s cause with
Guy Faux, whom Joe had helped to carry on the Fifth of November. Now
when the young man woke in the morning at "The Goose," in Millbank
Street, Westminster, his attention was immediately attracted by these
three historic objects; and it was not till after he had made inquiries
that he found that it was not London Bridge that crossed the water in a
line with the Horseferry Road, but a very inferior structure called
Lambeth Suspension Bridge. Nor was the Tower on the left the Tower of
London, but the Lollards' tower of Lambeth Palace; while the supposed
Monument was only the handsome column of Messrs. Doulton's Pottery.

But they were all interesting objects nevertheless; and so were the huge
cranes that were at work opposite the house lifting the most tremendous
loads of goods from the lighters to the wharves. The "Shipping," too,
with its black and copper-coloured sails, gave some idea of the extent of
England's mercantile marine. At all events, it excited the country lad's
wonder and astonishment. But there was another matter that gave quite an
agricultural and countrified look to the busy scene, and that was the
prodigious quantity of straw that was being unloaded from the barges
alongside. While Mr. Bumpkin went to see his solicitor at Westminster
Hall, Joe wandered about the wharves looking at the boats and barges, the
cranes and busy workmen who drove their barrows from barge to wharf, and
ran along with loads on their backs over narrow planks, in the most
lively manner. But looking on, even at sights like these, day by day,
becomes a wearisome task, and Joe, being by no means an idle lad,
occasionally "lent a hand" where he saw an opportunity. London, no
doubt, was a very interesting place, but when he had seen Page Street,
and Wood Street, and Church Street, and Abingdon Street, and Millbank
Prison, and the other interesting objects referred to, his curiosity was
gratified, and he began to grow tired of the sameness of the place.
Occasionally he saw a soldier or two and the military sight fired his
rustic imagination. Not that Joe had the remotest intention of entering
the army; it was the last thing he would ever dream of; but, in common
with all mankind he liked to look at the smart bearing and brilliant
uniform of the sergeant, who seemed to have little else to do than walk
about with his cane under his arm, or tap the stone parapet with it as he
looked carelessly at some interesting objec