'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 Frere's fine eyes were lifted to him in inquiry; meeting them, he smiled, and went on.
'I must explain. Where shall I begin? Suppose, for instance, we take our stand here at Whitehall. We are looking at the Banqueting House of the Palace, built by Inigo Jones for James I. The other buildings of the palace, wide and splendid as they were, have mostly perished. This stands yet. I need not tell you the thoughts that come up as we look at it.'
'Charles I was executed there, I know. What else?'