-- Come , Annie , into the street again ; perchance we may see monkeys on horseback there . Mercy on us ! What a noisy world we quiet people live in ! Did Annie ever read the cries of London city ? With what lusty lungs doth yonder man proclaim that his wheelbarrow is full of lobsters ! Here comes another , mounted on a cart and blowing a hoarse and dreadful blast from a tin horn , as much as to say , `` Fresh fish ! '' And hark ! a voice on high , like that of a muezzin from the summit of a mosque , announcing that some chimney-sweeper has emerged from smoke and soot and darksome caverns into the upper air . What cares the world for that ? But , well-a-day , we hear a shrill voice of affliction -- the scream of a little child , rising louder with every repetition of that smart , sharp , slapping sound produced by an open hand on tender flesh . Annie sympathizes , though without experience of such direful woe . Lo ! the town-crier again , with some new secret for the public ear . Will he tell us of an auction , or of a lost pocket-book or a show of beautiful wax figures , or of some monstrous beast more horrible than any in the caravan ? I guess the latter . See how he uplifts the bell in his right hand and shakes it slowly at first , then with a hurried motion , till the clapper seems to strike both sides at once , and the sounds are scattered forth in quick succession far and near . Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! Now he raises his clear loud voice above all the din of the town .
It drowns the buzzing talk XXXXX many tongues and draws each man 's mind from his own business ; it rolls up and down the echoing street , and ascends to the hushed chamber of the sick , and penetrates downward to the cellar kitchen where the hot cook turns from the fire to listen .
With above at by for into of on that to