landing
in a stream of merrymakers, high and low, rich and poor, faring forth to
London's greatest thoroughfare, the Thames; and as the river and the
noble mansions along the Strand came into view, Nick's heart beat fast.
It was a sight to stir the pulse.

Far down the stream, the grim old Tower loomed above the drifting mist;
and, higher up, old London Bridge, lined with tall houses, stretched
from shore to shore. There were towers on it with domes and gilded
vanes, and the river foamed and roared under it, strangled by the piers.
From the dock at St. Mary Averies by the Bridge to Barge-house stairs,
the landing-stages all along the river-bank were thronged with boats;
and to and fro across the stream, wherries, punts, barges, and
water-craft of every kind were plying busily. In middle stream
sail-boats tugged along with creaking sweeps, or brown-sailed
trading-vessels slipped away to sea, with costly freight for Muscovy,
Turkey, and the Levant. And amid the countless water-craft a multitude
of stately swans swept here and there like snow-flakes on the
dusky river.

Nick sniffed at the air, for it was full of strange odors--the smell of
breweries, of pitchy oakum, Norway tar, spices from hot countries,
resinous woods, and chilly whiffs from the water; and as they came out
along the wharf, there were brown-faced, hard-eyed sailors there, who
had been to the New World--wild fellows with silver rings in their ears
and a swaggering stagger in their petticoated legs. Some of them held
short, crooked brown tubes between their lips, and puffed great clouds
of pale brown smoke from their noses in a most amazing way.

Broad-beamed Dutchmen, too, were there, and swarthy Spanish renegades,
with sturdy craftsmen of the City guilds and stalwart yeomen of the
guard in the Queen's rich livery.

But ere Nick had fairly begun to stare, confused by such a rout, Carew
had hailed a wherry, and they were half-way over to the Southwark side.

Landing amid a deafening din of watermen bawling hoarsely for a place
along the Paris Garden stairs, the master-player hurried up the lane
through the noisy crowd. Some were faring afoot into Surrey, and some to
green St. George's Fields to buy fresh fruit and milk from the
farm-houses and to picnic on the grass. Some turned aside to the Falcon
Inn for a bit of cheese and ale, and others to the play-houses beyond
the trees and fishing-ponds. And coming down from the inn they met a
crowd of playe