Now, on the first day, the hats of the Hammersmith coachmen grow progressively heavy, and their heads light, with the "favours" they receive from the barmaids of the fifteen public-houses at which they regularly stop to refresh themselves between Kensington Gravel Pits and Saint Paul's.
Now, the winter being fairly set in, London is full of life; and Bond-street seems an enviable spot in the eyes of coach-makers, and cavalry officers on duty.
Now, the innocent inhabitants of May-fair wonder what the people in the street can mean by disturbing them at six in the morning, just as they are getting to sleep, by crying, "come buy my nice bow-pots!" not having any notion that there are natural flowers "in the midst of winter!"
Now, the Benefits have began at the winter theatres, and consequently all "genteel" persons have left off going there; seeing that the only attraction offered on those occasions is a double portion of amusement: as if any body went to the theatre for _that_!
Now, the high fashionables, for once in the year, permit their horses' hoofs to honour the stones of the Strand by striking fire out of them; and, what is still more unaccountable, they permit plebeian shawls and shoulders to come in contact with theirs, on the stairs of Somerset House. And all to encourage the Arts! That their own portraits, by Sir Thomas, are among the number of the works exhibited, cannot for a moment be considered as the moving cause at such marvellous condescension.
Now, too, flowing through the Strand in opposite directions towards the same spot, may be seen, on fine days of the first fortnight, two streams of white muslin, on which flowers are floating, and which form a confluence at the gates of the Academy, and ascending the winding staircase together (which streams are seldom in the habit of doing), presently disperse themselves into a lake at the top of the building, which glows with as many colours as that on the top of Mount Cenis.
Now, too, still on the same spot, may be seen, peering half shamefacedly in the purlieus of his own picture, some anxious young artist, watching intently for those scraps of criticism which the newspapers have as yet withheld from him (but which will doubtless appear in _tomorrow's_ report); and believing, from the bottom of his soul, that the young lady, aged twelve years, who has just fetched her mamma to admire _his_ production, is the best judge in the room; which, considering that he is a reasonable person, and nowise prejudiced, is more than he can account for in one so young!