# REAL LIFE IN LONDON

### Volume I., Part 2

OR, THE RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF BOB TALLYHO, ESQ.,
AND HIS COUSIN, THE HON. TOM DASHALL,
THROUGH THE METROPOLIS;
EXHIBITING A LIVING PICTURE OF FASHIONABLE CHARACTERS,
MANNERS, AND AMUSEMENTS IN HIGH AND LOW LIFE
By an AMATEUR [Pierce Egan]
"'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat
To peep at such a world; to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd."
—Cowper
EMBELLISHED AND ILLUSTRATED WITH A SERIES OF
COLOURED PRINTS, DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED
BY MESSRS. HEATH, AIKEN, DIGHTON,
ROWLANDSON, ETC.
VOLUME I
A NEW EDITION
METHUEN & CO. LONDON
NOTE
This Issue, first published in 1905, is founded on the Edition
printed for Jones & Co. in the year 1821

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

## Contents

## List of Illustrations

## CHAPTER XVII

              "Here fashion and folly still go hand in hand,
              With the Blades of the East, and the Bucks of the Strand;
              The Bloods of the Park, and paraders so gay,
              Who are lounging in Bond Street the most of the day—
              Who are foremost in all that is formed for delight,
              At greeking, or wenching, or drinking all night;
              For London is circled with unceasing joys:
              Then, East, West, North and South, let us hunt them, my boys."

[258] THE entrance to the house had attracted Tallyho's admiration as they proceeded; but the taste and elegance of the Coffee-room, fitted up with brilliant chandeliers, and presenting amidst a blaze of splendour every comfort and accommodation for its visitors, struck him with surprise; in which however he was not suffered to remain long, for Merrywell and Mortimer had laid their plans with some degree of depth and determination to carry into execution the proposed ramble of the evening, and had ordered a private room for the party; besides which, they had invited a friend to join them, who was introduced to Tom and Bob, under the title of Frank Harry. Frank Harry was a humorous sort of fellow, who could tell a tough story, sing a merry song, and was up to snuff, though he frequently got snuffy, singing,

              "The bottle's the Sun of our table,

              His beams are rosy wine:
              We, planets never are able

              Without his beams to shine.
              Let mirth and glee abound,

              You'll soon grow bright

              With borrow'd light,
              And shine as he goes round."

He was also a bit of a dabbler at Poetry, a writer of Songs, Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c.; and having been a long resident in the East, was thought to be a very useful guide on such an excursion, and proved himself a very [259] pleasant sort of companion: he had a dawning pleasantry in his countenance, eradiated by an eye of vivacity, which seemed to indicate there was nothing which gave him so much gratification as a mirth-moving jest.

"What spirits were his, what wit and what whim, Now cracking a joke, and now breaking a limb."

Give him but food for laughter, and he would almost consider himself furnished with food and raiment. There was however a pedantic manner with him at times; an affectation of the clerical in his dress, which, upon the whole, did not appear to be of the newest fashion, or improved by wearing; yet he would not barter one wakeful jest for a hundred sleepy sermons, or one laugh for a thousand sighs. If he ever sigh'd at all, it was because he had been serious where he might have laugh'd; if he had ever wept, it was because mankind had not laugh'd more and mourn'd less. He appeared almost to be made up of contrarieties, turning at times the most serious subjects into ridicule, and moralizing upon the most ludicrous occurrences of life, never failing to conclude his observations with some quaint or witty sentiment to excite risibility; seeming at the same time to say,

              "How I love to laugh;
              Never was a weeper;
              Care's a silly calf,
              Joy's my casket keeper."

During dinner time he kept the table in a roar of laughter, by declaring it was his opinion there was a kind of puppyism in pigs that they should wear tails—calling a great coat, a spencer folio edition with tail-pieces—Hercules, a man-midwife in a small way of business, because he had but twelve labours—assured them he had seen a woman that morning who had swallowed an almanac, which he explained by adding, that her features were so carbuncled, that the red lettered days were visible on her face—that Horace ran away from the battle of Philippi, merely to prove that he was no lame poet—he described Critics as the door-porters to the Temple of Fame, whose business was to see that no persons slipped in with holes in their stockings, or paste buckles for diamond ones, but was much in doubt whether they always performed their duty honestly—he called the Sun the Yellow-hair'd Laddie [260] —and the Prince of Darkness, the Black Prince—ask'd what was the difference between a sigh-heaver and a coal-heaver; but obtaining no answer, I will tell you, said he—The coal-heaver has a load at his back, which he can carry—but a sigh-heaver has one at his heart, which he can not carry. He had a whimsical knack of quoting old proverbs, and instead of saying, the Cobbler should stick to his last, he conceived it ought to be, the Cobbler should stick to his wax, because he thought that the more practicable—What is bred in the bone, said he, will not come out with the skewer; and justified his alteration by asserting it must be plain enough to the fat-headed comprehensions of those epicurean persons who have the magpie-propensity of prying into marrow-bones.

Dashall having remarked, in the course of conversation, that necessity has no law.

He declared he was sorry for it—it was surely a pity, considering the number of learned Clerks she might give employ to if she had—her Chancellor (continued he) would have no sinecure of it, I judge: hearing the petitions of her poor, broken-fortuned and bankrupt, subjects would take up all his terms, though every term were a year, and every year a term. Thus he united humour with seriousness, and seriousness with humour, to the infinite amusement of those around him.

Merrywell, who was well acquainted with, and knew his humour, took every opportunity of what is called drawing him out, and encouraging his propensity to punning, a species of wit at which he was particularly happy, for puns fell as thick from him as leaves from autumn bowers; and he further entertained them with an account of the intention he had some short time back of petitioning for the office of pun-purveyor to his late Majesty; but that before he could write the last line—"And your petitioner will ever pun" it was bestowed upon a Yeoman of the Guard. Still, however, said he, I have an idea of opening business as a pun-wright in general to his Majesty's subjects, for the sale and diffusion of all that is valuable in that small ware of wit, and intend to advertise—Puns upon all subjects, wholesale, retail, and for exportation. N B. 1. An allowance will be made to Captains and Gentlemen going to the East and West Indies—Hooks, Peakes, Pococks,{1} supplied on

         1 Well-known dramatic authors.

[261] moderate terms—worn out sentiments and clap-traps will be taken in exchange. N B. 2. May be had in a large quantity, in a great deal box, price five acts of sterling comedy per packet, or in small quantities, in court-plaster sized boxes, price one melodrama and an interlude per box. N B. 3. The genuine puns are sealed with a true Munden grin—all others are counterfeits—Long live Apollo, &c. &c.

The cloth being removed, the wine was introduced, and

              "As wine whets the wit, improves its native force,
              And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse,"

Frank Harry became more lively at each glass—"Egad!" said he, "my intention of petitioning to be the king's punster, puts me in mind of a story."

"Can't you sing it?" enquired Merrywell.

"The pipes want clearing out first," was the reply, "and that is a sign I can't sing at present; but signal as it may appear, and I see some telegraphic motions are exchanging, my intention is to shew to you all the doubtful interpretation of signs in general."

"Let's have it then," said Tom; "but, Mr. Chairman, I remember an old Song which concludes with this sentiment—

              "Tis hell upon earth to be wanting of wine."

"The bottle is out, we must replenish."

The hint was no sooner given, than the defect was remedied; and after another glass,

"King James VI. on his arrival in London, (said he) was waited on by a Spanish Ambassador, a man of some erudition, but who had strangely incorporated with his learning, a whimsical notion, that every country ought to have a school, in which a certain order of men should be taught to interpret signs; and that the most expert in this department ought to be dignified with the title of Professor of Signs. If this plan were adopted, he contended, that most of the difficulties arising from the ambiguity of language, and the imperfect acquaintance which people of one nation had with the tongue of another, would be done away. Signs, he argued, arose from the dictates of nature; and, as they were the same in every country, there could be no danger of their being misunderstood. Full of this project, the Ambassador was [262] lamenting one day before the King, that the nations of Europe were wholly destitute of this grand desideratum; and he strongly recommended the establishment of a college founded upon the simple principles he had suggested. The king, either to humour this Quixotic foible, or to gratify his own ambition at the expense of truth, observed, in reply, 'Why, Sir, I have a Professor of Signs in one of the northernmost colleges in my dominions; but the distance is, perhaps, six hundred miles, so that it will be impracticable for you to have an interview with him.' Pleased with this unexpected information, the Ambassador exclaimed—'If it had been six hundred leagues, I would go to see him; and I am determined to set out in the course of three or four days.' The King, who now perceived that he had committed himself, endeavoured to divert him from his purpose; but, finding this impossible, he immediately caused letters to be written to the college, stating the case as it really stood, and desired the Professors to get rid of the Ambassador in the best manner they were able, without exposing their Sovereign. Disconcerted at this strange and unexpected message, the Professors scarcely knew how to proceed. They, however, at length, thought to put off their august visitant, by saying, that the Professor of Signs was not at home, and that his return would be very uncertain. Having thus fabricated the story, they made preparations to receive the illustrious stranger, who, keeping his word, in due time reached their abode. On his arrival, being introduced with becoming solemnity, he began to enquire, who among them had the honour of being Professor of Signs? He was told in reply, that neither of them had that exalted honour; but the learned gentleman, after whom he enquired, was gone into the Highlands, that they conceived his stay would be considerable; but that no one among them could even conjecture the period of his return. 'I will wait his coming,' replied the Ambassador, 'if it be twelve months.'

"Finding him thus determined, and fearing, from the journey he had already undertaken that he might be as good as his word, the learned Professors had recourse to another stratagem. To this they found themselves driven, by the apprehension that they must entertain him as long as he chose to tarry; and in case he should unfortunately weary out their patience, the whole affair must terminate [263] in a discovery of the fraud. They knew a Butcher, who had been in the habit of serving the colleges occasionally with meat. This man, they thought, with a little instruction might serve their purpose; he was, however, blind with one eye, but he had much drollery and impudence about him, and very well knew how to conduct any farce to which his abilities were competent.

"On sending for Geordy, (for that was the butcher's name) they communicated to him the tale, and instructing him in the part he was to act, he readily undertook to become Professor of Signs, especially as he was not to speak one word in the Ambassador's presence, on any pretence whatever. Having made these arrangements, it was formally announced to the Ambassador, that the Professor would be in town in the course of a few days, when he might expect a silent interview. Pleased with this information, the learned foreigner thought that he would put his abilities at once to the test, by introducing into his dumb language some subject that should be at once difficult, interesting, and important. When the day of interview arrived, Geordy was cleaned up, decorated with a large bushy wig, and covered over with a singular gown, in every respect becoming his station. He was then seated in a chair of state, in one of their large rooms, while the Ambassador and the trembling Professors waited in an adjoining apartment.

"It was at length announced, that the learned Professor of Signs was ready to receive his Excellency, who, on entering the room, was struck with astonishment at his venerable and dignified appearance. As none of the Professors would presume to enter, to witness the interview, under a pretence of delicacy, (but, in reality, for fear that their presence might have some effect upon the risible muscles of Geordy's countenance) they waited with inconceivable anxiety, the result of this strange adventure, upon which depended their own credit, that of the King, and, in some degree, the honour of the nation.

"As this was an interview of signs, the Ambassador began with Geordy, by holding up one of his fingers; Geordy replied, by holding up two. The Ambassador then held up three; Geordy answered, by clenching his fist, and looking sternly. The Ambassador then took an orange from his pocket, and held it up; Geordy returned the compliment, by taking from his pocket a [264] piece of a barley cake, which he exhibited in a similar manner. The ambassador, satisfied with the vast attainments of the learned Professor, then bowed before him with profound reverence, and retired. On rejoining the agitated Professors, they fearfully began to enquire what his Excellency thought of their learned brother? 'He is a perfect miracle,' replied the Ambassador, 'his worth is not to be purchased by the wealth of half the Indies.' 'May we presume to descend to particulars?' returned the Professors, who now began to think themselves somewhat out of danger. 'Gentlemen,' said the Ambassador, 'when I first entered into his presence, I held up one finger, to denote that there is one God. He then held up two, signifying that the Father should not be divided from the Son. I then held up three, intimating, that I believed in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. He then clenched his fist, and, looking sternly at me, signified, that these three are one; and that he would defy me, either to separate them, or to make additions. I then took out an orange from my pocket, and held it up, to show the goodness of God, and to signify that he gives to his creatures not only the necessaries, but even the luxuries of life. Then, to my utter astonishment, this wonderful man took from his pocket a piece of bread, thus assuring me, that this was the staff of life, and was to be preferred to all the luxuries in the world. Being thus satisfied with his proficiency and great attainments in this science, I silently withdrew, to reflect upon what I had witnessed.' "Diverted with the success of their stratagem, the Professors continued to entertain their visitor, until he thought prudent to withdraw. No sooner had he retired, than the opportunity was seized to learn from Geordy, in what manner he had proceeded to give the Ambassador such wonderful satisfaction; they being at a loss to conceive how he could have caught his ideas with so much promptitude, and have replied to them with proportionable readiness. But, that one story might not borrow any features from the other, they concealed from Geordy all they had learned from the Ambassador; and desiring him to begin with his relation, he proceeded in the following manner:—'When the rascal came into the room, after gazing at me a little, what do you think, gentlemen, that he did? He held up one finger, as much as to say, you have only one eye. I then held up two, to [265] let him know that my one eye was as good as both of his. He then held up three, as much as to say, we have only three eyes between us. This was so provoking, that I bent my fist at the scoundrel, and had it not been for your sakes, I should certainly have risen from the chair, pulled off my wig and gown, and taught him how to insult a man, because he had the misfortune to lose one eye. The impudence of the fellow, however, did not stop here; for he then pulled out an orange from his pocket, and held it up, as much as to say, Your poor beggarly country cannot produce this. I then pulled out a piece of good cake, and held it up, giving him to understand, that I did not care a farthing for his trash. Neither do I; and I only regret, that I did not thrash the scoundrel's hide, that he might remember how he insulted me, and abused my country.' We may learn from hence, that if there are not two ways of telling a story, there are at least two ways of understanding Signs, and also of interpreting them."

This story, which was told with considerable effect by their merry companion, alternately called forth loud bursts of laughter, induced profound silence, and particularly interested and delighted young Mortimer and Tallyho; while Merrywell kept the glass in circulation, insisting on no day-light{1} nor heel-taps,{2} and the lads began to feel themselves all in high feather. Time was passing in fearless enjoyment, and Frank Harry being called on by Merrywell for a song, declared he had no objection to tip 'em a rum chant, provided it was agreed that it should go round.

This proposal was instantly acceded to, a promise made that he should not be at a loss for a good coal-box;{3} and after a little more rosin, without which, he said, he could not pitch the key-note, he sung the following[266]

                             SONG.

              Oh, London! dear London! magnanimous City,
              Say where is thy likeness again to be found?

              Here pleasures abundant, delightful and pretty,
              All whisk us and frisk us in magical round;

         1 No day-light—That is to leave no space in the glass; or,
         in other words, to take a bumper.

         2  Heel-taps—To leave no wine at the bottom.

         3 Coal-box—A very common corruption of chorus.

              Here we have all that in life can merry be,
              Looking and laughing with friends Hob and Nob,

              More frolic and fun than there's bloom on the cherry-tree,
              While we can muster a Sovereign Bob.

(Spoken)—Yes, yes, London is the large world in a small compass: it contains all the comforts and pleasures of human life—"Aye aye, (says a Bumpkin to his more accomplished Kinsman) Ye mun brag o' yer Lunnun fare; if smoak, smother, mud, and makeshift be the comforts and pleasures, gie me free air, health and a cottage."—Ha, ha, ha, Hark at the just-catch'd Johnny Rata, (says a bang-up Lad in a lily-shallow and upper toggery) where the devil did you come from? who let you loose upon society? d———e, you ought to be coop'd up at Exeter 'Change among the wild beasts, the Kangaroos and Catabaws, and shewn as the eighth wonder of the world! Shew 'em in! Shew 'em in! stir him up with a long pole; the like never seen before; here's the head of an owl with the tail of an ass—all alive, alive O! D———me how the fellow stares; what a marvellous piece of a mop-stick without thrums.—"By gum (says the Bumpkin) you looks more like an ape, and Ise a great mind to gie thee a douse o' the chops."—You'd soon find yourself chop-fallen there, my nabs, (replies his antagonist)—you are not up to the gammon—you must go to College and learn to sing

              Oh, London! dear London!  &c.

              Here the streets are so gay, and the features so smiling,

              With uproar and noise, bustle, bother, and gig;
              The lasses (dear creatures! ) each sorrow beguiling,

              The Duke and the Dustman, the Peer and the Prig;
              Here is his Lordship from gay Piccadilly,

              There an ould Clothesman from Rosemary Lane;
              Here is a Dandy in search of a filly,

              And there is a Blood, ripe for milling a pane.

