r from my money-belt,
and hastened to find Old Jewry.

CHAPTER XXV.

IN WHICH ERNEST VISITS STONY STRATFORD, AND E. DUNKSWELL COMES TO GRIEF.

THOUGH I was in a strange land, and in the midst of the wonders of the
Old World, I had but little curiosity to see the grand sights which
London can present. I had been whirled through Ireland, Wales, and
England to the great metropolis, part of the time by daylight; and
though I had kept my eyes wide open, I realized that my mission was
higher and grander than studying landscapes, and wandering through the
vaulted arches of old cathedrals.

When Mr. Carmichael told me, early in the morning, that I was in
England, the thought that I was in the same country with my mother
thrilled me with delight, which, however, was not unmingled with
apprehension lest I should seek and not find; lest disease and death
had robbed me of her I sought. At the station in Euston Square I had
parted with the telegraph agent, with many thanks for his kindness. I
took his address, hoping that at some future time I might be able to
reciprocate the attention he had bestowed upon me. I may as well say
here that Mr. Carmichael afterwards came to the United States, and that
I helped him to a situation which paid him ten times the salary he had
ever before received, when he was as grateful to me as I had been to
him.

Morley's Hotel is in Trafalgar Square, at one end of the Strand. I had
looked up Old Jewry in the Post-office Directory. The hall porter of the
hotel had given me general directions, and I walked out into the Strand,
and took an omnibus with the word "Bank" painted on it. On the top of
the London omnibus there is a double seat along the middle, on which the
passengers sit facing the buildings on each side of the street. I
occupied one of these places. The Bank of England was my objective
point, for Old Jewry was near it. I passed St. Paul's, whose towering
height and blackened walls I recognized, and entered Cheapside--a name
which sounded quite familiar to me. I descended from my perch when the
omnibus stopped, and after several inquiries found the place I sought.

Old Jewry was nothing but a narrow lane, and I had no difficulty in
finding the number of Mr. Bunyard's office. I followed his name,
repeated on the walls, up three flights of stairs; and by the time I had
reached the third floor, I came to the conclusion that my uncle's agent
was a person of no great consequence. He w