Proceeding along Bond Street with her Idea—she had not forgotten it, and you must not forget it either—she continued to evolve that mysterious phantasm in the grim purlieus of her hard yet not capacious mind. Sitting very upright in the center of her yellow chariot, bleakly indifferent to those who did not interest her, and coldly overlooking those who did, this old woman in her marvelous equipage had come almost alongside the little shop on the left going towards Piccadilly where you can get the nicest silk hat in London, of which we forget the name, when she beheld an apparition.
It was a Hat. It was of gray felt with a dent in the middle and rather wide in the brims, of the variety which is called a Homburg because it is worn at Cannes. Round this article of masculine attire, in itself sufficiently bizarre, was what is technically known as “a Guards’ ribbon.” Those who are acquainted with the merits of this decorative emblem will not thank us for describing them; while those who are not will be unable to appreciate the special texture of their excellence from a mere categorical statement. Let it suffice that the old lady in the yellow chariot beheld a Homburg hat with a Guards’ ribbon approaching at the rate of one mile an hour.
Now there was only one individual, not in London only, but in the whole of what at that time ranked as the civilized world (circa 190-), who by any concatenation of events could possibly be seen walking in Bond Street in a Homburg hat with a Guards’ ribbon on April the first. Messrs. Bryant and Gregory knew that quite as well as their mistress. Therefore, quite naturally and properly, the yellow chariot came to a stand automatically, just as the Hat came to a stand also, immediately opposite the coat-of-arms on the near side panel of this wonderful equipage, which itself was immediately opposite the little shop where you can get the nicest silk hat in London.
We wish our readers could have seen the manner in which Mr. Bryant and Mr. Gregory each removed his own headgear (circa 1841), in an act of homage to the Hat of Hats. We feel sure it would have reconciled them to a number of things they are likely to find in this history.
“How d’ye do, George?” said the old lady.
Now that form of salutation may mean much or it may mean little. With the occupant of the yellow chariot it meant the former. She only said, “How d’ye do?” to the highest branch of the peerage.
“How d’ye do, George?” said the occupant of the yellow chariot.
“Pooty well for an old ’un,” said the owner of the Hat in a gruff, fat voice.
“How old are you?” said the occupant of the chariot.
“Nearly as old as you,” said the Hatted one. Then said he with slow and gruff solemnity: “Many happy returns of your birthday, Caroline. It is a great pleasure to see you looking so well.”