Abstract
225 But O Cook, O Thomas Cook & Son, path-fi nders and trail-clearers, living signposts to all the world, and bestowers of fi rst aid to bewildered travellers – unhesitatingly and instantly, with ease and celerity, could you send me to Darkest Africa or Innermost Thibet, but to the East End of London, barely a stone’s throw distant from Ludgate Circus, you know not the way! ‘You can’t do it, you know’, said the human emporium of routes and fares at Cook’s Cheapside branch. ‘It is so – ahem – so unusual.’ ‘Consult the police’, he concluded authoritatively, when I persisted. ‘We are not accustomed to taking travellers to the East End; we receive no call to take them there, and we know nothing whatsoever about the place at all.’ Jack London, The People of the Abyss (1903)1
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