New amusements were daily springing into existence, or old ones being revived. The Chinese Collection had returned to the Metropolis, with a family from Pekin, and a lady with feet two inches and a half long, as a proof of the superior _standing_ she had in society; Mr. Catlin had re-opened his Indian exhibition; Mr. Wyld had bought up the interior of Leicester Square, with the view of cramming into it—“yea, the great globe itself!” The geographical panoramas had rapidly increased, no less than three Jerusalems having been hatched, as it were, by steam—like eggs, by the patent incubator—within the last three weeks. “Australia” and “New Zealand,” like floating islands, had shifted their quarters from Miss Linwood’s Gallery to the Strand, while the cost of immigrating thither for half-an-hour was reduced from sixpence for each country, to “threepence all the way;” while those who felt indisposed for so long a journey, could make the “Grand Tour of Europe” for one shilling, or take the “Overland Route to India” for the same price, or be set down by the Waterloo omnibus at the entrance to the “Dardanelles,” and see all over “Constantinople” for less than a trip to Gravesend. The road to the Crystal Palace had for a long time been an extraordinary scene. Extensive trains of waggons stretched far away, like an Eastern caravan, each waiting for its turn to be unloaded, monopolised one side of the carriage-way. Omnibuses, with their roofs crowded with people, went dashing by, while carts laden with building materials crept leisurely along. At almost every one of the public-houses some huge flag was flying from the upper windows, and around the doors were groups of men and soldiers either about to enter or depart. Along the edge of the foot-path stood hawkers, shouting out the attractions of their wares—some had trays filled with bright silvery-looking medals of the Exhibition—others, pictures of it printed in gold on “gelatine cards”—while others had merely barrows of nuts, baskets of oranges or trucks of the omnipresent penny ginger-beer. Groups of foreigners, their beards yellow with dust, walked along with their hands stuck in their pockets, so as to make their full pantaloons even fuller than ordinary; and as the omnibuses stopped to “pick up” or “set down” their passengers, parties of Germans or Frenchmen were heard jabbering loudly within. Along Rotten-row, endless troops of equestrians galloped noiselessly along on the soft loose ground at the rear of the Crystal Palace—in front of it an interminable line of carriages drawled slowly past, and while some of those within thrust their heads out at the windows, others leant back, so as to be able to see the height or length of the giant building.