# REAL LIFE IN LONDON

OR, THE
FURTHER RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF BOB TALLYHO, ESQ.,
AND HIS COUSIN THE HON. TOM DASHALL, ETC., THROUGH
THE METROPOLIS; EXHIBITING A LIVING PICTURE
OF FASHIONABLE CHARACTERS, MANNERS, AND
AMUSEMENTS IN HIGH AND LOW LIFE
BY an AMATEUR
EMBELLISHED AND ILLUSTRATED WITH A SERIES OF
COLOURED PRINTS, DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED
BY MESSRS. HEATH, AIKEN, DIGHTON,
BROOKE, ROWLANDSON, ETC.
VOLUME II
Part 2
A NEW EDITION
METHUEN & CO. LONDON

Main Index
Volume I. Part 1
Volume I. Part 2
Volume II. Part 1

## Contents

## List of Illustrations

## CHAPTER XV

              "All London is full of vagaries,
              Of bustle of splendour and show,
              At every turn the scene varies,
              Whether near, or still further we go.
              Each lane has a character in it,
              Each street has its pauper and beau:
              And such changes are making each minute,
              Scarce one from the other we know.
              The in and out turnings of life,
              Few persons can well understand;
              But in London the grand source of strife,
              Is of fortune to bear the command.
              Yet some who are high up to day,
              Acknowledged good sober and witty,
              May to-morrow be down in decay,
              In this great and magnanimous city."

[203] "Apropos," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, laying down the Times newspaper after breakfast, "a fine opportunity is offered to us to day, for a peep at the Citizens of London in their Legislative Assembly, a Court of Common Council is announced for twelve o'clock, and I think I can promise you much of entertaining information, by paying a visit at Guildhall and its vicinity. We have several times passed it with merely taking a view of its exterior, but the interior is equally deserving of attention, particularly at a period when it is graced by the personages and appendages which constitute its state and dignity. London is generally spoken of as the first commercial city in the known world, and its legislators, as a corporate body, becomes a sort of rallying post for all others in the kingdom. We have plenty of time before us, and may lounge a little as we march along to amuse or refresh ourselves at leisure." "With all my heart," said Tallyho, "for I have heard much about the Lord Mayor, the Sword Bearer, and the Common Hunt, all in a bustle,—though I have never yet had an opportunity of seeing any of them."

[204]"They are interesting subjects, I can assure you, so come along, we will take a view of these Gogs and Magogs of civic notoriety," and thus saying, they were quickly on the road for the city. The morning being fine, they took their way down St. James's Street, at the bottom of which their ears were attracted by the sounds of martial music approaching.

"We have nicked the time nicely indeed," said Dashall, "and may now enjoy a musical treat, before we proceed to the oratorical one. The Guards in and about the Palace, are relieved every morning about this time, for which purpose they are usually mustered at the Horse-Guards, in the Park, where they are paraded in regular order, and then marched here. It forms a very pleasing sight for the cockney loungers, for those out of employ, and those who have little inclination to be employed; and you see the crowds that are hastening before them, in order to obtain admission to Palace Yard, before their arrival—let us join the throng; there is another detachment stationed there ready to receive them, and while they are relieving the men actually on duty, the two bands alternately amuse the officers and the bye-standers with some of the most admired Overtures and Military Airs."

They now passed the gate, and quickly found themselves in a motley group of all descriptions, crowding to the seat of action, and pouring in from various avenues. Men, women, and children, half-drill'd drummers, bandy-legged fifers, and suckling triangle beaters, with bags of books and instruments in their hands to assist the band. The colours were mounted as usual on a post in the centre, the men drawn up in ranks, and standing at ease, while the officers were pacing backwards and forwards in the front, arm-in-arm with each other, relating the rencontres of the preceding day, or those in anticipation of the ensuing. This order of things was however quickly altered, as the relieving party entered, and at the word "attention," every officer was at his post, and the men under arms. Our friends now moved under the piazzas so as to be in the rear of the party who had the first possession, and after hearing with great admiration the delightful airs played by the two bands, which had been the principal object of attraction with them—they proceeded through the Park and reached Charing Cross, by the way of Spring Gardens.

[205] "Zounds," said Tallyho, "this is a very unworthy entrance to a Royal Park."

"Admitted, it is so," was the reply, "and a degradation to the splendid palace, I mean internally, which is so close to it, and which is the present residence of Majesty." They now proceeded without any thing further of consequence worthy of remark, till they reached Villiers-street.

"Come," said Tom, "I perceive we shall have time to take a look at the world below as well as the world above; "when crossing into the Adelphi, and suddenly giving another turn, he entered what to Bob appeared a cavern, and in one moment was obscured from his sight.—"Hallo," said Tallyho, "where the devil are you leading me to?"—"Never mind," was the reply; "keep on the right side, and you are safe enough; but if you get into the centre, beware of the Slough of Despond—don't be afraid."

Upon this assurance Bob groped his way along for a few paces, and at a distance could discover the glimmering of a lamp, which seemed but to make darkness more visible. Keeping his eye upon the light, and more engrossed with the idea of his own safety in such a place than any thing else, for he could neither conjecture where he was nor whence he was going, he presently came in violent contact with a person whom he could not see, and in a moment found himself prostrate on the ground.

"Hallo," cried a gruff voice, which sounded through the hollow arches of the place with sepulchral tone—"who the devil are you—why don't you mind where you go—you must not come here with your eyes in your pocket;" and at the same time he heard a spade dug into the earth, which almost inspired him with the idea that he should be buried alive.

"Good God protect," (exclaimed Bob,) "where is Dashall—where am I?"

"Where are you—why you're in the mud to be sure—and for aught I know, Dashall and all the rest may be in the clouds; what business have you dashing here—we have enough of the Dandies above, without having them below—what have you lost your way, or have you been nibbling in the light, and want to hide yourself—eh?"

[206] "Neither, neither, I can assure you; but I have been led here, and my friend is on before."

"Oh, well, if that's the case, get up, and I'll hail him, —ey-ya-ap"—cried he, in a voice, which seemed like thunder to our fallen hero, and which was as quickly answered by the well known voice of his Cousin, who in a few minutes was at his elbow.

"What now," vociferated Tom, "I thought I gave you instructions how to follow, and expected you was just behind me."

"Why for the matter of that," cried the unknown, "he was not before you, that's sartin; and he knocked himself down in the mud before ever I spoke to him, that's all I know about it—but he don't seem to understand the navigation of our parts."

"I don't wonder at that," replied Tom; "for he was never here before in his life—but there is no harm done, is there?"

"None," replied Bob; "all's right again now—so proceed."

"Nay," replied the unknown, "all's not right yet; for if as how this is your first appearance in the shades below, it is but fair you should come down."

"Down," said Bob, "why I have been down—you knock'd me down."

"Well, never mind, my master, I have set you on your pins again; and besides that, I likes you very well, for you're down as a hammer, and up again like a watch-box—but to my thinking a drap o'somut good would revive you a little bit; and I should like to drink with you—for you ought to pay your footing."

"And so he shall," continued Tom—"So come along, my lad."

By this time Bob had an opportunity of discovering that the person he had thus unfortunately encountered, was no other than a stout raw-boned coalheaver, and that the noise he had heard was occasioned by his sticking his pointed coal-shovel in the earth, with intention to help him up after his fall. Pursuing their way, and presently turning to the right, Bob was suddenly delighted by being brought from utter darkness into marvellous light, presenting a view of the river, with boats and barges passing and repassing with their usual activity.

"What place is this?" inquired Tallyho.

[207] "Before you," replied his Cousin, "is the River Thames; and in the front you will find wharfs and warehouses for the landing and housing of various merchandize, such as coals, fruit, timber, &c.: we are now under the Adelphi Terrace, where many elegant and fashionable houses are occupied by persons of some rank in society; these streets, lanes, and subterraneous passages, have been constructed for the convenience of conveying the various articles landed here into the main streets of the metropolis, and form as it were a little world under ground."

"And no bad world neither," replied the coalheaver, who upon inspection proved to be no other than Bob Martlet, whom they had met with as one of the heavy wet party at Charley's Crib—"For there is many a family lives down here, and gets a good bit of bread too; what does it signify where a man gets his bread, if he has but an honest appetite to eat it with: aye, and though I say it, that house in the corner there, just down by the water's edge, can supply good stuff at all times to wash it down with, and that you know's the time of day, my master: this warm weather makes one dryish like, don't it?"

Tom thought the hint dry enough, though Bob was declaring he was almost wet through; however, they took their road to the Fox under the Hill, as it is termed. On entering which a good fire presented itself, and Tallyho placed himself in front of it, in order to dry his clothes, while Bob Martlet was busy in inquiring of the landlord for a brush to give the gemman a wipe down, as, he observed, he had a sort of a trip up in these wild parts—though to be sure that there was no great wonder, for a gentleman who was near sighted, and didn't wear spectacles; "however," continued he, "there an't no harm done; and so the gemman and I are going to drink together—arn't we, Sir?"

Tallyho, who by this time had got well roasted by the fire-side, nodded his assent, and Dashall inquired what he would like.

[208] "Why, my master, as for that, it's not much matter to me; a drap of sky blue in a boulter of barley,{1} with a dollop of sweet,{2} and a little saw dust,{3} is no bad thing according to my thinking; but Lord bless you! if so be as how a gemman like you offers to treat Bill Martlet,

         1 A boulter of barley—a drink—or a pot of porter.

         2 A dollop of sweet—sugar.

         3 Saw-dust—a cant term for ginger or nutmeg grated.

why Bill Martlet never looks a gift horse in the mouth, you know, as the old saying is; but our landlord knows how to make such rum stuff, as I should like you to taste it—we call it hot, don't us, landlord?—Come, lend us hold of the brush?" "Ave, and brush up, Mr. Landlord," said the Hon. Tom Dashall; "let us have a taste of this nectar he's talking of, for we have not much time to stop."

"Lord bless your eye sight," replied Martlet, "there an't no occasion whatsomdever for your honours to stay—if you'll only give the order, and push about the possibles, the business is all done. Come, shovel up the sensible," continued he to the landlord, "mind you give us the real double XX. I don't think your coat is any the worse, it would sarve me for a Sunday swell toggery for a twelve-month to come yet; for our dirt down here is as I may say clean dirt, and d———me if I don't think it looks all the better for it."

"Thank you, my friend," said Bob; "that will do very well," and the landlord having by this time completed his cookery, produced the good stuff, as Martlet termed it.

"Come, gentlemen, this is the real right sort, nothing but the bang-up article, arn't it, my master? But as I always likes the landlord to taste it first, by way of setting a good example, just be after telling us what you think of it."

"With all my heart," said the landlord; who declared it was as prime a pot of hot as he had made for the last fortnight. .

With this recommendation our friends tried it; and after tipping, took their departure, under the positive assurance of Martlet, that he should be very glad to see them again at any time.

They now pursued their way through other subterraneous passages, where they met waggons, carts, and horses, apparently as actively and usefully employed as those above ground.

"Come," said Tom, "we have suffered time to steal a inarch upon us," as they reached the Strand; "we will therefore take the first" rattler we can meet with, and make the best of our way for the City."—This was soon accomplished, and jumping into the coach, the old Jarvey was desired to drive them as expeditiously as possible to the corner of King-street, Cheapside.[209]

## CHAPTER XVI

              "How wretched those who tasteless live,
              And say this world no joys can give:
              Why tempts yon turtle sprawling,
              Why smoaks the glorious haunch,
              Are these not joys still calling
              To bless our mortal paunch?
              O 'tis merry in the Hall
              When beards wag all,
              What a noise and what a din;
              How they glitter round the chin;
              Give me fowl and give me fish,
              Now for some of that nice dish;
              Cut me this, Sir, cut me that,
              Send me crust, and send me fat.
              Some for tit bits pulling hauling,

         Legs, wings, breast, head,—some for liquor, scolding, bawling,
         Hock, port, white, red, here 'tis cramming, cutting, slashing,
         There the grease and gravy splashing,
         Look, Sir, look, Sir, what you've done,
         Zounds, you've cut off the Alderman's thumb."

The Hon. Tom Dashall, who was fully aware that City appointments for twelve o'clock mean one, was nevertheless anxious to arrive at their place of destination some time before the commencement of the business of the day; and fortunately meeting with no obstruction on the road, they were set down at the corner of King-street, about half-past twelve.

"Come," said he, "we shall now have time to look about us at leisure, and observe the beauties of this place of civic festivity. The Hall you see in front of you, is the place devoted to the entertainment usually given by the Lord Mayor on his entrance upon the duties and dignities of his office. It is a fine gothic building, in which the various courts of the city are held. The citizens also meet there for the purpose of choosing their representatives in Parliament, the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, &c. It was originally built in the year 1411, previous to which period the public, or as they term it the Common Hall, was held at a small room in Aldermanbury.

[210] The expense Of the building was defrayed by voluntary subscription, and its erection occupied twenty years. It was seriously damaged by the fire of 1666, since which the present edifice, with the exception of the new gothic front, has been erected. That, however, was not finished till the year 1789, and many internal improvements and decorations have been introduced since. There is not much of attraction in its outward appearance. That new building on the right has recently been erected for the accommodation of Meetings of Bankrupts; and on the left is the Justice-Room, where the Aldermen attend daily in rotation as magistrates to decide petty causes; but we must not exhaust our time now upon them."

On entering the Hall, Tallyho appeared to be highly pleased with its extent, and was presently attracted by the monuments which it contains. "It is a noble room," said he.—"Yes," replied Tom, "this Hall is 153 feet in length, 48 in breadth, and the height to the roof is 55." Tallyho was, however, more engaged in examining the monument erected to the memory of Lord Nelson, and an occasional glance at the two enormous figures who stand at opposites, on the left of the entrance.—Having read the tablet, and admired the workmanship of the former, he hastily turned to the latter. "And who in the name of wonder are these?" he inquired.

"These," replied his communicative Cousin, "are called Gog and Magog. They are two ancient giants carved in wood, one holding a long staff suspending a ball stuck with pikes, and the other a halbert, supposed to be of great antiquity, and to represent an ancient Briton and a Saxon. They formerly used to stand on each side of that staircase which leads to the Chamberlain's Office, the Courts of King's Bench and Common Pleas, the Court of Aldermen, and the Common Council Chamber. At the other end are two fine monuments, to the memory of Lord Chatham, the father of Mr. Pitt, and his Son. The windows are fine specimens of the revived art of painting on glass. There is also a monument of Mr. Beckford."

While they were taking a view of these several objects of curiosity, their attention was suddenly attracted by a confused noise and bustle at the door, which announced the arrival of the Lord Mayor and his attendants, who passed them in state, and were followed by our friends to the Council Chamber; on entering which, they were [211] directed by the City Marshall, who guarded the door, to keep below the bar. Tallyho gazed with admiration and delight on the numerous pictures with which the Chamber is decorated, as well as the ceiling, which forms, a dome, with a skylight in the centre. The Lord Mayor having first entered the Court of Aldermen, the business of the day had not yet commenced. Tom directed his Cousin's eye in the first instance to the very large and celebrated painting by Copley, which fronts the Lord Mayor's chair, and represents the destruction of the floating batteries before Gibraltar, to commemorate the gallant defence of that place by General Elliott, afterwards Lord Heath field, in 1782. The statue of the late King George the Third; the death of David Rizzio, by Opie; the miseries of Civil War, from Shakespeare; Domestic Happiness, exemplified in portraits of an Alderman and his family; the death of Wat Tyler; the representation of the Procession of the Lord Mayor to Westminster Hall, by water; and the ceremony of swearing in the Lord Mayor at Guildhall, in 1781; containing portraits of all the principal members of the Corporation of London at that time. Meanwhile the benches were filling with the Deputies and Common Councilmen from their several wards. At one o'clock, the Lord Mayor entered the Court, attended by several Aldermen, who took their seats around him, and the business of the day commenced. Among those on the upper seats, Tom gave his Cousin to understand which were the most popular of the Aldermen, and named in succession Messrs. Waithman, Wood, Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, Birch, Flower, and Curtis; and as their object was not so much to hear the debates as to see the form and know the characters, he proposed an adjournment from their present rather uncomfortable situation, where they were obliged to stand wedged in, by the crowd continually increasing, during which they could take a few more observations, and he could give some little clue to the origin and present situations of the persons to whom he had directed his Cousin's attention. Making the best of their way out of the Court, they found themselves in an anti-room, surrounded by marshalmen, beadles of Wards waiting for their Aldermen, and the Lord Mayor's and Sheriffs' footmen, finding almost as much difficulty to proceed, as they had before encountered.

[212] Having struggled through this formidable phalanx of judicial and state appendages,

"Now," said Dashall, "we shall be enabled to breathe again at liberty, and make our observations without fear; for where we have just quitted, there is scarcely any possibility of making a remark without having it snapped up by newspaper reporters, and retailers of anecdotes; here, however, we can indulge ad libitum."

"Yes," replied Tallyho, "and having seen thus far, I am a little inquisitive to know more. I have, it is true, at times seen the names of the parties you pointed out to me in the daily prints, but a sight of their persons in their official stations excites stronger curiosity."

"Then," said Tom, "according to promise I will give you a sort of brief sketch of some of them. The present Lord Mayor is a very eminent wholesale stationer, carrying on an extensive trade in Queen-street; he ought to have filled the chair before this, but some temporary circumstances relative to his mercantile concerns induced him to give up his rotation. He has since removed the obstacle, and has been elected by his fellow-citizens to the high and important office of Chief Magistrate. I believe he has not signalized himself by any remarkable circumstance, but he has the character of being a worthy man. Perhaps there are few in the Court of Aldermen who have obtained more deservedly the esteem of the Livery of London, than Alderman Waithman, whose exertions have long been directed to the correction of abuses, and who represented them as one of their members during the last Parliament, when he displaced the mighty Alderman Curtis. Waithman is of humble origin, and has, like many others of Civic notoriety, worked his way by perseverance and integrity as a linen-draper, to respectable independence, and the hearts of his fellow-citizens: he has served the office of Sheriff, and during that time acted with a becoming spirit at the death of the late Queen, by risking his own life to save others. His political sentiments are on the opposition side, consequently he is no favorite with ministers."

"And if he were," replied Tallyho, "that would scarcely be considered an honour."

"True," continued Tom, "but then it might lead to profit, as it has done with many others, though he appears to hold such very light.

[213] "Alderman Wood has not yet been so fortunate as the celebrated Whittington, whom you may recollect was thrice Lord Mayor of London; but he has had the honour to serve that office during two succeeding years: he is a member of Parliament, and his exertions in behalf of the late Queen, if they have done him no great deal of good among the higher powers, are at least honourable to his heart.

"Of Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter there is but little to be said, except that he has served the office, and been a Colonel of the City Militia—led off the ball at a Jew's wedding—used to ride a white charger—and is so passionately fond of military parade, that had he continued another year in the office, the age of chivalry would certainly have been revived in the East, and knights-errant and esquires have completely superseded merchants, traders, and shopkeepers.

"Alderman Birch is an excellent pastry-cook, and that perhaps is the best thing that can be said of him: he has written some dramatic pieces; but the pastry is beyond all comparison best of the two, and he needs no other passport to fame, at least with his fellow-citizens.

"But last, though not least, under our present consideration, comes the renowned Sir William, a plain bluff John Bull; he is said to be the son of a presbyterian citizen, and was rigidly educated in his father's religion. He obtained the alderman's gown, and represented the City in the year 1790: he is a good natured, and, I believe, a good hearted man enough, though he has long been a subject for satirical wit. He was Lord Mayor in 1796: you may recollect what was related of him by the literary labourer we met with in the Park—anecdotes and caricatures have been published in abundance upon him: he may, however, be considered in various points of view—as an alderman and a biscuit baker—as a fisherman "—

"How!" cried Tallyho!

"Why, as a fisherman, he is the Polyphemus of his time.

              "His rod was made out of the strongest oak,
              His line a cable which no storm e'er broke,
              His hook was baited with a dragon's tail,
              He sat upon a rock and bobb'd for a whale."

"Besides which," continued Dashall, "he is a great sailor; has a yacht of his own, and generally accompanies

[214] Royalty on aquatic excursions. I remember a laughable caricature, exhibiting the alderman in his own vessel, with a turtle suspended on a pole, with the following lines, in imitation of Black-eyed Susan, said to be written by Mr. Jekyll:—

              "All in the Downs the fleet lay moor'd,
              The streamers waving in the wind,
              When Castlereagh appeared on board,
              'Ah where shall I my Curtis find.
              Tell me ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
              Does my fat William sail among your crew.'"

He is a banker, a loan-monger, and a contractor, a member of Parliament, and an orator; added to which, he may be said to be a man of wit and humour—at all events he is the cause of it in others. His first occupations have procured him great wealth, and his wit and humour great fame.

"The worthy Alderman's hospitality to the late good humoured and gossiping James Boswell, the humble follower and biographer of Dr. Johnson, is well known; and it is probable that the pleasures of the table, in which no man more joyously engaged, shortened his life. To write the life of a great man is no easy task, and to write that of a big one may be no less arduous. Whether the Alderman really expected to be held up to future fame by the Biographer of Johnson, cannot be very easily ascertained; however that wish and expectation, if it ever existed, was completely frustrated by the death of poor Boswell.

"I recollect to have seen some lines of the worthy Alderman, on the glorious victory of the Nile, which shew at once his patriotism, his wit, and his resolution, in that he is not to be laughed out of the memorable toast he once gave—

              "Great Nelson, in the grandest stile,
              Bore down upon the shores of Nile,
              And there obtained a famous victory,
              Which puzzled much the French Directory.
              The impudence of them there fellows,
              As all the newspapers do tell us,
              Had put the grand Turk in a pet,
              Which caus'd him send to Nelson an aigrette;
              Likewise a grand pelisse, a noble boon—
              Then let us hope—a speedy peace and soon."{1}

         1 Whether the following lines are from the same hand or not,
         we are unable to ascertain; at least they wear a great
         similarity of character:

              I give you the three glorious C's.

              Our Church, Constitution, and King;
              Then fill up three bumpers to three noble Vs.
              Wine,  Women, and  Whale fish-ing.

[215] "Egad," said Bob, "if this be true, he appears to knock up rhymes almost as well as he could bake biscuits" (smothering a laugh.)

"Why," replied Dashall, "I believe that it has not been positively ascertained that these lines, which unlike other poetry, contain no fiction, but plain and undeniable matter of fact, were wholly indicated by the worthy Alderman; indeed it is not impossible but that his worship's barber might have had a hand in their composition. It would be hard indeed, if in his operations upon the Alderman's pericranium, he should not have absorbed some of the effluvia of the wit and genius contained therein; and in justice to this operator on his chin and caput, I ought to give you a specimen which was produced by him upon the election of his Lordship to the Mayoralty—

              "Our present Mayor is William Curtis,
              A man of weight and that your sort is."

"This epigrammatic distich, which cannot be said to be destitute of point, upon being read at table, received, as it deserved, a large share of commendation; and his Lordship declared to the company present, that it had not taken his barber above three hours to produce it extempore."

Tallyho laughed heartily at these satirical touches upon the poor Alderman.

"However," continued Tom, "a man with plenty of money can bear laughing at, and sometimes laughs at himself, though I suspect he will hardly laugh or produce a laugh in others, by what he stated in his seat in the House of Commons, on the subject of the riots{1} at Knightsbridge. I suspect his wit and good humour will hardly protect him in that instance."

         1 On a motion made by Mr. Favell in the Court of Common
         Council, on the 21st of March, the following resolution was
         passed, indicative of the opinion that Court entertained of
         the conduct of Alderman Curtis on the occasion here alluded
         to:

         "That Sir William Curtis, Bart, having acknowledged in his
         place in this Court, that a certain speech now read was
         delivered by him in the House of Commons, in which, among
         other matters which he stated respecting the late riot at
         Knightsbridge, he said, 'That he had been anxious that a
         Committee should investigate this question, because he
         wished to let the world know the real character of this
         Great Common Council, who were always meddling with matters
         which they had nothing to do with, and which were far above
         their wisdom and energy. It was from such principles they
         had engaged in the recent inquiry, which he would contend
         they had no right to enter upon. Not only was evidence
         selected, but questions were put to draw such answers as the
         party putting them desired.'

         "That the conduct of Sir William Curtis, one of the repre-
         sentatives of this City in Parliament, lias justly merited
         the censure and indignation of this Court and of his fellow
         Citizens."

[216] After taking a cursory look into the Chamberlain's Office, the Court of King's Bench and Common Pleas, they took their departure from Guildhall, very well satisfied with their morning's excursion.

It was between three and four o'clock when our friends left the Hall. Tom Dashalt, being upon the qui vive, determined to give his Cousin a chevy for the remainder of the day; and for this purpose, it being on a Friday, he proposed a stroll among the Prad-sellers in Smithfield, where, after partaking of a steak and a bottle at Dolly's, they accordingly repaired.

"You will recollect," said Tom, "that you passed through Smithfield (which is our principal cattle market) during the time of Bartholomew Fair; but you will now find it in a situation so different, that you would scarcely know it for the same place: you will now see it full of horse-jockeys, publicans, pugilists, and lads upon the lark like ourselves, who having no real business either in the purchase or sale of the commodities of the market, are watching the manners and manouvres of those who have."

As Tom was imparting this piece of information to his attentive Cousin, they were entering Smithfield by the way of Giltspur-street, and were met by a man having much the appearance of a drover, who by the dodging movements of his stick directly before their eyes, inspired our friends so strongly with the idea of some animal being behind them which they could not see, and from which danger was to be apprehended, that they suddenly broke from each other, and fled forward for safety, at which a roar of laughter ensued from the byestanders, who [217] perceiving the hoax, recommended the dandies to take care they did not dirty their boots, or get near the hoofs of the prancing prads, Tom was not much disconcerted at this effort of practical jocularity, though his Cousin seemed to have but little relish for it.

"Come along," said Tom, catching him by the arm, and impelling him forward, "although this is not Bartholomew Fair time, you must consider all fair at the horse-fair, unless you are willing to put up with a horse-laugh."

Struggling through crowds who appeared to be buying, selling, or bargaining for the lame, the broken winded, and spavined prads of various sizes, prices, and pretensions,

"There is little difference," said Tom, "between this place as a market for horses, and any similar mart in the kingdom,

              Here the friend and the brother
              Meet to humbug each other,

except that perhaps a little more refinement on the arts of gulling may be found; and it is no very uncommon thing for a stolen nag to be offered for sale in this market almost before the knowledge of his absence is ascertained by the legal owner.—I have already given you some information on the general character of horse-dealers during our visit to Tattersal's; but every species of trick and low chicanery is practised, of which numerous instances might be produced; and though I admit good horses are sometimes to be purchased here, it requires a man to be perfectly upon his guard as to who he deals with, and how he deals, although the regulations of the market are, generally speaking, good."

"I wouldn't have him at no price," said a costermonger, who it appeared was bargaining for a donkey; "the h———y sulkey b——— von't budge, he's not vorth a fig out of a horses———."

"I knows better as that 'are," cried a chimney-sweeper; "for no better an't no vare to be had; he's long backed and strong legged. Here, Bill, you get upon him, and give him rump steaks, and he'll run like the devil a'ter a parson."

Here Bill, a little blear-eyed chimney-sweeper, mounted the poor animal, and belaboured him most unmercifully, without producing any other effect than kicking up behind, and most effectually placing poor Bill in the

[218] mud, to the great discomfiture of the donkey seller, and the mirth of the spectators. The animal brayed, the byestanders laughed, and the bargain, like poor Bill, was off.

After a complete turn round Smithfield, hearing occasionally the chaffing of its visitants, and once or twice being nearly run over, they took their departure from this scene of bustle, bargaining, and confusion, taking their way down King-street, up Holborn Hill, and along Great Queen-street.

"Now," said Tom, "we will have a look in at Covent Garden Theatre; the Exile is produced there with great splendour. The piece is certainly got up in a style of the utmost magnificence, and maintains its ground in the theatre rather upon that score than its really interesting dialogue, though some of the scenes are well worked up, and have powerful claims upon approbation. The original has been altered, abridged, and (by some termed) amended, in order to introduce a gorgeous coronation, a popular species of entertainment lately."

Upon entering the theatre, Tallyho was almost riveted in attention to the performance, and the latter scene closed upon him with all its splendid pageantry before he discovered that his Cousin had given him the slip, and a dashing cyprian of the first order was seated at his elbow, with whom entering into a conversation, the minutes were not measured till Dashall's return, who perceiving he was engaged, appeared inclined to retire, and leave the cooing couple to their apparently agreeable tete-a-tete. Bob, however, observing him, immediately wished his fair incognita good night, and joined his Cousin.

"D———d dull," said Tom,—"all weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable."

"But very grand," rejoined Bob.

"I have found nothing to look at," replied Tom; "I have hunted every part of the House, and only seen two persons I know."

"And I," said Tallyho, "have been all the while looking at the piece."

"Which piece do you mean, the one beside you, or the one before you?"

"The performance—The Coronation."

"I have had so much of that," said Tom, "that finding you so close in attention to the stage, that I could get no [219] opportunity of speaking to you, I have been hunting for other game, and have almost wearied myself in the pursuit without success; so that I am for quitting the premises, and making a call at a once celebrated place near at hand, which used to be called the Finish. Come along, therefore, unless you have 'mettle more attractive;' perhaps you have some engagements?"

"None upon earth to supersede the one I have with you," was the reply. Upon which they left the House, and soon found themselves in Covent Garden Market. "This," said Tom, "has been the spot of many larks and sprees of almost all descriptions, ana election wit has been as cheap in the market as any of the vegetables of the venders; but I am going to take you to a small house that has in former times been the resort of the greatest wits of the age. Sheridan, Fox, and others of their time, have not disdained to be its inmates, nor is it now deserted by the votaries of genius, though considerably altered, and conducted in a different manner: it still, however, affords much amusement and accommodation. It was formerly well known by the appellation of the Finish, and was not opened till a late hour in the night, and, as at the present moment, is generally shut up between 11 and 12 o'clock, and re-opened for the accommodation of the market people at 4 in the morning. The most respectable persons resident in the neighbourhood assemble to refresh themselves after the labours of the day with a glass of ale, spirits, or wine, as they draw no porter. The landlord is a pleasant fellow enough, and there is a pretty neat dressing young lass in the bar, whom I believe to be his sister—this is the house."

"House," said Bob, "why this is a deviation from the customary buildings of London; it appears to have no up stairs rooms."

"Never mind that," continued Dashall, "there is room enough for us, I dare say; and after your visit to the Woolpack, I suppose you can stand smoke, if you can't stand fire."

By this time they had entered the Carpenter's Arms, when turning short round the bar, they found themselves in a small room, pretty well filled with company, enjoying their glasses, and puffing their pipes: in the right hand corner sat an undertaker, who having just obtained a victory over his opposite neighbour, was humming a stave [220] to himself indicative of his satisfaction at the result of the contest, which it afterwards appeared was for two mighty's;{1} while his opponent was shrugging up his shoulders with a feeling of a very different kind.

"It's of no use," said Jemmy,{2} as they called him, "for you to enter the lists along with me, for you know very well I must have you at last."

"And no doubt it will prove a good fit," said an elderly shoemaker of respectable appearance, who seemed to command the reverence of the company, "for all of us are subject to the pinch."

"There's no certainty of his assertion, however," replied the unsuccessful opponent of Jemmy.

"Surely not,"{3} said another most emphatically, taking a pinch of snuff, and offering it to the shoemaker; "for you know Jemmy may come to the finch before John."

         1 "Mighty."—This high sounding title has recently been
         given to a full glass of ale,—the usual quantity of what is
         termed a glass being half a pint, generally supplied in a
         large glass which would hold more—and which when filled is
         consequently subjected to an additional charge.

         2 To those who are in the habit of frequenting the house,
         this gentleman will immediately be known, as he usually
         smokes his pipe there of an afternoon and evening.

         "With his friend and his pipe puffing sorrow away, And with
         honest old stingo still soaking his clay."

         With a certain demonstration before him of the mortality of
         human life, he deposits the bodies of his friends and
         neighbours in the earth, and buries the recollection of them
         in a cloud, determined, it should seem, to verify the words
         of the song, that

         "The right end of life is to live and be jolly."

         His countenance and manners seldom fail to excite
         risibility, not-withstanding the solemnity of his calling,
         and there can be little doubt but he is the finisher of
         many, after the Finish; he is, however, generally good
         humoured, communicative, and facetious, and seldom refuses
         to see any person in company for a mighty, usually
         concluding the result with a mirthful ditty, or a doleful
         countenance, according to the situation in which he is left
         as a winner or a loser; and in either case accompanied with
         a brightness of visage, or a dull dismal countenance,
         indicative of the event, which sets description at defiance,
         and can only be judged of by being seen.

         3 "Surely not," are words in such constant use by one
         gentleman who is frequently to be met in this room, that the
         character alluded to can scarcely be mistaken: he is partial
         to a pinch of snuff, but seldom carries a box of his own. He
         is a resident in the neighbour-hood, up to snuff, and
         probably, like other men, sometimes snuffy; this, however,
         without disparagement to his general character, which is
         that of a respectable tradesman.    He is fond of a lark, a
         bit of gig, and an argument; has a partiality for good
         living, a man of feeling, and a dealer in felt, who wishes
         every one to wear the cap that fits him.

[221] "Never mind," continued Jemmy, "I take my chance in this life, and sing toll de roll loll."

By this time our friends, being supplied with mighties, joined in the laugh which was going round at the witty sallies of the speakers.

"It is possible I may go first," said the undertaker, resuming his pipe; "and if I should, I can't help it."

"Surely not,—but I tell you what, Jemmy, if you are not afraid, I'll see you for two more mighties before I go, and I summons you to shew cause."

"D———n your summons,"{1} cried the former unsuccessful opponent of the risible undertaker, who at the word summons burst into a hearty laugh, in which he was immediately joined by all but the last speaker.

"The summons is a sore place," said Jemmy.

"Surely not. I did not speak to him, I spoke to you, Sir; and I have a right to express myself as I please: if that gentleman has an antipathy to a summons, am I to be tongue-tied? Although he may sport with sovereigns, he must be accountable to plebeians; and if I summons you to shew cause, I see no reason why he should interrupt our conversation."

         1 "D——-n your summons." This, as one of the company
         afterwards remarked, was a sore place, and uttered at a
         moment when the irritation was strong on the affected part.
         The speaker is a well known extensive dealer in the pottery,
         Staffordshire, and glass line, who a short time since in a
         playful humour caught a sovereign, tossed up by another
         frequenter of the room, and passed it to a third. The
         original possessor sought restitution from the person who
         took the sovereign from his hand, but was referred to the
         actual possessor, but refused to make the application. The
         return of the money was formally demanded of the man of
         porcelain, pitchers, and pipkins, without avail. In this
         state of things the loser obtained a summons against the
         taker, and the result, as might be expected, was compulsion
         to restore the lost sovereign to the loving subject,
         together with the payment of the customary expenses, a
         circumstance which had the effect of causing great anger in
         the mind of the dealer in brittle wares. Whether he broke
         any of the valuable articles in his warehouse in consequence
         has not been ascertained, but it appears for a time to have
         broken a friendship between the parties concerned: such
         breaches, however, are perhaps easier healed than broken or
         cracked crockery.

[222] "Surely not," was reverberated round the room, accompanied with a general laugh against the interrupter, who seizing the paper, appeared to read without noticing what was passing.

The company was now interrupted by the entrance of several strangers, and our two friends departed on their return homeward for the evening.

## CHAPTER XVII

              "Roam where you will, o'er London's wide domains,
              The mind new source of various feeling gains;
              Explore the giddy town, its squares, its streets,
              The 'wildered eye still fresh attraction greets;
              Here spires and towers in countless numbers rise,
              And lift their lofty summits to the skies;
              Wilt thou ascend? then cast thine eyes below,
              And view the motley groupes of joy and woe:
              Lo! they whom Heaven with affluence hath blest,
              Scowl with cold contumely on those distrest;
              And Pleasure's maze the wealthy caitiffs thread,
              While care-worn Merit asks in vain for bread;
              Yet short their weal or woe, a general doom
              On all awaits,—oblivion in the tomb!"

[223] Our heros next morning determined on a visit to their Hibernian friend and his aunt, whom they found had not yet forgot the entertainment at the Mansion-house, and which still continued to be the favorite topic of conversation. Sir Felix expressed his satisfaction that the worthy Citizens of London retained with increasing splendor their long established renown of pre-eminent distinction in the art of good living.

"And let us hope," said Dashall, "that they will not at any future period be reduced to the lamentable necessity of restraining the progress of epicurism, as in the year 1543, when the Lord Mayor and Common Council enacted a sumptuary law to prevent luxurious eating; by which it was ordered, that the Mayor should confine himself to seven, Aldermen and Sheriffs to six, and the Sword-bearer to four dishes at dinner or supper, under the penalty of forty shillings for each supernumerary dish!"

"A law," rejoined the Baronet, "which voluptuaries of the present times would find more difficult of observance than any enjoined by the decalogue."

The Squire suggested the expediency of a similar enactment, with a view to productive results; for were the [224] wealthy citizens (he observed) prohibited the indulgence of luxurious eating, under certain penalties, the produce would be highly beneficial to the civic treasury.

The Fine Arts claiming a priority of notice, the party determined on visiting a few of the private and public Exhibitions.

London is now much and deservedly distinguished for the cultivation of the fine arts. The commotions on the continent operated as a hurricane on the productions of

genius, and the finest works of ancient and modern times ave been removed from their old situations to the asylum afforded by the wooden walls of Britain. Many of them have, therefore, been consigned to this country, and are now in the collections of our nobility and gentry, chiefly in and about the metropolis.

Although France may possess the greatest number of the larger works of the old masters, yet England undoubtedly possesses the greatest portion of their first-rate productions, which is accounted for by the great painters exerting all their talents on such pictures as were not too large to be actually painted by their own hands, while in their larger works they resorted to inferior assistance. Pictures, therefore, of this kind, being extremely valuable, and at the same time portable, England, during the convulsions on the Continent, was the only place where such paintings could obtain a commensurate price. Such is the wealth of individuals in this country, that some of these pictures now described, belonging to private collections, were purchased at the great prices of ten and twelve thousand guineas each.

Amongst the many private collections of pictures, statues, &c. in the metropolis, that of the Marquis of Stafford, called the Cleveland Gallery, is the most prominent, being the finest collection of the old masters in England, and was principally selected from the works that formerly composed the celebrated Orleans Gallery, and others, which at the commencement of the French revolution were brought to this country. Thither, then, our tourists directed their progress, and through the mediation of Dashall access was obtained without difficulty.

The party derived much pleasure in the inspection of this collection, which contains two or three fine pictures of Raphael, several by Titian and the Caracas, some [225] capital productions of the Dutch and Flemish schools, and some admirable productions of the English school, particularly two by Wilson, one by Turner, and one by Vobson, amounting, in the whole, to 300 first-rate pictures by the first masters, admirably distributed in the new gallery, the drawing-room, the Poussin room (containing eight chef d'oeuvres of that painter), the passage-room, dining-room, old anti-room, old gallery, and small room. The noble proprietor has liberally appropriated one day in the week for the public to view these pictures. The curiosity of.the visitors being now amply gratified, they retired, Sir Felix much pleased with the polite attention of the domestic who conducted them through the different apartments, to whom Miss Macgilligan offered a gratuity, but the acceptance of which was, with courteous acknowledgments, declined.

Proceeding to the house of Mr. Angerstein, Pall Mall, our party obtained leave to inspect a collection, not numerous, but perhaps the most select of any in London, and which has certainly been formed at the greatest expense in proportion to its numbers. Among its principal ornaments are four of the finest landscapes by Claude; the Venus and Adonis, and the Ganymede, by Titian, from the Colonna palace at Rome; a very fine landscape by Poussin, and other works by Velasquez, Rubens, Murillo, and Vandyck: to all which is added the invaluable series of Hogarth's Marriage-a-la-mode.

Returning along Pall-Mall, our perambulators now reached the Gallery of the British Institution; a Public Exhibition, established in the year 1805, under the patronage of his late Majesty, for the encouragement and reward of the talents of British artists, exhibiting during half of the year a collection of the works of living artists for sale; and during the other half year, it is furnished with pictures painted by the most celebrated masters, for the study of the academic and other pupils in painting. The Institution, now patronised by his present Majesty, is supported by the subscriptions of the principal nobility and gentry, and the number of pictures sold under their influence is very considerable. The gallery was first opened on April 17, 1806.

In 1813, the public were gratified by a display of the best works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, collected by the industry and influence of the committee, from the private [226] collections of the royal family, nobility, and gentry; and in 1814, by a collection of 221 pictures of those inimitable painters, Hogarth, Gainsborough, and Wilson.{1}

         1 That the Fine Arts engaged not a little of the attention
         of the British Public during the late reign, is a fact too
         notorious to require proof. The establishment of the Royal
         Academy, in 1768, and its consequent yearly Exhibitions,
         awakened the observation or stimulated the vanity of the
         easy and the affluent, of the few who had taste, and of the
         many who were eager to be thought the possessors of it, to a
         subject already honoured by the solicitude of the sovereign.
         A considerable proportion of the public was thus induced to
         talk of painting and painters, and to sit for a portrait
         soon became the fashion; a fashion, strange to say, which
         has lasted ever since. Whether the talents of Sir Joshua
         Reynolds as a painter, were alone the cause of his high
         reputation, may, however, admit of a doubt. From an early
         period of life, he had the good fortune to be associated in
         friendship with several of the most eminent literary
         characters of the age; amongst whom there were some whose
         high rank and personal consequence in the country greatly
         assisted him to realize one leading object which he had in
         view, that of uniting in himself (perhaps for the first time
         in the person of an English painter) the artist and the man
         of fashion. From his acknowledged success in the attainment
         of this object, tending as it did to the subversion of
         ancient prejudices degrading to art, what beneficial effects
         might not have resulted, had the President exerted his
         influence to sustain the dignity of the artist in others!
         But satisfied with the place in society which he himself had
         gained, he left the rest of the Academy to follow his
         example, if they could, seldom or never mixing with them in
         company, and contenting himself with the delivery of an
         annual lecture to the students. Genius is of spontaneous
         growth, but education, independence, and never-ceasing
         opportunity, are necessary to its full developement.

Since then they have regularly two annual exhibitions; one, of the best works of the old masters, for the improvement of the public taste, and knowledge of the artists, varied by some of the deceased British artists, alternately with that on their old plan of the exhibition and sale of the works of living artists.

The directors of this laudable Institution have also exhibited and procured the loan for study, of one or two of the inimitable cartoons of Raphael for their students. An annual private exhibition of their studies also takes place yearly; the last of which displayed such a degree of merit as no society or academy in Europe could equal.

Sir Felix, who on a former occasion had expressed a wish to acquire the art of verse-writing, was so much satisfied with his inspection of this exhibition, that he [227]became equally emulous of attaining the sister-art of painting; but Dashall requested him to suspend at present his choice, as perhaps he might alternately prefer the acquisition of music.

"In that case," rejoined the Baronet, "I must endeavour to acquire the knack of rhyming extempore, that I may accompany the discordant music with correspondent doggerels to the immortal memory of the heroic achievements of my revered Aunt's mighty progenitor—O'Brien king of Ulster."

This expression of contempt cast by the Baronet on the splendor of the ancient provincial sovereign of the north, had nearly created an open rupture between his aunt and him. Tallyho, however, happily succeeded in effecting an amnesty for the past, on promise under his guarantee of amendment for the future.

The party now migrated by Spring Garden Gate into the salubrious regions of St. James's Park, and crossing its eastern extremity, took post of observation opposite the Horse Guards, an elegant building of stone, that divides Parliament-street from St. James's Park, to which it is the principal entrance. The architect was Ware, and the building cost upwards of £30,000. It derives its name from the two regiments of Life Guards (usually called the Horse Guards) mounting guard there.

"Here is transacted," said Dashall, "all the business of the British army in a great variety of departments, consisting of the Commander-in-Chief's Office,—the Offices of the Secretary-at-War,—the Adjutant-General's Office,—the Quarter-Master-General's Office,—besides the Orderly Rooms for the three regiments of Foot Guards, whose arms are kept here. These three regiments, containing about 7000 men, including officers, and two regiments of Horse Guards, consisting together of 1200 men, at once serve as appendages to the King's royal state, and form a general military establishment for the metropolis. A body called the Yeomen of the Guard, consisting of 100 men, remains a curious relic of the dress of the King's guards in the fifteenth century. Some Light Horse are stationed at the Barracks in Hyde Park, to attend his Majesty, or other members of the Royal Family, chiefly in travelling; and to do duty on occasions immediately connected with the King's administration.

[228] "On the left is the Admiralty (anciently Wallingford House), containing the offices and apartments of the Lords Commissioners who superintend the marine department of this mighty empire.

"On the right is the Treasury and Secretary of State's Offices. Here, in fact, is performed the whole State business of the British Empire. In one building is directed the movements of those fleets, whose thunders rule every sea, and strike terror into every nation. In the centre is directed the energies of an army, hitherto invincible in the field, and which, number for number, would beat any other army in the world. Adjoining are the executive departments with relation to civil and domestic concerns, to foreign nations, and to our exterior colonies. And to finish the groupe, here is that wonderful Treasury, which receives and pays above a hundred millions per annum."

Entering Parliament-street from the Horse-Guards, our perambulators now proceeded to Westminster-bridge,{1} which passing, they paid a visit to Coade and Sealy's Gallery of Artificial Stone, Westminster-bridge-road.

         1 Westminster Bridge. This bridge was built between the
         years 1730 and 1750, and cost £389,000. It is 1223 feet
         long, and 44 feet wide; containing 14 piers, and 13 large
         and two small semicircular arches; and has on its top 28
         semi-octangular towers, twelve of which are covered with
         half domes. The two middle piers contain each 3000 solid
         feet, or 200 tons of Portland stone. The middle arch is 76
         feet wide, the two next 72 feet, and the last 25 feet. The
         free-water way between the piers is 870 feet. This bridge is
         esteemed one of the most beautiful in the world. Every part
         is fully and properly supported, and there is no false
         bearing or false joint throughout the whole structure; as a
         remarkable proof of which, we may quote the extraordinary
         echo of its corresponding towers, a person in one being able
         to hear the whispers of a person opposite, though at the
         distance of nearly 50 feet.

This place contains a great variety of elegant models from the antique and modern masters, of statues, busts, vases, pedestals, monuments, architectural and sculptural decorations, modelled and baked on a composition harder and more durable than any stone.

Animadverting on the utility of this work combining the taste of elegance with the advantage of permanent wear, the two friends, Tom and Bob, recollected having seen, in their rambles through the metropolis, many specimens of the perfection of this ingenious art, particularly at Carlton-House, the Pelican Office, Lombard-street, and almost all the public halls. The statues of the four [229]quarters of the world, and others at the Bank, at the Admiralty, Trinity House, Tower-hill, Somerset-place, the Theatres; and almost every street presents objects, (some of 20 years standing,) as perfect as when put up.

Retracing their steps homewards, our pedestrians again crossed the Park, and finding themselves once more in Spring Gardens, entered the Exhibition Rooms of the Society of Painters in Water Colours.

This, beyond any other gratification of the morning, pleased the party the most. The vivid tints of the various well-executed landscapes had a pleasing effect, and wore more the appearance of nature than any similar display of the fascinating art which they had hitherto witnessed.

This Society, which was formed in 1804, for the purpose of giving due emphasis to an interesting branch of art that was lost in the blaze of Somerset-House, where water-colours, however beautiful, harmonized so badly with paintings in oil, has, in its late exhibitions, deviated from its original and legitimate object, and has mixed with its own exquisite productions various pictures in oil.

The last annual exhibition of painting in oil and water colours, was as brilliant and interesting as any former one, and afforded unmixed pleasure to every visitor.

One more attraction remained in Spring Gardens, which Tom, who had all the morning very ably performed the double duty of conductor and explainer, proposed the company's visiting;—"That is," said he, "Wigley's Promenade Rooms, where are constantly on exhibition various objects of curiosity."

Thither then they repaired, and were much pleased with two very extraordinary productions of ingenuity, the first Mr. Theodon's grand Mechanical and Picturesque Theatre, illustrative of the effect of art in imitation of nature, in views of the Island of St. Helena, the City of Paris, the passage of Mount St. Barnard, Chinese artificial fireworks, and a storm at sea. The whole was conducted on the principle of perspective animation, in a manner highly picturesque, natural, and interesting.

Here also our party examined the original model of a newly invented travelling automaton, a machine which can, with ease and accuracy, travel at the rate of six miles an hour, ascend acclivities, and turn the narrowest corners, by machinery only, conducted by one of the persons seated within, without the assistance of either horse or steam.

[230] This extraordinary piece of mechanism attracted the particular attention of the Baronet, who minutely explored its principles, with the view, as he said, of its introduction to general use, in the province of Munster, in substitution of ricketty jaunting-cars and stumbling geldings. Miss Judith Macgilligan likewise condescended to honour this novel carriage with her approbation, as an economical improvement, embracing, with its obvious utility, a vast saving in the keep of horses, and superseding the use of jaunting-cars, the universal succedaneum, in Ireland, for more respectable vehicles; but which, she added, no lady of illustrious ancestry should resort to.

This endless recurrence to noble descent elicited from Sir Felix another "palpable hit;" who observed, that those fastidious dames of antiquity, to whatever country belonging, of apparent asperity to the present times, would do well in laying aside unfounded prejudices; that the age to which Miss Macgilligan so frequently alluded, was one of the most ignorant barbarism; and the unpolished females of that day unequal to a comparison with those of the present, as much so, as the savage squaws of America with the finished beauties of an Irish Vicegerent's drawing-room.{1}

         1 The pride of ancestry, although prevalent in Ireland, is
         not carried to the preposterous excess exemplified by
         Cambrian vanity and egotism. A gentleman lately visited a
         friend in Wales, who, among other objects of curiosity,
         gratified his guest with the inspection of his family
         genealogical tree, which, setting at naught the minor
         consideration of antediluvian research, bore in its centre
         this notable inscription,—About this time the world was
         created!!!

Re-entering St. James's Park, our party directed their course towards the Mall, eastward of which they were agreeably amused by the appearance of groupes of children, who, under the care of attendant nursery maids, were regaling themselves with milk from the cow, thus presenting to these delighted juveniles a rural feast in the heart of the metropolis.

[231] Here Dashall drew the attention of his friends to a very important improvement. "Until within these few months," said he, "the Park at night-fall presented a very sombre aspect; being so imperfectly lighted as to encourage the resort of the most depraved characters of both sexes; and although, in several instances, a general caption, by direction of the police, was made of these nocturnal visitants, yet the evil still remained; when a brilliant remedy at last was found, by entirely irradiating the darkness hitherto so favourable to the career of licentiousness: these lamps, each at a short distance from the other, have been lately introduced; stretching along the Mall, and circumscribing the Park, they shed a noon-tide splendor on the solitude of midnight. They are lighted with gas, and continue burning from sunset to day-break, combining ornament with utility. Thus vice has been banished from her wonted haunts, and the Park has become a respectable evening promenade.

"This Park," continued the communicative Dashall, "which is nearly two miles in circuit, was enclosed by King Charles II., who planted the avenues, made the Canal and the Aviary adjacent to the Bird-cage Walk, which took its name from the cages hung in the trees; but the present fine effect of the piece of ground within the railing, is the fruit of the genius of the celebrated Mr. Brown."{1}

         1 St. James's Park was the frequent promenade of King
         Charles II. Here he was to be seen almost daily; unattended,
         except by one or two of his courtiers, and his favorite
         grey-hounds; inter-mixing with his subjects, in perfect
         confidence of their loyalty and attachment. His brother
         James one day remonstrating with him on the impolicy of thus
         exposing his person,—"James," rejoined his majesty, "take
         care of yourself, and be under no apprehension for me: my
         people will never kill me, to make you king!"

         In more recent times, Mr. Charles Townsend used every
         morning, as he came to the Treasury, to pass by the Canal in
         the Park, and feed the ducks with bread or corn, which he
         brought in his pocket for that purpose. One morning having
         called his affectionate friends, the duckey, duckey,
         duckies, he found unfortunately that he had forgotten them;—
         "Poor duckies!" he cried, "I am sorry I am in a hurry and
         cannot get you some bread, but here is sixpence for you to
         buy some," and threw the ducks a sixpence, which one of them
         gobbled up. At the office he very wisely told the story to
         some gentlemen with whom he was to dine. There being ducks
         for dinner, one of the gentlemen ordered a sixpence to be
         put into the body of a duck, which he gave Charles to cut
         up. Our hero, sur-prised at finding a sixpence among the
         seasoning, bade the waiter send up his master, whom he
         loaded with epithets of rascal and scoundrel, and swore
         bitterly that he would have him prosecuted for robbing the
         king of his ducks; "for," said he, "gentlemen, this very
         morning did I give this sixpence to one of the ducks in the
         Canal in St. James's Park."

