Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1897-07-10

was committed. When that happened.
there was nothing about here but miser-
able shanties. hut they have all been
torn down and these large warehouses
Dullt. but that one old house is the same:
IN tnat very place about half past one
n the morning was found the mutilated
had seen enough and turned away thank
full that our home was not In Whitechap-
Ell.
On one of our visits to Guildhall, which
TINS year has the finest collection of
paintings ever shown. we noticed quite
a crowd OF people, and enquiring as to
the cause were told that the Lord Mayor
was attending court, and would soon
leave. Almost Immediately UP drove ex-
nctly such a coach as the fairy god
mother manufactured from the pumpkin
for Cinderella's use; drawn by four
prancing steeds with outriders and pre-
else facsimiles of the fat coachman and
powdered footmen We have SO often seen
pictured. Now" cried the girls, 1--WE
shall see true fairy prince and drop.
ping into poetry at naturally as Silas
Wegg, added 1--WE should like him hand.
some. we shouldf like him gay we
stood near the old church tower. and
heard the clock strike one, and two. and
three. Three weary hours, to see. what:
puny specimen OF manhood, lll-feat.
ured. dressed like a fantastic adorned (?)
with an immense pulled white wig. His
iackeys,. two on each side. lowered above
him and were quite the best feature OF
the show. but We felt we had wasted
valuable time, our only consolation being
that We had seen the Lord Mayor of Lon
don town. To indemnity ourselves we
went to hear Marie Tempest In "The
Geisha: We haven't adjectives enough
to tell how much we enjoyed it; of course
it naturally recalls 1.-THE Mikado'' though
by no means an imitation. 1t is truly "a
garden OF ten thousand delights cum
ming little Japs, sparkling melodies: our
highest praise is to urge every one to see
1t whenever an opportunity Offers Al.
most as amusing and fully as pleasing
music we found in Audran's La Poupee
The character of an animated doll is a
novel one and very difficult to carry
through consistently 1t was admirably
done by Miss Alice Favier, her expression
gestures. singing and dancing, were as
perfect an imitation of waxen image
as one could conceive.
The browning enjoyment of the week
was a. piano recital by the young Rus
sian pianist Gabrielowitch who is but Is
ana plays most artistically. In appear
ance he Is about medium height with the
pallor of countenance Indicative of a
close student. In compositions like Men,
delssohn's. wedding march. arranged by
List his technic is ample. every note
clear and telling and the tempo at which
1t was played, almost equal to that of
Paderewski. In Chopin's Nocturne and
III,
He undoubtedly has a great future be-
fore him If he continues as he has begun
We are eagerly looking forward to a re-
cital June 18th by Paderewski. and on the
following Saturday he plays with the
Philharmonic orchestra; the only perfor-
manees in London for the season. How
much they mean to lovers of Pader-
ewskis genius!
We have achieved one bit of sight see
ing of which we feel justly proud; one
Nj
We walked with the lark, also with a
neighborng rooster, after making a
toilette in twinkling. and partaking of
A barmecide breakfast, We started at
430 A. M. for COvent Garden Market
How still the great city was! how bust
ling the market place! Our goal was the
flower section, in gaining which we
passed immense wagons packed solid
with radishes, rounded high up, mass OF
rosy red; other carts were similarly filled
with turnips in even rows, the green tops
alternating with the glistenng white of
the vegetables; baskets six feet high lined
With water cress and countless pyramids
Of caulifiowers and every known vege-
table. But the flowers made us speech
less with delight. There were actually
bus he'll baskets filled with forget me- nots
lilies of the valley, carnation and roses
miSnonette in rows as far as our eyes
could see, alternating with huge purple
pansies contrasted with golden yellow,
and pure white, we could well believe it
to be the largest flower market in the
world. Flower girls jostled us, with bas-
kets five deep filed with flowers, which
they were carrying on their heads from
carts to stalls. and not one was dropped
The fragrance of that morning fingered
With us for days
1t was in the vicinity of Covent Garden
that we discovered what was formerly
the pauper burial ground: the most
wretched, forsaken place we have yet
seem Here was the old gateway, where
Lady Dedlock. in Dickens Bleak House,
was found dead; and close by, the same
miserable novels where poor Joe" some
times fingered till told to move on"
We have spent days walking through
Dickens London. days filled with a
pleasure never before imagined. True,
We have often met with disappointments,
as when we were told we could surely see
the Identical house belonging to Sampson
Brass and his charming sister the fair
Sally. After hunting for hours and find
ing the very spot. We saw-only new
handsome structures in place of the
Dick Swiveler and the Marchioness.
We walked miles to sec Grip, poor Barn
lby Ridges faithful friend only to find
that he was no longer on exhibition; but
We're we not recompensed when We saw
''the Old Curiosity Shop" where little
Nell and her GRANDPA Their lived? 1t is
never wise. on such expeditions, too care
fully to enquire as to hard Graigrnd
facts Accept what is offered and give
thanks. Will any chops and tomato
sauce hereafter have the subtle Pickwick-
ian flavor of those eaten under the shad-
ow of Guildhall? 1t was this court of
Guildhall on which we looked, where was
tried the celebrated case of "Bardell YER
sus' Pickwick." One cannot seek these
haunts without giving rein to a lively
imagina ton. but stand as we did close to
the Golden Crown HoteT' with hearts
filed with love for Dickens, and the ere
atoms of his fancy, and it is not difficult
to see the Old stage ready for that men,
orable journey. Although it was taken
so long ago, from the doorway steps the
ever youthful Pickwick, top-boots and
all. attended by that prince of Wallets,
Samuel Weller and the illustrious MEM
bers of the Pickwick club The driver
cracks his whip. away they start, and
leave us standing in dreamland, longing
as all the world has, since the great heart
of Dickens ceased to beat ''for the touch
of a vanished hand, and the sound OF a
voice that is STILL
MRS. HERMANN KOTZSCHMAR