or
Havana! May the barmaid charm your simple heart by addressing you as
"Baby!" May some sweet shop-girl throw a kindly glance at you, inviting
you to walk with her! May she snigger at your humour; may other dogs
cast envious looks at you, and may no harm come of it!

You dreamers of dreams, you who while your companions play and sleep
will toil upward in the night! You have read Mr. Smiles' "Self-Help,"
Longfellow's "Psalm of Life," and so strengthened attack with confidence
"French Without a Master," "Bookkeeping in Six Lessons." With a sigh to
yourselves you turn aside from the alluring streets, from the bright,
bewitching eyes, into the stuffy air of Birkbeck Institutions,
Polytechnic Schools. May success compensate you for your youth devoid
of pleasure! May the partner's chair you seen in visions be yours before
the end! May you live one day in Clapham in a twelve-roomed house!

And, after all, we have our moments, have we not? The Saturday night at
the play. The hours of waiting, they are short. We converse with kindred
souls of the British Drama, its past and future: we have our views. We
dream of Florence This, Kate That; in a little while we shall see
her. Ah, could she but know how we loved her! Her photo is on our
mantelpiece, transforming the dismal little room into a shrine. The poem
we have so often commenced! when it is finished we will post it to her.
At least she will acknowledge its receipt; we can kiss the paper her
hand has rested on. The great doors groan, then quiver. Ah, the wild
thrill of that moment! Now push for all you are worth: charge, wriggle,
squirm! It is an epitome of life. We are through--collarless, panting,
pummelled from top to toe: but what of that? Upward, still upward; then
downward with leaps at risk of our neck, from bench to bench through the
gloom. We have gained the front row! Would we exchange sensations with
the stallite, strolling languidly to his seat? The extravagant dinner
once a week! We banquet _a la Francais_, in Soho, for one-and-six,
including wine. Does Tortoni ever give his customers a repast they enjoy
more? I trow not.

My first lodging was an attic in a square the other side of Blackfriars
Bridge. The rent of the room, if I remember rightly, was three shillings
a week with cooking, half-a-crown without. I purchased a methylated
spirit stove with kettle and frying-pan, and took it without.

Old Hasluck would have helped me willingly, and there were others to