The Port Gibson reveille. (Port Gibson, Miss.) 185?-1857, 1853-06-22
London Literary Lions.

In a charming mansion in st. James Place,
secluded somewhat from the roar and tumult
Of the great city, still lives the venerable poet
Of the Pleasures Of Memory" whose great
age (ninety years having rolled over his bald
ripe forehead) disqualifes him for taking his
long accustomed walks about the metropolis
Mr.. Rogers sat in Westminster Hall when
Burke and Sheridan we're pouring out their
invectivos against Warren Hastings, and all
London was ringing with the applause which
eloquent Brinsley elicted on that occasion.
He is, therefore. part and parcel Of by-gone
days, aud very good authority on what hap
pened during the last sixty years
In fine, large house in TavistOck Place,
Tayistock Square, sits Charles Dickens busy
as a bee over Bleak House" and House
hold Words" On an afternoon the loiterer
in that vicinity may catch a glimpse Of his
thin hair, now sprinkled with gray. as il is
tossed by the summer wind which visits his
desk as he sits writing in his ample library
room. 1t is not an unfrequent occurrence TO
meet him in rail road car, rushing out Of
London for few days respite a. Brighton or
Bath.
Thackeray has ere this got home again. and
any fine day. between II aud 2 o'clock, he
may be found at the Garrick Club. in King
street. Covent Garden, poring over French
newspaper, or chatting with Albert Smith
over a mutton chop and sherry additions. IL
is not an unusual thing to find him at one end
Of poor old Charles Kemble's ear trumpet. or
vis-a-vis with Blackstone, the commedan, dis
cussing old actors and defuuct Drury Lane.
Barry Cornwall lives in Harley street, Ca
vendish Square, where he is spending the hap
py evening Of his life, beloved By all who are
fortunate enough to know one Of the most
glorious song writer's in the English tongue
Walter Savage Landor is at home in Bath,
having been expelled from Italy on account Of
his " dangerous liberty doctrine" AT rare
intervals he goes up to London and then his
hosts Of friends flock around him, and make
his fine old face radiant with smiles at the
profuse hospitalities poured upon him.
In the village Of Twickenham in modest
brick house by the roadside, muses. Alfred
Tennyson, the Poet Laureate Of England.
His own publisher only meets him once or
twice in year, as he eschews London and loves
privacy. AS you walk by the side Of the
Thames on a Sunday evening at the sunset
hour, sometimes the wide hat Of Alfred, the
bard of Locksly Hall. is visible.
The Brownings are like swallows, fitting
from cline to cline, but London is often in
their way, and they may be met not unfrc-
quently at the National Gallery in Trafalgar
Square, or at the opera. Both are so delight
ful to encounter, this pleasure, like all exqui-
site enjoyments is rare.
If one should try very hard 10 get glimpse
Of the ilustrious Thomas Carlyle, the great
Sartor Resartus Of modern Europe, he
would find it difficult matter. Thomas likes
TO be lion, but he don't want any body 10
his own cage besides himself. He lives in
Chelsea, and often comes to town, but to find
him often is not common, even to his best
friends.
Macauley is a clue man. and when he is
not among his idols the books OF the British
Museum) he may be met with in the brilliant
balls Of the "Athenaum" or the Reform"
On lazy, hazy London day proper, be might
with certainty be counted on over folio in
a snug alcove at the British.
Dear, kind, genial old Leigh Hunt. tod
ding over the pavement in the Strand, to-
ward his sons newspaper Office, is common
occurrence. lie lives few miles from the
dust Of Fleet street, but he seems to love its
dingy walls, and grows warm and eloquent
over its rush and whirl Is he the SkImpole
Of Bleak HOUSE ?" The knowing ones OF
London say he is.
On the left. as you go up Picadilly toward
the Parks, stands a neat book shop, with
Chapman & Hall" over the door. The
tall gentlemln with the nose, and the waist.
coat, and the elegant cravat, Is Sir Edward
Lytton, or Bulwer. as you may happen TO
call him. He is telling Mr. Chapman. who
has his car close 10 the Baronet's bosom, that
the engraving inst brought in for his inspec-
ton is not quite right in the direction Of the
whiskers and the shirt collar. Spite of bis
dandy aspect and his affected drawl, no better
hearted gentleman wields the fluent quill than
the author of My Novel" Whenever be
runs down from his elegant retreat at kneb-
worth TO London, he does SO many kind acts
for poor brother authors. that Bulwer's
guineas are as sure as morning suns or eve
ming stars.-Boston Transcript.