“Since Life's but a jest, let us follow the rule, There's nothing so pleasant as playing the fool,
In town we may practise, as well as at school.
 
The world turns about the same things o'er and o'er;
We fool it—our forefathers fool'd it before;
They did what we do, which our sons will encore.
 
Life's but a half holiday, lent us to stare;
We wander and wonder in vanity's fair,
All, baby-like, bawling for each bawble there:
 
We, children like, covet the glitter of gay things,
Make racket for ribbands, and such sort of play-things,
Which we cannot have tho'—without we can say things.
 
We take, or are in all our turns, taken in;
The world to be sure—'tis a shame and a sin,—
Might soon be much better—but who will begin?”
 
[67] “LONDON,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his Cousin, “abounds with so much of munificence, that notwithstanding all its intricacies and inconveniences, he who travels through life without visiting it, may justly be said to know nothing; for it is all Life, its remotest corners are full of animation, and although it is difficult to fancy how all live, there are few but could give some satisfactory information if they chose, though I am willing to believe many would rather wish to avoid interrogation. We have already explored some parts of it, but be assured there is still much to admire, much to applaud, and much to deprecate. Our researches, after all, have been rather confined than extensive. It is such an ever varying and never ceasing mine of observation, that it is almost like the wishing cap of Fortunatus, with this exception, that although every wish may be supplied, it requires something more than putting on the cap to obtain the object desired.”
[68] “From what I have already seen,” replied Tallyho, “I perfectly coincide with you in the latter part of your observation, for I have no doubt but perseverance and integrity, with some portion of ability, is sure to meet reward.”
“You are right,” continued Tom; “many instances could be pointed out in proof of the justice of that remark: some of the greatest men of the present day have rose from the lowest origin. Shop-boys and porters have become tradesmen and merchants; shoe-blacks have become statesmen, and servants councillors. But on the other hand, many who have been born, as the old saying is, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high estates,' and lingered out the latter parts of their lives in prisons or work-houses, laying the blame on fate, rather than attributing failure to their own want of ability, prudence, or active exertion. But come, I perceive the curricle is ready; let us take a spank through the City, and look a little more minutely at the mercantile world.”
This call was instantly obeyed by Tallyho, who never doubted but his Cousin had some object in view, though he frequently started from Piccadilly without being previously acquainted with it.
Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon remarked that he thought the City lay the other way.
“Never mind,” replied Dashall, “we shall come to the point without doubt. Why, man, there are more ways than one, and I am not particularly partial to being blocked up in the public streets, amidst knowing jarveys and cramp carmen, sugar hogsheads, molasses, and slush carts, which is so frequently the case, when by a slight deviation from the direct way, we can give the tits a rattler on a good road without obstruction, and pocket a handful of time into the bargain.”
He now turned into the road which leads directly to Vauxhall Bridge; on arriving at which, Tallyho was much delighted with an extensive view of the Thames.
“This,” said Dashall, “will bring us to a favourite place of amusement, where you have already cut a conspicuous figure.”
“What do you mean?” enquired his Cousin.
“A masquerade,” replied he significantly. “Go along Bob.”
[69] Passing gently over the Bridge, “Do you observe,” continued he, “that extensive building? That is called the Penitentiary. It is a building designed for the punishment, employment, and reformation of offenders of secondary turpitude, usually punished by transportation for a term of years. It has been conceived since the commencement of the disputes which terminated in the separation of the American States. The plan of it is known to be partly that of Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The culprits are confined in circular buildings, the windows of which are so constructed, that the overseer from his room in the centre may be able to view every one of their rooms. The external wall encloses no less than eighteen acres of ground, within which are six of these circular buildings, each capable of lodging and employing from 150 to 200 prisoners, with a chapel, infirmary, and other conveniences. Its situation is called Millbank.”
“It looks,” said Bob, “like a castle, or tower, of impregnable strength.”
“It is, however,” continued Tom, “a useful institution, since it supersedes that indiscriminate transportation so long practised, and which, as applied to definite periods, was cruel and unjust, since the wretched objects were precluded from the power of ever returning to their native land, however short the intended period of their banishment. This part of the world is much improved of late years. The Bridge we are now passing, is an admirable light and elegant structure, but recently erected, according to the plan of Mr. J. Walker, and connects, as you perceive, by a straight line of road with Hyde Park Corner. The road before us leads to Newington Cross, and thence by various ways to the City. The Bridge consists of nine arches, of equal span, in squares of cast iron, on piers of rusticated stone formed of fragments, united by means of Parker's cement. Its width is 809 feet, the span of the arches 78 feet, the height 29 feet, and the clear breadth of the road way is 36 feet. It cost above 300,000L. But we shall shortly cross another bridge, far surpassing it in point of magnificence.”
