in London in the midst of what is called "the season," and
it seemed to him at first that he might here put himself in the way
of being diverted from his heavy-heartedness. He knew no one in all
England, but the spectacle of the mighty metropolis roused him somewhat
from his apathy. Anything that was enormous usually found favor with
Newman, and the multitudinous energies and industries of England stirred
within him a dull vivacity of contemplation. It is on record that the
weather, at that moment, was of the finest English quality; he took
long walks and explored London in every direction; he sat by the hour in
Kensington Gardens and beside the adjoining Drive, watching the people
and the horses and the carriages; the rosy English beauties, the
wonderful English dandies, and the splendid flunkies. He went to the
opera and found it better than in Paris; he went to the theatre and
found a surprising charm in listening to dialogue the finest points
of which came within the range of his comprehension. He made several
excursions into the country, recommended by the waiter at his hotel,
with whom, on this and similar points, he had established confidential
relations. He watched the deer in Windsor Forest and admired the Thames
from Richmond Hill; he ate white-bait and brown-bread and butter
at Greenwich, and strolled in the grassy shadow of the cathedral of
Canterbury. He also visited the Tower of London and Madame Tussaud's
exhibition. One day he thought he would go to Sheffield, and then,
thinking again, he gave it up. Why should he go to Sheffield? He had
a feeling that the link which bound him to a possible interest in the
manufacture of cutlery was broken. He had no desire for an "inside view"
of any successful enterprise whatever, and he would not have given the
smallest sum for the privilege of talking over the details of the most
"splendid" business with the shrewdest of overseers.

One afternoon he had walked into Hyde Park, and was slowly threading
his way through the human maze which edges the Drive. The stream of
carriages was no less dense, and Newman, as usual, marveled at the
strange, dingy figures which he saw taking the air in some of the
stateliest vehicles. They reminded him of what he had read of eastern
and southern countries, in which grotesque idols and fetiches were
sometimes taken out of their temples and carried abroad in golden
chariots to be displayed to the multitude. He saw a great many pretty
c