Partridge and Cooper
(the name of this firm must not be taken as an indication of the nature
of my repast), and, fired with the curiosity of youth, I mounted the
knifeboard of an omnibus bound for Hyde Park. Arrived at the famous
statue of Wellington astride the impossible horse which has since ambled
off to the seclusion of Aldershot, and which at once recalled to my mind
the inimitable drawings of that infamous quadruped by John Leech, an
artist who had done as much to familiarise me with London scenes and
characters with his pencil as had Dickens with the pen, I happened to
ask a sturdy artisan who was sitting beside me whether this was Hyde
Park Corner.

"'Ide Park!" he muttered. "'Oo are you a-tryin' ter git at? 'Ide Park!
None o' yer 'anky panky with me, my covey!"

I forthwith slipped off that 'bus, not a little nettled that the first
person to whom I had spoken in London should have taken me for a rogue
and a vagabond.

I had been fortunate enough to secure quarters which had been
recommended to me in a comfortable boarding-house in one of the
old-fashioned Inns in Holborn--Thavies' Inn--in which, I was informed,
whether accurately or not I do not pretend to know, the Knight Templars
of old had once resided. There were no Knight Templars there when I
arrived, but in their stead I found some highly-proper and
non-belligerent clerics with their wives and families, and other
visitors from the country, who seemed very satisfied with the
comfortable provision that was made for them. But, best of all, I found
a hostess who soon became one of the kindest and best of friends I ever
had, and although I at once engaged a studio in the neighbouring
artistic quarter of Newman Street, I continued for some time to live in
Thavies' Inn in the enjoyment of the pleasant society and many
advantages of her pleasant home.

Not the least of these to me was the perfect gallery of characters who
were continually coming and going, and the many and various studies I
made of the different visitors to that boarding-house long supplied me
with ample material for my sketch-book.

I should be ungallant indeed were I to omit to add that not only was it
a lady who first made me feel at home amid the bustle and turmoil of
Modern Babylon, but that it was also a lady who primarily welcomed me as
a contributor to the Press and gave me my first work in London.
Curiously enough, both of these ladies possessed points of resemblance,
not only