UP HILL AND DOWN DALE:
NARRATIVE OF AN ASCENT TO THE SUMMIT OF PRIMROSE HILL.
BY MESSRS. POPKINS AND VULT.
The celebrated Primrose Hill, which is estimated to be nearly one hundred feet above the level of the Regent's Canal, forms one end of the great chain of the Metropolitan Alps, which comprises the respective hills of Highgate, Ludgate, Snow, Saffron, Mutton, Addle, Tower, Corn, Constitution, and many other peaks. Whilst the enterprises of Sherwill, Clarke, De Saussure, Auldjo, and others, had carried them to the summit of Mont Blanc, and M. Agassiz had overcome the hitherto impracticable Jungfrau, and given their published accounts to the world, it is somewhat strange that no narrative has hitherto been published of the ascent of Primrose Hill. To supply this void in our literature, as well as to furnish an account to Peter Parley, which, in the event of his refusing, I should have sent to the "Penny Magazine," I was induced to undertake the excursion. Although the time of year was somewhat against me, yet, from the noble offer of Mr. Vult, whom I met casually in the diving-bell at the bottom of the tank in the Polytechnic Institution, I determined, at all risks, to make the attempt.
On inquiry, we found that the charity boys of the district schools were best acquainted with the localities, and we therefore engaged four of them as guides. Their parents did not seem to comprehend our intentions, but possibly this arose from reluctance to allow their children to join our venture: but we overcame their scruples by offers of liberal payment, and named the eldest ("Plucky Simmuns" as he was familiarly termed by his fellows) as our chief guide. We also contracted with a broom merchant in Kentish Town for our ice-poles.
The next morning at nine o'clock, and in a deep snow, we left the Albany Tavern, amidst a crowd collected to see us start; and crossing some palings and a piece of broken ground, prepared to ascend. Our progress soon became one of extreme peril, as the snow had been collected from Park Village, and shot out on this waste, forming vast hills, which required great labour to surmount. Once I completely stuck fast, and before I was extricated nearly left one of my cloth boots behind me. Our respiration also became very difficult, evidently from the rarefaction of the air at so great a height, although Mr. Vult persisted in attributing it to the hot rolls we had eaten at breakfast. We crossed this large confusion of snow, which we presumed to be part of the Chalk Farm Glacier, and were astonished, on arriving at the opposite side, to see a man in these wild solitudes. He was evidently a child of the mountain, and proffered for sale an article he termed "ginger cocktail," which he assured us would prove most palatable. We bought some, and went on.
The conduct of our guides was most remarkable: in circumstances of the utmost peril they betrayed a levity almost unnatural, and more than once took to snowballing each other, as if they had been on level ground. We continued to ascend until the dreary waste of the Hill opened on us in all its awful grandeur. No living thing was visible, and the earth below was fading in the misty distance, leaving no trace of its existence but the tops of the tall chimneys on the Birmingham Railway. Once, and once only, Mr. Vult fancied he heard the squeak of a train coming in: this might or might not have been the case. The cold was most intense, but we had made up our minds to succeed or die, and we pushed bravely up the last slope.
At half-past eleven we reached the summit—and never shall I forget the eventful moment. My companions partook of my excitement, with the exception of Mr. Vult, who having had the care of the brandy flask in the ascent, and not being a teetotaller, had indulged in so many tastes, that his conduct was most unscientific. He insisted on trying to waltz with Simmons, and threw his new hat at a bird that flew over our heads. A passing breeze carried it down the Hill with as much ease as if it had been its namesake production of the fields—the work of the Aranea Sylvestris, or Gossamer Spider of Linnæus.
With respect to the view, so dense was the fog reigning around, that we saw nothing beyond twenty yards from us. What lay within that radius was, however, very magnificent, consisting of a deep layer of snow, broken only by our footsteps. In answer to my inquiry of Simmons, if avalanches were common in the winter, he replied, with much candour, "That he didn't disactly know, but he believed there was lots of nuts and brandy-balls, now and then." Having satisfied our eyes, we prepared to act similarly towards our stomachs: and we were glad to find our elevated situation had no other effect upon our animal economy than wonderfully increasing our appetites. The guides feasted at a small distance from us; their provision consisted principally of cold bacon, which they had tied up in their neckcloths, where it acted as a stiffener. We allowed a bottle of Guinness amongst them, fearing, if we gave them more, they would get confused, and unable to find their way down again. After dinner I proposed "Prosperity to Science," which Mr. Vult insisted upon giving with three times six, and finished by falling down on the snow, quite overcome. The sentiment given by Plucky was simple, and indicative of pastoral feeling. He merely exclaimed, as he slapped his hand against his yellow-leather indispensables, "Here's luck!" and drank up nearly all the bottle at a draught, to show how much in earnest he was.
I wrote some notes in pencil for our friends to keep as souvenirs, and made several scientific observations. On endeavouring to ascertain, from the fall of the mercury in my barometer, at what height we stood, I was surprised to see no traces at all of the mercury on the index plate. I subsequently found Mr. Vult had tumbled on it, and all the quicksilver had run out.
As afternoon advanced we prepared to descend, dreading lest night should overtake us in these wild solitudes. Our guides showed us a method of coming down the declivities, at which they seemed very expert. They sat on the snow, and glided down with the rapidity of a railroad. Not liking to trust myself alone, Plucky took me behind him, and we got down safely. Mr. Vult, however, over valiant, would go by himself, and consequently, after sliding at a fearful rate, he suddenly disappeared, having, as we imagined, slipped into some tremendous crevice of the glacier. We found that he had fallen into a hole where the railway navigators had been digging for clay, the water in which had got slightly frozen over, and then covered with snow. This accident somewhat checked our ardour, but we congratulated ourselves upon its fortunate result. At length we reached the level ground, and returned to our inn, highly gratified with our excursion, although we would recommend no one to undertake so perilous a task from mere motives of curiosity.
Champagne.
VII.
Tom Gad has stray'd to a masquerade,
Where there's row enough for a wake;
All dress'd up false, he begins to valse,—
Oh, what a precious rake!
If your wife knew, Tom Gad, Tom Gad, now!
Upon my word you are too bad now!
Real Pain.
1. Chimney-sweeping Act in force.—Machines
put up, boys put down.
Ice-Cream.
Vell! gone is all the profit as I reaps;
A sveeping clause has done avay vith sveeps;
Our lads vill into hevil courses rush,
The boys has got the sack, and mustn't brush.
Their hindignation's most uncommon hot,
Because they mustn't go no more to pot;
Scraping's guv up—but, in a many shapes
They'll be a getting into other scrapes.
Dominoes.
I puts my young 'un in a bran new suit,
And when he's rigg'd, the gallows little brute
Goes rolling on the bed.
"Ullo," says I, "you're spiling of your togs;"
Says he, "D'ye see,
It's all along of love for the old trade:
Tongue and Chicken.
Father, I vos a sweep, as vonce you knew,
And still I likes to be all over flue."
Census return. All the madmen included.
O! facilis decensus—easy 'tis
From intellect to go down into madness,
Which now's reflected in its every phiz,
And every form of goodness and of badness
Return'd before us at the land's expense,
A census true of all its want of sense!