The accident came just at the edge of Blackheath, amid very historic surroundings. Some one has called Blackheath the Rotten Row of the olden days, for there royalty and fashionable people of the town went to ride and disport themselves, just as they now do in Hyde Park; and there important guests on the way to London, were wont to be met with much ceremony by the Mayor and certain great citizens. After the battle of Agincourt, the victor, Henry V, when returning to London, was given a magnificent reception at Blackheath, and many were the speeches of praise which had been prepared. The great soldier cut them all short, however, insisting that the honor be given God. At Blackheath, his descendant, Henry VIII, first saw Anne of Cleves (officially, that is), and straightway decided to divorce her. But perhaps the most joyful scene of all those at Blackheath, took place on the May morning when Charles II came into his own, and all England was glad, after the dark days of the Commonwealth and the iron rule of the sober Puritans.

"This," declared Mrs. Pitt a little later, "is 'Shooter's Hill.' That should bear a familiar sound. How many have ever read Dickens's 'Tale of Two Cities'? You have, I know, Philip. Well, in the second chapter, the stage which carried Mr. Jarvis Lorry on his way, is described as slowly mounting this very hill, while most of its passengers toil along the wet, snowy road, by its side. Do you remember, Betty? You must try to think over all of Dickens's works which you have ever read, for we are coming to a district which that author knew well and often put into his novels."

Sure enough, they almost felt as though they had stepped into the world of Dickens's stories, for so many of the places mentioned therein they were able to find. Slowly they drove through Rochester's streets, stopping when they came to any spot of especial interest.

"Here's the old Bull Inn," said Mrs. Pitt, pointing it out as she spoke. "It is supposed that there are no less than twenty-five inns named in Dickens's 'Pickwick Papers' alone. This is one of them, for Room Number Seventeen was Mr. Pickwick's bedroom, and there is also Winkle's, which was 'inside of Mr. Tupman's.' Come, shall we go in?"

The landlord of the Bull has most carefully preserved and cared for all which is of even the slightest interest in connection with Dickens or his books. He most kindly took Mrs. Pitt and her party all about the old house, showing them everything,—including the room where the famous ball in "Pickwick Papers" was held.

Leaving the Bull, they noted the Crown Inn, on the site of the one where Henry VIII went privately to take a look at Anne of Cleves, and the old White Hart, built in Richard II's reign, which once sheltered Samuel Pepys. In Restoration House (built in 1587) Charles II stayed after his landing at Dover.

"'Dickens wrote thus about Restoration House in "Great Expectations,"'" Betty read from the guidebook. "'I had stopped to look at the house as I passed, and its seared red brick walls, blocked windows and strong green ivy clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twigs and tendrils, as if with sinewy arms, made up a rich and attractive mystery.'"

"Doesn't that describe it exactly?" exclaimed Mrs. Pitt, with enthusiasm. "That house always fascinated me, too. When Dickens last visited Rochester, it is said that he was seen gazing long at this old place, and some have thought that the result of those reflections would have appeared in the next chapter of 'Edwin Drood,' which novel, as you know, he never finished. Now, we'll drive out to take a look at Gad's Hill. Luckily, this is Wednesday, so we will be admitted."

After making inquiries, Mrs. Pitt learned that the owner of Gad's Hill throws it open only on the afternoon of each Wednesday; so they took their luncheon first, and then motored the mile and a half to Dickens's home.

Gad's Hill is charming! Dickens was devoted to this square, vine-covered house, where he resided from 1856 to the time of his death, in 1870. The story goes that when he was a small boy the place had a great attraction for him, and that one day his father, wishing to spur him on in a way peculiar to parents, reminded him that if he worked hard and persevered until he was a grown man, he might own that very estate, or one like it.

As they left the house, Mrs. Pitt said, "This hill is the spot where took place the robbery of the travelers in Shakespeare's 'Henry IV.' The inn just opposite Gad's Hill is the Falstaff Inn, probably built about Queen Anne's time. It used to have an old sign with pictures of Falstaff and the 'Merry Wives of Windsor' upon it. I read that in the olden days ninety coaches daily stopped here. Fancy!"

"Well," observed Betty, "I shall certainly enjoy reading Dickens better than ever, when I get home, for now I've seen his study where he wrote. It makes things so much more real somehow, doesn't it, Mrs. Pitt?"

Having visited the cathedral and the old castle, they now left Rochester, and found that the run to Canterbury was rather longer than they had realized.

"But really, you know," Mrs. Pitt had intervened, "Rochester is just about halfway between the two, London and Canterbury, I would say. And we did stop quite a bit to see the sights connected with Dickens."

At last, however, about six in the afternoon, they came in sight of Canterbury, its great cathedral towering over all,—its timbered houses, old city-gate, and narrow, picturesque streets. As usual, the young people who never seemed to need a rest, desired to start sight-seeing at once, but unfortunately a sudden thunder-shower came up to prevent.

"Oh, well, it will stop soon," Betty assured them. "It always does in England."

This time, the weather was not so kind, however. The rain continued persistently, and the party was forced to remain at the inn the entire evening.

Sunshine, even though it be sometimes a bit dim and watery, is never long absent during an English summer, so the morning dawned bright and clear. Just as they set forth from the hotel, Betty felt in her coat pocket and found that her precious red notebook, in which she inscribed all interesting facts and discoveries, was missing.

Philip promptly came to the rescue, saying: "I saw you put it behind you on the seat of the motor, yesterday, and it's probably there still. I'll go to the garage and see."

Betty gave Philip a grateful little smile, but insisted upon accompanying him on his search. They came upon the treasure just where it had been left, and soon rejoined the rest of the party in the cathedral close, where John was in the midst of taking some photographs.

The first near view which they had of Canterbury Cathedral was in approaching it from under old Christchurch Gateway. In spite of its great age, the cathedral, in contrast with the much blackened gateway, appears surprisingly white and fair. The exterior is very beautiful; the two towers are most majestic, and beyond, one sees the graceful Bell Tower, rising from the point where the transepts cross. In olden days, a gilded angel stood on the very top of the Bell Tower, and served as a beacon to the many pilgrims traveling toward Becket's shrine.

Walking about inside the cathedral, they saw, behind the altar, the position of the once famous shrine. All that now remain to remind one that this ever existed are the pavement and steps, deeply worn by the feet of many generations of devout pilgrims.

