126 THE OPEN AIR. 



Bargee is free, and the ashes of his pipe are worth a 

 king's ransom. 



Imagine a great van loaded at the East-end of 

 London with the heaviest merchandise, with bags 

 of iron nails, shot, leaden sheets in rolls, and pig 

 iron; imagine four strong horses dray-horses 

 harnessed thereto. Then let the waggoner mount 

 behind in a seat comfortably contrived for him facing 

 the rear, and settle himself down happily among his 

 sacks, light his pipe, and fold his hands untroubled 

 with any worry of reins. Away they go through the 

 crowded city, by the Bank of England, and across 

 into Cheapside, cabs darting this way, carriages that, 

 omnibuses forced up into side-streets, foot traffic 

 suspended till the monster has passed ; up Fleet- 

 street, clearing the road in front of them right 

 through the stream of lawyers always rushing to and 

 fro the Temple and the New Law Courts, along the 

 Strand, and finally in triumph into Rotten Row at 

 five o'clock on a June afternoon. See how they 

 scatter ! see how they run ! The Row is swept clear 

 from end to end beauty, fashion, rank, what are 

 such trifles of an hour? The monster vans grind 

 them all to powder. What such a waggoner might 

 do on land, bargee does on the river. 



Of olden time the silver Thames was the chosen 

 mode of travel of Royalty the highest in the land 

 were rowed from palace to city, or city to palace, 

 between its sunlit banks. Noblemen had their special 

 oarsmen, and were in like manner conveyed, and 

 could any other mode of journeying be equally 

 pleasant ? The coal-barge has bumped them all out 

 of the way. 



