that perhaps she'll be able to do something for
me if I get in the way."

"Something for you?" I repeated, aghast.

"Yes," said the blind man, and I really
suppose he may have been thinking of blind
Bartimæus. Presently the man spoke again,
and gave another motive for his joining in this
expedition. "You see, sir, I'm going adown to
Bow-street, and I want to try if I can't get
into some place where I can stick my little girl
here upon my shoulder, and so let her see the
thing, at any rate."

I don't know how it was. It was entirely
inconsistent with my principles and my practice;
it was conduct alike unworthy of a professed
misanthrope, and the collector of a gas-
company's outstanding debts; but I gave the man a
shilling. I wish to be candid in this narration,
and so I am obliged to own to the weakness.
It shall not occur again.

The blind men were in too great a hurry to
stop while I questioned them, so I had been
obliged to turn and hasten along beside them.
However, I soon made up for the time lost in
this conversation, and continued my search for
solitude in a northerly direction.

And now, as I began to reach the neighbourhood
of Holborn and Southampton-row, I found
that I really was getting into capital cue. In
the latter thoroughfare, some intensely miserable
men were singing what appeared to be a dirge,
in parts: turning themselves about from time
to time to see what effect their melody was taking
upon that sensible portion of the population
which were spending the day at home. Here,
too, inside the glass-door of a shop, which, like
the rest of the shops, was shut up, I observed a
very dismal woman and child posted with an
expectant look:—as if they thought that because
people were looking out of window in the Strand
and Fleet-street, they would be failing to observe
the day if they did not look out of window in
Southampton-row.

Should there ever be another occasion for
something of this sort, I strongly recommend
any person with a taste for solitude at all
resembling my own, to spend a considerable
portion of the day in Queen-square, Bloomsbury,
and to lounge on past the Foundling and
through Guildford-street to Mecklenburgh-
square. The ghastly horror of the Foundling,
with five very malignant-looking boys standing
within its gates, and an industrious foundling
sweeping the path in front of the hospital, was,
indeed, only to be exceeded in despair by the
aspect of Mecklenburgh-square. A boy of fiendish
disposition stood upon the kerb-stone, taunting
a very little pony, which was standing in the
road, attached to a small chaise-cart: the boy
being engaged in alternately offering and
withdrawing a very rosy apple, which the pony
longed for excessively. The milk-woman was
delivering her spurious beverage at one of the
houses when I entered the square; a woman was
calling water-cresses; and presently a
laundress's cart appeared, and drove up to the door
of a victim to—I should think—ill-got-up linen.

Mentioning milk, there surely never was
such a desperately copious milk-delivery as on
this particular afternoon. If I were asked what
were the leading characteristics of the non-
processional parts of London on the afternoon of the
seventh of March, I should mention small boys
and milkmen. Window-cleaning had its place;
the opportunity being seized by certain coffee-
house keepers and publicans to get this
important work effected; but the most marked
thing of all was milk-delivery.

It was very disappointing—I may almost
say disgusting—to a person of well-regulated
nature, to observe that those persons who, from
circumstances or from inclination, remained in
the regions I am describing, were trying to
enjoy the holiday in spite of their distance from
the great scene of action. I observed one
ridiculous person actually taking his children out
for a walk in Euston-square, and, what is even
more preposterous, the said children seemed to
be enjoying themselves: one small girl—I
suppose a lunatic—actually skipping along with glee
by her father's side. A quiet middle-aged man,
again, had got among the sculptors' yards, near
the same place, and appeared to be deriving
exquisite gratification from his little boy's criticisms
on the various terrific objects which some
of those front gardens contain. Nor must I
omit to mention a very weak-minded baker, who,
having to deliver his bread to his customers in
the afternoon, and so being debarred from a
glimpse of the Procession, instead of being sulky
and low-spirited, as any sensible man would have
been, foolishly made the best of his position
by sticking a small flag on his horse's head, and
placing a ruff made of wedding-favours round
his dog's neck.

It was sheer disgust at this very wretched
creature that drove me, after losing sight of him,
to seek refuge in the terminus of the Great
Northern Railway. The bell was ringing on the
arrival platform, so I thought to myself that I
was pretty sure of some gloomy company. I
was not disappointed. The train arrived and
disgorged such a small number of passengers as
must have made it a very unremunerative run:
about six disconsolate bag-men, and one
unprotected female with a japanned band-box. They
were all too late to see the show, and looked so
wretched that they helped me to get over the
cheerfulness of that idiotic baker.

But one of the most extraordinary things, to
my mind, connected with the history of this
memorable day, is the fact I am now about to
relate; that there were people in parts of the
town remote from the great show, who had
apparently nothing to do, and who yet did not go
to see the show. Not only did I observe more
people than I expected, whose business kept
them in this part of the town, but I saw idlers.
Pulling open the door of a public-house at
King's-cross I found it full of people, talking,
quarrelling, swearing, and drinking. Now, how
was it that they were not carrying on those
interesting pursuits in the neighbourhood
through which the procession was to pass?