"I told you something of the splendor of this shrine," Mrs. Pitt suggested to them. "It was said that after his visit to it, Erasmus (the Dutch scholar and friend of Sir Thomas More, you know) in describing it, told how 'gold was the meanest (poorest) thing to be seen.' See, here is the tomb of Henry IV, the only king who is buried here, and there's the monument to the Black Prince. Above hang his gauntlets, helmet, coat, and shield. Do you see them, John?"

The northwest transept, so say all guidebooks and vergers (and they certainly ought to be truthful), was the scene of the murder of the Archbishop a Becket. There is even a stone in the floor which marks the precise spot; but, contrary to her usual habit, Mrs. Pitt absolutely pointed out that all this is false.

"I'm sorry, children," she said, "but I must contradict this. Becket was killed at five o'clock on a dreary December afternoon of 1170. Four years later, the cathedral was entirely destroyed by fire. Therefore, it is not possible that they can show visitors the exact spot where the tragedy took place. William of Sens came over from France, and in 1184, finished the building which we now see.

"This nave," she continued, as they again entered it, "is one of the longest in England, and the choir is several feet higher. Do you notice? It is an unusual feature. Also, the fact that the walls bend very gradually inward as they near the east end of the choir, is worthy of note. Here, as at St. Paul's and a number of other cathedrals, business was carried on, even during services, and pack-horses and mules went trailing through. It's curious to think of, isn't it?"



Canterbury's cloisters are wonderfully ancient. Blackened as they are by the centuries, and their still exquisite carvings broken, yet here, more than in the edifice itself, can one imagine the scene of Becket's terrible death.

"The residence of the Archbishop stood alongside the church," Mrs. Pitt proceeded, "and here the murderers came unarmed, upon their arrival in the town, to interview him. Becket was unmoved by their threats, so they left him to go and arm themselves. The entreaties of the monks that their master should seek safety in the cathedral would have been of no avail had not the hour for evening service arrived. Can't you almost think how dark and cold these stones must have seemed on that winter afternoon, when Becket marched along with majestic deliberateness through these very cloisters, in by that little door, and up to the altar. A feeling of dread and terror was everywhere. Most of the monks had fled to places of hiding, and the Archbishop found himself alone with his three or four faithful friends, whom he commanded to unbolt the heavy church doors, which, in a panic, they had barred. No sooner had the armed men rushed in than the challenge came from Reginald Fitzurse, as Tennyson gives us the scene:

'Where is the Archbishop, Thomas Becket?'

and Becket's brave answer:

'Here. No traitor to the King, but Priest of God, Primate of England. I am he ye seek. What would ye have of me?'

They responded, 'Your life!' and there immediately followed the horrible death."

Mrs. Pitt drew a long breath and sighed.

"Such were the deeds of those unenlightened days. These fierce Norman knights, wishing to gain favor in the eyes of the King, and hearing him say in a moment of anger, that he wished himself rid of the troublesome Archbishop, they at once proceeded to Canterbury and killed him. It was all the outcome of the continual strife and struggle for power, between the Church and the State."

"What did they do to those three Normans?" demanded John indignantly.

"Nothing. I believe they went free. But Henry II himself tried to atone for the deed in doing penance by walking barefooted to Canterbury and Becket's shrine. Come, let's go outside now."

They then wandered about the precincts of the cathedral, pausing by some lovely, ruined arches which tell of an ancient monastery. Everywhere stretch smooth lawns, with grand old trees, and here and there the houses of those connected with the church. Also, very close by stands the King's School, which was founded by Archbishop Theodore in the seventh century, 'for the study of Greek,' and later refounded by Henry VIII. Here that famous Canterbury boy, Christopher Marlowe, was educated. The school is well worth a visit, if only to see the beautiful outside Norman stairway.

Mrs. Pitt next led the way down Mercery Lane, at the corner of which stood The Chequers of Hope, the inn where Chaucer's pilgrims put up.

"You remember the old gate by which we entered the town yesterday," said Mrs. Pitt. "Well, under that same arch came the pilgrims as they approached from London. Although the city-wall then boasted twenty-one towers and six gates, the West Gate is the only remaining bit. Here, at the inn which stood conveniently near the cathedral, the pilgrims stayed, and in Mercery Lane they bought their souvenirs,—probably rosaries or phials of Holy Water. At the further end of the Lane stood the ancient rush-market. Rushes were then in great demand, you recollect, for people used them to strew over their floors."

One might stay on indefinitely in Canterbury, and still not discover all its treasures and interesting nooks and corners. The streets are narrow, crooked, and contain many very old houses. There is at Canterbury a castle; one may see the ruins of St. John's Hospital, and of St. Sepulchre's Nunnery, where Elizabeth Barton, the "Holy Maid of Kent," once lived; the old gate of St. Augustine's Monastery still stands, though it is now restored; by exploring, traces of the city-wall may be found, and the weavers' houses which hang over the little river offer a delightful view. Interest is endless in Canterbury. But as it is impossible to see it all, especially in limited time, the visitor usually seeks out the best known and most famous places; and surely, after the great cathedral itself, ranks St. Martin's Church.

A little way out of the town, and up against a sunny hillside, is this tiny "Mother Church of England." Imbedded in the rough stone of the square, Norman tower are the huge stems of giant vines. Altogether, a more primitive, ancient appearing building cannot well be imagined.

"Well," remarked Betty impressively, "this is the very oldest place we've been in yet. It makes me feel as Stonehenge did, somehow."

"Yes, that's true," assented Mrs. Pitt. "The two places do give you similar sensations. It's simply that you feel the age. I've always thought that if I were suddenly blindfolded, carried away, and set down in St. Martin's Church at Canterbury, that I should know where I was just from the atmosphere, which is so heavy with the weight of the years."

