gatherings, in other places, the foreigner had noticed the same stolid languor where any effort was exacted from genteel English brains, and the same stupid contempt where any appeal was made to genteel English hearts.  Preserve us from enjoying any thing but jokes and scandal!  Preserve us from respecting any thing but rank and money!  There were the social aspirations of these insular ladies and gentlemen, as expressed under other circumstances, and as betrayed amidst other scenes.  Here, all was changed.  Here was the strong feeling, the breathless interest, the hearty enthusiasm, not visible elsewhere.  Here were the superb gentlemen who were too weary to speak, when an Art was addressing them, shouting themselves hoarse with burst on burst of genuine applause.  Here were the fine ladies who yawned behind their fans, at the bare idea of being called on to think or to feel, waving their handkerchiefs in honest delight, and actually flushing with excitement through their powder and their paint.  And all for what?  All for running and jumping—­all for throwing hammers and balls.

The foreigner looked at it, and tried, as a citizen of a civilized country, to understand it.  He was still trying—­when there occurred a pause in the performances.

Certain hurdles, which had served to exhibit the present satisfactory state of civilization (in jumping) among the upper classes, were removed.  The privileged persons who had duties to perform within the inclosure, looked all round it; and disappeared one after another.  A great hush of expectation pervaded the whole assembly.  Something of no common interest and importance was evidently about to take place.  On a sudden, the silence was broken by a roar of cheering from the mob in the road outside the grounds.  People looked at each other excitedly, and said, “One of them has come.”  The silence prevailed again—­and was a second time broken by another roar of applause.  People nodded to each other with an air of relief and said, “Both of them have come.”  Then the great hush fell on the crowd once more, and all eyes looked toward one particular point of the ground, occupied by a little wooden pavilion, with the blinds down over the open windows, and the door closed.

The foreigner was deeply impressed by the silent expectation of the great throng about him.  He felt his own sympathies stirred, without knowing why.  He believed himself to be on the point of understanding the English people.

Some ceremony of grave importance was evidently in preparation.  Was a great orator going to address the assembly?  Was a glorious anniversary to be commemorated?  Was a religious service to be performed?  He looked round him to apply for information once more.  Two gentlemen—­who contrasted favorably, so far as refinement of manner was concerned, with most of the spectators present—­were slowly making their way, at that moment, through the crowd near him.  He respectfully asked what national solemnity was now about to take place.  They informed him that a pair of strong young men were going to run round the inclosure for a given number of turns, with the object of ascertaining which could run the fastest of the two.