There he stands. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. I had a hard fight to begin with to win my way into the Upper Division—I was third on a list of fortyseven—and since then I have found myself promoted almost yearly in a widening sphere of social service. Permit me to introduce myself.
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