[232] The party now seated themselves on one of the benches in the Mall, opposite the spot where lately stood the Chinese or Pagoda bridge. Tallyho had often animadverted on the absurdity of the late inconvenient and heterogeneous wooden structure, which had been erected at a considerable public expense; its dangling non-descript ornaments, and tiresome acclivity and descent of forty steps each. "What," said he, "notwithstanding the protection by centinels of this precious memento of vitiated taste, has it become the prey of dilapidation?"

"Rather," answered Dashall, "of premature decay. Its crazy condition induced the sage authors of its origin to hasten its destruction; like the Cherokee chief, who, when the object of his regard becomes no longer useful, buries him alive!"

Contrasting the magnificent appearance of the adjacent edifices, as seen from the Park, with one of apparently very humble pretensions, Miss Macgilligan inquired to what purpose the "shabby fabric" was applied, and by whom occupied.

"That 'shabby fabric,' Madam," responded Dashall, "is St. James's Palace, erected by Henry VIII., in which our sovereigns of England have held their Courts from the reign of Queen Anne to that of his late Majesty George III." {1}

         1 The state apartments, now renovated, comprehend six
         chambers. The first is the guard chamber, at the top of the
         stairs: this has been entirely repaired, and on the right
         hand there is a characteristic chimney-piece, instead of the
         ill-shaped clumsy fire-place which previously disgraced this
         approach to the grand rooms. The next room, continuing to
         advance, is the presence chamber. This chamber has been
         remodelled, and a large handsome octagonal window
         introduced. This produces the best effect, and has rendered
         a gloomy room very light and cheerful. The privy chamber,
         which forms the eastern end of the great suite that runs
         from east to west, parallel to the Mall in the Park, and is,
         strictly speaking, the immediate scene of the Court; this is
         entirely new from the foundation, and is a continuation of
         the old suite of state apartments. The chamber is of noble
         dimensions, being nearly 70 feet in length, and having four
         windows towards the garden and Park beyond. A magnificent
         marble chimney-piece occupies the centre, on the east end.
         The anti-drawing-room and the drawing-room, in which little
         alteration appears, except in the introduction of splendid
         chimney-pieces of statuary marble, taken from the library of
         Queen Caroline in the Stable Yard, built by Kent. The
         workmanship of these is amazingly fine, and the designs very
         rich. The throne is at the upper end of the drawing room No.
         5, and from the chimney of the room No. 3, the vista through
         the middle doors of the anti-drawing-rooms is about 200
         feet!!   Thecoup d'oeil must be indescribably grand, when
         all the three apartments are filled with rank and beauty.
         The ceilings of the principal rooms, 3, 4, and 5, are coved
         upon handsome cornices, carved and gilt. This gives the
         apartments a spacious and lofty appearance; and there being
         four large windows in each, the whole suite is very
         imposing. The rooms are to be fitted with mirrors, and a
         noble collection of the royal pictures. Over the chimney in
         the drawing-room, Lawrence's splendid portrait of George
         IV., surrounded by the fine old carvings of Grinling
         Gibbons, of which many are preserved in the Palace, will be
         the principal object. In the anti-drawing-room a portrait of
         the venerable George III. will occupy a similar station; and
         on each side will appear the victories which reflected the
         highest lustre on his reign,—Trafalgar and Waterloo. In the
         privy chamber, a portrait of Queen Anne will be attended by
         the great Marlborough triumphs of Lisle and Tournay,
         Blenheim, and other historical pieces. Other spaces will
         exhibit a series of royal portraits, from the period of the
         founder of the Palace, Henry VIII. to the present era;
         including, of course, some of the most celebrated works of
         Holbein and Vandyke. The unrivalled "Charles on
         horseback," by the latter, is among the number, and the
         gallery, altogether, must be inestimable, even as a panorama
         of the arts in England for three centuries. On the whole,
         these state apartments, when completed, will not be
         excelled, if equalled, by any others in Europe. Holbein,
         whom we have just mentioned, was a favourite of Henry VIII.
         One day, when the painter was privately drawing a lady's
         picture for the king, a nobleman forced himself into the
         chamber. Holbein threw him down stairs; the peer cried out;
         Holbein bolted himself in, escaped over the roof of the
         house, and running directly to the king, fell on his knees,
         and besought his majesty to pardon him, without declaring
         the offence. The king promised to forgive him, if he would
         tell the truth. Immediately arrives the lord with his
         complaint. After hearing the whole, his majesty said to the
         nobleman,—" You have behaved in a manner unworthy of your
         rank. I tell you, of seven peasants I can make so many
         lords, but not one Holbein. Be gone, and remember this, if
         you ever presume to avenge yourself, I shall look on an
         injury you do to the painter as done to me."

[233] The descendant of O'Brien was astonished, and connecting her ideas of the internal show of this Palace with its outward appearance, doubted not, secretly, that it was far inferior to the residence, in former times, of her royal progenitor.

Probably guessing her thoughts, Dashall proceeded to observe, that the Palace was venerable from age, and in its interior decoration that it fully corresponded in splendor with the regal purposes to which it had been so long applied; "It is now, however," he added, "about to assume a still more imposing aspect, being under alterations and adornments, for the reception of the Court of his present Majesty, which, when completed, will render it worthy the presence of the Sovereign of this great Empire."

[234] The sole use made lately of St. James's Palace, is for purposes of state. In 1808, the south-eastern wing of the building was destroyed by fire; the state apartments were, however, uninjured, and the Court of George the Third and his Queen was held here.

On the right of the Palace, the attention of the party was next attracted by Marlborough House. It was built in the reign of Queen Anne, by the public, at the expense of 40,000L. on part of the royal gardens, and given by the Queen and Parliament, on a long lease, to the great Duke of Marlborough. It is a handsome building, much improved of late years, and has a garden extending to the Park, and forms a striking contrast to the adjoining Palace of St. James's. It is now the town residence of his Royal Highness, Prince Leopold of Saxe Cobourg.

Our party now passed into St. James's-street, where Miss Macgilligan, whose acerbitude of temper had been much softened by the politeness of her friends during the morning's ramble, mentioned, that she had a visit to make on an occasion of etiquette, and requesting the honour of the gentlemen's company to dinner, she was handed by the Squire of Belville-hall, with all due gallantry and obeisance, into a hackney-chariot; Tom in the meanwhile noting its number, in the anticipation of its ultimately proving a requisite precaution.

The trio, now left to their own pursuits, lounged leisurely up St. James's-street, and pausing at the caricature shop, an incident occurred which placed in a very favorable point of view the Baronet's promptitude of reply and equanimity of temper. Having had recourse to his glasses, lie stood on the pavement, examining the prints, unobservant of any other object; when a porter with a load brushed hastily forward, and coming in contact with the Baronet, put him, involuntarily, by the violence of the shock, to the left about face, without the word either of caution or command. "Damn your spectacles!" at same time, exclaimed the fellow; "Thank you, my good friend," rejoined Sir Felix,—"it is not the first time that my spectacles have saved my eyes!"

[235] Remarking on this rencounter, Dashall observed, that the insolence of these fellows was become really a public nuisance. Armed in the panoply of arrogance, they assume the right of the footway, to the ejection, danger, and frequent injury of other passengers; moving in a direct line with loads that sometimes stretch on either side the width of the pavement, they dash onward, careless whom they may run against, or what mischief may ensue. "I would not," continued Dashall, "class them with beasts of burthen, and confine them to the carriage-way of the street, like other brutes of that description; but I would have them placed under the control of some salutary regulations, and humanized under the dread of punishment."

The Squire coincided with his friend in opinion, and added, by way of illustration, that it was only a few days since he witnessed a serious accident occasioned by the scandalous conduct of a porter: the fellow bore on his shoulders a chest of drawers, a corner of which, while he forced his way along the pavement, struck a young lady a stunning blow on the head, bringing her violently to the ground, and falling against a shop window, one of her hands went through a pane of glass, by which she was severely cut; thus sustaining a double injury, either of which might have been attended with fatal consequences.

The three friends had now gained the fashionable lounge of Bond-street, whence turning into Conduit-street, they entered Limmer's Coffee-house, for the purpose of closing, by refreshment, the morning's excursion.

Here Dashall recognized an old acquaintance in the person of an eminent physician, who, after an interchange of civilities, resumed his attention to the daily journals.

In the same box with this gentleman, and directly opposite, sat another, whose health was apparently on the decline, who finding that the ingenious physician had occasionally dropped into this coffee-house, had placed himself vis-a-vis the doctor, and made many indirect efforts to withdraw his attention from the newspaper to examine the index of his (the invalid's) constitution. He at last ventured a bold push at once, in the following terms: "Doctor," said he, "I have for a long time been very far from being well, and as I belong to an office, where I am obliged to attend everyday, the complaints I have prove very troublesome to me, [236] and I would be glad to remove them."—The doctor laid down his paper, and regarded his patient with a steady eye, while he proceeded. "I have but little appetite, and digest what I eat very poorly; I have a strange swimming in my head," &c. In short, after giving the doctor a full quarter of an hour's detail of all his symptoms, he concluded the state of his case with a direct question:—"Pray, doctor, what shall I take?" The doctor, in the act of resuming the newspaper, gave him the following laconic prescription:—"Take, why, take advice!"

This colloquy, and its ludicrous result, having been perfectly audible to the company present, afforded considerable entertainment, of which the manoeuvring invalid seemed in no degree willing to partake, for he presently made his exit, without even thanking the doctor for his gratuitous advice.{1}

         1 Limmeb's Hotel.—This justly esteemed Hotel was much
         frequented by the late unfortunate Lord Camelford. Entering
         the coffee-room one evening, meanly attired, as he often
         was, he sat down to peruse the papers of the day. Soon after
         came in a "dashing fellow," a "first-rate blood," who threw
         himself into the opposite seat of the same box with Lord C,
         and in a most consequential tone hallowed out, "Waiter!
         bring in a pint of Madeira, and a couple of wax candles, and
         put them in the next box." He then drew to him Lord C.'s
         candle, and set himself to read. His Lordship glanced at him
         a look of indignation, but exerting his optics a little
         more, continued to decypher his paper. The waiter soon re-
         appeared, and with a multitude of obsequious bows, announced
         his having completed the commands of the gentleman, who
         immediately lounged round into his box. Lord Camelford
         having finished his paragraph, called out in a mimic tone to
         that of Mr.——-, "Waiter!  bring me a pair of snuffers."
         These were quickly brought, when  his Lordship laid down his
         paper, walked round to the box in which Mr.——-was, snuffed
         out both the candles, and leisurely returned to his seat.
         Boiling with rage and fury, the indignant beau roared out,
         "Waiter! waiter! waiter! who the devil is this fellow, that
         dares thus to insult a gentleman? Who is he? What is he?
         What do they call him?"—"Lord Camelford, Sir," said the
         waiter.—"Who? Lord Camelford!" returned the former, in a
         tone of voice scarcely audible; horror-struck at the
         recollection of his own impertinence, and almost doubting
         whether he was still in existence—"Lord Camelford!!! What
         have I to pay?" On being told, he laid down his score, and
         actually stole away, without daring to taste his Madeira.

[237] The repast ended, the friends separated; Sir Felix to rejoin his august relative at their lodgings, and arrange with her preparations for the entertainment of Tom and Bob, and these two gentlemen also returning homewards to dress for the important occasion.

Passing the house of his tailor, the Baronet stept in, and desired Mr. Snip to send to his lodgings, any time in the course of the evening, for the last new suit, for the purpose of alteration, as had been already pointed out.

Miss Macgilligan had preceded her nephew in reaching home, and gave him, on his arrival, an appropriate and edifying lecture on a three-fold subject, embracing—petulancy,—respect to superiors,—and veneration for the memory of our ancestors.

The Baronet, who never designed seriously to insult his aunt, but merely to have a bye-blow at her prominent foible,—pride of descent,—listened with becoming deference to her dissertation, which was interrupted by the entrance of his servant, (the same who on a certain occasion confided to Mother Cummings the safety of his master's property,{1})—"The tailor's boy, Sir Felix, for the new suit your Honor ordered to be altered."—"Very well," rejoined Sir Felix, "sure enough Mr. Snip is prompt in observance of instructions,—let the lad have the suit immediately."—This business having been despatched, Miss Macgilligan was about to resume her admonitory discourse; when, luckily, the arrival of the expected guests prevented its continuance, and it was consequently postponed until a more favourable opportunity.

         1 Vide page 130.

Dinner was shortly announced, during which nothing occurred of particular import. When the exhilirating "Tuscan grape" had superseded the discarded viands, Miss Macgilligan mentioned, that she had been grossly imposed upon by the driver of the hackney-chariot. It seems, that conceiving Jehu was exacting more than his fare, the lady, presenting a handful of silver, told him to take it all, if he thought proper, and the conscientious knight of the whip had actually embraced the offer in its literal acceptation, and pocketing the money, made the best of his way, before she recovered from the surprise occasioned by this "iniquitous" transaction.

[238] "Iniquitous!" repeated the Baronet;—"by the powers of folly but there was no advantage taken at all, at all; and the man must have been worse than an idiot had he rejected so liberal an offer! Gra-machree, he might cry, and thanks to the donor, such opportunities don't occur every day."

Appealing to her guests, she had the mortification of finding the opinion of her nephew supported.—"Certainly, madam," said Dashall, "the conduct of the man in putting a construction not meant upon your word, was highly reprehensible; yet I am afraid that redress is unavailable. A gift was implied, though obviously not intended, but impartially speaking, you tendered a donation, and the man, if not morally right, was legally justifiable in accepting it."

While this case was under discussion, the baronet chuckled at the mischance of his aunt, and in defiance of the admonition given him a few hours before, seemed more petulant, less respectful, and totally irreverent of his ancestors.

In the enjoyment of this triumph, and asserting that he could not be taken-in, even by the most artfully conducted manouvre, he was struck dumb by the information that Mr. Snip the tailor had called for the new suit. "The devil fly over the hill of Howth with him!" exclaimed the astounded Sir Felix, with a secret foreboding of evil, "has he not had the new suit, hours ago?"

"He says not, sir," answered the servant.

"Where then, in the name of mystery," rejoined the baronet, "are the clothes gone to? They were sent by his boy, were they not?"

"He denies, sir," responded the servant, "that he sent for the clothes at all at all."

"Sowl of my grandmother! send in this snip of a tailor instantaneously."

Dashall immediately surmised a fraud, and the statement of Snip converted suspicion into fact.

Mr. Snip repeated, that he had not sent for the clothes; and neither did he keep a boy; but he recollected that there was a lad in his shop purchasing some trifling article at the time Sir Felix gave his address, and ordered the new suit to be sent for; and there is no doubt, added Snip, that this young adept, being thus put in the way of successfully practising a fraud, gladly availed himself of the opportunity, and obtained possession of the clothes in my name. But, Sir Felix (continued Mr. Snip) it must have escaped your recollection when [239] you sanctioned the delivery of the clothes, that I had particularly cautioned you, when you first honoured me with your custom, against your sending to my house any articles of apparel by pretended messengers from me, unless on the authority of my own hand writing."

"I exonerate you," said the baronet, "from censure, and exempt you from loss. I have been swindled. There is now no remedy. So make me another suit, and by stricter vigilance, we shall endeavour to avoid future depredation."{1}

         1 This is amongst the inferior classes of fraud daily
         practised in the metropolis.    The following is one of a
         fust rate description.

         Swindling.—A case most ingeniously contrived and
         successfully carried into execution on Saturday last, is
         scarcely to be equalled on the records of fraud. It was
         equal to that practised on Rundle and Bridge, the jewellers,
         some time ago, but the present case is only at the expense
         of four costly gold watches. The swindler, who called
         himself Mr. Winter, is rather above the middle size, was
         dressed in a brown frock coat, wears long whiskers, and is
         well calculated for imposition in address and manner. A
         house in Southampton-street, Strand, occupied by Mr. Holt,
         the barrister, having been advertised to be let, Mr. Winter
         called about it several times last week, and he appointed
         Saturday last to call with some ladies, when he could give a
         final answer; and the servants were desired, if the
         occupants were from home, to shew the gentleman and his
         party into the dining-room. Having secured this point, Mr.
         Winter called upon Mr. Ely, a jeweller, at the latter end of
         the week, and after looking over some trifles, in the shop,
         he desired that some ladies' watches might be brought to his
         residence, No. 5, Southampton-street, at a certain hour on
         Saturday, for inspection. The swindler called some time
         before the jeweller was expected, and inquired if the ladies
         who were to meet him there had called, and being informed in
         the negative, he affected surprise, and desired them to be
         informed of his arrival when they came. He was shewn into
         the front drawing-room, but he preferred the adjoining room,
         and desired the servant to shew a gentleman, who would call,
         into the front room, and let him know when he arrived. The
         jeweller was to his time with the goods, and Mr. Winter paid
         him a visit, and after looking over the goods, he selected
         four watches, worth 100L. to shew the ladies in the next
         room, instead of which he took his hat, and walked off with
         the watches. After waiting till out of patience, the
         jeweller rang the bell, and the servant missed Mr. Winter,
         who had promised her servitude, the landlord his new tenant,
         and the jeweller his watches!

[240] It was now Miss Macgilligan's turn to triumph, but, to the surprise and relief of her nephew, she did not avail herself of the privilege; sensible, perhaps, that the loss which site sustained, was occasioned by her own imprudence, and that his misfortune might have happened to those even the most guarded against deception, she consoled instead of recriminating. The most perfect unanimity now prevailed between the two relatives; and the evening passed on with increased pleasure. The unexpected migration of the new suit led to conversation on the frauds of London, when Dashall justly observed, that if the ingenuity exemplified in depredation was exercised in honest industry, in place of being now the pest, many of those men might have been the ornaments of Society.

## CHAPTER XVIII

              "Tho' village delights may charm for a time,
              With hunting, with cricket, with trap-ball and such,
              The rambles in London are bang-up and prime,
              And never can tire or trouble us much;
              Tis a life of variety, frolic, and fun:
              Rove which way you will, right or left, up or down.
              All night by the gas, and all day by the sun,
              Sure no joys can compare with the joys of the town."

[241] Our two friends, in consequence of some allusions made by the company at the Finish, on a preceding day, to a house of great theatrical celebrity in Drury-lane, resolved on a visit the following evening; and it may here be necessary to introduce such of our readers as are not in the secret, to the same.

The Harp, opposite Drury-lane Theatre, is well known as the resort of theatrical amateurs and professors; but those who have not had an opportunity of visiting its interior, can scarcely form an idea of the mirth, wit, and humour constantly displayed within its walls. The circumstance here alluded to, though not exactly introduced in point of time, is one which generally takes place once in three years; viz. the election of a Mayor to represent the now City of Lushington, an event which is attended with as much of bustle, interest, and whimsicality, as a popular election for a member of Parliament. The generality of the persons who are frequent visitors to the house are termed Harponians, and by due qualification become citizens of Lushington. Although we cannot give a true and circumstantial history of this ancient city, we doubt not our numerous readers will discover that its title is derived from an important article in life, commonly called Lush. The four wards are also appropriately titled, as symbolical of the effects which are usually produced by its improper application. On entering the room, the first corner on the right hand is Suicide Ward, and derives its appellation from a society so named, in which each member is bound by an oath, that however he might feel inclined to lay violent hands upon his glass, he would not lay violent hands upon his own existence.

[242] The left hand corner has also a name as appropriate as its neighbour, being called Poverty Ward; so termed from its vicinity to the door, and the ease with which a citizen, whose tanner case{1} and toggery{2} are out of repair, may make his entree and exit, without subjecting himself to the embarrassing gaze and scrutiny of his more fortunate fellow-citizens. Juniper Ward, which is directly opposite to Poverty Ward, may in a moral point of view be said to mark the natural gradation rom the one to the other. Whether these wards are so placed by the moral considerations of the ingenious citizens or not, we are at present unable to learn; but we have discovered that Juniper Ward is so called in consequence of a club, consisting of seven citizens, who bound themselves to meet every evening exactly on the spot, taking each upon himself to defray the expense of blue ruin for the whole party on each evening alternately. In the corner directly opposite to Suicide Ward is Lunatic Ward, indicative no doubt of the few steps there are between the one and the other: hence the four corner pillars of this ancient and honourable city are replete with moral instruction to the wise and discriminating part of society.

         1 Tanner case—a pocket.

         2 Toggery—cloathing.

Each of these wards, like the wards of the City of London, has its alderman, and no doubt can be entertained of their being ably represented, as well as their rights and privileges being well secured and sustained. A gentleman who is well known and highly respected for his abilities and attentions as theatrical agent, which character he has sustained for many years, is high bailiff, and at proper periods issues his writ in the following form:—

"City of Lushington, (to wit.)

"The high bailiff having received a requisition to convene a meeting for the purpose of nominating aldermen to represent the different wards, and from them to elect a mayor for the above city for the year ensuing;

[243] "The high bailiff, in pursuance thereof, fixes Saturday the 22d December inst. to nominate for the purpose aforesaid, and from thence proceed to the election, which election is to continue till the following Monday, being the 24th, when the poll is to be closed.

"Given under my hand, this 18th day of December, 1821. (Signed) "F. SIMS, high bailiff."

"Lushington Hall."

"The election to commence at 7 o'clock; the poll to be closed at half-past 10."

After this official notice, preparations are made in due form for the election, and in the fitting up of the hustings the most skilful and ingenious artists are selected from the several wards, while the candidates are employed in forming their committees, and canvassing their friends and fellow-citizens, each of them professing an intention to intersect the city with canals of sky blue, to reduce the price of heavy wet, and to cultivate plantations of the weed, to be given away for the benefit and advantage of the community, thereby to render taxation useless, and the comforts of life comeatable by all ranks and degrees of society. To take the burthensome load of civic state upon themselves, in order that their friends and neighbours may be free; that independence may become universal, and that the suffrages of the people may be beyond controul nor can it be doubted but these professions are made with as much sincerity in many of a similar nature in larger cities, and in situations of much greater importance.

              "For quacks profess the nation's ills to cure,
              To mend small fortunes, and set up the poor;
              And oft times neatly make their projects known,
              By mending not the public's, but their own.
              The poor indeed may prove their watchful cares,
              That nicely sift and weigh their mean affairs,
              From scanty earnings nibbling portions small,
              As mice, by bits, steal cheese with rind and all;
              But why should statesmen for mechanics carve,
              What are they fit for but to work and starve."

It is, however, proper to observe, that in the City of Lushington there are no sinecures, no placemen and pensioners, to exhaust the treasury; honour is the grand inducement for the acceptance of office, and highly honour'd are those who are fortunate enough to obtain the mark s of distinction to which they aspire.

[244] The oath administered upon such occasions is of a most serious and solemn nature; which, however, notwithstanding the conscientious scruples of the voters, must be taken with suitable gravity before they can be, permitted to poll; being in substance nearly as follows:—

"I (A. B.) do swear that I have been an inhabitant of the City of Lushington for the space of — years; and that I have taken within its walls — pots of porter, — glasses of jackey, and smoked —pipes; (the blanks are filled in according to circumstances); that is to say, one pot of heavy wet, one glass of juniper, and one loading of weed at least annually; have been the cause of such acts in others, or have been present when such acts have been performed; and that I have not polled at this election."

This oath is sworn with all due solemnity, by kissing the foot of a broken glass, and the vote is then recorded.

Tom and Bob, who had so little previous intimation of this important event, were informed as they proceeded to the scene of action, by a friend of one of the candidates, that the election was strongly contested between Sir William Sims, the son of the worthy high bailiff, Sir Benjamin Rosebud, Jessamine Sweetbriar, Sir Peter Paid, and Peregrine Foxall, the silver-toned orator, strongly supported by the Tag Rag and Bobtail Club. Sir Frederick Atkinson introduced and proposed by the Marquis of Huntley, a well known sporting character from the county of Surrey, and Mr. Alderman Whetman, of Lushington notoriety. The door of the house was well guarded by the posse comitatis, armed with staves, emblematical of the renowned city to which they belonged, and decorated with the favors of the different candidates by whom they were employed, or whose interest they espoused. The staves, instead of the crown, were surmounted by quartern measures, and produced a most striking and novel effect, as they appeared to be more reverenced and respected than that gaudy bauble which is a representative of Royalty.

At the moment of our friends entrance, large bodies of voters were brought up by canvassing parties from the surrounding habitations, with colours flying, and were introduced in succession to poll; and as time was fast escaping, every one was active in support of his favourite candidate. All was bustle and anxiety, and Tom and Bob approached the hustings with two chimney-sweepers, a hackney-coachman, and three light bearers, alias link-carriers, from Covent Garden Theatre. Having polled for Sir William Sims, who very politely returned thanks for [245] the honour conferred on him, standing room was provided for them by the inhabitants of Lunatic Ward, who it should seem, like others under the influence of the moon, have their lucid intervals, and who upon this occasion displayed a more than usual portion of sanity, mingled with good humour and humanity.

In this quarter of the city, where our friends expected to find distracted, or at least abstracted intellect, they were very pleasingly disappointed at discovering they were associated with reasonable and intelligent beings; although some of them, fatigued by their exertions during the election, were so strongly attacked by Somnus, that notwithstanding the bustle with which they were surrounded, they occasionally dropped into the arms of the drowsy god, and accompanied the proceedings with a snore, till again roused to light and life by some more wakeful inhabitant.

At the appointed time, the high bailiff announced the election closed, and after an examination of the votes, declared the choice to have fallen on Sir William, a circumstance which drew forth a unanimous burst of approbation, long, loud, and deep, which in a few moments being communicated to those without. This was as cordially and as vociferously answered by anxious and admiring crowds.

The influx of citizens, upon the event being known, to hear the speeches of the different candidates, choaked up every avenue to the hustings, and beggars all description; the inimitable pencil of a Hogarth could hardly have done justice to the scene, and a Common Hall of the City of London might be considered a common fool to it; every voter had a right, established that right, and enjoyed it. Here stood the well-dressed Corinthian in his bang-up toggery, alongside of a man in armour, one of the Braziers Company, armed with a pot-lid and a spit, and decorated with a jack-chain round his neck. There stood a controller of the prads, a Jarvey, in close conversation with one of the lighters of the world, with his torch in hand. A flue faker in one corner, was endeavouring to explain a distinction between smoke and gas to a lamplighter, who declared it as his opinion, "that the City of Lushington,—at all times a luminous and deservedly revered City,—had had more light thrown upon it that election, by the introduction of the link carriers, than it ever had before; and likewise that his dissertation on smoke and gas was not worth one puff from his pipe."

[246] In the midst of this bustle, noise and confusion, it was some time before the high bailiff could obtain silence; when Sir William made his appearance on the hustings, and in language well suited for the occasion, declared the heartfelt gratitude he entertained for the high and distinguished honour so handsomely conferred upon him, with his determination never to lose sight of the invaluable rights and privileges of his constituents, assuring them they were welcome to indulge themselves with any thing the house afforded. He next complimented his opponents on the very gentlemanlike way in which the election had been conducted, and alluded most emphatically to the introduction of those voters who endeavour to lighten the darkness of the world, the link-carriers, who by their manners and conduct had become on that occasion as it were links of a chain, which in point of friendship, good humour and independence, he sincerely hoped would never be broken. Rapturous applause followed this speech, which notwithstanding the almost overpowering load of gratitude with which the speaker was burthened, was given with good emphasis and corresponding effect.

The other candidates returned thanks to those of their fellow-citizens who had supported their interest; and no one seeming inclined to call for a scrutiny, Sir William took the official oath, and was invested with the cloathing of magistracy, which being done, Mr. Alderman Whetman arose to address the mayor.

The well known ability usually displayed by this gentleman, his patriotic zeal, and undeviating integrity, commanded immediate silence, while he informed the chief magistrate of a circumstance which had recently occurred, and which left one of the wards unrepresented, by a worthy alderman who in consequence of accepting an office in the board of controul, had by the laws of Lushington vacated his seat. An explanation being demanded, it appeared that the worthy alderman had become a deputy manager of a country theatre, and consequently must be considered under the board of controul; it was therefore necessary he should at least be re-elected before he could be allowed to continue in the distinguished station of alderman: this point being agreed to, the situation was declared vacant, and a time appointed for the election.

[247] The official business of the election being over, harmony and conviviality became the order of the night; foaming bowls and flowing glasses decorated the tables; many of the citizens withdrawing to rest after their labours, made room for those who remained, and every one seemed desirous to

              "Wreath the bowl
              With flowers of soul,
              The brightest wit can find us;
              We'll take a flight
              Towards heav'n to-night,
              And leave dull earth behind us."

The song, the toast, the sentiment, followed each other in rapid succession; mirth and good humour prevailed, and time, while he exhausted himself, appeared to be inexhaustible. The beams of wit, the lively sallies of humour, and the interchange of good fellowship, eradiated the glass in its circulation, and doubly enhanced its contents; and in amusements so truly congenial with the disposition of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin, they joined till after four o'clock in the morning, thus rendering themselves true and devoted citizens of Lushington, when they sallied forth, tolerably well primed for any lark or spree which chance might throw in their way. It was a fine morning, and while the shopkeepers and trades-men were taking their rest, the market gardeners and others were directing their waggons and carts to Covent Garden.

"Now," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "we will just take a turn round the Garden, and a stroll down Drury-lane, for a walk will do us no harm after our night's amusement, and we can hardly fail to find subjects worthy of observation, though; in all probability we are too early to realize all the poet's description of a market:"

              "A market's the circle for frolic and glee,
              Where tastes of all kinds may be suited;
              The dasher, the quiz, and the "up to all"—he,
              Pluck sprees from the plants in it rooted.
              If the joker, or queer one, would fain learn a place,
              Where they'd wish for a morning to "lark it,"
              They need go no further than just shew their face,
              In that region of mirth, a large market."

[248] The streets that surround the theatres, and which of an evening are thronged with the elegant equipage of the visitors, were now filled with carts, waggons, and other vehicles of various denominations, for conveyance of the marketable commodities to and from the place of sale: here and there were groupes of Irishmen and basket-women, endeavouring to obtain a load, and squabbling with assiduous vociferations for the first call.

"This," said Tom, "is the largest market for vegetables we have in the metropolis, and supplies numerous retail dealers with their stock in trade; who assemble here early in the morning to make their bargains, and get them home before the more important business of the day, that of selling, commences." While Tom was explaining thus briefly to his Cousin, aloud laugh attracted their attention, and drew them to a part of the market where a crowd was collected, to witness a squabble between a Jew orange merchant and a pork butcher.{1}

         1 Although the Hon. Tom Dashall hurried his Cousin from the
         scene of altercation, at the time of its occurrence, they
         enjoyed a hearty laugh at the following report of the facts
         which appeared in one of the morning papers shortly
         afterwards:—

         EFHRAIM   versus   STEWART.

         "This was a proceeding in limine, by which the plain till'
         sought reparation for violence done to his religious
         scruples and bodily health by the defendant, inasmuch as he,
         the plaintiff being a Jew, on Wednesday, the 12th day of
         this month, in the forenoon, in the parish of St. Paul
         Covent Garden, did, with malice aforethought, knock him down
         with a pig's head, contrary to the statute, and against the
         peace of our Sovereign Lord the King," &c.

         Both plaintiff and defendant pleaded each for himself, no
         counsel being employed on either side.

         Ephraim Ephraim deposed, that he is by profession an orange-
         merchant, carrying on his business in Covent Garden market.
         That the defendant, Richard Stewart, is a dealer in pork and
         poultry in the said market; and that he the said Richard
         Stewart, on the day and time then stated, did thrust a pig's
         face against his cheek with such violence, as to throw him
         backwards into a chest of oranges, whereby he sustained
         great damage both in body, mind, and merchandize. Plaintiff
         stated moreover, that he had previously and on sundry
         occasions forewarned the said Richard Stewart, it was
         contrary to the tenets of his religion to come in contact
         with pork, and yet nevertheless he the said Richard did
         frequently, and from time to time, intrude pork upon his
         attention, by holding it up aloft in the market, and
         exclaiming aloud, "Ephraim, will you have a mouthful?" All
         this, he humbly submitted, betokened great malice and
         wickedness in the said Richard, and he therefore besought
         the magistrate to interpose the protection of the law in bis
         behalf.

         The magistrate observed, that he was astonished a person of
         Mr. Stewart's appearance and respectability should be guilty
         of such conduct, and having explained to him that the law
         afforded equal protection to the professors of every
         religion, called upon him for his defence.

         "May it please your Worship," said Mr. Richard Stewart, who
         is a well fed man, of a jolly and pleasing countenance,
         "May it please your Worship, I keeps a shop in Covent Garden
         Market, and have done so any time these ten years, and Mr.
         Ephraim's stand is next to mine. Now, your Worship, on
         Wednesday morning I'd a hamper o'pork sent up out
         o'Hertfordshire, and so I opened the hamper, and at the top
         of it lay a nice head, and I takes it and holds it up and
         says I, Heres a bootiful head, says I, did ever any body see
         such a handsome un, and sure enough your Worship it was the
         most bootiftd as ever was, and would a done any body's heart
         good to see it. It was cut so clean of the quarter (drawing
         his finger closely across his own neck), and was so short
         i'the snout, and as white as a sheet,—it was, your Worship,
         remarkably handsome. And so, I said, says I, look here, did
         ever tiny body see such a picture, holding it up just in
         this manner. With that, 'Ah, says Mr. Ephraim, says he, now
         my dream's out; I dream't last night that I saw two pig's
         heads together, and there they are;' meaning my head, and
         the pig's head, your Worship. Well, I took no notice o'that,
         but I goes me gently behind him, and slides the pig's head
         by the side of his head, claps my own o' the other side all
         on a row, with the pig's in the middle, your Worship; and
         says I to the folks, says I, now who'll say which is the
         honestest face of the three. With that, your Worship, all
         the folks fell a laughing, and I goes myself quietly back
         again to a stall. But poor Ephraim, he fell in such a
         passion! Lord, Lord, to see what a pucker he were in, he
         danced, and he capered, and he rubbed his whiskers, though I
         verily believe the pig's head never touched him; and he
         jumped and he fidgeted about, all as one as if he was mad,
         till at last he tumbled into the orange chest, your Worship,
         of his own accord, as it were, and that's the long and the
         short of it, your Worship, as my neighbours here can
         specify."

         His Worship, having listened attentively to those
         conflicting statements, decided that the defendant had acted
         indecently in insulting the religious feelings of the
         plaintiff, though at the same time the affair was hardly
         worth carrying to the Sessions, and therefore he would
         recommend the plaintiff to be satisfied with an apology.

         The defendant expressed the greatest willingness to
         apologize. "For," says he, "I have ax'd another Jew what
         could make Mr. Ephraim in such a passion; and he told me,
         your Worship, that if you get a rale Jew, and rub him with a
         bit o'pork, it's the greatest crime as ever was."

         Plaintiff  and   defendant   then   retired,  and   the
         matter   was compromised.

[250] The Israelite appeared to be in a great rage, swore he would have revenge of his insulting neighbour, and pull him up. The exasperation of the Jew afforded much merriment to the spectators, who seemed to enjoy his aggravation: our friends, however, had arrived too late to discover the cause, and although not very particular about discovering themselves amid the mob, conceived it most prudent to move onward without inquiry; "for," as Tom observed, "if we ask any questions we are sure to be told lies: "they then passed through the Market, made their way up James-street to Long Acre, and thence to Drury-lane.

The watchmen were just leaving their stations, with an intention to partake of what they had all night been endeavouring to deprive others, and the humbler ranks of society were preparing for the business of the day; while the batter'd beau, the clean'd out buck, and the dissipated voluptuary, were occasionally to be seen gliding from holes and corners, and scampering home with less wisdom in their heads, and less money in their purses, than when they left. Here was to be seen the City shopman, hastening away from his dulcenea, to get down his master's shutters before the gouty old gentleman should be able to crawl down stairs; there, the dandy, half dressed, and more than half seas over, buttoning his toggery close round him to keep out the damp air of the morning, affecting to sing

              "Be gone dull care;"

slipped along, as he supposed, unobserved, between dustmen, scavengers, flue-fakers, gardeners, fish-fags, and brick-layer's labourers—to refit and put himself in a situation to recount the adventures of the night. At one door, stood a shivering group of half-starved chimney-sweepers, rending the air with their piercing cries of "sweep," occasionally relieved by a few hearty d—-ns bestowed upon the servant, that she did not come down, in order to let a diminutive urchin yet up the flue; leaning against a post at the corner of the street was an overdone Irishman, making a bargain with pug-nosed Peg, a sort of half-bred pinafore cyprian, whose disappointments during the night induced her to try at obtaining a morning customer. The Hibernian was relating the ill usage he had been subjected to, and the necessity he had of making a hasty retreat from the quarters he had taken up; while Bet Brill, on her road to Billingsgate, was blowing him up for wearing odd boots, and being a hod man—blowing a cloud sufficient to enliven and revive the whole party.

[251] "Poor fellow," said Tom, "it would be a charity to pop him into a rattler, and drive him home; and do you see, he is standing close to a mud cart, the delicate drippings of which are gently replenishing his otherwise empty pockets."

"Be aisy," said Pat Murphy the hodman, "arn't he an Irish jontleman, arn't I a jontleman from Ireland; and arn't it lit and proper, and right and just, as well as jontlemanly, that two jontlemen should go together, so come along Peg, we'll just take a taste of the cratur, drink success to the lads of Shellaly, and put the matter in its right shape." With this pug-nosed Peg seized him by one arm, and the last orator by the other, and in a short time they entered a sluicery in the neighbourhood, which enclosed the party from view.

Turning from the group which they had been paying attention to, they were suddenly attracted by a female purveyor for the stomach, who was serving out her tea, coffee, and saloop, from a boiling cauldron, and handing with due complaisance to her customers bread and butter, which was as eagerly swallowed and devoured by two dustmen, who appeared to relish their delicate meal with as much of appetite and gout, as the pampered palate of a City alderman would a plate of turtle. The figure of the lady, whose commodities were thus desirable and refreshing to the hungry dust-collectors, struck Bob at the first view as having something matronly and kind about it.

"These persons," said Tom, "are really useful in their vocation; and while they provide a wholesome beverage for the industrious, are rather deserving of approbation than censure or molestation: the latter, however, they are frequently subjected to; for the kids of lark, in their moments of revelry, think lightly of such poor people's stock in trade, and consider it a prime spree to upset the whole concern, without caring who may be scalded by the downfall, or how many of their fellow-creatures may go without a breakfast and dinner in consequence; but do you mark the other woman behind her?"

"I do," said Bob, "and it is impossible to view them both without noticing the striking contrast they form to each other."

[252] "Your observations are just," continued Tom; "that is an old beldame of the neighbourhood, in search of the poor unhappy girl who has just taken the Irishman in tow, an encourager of all that is vicious and baneful in society."

"I could almost judge that from her features," replied Bob, "though I do not pretend to much skill in physiognomy."

"A debauched body and a vitiated mind are perceptible in her face, and having remained on the town till these were too visible for her to hope for a continuance, she is now a tutoress of others, to make the most of those with whom they promiscuously associate. She furnishes the finery, and shares the plunder. It is, however, a melancholy and disgusting picture of Real Life in London, and merely deserves to be known in order to be avoided, for there is no species of villainy to which persons of her stamp"—

"Of whom it is to be hoped there are but few," cried Tallyho, interrupting him.

"For the sake of human nature," replied Dashalt., "it is to be hoped so; but there is no species of villainy to which they will not stoop." {1}

         1 The Hon. Tom Dashall's observations on this subject are
         but too strikingly exemplified by a case heard at Worship-
         street Police Office a short time back, in which Jemima
         Matthews was charged with conduct which excited astonishment
         at the depravity of human nature.—One of the parish
         constables of Spitalfields stated, he proceeded to the
         residence of the prisoner in Upper Cato-street, and found
         the wretch at the bar surrounded by eight children, while a
         supper, consisting of a variety of meats and vegetables, was
         making ready on the fire. Three children, Frederick Clark,
         John Clark, and John Bailey, were owned by their parents.
         The children seemed so much under the controul of this
         infamous woman, that they were afraid to tell the truth
         until she was removed from the bar. Little Bailey then said,
         they were daily sent out to steal what they could, and bring
         it home in the evening. When they could get nothing else,
         they stole meat from the butchers, and vegetables from the
         green-grocers. The woman kept a pack of cards, by which she
         told their fortunes, whether they would succeed, or be
         caught by the officers. Mr. Swaby observed, that since he
         had attended the Office, he never witnessed a case of so
         much iniquity. The prisoner was remanded for further
         examination, and the magistrate intimated he should desire
         the parish to prosecute her for the misdemeanor, in exciting
         these children to commit felonies.

[253] At this moment their attention was suddenly called to another subject, by a loud huzza from a combination of voices at no great distance from where they then were, and in a few minutes a considerable concourse of dustmen and others appeared in view.

"There is something in the wind," said Dashall, "we must have a look at these gentry, for there is frequently some humour among them.

"I hope," replied Bob, "they have not overturned the dustcart in the wind, for I am apprehensive in such a case we should scarcely have eyes to view their frolics."

Tom laughed at the ready turn of his Cousin, and remarking that all flesh was dust, proceeded towards the increasing party: here they soon found out; that, as a venerable son of the fan-tailed-hat fraternity described it, "a screw was loose."

"Perhaps," inquired Bob, "it is the linch-pin." "Why aye, mayhap as how that there may be the case for aught I knows about it. Howsomdever, I'll tell you all about it:—first and foremost you must know that Dick Nobbs lives down here in Charles-street, and Dick Nobbs has got a wife. Now she is the devil's own darling, and Dick is a match for her or the devil himself, come from wherever he may, but as good a fellow as ever lapp'd up a pail full of water-gruel; and so you must know as how Dick has this here very morning been found out, in bed with another man's wife. The other man is a nightman, and rubbish-carter, vhat lives in the same house with Dick; so this here man being out all night at a job, Dick gets lushy, and so help me———, he finds his way steady enough into that there man's bed, and vhen that there man comes home, my eyes vhat a blow up! There lays Dick Nobbs fast asleep in the man's wife's arms, so he kicks up a row—Dick shews fight—and the man comes and tells us all about it; so we are going to try him for a misdemeanor, and he can't help himself no how whatsomedever."

Tom was alive to the story, and in a few minutes the culprit was conducted to a neighbouring public-house, tried before a whole bench of the society, cast, and condemned to undergo the usual sentence in such cases made and provided, entitled, "Burning Shame," and active preparations were making by those of the fraternity without, to carry into immediate execution the sentence pronounced by those within.

[254] The offender was decorated with a bunch of Christmas in his hat, and two large carrots in the front, to represent horns. In this manner he was mounted on the brawny shoulders of four of his companions, preceded by the crier of the court, another dustman, with a bell, which he rung lustily, and at intervals proclaimed the crime of which the culprit had been found guilty. After the crier, followed eight more of the brotherhood, two and two, their hats ornamented with bunches of holly, and a burning candle in the front of each hat. Then came the culprit, carried as already described, with a pot of heavy wet in one hand, and a pipe of tobacco in the other, which he occasionally smoaked, stooping forward to light it at one of the candles in the fantail hats of his two front supporters. The rear of this ludicrous procession was brought up by several other dustmen and coalheavers, and their ladies. The procession set out from Charles-street, down Drury-lane, Great Queen-street, Wild-street, and round Clare Market, followed by an immense crowd, which kept increasing as they went, and nearly rendered the streets impassable. Two collectors were appointed, one on each side of the street, and were very active in levying contributions among the spectators to defray the expenses. They stopped at several public-houses, where they quaffed off oceans of heavy wet, and numerous streamlets of old Jamaica, and then returned to headquarters in Charles-street, where the offence was drowned in drink, and they and their ladies passed the remainder of the evening, as happy as beer and gin, rum and tobacco, could make them.

Having witnessed a considerable part of this ceremonious proceeding, and been informed of the intended finale, our friends, who began to feel somewhat uncomfortable for want of refreshment and rest, proposed returning home; and having thrown themselves into a hack, they in a short time arrived at Piccadilly.

## CHAPTER XIX

              "'If in Real Life's chapter you e'er tind a blank,
              'Tis yourself and you only you justly can thank;
              For to him who is willing—there's no need to stand,
              Since enough may be found 'twixt Mile End and the Strand
              To instruct, to inform, to disgust or invite,
              To deplore, to respect, to regret or delight."

              "'Tis in London where unceasing novelty grows,
              Always fresh—and in bloom like the opening rose;
              But if to the rose we its sweetness compare,
              "fis as freely confess'd many thorus gather there;
              And if to avoid the latter you're prone,
              'Tis at least quite as well, where they are, should be known."

[255] The arrival at Piccadilly turned out to be truly agreeable to our friends, who were scarcely dressed and seated at the breakfast-table, before they were surprised by the unexpected appearance of an old friend, whose company and conversation had upon many occasions afforded them so much pleasure and information. This was no other than Sparkle.

"My dear boy," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "you are welcome to the scene of former gratifications. How is your better half, and all friends in the country—any increase in the family? Why you look as healthy as Hygeia, and as steady as old time."

"I confess," replied Sparkle, "you ask so many questions upon important subjects in one breath, that I am quite deficient of wind to answer them seriatim. You must therefore take an answer in two words—all's right."

"Enough," replied Tom, "then I am content; but how, what,—are you in town alone?"

"You shall know all in time, but don't drive on too hard. I am glad to meet you again in the regions of fun, frolic, and humour, of which I doubt not there is, as there always was, a plentiful stock. Glad to see you both in good health and tip-top spirits. I have only come to pass a fortnight with you; and as I intend to make the utmost use of every minute of the time, don't let us waste in empty words what would be better employed in useful deeds."

[256] "Useful deeds," re-echoed Tom, "useful deeds—that savours of reflection. I thought you were fully aware it is an article considered of little value in the labyrinths of London; but since you are become, as I may venture to presume, a useful man, what may be the objects upon which you propose to practise your utility?"

"Still the same I find, Tom; all life, spirit, and gaiety, nothing like a hit, and I suppose you now think you have a palpable one. Never mind, I am not easily disconcerted, therefore you may play off the artillery of your wit without much chance of obtaining a triumph; but however, in plain words, I expect to be a happy father in about another month."

"O ho!" said Tom, "then you are really a useful member of society, and I suppose are merely come up to town for the purpose of picking up a little more useful information and instruction how to perform the part of Papa."

"Nay," replied Sparkle, "I could hardly expect to obtain such from you. I must therefore be excused and acquitted of all such intentions—but joking apart, how are you devoted?"

"To you," replied Tallyho, who was much pleased by this accession to their society.

"Then," continued Sparkle, "lend me all the assistance in your power. When did you see our old friend Merrywell!"

"The last time I saw him was in a place of safety, studying the law, and taking lessons from its professors in the Priory."

"We must find him," replied Sparkle; "so if you are not engaged, come along, and I will relate the circumstances which induce this search as we proceed."

To this proposal Tom and Bob readily acceding, the party were quickly on their way towards Abbot's Park.

[257] "You must know," said Sparkle, "that Merry well's uncle in the country having received some information upon the subject of his confinement, probably very highly coloured, has since his release withdrawn his patronage and support, so that the poor fellow has been without supplies for some time past, and I am at a loss to conjecture by what means he is now working the oracle for a subsistence. His uncle, however, is in the last stage of a severe illness, with little chance of recovery; and as I apprehend there is but little time to spare, I intend, if possible, to find our old acquaintance, start him for his relative's residence, in hope that he may arrive in time to be in at the death, and become inheritor of his estate, which is considerable, and may otherwise be apportioned among persons for whom he has had but little or no regard while living."

"The object in view is a good one," said Dashall, "and I sincerely hope we shall succeed in our endeavours."

Passing down St. James's-street, Sparkle was quickly recognized by many of his old acquaintances and friends, and congratulated upon his return to the scenes where they had, in company with him, enjoyed many a lark; and invitations came in as fast upon nim as the moments of life were fleeting away: for the present, however, all engagements were declined, till the principal object of his journey to London should be accomplished; and after inquiries about old friends, and observations upon the passing occurrences of the moment were over, they proceeded on their way. Westminster Bridge was the precise line of direction for them to pursue, and as fortune would have it, they had scarcely arrived at the foot of it, before they discovered Merrywell bustling along in an opposite direction: he, however, appeared rather inclined to pass without recognition or acknowledgment, when Sparkle turning close upon him, gave him a hearty tap on the shoulder, which made him as it were involuntarily turn his head.

"Well met," said Sparkle, "I want you."

"At whose suit. Sir?" was the immediate inquiry.

"To suit yourself," was a reply as quickly given.

"Zounds!" said Merrywell, "I had little idea of being tapped on the shoulder by an old friend—but are you indeed in earnest?"

"Certainly I am, and can't be refused; but if you should be pinched for bail, I think I have two friends with me who will do the needful;" introducing Tom and Bob.

"I see how it is," continued Merrywell, "and have no objection to a joke; but I can't bear to have it carried too far.—How d'ye do, how d'ye do—can't stop—in a devil of a hurry—full of business."

[258] "Zounds!" said Tom, "you are almost as bad as the man who having married a wife could not come; but if I may be so bold, whither away so fast?"

"To Westminster Hall—the sessions is on—must go—law is like the tide, it stays for none—adieu."

"We cannot part thus," said Sparkle, "I have come some miles in search of you, and cannot afford to be played with now."

"Then accompany me to Westminster Hall, and I will be at your service."

"If not," replied Sparkle, "I shall enter a special detainer against you—so come along."

They now entered Westminster Hall, where Merry well having disposed of some briefs and other papers into the hands of a counsellor preparatory to a cause coming on;

"There," continued he, unow I am at your service."

"Then tell me," said Sparkle, "what you are at."

"First," inquired Merry well, "let me know what is your object in asking such a question."

This being briefly explained, together with the absolute necessity there was for his leaving town without delay—

"Now," said he, "I am at liberty to give you a sketch of circumstances which have befallen me since I saw you last."

"Come then," said Dashall, "we will proceed to Piccadilly, spend a comfortable afternoon, and ship you off by the mail from the White Horse Cellar at eight o'clock."

"With all my heart," was the reply. "Well, now you must understand, I am a sort of dabbler in professions. I was liberated from the high wall of the Priory by the Insolvent Debtor's Act; and since the unfortunate representation to the Old Boy, which deprived me of the needful supplies, I have tried my hand in three different ways."

"And which are they?"

"Love, law, and literature," continued Merry well.

"A very pretty combination," said Dashall, "and are you able to make them blend comfortably together?"

[259] "Nothing more easy in the world. In the first place, a lady has taken a fancy to me, which fancy I am willing to indulge; in return for which she provides me with every indulgence.—I profess to be principal in the office of a" lawyer of established practice, who suffers me to share in the profits of such business as I can obtain. In the way of literature I have as yet done but little, though I am encouraged to hope much, from the success of others. Indeed I am told, if I can but write libels for John Bull, I may make a rapid fortune."

"And when so made," said Sparkle, "I shall wish you well with it; but I think the speculation I have already named much more likely to turn out equal to your wishes, and more consonant with your feelings, than the pursuit of either of those you have mentioned."

"There I agree perfectly with you; and if I can make all right with the old gentleman, a fig for all the rest of my occupations: but you know I always liked independence, and if I could not get a fortune ready made, I had a desire to be the architect of one I should raise for myself."

"Why I know you have generally borne the character of a man of genius."

"Yes, and a deal my character did for me after quitting the walls. Why man, I happened to hear of a vacancy in a city parish school, for which I ventured to conceive myself duly qualified, and therefore determined to make application to the churchwardens, one of whom had the character of being a man of great power, and was said to be the first in his line in the three kingdoms. Away I posted, full of hope and expectation of becoming a second Caleb Quotem, not doubting but salary and circumstances would turn out exactly to my wish."

"But I thought you liked independence," said Tallyho.

"Rather too much to engage in that concern," was the reply, "as you will hear presently. Upon tracing out this gentleman who bore so strong a recommendation to particular notice, you may guess my surprise upon finding 'Purveyor of sausages' in gold letters over his door."

Dashall burst into an irresistible laugh, and was most cordially joined by Sparkle and Tallyho, who were now strongly interested in the result of Merrywell's account.

"When I arrived," continued Merry well, "this patron was reading the newspaper, which he threw down immediately upon my entrance, having mistaken me for a customer."

[260] "Survaut, Sir," said he, pulling down his greasy waist-coat.—"I am come, Sir," said I, "to make some inquiry concerning a vacant school-master-ship."—"Oh there again," resumed the sausage-making churchwarden,—"Vy you are the seventeenth fellow that has been here to-day a bothering me about this plaguy vacasey. How do you read? you'll have a trial before me and my brother representative of this parish, and my spouse will also attend the reading bouts. Now if so be as you minds your hits, why then may be you'll be the dominy. But, mind you, I don't like your sonorous voices, and my spouse—she knows things quite as well as I do,—she vants a great deal of action, so only you mind, loud and sonorous, and plenty of muscular motion for my spouse, that's the vay to win; but I haven't any time to talk to you now, you must call of an evening, when I am more at leisure, and then I'll explain; so move off now, Sir, move off, for I sees a customer coming—survant maum."—"Flesh and blood could bear no more, and so"———"So what," said Sparkle; "did you knock him down in the midst of his own sausages?"