(Spoken)—All higgledy-piggledy, pigs in the straw—Lawyers, Lapidaries, Lamplighters, and Lap-dogs—Men-milliners, Money-lenders, and Fancy Millers, Mouse-trap Mongers, and Matchmen, in one eternal round of variety! Paradise is a pail of cold water in comparison with its unparalleled pleasures—and the wishing cap of Fortunatus could not produce a greater abundance of delight—Cat's Meat—Dog's Meat—Here they are all four a penny, hot hot hot, smoking hot, piping hot hot Chelsea Buns—Clothes sale, clothes—Sweep, sweep—while a poor bare-footed Ballad Singer with a hoarse discordant voice at intervals chimes in with

              "They led me like a pilgrim thro' the labyrinth of care,
              You may know me by my sign and the robe that I wear;"

[267] so that the concatenation of sounds mingling all at once into one undistinguished concert of harmony, induces me to add mine to the number, by singing—

              Oh, London! dear London! &c.

              The Butcher, whose tray meets the dough of the Baker,

              And bundles his bread-basket out of his hand;
              The Exquisite Lad, and the dingy Flue Faker,{1}

              And coaches to go that are all on the stand:
              Here you may see the lean sons of Parnassus,

              The puffing Perfumer, so spruce and so neat;
              While Ladies, who flock to the fam'd Bonassus,

              Are boning our hearts as we walk thro' the street.

(Spoken)—"In gude truth," says a brawney Scotchman, "I'se ne'er see'd sic bonny work in a' my liefe—there's nae walking up the streets without being knock'd doon, and nae walking doon the streets without being tripp'd up."—"Blood-an-oons, (says an Irishman) don't be after blowing away your breath in blarney, my dear, when you'll want it presently to cool your barley broth."—"By a leaf," cries a Porter with a chest of drawers on his knot, and, passing between them, capsizes both at once, then makes the best of his way on a jog-trot, humming to himself, Ally Croaker, or Hey diddle Ho diddle de; and leaving the fallen heroes to console themselves with broken heads, while some officious friends are carefully placing them on their legs, and genteelly easing their pockets of the possibles; after which they toddle off at leisure, to sing

              Oh, London! dear London! &c.

              Then for buildings so various, ah, who would conceive it,

              Unless up to London they'd certainly been?
              'Tis a truth, I aver, tho' you'd scarcely believe it,

              That at the Court end not a Court's to be seen;
              Then for grandeur or style, pray where is the nation

              For fashion or folly can equal our own?
              Or fit out a fête like the grand Coronation?

              I defy the whole world, there is certainly none.

(Spoken)—Talk of sights and sounds—is not there the Parliament House, the King's Palace, and the Regent's Bomb—The Horse-guards, the Body-guards, and the Black-guards—The Black-legs, and the Bluestockings—The Horn-blower, and the Flying Pie-man—The Indian Juggler—Punch and Judy—(imitating the well-known Show-man)—The young and the old, the grave and the gay—The modest Maid and the willing Cyprian—The Theatres—The Fives Court and the Court of Chancery—[268]

         1 Flue Faker—A cant term for Chimney-sweep.

              The Giants in Guildhall, to be seen by great and small, and,
              what's more than all, the Coronation Ball—

              Mirth, fun, frolic, and frivolity,
              To please the folks of quality:

              For all that can please the eye, the ear, the taste, the touch,
              the smell,

              Whether bang-up in life, unfriended or undone,

              No place has such charms as the gay town of London.

              Oh, Loudon! dear London! &c.

The quaint peculiarities of the Singer gave indescribable interest to this song, as he altered his voice to give effect to the various cries of the inhabitants, and it was knock'd down with three times three rounds of applause; when Merrywell, being named for the next, sung, accompanied with Dashall and Frank Harry, the following

                            GLEE.

              "Wine, bring me wine—come fill the sparkling glass,
              Brisk let the bottle circulate;
              Name, quickly name each one his fav'rite lass,
              Drive from your brows the clouds of fate:
              Fill the sparkling bumper high,
              Let us drain the bottom dry.

              Come, thou grape-encircled Boy!
              From thy blissful seats above,
              Crown the present hours with joy,
              Bring me wine and bring me love:
              Fill the sparkling bumper high,
              Let us drain the bottom dry.

              Bacchus, o'er my yielding lip
              Spread the produce of thy vine;
              Love, thy arrows gently dip,
              Temp'ring them with generous wine:
              Fill the sparkling bumper high,
              Let us drain the bottom dry."

In the mean time, the enemy of life was making rapid strides upon them unheeded, till Dashall reminded Merrywell of their intended visit to the East; and that as he expected a large portion of amusement in that quarter, he proposed a move.

They were by this time all well primed—ripe for a rumpus—bang-up for a lark or spree, any where, any how, or with any body; they therefore took leave of their present scene of gaiety.[269]

## CHAPTER XVIII

              "Wand'ring with listless gait and spirits gay,
              They Eastward next pursued their jocund way;
              With story, joke, smart repartee and pun,
              Their business pleasure, and their object fun."

IT was a fine moonlight evening, and upon leaving the Globe, they again found themselves in the hurry, bustle, and noise of the world. The glare of the gas-lights, and the rattling of coaches, carts and vehicles of various-descriptions, mingled with

              "The busy hum of men,"

attracted the attention of their eyes and ears, while the exhilarating juice of the bottle had given a circulation to the blood which enlivened imagination and invigorated fancy. Bob conceived himself in Elysium, and Frank Harry was as frisky as a kitten. The first object that arrested their progress was the house of Mr. Hone, whose political Parodies, and whose trials on their account, have given him so much celebrity. His window at the moment exhibited his recent satirical publication entitled a Slap at Slop and the Bridge Street Gang.{1}

         1 The great wit and humour displayed in this publication
         have deservedly entitled it to rank high among the jeu
         desprit productions of this lively age—to describe it were
         impossible—to enjoy it must be to possess it; but for the
         information of such of our readers as are remote from the
         Metropolis, it may perhaps be necessary to give something
         like a key of explanation to its title. A certain learned
         Gentleman, formerly the Editor of the Times, said now to be
         the Conductor of the New Times, who has by his writings
         rendered himself obnoxious to a numerous class of readers,
         has been long known by the title of Dr. Slop; in his
         publication, denominated the mock Times, and the Slop Pail,
         he has been strenuous in his endeavours to support and
         uphold a Society said to mis-call themselves The
         Constitutional Society, but now denominated The Bridge
         Street Gang; and the publication alluded to, contains
         humorous and satirical parodies, and sketches of the usual
         contents of his Slop Pail; with a Life of the learned
         Doctor, and an account of the origin of the Gang.

[270] "Here," said Tom, "we are introduced at once into a fine field of observation. The inhabitant of this house defended himself in three different trials for the publication of alleged impious, profane, and scandalous libels on the Catechism, the Litany, and the Creed of St. Athanasius, with a boldness, intrepidity, and perseverance, almost unparalleled, as they followed in immediate succession, without even an allowance of time for bodily rest or mental refreshment."

"Yes," continued Frank Harry, "and gained a verdict on each occasion, notwithstanding the combined efforts of men in power, and those whose constant practice in our Courts of Law, with learning and information at their fingers ends, rendered his enemies fearful antagonists."

"It was a noble struggle," said Tallyho; "I remember we had accounts of it in the country, and we did not fail to express our opinions by subscriptions to remunerate the dauntless defender of the rights and privileges of the British subject."

"Tip us your flipper"{1} said Harry—-"then I see you are a true bit of the bull breed—one of us, as I may say. Well, now you see the spot of earth he inhabits—zounds, man, in his shop you will find amusement for a month—see here is The House that Jack Built—there is the Queen's Matrimonial Ladder, do you mark?—What think you of these qualifications for a Gentleman?

"In love, and in liquor, and o'ertoppled with debt, With women, with wine, and with duns on the fret."

There you have the Nondescript—

              "A something, a nothing—what none understand,
              Be-mitred, be-crowned, but without heart or hand;
              There's Jack in the Green too, and Noodles, alas!
              "Who doodle John Bull of gold, silver, and brass.

"Come," said Dashall, "you must cut your story short; I know if you begin to preach, we shall have a sermon as long as from here to South America, so allons;" and with this impelling his Cousin forward, they

         1 Tip us your Flipper—your mawley—your daddle, or your
         thieving hook; are terms made use of as occasions may suit
         the company in which they are introduced, to signify a desire
         to shake hands.

[271] approached towards Saint Paul's, chiefly occupied in conversation on the great merit displayed in the excellent designs of Mr. Cruikshank, which embellish the work they had just been viewing; nor did they discover any thing further worthy of notice, till Bob's ears were suddenly attracted by a noise somewhat like that of a rattle, and turning sharply round to discover from whence it came, was amused with the sight of several small busts of great men, apparently dancing to the music of a weaver's shuttle.{1}

"What the devil do you call this?" said he—"is it an exhibition of wax-work, or a model academy?"

"Neither," replied Dashall; "this is no other than the shop of a well-known dealer in stockings and nightcaps, who takes this ingenious mode of making himself popular, and informing the passengers that

              "Here you may be served with all patterns and sizes,
              From the foot to the head, at moderate prices;"

with woolens for winter, and cottons for summer—Let us move on, for there generally is a crowd at the door, and there is little doubt but he profits by those who are induced to gaze, as most people do in London, if they can but entrap attention. Romanis is one of those gentlemen who has contrived to make some noise in the world by puffing advertisements, and the circulation of poetical handbills. He formerly kept a very small shop for the sale of hosiery nearly opposite the East-India House, where he supplied the Sailors after receiving their pay for a long voyage, as well as their Doxies, with the articles in which he deals, by obtaining permission to style himself "Hosier to the Rt. Hon. East India Company." Since which, finding his trade increase and his purse extended, he has extended his patriotic views of clothing the whole population of London by opening shops in various parts, and has at almost all times two or three depositories for

1 Romanis, the eccentric Hosier, generally places a loom near the door of his shops decorated with small busts; some of which being attached to the upper movements of the machinery, and grotesquely attired in patchwork and feathers, bend backwards and forwards with the motion of the works, apparently to salute the spectators, and present to the idea persons dancing; while every passing of the shuttle produces a noise which may be assimilated to that of the Rattlesnake, accompanied with sounds something like those of a dancing-master beating time to his scholars. [272] his stock. At this moment, besides what we have just seen, there is one in Gracechurch Street, and another in Shoreditch, where the passengers are constantly assailed by a little boy, who stands at the door with some bills in his hand, vociferating—Cheap, cheap."

"Then," said Bob, "wherever he resides I suppose may really be called Cheapside?"

"With quite as much propriety," continued Ton, "as the place we are now in; for, as the Irishman says in his song,

              "At a place called Cheapside they sell every thing dear."

During this conversation, Mortimer, Merrywell, and Harry were amusing themselves by occasionally addressing the numerous Ladies who were passing, and taking a peep at the shops—giggling with girls, or admiring the taste and elegance displayed in the sale of fashionable and useful articles—justled and impeded every now and then by the throng. Approaching Bow Church, they made a dead stop for a moment.

"What a beautiful steeple!" exclaimed Bob; "I should, though no architect, prefer this to any I have yet seen in London."

"Your remark," replied Dashall, "does credit to your taste; it is considered the finest in the Metropolis. St. Paul's displays the grand effort of Sir Christopher Wren; but there are many other fine specimens of his genius to be seen in the City. His Latin Epitaph in St. Paul's may be translated thus: 'If you seek his monument, look around you;' and we may say of this steeple, 'If you wish a pillar to his fame, look up.' The interior of the little church, Walbrook,{1} (St. Stephen's) is likewise considered a

         1 This church is perhaps unrivalled, for the beauty of the
         architecture of its interior. For harmony of proportion,
         grace, airiness, variety, and elegance, it is not to be
         surpassed. It is a small church, built in the form of a
         cross. The roof is supported by Corinthian columns, so
         disposed as to raise an idea of grandeur, which the
         dimensions of the structure do not seem to promise. Over the
         centre, at which the principal aisles cross, is a dome
         divided into compartments, the roof being partitioned in a
         similar manner, and the whole finely decorated. The effect
         of this build-ing is inexpressibly delightful; the eye at
         one glance embracing a plan full and distinct, and
         afterwards are seen a greater number of parts than the
         spectator was prepared to expect. It is known and admired on
         the Continent, as a master-piece of art. Over the altar is a
         fine painting of the martyrdom of St. Stephen, by West.

[273] chef d'ouvre of the same artist, and serves to display the versatility of his genius."

Instead however of looking up, Bob was looking over the way, where a number of people, collected round a bookseller's window, had attracted his attention.

"Apropos," cried Dashall,—"The Temple of Apollo—we should have overlook'd a fine subject, but for your remark—yonder is Tegg's Evening Book Auction, let us cross and see what's going on. He is a fellow of 'infinite mirth and good humour,' and many an evening have I passed at his Auction, better amused than by a farce at the Theatre."

They now attempted to cross, but the intervening crowd of carriages, three or four deep, and in a line as far as the eye could reach, for the present opposed an obstacle.

"If I could think of it," said Sparkle, "I'd give you the Ode on his Birth-day, which I once saw in MS.—it is the jeu d'esprit of a very clever young Poet, and who perhaps one of these days may be better known; but poets, like anatomical subjects, are worth but little till dead."

"And for this reason, I suppose," says Tom, "their friends and patrons are anxious they should rather be starved than die a natural death."

"Oh! now I have it—let us remain in the Church-yard a few minutes, while the carriages pass, and you shall hear it."[274]

              "Ye hackney-coaches, and ye carts,
              That oft so well perform your parts
              For those who choose to ride,
              Now louder let your music grow—
              Your heated axles fiery glow—
              Whether you travel quick or slow-
              In Cheapside.

              For know, "ye ragged rascals all,"
              (As H——- would in his pulpit bawl
              With cheeks extended wide)
              Know, as you pass the crowded way,
              This is the happy natal day
              Of Him whose books demand your stay
              In Cheapside.

              'Twas on the bright propitious morn
              When the facetious Tegcy was born,
              Of mirth and fun the pride,
              That Nature said "good Fortune follow,
              Bear him thro' life o'er hill and hollow,
              Give him the Temple of Apollo
              In Cheapside."

              Then, O ye sons of Literature!
              Shew your regard for Mother Nature,
              Nor let her be denied:
              Hail! hail the man whose happy birth
              May tell the world of mental worth;
              They'll find the best books on the earth
              In Cheapside.

"Good!" exclaimed Bob; "but we will now endeavour to make our way across, and take a peep at the subject of the Ode."

Finding the auction had not yet commenced, Sparkle proposed adjourning to the Burton Coffee House in the adjacent passage, taking a nip of ale by way of refreshment and exhilaration, and returning in half an hour. This proposition was cordially agreed to by all, except Tallyho, whose attention was engrossed by a large collection of Caricatures which lay exposed in a portfolio on the table beneath the rostrum. The irresistible broad humour of the subjects had taken fast hold of his risible muscles, and in turning them over one after the other, he found it difficult to part with such a rich fund of humour, and still more so to stifle the violent emotion it excited. At length, clapping his hands to his sides, he gave full vent to the impulse in a horse-laugh from a pair of truly Stentorian lungs, and was by main force dragged out by his companions.

While seated in the comfortable enjoyment of their nips of ale, Sparkle, with his usual vivacity, began an elucidation of the subjects they had just left. "The collection of Caricatures," said he, "which is considered the largest in London, are mostly from the pencil of that self-taught artist, the late George Woodward, and display not only a genuine and original style of humour in the design, but a corresponding and appropriate character in the dialogue, or speeches connected with the figures. Like his contemporary in another branch of the art, George Morland, he possessed all the eccentricity and thoughtless improvidence so common and frequently so fatal to genius; and had not his good fortune led him towards Bow Church, he must have suffered severe privations, and perhaps eventually have perished of want. Here, he always found a ready market, and a liberal price for his productions, however rude or hasty the sketch, or whatever might be the subject of them."

[275] "As to books," continued he, "all ages, classes, and appetites, may be here suited. The superficial dabbler in, and pretender to every thing, will find collections, selections, beauties, flowers, gems, &c. The man of real knowledge may here purchase the elements, theory, and practice of every art and science, in all the various forms and dimensions, from a single volume, to the Encyclopedia at large. The dandy may meet with plenty of pretty little foolscap volumes, delightfully hot-pressed, and exquisitely embellished; the contents of which will neither fatigue by the quantity, nor require the laborious effort of thought to comprehend. The jolly bon-vivant and Bacchanal will find abundance of the latest songs, toasts, and sentiments; and the Would-be-Wit will meet with Joe Miller in such an endless variety of new dresses, shapes, and sizes, that he may fancy he possesses all the collected wit of ages brought down to the present moment. The young Clerical will find sermons adapted to every local circumstance, every rank and situation in society, and may furnish himself with a complete stock in trade of sound orthodox divinity; while the City Epicure may store himself with a complete library on the arts of confectionary, cookery, &c, from Apicius, to the "Glutton's Almanack." The Demagogue may furnish himself with flaming patriotic speeches, ready cut and dried, which he has only to learn by heart against the next Political Dinner, and if he should not 'let the cat out,' by omitting to substitute the name of Londonderry for Cæsar, he may pass off for a second Brutus, and establish an equal claim to oratory with Burke, Pitt, and Fox. The——"

"Auction will be over," interrupted Bob, "before you get half through your descriptive Catalogue of the Books, so finish your nip, and let us be off."

