After the expulsion I was adrift, knowing no craft, belonging to no
religious body, and without social or political interest. I engaged
myself to a schoolmaster. The story of my very brief stay with him
has been elsewhere told with some variation, but I may as well
relate it here so as to make my little history complete. The school
was somewhere in Stoke Newington. I got there in the evening when
it was quite dark. After a word or two with my chief I was shown
into a large school-room. Two candles were placed on a raised desk,
and this was all the light permitted for the illumination of the
great empty space round me. The walls were hung with maps, and the
place of honour on the end wall was occupied by a huge drawing of
the globe, in perspective, carefully coloured. This masterpiece was
the work of the proprietor, an example of the precious learning
which might be acquired at his "establishment". After I had sat
down for a few minutes a servant brought me my supper, placed it on
a desk, and showed me my bedroom. I ate my meal, and after some
time, as nobody came to see me, I thought I had better go to bed. I
had to ascend a ladder, which I pulled up after me. When I had shut
the door I looked out of window.
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