g to wish that anything should endure for ever, I would say
prosperity to Cheapside, throughout all ages--may it be the world's
resort for merchandise, world without end."

And when I had passed through the Cheape I entered another street, which
led up a kind of ascent, and which proved to be the street of the
Lombards, called so from the name of its founders; and I walked rapidly
up the street of the Lombards, neither looking to the right nor left, for
it had no interest for me, though I had a kind of consciousness that
mighty things were being transacted behind its walls; but it wanted the
throng, bustle and outward magnificence of the Cheape, and it had never
been spoken of by "ruddy bards!" And, when I had got to the end of the
street of the Lombards, I stood still for some time, deliberating within
myself whether I should turn to the right or the left, or go straight
forward, and at last I turned to the right, down a street of rapid
descent, and presently found myself upon a bridge which traversed the
river which runs by the big city.

A strange kind of bridge it was; huge and massive, and seemingly of great
antiquity. It had an arched back, like that of a hog, a high balustrade,
and at either side, at intervals, were stone bowers bulking over the
river, but open on the other side, and furnished with a semicircular
bench. Though the bridge was wide--very wide--it was all too narrow for
the concourse upon it. Thousands of human beings were pouring over the
bridge. But what chiefly struck my attention was a double row of carts
and wagons, the generality drawn by horses as large as elephants, each
row striving hard in a different direction, and not unfrequently brought
to a standstill. Oh the cracking of whips, the shouts and oaths of the
carters, and the grating of wheels upon the enormous stones that formed
the pavement! In fact, there was a wild hurly-burly upon the bridge,
which nearly deafened me. But, if upon the bridge there was a confusion,
below it there was a confusion ten times confounded. The tide, which was
fast ebbing, obstructed by the immense piers of the old bridge, poured
beneath the arches with a fall of several feet, forming in the river
below as many whirlpools as there were arches. Truly tremendous was the
roar of the descending waters, and the bellow of the tremendous gulfs,
which swallowed them for a time, and then cast them forth, foaming and
frothing from their horrid wombs. Slowly