410 A Reverie in Regent-street. 



I had been absorbed in contemplating secretly and undisturbed for 

 about a quarter of an hour when the lady signed to her footman, 

 who let down the steps of the carriage. She alighted, and vanished 

 within the shop where I imagined were her friends. I concluded 

 she had gone for the purpose of ascertaining the cause of their de- 

 lay. " More excellent still," I soliloquized ; " her exalted mind 

 cannot comprehend that intelligent beings should trifle away their 

 precious moments over toys and baubles !" This, I thought, was an 

 opportunity not to be neglected. I determined to go also into the 

 shop and purchase something. I should then hear the sweet tones 

 of her voice I might chance to catch some sentiment as it fell from 

 the lips of beauty. Mais Helas ! I was doomed to be disappointed. 

 A single glance at the shop window showed me* that its owner did 

 not deal in a single article which could by any possibility be required 

 by a creature of the masculine gender: not a knife, ring, buckle, 

 glove, nor even a ribbon, offered the shadow of an excuse for en- 

 trance. Nothing appeared in the window but Brobdignagian balls 

 of cotton and colossal skeins of thread, with a notification in stained 

 glass to the following effect " EVERY ARTICLE FOR THE WORK 

 TABLE." I never saw a shop so exclusively feminine. Had it been 

 even a milliner's, one might have bought a ribbon for one's eye-glass, 

 or some yards of white satin for favours ; but what the devil could a 

 man want with thread, cotton, and thimbles? I was brought to a 

 dead halt. To effect an entrance seemed impossible, unless by sheer 

 audacity, which might possibly terminate in summary ejectment, or 

 other disagreeable adventures. So I was compelled to wait with 

 patience the re-appearance of the fair vision, consoling myself with 

 the reflection that a nearer contact might, after all, break the spell 

 of enchantment in which T was bound. The voice might not be so 

 melodious, the expressions might be frivolous or meaningless, or I 

 might detect some excrescence or defect destructive of the poetry of 

 perfect beauty with which my soul was filled. Altogether, I resolved 

 (perforce) to e'en let her dwell as she was, like a half-defined dream 

 of rapture, the more delicious from its indistinctness, and leave 

 imagination to fill up the sketch. I remembered the curious meta- 

 physical conceit wherewith Cowley addressed a young lady, 



" Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand 

 Than women can be placed by Nature's hand ; 

 And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be, 

 To change thee, as thou'rt there, for very thee." 



At the moment I was repeating these verses to myself I saw my 

 friend Tom Tivett advancing. I took his proffered hand, exclaim- 

 ing, " The very man I want. You know every body, and can no 

 doubt tell me who a lady is that I expect every moment will emerge 

 from yonder shop." 



" Can't stop an instant, my good fellow," said Tom. " I am going 

 down to Frank Redmond's : he is breeding a bull-dog for me, 

 such a creature ! the genuine breed. It would throw you into ec- 

 stacies only to look at his muzzle. You never saw such a perfect 

 picture !" 



" Zounds and the devil !" I exclaimed ; "you are enough to drive 



