He next entered a street with some closed shops in it; and here, at last, some consoling signs of human life attracted his attention.

He now saw the crossing-sweeper of the district (off duty till church came out) smoking a pipe under the covered way that led to a mews.

He detected, through half closed shutters, a chemist's apprentice yawing over a large book.
He passed a navigator, an ostler, and two costermongers wandering wearily backwards and forwards before a closed public-house door.

He heard the heavy _clop clop_ of thickly-booted feet advancing behind him, and a stern voice growling, "Now then! be off with you, or you'll get locked up!"-- and, looking round, saw an orange-girl, guilty of having obstructed an empty pavement by sitting on the curb-stone, driven along before a policeman, who was followed admiringly by a ragged boy gnawing a piece of orange-peel.

Having delayed a moment to watch this Sunday procession of three with melancholy curiosity as it moved by him, Snoxell was about to turn the corner of a street which led directly to the church, when a shrill series of cries in a child's voice struck on his ear and stopped his progress immediately.
The page stood stock-still in astonishment for an instant--then pulled the new silk umbrella from under his arm, and turned the corner in a violent hurry.