The present straggling suburb at the north-west of the metropolis, known
as Kilburn, had scarcely been called into existence a century ago, and
an ancient hostel, with a few detached farmhouses, were the sole
habitations to be found in the present populous vicinage. The place of
refreshment for the ruralizing cockney of 1737 was a substantial-looking
tenement of the good old stamp, with great bay windows, and a balcony in
front, bearing as its ensign the jovial visage of the lusty knight, Jack
Falstaff. Shaded by a spreading elm, a circular bench embraced the aged
trunk of the tree, sufficiently tempting, no doubt, to incline the
wanderer on those dusty ways to "rest and be thankful," and to cry
_encore_ to a frothing tankard of the best ale to be obtained within the
chimes of Bow bells.
Upon a table, green as the privet and holly that formed the walls of the
bower in which it was placed, stood a great china bowl, one of those
leviathan memorials of bygone wassailry which we may sometimes
espy--reversed in token of its desuetude--perched on the top of an old
japanned closet, but seldom, if ever, encountered in its proper position
at the genial board. All the appliances of festivity were at hand.
Pipes and rummers strewed the board. Perfume, subtle, yet mellow, as of
pine and lime, exhaled from out the bowl, and, mingling with the scent
of a neighboring bed of mignonette and the subdued odor of the Indian
weed, formed altogether as delectable an atmosphere of sweets as one
could wish to inhale on a melting August afternoon. So, at least,
thought the inmates of the arbor; nor did they by any means confine
themselves to the gratification of a single sense. The ambrosial
contents of the china bowl proved as delicious to the taste as its
bouquet was grateful to the smell; while the eyesight was soothed by
reposing on the smooth sward of a bowling-green spread out immediately
before it, or in dwelling upon gently undulating meads, terminating, at
about a mile's distance, in the woody, spire-crowned heights of
Hampstead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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