Abstract

England

London, England is at its deadest and dreariest. Mile after mile of houses in the more comfortable quarters of the town exhibit nothing but closed shutters. Shopkeepers yawn over their counters; clubs are abandoned by all but the inevitable bore; and newspaper editors pray for terrible accidents, grievous scandals, or any relief to the monotony of the season. Two or three topics have been started with very fair success. The boat race was a useful bit of excitement; the Byron scandal has been discussed till it is a trifle threadbare; and the illness of the Emperor has been a perfect godsend. There is something at once melancholy and ludicrous in the increasing crowd, which struggles and jostles along all the main lines of Continental travel. The intelligent traveler, who enjoys what he sees, is almost lost in a crowd of utterly ignorant sightseers.