They entered, and found the Orator hard at it, knocking down with all the energy of a Crib, and the sprightly wit of a Sheridan. Puns, bon mots, and repartees, flew about like crackers.

"The next lot, Gentlemen, is the Picture of London,—impossible to possess a more useful book—impossible to say what trouble and expence may be avoided by the possession of this little volume. When your Country Cousins pay you a visit, what a bore, what an expence, to be day after day leading them about—taking them up the Monument—down the Adelphi—round St. Paul's—across the [276] Parks, through the new Streets—along the Strand, or over the Docks, the whole of which may be avoided at the expence of a few shillings. You have only to clap into their pocket in the morning this invaluable little article, turn them out for the day, and, if by good luck they should not fall into the hands of sharpers and swindlers, your dear Coz will return safe home at night, with his head full of wonders, and his pockets empty of cash!"

"The d——l," whispered Bob, "he seems to know me, and what scent we are upon."

"Aye," replied his Cousin, "he not only knows you, but he knows that some of your cash will soon be in his pockets, and has therefore made a dead set at you."

"Next lot, Gentlemen, is a work to which my last observation bore some allusion; should your friends, as I then observed, fortunately escape the snares and dangers laid by sharpers and swindlers to entrap the unwary, you may, perchance, see them safe after their day's ramble; but should—aye, Gentlemen, there's the rub—should they be caught by the numerous traps and snares laid for the Johnny Raw and Greenhorn in this great and wicked metropolis, God knows what may become of them. Now, Gentlemen, we have a remedy for every disease—here is the London Spy or Stranger's Guide through the Metropolis; here all the arts, frauds, delusions, &c. are exposed, and—Tom, give that Gentleman change for his half crown, and deliver Lot 3.—As I was before observing, Gentlemen—Turn out that young rascal who is making such a noise, cracking nuts, that I can't hear the bidding.—Gentlemen, as I before observed, if you will do me the favour of bidding me—"

"Good night, Sir," cried a younker, who had just exploded a detonating cracker, and was making his escape through the crowd.

"The next lot, gentlemen, is the Young Man's best Companion, and as your humble Servant is the author, he begs to decline any panegyric—modesty forbids it—but leaves it entirely with you to appreciate its merits—two shillings—two and six—three shillings—three and six—four, going for four—for you, Sir, at four."

"Me, Sir! Lord bless you, I never opened my mouth!"

"Perfectly aware of that, Sir, it was quite unnecessary—I could read your intention in your eye—and observed the muscle of the mouth, call'd by anatomists the

[277] zygomaticus major, in the act of moving. I should have been dull not to have noticed it—and rude not to have saved you the trouble of speaking: Tom, deliver the Gentleman the lot, and take four shillings."

"Well, Sir, I certainly feel flattered with your acute and polite attention, and can do no less than profit by it—so hand up the lot—cheap enough, God knows."

"And pray," said Dashall to his Cousin as they quitted, "what do you intend doing with all your purchases? why it will require a waggon to remove them."

"O, I shall send the whole down to Belville Hall: our friends there will be furnished with a rare stock of entertainment during the long winter evenings, and no present I could offer would be half so acceptable."

"Well," remarked Mortimer, "you bid away bravely, and frequently in your eagerness advanced on yourself: at some sales you would have paid dearly for this; but here no advantage was taken, the mistake was explained, and the bidding declined in the most fair and honourable manner. I have often made considerable purchases, and never yet had reason to repent, which is saying much; for if I inadvertently bid for, and had a lot knocked down to me, which I afterwards disliked, I always found an acquaintance glad to take it off my hands at the cost, and in several instances have sold or exchanged to considerable advantage. One thing I am sorry we overlooked: a paper entitled, "Seven Reasons," is generally distributed during the Sale, and more cogent reasons I assure you could not be assigned, both for purchasing and reading in general, had the seven wise men of Greece drawn them up. You may at any time procure a copy, and it will furnish you with an apology for the manner in which you have spent your time and money, for at least one hour, during your abode in London."

Please, Sir, to buy a ha'porth of matches, said a poor, squalid little child without a shoe to her foot, who was running by the side of Bob—it's the last ha'porth, Sir, and I must sell them before I go home.

This address was uttered in so piteous a tone, that it could not well be passed unheeded.

"Why," said Tallyho, "as well as Bibles and Schools for all, London seems to have a match for every body."

"Forty a penny, Spring-radishes," said a lusty bawling [278] fellow as he passed, in a voice so loud and strong, as to form a complete contrast to the little ragged Petitioner, 'who held out her handful of matches continuing her solicitations. Bob put his hand in his pocket, and gave her sixpence.

"We shall never get on at this rate," said Tom; "and I find I must again advise you not to believe all you hear and see. These little ragged run-abouts are taught by their Parents a species of imposition or deception of which you are not aware, and while perhaps you congratulate yourself with 'the thought of having done a good act, you are only contributing to the idleness and dissipation of a set of hardened beings, who are laughing at your credulity; and I suspect this is a case in point—do you see that woman on the opposite side of the way, and the child giving her the money?"

"I do," said Tallyho; "that, I suppose, is her mother?"

"Probably," continued Dashall—"now mark what will follow."

They stopped a short time, and observed that the Child very soon disposed of her last bunch of matches, as she had termed them, gave the money to the woman, who supplied her in return with another last bunch, to be disposed of in a similar way.

"Is it possible?" said Bob.

"Not only possible, but you see it is actual; it is not however the only species of deceit practised with success in London in a similar way; indeed the trade of match-making has latterly been a good one among those who have been willing to engage in it. Many persons of decent appearance, representing themselves to be tradesmen and mechanics out of employ, have placed themselves at the corners of our streets, and canvassed the outskirts of the town, with green bags, carrying matches, which, by telling a pityful tale, they induce housekeepers and others, who commiserate their situation, to purchase; and, in the evening, are able to figure away in silk stockings with the produce of their labours. There is one man, well known in town, who makes a very good livelihood by bawling in a stentorian voice,

              "Whow whow, will you buy my good matches,
              Whow whow, will you buy my good matches,
              Buy my good matches, come buy'em of me."

[279] He is usually dressed in something like an old military great coat, wears spectacles, and walks with a stick."

"And is a match for any body, match him who can,", cried Frank Harry; "But, bless your heart, that's nothing to another set of gentry, who have infested our streets in clean apparel, with a broom in their hands, holding at the same time a hat to receive the contributions of the passengers, whose benevolent donations are drawn forth without inquiry by the appearance of the applicant."

"It must," said Tallyho, "arise from the distresses of the times."

"There may be something in that," said Tom; "but in many instances it has arisen from the depravity of the times—to work upon the well-known benevolent feelings of John Bull; for those who ambulate the public streets of this overgrown and still increasing Metropolis and its principal avenues, are continually pestered with impudent impostors, of both sexes, soliciting charity—men and women, young and old, who get more by their pretended distresses in one day than many industrious and painstaking tradesmen or mechanics do in a week. All the miseries, all the pains of life, with tears that ought to be their honest and invariable signals, can be and are counterfeited—limbs, which enjoy the fair proportion of nature, are distorted, to work upon humanity—fits are feigned and wounds manufactured—rags, and other appearances of the most squalid and abject poverty, are assumed, as the best engines of deceit, to procure riches to the idle and debaucheries to the infamous. Ideal objects of commiseration are undoubtedly to be met with, though rarely to be found. It requires a being hackneyed in the ways of men, or having at least some knowledge of the town, to be able to discriminate the party deserving of benevolence; but

              "A begging they will go will go,
              And a begging they will go."

The chief cause assigned by some for the innumerable classes of mendicants that infest our streets, is a sort of innate principle of independence and love of liberty. However, it must be apparent that they do not like to work, and to beg they are not ashamed; they are, with very few exceptions, lazy and impudent. And then what [280] is collected from the humane but deluded passengers is of course expended at their festivals in Broad Street, St. Giles's, or some other equally elegant and appropriate part of the town, to which we shall at an early period pay a visit. Their impudence is intolerable; for, if refused a contribution, they frequently follow up the denial with the vilest execrations.

              "To make the wretched blest,
              Private charity is best."

"The common beggar spurns at your laws; indeed many of their arts are so difficult of detection, that they are enabled to escape the vigilance of the police, and with impunity insult those who do not comply with their wishes, seeming almost to say,

              "While I am a beggar I will rail,
              And say there is no sin but to be rich;
              And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
              To say there is no vice but beggary."

"Begging has become so much a sort of trade, that parents have been known to give their daughters or sons the begging of certain streets in the metropolis as marriage portions; and some years ago some scoundrels were in the practice of visiting the outskirts of the town in sailors' dresses, pretending to be dumb, and producing written papers stating that their tongues had been cut out by the Algerines, by which means they excited compassion, and were enabled to live well."

"No doubt it is a good trade," said Merry well, "and I expected we should have been made better acquainted with its real advantages by Capt. Barclay, of walking and sporting celebrity, who, it was said, had laid a wager of 1000L. that he would walk from London to Edinburgh in the assumed character of a beggar, pay all his expences of living well on the road, and save out of his gains fifty pounds."

"True," said Tom, "but according to the best account that can be obtained, that report is without foundation. The establishment, however, of the Mendicity Society{1}

         1 The frauds and impositions practised upon the public are
         so numerous, that volumes might be filled by detailing the
         arts that have been and are resorted to by mendicants; and
         the records of the Society alluded to would furnish
         instances that might almost stagger the belief of the most
         credulous. The life of the infamous Vaux exhibits numerous
         instances in which he obtained money under genteel
         professions, by going about with a petition soliciting the
         aid and assistance of the charitable and humane; and
         therefore are continually cheats who go from door to door
         collecting money for distressed families, or for charitable
         purposes. It is, however, a subject so abundant, and
         increasing by every day's observation, that we shall for the
         present dismiss it, as there will be other opportunities in
         the course of the work for going more copiously into it.

[281] is calculated to discover much on this subject, and has already brought to light many instances of depravity and deception, well deserving the serious consideration of the public."

As they approached the end of the Poultry,—"This," said Dashall, "is the heart of the first commercial city in the known world. On the right is the Mansion House, the residence of the Lord Mayor for the time being."

The moon had by this time almost withdrawn her cheering beams, and there was every appearance, from the gathering clouds, of a shower of rain.

"It is rather a heavy looking building, from what I can see at present," replied Tallyho.

"Egad!" said Tom, "the appearance of every thing at this moment is gloomy, let us cross."

With this, they crossed the road to Debatt's the Pastry Cook's Shop.

"Zounds!" said Tom, casting his eye upon the clock, "it is after ten; I begin to suspect we must alter our course, and defer a view of the east to a more favourable opportunity, and particularly as we are likely to have an accompaniment of water."

"Never mind," said Merrywell, "we can very soon be in very comfortable quarters; besides, a rattler is always to be had or a comfortable lodging to be procured with an obliging bed-fellow—don't you begin to croak before there is any occasion for it—what has time to do with us?"

"Aye aye," said Frank Harry, "don't be after damping us before we get wet; this is the land of plenty, and there is no fear of being lost—come along."

"On the opposite side," said Tom, addressing his Cousin, "is the Bank of England; it is a building of large extent and immense business; you can now only discern its exterior by the light of the lamps; it is however a place [282] to which we must pay a visit, and take a complete survey upon some future occasion. In the front is the Royal Exchange, the daily resort of the Merchants and Traders of the Metropolis, to transact their various business."

"Come," said Merry well, "I find we are all upon the right scent—Frank Harry has promised to introduce us to a house of well known resort in this neighbourhood—we will shelter ourselves under the staple commodity of the country—for the Woolsack and the Woolpack, I apprehend, are synonimous."

"Well thought of, indeed," said Dashall; "it is a house where you may at all times be certain of good accommodation and respectable society—besides, I have some acquaintance there of long standing, and may probably meet with them; so have with you, my boys. The Woolpack in Cornhill," continued he, addressing himself more particularly to Tallyho, "is a house that has been long established, and deservedly celebrated for its general accommodations, partaking as it does of the triple qualifications of tavern, chop-house, and public-house. Below stairs is a commodious room for smoking parties, and is the constant resort of foreigners,{1}

         1 There is an anecdote related, which strongly induces a
         belief that Christian VII. while in London, visited this
         house in company with his dissipated companion, Count
         Holcke, which, as it led to the dismissal of Holcke, and the
         promotion of the afterwards unfortunate Struensée, and is
         perhaps not very generally known, we shall give here.

         One day while in London, Count Holcke and Christian vir.
         went to a well-known public-house not far from the Bank,
         which was much frequented by Dutch and Swedish Captains:
         Here they listened to the conversation of the company,
         which, as might be expected, was full of expressions of
         admiration and astonishment at the splendid festivities
         daily given in honour of Christian VII. Count Holcke, who
         spoke German in its purity, asked an old Captain what he
         thought of his King, and if he were not proud of the honours
         paid to him by the English?—"I think (said the old man
         dryly) that with such counsellors as Count Holcke, if he
         escapes destruction it will be a miracle."—' Do you know
         Count Holcke, my friend, (said the disguised courtier) as
         you speak of him thus familiarly?'—"Only by report (replied
         the Dane); but every person in Copenhagen pities the young
         Queen, attributing the coolness which the King shewed
         towards her, ere he set out on his voyage, to the malicious
         advice of Holcke." The confusion of this minion may be
         easier conceived than described; whilst the King, giving the
         Skipper a handful of ducats, bade him speak the truth and
         shame the devil.  As soon, however, as the King spoke in
         Danish, the Skipper knew him, and looking at him with love
         and reverence, said in a low, subdued tone of voice—"
         Forgive me, Sire, but I cannot forbear my tears to see you
         exposed to the temptations of this extensive and wicked
         Metropolis, under the pilotage of the most dissolute
         nobleman of Denmark." Upon which he retired, bowing
         profoundly to his Sovereign, and casting at Count Holcke a
         look full of defiance and reproach. Holcke's embarrassment
         was considerably increased by this, and he was visibly hurt,
         seeing the King in a manner countenanced the rudeness of the
         Skipper.

         This King, who it should seem determined to see Real Life
         in London, mingled in all societies, participating in their
         gaieties and follies, and by practices alike injurious to
         body and soul, abandoned himself to destructive habits,
         whose rapid progress within a couple of years left nothing
         but a shattered and debilitated hulk afflicted in the
         morning of life with all the imbecility of body and mind
         incidental to extreme old age.

[283] who are particularly partial to the brown stout, which they can obtain there in higher perfection than in any other house in London. Brokers and others, whose business calls them to the Royal Exchange, are also pretty constant visitors, to meet captains and traders—dispose of different articles of merchandise—engage shipping and bind bargains—it is a sort of under Exchange, where business and refreshment go hand in hand with the news of the day, and the clamour of the moment; beside which, the respectable tradesmen of the neighbourhood meet in an evening to drive dull care away, and converse on promiscuous subjects; it is generally a mixed company, but, being intimately connected with our object of seeing Real Life in London, deserves a visit. On the first floor is a good room for dining, where sometimes eighty persons in a day are provided with that necessary meal in a genteel style, and at a moderate price—besides other rooms for private parties. Above these is perhaps one of the handsomest rooms in London, of its size, capable of dining from eighty to a hundred persons. But you will now partake of its accommodations, and mingle with some of its company."

By this time they had passed the Royal Exchange, and Tom was enlarging upon the new erections lately completed; when all at once,

"Hallo," said Bob, "what is become of our party?" "All right," replied his Cousin; "they have given us the slip without slipping from us—I know their movements to a moment, we shall very soon be with them—this way—this way," said he, drawing Bob into the narrow passage which leads to the back of St. Peter's Church, Cornhill—"this is the track we must follow."

Tallyho followed in silence till they entered the house, and were greeted by the Landlord at the bar with a bow of welcome; passing quickly to the right, they were saluted with immoderate volumes of smoke, conveying to their olfactory nerves the refreshing fumes of tobacco, and almost taking from them the power of sight, except to observe a bright flame burning in the middle of the room. Tom darted forward, and knowing his way well, was quickly seated by the side of Merrywell, Mortimer, and Harry; while Tallyho was seen by those who were invisible to him', groping his way in the same direction, amidst the laughter of the company, occasionally interlarded with scraps which caught his ear from a gentleman who was at the moment reading some of the comments from the columns of the Courier, in which he made frequent pauses and observations.

[284] "Why, you can't see yourself for smoke," said one; "D———n it how hard you tread," said another. And then a line from the Reader came as follows—"The worthy Alderman fought his battles o'er again—Ha, ha, ha—Who comes here 1 upon my word, Sir, I thought you had lost your way, and tumbled into the Woolpack instead of the Skin-market.—' It is a friend of mine, Sir.'—That's a good joke, upon my soul; not arrived yet, why St. Martin's bells have been ringing all day; perhaps he is only half-seas over—Don't tell me, I know better than that—D———n that paper, it ought to be burnt by—The fish are all poison'd by the Gas-light Company—Six weeks imprisonment for stealing two dogs!—Hides and bark—How's sugars to-day?—Stocks down indeed—Yes, Sir, and bread up—Presto, be gone—What d'ye think of that now, eh?—Gammon, nothing but gammon—On table at four o'clock ready dressed and—Well done, my boy, that's prime."

