CHAPTER III.
"Round, round, and round-about, they whiz, they fly, With eager worrying, whirling here and there, They know, nor whence, nor whither, where, nor why.
In utter hurry-scurry, going, coming, Maddening the summer air with ceaseless humming." ~16~~OUR travellers now approached at a rapid rate, the desideratim of their eager hopes and wishes: to one all was novel, wonderful, and fascinating; to the other, it was the welcome return to an old and beloved friend, the separation from whom had but increased the ardour of attachment.--"We, now," says Dashall, "are approaching Hyde-Park, and being Sunday, a scene will at once burst upon you, far surpassing in reality any thing I have been able to pourtray, notwithstanding the flattering compliments you have so often paid to my talents for description." [Illustration: page16 Hyde-Park] They had scarcely entered the Park-gate, when Lady Jane Townley's carriage crossed them, and Tom immediately approached it, to pay his respects to an old acquaintance.

Her lady-ship congratulated him on his return to town, lamented the serious loss the _beau-monde_ had sustained by his absence, and smiling archly at his young friend, was happy to find he had not returned empty-handed, but with a recruit, whose appearance promised a valuable accession to their select circle.

"You would not have seen me here," continued her ladyship, "but I vow and protest it is utterly impossible to make a prisoner of one's self, such a day as this, merely because it is Sunday--for my own part, I wish there was no such thing as a Sunday in the whole year--there's no knowing what to do with one's self.

When fine, it draws out as many insects as a hot sun and a shower of rain can produce in the middle of June.

The vulgar plebeians flock so, that you can scarcely get into your barouche without being hustled by the men-milliners, linen-drapers, and shop-boys, who ~17~~have been serving you all the previous part of the week; and wet, or dry, there's no bearing it.