Both were almost as much at home in water as on land, and they swam about, teaching one another aquatic tricks until they became quite breathless. Making for the shore, they climbed weakly up the bank, and only partially robing, dropped side by side upon the sward. Overcome by fatigue, Charles fell asleep, while Samuel lay panting and composing verses about the Seven Champions of Christendom. Finally they rose, languid and drooping, and trudged back to the school in Newgate Street, sorry that their holiday was done, but thankful for the supper, however meagre, that would presently be served to them. As the weeks passed by and summer slowly gave place to autumn, Samuel made rapid progress in his classes. He studied almost constantly, not that he meant to be especially dutiful, but because he loved printed pages better than any other company. He was born with a thirst for books, which made him con his lessons eagerly in the absence of other and more entertaining volumes; and at Christ's Hospital the boys had no access to books of any kind besides the text-books used in their regular courses. With no fresh stories, histories, or poems to feed his ravenous young mind, Samuel was obliged to dwell upon the tales and truths he had read before coming to London. He soon became known among the students as a capital storyteller, and often he would be found seated tailor-fashion in a remote corner of the playground, surrounded by a dozen choice spirits who listened open-eyed and open-mouthed to his dramatic recitals. One Saturday in November he was walking down the Strand. Charles had gone to spend this leave-day with his parents, and Samuel was tramping about the streets alone. His thoughts were busy with his favorite hero, Leander, and so absorbed did he become in the story that he entirely forgot the presence of the crowds in the busy thoroughfare. Reviewing the stirring scene when Leander swims the Hellespont to visit the priestess, on the opposite shore, Samuel unconsciously threw out both arms as though buffeting the waves, and one hand smartly rapped the coat tails of a respectable gentleman walking immediately before him. Samuel started in confusion at being brought back so suddenly from Grecian clouds to London pavements, and offered a stammering apology; but the citizen wheeled abruptly, grasped his arm, and frowned down upon him with mingled horror and distaste. "What! So young and so wicked! Who could believe that a stripling like you would attempt to pick my pocket in broad daylight! Mm--mm!" "You're mistaken, you're mistaken, indeed you are," protested Samuel; "I was thinking about Leander crossing the Hellespont, and I must have been swimming too. I didn't even see you, sir, truly I didn't." "Leander! Well, my young gentleman, what do you know about Leander?" Samuel explained that he had read and re-read all the mythical tales of Greece, and that he often thought them over for amusement. The stranger's expression softened.