’Strangers are astounded,’ continues our author, ’at the silence prevailing among the inhabitants of London. But how could a million and a half of people live together without silence? The noise of men, horses, and carriages between the Strand and the Exchange is so great that it is said that in winter there are two degrees of difference in the thermometers of the City and of the West End. I have not verified it,’ our author is candid enough to admit, ’but considering the great number of chimneys in the Strand, it is probable enough. From Chering [_sic_] Cross to the Exchange is the cyclopedia of the world. Anarchy seems to prevail, but it is only apparent. The rules which Gray gives (in his "Trivia; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London") seem to me unnecessary.’ Signor Pecchio pretty well describes the movements of ’City men’: ’The great monster of the capital,’ he says, ’similar to a huge giant, waking up, begins by giving signs of life at its extremities. The movement begins at the circumference, gradually extending to the centre, until about ten o’clock the uproar begins, increasing till four o’clock, which is the hour for going on ’Change. The population seems to follow the law of the tides. Up to that hour the tide rises from the periphery to the Exchange. At half-past four, when the Exchange closes, the ebb sets in, and currents of men, horses, and carriages flow from the Exchange to the periphery.’ Like all foreigners, he has something to say about the dulness of an English Sunday. ’This country, all in motion, all alive on other days of the week,’ he observes, ’seems struck with an attack of apoplexy on the Lord’s day.’ Foreigners pass the day at Greenwich or Richmond, where ’they pay dearly for a dinner, seasoned with the bows of a waiter in silk stockings and brown livery, just like the dress of a Turin lawyer.’ But if you want to see how John Bull spends the day, it is not in Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens you must look for him. ’If you want to see that marvellous personage who is the wonder and laughing-stock of all Europe, who clothes all the world, wins battles on land and sea without much boasting, who works like three and drinks like six, who is the pawnbroker and usurer of all Kings and all Republics, whilst he is bankrupt at home, and sometimes, like Midas, dies of hunger in the midst of gold, you must look for him elsewhere. In winter you must descend into underground cellars. There, around a blazing fire, you will behold the English workman, well dressed and shod, smoking, drinking, and reading.... For this class of readers special Sunday newspapers are published.... It is in these taverns, and amidst the smoke of tobacco and the froth of their beer, the first condition of public opinion is born and formed. It is there the conduct of every citizen is discussed and appraised; there starts the road which leads to the Capitol or the