Then again I lounge amidst chests
of oranges, baskets of nuts, and other _et cetera_, which, as boys, we
relished in the play-ground, or, in maturer years, have enjoyed at the
wine feast. Here I can saunter in a green-house among plants and heaths,
studying botany and beauty. Facing me is a herb-shop, where old nurses,
like Medeas of the day, obtain herbs for the sick and dying; and within a
door or two flourishes a vender of the choicest fruits, with a rich
display of every luxury to delight the living and the healthy.
I know of no spot where such variety may be seen in so small a compass.
Rich and poor, from the almost naked to the almost naked lady (of
fashion, of course.) "Oh crikey, Bill," roared a chimney-sweep in high
glee. The villain turned a pirouette in his rags, and in the centre mall
of the Garden too; he finished it awkwardly, made a stagger, and
recovered himself against--what?--"_Animus meminisse horret_"--against a
lady's white gown! But he apologized. Oh, ye gods! his apology was so
sincere, his manner was so sincere, that the true and thorough gentleman
was in his every act and word. (Mem. merely as a corroboration, the lady
forgave him.) What a lesson would this act of the man of high callings
(from the chimney-tops) have been to our mustachioed and be-whiskered
dandies, who, instead of apologizing to a female after they may have
splashed her from head to foot, trod on her heel, or nearly carried away
her bonnet, feathers, cap, and wig, only add to her confusion by an
unmanly, impudent stare or sneer!
But to the Garden again.
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