1831.]] The London- Bridge Lion. 297' 



ing shortnese of the stage, that had so cruelly abridged the balloon- 

 biography, hoped somebody would bring a bill into the next parliament 

 for lengthening the New-road, and got down with a rapidity that, by a 

 sudden glance of the coacliman's eye, had, I perceived, produced a 

 surmise that I was walking off with his fare in niy pocket. 



My commission in the neighbourhood of Canoribury — (where I saw the 

 old tower, occupied at various times by a series of illustrious tenants, in- 

 cluding Oliver Goldsmith, and, " though last, not" — yes, now I recollect^ 

 also " least" — by IMr. Keeley, of Covent Garden) — my commission was 

 executed ; I sandwiched at " the Angel ;" and jumped upon a stage, 

 "just going to start," on my return. The most liberal translation of 

 " just going to start," means twenty minutes. I began to discuss 

 Goldsmith within myself, and fell into a reverie about Burchell and the 

 Primroses, which rendered me insensible to the circumstance that some- 

 body had taken the vacant seat beside me. We both turned our heads 

 at the same instant, stared, and smiled ; yes, I smiled, as one smiles at 

 a friend who drops in just as one is sitting down to write an article ; or 

 at meeting a particular acquaintance whom you have been ti'ying to 

 avoid for three months, and who, you had just heard, had gone out of 

 town for a twelvemonth. In short, it was the identical London Bridge 

 chronicler whom I had parted from in the morning — the city- festival 

 historian whom I had so much reason to dread a re-encounter with. My 

 first thought was to affect not to know him, and to be deaf — I saw that 

 wouldn't do ; my next was to take a seat behind, or to leave the coach — 

 but little time was left me to think ; for the coachman aifected to crack 

 his apology for a whip, the horses (or what had been horses) pretended 

 to start off, and in a few minutes worked themselves into a respectable 

 imitation of a trot, that deprived me of all choice but that of keeping 

 my place — and my patience, if possible. 



" I think I was speaking of the balloon, Sir, when the coach stopped 

 this morning," was the first glimmering indication of the dazzling de- 

 scription that was to follow. " These aeronautic excursions" — opened a 

 paragi'aph that lasted to St. Pancras Church, ere the expatiator paused 

 to take breath. He described all the minutise of the matter, from So- 

 merset House to the centre arch, and laiuiched into the subject of bal- 

 loons with a chemical acumen that woidd have fascinated Faraday. He 

 Avas, in fact, filled with delight at all he had seen on that eventful day, 

 and his ecstacy was running over at his m.outh. He had evidently obli- 

 terated from his mind all " fond and trivial records" — the balloon alone 

 was sailing through the bright mists of his imagination — and he had 

 talked of nothing else, from the moment the cords were cut, to that hour 

 — and, I may doubtless add, to this. He seemed to have been v,-rought 

 up to that perilous pitch of excitement, that he must either die, or de- 

 scribe. His physician had possibly prescribed twenty listeners a day, ten 

 night and morning ; and in order that they should not escape from him, 

 he had directed him to take them upon stage-coaches. This was the 

 only way in whicii I could explain the phenomenon. His mouth was 

 the safety-valve on which his existence depended. On the otlier hand, 

 he seemed to regard mc as " all car :" he must have thouglit that I was 

 bom to listen, and liad never felt the mort distant inclination to inter- 

 rupt. Humanity kept me siljnt — I bore it with exemplary meekness — 

 (l)()sterity will see my ])ortrait, as t!ie frontispiece to the Book of Martyrs) 

 — but I coidd not, with ail my philosophy, endure it beyond Park-crcs- 



