There is no sign of coming decay which is so melancholy to the eye as any which tells of a decrease in the throng of men.

Of men or horses there was never any throng now in that end of Perivale.
That street had formed part of the main line of road from Salisbury to Taunton, and coaches, waggons, and posting-carriages had been frequent on it; but now, alas! it was deserted.

Even the omnibuses from the railway-station never came there unless they were ordered to call at Mrs.Winterfield's door.

For Mrs.Winterfield herself, this desolation had, I think, a certain melancholy attraction.

It suited her tone of mind and her religious views that she should be thus daily reminded that things of this world were passing away and going to destruction.