Then he stopped before the church, crossed his arms over his chest and contemplated the futility of his life. He had come to the flight of steps which led down to the door of the crypt and, as he sensed the coldness which rose from them like a vapour, he heard a whisper which might have been 'I' or 'Me'. And then the shadow fell.

THE SHADDOWE falls naturally here since the Clowds, tho' they be nothing but a Mist flying high in the Air, cast their Shade upon the surface of the Water; learn how to do this in Stone and look you, Walter, I added, how the body of the Water moves. All things Flow even when they seem to stand still, as in the hands of Clocks and the shaddowes of Sun-dials. But Walter kept his Hands in his Breeches and squinted at the Ground; the Office was still within our Sight, even as we stood by the Thames, and he looked uneasily towards it. I asked him the Matter. Do not trouble your self, he replied.

I will know what is the Matter, I told him.

Nothing is the Matter, what should be the matter?

You trouble me now indeed, Walter Pyne.

It is nothing, said he, it is a Trifle, it is not worth talking of.

And I replied: Do not put me off with such Stuff as that.

It was Sad work to get the Truth out of him, and he was as like to have held his Tongue if I had not stood very High upon it and prevailed with him to Answer. They talk of you in the Office, he said (and I grew Pale), and they tell me that you stuff my Head with mildew'd Fancies and confus'd Rules (and the Sweat formed on my Brow), and they say that the Ruines of Antiquity lie too heavily upon you (I looked out over the River), and they say that I must follow another Master if I am to rise (I drew Blood from my Mouth but stood quite still).

My Mind became like a Blank, a paper unwritten: And who are these who tell you so? I asked at last, not looking at him.

They are those who profess themselves to have nothing but friendly intent towards me.

And then I turned my Eyes upon him and spoke: You are a Fool to believe any Man your friend, you must trust no Man, nor believe any one but such as you know will sin against their own Interest to lie or betray you. I know this to be so, Walter. He withdrew from me a little at that, but then I laughed out loud at him; these good Friends are meer Flyes, I said, who will feed on Excrement or a Honey-pot equally: I would rather my Life was hid in Obscurity than that my Actions should be known to them, for the smaller their Value of me the more I am at Liberty. But here I checked my self: should I once begin to speak freely, I should blirt out All and so hang my self. All this while Walter was gazing out at a Wherry in which there was a common man laughing and making antic Postures like an Ape: a merry Fellow, said I to break Walter's mood.

No, not so merry, he answered.

We walked back towards the Office and as we spoke with each other the Wind blew our Words in our Faces. And once more I asked him: Who are these who speak to you of me?

They are known to you, Sir.

They are known to me as Villains, I replied but I did not press Walter further on this Matter. And yet I am not blinde to those who work against me: Mr Lee, the Comptroller's Clerke, as heavy and dull as an old Usurer; Mr Hayes, Measuring Surveyour, as changing and uneasy as a Widow without a Fortune and one who emits his Unquietness like a Contagion; Mr Colthouse, Master Carpenter, a silly, empty, morose Fellow who has as much Conceit, and as little Reason for it, as any Man that I know; Mr Newcomb, Paymaster, who has but a low Genius and yet some of his Remarks would make a Body laugh at his Folly; Mr Vanbrugghe, Artificer, whose Productions are but sad and undigested Things like a sick man's Dreames. These are all Gingerbread Fellows, meer Tattlers, and I would as soon eat a Dish of Soup in a Common Ordinary as smile wildly in their Company. But since I keep my Time out of their dispose, therefore they contemn me.

And Walter is saying -it is a foolish Phrensy to care for Praise.

And the best things have the fewer Admirers, I replied, because there are more Dunces than able Men. Consider the work of Mr Vanbrugghe, which is much cryed up: when he tried to build the little Church of Ripon, the Cornices were so small that they could not weather the Work or throw off the Rain!

Then the Weight of this Life fell upon me, and I could scarce speak. I went presently out of Scotland Yard into Whitehall: I walked to the Chandlery and then, to still my beating Mind, I entered into the Church-Yard beside the Abbey. I take Delight in stalking along by my self on that dumb silent Ground, for if it be true that Time is a Wound then it is one that the Dead may Heal. And when I rest my Head upon the Graves I hear them speaking each to each: the grass above us, they say, is of a blew colour but why do we still see it and why are we not pluckt out of the earth? I hear them whispering, the long dead, in Cripplegate, in Farringdon, in Cordwainers Street and in Crutched Fryars: they are pack'd close together like Stones in the Mortar, and I hear them speak of the City that holds them fast. And yet still I burn at Walter's recent Words as this Thought comes to me: why do the Living still haunt me when I am among the Dead?

In rage at my self I walked from the Church-Yard and went up into Charing Cross: I passed the Mews Yard, through Dirty Lane, and then walked down Castle Street towards my Lodging. When I entered Nat Eliot was cleaning some Plates in the Kitchin: Lord Sir, says he, are you back so soon? And up he jumps from his Stool to take off my Boots.

There was a Caller, he goes on (making a pease-porridge of his Words), who desired me to acquaint you of his being here and that he desired if it might not be Troublesome that he might be admitted to you.

Did he speak so plainly?

But Nat paid no heed to my Jest and continu'd: My Master is not withinne, I told him, and is I know not where. He was very much of an ordinary Man and when he enquired your Business I said I will not be pumpt, I said you mistake your Fellow in me. He had mittins on his Hands, and a Fur-Cap on his Head, Master.

So, so, so, I said as I walked up to my Chamber, we will see, we will see.

Nat followed me and, taking up my Cap, stands in front of me: do you know that this Morning I went to buy a new one, says he (for my Cap was now fray'd), so when I stand looking outside the Hat-makers by Golden Square, the tradesman's boy comes out to me, Master, and says well he says do you see any thing you like for you look as if your Pockets had but Holes. What's that to you, says I, I have Money to pay for any Thing I like, and I shan't be huffed at for looking: do you know that saying, all that Glisters is not Gold and then I added again to him No more Nat, I said, tho' you would slobber your Fingers if you held your Tongue.

And he looked down upon the Ground. I am sorry to have given you so much Trouble, he replied. Then he went away; but he crept back later when I called him, and read me to Sleep.

All was revealed on the next Day, when I was by chance walking through Covent-Garden. As I turned out of the Piazza, on the right hand coming out of James-Street, I was jogged in the Elbow and, looking at my Neighbour, saw that it was one of my Assembly from Black Step Lane: I knew him as Joseph, a common man in Cloth-Coat and speckled Breeches. I called for you, he whispered, but your Boy denyed me.

I was not in the House, but why did you come for me there? And I gave him a furious Look.

You have not heard the News?

What News? I asked shuddering.

He was a Man of uncouth and halting Speech, but I peeced together his story as follows, viz: Two days before, some Report of our Activities was spread abroad, and thereupon a Riot was raised among the Streets by our Meeting-House, the people becoming very clamorous against it; there were six withinne the House and, on hearing a confus'd Noise approaching them, they first bolted the fore door, and then padlock'd the Back door, which was glazed, and began to fasten the Shutters belonging to it. The Mobb then threw Stones at the Windows, and among them Flint-stones of such a Size and Weight as were enough to have kill'd any Person they hit (which was their Purpose). They likewise stopp'd those passing thro' Black Step Lane, robb'd them of their Hats, tore off their Wiggs, and buffetted them on suspicion that they were Enthusiasticks (their canting Term): Joseph was one of these and escap'd scarcely with his Life. The Mobb had now crowded into both Lanes running each side of the House (a Disease comes out in Pus and runs so), and they forc'd the Doors.