




Transcribed from the 1894 Chapman and Hall "Christmas Stories" edition by
David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk





NO THOROUGHFARE


THE OVERTURE.


Day of the month and year, November the thirtieth, one thousand eight
hundred and thirty-five.  London Time by the great clock of Saint Paul's,
ten at night.  All the lesser London churches strain their metallic
throats.  Some, flippantly begin before the heavy bell of the great
cathedral; some, tardily begin three, four, half a dozen, strokes behind
it; all are in sufficiently near accord, to leave a resonance in the air,
as if the winged father who devours his children, had made a sounding
sweep with his gigantic scythe in flying over the city.

What is this clock lower than most of the rest, and nearer to the ear,
that lags so far behind to-night as to strike into the vibration alone?
This is the clock of the Hospital for Foundling Children.  Time was, when
the Foundlings were received without question in a cradle at the gate.