It is claimed for St. Martin's that it is the most ancient church in all England, a land filled with ancient churches. It is in the vicinity of sixteen hundred years old, for Bede states that it was built while the Romans were still in possession, and certain it is that numerous Roman bricks may be seen to this day in the outer wall. The church was perhaps erected for the use of Queen Bertha, whose husband, Ethelbert, King of Kent, was also converted to Christianity, and baptized here. After the arrival of St. Augustine, it is believed that he and his followers came here to worship. Inside, the little church is a curious conglomeration of different styles of architecture; here a Roman doorway, there a Norman, and here an ancient Saxon arch. Some of the relics in the church are the Saxon font, built of twenty-two separate stones, a tomb which has been called that of Queen Bertha, and two Elizabethan brasses. The party found a most excellent and intelligent guide, a woman, who showed them the vessel which held the Holy Oil (a very valuable thing), and the "leper's squint," a slit in the wall to which the unfortunate sick men were allowed to come and listen to the service.

"That's something like the 'nun's squint' at St. Helen's Church in the city," observed Barbara.

On the way back to their hotel, John and Philip strayed into the old Guildhall which contains some portraits, which failed to impress the boys, however.

"S'pose they were old Mayors or some such fellows," said John, when questioned as to what he saw. "Couldn't bear 'em, with their bright velvet clothes and high ruffs. I'm glad I didn't live then! Excuse me from ruffs!"

"If the important men of the town wore such gay and frivolous attire, they had to pay for it surely," Mrs. Pitt added. "Last night I was reading that in the records of Canterbury for the year 1556, the Mayor was required to provide for his wife every year, before Christmas, a scarlet gown and a bonnet of velvet. That was enforced by law! Fancy! The women may have had a hand in that, for they very naturally wanted to make sure not to be outdone by the men in the point of fine clothes."

As the automobile again passed under the West Gate, on its way back to London, Betty turned to Mrs. Pitt, and said in her quiet little way:

"I think you were right in what you said when we were at Salisbury. I think, too, that's the most beautiful of all the cathedrals I've seen. But Canterbury, both the town and church, is very, very interesting. I like the stories about Becket and the pilgrims, too. I'd like to come again some day. Please take hold of my hand, John; I want to stand up a minute and watch that dear Bell Tower as long as I can."



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

GOOD-BY TO LONDON

"A wire for you, Master John."

The butler's interruption while the family was at breakfast one August morning, caused a sudden hush of expectancy.

"A telegram for me!" replied John, trying to assume sufficient dignity for the momentous occasion,—the arrival of the first message he had ever received. "Why, what can it be?"

"Do open it, John. It must be a cable," Betty pleaded, fearing something might be wrong at home.

"Yes, hurry, dear," put in Mrs. Pitt.

Just the second that the contents were revealed, a great shout of joy went up, and John and Betty fairly jumped up and down in their excitement.

"Father and mother coming!" John cried. "On the way now! Taking us to Switzerland! It's great!"

Betty's radiant face showed what delight the prospect of seeing her father and mother gave her. Glancing at Mrs. Pitt almost at once, however, she hastened to say:

"We're both sorry to go away from you all, though, and I hope they'll let us come back. We've had such a good time in England! Don't you think we can go on with our trip here after Switzerland?"

"I really can't tell, dear, for this is all so unexpected. I don't know what your father's plans may be, but I hope he will bring you back to me. I'd be very sorry if it were all at an end! But to think I shall so soon see your father!" Mrs. Pitt sat staring into the grate, and seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

After the general commotion caused by the news had somewhat subsided, and they had all adjusted themselves to the new plans, Mrs. Pitt decided to spend the remaining week in the city, as she had still so much there to show John and Betty. The weather being quite cool and comfortable, they could easily go about.

It happened that two events of those busy days made an everlasting impression on the minds of both John and Betty. First, there was their glimpse of the King and Queen; and then, there was the fire.

As they emerged at about noon one day from the National Gallery, where Mrs. Pitt had been showing them some of the best pictures, Philip heard some one on the steps of the building say that the King and Queen had come to town to be present at the unveiling of a statue. They were soon to pass through St. James Park on their way from Whitehall, it was understood, and our friends at once hastened in that direction. For some time they waited with the crowd, and it was not exactly agreeable, for the day was damp and foggy, and a fine rain had set in. All the while, John was getting more and more aroused, and when he finally saw a small company of the Horse Guards, he so forgot himself as to shout:

"Hurrah! Here they come!"

Because of the rain, the Guards, wearing their blue capes lined with scarlet, were rather less picturesque than usual, but the black horses were as fine as ever.

"They step as if they were proud of going along with the King and Queen," Betty said in a loud whisper to Barbara.

Between two small squadrons of the Guards came a modest closed carriage in which Their Majesties rode. Fortunately for the young visitors, they both kept bending forward and bowing very graciously from the windows, so that they could be distinctly seen. The sober British crowd was characteristically well-behaved. No demonstration of any sort was given the Royalties, except that the men removed their hats. Swiftly the carriage rolled up the wide avenue toward Buckingham Palace.

"Humph! They don't make much fuss about it, do they?" was all John said, while Betty was especially impressed by how very much the King and Queen resembled their photographs.

The following morning an interesting trip to Smithfield was taken. Going by the "Tube," the ride seemed a short one, and they soon found themselves at Smithfield Market.

"Have you ever seen Faneuil Hall Market in Boston?" demanded Mrs. Pitt laughingly, whereupon John and Betty, the two Bostonians, were rather ashamed to admit that they had not.

"Somehow we never have time at home," was Betty's remark. "And I think perhaps we never really wanted to very much, either."

"Well, you wouldn't understand why, then, but it always reminded me of this great Smithfield Market," went on Mrs. Pitt and then added a bit boastfully, "I've been to Faneuil Hall several times."

What they saw was a large, lofty building, with a roof of glass and iron, equipped as a most thoroughly up-to-date meat-market. A street runs directly through the center, and from this, one can get a splendid idea of both halves.

"This great barren square of Smithfield was the place where they had the tournaments in the olden days, and because of that, the name was probably once 'Smooth-field.' Edward III held a brilliant tournament here, and also Richard II, who invited many foreign guests to be present for that important event. The processions which preceded, as well as the tournaments themselves, were most elaborate. One old writer fairly dazzles us by his description of 'sixty horses in rich trappings, each mounted by an esquire of honor,—and sixty ladies of rank, dressed in the richest elegance of the day following on their palfreys, each leading by a silver chain a knight completely armed for tilting. Minstrels and trumpets accompanied them to Smithfield amidst the shouting population: there the Queen and her fair train received them.' Then this same author tells at much length of the commencing of the tournament, and says 'they tilted each other until dark. They all then adjourned to a sumptuous banquet, and dancing consumed the night.' For several days and nights this same performance was repeated. That gives you a slight idea of the aspect Smithfield bore in the days when it was far outside the limits of the 'City.'"

