Real Life In London, Volumes I and II | Page 9

newspapers," exclaimed Tom--"then I dare say they were very favourable to this Amateur of Fashion?"
"No--not very--indeed; they don't join the manager in his puffs, notwithstanding his marked civility to them: one said he was a methodist preacher, and sermonized the character--another assimilated him to a school-boy saying his lesson--in short, they were very ill-natured--but hush--here he is--walk in, gentlemen, and you shall hear him rehearse some of King Richard"--
"King Richard!" What ambition! thought Bob to himself--"late a Prince, and now--a king!"
"I assure you," continued Mr. Mist, "that all his readings are new; but according to my humble observation, his action does not always suit the word--for when he exclaims--' may Hell make crook'd my mind,' he looks up to Heaven"--
"Looks up to Heaven!" exclaimed Tom; "then this London star makes a solecism with his eyes."
Our heroes now went into the barn, and took a private corner, when they remained invisible. Their patience was soon exhausted, and Bob and his honourable cousin were both on the fidgits, when the representative of King Richard exclaimed--
"Give me a horse----"
"--Whip!" added Tom with stunning vociferation, before King Richard could bind up his wounds. The amateur started, and betrayed consummate embarrassment, as if the horsewhip had actually made its entrance. Tom and his companion stole away, and left the astounded monarch with the words--"twas all a dream."
While returning to the inn, our heroes mutually commented on the ambition and folly of those amateurs of fashion, who not only sacrifice time and property, but absolutely take abundant pains to render themselves ridiculous. "Certainly," says Tom, "this cacoethes ludendi has made fools of several: this infatuated youth though not possessed of a single requisite for the stage, no doubt flatters himself he is a second Kean; and, regardless ~15~~of his birth and family, he will continue his strolling life
Till the broad shame comes staring in his face, And critics hoot the blockhead as he struts."
Having now reached the inn, and finding every thing adjusted for their procedure, our heroes mounted their vehicle, and went in full gallop for Real Life in London.
CHAPTER III
"Round, round, and round-about, they whiz, they fly, With eager worrying, whirling here and there, They know, nor whence, nor whither, where, nor why. In utter hurry-scurry, going, coming, Maddening the summer air with ceaseless humming."
~16~~OUR travellers now approached at a rapid rate, the desideratim of their eager hopes and wishes: to one all was novel, wonderful, and fascinating; to the other, it was the welcome return to an old and beloved friend, the separation from whom had but increased the ardour of attachment.--"We, now," says Dashall, "are approaching Hyde-Park, and being Sunday, a scene will at once burst upon you, far surpassing in reality any thing I have been able to pourtray, notwithstanding the flattering compliments you have so often paid to my talents for description."
[Illustration: page16 Hyde-Park]
They had scarcely entered the Park-gate, when Lady Jane Townley's carriage crossed them, and Tom immediately approached it, to pay his respects to an old acquaintance. Her lady-ship congratulated him on his return to town, lamented the serious loss the beau-monde had sustained by his absence, and smiling archly at his young friend, was happy to find he had not returned empty-handed, but with a recruit, whose appearance promised a valuable accession to their select circle. "You would not have seen me here," continued her ladyship, "but I vow and protest it is utterly impossible to make a prisoner of one's self, such a day as this, merely because it is Sunday--for my own part, I wish there was no such thing as a Sunday in the whole year--there's no knowing what to do with one's self. When fine, it draws out as many insects as a hot sun and a shower of rain can produce in the middle of June. The vulgar plebeians flock so, that you can scarcely get into your barouche without being hustled by the men-milliners, linen-drapers, and shop-boys, who ~17~~have been serving you all the previous part of the week; and wet, or dry, there's no bearing it. For my part, I am ennuy��e, beyond measure, on that day, and find no little difficulty in getting through it without a fit of the horrors.
"What a legion of counter-coxcombs!" exclaimed she, as we passed Grosvenor-gate. "Upon the plunder of the till, or by overcharging some particular article sold on the previous day, it is easy for these once-a-week beaux to hire a tilbury, and an awkward groom in a pepper and salt, or drab coat, like the incog. of the royal family, to mix with their betters and sport their persons in the drive of fashion: some of the monsters, too, have the impudence of bowing to ladies whom they do not know, merely to give them an air, or pass off their