Vanishing Roads and Other Essays by Richard Le Gallienne
page 159 of 301 (52%)
page 159 of 301 (52%)
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Across the extemporized stage, every now and then, taxicabs tooted
cautiously, longing in their hearts to stay; and once a motor coal-waggon, like a sort of amateur freight-train, thundered across; but not even these could break the spell that held that ring of enchanted loiterers, from which presently the pennies fell like rain--the eternal spell--still operating, I was glad to see, under the protection of the only human police in the world--of the strolling player in London town. Just before the players turned to seek fresh squares and alleys new, I noticed on the edge of the crowd what seemed, in the gathering twilight, to be a group of uplifted spears. Spears or halberds, were they? It was a little company of the ancient brotherhood of lamp-lighters, seduced, like the rest of us, from the strict pursuance of duty by the vagabond music. To me this thought is full of reassurance, whatever be the murmurs of change: London has still her sweeps, her strolling minstrels, and her lamp-lighters. Of course, I missed at once the old busses, yet there are far more horses left than I had dared to hope, and the hansom is far from extinct. In fact, there seems to be some promise of its renaissance, and even yet, in the words of the ancient bard, despite the competition of taxis-- Like dragon-flies, The hansoms hover With jewelled eyes, To catch the lover. Further,--the quietude of the Temple remains undisturbed, the lawns of |
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