any more;" Well, my

66

and the nation he ruled was indicated as an immense game-cock fraternising with the British lion. In another, the King of England, preternaturally tall, was delineated as spying through an immense opera-glass at his recent opponent, dwarfed into quite boyish stature, and bowing, not in the most dignified manner. A label issued from his mouth, inscribed, "I'll never do so while George III. was made to answer, little man, I forgive you." Over a mercer's shop on Ludgate-hill, two staring lady figures were displayedone, the Genius of France, was offering her companion a rich piece of silk, assuring her that it would make her a beautiful gown, and was given "all for love." To which the Genius of England was supposed to reply, "Much obliged, Missus Parlez Vous, but I fear my people would not know me in it." On the front of a butcher's house, the proprietor, an exceedingly fat, rubicund fellow, was represented with a cleaver in one hand and a sirloin of beef in the other, offering the meat to a strange, halfstarved looking Frenchman in these terms, "Yes, my man, put aside the frogs; you shall have a good meal for once in your life!" While a haberdasher exhibited a meeting of French and English ladies in his own shop, the foreign beauties most liberally fitting the Englishers with gants de Paris, warranted genuine.

At length the night for the grand display arrived, while, as is usual on all such occasions, the people themselves made the best part of the show. All the great thoroughfares were filled to repletion with sightseers. Vehicles of all kinds, from the carriage of the peer to the donkey-cart of the costermonger, occupied the entire roadway. There were no cabs in those days, but the lumbering hackney coaches were in great numbers; most of these, as well as the private carriages, were open, presenting an array of fair faces and splendid dresses, not always in the best taste,

while at every window, rejoicing in the light of their own lamps or candles, sate a bevy of laughing children, pretty maids, and comely matrons. At intervals the union jack amicably associated with the banners of France was hung crossways from house to house, while on the denselycrowded pavement, a mixed mass of men and women, mischievous boys and girls, pickpockets, ballad-singers, itinerant musicians, and here and there a few sailors or soldiers, too often the worse for their libations, enjoyed the perilous pleasure of gazing at the illuminations. At midnight, when all the lamps were in full beauty, the scene was strikingly grand. Standing at Temple Bar, and looking along Fleetstreet, or at the foot of Ludgate-hill, and tracing the long lines of fire, kindling into strong relief houses, churches, and, in dim perspective, Wren's noble cathedral, and the streets painfully packed with thousands of pedestrians, the endless procession of wheels, the jubilant shouts of the spectators, and the angry cry (when any tenement was discovered grim and dark amidst the blaze), "Light up, light up," often succeeded by the startling crash of glass-a spectacle was produced not easily forgotten.

A successful illumination must be regarded as a brilliant whole, and cannot easily be described in detail; yet a few of the more remarkable points deserve notice; but the reader should understand that the scene is given as it struck a boy's eye, since the grey elder who tries to depict it recalls it with undimned brightness, through the long, dark vista of departed years. Temple Bar was gay in its best festival attire. Both sides were brilliantly illuminated, representing palm trees bearing fruit, the branches hung with crowns in parti-coloured lamps, suspended by laurels. The neighbouring banks-Child's and Hoare's- -were not to be eclipsed; both were lustrous with stars, crowns, and appropriate mottoes, and the elegant wreaths of yellow lamps seemed like Brobdignagian guineas rendered trans

parent for that night only. Passing onward, there was a new sensation for the mob-a van full of sailors drawn by four white horses, dressed with ribands, moved slowly by. The folds of a union jack floated over the jubilant tars, as they sung alternately, "Rule Britannia," and "God Save the King." Fleet Market, though only plainly illuminated with a double row of yellow lamps extending down its whole length, had a very striking effect, and as you peered into the almost interminable line of shops and stalls, radiant with similar decorations, the eye was more gratified than with some elaborate device which seemed too exuberant from contrast. There was not a single dark spot in Old Chepe; the clock at Bow Church was encircled with a triple bandeau of emerald-coloured lamps; and, on drawing nigh to the Mansion House, even before seeing it, you were aware that something wonderful was at hand, for the dark thunder-clouds which lowered over it reflected the dazzling brilliancy from beneath, and their deep blackness was inlaid with a thin, gauzy sheet of molten gold. Perhaps the illuminator's skill was never better shown; the entire front of the building-porch, columns, window-casings-all were glowing in liquid fire, and rich with all the hues of the rainbow. The pillars were thickly wreathed with oak or laurel; on the pediment a brilliant star gave life to the allegorical figures, and at each angle were royal crowns, and the initial letters "G. R." On the windows of the main floor, in golden characters, might be read, "England,” "France,' 99 66 Peace," "Union." The crowd at this point was dense and immoveable, except that at times, after a stir of excitement, its ten thousand voices broke into prolonged bursts of cheering. The Bank and Royal Exchange were also grandly decorated, but the Mansion House was quite unequalled.

This proud London holiday was to have a dismal termination. The afternoon had been sultry, and as it began to

grow dark, the heavy atmosphere was streaked with almost continuous flashes of lightning, which, gradually increasing in breadth, took a jagged form, and an intense blue-purple colour, till man's artificial splendours became "pale" and "ineffectual." The street crowds had disregarded these dreary omens of a short peace and the long war to follow, when an awful thunder-burst arrested every ear; another and another followed in rapid succession, the last heralded by that strange meteoric phenomenon, a fire-ball. Then "the windows of heaven were opened," and there fell an absolute deluge of rain, a rapid sheet of water drowning the lamps, and, in some instances, shattering them to fragments. The sightseers were dispersed in a moment, and in an incredibly short space of time the streets were deserted, and darker than usual.

Much might be said respecting the illuminations for tho victory of Trafalgar, the Jubilee of George III. (on the completion of the fiftieth year of his reign), and that on the crowning triumph at Waterloo ; but the general picture would be the same, though a few of the details might be interesting. We forbear: repetitions are tiresome, and the noblest events often cease to be impressive to the next generation. These are bagatelles at the best, though an old man's memory dwells lovingly on the scenes of boyhood and youth; yet even these fugitive recollections are fast fading out, and as they die away, one by one, I feel that their faint glimmer must soon cease for ever.

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A BANQUET AT IRONMONGERS' HALL.

THE citizens know well how to spend their money liberally and kindly. They are "given to hospitality," and never seem to enjoy themselves more fully than when they assemble in their noble halls, and receive at their princely boards the guests they desire to welcome and honour.

I was ruminating over many such pleasant receptions, and balancing between the various attractions of Goldsmiths' Hall, Grocers', Fishmongers', and Ironmongers' Hall, when an invitation reached me to pass an evening at the last, as the dinner guest of the Master, Wardens, and Court. Fortunately, parochial politics did not interfere with the offered treat; so I was in Fenchurch-street at half-past five precisely, and if troubled with shamefacedness, should have blushed, as on entering the drawingroom my name was announced, and Master Westwood assured me that he was glad of my company. I certainly was pleased to see him, and I mingled with the expectant guests. I was familiar with some half-a-dozen, but the majority were strangers, and I derived considerable amusement from scanning the oddly contrasted faces around me. Clergymen, the chaplain, and one other, robed; merchants, short, tall, and dumpy; a few specimens of naval and military men; Captain Cole, of iron ship-shield fame; and a Crimean veteran, who carried a recollection of Russian