“It is wonderful indeed,” said Bob, “that in a country complaining of a starving population, such serious sums of money should be expended in the erection of splendid mansions and magnificent bridges.”
[70] “Not at all,” was the reply, “for perhaps it is one of the best ways of expending, as it gives employment to thousands who would otherwise have become beggars on private charity, or paupers on public bounty, either of which is revolting to the mind of an Englishman: besides, if your observation applied at all, it would cut at every improvement of the day; and you should recollect, that, whether upon true foundations or not, every generation think the age they live in is the most enlightened: so it may be with respect to the preceding, and indeed, so much so, that the succeeding will rather decline than improve upon it, but it would be difficult to convince them of the fact. It is certain, however, that scarcely a day passes but some new invention or improvement is offered to public notice. The perusal of the newspapers is an evidence of my assertion; and as London is the centre of attraction, so it is the seat of knowledge, of science and information.”
“I should judge, that if a person who had lived some two hundred years ago, even in this wild place, were to rise up amongst us, his surprise and astonishment would be strongly excited,” said Bob, endeavouring to draw forth more of his observations as they bowled along the road.
“There can be no question on that subject,” said Tom, “for how would the high ideas he entertained of the ingenuity of the age in which he had lived, dwindle into nothing! Nay, should he appear in the country first, what would he think of the various implements of husbandry, for ploughing, and preparing the land; the different machines for sowing the corn, for threshing, grinding, and dressing it; and in numerous instances (though perhaps not quite so much now as it has been, on account of the present agricultural distresses) he would find something else too which he might not consider an improvement: instead of meeting the honest homely farmer, assisting personally in the gathering in his crops, and his daughter following the cart with a rake, he would find the former mounted on his Prad following the hounds, and the latter at boarding school. Instead of the farmer's son bringing home his cows of an evening, and his sister going out to meet him at the sound of his well known voice, with her milk-white pail, he would find the one poring over Latin and Greek, and the other running her fingers over the chords of a harp or piano-forte.”
[71] “These,” said Bob, “are refinements in manners at least.”
“Then, should he take a peep at London, as we are now doing, he would be struck dumb with admiration. But here we are on the Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, so named in compliment to the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the unfortunate Princess Charlotte of Wales, the much regretted daughter of our present King. Before us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally denominated the Strand Bridge; it is acknowledged to be one of the most majestic structures of the kind, perhaps, in the known world, and was built under the direction of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory it is said a monument is intended to be erected. The Bridge consists of nine equal arches, and like the bridges of the ancients, is perfectly flat, which you perceive the road we are now travelling is not, for in some instances you may look over the wall upon another world below, as we are above the tops of the houses. Its being level is a circumstance highly favourable to the draught of carriages across it, and without any apparent subtraction from its beauty. We will alight here and walk leisurely across, taking time for remark.”
The servants now took charge of the curricle, with orders to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, having each deposited his penny at the toll-house, strolled forward.
Tallyho appeared delighted with the views around him: In the front, a fine prospect of one of the finest cities in the world, and behind an equally pleasing sight over the Surrey Hills. The day being fine, and the sun darting his refulgent beams on the bosom of the Thames, contributed to form, altogether, one of the most enraptured sights he had ever beheld. The passing and repassing of boats and barges below; and carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, crossing the bridge, alternately attracted his attention.
“Each arch of this bridge,” said Dashall, “is 120 feet span; the piers 20 feet thick, with Tuscan columns; the width between the parapets 42 feet; these footpaths are seven feet each, and the road-way is 28 feet. The cost has been immense, and it is not likely that the original subscribers will ever realize the capital expended.”
[72] At this moment the sound of music attracted the ears of Tallyho.
“What have we here?” said he, thrusting his head through the balustrades, by which he found himself almost suffocated with smoke, which stopped further enquiry.
“Behold,” said Tom, “another improvement of the age; that is the Richmond Steam Boat, proceeding with a cargo of live stock to that celebrated place of public resort, and, in spite of wind and weather, will return in the evening. They always have a band of music on board, for the amusement of their passengers.”
“Zounds,” said Bob, “they ought to have a smoke-consumer.”
“They had one just now,” replied Tom; “for I apprehend you assisted them in some degree, though not voluntarily.”
“You are smoking me,” said Bob.
“Never mind, you have only been puffing a cloud.”
“However, as the mist is dispelled,” said Tallyho, “and we have, a clear sky before us again, let us make use of our senses.”
