enths of the working people, kept busy
two thousand gin-shops, filled eleven hundred chop-houses, given hard
work to five hundred policemen, who never like to be worked hard, and
made lackeydom tumultuous. And then Beadledom seemed crazed, and,
joined with the many ale-bibbers, were turned out to do good service
in the show. But, to make my Lord's train complete, there was no
knowing how many men he had to ride on horseback, how many more so
inebriated they couldn't ride, how many of a character nobody would
desire to know out of his show, and how many _ballet_ girls who ride
in circuses and so forth,--all of which latter material had faces made
deep of moonshine modesty, to suit the solemn occasion. Then my Lord
topped off the little end of his show with the soup and great
Ministers of State. And, that nothing should be left undone, the
_Times_ must have a _go in_ at it, which it did with one of Doctor
Moseley's most spicy articles, putting the whole thing into a very
comical nutshell. Quoth Sam, without the thunderer's dissecting knife
a London Lord Mayor would be the most beautiful of nobodys--that is,
so far as sense goes. Smooth, on the nicest observation, was decidedly
of the opinion that only one thing more was wanted to make the Lord
Mayor's Show complete--a pair of long soft ears emblazoned on the
Corporation coach. The reader will excuse Smooth for dwelling thus
long on little things.

"Having peeped long enough at the Lord Mayor's Show, I felt like
looking at something more solid; so to that end I turned about the
donkey-cart, whistled to the flunkeys (kept things of this kind merely
to be like other Americans when abroad), and drove into Regent street,
where I would inform General Pierce and all my firm friends a
desperate excitement was made. Then, in glowing independence, I rolled
away down Pall Mall, where the club-people--especially those of that
institution of arrogance called the Reform--seemed much astonished.
From thence I proceeded past Trafalgar square, where stood in singular
contrast the monument of the noble Nelson, and an equestrian statue of
that ignoble creature, Charles the First, the loss of whose head saved
England from disgrace. How strange, that even in this day of
intelligence and liberty-loving, it should stand a shrine before which
very respectable old gentlemen poured out their stale patriotism! At
last I found myself in Downing street--at the door of a massive and
sombre-looking ma