"No, no, I knew too much of the law for that; but I cut the churchwarden, and bolted from the sausage-shop, determined to embrace law, physic, or divinity, in preference to cutting

              "————— The rumps
              Of little school-boy Jackies."

"The study of the law was rather compulsory than voluntary, for during my residence in the College I was under the necessity of devoting some part of my time to, though I felt no great partiality for it; and you know law is law; and as in such, and so forth, and hereby and aforesaid, provided always nevertheless notwithstanding, law is like a country dance, people are led up and down in it till they are tired: law is like a book of surgery, there are a great many terrible cases in it. It is also like physic, they that take least of it are best off: law is like a homely gentlewoman, very well to follow: law is like a scolding wife, very bad when it follows us: law is like a new fashion, people are bewitched to get into it; it is also like bad weather, most people are glad when they get out of it."

[261] "I believe that sincerely," cried the Hon. Tom Dashall; "for I think there are instances enough in which law has nothing at all to do with justice."{1}

         1 This remark of the Hon.  Tom  Dashall is admirably
         illustrated by the following statement:—

         Twelve People  in  one  Bail Bond fob  Ten   Pounds.—There
         are very few instances   of delinquency which  we have
         stated, that will stagger the belief of the fair
         practitioner, because they know such transactions are
         possible; their only surprise is the impunity with which
         they are committed, mixed with some regret that the
         profession is so contaminated.    The species of peculation
         we have now to submit to our readers is of singular nature;
         for we know not whether folly, impudence, or infamy, has the
         greater share in the transaction; we will therefore leave
         our readers to judge:—as to the statement of the fact, it
         is impossible we can err, as we were concerned for the
         defendants, and the case, singular as it is, was literally
         and accurately thus:—One of those unfortunate females who
         contribute to the existence of a miscreant crew of bawds,
         milliners, hair-dressers, tally-women, and many other
         reptiles of the same class, was arrested for ten pounds, at
         the house of the celebrated, or, more properly speaking,
         the notorious,  Mrs.  Johnson,  of Jermyn-street:—the
         attorney accompanied the officer; and it happened that a
         young gentleman connected with a banking-house of great
         respectability was present, whom the attorney directed to
         take in a bail bond, with the lady-abbess herself;  but as
         they were not sufficiently responsible, ten more of the
         cyprian tribe, all nuns of the same convent, were likewise
         required to execute this bond; of course they   complied.
         The  attorney, after having made  the parties acquainted
         with  the great favour he had shewn them, and the vast
         responsibility he had taken upon himself, required no more
         than two guineas for the officer and himself;   telling them
         he would give them information when any thing further was to
         be done; instead of which he took an assignment, sued out
         process, prepared declarations, and served the parties.

         The gentleman, rather alarmed at the idea of the
         circumstance being known, desired us to pay the debt and
         costs: for that purpose we applied to the attorney, and to
         our astonishment we were informed that the costs amounted to
         Thirty Pounds! for that there were twelve defendants. The
         reader cannot suppose that any thing further could pass upon
         such a preposterous subject, than giving notice of an
         application to the court, to set aside the proceedings. On
         our return home we found eleven of the defendants,
         consisting of the old brood hen and her chickens, each with
         a copy of the process in her hand. The business now most
         certainly put on the appearance of some costs. We again
         applied to the attorney, and, by way of cutting it short,
         offered him five pounds; but he, like many others who rely
         on the integrity and propriety of their practice, disdained
         a compromise, or abridgement of his lawful fees, and he was
         hardy enough to suffer the application. It is almost
         needless to say, the proceedings were set aside.    We have
         forebome to mention the name of the attorney, on account of
         the misery in which this dreadful transaction has involved
         him, a misery which amply atones for his offences, and
         deprives him of the power of ever offending again as an
         attorney. Far be it from us then to sink him deeper in the
         gulph of wretchedness: we kick not the dead lion; it is
         athletic triumphant villany against which we wage war.

[202] By this time they were arrived in Piccadilly, where they sat down to a cheerful refreshment, and proceeded to make arrangements for Merry well's departure: previous to this, however, Dashall and his Cousin had an engagement to keep with their Hibernian friends, of which particulars will appear in the next Chapter.

## CHAPTER XX

              All hail to the day of the tutelar Saint,
              Old George, not the King, but the Prince of brave fellows,
              And Champion of England, by Providence sent
              To slay a fierce Dragon as histories tell us!

              And hail to the King of the first Isle on Earth,
              His fame with St. George and the Dragon who blending,
              Has chosen to celebrate this as his birth,
              The day of all others, good fortune portending.

              Away then with Care, let us haste to the Park,
              Where Buckingham-house will exhibit a levy
              Resplendent in rank, youth and beauty;—and hark!
              Hoarse cannon announce both the birth-day and Levee.

              Reverberate then, in each sea-port the roar!
              And wave England's Standard on high, from each steeple,
              And skip from the oiling, each ship, to the shore,
              And joyfully dance on dry land with the people!{1}

         1 That we may not be accused of plagiarism, we acknowledge
         ourselves indebted for the hyperbole contained in the last
         two lines of these introductory stanzas, to an original
         recommendation for a proper display of rapture, as
         contained in the following couplet by one Peter Ker, wherein
         he very humanely invites all the vessels belonging to Great
         Britain to strand themselves out of joy for the accession of
         James I.

              "Let subjects sing, bells ring, and cannons roar,
              And every ship come dancing to the shore."

         The morning of St. George's Day was ushered in, as the
         appointed anniversary of his Majesty's birth, by all the
         church-bells of the metropolis, the waving of the royal
         standard from the steeples, the display of the colours of
         all nations by the vessels in the Thames, and Cumberland
         mentions in his Memoirs, that when his father the Bishop
         revisited his estate in Ireland, an affectionate rustic hit
         upon an ingenious mode of shewing his happiness, by leaping
         from a tree, and breaking his leg! We do not find that any
         of his Majesty's loving subjects in the Park on St. George's
         Day followed the example of the Irish rustic!

Other manifestations of affection by a grateful people to the best of Sovereigns!—

              "The sky was overcast, the morning lower'd,
              And heavily in clouds brought on the day."

[264] But despite of wind or wet, female curiosity must be gratified. Miss Judith Macgilligan had some time previous to this auspicious day, expressed a desire to witness the gay and brilliant assemblage of company in progress to the Levee, and Tom and Bob having gallantly volunteered their services on this important occasion, they now sallied forth, just as the Park and Tower guns were thundering the announcement of festivity, and joining Sir Felix O'Grady and his aunt at their lodgings, the party immediately moved onward to the scene of action.

Already had Royalty taken wing, and dignified with his presence the late maternal Palace, before our pedestrians reached the Park, to the great disappointment of Miss Macgilligan, who however consoled herself with the hope of being able to obtain a glimpse of monarchy as his Majesty passed on his return to Carlton-house.

The Baronet in the meanwhile was in a reverie, which at last broke out in the following rhapsody:—

              Oh!  blest occasion of dispensing good,
              How seldom used, how little understood!—
              To nurse with tender care the thriving arts,
              Watch every beam philosophy imparts:
              To give religion her unbridled scope,
              Nor judge by statute a believer's hope;
              With close fidelity and love unfeign'd,
              To keep the matrimonial bond unstain'd;
              Covetous only of a virtuous praise,
              His life a lesson to the land he sways.
              Blest country where these kingly glories shine!
              Blest England, if this happiness be thine!

              But,—

              If smiling peeresses, and simp'ring peers,
              Encompassing his throne a few short years;
              If the gilt carriage and the pamper'd steed,
              That wants no driving and disdains the lead;
              If guards, mechanically form'd in ranks,
              Playing at beat of drum their martial pranks,
              Should'ring, and standing as if stuck to stone,
              While condescending majesty looks on;—
              If monarchy consists in such base things,
              Sighing, I say again, I pity Kings.

[265] An immense number of splendid carriages now presented themselves to view, in continued and uninterrupted succession, stretching from the Horse Guards the whole length of the Mall, to Buckingham-house, where each setting down, and thence taking up a position in the Bird-cage Walk, they formed a circle of nearly two miles, and exhibited, in the magnificence of the vehicles, the admirable symmetry of the horses, and rich liveries of the attendants, a scene of interest, matchless perhaps by any other metropolis in the universe.

Skirting the indeterminable line of carriages, that slowly and under frequent stoppages proceeded to the goal of attraction, our party penetrated at last the dense mass of spectators, and gaining a favourable post of observation, took a position adjacent to Buckingham-house, where the band of music of the Foot Guards within, and that of the Horse Guards without the iron-railing circumscribing the palace, alternately enlivened the scene with "concord of sweet sounds."

But the great and general object of attention, was that of female loveliness, occupying almost every passing vehicle. Dashall remarked, that he had never before been gratified with such an extensive and captivating display. Sir Felix and the Squire were in raptures, and even the primitive austerity of Miss Macgilligan yielded to the influence of beauty, and acknowledging its predominancy, she at same time observed, that its fascination was enhanced by the dress of the ladies, which, though splendid, exhibited genuine taste, and was more remarkable for its uniform adherence to modesty than she had hitherto seen it on any similar occasion.{1}

         1 We are not fastidious, neither would we wish the charms of
         youth and beauty inaccessible to admiration; but certainly
         the dress, or rather undress of our fair countrywomen, has
         of late years bordered closely on nudity.—Female delicacy
         is powerfully attractive; we were glad to observe its
         predominancy at the last Levee, and we trust that it will
         gain universal prevalence.—Edit.

[266] Dashall, whose place would more properly have been in the circle within the palace than amongst the spectators without, was frequently saluted by the passing company; and when the fair hand of beauty waved gracefully towards him, Sir Felix felt happy in the friendship and society of a gentleman thus honoured with such distinguished recognition, and in the warmth of his feelings exclaimed aloud, that, "by the immortal powers, were he King of England, he would be more proud of the irradiating charms of these celestial visiters, than in the diadem of royalty and extension of empire!" This remark was universally acquiesced in, and most cordially so by a group of lively girls, to whom it had apparently given much pleasure; one of whom thanked the Baronet in the name of the sex, and complimented him on his gallantry, which she said was truly characteristic of his country.

To Sir Felix an encomium from a fair lady was ever irresistible.

He bowed, expressed a commensurate feeling of gratitude for the honour conferred upon him, and professed himself an ardent admirer of the whole of women kind; concluding by humming a stanza from Burns,—

              "Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
              Her noblest work she classes, O;
              Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
              And then she made the lasses, O."

Unluckily for the apophthegm of the Baronet, it so happened, that a quarrel took place in the immediate vicinity and hearing of the party, between two rival female fruiterers of the Emerald Isle; during which incivilities were exchanged in language not altogether acceptable to the auricular organs of delicacy. The brogue was that of Munster,—the war of words waged quicker and faster; and from invective the heroines seemed rapidly approximating to actual battle. Neither park-keeper nor constable were at hand; and although the surrounding mobility "laughed at the tumult and enjoyed the storm," Sir Felix, much distressed at so untoward an incident, and deeply interested in the honour of his country, so lately the theme of elegant panegyric, dashed through the crowd, the component parts of which he scattered aside like chaff, and arrested the further progress of the wranglers.

"Arrah, now, for the honour of Munster, be any, ye brats of the devil's own begetting!"

"Hear him! hear him! hear the umpire!" resounded from all quarters.

"May the devil make hell-broth of ye both, in his own caldron!"

[267] The mirth of the multitude became now still more obstreperous, and Tom and Bob pushed forward to the assistance of their friend, who was in the act of keeping the two viragos apart from each other, having a hand on each, and holding them at arms length, alternately threatening and remonstrating, while the two nymphs, with frightful grimaces, struggled to elude his grasp, and abide the chance of war;—the scene altogether would have afforded ample scope for the pencil of an artist; and if not edifying, was at least to a numerous and motley assemblage of spectators, highly entertaining. Sir Felix declined the assistance of his friends,—

"Never mind it," said he, "I'll settle the affair myself, my honies:" and slipping a half-crown piece into the hand of each of the amazons—"Now be off wid you," he whispered,—"lave the Park immediately;—away to the gin-shop;—shake hands wid each other in friendship; and drink good-luck to Sir Felix O'Grady."

With many expressions of gratitude, the contending parties obeyed the mandate, and walked off lovingly together, cheek-by-jowl, as if no irruption of harmony had happened!

"Long life to him!" exclaimed a son of green Erin; "wid a word in the ear he has settled the business at once."

"And I pray," said a reverend looking gentleman in black, "that all conflicting powers may meet with like able mediation."

"Amen!" responded a fellow in the drawling nasil tone of a parish-clerk; and the congregation dispersed.

The tumult thus happily subdued, Sir Felix, with Tom and Bob, rejoined Miss Macgilligan and the group with whom she had been left in charge when the two latter gentlemen came to the Baronet's relief.

The "ardent admirer of the whole of women kind" sustained the jokes of the company with admirable equanimity of temper; and the same young lady who had eulogized his gallantry, now said that it was unfair, and what the Baronet could not possibly mean, to take his words in their literal acceptation; at the same time she highly commended his benevolent interference in the quarrel between the two women, and congratulated him on his address in bringing it to an amicable termination.

[268] Resuming their attention to the still continued line of company, Dashall and his friends remarked that pearls were a prominent part of female ornament at the present levee; particularly, he said, with the galaxy of Civic beauty from the East; for he had recognized so decorated, several elegantes, the wives and daughters of aldermen, bankers, merchants and others, of his City acquaintances.{1} A ponderous state carriage, carved and gilt in all directions, and the pannels richly emblazoned with heraldry, now came slowly up the Mall, and Sir Felix immediately announced the approach of the Lord Mayor of the City of London; but as the vehicle approximated nearer towards him, he became lost in a labyrinth of conjecture, on perceiving, that the pericranium of its principal inmate was enveloped in a wig of appalling dimensions; he now inquired whether the profundity of wisdom was denoted by the magnitude of a wig; and if so, why it was not worn by the Civic Sovereign rather on the seat of justice, where it might operate in terrorem on delinquency, than on the happy occasion of his Majesty's anniversary; when Dashall unravelled the mystery, by acquainting the Baronet, that the personage whom he supposed to be the Lord Mayor of London, was the Lord High Chancellor of England.

         1 By what curious links and fantastical relations are
         mankind connected together. At the distance of half the
         globe, a Hindoo gains his support by groping at the bottom
         of the sea for the morbid concretion of  a  shell-fish, to
         decorate the throat of a London alerman's wife! It is said
         that the great Linnæus had discovered the secret of
         infecting oysters with  this perligenous disease; what is
         become of the secret we know not, as the only interest tee
         take in oysters, is of a much more vulgar, though perhaps a
         more humane nature.  Mr. Percival, in his Account of the
         Island of Ceylon, gives a very interesting account of the
         fishery, and of the Sea-dogs. "This animal is as fond of
         the legs of Hindoos, as Hindoos are of the pearls of
         oysters;  and as one appetite appears to him much more
         natural and less capricious' than the other, he never fails
         to indulge it."

[269] The company still poured along, numerous and diversified, beyond all former precedent; including all the nobility in town, their ladies, daughters, et cetera; officers of the army and navy, grand crosses and knights companions of the most honourable order of the Bath; dignified sages and learned brethren of the law; and, "though last, not least in our esteem," the very right reverend Fathers in God, the Lords Bishops, in the costume of sacerdotal panoply; and amidst the fascination of female beauty, setting their affections on things above!{1}

         1 Latimer, bishop of Worcester, speaking of the gentlemen of
         the black cloth, says,—"Well, I would all men would look to
         their dutie, as God hath called them, and then we should
         have a flourish-ing Christian common weale. And now I would
         ask a strange question. Who is the most diligentest bishop
         and prelate in all Englande, that passeth all the rest in
         doing his office? 1 can tell, for I know him who it is; I
         know him well. But now I think I see you listening and
         hearkening that I should name him. There is one that passeth
         all the other, and is the most diligent prelate and preacher
         in all Englande. And will you know who it is? I will tell
         you. It is the Devil! He is the most diligent preacher of
         all other; he is never out of his diocese; he is never from
         his cure; ye shall never fynde him unoccupyed; he is ever in
         his parish; he keepeth residence at all times; ye shall
         never fynde him out of the way; call for him when you will
         he is ever at home; the diligentest preacher in all the
         realme; no lording or loyteriug can hynder him; he is ever
         applying his busyness; ye shall never f'ynde him idle I
         warrant you."

From noon until past four, visiters continued to arrive; when the carriages again circumscribed the Park, each taking up at the gate of Buckingham-house, and thence passing home by the Bird-cage Walk, and through the Horse Guards. The arrangements were excellent; no accident occurred. The Life Guards lined the Mall, and a numerous detachment of police-officers were on the alert throughout the day. Their indefatigable exertions however were not entirely available in counteracting the industry of the light-fingered gentry, of whom there were many on the look-out; and doubtless on this, as on every other occasion of public resort in the metropolis, they reaped the fruits of a plentiful harvest.

The party sauntering along the Mall, Sir Felix observed one of the group with whom he was associated when viewing the company proceeding to the Palace, and would have entered into familiar chit-chat with him, but for the interposition of Dashall, who taking the Baronet aside, cautioned him against having intercourse with a stranger, of whom he knew nothing, but who had all the appearance of a black-leg.

Dashall was an accurate observer of men and manners; and in the present instance his conjecture was well founded; for, in a few subsequent moments,

[270] What was the devil's gratitude to Latimer for this eulogy According to his biography, "for his zeal in the Protestant faith, he was, with Ridley, bishop of London, burnt at Oxford in 1554." this assumed gentleman was met by a reconnoitering party of the police, who claiming the privilege of old acquaintance, took him into custody as a reputed thief, to the manifest surprise and dismay of Miss Judith Macgilligan, who instinctively putting her hand into her pocket, found that her purse had vanished through the medium of some invisible agency. It contained, fortunately, silver only. She now mentioned her loss, and expressed her suspicion of the gentleman in duresse; he having stood close by her, for a considerable length of time, while she and her friends were stationary in the Mall. The officers accordingly searched him; but the wily adept, anticipating consequences, had disencumbered himself of the purse; part of the silver, however, found in his possession, tallied in description with that which had been lost, although the lady could not identify it as her property. He was conducted from the Park, with the view of being introduced to the recollection of the magistrates of the Public-office in Bow-street.

During this transaction, a carriage bearing the royal arms, and attended by two footmen only, drove rapidly along the Mall, without attracting particular notice, and entering the garden-gate of Carlton-house, was immediately lost to public view; nor did the numerous groups who were in waiting to catch a transient glance of royalty, recognise in the unassuming inmate of this vehicle, the sacred person of his most gracious Majesty King George the Fourth, who was thus pleased modestly to decline the congratulations of his loving subjects, by eluding, incognita, their observation.

This was a second grievous disappointment to our venerable aunt, and might have operated as a spell against the further enjoyment of the day; but the gloom of vexation was dispersed by the Esquire of Belville-hall, who observed, that the royal lineage of the lady might aspire to a more intimate knowledge of majesty than a view en passant, and that at any future levee there could not exist a doubt of the facility of Miss Macgilligan's introduction.

A convenient and vacant bench presenting itself, the associates now seated themselves.

"Apropos," exclaimed Sir Felix, "talking of the King, does his Majesty mean to honour with another visit his Hanoverian dominions this ensuing summer?"

[271] The inquiry was directed to Dashall, whom the Baronet was accustomed to look upon as an universal intelligencer.

Tom declared his incompetency to answer the question.

"Well," continued Sir Felix, "were I the monarch of this empire, J would make myself acquainted with every part of it. A tour through England, Scotland, and Ireland, should be my primary object, and a visit to my foreign territories a subordinate consideration, I would travel from town to town in the land that gave me birth; like the Tudors and the Stuarts; with confidence in the loyalty of my people, my person should be familiar to them, and 1 should at all times be accessible to their complaints. Elizabeth and the Second James made frequent excursions into distant parts of the country, and every where were received with addresses of fidelity. Were his present Majesty to follow, in this respect, the example of his royal predecessors, who can doubt his experiencing the most ample and unequivocal demonstrations of attachment to his person and government?"

The friendly associates indulged a hearty laugh at the expense of the visionary, although they did him the justice to believe that his theoretical improvements on the policy of majesty were the ebullition of a generous heart, warm in fraternal regard for the whole of human kind.

Tom, however, reminded him that the pusillanimous James II. acquired no popularity by his royal tours; and that the affections of the people were not to be gained by the merely personal condescension of the monarch.{1}

         1 During the reign of King James II., and when, not unlike
         the present day, the people were much oppressed and
         burthened with taxes, that monarch having, in the course of
         a tour through England, stopt at Winchelsea, the Corporation
         resolved to address his Majesty; but as the Mayor could
         neither read nor write, it was agreed that the Recorder
         should prompt him on the occasion. Being introduced, the
         Recorder whispered the trembling Mayor, "Hold up your head,
         and look like a man." The Mayor mis-taking this for the
         beginning of the speech, addressed the King, and repeated
         aloud, "Hold up your head, and look like a man." The
         Recorder, in amaze, whispered the Mayor, "What the devil do
         you mean?" The Mayor in the same manner instantly repeated,
         "What the devil do you mean?"  The Recorder, alarmed,
         whispered more earnestly, "By G——-d, Sir, you'll ruin us
         all."

         The Mayor, still imagining this to be a part of his speech,
         said, with all "his might, "By G——-d, Sir, you'll ruin us
         all."

[272]So slow was the progress of the vehicles towards the palace for the purpose of taking up their respective owners, that many gentlemen, whose residences were in the vicinity, rather than wait, preferred walking across the Park; while the unusual exhibition of a pedestrian in full court-dress excited no little attention from the multitude. Our party proceeding in their lounge, was presently met by one of these gentlemen, who recognizing Dashall and Tallyho, shook them cordially by the hand, and was introduced to Sir Felix and his Aunt, as Captain of the Royal Navy.

The Captain, to adopt a Court phrase, was most graciously received by the lady; who observing he had been present at the Levee, begged that he would favour her with an account of what had passed.

The gallant Captain, retracing his steps with his friends along the Mall, said, that little or nothing had occurred worthy of remark.

"The drawing-room," he continued, "was crowded to such excess, that I should have felt myself more at ease in the bilboes; however, amidst the awkwardness of the squeeze, I frequently came into unavoidable contact with some very fine girls, and that pleasure certainly more than compensated all inconveniences. The King (God bless him)! perspired most prodigiously; for the heat was intolerable; he appeared very much fatigued; and 1 hope has retired with a superior relish to enjoy the quietude and luxury of the royal table at Carlton Palace. The presentations of the female sprigs of nobility were numerous, to all of whom he paid particular attention, in duty bound, as a gallant Cavalier and the best bred gentleman in Europe. Indeed, he seemed to gloat on the charms of those terrestrial deities with ecstacy! The introductions were endless, and the etiquette tiresome and monotonous. In fact, after making my humble congée, extrication became my only object, and I effected a retreat with difficulty. My stay was short, and as I had neither inclination nor opportunity for minute remark, I hope, Madam, that you will pardon my incapability of answering your inquiry in a more particular manner."

[273] Nothing farther could be elicited. In truth, the Captain had left nothing untold; for his description of the Levee, although succinct, was correct, laying aside the enumeration of the dramatis personæ, too numerous, and in many instances perhaps too insignificant, for recollection.

The gallant son of Neptune now took his leave, and the party continued to enjoy the pleasure of the promenade.

The Park was still thronged with spectators, attracted by the retiring visitors, of whom some it seems were no welcome guests.

Whether vice had contaminated the hallowed presence of Royalty, we cannot take upon us to say; but it appears that the sanctum sanctorum had been polluted by intrusion; for a notification was issued next day by the Lord Chamberlain, prefaced with the usual Whereas, "that certain improper persons had gained access to his Majesty's Levee, and stating, that in future no one would be admitted unless in full Court dress, including bag-wig, sword," &c.{1}

         1 As if these appendages were only within the reach of the
         higher classes of the community, and uncomeatable by
         purchase! The most depraved character may obtain the
         plausible appearance of gentility, and obtrude himself into
         the first circle of fashion. These opportunities abound in
         the metropolis; and such is the apathy of the present age,
         that the accomplished swindler, of exterior allurement,
         intermixes, sans inquiry, with honourable rank; and even
         where inquiry is deemed necessary, all minor considerations
         vanish before the talismanic influence of Wealth! "Is he
         rich? Incalculably so! Then, let's have him, by all means."
         Thus the initiated of Chesterfield obtain admission into
         polished society, although the Principles of Politeness
         inculcated by that nobleman, contain, as a celebrated
         lexicographer said of them, "the morals of a wh**e, and the
         manners of a dancing-master!"

The party having lounged away another pleasant hour, made ultimately their exit from the Park by the Stable-yard, and entering Pall Mall, were agreeably surprised with a very interesting exhibition.

During many years of the late King's reign, it was usual on the birth-day anniversary for the different mail coaches to pass in review before his Majesty in front of St. James's Palace. The custom still prevails.

On the present occasion numerous spectators had assembled opposite Carl ton-house; and it is presumed that the Sovereign thence witnessed the procession, although he was not within the view of public observation.

[274] Above thirty mail coaches, fresh gilt and painted, or in the language of churchwardens, beautified, and each drawn by four noble-spirited, yet perfectly tractable horses, elegantly caparisoned, now made their appearance. The cavalcade moved slowly onward, the prancing steeds impatient of restraint, and conscious of superiority. On the box of each vehicle was seated a portly good looking man, the knowing Jehu of the road, and behind was the guard, occasionally "winding his bugle-horn" with melodious and scientific ability. The reins and harness were new, so also were the royal liveries of the coachmen and guards. Mounted conductors led the van of the procession, while others accompanied it on either side; and the interest of the scene was considerably heightened by each coach being occupied inside by handsome well-dressed women and children. The rear of this imposing spectacle was brought up by a long train of the twopenny post-boys, all newly clothed in the royal uniform, and mounted on hardy ponies, chiefly of the Highland and Shetland breed. The cavalcade halted in front of the royal residence, and gave three cheers in honour of the day, which were heartily returned by the populace. The procession then resumed its progress by Charing-cross, the Strand, Fleet-street, Ludgate-hill, round St. Paul's, and by Cheapside into Lombard-street,

Passing up the new street, the associates reached the mansion of Dashall, who had previously engaged his friends to dinner.

An elegant repast was immediately served up, and highly enjoyed by the party, after such prolonged exercise and abstinence.

The conversation turning on the recent interesting exhibition, it was universally acknowledged, that the introduction of the mail coach into the establishment of the General Post-office, might be classed among the highest improvements of the age, as amazingly accelerating the celerity of intercourse with all parts of the empire. Neither was the well-merited meed of encomium withheld from the Twopenny-post Institution, by which, so frequently in the course of the day, the facility of communication is kept up within the metropolis and suburbs, extending to all adjacencies, and bounded only by the limits of the bills of mortality. Dashall, who seldom let slip an opportunity of appropriate remark [275] digressed from the procession to the important national utility of the Post-office, and thence, by easy transition, to the sublime powers of the human mind, as emphatically exemplified in the invention of writing and printing; while Sir Felix, who was well experienced in the British poets, favoured his aunt with a quotation from Pope's Epistle of Heloisa to Abelard, subject, however, to such whimsical interpolation as he deemed suitable to the occasion:—

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some antique, lovesick, North of Ireland maid! They live, they speak, they breathe what age inspires, Preposterous fondness and impure desires! The latent wish without a blush impart, Reveal the frailties of a morbid heart; Speed the neglected sigh from soul to soul, And waft a groan from Indus to the Pole!

The reading of Miss Macgilligan, like her ideas, was rather on a contracted scale. She suspected, however, that her nephew had aimed against her the shafts of ridicule, and was preparing her resentment accordingly; when the Baronet deprecating her wrath, assured her, that he had recited the lines exactly as originally written, and that in the present clay they had no personal application, having been composed by a little cynical fellow many years before Miss Macgilligan came into existence.—The lady gave credence to the assertion, and the impending storm was happily averted.

The residence of royalty being within the precinct of St. James's, the bells of the neighbouring church sounded a merry peal in the ears of the party; and were responded to by those of St, Martin-in-the-Fields, a parish of which it is remarkable that his Majesty George II. was once church-warden, serving the office, of course, by deputy. The steeple of this church, as well as those of many others in the metropolis, displayed, throughout the day, the royal standard, a manifestation of loyalty which likewise extended itself to the liquid element of old father Thames, where many of the vessels commemorated the anniversary by frequent salutes of artillery, under the decorative and splendid canopy formed by the colours of all nations.

[276] The carriages of the foreign ambassadors, and those of the friends of government, were again in requisition, and rattled along the streets towards the several mansions of the members of administration, who each, in conformity with ancient usage, gave a grand dinner on the birth-day, at least on that appointed for its celebration.

"At these dinners," said Dashall, "politics and etiquette are both laid aside; conviviality is the order of the day; the glass, the joke, the repartee and the 'retort courteous,' circulate freely, and all is harmony and good humour."

"With sometimes a sprinkling of alloy," said the Squire, "I have heard that during the administration of Mr. Pitt, he and the Lord Chancellor Thurlow were frequently at variance on subjects having no reference to politics, and even under the exhilirating influence of the grape."

The party were all attention, and the Squire proceeded—"At a cabinet dinner a discussion took place between the Premier and Lord Chancellor, as to the comparative merits of the Latin and English languages. Mr. Pitt gave the preference to the former, the Chancellor! to the latter; and the arguments on both sides were carried on with equal pertinacity.—The Premier would not yield a jot in opinion. Becoming at last impatient of opposition,

"Why," said he, "the English language is an ambiguity—two negatives make an affirmative; but in the Latin, two negatives make a positive."—"Then," said the Chancellor, "your father and mother must have been two negatives, to make such a positive fellow as you are!"{1}

         1 Lord Chancellor Thurlow, although a very eccentric
         character, was yet a man of uncommon benevolence. A vacancy
         having occurred in a valuable living of which he had the
         presentation, numerous were the candidates for the benefice;
         and amongst others, one, recommended by several of the
         nobility, friends of the ministry, who made himself sure of
         the appointment, although, directly or indirectly, the
         Chancellor had not given any promise. In the meanwhile, it
         was one morning announced to his Lordship, that a gentleman,
         apparently a clergyman, waited the honour of an interview.
         The servant was ordered to shew the stranger into the
         library, whither the Chancellor shortly repaired, and
         inquired the object of the visit. "My Lord," said the
         other, "I served the office of Curate under the deceased
         Rector, and understanding that the presentation is in your
         Lordship's gift"—"You want the living," exclaimed the
         Chancellor, gruffly. "No, my Lord; my humble pretensions
         soar not so high; but I presume, most respectfully, to
         entreat your Lordship's influence with the new Incumbent,
         that I may be continued in the Curacy." Surprised and
         pleased by the singular modesty of the applicant, who had
         served the same parish as Curate above twenty years, and now
         produced the most ample testimonials of character, his
         Lordship entered into conversation with him, and found him
         of extensive erudition, and orthodox principles. He
         ascertained, besides, that this poor Curate had a wife with
         six children entirely dependent on his exertions for
         support; and that the remuneration allowed for the faithful
         discharge of arduous duties, had been only thirty pounds per
         annum. The Chancellor now promised his influence in behalf
         of the Curate, with the person who probably might succeed to
         the living. "I shall see him," added his Lordship, "this
         very day; attend me to-morrow, and you shall know the
         result." The Curate took bis leave, and in the course of the
         morning the would-be Rector made his appearance. "O!"
         exclaimed his Lordship, entering directly into the business,
         "I have had a humble suitor with me to-day,—the Curate of
         the late incumbent whom you are desirous of succeeding; he
         wishes to continue in the Curacy; the poor man is burthened
         with a large family, and hitherto has been very inadequately
         rewarded for his labour in the productive vineyard of which
         you anticipate the possession and emolument. Suppose that
         you constitute the happiness of this worthy man, by giving
         him a salary of one hundred pounds per annum; he will have
         all the duties to perform, and you will pocket a surplus,
         even then, of seven hundred a year, for in fact doing
         nothing!" This would-be was astonished; he had never before
         heard of a Curate in the receipt of one hundred pounds per
         annum; besides, he had already engaged a person to do the
         duty for twenty-five pounds. Fired with indignation at the
         inhumanity and arrogant presumption of this callous-hearted
         Clergyman,—"What!" exclaimed his Lordship, "and so you
         would turn the poor Curate out of doors, and abridge the
         miserable pittance of his successor, and all this before
         you've got the living! John, shew this fellmo down stairs!"
         Gladly would this Incumbent, by anticipation, have conceded
         every point required; but it was too late; the die was cast,
         and he found himself in the street, unknowing how he got
         there, whether on his hands or his lucls! Next day the
         Curate was announced. "I have not been able to succeed,"
         said his Lordship,—"the new Incumbent has engaged a person
         who will do the duty for twenty-five pounds per annum." His
         Lordship paused, and the unfortunate Curate looked the
         personification of Despondency. "Cheer up, man!" exclaimed
         his Lordship, "If I have not influence sufficient to
         continue you in possession of the Curacy, I can, at least,
         give you the Living!" putting into the hands, at the same
         time, of the amazed Curate, the presentation to a Rectory
         worth eight hundred pounds per annum!! Here we must draw the
         Grecian painter's veil,—the gratification on either side
         may be conceived, but cannot be expressed.

[278] Sir Felix laughed heartily at this anecdote, and inquired of his aunt whether she knew any of the Positive family in the North of Ireland.

"Perfectly well," retorted the lady, "they are allied to the Wrongheads of the province of Munster!"

This reproof, which was hailed with applause by Tom and Bob, dumb-foundered the Baronet, who became suddenly taciturn; but his habitual good humour predominated, and conscious that he had brought on himself the inflicted castigation, he resolved on a cessation of hostilities for the remainder of the evening.

The invitation by Dashall having been without formal ceremony, and unhesitatingly accepted by Miss Macgilligan and her nephew, they now, in turn, claimed the like privilege of freedom, by soliciting the company of the two Cousins to supper; a request which Tom and Bob cheerfully acquiesced in; and the party immediately set out for the Baronet's lodgings, preferring to walk the short distance, that they might view, more leisurely, the accustomed illuminations on the anniversary of his Majesty's birth-day.

The variegated lamps were tastefully arranged; but this effusion of loyalty was rather of an interested than interesting description, being confined wholly to the public-offices, the theatres, and the different houses of his Majesty's tradesmen; no other habitation in this immense metropolis bearing any external indication of attachment, on the part of its occupant, to the Sovereign of the British Empire!

"Here comes a set of jolly fellows," exclaimed the Baronet, as the party of friends turned into Bow-street from Covent-Garden, "who are at least determined to honour the anniversary of St. George and their Sovereign," the clang of marrow bones and cleavers resounding with harsh and stunning dissonance.

"Rather," said Dashall, "fellows determined to levy contributions on the public, caring as little for the actual George the King, as they do for the fabulous George the Champion."

              Now loud and yet louder the grating din grew,
              And near and more near still the butcher-gang drew;
              Rapacious, obstrep'rous, a turbulent set,
              And bent on annoyance of all whom they met.

[279] It was in vain that our party attempted to avoid them by crossing the street. The intention was quickly thwarted by these self-licensed prowlers, who intercepting our associates in the carriage-way, encircled them in such a manner, as to preclude the possibility of extrication; and raised, at the same time, a discoid of sounds, compared with which the vocal minstrelsy of the long-eared braying fraternity would have been the music of the spheres!

Sir Felix, in chastisement of their arrogance, would singly have encountered the whole group, had he not been restrained by Tom and Bob, who rather than engage in a street brawl with a host of pertinacious adversaries, chose to yield to circumstances, and purchase freedom at the expense of a trifling pecuniary consideration, with which the collectors departed well satisfied.

Our observers having thus obtained their liberty, renewed their walk, and reached the lodgings of the Baronet without farther interruption.

During their perambulation, the following article was put into the hands of the Squire, with which we shall conclude our Chapter of Incidents;—

              THE KING AND THE LAUREAT.

              A  LOYAL  BIRTH-DAY  EFFUSION.

              Hail! mighty Monarch of a mighty People!—
              While tuneful peals resound from tower and steeple,
              And thundering cannons gratulations roar,
              Fright'ning old Father Thames from shore to shore;—
              For King or etiquette while nobles caring,
              To Buckingham-house by hundreds are repairing,
              With gorgeous Dames, to whom this day a bliss is;
              Accompanied by smiling lovely misses
              Of eager appetite, who long to gorge
              And batten on the favours of King George;
              While London's Mayor and Aldermen set out
              In Civic state, to grace the royal rout;
              While strut the Guards in black straps and white gaiters
              In honour of their Patron and Creators;{1}—
              While General Birnie musters all his forces
              Of foot Police, and spavin'd Police horses,
              To guard St. James's Park from innovation,
              And cheque the daringness of depredation;—
              While for those partizans who mind their manners
              The cabinet ministers prepare grand dinners,
              And I, and others of my kindred trumpery,
              Dine with the vision'ry 'yclept Duke Humphrey:{2}
              I whom the Muses sometimes deign to greet,
              Though perch'd in "garret vile" in  White-cross street,

         1 In honour of their Patron and Creators.—The poet, we
         presume, means to draw a line of distinction between the
         Military and Civic community; the one being the work of God,
         the other the creation of man.

         2 Duke Humphrey.—An ideal personage,  with whom the un-
         fortunate wight is said to dine who has not got a dinner to
         eat.

              Sans viands, drink, or necessary clothing,
              Reckless of fate, and even existence loathing;
              Great King amidst each various passing matter
              On this auspicious day, I will not flatter;
              Not that I cannot; aye, as well as any
              Of heretofore or present lauréat Zany!—
              But lack of payment, Sir, and lack of zeal;
              Could I your gracious bounty hope to feel,
              Invention then, on eagles wings should rise,
              And laud your nameless virtues to the skies!—

              But as it is,—all hail the King!—
              With shouts let now the welkin ring,
              And hence all doubts and fears;
              May ages yet to come obey
              The Fourth King George's lenient sway,
              Even for a thousand years!{1}

              Methinks his portly form I see,
              Encircled at this grand Levee
              By courtly lords and ladies;
              Returning every bow with smiles,
              Where selfish adulation's wiles
              A profitable trade is.

              But where, amid this grand display,
              Is Soutkey, on each natal day
              Who charm'd with Ode delicious?
              Why absent now the tuneful lore,
              Why sing not, as in days of yore,—

              Has Roy'lty grown capricious?
              Or barren is the courtly verse
              Of genuine subject, to rehearse
              The mighty monarch's fame;
              His public virtues, private worth,
              To chant in grateful measure forth,
              And o'er the world proclaim?

              Tush, man! a driveller then, thou art,
              Unequal to the merry part
              Thou undertook'st to play;—
              The Birth-day comes but once a year,
              Then tune thy dulcet notes and clear,
              Again in annual lay.

         1 When the combined fleets of England and Spain blockaded
         the port of Toulon, the Spanish Admiral terminated a
         dispatch to Lord Hood with the following notable wish,—May
         your Excellency live a THOUSAND YEARS!

              Thou, who wilt still persist to write
              In public apathy's despite,
              Can claim no just pretension
              On which to found a vague excuse;—
              Then trust, in dearth of truth, the Muse
              Prolific in invention.

              Hast thou no conscience left? alack!
              Hast thou forgot thy Pipe of Sack!
              And annual pounds two hundred?{1}
              That Hume hath not attack'd thy post,
              And caused it to give up the ghost,
              Is greatly to be wonder'd!

              But if the place must still be kept,
              Though long the princely themes have slept
              That erst the Muses lauded;—
              Give it to me, ye gods! and then
              Shall Kings, above all other men,
              Be rapturously applauded!

              Content with half that Southey shares,
              I then would drown all worldly cares,
              Yet Sack I'd not require;—
              Give me, in place of Falstaff's wine,
              A butt,—to wake the song divine,

              Of Hanbury's Entire!
              Now God preserve the comely face
              Of George the Fourth, and grant him grace
              For kindred soids to brag on!—
              May future times his deeds proclaim,
              And may he even eclipse the fame
              Of—Saint George and the Dragon.'

         1 Formerly the allowance was a pipe of sack and one hundred
         pounds; but his present Majesty, taking into his gracious
         consideration the very difficult task which the Lauréat had
         to perform, increased his salary to 200L. per annum!!

## CHAPTER XXI

              "Of ups and downs we daily see
              Examples most surprising,
              The high and low of each degree,
              Now falling are, now rising.

              Some up, some down, some in, some out,
              Home neither one nor t'other;
              Knaves—fools—Jews—Gentiles—join the rout,
              And jostle one another.

              By ups and downs some folks they say
              Among grandees have got, Sir,
              Who were themselves but yesterday
              The Lord knows who, or what, Sir.

              Sans sense or pence, in merits chair,
              They dose and dream supine 0;
              But how the devil they came there,
              That neither you nor I know."

[282] The departure of Merrywell left our three friends at perfect liberty, and they were determined to enjoy it as much as possible during Sparkle's visit. The remainder of the evening was therefore devoted to the retracing of past events, in which they had formerly been engaged together, in drinking success to Merrywell's journey, and in laying down some plans for the proceedings of the next day. On the latter subject, however, there were as many opinions as there were persons. The Hon. Tom Dash all proposed going to the Review—Sparkle was for a journey to Gravesend in the steam-boat, with the religious friends who were to accompany Lord Gambier—and Tallyho proposed a visit to the Tower of London, in order to inspect its interior. It was therefore left undecided till the morning, which proving extremely inviting, they determined to sally forth, and leave the direction of their course wholly to chance, as they had many times done before.

[283] Sparkle's relish for the sprees and sports of a London life, was evidently injured by his residence in the country; though at the same time former scenes and former circumstances rushing occasionally upon his sight and his recollection, appeared to afford him gratification and delight.

"And how," said Sparkle, addressing himself to Tallyho, "do you like the scene of ever varying novelty—has it lost any of its charms since I saw you last?"

"By no means," replied Tallyho; "for although many of them are grown familiar to me, and many are also calculated to excite painful feelings, I am not yet tired of the inquiry. I set out with the intention to contemplate men and manners as they actually are, and I conceive a useful lesson for instruction and improvement may be afforded by it."

"Right," continued Sparkle, "real life is a most excellent school; and if in imbibing the instruction with which it is fraught, the judgment is not misled, or the mind vitiated none can be more important to mankind."

"Come," said Tom, "I see you are getting into one of your moralizing strains, such as you left us with. Now I am well aware that you have an excellent acquaintance with the pursuits you are speaking of, and have enjoyed them as much as myself; nor can I conceive that your temporary absence has wrought such a change in your opinion, as to make you wholly disregard the amusements they afford. So come along, no more preaching; "and thus saying, he seized him by one arm, while Tallyho closed upon the other; and they proceeded on their way along Piccadilly towards the Haymarket.

"Besides," continued Dashall, "every day makes a difference in this metropolis; so that even you who have proved yourself so able a delineator of men and things as they were, may still find many things deserving of your observation as they are."

"I do not doubt it," was the reply; "and consequently expect, that having just arrived from rural felicity, you will direct my footsteps to the most novel scene of metropolitan splendour or extraordinary character."

[284] "Character is an abundant and everlasting supply of humour and eccentricity for an observant quiz like yourself, and being fly to most occurrences either in town or country, I shall rather confine myself to the most remarkable circumstances that happen to strike my recollection us we proceed. The first that occurs at this moment, is the opening of a new establishment in Regent-street, under the title of the Cafe Royale, to which, as we have not yet paid a visit, I propose now to direct your steps."

"Cafe Royale" repeated Sparkle, "there is something Frenchified in the sound. I suppose it is quite in the tip top stile of elegance."

"So says report."

"Then allons,—but as we proceed, I beg to ask one question. If it be considered important in a national point of view, that the superior elegancies of our Parisian neighbours should be engrafted on our own habits, and that an establishment of this nature should be formed, with a view of its becoming the resort of rank and fashion, whether any good reason can be given why such an establishment, in an English city for Englishmen, should not have an English title?"

"A most extraordinary question for a fashionable man."

"It may be so," continued Sparkle; "but you must attribute it to my country habits of thinking: however, as I like argument better than assertion, I see no reason to abandon my question. The adoption of any thing foreign, is only rational in proportion as it is useful or agreeable; for foreign wines, foreign fruits, foreign made coffee, &c. no one can be a greater advocate than myself; but I apprehend that these good things may taste as well, whether the room in which they are taken be called by a French or an English name."

"That is a truth so self evident as to require no reply; and really I can give no sort of reason for the adoption of a French title, unless it be with a view to give it that air of novelty which invariably proves attractive to Johnny Bull; and I think I need not attempt to explain to you the importance of a title."

"However," said Sparkle, "I cannot help thinking, that if the place alluded to is to become a permanent establishment, it would become an Englishman to have an English name for it. We need not be ashamed of our language, although some folks disdain to use it, if they can find any substitute, however inapt. Why should it not be called the Royal Coffee-house, the King's Coffee-house, the Patrician, the Universal, or in fact any thing, so that it be English?"

[285] "Because," said Tallyho, "those titles are already engrossed by newspaper editors, coffee-shops of a lower order, magazines, &c.: for instance, we have the Royal Magazine, the Universal Magazine; and consequently these are all grown common, and any thing common is extremely vulgar."

"Besides," continued Dashall, "Cafe Royale is a mouthful, without attacking its contents; and the very sound of it seems to impart a taste, before you approach it, of what may be obtained in the interior. Zounds! this country life of your's seems to have altered your opinions, and almost obliterated your former education: I never had any relish for it."

"In town let me live, and in town let me die, For in truth 1 can't relish the country, not I: If one must have a villa in summer to dwell, Oh give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall."

By this time they had reached the Cafe Royale, and upon entrance were ushered by a man in blue livery, with gold laced trimmings, into an apartment far exceeding in splendour any thing that their previous conversation had led them to expect. The walls, formed of looking glass and rich tapestry, and ornamented in a fanciful manner, reflected their persons as they passed along at every point; while the choicest flowers and shrubs, with which they were surrounded, sent forth a delightful fragrance, and gave some distant idea of Eastern luxuries.

"Here," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "is elegance at least; and if the accommodations are found to be equally good, it can be of little consequence to us whether the place itself have an English or a foreign name."

"I confess," replied Sparkle, "that I still conceive, that as a place of resort appropriated to the upper ranks of natives and foreigners, magnificent in its decorations, superior in its accommodations, and conducted with skill and liberality, to become truly national and deserving of support, it should be honoured with an English title."

"And that it certainly is," continued Dashall, "not only one but many, for nobility is frequently to be found within its walls; nay, a proof of it appears at this moment, for there is Lord P——— and Lord C——— now entering; but come, let us try the coffee, catch a view of the papers, and proceed."

[286] They had now seated themselves near an elderly gentleman, who seemed to be in deep contemplation, occasionally rubbing his hands with apparent gratification, and shaking his head with importance, while he glanced over a newspaper which lay before him.

"I should judge," said Tallyho, "he is a member of parliament, probably conning over the report of his last night's speech in the House."

"Or probably," said Dashall, "an author in search of ideas for his next publication, wherein he intends to cut up the ministers and their measures."

"Yes," continued Sparkle, "or a quack doctor, examining if the editor has given insertion to his new flaming advertisement, wherein he promises to perform what is utterly impossible to be accomplished."

"I wonder if he can speak," said Tom, laying clown the paper; "I'll try him.—A fine morning, Sir."

As this was directed immediately to meet the old gentleman's ear, he looked up for the first time since they had entered.

"Beautiful, Sir," was the reply—and here the conversation ceased again.

"Excellent coffee," said Sparkle,—"is there any news to-day, Sir?" endeavouring to rouse him again.

"There is always news, Sir," was the reply, taking a plentiful supply of snuff.

"Of one sort or other," continued Bon.

"Why yes, have we not every day a quantity of newspapers that make their appearance with the sun?"

"Truly," replied Sparkle; "but you could hardly misunderstand me—I alluded to something out of the common run of events; such, for instance, as relates to the interests of the nation, the agricultural distress, the distress of the Irish, the state of the American independents, the proceedings of the Spanish cortes, and the French chamber; the movements of the Greeks, the operations of Turkey and Russia, or the—or—"

"Why, Sir, your inquiries are very rational; and as I perceive you have a desire for intelligence, and I have at all times a desire to impart such as I am in possession of for the benefit of others, the newspapers have abundance of information; but I must say the editors, though men of education and intelligence, are not always well informed: besides, Sir, there is no reliance on their assertions; many valuable and important secrets are in the hands of individuals, which never find their way into the public journals."

[288] Having proceeded thus far, our three friends were all anxiety to continue what now assumed the appearance of an interesting conversation.

"The nation is gull'd by misrepresentation, from the high to the low one system is acted upon; but I have a document in my pocket which came into my possession in rather an extraordinary manner, and is as extraordinary in its contents; it was thrust into my hand on my way here by a stranger, who instantly disappeared."

"A curious salute," observed Tom; "probably some state paper, some information on foreign affairs, or a petition to be presented to the House."

"The fact is, Sir, as I had no conversation with the stranger, I was ignorant of the importance of the document; but upon opening it, judge of my astonishment, when I found it concerned a Prince well known to the British nation, whose interests depend on its support."

"O ho," said Sparkle, "then perhaps it is of a delicate nature, and more attaching to private circumstances than public affairs."

"You shall hear, Sir.—It was an appeal to myself, amongst others, in which Russia was stated to be in such connection with Greece, that the heads of this kingdom could not but be conscious of the important results; results, Sir, that were enough to make one's hair stand on end; indeed, I have never been able to dismiss the subject from my mind since I first cast my eye over the information."

"Zounds, then," cried Dashall, "there is much to be apprehended."

"It is impossible for me," continued the old gentleman, "to say how far the distinguished person to whom I have alluded has already, or may hereafter succeed in the objects he has in view; but this I think certain, that if he can but interest the Poles on his side, his affairs must thrive."

The Hon. Tom Dashall by this time was puzzled with the lengthened introduction this gentleman was giving; he sipped his coffee—looked grave—smiled, took up the paper—pretended to read—then laid it down again.

[288] Sparkle looked wise, and betrayed his anxiety by moving closer to the communicant. Tallyho fixed his eyes on the old gentleman, with an apparent desire to count the words he uttered.

"In the meantime," continued the interesting stranger, "he is so indefatigable in diffusing through all ranks of society, by means of the press and private agents, a knowledge of the power he has of smoothing the way to success, that the crown ought to receive his proffered aid for its own benefit."

"Then," said Sparkle, "it really is a document of public importance: if not too great a favour, might we be allowed a sight of the———"

"The document,—Oh certainly, Sir," said he, hastily rising and drawing a printed paper from his pocket; "I will leave it with you:" then throwing it on the table, he made a precipitate retreat.

The little care which the old gentleman seemed to take of this scrap of importance, struck them all with wonder.

"A rum old codger," said Tom; "and I recommend his observations, as well as the produce of his pocket, to the serious consideration of our friend Sparkle, who will perhaps read this paper for the benefit of us all."

Sparkle, who by this time had unfolded this mysterious paper, burst into a hearty laugh; and as soon as he could command his risibility, he read as follows:

"PRINCE'S RUSSIA OIL, For promoting the growth of Hair."

"And Sparkle introduced to Greece," said Tom.—"Well, the old buck has paid you off for your interruption: however, he has certainly proved his own assertion, that there is no reliance on any body."

"A mountain in labour," continued Tom,—"I think he had you in a line, however."

"I cannot help thinking," replied Sparkle, "that there is a great similarity between him and some of our most popular parliamentary orators, for he has said a great deal to little purpose; but come, let us move on, and lose no more time in the French coffee house, discussing the merits or virtues of Russia oil."

[289] This proposition being acceded to, our friends now took their way along Pall Mall, where the improvements recently made struck Sparkle with pleasure and delight; the appearance of new and elegant houses occupying the situation of buildings of a shabby and mean exterior, and the introduction of new streets, were subjects of considerable admiration.

"The rapidity of alterations in London," said Sparkle, "are almost inconceivable."

"That remark," replied Tom, "only arises from your late absence from the scene of action; for to us who frequently see their progress, there is but little to excite wonder. Now for my part I am more astonished in present times, when so many complaints are made of distress, that occupiers can be found for them, and also seeing the increase of buildings at every part of the environs of London, where tenants can be found to occupy them."

"I confess," said Tallyho, "that is a subject which I have often thought upon without being able to come to any reasonable conclusion; it appears to me to prove a great increase of population, for although I am aware of the continued influx of new comers from the country, the towns and villages appear as full as ever."

"I am not able to solve the mystery to my own satisfaction," replied Sparkle, "in either case, though I cannot help acknowledging the facts alluded to. It however seems in this place to prove the correctness of the Poet's lines, who says,

              "Wherever round this restless world we range,
              Nothing seems constant saving constant change.
              Like some magician waving mystic wand,
              Improvement metamorphoses the land,
              Grubs up, pulls down, then plants and builds anew,
              Till scenes once loved are banished from our view.
              The draughtsman with officious eye surveys
              What capabilities a site displays:
              How things may be made better for the worse,
              And much improve—at least the schemer's purse."

