g
home; but no; still straight on through new roads all day till the sun
went down and the evening grew so dark that I could not see the country;
and yet no talk of returning. John stopped the carriage, and lighted the
lamps; and then on again, at the same steady pace, through the unknown
land.

Tired of travelling in the wrong direction, as it appeared to me, and
without any object, I curled myself round at John's feet and took a long
nap. On waking, I found myself in a scene altogether strange to me. We
were passing through the streets of a city. I sat up and turned my head
from side to side, quite bewildered by the difference between such a
place and the country villages in which I had passed my life.

"Ah, you may well look about you," said John; "you are not the only one
that hasn't known what to make of London."

The noise and confusion were astonishing. Though it was now so late
that every body ought to have been asleep in their kennels, the
innumerable lights in the houses made the night as bright as day. The
streets were swarming with people; men and women, carriages and horses,
even dogs and cats, met us every moment. I supposed they must be a kind
of savages, who came out in the night like wild beasts, and I tried
barking at them to frighten them back to their dens; but it had no
effect, and John bade me be quiet. Indeed, I myself perceived that it
would be a hopeless task to bark at everybody that went by. Their
numbers were like the autumn leaves falling from the trees in our avenue
during a high wind, and I could only suppose that next day I should find
them all swept up in heaps at the side of the road.

At last we stopped before a house; and very glad I was to be ordered to
jump down and go in, and not at all sorry for the good supper that was
presently given me. I was too tired even to wonder where I was, or to do
or think of anything that night except going to sleep; and that I did
thoroughly, after my long journey.

But next day I was myself again, and up early to explore the premises.
What I saw at first was not much to my taste. I did not admire my
kennel; it was decidedly dull, fixed in the corner of a small courtyard
surrounded by high walls. No trees, no river, no garden; nothing to be
seen but a square patch of sky above the walls; nothing to be heard but
a continual heavy rumbling outside. I soon grew tired of watching the
clouds, and pacing round the little court; and as soon as the house