Slowly the golden gates majestical!
O august faces in my Father's hall!
O, Procris, perfect wife! O lean—at last
—One plunge—I clasp thee,—earth being over-past!

AT THE GREAT REFORMATORY
EXHIBITION.

THE huge Agricultural Hall, erected a year
or two ago in the northern district of London,
to relieve Baker-street from the overgrown
proportions of the Cattle Show, has done much to
dispel an idea long prevalent in the fashionable
regions of the west, that Islington was a far
country which only the most adventurous would
care to explore, and to which no one ever set
out without making his will and settling his
family affairs. Indeed, I myself, who make no
pretension to be considered a denizen of the
genteel west, and who have long been familiar
with the stages of the City-road, until very
lately shared in this fashionable idea. I
conceived it on my first visit to Sadler's Wells
Theatre. Being a new arrival in London, I was
bent upon seeing all the sights, and at the same
time making myself acquainted with the
topographical bearings of the great wilderness which
was henceforth to be my home. For this reason,
and another of an economical nature, which I
need not further particularise than to mention
"that it was a half-price-to-the-pit-expedition—
Mr. Phelps in Henry the Fourth for intellectual,
and a bun and a bottle of ginger-beer for physical
refreshment—for these two good and sufficient
reasons, I walked. I started immediately after
tea, which, being partaken of in Somers-town,
I need not say indicates the fashionable hour of
five P.M. I was young then, and conceited, as
it is in the nature of most young persons to be,
and I disdained to ask my way. If I were to
say that I was a Scotch young man, you would
not perhaps think it surprising that I had
sedulously devoted myself to the study of the
map of London. I had devoted myself to that
branch of knowledge, and flattered myself that
London, topographically considered, lay at my
feet, a conquered place. I fondly believed that,
with Mogg for my pioneer, I had conquered
even before I came and saw.

A little practical application of my knowledge,
however, convinced me that I was mistaken.
Too confident of my acquaintance with short
cuts, I lost myself in Bagnigge-wells, only to
find myself, after an hour's walking, in Upper
Holloway. King's-cross was a sort of loadstone
rock in my trackless path. Sail which way I
would, east, west, north, or south, I was always
drawn back to King's-cross.

Richard was not more bothered by his
Richmonds than I was by that lamp-post in the
middle of four converging ways. When at last
I reached the Moated Grange of Thalia and
Melpomene, it was nigh upon half-price hour,
and I was weary and footsore. Again, on
returning, I lost myself in Smithfield, floundered
into the heart of the City, floundered back
again, and did not reach Somers-town until the
small hours of the morning. From that time
forward, I regarded a journey to Islington as a
very serious affair, not to be undertaken lightly,
nor without due preparation.

When the Cattle Show was removed to
Islington, I bade farewell to it. W. and W.C.
generally, I think, bade farewell to it. Never
more would fashionable eyes rest upon the prize
ox, the honourably mentioned sheep, and the
meritorious pig. They were gone from our
gaze, far out of reach, into distant Islington.
This impression of a remote country still
weighed upon my mind when the call of duty
recently required me to visit the Reformatory
Exhibition. It was held in the Agricultural
Hall, which was situated, as I understood, some
distance beyond the Angel. I was in the Strand
when duty called upon me, rather peremptorily,
to go at once, as the Exhibition would be opened
at four o'clock by his Royal Highness the
Prince of Wales.

Now, I am never indifferent to the call of
duty; but it occurred to me to pause for a
little, and inquire, if I were prepared for this
arduous expedition. Had I money enough to
defray the expenses? One pound four and
sixpence. Would that be sufficient? My boots
were rather thin; I had left my great-coat at
home; I had no card about me for the purpose
of identification in case of accident; I had not
had my dinner. I was determined to fortify my
inner man at least, and I dined as substantially
as I could, without encroaching too far upon
my limited stock of cash. I further took in
coals for the journey in the shape of bottled
beer and full-bodied wines, and then, having
filled my cigar-case, I hailed a Hansom and
started. The horse looked a good one to go;
I had a full hour before me—possibly I should
get there in time.

I was calculating how much the man would
charge me, and whether three and sixpence
would be received with thanks or with objurgations,
when a sudden jerk of the cab caused me
to look up. I was actually in Clerkenwell! I
had scarcely taken three puffs at my cigar before
there flashed upon my vision the word "Boxes,"
inscribed upon the door of a white building on
the left. Sadler's Wells! I am still wondering
if it can be the same moated grange of the
drama to which I once journeyed so painfully,
when another flash reveals to me the word
"Angel." Away through a crowd of 'busses,
sharply to the left, and immediately I find
myself in a road lined with expectant spectators.
A tightening of the right rein, a crunching
clattering pull up close to the kerbstone, and here I
am at the grand entrance of the Agricultural
Hall, far away in Islington! It is little more
than half a cigar since I left the Strand. What
conjuration and mighty magic have done this?
Shall I try the driver with a shilling? I do,
with some misgiving; but he accepts it
cheerfully, and thanks me as if he meant it, by which
I know that it is less than two miles to the