Continuing their course along Parliament-street, they soon arrived at Westminster-bridge, when the day proving extremely fine, it was proposed to embrace the opportunity of making an excursion by water. The tide served for London Bridge, and without further ceremony, Tom, Bob, and Sparkle jumped into a wherry, and were quickly gliding along upon the bosom of Old Father Thames. The smiling appearance of the day, and the smooth unruffled surface of the water, excited the most cheerful and enlivening feelings of the mind.

[290] "Nice weather for the rowing match," said a bluff looking sturdy built waterman, who had doffed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, in order to facilitate him in performing his duty.

"Rowing match," inquired Tom. "When does it take place?"

"Why this afternoon at four o'clock, your Honour. Vauxhall will be very full to-night,—Them ere people what's got it now are a getting plenty of company, and they will have a bumper to-night, for the gentlemen what belongs to the funny club gives a funny to be rowed for."

"That's funny enough," exclaimed Sparkle.

"And convenient too," said Tom; "for as we have no engagement for the evening, we can mingle with the lads on their water frolic."

"With all my heart," said Bob; "and as I am given to understand Vauxhall is greatly improved, it will make an admirable wind up of the day."

Approaching Waterloo Bridge—"What have we here," exclaimed Tallyho.

"That," said Tom, "is a floating fire engine, for the protection of shipping, and sometimes very useful in cases of fire on the banks of the river."

"An excellent idea," continued Bob, "because they can never be in want of water."

"Will you sit a little more this way, Sir, if you please? we shall trim better."

Bob rose hastily upon this intimation; and had not his Cousin caught him by the coat, would have trimmed himself into the watery element.

"Zounds, man, you had nearly upset us all. You must trim the boat, and sit steady, or we shall all go to Davey's locker. You must not attempt to dance in such a vehicle as this."

Bob's confusion at this circumstance created laughter to his two friends, which however he could not exactly enjoy with the same relish; nor did he perfectly recover himself till they were safely landed at Tower Stairs.

"Now," said Tom, "I propose a peep at the interior of this place, a row down to Greenwich to dinner, and then a touch at the rowing match; what say you—agreed on all hands."

[291] "Then," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "wait for us here old boy, and you shall be our conveyancer."

"I don't know nothing of you, gentlemen; and you understand me, I'm not a going to be done—I'm too old a hand to be catch'd in that there fashion; but if so be you engages me for the day, you can take the number of my boat—but then you must tip."

"Right," said Sparkle, "who knows whether we shall escape the Lions, and then how is old rough and tough to get paid."

"You'll excuse me, gentlemen, I don't mean no affront upon my soul; but I have stood the nonsense before now, and been flung—but I von't be sarved out in that there way any more. I am up to the gossip, and expects you'll come down with the rag."

"Certainly," said Tom Dashall with a smile; "I am aware of the hint, which by the way is pretty broadly conveyed, therefore be satisfied; "and giving him a sovereign, they proceeded into the Tower.

The entrance to the Tower from the wharf is by a drawbridge, near to which is a cut connecting the river with the ditch, having a water gate, called Traitor's Gate; state prisoners having been formerly conveyed by this passage from the Tower to Westminster for trial; and over this gate is the water-works which supply the fortress.

Having passed the drawbridge, Bob looked around him, almost conceiving himself in a new world; he saw houses and streets, of which he had formed no conception.

"Zounds," said he, "this Tower seems almost to contain a City."

"Yes," replied Dashall, "it occupies some ground. Its extent within the walls is twelve acres and five roods. The exterior circuit of the ditch, which entirely surrounds it, is 3156 feet. The principal buildings are the Church, the White Tower, the Ordnance Office, the Record Office, the Jewel Office, the Horse Armoury, the Grand Store House, the small Armoury, the houses belonging to the Officers, barracks for the Garrison, and two Suttling Houses for the accommodation of the military and the inhabitants."

[292] The White Tower, as it is called, is a large square building in the centre of the fortress; on the top of which are four watch towers, one being at present used as an observatory. Neither the sides of this building, nor the small towers, are uniform. The walls are whitewashed: near to it is the grand storehouse, a plain building of brick and stone, 345 feet long, and 60 feet broad.

Being conducted to the Spanish{1} armory, Tallyho was much gratified with a view of its contents—trophies of the famous victory of Queen Elizabeth over the Spanish armada, among which the most remarkable were the thumb screws, intended to be used in order to extort confession from the English, where their money was hidden. The axe with which the unfortunate Anne Bullen was beheaded by order of Henry VIII.; a representation of Queen Elizabeth in armour, standing by a cream-coloured horse, attended by a page, also attracted his attention; her majesty being dressed in the armour she wore at the time she addressed her brave army at Tilbury, in 1588, with a white silk petticoat, richly ornamented with pearls and spangles. In the Small Armory, which is one of the finest rooms in Europe, containing complete stands of arms for 100,000 men, they could not but admire the beautiful and elegant manner in which the arms were disposed, forming tasteful devices in a variety of figures: a piece of ordnance from Egypt, and the Highland broadsword, also claimed particular notice.

         1 The Spanish Armory, Small Armory, Train of Artillery, and
         Horse Armory, may be seen at the price of 2s. each person,
         with a compliment per company to the Warder.

The Volunteer Armory, containing arms piled in beautiful order for 30,000 men, with pikes, swords, &c. in immense numbers, presented to them a fine figure of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, in bright armour, bearing the very lance he actually used in his lifetime, which is no less than 18 feet long. The Sea Armory, containing arms for nearly 50,000 seamen and marines, and the Royal Artillery, which is partly kept on the ground floor under the Small Armory, next underwent inspection. Here they could not help admiring the room, which is 380 feet long, 50 feet wide, and 24 feet high, and the many peculiarly fine pieces of cannon which it contained. The artillery is ranged on each side, leaving a passage in the centre of ten feet in breadth. Twenty pillars in this room support the Small Armory above, which are hung round with implements of war, and trophies taken from the enemy, producing altogether a grand and imposing effect.

[293] The Horse Armory—a noble room, crowded with curiosities—proved a source of high gratification. Here they found themselves in company with all the kings of England, from William the Conqueror to George III.; the whole on horseback, and in armour. The armour of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, seven feet high, and the sword and lance of proportionable size, were viewed as objects of wonder.

In the Jewel Office,{1} containing the regalia of state, was the next object to which they directed their attention. Here they were shewn the Imperial Crown, with which the Kings of England are crowned: it is made of gold, enriched with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. The cap is of purple velvet, lined with white taffety, and turned up with three rows of ermine. This crown is never used but at coronations; the golden globe, which is placed in the King's right hand before he is crowned; the golden sceptre and its cross, upon a large amethyst, decorated with table diamonds; the sceptre, which is considered to be far the most ancient in the collection, and probably a part of the original regalia, is covered with jewels and gothic enamel work, surmounted with an onyx dove, was found by the present keeper in the year 1814, and is estimated at a very high value. St. Edward's staff, made of beaten gold, and which is borne before the King in the coronation procession, is 4 feet 7 inches and a half in length, and 3 inches and 3 quarters round. The golden saltseller, the sword of mercy without a point, the grand silver font, used for christenings of the royal family, and the crown of state worn by the King at his meeting of the Parliament, and other state occasions, were viewed in succession with admiration and delight. The latter is of great splendour and value; it is covered with precious stones of a large size, and on the top of its cross is a pearl, which Charles I. pledged for eighteen thousand pounds to the Dutch Republic: under the cross is an emerald diamond, of a palish green colour, valued at one hundred thousand pounds, being seven inches and

         1 The Jewel Office is shewn for 1s. each person in company;
         a single person pays 1s. 6d.: it may be seen separately, but
         not without a Warder.

a half in circumference; in the front is a rock ruby in its purely natural state, unpolished, three inches in length, the value of which cannot be estimated. Several other curiosities of state regalia—such as the golden eagle, the golden spur, the crown of Queen Mary, the cross of King William, and the diadem worn by the Queens Anne and Mary, were numbered among the valuable jewels contained in this office, together with abundance of curious old plate, the value of which, independent of several of the jewels, which are inestimable, is not less than two millions sterling.

[294] "Now," said Dashall, as they left the Jewel Office, "we have taken a view of the inanimates, we must not leave the spot without a peep at the lions;{l} for though I believe there is nothing very extraordinary in the collection, more than may be seen at the menagerie at Exeter Change, it would be an unpardonable omission not to see the lions in the Tower."

         1 The wild beasts, &c. are shewn at 1s. each.

For this purpose they proceeded to the western entrance, where they were quickly introduced by the keeper to the various animals under his care, and who, in going round with them, explained, as usual, their several histories.

In examining these various curiosities, time had imperceptibly stolen a march upon them, and their original plan of proceeding to Greenwich was found to be impracticable; besides which, upon reaching the stairs where they had landed, the bluff old waterman was not to be found.

"Zounds," said Dashall, "this looks like a do. I wonder what's become of the old blade."

Sparkle began to laugh, and Bob bit his lip. Tom made inquiry of a boy at the stairs, who informed him that Barney was gone to the suttling house to smoak a pipe.

"All right," said Tom, "then we will soon rouse him, and start."

Upon this they moved back again into the Tower, and according to the directions they had received, they found Barney in the tap-room, puffing away care, and singing with Stentorian voice to the surrounding company—

              "From Irongate to Limehouse Hole,
              You will not meet a kinder soul,
              While the Thames is flowing,
              Pull away ho—Pull away ho."

[295] In search of real life and character, and at all times rather inclined to promote mirth than spoil sport, our friends immediately entered unperceived by Barney, and taking an opposite corner of the room, were quickly attended by the landlord, who received orders, and produced them supplies.

The song being over, and Barney rewarded for his exertions by the most enthusiastic applause of the room, he renewed his pipe, at the same time declaring to a soldier who sat near him, he thought "he had miss'd fire, for he was d———d if he didn't think he'd lost his company, or his company had lost him—but that he had taken care to nibble the blunt, and upon that there score all was right—so landlord tip us another quart, and if they don't make their appearance by the time I've got through that, I'll tip them the toddle, shove off my boat, and disappear.—That's the time of day, an't it, boy."

"Why aye, to be sure," replied the soldier, "you watermen leads a happy life; you are your own masters, you does just as you pleases, while a soldier dare as well be d———d as desert his post. But I say, Barney, mind what

you says,—nose—nose;" accompanying the last two words with a significant action of placing his finger on his nose, and winking his eye.

Upon this intimation, which appeared to be well understood by Barney, he puffed off an immoderate cloud of smoke, and looking round the room, perceived his customers in the corner.

"Be quiet," said he, "that's my fare—so it's all right again,—Do you want me, gentlemen; I am always ready, so that whenever you says the word, Barney's your boy."

"Presently," said Dashall, "for it would be hard to make you start upon a full jorum."

"Why I must say," continued Barney, "I never likes to leave a foaming quart behind me;" and catching hold of the pot of heavy wet, he roared out,—

"What a hearty blade am I,

              Care can never touch my heart;
              Every trouble I defy,
              While I view the foaming quart."

and taking a hearty drink, he handed it to his companion, filled his pipe afresh, lighted, and informed the gentlemen he was at their service; when in a few minutes all being ready, they were quickly on board.

[296] "I don't like the looks of the weather, my masters, why we shall have a shower presently, where will you go to?"

"To Vauxhall," was the reply.

"Very well, your Honour, then here goes; but if you don't get a sousing, my name an't Barney."

This prognostication proved true, for before they reached Blackfriars Bridge, a smart shower came on, which nearly wetted them through before they could reach land. When this was accomplished, they proceeded to the Horn Tavern, Doctors Commons, where they partook of an excellent repast, and the weather clearing up, they again joined Barney.

By this time the promising fineness of the evening had induced many to venture forth to the rowing match, and the river was all gaiety and delight. Boats of every description were seen filled with well dressed persons, both male and female: the smiling countenances of the lads and lasses were in unison with the laughing sun, that darted his brilliant beams upon the dimpled wave, which seemed to leap in return with grateful animation. The shores were lined with spectators, anxiously waiting the moment for the commencement of this trial of skill. Our friends were highly delighted with the prospect before them, and at the appointed time, having rested on their oars near the place of starting, they saw with pleasure the active preparations on the part of the competitors, and upon the signal being given for the start, the river appeared to consist of nothing but moving conveyances of happy faces, all guided in one direction. The 'shouts of the various friends of the occasionally successful candidates for the honour of victory, and the skill and dexterity with which they manoeuvred against each other, were subjects of continued admiration; while bands of music were heard from boats that intermingled with the throng. The lads of the Funny Club were in high glee—numerous cutters and sailing boats, with their owners and visiting friends, were also in the throng. Barney pulled away like a good one, and for a considerable distance kept nearly up with the principal actors in this gay and animated scene of aquatic diversion, and arrived off Cumberland gardens just in time to have an excellent view of the winner coming in at the appointed spot, in prime style, amidst the loud and reiterated plaudits of his friends.

[297] The intention of visiting Vauxhall Gardens was, however, for the present evening relinquished; and our party, feeling fatigued by their excursion, repaired homeward, where for the present we shall leave them to their quiet and repose.

## CHAPTER XXII

              "I hate that drum's discordant sound,
              Still rolling round and round and round,"

[298] Exclaimed Dashall, as he advanced from the breakfast table towards the window, when a pleasing and singular street-exhibition presented itself, which had attracted around a numerous audience, of all ages and conditions.

An itinerant purveyor of novelties was in the act of showing forth to an admiring crowd, the docility of a tame hare. On a table in the street, on which was placed a drum, the little animal stood, in an erect posture, and with surprising tractableness obeyed the commands of its exhibiter, delivered in very broken English, with which, nevertheless, it seemed perfectly conversant.

"Vat mattiere now, dat you be so solky, and no take notice of your goot friends?—Come, Sare, shew your politesse, and salute de genteelmens at de window, who so kind as come to look at you.—Make way dere, goot peoples and leetel childer, dat de genteelmens sail see,—dat vill do. Now, sare, begin;—do your beisance all round."

The animal, without any apparent instruction to whom to give the precedency of obeisance, immediately faced "de genteelmens at de window," and saluted them with a conge of particular respect; which being acknowledged with a motion of the hand by Dashall, the intelligent animal expressed its sense of his complacency, by a second obeisance, more profound than the first.

The spectators applauded, and the performer testified its gratitude by a bow, all round.

"Dat all goot. Now, sare, tree role on de drom for le Roi d'Angletterre:—Vive le Roi d'Anglettere!"

This command the animal very promptly obeyed, by substituting its fore feet for sticks, and giving three prolonged rolls of the drum, each in distinct succession.

"Now den for Messieurs."

[299] With equal alacrity this hint was attended to, and as le Roi d'Angletterre had three, so de genteelmens at de window were honoured with two rolls of the drum.

The like compliment was paid to all de Englise peoples; and the minor salute of one roll was given to the surrounding spectators.

The indefatigable drummer was next required to give a token of regard for the Cook; but this he declined to do, and the order, though frequently given, was as frequently uncomplied with.

"Vill you take notice of me, den?"

This question was instantly answered by the accustomed mark of respect.

"Genteelmans at de window, and peoples on de street, my leetel drommer no love de cook,—no show her de respect dat he show you—he know dat de cook be no friend of de pauvre hare; "—then turning towards the animal, —"Vat," said he, "must I speak all de tanks mineself?"

In deficiency of speech, the animal reiterated its obeisances— "Diable!" exclaimed the exhibiter—"here comes de cook, to kill and spit you!"

The hare instantly hastened to its hiding place, and thus terminated the exhibition.

"This epitome of the world," observed Tallyho, "lacks nothing to gratify every sense of man! Here industry is on the alert to accumulate wealth, and dissipation in haste to spend it. Here riot and licentiousness roll triumphantly in gilded state, while merit pines in penury and obscurity;—and here ingenuity roams the streets for a scanty and precarious subsistence, exhibiting learned pigs, dogs, and so forth, that will cast accounts with the precision of an experienced arithmetician; and a tame hare that will beat a drum, and make a bow more gracefully than a dancing-master. This last instance of human ingeniousness, by which the poor Frenchman picks up a living, would almost induce a belief that the power of art is unlimitable, and that apparently insurmountable difficulties may be overcome by diligent perseverance!—Who, besides this foreigner, would have thought of divesting a hare of its natural timidity, and rendering it subservient, by a display of intelligence, to the acquirement of his subsistence?"

[300] "And who," said Dashall, "would have thought, but a German, of training canary-birds to imitate military evolution,—make a prisoner of one of their fellows as a deserter,—try and condemn him to death,—apparently execute the sentence, by shooting him with a small gun,—and finally, bear away the motionless and seemingly lifeless body on a wheel-barrow, for interment!—Nay, who would think of inverting the order of nature, by creating and cementing a union of friendship between cats and birds and mice, associating them together, within the confines of a cage, in the utmost harmony of social intercourse?—And who shall presume to set bounds to the human art, that from a deal board has constructed the figure of a man that will beat at the difficult game of chess, the first players in Europe;{1} and created a wooden musician, that in a solo from the trumpet, will excel the best living performers on that instrument!"

         1 It appears by the following letter from Presburg, in
         Hungary, that this wonderful automaton was originally
         invented and exhibited there:—

         "During my stay in this city, I have been so happy as to
         form an acquaintance with M. de Kempett, an Aulic Counsellor
         and Director General of the salt mines in Hungary. It seems
         impossible to attain to a more perfect knowledge of
         Mechanics, than this gentleman hath done. At least no artist
         has yet been able to produce a machine, so wonderful in its
         kind, as what he constructed about a year ago. M. de
         Kempett, excited by the accounts he received of the
         extraordinary performances of the celebrated M. de
         Vaucanson, and of some other men of genius in Prance and
         England, at first aimed at nothing more, than to imitate
         those artists. But he has done more, he has excelled them.
         He has constructed an Automaton, which can play at chess
         with the most skilful players. This machine represents a man
         of the natural size, dressed like a Turk, sitting before the
         table which holds the chess-board. This table (which is
         about three feet and a half long, and about two feet and a
         half broad) is supported by four feet that roll on castors,
         in order the more easily to change its situation; which the
         inventor fails not to do from time to time, in order to take
         away all suspicion of any communication. Both the table and
         the figure are full of wheels, springs, and levers. M. de
         Kempett makes no difficulty of shewing the inside of the
         machine, especially when he finds any one suspects a boy to
         be in it. I have examined with attention all the parts both
         of the table and figure, and I am well assured there is not
         the least ground for such an imputation. I have played a
         game at chess with the Automaton myself. I have particularly
         remarked, with great astonishment, the precision with which
         it made the various and complicated movements of the arm,
         with which it plays. It raises the arm, it advances it
         towards that part of the chess-board, on which the piece
         stands, which ought to be moved; and then by a movement of
         the wrist, it brings the hand down upon the piece, opens the
         hand, closes it upon the piece in order to grasp it, lifts
         it up, and places it upon the square it is to be removed to;
         this done, it lays its arm down upon   a   cushion   which
         is   placed   on   the   chess-board.    If  it ought to
         take one of its adversary's pieces, then by one entire
         movement, it removes that piece quite off the chess-board,
         and by a series of such movements as 1 have been describing,
         it returns to take up its own piece, and place it in the
         square, which the other had left vacant. I attempted to
         practise a small deception, by giving the Queen the move of
         a Knight; but my mechanic opponent was not to be so imposed
         on; he took up my Queen and replaced her in the square she
         had been removed from. All this is done with the same
         readiness that a common player shews at this game, and I
         have often engaged with persons, who played neither so
         expeditiously, nor so skilfully as this Automaton, who yet
         would have been extremely affronted, if one had compared
         them to him. You will perhaps expect me to propose some
         conjectures, as to the means employed to direct this machine
         in its movements. I wish I could form any that were
         reasonable and well-founded; but notwithstanding the minute
         attention with which I have repeatedly observed it, I have
         not been able in the least degree to form any hypothesis
         which could satisfy myself. The English ambassador, Prince
         Guistiniani, and several English Lords, for whom the
         inventor had the complaisance to make the figure play, stood
         round the table while I played the game. They all had their
         eyes on M. de Kempett, who stood by the table, or sometimes
         removed five or six feet from it, yet not one of them could
         discover the least motion in him, that could influence the
         Automaton. They who had seen the effects produced by the
         loadstone in the curious exhibitions on the Boulevards at
         Paris, cried out, that the loadstone must have been the
         means here employed to direct the arm. But, besides that
         there are many objections to this supposition, M. de
         Kempett, with whom I have had long conversations since on
         this subject, offers to let any one bring as close as he
         pleases to the table the strongest and best-armed magnet
         that can be found, or any weight of iron whatever, without
         the least fear that the movements of his machine will be
         affected or disturbed by it. He also withdraws to any
         distance you please, and lets the figure play four or five
         moves successively without approaching it. It is unnecessary
         to remark, that the marvellous in this Automaton consists
         chiefly in this, that it has not (as in others, the most
         celebrated machines of this sort) one determined series of
         movements, but that it always moves in consequence of the
         manner in which its opponent moves; which produces an
         amazing multitude of different combinations in its
         movements. M. de Kempett winds up from time to time the
         springs of the arm of this Automaton, in order to renew its
         MOVING FORCE, but this, you will observe, has no relation to
         its guiding FORCE or power of direction, which makes the
         great merit of this machine. In general I am of opinion,
         that the contriver influences the direction of almost every
         stroke played by the Automaton, although, as I have said, I
         have sometimes seen him leave it to itself for many moves
         together; which, in my opinion, is the most-difficult
         circumstance of all to comprehend in what regards this
         machine. M. de Kempett has the more merit in this invention,
         as he complains that his designs have not always been
         seconded by workmen so skilful as was requisite to the exact
         precision of a work of this nature; and he hopes he shall,
         ere long, produce to the world performances still more
         surprising than this. Indeed one may expect every thing from
         his knowledge and skill, which are exceedingly enhanced by
         his uncommon modesty. Never did genius triumph with less
         ostentation."

[302] "London is a rare place for sights,—always something new;—where the spirits need never flag through want of amusement. Let me recapitulate,—there is the automaton chess-player and the automaton trumpeter,—the family compact, alias amicable society of cat, birds, and mice,—the military canaries, and an hundred phenomena besides, of which we shall make the round in due time. In the meanwhile, let us set out, like the knight of La Mancha, in search of adventures, without running the risk of mistaking windmills for giants: one of the former would, indeed, be a high treat to the insatiable curiosity of the inhabitants of this metropolis; and as to giants, there are none on shew since Bartholomew-fair, excepting those stationary gentlemen, the twin-brothers, Gog and Magog, in Guildhall."

Passing through the town without meeting with any new object worthy of particular notice, they found themselves at the extremity of Threadneedle-street, when Dashall, pointing to a neat plain building, "this," said he, "is the South Sea House. The South Sea Company was established for the purpose of an exclusive trade to the South Seas, and many thousands were ruined by the speculation: the iniquity and deception were at last discovered, and those who were at the head were punished. The eager hope of wealth frequently engenders disappointment,—but here credulity attained her zenith;—amongst other schemes, equally practicable, the projectors of this notorious bubble set up a method of making butter from beech-trees; a plan to learn people to cast their nativity; an insurance against divorces; and a way of making deal boards out of saw-dust!"

"And is it possible," inquired Tallyho, "that such most preposterous theories obtained belief?"

"Even so," answered Dashall,—"What is there in which human folly will not believe?—We have all read of the bottle-conjurer.{1}—The prevalence of curiosity is universal. I could safely stake any money, that if public notice was given of a person who would leap down his own throat, he would gain belief, and a full audience would favour him with their company to witness his marvellous performance."

         1 This speculator by wholesale in English credulity,
         advertised, "that he would, in the Haymarket theatre,
         literally and bona fide creep into a quart bottle; and
         further, would, when inside such quart bottle, entertain the
         audience with a solo on the violin!"

         Long before the appointed hour of performance, the house was
         crammed at all points, and thousands were sent from the
         doors for want of room. The most eager curiosity prevailed
         as the time drew near for the commencement of these
         extraordinary feats, and the clamour for the appearance of
         the performer was incessant and vociferous. At last he came
         forward upon the stage, and all was breathless attention.
         "Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to say that I cannot, to-
         night, find a bottle large enough for the purpose intended;
         but to-morrow I faithfully engage to go into a pint bottle,
         in atonement of the present disappointment!" He then
         retired. The shock was electrical,—a dead silence prevailed
         for a moment;—the delusion vanished, and "confusion worse
         confounded" ensued; the interior of the house was nearly
         demolished. His It. H. the D. of C. was present, and lost a
         gold-hilted sword. During "the wreck of matter and the crush
         of worlds," the speculator made off with his booty.

[303] Proceeding into Bishopsgate-street, the new City of London Tavern caught the attention of Tallyho.

"This," observed his friend, "is probably the first tavern in London, with reference to superior accommodation. Here congregate the most eminent corporate bodies, directors of public institutions and others, on occasions of business or enjoyment; here the admirable arrangement of every thing conducive to comfort is minutely attended to; here the plenitude of abundance, and the delicacies of luxury, distinguish the festive board, and the culinary art is shown forth to the very acme of perfection; which, together with the varied, unsophisticated excellence of the richest wines, secure to this celebrated tavern the continuance of a well-merited public approbation. But one of these days we shall avail ourselves of practical experience, by forming part of the company at dinner."

Proposing in their way home to take the skirts of the metropolis, they directed their course through Moorfield, where Tallyho remarked on the unseemly desolate waste there presenting itself, and expressed surprise that it was not appropriated to some purposes of utility or ornament.

[304] "It appears," answered Dashall, "as if some such improvement was in projection; probably a new square, if we may so opine from present indications; however, be the intention what it may, the execution is uncommonly tardy; with the exception of the central iron-railing, the handsome structure on the opposite side, the solitary building on the right, and range of new houses on the left, the tout ensemble was the same twenty years ago. It is a scene of dilapidation which might perhaps have been

"More honoured in the breach than in th' observance."

I recollect, that when a boy, I frequently extended my rambles into the quarters of Moorfields, for so was this place then named, from its compartments, exhibiting rural appearance even in the centre of London. Here were four enclosed fields, displaying in the season the beautiful verdure of nature; and numerous trees branching, in ample shade, over two great walks, that intersected each other at right angles, and formed the afternoon promenade of the citizens' wives and daughters. In former times, the quarters of Moorfields were resorted to by holiday visitants, as the favourite place of rendezvous, where predominated the recreation of manly exercises, and shows, gambols, and merriment were the orders of the day. The present is an age of improvement,—and yet I cannot think, in an already monstrously overgrown metropolis, the substitution of bricks and mortar an equivalent for green fields and rural simplicity."

Leaving Moorfields, they passed, in a few minutes, into Finsbury-square.

Tallyho appeared surprised by its uniformly handsome edifices, its spacious extent, and beautiful circular area, in which the ground is laid out and the shrubberies disposed to the very best advantage. "Here, at least," he observed, "is a proof that Taste and Elegance are not altogether excluded a civic residence."

"In this square, taking its name from the division of Finsbury," said Dashall, "reside many of the merchants and other eminent citizens of London; and here, in the decorations, internally, of their respective mansions, they vie with the more courtly residents westward, and exceed them generally in the quietude of domestic enjoyment."

[305] Renewing their walk along the City Road, the gate of Bunhill Fields burying-ground standing conveniently open, "Let us step in," said Dashall,—"this is the most extensive depository of the dead in London, and as every grave almost is surmounted by a tombstone, we cannot fail in acquiring an impressive memento mori."

While examining a monumental record, of which there appeared a countless number, their attention was withdrawn from the dead, and attracted by the living. An elderly personage, arrayed in a rusty suit of sables, with an ink bottle dangling from one of the buttons of his coat, was intently employed in copying a long, yet well written inscription, to the memory of Patrick Colquhon, L.L.D., author of a Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis, and several other works of great public utility. Having accomplished his object, the stranger saluted Dashall and Tallyho in a manner so courteous as seemingly to invite conversation.

"You have chosen, Sir," observed Mr. Dashall, "rather a sombre cast of amusement."

"Otherwise occupation," said the stranger, "from which I derive subsistence. Amidst the endless varieties of Real Life in London, I am an Epitaph-Collector, favoured by my friends with the appellation of Old Mortality, furnished them by the voluminous writer and meteor of the north, Sir Walter Scott."

"Do you collect," asked Tallyho, "with the view of publishing on your own account?"

"No, Sir,—I really am not in possession of the means wherewith to embark on so hazardous a speculation. I am thus employed by an eccentric, yet very worthy gentleman, of large property, who ambitious of transmitting his name to posterity, means to favour the world with a more multitudinous collection of epitaphs than has hitherto appeared in any age or nation;—his prospectus states "Monumental Gleanings, in twenty-five quarto volumes!"

"Astonishing!" exclaimed Dashall,—"Can it be possible that he ever will be able to accomplish so vast an undertaking?"

"And if he does," said Tallyho, "can it be possible that any person will be found to read a production of such magnitude, and on such a subject?"

[306] "That to him is a matter of indifference," said Old Mortality,—"he means to defray the entire charges, and the object of publication effected, will rest satisfied with the approbation of the discerning few, leaving encomium from the multitude to authors or compilers more susceptible of flattery,—

              "Born with a stomach to digest a ton!"

As to the quantum of materiel, he is indefatigable in personal research, employing besides numerous collectors even in the sister island, and in this, from the Land's-end to Johnny Grot's house."

"And when," asked Dashall, "is it probable that this gigantic work may be completed?"

"Can't say," answered Old Mortality,—"I should think at no very remote period: the collection is in daily accumulation, and we are already in possession of above ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND."

"Prodigious!" exclaimed Dashall, "as Dominic Sampson says. And pray, Sir, what number may your assiduities have contributed towards the aggregate?"

"That," answered Old Mortality, "I cannot exactly ascertain; to those, however, already supplied, this ground will yield a considerable increase."

"May we solicit," said Tallyho, "without the imputation of intrusion, the favour of your reading to us from your table-book, a few of the most remarkable epitaphs?"

Old Mortality readily promised gratification as far as possible, but he had not his table-book with him; "I have been employed to day," said he, "in making extracts from one of our manuscript folio volumes, for the purpose of insertion in the different metropolitan daily papers;—here they are"—taking a small bundle from his pocket, tied round with red tape,—"one for each paper: permit me, gentlemen, for a moment just to look over the endorsations."

The triumvirate now seated themselves on a tombstone, and Old Mortality untying the bundle of extracts, laid them down in loose compact; then taking up the first, and reading the superscription, shewing for what newspaper it was intended, he reversed it on the tombstone.—"This," said he, "is for "The Times, British Press, Morning Post, Morning Chronicle, Morning Advertiser, Morning Herald, Public Ledger,—all right,—and sorted, as the postman sorts his letters: I shall take, first of all, Printing-house Square, the others are in a direct line of delivery." This important arrangement made, he took up one paper from the bundle, and read the contents with an audible voice:—[307]

SPECIMEN OF MONUMENTAL GLEANINGS,

Extracted from the manuscript folio of a new compilation of Epitaphs, serious and eccentric, now in collection, from numerous Dormitories in Great Britain and Ireland; To be completed with all possible expedition, And will be ushered to the patronage of a discerning Public, in Twenty-five quarto volumes.

               In the Church-yard of Winchester, Hants.

               Here lies interred a Hampshire Grenadier,
               Who got his death by drinking cold small beer.
               Soldiers, take heed from his untimely fall,
               And if you drink, drink strong, or none at all.

               In Stepney Church-yard.

               Here lies the body of Daniel Saut,
               Spitalfields weaver,—and that's all.

               In Chigwem Church-yard.

               This disease you ne'er heard tell on,
               I died of eating too much melon;
               Be careful then all you that feed—I
               Suffer'd, because I was too greedy.

               In St. John's, Leeds.

               Hic jacet, sure the fattest man
               That Yorkshire stingo made;
               He was a lover,—of his can,
               A clothier by his trade.
               His waist did measure three yards round,
               He weighed almost three hundred pound;
               His flesh did weigh full twenty stone,—
               His flesh, I say—he had no bone,—
               At least 'tis said that he had none.

               Eltham.

               My wife lies here beneath,
               Alas from me she's flown!
               She was so good, that Death
               Would have her for his own.

               At Maidstone.

               My life was short, as you may see,
               I died at only twenty-three.
               Now free from pain and grief I rest
               I had a cancer in my breast;
               The Doctors all their physic tried,
               And thus by slow degrees I died!

               Northampton.

               Here lies the corpse of Susan Lee,
               Who died of heartfelt pain,
               Because she lov'd a faithless he,
               Who lov'd not her again!
               Pray for me, old Thomas Dunn,—
               But if you don't,—'tis all one!

               In Aberdeen, Scotland.

               Here lies auld William Alderbroad.
               Have mercy on his soul, Lord God,
               As he would have were he Lord God,
               And thou auld William Alderbroad!

               Sir William Walworth, Lord Mayor of London
               St. Michael's, Crooked Lane.
               Hereunder lyth a man of fame,
               William Walworth callyd by name;
               Fishmonger he was in life time here,
               And twice Lord Maior as in bookes appere,
               Who with courage stout and manly might
               Slew Wat Tyler, in King Richard's sight.
               For which act done and trew intent,
               The King made him a Knight incontinent,
               And gave him armes, as heere you see,
               To declare his fait and chivalrie.
               He left this life the yere of our God,
               Thirteene hundryd fourscore and three, odd.

               William Wray.
               In the same Church-yard.

               Here lyeth, wrapt in clay,
               The body of William Wray;—
               I have no more to say.

Interchanging civilities, the party now separated, the collector to resume his occupation, and the two friends their walk.

"Twenty-five quarto volumes," exclaimed the Squire, "and exclusively filled with epitaphs; this fellow has set himself a task with a vengeance!"

"And which," answered his friend, "he will never be able to accomplish; however, the ambition of renown as a voluminous collector is the less censurable, as being unattended by any of its too frequently pernicious concomitants, and giving to others an acceptable and not irrational employment; he is only blameable in the projected extent, not the nature of his pursuit; and happy would it be for mankind did the love of fame engender no greater evil than that, if any, which may accrue from the Herculean labours of this epitaph collector."

"Yet to us, the uninitiated of the country, it would never occur that there existed even in London a man who disseminated his fortune, and applied his mental and corporeal energies in gleaning epitaphs."

"Neither perhaps would it occur that there existed even in London a virtuoso who discovered that fleas were a species of lobster, and who proceeded to proof by the ordeal of boiling water, on the supposition that the process would change their hue from black to red, and thus satisfactorily establish the correctness of his judgment; unfortunately, however, the boiled fleas still retained their original colour, and the ingenious hypothesis was reluctantly relinquished."{1}

         1 It is told of another virtuoso, that he was waited upon
         one morning by a stranger, who announced that he had the
         opportunity of procuring an inestimable curiosity—a horned
         cock; but that its owner, an avaricious old woman, had her
         domicile in the highlands of Scotland, to which remote
         region it would be necessary to travel, amply provided with
         the pecuniary means of securing this wonderful bird; and
         that it would be expedient to set out immediately, lest the
         matchless phenomenon should become the prize of a more
         fortunate competitor.

         "A horned cock! the very acme of frolicsome nature,—a
         desideratum in the class of lusus naturae, which I would
         rather possess than the mines of Peru!—Away, my dear
         fellow; speed like lightning to the north,—purchase this
         precious bird at any price; and should the old woman
         hesitate at separation from her cornuted companion, why then
         purchase both, and bring them to town with all possible
         celerity!"

         In the interval between this important mission and the
         achievement of its object, the anxiety of the virtuoso was
         inexpressible;—a horned cock! it was the incessant subject
         of his cogitations by day, and of his dreams by night. At
         last the auspicious moment arrived; in the still noontide of
         night the preconcerted rap at the street door announced the
         happy result of the momentous expedition. The virtuoso
         sprang from his couch with extasy to admit the illustrious
         prodigy of nature. His astonishment, delight, and triumph
         were unspeakable:—two horns of the most beautiful curva-
         ture adorned the crested head of this noble northern.
         Anticipation thus blessed by the fulness of fruition, the
         bringer was super-abundantly rewarded. Next morning the
         virtuoso sent a message to each of his most highly favoured
         friends, desiring attendance at his house instantaneously,
         on an occasion of vast importance. "Gentlemen," said he to
         his assembled visitants, "I may now boast possession of that
         whicli will astonish the universe—a horned cock! behold the
         rara avis, and envy my felicity!" So saying, he uncovered a
         wicker basket, when lo! the bird, shorn of its honours!
         indignant at confinement, and struggling for freedom, had
         dropped its waxen antlers! The unfortunate virtuoso stood
         aghast and speechless, and only at last found utterance to
         curse his own credulity!

[310] Pursuing their course along the City Road, the two friends were attracted by the appearance of a caravan, stationary on the road side, whereon was inscribed, in large characters, The Female Salamander.

"Here is another instance," observed Dashall, "of the varieties of Real Life in London."

"Walk in, gentlemen," exclaimed the proprietor, "and see the surprising young woman over whom the element of fire has no control!"

Tom and Bob accepted the invitation. Entering the caravan, they were received by an interesting young female, apparently not more than eighteen years of age, with a courteousness of manner far beyond what could have been expected from an itinerant exhibitor.

So soon as a sufficient number of spectators had congregated within the vehicle, the female Salamander commenced her exhibition.

Taking a red-hot poker from the fire, she grasped it firmly, and drew it from head to point through her hand, without sustaining the smallest injury!

[311] "Will you permit me to look at your hand?" asked Dashall.

The girl extended her hand,—the palm was moist, and seemed to have been previously fortified against danger by some secret liquid or other application, now reeking from its recent contact with the flaming weapon.

An uncivilized bumpkin accused her of deception, asserting that the poker was not heated to the extent represented.

"Touch and try," answered the girl. He did so, and the cauterizing instrument gave a feeling (although not very satisfactory) negative to his assertion.

"The mystery," continued Dashall, "of resisting the impression of tire, certainly originates in the liquid by which your hand has been protected."

"I shall answer your observation," said the Salamander, "by another performance."

She then dipped her fingers into a pot of molten lead, and let fall upon her tongue several drops of the metallic fluid, to the no small amazement and terror of the company; and as if to remove the idea of precautionary application, she after a lapse of five minutes, repeated the same extraordinary exhibition, and finally immerged her naked feet in the boiling material.

The inscrutable means by which the Salamander executed these feats with the most complete success and safety, were not to be divulged; and as neither of our respectable friends felt desirous of emulating the fair exhibitant, they declined the importunity of further inquiry.

"This is, indeed," said Dashall, as they resumed their walk, "the age of wonders:—here is a girl who can bear to gargle her mouth with melted lead, put her delicate feet into the same scalding material, and pass through her hands a flaming red-hot poker! I am inclined to believe, that were the present an age of superstition, she might be burnt for a witch, were she not happily incombustible. For my own part, I sincerely hope that this pyrophorous prodigy will never think of quitting her own country; and as I am a bachelor, I verily believe I should be tempted to make her an offer of my hand, could I flatter myself with any chance of raising aflame, or making a match with such uninflammable commodity. Only conceive the luxury, when a man comes home fatigued, and in a hurry for his tea, of having a wife who can instantly take out the heater for [312] the urn with her fingers,—stir the fire with ditto—snuff candles with ditto—make a spit of her arm, or a toasting fork of her thumb! What a saving, too, at the washing season, since she need only hold her hand between the bars till it is red-hot, thrust it into a box iron, and iron you off a dozen children's frocks, while an ordinary laundress would be coddling the irons over the fire, spitting upon them, and holding them to her cheek to ascertain the heat before she began to work."

"And," observed the Squire, taking up his friend's vein of humour, "if the young lady be as insensible to the flames of Cupid as she is to those of Vulcan, she might still be highly useful in a national point of view, and well worthy the attention of the various fire-offices."

"Exactly so," replied his Cousin,—"how desirable for instance would it have been at the late alarming fire in Gracechurch-street, to have had a trustworthy person like her, who could very coolly perambulate the blazing warehouses, to rescue from the flames the most valuable commodities, or lolling astraddle upon a burning beam, hold the red-hot engine pipe in her hand, and calmly direct the hissing water to those points where it may be most effectually applied. In our various manufactories, what essential services she might perform. In glass-houses, for instance, it is notorious that great mischief sometimes arises from inability to ascertain when the sand and flint have arrived at the proper degree of fusion. How completely might this be remedied, by merely shutting up the female Salamander in the furnace; and I can really imagine nothing more interesting, than to contemplate her in that situation, dressed in an asbestos pelisse, watching the reproduction of a phoenix hung up in an iron cage by her side, fondling a spritely little Salamander, and bathing her naked feet in the vitreous lava, to report upon the intensity of heat. Much more might be urged to draw the attention of government to the propriety of retaining this anti-ignitible young lady, not only for the benefits she may confer upon the public, but for the example she may afford to others of her own sex; that by a proper exertion of courage, the most ardent sparks may be sometimes encountered without the smallest inconvenience or injury."

[313] Indulging in this playful vein of raillery, they now reached that part of the City Road intersected by the Regent's Canal, where its spacious basin, circumjacent wharfs and warehouses, and winding line of water, with barges gliding majestically on its placid wave, where lately appeared open fields arrayed in the verdure of nature, afforded full scope for remark by Mr. Dashall, on the gigantic design and rapid accomplishment, by commercial enterprize, of the most stupendous undertakings.

"This work of incalculable public utility," said Mr. Dashall, "sprang into being with the alacrity of enchantment;—the same remark may apply to every other improvement of this vast metropolis, so rapid in execution, that one thinks of the wonderful lamp, and the magnificent palace of Aladdin, erected in one night by the attendant genii."

Onwards towards "merry Islington;"{1}—"here," said Dashall, "is the New River: this fine artificial stream is brought from two springs at Chad well and Am well, in Hertfordshire, for the supply of London with water. It was finished in 1613, by Sir Hugh Middleton, a citizen of London, who expended his whole fortune in this public undertaking. The river, with all its windings, is nearly 39 miles in length; it has 43 sluices, and 215 bridges; over and under it a great number of brooks and water-courses have their passage. In some places this canal is carried through vales, and in others through subterraneous passages. It terminates in a basin called the New River Head, close by. From the reservoir at Islington the water is conveyed by 58 main pipes under ground along the middle of the principal streets; and thence by leaden pipes to the different houses. Thus, by means of the New River, and of the London Bridge water-works, every house in the metropolis is abundantly supplied with water, at the expense each of a few shillings only per annum.

         1 Thus all through merry Islington
           These gambols he did play.

         John Gilpin.

This village of Islington is a large and populous place, superior both in size and appearance to many considerable towns in the country. Observe the Angel Inn, celebrated for its ordinary, where you may enjoy, after a country ramble, an excellent dinner on very moderate terms.—Apropos, of the Angel Inn ordinary: some years ago it was regularly every Sunday attended by a thin meagre [314] gaunt and bony figure, of cadaverous aspect, who excited amongst the other guests no small degree of dismay, and not without cause. Cognominated the Wolf, he justified his pretensions to the appellation, by his almost incredible powers of gormandizing; for a quantum of viands sufficient for six men of moderate appetite, would vanish on the magic contact of his knife and fork, in the twinkling of an eye; in fact, his voracity was considered of boundless extent, for he invariably and without cessation consumed by wholesale, so long as eatables remained on the table. One day, after having essentially contributed to the demolition of a baron of beef, and devoured an entire shoulder of lamb, with a commensurate proportion of bread, roots, vegetables, &c, he pounced, with the celerity of a hawk, on a fine roast goose, which unfortunately happened to have been just then placed within the reach of his annihilating fangs, and in a very short space of time it was reduced to a skeleton; having occasion for a few minutes to leave the room, the company in the meanwhile secreted the bones of the goose. The waiter now entered for the purpose of removing the cloth: casting his eyes round the room, he seemed absorbed in perplexity—"What is the matter?" asked one of the company; "do you miss arty thing?"—"Yes, Sir, the bones of a goose!"—"Why then you may save yourself the trouble of further search; the gentleman just gone out, of modest manners and puny appetite, has devoured the goose, bones and all!"—The waiter lost no time in reporting the appalling fact to his master, who now more than ever was desirous of getting rid of the glutton—but how? it was impossible to exclude him the ordinary, or set bounds to his appetite; the only resource left was that of buying him off, which was done at the rate of one shilling per diem, and the wolf took his hebdomadary repast at a different ordinary: from this also his absence was purchased at the same rate as by the first. Speculating on his gluttony, he levied similar contributions on the proprietors of the principal ordinaries in the metropolis and environs; and if the fellow is still living, I have no doubt of his continuing to derive his subsistence from the sources already described!—Now what think you of Real Life in London?"{1}

         1 The wolf, so cognominated, was less censurable for his
         gluttony than the infamous purpose to which he applied it—
         otherwise he had a parallel in a man of sublime genius.
         Handel one day entered a tavern in the city and ordered six
         mackarel, a fowl, and a veal cutlet, to be ready at a
         certain hour. True to his appointment, he re-appeared at the
         time stipulated, and was shown into an apartment where
         covers were laid for four. Handel desired to have another
         room, and ordered his repast to be served up immediately.—
         "Then you don't wait for the rest of the company, sir?"
         said the waiter.—"Companee! vat you tell me of companee?"
         exclaimed Handel. "I vant no companee. I order dem two tree
         ting for my lonch!" The repast was served up, and honoured
         by Handel to the bones. He then drank a bottle of wine, and
         afterwards went home to dinner!

         During one of the campaigns of Frederick of Prussia, a boor
         was brought before him of an appetite so incredibly
         ravenous, that he offered to devour a hog barbacued. A
         general officer present ob-served, that the fellow ought to
         be burnt as a wizard.—"May it please your Majesty," said
         the gormand, "to order that old gentleman to take off his
         spurs, and I will eat him before I begin the hog!" Panic
         struck, although a brave soldier, at the idea of being
         devoured alive, the general shut himself up in his tent
         until the man-eater departed the encampment.

[315] The Squire knew not what to think—the circumstance was so extraordinary, that the story would have been rejected by him as unworthy of notice, had it been told by any other person; and coming even from his respectable friend, he remained, until reassured of the fact, rather incredulous of belief.

Descending the declivity leading from Pentonville to Battle Bridge, Dashall, pointing to an extensive pile of buildings at some little distance on the left,—"That," said he, "is Cold Bath Fields Penitentiary House, constructed on the plan of the late Mr. Howard, and may be considered in all respects as an experiment of his principles. It cost the county of Middlesex between £70 and £80,000, and its yearly expenditure is about £7,000. It was opened in 1794, and was originally designed only as a kind of Bridewell; but having suitable accommodations for several descriptions of prisoners, it was applied to their different circumstances. The prison you may observe is surrounded by a wall of moderate height. Here are workshops for the prisoners; an office in which the business of the prison is transacted; a committee-room, and the best chapel of any prison in London. The cells are 218 in number, about eight feet long each. In these, penitentiary prisoners are confined till they have completed their tasks, when they are let into the courts at the back. Owing to the exertions of Sir Francis [316] Burdett, and his partizans, this house, about the year 1799 and 1800, attracted much popular odium. Many abuses, now rectified, were then found to exist in the management, though not to the full extent described."

A new scene now rose on the view of our two pedestrians. A little further on, in a field by the roadside, a motley assemblage of auditors environed an orator mounted on a chair, who with frequent contortion of feature, and appropriate accompaniment of gesticulation, was holding forth in the spirit, as Pashalt, surmised, either of radicalism or fanaticism. This elevated personage, on closer approximation, proved to be a field-preacher, and judging from exterior appearance, no stranger to the good things of this life, although his present admonitory harangue strongly reprobated indulgence in the vanities of this wicked world;—he was well clad, and in portly condition, and certainly his rubicundity of visage by no means indicated on his part the union of practice with precept.

Nothing of further interest occurred, and they reached home, pleased with their day's ramble, that had been productive of so much amusement;—"thus verifying," said Dashall to the Squire, "the observation which you lately made—that every hour brings to a metropolitan perambulator a fresh accession of incident."

## CHAPTER XXIII

              Observe that lean wretch, how dejected he looks,
              The while these fat Justices pore o'er their books.—
              "Hem, hem,—this here fellow our fortunes would tell,—
              He thence at the treading-mill must have a spell:
              He lives by credulity!"—Most people do,—
              Even you on the bench there,—ay, you Sir, and you!
              Release then the Confrer at Equity's call,
              Or otherwise build treading-mills for us all!

[317] Adverting to the trick recently and successfully practised on Sir Felix O'Grady, by a juvenile adept in fraud, obtaining from the Baronet a new suit of clothes; his servant, indignant at his master having been thus plundered with impunity, had, for several days, been meditating in what manner most effectually to manouvre, so as to recover the lost property, and retrieve the honor of Munster, which he considered tarnished by his master having been duped by a stripling; when one morning a hand-bill was found in the area, intimating the residence in Town, pro bono publico, of a celebrated professor of the Occult Sciences; to whom was given the sublime art of divination, and who, by astrological and intuitive knowledge, would discover lost or stolen property, with infallible precision. Thady, whose credulity was of no inferior order, elate with the idea of consummating his wishes, communicated to his master the happy opportunity, and was permitted to seek the counsel of the celestial augurer. Not that the Baronet entertained any belief of its proving available of discovery, but rather with the view of introducing to his friends, Dashall and Tallyho, a fresh source of amusement, as connected with their diurnal investigation of Real Life in London.

Thither then, Thady repaired, and consulting the Seer, was astonished by responses which implied the most profound knowledge of times past, present, and to come! The simplicity of Thady had not escaped the Astrologer's [318] notice, who, by dint of manouvre having contrived to draw from the Munster man, unwittingly, the requisite intelligence, merely echoed back the information thus received, to the utter amazement of Thady, who concluded that the Doctor must have intercourse with the Devil, and thence that he merited implicit veneration and belief. The sage predictor having received the customary douceur, now dismissed his credulous visitant, saying that the planets must be propitiated, and desiring him to come again at the expiration of twenty-four hours, when he would receive further intelligence.

Tom and his Cousin having called at the lodging of Sir Felix during the time that Thady was out on his expedition of discovery, the Baronet apprized his friends of the amusement in reserve; and they agreed to visit this expounder of destinies on the servant's return.

Thady at last arrived, and having reiterated his belief that this marvellous conjurer was the devil's own relative, the party set out to ascertain by what means they could prove the truth of the affinity between his infernal majesty and the sage descendant of the Magi.

Gaining the sublunary domicile of this mystical unraveller, which for the greater facility of communication with the stars he had fixed in the loftiest apartment of the house, our trio knocked at the door, which, after some hesitation, was opened by an ancient Sybil, who was presently joined by her counterpart, both "so withered and so wild in their attire," that "they looked not like inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet were on it." On the party requiring to see the Doctor, the two hags explained in a breath that the Doctor received only one visitor at a time; and while one gentleman went up stairs, the other two must remain below; and this arrangement being acquiesced in, Tom and Bob were shewn into a mean looking room on the ground floor, and Sir Felix followed the ascent of his conductor to the attic.

Entering the presence chamber,—"Welcome, sphinx," exclaimed the Doctor.

"By the powers," said the Baronet, "but you are right to a letter; the Sphinx is a monster-man, and I, sure enough, am a Munster-man."

"I know it.—What would'st thou, Sir Felix O'Grady?"

[319] The Baronet felt surprised by this familiar recognition of his person, and replied by observing, that as the inquirer so well knew his name, he might also be acquainted with the nature of his business.

"I partly guess it," rejoined the Seer, "and although I cannot absolutely predict restitution of thy lost property, yet I foresee that accident will throw the depredator in thy way, when the suit may perhaps find its way back to thy wardrobe. Now, hence to thy business, and I to mine."

The Baronet having nothing further to ask, withdrew accordingly; and our Squire of Belville-hall was next ushered into the sanctum sanctorum.

Bob was at a loss what to say, not having prepared himself with any reasonable pretext of inquiry. A silence of a few moments was the consequence, and the Squire having first reconnoitred the person of the conjurer, who was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his profession, scrutinized the apartment, when the attention of the visitor and visited being again drawn to each other, the Soothsayer addressed himself to Tallyho in the following words:

              The shadows of joy shall the mind appal,
              And the death-light dimly flit round the hall
              Of him, by base lucre who led astray,
              Shall age into fruitless minion betray!

              The death-light shall glimmer in Belville-hall,
              And childless the lord of the mansion fall;
              A wife when he weds, vain, ugly, and old,
              Though charms she brings forty thousand in gold!

