CHAPTEE XXVI. 



PICCADILLY. 



" FLED now the sullen murmurs of the North, 

 The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth," 



Was the observant remark of tlie " Farmer's Boy " in 

 the good old times when seasons came in regular 

 rotation, and things atmospheric were much less mixed 

 up than they are nowadays. For the last two or even 

 three years the " Kosy-bosomed Spring/' the beauties 

 of which were the theme of the poet and the study of 

 the painter, and whose advent was ushered in with 

 garlands gay and posies gathered in the woodlands 

 wild, on the first day of the " merrie montn of May/' 

 was, to speak in racing parlance, " nowhere." It was 

 not merely a case of " Winter lingering in the lap of 

 Spring/' for in truth it fairly sat down upon it, and 

 the result was disastrous in the extreme. 



The meets of the Four-in-Hand and Coaching 

 Clubs, the pleasant gatherings at Sandown, the 

 Orleans and Eanelagh Clubs, the aristocratic meetings 

 at Hurlingham, the enjoyable rides " down the road " 

 on the well-appointed modern stage-coaches, polo, 

 cricket-matches, lawn-tennis parties, all were signal 

 failures, and the result vanity and vexation of spirit. 



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