London Bridge. Crossing the bridge, I met a newspaper boy with a bundle
of papers, still wet from the press. They were halfpenny copies of the
_Star_, but he charged me a penny for mine. The imposition still
rankles.

From it I learned that a huge cordon of police, which had been drawn
round the Crinoline, had been mashed beyond recognition, and two
regiments of Life Guards razed to the ground, by the devastating Glance
of the Wenuses. I passed along King William Street and Prince's Street
to Moorgate Street. Here I met another newspaper boy, carrying the _Pall
Mall Gazette_. I handed him a threepenny bit; but though I waited for
twenty minutes, he offered me no change. This will give some idea of the
excitement then beginning to prevail. The _Pall Mall_ had an article on
the situation, which I read as I climbed the City Road to Islington. It
stated that Mrs. Pozzuoli, my wife, had constituted herself
Commander-in-Chief, and was busy marshalling her forces. I was relieved
by the news, for it suggested that my wife was fully occupied. Already a
good bulk of nursemaids and cooks, enraged at the destruction of the
Scotland Yard and Knightsbridge heroes by the Wenuses' Mash-Glance, had
joined her flag. It was, said the _Pall Mall,_ high time that such an
attack was undertaken, and since women had been proved to be immune to
the Mash-Glance, it was clearly their business to undertake it.

Meanwhile, said the _Pall Mall_, nothing could check the folly of the
men. Like moths to a candle, so were they hastening to Kensington
Gardens, only to be added to the heap of mashed that already had
accumulated there.

So far, the _P.M.G._ But my mother, who was in the thick of events at
the time, has since given me fuller particulars. Notwithstanding, my