I can myself recall the glory of those "Dick Whittington" pictures.
Just above Martin's the pastry-cook's (where they sold lemon
biscuits), near the Cathedral, there was a big wooden hoarding, and
on to this was pasted a marvellous representation of Dick and his
Cat dining with the King of the Zanzibar Islands. The King, a
Mulatto, sat with his court in a hall with golden pillars, and the
rats were to be seen flying in a confused flood towards the golden
gates, whilst Dick, in red plush and diamond buckles, stood in
dignified majesty, the Cat at his side. There was another wonderful
picture of Dick asleep at the Cross Roads, fairies watching over
him, and London Town in a lighted purple distance--and another of
the streets of Old London with a comic fat serving man, diamond-
paned windows, cobblestones and high pointing eaves to the houses.

Jeremy saw these pictures for the first time during one of his
afternoon walks, and returned home in such a state of choking
excitement that he could not drink his tea. As was ever his way he
was silent and controlled about the matter, asked very few
questions, and although he talked to himself a little did not
disturb the general peace of the nursery. On Mary and Helen the
effect of the posters had been less. Mary was following the
adventures of the May family in "The Daisy Chain," and Helen was
making necklaces for herself out of a box of beads that had been
given her.

When Jeremy said once, "Who was the man in the red trousers with
gold on them?" no one paid any attention save Hamlet, who wagged his
tail, looked wise and growled a little.

Who indeed could tell how he ached and longed and desired He had a