These sentences were uttered from different parts of the room in almost as great a variety of voices as there must have been subjects of conversation; but as they fell upon the ear of Tallyho without connection, he almost fancied himself transported to the tower of Babel amidst the confusion of tongues.

"Beg pardon," said Tallyho, who by this time had gained a seat by his Cousin, and was gasping like a turtle for air—"I am not used to this travelling in the dark; but I shall be able to see presently."

"See," said Frank Harry, "who the devil wants to see more than their friends around them? and here we are at home to a peg."

[285] "I shall have finished in two minutes, Gentlemen," said the Reader,{1} cocking up a red nose, that shone with resplendent lustre between his spectacles, and then continuing to read on, only listened to by a few of those around him, while a sort of general buz of conversation was indistinctly heard from all quarters.

They were quickly supplied with grog and segars, and Bob, finding himself a little better able to make use of his eyes, was throwing his glances to every part of the room, in order to take a view of the company: and while Tom was congratulated by those who knew him at the Round Table—Merrywell and Harry were in close conversation with Mortimer.

At a distant part of the room, one could perceive boxes containing small parties of convivials, smoking and drinking, every one seeming to have some business of importance to claim occasional attention, or engaged in,

"The loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind." In one corner was a stout swarthy-looking man, with large whiskers and of ferocious appearance, amusing those around him with conjuring tricks, to their great satisfaction and delight; nearly opposite the Reader of the Courier, sat an elderly Gentleman{2} with grey hair, who heard

         1 To those who are in the habit of visiting this room in an
         evening, the character alluded to here will immediately be
         familiar. He is a gentleman well known in the neighbourhood
         as an Auctioneer, and he has a peculiar manner of reading
         with strong emphasis certain passages, at the end of which
         he makes long pauses, laughs with inward satisfaction, and
         not infrequently infuses a degree of pleasantry in others.
         The Courier is his favourite paper, and if drawn into an
         argument, he is not to be easily subdued.

              "At arguing too each person own'd his skill,
               For e'en tho' vanquish'd, he can argue still."

         2 This gentleman, who is also well known in the room, where
         he generally smokes his pipe of an evening, is plain and
         blunt, but affable and communicative in his manners—bold in
         his assertions, and has proved himself courageous in
         defending them—asthmatic, and by some termed phlegmatic;
         but an intelligent and agreeable companion, unless thwarted
         in his argument—a stanch friend to the late Queen and the
         constitution of his country, with a desire to have the
         Constitution, the whole Constitution, and nothing but the
         Constitution.

[286] what was passing, but said nothing; he however puffed away large quantities of smoke at every pause of the Reader, and occasionally grinn'd at the contents of the paper, from which. Tallyho readily concluded that he was in direct political opposition to its sentiments.

The acquisition of new company was not lost upon to those who were seated at the round table, and it was not long before the Hon. Tom Dashall was informed that they hoped to have the honour of his Cousin's name as a member; nor were they backward in conveying a similar hint to Frank Harry, who immediately proposed his two friends, Mortimer and Merry well; an example which was followed by Tom's proposing his Cousin.

Such respectable introductions could not fail to meet the approbation of the Gentlemen present,—consequently they were unanimously elected Knights of the Round Table, which was almost as quickly supplied by the Waiter with a capacious bowl of punch, and the healths of the newmade Members drank with three times three; when their attention was suddenly drawn to a distant part of the room, where a sprightly Stripling, who was seated by the swarthy Conjuror before mentioned, was singing the following Song:

                        THE JOYS OF A MILL,
                               OR
                        A TODDLE TO A FIGHT.

         "Now's the time for milling, boys, since all the world's agog
         for it,
         Away to Copthorne, Moulsey Hurst, or Slipperton they go;
         Or grave or gay, they post away, nay pawn their very togs
         for it,
         And determined to be up to all, go down to see the show:
         Giddy pated, hearts elated, cash and courage all to view it,
         Ev'ry one to learn a bit, and tell his neighbours how to do it;
         E'en little Sprites in lily whites, are fibbing it and rushing it,
         Your dashing Swells from Bagnigge Wells, are flooring it and
         flushing it:

         Oh! 'tis a sight so gay and so uproarious,
         That all the world is up in arms, and ready for a fight.
         The roads are so clogg'd, that they beggar all description now,
         With lads and lasses, prim'd and grogg'd for bang-up fun and
         glee;
         Here's carts and gigs, and knowing prigs all ready to kick up a row,
         And ev'ry one is anxious to obtain a place to see;
         Here's a noted sprig of life, who sports his tits and clumner too,
         And there is Cribb and Gully, Belcher, Oliver, and H armer too,
         With Shelton, Bitton, Turner, Hales, and all the lads to go it well,
         Who now and then, to please the Fancy, make opponents know it
         well:

         Oh! 'tis a sight, &c.
         But now the fight's begun, and the Combatants are setting to,
         Silence is aloud proclaim'd by voices base and shrill;
         Facing, stopping—-fibbing, dropping—claret tapping—betting too—
         Reeling, rapping—physic napping, all to grace the mill;
         Losing, winning—horse-laugh, grinning—mind you do not glance
         away,
         Or somebody may mill your mug, and of your nob in Chancery;
         For nobs and bobs, and empty fobs, the like no tongue could ever
         tell—
         See, here's the heavy-handed Gas, and there's the mighty Non-
         pareil:

         Oh! 'tis a sight, &c.
         Thus milling is the fashion grown, and ev'ry one a closer is;
         With lessons from the lads of fist to turn out quite the thing;
         True science may be learn'd where'er the fam'd Mendoza is,
         And gallantry and bottom too from Scroggins, Martin, Spring;
         For sparring now is all the rage in town, and country places
         too,
         And collar-bones and claret-mugs are often seen at races too;
         While counter-hits, and give and take, as long as strength can
         hold her seat,
         Afford the best amusement in a bit of pugilistic treat:

         Oh! 'tis a sight, &c.

While this song was singing, universal silence prevailed, but an uproar of approbation followed, which lasted for some minutes, with a general call of encore, which however soon subsided, and the company was again restored to their former state of conversation; each party appearing distinct, indulged in such observations and remarks as were most suitable or agreeable to themselves.

Bob was highly pleased with this description of a milling match; and as the Singer was sitting near the person who had excited a considerable portion of his attention at intervals in watching his tricks, in some of which great ingenuity was displayed, he asked his Cousin if he knew him.

"Know him," replied Tom, "to be sure I do; that is no other than Bitton, a well-known pugilist, who frequently exhibits at the Fives-Court; he is a Jew, and employs his time in giving lessons."

"Zounds!" said Mortimer, "he seems to have studied the art of Legerdemain as well as the science of Milling."

"He is an old customer here," said a little Gentleman at the opposite side of the table, drawing from his pocket a box of segars{1}—"Now, Sir," continued he, "if you wish for a treat," addressing himself to Tallyho, "allow me to select you one—there, Sir, is asgar like a nosegay—I had it from a friend of mine who only arrived yesterday—you don't often meet with such, I assure you."

Bob accepted the offer, and was in the act of lighting it, when Bitton approached toward their end of the room with some cards in his hand, from which Bob began to anticipate he would shew some tricks upon them.

As soon as he came near the table, he had his eye upon the Hon. Tom Dashall, to whom he introduced 'himself by the presentation of a card, which announced his benefit for the next week at the Fives-Court, when all the prime lads of the ring had promised to exhibit.

"Egad!" said Dashall, "it will be an excellent opportunity—what, will you take a trip that way and see the mighty men of fist?"

"With all my heart," said Tallyho.

"And mine too," exclaimed Mortimer.

It was therefore quickly determined, and each of the party being supplied with a ticket, Bitton canvassed the room for other customers, after which he again retired to his seat.

"Come," said a smartly dressed Gentleman in a white hat, "we have heard a song from the other end of the room, I hope we shall be able to muster one here."

         1 This gentleman, whose dress and appearance indicate
         something of the Dandy, is a resident in Mark Lane, and
         usually spends his evening at the Round Table, where he
         appears to pride himself upon producing the finest segars
         that can be procured, and generally affords some of his
         friends an opportunity of proving them deserving the
         recommendations with which he never fails to present them.

This proposition was received with applause, and, upon Tom's giving a hint, Frank Harry was called upon—the glasses were filled, a toast was given, and the bowl was dispatched for a replenish; he then sung the following Song, accompanied with voice, manner, and action, well calculated to rivet attention and obtain applause:

              PIGGISH PROPENSITIES,

              THE BUMPKIN IN TOWN.

              "A Bumpkin to London one morning in Spring,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la,
              Took a fat pig to market, his leg in a string,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              The clown drove him forward, while piggy, good lack!
              Lik'd his old home so well, he still tried to run back—

(Spoken)—Coome, coome (said the Bumpkin to himself,) Lunnun is the grand mart for every thing; there they have their Auction Marts, their Coffee Marts, and their Linen Marts: and as they are fond of a tid-bit of country pork, I see no reason why they should not have" a Pork and Bacon Mart—so get on (pig grunts,) I am glad to hear you have a voice on the subject, though it seems not quite in tune with my

              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de ral la.

              It chanc'd on the road they'd a dreadful disaster,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              The grunter ran back 'twixt the legs of his master,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              The Bumpkin he came to the ground in a crack,
              And the pig, getting loose, he ran all the way back!

(Spoken)—Hallo, (said the clown, scrambling up again, and scratching his broken head,) to be sure I have heard of sleight-of-hand, hocus-pocus and sich like; but by gum this here be a new manouvre called sleight of legs; however as no boanes be broken between us, I'll endeavour to make use on 'em once more in following the game in view: so here goes, with a

              Hey derry, ho derry, &c.

              He set off again with his pig in a rope,

              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la,
              Reach'd London, and now for good sale 'gan to hope
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              But the pig, being beat 'till his bones were quite sore.
              Turning restive, rush'd in at a brandy-shop door.

(Spoken)—The genteeler and politer part of the world might feel a little inclined to call this piggish behaviour; but certainly after a long and fatiguing journey, nothing can be more refreshing than a drap of the cratur; and deeming this the regular mart for the good stuff, in he bolts, leaving his master to sing as long as he pleased—Hey derry, he deny, &c.

              Here three snuffy Tabbies he put to the rout,

              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai lft,
              With three drams to the quartern, that moment serv'd
              out,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              The pig gave a grunt, and the clown gave a roar,
              When the whole of the party lay flat on the floor!

(Spoken)—Yes, there they lay all of a lump; and a precious group there was of them: The old women, well prun'd with snuff and twopenny, and bang-up with gin and bitters—the fair ones squalled; the clown growled like a bear with a broken head; the landlord, seeing all that could be seen as they roll'd over each other, stared, like a stuck pig! while this grand chorus of soft and sweet voices from the swinish multitude was accompanied by the pig with his usual grunt, and a

              Hey derry, ho derry, &o.

              The pig soon arose, and the door open flew,

              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de ral la,
              When this scrambling group was expos'd to my view,
              Hey deny, ho derry, fal de ral la;
              He set off again, without waiting for Jack,
              And not liking London, ran all the way back!

(Spoken)—The devil take the pig! (said the Bumpkin) he is more trouble than enough. "The devil take you (said Miss Sukey Snuffle) for you are the greatest hog of the two; I dare say, if the truth was known, you are brothers."—"I declare I never was so exposed in all my life (said Miss Delia Doldrum.) There's my beautiful bloom petticoat, that never was rumpled before in all my life—I'm quite shock'd!"—"Never mind, (said the landlord) nobody cares about it; tho' I confess it was a shocking affair."—'I wish he and his pigs were in the horse-pond (continued she, endeavouring to hide her blushes with her hand)—Oh my—oh my!'—"What?" (said Boniface)—'Oh, my elbow! (squall'd out Miss Emilia Mumble) I am sure I shall never get over it.'—"Oh yes you will (continued he) rise again, cheer your spirits with another drop of old Tom, and you'll soon be able to sing

              Hey derry, ho derry, &c.

              By mutual consent the old women all swore,

              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la,
              That the clown was a brute, and his pig was a boar,
              Hey derry, ho derry, fal de rai la;
              He paid for their liquor, but grumbled, good lack,
              Without money or pig to gang all the way back.

(Spoken)—By gum (said he to himself, as he turn'd from the door) if the Lunneners likes country pork, country pork doant seem to like they; and if this be the success I'm to expect in this mighty great town in search of the Grand Mart, I'll come no more, for I thinks as how its all a flax; therefore I'll make myself contented to set at home in my own chimney corner in the country, and sing

              Hey derry, ho derry, &c.

This song had attracted the attention of almost every one in the room; there was a spirit and vivacity in the singer, combined with a power of abruptly changing his voice, to give effect to the different passages, and a knowledge of music as well as of character, which gave it an irresistible charm; and the company, who had assembled round him, at the close signified their approbation by a universal shout of applause.

All went on well—songs, toasts and sentiments—punch, puns and witticisms, were handed about in abundance; in the mean time, the room began to wear an appearance of thinness, many of the boxes were completely deserted, and the Knights of the Bound Table were no longer surrounded by their Esquires—still the joys of the bowl were exhilarating, and the conversation agreeable, though at times a little more in a strain of vociferation than had been manifested at the entrance of our party. It was no time to ask questions as to the names and occupations of the persons by whom he was surrounded; and Bob, plainly perceiving Frank Harry was getting into Queer Street, very prudently declined all interrogatories for the present, making, however, a determination within himself to know more of the house and the company.

Mortimer also discovered symptoms of lush-logic, for though he had an inclination to keep up the chaff, his dictionary appeared to be new modelled, and his lingo abridged by repeated clips at his mother tongue, by which he afforded considerable food for laughter.

Perceiving this, Tallyho thought it prudent to give his Cousin a hint, which was immediately taken, and the party broke up.[292]

## CHAPTER XIX

              "O there are swilling wights in London town
              Term'd jolly dogs—choice spirits—alias swine,
              Who pour, in midnight revel, bumpers down,
              Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine.

              These spendthrifts, who life's pleasures thus outrun,
              Dosing with head-aches till the afternoon,
              Lose half men's regular estate of Sun,
              By borrowing too largely of the Moon:

              And being Bacchi plenus—full of wine—
              Although they have a tolerable notion
              Of aiming at progressive motion,
              Tis not direct, 'tis rather serpentine."

UPON leaving the house, it was quickly discovered that Mortimer was at sea without a rudder or compass, but was still enabled to preserve the true line of beauty, which is said to be in a flowing curve; Merry well was magnanimous, Frank Harry moppy, and all of them rather muggy. Harry was going Eastward, and the remainder of the party Westward; it was half-past one in the morning—the weather had cleared up as their brains had been getting foggy.

Tom proposed a rattler.

Frank Harry swore by the Bacchanalian divinity they might ride in the rumble-tumble if they liked, but none of it for him, and began to stammer out

              How sweet in—the—wood-lands
              Wi—ith ii—eet hound—and horn—
              To awaken—shrill—[hiccup)—echo,
              And taste the—(hiccup)—fresh morn.

During this time, having turned to the right on leaving the Woolpack, instead of the left, they were pursuing their way down Gracechurch Street, in a line with London Bridge, without discovering their mistake; nor were [293] they aware of the situation they were in till they reached the Monument.

"Zounds!" said Tom, "we are all wrong here."

"All right," said Merrywell—"all right, my boys—go it, my kidwhys."

Bob hearing his Cousin's exclamation, began to make enquiries.

"Never mind," said Tom, "we shall get housed presently—I have it—I know the shop—it is but seldom I get out of the way, so come along—I dare say we shall see some more fun yet."

Saying this, he led the way down Thames street and in a short time introduced them to the celebrated house in Dark-House Lane, kept open at all hours of the night for the accommodation of persons coming to market, and going off by the Gravesend boats and packets early in the morning.

On entering this house of nocturnal convenience, a wide field for observation was immediately opened to the mind of Dashall: he was no novice to the varieties of character generally to be found within its walls; and he anticipated an opportunity of imparting considerable information to his Cousin, though somewhat clogg'd by his companions; being known however at the bar, he found no difficulty in providing them with beds: which being accomplished,

"Now," said Tom, "for a new scene in Real Life. Here we are situated at Billingsgate, on the banks of the Thames; in another hour it will be all alive—we will refresh ourselves with coffee, and then look around us; but while it is preparing, we will take a survey of the interior—button up—tie a silk handkerchief round your neck, and we may perhaps escape suspicion of being mere lookers on; by which means we shall be enabled to mingle with the customers in the tap-room, and no doubt you will see some rum ones."

They now entered the tap or general room, which exhibited an appearance beyond the powers of description.

