capital, our astonishment steadily increased at the number of
ships of all sorts that filled the river, the houses, the
streets, the famous docks, and other maritime constructions which
lined the banks. When at last we reached London Bridge, this
incredibly crowded centre of the greatest city in the world, and
set foot on land after our terrible three weeks' voyage, a
pleasurable sensation of giddiness overcame us as our legs
carried us staggering through the deafening uproar. Robber seemed
to be similarly affected, for he whisked round the corners like a
mad thing, and threatened to get lost every other minute. But we
soon sought safety in a cab, which took us, on our captain's
recommendation, to the Horseshoe Tavern, near the Tower, and here
we had to make our plans for the conquest of this giant
metropolis.

The neighbourhood in which we found ourselves was such that we
decided to leave it with all possible haste. A very friendly
little hunchbacked Jew from Hamburg suggested better quarters in
the West End, and I remember vividly our drive there, in one of
the tiny narrow cabs then in use, the journey lasting fully an
hour. They were built to carry two people, who had to sit facing
each other, and we therefore had to lay our big dog crosswise
from window to window. The sights we saw from our whimsical nook
surpassed anything we had imagined, and we arrived at our
boarding-house in Old Compton Street agreeably stimulated by the
life and the overwhelming size of the great city. Although at the
age of twelve I had made what I supposed to be a translation of a
monologue from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, I found my
knowledge of English quite inadequate when it came to conversing
with the landlady of the King's Arms. But the good dame's social