So we left the old grey Horse at the _Tabard_, and set forth a-foot, my Mother and me, for _London Bridge_: I looking right and left for a Glimpse of the great, broad River. But no Water could we see; and the Ways were thronged with Men, Horses, Carts, Wagons, Flocks of Sheep, and Droves of Oxen, pressing along between Stalls set out with all manner of Cates. Anon we come to a big Gateway, with its Portcullis-teeth grinning over our Heads; and a-top of this Gateway, that was flanked with Turrets, and spanned the Road, were ever so many round, dark Objects, set on Poles, leaning this Way and that; and my Mother shuddered when she saw them, and told me they were Traitors' Heads. But between us…
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