After pausing a few minutes in her talk, while they walked about the square, Mrs. Pitt proceeded:

"In 1381, after the peasant uprising, the leader, Wat Tyler, was killed here. And then, in the reigns of 'Bloody Mary' and of Elizabeth, this was the place of public execution. Way back in 1305, the patriot William Wallace was hanged here, and after him came a long line of sufferers,—among them Anne Askew, Rogers, Bradford, and Philpot, who were persecuted because of their adherence to the Protestant Religion. After that terrible period, Smithfield was for many years the only cattle-market in London; and here was held Bartholomew Fair, also. Don't you agree that this square has had about as varied a history as is very well possible?"

The church of St. Bartholomew the Great, one of the oldest and most interesting in London, is reached from Smithfield by an inconspicuous arch, which leads to a narrow walk close beside brick walls. At the further end is the facade of the church, which boasts of having been erected in 1123, by Rahere, who also founded the neighboring Hospital of St. Bartholomew.

Once inside the doorway, the visitor feels as though he had actually stepped back many centuries, for, as Baedeker says, "the existing church, consisting merely of the choir, the crossing, and one bay of the nave of the original Priory Church, is mainly pure Norman work, as left by Rahere." Here again, the visitor encounters that strange atmosphere which belongs to the place pervaded by great age.

"You see," explained Mrs. Pitt, "the church which we see is only a very small part of the original edifice as Rahere built it. The entrance from Smithfield was probably the door to the nave, which was where the grave-yard now stands. It's curious, isn't it, how the centuries alter things! Now, step over here, out of the way of the door, and let me tell you a bit about this old church and its founder. This Rahere was the King's jester, who came to see the error of his ways, grew very religious, and went on a pilgrimage. While on his journey back, he became seriously ill, and turned to St. Bartholomew for healing, promising to build a hospital for poor men if his petition were granted. He was cured, and on his return to London, he built the hospital and also this church, in which he is himself buried."

They were all delighted with this story, and went immediately to find Rahere's tomb, of which the ancient effigy is covered by a fine canopy of much later date. One other tomb is that of Sir Walter Mildmay, who was Chancellor of the Exchequer to Queen Elizabeth, and founder of Emmanuel College, Oxford. John discovered the following quaint epitaph, which greatly amused the entire party:

"Shee first deceased, Hee for a little Tryd, To live without her, likd it not, and dyd."

This adorns the tomb of John and Margaret Whiting, in the north transept.

Some time was passed in this wonderful church,—climbing the tiny, spiral stairs up to the clerestory, and going cautiously along the bit of a walk at this dizzy height above the floor of the church.

It needs time and much study to appreciate this sad old church, which, in spite of its broken pieces of marble, and ruined splendor and perfection of form, still bravely stands,—a lonely and pathetic relic of its grand past. A young person can scarcely understand it at all; it needs a grown man or woman whose experience enables him to read in the crumbling pillars and walls, stories of the times when England was young, the Church was the great glory and power, and there still lived men who were "fair and fortunate."

In the vicinity of Smithfield are a number of quaint nooks and corners of old London. Many consider that the very best idea of the ancient city may now be had in Cloth Fair and Bartholomew Close, both of which are in this neighborhood. Here are still standing genuine Sixteenth Century houses amid much darkness and dirt.

"Here in Bartholomew Close," stated Mrs. Pitt, "Benjamin Franklin learned his trade of printing, and Washington Irving, John Milton, and the painter Hogarth, all lived."

From Smithfield they hastily betook themselves, by means of hansoms, to Crosby Hall, there to have luncheon. Mrs. Pitt laughed heartily when John said how glad he was to be able to eat amid ancient surroundings. He declared that he had been spending the entire morning so very far back in the Middle Ages, that it would have been too great a shock had he been taken immediately to a vulgar, modern restaurant.

When they had finished their luncheon and were waiting on a street corner for the arrival of a certain bus, suddenly a thrill of excitement went through the crowd, all traffic was quickly drawn up at the sides of the street where it halted, and a weird cry of "Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi" was heard in the distance.

"It's the fire-brigade," cried Philip, whereupon he and John were tense with anticipation.

Down the cleared street came the galloping horses with the fire-engines, the men clinging to them wearing dark-blue uniforms with red bindings, big brass helmets, which gleamed in the sunshine, and hatchets in their belts.

It happened that the fire was very near where our friends were standing, so at the eager solicitations of the two boys, Mrs. Pitt consented to follow on and watch operations.

"So it really is a fire this time," she said to Betty, as they hurried along. "We have very, very few in London, and when the brigade is out, it is generally only for exercise or practice. But, it will interest you and John to see how we fight a fire, and to observe whether the methods differ from yours."

A building on Bishopsgate Street was really very much on fire when the party reached the spot, and the firemen were hard at work. Although the buildings are not high (or at least not according to American standards), the men use very strong ladders, which can be pulled out so that they will reach to great heights. But the queerest thing of all in John's estimation was the way in which the people on the top floor of the building were rescued.

A long canvas tube was carried up a ladder by a fireman, who attached it to the frame of an upper window. The occupants of that floor were then slid one by one to the ground through this tube, being caught at the bottom by the firemen.

"Well, did you ever see anything like that!" cried John, amazed at the funny sight. "It's great, I say! I'd like to try it!"

All the way up town, the talk was of fires. John had been tremendously interested in the English methods, and was planning to introduce the use of the canvas tube to his own city through a good Irish friend of his at a Boston fire-station.

"Honor bright, don't you have many fires over here?" he demanded of Mrs. Pitt. "We have 'em all the time at home. It must be stupid here without 'em!"

"No, we really have very few," Mrs. Pitt responded. "In winter, there are a number of small outbreaks, but those are very slight. You see, we burn soft coal, and if the chimney is not swept out quite regularly, the soot which gathers there is apt to get afire. When a chimney does have a blaze, the owner has to pay a fine of one pound, or five dollars, to make him remember his chimney. In olden times, perhaps two hundred and fifty years ago, there used to be a tax levied on every chimney in a house. There's a curious old epitaph in a church-yard at Folkestone, which bears upon this subject. It reads something like this:

'A house she hath, 'tis made in such good fashion, That tenant n'ere shall pay for reparation, Nor will her landlord ever raise her rent, Nor turn her out-of-doors for non-payment, From chimney-money too, this house is free, Of such a house who would not tenant be.'"

