As you enter this warehouse the flooring is sticky, as if it had been
newly tarred, with the sugar that has leaked through the casks----'"

"We won't go there," said Rollo, interrupting.

"'And as you descend into these dark vaults,'" continued Mr. George,
"'you see long lines of lights hanging from the black arches, and lamps
flitting about midway.'"

"I should like to go there," said Rollo.

"'Here you sniff the fumes of the wine,'" continued Mr. George, "'and
there the peculiar fungous smell of dry rot. Then the jumble of sounds,
as you pass along the dock, blends in any thing but sweet concord. The
sailors are singing boisterous Ethiopian songs from the Yankee ship
just entering; the cooper is hammering at the casks on the quay; the
chains of the cranes, loosed of their weight, rattle as they fly up
again; the ropes splash in the water; some captain shouts his orders
through his hands; a goat bleats from some ship in the basin; and empty
casks roll along the stones with a hollow, drum-like sound. Here the
heavy-laden ships are down far below the quay, and you descend to them
by ladders; whilst in another basin they are high up out of the water,
so that their green copper sheathing is almost level with the eye of the
passenger; while above his head a long line of bow-sprits stretch far
over the quay, and from them hang spars and planks as a gangway to each
ship. This immense establishment is worked by from one to three thousand
hands, according as the business is either brisk or slack.'"

Here Mr. George shut the book and put it in his pocket.

"It is a very excellent account of it altogether," said Rollo.

"I think so too," said Mr. George.

* * * * *

As our travellers walked slowly along after this, their attention was
continually attracted to one object of interest after another, each of
which, after leading to a brief conversation between them, gave way to
the next. The talk was accordingly somewhat on this wise:--

"O uncle George!" said Rollo; "look at that monstrous pile of buck
horns!"

"Yes," said Mr. George; "it is a monstrous pile indeed. They must be for
knife handles."

"What a quantity of them!" said Rollo. "I should think that there would
be knife handles enough in the pile for all creation. Where can they get
so many horns?"

"I am sure I don't know," said Mr. George.

So they walked on.

Presently they came to an immense heap of bags of coffee. They k