I think it was less than ten minutes from the time I found that entry when I was over in Seething Lane. It is in a part of old London untouched by the Great Fire running up from the famous road to the Tower, in length not greater than between Fifth and Sixth Avenues, New York. Opening off Great Tower Street, it ends at Crutched Friars. At the foot of the lane is the old church of All Hallows Barking, whose dial only was burned by the fire; at the top, the little antiquated church of St. Olave Hart’s, whose motley architecture with leaning walls dates from the days of the Normans. If Radisson lived “_at the end of Seething Lane_,” his house must have been just opposite St. Olave Hart’s, for the quaint church with its graveyard occupies the entire left corner. In this lane dwelt the merchant princes of London. Samuel Pepys, Secretary to the Navy, who thought his own style of living “mighty fine”—as he describes it—preening and pluming himself on the beautiful panels he had placed in his mansion, must have been a near neighbor of Radisson’s; for in the diarist’s description of the fire, he speaks of it coming to Barking Church “at the bottom of our lane.” But a stone’s throw away is the Tower, in those days commanded by Radisson’s friend, Sir John Robinson. The Kirkes, the Colletons, Griffith the dandy of the balls, Sir Robert Viner, the rich Lord-Mayor; Esquire Young of Cornhill—all had dwellings within a few minutes’ walk of Seething Lane. The whereabouts of Radisson in London explain how the journals of his first four voyages were lost for exactly two hundred years and then found in the Pepys Collection of the Bodleian Library. He had given them either directly or through the mutual friend Carterett, to his neighbor Pepys, who was a keen collector of all matter appertaining to the navy, and after being lost for years, the Pepys Collection only passed to the Bodleian in recent days. The place where Radisson lived shows, too, that he was no back-stairs sycophant hanging on the favor of the great, no beggarly renegade hungry for the crumbs that fell from the tables of those merchant princes. It proves Radisson a front-door acquaintance of the Gentlemen Adventurers. Sir Christopher Wren, the famous architect who was a share-holder in the Hudson’s Bay Company at this time, thought himself well paid at £200 a year for superintending the building of St. Paul’s. Radisson’s agreement on returning to the Adventurers from France, was for a salary of £50 a year, paid quarterly, £50 paid yearly and dividends—running as high as 50 per cent.—on £200 of stock—making in all, practically the same income as a man of Wren’s standing.