“To the right you perceive Blackfriars' Bridge, and beyond that the Southwark Bridge. By the way, we were speaking of the alterations to be witnessed in a country life. We will now pursue the subject, and suppose for a moment our two-thousand-years-ago friend, after his visit among the Swains, inclined to transfer his observations to the Great Town. The first question would be, How shall I get there? Oh, there are plenty of night coaches, and day coaches too, Sir. Well, then “fancy him seated in a night coach, and having supped on the road, on resuming his corner of the vehicle, he falls into a sound sleep. Guess what must be his surprise on waking in the morning, to find himself in the bustle and apparent confusion of the streets of the Metropolis. But how altered! Wide streets and upright houses, instead of narrow lanes with houses meeting each other at the tops. Then what elegant shops!—He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Why, this is all a dream
“Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain!”
[73] 'It cannot be reality!'—However, he swallows a hasty breakfast, and sallies out again to look about him. From London Bridge he espies the one I have just mentioned, the Southwark Bridge.—'What have we here?'—'Oh, Sir, that is the cast-iron bridge, with three arches, over the Thames.' He hastens to it, and when upon it, what must be his astonishment, at the power of the human mind to form, and of the human body to bring together, such immense pieces of iron? To connect Queen Street, Cheapside, with the Kent and Surrey Roads by three arches, the centre of which is 240 feet span, and the side ones 210 feet each, the arches all composed of cast iron, the piers and abutments of stone. 'Zounds,' he would exclaim, 'if the race of man dwindle in stature, they grow daily more stupendous in intellect! 'But we will suppose, like you, with an anxiety to see all that can be seen, he perceives a machine sailing down the river with astonishing velocity; ?Why, formerly,' said he, 'wind and tide against a vessel were insurmountable obstacles in its passage, but now they seem to add to its swiftness; how is this to be accounted for? '—'Easily enough,' replies a bye-stander; 'Lord bless you, it's all done by steam. Hot water and smoke do every thing now-a-days! Why there are a great number of machines, which formerly required from two to forty or more horses each to put and keep in motion, entirely worked by the steam arising from boiling water.'—' Prodigious! Steam do all that! Astonishing!'”
“And truly,” replied Bob, “notwithstanding I have witnessed many improvements, I confess I am astonished at the various uses to which this discovery has already been devoted, and the extraordinary powers it possesses.
“Well, we will pursue the train of thought a little further: Suppose, perambulating the streets till he is quite tired, and seeing alterations and changes out of number, he enters a Coffee House, eats a hearty meal, and taking a glass or two of wine, he falls into a musing train of ideas of the wonders he has been witnessing, from which he is not disturbed, till the hoarse voice of a Charley sounds in his ear, 'Past ten o'clock, and a cloudy night,' at which he hastily starts up, discharges his bill, and prepares, by buttoning up close and securing his trusty stick, for (as he would naturally expect) a dull dreary walk. He sallies out thus equipped, and, to his utter astonishment, finds the streets as busy as in the middle of the day, and almost as light. He steps up to one of the lights to [74] examine it—'What can this be? It is not oil, there is no vessel to contain it; surely this can't be steam also! But what can it be?'—'Gas, Sir,' says a passenger, who overhears the question, 'Gas; it is produced from coals set on fire and confined in a furnace, the subtle vapour from which is conveyed by means of pipes, and, light applied to it, immediately bursts into a flame.' His astonishment would now be complete, and if he did sleep after, it would be difficult to persuade him it was not all a dream.”
“Our wise forefathers knew the worth of land,
And bank'd the Thames out with laborious hand;
From fresh encroachments bound it's restless tide
Within a spacious channel deep and wide.
With equal pains, revers'd, their grandsons make
On the same spot a little inland lake;
Where browsing sheep or grazing cattle fed,
The wondrous waters new dominion spread;
Where rows of houses stood through many a street
Now rows of ships present a little fleet.
Nay, we had made, had Nature not refus'd,
Had Father Thames not begg'd to be excus'd,
A pretty tunnel underneath his bed,
And left him running, grumbling, over head;
Had scratch'd a track out, like a grubbing mole,
Through a long, dark, and damp and dirty hole—
Like rats in sewers, had flounder'd through the mud,
Instead of sailing, duck-like, o'er the flood;
But bubbling springs chok'd up the project deep,
And trickling waters on our folly weep.”
 
By this time they had crossed the Bridge, and having regained the curricle, the Hon. Tom Dashall tickled the tits in prime style along the Strand, in the road to the City. Soon after passing Temple Bar, they were attracted by a vast concourse of persons surrounding the shop of Mr. Carlile,{1} from whence upon enquiry they learnt the
1 Perhaps some of the most remarkable occurrences in the
City of London have taken place at the house of Carlile. The
whole family have been tried and convicted of selling
treasonable or seditious works, and are now suffering the
sentence of the law. But, notwithstanding the combined
efforts of a powerful body, the shop is kept open, and it is
more than likely that a greater business is carried on now
than ever. In a recent Number of the Re-publican, published
by him, he makes the following observations:—
 
“Since my last went to press, we have thought it prudent to
resort to stratagem to defeat the schemes of the Gang, in
taking out eve............