“Yes, I admit that cheerfully,” said the Captain. “It is the very best in the world. I can send a letter from Gravesend in the morning to the further end of London, and have an answer the same afternoon. I could not do that in any city in America.”
“What, better than the New York Post Office, sir!” Kit exclaimed, in surprise.
“Much better managed,” the Captain replied; “very much better. And the police force here is much better than in any American city. Here, wait on this corner a minute, and see the ‘bobby,’ as they call him, manage the great crush of vehicles and people. There, see that! He just raises a finger, and every vehicle stops to let the people who have been waiting get across. And now that they have crossed he gives the slightest wave of the hand, and the vehicles start again. We have nothing like that at home. But wait a minute longer. There! You see by raising a finger again he stops the whole line of vehicles going north and south, to let those pass that are going east or west; and by another slight motion he stops the east and west ones, and opens the north and south street. Oh, it is beautifully done. Without such control there would be an endless block in the streets. By the way, Silburn, I want you to watch this great ‘traffic,’ as they call it, in the streets, and tell me to-night what you think are the peculiarities of it; and at the same time keep an eye on the public buildings, and tell me what you think of them.”
“Very well, sir,” Kit answered. “But I can tell you now what I think of St. Paul’s. Oh, what a tremendous pile of stone! Why, I never saw anything like it! What a handsome cathedral it would be if they would scrub it! But it looks as dirty as if there had been a shower of ink.”
The others laughed at this odd description, but had to admit that it was quite accurate—for St. Paul’s looks as if it needed a good scouring. Contenting themselves for the time with admiring the outside of the great building, they went on as far as Ludgate Circus, and turned southward into New Bridge Street instead of going on into Fleet Street.
“They have a circus here sometimes in this open space, I suppose?” Kit asked as they were crossing Ludgate Circus.
“Oh, no,” Mr. Watkins replied. “There are a number of these ‘circuses’ in London—Regent’s Circus, Finsbury Circus, and so on. That does not mean that there is ever a circus in them. It is simply the old Roman way of designating a circle.”
A short distance down New Bridge Street, which leads to Blackfriars Bridge, they turned to the right into Tudor Street, and in a few minutes went through one of the big gateways into the grounds of the Temple. It was indeed, as the Captain had said, like going into a country village, in the green grass, the noble trees, the delicious quiet, though separated only by a wall from the busiest part of the world’s busiest city.
“This is historical ground we are on,” Mr. Watkins said as they walked in. “Though given up to the lawyers now, this was originally the quarters of the Knights Templars of Jerusalem—the order established for the defence of the Holy Sepulchre, you know. That was nearly nine hundred years ago, and of course there were not as many buildings here in those days. Then it was taken from them and fell into the hands of the Knights of St. John, and later on it became the property of the lawyers of the higher courts, who still hold it. They have their offices in these buildings, and many of them live here with their families. Some of the buildings are nearly a thousand years old, and some are quite modern. A beautiful place to live, isn’t it, almost in a park, but with the city just outside the gate?”
“Why, there must be fifteen or twenty of these big buildings!” Kit exclaimed; “and are they all full of lawyers?”