houses and booksellers' shops thereon, looking like a street, and the
Tower of London, with the Armor, and the great lions and bears in the
moat--all under company of Monsieur Blaise.

Presently, of an early morning, all the party set forth for the country,
namely, my Lord Viscount and the other gentleman; Monsieur Blaise
and Harry on a pillion behind them, and two or three men with pistols
leading the baggage-horses. And all along the road the Frenchman told
little Harry stories of brigands, which made the child's hair stand
on end, and terrified him; so that at the great gloomy inn on the road
where they lay, he besought to be allowed to sleep in a room with one
of the servants, and was compassionated by Mr. Holt, the gentleman
who travelled with my lord, and who gave the child a little bed in his
chamber.

His artless talk and answers very likely inclined this gentleman in the
boy's favor, for next day Mr. Holt said Harry should ride behind him,
and not with the French lacky; and all along the journey put a thousand
questions to the child--as to his foster-brother and relations at
Ealing; what his old grandfather had taught him; what languages he knew;
whether he could read and write, and sing, and so forth. And Mr. Holt
found that Harry could read and write, and possessed the two languages
of French and English very well; and when he asked Harry about singing,
the lad broke out with a hymn to the tune of Dr. Martin Luther, which
set Mr. Holt a-laughing; and even caused his grand parrain in the laced
hat and periwig to laugh too when Holt told him what the child was
singing. For it appeared that Dr. Martin Luther's hymns were not sung in
the churches Mr. Holt preached at.

"You must never sing that song any more: do you hear, little mannikin?"