What a father this hearty, kindly, humorous Irishman would have made for a son! In London Thomas' amusements had been divided into three classes.
During the season he went to the opera twice, to the music-halls once a month, to a boxing-match whenever he could spare the shillings.

He belonged to a workingmen's club not far from where he lived; an empty warehouse, converted into a hall, with a platform in the center, from which the fervid (and often misinformed) socialists harangued; and in one corner was a fair gymnasium.

Every fortnight, for the sum of a crown a head, three or four amateur bouts were arranged.

Thomas rarely missed these exhibitions; he seriously considered it a part of his self-acquired education.

What Englishman lives who does not?
Brains and brawn make a man (or a country) invincible.
At seven promptly Thomas called at the club and asked for Mr.
Killigrew.