173 



THE TRIBES OF AN OAK. 



E have ascended to a lofty eminence, whence, 

 as a spectator of London looking from the 

 summit of St. Paul's, we are taking a bird's- 

 eye view over a populous city. In the high- 

 ways swarm a motley multitude, passing and 

 repassing, some on business, others on pleasure. Some are 

 employed in the erection of solid habitations others are raising 

 shady tents upon the spots of verdure with which, above 

 all other capitals, this city abounds. Others, again, are 

 weaving for their occupation large silken hammocks, or are 

 rocked within them by the breeze, while they take refreshment 

 or repose. Of these, some are now issuing from their luxu- 

 rious abodes ; and, as if the footways (although of wood), were 

 too rugged for their tender feet, are laying down silken carpets 

 on the ways they are about' to tread. Yonder, on one of the 

 smooth green areas, slowly advances a compact military-looking 

 body, marshalled in files, dressed in uniform, and headed by a 

 leader. 



And now what have we here? A group, as it would seem, 

 of pantomimic players, belonging to some strolling company. 

 Truly, they are clever fellows in the art of posture-making. 



Look at one of the performers. He grasps with his feet an 

 upright pole, with which his body, extended horizontally, stiff 

 and motionless, forms a right angle, of which both sides, 

 instead of only one, look as if formed of wood. What pro- 

 digious strength of muscle ! He looks like a cataleptic patient 

 under the hands of a mesmeriser. See now one of his com- 

 panions head and feet nearly met upon the ground back 

 raised into an arch or Greek 1. This strange position would 

 seem but a part of his walking-movement ; for now, stretching 



