The headlong rapidity with which everything that is pretty or interesting in London is being swept off is truly extraordinary. It seems but yesterday--it is little over ten years ago--when London had its two charming _al fresco_ gardens, the Surrey and Cremorne. The latter was a most original place, lying as it did by the tranquil river. So pretty a garden did not exist near London, and there was a quaint air of old fashion somehow preserved, suggesting Ranelagh and Vauxhall. Of a summer’s evening it was pleasant to glide down by steamer, touch at the crazy pier, now passed away, walk by the river’s edge to where the old trees rose high, thick, and stately--you expected to hear and see the rooks--through which came the muffled sounds of music and glittering, flitting lights. Even the gate was old and stately, and its ironwork good. Within, there was the blaze of light at the dancing platform; the old-fashioned hotel--nobody surely ever boarded or lodged there, or could--with bowed wings all ablaze with lamps; the “boxes” running round for suppers; the not unpicturesque bars; the capital theatres, for there were several dispersed about here and there and everywhere; and the sort of procession headed by an illuminated placard announcing the name of the next show. Then would the band strike up a stirring march, the drums clattering, the brass braying, and in military array lead the way, attended by all the rout and crowd, who fell in behind and tramped on cheerfully to renewed enjoyments. The dancing was always an amusing spectacle, from the rude honesty with which it was carried out; not the least amusing portion the dignity of the M.C.’s. The people sitting under the good old trees--the glaring booths--even the fortune-teller in his dark retirement, as in a deep grove, all this made up a curious entertainment never likely to be revived. We cannot go back to these things. The Surrey Gardens went before, as these have gone, long since. Now these elements are gathered up into aquariums, great halls, perhaps “hugely to the detriment” of the public. So peace be with the manes of Cremorne!