London Bridge-Why not?-Every heart has its bitters-Wicked boys-Give me my book-Such a fright-Honour bright.
SO I went to London Bridge,and again took my station on the spot by the booth where I had stood on the former occasion.The booth,however,was empty;neither the apple-woman nor her stall was to be seen.I looked over the balustrade upon the river;the tide was now,as before,rolling beneath the arch with frightful impetuosity.As I gazed upon the eddies of the whirlpool,I thought within myself how soon human life would become extinct there;a plunge,a convulsive flounder,and all would be over.
When I last stood over that abyss I had felt a kind of impulse-a fascination;I had resisted it-I did not plunge into it.At present I felt a kind of impulse to plunge;but the impulse was of a different kind;it proceeded from a loathing of life,I looked wistfully at the eddies-what had I to live for?-what,indeed!
I thought of Brandt and Struensee,and Yeoman Patch-should I yield to the impulse-why not?My eyes were fixed on the eddies.
All of a sudden I shuddered;I thought I saw heads in the pool;human bodies wallowing confusedly;eyes turned up to heaven with hopeless horror;was that water or-?Where was the impulse now?
I raised my eyes from the pool,I looked no more upon it-I looked forward,far down the stream in the far distance.'Ha!what is that?I thought I saw a kind of Fata Morgana,green meadows,waving groves,a rustic home;but in the far distance-I stared-I stared-a Fata Morgana-it was gone...."I left the balustrade and walked to the farther end of the bridge,where I stood for some time contemplating the crowd;I then passed over to the other side with an intention of returning home;just half-way over the bridge,in a booth immediately opposite to the one in which I had formerly beheld her,sat my friend,the old apple-woman,huddled up behind her stall.
'Well,mother,'said I,'how are you?'The old woman lifted her head with a startled look.
'Don't you know me?'said I.
'Yes,I think I do.Ah,yes,'said she,as her features beamed with recollection,'I know you,dear;you are the young lad that gave me the tanner.Well,child,got anything to sell?'
'Nothing at all,'said I.
'Bad luck?'
'Yes,'said I,'bad enough,and ill usage.'
'Ah,I suppose they caught ye;well,child,never mind,better luck next time;I am glad to see you.'
'Thank you,'said I,sitting down on the stone bench;'I thought you had left the bridge-why have you changed your side?'
The old woman shook.
'What is the matter with you,'said I;'are you ill?'
'No,child,no;only-'
'Only what?Any bad news of your son?'
'No,child,no;nothing about my son.Only low,child-every heart has its bitters.'
'That's true,'said I;'well,I don't want to know your sorrows;come,where's the book?'
The apple-woman shook more violently than before,bent herself down,and drew her cloak more closely about her than before.
'Book,child,what book?'
'Why,blessed Mary,to be sure.'
'Oh,that;I ha'n't got it,child-I have lost it,have left it at home.'
'Lost it,'said I;'left it at home-what do you mean?Come,let me have it.'
'I ha'n't got it,child.'
'I believe you have got it under your cloak.'
