At Start and Finish

Copyright, 1896, by
Copeland and Day
Copyright, 1899, by
Small, Maynard & Company
In the present volume I have drawn freely on my previous collection (now out of print), Cinder-path Tales, omitting some material, but adding much more that is new.
I have also added headpieces, in which my suggestions have been very cleverly carried out by the artist, W. B. Gilbert.
W. L.


It is something of an experience for an Englishman, after thirty years' absence, to stand on the steps of Morley's and face the sunlight of Trafalgar Square. He may not own a foot of English soil, he may have no friend left to meet him, he may even have become a citizen of the Great Republic, but he cannot look at the tall shaft on which the little sailor stands without a breath of pride, a mist in his eye, and a lump in his throat.
It was early afternoon of a warm July day. There was barely enough wind to blow the spray of the fountains, and the water itself rose straight in the soft air. I stood contentedly watching the endless procession of busses, hansoms, and four-wheelers, with the occasional coster's cart, and asked for nothing more. Long-eared Neddy dragging Arry, Arriet, and a load of gooseberries was a combination on which my eye rested with peculiar fascination. No amateur whip in a red coat on a bottle-green coach could handle the ribbons over four choice uns with a finer air than Arry as he swung through the line and came clicking up the street. I would rather see him pass than the Lord Mayor in his chariot. I must have stood on the top step of Morley's for a good half-hour, not caring even to smoke, so sweet was the smell of a London street to me.
I was thinking, as a man must at such a time, of old days and old friends,—not dismally, but with a certain sense of loss,—when a tall gentleman came slowly up the steps and stopped immediately in front of me. I moved aside, although there was plenty of room for him to pass; but still he looked at me gravely, and at last held out a big brown hand and said, as if we had parted only yesterday, Well, Walter, old man, how are you? I was a bit in doubt at first. He was so tall that his eyes were nearly on a level with my own, his figure erect and soldierly, his face bronzed as if from long exposure to a tropic sun. Only when he smiled did I know him, and then we gripped hands hard, our fingers clinging until we saw we were attracting the notice of those around us. Then our hands unclasped, and feeling a bit foolish over our emotion, we sat down together.