedinthepennysteamertheyhadswiftpicturesofgroupsofnakedboyswallowingintheThamesmudordivingfromthesideofananchoredcoal-barge.Anewatmosphereenvelopedthemnow.Graywarehouseswhichlinedtheriver,andthefactories,announcedthecommerceofamightynationandthespiritofCharlesDickensgavetothepassingscenesafreshdelight.Howcouldtheybeprosaicwhenthegreatmasterhaddescribedthem?Anamiablestrangerputnamestothevariousplaces. “Look,there’sWappingOldStairs.” AndthewordsthrilledBerthalikepoetry.Theypassedinnumerablewharvesanddocks,LondonDock,JohnCooper’swharves,andWilliamGibbs’swharves(whoareJohnCooperandWilliamGibbs?),LimehouseBasin,andWestIndiaDock.ThenwithagreatturnoftherivertheyenteredLimehouseReachandsoonthenoblelinesofthehospital,theimmortalmonumentofInigoJones,cameintoview,andtheylandedatGreenwichPier.