Down this street he
may enjoy a Russian or Turkish bath; down that, a water-cure. Here, with
skill undreamed of by civilized antiquity, fine gold can be made to
replace the decayed segment of a tooth; there, he has but to stretch out
his foot, and a chiropodist removes the throbbing bunion, or a boy
kneels to polish his boots. A hackman is at hand to drive him to the
Park, a telescope to show him the stars; he has but to pause at a corner
and buy a journal which will place him _au courant_ with the events of
the world, or listen to an organ-grinder, and think himself at the
opera. This temple is free for him to enter and "muse till the fire
burns"; on yonder bookseller's counter is an epitome of the wisdom of
ages; there he may buy a nosegay to propitiate his lady-love, or a
sewing-machine to beguile his womankind, and here a crimson balloon or
spring rocking-horse, to delight his little boy, and rare gems or a
silver service for a bridal gift. This English tailor will provide him
with a "capital fit," that German tobacconist with a creamy meerschaum.
At the artificial Spa he may recuperate with Vichy or Kissingen, and at
the phrenologist's have his mental and moral aptitudes defined; now a
"medium" invites him to a spiritual _seance_, and now an antiquarian to
a "curiosity shop.
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