At a quarter to one o’clock, on a wet Sunday afternoon, in November 1837, Samuel Snoxell, page to Mr. Zachary Thorpe, of Baregrove Square, London, left the area gate with three umbrellas under his arm, to meet his master and mistress at the church door, on the conclusion of morning service. Snoxell had been specially¹ directed by the housemaid to distribute his three umbrellas in the following manner: the new silk umbrella was to be given to Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe; the old silk umbrella was to be handed to Mr. Goodworth, Mrs. Thorpe’s father; and the heavy gingham was to be kept by Snoxell himself, for the special protection of “Master Zack,” aged² six years, and the only child of Mr. Thorpe. Furnished with these instructions, the page set forth³ on his way to the church.

The morning had been fine for November; but before midday the clouds had gathered, the rain had begun, and the inveterate⁴ fog of the season had closed dingily⁵ over the wet streets, far and near. The garden in the middle of Baregrove Square—with its close-cut turf, its vacant beds, its bran-new rustic⁶ seats, its withered⁷ young trees that had not yet grown as high as the railings around them—seemed to be absolutely rotting away in yellow mist and softly-steady rain, and was deserted⁸ even by the cats. All blinds were drawn⁹ down for the most part over all windows; what light came from the sky came like light seen through dusty glass; the grim brown hue¹⁰ of the brick houses looked more dirtily mournful than ever; the smoke from the chimney-pots was lost mysteriously in deepening superincumbent fog; the muddy

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