The Squire was not prone to anger; but that this fellow should interfere with his private concerns, and impute to him the intention of forming a most preposterous connexion, under the influence of avarice, roused him into a whirlwind of passion.—"Rascal!" he exclaimed, "who take upon you to predict the fate of others, are you aware of your own! Vagabond! imposter! here I grasp you, nor will I quit my hold until I surrender you into the hands of justice!" And "suiting the action to the word," he seized and shook the unfortunate Seer, to the manifest discomposure of his bones, who loudly and lamentably cried out for assistance. Alarmed by the clamour, Dashall and the Baronet rushed up stairs, to whom the Squire stated the aggravation [320] received, and at the same time his determination to bring the cheat to punishment. The trembling culprit sued for mercy, conscious that he was amenable to correction as a rogue and vagabond, and if convicted as such, would probably be sent to expiate his offence in the Treading-Mill at Brixton, a place of atonement for transgression, which of all others he dreaded the most.{1}

         1 Union-Hall.—Hannah Totnkins, a miserable woman of the
         town, was brought before R. G. Chambers, Esq. charged with
         having robbed another of the unfortunate class of her
         clothes. It appeared, that the prisoner had been liberated
         from Brixton prison on Friday-last, after a confinement of
         three weeks; and that on coming out she was met by the
         complainant, Catherine Flynn, by whom she was taken to a
         comfortable lodging, supplied with necessaries, and treated
         with great kindness. The prisoner acted with propriety until
         Monday night, during which she remained out in the streets.
         On Tuesday morning, at four o'clock, she came home drenched
         with rain. The complainant desired her either to go to bed,
         or to light a fire and dry her clothes. The prisoner did
         neither, and the complainant went to sleep. At about seven
         the latter awoke, and missed her gown, petticoat, and
         bonnet. The prisoner was also missing. The complainant
         learned that her clothes were at a pawnbroker's shop, where
         they had been left a short time before by the prisoner.
         Hall, the officer, having heard of the robbery, went in
         quest of the prisoner, and found her in a gin-shop in
         Blackman-street, in a state of intoxication. He brought her
         before the magistrates in this condition. Her hair was
         hanging about her face, which was swelled and discoloured by
         the hardship of the preceding night. She did not deny that
         she had stolen the clothes of her poor benefactress, but she
         pleaded in her excuse, that the condition of her body, from
         the rain of Monday night, was such, that nothing but gin
         could have saved her life, and the only way she had of
         getting that medicine, was by pledging Katty Flynn's
         clothes. The magistrates asked the prisoner whether she had
         not got enough of the treading-mill at Brixton. The prisoner
         begged for mercy's sake not to be sent to the treading-mill.
         She would prefer transportation; for it was much more
         honourable to go over the water, than to be sent as a rogue
         and vagabond to Brixton. She was sent back to prison. It is
         a remarkable fact, that since the famous Treading-Mill has
         been erected at Brixton, the business of this office has
         greatly declined. The mill is so constructed, that when a
         man ventures to be idle in it, he receives a knock on the
         head from a piece OF WOOD, which is put there to give them
         notice of what they ere to do!!!

[321] The two ancient Sybils from the lower regions having now ascended the scene of confusion, united their voices with that of the astrologer, and Dashall and Sir Felix also interceding in his behalf, the Squire yielded to the general entreaty, and promised the soothsayer forgiveness, on condition that he disclosed the source whence he derived information as to the Baronet's family concerns. The soothsayer confessed, that he had elicited intelligence from the servant, who in his simplicity had revealed so much of his master's affairs, as to enable him (the conjurer) to sustain his reputation even with Sir Felix himself, whom from description he recognized on his first entrance, and by the same means, and with equal ease, identified the person of the Squire of Belville-hall. He added besides, that he had frequently, by similar stratagem, acquired intelligence; that chance had more than once favoured him, by verifying his predictions, and thus both his fame and finances had obtained aggrandisement. He now promised to relinquish celestial for sublunary pursuits, and depend for subsistence rather on the exercise of honest industry than on public credulity.

Thus far had matters proceeded, when the Baronet's servant Thady was announced. The triumvirate anticipating some extraordinary occurrence, desired the soothsayer to resume his functions, and give the valet immediate audience, while they retired into another apartment to wait the result. In a few minutes the servant was dismissed, and the party readmitted.

"Chance," said the augurer, "has again befriended me. I told you, Sir Felix, that the depredator would be thrown in your way: my prediction is realized; he has been accidentally encountered by your servant, and is now in safe custody."

On this information our party turned homewards, first leaving the astrologer a pecuniary stimulation to projected amendment of life.

"There seems nothing of inherent vileness," said the Squire, as they walked onwards, "in this man's principles; he may have been driven by distress to his present pursuits; and I feel happy that I did not consign the poor devil to the merciless fangs of the law, as, in the moment of irritation, I had intended."

"By my conscience," exclaimed Sir Felix, "I cannot discover that he ought to be punished at all. He has been picking up a scanty living by preying on public credulity; and from the same source thousands in this metropolis derive affluent incomes, and with patronage and impunity."

[322] "And," added Dashall, "in cases of minor offence a well-timed clemency is frequently, both in policy and humanity, preferable to relentless severity."{1}

         1 As a contrast to these exemplary feelings, and in
         illustration of Real Life in London, as it regards a total
         absence of sympathy and gentlemanly conduct, in one of a
         respectable class in society, we present our readers with
         the following detail:—

         Hatton Garden. On Saturday sennight, Robert Powell was
         brought before the magistrates, charged with being a rogue,
         vagabond, and imposter, and obtaining money under
         fraudulent pretences, from one Thomas Barnes, a footman in
         the service of Surgeon Blair, of Great Russell-street,
         Bloomsbury, and taking from him 2s. 6d. under pretence of
         telling him the destinies of a female fellow-servant, by
         means of his skill in astrological divina-tion. The nature
         of the offence, and the pious frond by which the disciple of
         Zoroaster was caught in the midst of his sorceries, were
         briefly as follow:—This descendant of the Magi, born to
         illumine the world by promulgating the will of the stars,
         had of course no wish to conceal his residence; on the
         contrary, he resolved to announce his qualification in the
         form of a printed handbill, and to distribute the manifesto
         for the information of the world. One of these bills was
         dropped down the area of Mr. Blair's house; it was found by
         his footman, and laid on the breakfast-table, with the
         newspaper of the morning, as a morceau of novelty, for his
         amusement. Mr. Blair concerted with some of the agents of
         the Society for the Suppression of Vice, a stratagem to
         entrap the Sidéral Professor; in the furtherance of which he
         dictated to his footman a letter to the Seer, expressive of
         a wish to know the future destinies of his fellow-servant,
         the cook-maid, and what sort of a husband the constellations
         had, in their benign influence, assigned her. With this
         letter the footman set out for No. 5, Sutton-street, Soho,
         where he found the Seer had, for the convenience of prompt
         intercourse, chosen his habitation as near the stars as the
         roof of the mansion would admit. Here the footman announced
         the object of his embassy, delivered his credentials, and
         was told by the Seer, that "lie could certainly give him an
         answer now, 'by word of mouth,' but if he would call next
         day, he should be better prepared, as, in the meantime, he
         could consult the stars, and have for him a written answer."
         The footman retired, and returned next morning, received the
         written response, gave to the Seer the usual donation of 2s.
         6d. previously marked, which sum he figured upon the answer,
         and the receipt of which the unsuspecting Sage acknowledged
         by his signature. With this proof of his diligence, he
         returned to his master, and was further to state the matter
         to the magistrates. A vigilant officer was therefore sent
         after the prophet, whom he found absorbed in profound
         cogitation, casting the nativities of two plump damsels,
         and consulting the dispositions of the stars as to the
         disposition of the lasses; but the unrelenting officer
         entered, and proceeded to fulfil his mission. On searching
         the unfortunate Sage, the identical half-crown paid him by
         Barnes was found, with two others in his pocket, where such
         coins had long been strangers; and the cabalistical chattels
         of his profession accompanied him as the lawful spoil of the
         captor. The magistrate, before whom he had been convicted on
         a former occasion of a similar offence, observed that it was
         highly reprehensible for a man who possessed abilities,
         which by honest exertion might procure him a creditable
         livelihood, thus to degrade himself by a life of imposture
         and fraud upon the ignorant and unwary. The wretched
         prisoner, who stood motionless and self-convicted, exhibited
         a picture of wretchedness from whicli the genius of
         Praxiteles would not have disdained to sketch the statue of
         Ill Luck. Never did soothsayer seem less a favourite of the
         Fates! Aged, tall, meagre, ragged, filthy and care-worn, his
         squalid looks depicted want and sorrow. Every line of his
         countenance seemed a furrow of grief; and his eyes gushing
         with tears, in faint and trembling accents he addressed the
         Court. He acknowledged the truth of the charge, but said,
         that nothing but the miseries of a wretched family could
         have driven him to such a line of life. If he had been able,
         he would gladly have swept the streets; but he was too
         feeble so to do; he had tried every thing in his power, but
         in vain,—

         "He could not dig, to beg he was ashamed;"

         and even if begging, either by private solicitation or
         openly in the streets, could promise him a casual resource
         in the charity of the passing crowd, he was afraid he should
         thereby incur prosecution as a rogue and vagabond, and be
         imprisoned in Bridewell. Parish settlement he has none; and
         what was to be done for a wretched wife and three famishing
         children? He had no choice between famine, theft, or
         imposture. His miserable wife, he feared, was even now
         roaming and raving through the streets, her disorder
         aggravated by his misfortunes; and his wretched children
         without raiment or food. To him death would be a welcome
         relief from a life of misery, tolerable only in the hope of
         being able to afford, by some means, a wretched subsistence
         to his family.

         The magistrates, obviously affected by this scene, said that
         they felt themselves obliged to commit the prisoner, as he
         had not only been repeatedly warned of the consequences of
         his way of life, but was once before convicted of a similar
         offence. He was therefore committed for trial.

         Does Surgeon Blair, who obtains his twenty guineas a day,
         and lives in affluence, think by such conduct as the present
         to merit the esteem of the world, by thus hunting into the
         toils of justice such miserable objects? If he does, though
         we cannot respect him or his associates for their humanity,
         we may undoubtedly pity them for their ignorance and
         superstition.

[324] On the arrival of the party at the lodgings of Sir Felix, they learned from the servant, that the latter having met the young swindler in the streets, Thady recognized and secured him; and he was now at the disposal of the Baronet, if he chose to proceed against him.

The sprig of iniquity, when made forthcoming, did not deny the accuracy of the charge, neither did he offer any thing in exculpation. It was with much difficulty, however, and under the threat of his being immediately surrendered to justice, that he would disclose the name of his father, who proved to be a respectable tradesman residing in the neighbourhood. The unfortunate parent was sent for, and his son's situation made known to him. The afflicted man earnestly beseeched, that his son might not be prosecuted; he was not aware, he said, that the lad was habitually vicious; this probably was his only deviation from honesty; he, the father, would make every reparation required; but exposure would entail upon his family irretrievable ruin. It was elicited from the boy, amid tears and sobs of apparent contrition, that the articles of apparel were in pledge for a small sum; redemption, and every other possible atonement, was instantly proposed by the father: Sir Felix hesitated, was he justifiable, he asked, in yielding to his own wishes, by foregoing prosecution?—"The attribute of mercy," said Dashall, "is still in your power."—"Then," responded the Baronet, "I shall avail myself of the privilege. Sir, (to the father), your boy is at liberty!" The now relieved parent expressed, in the most energetic manner, his gratitude, and retired. The prediction of the Seer was fully verified, for in the course of the evening the stray suit found its way back to the wardrobe of its rightful owner.

This business happily concluded, and the day not much beyond its meridian, the three friends again sallied forth in the direction of Bond-street, towards Piccadilly. As usual, the loungers were superabundant, and ridiculous. Paired together, and swerving continually from the direct line, it required some skilful manouvring to pass them. Our friends had surmounted several such impediments, when a new obstruction to their progress presented itself. A party of Exquisites had linked themselves together, and occupied the entire pavement, so that it was impossible to precede them without getting into the carriage-way, thus greatly obstructing and inconveniencing all other passengers. Lounging at a funeral pace, and leaving not the smallest opening, it was evident that [325] these effeminate animals had purposely united themselves for public annoyance. Sir Felix, irritated by this palpable outrage on decorum, stepped forward, with hasty determined stride, and coming unexpectedly and irresistibly in contact, broke at once the concatenated barrier, to the great amusement as well as accommodation of the lookers-on, and total discomfiture of the Exquisites, who observing the resolute mien and robust form of their assailant, not forgetting a formidable piece of timber, alias "sprig of shillaleagh," which he bore in his hand, prudently consulted their safety, and forebore resentment of the interruption.{1}

         1 If in walking the streets of London, the passenger kept
         the right hand side, it would prevent the frequent
         recurrence of much jostling and confusion. The laws of the
         road are observed on the carriage-way in the metropolis most
         minutely, else the street would be in a continual blockade.
         But

              The laws of the road are a paradox quite,
              That puzzles the marvelling throng;
              For if on the left, you are yet on the right,
              And if you are right, you are wrong!

The Baronet's two associates very much approved of his spirited interference, and Dashall observed, that these insignificant beings, whom Sir Felix had so properly reproved, were to be seen, thus incommoding the public, in all parts of the metropolis; but more particularly westward; that in crowded streets, however, for instance, in the direct line from Charing Cross to the Royal Exchange, the apparent Exquisites are generally thieves and pickpockets, who find a harvest in this extensive scene of business, by artful depredation, either upon the unwary tradesman, or equally unsuspecting passenger, whose wiper or tattler, and sometimes both, becomes the frequent produce of their active ingenuity.

The morning had been wet, and although the flag-way was dry, yet the carriage-road was dirty. There are, in all parts of the metropolis, indigent objects of both sexes, who by sweeping the cross-way, pick up an eleemosynary livelihood. It not unfrequently happens, however, that a chariot, or other vehicle, is drawn up at one end of the cross-way directly athwart it, so as completely to intercept your way to the pavement. Exactly so situated were our pedestrians. They had availed themselves of a newly swept path, and were advancing towards the opposite side, [326]in Piccadilly, when, before they could effect their purpose, a carriage drew up, and effectually impeded further progress by the cross-way, so that there seemed no alternative between standing fast and gaining the pavement by walking through the mud. The coachman retained his position despite of remonstrance, and in this laudable stubbornness he was encouraged by a well-attired female inside the vehicle, for the carriage was a private one, and its ill-mannered inmate probably a lady of rank and fashion. Sir Felix, justly indignant at this treatment, set danger and inconvenience at defiance, and deliberately walking to the horses' heads, led the animals forward until the carriage had cleared the cross-way, maugre the threats of the lady, and the whip of the coachman, who had the audacity to attempt exercising it on the person of the Baronet, when Tallyho, dreading the consequences to the rash assailant, sprang upon the box, and arresting his hand, saved the honour of Munster! The transaction did not occupy above two minutes, yet a number of people had collected, and vehemently applauded Sir Felix; and the lady's companion now hastily re-entering the chariot from an adjacent shop, Mr. Jehu drove off rapidly, amidst the hoots and hisses of the multitude.{1}

         1 Sir Felix had not heard of the following incident, else he
         certainly would have followed its example:—

         Two ladies of distinction stopped in a carriage at a
         jeweller's near Charing-cross; one of them only got out, and
         the coach stood across the path-way which some gentlemen
         wanted to cross to the other side, and desired the coachman
         to move on a little; the fellow was surly, and refused; the
         gentlemen remonstrated, but in vain. During the altercation,
         the lady came to the shop door, and foolishly ordered the
         coachman not to stir from his place. On this, one of the
         gentlemen opened the coach-door, and with boots and spurs
         stepped through the carriage. He was followed by his
         companions, to the extreme discomposure of the lady within,
         as well as the lady without. To complete the jest, a party
         of sailors coming up, observed, that, "If this was a
         thoroughfare, they had as much right to it as the gemmen;"
         and accordingly scrambled through the carriage.

The poor street-sweeper having applied to Sir Felix for a mite of benevolence,—"And is it for letting the carriage block up the cross-way, and forcing me through the mud," asked the Baronet;—" but whether or not, I have not got any halfpence about me, so that I must pay you when I come again."—"Ah! your honour," exclaimed the man, "it is unknown the credit I give in this way." Sir Felix thrust his hand into his pocket, and rewarded the applicant with a tester.

[327] Proceeding along Piccadilly, our party were followed by a Newfoundland dog, which circumstance attracted the notice of the Baronet, to whom more than to either of his associates the animal seemed to attach itself. Pleased with its attention, Sir Felix caressed it, and when the triumvirate entered a neighbouring coffee-house, the dog was permitted to accompany them. Scarcely had the three friends seated themselves, when a man of decent appearance came into the room, and, without ceremony, accused the Baronet of having, by surreptitious means, obtained possession of his property; in other words, of having inveigled away his dog; and demanding instant restitution.

Sir Felix fired at the accusation, divested as it was of the shadow of truth, yet unsuspicious of design, would have instantly relinquished his canine acquaintance, but for the interposition of Dashall, who suspected this intrusive personage to be neither more nor less than a dog-stealer, of whom there are many in London continually on the alert for booty. These fellows pick up all stray dogs, carry them home, and detain them until such time as they are advertised, and a commensurate reward is offered by the respective owners. If, then, the dog is intrinsically of no value, and consequently unsaleable, the adept in this species of depredation, finding he can do no better, takes the dog home, receives the promised reward, and generally an additional gratuity in compensation of keep and trouble; but, should it so happen, that the proffered remuneration is not equivalent to the worth of the animal, the conscientious professor of knavery carries his goods to a more lucrative market. At the instance of Dashall, therefore, Sir Felix was determined to retain the animal until the claimant brought irrefragable proof of ownership. The fellow blustered,—the Baronet was immovable in his resolution;—when the other threw off all disguise, and exhibiting himself in pristine blackguardism, inundated Sir Felix with a torrent of abuse; who disdaining any minor notice of his scurrility, seized the fellow, with one hand by the cape of his coat, with the other by the waistband of his breeches, and bearing him to the door, as he would any other noxious animal, fairly pitched him head foremost into the street, to the manifest surprise and dismay of the passengers, to whom he told a "pitiable tale," when one of the crowd pronounced him to be a notorious dog-stealer, and the fellow, immediately on this recognition, made a precipitate retreat. [328] "I am glad," said Dashall to his friends, who had witnessed the result of this affair from one of the windows of the coffee-room, "that our canine acquaintance (patting the animal at the same time) is now clearly exonerated from any participation of knavery. I had my suspicions that he was a well-disciplined associate in iniquity, taught to follow any person whom his pretended owner might point at, as a fit object of prey."

The Baronet and the Squire, particularly the latter, had heard much of the "Frauds of London," but neither of them was aware that metropolitan roguery was carried on and accelerated through the medium of canine agency.

In confirmation of this fact, however, Dashall mentioned two circumstances, both of which had occurred within these few years back, the one of a man who, in different parts of the suburbs, used to secrete himself behind a hedge, and when a lady came in view, his dog would go forth to rob her; the reticule was the object of plunder, which the dog seldom failed to get possession of, when he would instantly carry the spoil to his master. The other case was that of a person who had trained his dog to depredations in Whitechapel-market. This sly thief would reconnoitre the butcher's stalls, particularly on a Saturday night amidst the hurry of business, and carry off whatever piece of meat was most conveniently tangible, and take it home with all possible caution and celerity. We have heard of their answering questions, playing cards, and casting accompts,—in fact, their instinctive sagacity has frequently the appearance of reasoning faculties; they even now are competent to extraordinary performances, and what further wonders the ingenuity of man may teach them to accomplish, remains hereafter to be ascertained.{1}

         1 The following anecdote is particularly illustrative of
         canine sagacity. It shews that the dog is sensible of
         unmerited injury, and will revenge it accordingly; it
         exhibits the dog also, as a reflective animal, and proves
         that, though he has not the gift of speech, he is yet
         endowed with the power of making himself understood by his
         own species. Some years ago, the traveller of a mercantile
         house in London, journeying into Cornwall, was followed by
         his favourite dog, to Exeter; where the traveller left him,
         in charge of the landlord of the Inn, until his return. The
         animal was placed in an inner yard, which, for sometime
         back, had been in the sole occupation of the house-dog; and
         the latter, considering the new comer an intruder, did not
         fail to give the poor stranger many biting taunts
         accordingly. Deserted, scorned, insulted and ill-treated,
         the poor animal availed himself of the first opportunity,
         and escaped. The landlord scoured the country in quest of
         the fugitive, without effect. After the lapse of a few days,
         the traveller's dog returned to the Inn, accompanied by two
         others, and the triumvirate entering the yard, proceeded to
         execute summary vengeance on the house-dog, and drove him
         howling from his territories.    The two dogs were from
         London,—

              "Their locket letter'd braw-brass collars,
               Shew'd they were gentlemen and scholars."

         Hence it appears, that the traveller's dog went to London,
         told his grievance to his two friends, and brought them to
         Exeter to avenge his cause!

[329] Emerging from the coffee-house, companied by their newly acquired canine friend, our observers proceeded along Piccadilly, when reaching its extremity, and turning into the Park by Constitution-hill, they were met by the servant, Thady.

"Your honour," said the valet, "haven't I been after soaking you, here and there, and every where, and no where at all, at all, vrid this letter, bad luck to it, becays of the trouble it may give you; and indeed I was sent after your honour by Miss Macgilligan;—there's ill luck at home, your honour."

"Then I shall not make any haste," said Sir Felix, "to meet such a guest."

He then read aloud the ominous epistle:—

"My dear Nephew.—A vexatious affair has occurred.—I shall be glad to see you, as soon as possible.—J. M."

"Perhaps you can oblige us with the history," said the Baronet, "of this same 'vexatious affair;' but observe me, let it be an abridgement,—Miss Macgilligan will favour us with it in detail."

"Why then, your honour," said the valet, "you had not gone out many minutes, when there came a rit-tat to the door, and a gintail good-looking gentleman inquired for Mr. A——a. Begging your pardon, says I, if it is my master vou mane, he does not belong to the family of the Misters at all; his name is Sir Felix O'Grady, of the province of Munster, Baronet, and I am his valet; long life and good luck to both of us!"

[330] "This is rather a tedious commencement," observed Sir Felix to his marvelling associates,—"but I believe we must let the fellow tell the story in his own way.—Well, Tliady, what next?"

"So, your Honour, he inquired whether he could spaak wid you, and I told him that it was rather doubtful, becays you were not at home; but, says I, Miss Judy Macgilligan, his Honour's reverend aunt, is now in her dressing-room, and no doubt will be proud in the honour of your acquaintance."

"My 'reverend aunt' certainly ought to feel herself very much obliged to you.—Well, Sir!"

"And so, your Honour, the maid went for instructions, and Miss Macgilligan desired that the gentleman should be shewn into the drawing-room, until she could make her appearance. Well, then, after waiting some little time, he rings the bell, with the assurance of a man of quality, just as if he had been at home. So up stairs I goes, and meets him in the hall. 'Pray,' says he, 'have the goodness to present my best respects to the lady; I will not obtrude upon her at present, but shall call again tomorrow,' and away he walked; and that's all, your Honour." "That's all! What am I to understand then by the 'vexatious affair' my aunt speaks of?"

"O," exclaimed Thady, recollecting himself,—"may be she manes her gold watch, which the gentleman discovered in the drawing-room, and carried away in his pocket, by mistake!"

"Very well, Sir," said the Baronet; "now that we have «orne to the finis, you may go home."

It is evident the gentleman had availed himself of the Baronet's absence from home, and that the information derived from the communicative valet encouraged the hope of success which he so adroitly realized.

Dashall and his Cousin were about sympathizing with the Baronet on this new misfortune, when he gave vent to bis feelings by an immoderate fit of laughter!—"Miss Macgilligan has had the benefit of a practical lesson," he exclaimed, "which she cannot fail to remember;—her vanity would not permit her seeing the stranger until the frivolities of the toilet were adjusted, and thus he made the most of a golden opportunity."

[331] The three friends now retraced their steps along Piccadilly, until they arrived at the residence of Dashall, when they separated; the Baronet to condole with Miss Macgilligan, and the two Cousins to dress, preparatory to their dining with an eminent merchant in the city.

Leaving then, for the present, Sir Felix and his aunt to their own family cogitations, we shall accompany the Hon. Tom Dashall and the Squire of Belville-hall on their civic expedition.

The wealthy citizen at whose table they were now entertained, rose, like many others, the children of industry, from comparative indigence to affluence, and from obscurity to eminence.

The party was select; the dinner was sumptuous, yet unostentatious; and the conversation, if not exactly in the first class of refinement, was to the two strangers interestingly instructive, as embracing topics of mercantile pursuit with which they had hitherto been unacquainted. It was also highly enlivened by the sprightly sallies of three beautiful and elegantly accomplished young ladies, the daughters of the amiable host and hostess; and to these fair magnets of attraction, whom Dashall happily denominated the Graces, our gallant cavaliers were particularly assiduous in their attentions. The party broke up, after an evening of reciprocal enjoyment; and Dashall on the way home expressed his belief that, with the solitary exception of one colossal instance of ignorance and brutality, "the very respectable man" in society is most generally to be found among the merchants of London.{1}

         1 "The very respectable. Man" is the true representative of
         the commercial character of Great Britain. He possesses more
         information than the Dutch trader, and more refinement than
         the Scotch manufacturer, with all the business
         qualifications of either. He is shrewd, industrious, manly,
         and independent; and as he is too much in earnest for the
         slightest affectation, he shews his character in his dress,
         his carriage, and his general appearance. His dress is at
         once plain and neat; and if his coat should accidentally
         exhibit the cut of a more genteel manufacturer, the
         interstice between his boot (he wears top boots) and small
         clothes, the fashion of his cravat, which is rolled round a
         stiffner two inches in diameter, and tied in a bow, besides
         a variety of other more minute characteristics, decidedly
         refute all suspicion of an attempt at attaining the
         appearance of a man of fashion. The end of a Spitalfields
         silk-handkerchief just appearing from the pocket hole at the
         top of his skirt, shews at once his regard for good things
         and native manufactures; while the dignity of his tread
         declares his consciousness of his own importance, the
         importance of "a very respectable man," and to attribute it
         to any other than such an "honest pride," would be
         derogatory to his reputation and feelings. If he meets a
         business acquaintance of an higher rank than his own, his
         respectful yet unembarrassed salutation at once sufficiently
         expresses the disparity of their two conditions, and his
         consciousness of the respectability of his own, while the
         respectfully condescending notice of the Peer exhibits the
         reversed flow of the same feelings. The very respect-able
         man is always accurately acquainted with the hackney coach
         fares to the different parts of London, and any attempt at
         imposition on the part of the coachman is sure to be
         detected and punished. He is never to be caught walking to
         the Bank on a public holiday; and the wind must have shifted
         very fast indeed, if it should happen to be in the north,
         when he believes it to be in the south. The state of the
         stocks is familiar to him; and as he watches their
         fluctuations with an attentive eye, their history, for weeks
         or even for months, is often in his memory. The very
         respectable man is always employed, but never in a hurry;
         and he perhaps is never better pleased than when he meets a
         congenial friend, who interrupts the current of business by
         the introduction of a mutual discussion of some important
         failure: Mr. Such-a-one's rapid acquirement of fortune,—the
         rise or fall of the funds, &c,—of all which the causes or
         consequences are importantly whispered or significantly
         prophesied. At home the government of the very respectable
         man's family is arbitrary, but the governor is not a tyrant;
         his wife has not, like the woman of fashion, any distinct
         rights, but she enjoys extensive indulgencies; she has
         power, but it flows from him, and though she is a
         responsible, she is not a discretional, agent. The table is
         to correspond with the moderation of the master, and the
         matron will be scolded or reproved as it varies from the
         proper medium between meanness and profusion.

         The very respectable man is never less in his element than
         when he is in the centre of his wife's parties, for here he
         must resign the reins into her hands, and, alas! there is no
         such character as the very respectable woman. All our women
         would be women of fashion; and in dress and expense, in the
         numbers of their card tables, and the splendour of their
         parties, in every thing but manners, they are. Here, at his
         own fireside, the very respectable man may be considered as
         not at home till a rubber, a genial rubber, which is
         provided him as soon as possible, renders him blind to the
         folly and deaf to the clamour of the scene. The very
         respect-able man shews to least advantage as a politician;
         as his opinions are derived less from reading than
         experience, they are apt to be dogmatical and contracted. In
         political philosophy he is too frequently half a century
         behind his age; is still in the habit of considering specie
         as wealth, and talks loudly of the commercial benefits of
         the late war. Such is the "very respectable man," a
         character decidedly inferior to that of many individuals in
         the class of society immediately above him; but which,
         considered as the character of a class, appears to be
         superior at once to that above and that below it—on a
         comparison with that above too, it more than makes up in the
         mass of its virtues for the deficiency in their quality, and
         appears to be like Solon's laws, if not the very best that
         might be, at least the best of which the state of society
         admits. In the lower orders, the social character is in its
         mineral state; in the higher, the fineness of the gold is
         prejudicial to its durability. In the "very respectable man
         "it is found mixed with some portion of alloy, but in
         greater quantity, and adapted to all the uses and purposes
         for which it is designed. As a civil member of society, if
         his theoretical politics are defective, the advantages
         derived to society from his industry and integrity, more
         than counterbalance those defects in his theory. As a
         religious member of society, if his religion might be more
         refined, if his attendance at church is considered rather as
         a parochial than a spiritual duty, and his appearance in his
         own pew is at least as much regarded as his devotions there;
         the regularity of his attendance, the harmony of his
         principles and practice, his exemplary manner of filling his
         different relations, more than make up for the inferiority
         in the tone of his religion. The commercial and religious
         capital of society are, in short, continually advancing by
         his exertions, though they don't advance so fast as they
         otherwise would if those exertions were directed by more
         intellect.

## CHAPTER XXIV

              "Vainly bountiful nature shall fill up Life's measure,
              If we're not to enjoyment awake;
              Churls that cautiously filtrate and analyze pleasure,
              Deserve not the little they take.

              I hate all those pleasures where angling and squaring.
              And fitting and cutting by rules,
              And ——- me—dear me, I beg pardon for swearing,
              All that follow such fashions are fools.

              For let who may be undone,
              I say Life in London,
              Of pleasure's the prop and the staff,
              That sets ev'ry muscle
              In a comical bustle
              And tickles one into a laugh."

[334] The long protracted visit to Vauxhall being at length finally arranged, our party soon found themselves in the midst of this gay and fascinating scene of amusement.

"These charming gardens," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "which you may perhaps have some recollection of upon a masquerade occasion, having lately fallen into new hands, have assumed, under their direction and management, a new appearance of additional splendour and magnificence perhaps scarcely ever surpassed, and the present proprietors appear to have studied the comfort and gratification of their visitors as well as their own advantage; but of this we shall be better judges before the night is spent."

"Right," replied Sparkle, "I am not fond of far fetched descriptions, which may upon investigation prove to have originated more in the imagination of the author than in reality to exist."

"At all events," continued Tom, "the Gardens themselves are beautiful and extensive, and contain a variety of walks, which, if but tastefully illuminated, and attended by rank, fashion, and beauty, can never fail to be attractive."

[335] Our heroes rushed forward to the splendid scene of enchantment, which had drawn forth the previous observations, mingling with the crowds of well dressed persons, who like themselves were upon the alert to witness this delightful place of summer amusement in the new form which it has recently assumed: the virandas tastefully festooned with painted canvass—the brilliantly illuminated orchestra, and the animated countenances of the company, conspired to produce an effect almost inconceivable, while new objects of delight were continually bursting upon their view. The illuminated colonade newly decorated with carved and painted flowers, fruit, and foliage, and Mr. Singleton's original whole length transparent portrait of his Majesty in his coronation robes, alternately attracted attention, as well as the four cosmoramas constructed in various parts of the gardens, consisting of some very pretty views of the New Exchange at Paris, scenes in Switzerland, &c. In the musical department, Sparkle was much pleased to find some of the old favourites, particularly Mr. Charles Taylor and Mrs. Bland, as well as with the performance of a Miss Graddon, who possesses a rich voice, with considerable power and flexibility, and of Madame Georgina, an East Indian Lady, who afterwards sung very charmingly in the Rotunda, accompanying herself on the piano forte, in a style which proved her to be a most skilful performer.

But the grand subject of their admiration was what is rather affectedly called "The Heptaplasiesoptron," or fancy reflective proscenium, which is placed in the long room fronting the orchestra of the Rotunda. It is entirely lined with looking glass, and has in all probability originated in the curious effect produced by the kaleidoscope, and the looking glass curtains lately exhibited at our theatres. This splendid exhibition is fitted up with ornamented draperies, and presents a fountain of real water illuminated, revolving pillars, palm trees, serpents, foliage, and variegated lamps; and the mirrors are so placed as to reflect each object seven times. This novelty appeared to excite universal admiration, inspiring the company with ideas of refreshing coolness. The bubbling of water, the waving of the foliage, and the seven times reflected effulgence of the lamps, gave the whole an appearance of enchantment, which sets all description at defiance.

[336] Having taken a complete circle through this round of delights, interrupted only by the congratulations and inquiries of friends, the appointed hour for exhibiting the fire-works arrived, when they were additionally gratified by a display of the most splendid description, and the famous ascent a la Saqui was admirably executed by Longuemarc; after witnessing which, they quickly retired to a box, where they gave directions for supper. It is but justice to say, that upon this being furnished, they found the refreshments to be of the best quality, and supplied upon moderate terms; the wines by the London Wine Company, and the viands by Mr. Wayte.

About two o'clock in the morning, our friends took their departure from this romantic spot, after an excursion fraught with pleasure and delight.

On the following morning, Sparkle received a letter from Merrywell, with information of the death of his uncle, and of his succession to the estate, having arrived just in time to prevent his decease without a will. This was a subject of exultation to all the party, though to none more so than Sparkle, particularly as the estate alluded to was situated in the neighbourhood of his own residence.

"Merrywell," said Dashall, "will become a gay fellow now, as he will have ample means, as well as inclination (which I know he has never been wanting of) to sport his figure in good style, without resorting to any scheme to keep the game alive."

"True," said Sparkle, "without crossing and jostling, and if he has his own good in view, he will reside chiefly in the country, choose an amiable partner for life, and only pay a visit to the metropolis occasionally; for to live in this land of temptations, where you can hardly step across the way without getting into error, must be baneful in effect to a young man like him, of an ardent mind. What say you, friend Tallyho?"

"I confess," replied Bob, "that I entertain thoughts very similar to yours; besides, I apprehend that our old friend Merrywell has had sufficient experience himself to admit the justice of your observation."

[337] "Pshaw," rejoined Dashall, "you are getting completely unfashionable. What can be more bang up than a Life in London—high life and low life—shake the castor, tip the flash, and nibble the blunt. Look for instance at young Lord Lappit—cares for nothing—all blood and spirit—fire and tow—up to every thing, and down as a hammer."

"His is a general case," replied Sparkle, "and is only one among numerous others, to prove that many of the disorders which are daily visible in high life, may be traced to the education, or rather the want of education of the youthful nobility and gentry. It would be a shocking and insupportable degradation to send a sprig of fashion to school among common boys, where probably he might learn something really useful. No, no,—he must have a private tutor, who is previously instructed to teach him nothing more than what will enable him to pass muster, as not quite a fool. Under this guidance, he skims over a few authors almost without reading, and at all events without knowing what they have written, merely with a view to acquaint him that there were once such persons in existence; after which, this tutor accompanies him to one of the public schools, Westminster, Harrow, or Eton, where the tutor writes his thesis, translates the classics, and makes verses for him, as well as he is able. In the new situation, the scholar picks up more of the frailties of the living, than he does of the instructions of departed characters. The family connections and the power of purse, with which the students are aided, embolden them to assume an unbounded license, and to set at complete defiance all sober rules and regulations; and it may be justly remarked that our public seminaries are admirably situated for the indulgence of their propensities: for instance, Westminster School is fortunately situated in the immediate neighbourhood of a famous place of instruction called Tothill (vulgarly Tuttle) Fields, where every species of refined lewdness and debauchery, and manners the most depraved, are constantly exhibited; consequently they enjoy the great advantages of learning the slang language, and of hearing prime chaunts, rum glees, and kiddy catches, in the purest and most bang up style. He has likewise a fine opportunity of contracting an unalterable penchant for the frail sisterhood, blue ruin, milling, cock fighting, bull and badger baiting, donkey racing, drinking, swearing, swaggering, and other refined amusements, so necessary to form the character of an accomplished gentleman."

[338] "Again, Harrow School is happily so near to the metropolis, as to afford frequent opportunities for occasional visits to similar scenes of contagion and fashionable dissipation, that the scholars do not fail to seek advantages of taking lessons in all those delectable sciences.

"Eton, it is true, is somewhat farther removed from the nursery of improvement, but it is near enough to Windsor, of which place it is not necessary to say much, for their Bacchanalian and Cyprian orgies, and other fashionable festivities, are well known. So that notwithstanding they are not in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis, there can scarcely be a doubt of their being able to sport their figures to advantage, whenever they are let loose upon society.

"Cambridge is but a short distance from that place of sporting notoriety, Newmarket, consequently it is next to impossible but that a youth of an aspiring mind should be up to all the manouvres of a race course—understanding betting, hedging off, crossing and jostling, sweating and training—know all the jockeys—how to give or take the odds—lay it on thick, and come it strong. Some have an unconquerable ambition to distinguish themselves as a whip, sport their tits in tip top style, and become proficients in buckish and sporting slang—to pitch it rum, and astonish the natives—up to the gab of the cad. They take upon themselves the dress and manners of the Varment Club, yet noted for the appearance of their prads, and the dexterity with which they can manage the ribbons, and, like Goldfinch, pride themselves on driving the long coaches—'mount the box, tip coachee a crown, dash along at full speed, rattle down the gateway, take care of your heads—never kill'd but one woman and a child in all my life—that's your sort.'"

"Fine pictures of a University Education," said Tom, "but Sparkle always was a good delineator of real character; and there is one thing to be said, he has been an eye witness of the facts, nay a partaker of the sports."

"True," continued Sparkle, "and, like many others, have had something like enjoyment in them too."

"Aye, aye, no doubt of that," said Bob, dryly,—"but how does it happen that you have omitted Oxford altogether?"

[339] "Nay," said Sparkle, "there is not much difference in any of them. The students hate all learning but that which they acquire in the brothel, the ring, or the stable.

They spend their terms somehow or other in or near the University, and their vacations at Jackson's Rooms in London; so that they know nothing more of mathematics than sufficient to calculate odds and chances. This, however, depends upon the wealth of the parties; for notwithstanding there are some excellent statutes by which they ought to be guided, a nobleman or wealthy commoner is indulged according to his titles or riches, without any regard to the rules and regulations in such cases made and provided.

"From this situation they are at length let loose, thoroughly accomplished in every thing but what they ought to know. Some make their appearance as exquisites or dandies—a sort of indescribable being, if being such things may be called. Others take the example of the bang ups—make themselves perfect in milling, swearing, greeking, talking flash, and mail coach driving, until John Doe and Richard Roe drive them into Abbot's preserve, a circumstance which puts a temporary check upon the sports—though if the Collegian is but up to the logic, he is very soon down upon the coves his creditors,{1} bowls them out by harassing expenses, and walks out himself, up to snuff, and fly."

         1 Bowls them out by harassing expenses.—A proof of the
         power which has been exercised under the existing Insolvent
         Debtor's Act, will be found in the following extract from a
         daily paper:—

         An unfortunate debtor was opposed in the Insolvent Debtors'
         Court, for having resisted particular creditors with
         vexatious law proceedings, sham pleas, &c. The public is not
         generally aware of the extent to which such vexatious
         resistance can be carried. In the investigations that have
         taken place before a Committee of the House of Commons, on
         the subject of insolvent debtors, Mr. Thomas Clarke, (at the
         time clerk of the Court,) stated, that in a debtor's book he
         found a paper, 'wherein it was pointed out to debtors how to
         harass creditors.' He had heard, he said, that it was sold
         from one prisoner to another, in a printed form, for 6d.
         each. That witness then delivered to the committee a book,
         from which the following extract was read,—it is extracted
         from the Parliamentary Report:—

         'Law proceedings.—When arrested and held to bail, and after
         being served with a declaration, you may plead a general
         issue, which brings you to trial the sooner of any plea that
         you can put in; but if you want to vex your plaintiff, put
         in a special plea; and, if in custody, get your attorney to
         plead in your name, which will cost you 1L. 1s., your
         plaintiff, 31L. as expenses. If you do not mean to try the
         cause, you have no occasion to do so until your plaintiff
         gets judgment against you; he must, in the term after you
         put in a special plea, send what is termed the paper book,
         which you must return with 7s. 6d. otherwise you will not
         put him to half the expenses. When he proceeds, and has
         received a final judgment against you, get your attorney to
         search the office appointed for that purpose in the Temple,
         and when he finds that judgment is actually signed, he must
         give notice to the plaintiff's attorney to attend the master
         to tax his costs, at which time your attorney must have a
         writ of error ready, and give it to the plaintiffs attorney
         before the master, which puts him to a very great expense,
         as he will have the same charges to go over again. The writ
         of error will cost you 4L. 4s. If you want to be further
         troublesome to your plaintiffs, make your writ of error
         returnable in Parliament, which costs you 8L. 8s. and your
         plaintiff 100/. Should he have the courage to follow you
         through all your proceedings, then file a bill in the
         Exchequer, which will cost about 5L. or 6L.; and if he
         answers it, it will cost him 80L. more. After this you may
         file a bill in Chancery, which will cost about 10L.; and if
         he does not answer this bill, you will get an injunction,
         and at the same time an attachment from the court against
         him, and may take his body for contempt of court, in not
         answering your last bill. You may file your bill in the
         Court of Chancery, instead of the Exchequer, only the latter
         costs you the least. If you are at any time served with a
         copy of a writ, take no further notice of it than by keeping
         it; when you are declared against, do not fail to put in a
         special plea immediately, and most likely you will hear no
         more of the business, as your plaintiff will probably not
         like to incur any further expense, after having been at so
         much.'

         Thus a creditor may be put to an expense of three hundred
         and fourteen pounds, by a debtor, for the small cost of 30L.
         10s. and all because the laws allowed him to sue for his
         own; and if he and his attorney do not keep a sharp look
         out, the creditor may get committed for 'contempt of court.'

[341] "I perceive," said Tom, "that your imagination is flying away from your subject; though I admit the justice of your remarks, as generally applicable to what is termed the higher ranks of society, and that they are imitated or aped in succession to those of the lower orders; but we appear to have imperceptibly got into a long descriptive conversation, instead of pursuing our usual plan of drawing inferences from actual observation. Let us forth and walk awhile."

"With all my heart," said Sparkle, "I see you wish to change the subject: however, I doubt not there will be a time when you will think more seriously, and act more usefully."

              "Upon my life you are growing sentimental."
              "Never mind," said Bob, "keep your spirits up."

              "The world's a good thing, oh how sweet and delicious
              The bliss and delight it contains;
              Devil a pleasure but fortune crams into our dishes,
              Except a few torments and pains.

              Then wine's a good thing, the dear drink's so inviting,
              Where each toper each care sweetly drowns;
              Where our friends we so cherish, so love and delight in,
              Except when we're cracking their crowns."

By the time Bob had concluded his verse, they were on the move, and taking their direction through St. James's-street, turning the corner of which,—"there," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "that is the celebrated Lord Shampetre, of whose name and character you have before heard."

"Indeed," said Bob. "Well, I must say, that if I met him in the street, I should have supposed him to be an old clothesman."

"Hush," said Sparkle, "don't be too severe in your observations, for I have been given to understand his Lordship has expressed his indignation upon a former occasion at such a comparison; though I must acknowledge it is not altogether an unjust one; and if exalted, I beg pardon, I mean popular characters, will force themselves into public notice by their follies, their vices or their eccentricities, they can have no right to complain."

[342] "And pray," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "where is one to be found who has made himself more conspicuous than the one in question, and especially by a very recent occurrence. The fashionable world is full of the subject of his amatory epistles to the sister of a celebrated actress,{1} and her very 'commodious mother;' but I dare say

         1 To elucidate the subject here alluded to, we cannot do
         better than give insertion to the following police report:—

         PERFIDY   AND  PROFLIGACY  OF  A PEER!

         Bow Street.—An application was lately made for a warrant to
         apprehend Miss B., the sister of a celebrated actress, for
         stealing some chimney ornaments and China cups and saucers.
         The application was made by the mother of the accused, in
         consequence of her having eloped, and with a view to reclaim
         her before her ruin should be consummated. The warrant was
         granted, and in a short time the fair delinquent was led in,
         resting on the arm of a Mr. B., well known in the
         fashionable circles. Mr. C. a solicitor, appeared with the
         mother, and the property found by the officer; the mother
         identified it, and stated, that she should be happy to
         forego the charge, on her daughter consenting to return to
         her home. The magistrate then called on the accused for her
         defence, when she asserted that the articles were her own,
         purchased with money given to her by her friends. In
         corroboration, she called the servant, who spoke to a
         conversation, in which Mrs. B. blamed her daughter for
         spending her money so foolishly; and declared that the
         things were always considered to belong to the daughter, and
         were given up without the slightest objection when she
         applied for them in the name of Miss B. This statement
         produced a desultory conversation, which was terminated by
         the solicitor remarking, that the principal object, the
         return of Miss B., had been lost sight of. Mr. B. then said,
         he had paid for the education and every charge of Miss B.
         for the last two years. He challenged inquiry into his
         conduct, which would be found to have arisen from the most
         honourable feelings, when he should prove that Miss B. had
         sought his protection from the persecution of Lord P., who
         had been sanctioned in his dishonourable overtures by her
         mother. When personal insult had been used, she fled to him;
         he hired lodgings and a trusty servant for her. A number of
         Lord P.'s letters were then read, which abounded in vicious
         ideas, obscenities, and gross figures sketched with the pen.
         Miss B., then in tears, stated, that she had been shut up
         with Lord P. with her mother's knowledge, when indecent
         attacks were made by him upon her on a sofa; and that her
         mother urged her to become his mistress, saying she should
         have an allowance of 500L. a-year. The mother strongly
         denied these assertions, and, after the magistrate had
         animadverted on the alleged disgraceful conduct of the
         mother, if true, the affair was settled by Miss B. (only
         16,) being put under the care of a female friend, agreeable
         to both parties, Mr. B. to pay all the expenses.

         Having thus given an account of the affair, as related in
         most of the daily papers, we think it right to add the
         following by way of elucidation.

         The young lady is Miss B—rt—l—zzi, daughter of a late
         cele-brated engraver of that name, and younger sister of an
         actress on the boards of Old Drury, who has obtained great
         notoriety for a pretty face, a roving eye, a fine set of
         teeth, a mellow voice, and an excessive penchant for
         appearing before the public in breeches—Macheath and Don
         Giovanni to wit. 'Mr. B.,' the gentleman under whose
         protection she is living, or rather was living, is a
         gentleman of large West India possessions, who some time ago
         immortalized himself in a duel about a worthless woman, with
         Lord C—If—d, in which duel he had the honour of sending
         his lordship to his account with all his 'imperfections on
         his head.' The third party, 'Lord P.,' is a nobleman, whose
         chief points are a queer-shaped hat, long shirt sleeves,
         exquisitely starched, very white gloves, a very low
         cabriolet, and a Lord George Gordon-ish affectation of
         beard. We do not know that he is distinguished for any thing
         else. For the fourth party—the young lady's mamma, she is,—
         what she is; a rather elderly personage, remarkably
         commodious, very discreet, 'and all that sort of thing.'
         We could not help admiring her commodiousness when she
         accompanied Lord P. and her daughter to Drury-lane Theatre,
         the last time the King was there. It was almost equal to his
         Lordship's assiduity, and the young lady's ennui.

[343] his Lordship is displeased with no part of the eclat, except the quiz that his liberal offer of £500. would be about £25. per annum, or 9s. 7d. a week—a cheap purchase of a young lady's honour, and therefore a good bargain."

"I believe," continued Sparkle, "there is little about him, either as to person or to character, which entitles him to occupy more of our time, which may be better devoted to more agreeable and deserving subjects."

"Apropos," said Dashall, taking Sparkle at his word, "do you observe a person on the other side of the way with a blue nose and a green coat, cut in the true jockey style, so as to render it difficult to ascertain whether he is a gentleman or a gentleman's groom? That is Mr. Spankalong, who has a most unconquerable attachment to grooms, coachmen, and stable assistants; whose language and manners it is one of the principal studies of his life to imitate. He prides himself on being a good driver of four in hand, and tickling the tits along the road in a mail carriage, is the ne plus ultra of his ambition. He will take a journey of an hundred miles out of town, merely to meet and drive up a mail coach, paying for his own passage, and feeing the coachmen for their permission. Disguised in a huge white coat, with innumerable capes and mother o'pearl buttons, he seats himself on the box—Elbows square, wrists pliant—all right—Hayait—away they go. He takes his glass of gin and bitters on the [344] road—opens the door for the passengers to get in—with 'now my masters—you please;' and seems quite as much at home as Mr. Matthews at the Lyceum, with 'all that sort of thing, and every thing in the world.' He is, however, not singular in his taste, for many of our hereditary statesmen are to be found among this class, save and except that he carries his imitations to a farther extent than any person I ever knew; and it is a fact, that he had one of his fore teeth punched out, in order to enable the noble aspirant to give the true coachman's whistle, and to spit in a Jehu-like manner, so as to project the saliva from his lips, clear of the cattle and traces, into the hedge on the near side of the road."

"Accomplishments that are truly deserving the best considerations of a noble mind," rejoined Tallyho.

"And absolutely necessary to the finished gentleman of the present day, of course," continued Sparkle; "and as I have not had a lounge in these Corinthian regions for some little time, I am glad to be thus furnished with a key to characters that may be new to me."

"There is one on the opposite side of the way not altogether new, as he has made some noise in the world during his time—I mean the gentleman whose features exhibit so much of the rouge—it is the celebrated Sir George Skippington, formerly well known in Fop's Alley, and at the Opera; not so much on account of his elegant person, lively wit, or polished address, as for his gallantries, and an extraordinary affectation of dress, approaching very nearly to the ridiculous, the chief part of his reputation being derived from wearing a pea-green coat, and pink silk stockings: he has, however, since that time become a dramatic writer, or at least a manufacturer of pantomime and shew; and—ah, but see—speaking of writers—here we have a Hook, from which is suspended a certain scandalous Journal, well known for its dastardly attacks upon private character, and whose nominal conductors are at this moment in durance vile; but a certain affair in the fashionable way of defaulting, has brought him down a peg or two. His ingenuity has been displayed on a variety of occasions, and under varying circumstances. His theatrical attempts have been successful, and at Harrow he was called the Green Man, in consequence of his affected singularity of wearing a complete suit of clothes of that colour. He appears to act at all times upon the favourite recommendation of Young Rapid, 'keep moving;' for he is always in motion, in consequence of which it is said, that Lord Byron wittily remarked, 'he certainly was not the Green Man and Still.'"{1}

         1 The Green Man and Still in the well known sign of a
         pubic-house in Oxford Road.

[345] "Why," cried Bob, "there seems to be as little of still life about him just now, as there is about Hookey Walker. But pray who is that dingy gentleman who passed us within the last minute, and who appeared to be an object of attraction to some persons on the opposite side—he appears to have been cut out for a tailor."

"That," replied Tom, "is a Baronet and cornuto, who married the handsome daughter of a great Marquis. She, however, turned out a complete termagant, who one day, in the heat of her rage, d———d her rib for a sneaking puppy, dashed a cup of coffee in his face, and immediately after flew for protection to a Noble Lord, who entertained a penchant for her. This, however, proved to be a bad speculation on her part; and having seriously reflected on the consequences of such conduct, she made her appearance again at her husband's door a few nights afterwards, and in the spirit of contrition sought forgiveness, under a promise of never transgressing any more, little doubting but her claim to admission would be allowed. Here, however, it seems she had reckoned without her host,—for the Baronet differing in opinion, would not listen to her proposition: her entreaties and promises were urged in vain, and the deserted though still cara sposa, has kept the portals of his door, as well as the avenues to his heart, completely closed to her since."

At this moment they were interrupted by the approach of a gaily dressed young man, who seizing Dashall by the hand, and giving him a hearty shake, exclaimed,—

"Ha, my dear fellow, what Dashall, and as I live, Mr. Sparkle, you are there too, are you: d———me, what's the scent—up to any thing—going any where—or any thing to do—eh—d———me."

"Quite ad libitum," replied Dashall, "happy to see Gayfield well and in prime twig,—allow me to introduce my Cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq."

"You do me proud, my dear fellow. Any thing new—can't live without novelty—who's up, who's down—what's the wonder of the day—how does the world wag—where is the haven of destination, and how do you weather the point."

[346] "Zounds," replied Tom, "you ask more questions in a breath than we three can answer in an hour."

"Never mind—don't want you to answer; but at all events must have something to say—hate idleness either in speech or action—hate talking in the streets, can't bear staring at like a new monument or a statue. Talking of statues—I have it—good thought, go see Achilles, the ladies man—eh! what say you. D———me, made of cannons and other combustibles—Waterloo to wit—Come along, quite a bore to stand still—yea or nay, can't wait."

"With all my heart," said Sparkle, twitching Dashall by the arm, "it is quite new since my departure from town; "and joining arms, they proceeded towards the Park.

