d baked,
and a piece of cold boiled beef. The apprentice thankfully received the
provisions, and retiring to the hutch, began to discuss them, fortifying
himself with a copious draught of canary. Having concluded his repast,
he issued forth, and acquainting Mr. Bloundel, who had at length
ventured to commence reading the contents of the packet by the aid of
powerful glasses, that he was about to proceed to Dr. Hodges's
residence, to inquire after him, set off in that direction.

Arrived in Great Knightrider-street, he was greatly shocked at finding
the door of the doctor's habitation fastened, nor could he make any one
hear, though he knocked loudly and repeatedly against it. The shutters
of the lower windows were closed, and the place looked completely
deserted. All the adjoining houses were shut up, and not a living being
could be discerned in the street from whom information could be obtained
relative to the physician. Here, as elsewhere, the pavement was
overgrown with grass, and the very houses had a strange and melancholy
look, as if sharing in the general desolation. On looking down a narrow
street leading to the river, Leonard perceived a flock of poultry
scratching among the staves in search of food, and instinctively calling
them, they flew towards him, as if delighted at the unwonted sound of a
human voice. These, and a half-starved cat, were the only things living
that he could perceive. At the further end of the street he caught sight
of the river, speeding in its course towards the bridge, and scarcely
knowing whither he was going, sauntered to its edge. The tide had just
turned, and the stream was sparkling in the sunshine, but no craft could
be discovered upon its bosom; and except a few barges moored to its
sides, all vestiges of the numberless vessels with which it was once
crowded were gone. Its quays were completely deserted. Boxes and bales
of goods lay untouched on the wharves; the cheering cries with which the
workmen formerly animated their labour were hushed. There was no sound
of creaking cords, no rattle of heavy chains--none of the busy hum
ordinarily attending the discharge of freight from a vessel, or the
packing of goods and stores on board. All traffic was at an end; and
this scene, usually one of the liveliest possible, was now forlorn and
desolate. On the opposite shore of the river it appeared to be the
same--indeed, the borough of Southwark was now suffering the utmost
rigour of the s