They all joined in a good laugh over this, but Betty remarked that she thought it was "more of an advertisement for a house than an epitaph."

Their particular bus had been slowly making its way down Ludgate Hill, along Fleet Street, into the Strand, through Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus, into Piccadilly itself, and had now reached Hyde Park Corner, where our friends climbed down the stairs and swung themselves off.

Betty was grumbling just a little. "I never can get down those tiny stairs," she exclaimed, "without almost bumping my head and catching my umbrella in the stair-rail!"

Mrs. Pitt smiled. "That shows you are not a true Londoner, my dear. We are never troubled. But, never mind; they don't have buses in Switzerland."

At this, Betty was instantly herself again. "London wouldn't be London without the funny, inconvenient buses, I know. And it's dear, every inch of it,—buses and all!"

Mrs. Pitt pointed out Apsley House, where lived the great Duke of Wellington. A curious fact about this stately old mansion is that on fine afternoons, the shadow of a nearby statue of this hero is thrown full upon the front of his former home.



As they were about to enter Hyde Park through the imposing gate, Mrs. Pitt said:—

"When we stand here and gaze at this scene before us,—the crowd, beautiful park, fine hotels, houses, and shops,—it is hard to realize that this was a dangerous, remote district as recently as 1815. That was the time of many daring robberies, you know, when it was not safe walking, riding, or even traveling in a big coach, because of the highwaymen. Even so late as the year I just mentioned, this vicinity from Hyde Park to Kensington was patrolled, and people went about in companies so as to be comparatively secure."

The remainder of that lovely afternoon was spent in Hyde Park, watching the riding and driving. Having paid the fee of threepence each for the use of their chairs, it was pleasant to sit and look on at the gay sight. Old gentlemen, stout ladies, young people, and small children, all ride, in England, and at certain times of the day, during "the season" (May and June), Hyde Park is always filled with a merry company. In midsummer it is rather more deserted, and yet the walks stretching between the flower-beds, and the Serpentine stream, are always flocking with people on summer Sundays or "bank holidays."

And so passed the last days which John and Betty spent in London. All the favorite spots—Westminster Abbey, the Tower, Kensington Palace, and many others—had to be revisited, just as though the young people never thought to see them again; and then, at last came the day when the father and mother were expected. They all trooped to Euston Station to meet the train, and in triumph escorted the American friends back to Cavendish Square. There they remained for two short days and then carried the almost reluctant John and Betty away with them. Mrs. Pitt, Philip, and Barbara remained behind on the platform, waving a last good-by, and still hearing the many thanks and expressions of gratitude which John and Betty had repeatedly poured into their ears, in return for their delightful visit to England.

THE END.



INDEX

Addison, Joseph, 136

Alfred the Great, 222, 227, 229

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 223, 227

Anne of Cleves, 255, 257

Anne, Queen, 70, 112, 114

Arden, Forest of, 158, 169, 202

"As You Like It," 157

Austen, Jane, 226

Bankside, 90

Bartholomew Close, 281

Bear-baiting, 90

Becket, St. Thomas a, 254, 264

Bell Inn, Edmonton, 118

"Big Ben," 107

Blackheath, 256

Black Prince, Edward the, 120, 263

Boleyn, Anne, 61, 103, 128, 136

"Bow Bells," 17, 118

Bunyan, John, 89

Bus-drivers, 16

Buses, 11

Cambridge, 91

Canterbury, 261 Cathedral, 262 Chequers of Hope Inn, 267 Cloisters of Cathedral, 265 Pilgrims, 90, 252, 267 Shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, 263 St. Martin's Church, 269 Tales, 253

Carlyle, Thomas, 124

Caroline, Queen, 129

Chalfont St. Giles, 105

Charing Cross, 67

Charlecote, 167 Park, 167

Charles I, 100, 102

Charles II, 114, 257

Chatsworth House, 216

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 28, 112, 120, 252

Cheshire Cheese, 78

Clopton, Sir Hugh, 148

Cloth Fair, 281

Clovelly, 238 Court, 248 Hobby Drive, 248

Cockney, 16

Coventry, 200 Ford's Hospital, 201 "Peeping Tom," 200 St. Mary's Hall, 200

Cromwell, Oliver, 109, 136, 186, 198

Crosby Hall, 115

"Deans, Jeanie," 129

Deptford, 254

Devonshire, 238 Cream, 243 Legends of, 245

Dickens, Charles, 28, 257

Doomsday Book, 121

Drake, Sir Francis, 249, 255

Druids, 235

Edward I, 67, 113 III, 99, 113, 277 the Confessor, 112

Elizabeth, Queen, 52, 60, 69, 102, 112, 114, 129, 136, 169, 171, 197, 220, 255

Essex, Earl of, 61, 124

Eton School, 98

Evans, Mary Ann (George Eliot), 124

Fawkes, Guy, 58, 120

Fire Brigade, 282

Fountains Abbey, 208

Franklin, Benjamin, 282

Gastrell, Rev. Francis, 148

George III, 56, 126

Gilpin, John, 118

Globe Theatre, 90

Gray, Thomas, 96

Greville, Fulke, 192

Grey, Lady Jane, 61, 120

Gunpowder Plot, 58

Haddon Hall, 216

Hampton Court, 130

Harvard, John, 90, 146

Hathaway, Anne, 153, 157, 162

Henrietta Maria, Queen, 129

Henry II, 267 IV, 59, 263 V, 104, 113, 257 VII, Chapel of, 111 VIII, 100, 124, 128, 131, 257, 259