"Been out of town," continued Gayfield,—"thought so—lost you all at once—glad you have not lost yourself. Any thing new in the country—always inquire—can't live without novelty—go to see every thing and every body, every where. Nothing new in the papers—Irish distresses old, but very distressing for a time: how the devil can you live in the country—can't imagine."

"And I apprehend," replied Sparkle, "it will be of little use to explain; for a gentleman of so much information as yourself must know every thing."

"Good, but severe—never mind, I never trouble my head with other people's thoughts—always think for myself, let others do as they like. Hate inquisitive people, don't choose to satisfy all inquirers. Never ask questions of any one, don't expect answers. Have you seen the celebrated ventriloquist, Alexandre,—the Egyptian Tomb,—the———"

Sparkle could hold no longer: the vanity and egotism of this everlasting prater, this rambler from subject to subject, without manner, method, or even thought, was too much; and he could not resist the temptation to laugh, in which he was joined by Tom and Bob.

[347] "What is the matter," inquired Gayfield, unconscious of being the cause of their risibility. "I see nothing to laugh at, d———me, but I do love laughing, so I'll enjoy a little with you at all events; "and immediately he became a participator in their mirth, to the inexpressible delight of his companions; "but," continued he, "I see nothing to laugh at, and it is beneath the character of a philosopher to laugh at any thing."

"Never mind," said Dashall, "we are not of that description—and we sometimes laugh at nothing, which I apprehend is the case in the present instance."

"I perfectly agree with the observation," rejoined Sparkle; "it is a case in point, and very well pointed too."

"Nothing could be better timed," said Tallyho.

"What than a horse laugh in the public streets! D———d vulgar really—-quite outre, as we say. No, no, you ought to consider where you are, what company you are in, and never laugh without a good motive—what is the use of laughing."

"A philosopher," said Tom Dashall, "need scarcely ask such a question. The superiority of his mind ought to furnish a sufficient answer."

"Then I perceive you are not communicative, and I always like to be informed; but never mind, here we shall have something to entertain us."

"And at least," said Sparkle, "that is better than nothing."

The observation, however, was lost upon the incorrigible fribble, who produced his snuff-box, and took a pinch, with an air that discovered the diamond ring upon his finger—pulled up his shirt collar—and at the same time forced down his waistcoat; conceiving no doubt that by such means he increased his consequence, which however was wholly lost upon his companions.

"And this," said Sparkle, "is the so much talked of statue of Achilles—The Wellington Trophy—it is placed in a very conspicuous situation, however—and what says the pedestal—

              TO ARTHUR DUKE OF WELLINGTON,
              AND HIS BRAVE COMPANIONS IN ARMS,
              THIS STATUE OF ACHILLES,
              CAST FROM CANNON
              TAKEN IN THE VICTORIES OF
              SALAMANCA, VITTORIA, TOULOUSE, AND WATERLOO
              IS INSCRIBED
              BY THEIR COUNTRYWOMEN.

[348] "Beautiful," said Gayfield—"Elegant—superb." "Bold," said Dashall, "but not very delicate." "A naked figure, truly," continued Bob, "in a situation visited by the first circles of rank and fashion, is not to be considered as one of the greatest proofs either of modesty or propriety; but perhaps these ideas, as in many other instances, are exploded, or they are differently understood to what they were originally. A mantle might have been thought of by the ladies, if not the artist."

"For my part," said Sparkle, "I see but little in it to admire."

During this conversation, Gayfield was dancing round the figure with his quizzing glass in his hand, examining it at all points, and appearing to be highly amused and delighted.

"It affords opportunities for a variety of observations," said Dashall, "and, like many other things, may perhaps be a nine days wonder. The public prints have been occupied upon the subject for a few days, and I know of but one but what condemns it upon some ground or other."{1}

         1 In all probability the following remarks will be
         sufficient to make our readers acquainted with this so much
         talked of statue:—

         Kensington Gardens and the Park.—From three to seven
         o'clock on Sunday, the gardens were literally crowded to an
         over-How with the élite of the fashionable world. The
         infinite variety of shape and colour displayed in the female
         costume, the loveliness and dignity of multitudes of the
         fair wearers, and the serene brilliancy of the day,
         altogether surpassed any thing we have hitherto witnessed
         there.

         There was nothing on the drive in the Park except carriages
         and horsemen, dashing along to the gardens; and as to the
         'Wellington promenade,' it was altogether neglected. Whether
         it was that the 'naked majesty' of Achilles frightened the
         people away, or whether the place and its accompaniments
         were too garish for such weather, we know not, but certainly
         it seemed to be avoided most cautiously; with the exception
         of some two or three dozen Sunday-strollers, yawning upon
         the Anglo-Greco-Pimlico-hightopoltical statue above
         mentioned. It was curious enough to hear the remarks made by
         some of these good folks upon this giant exotic—this Greek
         prototype of British prowess. 'Well, I declare!' said a
         blooming young Miss, as she endeavoured to scan its brawny
         proportions, 'Well, I declare! did ever any body see the
         like!'—'Come along, Martha, love,' rejoined her scarlet-
         faced mamma; 'Come along, I say!—I wonder they pulled the
         tarpoling off before the trowsers were ready.'    'What a
         great green monster of a man it is,' exclaimed a meagre
         elderly lady, with a strong northern accent, to a tall bony
         red-whiskered man, who seemed to be her husband—'Do na ye
         think 'twad a looked mair dedicate in a kilt?' 'Whist!'
         replied the man; and, without uttering another syllable, he
         turned upon his heel and dragged the wonder-ing matron away.
         'La, ma, is that the Dook O' Vellunton vat stand up there
         in the sunshine?' 'Hold your tongue, Miss—little girls must
         not ask questions about them sort of things.' 'Be th'
         powers!' said one of three sturdy young fellows, as they
         walked round till they got to sunward of it.' Be th' powers,
         but he's a jewel of a fellow; ounly its not quite dacent to
         be straddling up there without a shirt—is it Dennis?'
         'Gad's blood man!' replied Dennis, rather angrily, 'Gad's
         blood man! dacency's quite out of the question in matters o'
         this kind, ye see.' ''Faith, and what do they call it?'
         asked the other. 'Is it—what do they call it?' re-joined
         Dennis, who seemed to consider himself a bit of a wag—'Why
         they mane to call it the Ladies' Fancy, to be sure!' and
         away they all went, 'laughing like so many horses,' as the
         German said, who had heard talk of a horse-laugh. Some of
         the spectators compared the shield to a parasol without a
         handle; others to a pot-lid; and one a sedate-looking old
         woman, observing the tarpawling still covering the legs and
         lower part of the thighs, remarked to her companion, that
         she supposed they had been uncovering it by degrees, in
         order to use the people to the sight gradually.    In short,
         poor Achilles evidently caused more surprise than
         admiration, and no small portion of ridicule. But then this
         was among the vulgar. No doubt the fashionable patronesses
         of the thing may view it with other eyes.

[349] On their return from the Park, our party looked in at Tattersal's, where it proved to be settling day. Dashall and his Cousin had previously made a trip to Ascot Races, to enjoy a day's sport, and were so fortunate as to let in a knowing one for a considerable sum, by taking the long odds against a favourite horse. They therefore expected now to toutch the blunt, and thus realize the maxim of the poet, by "uniting profit and delight in one."

"Yonder," says Dashall, pointing out to his Cousin a very stout man, "is H. R. H.; he is said to have been a considerable winner, both at the late, as well as Epsom races; but the whole has since vanished at play, with heavy additions, and the black legs are now enjoying a rich harvest. The consequences have been, not only the sale of the fine estate of O—t—ds by the hammer, but even the family plate and personal property have been knocked down to the highest bidders, at Robbins's Rooms."

"I should have expected," replied Bob, "that so much fatal experience, which is said to make even fools wise, would have taught a useful lesson, and restrained this gambling propensity, however violent."

[350] "Psha, man," continued his Cousin, "you are a novice indeed to suppose any thing of the kind. No one uninitiated in these mysteries, can form an idea of the inextricable labyrinth, or the powerful spell which binds the votaries of play; and unfortunately this fatal passion seems to pervade in an unusual degree our present nobility: indeed it may be said there are comparatively but few of the great families who are not either reduced to actual poverty, or approximating towards it, in consequence of the inordinate indulgence of this vice."

              THE WELLINGTON TROPHY; or, LADIES' MAN{1}

              Air—'Oh, the Sight entrancing.'
              Oh, the sight entrancing,
              To see Achilles dancing,{2}
              Without a shirt
              Or Highland skirt,{3}
              "Where ladies' eyes are glancing:

         1 We are told that this gigantic statue is a most
         astonishing work of art, cast from the celebrated statue of
         Achilles, on the Quirinal Hill; and the inscription on it
         informs us, that the erection of it was paid for by the
         ladies of England, to commemorate the manly energy of the
         Duke of Wellington and his brave companions in arms. To
         call it, therefore, the 'Ladies' Man,' is merely out of
         compliment to such as patronised the undertaking; and here
         we wish it to be particularly understood that we do not
         sanction the word naked as a correct term (although that
         term is universally applied to it), inasmuch as this statue
         is not naked, the modest artist having, at the suggestion of
         these modest ladies, taken the precaution of giving Achilles
         a covering, similar to that which Adam and Eve wore on their
         expulsion from Eden.

         2 The attitude of the statue is so questionable as to have
         already raised many opposite hypotheses as to what it is
         really intended to represent. Mr. Ex-Sheriff Parkins has,
         with very laudable ingenuity and classical taste,
         discovered that the figure is nothing more nor less than a
         syce, or running groom; just such a one, the worthy ex-
         sheriff adds, as used to accompany him in India, when
         engaged in a hunting party, and who, when he grew tired,
         used to lay hold of the ex-sheriff's horse's tail, in order
         to keep up with his master. The author of the Travestie,
         however, has hit upon another solution of the attitude,
         still more novel, and equally probable, namely, that of
         dancing, for which he expects to gain no inconsiderable
         share of popularity.

         3 Without a shirt or Highland skirt!—It is really
         entertaining to see what a refinement of criticism has been
         displayed upon the defects of this incomparable statue. Some
         have abused the hero for being shirtless, and said it was an
         abomination to think that a statue in a state of nudity
         (much larger than life, too!) should be stuck up in Hyde
         Park, where every lady's eye must glance, however repugnant
         it might be to their ideas of modesty. But did not the
         ladies themselves order and pay for the said statue? Is it
         not an emblem of their own pure taste?   Then, as for
         putting on Achilles a kelt or short petticoat (called by the
         poet a Highland skirt), oh, shocking I it is not only
         unclassical, but it would have destroyed the effect of the
         thing altogether. To be sure, it would not be the first time
         that Achilles wore a petticoat, for, if we are rightly
         informed, his mother, Thetis, disguised him in female
         apparel, and hid him among the maidens at the court of
         Lycomedes, iu order to prevent his going to the siege of
         Troy; but that wicked wag, Ulysses, calling on the said
         maidens to pay his respects, discovered Mister Achilles
         among them, and made him join his regiment.

              Each widow's heart is throbbing,
              Each married lady sobbing,
              While little miss
              Would fain a kiss
              Be from Achilles robbing!'
              Then, oh, the sight entrancing,
              To see Achilles dancing,
              Without a shirt
              Or Highland skirt,
              Where ladies' eyes are glancing.

              Oh, 'tis not helm or feather,
              Or breeches made of leather,
              That gave delight,
              By day or night,
              Or draw fair crowds together.{2}
              Let those wear clothes who need e'm;
              Adorn but max with freedom,{3}
              Then, light or dark,
              They'll range the Park,
              And follow where you lead 'em.
              For, oh, the sight's entrancing,
              To see Achilles dancing,
              Without a shirt
              Or Highland skirt,
              Where ladies' eyes are glancing.

         1 If we could only insert one hundredth part of what has
         been said by widows, wives, and maids on this interesting
         subject during the present week, we are quite sure our
         readers would acquit us of having overcharged the picture,
         or even faintly delineated it.

         2 We certainly must differ with the author here: in our
         humble opinion, helmets, feathers, leather breeches, &c.
         have a wonderful effect in drawing crowds of the fair sex
         together—at a grand review, for instance.

         3 This line, it is hoped, will be understood literally. The
         words are T. Moore's, and breathe the spirit of liberty—not
         licentiousness.

[352] Having succeeded in their object, Dashall and his Cousin pursued their course homeward; and thus terminated another day spent in the developement of Real Life in the British Metropolis.

              But still the muse beseeches
              If this epistle reaches
              Achilles bold,
              In winter cold,
              That he would wear his breeches:{1}
              For though in sultry weather,
              He needs not cloth nor leather,
              Yet frosts may mar
              What's safe in war,{2]
              And ruin all together.

              But still the sight's entrancing,
              To see Achilles dancing
              Without a shirt
              Or Highland skirt,
              Where ladies' eyes are glancing.

         1 The last verse must be allowed to be truly considerate,
         nay, kind—that the ladies will be equally kind and
         considerate to poor Achilles as the poet is, must be the
         wish of every one who has witnessed the perilous situation
         in which he is placed.

         2 Achilles was a great favourite with the ladies from his
         very birth. He was a fine strapping boy; and his mother was
         so proud of him, that she readily encountered the danger of
         being drowned in the river Styx herself, that she might dip
         her darling in it, and thereby render him invulnerable.
         Accordingly, every part of the hero was safe, except his
         heel by which his mother held him amidst the heat of
         battle; and, like his renowned antitype, the immortal Duke
         of Wellington, he was never wounded. But, at length, when
         Achilles was in the Temple, treating about his marriage with
         Philoxena, daughter of Priam, the brother of Hector let fly
         an arrow at his vulnerable heel, and did his business in a
         twinkling.

We cannot quit this subject without paying a compliment to the virtues of the Court. We understand there has not been one royal carriage seen in the Park since the erection of the statue; and if report speaks true, the Marchioness of C——-m's delicacy is so shocked, that she intends to quit Hamilton Place, which is close by, as early as a more modest site can be chosen!

## CHAPTER XXV

              Lack a day! what a gay
              What a wonderful great town!
              In each street, thousands meet,
              All parading up and down.
              Crossing—jostling—strutting—running,
              Hither—thither—going—coming;
              Hurry—scurry—pushing—driving,
              Ever something new contriving.
              Oh! what a place, what a strange London Town,
              On every side, both far and wide, we hear of its renown.

[353] Escorting to the ever-varying promenade of fashion, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob, whose long protracted investigation of Life in London was now drawing to a close, proceeded this morning to amuse themselves with another lounge in Bond-street: this arcadia of dignified equality was thronged, the carriage-way with dashing equipages, and the pave with exquisite pedestrians. Here was one rouged and whiskered; there another in petticoats and stays, while his sister, like an Amazon, shewed her nether garments half way to the knee. Then "passed smiling by" a Corinthian bear, in an upper benjamin and a Jolliffe shallow. A noted milliner shone in a richer pelisse than the Countess, whom the day before she had cheated out of the lace which adorned it. The gentleman with the day-rule, in new buckskins and boots, and mounted on a thorough-bred horse, quizzed his retaining creditor, as he trotted along with dusty shoes and coat; the "lady of easy virtue" stared her keeper's wife and daughter out of countenance. The man milliner's shop-boy, en passant, jogged the duke's elbow; and the dandy pickpocket lisped and minced his words quite as well as my lord.

Tom pointed out some of the more dashing exhibitants; and Bob inquiring the name of a fine woman, rather en bon point, with a French face, who was mounted on a chesnut hunter, and whom he had never before seen in the haunts [354] of fashion—"That lady," said he, "goes by the name of Speculator; her real name is Mademoiselle Leverd, of the Theatre Français at Paris: she arrived in this country a month since, to "have an opportunity of displaying her superior talents; though it is whispered that the object of her journey was not altogether in the pursuit of her profession, but for the purpose of making an important conquest."

"And who is that charming woman," continued Bob, "in the curricle next to L———d F———?"

"That," returned Tom, "is Mrs. Orbery Hunter. The beautiful man next you, is the "commercial dandy," or as Lord G——l styles him, Apollo; and his Lordship is a veracious man, on which account R——— calls G——— his lyre."

"Ah, do you see that dashing fellow in the Scotch cloak, attended by a lad with his arm in a sling? That is the famous Sir W. M———,who doubles his income by gambling speculations; and that's one of his decoys, to entrap young country squires of fortune to dine with him, and be fleeced. In return, he is to marry him (on condition of receiving £100. for every thousand) to an heiress, the daughter of his country banker."

"Why, all the first whips in the female world are abroad to-day. There is the flower of green Erin, Lady Foley. See with what style she fingers the ribbans. Equally dexterous at the use of whip and tongue; woe to the wight who incurs the lash of either.

"That reverend divine in the span new dennet and the Jolliffe shallow, who squares his elbows so knowingly, as he rubs on his bit of blood, is Parson A———. He is the proprietor of the temple of gaming iniquity, at No. 6, Pall Mall. He is a natural son of Lord B———re, by whom he was brought up, liberally educated, and presented with church preferments of considerable value. He married, in early life, the celebrated singer, Miss M—h—n, whom he abandoned, with his infant family. This lady found a protector for herself and children in the person of the Rev. Mr. P———s, and having since obtained a divorce from her former husband, has been married to him. The parson boasts of his numerous amours, and, a few years since, took the benefit of the act. Before he ventured upon the splendid speculations at the Gothic Hall, with F———r T———n, Mr. Charles S———, and Lord D———, he used to frequent the most notorious g———g houses, [355] occasionally picking up a half crown as the pigeons were knocked down by the more wealthy players. But, chousing his colleagues out of their shares, and getting the Gothic Hall into his own hands, he has become the great man you see, and may truly be called by the title of autocrat of all the Greeks.

"And who," inquired Bob, "is that gay careless young fellow in the Stanhope, who sits so easy while his horse plunges?"

"That," replied Tom, "is the Hon. and Rev. Fitz S———, with the best heart, best hand, and the best leg in Bond-street. He is really one of the most fascinating men in polished society, and withal, the best judge of a horse at Tattersalls, of a dennet at Long Acre, or a segar in Maiden Lane."

"You need not tell me who that is on the roan horse, with red whiskers and florid complexion. (The Earl of Y———, of course). Madame B. tells a curious story of him and a filly belonging to Prince Paul. His Lordship had a great desire to ride the said filly, and sent Madam B. to know the terms. 'Well!' said his Lordship, when she returned—'Fifty pounds,' she replied.—'Hem!' said his lordship, 'I will wait till next year, and can have her for five-and-twenty.'"

"By this hand, another female equestrian de figure.' That tall young woman on the chesnut, is Lady Jane P———, sister of Lord U———. They say, that she has manifested certain pawnbroking inclinations, and has shewn a partiality in partnership at Almack's, to the golden balls. "That fine young woman, leaning out of the carriage window, whose glossy ringlets are of the true golden colour, so much admired by the dandies of old Rome, is his Lordship's wife. He's not with her. But you know he shot Honey at Cumberland Gate, when he was two hundred miles off, and therefore he may be in the carriage, though he's away.

"The person in the shabby brown coat is the Duke of Argyle. The pair of horses that draw his carriage is the only job that Argyle ever condescended to engage in."

"And who is that fat ruddy gentleman, in the plain green coat, and the groom in grey?"

[356] "What, you're not up to the change of colour? That's our old friend the Duke again, and the grey livery augurs, (if I mistake not), a visit to Berkeley square. His R——— H——— must take good care, or that bit of blood will be seized while standing at the door of the Circe, as his carriage was the other day, by the unceremonious nabman. But that's nothing to what used to occur to the Marquis of W———. They say, that if he deposited a broach, a ring, or a watch upon his table, a hand and arm, like that of a genius in a fairy tale, was seen to introduce itself bon-gre, mal-gre, through the casement, and instantly they became 'scarce.'"

"But I have heard," said Bob, "of a fashionable nabman asking the Duke the time, and politely claiming the watch as soon as it was visible."

The most prominent characters of the lounge had now disappeared, and Tom and Bob pursuing their course, found themselves in a few minutes in Covent Garden, from whence, nothing occurring of notice, they directed their steps towards Bow-street, with the view of deriving amusement from the proceedings of justice in the principal office on the establishment of the metropolitan police, and in this anticipation they were not disappointed.{1}

         1 More Life in St. Giles's.—Mr. Daniel Sullivan, of
         Tottenham Court Road, green-grocer, fruiterer, coal and
         potatoe merchant, salt lish and Irish pork-monger, was
         brought before the magistrate on a peace-warrant, issued at
         the suit of his wife, Mrs. Mary Sullivan. Mrs. Sullivan is
         an Englishwoman, who married Mr. Sullivan for love, and has
         been "blessed with many children by him." But
         notwithstanding she appeared before the magistrate with her
         face all scratched and bruised, from the eyes downward to
         the tip of her chin; all which scratches and bruises, she
         said, were the handy-work of her husband.

         The unfortunate Mary, it appeared, married Mr. Sullivau
         about seven years ago; at which time he was as polite a
         young Irishman as ever handled a potatoe on this side the
         Channel; he had every thing snug and comfortable about him,
         and his purse and his person, taken together, were
         "ondeniable." She herself was a young woman genteely brought
         up—abounding in friends and acquaintance, and silk gowns,
         with three good bonnets always in use, and black velvet
         shoes to correspond. Welcome wherever she went, whether to
         dinner, tea, or supper, and made much of by every body. St.
         Giles' bells rang merrily at their wedding—a fine fat leg
         of mutton and capers, plenty of pickled salmon, three ample
         dishes of salt fish and potatoes, with pies, pudding and
         porter of the best, were set forth for the bridal supper;
         all the most "considerablest" families in Dyott Street and
         Church Lane, were invited, and every thing promised a world
         of happiness—and for five long years they were happy. She
         loved, as Lord Byron would say, "she loved and was beloved;
         she adored and she was worshipped;" but Mr. Sullivau was too
         much like the hero of the Lordship's tale—his affections
         could not "hold the bent," and the sixth year had scarcely
         commenced, when poor Mary discovered that she had "outlived
         his liking." From that time to the present he had treated
         her continually with the greatest cruelty; and, at last,
         when by this means he had reduced her from a comely young
         person to a mere handful of a poor creature, he beat her,
         and turned her out of doors.

         This was Mrs. Sullivan's story; and she told it with such
         pathos, that all who heard it pitied her, except her
         husband.

         It was now Mr. Sullivan's turn to speak. Whilst his wife was
         speaking, he had stood with his back towards her, his arms
         folded across his breast to keep down his choler; biting his
         lips and staring at the blank wall; but the moment she had
         ceased, he abruptly turned round, and, curiously enough,
         asked the magistrate whether Mistress Sullivau had done
         spaking.

         "She has," replied his worship; "but suppose you ask her
         whether she has any thing more to say."

         "I shall, Sir!" exclaimed the angry Mr. Sullivan. "Mistress
         Sullivan, had you any more of it to say '!"

         Mrs. Sullivan raised her eyes to the ceiling, clasped her
         hands together, and was silent.

         "Very well, then," he continued, "will I get lave to spake,
         your Honour?"

         His Honour nodded permission, and Mr. Sullivan immediately
         began a defence, to which it is impossible to do justice; so
         exuberantly did he suit the action to the word, and the
         word to the action. "Och! your Honour, there is something
         the matter with me!" he began; at the same time putting two
         of his fingers perpendicularly over his forehead, to
         intimate that Mrs. Sullivan played him false. He then went
         into a long story about a "Misther Burke," who lodged in his
         house, and had taken the liberty of assisting him in his
         conjugal duties, "without any lave from him at all at all."
         It was one night in partickler, he said, that he went to bed
         betimes in the little back parlour, quite entirely sick with
         the head-ache. Misther Burke was out from home, and when the
         shop was shut up, Mrs. Sullivan went out too; but he didn't
         much care for that, ounly he thought she might as well have
         staid at home, and so he couldn't go to sleep for thinking
         of it. "Well, at one o'clock in the morning," he continued,
         lower-ing his voice into a sort of loud whisper; "at one
         o'clock in the morn-ing Misther Burke lets himself in with
         the key that he had, and goes up to bed—and I thought
         nothing at all; but presently I hears something come tap,
         tap, tap, at the street door. The minute after comes down
         Misther Burke, and opens the door, and sure it was Mary—
         Mistress Sullivan that is, more's the pity—and devil a bit
         she came to see after me at all in the little back parlour,
         but up stairs she goes after Misther Burke. Och! says 1, but
         there's some-thing the matter with me this night! and I got
         up with the night-cap o' th' head of me, and went into the
         shop to see for a knife, but I couldn't get one by no manes.
         So I creeps up stairs, step by step, step by step," (here
         Mr. Sullivan walked on tiptoe all across the office, to show
         the magistrate how quietly he went up the stairs), "and when
         I gets to the top I sees 'em, by the gash (gas) coming
         through the chink in the window curtains; I sees 'em, and
         'Och, Mistress Sullivan!' says he: and 'Och, Misther Burke,'
         says she:—and och! botheration, says I to myself, and what
         shall I do now?" We cannot follow Mr. Sullivan any farther
         in the detail of his melancholy affair; it is sufficient
         that he saw enough to convince him that he was dishonoured:
         that, by some accident or other, he disturbed the guilty
         pair, whereupon Mrs. Sullivan crept under Mr. Burke's bed,
         to hide herself; that Mr. Sullivan rushed into the room, and
         dragged her from under the bed, by her "wicked leg;" and
         that he felt about the round table in the corner, where Mr.
         Burke kept his bread and cheese, in the hope of finding a
         knife.

         "And what would you have done with it, if you had found it?"
         asked his worship.

         "Is it what I would have done with it, your honour asks?"
         exclaimed Mr. Sullivan, almost choked with rage—"Is it what
         I would have done with it?—ounly that I'd have digged it
         into the heart of 'em at the same time!" As he said this, he
         threw himself into an attitude of wild desperation, and made
         a tremendous lunge, as if in the very act of slaughter.

         To make short of a long story, he did not find the knife;
         Mr. Burke barricadoed himself in his room, and Mr. Sullivan
         turned his wife out of doors.

         The magistrate ordered him to find bail to keep the peace
         towards his wife and all the King's subjects, and told him,
         that if his wife was indeed what he had represented her to
         be, he must seek some less violent mode of separation than
         the knife.

         There not being any other case of interest, Tom and Bob left
         the office, not, however, without a feeling of commiseration
         for Mr. Sullivan, whose frail rib and her companion in
         iniquity, now that the tables were turned against them by
         the injured husband's "plain unvarnished tale," experienced
         a due share of reprobation from the auditory.

[558] Pursuing their course homeward through St. James'-square: "Who have we here?" exclaimed Tom; "as I live, no other than the lofty Honoria, an authoress, a wit and an eccentric; a combination of qualities which frequently contribute to convey the possessor to a garret, and thence to an hospital or poor house. It is not uncommon to find attic salt in the first floor from heaven, but rather difficult to find the occupier enabled to procure salt whereby to render porridge palateable. The lady Honoria, who has just passed, resides in a lodging in Mary-le-bone. She having mistaken stature for beauty, and attitude for greatness, a tune on her lute for fascination, a few strange opinions and out of the way sayings for genius, a masculine appearance for attraction, and bulk for irresistibility, came on a cruise to London with a view to call at C———House, where she conceived she might be treated like a Princess.

"She fondly fancied that a certain dignified personage who relieved her distress, could not but be captivated with the very description of her; in consequence of which, she launched into expenses which she was but ill able to bear, and now complains of designs formed against her and of all sorts of fabulous nonsense. It must, however, be acknowledged, that an extraordinary taste for fat, has been a great som-ce of inconvenience to the illustrious character alluded to, for corpulent women have been in the habit of daily throwing themselves in his way under some pretence or other; and if he but looked at them, they have considered themselves as favourites, and in the high road to riches and fame.

"It is well known that a certain French woman, with long flowing black hair, who lived not an hundred miles from Pimlico, was one who fell into this error. Her weight is about sixteen stone—and on that account she sets herself down as this illustrious person's mistress; nay, because he saw her once, she took expensive lodgings, ran deeply in debt, and now abuses the great man because he has not provided for her in a princely style, "pour se beaux yeux;" for it must be admitted, that she can boast as fine a pair of black eyes as ever were seen. The circumstance of this taste for materialism, is as unfortunate to the possessor, as a convulsive nod of the head once was to a rich gentleman, who was never without being engaged in some law suit or other, for lots knocked down to him at auctions, owing to his incessant and involuntary noddings at these places. The fat ladies wish the illustrious amateur to pay for peeping, just as the crafty knights of the hammer endeavoured to make the rich gentleman pay for his nodding at them."

"Fat, fair, and forty, then," said Sparkle, "does not appear to be forgotten."

[360] "No," was the reply, "nor is it likely: the wits of London are seldom idle upon subjects of importance: take for instance the following lines:—

              "When first I met thee, FAT and fair,
              With forty charms about thee,
              A widow brisk and debonair,
              How could I live without thee.

              Thy rogueish eye I quickly spied,
              It made me still the fonder,
              I swore though false to all beside,
              From thee I'd never wander.

              But old Fitzy now,
              Thou'rt only fit to tease me,
              And C—————M I vow,
              Has learn't the art to please me."

By this time they were passing Grosvenor gate, when the Hon. Tom Dashall directed the attention of his Cousin to a person on the opposite side of the street, pacing along with a stiff and formal air.

"That," said he, "is a new species of character, if it may properly be so termed, of which I have never yet given you any account. Sir Edward Knowell stands, however, at the head of a numerous and respectable class of persons, who may be entitled Philosophic Coxcombs. He proceeds with geometrical exactness in all his transactions. You can perceive finery of dress is no mark of his character; on the contrary, he at all times wears a plain coat; and as if in ridicule of the common fop, takes care to decorate his menials in the most gorgeous liveries.

"The stiffness and formality of his appearance is partly occasioned by the braces which he very judiciously purchased of Martin Van Butchell, and partly by the pride of wealth and rank.

"There is a pensiveness in his aspect, which would induce any one to imagine Sir Edward to be a man of feeling; but those who have depended upon outward appearances alone, have found themselves miserably deceived; for as hypocrisy assumes a look of sanctity, so your philosophic coxcomb's apparent melancholy serves only as a mask to cover his stupidity.

"Sir Edward is amorously inclined; but he consults his reason, or pretends to do so, and by that means renders his pleasures subservient to his health. It cannot be denied he sometimes manifests contortions of aspect not exactly in unison with happiness; but his feelings are ever selfish, and his apparent pain is occasioned by the nausea of a debauch, or perhaps by the pressure of a new pair of boots. If you are in distress, Sir Edward hears your tale with the most stoical indifference, and he contemplates your happiness with an equal degree of apathy—a sort of Epictetus, who can witness the miseries of a brother without agony or sympathy, and mark the elevation of a friend without one sentiment of congratulation: wrapt up in self, he banishes all feeling for others.

[361] "This philosopher has a great number of imitators—perhaps not less than one thousand philosophic coxcombs visit London annually; and if Sir Edward were to die, they might all with great propriety lay claim to a participation in the property he might leave behind him, as near relations to the family of the Knowells. These gentlemen violate all the moral duties of life with impunity: they are shameless, irreligious, and so insignificant, that they seem to consider themselves born for no useful purpose whatever. Indeed they are such perfect blanks in the creation, that were they transported to some other place, the community would never miss them, except by the diminution of follies and vices. Like poisonous plants, they merely vegetate, diffuse their contagious effluvia around, then sink into corruption, and are forgotten for ever."

"Whip me such fellows through the world," exclaimed Sparkle, "I have no relish for them."

On calling in at Long's Hotel, they were informed that Sparkle's servant had been in pursuit of his master, in consequence of letters having arrived from the country; and as Dashall knew that he had two excellent reasons why he should immediately acquaint himself with their contents, the party immediately returned to Piccadilly.

## CHAPTER XXVI

              "——-Mark the change at very first vacation,
              She's scarcely known to father or relation.
              No longer now in vesture neat and tight,
              Because forsooth she's learn'd to be polite.
              But crop't—a bosom bare, her charms explode,
              Her shape, the tout ensemble a-la-mode.
              Why Bet, cries Pa, what's come to thee of late?
              This school has turn'd thy brain as sure as fate.
              What means these vulgar ways?   I hate 'em wench,
              You shan't, I tell thee, imitate the French;
              Because great vokes adopt a foreign taste,
              And wear their bosoms naked to the waist,
              D'ye think you shall—No, no, I loathe such ways,
              Mercy! great nokes shew all for nothing now adays."

[362] The morning arose with smiles and sunshine, which appeared almost to invite our party earlier than they intended to the enjoyments of a plan which had occupied their attention on the previous evening, when Sparkle proposed a ride, which being consented to, the horses were prepared, and they were quickly on the road.

Passing through Somers Town, Sparkle remarked to his friend Dashall, that he could not help thinking that the manners and information of the rising generation ought to be greatly improved.

"And have you not had sufficient evidence of the fact?" was the reply.

"Why certainly," continued Sparkle, "if the increase of public schools round the metropolis is in proportion to what has already met my eye during our present short ride, there is sufficient evidence that education is considered as it ought to be, of the first importance. Yet I question whether we are so much more learned than our ancestors, as to require such a vast increase of teachers. Nay, is not the market overstocked with these heads of seminaries, similar to the republic of letters, which is overwhelmed with authors, and clogged with bookmakers and books."

[363] "This remark," replied Tom, "might almost as well be made upon every trade and profession which is followed; in the present day there are so many in each, that a livelihood can scarcely be obtained, and a universal grumbling is the consequence."

"Well," said Bob, "I can with safety say there are but two trades or callings that I have met with since my arrival in London, to which I have discovered no rivalship."

This remark from Tallyho excited some surprise in the mind of his two friends, who were anxious to know to what he alluded.

"I mean," continued he, "the doll's bedstead seller, who is frequently to be heard in the street of London, bawling with a peculiarity of voice as singular as the article he has for sale,—'Buy my doll's bedsteads;'—and the other, a well known whistler, whom you must both have heard."

"Egad you are right," replied Sparkle; "and although I recollect them both, I must confess the observation now made has never so forcibly struck me before: it, however, proves you have not exhausted your time in town without paying attention to the characters it contains, nor the circumstances by which they obtain their livelihood; and although the introduction is not exactly in point with the subject of previous remarks, and ought not to cut the thread of our discourse, it has some reference, and conveys to my mind a novel piece of information. But I was about to consider what can be the causes for this extraordinary host of ladies of all ages, classes and colours, from the Honourable Mistress———to the Misses Stubbs, who have their establishment for the education of young ladies in a superior style; and whether in consequence of this legion of fair labourers in learning and science, our countrywomen (for I am adverting particularly to the softer sex) are chaster, wiser, and better, than their mammas and grand-mammas."

"A most interesting subject, truly," replied Tom, "and well worthy of close investigation. Now for my part I apprehend that the increase of tutors arises from many other causes than the more general diffusion of knowledge."

[364] "There can be no doubt of it," continued Sparkle, "and some of those causes are odd enough—very opposite to wisdom, and not more conducive to improvement; for amongst them you will find pride, poverty, and idleness.

"For instance, you may discover that the proud partner of a shopkeeper in the general line, or more plainly speaking, the proprietor of a chandler's shop, is ambitious of having her daughter accomplished.

             "E'en good Geoffrey Forge, a blacksmith by descent,
             Who has his life 'midst bars and hammers spent,
             Resolves his Bet shall learn to read and write,
             And grace his table with a wit polite.
             To make for father's sense a reparation—
             The day arrives for fatal separation;
             When Betsey quits her dad with tears of woe,
             And goes to boarding-school—at Pimlico."

"Well, the accomplishments sought are music, dancing, French, and ornamental work; instead of learning the Bible, being brought up to domestic utility, cooking, washing, plain work, and the arithmetic necessary for keeping the accounts of her father's shop. What is the consequence?—the change in her education quite unfits Miss for her station in life; makes her look down on her unlettered Pa—and Ma—as persons too ignorant for her to associate with; while she is looking up with anxious expectation to marry a man of fortune (probably an officer); and is not unfrequently taken unceremoniously without the consent of her parents on a visit to the church.''

"You are pushing the matter as close as you can, Charles," said Dashall; "though I confess I think, nay I may say indeed I know some instances in which such fatal consequences have been the result of the conduct to which you allude."

"Well, then, suppose even that this superior style of education should not have the effect of turning the poor girl's head, and that she really has prudence and discretion enough to avoid the perils and snares of ambition; Miss Celestina is at least unfitted for a tradesman's wife, and she must either become a companion, or a governess, or a teacher at a school, or be set up as the Minerva of an evening school—half educated herself, and exposed in every situation for which she is conceived to be fitted, to numerous temptations, betwixt the teachers of waltzes and quadrilles—the one horse chaise dancing-masters—the lax-moraled foreign music-master—or the dashing Pa—of her young pupils (perhaps a Peer). Celibacy is not always so much an affair of choice as of circumstances, and sad difficulties are consequently thrown in the way of poor Miss So and So's path through life—all originating from pride."

[365] "Well," said Bob, "since you have been amusing us with this description, I have counted not less than eight seminaries, establishments, and preparatory schools."

"I do not doubt it," continued Sparkle; "and some of them on the meanest scale, notwithstanding the high sounding titles under which they are introduced to public notice: others presided over by sister spinsters, not unfrequently with Frenchified names; such, for instance, as 'Mesdames Puerdon's Seminary,' the lady's real name being Martha (or, if you please, Patty) Purton, and a deformed relative completing the Mesdames: the 'Misses de la Porte,' (whom nature had made simple Porter), and no great catch to obtain either: the 'Misses Cox's preparatory school for young gentlemen of an early age,' all seem to bespeak the poverty, false pride, and affectation of the owners. Notwithstanding the fine denominations given to some of these learned institutions, such as 'Bellevue Seminary'—'Montpeliere House'—'Bel Retiro Boarding School,' &c. &c.

"To such artifices as these are two classes of females compelled to resort, namely, reduced gentlewomen and exalted tradesmen's daughters, who disdain commerce, and hate the homely station which dame nature had originally intended them to move in. Such ladies (either by birth or adoption) prefer the twig to the distaff, the study to the shop, and experience more pleasure in walking out airing with their pupils, taking their station in the front, frequently gaudily and indiscreetly dressed, than to be confined to the counter, or the domestic occupations of the good old English housewife of former times.

"Such ladies are frequently to be met with on all the Greens and Commons, from dirty Stepney or Bethnal, to the more sumptuous Clapham or Willisdon. Some of them are so occupied with self, that the random-shot glances of their pupils at the exquisites and the dandy militaires about town, do not come within the range of their notice, while others are more vigilant, but often heave a sigh at the thought that the gay and gallant Captain should prefer the ruddy daughter of a cheese-monger, to the reduced sprigs of gentility which they consider themselves.

[366] "At all events, many of these ladies,and worthy ones too, are placed, par force of poverty, in this avocation, unsuited to their abilities, their hearts, their habits, or their former expectations. The government of their young flock is odious to them, and although they may go through the duties of their situation with apparent patience, it is in fact a drudgery almost insupportable; and the objects nearest the governess's heart—are the arrival of the vacation, the entrance-money, the quarter's schooling, and a lengthy list of items: the arrival of Black Monday, or a cessation of holidays, brings depressed spirits, and she returns to her occupation, deploring her unlucky stars which placed her in so laborious a situation—envies her cousin Sarah, who has caught a minor in her net; nay even perhaps would be happy to exchange circumstances with the thoughtless Miss Skipwell, who has run away with her dancing-master, or ruined a young clergyman, of a serious turn, by addressing love-letters to him, copied from the most romantic novels, which have softened his heart into matrimony, and made genteel beggars of the reverend mistress, himself, and a numerous offspring."

"Very agreeable, indeed," cried Dashall.

"Perhaps not," said Tallyho, interrupting him, "to the parties described."

"You mistake me," was the reply; "I meant the combination of air and exercise with the excellent descriptions of our friend Sparkle, who by the way has not yet done with the subject."

"I am aware of it," continued Sparkle, "for there is one part which I mentioned at the outset, which may with great propriety be added in the way of elucidation—I mean Idleness: it is the third, and shall for the present be the last subject of our consideration, and even this has contributed its fair proportion of teachers to the world. Miss Mel ta way, the daughter of a tallow-chandler, who ruined himself by dressing extravagantly his wife, and over educating his dear Caroline Matilda, in consequence of which he failed, and shortly afterwards left the world altogether,—was brought up in the straw line; but this was no solid trade, and could not be relied upon: however, she plays upon the harp and the guitar. What advantages! yet she also failed in the straw-hat line, and therefore Idleness prefers becoming an assistant teacher and music mistress, to taking to any more laborious, even though more productive mode of obtaining a livelihood.

[367] "Then Miss Nugent has a few hundred pounds, the remnant of Pa's gleanings (Pa having been the retired butler of a Pigeoned Peer.) A retail bookseller sought her hand in marriage, but she thought him quite a vulgar fellow. He had no taste for waltzing, at which she was considered to excel—he blamed her indulgence in such pleasures, and ventured to hint something about a pudding. Then again, he can't speak French, and dresses in dittoes. Now all this is really barbarous, and consequently Miss Nugent spurns the idea of such a connection.

"Let us trace her still further. In a short time she is addressed by a Captain Kirkpatrick Tyrconnel, who makes his approaches with a splendid equipage. The romantic sound of the former, and the glare of the latter, attract her attention. The title of Captain, however, is merely a nom de guerre, for he is only an ensign on half-pay. Miss is delighted with his attentions: he is a charming fellow, highly accomplished, for he sings duets, waltzes admirably, plays the German flute, and interlards his conversation with scraps of French and Spanish. Altogether he is truly irresistible, and she is willing to lay her person and her few hundreds at the feet of the conquerer. The day is appointed, and every preparation made for the nuptial ceremony; when ah! who can foresee,

"The various turns of fate below."

An athletic Hibernian wife, formerly the widow of Dennis O'Drumball, steps in between the young lady and the hymeneal altar, and claims the Captain as her husband—she being the landlady of a country ale-house where he had been quartered, whom he had married by way of discharging his bill. The interposition is fortunate, because it saves the Captain from an involuntary trip to Botany Bay, and Miss from an alliance of a bigamical kind; though it has at the same time proved a severe disappointment to the young lady.

"Crossed in love—wounded in the most tender part—she forswears the hymeneal tie; and under such unfortunate circumstances she opens a Seminary, to which she devotes the remainder of her life."

[368] "Pray," said Bob, whose eyes were as open as his ears, "did you notice that shining black board, with preposterous large gold letters, announcing 'Miss Smallgood's establishment for Young Ladies,' and close alongside of it another, informing the passenger,—' That man-traps were placed in the premises.'"

"I did," said Sparkle—"but I do not think that, though somewhat curious, the most remarkable or strange association. Young ladies educated on an improved plan, and man-traps advertised in order to create terror and dismay! For connected with this method of announcing places of education, is a recollection of receptacles of another nature."

"To what do you allude?" inquired Tallyho. "Why, in many instances, private mad-houses are disguised as boarding schools, under the designation of 'Establishment.' Many of these receptacles in the vicinity of the metropolis, are rendered subservient to the very worst of purposes, though originally intended for the safety of the individual, as well as the security of the public against the commission of acts, which are too frequently to be deplored as the effect of insanity. Of all the houses of mourning, that to which poor unhappy mortals are sent under mental derangement is decidedly the most gloomy. The idea strikes the imagination with horror, which is considerably increased by a reflection on the numerous human victims that are incarcerated within their walls, the discipline they are subjected to, and the usual pecuniary success which attends the keepers of such establishments,—where the continuance of the patient is the chief source of interest, rather than the recovery. That they are useful in some cases cannot be denied, but there are many instances too well authenticated to be doubted, where persons desirous of getting rid of aged and infirm relatives, particularly if they manifested any little aberration of mind (as is common in advanced age), have consigned them to these receptacles, from which, through the supposed kindness of their friends, and the management of the proprietors, they have never returned. If the parties ail nothing, they are soon driven to insanity by ill usage, association with unfortunates confined like themselves, vexation at the treatment, and absolute despair of escape; or if partially or slightly afflicted, the lucid intervals are prevented, and the disorder by these means is increased and confirmed by coercion, irritation of mind, and despair."

[369] "This is a deplorable picture of the state of things, indeed," said Tallyho.

"But it is unvarnished," was the reply; "the picture requires no imaginary embellishment, since it has its foundation in truth. Then again, contrast the situation of the confined with the confinera. The relatives have an interest in the care of the person, and a control over the property, which in cases of death frequently becomes their own. The keepers of these receptacles have also an interest in keeping the relatives in a disposition to forward all their views of retaining the patient, who, under the representation of being seriously deranged, is not believed; consequently all is delusion, but the advantages which ultimately fall to the tender-hearted relative, or the more artful proprietor of the mad-house; and it is wonderful what immense fortunes are made by the latter; nay not only by the proprietors, but even the menials in their employ, many of whom have been known to retire independent, a circumstance which clearly proves, that by some means or other they must have possessed themselves of the care of the property, as well as that of the persons of their unfortunate victims."

"This is a dull subject," said Dashall, "though I confess that some exposures which have been made fully justify your observations; but I am not fond of looking at such gloomy pictures of Real Life."

"True," replied Sparkle; "but it connects itself with the object you have had in view; and though I know there are many who possess souls of sensibility, and who would shrink from the contemplation of so much suffering humanity, it is still desirable they should know the effects produced almost by inconceivable causes. I know people in general avoid the contemplation, as well as fly from the abodes of misery, contenting themselves by sending pecuniary assistance. But unfortunately there are a number of things that wear a similarity of appearance, yet are so unlike in essence and reality, that they are frequently mistaken by the credulous and unwary, who become dupes, merely because they are not eye witnesses of the facts. But if the subject is dull, let us push forward, take a gallop over Hampstead Heath, and return."

[370] "With all my heart," cried Dashall, giving a spur to his horse, and away they went.

The day was delightfully fine; the appearance of the country banished all gloomy thoughts from their minds; and after a most agreeable ride, they returned to Piccadilly, where finding dinner ready, they spent the remainder of the evening in the utmost hilarity, and the mutual interchange of amusing and interesting conversation, principally relative to Sparkle's friends in the country, and their arrangements for the remainder of their time during their stay in the metropolis.

## CHAPTER XXVII

              "E'en mighty monarchs may at times unbend,
              And sink the dull superior in the friend.
              The jaded scholar his lov'd closet quits,
              To chat with folks below, and save his wits:
              Peeps at the world awhile, with curious look.
              Then flies again with pleasure to his book.
              The tradesman hastes away from Care's rude gripe,
              To meet the neighbouring club and smoke his pipe.
              All this is well, in decent bounds restrained,
              No health is injured, and no mind is pain'd.
              But constant travels in the paths of joy,
              Yield no delights but what in time must cloy;
              Though novelty spread all its charms to view,
              And men with eagerness those charms pursue;
              One truth is clear, that by too frequent use,
              They early death or mis'ry may produce."

[371] THE post of the following morning brought information for Dashall and his friends, and no time was lost in breaking open the seals of letters which excited the most pleasing anticipations. A dead silence prevailed for a few minutes, when, rising almost simultaneously, expressions of satisfaction and delight were interchanged at the intelligence received.

Merry well's success had proved more than commensurate with his most sanguine expectations. He had arrived at the residence of his dying relative, just time enough to witness his departure from this sublunary sphere, and hear him with his expiring breath say,—"All is thine;" and a letter to each of his former friends announced the pleasure and the happiness he should experience by an early visit to his estate, declaring his determination to settle in the country, and no more become a rambler in the labyrinths of London.

This was a moment of unexpected, though hoped for gratification. Sparkle applauded the plan he intended to pursue.

Tallyho confessed himself tired of this world of wonders, and appeared to be actuated by a similar feeling: he conceived he had seen enough of the Life of a Rover, and seemed to sigh for his native plains again.

[372] Dashall's relish for novelty in London was almost subdued; and after comparing notes together for a short time, it was mutually agreed that they would dine quietly at home, and digest a plan for future proceedings.

"Never," said Tom, "did I feel so strong an inclination to forego the fascinating charms of a London Life as at the present moment; and whether I renounce it altogether or not, we will certainly pay a congratulatory visit to Merry well."

"Example," said Sparkle, endeavouring to encourage the feeling with which his friend's last sentiment was expressed, "is at all times better than precept; and retirement to domestic felicity is preferable to revelry in splendid scenes of dissipation, which generally leads to premature dissolution."

"Agreed," said Tom; "and happy is the man who, like yourself, has more than self to think for.—Blest with a lovely and amiable wife, and an ample fortune, no man upon earth can have a better chance of gliding down the stream of life, surrounded by all the enjoyments it can afford—while I———"

"Oh, what a lost mutton am I!"

Sparkle could scarcely forbear laughing at his friend, though he was unable to discover whether he was speaking seriously or ironically; he therefore determined to rally him a little.

"How," said he, "why you are growing serious and sentimental all at once: what can be the cause of this change of opinion so suddenly?"

"My views of life," replied Dashall, "have been sufficient to convince me that a Like in London is the high road to Death. I have, however, tried its vagaries in all companies, in all quarters; and, as the Song says,

"Having sown my wild oats in my youthful days, I wish to live happily now they are done."

By this time Sparkle was convinced that Dashall was speaking the real sentiments of his mind, and congratulated him upon them.

[373] Tallyho expressed himself highly delighted with the information he had acquired during his stay in London, but could not help at the same time acknowledging, that he had no wish to continue in the same course much longer: it was therefore agreed, that on that day fortnight they would leave the metropolis for the residence of Merrywell, and trust the future guidance of their pursuits to chance.

"It would argue a want of loyalty," said Tom, "if we did not witness the royal departure for Scotland before we quit town; and as that is to take place on Saturday next, we will attend the embarkation of his Majesty at Greenwich, and then turn our thoughts towards a country life."

Sparkle was evidently gratified by this determination, though he could hardly persuade himself it was likely to be of long duration; and Bob inwardly rejoiced at the expression of sentiments in exact accordance with his own. At a moment when they were all absorbed in thoughts of the future, they were suddenly drawn to the present by a man passing the window, bawling aloud—"Buy a Prap—Buy a Prap."

"What does the fellow mean?" interrupted Tallyho.

"Mean," said Dashall, "nothing more than to sell his clothes props."

"Props," replied Bob, "but he cries praps; I suppose that is a new style adopted in London."

"Not at all," continued Sparkle; "the alteration of sound only arises from an habitual carelessness, with which many of what are termed the London Cries are given; a sort of tone or jargon which is acquired by continually calling the same thing—and in which you will find he is not singular. The venders of milk, for instance, seldom call the article they carry for sale, as it is generally sounded mieu, or mieu below, though some have recently adopted the practice of crying mieu above. The sort of sing-song style which the wandering vendera of different goods get into as it were by nature, is frequently so unintelligible, that even an old inhabitant of the town and its environs can scarcely ascertain by the ear what is meant; and which I apprehend arises more from the sameness of subject than from any premeditated intention of the parties so calling. Other instances may be given:—the chimney-sweeper, you will find, instead of [374] bawling sweep, frequently contracts it to we-ep or e-ep; the former not altogether incompatible with the situation of the shivering little being who crawls along the streets under a load of soot, to the great annoyance of the well dressed passengers; however, it has the effect of warning them of his approach. The dustman, above curtailment, as if he felt his superiority over the flue-faker, lengthens his sound to dust-ho, or dust-wo; besides, he is dignified by carrying a bell in one hand, by which he almost stuns those around him, and appears determined to kick up a dust, if he can do nothing else. The cries of muffins in the streets it is difficult to understand, as they are in the habit of ringing a tinkling bell, the sound of which can scarcely be heard, and calling mapping ho; and I remember one man whom I have frequently followed, from whom I could never make out more than happy happy happy now. There is a man who frequently passes through the Strand, wheeling a barrow before him, bawling as he moves along, in a deep and sonorous voice, smoaking hot, piping hot, hot Chelsea Buns; and another, in the vicinity of Covent Garden, who attracts considerable notice by the cry of—Come buy my live shrimps and pierriwinkles—buy my wink, wink, wink; these, however, are exceptions to those previously mentioned, as they have good voices, and deliver themselves to some tune; but to the former may be added the itinerant collector of old clothes, who continually annoys you with—Clow; clow sale. The ingenious Ned Shuter, the most luxuriant comedian of his time, frequently entertained his audience on his benefit nights with admirable imitations of the Cries of London, in which he introduced a remarkable little man who sold puffs, and who, from the peculiar manner of his calling them, acquired the name of Golly Molly Puff; by this singularity he became a noted character, and at almost every period some such peculiar itinerant has become remarkable in the streets of London. Some years back, a poor wretched being who dealt in shreds and patches, used to walk about, inviting people by the following lines—

              "Linen, woollen, and leather,
              Bring 'em out altogether."