In one corner lay a Sailor fast asleep, having taken so much ballast on board as to prevent the possibility of any longer attending to the log, but with due precaution resting his head on a bundle which he intended to take on board his ship with him in the morning, and apparently well guarded by a female on each side; in another was a weather-beaten Fisherman in a Guernsey frock and a thick [294] woollen night-cap, who, having just arrived with a cargo of fish, was toiling away time till the commencement of the market with a pipe and a pint, by whose side was seated a large Newfoundland dog, whose gravity of countenance formed an excellent contrast with that of a man who was entertaining the Fisherman with a history of his adventures through the day, and who in return was allowed to participate in the repeatedly filled pint—a Waterman in his coat and badge ready for a customer—and two women, each having a shallow basket for the purpose of supplying themselves with fish at the first market for the next day's sale.

'Going to Gravesend, Gentlemen?' enquired the Waterman, as Tom and Bob took their seats near him.

"No," was the reply.

"Beg pardon, Sir; thought as how you was going down, and mought want a boat, that's all; hope no offence."

"I vas down at the Frying Pan in Brick Lane yesterday, (said the communicative adventurer;) Snivelling Bill and Carrotty Poll was there in rum order—you know Carrotty? Poll? so Poll, (Good health to you) you knows how gallows lushy she gets—veil, as I vas saying, she had had a good day vith her fish, and bang she comes back to Bill—you knows she's rather nutty upon Bill, and according to my thinking they manages things pretty veil together, only you see as how she is too many for him: so, vhen she comes back, b———tme if Bill vasn't a playing at skittles, and hadn't sold a dab all day; howsomdever he was a vinning the lush, so you know Bill didn't care—but, my eyes! how she did blow him up vhen she com'd in and see'd him just a going to bowl and tip, she tipp'd him a vollopper right across the snout vhat made the skittles dance again, and bang goes the bowl at her sconce instead of the skittles: it vas lucky for her it did not hit her, for if it had, I'll be d———d if ever she'd a cried Buy my live flounders any more—he vas at play vith Sam Stripe the tailor; so the flea-catcher he jumps in between 'em, and being a piece-botcher, he thought he could be peace-maker, but it voudn't do, tho' he jump'd about like a parch'd pea in a frying-pan—Poll called him Stitch louse, bid him pick up his needles and be off—Bill vanted to get at Poll, Poll vanted to get at Bill—and between them the poor Tailor got more stripes upon his jacket than there is colours in a harlequin's breeches at Bartlemy Fair—Here's good health to you—it was a [295] bodkin to a but of brandy poor Snip didn't skip out of this here vorld into that 'are?"

"And how did they settle it?" enquired the Fisherman.

'I'll tell you all about it: I never see'd such a b———dy lark in all my life; poor Sam is at all times as thin as a thread-paper, and being but the ninth part of a man, he stood no chance between a man and a voman—Bill vas bleeding at the konk like a half-killed hog, and Carrotty Moll, full of fire and fury, vas defending herself vith her fish-basket—Billy vas a snivelling, Poll a stoearing, and the poor Tailor in a funk—thinks I to myself, this here vont never do—so up I goes to Poll—Poll, says I———' To the devil I pitch you,' says she—only you know I knows Poll veil enough—she tried to sneak it over me, but she found as how I know'd better—Poll, says I, hold your luff—give us no more patter about this here rum rig—I'll give cost price for the fish, and you shall have the money; and while I was bargaining with her, d———n me if Bill and the Tailor vasn't a milling avay in good style, till Stripe's wife comes in, gives Snivelling Billy a cross-buttock and bolted off vith her fancy, like as the song says, The devil took the tailor

              "Vith the broad cloth under his arm."

I never laugh'd so in all my life; I thought I should———'

At this moment a nod from the Landlord informed Tom his coffee was ready, when they were ushered into the parlour.

Bob, who had during the conversation in the other room, (which had occasionally been interrupted by the snores of the sleepy Sailor, the giggling of the Girls who appeared to have him in charge, and a growl from the dog,) been particularly attentive to the narration of this adventure, remarked that there was a peculiarity of dialect introduced, which, to a person coming out of the country, would have been wholly unintelligible.

"Yes," replied Tom, "almost every trade and every calling of which the numerous inhabitants of this overgrown town is composed, has a language of its own, differing as widely from each other as those of provincials. Nor is this less observable in high life, where every one seems at times to aim at rendering himself conspicuous for some extraordinary mode of expression. But come, I [296] perceive the morning is shedding its rays upon us, and we shall be able to take a survey of the more general visitors to this place of extensive utility and resort—already you may hear the rumbling of carts in Thames Street, and the shrill voice of the Fishwives, who are preparing for a day's work, which they will nearly finish before two-thirds of the population leave their pillows. This market, which is principally supplied by fishing smacks and boats coming from the sea up the river Thames, and partly by land carriage from every distance within the limits of England, and part of Wales, is open every morning at day-light, and supplies the retailers for some miles round the Metropolis. The regular shop-keepers come here in carts, to purchase of what is called the Fish Salesman, who stands as it were between the Fisherman who brings his cargo to market and the Retailer; but there are innumerable hawkers of fish through the streets, who come and purchase for themselves at first hand, particularly of mackarel, herrings, sprats, lobsters, shrimps, flounders, soles, &c. and also of cod and salmon when in season, and at a moderate rate, composing an heterogeneous group of persons and characters, not easily to be met with elsewhere." "Then," said Bob, "there is a certainty of high and exalted entertainment;—I should suppose the supply of fish is very considerable."

"The quantity of fish consumed," replied Tom, "in London is comparatively small, fish being excessively dear in general: and this is perhaps the most culpable defect in the supply of the capital, considering that the rivers of Great Britain and the seas round her coast teem with that food.—There are on an average about 2500 cargoes of fish, of 40 tons each, brought to Billingsgate, and about 20,000 tons by land carriage, making a total of about 120,000 tons; and the street venders form a sample of low life in all its situations.

              "————In such indexes, although small
              To their subsequent volumes, there is seen
              The baby figure of the giant mass
              Of things to come at large."

And the language you have already heard forms a part of what may be termed Cockneyism."

"Cockneyism," said Bob, with an inquisitiveness in his countenance.

[297] "Yes," continued Tom, "Cockney is universally known to be the contemptuous appellation given to an uneducated native of London, brought into life within the sound of Bow bell—pert and conceited, yet truly ignorant, they generally discover themselves by their mode of speech, notwithstanding they have frequent opportunities of hearing the best language; the cause, I apprehend, is a carelessness of every thing but the accumulation of money, which is considered so important with them—that they seem at all times to be in eager pursuit of it.

              "O Plutus, god of gold!   thine aid impart,
              Teach me to catch the money-catching art;
              Or, sly Mercurius!  pilfering god of old,
              Thy lesser mysteries at least unfold."

You will hear these gentry frequently deliver themselves in something like the following manner:

"My eyes, Jim, vat slippy valking 'tis this here morning—I should ave fell'd right down if so be as how I adn't cotch'd ould of a postis—vere does you thinks I ave been? vy all the vay to Vapping Vail, an a top o Tower Hill—I seed a voman pillar'd—such scrouging and squeeging, and peltin vith heggs—ow funny!

"A female Fruit-seller will say to a Lady Oyster-dealer—Law, my dear Mrs. Melton, how ar you this cowld morning, Mem.?—the streets vil be nice and dirty—vel, for my part, I always likes dry vether—do your usband vork at Foxall still?—I likes to warm my cowld nose vith a pinch of your snuff—ow wery obliging—But come, I hear the bustle of Billingsgate, and you shall have a peep at the people. By this time they are all alive."

Bob laughed at his Cousin's specimens of cockney language, and they sallied forth, to make further observations.

It was now a fine morning, the Sun shone with resplendent lustre upon all around them, and danced in playful dimples on the sportive Thames; there was however but little opportunity at the moment for them to contemplate subjects of this sort, their eyes and ears being wholly attracted by the passing and repassing of the persons desirous to sell or supply themselves with fish; Thames Street was almost blocked up with carts, and the hallooing and bawling of the different drivers, loading or unloading, formed an occasional symphony to the [298] continual hum of those who were moving in all directions to and from the market.

"By yer leaf" said a sturdy built fellow, sweating under a load of fish which appeared to press him almost down—"what the devil do you stand in the way for?"

Bob, in stepping on one side to make room for this man to pass, unfortunately trod upon the toe of an Hibernian lady, who was bearing away a large basket of shrimps alive, and at the same time gave her arm so forcible a jerk with his elbow, as disengaged her hand from the load; by which means the whole cargo was overturned smack into the bosom of a smartly dressed youth in white ducks, who was conducting some Ladies on board one of the Gravesend boats. The confusion that followed is scarcely to be conceived—the agitation of Talt who at hearing the vociferated lamentations of the Irish woman—the spluttering of the disconcerted Dandy—the declaration of the owner of the shrimps, "that so help her God he should pay for her property"—the loud laughter of those around them, who appeared to enjoy the embarrassment of the whole party—and the shrimps hopping and jumping about amid the dirt and slush of the pavement, while the Ladies were hunting those which had fallen into the bosom of their conductor—formed a scene altogether, which, in spite of the confusion of his Cousin, almost convulsed the Hon. Tom Dashall with laughter, and which served but to increase the rancour of the owner of the shrimps, and the poor toe-suffering Irishwoman, the execrations of the Dandy Gentleman and his Ladies, and the miseries of poor Bob; to escape from which, he gave the Hibernian and her employer enough to purchase plaster for the one, and a fresh cargo for the other, and seizing Tom by the arm, dragged him away from the scene of his misfortunes in fishery.

Their progress however was presently impeded by a sudden scream, which appeared to come from a female, and .drew together almost all the people on the spot, it seemed as if it had been a preconcerted signal for a general muster, and it was quickly ascertained that fisty-cuffs were the order of the day, by the vociferations of the spectators, and the loud acclamations of "Go it, Poll—pitch it into her—mill her snitcher—veil done, Sail—all pluck—game to the back-bone—peppermint her upper-story, and grapple her knowledge-box—D———n my eyes, but that vas a good one, it [299] has altered her weather-cock and shifted her wind—There's your dairies—stand out of the way—Upon my sole you have overturned all my flounders—D———n you and your dabbs too."

Tom and Bob took up a favourable position for observation at the corner of a fish-stall, where they could quietly witness the combatants, and take a general survey of the proceedings.

"Now," said Tom, "here is a lark for you, a female fight."

"Fine salmon, or cod, Gentlemen," said an elderly woman—"I wish I could tempt you to be customers."

"Well," said Bob, "they are at it in good earnest."

"O yes," said the woman, "we always have it in real earnest, no sham—I wish Poll may sarve her out, for Sall is a d———d saucy b———h at all times."

"And what have they quarrelled about?" inquired Dashall.

"Jealousy, Sir, nothing else; that there man in the night-cap, with the red ruff round his neck, is Sail's fancy man, and he sometimes lets her have a cargo of fish for services done and performed, you understand—and so Sail she comes down this morning, and she finds Poll having a phililoo with him, that's all; but I wish they would go and have it out somewhere else, for it spoils all business—Nance, go and get us a quartern of Jacky, that I may ax these Gentlemen to drink, for its a cold morning, and perhaps they are not used to be up so early."

Tom saw the drift of this in a moment, and taking the hint, supplied the needful to Nance, who was dispatched for the heart-cheering beverage, which they could perceive was in high reputation by those around them. The effluvia of the fish, the fumes of tobacco, and the reviving scent of the gin-bottle, rendered their olfactory salutations truly delightful. Nor could they escape the Fish-wife without becoming participators in the half pint of blue ruin.

"Come," said Tom, "we will now stroll a little further, and take a survey of the street; but first we will give a look here.

"This," said he, "is the Custom House, a splendid building recently erected, in consequence of the old one being demolished by fire in 1814." [300] "It is, indeed," replied Bob, admiring the south front, which is executed in Portland stone.

"Do you observe," continued Tom, "the central compartment, which comprises what is called the Long Room, and which we will visit presently, is quite plain, except the attic, which is elegantly ornamented?—that alto-relievo contains allegorical representations of the arts and sciences, as connected with and promoting the commerce and industry of the nation—that to the west, a representation of the costume and character of the various nations with whom we hold intercourse in our commercial relations—in the centre, under the large massive dial-plate, are inscribed in large bronze letters the names of the founders and the date of its erection—the figures which support the dial in a recumbent position are emblematical of industry and plenty—that bold projection in the centre, gives a suitable character to the King's warehouse, and forms an appropriate support to the imperial arms upheld by the attributes of Ocean and Commerce."

Bob gazed with admiration and delight on this truly admirable and extensive pile of national architecture; the gentle breeze from the river, the occasional dash of the oar, and the activity which appeared on board the different vessels; together with the view of London Bridge on one side, over which he could perceive pedestrians and vehicles of various kinds passing and repassing, and the Tower on the other, conspired to heighten and give a most imposing effect to the scene.

"The designs," said Tallyho, "are truly creditable to the taste and science of the architect."

"And this Quay in front, is intended to be enlarged by filling up a part of the river; besides which, a new wall and quay are to be formed from the Tower to Billingsgate, and numerous other improvements are projected in the contiguous streets and lanes." "Not before it is necessary," was the reply. "It would be impossible," continued Dashall, "to visit all the apartments this building contains; we will however have a look at the Long Room, and as we proceed I will endeavour to give you some further information. We are now entering the East wing, which is a counterpart of that on the West, having like this a grand stair-case with a double flight of steps, which conduct to a lobby at each end of the long room, lighted by [301] these vertical lantern-lights, the ceilings being perforated in square compartments, and glazed. These lobbies serve to check the great draughts of air which would otherwise flow through the room if it opened directly from the stair-case."

They now entered the Long Room, the imposing appearance of which had its due effect upon Tallyho.

"Bless me!" cried he in a state of ecstasy, "this is a room to boast of indeed."

"Yes," replied his Cousin, "there is not such another room in Europe; it is 190 feet long by 66 wide, and proportionably high, divided into three compartments by these eight massive pillars, from which, as you perceive, spring the three domes, which are so richly ornamented, and ventilated through the centre of each."

"And all of stone?" inquired Bob.

"Not exactly so," was the reply; "the floor (excepting the situation of the officers and clerks) is of stone, but the walls and ceilings are drawn out and tinted in imitation."

"And what are these antique pedestals for, merely ornaments?"

Tom was pleased at this inquiry, and with a smile of satisfaction replied—"No, these pedestals do double duty, and are something like what the rural poet, Goldsmith, describes in his Deserted Village—

              "The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
              A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day."

These are ornamental during the summer, but useful in the winter; they contain fire-places completely hid from view."

"Fire-places," re-echoed Bob.

"Yes," continued his Cousin; "the smoke, descending, passes through the piers on each side, and by their means a sufficient warmth is at all times kept up in the room."

"That is a capital contrivance," said Tallyho.

"Then, to prevent the possibility of sustaining any serious injury from fire, on the ground, one and two pair stories, the communication is cut off by means of iron doors, which run on wheels in chase in the centre of the walls, and are moved backward and forward by a windlass; which doors are closed every evening, and would effectually prevent a communication beyond their boundaries. Fire-proof rooms also, as repositories for valuable books [302] and papers, are provided on each floor, where the important documents of the establishment are deposited every evening, and removed in trunks to the respective offices. There are in all 121 rooms devoted to various offices. This however is the principal: here the general business is transacted, particularly for all foreign concerns, both inwards and outwards. The Ship Master first makes the report of the cargo here; the entries of which, either for payment of duties, warehousing, or subsequent exportation, are all passed with the respective officers in this room. The business of the customs is managed by nine Commissioners, whose jurisdiction extends over all parts of England. We will now pass out at the west wing, adjourn to yon Tavern, refresh and refit, and after which a further walk."

"With all my heart," said Tallyho.

"What ho, Master B———," said Dashall, saluting the Landlord as he entered the Tavern—"How does the world wag with you?—send us some soda water—the newspaper—let somebody clean our boots—give us pen, ink and paper, and prepare us some breakfast with all speed, but no fish, mind that."

The Landlord bowed assent to his honourable customer; and by the time they were ready, their orders were complied with.

"Pray," inquired Dashall of the obliging Landlord, who came in to ask if they were supplied with all they wished for, "did you ever recover any thing from that dashing Blade that so obligingly ordered his dinner here?"

"Never got a halfpenny—no no, he was not one of those sort of gentry—nor do I ever wish to see such again in my house."

This was uttered in a tone of discontent, which evidently shewed he had no relish for the conversation.

Dashall could not refrain from laughter; upon perceiving which, the Landlord withdrew with a loud slam of the door, and left his customers to enjoy their mirth.

"What are you laughing at?" cried Bob.

"Why," continued his Cousin,

              "There was, as fame reports, in days of yore,
              At least some fifty years ago, or more,
              A pleasant wight on town——"

[303] And there are many pleasant fellows now to be met with; but you shall have the tale as I had it: This house has been celebrated for furnishing excellent dinners, and the cookery of fish in particular; consequently it has been the resort of the Bucks, the Bloods, and the dashing Swells of the town, and I myself have been well entertained here. It will therefore not be wondered at that its accommodations should attract the notice of a Sharper whose name and character were well known, but who was in person a total stranger to the unsuspecting Landlord, whom however he did not fail to visit.

