and the theater, and the Mall. Delightful Spectator!
kind friend of leisure hours! happy companion! true Christian
gentleman! How much greater, better, you are than the king Mr.
Secretary kneels to!

You can have foreign testimony about old-world London, if you like;
and my before-quoted friend, Charles Louis, Baron de Poellnitz, will
conduct us to it. "A man of sense," says he, "or a fine gentleman, is
never at a loss for company in London, and this is the way the latter
passes his time. He rises late, puts on a frock and, leaving his sword
at home, takes his cane, and goes where he pleases. The park is
commonly the place where he walks, because 'tis the Exchange for men
of quality. 'Tis the same thing as the Tuileries at Paris, only the
park has a certain beauty and simplicity which can not be described.
The grand walk is called the Mall; is full of people at every hour of
the day, but especially at morning and evening, when their Majesties
often walk with the royal family, who are attended only by a
half-dozen yeomen of the guard, and permit all persons to walk at the
same time with them. The ladies and gentlemen always appear in rich
dresses, for the English, who twenty years ago did not wear gold lace
but in their army, are now embroidered and bedaubed as much as the
French.

"I speak of persons of quality; for the citizen still contents himself
with a suit of fine cloth, a good hat and wig, and fine linen.
Everybody is well clothed here, and even the beggars don't make so
ragged an appearance as they do elsewhere." After our friend, the man
of quality, has had his morning or undress walk in the Mall, he goes
home to dress, and then saunters to some coffee-house or
chocolate-house frequented by the persons he would see. "For 'tis a
rule with the English to go once a day at least to houses of this
sort, where they talk of business and news, read the papers, and often
look at one another without opening their lips. And 'tis very well
they are so mute; for were they all as talkative as people of other
nations, the coffee-houses would be intolerable, and there would be no
hearing what one man said where there are so many. The chocolate-house
in St. James's Street, where I go every morning to pass away time, is
always so full that a man can scarce turn about in it."

Delightful as London city was, King George I liked to be out of it as
much as ever he could; and when there, passed all his time with his
Germans. It