[375] Another, a sleek-headed whimsical old man, appeared, who was commonly called the Wooden Poet, from his carrying wooden ware, which was slung in a basket round his neck, and who chaunted a kind of song in doggerel rhyme, somewhat similar to the following—

              "Come, come, my worthy soul,
              Will you buy a wooden bowl?
              I am just come from the Borough,
              Will you buy a pudding stirrer.
              I hope I am not too soon,
              For you to buy a wooden spoon.
              I've come quick as I was able,
              Thinking you might want a ladle,
              And if I'm not too late,
              Buy a trencher or wood plate.
              Or if not it's no great matter,
              So you take a wooden platter.
              It may help us both to dinner,
              If you'll buy a wooden skimmer.
              Come, neighbours, don't be shy, for I deal just and fair,
              Come, quickly come and buy, all sorts of wooden ware."

"Very well, indeed, for a wooden poet," exclaimed Bois; "he certainly deserved custom at all events: his rivals, Walter Scott or Lord Byron, would have turned such a poetical effusion to some account—it would have been dramatized—Murray, Longman, &c. would have been all in a bustle, puffing, blowing, and advertising. We should have had piracies, Chancery injunctions, and the d———1 to pay; but alas! it makes all the difference whether a poet is fashionable and popular or not."{1}

         1 Lord Byron, in his preface to a recent publication,
         complains that among other black arts resorted to, for the
         purpose of injuring his fair fame, he has been accused of
         receiving considerable sums for writing poetical puffs for
         Warren's blacking. We can safely acquit his Lordship of this
         charge, as well as of plagiarism from the poems he alludes
         to; but it has led to a curious rencontre between the
         blacking-laureat, and his patron the vender of the shin-ing
         jet; and after considerable black-guardism between the
         parties, the matter is likely to become the subject of legal
         discussion among the gentlemen of the black robe.

         The poet, it appears, received half a crown for each
         production, from the man of blacking, which the latter
         considered not only a fair, but even liberal remuneration
         for poetic talent; not overlook-ing, that while the
         pecuniary reward would produce comfort, and add a polish to
         personal appearance, the brilliance of the composition,
         (both of poetry and blacking), would be fairly divided
         between he authors of each; and that the fame of both would
         be conjointly

         handed down to posterity, and shine for ever in the temple
         of fame.

         Now it requires no uncommon sagacity to perceive, that but
         for this unfortunate mistake of the public, the poet would
         have remained satisfied, as far as pecuniary recompence
         went, with the half-crown,—looking to futurity for that
         more complete recompence, which poets ever consider far
         beyond pudding or sensual gratification,—fame and
         immortality; but, alas!

         "From causes quite obscure and unforeseen, What great events
         to man may sometimes spring."

         Finding from Lord B.'s own statement, that the public had
         duly appreciated the merit of these compositions, and had
         attached so high a value, as even to mistake them for his
         Lordship's productions, our bard was naturally led into a
         train of reasoning, and logical deductions, as to what
         advantage had, and what ought to have resulted to himself,
         according to this estimate, by public opinion.—Lord B. and
         his great northern contemporary, it appeared, received
         thousands from the public for their poems, while half-crowns
         (not to be despised, during certain cravings, but soon
         dissipated by that insatiable and unceasing tormentor, the
         stomach,) was all the benefit likely to accrue in this world
         to the original proprietor: in a happy moment, a happy
         thought flitted athwart the poet's mind; and like the china
         seller in the Arabian Nights, he found himself rolling in
         ideal wealth; and spurning with disdain the blacking
         merchant, the blacking, and the half-crowns, he resolved on
         a project by which to realize his fondest wishes of wealth,
         happiness, and independence.

         The project was this: to collect together the fugitive
         blacking sonnets, so as to form a volume, under the title of
         Poems supposed to be written by Lord Byron, and offer the
         copyright to Mr. Murray; and in case of his refusing a
         liberal sum, (that is, some-thing approaching to what he
         pays the Noble Bard per Vol.) to publish them on his (the
         author's) own account, and depend on the public for that
         support and encouragement which their favourable decision
         had already rendered pretty certain.

         Now then comes 'the rub;' the blacking vender, hearing of
         our poet's intention, files a bill in Chancery, praying for
         an injunction to restrain the publication, and claiming an
         exclusive right in the literary property: the poet, in
         replication, denies having assigned or transferred the
         copyright, and thus issue is joined. His Lord-ship, with his
         usual extreme caution, where important rights are involved,
         wished to give the matter mature consideration, and said,
         "he would take the papers home, to peruse more attentively."
         It will be recollected, that in the cause, respecting Lord
         Byron's poem of Cain, his Lordship stated, that during the
         vacation he had, by way of relaxation from business, perused
         that work and Paradise Lost, in order to form a just
         estimate of their comparative merits; and who knows but
         during the present vacation, his Lordship may compare the
         blacking sonnets with "Childe Harold," "Fare Thee Well,"
         &c.; and that on next seal day, the public may be benefited
         by his opinion as to which is entitled to the claim of
         superior excellence; and how far the public are justified in
         attributing the former to the noble author of the latter.

[377] "Then," continued Sparkle, "there was a rustic usually mounted on a white hobby, with a basket on one arm, who used to invade the northern purlieus of London, mumbling Holloway Cheesecakes, which from his mode of utterance, sounded like 'Ho all my teeth ake.'"

"Ha! ha! ha!" vociferated Tallyho, unable to restrain his risibility.

"Numerous other instances might be adduced," continued Sparkle: "among many there was a noted Pigman, whose pigs were made of what is called standing crust, three or four inches long, baked with currant sauce in the belly, who used to cry, or rather sing,—

              'A long tail'd pig, or a short tail'd pig,' &c.

There was another singular character, who used to be called Tiddy-doll, a noted vender of gingerbread at Bartholomew, Southwark, and other fairs; who to collect customers round his basket used to chaunt a song, in which scarcely any thing was distinctly articulated but the cant expression Tiddy-doll: he used to wear a high cocked hat and feather, with broad scolloped gold lace on it; and last, though not least, was Sir Jeffery Vunstan, of Garrat fame, who used to walk about the streets in a blue coat with gold lace, his shirt bosom open, and without a hat, accompanied by his daughter, Miss Nancy, crying ould wigs."

"Old wigs," reverberated Bob, "an extraordinary article of merchandize!"

"Not more extraordinary than true," replied Dashall; "but come, I suppose we shall all feel inclined to write a few lines to the country, so let us make the best of our time."

Upon this signal, each flew to the exercise of the quill, and indulged his own vein of thought in writing to his friend; and the day closed upon them without any further occurrence deserving of particular remark.

## CHAPTER XXVIII

              Haste away to Scotland dear,
              And leave your native home;
              The Land of Cakes affords good cheer
              And you've a mind to roam.—
              Here splendid sights, and gala nights
              Are all prepar'd for Thee;
              While Lords and Knights,—('mid gay delights!)

              And Ladies bend the knee.
              Haste away to Scotia's Land,
              With kilt and Highland plaid;
              And join the sportive, reeling band,
              With ilka bonny lad.—
              For night and day,—we'll trip away,
              With cheerful dance, and glee;
              Come o'er the spray,—without delay,
              Each joy's prepared for Thee.

[378] The morning arose with a smiling and inviting aspect; and as it had been previously rumoured that his Majesty would embark from Greenwich Hospital at half-past eight o'clock, on his intended voyage to Scotland, our party had arranged every thing for their departure at an early hour, and before seven o'clock had seated themselves in a commodious and elegant barge moored off Westminster Bridge, intending, if possible, to see the City Companies, headed by the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen, start, as had been proposed, from the Tower. They were shortly afterwards gliding on the surface of the watery element towards the scene of action: by this time the numerous parties in pursuit of the same object were on the alert; and from almost every part of the shore as they passed along, gaily dressed company was embarking, while merry peals of bells seemed to announce approaching delight. The steeples on shore, and the vessels in the river, exhibited flags and streamers, which gave an additional splendour to the scene. All was anxiety and expectation; numerous barges and pleasure-boats, laden with elegant company, were speeding the same way, and every moment increasing, so that the whole view displayed a combination of beauty, fashion, and loyalty not often surpassed.

[379] On arriving off the Tower, it was soon ascertained that the Lord Mayor and City Companies had got the start of them, and consequently they proceeded on their journey, not doubting but they should overtake them before reaching Greenwich; and in this expectation they were not disappointed; for soon after passing Rotherhithe Church, they came up with the City State Barge, which was towed by a steam boat, accompanied by several other state barges, the whole filled with company. The brightness of the morning, and the superb appearance of these gaily manned, and it might be added gaily womaned gallies, (for a numerous party of fashionably attired ladies added their embellishing presence to the spectacle) formed altogether a picture of more than ordinary interest and magnificence.

"This Royal Visit to Scotland," said Sparkle, "has for some time past been a prevailing topic of discussion from one end of the Land of Cakes to the other, and the preparations for his Majesty's reception are of the most splendid description—triumphal arches are to be erected, new roads to be made, banquets to be given, general illuminations to take place, body guards of royal archers to be appointed, and the dull light of oil lamps to be totally obscured by the full blaze of Royal Gas. Then there are to be meetings of the civil and municipal authorities from every town and county, presenting loyal and dutiful addresses; and it is expected that there will be so much booing among the "Carle's when the King's come," that the oilmen are said to be not a whit disconcerted at the introduction of gas lights, the unctuous article being at present in great demand, for the purpose of suppling the stiff joints of the would-be courtiers, who have resolved to give a characteristic specimen of their humble loyalty, and to oulboo all the hooings of the famed Sir Pertinax."

"However," observed Dashall, "it is not very likely they will be able to equal the grace with which it is acknowledged the King can bow; and he is to be accompanied by the accomplished Sir Billy, of City notoriety; so that admirable examples are certain of being presented to the Scottish gentry: reports state [380] that the worthy Baronet, who is considered to be of great weight wherever he goes, is determined to afford his Majesty, in this visit to Edinburgh, the benefit of that preponderating loyalty which he last year threw into the scale of the Dublin Corporation; and that he has recently purchased from a Highland tailor in the Hay market, a complete suit of tartan, philebeg, &c. with which he means to invest himself, as the appropriate costume, to meet his royal master on his arrival at Edinburgh."

"In that case," said Sparkle, "there is one circumstance greatly to be regretted, considering the gratification which our northern neighbours might have derived, from ascertaining the precise number of cwts. of the most weighty of London citizens. I remember reading a day or two back that the weigh-house of the City of Edinburgh was disposed of by public roup, and that a number of workmen were immediately employed to take it down, as the whole must be cleared away by the 6th of August, under a penalty of 50L.: what a pity, that in the annals of the weigh-house, the Scotch could not have registered the actual weight of the greatest of London Aldermen."

Tom and Bob laughed heartily at their friend Sparkle's anticipations respecting the worthy Baronet; while Bob dryly remarked, "he should think Sir Willie would prove himself a honnie lad among the lasses O; and nae doubt he would cut a braw figure in his Highland suit."

"But," continued Dashall, "we are indulging in visions of fancy, without paying that attention to the scene around us which it deserves, and I perceive we are approaching Greenwich Hospital. There is the royal yacht ready prepared for the occasion; the shores are already crowded with company, and the boats and barges are contending for eligible situations to view the embarkation. There is the floating chapel; and a little further on to the right is the Marine Society's School-ship, for the education of young lads for his Majesty's service. The Hospital now presents a grand and interesting appearance. What say you, suppose we land at the Three Crowns, and make inquiry as to the likely time of his Majesty's departure."

"With all my heart," replied Sparkle, "and we can then refresh, for I am not exactly used to water excursions, and particularly so early in the morning, consequently it has a good effect on the appetite."

[381] By this time the City Barges had taken positions in the front of the Hospital, and our party passed them to gain the proposed place of inquiry: here, however, all was conjecture; the people of Greenwich Hospital appeared to know as little of the time appointed as those of the metropolis; and finding they had little chance of accommodation in consequence of the great influx of company, they again embarked, and shortly after attacked the produce of their locker, and with an excellent tongue and a glass of Madeira, regaled themselves sufficiently to wait the arrival. Time, however, hung heavily on their hands, though they had a view of thousands much worse situated than themselves, and could only contemplate the scene with astonishment, that serious mischiefs did not accrue, from the immense congregated multitude by which they were surrounded.

Anxiety and anticipation were almost exhausted, and had nearly given place to despondency, when about three o'clock the extraordinary bustle on shore announced the certainty of the expected event being about to take place; and in about half an hour after, they were gratified by seeing his Majesty descend the steps of the Hospital, attended by the noblemen, &c. under a royal salute, and rowed to the vessel prepared to receive him. The royal standard was immediately hoisted, and away sailed the King, amidst the heartfelt congratulations and good wishes of his affectionate and loyal people, the firing of cannon, the ringing of bells, and every other demonstration of a lively interest in his safety and welfare: leaving many to conjecture the feelings with which the heart must be impressed of a person so honoured and attended, we shall select a few descriptive lines from the pen of a literary gentleman, in his opinion the most likely to be expressive of the sentiments entertained on the occasion.

              ROYAL RECOLLECTIONS.

              As slow the yacht her northern track
              Against the wind was cleaving;
              Her noble Master oft look'd back,
              To that dear spot 'twas leaving:
              So loth to part from her he loves,
              From those fair charms that bind him;
              He turns his eye where'er he roves,
              To her he's left behind him.
              When, round the bowl, of other dears
              He talks, with joyous seeming,
              His smiles resemble vapourish tears,
              So faint, so sad their beaming;
              While memory brings him back again,
              Each early tie that twin'd him,
              How sweet's the cup that circles then,
              To her he's left behind him.

              Ah!   should our noble master meet
              Some Highland lass enchanting,
              With looks all buxom, wild, and sweet,
              Yet love would still be wanting;
              He'd think how great had been his bliss
              If heav'n had but assign'd him,
              To live and die so pure as this,
              With her he's left behind him.
              As travelers oft look back at eve,
              When eastward darkly going,
              To gaze upon that light they leave,
              Still faint behind them glowing.

              So, ere he's been a month away,
              At home we sure shall find him,
              For he can never longer stay,
              From her he's left behind him.

The gay assemblage before them, and the ceremony of the embarkation, the sound of music, and the shouts of the populace, and animated appearance of the river, which by this time seemed all in motion, amply repaid our friends for the time they had waited; and after watching the departure of the Royal Squadron, they returned to town; and as they passed the London Docks, it occurred to the mind of the Hon. Tom Dashall, that his Cousin had not yet paid a visit to these highly interesting productions of human genius; and it was agreed that a day should be devoted to their inspection before his departure from the Metropolis.

## CHAPTER XXIX

              ——Where has Commerce such a mart,
              So rich, so throng'd, so drained, and so supplied,
              As London; opulent, enlarged, and still
              Increasing London?   Babylon of old
              Not more the glory of the earth, than she;
              A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now.

[383] According to arrangements previously made, our friends met in the morning with a determination to shape their course eastward, in order to take a survey of the Commercial Docks for the accommodation of shipping, and the furtherance of trade; and the carriage being ordered, they were quickly on their way towards Blackwall.

"The Docks of the Port of London," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "are of the highest importance in a commercial point of view, and are among the prominent curiosities of British Commerce, as they greatly facilitate trade, and afford additional security to the merchants."

"Yes," said Sparkle, "and it is to be presumed, no small profit to the share-holders of the Companies by which they were established; but I expect your Cousin will derive more gratification from a sight of the places themselves, than from any description we can give, and the time to explain will be when we arrive on the spot; for it is scarcely possible for any one to conceive the immensity of buildings they contain, or the regularity with which the business is carried on.—" How do ye do?" (thrusting his head out of the window, and moving his hand with graceful familiarity,)—"I have not seen Sir Frederick since my matrimonial trip, and now he has passed by on horseback I really believe without seeing me; Dashall, you remember Sir Frederick Forcewit?"

"Perfectly well," replied Tom; "but I was paying so much attention to you, that I did not notice him. The liveliest fellow, except yourself, in the whole round of my acquaintance."

[384] "And you are one of the best I ever met with to gain a point by a good turn; but take it, and make the most you can of it—I may have an opportunity of paying you off in your own coin."

Tallyho laughed heartily at the manner in which Sparkle had altogether changed the conversation, but could not help remarking that Sir Frederick had not given a specimen of his politeness, by avoiding a return of Sparkle's salutation.

"And yet," continued Sparkle, "he is one of the most polished men I know, notwithstanding I think his upper story is not a bit too well furnished: he has a handsome fortune, and a pretty wife, who would indeed be a lovely woman, but for an affectation of manners which she assumed upon coming to the title of Lady Forcewit: their parties are of the most dashing order, and all the rank and fashion of the metropolis visit their mansion."

Sparkle, who was in his usual humour for conversation and description, now entertained his friends with the following account of a party with whom he had spent an evening just previous to his departure from town.

"Mrs. Stepswift is the widow lady of a dancing-master, who having acquired some little property previous to his decease, left his partner in possession of his wealth and two daughters, though the provision for their education and support was but scanty. The mother had the good luck a few years after to add to her stock ten thousand pounds by a prize in the lottery, a circumstance which afforded her additional opportunities of indulging her passion for dress, which she did not fail to inculcate in her daughters, who, though not handsome, were rather pleasing and agreeable girls; and since the good fortune to which I have alluded, she has usually given a ball by way of introduction to company, and with the probable view, (as they are now marriageable), to secure them husbands. It was on one of these occasions that I was invited, and as I knew but one of the party, I had an excellent opportunity of making my uninterrupted remarks."

"Then," said Dashall, "I'll wager my life you acted the part of an observant quiz."

"And I should think you would be likely to win," observed Tallyho.

[385] "I am bound to consider myself obliged," continued Sparkle, "for the bold construction you are kind enough to put upon my character and conduct by your observations; but never mind, I am not to be intimidated by the firing of a pop-gun, or a flash in the pan, therefore I shall proceed. Upon my introduction I found the widow playing a rubber with a punchy parson, a lean doctor, and a half-pay officer in the Guards; and consequently taking a friend I knew by the arm, I strolled through the rooms, which were spacious and well furnished. In the ball-room I found numerous couples 'tripping it on the light fantastic toe,' to the tune of 'I'll gang no more to yon town,' and displaying a very considerable portion of grace and agility. In the other room devoted to refreshments and cards, I met with several strollers like myself, who being without partners, or not choosing to dance with such as they could obtain, were lounging away their time near the centre of the room. I was introduced to the two young ladies, who behaved with the utmost politeness and attention, though I could easily perceive there was a considerable portion of affectation mingled with their manners; and I soon discovered that they operated as the load-stone of attraction to several dandy-like beaux who were continually flocking around them.

'"My dear Miss Eliza,' said a pug-nosed dandy, whom I afterwards understood to be a jeweller's shopman, 'may I be allowed the superlative honor and happiness of attending you down the next dance?' The manner in which this was spoken, with a drawling lisp, and the unmeaning attitude of the speaker, which was any thing but natural, provoked my risibility almost beyond forbearance; his bushy head, the fall of his cape, and the awkward stick-out of his coat, which was buttoned tight round his waist; the drop of his quizzing glass from his bosom, and the opera hat in his hand, formed altogether as curious a figure as I ever recollect to have seen; though my eyes were immediately directed to another almost as grotesque, by the young lady herself, who informed the applicant that she had engaged herself with Captain Scrambleton, and could not avail herself of his intended honor; while the captain himself, with a mincing gait, little compatible with the line of life to which it was to be presumed he was attached, was advancing and eyeing the would-be rival with all the apparent accuracy of a military scrutiny. The contrast of the two figures is [386] inconceivable—the supplicating beau on the one hand, half double, in the attitude of solicitation, and the upright position of the exquisite militaire, casting a suspicious look of self-importance on the other, were irresistible. I was obliged to turn on one side to prevent discovering my impulse to laughter. The captain, I have since learned, turned out to be a broken-down blackleg, seeking to patch up a diminished fortune by a matrimonial alliance, in which he was only foiled by a discovery just time enough to prevent his design upon Miss Eliza."

"Mere butterflies," exclaimed Dashall, "that nutter for a time in sunshine with golden wings, to entrap attention, while the rays fall upon them, and then are seen no more! but I always like your descriptions, although you are usually severe."

"As soon as I could recover my solemnity, I found a little gentleman, who reminded me strongly of cunning little Isaac in the Duenna, advancing towards Miss Amelia with true dancing-master-like precision. I soon discovered, by her holding up her fan at his approach, that she held him in utter aversion, and found he received a reply very derogatory to his wishes; when stepping up to her by the introduction of my friend, I succeeded m obtaining her hand for the dance, to the great mortification and discomfiture of Mr. O'Liltwell, who was no other than an Irish dancing-master in miniature. There is always room enough for observation and conjecture upon such occasions. There were, however, other characters in the rooms more particularly deserving of notice. In one corner I found Lord Anundrum, the ex-amateur director, m close conversation with Mr. Splitlungs, a great tragedian, and Tom Little, the great poet, on the subject of a new piece written by the latter, and presented for acceptance to the former by. Mr. Splitlungs, the intermediate friend of both. I discovered the title of this master-piece of dramatic literature to be no other than 'The Methodical Madman, or Bedlam besieged.' A little further on sat Dr. Staggerwit, who passes for a universal genius: he is a great chemist, and a still greater gourmand, moreover a musician, has a hand in the leading Reviews, a share m the most prominent of the daily papers; is president of several learned institutions, over the threshold of which he has never passed, and an honorary member of others which have long been defunct: he appeared to be absorbed in contemplation, and taking but little notice of the gaieties by which he was surrounded. My friend informed me he was just then endeavouring to bring before Parliament his coup de maître, which was a process for extracting a nourishing diet for the poor from oyster shells."

[387] "What the devil is the matter?" exclaimed Dashall, thrusting his head out of the carriage window upon hearing a sudden crash.

"Matter enough, your honour," bawled an athletic Irishman in the habit of a sailor; "by the powers, here's Peg Pimpleface, the costermonger's great grand-daughter, at sea without a rudder or compass, upset in a squall, and run bump ashore; and may I be chained to the toplights if I think either crew or cargo can be saved."

It appeared that Peg Pimpleface had been round Poplar, Limehouse, and their vicinities, to sell her cargo of greens, potatoes, and other vegetables; and having met with tolerable success, she had refreshed herself a little too freely with the juniper, and driving her donkey-cart towards Whitechapel, with a short pipe in her mouth, had dropped from her seat among the remains of her herbage, leaving her donkey to the uncontrolled selection of his way home. A Blackwall stage, on the way to its place of destination, had, by a sudden jerk against one of the wheels of Peg's crazy vehicle, separated the shafts from the body of the cart, and the donkey being thus unexpectedly disengaged from his load, made the best of his bargain, by starting at full speed with the shafts at his heels, while the cart, by the violence of the concussion, lay in the road completely topsy turvey; consequently Tom looked in vain for the fair sufferer who lay under it.

"Poor Peg," continued the Irishman, "by the powers, if her nose comes too near the powder magazine, the whole concarn will blow up; and as I don't think she is insured, I'll be after lending her a helping hand; "and with this, setting his shoulders to the shattered machine, at one effort he restored it to its proper position, and made a discovery of Peg Pimpleface, with her ruby features close to a bunch of turnips, the whiteness of which served to heighten in no small degree their effect: the fall, however, had not left her in the most delicate situation for public inspection; the latter part of her person presenting itself bare, save and except that a bunch of carrots appeared to have sympathized in her misfortune, and [388] kindly overshadowed her brawny posteriors. As she lay perfectly motionless, it was at first conjectured that poor Peg was no longer a living inhabitant of this world: it was, however, soon ascertained that this was not the fact, for the Hibernian, after removing the vegetables, and adjusting her clothes, took her up in his arms, and carried her with true Irish hospitality to a neighbouring public-house, where seating her, she opened her eyes, which being black, shone like two stars over the red protuberance of her face.

"By J———s," says Pat, "Peg's a brilliant of the first water; give her a glass of max, and she'll be herself in two minutes:" at the sound of this, animation was almost instantaneously restored, and Tom and his friends having ascertained that she had sustained no bodily harm, gave the generous Irishman a reward for his attentions, jumped into the carriage, and proceeded on their journey.

They were not long on their journey to Black wall; where having arrived, the first object of attention was the East India Docks, to which they were introduced by Mr. M. an acquaintance of Dashall's.

"These Docks," said Tom to his Cousin, "are a noble series of works, well worthy of the Company which produced them, though they generally excite less interest than the West India Docks, which are not far distant, and of which we shall also have a sight."

"It should be remembered," observed Mr. M. "that these docks are solely appropriated to the safe riding of East Indiamen. The import dock is 1410 feet long, 560 wide, and 30 feet deep, covering an area of 18 acres and a half. The export dock is 780 feet long, 520 feet wide, and 30 feet deep, covering nine acres and a half, with good wharf, and warehouse room for loading and unloading."

"Pray," said Bob, "what are those immense caravans, do they belong to the shew-folk, the collectors of wild beasts and curiosities for exhibition at the fair? or———"

"They are vehicles of considerable utility, Sir," replied Mr. M.; "for by means of those covered waggons, all the goods and merchandize of the East India Company are conveyed to and from their warehouses in town, under lock and key, so as to prevent fraud and smuggling. They are very capacious, and although they have a heavy and cumbrous appearance, they move along the road [389] with more celerity than may be imagined; and the high wall with which the docks are surrounded, prevents the possibility of any serious peculation being carried on within them. The Company are paid by a tonnage duty, which they charge to the owners. Coopers, carpenters, and blacksmiths, are continually employed in repairing the packages of goods, landing, and snipping; and a numerous party of labourers are at all times engaged in conveying the merchandize to and from the shipping, by which means hundreds of families are provided for. The Company is established by Act of Parliament, and for the convenience of the merchants they have an office for the transaction of business in town."

"It is a very extensive concern," said Tallyho, "and is doubtless of very great utility."

Having satisfied themselves by looking over these extensive works, Mr. M. informed them, that adjoining the Docks was a ship-building yard, formerly well known as Perry's Yard, but now the property of Sir Robert Wigram. "Probably you would like to take a view round it."

To this having replied in the affirmative, they were quickly introduced.

"Sir Robert," said Mr. M. "has been, and I believe still is, a considerable managing owner of East India Shipping, whose fortune appears to have advanced as his family increased, and perhaps few men have deserved better success; he was born at Wexford, in Ireland, in the year 1744, and was brought up under his father to the profession of a surgeon: he left Ireland early in life, to pursue his studies in England, and afterwards obtained an appointment as surgeon of an East Indiaman, and remained some years in the service: he married Miss Broadhurst, the youngest daughter of Francis Broadhurst, of Mansfield, in Nottinghamshire, an eminent tanner and maltster; soon after which he commenced his career as owner of East India Shipping. The General Goddard, commanded by William Taylor Money, Esq. sailed under his management, and was fortunate enough during the voyage to capture eight Dutch East Indiamen, of considerable value, off St. Helena; since which he has been one of the most eminent ship-owners in the City of London."

[390] "A proof," said Sparkle, "of the advantages to be derived from perseverance, and the active exercise of an intelligent mind."

"His first wife," continued the informant, "died in the year 1786, leaving him five children; and in the following year he married Miss Eleanor Watts, daughter of John Watts, Esq. of Southampton, many years Secretary to the Victualling Office, who is the present Lady Wigram, the benevolence of whose heart, and gentleness of manners, have not only endeared her to her husband, but gained her the esteem and regard of all who know her, and by this lady he has had seventeen children."

"Zounds!" said Bob, "a man ought to have a mine of wealth to support such a numerous progeny."

"They are, however, all of them well provided for; and Sir Robert has the happiness, at an advanced age, to find himself the father of a happy family; he rejoices once a year to have them all seated at his own table; and has in many instances surprised his friends by an introduction. It is related, that a gentleman from the Isle of Wight met him near the Exchange, and after mutual salutations were passed, he invited the gentleman to dine with him, by whom an excuse was offered, as he was not equipped for appearing at his table. 'Nonsense,' said Sir Robert, 'you must dine with me; and I can assure you there will be only my own family present, so come along.' Guess the surprise of his visitor, on being introduced to a large party of ladies and gentlemen. He was confused and embarrassed. He begged pardon, and would have retired, declaring that Sir Robert had informed him that none but his own family were to be present. This Sir R. affirmed he had strictly adhered to, and introduced his friend to his sons and daughters by name, which it may fairly be presumed, though it explained, did not exactly tend to decrease his visitor's embarrassment."

"And these premises," inquired Bob, "belong to the man you have described?"

"The same," said Mr. M.; "they are managed and conducted under the superintendence of two of his sons. Here, East India ships are built, launched, and repaired: there are two on the stocks now of considerable magnitude; the premises are extensive and commodious, and that high building which you see is a mast-house, and the other buildings about the yard are devoted to sail lofts, and shops for the various artizans, requisite to complete the [391] grand design of building and fitting out a ship for sea. From this yard you have a fine view over the marshes towards Woolwich, and also a commanding prospect of Greenwich Hospital. The various vessels and boats passing and repassing at all times, give variety to the scene before you; and when a launch takes place, the whole neighbourhood represents something of the nature of a carnival; the river is covered with boats filled with company, and every part of the shore near the spot from which the magnificent piece of mechanism is to burst upon its native element, is equally occupied; temporary booths are erected upon each side of what is termed the cradle, for the accommodation of invited visitors; bands play as she moves, and a bottle of wine is thrown at her head as she glides from the stocks, when her name is pronounced amidst the universal shouts of huzza."

"It must be a most gratifying sight," observed Bob, "to see her cleave the watery world; indeed it is a very pleasing view we have already had of these floating castles, though I must also remark, that your descriptions have added greatly to the enjoyment, and I think we are much indebted for your kindness."

They now parted with Mr. M.; and after refreshing with a glass of wine and a sandwich at the Plough, they proceeded to the West India Docks, the entrance to which required no introduction. "Here," said Dashall, "you will find a much longer space occupied than at the East India Docks. These were undertaken according to an Act of Parliament passed in 1799, and the place was formerly called the Isle of Dogs, though it might almost as appropriately have been called the Isle of Boys. Upon the wharfs and quays adjoining, all West India ships unload and load their cargoes."

"And exclusively, I suppose," interrogated Tallyho, "for the accommodation of West India Shipping?"

"Exactly so," continued Tom; "the West India Trade generally arrives in fleets, and formerly used to create much crowding, confusion, and damage in the river; but these ships being now disposed of in the docks, the overgrown trade of the port is carried on with pleasure and convenience; for notwithstanding they have occasioned a very important trade to be removed to a considerable and even inconvenient distance from the metropolis, yet the advantages to the Port of London are upon the whole incalculable.

[392] "The Northern Dock for unloading inwards is 2600 by 510 feet, and 29 feet deep, covering a space of 30 acres, and capable of containing from two to three hundred sail of vessels, in greater security than the river could afford them; and the West India Dock Company are reimbursed for the accommodation by a tonnage of 6s. upon the burthen of every ship which enters the docks; besides which they are entitled to charge for wharfage, landing, housing, weighing, cooperage, and warehouse room; certain rates upon all goods that are discharged, such as 8d. per cwt. upon sugar; 1d. per gallon upon rum; Is. 6d. per cwt. upon coffee; 2s. 6d. per cwt. upon cotton, wool, &c.: and all this immense business is conducted with a general order and regularity which greatly facilitates the business of the merchant."

"But," said Sparkle, "I apprehend it subjects him to something more of expense than he incurred by the former mode of proceeding."

"I am not able decidedly to answer," continued Tom; "but in the main, I expect that if so, it is well worth what is paid to have the additional security. The forms of conducting the business may sometimes be attended with considerable trouble, but there are persons so well acquainted with them by habitual practice, that there cannot be much difficulty at this period. This is the Export Dock, which covers an area of 24 acres, and is 2600 by 400 feet, and 29 deep. The immense buildings round the two docks, are warehouses for the reception of goods, and are of the most substantial description; and to enable shipping in their passage up and down the Thames to avoid the circuitous and inconvenient course round the Isle of Dogs, a canal has been cut across this peninsula, through which, upon paying certain moderate rates, all ships, vessels, and craft, are permitted to pass in their passage up and down the river. In seeing this, and the East India Docks, you have seen pretty well the nature of the whole, for they are all of a similar construction, for similar purposes, and under similar management: but we will now look in at the London Docks, which are situated between Ratcliffe Highway and the Thames, then home to dinner, and to dress for Lady M.'s party in the evening."

[393] Thus saying, they took their way towards the place he had mentioned. It would, however, be extending description more than necessary, after the preceding observations of the Hon. Tom Dashall, except to state that the Dock covers 20 acres of ground, and is 1262 feet long, 699 feet wide, and 27 deep. The warehouses, situated at the eastern extremity, are two in number, appropriated for the reception of tobacco; the largest 762 feet long, and 160 feet wide, equally divided by a strong partition wall, with double iron doors; the smallest is 250 feet by 200. They consist of a ground floor and vaults, the latter of which are devoted to the care and housing of wines, in which are usually 5000 pipes. They are solely under the control of the Customs, and the proprietors of the Docks have nothing more to do with them than to receive the rent. Other warehouses are devoted to the reception of the various articles of commerce, and the small buildings situated near the edge are appropriated to counting-houses for clerks and officers, and for weighing and pileing the goods, workshops, &c. as in the West India Docks. The capital of the Company is about £2,000,000, and the ultimate profits are limited to 10 per cent. The building was commenced in 1802, and the grand dock was opened in 1805. In the immense subterraneous caverns under the warehouses, all wines imported by the London merchant are deposited, without paying the import duty, until it is fully disposed of by the owner: a practice which is termed bonding, and saves the proprietor the advance of the duty to government out of his capital. When the merchant finds a person likely to become a purchaser, he directs a written order to the cellarman, to peg certain pipes which are a part of his stock, in order that the visitor may taste the various samples, and select from them such as he is most agreeable to purchase."

"And no small convenience, of course," said Bon, "and of course the goods are not allowed to be removed till the duties and charges are paid by the purchaser."

"Certainly," was the reply; "they are held as a security for their ultimate payment; but come, as we have already seen enough of docks, let us make the best of our way home."

[394] Upon arrival in Piccadilly, a letter from Merrywell reminded Tom of his proposed journey to the country, with the additional attraction of Merrywell's description of the parson's daughter, whom he suggested might in all probability become his wife.

Sparkle likewise received a letter from home, reminding him of the expectations entertained of his early arrival. After dinner the evening was spent in the most agreeable and pleasant way, where our friends engaged themselves with tripping it on the light fantastic toe at Lady M.'s, till the beams of the morning darted upon them.

## CHAPTER XXX

              I'm amaz'd at the signs
              As I pass through the town,
              To see the odd mixture,
              "A Magpie and Crown,"
              "The Whale and the Crow."
              "The Razor and Hen,"
              "The Leg and Seven Stars,"
              "The Bible and Swan,"
              "The Axe and the Bottle,"
              "The Tun and the Lute,"
              "The Eagle and Child,"
              "The Shovel and Boot."

[395] The proposed time for departure having pressed hard upon our friends, (who though determined to quit the gaieties of London, still seemed to linger, like the moth about the candle, unwilling to separate themselves from its delights,) preparations were at length decided and acted upon; the Hon. Tom Dashall having ordered his servants to proceed on the road with the carriage, horses, and other appendages of his rank, giving time for arrival at the place of destination by easy stages, in order to avoid over fatiguing either his attendants or his horses, an example which was followed by Sparkle and Tallyho, who had mutually agreed to travel by the Mail; for which purpose places were accordingly taken at the Bull and Mouth, which being announced to Tallyho, he took occasion to ask his Cousin for an explanation of so singular a sign for an Inn.

"As far as I am able to learn," replied Tom, "it was originally the Mouth of Boulogne Harbour, or Boulogne Mouth,—and from thence corrupted to the Bull and Mouth. There are, however, many curious signs, to trace the original derivation of which, has afforded me many amusing moments during my perambulation through the streets of the metropolis; indeed it has often struck me, that the signs in many instances are so opposite to the several professions they are intended to designate, that some remedy should certainly be applied."

[396] "And how," said Sparkle, "would you propose to have the exhibition of signs regulated?"

"That," said Dashall, "as a subject of deep importance, ought to be subjected to the legislative body for decision: it will be enough for me to point out a few instances which have come under my own immediate notice.

"A short time back, as I was passing near Smithfield, I was surprised at observing the sign of 'The Cow and Snuffers;' and whilst I was endeavouring to throw some light upon this subject, and puzzling myself in endeavouring to discover how it was possible for a Cow to snuff a Candle, or even a farthing rushlight; nay, even how it could happen that so strange an association should take place, I was diverted from my study on turning round, to find that some artist had exercised his ingenuity in painting a Goat in Jack Boots. At first I conceived this must be intended as a satire on our old debauchees, many of whom hide their spindled shanks in the tasselled hessian. These proving inexplicable to my shallow understanding, I pursued my walk, and observed against a strong newbuilt house—'A Hole in the Wall;' and not far from the Fleet Prison, I perceived, with some surprise, 'A Friend at Hand.' Over a house kept by Nic. Coward, I saw 'The Fighting Cocks;' and at a crimping rendezvous, remarked, 'The Tree of Liberty.'—'The Jolly Gardeners' were stuck up at a purl house; and I can assure you, it was with much mortification I detected 'The Three Graces' at a gin shop."

"Ha, ha, ha," said Tallyho, laughing, "very natural combinations of characters and subjects for a contemplative philosopher like yourself to exercise your ingenuity upon."

"Passing by a public-house," continued Tom, "the landlady of which was exercising her tongue with the most clamorous volubility, I could scarcely credit my eyes to find the sign of 'The Good Woman,' or, in other words, a woman without a head. Entering a house for refreshment, I was told, after calling the waiter for near an hour, that I was at the sign of 'The Bell;' and upon desiring the master of 'The Hen and Chickens,' to send [397] me home a fine capon, he shewed me some cambric, and assured me it was under prime cost. The most ominous sign for a customer, I thought, was 'The Three Pigeons;' and I own it was with considerable astonishment when, after ordering a bed at 'The Feathers,' I was compelled to pass the night on a straw mattrass. I have breakfasted at 'The Red Cow,' where there was no milk to be had; and at the sign of 'The Sow and Pigs,' have been unable to procure a single rasher of bacon. At 'The Bell Savage,' (which by the way is said to be a corruption of La Belle Sauvage, or 'The Beautiful Savage,') I have found rational and attentive beings; and I have known those who have bolted through 'The Bolt in Tun,' in order to avoid being bolted in a prison."

"Vastly well, indeed," exclaimed Sparkle; "and after all there is much to be done by a sign as well as by an advertisement in the newspapers, however inappropriate. The custom is of very ancient date, having been made use of even by the Romans; and not many years back a bush of ivy, or a bunch of grapes, was used for the purpose; nay, to the present day they may be met with in many places. The Bush is perhaps one of the most ancient of public-house signs, which gave rise to the well-known proverb,

"Good wine needs no bush."

That is to say, it requires nothing to point out where it is sold. At country fairs, you will frequently see the houses in its vicinity decorated with a Bush or a Bough, from which they are termed Bough Houses, where accommodation may be found. This practice, I know, is still in use at Boroughbridge, in Yorkshire, during their annual fair in June, which lasts a week or ten days. But putting up boughs as a sign of any thing to be sold, was not confined to alehouses; for in old times, such as sold horses were wont to put flowers or boughs upon their heads, to reveal that they were vendible.{1}

         1 In all probability from this practice originated the well
         known proverb,

         "As fine as a horse,"

         an illustration of which, from the "Life of Mrs.
         Pilkington," is here subjoined:—

         "They took places in the waggon for Chester, and quitted
         London early on May morning; and it being the custom on the
         first of this month to give the waggoner at every Inn a
         ribbon to adorn his team, she soon discovered the origin of
         the proverb 'as fine as a horse;' for before they got to
         the end of the journey, the poor beasts were almost blinded
         by the tawdry party-coloured flowing honours of their
         heads."

[398] In Scotland, a wisp of straw upon a pole, is or was some years ago the indication of an alehouse; and to this day a ship or vessel for sale may be discovered by a birch broom at the mast head. I remember reading, that in Fleet Market, on the eastern side, there were some small houses, with a sign post, representing two hands conjoined, with words, "Marriages performed within" written beneath them, whilst a dirty fellow assailed the ears of the passengers with the reiterated and loud address of, "Sir, will you walk in and be married," (as if the dread of any stoppage in the trade of conjugality was threatening mankind with premature extinction,) and the parson was seen walking before his shop, ready to couple you for a dram of gin or a roll of tobacco."

"Those were the times for getting married," exclaimed Bob, "no affidavits, certificates, and exposures at church doors!"

"No," continued Sparkle, "those are signs of altered times. A witty wigmaker adopted the sign of Absolom hanging to a tree, with King David lamenting at a distance, who was represented with a label issuing from his mouth, containing these words—

              "O Absolom! my Son! my Son!
              Had'st thou a peruke worn, thou had'st not been undone."

This sign, if I remember right, was to be seen a few years since in Union-street, Borough, and is not uncommon even now in France, where you may also find the 'Cochon sans Tete,' (the pig without a head,) which is generally a restaurateur's sign, indicating that 'good pork is here—the useless animal's head is off,' illustrative of the Negro's opinion of a pig in England—"de pig," said Mungo, "is de only gentleman in England—man workee, woman workee, horse workee, ass workee, ox workee, and dog workee—pig do nothing but eat and sleep—pig derefore de only gentleman in England.'"

[399] The conversation increased in interest as they proceeded, and Tallyho was all attention; for it must be observed, that as his inquiry had occasioned it, he was willing to listen to all that could be advanced on the subject; and the Hon. Tom Dashall determined to have his share in the explanation.

"The 'Man in the Moon,'" said he, "is derived from the old observation, that a tipsy person is 'in the wind,' or 'in the moon,' (a lunatic.) The sign may therefore be thought to give this advice, 'Here is good drink, gentlemen, walk in and taste it; it will make you as happy as the man in the moon; that is to say, steep your senses in forgetfulness.'—'The Bag of Nails' was the sign of an Inn at Chelsea, which may perhaps be noticed as the ne plus ultra of ludicrous corruption, having originally been a group of Bacchanals."

Here risibility could no longer be restrained, and a general laugh ensued.

"A group of Bacchanals, however," continued Tom, "is certainly not an out of the way sign for an Inn, nor do I conceive its corruption so very outre', when we look at others that have suffered much stranger metamorphoses; for who would have thought that time could have performed such wonderful changes as to have transformed a view of Boulogne Harbour into a Black Bull, and a tremendous mouth sufficiently large to swallow its neighbours, horns and all; or the name La Belle Sauvage, or Beautiful Savage, into a bell, and a gigantic wild man of the woods."

"Then again," said Sparkle, "taking up the subject, "the pole and bason, though no longer the exhibited emblems of a barber's occupation in London, are still very often to be met with in its environs and in the country, where they are ostentatiously protruded from the front of the house, and denote that one of those facetious and intelligent individuals, who will crop your head or mow your beard, 'dwelleth here.' Like all other signs, that of the barber is of remote antiquity, and has been the subject of many learned conjectures: some have conceived it to originate from the word poll, or head; but the true intention of the party-coloured staff, was to indicate that the master of the shop practised surgery, and could breathe a vein, as well as shave a beard; such a staff being to this day used by practitioners, and put into the hand of the patient while undergoing the operation of phlebotomy: the white band, which no doubt you have observed encompassing the staff, was meant to represent the fillet, thus elegantly twined about it.

[400] "And this," said Sparkle, "appears to be the most reasonable conjecture of any I ever heard, as it is well known the two businesses were in former times incorporated together, and the practiser was termed 'A Barber Surgeon.' Then as to their utility: the choice of a witty device, or splendid enluminure, was formerly thought of great consequence to a young beginner in the world; and I remember reading of an Innkeeper at Cassel, who having considerably profited by his numerous customers under the sign of 'The Grey Ass,' supposing himself well established in his trade and his house, began to be tired of the vulgar sign over his door, and availed himself of the arrival of the Landgrave of Hesse, to make (as he thought) a very advantageous change. In an evil hour, therefore, 'The Grey Ass' was taken down and thrown aside, in order to give place to a well painted and faithful likeness of the Prince, which was substituted for it as a most loyal sign.

"A small and almost unfrequented house in the same town, immediately took up the discarded sign, and speculatively hoisted 'The Grey Ass.' What was the consequence? Old codgers, married men with scolding Avives at home, straggling young fellows, and all the 'fraternity of free topers,' resorted to the house, filled the tap-room, crammed the parlour, and assailed the bar: the Grey Ass had the run, and was all the vogue; whilst the venerable Prince of Hesse swung mournfully and deserted at the other place, and enticed no visitors, foreign or domestic; for it should be observed, that 'The Grey Ass' had such reputation all over Germany, that every foreign nobleman or gentleman who came to Cassel, was sure to order his coach or chaise to be driven to the inn of that name; and this order of course was still continued, for how was it to be known by travellers coming from Vienna, Hungary, or Bohemia, that a certain innkeeper at Cassel had altered his sign? To the inn, therefore, which was denominated 'The Grey Ass,' they still went.

"What could the poor deserted innkeeper do in such a case? To deface the fine portrait of his master, would have been high treason; yet losing his customers on the other hand was downright starvation. In this cruel dilemma he dreamt of a new scheme, and had it executed.

[401] The portrait of the Prince was preserved, but he had written under it, in large characters,

'This is the Original Grey Ass.'

"Excellent!" exclaimed the Hon. Tom Dashall, "though I must confess you have travelled a long way for your illustration, which is quite sufficient to shew the utility of signs. But I would ask you if you can explain or point out the derivation of many we have in London—such for instance as 'The Pig and Tinder-Box'—'The Prad and Blower'—'The Bird and Baby'—'The Tyrant and Trembler'—'The Fist and Fragrance'"

"Hold," cried Sparkle, "I confess I am not quite so learned."

"They are novel at least," observed Tallyho, "for I do not recollect to have met with any of them."

"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed Tom, "then you are not fly, and I must add something to your stock of knowledge after all. The Pig and Tinder-Box is no other than the Elephant and Castle—The Prad and Blower, the Horse and Trumpeter—The Bird and Baby, the Eagle and Child—The Tyrant and Trembler, the Lion and Lamb—The Fist and Fragrance, the Hand and Flowers. Then we have the Book, Bauble, and holler, which is intended to signify the Bible, Crown, and Cushion."

At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced a visitor, and put an end to their conversation.

In a few minutes a letter was delivered to Dashall, which required an immediate answer: he broke the seal, and read as follows:—

"Dear Tom, "Come to me immediately—no time to be lost—insulted and abused—determined to fight Bluster—You must be my second—I'll blow his blustering brains out at one pop, never fear. At home at 7, dine at half-past; don't fail to come: I will explain all over a cool bottle of claret—then I shall be calm, at present I am all fire and fury—don't fail to come—half-past seven to a moment on table. You and I alone—toe to toe, my boy—I'll finish him, and remain, as ever,

"Yours, sincerely,

"Lionel Laconic."

[402] "Here's a breeze," said Tom; "desire the messenger to say I shall attend at the appointed hour. Death and the devil, this defeats all previous arrangement; but Laconic is an old college friend, whom I dare not desert in a moment of emergency. I fear I shall not be able, under such circumstances, to leave town so early as was proposed."

"Sorry for it," replied Sparkle, "and more sorry to be deprived of your company now our time is so short; however, I depart according to the time appointed."

"And I," said Tallyho, "having no honorable business to detain me in town, intend to accompany you."

"If that be the case," said Tom, "I may perhaps be almost obliged to delay a few days, in order to adjust this difference between Bluster and Laconic, and will follow at the earliest moment. It is, however, a duty we owe each other to render what assistance we can in such cases." "I thought," continued Tallyho, "you were no friend to duelling."

"By no means," was the reply; "and that is the very reason why I think it necessary to delay my departure. I know them both, and may be able to bring matters to an amicable conclusion; for to tell you the truth, I don't think either of them particularly partial to the smell of powder; but of that I shall be able to inform you hereafter; for the present excuse me—I must prepare for the visit, while you prepare yourselves for your departure."

Sparkle and Tallyho wished Tom a pleasant evening, took their dinner at the Bedford Coffee-house, and spent the evening at Covent-Garden Theatre, much to their satisfaction, though not without many anticipations as to the result of their friend's interference between the two hot-headed duellists.

## CHAPTER XXXI

              "The music, and the wine,
              The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowers,
              The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments,
              The white arms, and the raven hair—the braids
              And bracelets—swan-like bosoms, and the necklace,
              An India in itself, yet dazzling not the eye
              Like what it circled.

              All the delusions of the gaudy scene,
              Its false and true enchantments—all which
              Swam before the giddy eyes."

[403] Dashall being wholly occupied by the unexpected affair noticed in our last Chapter, had left his Cousin and friends to amuse themselves in the best way they could, prior to the completion of the necessary arrangements for quitting the metropolis. The party were undecided upon what object to fix their choice, or how to bend their course; and while warmly discussing the subject, were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Gayfield, who learning that Dashall was from home, and upon what occasion, broke out with his usual volubility.

"Well, these affairs of honor certainly are imperious, and no doubt ought to take precedence of every thing else. My object in calling was chiefly to give him a description of the Countess of ———'s rout on Saturday last, in Berkeley-square, where I intimated I should be, when I last fell in with him. 'Oh Ciélo Empireo.' I'm enchanted yet, positively enchanted! I ought to have Petrarch's pen to describe such a scene and such dresses. Then should a robe of Tulle vie with that of Laura at the church door—that dress of 'Vert parsemée de violets.' But softly, let us begin with the beginning, Bélier mon ami. What a galaxy of all the stars of fashion! It was a paradise of loveliness, fit for Mahomet. All the beauties of the Georgian Æra were present. Those real graces, their Graces of A——— and R——— were among the number.

[404] The Countess of L——— and Lady F——— O——— would make one cry heresy when the poets limit us to a single Venus. And then the Lady P———'s. Heaven keep us heart-whole when such stars rain their soft influence upon us. As to the Countess of B———, with her diamond tiara, and eyes brighter than her diamonds, she looked so goddess-like, that I was tempted to turn heathenish and worship. Indeed, that bright eyes should exert their brilliancy amid the dazzling brightness of our fair and elegant hostess's rooms, is no trifle. Dancing commenced at eleven; and, although my vanity allured me to think that the favorable glances of more than one would-be partner were directed towards me, I felt no inclination to sport a toe in the absence of Lady L. M. By-the-by, Count C——— told me, with a profusion of foreign compliment, that I and the 'observed of all observers,' Lord E———h, were the best drest male personages at the rout.

Thanks to the magical operation of the Schneider, who makes or mars a man.

"The coup d'oil of the scene was charming. Cétoit un vrai délice—that atmosphere of light, of fragrance, and of music—gratifying all the senses at once. Oh! what bosoms, arms, and necks were thronging round me! Phidias, had he attempted to copy them, would have forgotten his work to gaze and admire. Description fails in picturing the tout ensemble,—the dazzling chandeliers blazing like constellations—the richly draperied meubles—the magnificent dresses—and then so many eyes, like stars glittering round one; like 'Heaven,' as Ossian says, 'beaming with all its fires.'

"In the midst of my admiration, I was accosted by Caustic, and expressed my surprise at finding him in such a scene—'A rout,' he replied, 'is just one of those singular incoherences which supply me with laughter for a month. Was there ever such a tissue of inconsistencies assembled as in these pleasure hunts? On stepping from your carriage, you run the gauntlet through two lines of quizzing spectators, who make great eyes, as the French term it, at you, and some of whom look as if they took a fancy to your knee buckles. A double row of gaudy footmen receive you in the blazing hall, and make your name echo up the stairs, as you ascend, in a voice of thunder. Your tête s'exalte, and when you expect to be ushered into the Temple of Fame, you find yourself embedded (pardon the metaphor) in a parterre of female beauty.'

[405] "As for me," I replied, interrupting the satirist, "I delight in such things. I believe that fashion, like kings, can do no wrong."

"And so you would rather have your ribs beat in, than your name left out. But look round you, in God's name! what is the whole scene but & fashionable mob met together to tread on each other's heels and tear each other's dresses? Positively, you cannot approach the mistress of the mansion to pay those common courtesies which politeness in all other cases exacts. And how so many delicate young creatures can bear a heat, pressure and fatigue, which would try the constitution of a porter, is incroyable. Talk of levelling! This 'is the chosen seat of égalité.' All distinctions of age, grace, rank, accomplishment, and wit, are lost in the midst of a constantly accumulating crowd. What nerves but those of pride and vanity, can bear the heat, the blaze of light, the buzz of voices above, and the roar of announcements from below?"

"While Caustic was speaking, his reasoning received a curious and apposite illustration. Three or four ladies near us began fainting, or affected to faint, and hartshorn and gentlemen's arms were in general requisition. Notwithstanding his acerbity, Caustic, like a preux chevalier, pressed forward to offer his aid where the pressure was most oppressive, and where the fainting ladies were dropping by dozens, like ripe fruit in autumn. As for myself, I was just in time to receive in my arms a beautiful girl who was on the point of sinking, and, being provided with hartshorn, my assistance was so effectual, with the aid of a neighbouring window, that I had the satisfaction of restoring her in a few minutes to her friends, who did all they could, by crowding round her with ill-timed condolements, to prevent her recovery. By this time the rest of the ladies took warning from these little misadventures to retire. Caustic, in his sardonic way, would insist upon it, that they retired to avoid that exposure of defects in beauty, which the first ray of morning produces. I took my congé among the rest, and found the hubbub which attended my entrance, increased to a tenfold degree of violence at my exit; for the uproar of calling 'My Lord This's carriage,' and 'My Lady That's chair,' was nothing in comparison to the noise produced [406] by servants quarrelling, police officers remonstrating, carriages cracking, and linkboys hallooing. Some of the mob had, it appeared, made an irruption into the hall, to steal what great-coats, cocked hats, or pelisses they could make free with. This was warmly protested against by the footmen and the police, and a regular set-to was the consequence. Through this 'confusion worse confounded' I with difficulty made my way to the carriage, and was not sorry, as the slang phrase is, to make myself scarce."

