the sailing of the expedition organised
by Bristol's noble worthy, Sebastian Cabot; but it is altogether too
good and stirring to merit erasure from the Thames's history books by
the neglect or ignorance of the historian.

It is absolutely true: I pledge my word for that on the authority of
the records of the Whitechapel County Court.

In the year 1851 there dwelt on the banks of the river Thames a
retired tailor, whom I will call John Sloper, out of regard to the
feelings of his posterity, if such there be. This man had for many
years carried on a flourishing trade in the east end of London. Having
got together as much money as he might suppose would supply his daily
needs, he built himself a villa near the pleasant little town of
Erith. His house overlooked the water; in front of it sloped a
considerable piece of garden ground.

Mr. Sloper showed good sense and good taste in building himself a
little home on the banks of the Thames. All day long he was able, if
he pleased, to entertain himself with the sight of as stirring and
striking a marine picture as is anywhere to be witnessed. He could
have built himself a house above bridges, where there is no lack of
elegance and river beauty of many sorts; but he chose to command a
view of the Thames on its commercial side.

In his day there was more life in the river than there is now. In our
age the great steamer thrusts past and is quickly gone; the tug runs
the sailing-ship to the docks or to her mooring buoys, and there is no
life in the fabric she drags. In Sloper's time steamers were few; the
water of the river teemed with sailing craft of every description;
they tacked across from bank to bank as they staggered to their
destination against the wind.

Sloper, sitting at his open window on a fine day, would be able to
count twenty different types of rigs in almost as many minutes. That
he took a keen interest in ships, however, I do not assert; that he
could have told you the difference between a brig and a schooner is
barely imaginable. The board on which Sloper had flourished was not
shipboard, it had nothing to do with starboard or larboard; he was a
tailor, not a sailor, and the friends who ran down to see him were of
his own sort and condition.

Sloper was a widower; how many years he had lived with his wife I
can't say. She died one Easter Monday, and when Sloper took possession
of his new house near Erith he mounted some small cannon on his lawn,
and th