Summary

Daniel Joseph Kirwan Palace and Hovel; Or, Phases of London Life

It is like entering a City of the dead, only that instead of the skeletons of human beings piled on top of each other, you find an Aceldama of casks, pipes, barrels, hogsheads, and butts, bonded and stored tier upon tier, until the eye becomes wearied, and a man wonders how all those costly vintages can ever be consumed.
There is no difference between night and day in these dim deep recesses under the London streets. The vaults are only separated from the bed of the Thames by a thick wall, and at noonday, gas has to be turned on to light the way to the enormous storehouses of wine and brandy.
Source: Gutenberg

Daniel Joseph Kirwan Palace and Hovel; Or, Phases of London Life

TOWER, PALACE, AND PRISON.
HE sun has risen and set for a thousand years on its gray walls; the grime and verdure of a thousand years have cemented its hoary stones; nations have grown and decayed; dynasties have been founded and wrecked irretrievably; a New World has been discovered, and inventive genius has almost changed the face of the earth and yet the Tower of London, (cemented by the blood of beasts, as the fable has it,) which saw the beginning and progress of these changes, still endures, and will no doubt endure to the end of time.
Source: Gutenberg

Daniel Joseph Kirwan Palace and Hovel; Or, Phases of London Life

The great parade ground of the abandoned women of London, is the Haymarket, when all London is at rest—when bed-room blinds are drawn down, and street doors locked and chained—when lights are rarely seen but in the windows of the sick wards of hospitals—then the Haymarket is in its glory, gay and lively as a ball-room, and swarming with gaudily dressed women sauntering and flaunting up and down its broad pavements, crowding them as on an illumination night.
Source: Gutenberg

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