Mr. Bowdon was exceedingly proud of him, and often took him to his club, that his friends might become acquainted with his young guest. Also Mr. Bowdon planned frequent excursions about the city, so that his nephew might enjoy the notable sights of London. These were indeed gala days for Samuel, and when the time came for him to go to school he could scarcely believe that ten weeks had flown since he had come up by the coach from his country home. It is doubtful whether Mr. Bowdon would have been willing to part with the lad even after so long a visit, but his business just at this time compelled him to take a long journey to the East Indies, and he desired to see the boy safely established before departing from London. Accordingly, one fine July afternoon, uncle and nephew arrived at the great school in Newgate Street, through whose high iron gate they were admitted by a boy wearing a queer costume of blue and yellow. Samuel had no eyes for the stately buildings grouped about the enclosure, for across the shaded central grass-plot marched a veritable army of boys, walking four abreast with military precision. Like the page at the gate, they wore long blue coats reaching nearly to the ankle and trimly girdled with red, bright yellow stockings, low buckled shoes and neckbands of snowy whiteness. Oddly enough, their heads were bare, and Samuel supposed that they had left their caps behind, though he learned later that the "king's boys," as these were called, never wore head coverings of any description, but went serenely abroad in all weathers, guiltless of beaver, helmet, or turban. On they came, more boys and more boys, until Samuel grew fairly dizzy with watching the steadily moving column. "What is the occasion?" inquired Mr. Bowdon of the gatekeeper. "The lord mayor is visiting the school to-day, sir, and the scholars are going now to hear his address." When the gayly apparelled procession had gone in, the steward of the school, a young man in russet gown, came to greet the strangers and to show them about the place. He conducted them through the twelve dormitories, where rows of narrow white beds stood side by side down either wall; to the dining-hall with its long tables, where all the students sat down at once; and to the office of the registrar, a spectacled old gentleman, who took down a great book and gravely wrote upon one of its yellowish pages,-- "Samuel Taylor Coleridge, aged ten; born at Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, October, 1772. Regularly entered at Christ's Hospital, July 18, 1782." Then Mr. Bowdon took his departure, for he was to leave the city at nightfall. Samuel accompanied him to the gate, where he received his uncle's affectionate farewells, then peering wistfully through the iron palings, he watched the portly figure move slowly down Newgate Street, until it was lost to view in the passing crowds.