Tom’s meeting with the Prince

           Tomgotuphungry,andsaunteredhungryaway,butwithhisthoughtsbusywiththeshadowysplendoursofhisnight’sdreams. Hewanderedhereandthereinthecity,hardlynoticingwherehewasgoing,orwhatwashappeningaroundhim. Peoplejostledhim,andsomegavehimroughspeech;butitwasalllostonthemusingboy. By-and-byhefoundhimselfatTempleBar,thefarthestfromhomehehadevertravelledinthatdirection. Hestoppedandconsideredamoment,thenfellintohisimaginingsagain,andpassedonoutsidethewallsofLondon. TheStrandhadceasedtobeacountry-roadthen,andregardeditselfasastreet,butbyastrainedconstruction; for,thoughtherewasatolerablycompactrowofhousesononesideofit,therewereonlysomescatteredgreatbuildingsontheother,thesebeingpalacesofrichnobles,withampleandbeautifulgroundsstretchingtotheriver—groundsthatarenowcloselypackedwithgrimacresofbrickandstone. 

           TomdiscoveredCharingVillagepresently,andrestedhimselfatthebeautifulcrossbuilttherebyabereavedkingofearlierdays; thenidleddownaquiet,lovelyroad,pastthegreatcardinal’sstatelypalace,towardafarmoremightyandmajesticpalacebeyond—Westminster. Tomstaredingladwonderatthevastpileofmasonry,thewide-spreadingwings,thefrowningbastionsandturrets,thehugestonegateway,withitsgildedbarsanditsmagnificentarrayofcolossalgranitelions,andotherthesignsandsymbolsofEnglishroyalty. Wasthedesireofhissoultobesatisfiedatlast? Here,indeed,wasaking’spalace. Mighthenothopetoseeaprincenow—aprinceoffleshandblood,ifHeavenwerewilling? 

           Ateachsideofthegildedgatestoodalivingstatue—thatistosay,anerectandstatelyandmotionlessman-at-arms,cladfromheadtoheelinshiningsteelarmour.