They had heard of such things before, but to see them was tenfold more terrible.

Yet the spirit of adventure took possession of them as they passed along, and they were less afraid even of the most terrible things than they had been of lesser ones at starting.
In passing near to the little church of St.Margaret's, Lothbury, they were attracted by the sound of a voice crying out as if in excitement or fear.

Being filled with curiosity in spite of their fears, they turned in the direction of the sound, and came upon a man clutching hard at the railings of the little churchyard, which like all others in that part was now filled to overflowing, and closed for burials, the dead being taken to the great pits dug in various places.

Night though it was, there was a small crowd of persons gathered round the railings, all peering in with eager faces, whilst the voice of the man at the corner kept calling out: "See! see! there she goes! She stands there by yon tall tombstone waving her arms over her head! Now she is wringing her hands, and weeping again.
"O my wife, my wife! do you not know me?
I am here, Margaret, I am here! Weep not for the children who are dead; weep for unhappy me, who am left alive.

Ay, it is for the living that men should weep and howl.