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I took part in his undeserved rescue； I followed his
obscure deliverer； until （as I have said） we stood together
on the wall above the dim gardens； already clouding with fog。
Then I looked at the curate and at the burglar； and decided； in a spasm
of inspiration； that the burglar was the better man of the two。
The burglar seemed quite as kind and human as the curate was
and he was also brave and self…reliant； which the curate was not。
I knew there was no virtue in the upper class； for I belong to
it myself； I knew there was not so very much in the lower class；
for I had lived with it a long time。 Many old texts about
the despised and persecuted came back to my mind； and I thought
that the saints might well be hidden in the criminal class。
About the time Hawkins let himself down the ladder I was crawling
up a low； sloping； blue…slate roof after the large man； who went
leaping in front of me like a gorilla。
〃This upward scramble was short； and we soon found
ourselves tramping along a broad road of flat roofs；
broader than many big thoroughfares； with chimney…pots here
and there that seemed in the haze as bulky as small forts。
The asphyxiation of the fog seemed to increase the somewhat
swollen and morbid anger under which my brain and body laboured。
The sky and all those things that are commonly clear seemed
overpowered by sinister spirits。 Tall spectres with turbans of vapour
seemed to stand higher than the sun or moon； eclipsing both。
I thought dimly of illustrations to the ‘Arabian Nights'
on brown paper with rich but sombre tints； showing genii
gathering round the Seal of Solomon。 By the way； what was
the Seal of Solomon？ Nothing to do with sealing…wax really；
I suppose； but my muddled fancy felt the thick clouds as being
of that heavy and clinging substance； of strong opaque colour；
poured out of boiling pots and stamped into monstrous emblems。
〃The first effect of the tall turbaned vapours was that discoloured
look of pea…soup or coffee brown of which Londoners commonly speak。
But the scene grew subtler with familiarity。 We stood above the average
of the housetops and saw something of that thing called smoke； which in
great cities creates the strange thing called fog。 Beneath us rose
a forest of chimney…pots。 And there stood in every chimney…pot； as if it
were a flower…pot； a brief shrub or a tall tree of coloured vapour。
The colours of the smoke were various； for some chimneys were from
firesides and some from factories； and some again from mere rubbish heaps。
And yet； though the tints were all varied； they all seemed unnatural；
like fumes from a witch's pot。 It was as if the shameful and ugly
shapes growing shapeless in the cauldron sent up each its separate
spurt of steam； coloured according to the fish or flesh consumed。
Here； aglow from underneath； were dark red clouds； such as might drift
from dark jars of sacrificial blood； there the vapour was dark indigo gray；
like the long hair of witches steeped in the hell…broth。 In another
place the smoke was of an awful opaque ivory yellow； such as might
be the disembodiment of one of their old； leprous waxen images。
But right across it ran a line of bright； sinister； sulphurous green；
as clear and crooked as Arabic〃
Mr。 Moses Gould once more attempted the arrest of the 'bus。
He was understood to suggest that the reader should shorten
the proceedings by leaving out all the adjectives。 Mrs。 Duke；
who had woken up； observed that she was sure it was all very nice；
and the decision was duly noted down by Moses with a blue；
and by Michael with a red； pencil。 Inglewood then resumed
the reading of the document。
〃Then I read the writing of the smoke。 Smoke was like the modern
city that makes it； it is not always dull or ugly； but it is always
wicked and vain。
〃Modern England was like a cloud of smoke； it could carry
all colours； but it could leave nothing but a stain。 It was our
weakness and not our strength that put a rich refuse in the sky。
These were the rivers of our vanity pouring into the void。
We had taken the sacred circle of the whirlwind； and looked down on it；
and seen it as a whirlpool。 And then we had used it as a sink。
It was a good symbol of the mutiny in my own mind。
Only our worst things were going to heaven。 Only our criminals
could still ascend like angels。
〃As my brain was blinded with such emotions； my guide stopped
by one of the big chimney…pots that stood at the regular intervals
like lamp…posts along that uplifted and aerial highway。
He put his heavy hand upon it； and for the moment I thought he was
merely leaning on it； tired with his steep scramble along the terrace。
So far as I could guess from the abysses； full of fog on either side；
and the veiled lights of red brown and old gold glowing through
them now and again； we were on the top of one of those long；
consecutive； and genteel rows of houses which are still to be
found lifting their heads above poorer districts； the remains
of some rage of optimism in earlier speculative builders。
Probably enough； they were entirely untenanted； or tenanted
only by such small clans of the poor as gather also in the old
emptied palaces of Italy。 Indeed； some little time later；
when the fog had lifted a little； I discovered that we
were walking round a semi…circle of crescent which fell away
below us into one flat square or wide street below another；
like a giant stairway； in a manner not unknown in the eccentric
building of London； and looking like the last ledges of the land。
But a cloud sealed the giant stairway as yet。
〃My speculation about the sullen skyscape； however； were interrupted
by something as unexpected as the moon falling from the sky。
Instead of my burglar lifting his hand from the chimney
he leaned on； he leaned on it a little more heavily； and the whole
chimney…pot turned over like the opening top of an inkstand。
I remembered the short ladder leaning against the low wall and felt
sure he had arranged his criminal approach long before。
〃The collapse of the big chimney…pot ought to have been the culmination
of my chaotic feelings； but； to tell the truth； it produced a sudden sense
of comedy and even of comfort。 I could not recall what connected this
abrupt bit of housebreaking with some quaint but still kindly fancies。
Then I remembered the delightful and uproarious scenes of roofs and chimneys
in the harlequinades of my childhood； and was darkly and quite irrationally
comforted by a sense of unsubstantiality in the scene； as if the houses
were of lath and paint and pasteboard； and were only meant to be tumbled
in and out of by policemen and pantaloons。 The law…breaking of my companion
seemed not only seriously excusable； but even comically excusable。
Who were all these pompous preposterous people with their footmen and their
foot…scrapers； their chimney…pots and their chimney…pot hats； that they
should prevent a poor clown from getting sausages if he wanted them？
One would suppose that property was a serious thing。 I had reached；
as it were； a higher level of that mountainous and vapourous visions；
the heaven of a higher levity。
〃My guide had jumped down into the