Calling one afternoon for the purpose of seeing how the land lay, in high twig, and fashionably dressed, he was supplied with a bottle of sherry, and requested the landlord to take a part with him—praised the wine, talked of the celebrity of his house for fish, and gave an order for a dinner for sixteen friends during the following week. The bait was swallowed,

"For a little flattery is sometimes well."

'But are your wines of the first quality? (inquired the visitor;) for good eating, you know, deserves good drinking, and without that we shall be like fishes out of water.'—' Oh, Sir, no man in London can supply you better than myself (was the reply;) but, if you please, you shall select which you may like best, my stock is extensive and good.' He was consequently invited into the cellar, and tasted from several binns, particularly marking what he chose to conceive the best. Upon returning to the parlour again—' Bless me, (cried he) I have had my pocket pick'd this morning, and lost my handkerchief—can you oblige me with the loan of one for present use? and I will send it back by one of my servants.'

'Certainly, Sir,' was the reply; and the best pocket-handkerchief was quickly produced, with another bottle of wine, the flavour of which he had approved while below. He then wrote a letter, which he said must be dispatched immediately by a Ticket-porter to Albemarle Street, where he must wait for an answer. This being done, lie desired a coach to be called—asked the Landlord if he had any silver he could accommodate him with, as he had occasion to go a little further, but would soon return. This being complied with, by the Landlord giving him twenty shillings with the expectation of receiving a [304] pound note in return, he threw himself into the coach, wished his accommodating Host good afternoon, promised to return in less than an hour, but has never shewn his face here since. Poor B———don't like to hear the circumstance mentioned."

"Zounds!" said Tallyho, "somebody was green upon the occasion; I thought people in London were more guarded, and not so easily to be done. And who did he prove to be after all?"

"No other than the well-known Major Semple, whose depredations of this sort upon the public rendered him so notorious."

Having finished their repast, Tom was for a move; and they took their way along Thames Street in the direction for Tower Hill.

## CHAPTER XX

              "This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes
              That chase one another like waves of the deep,
              Each billow, as brightly or darkly it flows,
              Reflecting our eyes as they sparkle or weep;
              So closely our whims on our miseries tread,
              That the laugh is awak'd ere the tear can be dried;
              And as fast as the rain-drop of pity is shed,
              The goose-plumage of folly can turn it aside;
              But, pledge me the cup!  if existence can cloy
              With hearts ever light and heads ever wise,
              Be ours the light grief that is sister to joy,
              And the short brilliant folly that flashes and dies."

"THE building before us," said Tom, "is the Tower of London, which was formerly a palace inhabited by the various Sovereigns of this country till the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Fitzstephens says, it was originally built by Julius Cæsar; but I believe there is no proof of the truth of this assertion, except that one of the towers is to this day called Cæsar's Tower."

"It seems a place of great security," said Bob.

"Yes—William the Conqueror erected a fortress on part of its present site, to overawe the inhabitants of London on his gaining possession of the City, and about twelve years afterwards, in 1078, he erected a larger building than the first, either on the site of the former or near it. This building, repaired or rebuilt by succeeding Princes, is that which is now called the White Tower."

"It appears altogether to be a very extensive building," said Tallyho; "and what have we here? (turning his eyes to the left)—the modern style of those form a curious contrast to that we are now viewing."

"That is called Trinity Square, and the beautiful edifice in the centre is the Trinity House; it is a new building, of stone, having the advantage of rising ground for its site, and of a fine area in the front." [306] "The Trinity House," reiterated Bob, "some ecclesiastical establishment, I presume, from its title?"

"There you are wrong," continued Dashall; "it is a Corporation, which was founded in the year 1515 by Henry VIII. and consists of a Master, four Wardens, eighteen Elder Brothers, in whom is vested the direction of the Company, and an indefinite number of younger Brothers; for any sea-faring man may be admitted into the Society by that name, but without any part of the controul of its concerns. The elder Brethren are usually selected from the most experienced commanders in the navy and the merchants' service, with a few principal persons of his Majesty's Government."

"But what, in the name of wonder," inquired Bob, "have Sailors to do with the Trinity?"

"As much as other persons," was the reply; "if it is the anchor of hope, as we are taught, they have as great a right to rely upon it as any body else—besides, the names given to houses and places in London have nothing to do with their occupations or situations, any more than the common language of life has to do with nature; else why have we a Waterloo House in the vicinity of St. Giles's for the sale of threads, laces, and tapes—a Fleet for the confinement of prisoners, or the King's Bench devoted to the same purposes, unless it is,

              "That when we have no chairs at home,
              The King (God bless him) grants us then a bench."

Though London contains a round of delights and conveniences scarcely to be equalled, it is at the same time a combination of incongruities as difficult to be conceived. The denomination of this House has therefore nothing to do with the business to which it is devoted. The body which transacts its concerns is called The Master, Wardens and Assistants, of the Guild, or Fraternity of the most glorious and undivided Trinity, and of St. Clement, in the parish of Deptford, Stroud, in the county of Kent."

"An admirable illustration of your assertion," replied Bob; "and pray may I be allowed, without appearing romantic or unnecessarily inquisitive, to ask what are the objects of the Institution?"

"Certainly. The use of this Corporation is to superintend the general interests of the British shipping, military and commercial. To this end, the powers of the [307] Corporation are very extensive; the principal of which are, to examine the children educated in mathematics in Christ's Hospital—examine the masters of the King's ships—appoint pilots for the Thames—erect light-houses and sea-marks—grant licenses to poor seamen, not free of the City, to row on the Thames—and superintend the deepening and cleansing of the river; they have power to receive donations for charitable purposes, and annually relieve great numbers of poor seamen and seamen's widows and orphans; and as they alone supply outward-bound ships with ballast, on notice of any shoal or obstruction arising in the river Thames, they immediately direct their men and lighters to work on it till it is removed. The profits arising to the Corporation by this useful regulation is very considerable."

During this conversation they had continued to walk towards the Trinity House, and were now close to it.

"Come," continued Dashall, "the interior is worth seeing: there are some fine paintings in it, and the fitting up is altogether of an elegant description."

Upon making application at the door, and the customary payment of a shilling each, they were admitted. The appearance of the Hall, which is grand, though light and elegant, particularly attracted the attention of Tallyho. The double stair-case, which leads to the court-room, was an object of peculiar delight. The beautiful model of the Royal William in the Secretary's Office was much admired; but the Court-room was abundant in gratification. Here they were ushered into a spacious apartment,*particularly elegant, being unincumbered; the ceiling finished in a superior style, and decorated with paintings of the late King and Queen—James the Second—Lord Sandwich—Lord Howe, and Mr. Pitt. Here Bob wandered from portrait to portrait, examining the features and character of each, and admiring the skill and ability of the artists. At the upper end of the room he was additionally pleased to find a large painting containing a group of about twenty-four of the elder Brethren, representing them at full length, attended by their Secretary, the late Mr. Court. Many of the persons being well remembered by Dashall, were pointed out by him to his Cousin, and brought to his recollection names deservedly celebrated, though now no more. This picture was the gift of the Merchant Brethren in 1794.

Tallyho was much delighted with his survey of this truly elegant building, and the luminous account given by [308] his Cousin of the various persons whose portraits met his eye, or whose names and characters, connected with the establishment, had become celebrated for scientific research or indefatigable industry.

"It will occupy too much time this morning," said Dashall, "to visit the interior of the Tower, as I have dispatched a Ticket-porter to Piccadilly, ordering my curricle to be at Tom's Coffee-house at one; we will therefore defer that pleasure to the next opportunity of being this way. We will however take a look at the Bank and the Exchange, then a trundle into the fresh air for an hour, and return home to dinner; so come along, but we will vary our walk by taking another road back."

With this intention, they now crossed Tower Hill, and turned to the left, along the Minories.

"Here is a place," said Dashall, "well known, and no doubt you have often heard of—Sparrow Corner and Rosemary Lane are better known by the appellation of Rag Fair. It is a general mart for the sale of second-hand clothes, and many a well-looking man in London is indebted to his occasional rambles in this quarter for his appearance. The business of this place is conducted with great regularity, and the dealers and collectors of old clothes meet at a certain hour of the afternoon to make sales and exchanges, so that it is managed almost upon the same plan as the Royal Exchange, only that the dealers here come loaded with their goods, which must undergo inspection before sales can be effected: while the Merchant carries with him merely a sample, or directs his Purchaser to the warehouse where his cargo is deposited. The principal inhabitants of this place are Jews, and they obtain supplies from the numerous itinerant collectors from all quarters of London and its suburbs, whom you must have observed parading the streets from the earliest hour of the morning, crying Ould clothes—Clothes sale."

"It surely can hardly be a trade worth following," said Talltho.

"There are many hundreds daily wandering the streets, however," replied Tom, "in pursuit of cast-off apparel, rags, and metals of different sorts, or at least pretend so. The Jews are altogether a set of traders. I do not mean to confine my observations to them only, because there are persons of other sects employed in the same kind of business; and perhaps a more dangerous set of cheats could [309] scarcely be pointed at, as their chief business really is to prowl about the houses and stables of people of rank and fortune, in order to hold out temptations to their servants, to pilfer and steal small articles not likely to be missed, which these fellows are willing to purchase at about one-third of their real value. It is supposed that upwards of 15,000 of these depraved itinerants among the Jews are daily employed in journeys of this kind; by which means, through the medium of base money and other fraudulent dealings, many of them acquire property with which they open shops, and then become receivers of stolen property; the losses thus sustained by the public being almost incalculable—

         "For wid coot gould rings of copper gilt—'tis so he gets his
         bread,
         Wit his sealing-vax of brick-dust, and his pencils without lead."

It is estimated that there are from fifteen to twenty thousand Jews in the Metropolis, and about five or six thousand more stationed in the great provincial and seaport towns. In London they have six Synagogues, and in the country places there are at least twenty more. Most of the lower classes of those distinguished by name of German or Dutch Jews, live principally by their wits, and establish a system of mischievous intercourse all over the country, the better to enable them to carry on then-fraudulent designs in every way. The pliability of their consciences is truly wonderful—

         "For they never stick at trifles, if there's monies in the way."

Nay, I remember the time when they used to perambulate our streets openly, professing to purchase base coin, by bawling—"Any bad shilling, any bad shilling." The interference of the Police however has prevented the calling, though perhaps it is impossible to prevent a continuance of the practice any more than they can that of utterance. These men hesitate not to purchase stolen property, or metals of various kinds, as well as other articles pilfered from the Dock-yards, and stolen in the provincial towns, which are brought to the Metropolis to elude detection, and vice versa; in some cases there are contrivances that the buyer and seller shall not even see each other, in order that no advantage may be taken by giving information as to the parties." [310] "Upon my life, the contrivances of London are almost incomprehensible," said Bob, "and might deter many from venturing into it; but this surprises me beyond any thing."

"It is however too lamentably true," continued Tom; "for these people, educated in idleness from the earliest infancy, acquire every debauched and vicious principle which can fit them for the most complicated arts of fraud and deception, to which they seldom fail to add the crime of perjury, whenever it can be useful to shield themselves or their friends from the punishment of the law. Totally without moral education, and very seldom trained to any trade or occupation by which they can earn an honest livelihood by manual labour—their youths excluded from becoming apprentices, and their females from engaging themselves generally as servants, on account of the superstitious adherence to the mere ceremonial of their persuasion, as it respects meat not killed by Jews—nothing can exceed their melancholy condition, both as it regards themselves and society. Thus excluded from the resources which other classes of the community possess, they seem to have no alternative but to resort to those tricks and devices which ingenuity suggests, to enable persons without an honest means of subsistence to live in idleness.

"The richer Jews are in the practice of lending small sums to the poorer classes of their community, in order that they may support themselves by a species of petty traffic; but even this system contributes in no small degree to the commission of crimes, since, in order to render it productive to an extent equal to the wants of families who do not acquire any material aid by manual labour, they are induced to resort to unlawful means of increasing it, by which they become public nuisances. From the orange-boy and the retailer of seals, razors, glass and other wares, in the public streets, or the collector of

              "Old rags, old jags, old bonnets, old bags,"

to the shop-keeper, dealer in wearing apparel, or in silver and gold, the same principles of conduct too generally prevail.

"The itinerants utter base money, to enable them by selling cheap, to dispose of their goods; while those who are stationary, with very few exceptions, receive and purchase at an under price whatever is brought them, [311] without asking questions; and yet most of their concerns are managed with so much art, that we seldom hear of a Jew being hanged; and it is also a fact, that during the holidays (of which they have many in the course of a year,) or at one of their weddings, you may see the barrow-woman of yesterday decked out in gay and gaudy attire of an expensive nature."

By this time they had reached the top of the minories, and were turning down Houndsditch. "We are now," said Dashall, "close to another place chiefly inhabited by Jews, called Duke's Place, where they have a very elegant Synagogue, which has been visited by Royalty, the present King having, during his Regency, honoured them with a visit, through the introduction of the late Mr. Goldsmid. If it should be a holiday, we will be present at the religious ceremonies of the morning." With this they entered Duke's Place, and were soon within the walls of this Temple of Judaism. In taking a view of it, Bob was much gratified with its splendid decorations, and without being acquainted with their forms, had doffd his castor,{1} but was presently informed by his Cousin that he must keep his hat on. The readers appeared to him to be singers; but the whole of the service being Hebrew, it was of little consequence to him, whether read or sung. He perceived, during the performances of these prayers, which were every now and then joined in by almost every one present, that many of the congregation appeared to be in close conversation, which, however, was taken no notice of by the persons officiating. He was well pleased with the singing of a youth and the accompaniment of a gentleman in a cock'd hat; for although he could not discover that he actually produced words, he produced sounds in many instances bearing a strong similarity to those of a bassoon. The venerable appearance and devotion of the High Priest, who was habited in a robe of white, also attracted his attention; while the frequent bursts of the congregation, joining in the exercises of the morning, in some instances almost provoked his risibility.

"The religious ceremonies of these people," said Tom, as they left the synagogue, "though somewhat imposing as to form and appearance, do not seem to be strongly interesting, for many of them are engaged during the whole of the service in some species of traffic; buying and

         1 Doff'd his castor—Taken off his hat.

[312] selling, or estimating the value of goods for sale. They are such determined merchants and dealers, that they cannot forget business even in the house of prayer. We have two sets of them. This is the Dutch Synagogue; but the most ancient is that of the Portuguese, having been established in England ever since the Usurpation. The members of it being mostly wealthy, are extremely attentive to their poor, among whom there is said not to be a single beggar or itinerant; while the Dutch or German. Jews get no education at all: even the most affluent of them are said to be generally unable either to read or write the language of the country that gave them birth. They confine themselves to a bastard or vulgar Hebrew, which has little analogy to the original. They observe the particular ritual of the German Synagogue, and also include the Polish, Russian, and Turkish Jews established in London. With the exception of a few wealthy individuals, and as many families who are in trade on the Royal Exchange, they are in general a very indigent class of people. Their community being too poor to afford them adequate relief, they have resorted to the expedient of lending them small sums of money at interest, to trade upon, which is required to be repaid monthly or weekly, as the case may be, otherwise they forfeit all claim to this aid.

"The Portuguese Jews are generally opulent and respectable, and hold no community with the others. They use a different liturgy, and their language is even different. They never intermarry with the Jews of the Dutch Synagogue. They pride themselves on their ancestry, and give their children the best education which can be obtained where they reside. The Brokers upon the Exchange, of the Jewish persuasion, are all or chiefly of the Portuguese Synagogue. Their number is limited to twelve by Act of Parliament, and they pay 1000 guineas each for this privilege."

They had now reached the end of Houndsditch, when, passing through Bishopsgate Church Yard and Broad Street, they were soon at the Bank.

"This building," said Dashall, "covers an extent of several acres of ground, and is completely isolated."

"Its exterior," replied Bob, "is not unsuited to the nature of the establishment, as it certainly conveys an idea of strength and security."

[315] "That's true," continued Tom; "but you may observe a want of uniformity of design and proportion, arising from its having been erected piece-meal, at different periods, and according to different plans, by several architects. This is the principal entrance; and opposite to it is the shortest street in the Metropolis, called Bank Street; it contains but one house. Now we will take a survey of the interior."

They entered the Hall, where Tallyho was much pleased to be instructed as to the methodical way they have of examining notes for a re-issuing or exchanging into coin.

"Here," said Dashall, "are the Drawing-offices for public and private accounts. This room is seventy-nine feet long by forty; and, at the further end, you observe a very fine piece of sculpture: that is a marble Statue of King William III. the founder of the Bank. Thi national establishment was first incorporated by act of Parliament in 1694. The projector of the scheme was a Mr. James Paterson, a native of Scotland; and the direction of its concerns is vested in a Governor, Deputy-Governor, and twenty-four Directors, elected annually at a general Court of the Proprietors. Thirteen of the Directors, with the Governor, form a Court for the transaction of business. The Bank is open every day from nine in the morning till five in the afternoon, holidays excepted. It is like a little town. The Clerks at present are about 1000 in number, but a reduction is intended. The Rotunda is the most interesting apartment—we will go and have a look at the Money-dealers.