Hogarth, William, 282

Holbein, Hans, 89, 133

Holy Trinity Church, Stratford, 152

Horse Guards, 21, 275

Houses of Parliament, 13, 107, 123

Howard, Queen Catharine, 133, 136

Hyde Park Corner, 16, 285

Irving, Washington, 161, 282

James I of Scotland, 104

Jerusalem Chamber, 35

Kenilworth Castle, 196

Kew Gardens, 125 Palace, 126

Kingsley, Charles, 248

Lambeth Palace, 123

Leamington, 182

Leicester, Earl of, 59, 135, 171, 191, 198

"Little John," 206

Lollards, 124

London Bridge, 87

Mansfield, 203

Marlowe, Christopher, 255, 267

Mary, Queen, 76, 226 Queen of Scots, 112

"Midsummer Night's Dream," 157

Milton, John, 105, 282

Miracle Plays, 200

More, Sir Thomas, 53, 62, 89, 115, 124

National Gallery, 13, 275

Nelson, Lord, 13, 74, 114

Nottingham, 204, 214

Oxford, 18, 92

Paternoster Row, 118

Pembroke, Countess of, 48, 115

Penshurst Place, 42

Pepys, Samuel, 259

"Pickwick Papers," 258

Pitt, William, 26, 114

Pope, Alexander, 136

Prentices, 22

"Princes, the Little," 54

Public Record Office, 119

Rahere, 279

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 63, 120

Richard I, 211 II, 59, 113, 277 III, 115

Richmond Palace, 129 Park, 128

Robin Hood, 203

Robsart, Amy, 182, 194

Rochester, 258 Bull Inn, 258 Crown Inn, 259 Falstaff Inn, 260 Gad's Hill, 260 Restoration House, 259 White Hart Inn, 259

Round Table, the, 228

St. Augustine, 270 Bartholomew the Great, Church of, 279 Cross Hospital, 230 Helen's Church, 116 Mary Overy, Southwark, 88 Paul's Cathedral, 69 Swithin, 223, 226

Salisbury Cathedral, 232

Sarum, Old, 234

Scott, Sir Walter, 196

Shakespeare, William, 28, 90, 117, 140, 169

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 99

Shooter's Hill, 257

Shottery, 163

Sidney, Sir Philip, 41, 73, 120

Smithfield, 276 Market, 276

Southwark, 90, 252 Cathedral, 88 Tabard Inn, 90, 252

Spenser, Edmund, 28, 49

Star and Garter Inn, Richmond, 127

Stoke Poges, 96

Stonehenge, 234

Stoneleigh Abbey, 201

Stone of Scone, 113

Stratford-on-Avon, 138 the "Birthplace," 140 Grammar School, 151 Guild Chapel, 150 Holy Trinity Church, 152 John Harvard House, 146 New Place, 147 Red Horse Hotel, 138 Shakespeare Hotel, 145 Shakespeare Memorial, 155 Weir Brake, 156

Streets in London, names of, 119

Swift, Dean, 136

Tabard Inn, 90, 252

"Tale of Two Cities," 257

Thames River, the, 122

Tower of London, 50

Trafalgar Square, 13, 21

Tyler, Wat, 278

Vauxhall, 124

Vernon, Dorothy, 217

Wallace, William, 278

Walpole, Horace, 136

Warwick Castle, 183 Guy of, 184, 195 Guy's Cliff, 194 Leicester's Hospital, 192 St. Mary's Church, 190 "The King-maker," 184 Vase, 187

Warwickshire, 167

Weir Brake, Stratford, 156

Wellington, Duke of, 74, 286

Westminster Abbey, 20 Chapter House, 34 Cloisters, 30 Hall, 108 School, 32

"Westward Ho!" 248

White Lodge, 129

William and Mary, 112, 114

William III, 134 Rufus, 108, 226

Winchester, 222 Cathedral, 224 County Court, 228 Hospital of St. Cross, 230

Windsor Castle, 99, 128

"Winter's Tale," 162

Wolsey, Cardinal, 120, 130



Makers of England Series

By EVA MARCH TAPPAN, Ph.D.

Dr. Tappan's historical works have already become classics for the young, and well do they deserve it, with their entertaining descriptions, perfect English, and historical value. Such books are the best that can be placed in the hands of children; and the fact that while being instructive there is never a dull line is the highest commendation that can be offered.

In the Days of Alfred the Great Cloth Fully illustrated Price $1.00

In the Days of William the Conqueror Cloth Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy Price $1.00

In the Days of Queen Elizabeth Cloth Illustrated from famous paintings Price $1.00

In the Days of Queen Victoria Cloth Illustrated from paintings and photographs Price $1.00

Miss Tappan reads her authorities intelligently and selects her material wisely, always having her young audience well in mind. She has a clear idea of the requirements for interesting and stimulating young readers, and arousing in them a desire for further research. The entire series are admirably adapted to this end, and are warmly recommended to the attention of parents, teachers, and librarians.—"Era", Philadelphia, Pa.



A Boy of a Thousand Years Ago

By HARRIET T. COMSTOCK. Large 12mo Profusely illustrated with full-page drawings and chapter headings by GEORGE VARIAN $1.00

It will at once be understood that the "boy" of the story is Alfred the Great in his youth, but it cannot be understood how delightful a story this is until it is seen and read. The splendid pictures of George Varian make this book superior among juveniles.

"Not a boy lives who will not enjoy this book thoroughly. There is a good deal of first-class historical information woven into the story, but the best part of it is the splendid impression of times and manners it gives in old England a thousand years ago."—Louisville Courier-Journal.

"Mrs. Comstock writes very appreciatively of Little Alfred, who was afterward the Great, and from mighty meagre materials creates a story that hangs together well. The illustrations for this volume are especially beautiful."—Boston Home Journal.

The Story of Joan of Arc FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

By KATE E. CARPENTER Illustrated by AMY BROOKS, also from paintings, and with map Large 12mo Cloth $1.00

The favorite story of Joan of Arc is here treated in a uniquely attractive way. "Aunt Kate" tells the story of Joan of Arc to Master Harold, aged 11, and to Misses Bessie and Marjorie, aged 10 and 8, respectively, to their intense delight. They look up places on the map, and have a fine time while hearing the thrilling story, told in such simple language that they can readily understand it all. Parents and teachers will also be greatly interested in this book from an educational point of view.

"The tale is well told and the children will delight in it."—Chicago Post.

"Told so simply and clearly that young readers cannot fail to be entertained and instructed."—Congregationalist, Boston.



