northwards for six hundred; and the sympathy of our Lombard Street
friends at parting is exalted a hundredfold by a sort of visionary
sympathy with the yet slumbering sympathies which in so vast a
succession we are going to awake.

Liberated from the embarrassments of the city, and issuing into the
broad uncrowded avenues of the northern suburbs, we soon begin to enter
upon our natural pace of ten miles an hour. In the broad light of the
summer evening, the sun, perhaps, only just at the point of setting, we
are seen from every storey of every house. Heads of every age crowd to
the windows; young and old understand the language of our victorious
symbols; and rolling volleys of sympathising cheers run along us,
behind us, and before us. The beggar, rearing himself against the wall,
forgets his lameness--real or assumed--thinks not of his whining trade,
but stands erect, with bold exulting smiles, as we pass him. The
victory has healed him, and says, Be thou whole! Women and children,
from garrets alike and cellars, through infinite London, look down or
look up with loving eyes upon our gay ribbons and our martial laurels;
sometimes kiss their hands; sometimes hang out, as signals of
affection, pocket-handkerchiefs, aprons, dusters, anything that, by
catching the summer breezes, will express an aerial jubilation. On the
London side of Barnet, to which we draw near within a few minutes after
nine, observe that private carriage which is approaching us. The
weather being so warm, the glasses are all down; and one may read, as
on the stage of a theatre, everything that goes on within. It contains
three ladies--one likely to be "mamma," and two of seventeen or
eighteen, who are probably her daughters. What lovely animation, what
beautiful unpremeditated pantomime, explaining to us every syllable
that passes, in these ingenuous girls! By the sudden start and raising
of the hands on first discovering our laurelled equipage, by the sudden