"Here," continued he, as they entered the Rotunda, and mingled among the various persons and sounds that are so well known in that seat of traffic, "from the hours of eleven to three a crowd of eager Money-dealers assemble, and avidity of gain displays itself in ever-varying shapes, at times truly ludicrous to the disinterested observer. You will presently perceive that the justling and crowding of the Jobbers to catch a bargain, frequently exceed in disorder the scrambling at the doors of our theatres for an early admission: and sa loud and clamorous at times are the mingled noises of the buyers and sellers, that all distinction of sound is lost in a general uproar."

Of this description, Tallyho had an absolute proof in [314] a few minutes, for the mingling variety of voices appeared to leave no space in time for distinguishing either the sense or the sound of the individual speakers; though it was evident that, notwithstanding the continual hubbub, there was a perfect understanding effected between parties for the sale and transfer of Stock, according to the stipulations bargained for.

"Ha, Mr. M———," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "how do you do?"

"Happy to say well, Sir, thank you," was the reply. "Any commands?—markets are pretty brisk this morning, and we are all alive."

"Pray," said Tallyho, "who is that extraordinary looking Lady with such red lips and cheeks, beneath the garb of sadness?"

"A constant visitor here," replied Mr. M. "I may say a day scarcely passes without her being present."

"She has a curious appearance," said Bob; "her dress is all black from head to foot, and yet her cheeks disclose the ruddy glow of uninterrupted health. Is it that her looks belie her garb, or that her garb belies her looks?"

"Hush," said Mr. M. "let her pass, and I will give you some information relative to her, which, if it does not gratify you, will at least satisfy some of your inquiries. I am half inclined to believe that all is not right in the seat of government with her, (pointing his finger to his head;) and she is therefore rather deserving of pity than an object of censure or ridicule; though I have reason to believe she frequently meets with attacks of the latter, when in search of the sympathy and benefit to be derived from a proper exercise of the former. Her name is Miss W———. Her father was formerly a two-penny postman, who resided at Rockingham Row, Walworth, and was himself somewhat eccentric in his dress and manners, and it was not at all unusual to meet him in the morning in the garb of his office, though decidedly against his inclination, and to see him on 'Change during 'Change hours, in silk stockings, and in every other way dressed as a Merchant, attending there according to custom and practice; and he managed, by some means or other, to keep up a character of respectability, and to give an accomplished education to the younger branches of this family; so that this lady, though unfortunate in her present circumstances, has been well brought up, and [315] mingled in polished society; and, if you were to enter into conversation with her now, you would find her intelligent in the selection of her words and the combination of sentences, to explain to you the most improbable events, and the most unheard of claims that she has upon all the Governments in the known world. This, however, would be done with good temper, unless any thing like an insulting observation should be conceived, or intended to be conveyed."

"And, pray, what is supposed to be the cause of her present manners and appearance?" inquired Bob.

"It is principally attributed," replied Mr M. "to the circumstance of losing a beloved brother, who she now continually declares is only kept from her by the persons who daily visit the Rotunda, with a view to prevent the recovery of the property she lays claim to, and the particulars of which she generally carries in her pocket. That brother however suffered the penalty of the law for a forgery;{1} but this she cannot be induced to believe.

         1 The lamentable effusion of blood which has taken place
         within the last twenty years, in consequence of forgeries on
         the Bank of England, has already excited a very considerable
         portion of public interest and indignation; and it is much
         to be feared that notwithstanding the very serious expence
         the Corporation have incurred, with a view to remedy the
         evil, by rendering the imitation more difficult, the
         anticipated result is not likely to be obtained. It will
         hardly be conceived that the Governors have expended as much
         as one hundred thousand pounds in this laudable undertaking,
         and, upon producing an impression, we are told it can be
         imitated by one, who, within three weeks produced a fac-
         simile, and puzzled the makers of the original note to
         discover which was the work-manship of their own hands. Nay,
         even an engraver on wood is said to have produced an
         excellent imitation in a few hours. It is however sincerely
         to be hoped that an effectual stop will be eventually put to
         the possibility of committing this crime, which, we
         apprehend, nine times out of ten brings the poor, needy,
         half-starved retailer of paper to the gallows, while the
         more un-principled wholesale dealer escapes detection.

         While on the subject of forged notes, we cannot help
         deprecating the circulation of what are termed flash
         notes, which, if not originally intended to deceive and
         defraud, are calculated to accomplish these objects, when in
         the hands of the artful and designing. We think there is a
         tradesman in the vicinity of the Bank who presents such of
         his customers as visits his repository to have their hair
         cut, &c. with a Hash note, purporting to be for 501.; and we
         have also reason to believe that more than one attempt has
         been detected, where the parties have really endeavoured to
         pass them as valid Bank of England paper.    The danger
         therefore must be evident.

[316] We have reason to think she is frequently much straitened for want of the necessary supplies for sustenance, and she has temporary relief occasionally from those who knew her family and her former circumstances in life, while she boldly perseveres in the pursuit of fancied property, and the restoration of her brother.

"I have heard her make heavy complaints of the difficulties she has had to encounter, and the privations she has been subjected to; but her own language will best speak the impressions on her mind. Here is a printed letter which was circulated by her some time ago:—

To the worthy Inhabitants of the Parish of St. Mary, Newington, Surrey.

It is with feelings of deep regret I have to deplore the necessity that compels me to adopt a public measure, for the purpose of obtaining my property from those gentlemen that hold it in trust. For a period of ten years I have endured the most cruel and unjustifiable persecution, which has occasioned the premature death of my mother; a considerable loss of property; all my personal effects of apparel and valuables; has exposed me to the most wanton and barbarous attacks, the greatest insults, and the severe and continual deprivation of every common necessary. Having made every appeal for my right, or even a maintenance, without effect, I now take the liberty of adopting the advice of some opulent friends in the parish, and solicit general favour in a loan by subscription for a given time, not doubting the liberal commiseration of many ladies and gentlemen, towards so great a sufferer. As it is not possible to describe the wrongs I have endured, the misery that has been heaped upon me, in so limited a space, I shall be happy to give every explanation upon calling for the result of this entreaty and to those ladies and gentlemen that condescend to favour

S. WHITEHEAD

With their presence, at

The White Hart Inn, Borough.

Besides Bills to an immense amount, accepted by the Dey of Algiers, and payable by his Grand Plenipotentiary.

Various sums in the English and Irish Funds, in the names of various Trustees: in the 3 per cent. Consols—3 per cent. 1726—3 per cent. South Sea Annuities—3 per cent. Old South Sea Annuities—4 per cent. 3 per cent. 5 per cent. Long Annuities.

Besides various Freehold, Copyhold, and Leasehold Estates, Reversions and Annuities, of incalculable value.

One of the Freehold Estates is that known by the name of Ireland's Row, and the Brewhouse adjacent, Mile End; the Muswell Hill Estate; a large House in Russell Square, tenanted at present by Mr. B——-dd!!!

"For the truth of this statement, or the real existence of any property belonging to her, I am not able to vouch. She is well known in all the offices of this great Establishment, is generally peaceable in her conduct, and communicative in her conversation, which at times distinguishes her as a person of good education."

"Hard is the fortune which your Sex attends, Women, like princes, find few real friends; All who approach them their own ends pursue, Lovers and ministers are seldom true. Hence oft from reason heedless beauty strays, And the most trusted guide the most betrays."

The conversation was here interrupted by the arrival of a Gentleman, who, taking Mr. M. on one side, Tom and Bob wished him a good morning. They proceeded to [318] view the various offices which branch out from the Rotunda, and which are appropriated to the management of each particular stock, in each of which Bob could not help admiring the happy disposition of every department to facilitate business. The arrangement of the books, and the clerks, under the several letters of the alphabet, he conceived was truly excellent.

"The Corporation of the Bank," said Dashall, "are prohibited from trading in any sort of goods or merchandize whatsoever; but are to confine the use of their capital to discounting Bills of Exchange, and to the buying and selling of gold and silver bullion; with a permission however to sell such goods as are mortgaged or pawned to them and not redeemed within three months after the expiration of the time for their redemption. Their profits arise from their traffic in bullion; the discounting of Bills of Exchange for Bankers, Merchants, Factors, and Speculators; and the remuneration they receive from Government, for managing the public funds, and for receiving the subscriptions on loans and lotteries. But we may ramble about in these places for a month, and still have novelty in store; and there is a little world underneath the greater part of this extensive building devoted to printing-offices, ware-rooms, &c."

They had now reached the door which leads into Bartholomew Lane, and, upon descending the steps, and turning to the left, Bob's eyes soon discovered the Auction Mart, "What have we here?" inquired he.

"That," replied his Cousin, "is a building which may deservedly be rank'd as one of the ornaments of the City; and its arrangements and economy, as well as the beauty of its interior, are well deserving the notice of every stranger. This fine establishment, which serves as a focus for the sale of estates and other property by public auction, is both useful and ornamental; it was built about the time when the spirit of combination was so strong in London. You must know, some years back, every kind of business and trade appeared likely to be carried on by Joint Stock Companies, and the profits divided upon small shares. Many Fire-offices have to date their origin from this source—the Hope, the Eagle, the Atlas, and others. The Golden Lane Brewery was opened upon this principle; some Water Companies were established; till neighbourhood [319] and partnership almost became synonimous; and, I believe, among many other institutions of that kind, the Building before us is one. It contains many handsome rooms and commodious offices; but, as for offices, every street and every alley abounds with them, and, now-a-days, if you want to hire a Cook or a Scullion, you have nothing to do but to send a letter to a Register-office, and you are suited in a twinkling. It was an excellent idea, and I remember the old Buck who used to call himself the founder of establishments of that nature, or rather the first introducer of them to the notice of Englishmen, poor old Courtois."

John Courtois is said to have been a native of Picardy, where he was born about the year 1737 or 1738. He repaired to this country while yet young, in the character of valet de chambre to a gentleman who had picked him up in his travels; and, as he came from one of the poorest of the French provinces, he "took root," and throve wonderfully on his transplantation to a richer soil.

On the death of his master, he removed to the neighbourhood of the Strand; and St. Martin's Street,. Leicester Square, became the scene of his industry and success. At a time when wigs were worn by boys, and a Frenchman was supposed the only person capable of making one fit "for the grande monarque," he commenced business as a perruquier, and soon acquired both wealth and celebrity. To this he joined another employment, which proved equally lucrative and appropriate, as it subjected both masters and servants to his influence. This was the keeping of a register-office, one of the first known in the Metropolis, whence he drew incalculable advantages. He is also said to have been a dealer in hair, which he imported largely from the continent. And yet,, after all, it is difficult to conceive how he could have realized a fortune exceeding 200,000L.! But what may not be achieved by a man who despised no gains, however small, and in his own expressive language, considered farthings as "the seeds of guineas!"

The following appears to be a true description of this very extraordinary man, whom we ourselves have seen more than once:—"Old Courtois was well known for more than half a century in the purlieus of St. Martin's and the Haymarket. His appearance was meagre and squalid, and his clothes, such as they were, were [320] pertinaciously got up in exactly the same cut and fashion, and the colour always either fawn or marone. For the last thirty years, the venerable chapeau was uniformly of the same cock. The principal feat, however, in which this fervent votary of Plutus appeared before the public, was his nearly fatal affair with Mary Benson, otherwise Mrs. Maria Theresa Phepoe. In April 1795, this ill-fated-woman projected a rather bungling scheme, in order to frighten her old acquaintance and visitor, Courtois, out of a considerable sum of money. One evening, when she was certain of his calling, she had her apartment prepared for his reception in a species of funereal style—a bier, a black velvet pall, black wax candles lighted, &c. No sooner had the friend entered the room, than the lady, assisted by her maid, pounced on him, forced him into an arm chair, in which he was forcibly held down by the woman, while the hostess, brandishing a case-knife or razor, swore with some violent imprecations, that instant should be his last, if he did not give her an order on his "banker for a large sum of money. The venerable visitor, alarmed at the gloomy preparations and dire threats of the desperate female, asked for pen, ink, and paper; which being immediately produced, he wrote a check on his banker for two thousand pounds. He immediately retired with precipitation, happy to escape without personal injury. The next morning, before its opening, he attended at the Banker's, with some Police-officers; and on Mrs. Phepoe's making her appearance with the check, she was arrested, and subsequently tried at the Old Bailey, on a capital charge, grounded on the above proceedings. However, through the able defence made by her counsel (the late Mr. Fielding) who took a legal objection to the case as proved, and contended that she never had or obtained any property of Mr. Courtois, on the principle that possession constituted the first badge of ownership, she was only sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment."

"Some years since, the late Lord Gage met Courtois, at the court-room of the East India House, on an election business. "Ah, Courtois!" said his Lordship, "what brings you here?"—'To give my votes, my Lord,' was the answer.—"What! are you a proprietor?—'Most certainly.'—"And of more votes than one?"—'Yes, my [321] Lord, I have four!'—"Aye, indeed! why then, before you take the book, pray be kind enough to pin up my curls!" With which modest request the proprietor of four votes, equal to ten thousand pounds, immediately complied!

"M. Courtois married a few years since, and has left several children. On reflecting that his widow's thirds would amount to an immense sum, with his usual prudence he made a handsome settlement on her during his lifetime. As his sons were not of very economical habits, he has bequeathed them small annuities only; and vested the bulk of his fortune in trustees on behalf of his daughters, who are infants.

"Until his death, he invariably adhered to the costume of the age in which he was born. A three-cocked hat, and a plum-coloured coat, both rather the worse for wear, in which we have seen him frequently, invariably designated his person and habits; while a penurious economy, that bid defiance to all vulgar imitation, accompanied him to his grave. His death occurred in 1819, in the 80th or 81st year of his age."

"Such characters," observed Tallyho, "notwithstanding their eccentricity, afford useful lessons to those who, in this giddy and dissipated age, devote a part of their time to thinking."

"No doubt of it," replied Dashall; "they furnish examples of what may be done by perseverance and determination, and almost seem to verify the assertion, that every one may become rich if he pleases. But come, we must move towards Tom's Coffee House, in our way to which we will pass through the Royal Exchange, which lies directly before us. It was originally a brick building, erected by Sir Thomas Gresham in the year 1567, but being destroyed by the fire of London in 1666, the present building of Portland stone was raised in its place, the first stone of which was laid by Charles II. in 1667; in consequence of which his statue has been placed in the centre of its quadrangle, around which the Merchants assemble daily to transact their commercial business.{1}

         1 The merry Monarch was fond of the Citizens, and frequently
         honoured the Lord Mayor's table with his presence. It is
         said of him, that, on retiring to his carriage one day after
         dining with the civic Sovereign, he was followed by the
         latter, who, with a freedom inspired by the roseate Deity,
         laid hold of His Majesty by the arm, and insisted that he
         should not go until he had drunk t'other bottle. The Monarch
         turned round, and good-humouredly repeating a line from an
         old song—"The man that is drunk is as great as a king,"
         went back to the company, and doubtless complied with the
         Lord Mayor's request.

[322] "It has two principal fronts, one in Cornhill, and the other, which you now see, is at the end of Threadneedle Street; each of which has a piazza, affording a convenient shelter from the sun and rain. It is open as a thoroughfare from eight in the morning till six in the evening; but the hours in which business is chiefly transacted, are from two to five. Its extent is 203 feet by 171."

By this time they had passed the gate, and Bob found himself in a handsome area with a fine piazza carried entirely round, and furnished with seats along the four walks, for Merchants of different nations, who meet, each at their different stations, and was immediately attracted by the appearance of the numerous specimens of art with which it was adorned.

"Do you observe," said his Cousin, "within these piazzas are twenty-eight niches; all vacant but that in which is placed a statue of Sir Thomas Gresham, in the north-west angle; and that in the south-west, which presents a statue of Sir John Barnard, Magistrate of the City, and one of its Representatives in Parliament. Those smaller statues in the niches of the wall of the Quadrangle, in the upper story, are the Kings and Queens of England, beginning with Edward I. on the North side, and ending with his late Majesty on the East. As far as Charles I. they were executed by Gabriel Cibber. The various frames which are placed around under the piazza, contain the names, residences and occupations of Tradesmen, Mechanics and others. The grand front in Cornhill has been under repair lately, and in its appearance, no doubt, is greatly improved. The steeple which is just raised, is a handsome dome, surmounted by the original grasshopper, rendered somewhat celebrated by a prophecy, that certain alterations would take place in men, manners, and times, when the grasshopper on the top of the Exchange should meet the dragon at the top of Bow Church; and strange and extraordinary as it may appear, this very circumstance is said to have taken place, as they have both been seen in the warehouse of some manufacturer, to whom [323] they were consigned for repair; in addition to which, if Crockery's{1} relation of the transmogrifications of England is to be believed, the prophecy is in a considerable degree a whimsical and laughable Burletta, in one act, has recently been produced at the Royal Coburg Theatre, in which Mr. Sloman sings, with admirable comicality, the following Song, alluded to by the Hon. Tom Dashall, to the tune of O, The Roast Beef of Old England.

