o give some notion of the shape
and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. It has been
said, that the pier of each arch, or lock of Old London Bridge, was
defended from the force of the tide by a huge projecting spur called a
starling. These starlings varied in width, according to the bulk of the
pier they surrounded. But they were all pretty nearly of the same
length, and built somewhat after the model of a boat, having extremities
as sharp and pointed as the keel of a canoe. Cased and ribbed with
stone, and braced with horizontal beams of timber, the piles, which
formed the foundation of these jetties, had resisted the strong
encroachments of the current for centuries. Some of them are now buried
at the bottom of the Thames. The starling, on which the carpenter stood,
was the fourth from the Surrey shore. It might be three yards in width,
and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and
the waves continually broke over it. The transverse spars before
mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were
filled ankle-deep with water.

The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of
the wind. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. If he ran less
risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed
off, or stifled. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually
slipping off the platform. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of
terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions.
He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the
pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures
with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the
bridge were pierced. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned; and,
nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the
execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto
shrunk. This was to pass under the arch, along the narrow ledge of the
starling, and, if possible, attain the eastern platform, where,
protected by the bridge, he would suffer less from the excessive
violence of the gale.

Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably
perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began
his perilous course. Carefully sustaining the child which, even in that
terrible extremity, he had not the heart to abandon, he fell upon his