weather-worn, with plenty of hale
life and young vigour springing out of its rugged old roots.'

'That sounds--poetical.'

'If you mean, not true, you are under a mistake.'

'Then it seems you know London?'

'I suppose I do; better than many of those who live in it. When I am
there, Miss Frere, I am with an old uncle, who is an antiquary and an
enthusiast on the subject of his native city. From the first it has
been his pleasure to go with me all over London, and tell me the
secrets of its old streets, and show me what was worth looking at.
London was my picture-book, my theatre, where I saw tragedy and comedy
together; my museum of antiquities. I never tire of it, and my Uncle
Strahan is never tired of showing it to me.'

'Why, what is it to see?' asked Miss Frere, with some real curiosity.

'For one thing, it is an epitome of English history, strikingly
illustrated.'

'Oh, you mean Westminster Abbey! Yes, I have heard of that, of course.
But I should think _that_ was not interminable.'

'I do not mean Westminster Abbey.'

'What then, please?'

'I cannot tell you here,' said Pitt smiling, as the horses, having
found firm ground, set off again at a gay trot. 'Wait till we get home,
and I will show you a map of London.'

The young lady, satisfied with having gained her object, waited very
patiently, and told Mrs. Dallas on reaching home that the drive had
been delightful.

Next day Pitt was as good as his word. He brought his map of London
into the cool matted room where the ladies were sitting, rolled up a
table, and spread the map out before Miss Frere. The young lady dropped
her embroidery and gave her attention.

'What have you there, Pitt?' his mother inquired.

'London, mamma.'

'London?' Mrs. Dallas drew up her chair too, where she could look on;
while Pitt briefly gave an explanation of the map; showed where was the
'City' and where the fashionable quarter.

'I suppose,' said Miss Frere, studying the map, 'the parts of London
that delight you are over here?' indicating the West End.

'No,' returned Pitt, 'by no means. The City and the Strand are
infinitely more interesting.'

'My dear,' said his mother, 'I do not see how that can be.'

'It is true, though, mother. All this,' drawing his finger round a
certain portion of the map, 'is crowded with the witnesses of human
life and history; full of remains that tell of the men of the past, and
their doings, and their sufferings.'

Miss Frer