266 THE OPEN AIB. 



''lights"; a miserable young crone, with pinched 

 face, offers artificial flowers — oh, Naples ! Kush 

 comes the rain, and the gas-lamps are dimmed ; 

 whoo-oo comes the wind like a smack ; cold drops get 

 in the ears and eyes ; clean wristbands are splotched ; 

 greasy mud splashed over shining boots; some one 

 knocks the umbrella round, and the blast all but 

 turns it. '' Wake up ! " — " Now then— stop here all 

 night ? "—''Gone to sleep?" They shout, they 

 curse, they put their hands to their mouths trumpet- 

 wise and bellow at each other, these cabbies, vanmen, 

 busmen, all angry at the block in the narrow way. 

 The 'bus-driver, with London stout, and plenty of it, 

 polishing his round cheeks like the brasswork of a 

 locomotive, his neck well wound and buttressed with 

 thick comforter and collar, heedeth not, but goes on 

 his round, now fast, now slow, always stolid and 

 rubicund, the rain running harmlessly from him as if 

 he were oiled. The conductor, perched like the 

 showman's monkey behind, hops and twists, and 

 turns now on one foot and now on the other as if the 

 plate were red-hot ; now holds on with one hand, and 

 now dexterously shifts his grasp ; now shouts to the 

 crowd and waves his hands towards the pavement, and 

 again looks round the edge of the 'bus forwards and 

 curses somebody vehemently. " Near side up ! Look 

 alive ! Full inside " — curses, curses, curses ; rain, 

 rain, rain, and no one can tell which is most plentiful. 

 The cab-horse's head comes nearly inside the 

 'bus, the 'bus-pole threatens to poke the hansom 

 in front ; the brougham would be careful, for varnish 

 sake, but is wedged and must take its chance ; van- 



