hen drew up the ale with
it as you would draw up water with a bucket from a well.

Rollo amused himself as he walked along observing these various dinner
parties, wondering, too, all the time, at the throngs of men that were
pouring along through all the spaces and passage ways that led towards
the gate.[G]

[G] It was while these workmen were going out in this way from the yard
that the incident of the little girl falling into the dock occurred, as
has been already related.

"I did not know that there were so many men at work here," said he.

"Yes," said Mr. George. "When business is brisk, there are about three
thousand at work here."

"How did you know?" asked Rollo.

"I read it in the guide book," said Mr. George.

Here Mr. George took his guide book out of his pocket, and began to read
from it, as he walked along, the following description:--

"'As you enter the dock, the sight of the forest of masts in the
distance, and the tall chimneys vomiting clouds of black smoke, and the
many-colored flags flying in the air, has a most peculiar effect; while
the sheds, with the monster wheels arching through the roofs, look like
the paddle boxes of huge steamers.'"

"Yes," said Rollo; "that is exactly the way it looks."

"'Along the quay,'" continued Mr. George, still reading, "'you see, now
men with their faces blue with indigo; and now gaugers, with their long,
brass-tipped rules dripping with spirit from the cask they have been
probing; then will come a group of flaxen-haired sailors, chattering
German; and next a black sailor, with a cotton handkerchief twisted
turban-like around his head; presently a blue-smocked butcher, with
fresh meat and a bunch of cabbages in a tray on his shoulder; and
shortly afterwards a mate, with green paroquets in a wooden cage. Here
you will see, sitting on a bench, a sorrowful-looking woman, with new,
bright cooking tins at her feet, telling you she is an emigrant
preparing for her voyage. As you pass along the quay the air is pungent
with tobacco, or it overpowers you with the fumes of rum; then you are
nearly sickened with the smell arising from heaps of hides and huge bins
of horns; and shortly afterwards the atmosphere is fragrant with coffee
and spice. Nearly every where you meet stacks of cork, or yellow bins of
sulphur, or lead-colored copper ore.'"

"It is an excellent description," said Rollo, when Mr. George paused.

Mr. George resumed his reading as follows:--

"'