A Taste For Flowers Seems Universal, Plants In Pots Being Continually
To Be Seen On The Ledges Of The Porticoes
And verandahs; these are
sometimes intermingled with less tasteful ornaments, and few things
have struck me as more incongruous than
A plaster bust of a modern
English author, perched upon the top of a balustrade over the portico
of a house in the bazaar; mustachios have been painted above the
mouth, the head has been dissevered from the shoulders, and is now
stuck upon one side in the most grotesque manner possible, looking
down with half-tipsy gravity, the attitude and the expression of the
countenance favouring the idea, upon the strange groups thus oddly
brought into juxta-position. The exhibition is a droll one; but it
always gives me a painful feeling: I do not like to see the effigy of
a time-honoured sage abased.
The statue of Lord Cornwallis, on the Esplanade - which, being
surrounded by sculptured animals, not, I think, in good taste,
might be mistaken for Van Amburgh and his beasts - is close to a spot
apparently chosen as a hackney-coach stand, every kind of the inferior
descriptions of native vehicles being to be found there in waiting.
Some of the bullock-carriages have rather a classical air, and
might, with a little brushing up and decoration, emulate the ancient
triumphal car. They are usually dirty and shabby, but occasionally
we see one that makes a good picture. The bullocks that draw it are
milk-white, and have the hanging dewlap, which adds so greatly to the
appearance of the animal; the horns are painted blue, and the forehead
is adorned with a frontlet of large purple glass beads, while bouquets
of flowers are stuck on either side of the head, after the manner of
the rosettes worn by the horses in Europe.
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