CHILDREN OF OTHER LANDS SERIES

When I Was a Boy in Japan

By SAKAE SHIOYA Illustrated from photographs 12mo Cloth $.75

The author was born fifty miles from Tokio, and at the age of twelve began the study of English at a Methodist school. Later he studied Natural Science in the First Imperial College at Tokio, after which he taught English and Mathematics. He came to America in 1901, received the degree of Master of Arts at the University of Chicago, and took a two years' post-graduate course at Yale before returning to Japan. No one could be better qualified to introduce the Japanese to those in America, and he has done it in a way that will delight both children and parents.

When I Was a Girl in Italy

By MARIETTA AMBROSI 12mo Cloth Illustrated $.75

The author, Marietta Ambrosi, was born in Tyrol, having an American-born mother of Italian descent, and a Veronese father. Her entire girlhood was spent in Brescia and other cities of Northern Italy, and in early womanhood she came with her family to America. Her story gives a most graphic account of the industries, social customs, dress, pleasures, and religious observances of the Italian common people.

When I Was a Boy in China

By YAN PHOU LEE 12mo Cloth Illustrated from photographs $.75

New York Independent says: "Yan Phou Lee was one of the young men sent to this country to be educated here, and finally matriculated at Yale, where he graduated with honor. 'When I was a Boy in China' embodies his recollections of his native country. It is certainly attractive, with more room for nature to operate and play in freely than is generally attributed to Chinese life."



ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS'S Books for Young Americans

The True Story of Christopher Columbus, called the Admiral. Revised edition. New cover $1.50

"With its thorough historical research and its novelty of treatment, it is the Columbus book of its time."—The Interior, Chicago.

The True Story of George Washington, called the Father of His Country. 4to, cloth $1.50

"Although many excellent biographies of our first President have been prepared for the young, we think that Mr. Brooks has presented the best, and has sustained well if not added to his reputation gained by his previous efforts in historical fields for young readers."—S. S. Library Bulletin.

The True Story of Abraham Lincoln, the American. Fully illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

"His life reads like a romance, the best romance that ever was printed, and Mr. Brooks has done an admirable work.... The story of Lincoln was never more ably told."—Evening Post, Chicago.

The True Story of U. S. Grant, the American soldier. Fully illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

"Carefully written in that style which makes Mr. Brooks so popular a writer with his young readers."—The Pilgrim Teacher.

The True Story of Benjamin Franklin, the American statesman. Profusely illustrated, 4to $1.50

The only popular life of the great Franklin written from a human standpoint for the boys and girls of America.

These seven books are now in wide and acceptable use in American homes, schools, and libraries. They are real stories, true stories, that interest young readers in and out of school, and imperceptibly pave the way for their becoming students of America's story and readers of the bulkier books of American history and biography.

"An entertaining and instructive series."—Christian Endeavor World.

The True Story of Lafayette, the friend of America. One vol., illustrated, 4to $1.50

This volume, the seventh in the series of "Children's Lives of Great Men," will appeal to all young Americans, and older ones as well, to whom the name of Lafayette is ever dear. It is an absorbing, simply told, and stirring story of a remarkable character in American history, and is the "whole story" from the boyhood of the great Frenchman to the close of his long, dramatic, and romantic career.



ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS'S BOOKS

The True Story of the United States of America. Profusely illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

This is in every sense a companion volume to the series of "Children's Lives of Great Men." It tells the true story of the beginnings, rise, and development of the republic of the United States, without the dreary array of dates or the dull succession of events that so often make up history for the young. Its object is to tell the story of the people of America,—to awaken an interest in motives as well as persons, in principle rather than in battles, in the patriotism and manliness that make a people rather than in the simply personal qualities that make the leader or the individual. The book is very largely used for supplementary reading in schools, and is accepted as the most popular "story" of the United States yet told for young people.

The Story of Our War with Spain. Told for young Americans. Profusely illustrated, one vol., 8vo $1.50

An authentic, complete, up-to-date, and reliable account of the war for Cuban liberation in 1898, prepared after a careful study of the best and latest data. It is at once comprehensive, graphic, and entertaining, and well sustains the reputation earned by this author's long list of interesting, instructive, and successful books for young Americans.

In Buff and Blue: A STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. Illustrated by Merrill, one vol., 8vo $1.50

This stirring story of the Revolution details the adventures of one of Washington's famous life-guards, who is a college mate of Alexander Hamilton, and fights with him from Trenton to Yorktown. It deals with school and camp in the "days that tried men's souls" here in America, and introduces such famous characters as Washington, Hamilton, Lafayette, Arnold, Andre, and Wayne. A splendid book for boys and girls.

The Story of the American Indian. Profusely illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

The first and only complete and consecutive story of the red men of America. It is sympathetic but not sentimental, practical but not one-sided, picturesque but not romantic. A book for all Americans to read.

The Story of the American Sailor. Illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

The only story of the American blue-jacket, whaler, fisherman, merchantman, and foremast-hand, cabin boy, captain, commodore, and admiral. A grand book for all lovers of heroism on the sea,—especially American heroism.



ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS'S BOOKS

The Story of the American Soldier. Illustrated, 4to, cloth $1.50

A stirring and graphic record of the American fighting man,—the soldier who has secured peace through war,—from the days of mound-builders and red Indians to those of Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and Miles.

The Story of New York. (STORY OF THE STATES SERIES.) Illustrated, 8vo, cloth $1.50

This initial volume of the "Story of the States Series," of which Mr. Brooks is editor, is a story of the beginnings and development of the Empire State, told in a delightful and attractive manner.

"More like a charming fireside legend, told by a grandfather to eager children, than the dry and pompous chronicles commonly labelled history."—Critic, New York.

Storied Holidays: A Cycle of Red-Letter Days. Illustrated by Howard Pyle, 12mo, cloth $1.50

A unique and charming collection of historical stories about the world's holidays, told by the author of "Historic Boys" and "Historic Girls" Splendidly illustrated by Howard Pyle.

"A book for buying and keeping that the children, as they grow up, and the parents, too, may dip into and read."—Sunday School Times.

The Boy Life of Napoleon, afterwards Emperor of the French. Translated and adapted for American children from the French of Madame Eugenie Foa. Illustrated by Vesper L. George, and by numerous photographs. One vol., square 8vo $1.25

"The style of the book is simple and graceful, and it has the merit of historical accuracy, also of dramatic action. For those who wish their boys and girls to study the life of the great Emperor of France, we know of no better book than this."—Literary World, Boston.

