AMONG THE PEDESTALS.

The rumour that a number of London's statues are to be moved to make room

for new has caused many a marble heart to beat faster; and on making a

round of calls I gathered that Sir ALFRED MOND has few friends in stone or

bronze circles. Not the least uneasy is George IV. in Trafalgar Square.

Uneasiness of body he has always known, riding there for ever without any

stirrups; but now his mind is uneasy too. "If they take Father from

Cockspur Street," he argued very naturally, "why not me?"

A few of the figures feel secure, of course, but very few. Nelson on his

column has no fears; Nurse Cavell is too recent to tremble; so is Abraham

Lincoln. But the others? They are in a state of nervous suspense, wondering

if the sentence of banishment is to fall and resenting any disturbance of

their lives. "_J'y suis, j'y reste_" is their motto.

Abraham Lincoln gave me a hearty welcome and extended an invitation that is

not within the power of any other graven image in the city. "Take a chair,"

he said.

I did so and am thus, I suppose, the first Londoner to put that comfortable

piece of furniture to its proper use.

"How do you like being here?" I asked.

He said that he enjoyed it. The only blot on his pleasure was the fear that

the Abbey might fall on him, and he therefore hoped that _The Times'_ fund

was progressing by leaps and bounds.

His immediate neighbours, on the contrary, exhibited no serenity whatever,

and I found Canning and Palmerston shivering with apprehension in their

frockcoats. The worst of it was that I could say nothing to reassure them.

Here and there, however, a desire for locomotion was expressed. Dr.

Johnson, in the enclosure behind St. Clement Danes, is very restive. I

asked him if he would object to removal. "Sir," said the Little

Lexicographer (as his sculptor has made him), "I should derive satisfaction

from it. A man cannot be considered as enviable who spends all his time in

the contemplation, from an unvacatable position, of a street to the

perambulation of which he devoted many of his happiest hours."

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, August 18th, 1920 · 第 6 / 44 题