ing round the figure with his
quizzing glass in his hand, examining it at all points, and appearing to
be highly amused and delighted.

"It affords opportunities for a variety of observations," said Dashall,
"and, like many other things, may perhaps be a nine days wonder. The
public prints have been occupied upon the subject for a few days, and I
know of but one but what condemns it upon some ground or other."{1}

1 In all probability the following remarks will be
sufficient to make our readers acquainted with this so much
talked of statue:--

Kensington Gardens and the Park.--From three to seven
o'clock on Sunday, the gardens were literally crowded to an
over-How with the _elite_ of the fashionable world. The
infinite variety of shape and colour displayed in the female
costume, the loveliness and dignity of multitudes of the
fair wearers, and the serene brilliancy of the day,
altogether surpassed any thing we have hitherto witnessed
there.

There was nothing on the drive in the Park except carriages
and horsemen, dashing along to the gardens; and as to the
'Wellington promenade,' it was altogether neglected. Whether
it was that the 'naked majesty' of Achilles frightened the
people away, or whether the place and its accompaniments
were too garish for such weather, we know not, but certainly
it seemed to be avoided most cautiously; with the exception
of some two or three dozen Sunday-strollers, yawning upon
the Anglo-Greco-Pimlico-hightopoltical statue above
mentioned. It was curious enough to hear the remarks made by
some of these good folks upon this giant exotic--this Greek
prototype of British prowess. 'Well, I declare!' said a
blooming young Miss, as she endeavoured to scan its brawny
proportions, 'Well, I declare! did ever any body see the
like!'--'Come along, Martha, love,' rejoined her scarlet-
faced mamma; 'Come along, I say!--I wonder they pulled the
tarpoling off before the trowsers were ready.' 'What a
great green monster of a man it is,' exclaimed a meagre
elderly lady, with a strong northern accent, to a tall bony
red-whiskered man, who seemed to be her husband--'Do na ye
think 'twad a looked mair dedicate in a kilt?' 'Whist!'
replied the man; and, without uttering another syllable, he
turned upon his heel and dragged the wonder-i