LONDON STREETS. 401 



himself, were it not that the gaping multitude would molest him, 

 unless, like Mr. Homer, he chooses to perch himself in an eyrie, and 

 so take a distant bird's-eye view." 



" Ah, well, it 's pretty clear that you, as well as the majority of 

 London residents, don't know, or at least don't care, a great deal 

 about London. I wish you would be my companion for a day or 

 two a little chat would help me on wonderfully." 



"With all my heart: to-morrow we will commence our recon- 

 naisance." 



On the following morning we left the cab in Portland Place, 

 and, to my infinite surprise, my college friend, as soon as his foot 

 touched the pavement, began to trot along in the most extraordinary 

 way, utterly regardless of the wondering looks and the laughs of 

 every body he passed. As I had no idea that he, like Jeremy Ben- 

 tharn, could not walk without running ; and as I am, like Sterne, a 

 mortal hater of street exhibitions, I passed over to the opposite side, 

 fully resolved not to appear to have any connexion with the trotting 

 gentleman in advance. 



In a few minutes I lost sight of him altogether, and walked lei- 

 surely along Regent Street, and down to Waterloo Place, where I 

 found my active friend reposing after his trot. 



" What, in Heaven's name, ails you," was my address, " thus to 

 set off like a running footman ?" 



" Oh," said he, " I always run down that street, it is so very wide 

 and airy ; and besides, there is nothing on earth to see in it." 



We sauntered leisurely through the Park, and emerged from 

 the Horse Guards, nearly fronting Whitehall House. 



" Come on," said he, " come on ; here 's the place for a morning's 

 walk ! " and he hurried me across the road. 



" What a magnificent fragment ! " he exclaimed, looking at the 

 building " what a history may be read upon its walls ! and yet, 

 beautiful as it is, and abounding in reminiscences, I long for the old 

 palace, splendidly finished, and made an abode fit for kings by 

 Wolsey. One may fancy one hears his measured step, and his com- 

 muning voice : 



' Anne Bullen ! no, I '11 no Anne Bullens for him : 



There is more in it than fair visage. Bullen ! 



No, we '11 no Bullens : 



What though I know her virtuous 



And well deserving ? yet T know her for 



A spleeny Lutheran. Again there is sprung up 



An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer : ' 



and now we remember us of gentle Mistress Anne, who swears 



' By my troth, and maiden-head, 

 I would not be a queen ; ' 



whilst her brief, brilliant, and unfortunate career must have made 

 her look back to the pure and passionate love of Wyat, with all his 

 graces of young manhood, with severe regret." 



" Ay, the coarse and fierce Henry was no fitting mate for the 



M.M. No. 5. 3 O 



