For you might spend your life, say, in studying the London street boy, and write never so movingly and humourously about him, yet would he never know your name; and though Whitechapel
makes novelists, it does so without knowing it,--makes them to be read in Mayfair,--just as it never wears the dainty hats and gowns its weary little milliners and seamstresses make through the day and night.
To the city they went accordingly, with all the speed the hackney coach could make; and as the horses happened to live at Whitechapel
and to be in the habit of taking their breakfast there, when they breakfasted at all, they performed the journey with greater expedition than could reasonably have been expected.
You'll pass for Whitechapel
if the worst comes to the worst and you don't forget to talk the lingo.
Weller of his affectionate son, as he entered the yard of the Bull Inn, Whitechapel
, with a travelling-bag and a small portmanteau.
, Pudding Lane, Piccadilly, London, and the
I forget how exactly, but we had been talking about the attitude of Shakespeare toward the Reformation, and I said something and immediately added, "Ah, that reminds me; such a funny thing happened the other day in Whitechapel
Even in the brains of the wildest speculators, there had sprung up no long rows of streets connecting Highgate with Whitechapel
, no assemblages of palaces in the swampy levels, nor little cities in the open fields.
The house to which Oliver had been conveyed, was in the neighborhood of Whitechapel
Sally found you a second-hand stool, Sir, yesterday evening, in Whitechapel
He had written a veritable encyclopedia upon the subject, a book that was nearly as big as himself--And then there was a young author, who came from California, and had been a salmon fisher, an oyster-pirate, a longshoreman, a sailor; who had tramped the country and been sent to jail, had lived in the Whitechapel
slums, and been to the Klondike in search of gold.
All these were blotted out by a grotesque and terrible nightmare brood - frowsy, shuffling creatures from the pavements of Whitechapel
, gin-bloated hags of the stews, and all the vast hell's following of harpies, vile-mouthed and filthy, that under the guise of monstrous female form prey upon sailors, the scrapings of the ports, the scum and slime of the human pit.
We approached it by degrees, and got, in due time, to the inn in the Whitechapel
district, for which we were bound.