Oliver had a friend and countryman who lived on Tower Hill in a considerable way of business in the cattle trading line, and he, being desirous of seeing this friend so that he might thereby, perhaps, be put into some way of earning a livelihood in the trade he understood, made up his mind to go and visit him. That I should go too was a natural conclusion, and, indeed, had we not gone about together I should have got no necessary exercise at all, since my mother was so confined to the house, while, on his part, he knew little of the town--nay, nothing--so that I was really a guide to him. Thus together we trudged about, looking for all the world like some young gentleman and his governor, since I was generally dressed in my fine clothes bought in Dublin, while Quin wore a sober suit of black which he, too, had purchased. Many a sight did we see in company in this manner, for both of us were curious as children and revelled much in all the doings of the wondrous great city--we went together to the Abbey, we walked to Execution Dock and Kennington Common to witness men hanged, or hanging, or, as the mob then called such things, "the step and string dance"; to see where the noblemen play bowls at Mary-le-bone Gardens in the summer and frequent the gaming tables in the winter; to the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge; and countless other places too numerous to write down. But amongst all these our walks and excursions it befell, as I have said, that one fine frosty day Oliver and I decided to go into the city to Tower Hill, there to see his friend, the dealer. We set out therefore along Fleet Street, that wondrous place where the writers for the news-sheets and letters dwell, and where we could not but laugh at the other strange characters we encountered. First there flew out a fellow, whom I have since learnt they call a "plyer," who bawled at us to know if either of us wanted a wife, since they had blooming virgins to dispose of or rich widows with jointures. Then a woman screamed to us from the brandy-shop, "We keeps a parson here who'll do your business for you," while, dreadful to narrate, as all this was going on, there reeled by a drunken divine swearing that he would have more drink at the "Bishop Blaize's Head," since he had married three couples that day at five shillings a brace and had more to tie up on the morrow. Resisting, however, all these importunities, though we could not resist glancing at the advertisements of such things in the windows, such as, "Without Imposition. Weddings performed cheap here"; or, "The Old and True Register. Without Imposition. Weddings performed by a clergyman educated at the University of Oxford, chaplain to a nobleman," we went along and so, at last, we came to Tower Hill.