d changed woods in the country, his
still face looks contemplative and mild; and he has soft smiles, too,
at times,--lighting up his taxed vassals the groves; gleaming where
the leaves still cling to the boughs, and reflected in dimples from the
waves which still glide free from his chains. But as a conqueror who
makes his home in the capital, weighs down with hard policy the mutinous
citizens long ere his iron influence is felt in the province, so the
first tyrant of Winter has only rigour and frowns for London. The very
aspect of the wayfarers has the look of men newly enslaved: cloaked
and muffled, they steal to and fro through the dismal fogs. Even the
children creep timidly through the streets; the carriages go cautious
and hearse-like along; daylight is dim and obscure; the town is not
filled, nor the brisk mirth of Christmas commenced; the unsocial shadows
flit amidst the mist, like men on the eve of a fatal conspiracy. Each
other month in London has its charms for the experienced. Even from
August to October, when The Season lies dormant, and Fashion forbids her
sons to be seen within hearing of Bow, the true lover of London finds
pleasure still at hand, if he search for her duly. There are the early
walks through the parks and green Kensington Gardens, which now change
their character of resort, and seem rural and countrylike, but yet with
more life than the country; for on the benches beneath the trees, and
along the sward, and up the malls, are living beings enough to interest
the eye and divert the thoughts, if you are a guesser into character,
and amateur of the human face,--fresh nursery-maid and playful children;
and the old shabby-genteel, buttoned-up officer, musing on half-pay, as
he sits alone in some alcove of Kenna, or leans pensive over the rail
of the vacant Ring; and early tradesman, or clerk from the suburban
lodging, trudging brisk to his business,--for business never ceases in
London. Then at noon, what delight to escape to the banks at Putney or
Richmond,--the row up the river; the fishing punt; the ease at your inn
till dark! or if this tempt not, still Autumn shines clear and calm over
the roofs, where the smoke has a holiday; and how clean gleam the vistas
through the tranquillized thoroughfares; and as you saunter along, you
have all London to yourself, Andrew Selkirk, but with the mart of
the world for your desert. And when October comes on, it has one
characteristic of spring,--life busil