In another section of the city where I walked--Hammersmith--and still another--Seven Kings--I found conditions which I thought approximated those in the Bronx, New York, in Brooklyn, in Chicago and elsewhere. I could not see any difference between the lines of store-front apartment houses in Seven Kings and Hammersmith and Shepherd’s Bush for that matter, and those in Flatbush, Brooklyn or the South End of Philadelphia. You saw the difference when you looked at the people and, if you entered a tavern, America was gone on the instant. The barmaid settled that and the peculiar type of idler found here. I recall in Seven Kings being entertained by the appearance of the working-men assembled, their trousers strapped about the knees, their hats or caps pulled jauntily awry. Always the English accent was strong and, at times, here in London, it became unintelligible to me. They have a lingo of their own. In the main I could make it out, allowing for the appearance or disappearance of “h’s” at the most unexpected moments. The street cars in the outlying sections are quite the same as in America and the variety of stores about as large and bright. In the older portions, however, the twisting streets, the presence of the omnibus in great numbers, and of the taxi-stands at the more frequented corners, the peculiar uniforms of policemen, mail-men, street-sweepers (dressed like Tyrolese mountaineers), messenger-boys, and the varied accoutrements of the soldiery gave the great city an individuality which caused me to realize clearly that I was far from home--a stranger in a strange land. As charming as any of the spectacles I witnessed were the Scotch soldiers in bare legs, kilts, plaid and the like swinging along with a heavy stride like Norman horses or--singly--making love to a cockney English girl on a ’bus top perhaps. The English craze for pantomime was another thing that engaged my curious attention and why any reference to a mystic and presumably humorous character known as “Dirty Dick” should evoke such volumes of applause. CHAPTER XII MARLOWE After I had been at Bridgely Level four or five days Barfleur suggested that I visit Marlowe, which was quite near by on the Thames, a place which he said fairly represented the typical small country town of the old school. “You will see there something which is not so generally common now in England as it was--a type of life which is changing greatly, I think; and perhaps you had better see that now before you see much more.” I promised to go and Barfleur gave positive instructions as to how this was to be achieved. I was to say to the maid when I would be ready. Promptly at that hour one of the boys was to come and escort me to some point in the road where I could see Marlowe. From there I was to be allowed to proceed alone. “You won’t want to be bothered with any company, so just send him back. You’ll find it very interesting.”