…of Leslie Montague, one of the best-known bankers in London. I examined the cutlery — the best firm in Sheffield, of course; the glass — nothing under-half -a- crown apiece; the serviettes — Damask linen every one of them; and I was about to slip out of my seat and examine the pile of things on the sideboard, when the door opened and a foot-man, carrying a tray laden with dishes, entered. Following at his heels were Mr. Montague and a lady, who, from the very affectionate manner in which Mr. Montague addressed her, I gathered was his wife.”And here let me say that I only concluded she was a lady from the fact of her being Mrs. Montague, otherwise her attire, which was flash and fast in the extreme, would have led me to believe she was some very common person. I’m no judge of ladies’ dress, and couldn’t…

…motionless. There was then a great stir and the crowd, moving away, bore me with them through innumerable streets — streets that, narrow and winding, and crossing each other irregularly in all directions, were in reality alleys. The houses in them were fantastically picturesque. At all the windows stood, or leaned, men, and women, and queer looking things for which I can find no suitable name — they were part human and part animal — and all shouted, and yelled, and gesticulated, regardless of sense and order. At last, when the confusion had reached a climax, the crowd, again obeying some secret order, dived up another street, and the most deathlike hush ensued. Then, from far away in the distance, came the pattering of many soft-clad feet, and a long procession filed past me — knights in armour on richly caparisoned horses, standard bearers, palanquins, litters with fair-haired ladies, men-at-arms,…