At nightfall, “Life in London,” as it is called, is found at Greenwich. Every room in every public-house is fully occupied by drinkers, smokers, singers and dancers, and the “balls” are kept up during the greater part of the night. The way to town is now an indescribable scene. The vehicles congregated by the visitors to the fair throughout the day resume their motion, and the living reflux on the road is dense to uneasiness. Of all sights the most miserable is that of the poor broken-down horse, who having been urged three times to and from Greenwich with a load thither of pleasure-seekers at sixpence per head, is now unable to return, for the fourth time, with a full load back, though whipped and lifted, and lifted and whipped, by a reasoning driver, who declares “the hoss did it last fair, and why shouldn’t he do it again.” The open windows of every house for refreshment on the road, and clouds of tobacco-smoke therefrom, declare the full stowage of each apartment, while jinglings of the bells, and calls “louder and louder yet,” speak wants and wishes to waiters, who disobey the instructions of the constituent bodies that sent them to the bar. Now from the wayside booths fly out corks that let forth “pop” and “ginger-beer,” and little party-coloured lamps give something of a joyous air to appearances that fatigue and disgust. Overwearied children cry before they have walked to the halfway house; women with infants in their arms pull along their tipsey well-beloveds, others endeavour to wrangle or drag them out of drinking rooms, and, until long after midnight, the Greenwich road does not cease to disgorge incongruities only to be rivalled by the figures and exhibitions in Dutch and Flemish prints.

While this turmoil, commonly called pleasure-taking, is going on, there is another order of persons to whom Easter affords real recreation. Not less inclined to unbend than the frequenters of Greenwich, they seek and find a mode of spending the holiday-time more rationally, more economically, and more advantageously to themselves and their families. With their partners and offspring they ride to some of the many pleasant villages beyond the suburbs of London, out of the reach of the harm and strife incident to mixing with noisy crowds. Here the contented groups are joined by relations or friends, who have appointed to meet them, in the quiet lanes or sunny fields of these delightful retreats. When requisite, they recruit from well-stored junket baskets, carried in turn; and after calmly passing several hours in walking and sauntering through the open balmy air of a spring-day, they sometimes close it by making a good comfortable tea-party at a respectable house on their way to town. Then a cheerful glass is ordered, each joins in merry conversation, or some one suspected of a singing face justifies the suspicion, and “the jocund song goes round,” till, the fathers being reminded by the mothers, more than once possibly, that “it’s getting late,” they rise refreshed and happy, and go home. Such an assembly is composed of honest and industrious individuals, whose feelings and expressions are somewhat, perhaps, represented below.

INDEPENDENT MEN
A HOLIDAY SONG.

We’re independent men, with wives, and sweethearts, by our side,
We’ve hearts at rest, with health we’re bless’d, and, being Easter tide,
We make our spring-time holiday, and take a bit of pleasure,
And gay as May, drive care away, and give to mirth our leisure.

It’s for our good, that thus, my boys, we pass the hours that stray,
We’ll have our frisk, without the risk of squabble or a fray;
Let each enjoy his pastime so, that, without fear or sorrow,
When all his fun is cut and run, he may enjoy to-morrow.

To-morrow may we happier be for happiness to-day,
That child or man, no mortal can, or shall, have it to say,
That we have lost both cash and time, and been of sense bereft,
For what we’ve spent we don’t relent, we’ve time and money left.

And we will husband both, my boys, and husband too our wives;
May sweethearts bold, before they’re old, be happy for their lives;
For good girls make good wives, my boys, and good wives make men better,
When men are just, and scorning trust, each man is no man’s debtor.

Then at this welcome season, boys, let’s welcome thus each other,
Each kind to each, shake hands with each, each be to each a brother;
Next Easter holiday may each again see flowers springing,
And hear birds sing, and sing himself, while merry bells are ringing.

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