The Haunts of Old CockaigneThompson, Alexander M. (Alexander Mattock)
General
The Haunts of Old Cockaigne
Thompson, Alexander M. (Alexander Mattock)
London (England) -- Description and travel
By answering you publicly, I saved myself the trouble of separately
answering many other country friends who likewise looked upon my
love of London as a deplorable falling from grace.
Thirdly, by this means, I save postages, and may actually induce a
few adventurous moneyed persons to pay me for the work.
Lastly, and most seriously, I lay hold on this occasion to publish
the respect and gratitude I owe to you, and which I repay to the
best of my ability by this small token of my friendship.--Sincerely
yours,
ALEX. M. THOMPSON.
_P.S._--You will naturally wonder after reading the book--should you
be spared so long--why I call it _Haunts of Old Cockaigne_.
I may say at once that you are fully entitled to wonder.
It is included in the price.
INDEX
PAGE
AN EPISTLE DEDICATORY 7
LONDON'S ENCHANTMENT 15
LONDON CHARLIE 35
LONDON GHOSTS 57
THE MERMAID TAVERN 78
WAS SHAKESPEARE A SCOTSMAN? 87
FLEET STREET 116
LONDON'S GROWTH 135
A TRUCE FROM BOOKS AND MEN 152
A RUDE AWAKENING 161
LONDON PRIDE AND COCKNEY CLAY 188
MY INTRODUCTION TO RESPECTABILITY 202
PARIS REVISITED 215
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
BANKSIDE IN 1648 _Frontispiece_
STRAND CROSS, 1547 61
COURTYARD OF AN OLD TAVERN 81
A BARBER'S SHOP IN 1492 119
WHITEHALL IN THE REIGN OF JAMES I. 137
OLD HOUSE IN SOUTHWARK 141
THE STRAND, 1660 143, 144
WHITEFIELD'S TABERNACLE, 1736 147
GORLESTON PIER 155
THE LIFEBOAT 177
THE CHAMPS-ÉLYSÉES 219
LONDON'S ENCHANTMENT
I want the hum of my working brothers--
London bustle and London strife.
H. S. LEIGH.
Let them that desire "solitary to wander o'er the russet mead" put
on their clump boots and wander.
I prefer the Strand.
The Poet's customary meadow with its munching sheep and æsthetic
cow, his pleasing daisies and sublimated dandelions, his ecstatic
duck and blooming plum tree, are all very well in their way; but
there is more human interest in Seven Dials.
The virtuous man who on the sunless side
Of a romantic mountain, forest crowned,
Sits coolly calm; while all the world without,
Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses at noon--
may have a very good time if his self-satisfaction suffice to
shelter him from Boredom; but of what use is he to the world or to
his fellow-creatures?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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