When they arrived Newton hastened to open the enclosure, and found in it the draft for L500, which his uncle had ordered to be filled up the day before.  Nicholas was lost in astonishment; and Newton, although he had already gained some insight into his uncle’s character, was not a little surprised at his extreme liberality.

“Now,” cried Nicholas, rubbing his hands, “my improvement upon the duplex;” and the subject brought up by himself again led him away, and he was in deep thought.

There was one little piece of advice upon the envelope—­“When you cash the draft take the number of your notes.”  This was all; and it was carefully attended to by Newton, who took but L20, and left the remainder in the hands of the banker.  The next day Newton called on the East India director, who gave him a letter to the captain of the ship, lying at Gravesend, and expecting to sail in a few days.  To Gravesend he immediately repaired, and, presenting his credentials, was favourably received, with an intimation that his company was required as soon as convenient.  Newton had now no other object to occupy him than to secure an asylum for his father; and this he was fortunate enough to meet with when he little expected.  He had disembarked at Greenwich, intending to return to London by the coach, when, having an hour to spare, he sauntered into the hospital, to view a building which had so much of interest to a sailor.  After a few minutes’ survey he sat down on a bench, occupied by several pensioners, outside of the gate, wishing to enter into conversation with them relative to their condition, when one addressed another—­“Why, Stephen, since the old man’s dead, there’s no one that’ll suit us; and I expects that we must contrive to do without blinkers at all.  Jim Nelson told me the other day that that fellow in town as has his shop full of polished brass, all the world like the quarter-deck of the Le Amphitrite, when that sucking Honourable (what was his name?) commanded her—­Jim said to me, as how he charged him one-and-sixpence for a new piece of flint for his starboard eye.  Now you know that old Wilkins never axed no more than threepence.  Now, how we’re to pay at that rate comes to more than my knowledge.  Jim hadn’t the dirt, although he had brought his threepence; so his blinkers are left there in limbo.”

“We must find out another man; the shop’s to let, and all handy.  Suppose we speak to the governor?”

“No use to speak to the governor; he don’t use blinkers; and so won’t have no fellow-feeling.”

Newton entered into conversation, and found that an old man, who gained his livelihood in a small shop close to the gate, by repairing the spectacles of the pensioners, had lately died, and that his loss was severely felt by them, as the opticians in town did not work at so reasonable a rate.  Newton looked at the shop, which was small and comfortable, commanding a pleasant view of the river; and he was