In Leisler's Times: A Story of Knickerbocker New York, told for boys and girls. Illustrated by W. T. Smedley, 12mo, cloth $1.50

A stirring, dramatic, and vivid historical tale, based on the remarkable record of Jacob Leisler, earliest of American patriots,—the first people's governor of New York.

"A good boy's book; manly, patriotic, and readable."—The Independent.

In No Man's Land: A Wonder Story. Illustrated by Childe Hassam, 12mo, cloth $1.00

An "Alice in Wonderland" story about an American "Alice" whose name was Ruthie, and who went to No Man's Land in a street-car. Full of fun and fancy. The children's favorite wonder story.

"Sparkles all over with glee.... There is not a dull line in it."—The Dial.



W. O. STODDARD'S BOOKS

12mo Cloth Price per volume, $1.25

DAN MONROE: A Story of Bunker Hill Illustrated by W. F. Kennedy

In this volume the hero is one whose name is found in several trustworthy records as the drummer boy of the Lexington militia, his closest friend, Nat Harrington, being the fifer. The Concord fight, the Battle of Bunker Hill, and the arrival of Washington are introduced as parts of a carefully preserved historical outline.

LONG BRIDGE BOYS Illustrated by I. B. Hazelton

It tells the story of an actual attempt made by the Confederates of Virginia, just prior to the outbreak of the Civil War, to seize the city of Washington by force of arms, and make prisoners of President Lincoln and other high government officials.

AHEAD OF THE ARMY Illustrated by C. Chase Emerson

This is a lively narrative of the experiences of an American boy who arrives in Mexico as the war with the United States is beginning.

THE ERRAND BOY OF ANDREW JACKSON: A War Story of 1812 Illustrated by Will Crawford

This tale is of the War of 1812, and describes the events of the only land campaign of 1812-1814 in which the Americans were entirely successful.

JACK MORGAN: A Boy of 1818 Illustrated by Will Crawford

It is the adventures of a boy of the frontier during the great fight that Harrison made on land, and Perry on the lakes for the security of the border.

THE NOANK'S LOG: A Privateer of the Revolution Illustrated by Will Crawford

The further adventures of the plucky Guert Ten Eyck, as he fought King George on land and sea.

THE DESPATCH BOAT OF THE WHISTLE: A Story of Santiago Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill

A breezy story of a newspaper despatch boat, in the war with Spain.

GUERT TEN EYCK Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill

A hero story of real American girls and boys, in the American Revolution.

THE PARTNERS Illustrated by Albert Scott Cox

A capital story of a bright, go-ahead country girl and two boys who helped her keep store.

CHUCK PURDY: A New York Boy Illustrated

A delightful story of boy life in New York City.

GID GRANGER: A Country Boy Illustrated

A capital story of American life.



George Gary Eggleston's Juveniles

The Bale Marked Circle X A Blockade Running Adventure

Illustrated by C. Chase Emerson. 12mo, red cloth, illustrated cover, $1.50.

Another of Mr. Eggleston's stirring books for youth. In it are told the adventures of three boy soldiers in the Confederate Service who are sent in a sloop on a secret voyage from Charleston to the Bahamas, conveying a strange bale of cotton which holds important documents. The boys pass through startling adventures: they run the blockade, suffer shipwreck, and finally reach their destination after the pluckiest kind of effort.

Camp Venture A Story of the Virginia Mountains

Illustrated by W. A. McCullough. 12mo, dark red cloth, illustrated cover, $1.50.

The Louisville Courier Journal says: "George Gary Eggleston has written a decidedly good tale of pluck and adventure in 'Camp Venture.' It will be of interest to young and old who enjoy an exciting story, but there is also a great deal of instruction and information in the book."

The Last of the Flatboats A Story of the Mississippi

Illustrated by Charlotte Harding. 12mo, green cloth, illustrated cover, $1.50.

The Brooklyn Eagle says: "Mr. George Gary Eggleston, the veteran editor and author, has scored a double success in his new book, 'The Last of the Flatboats,' which has just been published. Written primarily as a story for young readers, it contains many things that are of interest to older people. Altogether, it is a mighty good story, and well worth reading."



YOUNG DEFENDER SERIES

By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS

IN DEFENCE OF THE FLAG

A Boy's Adventures in Spain and Cuba in the War of 1898

Illustrated by W. F. STECHER 12mo Cloth $1.25

A story of action and adventure such as all healthy boys like, telling of a plucky young American who defended his country's flag against mobs in Spain and foemen in Cuba, and had many thrilling experiences.

"Suffice it to say that he will be a lucky boy, with many a thrill before him, who finds this book in his Christmas stocking. Don is a hero after every boy's heart."—Boston Herald.

WITH LAWTON AND ROBERTS

A Boy's Adventures in the Philippines and the Transvaal

Illustrated by C. CHASE EMERSON 12mo Cloth $1.25

The stirring adventures of a manly American boy who follows Lawton in his last campaigns, and by a singular train of circumstances has "moving accidents by flood and field," in two wars, with American soldiers, Filipino insurrectos, Malay pirates, English troopers, and Boer burghers.

"Mr. Brooks presents vivid pictures of both wars, so widely separated. His pages are full of the swift-moving incidents which boys love. Dull indeed must be the young reader whose interest flags."—Boston Journal.

UNDER THE ALLIED FLAGS

A Boy's Adventures in China During the Boxer Revolt

Illustrated by W. F. STECHER 12mo Cloth $1.25

The stirring story of an American boy's adventures in Tien Tsin and Pekin, in the ranks of the International troops and as one of the defenders of the beleaguered legations. Up-to-date, absorbing, and full of healthy excitement. Characters who are in the stories "With Lawton and Roberts" and "In Defence of the Flag" reappear in this story.

"Men and women, boys and girls, of all the mingled nationalities that made this war in China so picturesque, appear in the story and give it vigor, variety, and unflagging interest."—Cleveland World.

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers,

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

1. Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.

2. Words with one or more letters enclosed in {} indicate that the original word, in the book, had those characters in superscript.

3. In the advertising pages at the end of this e-text, the use of = on either side of a phrase indicates that the title was typeset in a bold face; + indicates that the title was underlined.