turn will come ere long. You look to the left
and see a dense mass of carriages and horses'
heads; no room to cross there. Patience yet
for a moment; the carriage under whose
protection you have placed yourself, is moving.
Look out! Dive under that cab-horse's head
while he is standing still; follow that bus as it
moves; there is an opening; make a rush.
Stay, the mass is moving on again; walk close
up behind that four-wheeler. There you are!
Now for it! Hurrah! Safe on the pavement.

But you have not done yet. To walk along
Cornliill is easy enough; but there is the
Mansion House to be passed. There, not so much
quickness of eye as speed of foot is wanted.
You will not be able to get across all at once,
you must do it by degrees—by instalments.
The vehicles coming down Princes-street are
many, and those from Cheapside are many.
But they are less numerous than those from
which you have just escaped. However, as the
space is much wider, and the speed much
greater, the danger is of an enlivening
nature. You see that lamp-post half way across.
That was, no doubt, erected by some
benevolent Lord Mayor that pedestrians, not too
long winded, might have a resting-place as
they make the rush from one side to the
other of this dangerous place. Use the blessing
as it is intended. Look out, be careful!
Now you have an opportunity! There is a
space of five yards between that bus and the
head of the following cab-horse. Between
those you must pass, or wait indefinitely. Off
with you for the lamp-post, and Heaven speed
you. Well done! You may now take breath
before you attempt the other half of your bold
feat. You must make a rush for it again. Don't be
afraid, the speed of the vehicles is not so great
on this side as on that. Courage once more.
The line is moving slowly; get close behind
that four-wheeler; and you will soon find an
opening between those two omnibuses, whose
drivers are exchanging compliments in the
strongest language. Now, stoop under that
bus pole, and you are on the pavement under
the Mansion House, safe, if not quite sound in
wind.

From this spot, down Cheapside, there is
only one other dangerous spot, and that is
where Queen-street on the left and King-street
on the right (supposing always that you are
going westward) run down into the great
thoroughfare. Here you must be extremely
active if you wish to avoid being crushed. In
this part of the City, huge vans abound, and
their drivers are murderous. They look as if
they were too far gone in malt to care for
anything; but the nature of the beasts is to
delight in destroying human life and injuring other
vehicles. They have one joke, and that is, after
crushing up against some neat carriage or
other vehicle, to cry, "I say, governor! Take
care of my paint!" The plan I recommend all
persons to adopt on this spot is, to turn down
Queen-street, and cross when they find that
the vans have diminished in number, or
else that the line has been brought to a standstill.
After crossing, they will be able to come
up the other side of the same street, and then
continue their journey along Cheapside.

At the corner of St. Paul's Churchyard
there is another crossing; not a long one,
but dangerous if the pedestrian be not active,
fleet, and possessed of an eye accustomed to the
work. Many and many a country clergyman and
farmer has come to unlimited grief at this
corner. I have gone through the ordeal twice a
day for many years, and, although I am in the best
of practice, it has more than once all but made
a widow of my wife. There is no half way
friendly lamp-post, unless you attempt to cross
from near the fishmonger's shop, which makes
the feat all the longer, and consequently all the
more dangerous. There is always a double line
of carriages. You must look out for an opportunity
of crossing the first line, then make your
rush and stand still until you see an opening in
the other line. Then make rush number two,
and come out unwounded, if possible.

Through St. Paul's Churchyard, and down
Ludgate-hill, you are generally unmolested.
Still, I have seen an old gentleman on one
occasion, and a woman with a baby on another,
run over at the corner of the Old Bailey.
Your enemy at this point will be a small van,
or a series of small vans doing their utmost
to crush into the traffic of Ludgate-hill. You
must either bide your time, and wait until you
see an opening, or else walk a little way down
the Old Bailey, cross that street, and work
round into Ludgate-hill again.

A great peril is now before you: to wit, the
crossing where Farringdon-street, Blackfriars-
street, Fleet-street, and Ludgate-hill, meet.
There is from time to time a feeble attempt
made by the police to regulate the crush, but they
being in a minority, and the manslaughterous
vans being larger and more numerous here than
at almost any other crossing, the guardians of
our public streets find themselves scarcely heeded
by the multitude. The van-driving ruffians,
being able to come up the broad streets of
Farringdon or Blackfriars at a swinging trot,
manage generally, in spite of all police and
all order, to smash their way into the crowd.
At Farringdon-street crossing, a thorough
knowledge of the place and its peculiarities is required,
or the unfortunate pedestrian will have gone
through all his previous dangers to no purpose.
Crossing in front of a cab should, if possible,
be avoided here, for as the majority of
them are evidently, by the luggage on their
roofs, going to or from some railway station,
and as the passengers are boiling over with
impatience, and asking the drivers impossible
questions about less-frequented streets,
so the attention of the unfortunate driver
is fully taken up between the police in his
front and his fare behind, leaving no
possible means of looking after the safety of those
who cross the path of his horse.

Once to the westward of the Farringdon-
street corner, there is little or nothing in the