The party could not feel otherwise than amused by Gayfield's description of the rout; and the conversation taking a turn on similar subjects, Sparkle, ever ambitious of displaying his talent for descriptive humour, gave the following sketch of a fashionable dinner party:—

"I went with Colonel A———, by invitation, to dine with Lord F., in Portman Square. Lord F. is a complete gentleman; and, though sadly inconvenienced by the gout, received me with that frank, cordial, and well-bred ease which always characterizes the better class of the English nobility. The company consisted of two or three men of political eminence; Lord Wetherwool, a great agriculturist; Viscount Flash, an amateur of the Fancy; Lord Skimcream, an ex-amateur director of a winter theatre; Lord Flute, an amateur director of the Opera, whose family motto, by a lucky coincidence, is 'Opera non Verba.' There were, moreover, Mr. Highsole, a great tragedian, and my friend Tom Sapphic, the dandy poet; one of those bores, the 'Lions' of the season. He had just brought out a new tragedy, called the 'Bedlamite in Buff,' under the auspices of Lord Skimcream; and it had been received, as the play-bills announced, with 'unprecedented, overwhelming, and electrifying applause.' Of course I concluded that it would live two nights, and accounted for the dignified hauteur of my friend Tom's bow, as he caught my eye, by taking into consideration the above-named unprecedented success. There was also present the universal genius, Dr. Project, to whom I once introduced you. He is a great chymist, and a still greater gourmand; moreover, a musician; has a hand in the leading reviews; a share in the most prominent of the daily papers. "Little was said till the wine and desert were introduced; and then the conversation, as might naturally be expected from the elements of which the party was composed, split itself into several subdivisions. As I sat [407] next to Colonel A., I had the advantage of his greater familiarity with the personages at table. Lord Wetherwool was as absurd as he could possibly be on the subject of fattening oxen. Lord Flute and Viscount Flash laid bets on the celerity of two maggots, which they had set at liberty from their respective nut-shells. The noble ex-director, Highsole and Sapphic, were extremely warm in discussing the causes of the present degradation of the stage; each shuffling the responsibility from the members of their own profession and themselves. Dr. Project entertained his noble host with an interminable dissertation upon oxygen, hydrogen, and all the gens in the chemical vocabulary; for patience in enduring which his Lordship was greatly indebted to his preparatory fit of the gout. Meanwhile, the lordling exquisites only fired off a few 'lady terms,' like minute guns and 'angel visits,' with long intervals between, filling up the aforesaid intervals by sipping Champagne and eating bonbons. The essence of what they said, amounted to mutual wonder at the d———d run of luck last night, in King-street; or mutual felicitation on the new faces which had appeared that day, for the first time, among the old standing beauties who charm Bond-street, at lounge hours, either in curricle or on foot. For my part, I was attracted towards the discussion of the dramatic trio, not because I affect, as the cant of the day is, to have a particular attrait towards the belles lettres, but merely because the more plebeian disputants were vociferous, (a thing not often observed among fashionables) and outré in their gesticulations, even to caricature. 'What do you think of their arguments?' I inquired, sotte voce, of Colonel A. 'If we are to be decided by their conjoint statements, no one is to blame for the degradation of the stage.'

"'They are all in the right,' returned he, '(excuse the paradox,) because they are all in the wrong. There is a rottenness in the whole theatrical system, which, unless it terminate, like manure thrown at the root of trees, in some new fructification of genius, will end by rendering the national theatres national nuisances. With reference to the interests of literature, they are a complete hoax. To please the manager, the object which the writer must have in view, he must not paint nature or portray character, but write up, as the cant phrase is, to the particular forte of Mr. So and So, or Miss Such-a-one. The consequence is, that the public get only one species of fare, and that is pork, varied indeed, as broiled, baked, roasted, and boiled; but still pork, nothing but pork.'

[408] "'But surely,' I rejoined, 'Mr. Sapphic and Mr. Highsole are gentlemen of high acquirements, independently of their several professions, or a nobleman of Lord F———'s taste and discrimination—'

"'There you are falling into an error,' returned the colonel, interrupting me; 'it is the fashion to introduce actors at the tables of our great men; but, in my opinion, it is a 'custom more honored in the breach than the observance.' I have known several good actors on the stage, very indifferent actors in society, and large characters in the play-bills, as well as loud thunders from the gods, may be earned by very stupid, very vulgar, and very ill-bred companions. The same may be said of poets. We are poor creatures at best, and the giant of a reviewer very often cuts but a very sorry figure when left to the ricketty stilts of his own unsupported judgment in a drawing-room. You are tolerably familiar with our political parties; but you are yet to be acquainted with our literary squads, which are the most bigotted, selfish, exclusive, arrogant, little knots of little people it is possible to conceive.'

"By the time that Colonel A———had ended his short initiation into these various arcana, the company broke up; the doctor to give a lecture on egg-shells at the Committee of Taste; Lord Flute to visit the Opera; Lord Skimcream to the Green Boom; Lord Flash to 'Fives Court,' to see a set-to by candle-light; the exquisites to Bouge et Noir or Almack's; and Lord Wetherwool to vote on an agricultural question, without understanding a syllable of its merits.

"Nevertheless," I soliloquized as I rode home, "his Lordship will be surprised and gratified, I dare say, to find himself a perfect Demosthenes in the newspaper reports of to-morrow morning. Hems, coughs, stammerings, blowing of the nose, and ten-minute lapses of memory, all vanish in passing through the sieves and bolters of a report. What magicians the reporters are! What talents, what powers of language they profusely and gratuitously bestow! Somnus protect me from hearing any but some half dozen orators in both houses! The reader, who peruses the report, has only the flour of the orator's efforts provided for him. But Lord help the unfortunate patient in the gallery, who, hopeless of getting through the dense mass which occupy the seats round him, is condemned to sit with an 'aching head,' and be well nigh choaked with the husks and the bran."

[409] Our party felt so much amused by these lively and characteristic pictures of real life among the Corinthians of the Metropolis, that all thoughts of seeking amusement out of doors appeared for the present relinquished; and Sparkle, to keep the subject alive, resumed as follows.

"In order to give some shade and variety to this sketch of society in the west, we will now, if agreeable, travel eastward as far as the entrance to the City, where I will introduce you, in fancy, to what must (at least to our friend Tallyho) afford both novelty and surprise.

"Some time ago, and before I was quite so well versed in the knowledge of Life in London as at present, through the medium of one of the 'young men of genius about town,' I became a member of a new philosophical society called the Socratics, held at a certain house near Temple Bar. Having been plucked by several kind friends, till I resembled the 'man of Diogenes,' I concluded that here, at least, my pockets might be tolerably safe from the diving of a friendly hand. Philosophers, I was told by my friend the introducer, had souls above money; their thoughts were too sublime and contemplative for such worldly-minded concerns. I should have a great deal of instruction for little or nothing; I had only to pay my two guineas per annum, and the business was done; the gate of science was open, and nothing farther was requisite than to push forward and imitate Socrates. But how strangely do our anticipations mislead our sober judgments!

              'Jove breaks the tallest stilts of human trust,
              And levels those who use them with the dust.'

"The proprietor of the institution was rather courtier-like in making promises, which the managers of course considered as much too common-place and mechanical to be kept. It professed to exclude politics and religion from the touch of its scientific paws; in other words, from its discussions; but, alas!

              'It kept the word of promise to the ear
              And broke it to the hope.'

[410] "The only subjects which it did not exclude were politics and religion. Neither could it be said that either of these subjects received more benefit from the way in which they were handled, than a white dress would from the handling of a chimney-sweeper, the first being made as black as possible in the form of Tom-Payneism, and the latter served up in the improved shape of Hartleyism or Atheism. Under such instruction it was scarcely possible but that I should, in process of time, become qualified, not only for a philosopher, but a legislator of the first water; and I had serious thoughts of offering my services, for the purpose of drawing up a code of laws, to the Otaheitans or the Calmucks. If I had gone on improving as I did, I might, perhaps, have carried out to some Backwood settlement or Atlantic island, as pretty a Utopian prescription, under the designation of a constitution, as could well be desired in the most philosophical community. But one of those sad trifles which suffocate great ideas, and sometimes terminate in suffocating philosophers, put a stop to my further enlightenment for the present, by drying up the treasury of the Socratics. The philosophers were the most civil as well as the most unfortunate people in the world. One or other of them was always in want of money, either to perfect some great scheme, or to save him from the unscientific 'handling' of a bailiff. It was enough to move a mile-stone, to think how the progress of improvement, or 'march of mind,' as it is called, might be delayed by being too cold-hearted; and it did move my purse to such a degree, that at length I had the satisfaction of discerning truth, sitting sola, at the bottom of it. My pocket consumption, however, was not instant, but progressive; it might be called a slow fever. Some of the philosophers visited me for a loan, like a monthly epidemy; others drained me like a Tertian; and one or two came upon me like an intermittent ague, every other day. Among these was Mr. Hoaxwell, the editor, as he called himself, of a magazine. This fellow had tried a number of schemes in the literary line, though none had hitherto answered. But he had the advantage and credit of shewing in his own person, the high repute in which literature is held in London, for he could seldom walk the streets without having two followers at his heels, one of whom frequently tapped him on the shoulder, no doubt, to remind him of mortality, like the slave in the [411] Roman triumphs. The favourite thesis of this gentleman, was the 'march of mind;' and on this subject he would spout his half hour in so effectual a manner, as to produce two very opposite effects; viz. the closing of the eyes of the elder philosophers, and the opening of mine, which latter operation was usually rendered more effectual by his concluding inquiry of 'have you such a thing as a pound note about you?'

              To match this saint, there was another,
              As busy and perverse a brother.

"This was the treasurer of the Socratics, Thomas Carney Littlego, Esq. and a treasure of a treasurer he was. This gentleman was a pupil of Esculapius, and united in his own person the various departments of dentist, apothecary, and surgeon. It is presumed that he found the employment of drawing the eye teeth of Philosophical Tyros more profitable, and bleeding the young Socratics more advantageous, than physicking his patients. In his lectures he advocated the system of research, and admired deduction; and this I, among many others, had reason, at last, to know. It was very odd, but so it was, that some two or three hundred per annum, subscribed by the members of the society, vanished into the worthy treasurer's pocket, as it were a Moskoestron, and then disappeared for ever.

"Another of the Socratics was called Epictetus Moonshine, Esquire. This gentleman was a tall spider-like man, with lantern jaws, hatchet face, and a mouth—the chief characteristic of which was, that it made a diagonal line from the bottom of the face to the eyebrow. He was a great speculator, and had taken it into his head, that beyond the blue mountains in New South Wales, was the real El Dorado. But as he possessed, according to the usual phrase, more wit than money, and no one will discount a check from the aforesaid wit on change, the zeal of Epictetus Moonshine, some time after the breaking up of the Socratic institution for benefitting the human race, so much got the better of self-love, that he committed several petty larcenies in hopes of being transported thither; but whether his courage or his luck failed him, certain it is that he never reached the proper degree of criminality, and only succeeded in visiting by turns the various penitentiaries in London and its vicinity.

[412] "'You mistake greatly, Sir,' said he, to one of the visiting governors of Bridewell, who condoled with a man of his talents in such a position, 'if you think a residence in this sequestered haunt a subject of regret. The mind, as Milton says, is its own seat, and able of itself to make—

              'A heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.'

And now I am on the subject of stoicism, permit me to shew you a picture which I have just chalked out, wherein I prove that there is no such thing as pain in the world. That all which we now feel is imagination; that the idea of body is deception. I have had it printed, —written in fourteen languages, and presented to all the sovereigns of Europe, with a new code of laws annexed to it. I'll bring it in a minute, if you'll excuse me.' So saying, the pupil of Zeno disappeared, wrapping his blanket round him; but other speculations of 'matters high' no doubt attracted him from the remembrance of his promise, (just as he forgot to pay some score pounds he borrowed of me) for the visitor saw no more of him.

"The mention of El Dorado brings to my recollection another member, Mr. Goosequill, who came to town with half-a-crown in his pocket, and his tragedy called the 'Mines of Peru,' by which he of course expected to make his fortune. For five years he danced attendance on the manager, in order to hear tidings of its being 'cast,' and four more in trying to get it back again. During the process he was groaned, laughed, whistled, and nearly kicked out of the secretary's room, who swore (which he well might do, considering the exhausted treasury of the concern) that he knew nothing about nor ever heard of the 'Mines of Peru.' At last Mr. Goosequill, being shewn into the manager's kitchen, to wait till he was at leisure, had the singular pleasure of seeing two acts of the 'Mines of Peru,' daintily fastened round a savory capon on the spit, to preserve it from the scorching influence of the fire.

"This was foul treatment, I observed, as he concluded his tale, and I ventured to ask how he had subsisted in the meanwhile? 'Why,' said he, 'I first made an agreement with a printer of ballads, in Seven Dials, who finding my inclinations led to poetry, expressed his satisfaction, telling me that one of his poets had lost his senses, and was confined in Bedlam; and another was become dozed with [413] drinking drams. An agreement was made,' continued he, 'and I think I earned five-pence halfpenny per week as my share of this speculation with the muses. But as my profits were not always certain, I had often the pleasure of supping with Duke Humphrey, and for this reason I turned my thoughts to prose; and in this walk I was eminently successful, for during a week of gloomy weather, I published an apparition, on the substance of which I subsisted very comfortably for a month. I have often made a good meal upon a monster. A rape has frequently afforded me great satisfaction, but a murder well-timed was a never-failing resource.'

"But to return to the catastrophe of the Socratics: "By the time that the philosophical experiments in 'diving without hydraulics' had cleaned me entirely out, it was suggested that any thing in the shape of a loan would be desirable; they were not nice—not they; a pair of globes; a set of catoptric instruments; an electrical apparatus; a few antique busts; or a collection of books for the library;—any old rum, as Jack.'said, would do; and all and every of the before-mentioned loans would be most punctually taken care of. And truly enough they were, for the lender was never destined to cast an eye on any portion of the loan again. I was, indeed, so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of my globes and instruments at a pawnbroker's, and the fragments of my library at sundry book-stalls. It was now high time to cut the connection, for the Socratics were rapidly withdrawing. The association, for want of the true golden astringent, like a dumpling without its suet, or a cheap baker's quartern loaf without its 'doctor,' (i.e. alum), was falling to pieces. The worthy treasurer had retired, seizing on such articles as were most within reach; and when I called upon him with my resignation, I had the pleasure of seeing my own busts handsomely lining the walls of the toothdrawer's passage. I waited on the Socratics for the Bums they had been so polite as to borrow.—One, to shew that he had profited by studying Socrates, threatened to accuse me and the society of a plot to overturn the government, if a syllable more on so low a subject as money was mentioned. Another told me that he was just going on a visit to Abbot's Park for three months, and should be glad to see me when he came back. A third, an unwashed artificer,' was so kind as to inform me that [414] he 'had just got white-washed, and he did not care one straw for my black looks.' And a fourth, an index-maker, when presented with his acceptance, kindly indicated that he had not the slightest recollection of the thing, and that, if I persisted in compelling payment, he would bring a philosophical gentleman from Cold Bath Fields, and two honest men from Newgate, to swear that it was not his hand-writing.

"The drop-curtain being thus let down on the last act of the farce, there was no alternative between being queerly plundered, or instantly laying a horse-whip over the hungry philosophers. To sue them reminded me of the proverb—'Sue a beggar,' &c. To crack a baculine joke over their sconces would involve an expense which the worthy philosophers were not worth. I had done an imprudent thing in joining the 'march of mind,' and all that I could do was to brush the dust from my coat and the mud from my shoes: 'he that touches pitch,' says Solomon, 'shall he not be denied thereby?' Mr. Treasurer, therefore, remained in quiet possession of the busts—the book-stall displayed the properly appreciated volumes—and the Socratic borrowers took all the care in the world of 'value received.'"

Thus the day, which it was intended to have been spent in amusements out of doors, was passed in animated and amusing conversation over the hospitable and convivial board, and a fresh zest was added to wit and humour by the exhilarating influence of the rosy god.

## CHAPTER XXXII

              In London, blest with competence.
              With temper, health, and common sense,
              None need repine or murmur—nay,
              All may be happy in their way.
              E'en the lone dwelling of the poor
              And suffering, are at least obscure;
              And in obscurity—exempt
              From poverty's worst scourge—contempt.
              Unmark'd the poor man seeks his den.
              Unheeded issues forth again;
              Wherefore appears he, none inquires,
              Nor why—nor whither he retires.
              All that his pride would fain conceal,
              All that shame blushes to reveal;
              The petty shifts, the grovelling cares,
              To which the sous of want are heirs;
              Those evils, grievous to be borne,
              Call forth—not sympathy, but scorn;
              Here hidden—elude the searching eye
              Of callous curiosity.

[415] The following morning was one of unusual bustle, activity, and anxiety, the originally intended movements of the party being thus unexpectedly interrupted. Dashall had arisen before his usual hour, and departed from home before the appearance of Sparkle and Bob to breakfast: it was, of course, supposed that the promised duel would have decided the fate of one of the antagonists before they should see him again.

In this conjecture, however, they were pleasingly disappointed by his arrival about half past eleven o'clock.

"Well," said Sparkle, "it is all over—who has fallen—which is the man—how many shots—what distance—who was the other second—and where is the wounded hero?"

"Nay," said Tom, "you are before-hand with me; I have none of the intelligence you require.—I have been in search of Lord Bluster, who left town this very morning, three hours before my arrival, for Edinburgh; and consesequently, I suppose, either has no intimation of Laconic's intention to seek, or if he has—is determined to be out of the way of receiving a regular challenge; so that, in all probability, it will end, like many other duels, in smoke."

[416] "Notwithstanding your friend's letter was so full of fire," observed Tallyho.

"But perhaps he became more cool over a bottle of claret—toe to toe, my boy," continued Sparkle.

This conversation was interrupted by a letter, which being delivered to Tom, he read aloud, interrupted only by laughter, which he could not restrain.

"Dear Tom, "Don't like fighting in England—am off directly for Cork.—Tell Bluster I'll wait there till he comes—but if he values his life, not to come at all.—-Please do the needful in despatching my servants, &c. within two days, for I am in such a passion I can't wait a moment.—So adieu.

"Yours, sincerely, Laconic."

"Excellent, upon my word," said Sparkle; "here are two men of honour determined upon meeting, running away from each other even before the preliminaries are arranged."

"There is novelty in it at least," said Tom, "though I am by no means astonished at the end of it; for I before observed, I do not think either of them over fond of powder. Laconic pretended that nothing would satisfy him but fighting immediately, provided Bluster was to be found: any person to whom bis character was not known would have expected some spilling of blood before this time. But it is now plain that this blustering was the effect of the wine, and the man's cooler judgment has extinguished the flame of his irritability."

"I think," said Tallyho, "it would be well to advise them to meet half-seas over, and draw a cork together by way of settling their differences."

"Curse their differences," replied Dashall, "I'll have nothing more to do with them: upon the whole, I am glad now that I could not meet with Bluster, or I should have looked like a fool between the two; and as it is, I am not much pleased with the adventure, particularly as it must necessarily delay me, and I hate the idea of travelling alone. I should very much have liked to start with you; but as Laconic has made me fully acquainted with his affairs, in case he should fall in the intended duel, I must even comply with the contents of his note; though, if he had not actually departed, you may rest assured I would have nothing to do with him or his concerns."

[417] "Come, come," cried Sparkle, "grumbling is of no use now; and as the circumstances are not made public, the duellists will escape being laughed at. There is no harm done—we must be upon the alert—we shortly bid adieu to London, and shall not be so well pleased to leave you behind; but remember you promise to follow as quickly as possible.—Now, how shall we dispose of the remainder of the time?"

"Zounds," replied Tom, "all my plans are deranged by this foolish affair of Laconic's, and I can hardly tell which way to move.—However, I shall not devote myself to his affairs to-day; therefore I am at your service; and as time is but short with us, let us make good use of it. The tragedy of the duel having ended most comically, I am prepared for any thing farcical; therefore say the word, and I am your man for a toddle, east, west, north, or south."

Upon this intimation, our friends sallied forth upon a sort of Quixotic excursion in search of adventures, for neither could make up his mind as to the precise place of their destination, when the first object that attracted their particular notice was a large printed bill, announcing to the public, "That the sale at Fonthill Abbey, advertised for the 8th of October, would not take place, in consequence of the property being disposed of by private contract."{1}

         1 The following appeared in  the daily prints relating   to
         this valuable property:—

         "FONTHILL ABBEY. "The sale at this splendid mansion is not
         to take place, the estate having been sold by private
         contract; the purchaser is said to be Mr. Farquhar, a rich
         East India merchant, who is reported to have given 330,000L.
         for the property. It is stated that every article in the
         Abbey goes with it, with the exception of the family plate
         and pictures, and a very few favourite rarities. Possession
         is to be taken immediately. The sale of the whole estate is
         an event for which the people of the place seem to have been
         totally unprepared. They were led to believe, from the
         beginning, that nothing was to be sold but the mere luxuries
         of the place; but as to the Abbey, they universally
         asserted, in the strongest manner, as if they had good
         reason to be convinced of the thing, that Mr. Beck-ford
         would as soon part with his life as with a residence which
         he prized so dearly. Now, however, that they have heard from
         the steward, that the estate has been sold, and that he has
         received notice to quit his office in a fortnight, they
         begin to feel that they have lost an excellent landlord. Mr.
         Beckford has taken a house in town, in the New Road, where
         he means chiefly to reside in future. Every body is aware
         that the chief part of that princely income, which enabled
         him to raise this expensive edifice from the foundation, was
         derived from his paternal estates in the West Indies. Such
         was the wealth which those estates at one time pro-duced,
         that it obtained for his grandfather the distinction of
         being considered the richest subject in Europe. For the last
         ten years they have declined very materially, and several of
         them have been entirely lost through a defect that has been
         discovered in the title. The original purchaser obtained
         these in the way of mort-gage, and having foreclosed them in
         an untechnical manner, advantage has been taken of the
         informality by the heirs of the mortgagors, and Mr. Beckford
         has been dispossessed. The defence of his title, and the
         other consequences, involved him in losses and vast
         expenses; besides which, the revenue from his unquestionable
         estates in those islands has declined to less than one-tenth
         of what it formerly was. Mr. Farquhar, the gentleman who is
         reported to have purchased Fouthill Abbey, is the principal
         partner and proprietor of Whitbread's brew-house, and is
         likewise at the head of the first mercantile house in the
         City, for the management of all agency concerns, connected
         with India."

[418] "Thousands of people," says Dashall, "who had been flocking to that neighbourhood, intending to obtain a view of the premises, will, by this event, be disappointed. Several of my friends have paid a visit to it, and describe it as a most princely mansion."

"And pray," inquired Sparkle, "what is the cause of its being sold at all 1 It has always been reported that Mr. Beckford was a man of very extensive property."

"That appears to be a little mysterious, and report, who is always a busy fellow on extraordinary occasions, has not been idle: by some it is stated, that Mr. Beckford suffered great and irreparable losses in his West India property, and that there are in the Abbey at this moment executions to the amount of eighty thousand pounds; that the view of the effects has taken place entirely under the control of the sheriffs: by others it is asserted that no such embarrassment exists. However, be that as it may, the public have been highly gratified for some time past in being permitted to view the estate and the valuable curiosities it contains; and the produce of the admission tickets, which has probably netted twenty thousand pounds, goes to the liquidation of the debts."

[419] "And an excellent plan for raising the wind too," said Tallyho; "the example, I suppose, has been taken from Wanstead House."

"Most likely," was the reply; "but if it is true that the disposal of the property is occasioned by the embarrassment of its owner, it cannot but excite painful and melancholy reflections on the tenure by which men hold the goods of this life. Those who were acquainted with Mr. Beckford's circumstances some years ago, thought him so secured in the enjoyment of a princely income, that he was absolutely out of the reach of ill fortune, being at one time in the actual receipt of one hundred thousand pounds a year. It cannot be said of him that he has wasted his inheritance at the gaming-table. The palace which he raised on a barren mountain, the greater part of those vast plantations which surround it, the collection of books, and of rare specimens of art, and the superb furniture, which gives such peculiar dignity and splendour to the interior of his residence, speak at once the immensity of his means, and attest the propriety and gracefulness of their application."

"We ought to have taken a trip there to have seen this earthly paradise," rejoined Tallyho; "but now I suppose it is all over."

"Certainly," was the reply; "and it is a circumstance for which the people in the neighbourhood appear to have been totally unprepared. They were led to believe, from the beginning, that the mere luxuries of the place were to be sold, and the public announcement of this had the effect of filling the county of Wilts with pleasure-hunters from all quarters. He was fortunate who, for some time past, could find a vacant chair within twenty miles of Fonthill: the solitude of a private apartment was a luxury which few could hope for; and an old friend of mine informs me, in one of his letters, that, coming from London, travellers first met their troubles about Salisbury, The languages of France, of Holland, and of Germany, the peculiarities (in tongue) of Scotland and Ireland, the broad dialect of Somersetshire, the tinckling accent of Wales, and the more polished tones of metropolitan residents, were all, at the same moment, to be heard clashing and contending. There were bells ringing, and chamber-maids screaming—horses prancing, and post-boys swearing—wheels clattering, and waiters jostling—guests threatening, and hubbub and confusion the orders of the day:—and all this to see something which half of them, when they got there, if they were so fortunate, could not obtain a sight of. So that, perhaps, we have been quite as well off in remaining at home."

[420] "That was spoken like a philosopher," said Sparkle, dryly.—"But pray, who is to be the future possessor of this fine estate?"

"A Mr. Farquhar, who, according to the best information I have obtained, is a man of an extraordinary character, and has given 330,000L. for it as it stands, with every article in the Abbey except the family plate and pictures, and a few very favourite rarities. Some interesting particulars of the purchaser have recently been made known; from which it appears, that he is a native of Aberdeen, and went out early in life to India, where he was employed in the medical department. Chemical research was his favourite pursuit: there was some defect in the manner of manufacturing gunpowder, and Mr. Farquhar was selected to give his assistance. By degrees, he obtained the management of the concern, and finally he became the sole contractor to the government. In this way wealth and distinction rapidly poured in upon him. After some years of labour, he returned to England with half a million of money; and it is somewhat curious that a man possessed of so much money upon his arrival at Gravesend, should, merely to save the expense of coach-hire, walk up to London; which, however, it appears he did, when his first visit, very naturally, was to his banker. Without waiting for refreshment or alteration of attire, full of dust and dirt, with clothes not worth a guinea, he presented himself at the counter, and asked for Mr. Coutts. The clerks, not much prepossessed in his favour by his appearance, disregarded his application; and he was suffered to remain in the cash-office under the idea of his being some poor petitioner, until Mr. Coutts, passing through it, recognized his Indian customer, the man whom he expected to see with all the pomp of a nabob. Mr. Farquhar requested to have five pounds; which having received, he took his departure. This anecdote strongly marks the character and habits of the man. He soon afterwards settled in Upper Baker-street, where his house was to be distinguished by its dingy appearance, uncleaned windows, and general neglect. An old woman was his sole attendant; and his apartment, to which a brush or broom was never applied, was kept sacred from her care. His neighbours were not acquainted with his character; and there have been instances of some of them offering him money as an object of charity."

[421] "An admirable tenant for such a place as Fonthill, truly," observed Sparkle.—"Why, what the devil will he do with it now he has got it?"

"Perhaps," said Dashall, "I ought to refer you to the man himself for an answer to such a question, for I am at a loss to guess; he is now sixty-five years of age, and still in single blessedness."

"A very enviable situation," remarked Sparkle, "However," continued Tom, "he has done some good in the world, and may live to do more. He became a partner in the great agency house in the City, of Basset, Farquhar, and Co.; besides which, he purchased the late Mr. Whitbread's share in the brewery. Part of his great wealth was devoted to the purchase of estates; but the great bulk was invested in stock, and suffered to increase on compound interest. He is deeply read in ancient and modern literature, and has a mind of extraordinary vigour and originality; his conversation of a superior order, impressive and animated on every subject. His sentiments are liberal, and strangely contrasted with his habits. His religious opinions are peculiar, and seem to be influenced by an admiration of the purity of the lives and moral principles of the Brahmins. It is said that he offered 100,000L. to found a college in Aberdeen, with a reservation on points of religion; to which, however, the sanction of the legislature could not be procured, and the plan was dropped. He has been residing in Gloucester-place, where he has furnished a house in a style of modern elegance, and, so far as appearances are concerned, indulges in several luxuries; but his domestic habits are still the same, and his table seldom labours with the pressure of heavy dishes. He has one nephew, to whom he allows, or did allow, 300L. per year; has but few other claims of family; and it is probable that his immense wealth will be bequeathed to charitable purposes, as the great object of his ambition is to leave his name to posterity as the founder of some public institution. To that passion may, perhaps, be attributed the purchase of Fonthill Abbey; for his age and infirmities totally unfit him for the enjoyment of such [422] a place. He is diminutive in person, and by no means prepossessing in appearance; his dress has all the qualities of the antique to recommend it; and his domestic expenditure, until the last year, has not exceeded 200L. per annum, although his possessions, money in the funds, and capital in trade, are said to amount to a million and a half!"

"Why, he is an oddity indeed," exclaimed Tallyho, "and I think he ought to be exhibited as the eighth wonder of the world."

"Certainly we cannot look upon the like every day: there are instances, it is said, of his having returned letters merely because the postage was not paid, although he has, on more than one or two occasions, given away, at once, for praise-worthy purposes, ten and twenty thousand pounds."

"Then," rejoined Sparkle, "he is a trump, and deserves to be respected:—but where are we bound to?"

"Nay," replied Tom, "I have no choice upon the subject."

"Nor I neither," said Gayfield, stepping smartly up to him, and catching him by the hand—"so come along—I'll guide you to good quarters and comfortable accommodation.—Dine with me, and we will have a cut in at whist.—What say you?"

This proposition was acceded to, and away they went to Gayfield's apartments, where a very hospitable and friendly entertainment was presented to them with every mark of a hearty welcome. In the evening, the glass circulated freely, and cards being introduced, they enjoyed an agreeable and pleasant game, at which nothing particular occurred; after which they jumped into a rattler, and were conveyed home, very well satisfied with every attention they had received from Gayfield, except the eternal rattle of his tongue.

## CHAPTER XXXIII

              "The proper study of mankind in food."

[423] Next morning, while our party were at breakfast, who should make his appearance but Gayfield, whose elasticity of spirits, and volubility of tongue, appeared, if possible, to have acquired an additional impulse of action.

"My dear fellow," he commenced, addressing Bob, "as you are so soon about to leave us, I feel anxious you should carry with you all the information possible on that interesting subject, Life in London. Long as your stay in the Metropolis has been, still, where the subjects are so varying—so ever varying—so multifarious—and the field for observation so unlimited, it is impossible but that something must have escaped your notice.

"I have been scribbling to a friend in the country, whom I occasionally endeavour to amuse with "Sketches of Scenes in London;" and, as I flatter myself, it exhibits something of novelty both in character, situation, and incident, you shall hear it."

"Dear Dick—I told you that I was about to have the honour of being introduced to tin; celebrated Dr. Kitchen. 'He was a man, take him for all in all, I ne'er shall look upon his like again.' It was evidently one of 'Nature's worst journeymen' that made him; for he has not a limb which appears to appertain to his body; they look precisely as if they were purchased at an auction. This little man, who seems born to be 'girded at' by jokers of all classes, sharing the prevalent rage for notoriety, has written two works, one in the character of a gourmand, and the other of a musician. But not content with the fame he has thus acquired, he has persuaded himself that he is an excellent singer. Nay, it was given out lately, by his own concurrence, that he intended to sing at a concert at the Argyle Rooms; and although he has no more voice than a [424] cat, he was under the full impression that his Majesty, at the conclusion of the last court-day, intended to call upon him for a song. The Doctor asked me and Caustic to one of his literary dinners; and as T have supplied you with a sketch of a cook-shop gourmand, I make no apology for shewing up a more elevated class of gastronomes, by reporting the Doctor's speech on this occasion.—

"'On entering the world, the acuteness of my palate and vigour of digestion disposed me to conceive that I should excel in the fraternal sciences of eating and drinking; and I entertained no doubt but my vapid organs would be considerably improved by frequent exercise. Taste has various departments—painting, architecture, sculpture, &c.; but impressed with the conviction that my only office in this world was to invent new dishes and devour them, I collected all the culinary writers from Caxton to Mons. Ude, of modern celebrity. As science proceeds by gradual advances, I frequented the better sort of coffee-houses, to initiate myself in the correct nomenclature of different dishes, and to judge of their skilful preparation. These, to be sure, are proper schools for a beginner; but I soon discovered that these victuallers, on account of their numerous visitants, who are disposed to eat much and pay little, could not afford to furnish the most costly and exquisite entrees. Sometimes I found that the same turkey had been twice subjected to the spit; a sole that had been broiled the day before, underwent the operation of frying on the following. Cold meat appeared as hot pie, with many other curious and ingenious devices. Then the wine was so adulterated, compelled, like a melancholic patient, to look old before its time, and fitted, like a pauper, with a ready-made coat perceptibly impregnated with bad brandy, and tasted of every thing but the grape, that, in about six months, I sickened, and no longer frequented these tasteless and inhospitable retreats for the hungry.

"'To view the ordinary arrangements of a modern dinner is a "sorry sight:"—a dozen articles placed at once upon the table—then, on the removal of the covers, comes the ferocious onset; some tremulous paralytic serving the soup, and scattering it in all directions, excepting into the plate where it ought to be delivered; [425] then an unhandy dandy mutilates the fish by cutting it in a wrong direction; here, an officious ignoramus tears asunder the members of a fowl as coarsely as the four horses dragged Ravillac, limb from limb; there, another simpleton notching a tongue into dissimilar slices, while a purblind coxcomb confounds the different sauces, pouring anchovy on pigeon-pie, and parsley and butter on roast-beef. All these barbarisms are unknown at my table.

"'Perhaps one of the most gratifying things in nature, far beyond any thing hitherto conveyed by landscape or historical painting, is to behold my guests in silence sip their wine. As the glass is held up, the eye and the orient liquor reciprocally sparkle; its bouquet expands the nostrils, elevates the eyebrow to admiration, and composes the lips to a smile. When its crystal receptacle, which is as thin as Indian paper, (for observe, to use a thick wine-glass is to drink with a gag in your mouth) touches the lips, they become comprest, to allow the thinnest possible stream to enter, that its flavour be thoroughly ascertained, and that successive perceptions of palateable flavour may terminate in the gulph of ecstacy.

"'I am fully aware that the pleasures of the table cannot be indulged without some hazard to the constitution; it is therefore the business of my serious reflections to counteract the invasions of disease, and provide timely remedies for its attack. A gold box is always placed on the table with the desert, containing a store of pills, which are of a very moving quality and speedy operation, called "Peristaltic persuaders." In an adjoining room, there is a basin, as large as an ordinary washing-tub, with a copper of chamomile-tea; and a cupper is engaged to be in constant attendance till the guests depart.

"'Gentlemen, I once became a member of a fashionable dinner-club, managed by a superintending committee, who purchased their own wine, and engaged a culinary artist of established reputation. This club was a diversified assemblage, consisting of some sprigs of the nobility and a few old standards; several members of Parliament, who became very troublesome by repeating the speeches that had been uttered in the house, and were, besides, always attempting to reform the club. But this was less offensive to me than others, as I make it a [426] rule never to attend to conversation unless it relates to improvements in cookery. The remainder of our club was composed of a few hungry querulous lawyers, two or three doctors, who had increased the means of gratifying their appetites by destroying the digestive faculties of their patients. There is nothing permanent in the world; therefore, in about two years, the club dwindled away; a set of rascally economists complained of expense; the cook, a very honest man and skilful professor, was accused of peculation by the reformers, and turned adrift for modestly demonstrating that he could not make turtle out of tripe, nor convert sprats into red mullet. Several members moved off without paying their arrears. The managing committee disposed of the premises, plate, furniture, and wines, and pocketed the money; and thus the club was dissolved.'

"It was on this occasion that the Doctor proposed his celebrated 'committee of taste,' with the proceedings of which I shall, perhaps, have occasion, at some future time, to make you acquainted."

Gayfield's humorous epistle amused the party much, and Bob felt complimented by the attention paid to the finish of his studies of Metropolitan Life and Manners. The fine appearance of the morning determined them on a stroll through the leading thoroughfares, as it would afford Tallyho the opportunity of completing such purchases as were necessary prior to his departure for the country. In passing Covent Garden, their attention was attracted by a numerous and grotesque assemblage, in which they soon mixed, and were highly diverted by the following whimsical exhibition, displaying the astonishing sagacity and feelings of the monkey species. An itinerant showman, who for some time past exhibited two dancing monkeys about the town, had pitched his stage in a part of the Market. When his poles and cords were fixed, and the monkeys in their full dress were about to commence, the celebrated flying pieman came by with his basket, and, having furnished himself with a bottle of gin, he leaped upon the stage, and treated the showman and one of the monkeys with a glass each; the other monkey however declined taking any, and was leaping about to avoid it; but the pieman served out the second glass, and the former monkey took his with apparent gladness. The pieman again seized the monkey [427] who declined it before, but he still scorned to take any. The by-standers called out to the pieman to throw it at him, and the pieman flung it in his face. Instantly, the monkey who drank the gin, and who was half drunk by this time, to resent the injury, sprang upon the pieman, seized him by the arm, and would have torn that piece of the flesh entirely out, only for its master, who with much difficulty made him relinquish his hold. The pieman was dangerously wounded, and was carried to a doctor's shop to get his arm dressed.

Passing on, the next object of attention was the Police office, Bow Street. Here the party determined to rest for a short time, and after listening to several uninteresting cases relating to hackney coach fares, they were at length rewarded for their lost time and patience, by a case, in which the tables were completely turned upon Mr. Jehu, and which we hope will act as a caution to others of the profession who have a taste for swearing and abuse.

## CHAPTER XXXIV

              In cities, foul example on most minds
              Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds
              In gross and pamper'd cities sloth and lust,
              And wantonness and gluttonous excess.
              In cities, vice is hidden with more ease,
              Or seen with least reproach; and virtue, taught
              By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there
              Beyond th' achievement of successful flight.
              I do confess them nurs'ries of the arts,
              In which they flourish most; where, in the beams
              Of warm encouragement, and in the eye
              Of public note, they reach their perfect size.
              Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd
              The fairest capital of all the world;
              By riot and incontinence the worst.

[428] The arrival of the day for separation was anticipated, and the morning arose upon Dashall with a gloomy aspect, originating in the temper of his mind; for he was by no means pleased with the adventure of Laconic, which operated to prevent his departure with his friends. Sparkle and Tallyho were, however, upon the alert, and determined on pursuing their original intentions. Tom had none of his usual vivacity about him. In vain he tried to muster up his spirits, his attempts at wit were pointless and did not escape the notice of Sparkle, who secretly enjoyed his chagrin, feeling assured that as it was created by their departure, he would not delay joining them longer than necessity absolutely required. "Why how now, Tom," said Sparkle, "you are out, and seem to be in queer stirrups, as if you had an uneasy saddle. You seem to part with your cousin as a young man would with the beloved of his heart." "I confess I am disappointed," replied Tom.

              "But since grieving's a folly,
              Why let us be jolly."

[429] "I am determined to spend the last moments with you—so start off the rattle traps, the upper toggery's and travelling caps, we will take a last turn together, and a parting dinner and glass of wine at the Bull and Mouth, and I'll warrant you I won't be long behind. All I regret is, I can't accompany you at present." Upon this intimation, the remainder of their luggage and clothing were despatched by a servant, with an order to provide a good dinner for them at half past five.

Things were now all m a fair train, and this business being despatched, all was anxiety for the arrival of the moment, though with different sensations; Sparkle to meet his wife, Bob to return to his native home, and Tom displeased and disappointed in every way, although he determined to be as agreeable as he could under existing circumstances. Time however being heavy on their hands, but as Bob was anxious to make a few more purchases for presents on his return home, they started early for the Bull and Mouth.

"You have now," said Dashall to his cousin, "had some experience in REAL LIFE IN LONDON, and I have reason to think you will not return to the country a worse man than you left it. Variety is charming, and the change from one to the other will give additional zest and pleasure."

"I have reason," replied Bob, "to feel myself under a very particular obligation to you for the excellent care, kindness and attention, as well as information I have derived, and it cannot easily be obliterated from my recollection; but I at the same time must observe, that I have no very great relish for London as a continual residence. When you arrive in the country I will try if I cannot be as explanatory and amusing. At all events I expect you will give me the trial.

"I'll give you a chevy over the hills, a pop at the pheasants, and a pick at them afterwards; besides which, you know, we have some very pretty lasses in our neighbourhood, to whom you have already been introduced, and to whom you shall be better known."

"I know, I know," said Tom, in a hurried manner, which strongly indicated some other motive for regret than that which arose from mere disappointment at not being a partner in their journey, and from which Sparkle did not fail to draw an inference, that some roguish eyes had been darting their beams into the bosom of his friend.

[430] "I see how it is now," cried Sparkle, "Tom is not cut but caught, and I'll sport a fifty, that the Evergreen Tom Dashall, of London, will be transplanted to entwine with some virgin blossom of the country, before another twelve months."

Tom was silent.

Tallyho smiled in accordance with the sentiment of Sparkle, and declared he would not take the bet.

"It's of very little use," cried Dashall, recovering himself after a short pause, "I may as well make a merit of necessity. I confess I have a sort of a liking for the gay and sprightly Lydia Forcetext, the parson's daughter; and if—but curse if's—I hate if, I wish there was no such word in the English language."

"Ha, ha, ha!" exclaimed Sparkle, "I thought we should find you out—but come, I think I may say there is not much for you to fear—if you are but serious."

"It is a serious subject, and if we continue, this conversation I shall grow downright sentimental—so no more at present—we have not much time to spare—and as I mean to make use of every minute, let us look around for any novelty that may occur before your departure."

"Well," said Sparkle, "I must say I do not know of any thing so new to me as the very subject we were upon—but as you wish it dropped—why e'en let it be so—I have no desire to be either particular or personal."

              And as London's the object we've long had in view,
              As long as we can, we'll that object pursue.
              And as visions we know have been for an old grudge meant,
              We'll make ours a view—not a vision of—judgment.

"Good," said Tom, "and as the lines are extemporaneous we will not be over-nice in the criticism."

"At least," continued Sparkle, "you will admit it is better to be a bad poet—than a bad man."

"Agreed—agreed," replied Tom.—"But who in the name of wonder have we here—the emperor of hair-dressers and head-cutters turned print-seller—Why, this was Money's, where I have, before now, had a clip."

[431] "Nay, nay," said Sparkle, "don't be in a hurry to form your judgment—his ingenuity is at work, and really it will be worth while to have a cut all round; for I find he gives a portrait, displaying the most fashionable Parisian dresses to every customer. Some you know present bank, or, more properly speaking, flush notes upon these occasions; but certainly this is a less exceptionable plan.—What say you?"

"With all my heart:" and into the Magazin de Mode they marched; to which they were welcomed by the artist himself—ushered up stairs with all due politeness, and in two minutes Sparkle was under his incomparable hands, while Tom and Bob amused themselves with a peep at the newspapers and the Gazette of Fashion.

"Fine morning, gentlemen," said the friseur.

"Is there any news?" asked Sparkle.

"We have the Paris papers, Sir, regularly, and a constant supply of drawings of the newest fashion."

"I am more for domestic or home news," continued Sparkle.

"Not aware, Sir, of any thing particular—oh, yes; I recollect I was told last night, over at the Haunch, that the mermaid is discovered."

"What," said Tom, "discover a mermaid over a haunch!" laying down the paper.

"Beg pardon, Sir, beg pardon, a trifling mistake, Sir—nothing more—I usually pass a recreative hour, after my daily studies, at the Haunch of Venison, over the way: the landlord is an intelligent, accommodating, and agreeable sort of man, and we have many gentlemen of considerable consequence, both literary and scientific, who meet there of an evening to pass a convivial hour—to hear and impart the news; and, Sir, as I was saying, the mermaid is stated to be a fine hoax upon the credulity of John Bull, being nothing more than the body or skin of a smoke-dried old woman, ingeniously connected with the tail of a fish. I don't vouch for the truth of the report, I only state what I hear, and can only assert with confidence what I am acquainted with in my own business."

"I suspected the mermaid from the first," answered Tom, "I thought there was some deceit in it."

"There is a great deal of deceit in the world, Sir," replied the active clipper.—"A little Circassian cream, Sir—acknowledged to be the best article ever produced for the preservation and restoration of hair."

"Certainly," said Sparkle.

[432] In this way our friends obtained a portion of amusement, and a Corinthian clip from the intelligent and communicative Mr. Money, of Fleet Street notoriety, in return for which he touched their coin.

"Now," said Dashall, "we will make the best of our way and just call, by way of taking a lunch, among the lads of Newgate Market. There is a house where I have been before, in which we can have some very fine home-brewed ale, &c; and besides, according to the landlord's advertisements, he has opened an academy, and gives instruction in the art of brewing. The College of Physicians is just opposite, and I suppose this wag of a landlord has taken the hint, and opposed his beer to their physic—perhaps you may wish to carry his valuable receipt into the country with you?"

"I have no inclination to turn brewer," replied Sparkle, "but I must confess I like the idea of a little genuine beer—free from the poisonous ingredients of the public brewer."

"And so do I," continued Tallyho. "Come along, then," said Tom, "the Bell in Warwick Lane is the shop, where you may be served to a shaving." In passing along Warwick Lane, Bob observed he thought his friend was leading him through a not very agreeable neighbourhood.

"This place is filled with slaughter-houses, and is to be sure a great nuisance to the City; yet such places are necessary, therefore bear up a few minutes, and you will have comfortable house-room and agreeable refreshment." Entering the Bell, they were met by the landlord of the house, a round-faced, good-natured, real John-Bull-looking man, who knowing his customer Dashall, immediately ushered them into the coffee-room, where being supplied with stout and mutton-chops in high perfection, they enjoyed themselves with their regale. This done, they had an opportunity of looking about them.

In one corner sat two or three tip-top salesmen of the market, conversing on the price of meat, while they were devouring a succession of rump-steaks with most voracious and insatiable appetites. In another was a hungry author, bargaining with a bookseller of Paternoster Row, for the sale of a manuscript, by which he expected to realise a dinner. While near them was an undertaker and a master-builder, vociferating at each other for interference [433] with their respective trades, and so far attracting the attention of the bookseller from the work of the author, that he wished, from the bottom of his heart, "that one would build a coffin to bury the other:" while the salesmen laughed so loud at the observations of the controversialists, as almost to make them wish the subject dead without the hope of resurrection.

Bob liked the stout—ordered a replenish, and asked the landlord to partake.

"With all my heart—gentlemen—good health—real malt and hops, gentlemen—nothing else—all brewed under my own eye—good ordinary at two—excellent fare—good treatment—comfortable beds—happy to see you at all times at the Bell brewery."

Having proceeded on their journey they shortly found themselves near Bull and Mouth Street.

On their way to the Bull and Mouth, Sparkle made a proposal, which was cordially acquiesced in by Dashall and his cousin, and a mutual pledge was given to carry it into effect: this was no other than an agreement to take a trip over to Dublin in the course of the ensuing winter, in order to acquire some knowledge of LIFE IN IRELAND.

"I have lately," said Sparkle, "been almost convulsed with laughter, even to the danger of a locked-jaw, by the perusal of a work under this title. The author, nephew to a late Irish chancellor, is an old acquaintance; added to which, and the genuine irresistible humour that runs throughout the work, I feel determined to visit, and have ocular demonstration of some of the places where these scenes of humour are so admirably described."

On entering Bull and Mouth Street—"Bless me," cried Bob, "this is a very confined street for such an inn."

"Hoy," cried a coachman, rattling along the street in double quick time.

"By your leave," bawled a porter with a heavy chest on his back.

"We shall certainly either be knocked down, or run over," exclaimed Tallyho.

"Never fear," said Tom, "do but keep your ogles in action, all's right enough, and we shall soon be safely housed out of the bustle; but before we enter the house we will just cast our eyes about us. On the right, after passing the gate, is the coach-offices for receiving, booking, [434] and delivering parcels, and taking places for passengers by the various vehicles which start from this place. On the left is the hotel and coffee-house, where every refreshment and accommodation may be obtained. The remaining part of the building, together with several others adjoining, which almost occupy the whole of this side of the street, are devoted to stables, waggon and coach-houses, and out-offices."

"It is an extensive concern then," said Tallyho, "though it stands in such an out of the way obscure situation."

"Why you are already aware that situation is not absolutely necessary to success in all cases in London," was the reply. "The extensive circulation of a name or a sign are sometimes sufficient to obtain business;—and who has not heard of the Bull and Mouth, or the name of Willan—from the former runs a considerable number of long stages and mail coaches, daily and nightly, the proprietor being a contractor with Government; and upon one occasion it is said, he was in treaty to supply an immense quantity of horses to convey troops to the coast, on the threatened invasion by Buonaparte, so that the epithet patriotic might properly be applied to him. He however is lately deceased, and supposed to have left a considerable fortune.—But come, dinner is ready—now for the parting meal, and then heaven speed ye to your destined homes."

After partaking of a hearty dinner, and a bottle or two of generous wine—"Come," said Dashall, "it is time we are alive and look out, for the yard is all in a bustle; here are lots of coaches preparing for a start, so let us get out, look around, and see what is going forward."

Upon this intimation, they sallied forth to the yard, where the confusion created by the arrival of one coach heavily laden, and the preparation of two for departure, afforded a scene for a quiet contemplatist, which however it is not easy to describe.

"Coachman," said an antiquated lady, just alighting, "I paid my fare."

"Yes Ma'am, that's all fair," said coachy.

"Mind how you hand my dear little boy out of the coach, poor little fellow he is quite dizzy with riding."

[435] "I thinks as how you had better have brought a man with you, for you want taking care of yourself," grumbled coachy, as he handed the young one out.—"There he is Ma'am—stand upon your pins, my man."

"Come Charley—Oh coachy you have got my box in your boot."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am, I know it, I wish my boot was in your box—here it is Ma'am."

"Stand bye," said a Jack Tar, "let's have a little sea room, and no squalls."

"Coachy, what a rude fellow that is, he says I squalls."

"Never mind him, Ma'am, he is as rough as the element he belongs to—thank ye Ma'am—that's the time o' day," pocketing a half-crown which she had just given him.

"Here Bill, take this lady's luggage out of the way."

"Just going off, Sir—do you go by me?"

"Yes," replied Sparkle, "how many have you inside?"

"Only four, Sir, and you two make up the number—all ready—Jem, bear up the leaders."

At this moment a hackney coach stopped at the gate, and out jumps a gentleman who immediately entered into conversation with the coachman.

"Can't do it, Sir," said coachy,—"all full—I might manage to give you an outside passage to be sure."

"Well, well, I will make that do, perhaps you can afford an inside birth part of the journey."

"I'll see what I can do, but can't promise—now gentlemen."

"Here coachman," said the person desirous of obtaining a passage, tipping coachy some money.

"Aye, aye, that's the way to look at the matter."

By this time Tom discovered it was no other than Van Butchell,{1} whom he observed to Bob, there was little doubt had been summoned on some desperate case, and must go at all events.

         1 It is fortunate for the rising generation, that the late
         Martin Van Butchell, not more celebrated for his
         eccentricities than bis utility, has not departed from the
         world without leaving an able successor to his practice.
         Edwin Martin Van Butchell is now almost as well known as his
         late father. Such indeed is the estimation of his abilities,
         that a large society of journeymen tailors have entered into
         a weekly subscription among themselves, in order that their
         afflicted brethren may have the benefit of his practical
         knowledge and abilities.

"Now, gentlemen, you brush in and I will brush on. Shut the door Dick, all right—ya—hip."

"Adieu, dear Tom," exclaimed Bob.

[436] "Zounds," exclaimed Tom, "the coachman will hardly allow him to say good bye—well, the dearest friends must part, so good bye, heaven protect you both."

By this time the vehicle was out of the yard.

"I don't like it," continued Tom, soliloquizing with himself; "but, however, as I have bid them adieu for the present, the best thing I can do is to arrange Laconic's affairs, and then bid adieu to Life in London."

The End

Main Index
Volume I. Part 1
Volume I. Part 2
Volume II. Part 1