Straight from a railway carriage I had walked into the great city
with something of the feeling of a traveller penetrating into a vast and
unexplored wilderness. No explorer could have been more lonely. I did
not know a single soul of all these millions that all around me peopled
the mysterious distances of the streets. I cannot say I was free from a
little youthful awe, but at that age one's feelings are simple. I was
elated. I was pursuing a clear aim, I was carrying out a deliberate plan
of making out of myself, in the first place, a seaman worthy of the
service, good enough to work by the side of the men with whom I was to
live; and in the second place, I had to justify my existence to myself,
to redeem a tacit moral pledge. Both these aims were to be attained by
the same effort. How simple seemed the problem of life then, on that
hazy day of early September in the year 1878, when I entered London for
the first time.
From that point of view--Youth and a straightforward scheme of conduct--it
was certainly a year of grace. All the help I had to get in touch with
the world I was invading was a piece of paper not much bigger than the
palm of my hand--in which I held it--torn out of a larger plan of London
for the greater facility of reference.
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