SYMPTOMS OF RETURNING WINTER.
THE bracing air of October seems to produce once in a year the same effect upon the London world that the cool of evening pro- duces daily upon the Neepolitanq. Men who have been sunk in a siesta of some months' duration begin to rouse themselves and bustle about. There is a faint movement in London this month, not unlike to the rustling among branches and on ben-roosts, which accompanies the first gray dawn. The life of the London win- ter is awaking. As yet the throng of equipages is not great, but
there is a discernible increase in their number and in the vivacity of their movements, especially in the regions of Bedford and Rus- sell Squares. In the straggling fields not yet built up in the suburbs, the upholsterers' men are beating splendid Turkey car- pets. A few members look in daily at the Literary and Scien- tific Societies, the halls of which had been quite deserted. The secretaries of these institutions are lively as crickets, preparing and printing the programmes of their winter-campaigns. The dressmaker of Islington, Pentonville, Knightsbridge, &c. (her more aristocratic sisters "in town" reserve themselves for a month or two later) is despatching delicate billets to all the ladies in her vicinity, inti- mating that she has "just returned from Paris with the newest modes for the approaching season, which she will be happy to sub- mit to their inspection on the — instant." The clerks in the Ordnance and other Government offices, who have been absent on their month's leave, are returning to their desks. In short, that portion of London society which migrates or remains in a state of suspended animation during the summer, like swallows in winter, is again beginning to show symptoms of existence. There is a moving among the dry bones—fidgetty and feverish souls are again mingling with the steady-going machinery of the Londoners who plod on their mill-horse round in all seasons. The noise and ex- citement will continue to increase. In November, the publishers will begin to puff in good earnest. In December, great dress-parties will be not unfrequent. After Christmas, the aristocracy will flock to town. And in February, the solemn inanities called Members of Parliament will again settle down upon us, deeming themselves the most costly ingredient in the richly-mingled draught of London life, and by their torpedo influence convincing all with whom they come in contact, that if they are the quintessence of existence, then must the intensest vitality of intellect wear the appearance of stolidity, just as iron becomes of a dull white when hottest, and as MILTON has described the source of all brightness "dark with excess of light." After all, Englishmen are consistent : Fal- staff's wit flashed brightest at midnight ; MOORE vows that pleasure is only for "sons of night and maids that love the moon" ; and our choice spirits dose away the glorious summer to concentrate twelve months of life in the brief space during which all nature lies dead around them.
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