s per head to the entire population, and as lots
of 'em can't write, of course it's much more for those who can! Take a
man one hundred and seventy years to count 'em!"

At this point the brilliant glare of a gin-palace reminded him that he
had walked far and long, and had for some time felt thirsty. Entering,
he called for a pot of beer. It was not a huge draught for a man of his
size. As he drained it the memory of grand old jovial sea-kings crossed
his mind, and he called for another pot. As he was about to apply it to
his lips, and shook back his flaxen curls, the remembrance of, a Norse
drinking-cup in his possession--an heirloom, which could not stand on
its bottom, and had therefore to be emptied before being set down,--
induced him to chuckle quietly before quaffing his beer.

On setting down the empty pot he observed a poor miserable-looking
woman, with a black eye and a black bottle, gazing at him in undisguised
admiration. Instantly he called for a third pot of beer. Being
supplied by the wondering shop-boy, he handed it to the woman; but she
shook her head, and drew back with an air of decision.

"No, sir," she said, "but thank you kindly all the same, sir."

"Very well," returned the youth, putting the pot and a half-crown on the
counter, "you may drink it or leave it as you please. I pay for it, and
you may take the change--or leave that too if you like," he added, as he
went out, somewhat displeased that his feeling of generosity had been
snubbed.

After wandering a short distance he was involved in labyrinths of brick
and mortar, and suddenly became convinced that he was lost. This was
however a small matter. To find one's way by asking it is not
difficult, even in London, if one possesses average intelligence.

The first man he stopped was a Scot. With characteristic caution that
worthy cleared his throat, and with national deliberation repeated
Aspel's query, after which, in a marked tone of regret, he said slowly,
"Weel, sir, I really div not ken."

Aspel thanked him with a sarcastic smile and passed on. His next effort
was with a countryman, who replied, "Troth, sur, that's more nor I can
tell 'ee," and looked after his questioner kindly as he walked away. A
policeman appearing was tried next. "First to the right, sir, third to
the left, and ask again," was the sharp reply of that limb of the
Executive, as he passed slowly on, stiff as a post, and stately as a law
of fate.

Hav