You may, perhaps, suppose, O innocent
provincial! that the moving manifestation of
to-day is exceptional. Like the other countryman,
who waited at the threshold of Goldsmith's
publisher (whose house is just below
you) for half a day, and then enquired " when
the crowd would have done passing," you
imagine that some extraordinary attraction
has brought the people into the streets.
But, be assured, you behold the ordinary
average. Hear the secretary of the City of
London police on the number of foot, omnibus,
cab, carriage and coach passengers who daily
traverse the City thoroughfares:—During
every twenty-four hours throughout the year,
he says, an average of one hundred and
nineteen thousand, six hundred and two
individuals pass Bow Church, and only a little
more than half of them are foot passengers,
the rest being riders. In the Month of May, he
adds, the number of persons who enter the
City daily, on foot and in carriages, is little
less than four hundred thousand persons!
two-thirds more than the entire population
of Edinburgh; and four times greater
than the number of lieges who own the
sway of the Grand Duke of Mecklenburgh
Strelitz!

With these facts before you and the moving
masses below you, do you not tremble when
told that from May next ensuing to September,
the narrow necks of the swarming
thoroughfares will be throttled with one-
third more passengers!—not mere population,
including the infantine, aged, and disabled;
but sturdy, trudging, untiring sightseeing
pedestrians—regular beaters of pavements
and throngers of shop fronts. You
box the compass on your elevated balcony,
and see little or no preparation for this
Invited Invasion. The new Cannon Street
opening will hardly draw off much traffic
from Cheapside; for, although the street
may be ready in time, its attractions will
not have been put forth. There will be no
shops—it has no public buildings—nothing
but London-stone to divert our visitors from
the highway to the Mansion House, the
Bank, the Royal Exchange, Gog and Magog,
and the New Post Office. Then, northwestward
the new Farringdon Street opening,
which is to lead, some day or other,
to Clerkenwell, can scarcely be made worthy
of foreign or provincial patronage in time;
despite Sharp's Alley on the one side,
and Field Lane on the other. It follows,
therefore, that from whatever quarter visitors
may arrive, in order to get at the great
centres of City attraction they must pass
Bow Church.

Come down, then, O, half-frozen stranger!
from your gusty place of contemplation, and
battle with me to the Old Jewry, that we
may look in at the City Police Office, and
examine its returns on the matter a little
more closely. We will glance over a " Report
of the Number of Vehicles which passed Bow
Church, Cheapside, between the hours oi
six p.m. on Thursday, the eighth day of
August, and six p.m. on Friday, the ninth day
of August, one thousand eight hundred and
fifty; and the Number of Persons in and with
the said vehicles. Also the Number of Foot
Passengers who passed during the same time."

Here is the history of a City thoroughfare
on an autumn day. 'Tis " post meridian half-
past six." Most of the public and merchants'
offices are cleared of their clerks. The
principals are at home, dining at the West End,
or are miles away at their villas; yet during
the hour between six and seven, eight hundred
and fifty- one vehicles, with three thousand
three hundred and twenty-three persons
riding in or guiding them, and four thousand
and forty foot passengers (total seven thousand
three hundred and sixty-three) have
passed Bow Church. At eleven, when every
retailer and every assistant has finished his
day's work, the numbers have dropped off to
three hundred and fifty-two vehicles and
three thousand and seventeen persons. After
bed-time the traffic subsides, though it
never ceases. The hour between three and
four in the morning, is that of the greatest
repose; for then, only thirty-five wheeled
carriages and one hundred and fifteen
individuals pass the Church.

Circulation increases gradually from four
o'clock until after breakfast time. During
the hour which ends on the stroke of nine,
the numbers are—vehicles, four hundred and
eleven; persons, three thousand nine hundred
and fifty. The business begins in earnest;
the public and merchants' offices are to be
filled by ten, hence, for that, the figures are
nearly doubled, standing thus:—carriages,
nine hundred and twenty-nine; individuals,
eight thousand and seventy-five. The culminating
point of traffic is reached at noon, the hour
previous to which one thousand and eighty-
two vehicles, and nine thousand eight hundred
and fifty-five persons stream through
Cheapside. Then a subsidence takes place
until between three and five in the afternoon.
During the last of those hours upwards of a
thousand carriages and eight thousand eight
hundred and eighty individuals are crowding
once more towards their houses, their villas,
or their lodgings.

What, then, will be the condition of Cheapside,
about twelve o'clock, on the eighth day of
August, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-
one? The lowest estimate we have seen—
(we do not pledge ourselves to put our trust
in it)—computes that there will be an extra
million of people in the Metropolis, during
the most part of the time that the Great
Exhibition remains open. These would augment
the passengers through the City's centre
to fifteen thousand; and, as the new comers
will have to be fed with food carried from
place to place on wheels, the passage of
vehicles will be increased in number to upwards
of fifteen hundred! What they will do when