              "From Hingy I came with my Master, O dear,
              But Lunnun is not like the same place, that's clear;
              It has nigh broke my heart since I have been here!
              O, the old times of Old England,
              O dear, the good English old times.

              The town is so changed, that I don't know a spot;
              The times are so hard, there's no vork to be got;
              And for porter they charges you tip-pence a pot!
              O, the old times, &c.

              Then the sides of the houses are stuck full of bills
              About Blacking, Mock-Auctions, and vonderful Fills;
              But for von vot they cures, a hundred they kills!
              O, the old times, &c.

              There's the names are all halter'd verewer I goes,
              And the people all laughs at the cut of my close;
              The men are turn'd vomen, the belles are turn'd beaux!
              O, the old times, &c.

              Ven I vent out to Hingy, if any von died,
              A good vooden coffin they used to prowide,
              But hiron vons now keeps the poor vorms houtside!
              O, the old times, &c.

              There's the Lancaster schools now all over the land,
              Vot teaches the children to scribble on sand—
              And a hugly Bonassus vot lives in the Strand!
              O, the new times, &c.

              There's a new Life-preserver, vith vich you cant drown;
              And a new kind of Sov'reigns just com'd into town,
              Von is vorth a pound note, and the other a crown!
              O, the new times, &c.

              The Play-bills have hard vords, vot I cannot speak;
              And the horgans plays nothing but Latin and Greek;
              And it's rain'd every day now for more than a veek!
              O, the new times, &c.

              There's a man valks on vater and don't vet his feet;
              And a patent steam-kitchen, vot cooks all your meat;
              And Epp's ham and beef shop in every street!
              O, the new times, &c.

              I valks up and down vith the tears in my hye;
              Vot they vonce call'd a vaggon is now call'd a fly;
              And the boys points their fingers, and calls I—a"Guy!
              O, the old times of Old England,
              O dear, the good English old times."

[324]There is a stair-case in each front, and one on each side, which lead to a gallery above, running round the whole building, containing the offices of various establishments; but I believe, in the original plan, shops were intended to fill the building to the top. At present, the upper rooms are occupied by Lloyd's celebrated Subscription Coffee-house, for the use of Under-writers and Merchants—by the Royal Exchange Insurance Company, and various offices of individuals. There are also the Gresham Lecture—Rooms, where lectures are read pursuant to the will of the late Sir Thomas Gresham, who bequeathed to the City of London and the Mercers' Company, all the profits arising from these and other premises in Cornhill, in trust to pay salaries to four lecturers in divinity, astronomy, music, and geometry; and three readers in civil law, physic, and rhetoric, who read lectures daily in term time.

"This we may consider the grand mart of the universe! where congregate those sons of Commerce the British Merchants, who, in dauntless extent of enterprise, hold such distinguished pre-eminence!"

Tallyho viewed the scene before him with an inquisitive eye, and was evidently wrapped in surprise at the "busy hum of men," all actuated by one universal object, the acquisition of wealth. The spacious area exhibited a mass of mercantile speculators, numerously grouped, in conversation; under the piazzas appeared a moving multitude in like manner engaged, while the surrounding seats were in similar occupation; Dashall and Bob, of the many hundreds of individuals present, were perhaps the only two led to the place by curiosity alone.

Tallyho, who, on every occasion of "doubtful dilemma," looked to his cousin Dashall for extrication, expressed his surprise at the appearance of a squalid figure, whose lank form, patched habiliments, and unshorn beard, indicated [325]extreme penury; in familiar converse with a gentleman fashionably attired, and of demeanour to infer unquestionable respectability.

"Interest," said Tallyho, "supersedes every other consideration, else these two opposites would not meet."

"Your observation is just," replied his cousin; "the tatterdemallion to whom you allude, is probably less impoverished than penurious; perhaps of miserly habits, and in other respects disqualified for polite society. What then, he is doubtless in ample possession of the essential requisite; and here a monied man only is a good man, and without money no man can be respectable."{1}

Here the continued and deafening noise of a hand-bell, rung by one of the Exchange-keepers underlings, perched on the balcony over the southern gate, interrupted Mr. Dashall's remarks; it was the signal for locking up the gates, and inferring at the same time obedience to the summons with due promptitude and submission, on pain of being detained two hours "in duresse vile."

Sufficient alacrity of egression not having been shown, the Keepers closed the two gates, and at the same time locked the east and western avenues; thus interdicting from egress above three hundred contumacious individuals, including the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin.

A considerable time having now elapsed without any prospect of enlargement, dissatisfaction gained ground apace, and shortly ripened into actual mutiny. The disaffected now proceeded to hold a council of war, and after a few moments deliberation, it was resolved unanimously to storm the avenues! Dashall and

1 Some years ago, a gentleman of extensive property, residing in the country, was desirous of raising, by way of loan on the security of landed estates, the sum of 30,000L. His Solicitor in London, with whom he had corresponded on the subject, summoned him at last to town; a lender was found, who was to meet the Solicitor at a certain time and place appointed, in the neighbourhood of the Exchange. The borrower, on the day and near the hour fixed upon, was in the area of the Royal Exchange, when there crossed over a wretched looking being, the very personification of misery. The gentleman, unsolicited, gave the poor object a shilling. On going to the appointed rendezvous, how great was his astonishment to find in the person of the wealthy monied man the identical receiver of his bounty!—"Ha, ha," cried he, "you shall not fare the worse for your generosity!" and actually advanced the money on terms much easier than expected. This personage was the celebrated Daniel Dancer.

[326] Tallyho declined taking any part in the enterprise; they took a right view of the affair; they were mere casual visitants, not likely ever again to suffer a similar restraint, while the others were in the daily practice of transacting business on the spot: to them therefore the frequent recurrence of the present disaster might happen—theirs then was the cause, as being most particularly interested.

An attack was made by the prisoners upon the portals opening into Bank Buildings and Sweeting's Kents; but the former having been shattered sometime since on a similar occasion, and subsequently very strongly repaired, it was found impregnable, at least to any immediate exertion of force, and being neither furnished with a park of artillery, nor with the battering ram of the ancients, the little army faced to the right about, enfiladed the area, and took up a new position, in due order of assault, against the door of the avenue leading into Sweeting's Rents. The affair was decided, and without bloodshed; the bars soon bent before the vigour of the assailants; one of these was taken into custody by a Beadle, but rescued, and the attack recommenced with success; when the opposite door was also opened by the Shop-keeper living in that avenue, and the Exchange was finally cleared at four minutes past five o'clock, after above an hour's detention, including the time occupied in storming the avenues.

The triumph of liberty was now complete; the intrepid phalanx disbanded itself; and our Heroes having made the farewell conge to their victorious compeers, proceeded into Cornhill, where, Dashall espying his curricle at the door of Tom's Coffee House, they, after refreshing themselves, took a cheerful country drive over London Bridge, Clapham Common, Wandsworth, &c. from which they returned at six o'clock to dinner, determined to have a night's rest before they proceeded in search of further adventures.[327]

## CHAPTER XXI

              "Happy the man, who void of cares and strife,
              In silken or in leathern purse retains
              A SPLENDID shilling! he nor hears with pain
              New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale;

              But I, whom griping penury surrounds,
              And hunger, sure attendant upon want,
              With scanty offal and small acid tiff,
              Wretched repast, my meagre corse sustain!
              Or solitary walk, or dose at home
              In garret vile!"

TALKING over, at the breakfast-table, the occurrences of the preceding day—"On my conscience!" exclaimed Tallyho, "were the antediluvian age restored, and we daily perambulated the streets of this immense Metropolis during a hundred years to come, I firmly believe that every hour would bring a fresh accession of incident."

"Ad infinitum," answered Dashall; "where happiness is the goal in view, and fifteen hundred thousand competitors start for the prize, the manouvres of all in pursuit of the grand ultimatum must ever exhibit an interesting and boundless variety. London,

              ".   .   .   the needy villain's general home,
              The common sewer of Paris and of Rome!"

where ingenious vice too frequently triumphs over talented worth—where folly riots in the glare of luxury, and merit pines in indigent obscurity.—Allons donc!—another ramble, and chance may probably illustrate my observation."

"Take notice," said the discriminating Dashall to his friend, as they reached the Mall in St. James's Park, "of that solitary knight of the woeful countenance; his thread-bare raiment and dejected aspect, denote disappointment and privation;—ten imperial sovereigns to a plebeian [328] shilling, he is either a retired veteran or a distressed poet."

The object of curiosity, who had now seated himself, appeared to have attained the age of fifty, or more—a bat that had once been black—a scant-skirted blue coat, much the worse for wear—a striped waistcoat—his lank legs and thighs wrapt in a pair of something resembling trowsers, but "a world too wide for his shrunk shanks"—short gaiters—shoes in the last stage of consumption—whiskers of full dimensions—his head encumbered with an unadjusted redundancy-of grey hair: such were the habiliments and figure of this son of adversity!

The two friends now seated themselves on the same bench with the stranger, who, absorbed in reflection, observed not their approach.

The silence of the triumvirate was broken in upon by Tom, who, with his usual suavity of manners, politely addressed himself to the unknown, on the common topic of weather, et cetera, without eliciting in reply more than an assenting or dissenting monosyllable, "You have seen some service, Sir?"

"Yes."

"In the army, I presume?"

"No."

"Under Government?"

"Yes."

"In the navy, probably?"

"No."

"I beg your pardon," continued Dashall—"my motives originate not in idle inquisitiveness; if I can be of any service———"

The stranger turned towards him an eye of inquiry. "I ask not from impertinent curiosity," resumed Dashall, "neither would I wish indelicately to obtrude an offer of assistance, perhaps equally unnecessary as unacceptable; yet there are certain mutabilities of life wherein sympathy may be allowed to participate."

"Sir," said the other, with an immediate grateful expansion of mind, and freedom of communication—"I am inexpressibly indebted for the honour of your solicitude, and feel no hesitation in acknowledging that I am a literary writer; but so seldom employed, and, when employed, so inadequately requited, that to me the necessaries of life are frequently inaccessible."

[329] Here Tallyho interrupted the narrator by asking—whence it was that he had adopted a profession so irksome, precarious, and unproductive?

    "Necessity," was the reply. "During a period of eight years, I performed
    the duties as senior Clerk of an office under Government; four years
    ago the establishment was broken up, without any provision made for its
    subordinate dependents; and thus I became one of the twenty thousand
    distressed beings in London, who rise from bed in the morning, unknowing
    where to repose at night, and are indebted to chance for a lodging or a
    dinner!"{1}     1 The following calculation, which is curious in all its
         parts, cannot fail to interest the reader:—

         The aggregate Population on the surface of the known
         habitable Globe is estimated at 1000,000,000 souls. If
         therefore we reckon with the Ancients, that a generation
         lasts 30 years, then in that space 1000,000,000 human beings
         will be born and die; consequently, 91,314 must be dropping
         into eternity every day, 3800 every hour, or about 63 every
         minute, and more than one every second. Of these
         1000,000,000 souls, 656,000,000 are supposed to be Pagans,
         160,000,000 Mahomedans, 9,000,000 Jews, only 175,000,000 are
         called Christians, and of these only 50,000,000 are
         Protestants.

         There are in London 502 places of Worship—one Cathedral,
         one Abbey, 114 Churches, 132 Chapels and Chapels of Ease,
         220 Meet-ings and Chapels for Dissenters, 43 Chapels for
         Foreigners, and 6 Synagogues for Jews. About 4050 public and
         private Schools, including Inns of Courts, Colleges, &c.
         About 8 Societies for Morals; 10 Societies for Learning and
         Arts; 112 Asylums for Sick and Lame; 13 Dispensaries, and
         704 Friendly Societies. Charity distributed £800,000 per
         annum.

         There are about 2500 persons committed for trial in one
         year: The annual depredations amount to about £2,100,000.
         There are 19 Prisons, and 5204 Alehouses within the bills of
         Mortality. The amount of Coin counterfeited is £200,000 per
         annum. Forgeries on the Bank of England in the year
         £150,000. About 3000 Receivers of Stolen Goods. About 10,000
         Servants at all times out of place. Above 20,000 miserable
         individuals rise every morning without knowing how or by
         what means they are to be supported during the passing day,
         or where, in many instances, they are to lodge on the
         succeeding night.

         London consumes annually 112,000 bullocks; 800,000 sheep and
         lambs; 212,000 calves; 210,000 hogs; 60,000 sucking pigs;
         7,000,000 gallons of milk, the produce of 9000 cows; 10,000
         acres of ground cultivated for vegetables; 4000 acres for
         fruit; 75,000 quarters of wheat; 700,000 chaldrons of coals;
         1,200,500 barrels of ale and porter; 12,146,782 gallons of
         spirituous liquors and compounds; 35,500 tons of wine;
         17,000,000 pounds of butter, 22,100,000 pounds of cheese;
         14,500 boat loads of cod.

[330] "May I ask," said Mr. Dashall, "from what species of literary composition you chiefly derive your subsistence?"

"From puffing—writing rhyming advertisements for certain speculative and successful candidates for public favour, in various avocations; for instance, eulogizing the resplendent brilliancy of Jet or Japan Blacking—the wonderful effects of Tyrian-Dye and Macassar Oil in producing a luxuriant growth and changing the colour of the hair, transforming the thinly scattered and hoary fragments of age to the redundant and auburn tresses of youth—shewing forth that the "Riding Master to his late Majesty upwards of thirty years, and Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover, sets competition at defiance, and that all who dare presume to rival the late Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover, are vile unskilful pretenders, ci-devant stable-boys, and totally undeserving the notice of an enlightened and discerning public! In fact, Sir, I am reduced to this occasional humiliating employment, derogatory certainly to the dignity of literature, as averting the approach of famine. I write, for various adventurers, poetical panegyric, and illustrate each subject by incontrovertible facts, with appropriate incident and interesting anecdote."

"And these facts," observed Bob Tallyho, "respectably authenticated?"

"By no means," answered the Poet; "nor is it necessary, nobody takes the trouble of inquiry, and all is left to the discretion of the writer and the fertility of his invention."

"On the same theme, does not there exist," asked Dashall, "a difficulty in giving it the appearance of variety?"

"Certainly; and that difficulty would seem quite insurmountable when I assure you, that I have written for a certain Blacking Manufacturer above two hundred different productions on the subject of his unparalleled Jet, each containing fresh incident, and very probably fresh incident must yet be found for two hundred productions more! But the misfortune is, that every thing is left to my invention, and the remuneration is of a very trifling nature for such mental labour: besides, it has frequently happened that the toil has proved unavailing—the production is rejected—the anticipated half-crown remains in the accumulating coffers of the Blacking-manufacturer, and the Author returns, pennyless and despondingly, to his attic, where, if fortune at last befriends him, he probably may breakfast dine and sup, tria juncta in uno, at a late hour in the evening!" [331] "And," exclaimed the feeling Dashall, "this is real Life in London!"

"With me actually so," answered the Poet.

The Blacking-maker's Laureat now offered to the perusal of his sympathising friends the following specimen of his ability in this mode of composition:—

              PUG IN ARMOUR;
              OR,
              THE GARRISON ALARMED.

              "Whoe'er on the rock of Gibraltar has been,
              A frequent assemblage of monkeys has seen
              Assailing each stranger with volleys of stones,
              As if pre-determin'd to fracture his bones!

              A Monkey one day took his turn as a scout,
              And gazing his secret position about,
              A boot caught his eye, near the spot that was plac'd,
              By w * * * *n's jet; Blacking transcendently grac'd;
              And, viewing his shade in its brilliant reflection,
              He cautiously ventured on closer inspection.

              The gloss on its surface return'd grin for grin,
              Thence seeking his new-found acquaintance within,
              He pok'd in the boot his inquisitive snout,
              Head and shoulders so far, that he could not get out;
              And thus he seem'd cas'd—from his head to his tail,
              In suit of high-burnish'd impregnable mail!

              Erect on two legs then, with retrograde motion,
              It stalk'd; on the Sentry impressing a notion
              That this hostile figure, of non-descript form,
              The fortress might take by manoeuvre or storm!

              Now fixing his piece, in wild terror he bawls—
              "A legion of devils are scaling the walls!"
              The guards sallied forth 'mid portentous alarms,
              Signal-guns were discharged, and the drums beat to arms;
              And Governor then, and whole garrison, ran
              To meet the dread foe in this minikin man!

              "A man—'tis a monkey!" Mirth loudly exclaim'd,
              And peace o'er the garrison then was proclaim'd;
              And Pug was released, the strange incident backing
              The merits, so various, of W* * * *n's Jet Blacking."

[332] This trifle, well enough for the purpose, was honoured with approbation.

The two friends, unwilling to offend the delicacy of the Poet by a premature pecuniary compliment at this early stage of acquaintance, took his address and departed, professing an intention of calling upon him at his lodgings in the evening.

"I would not, were I a bricklayer's labourer," exclaimed Bob, "exchange situations with this unfortunate literary hack—this poor devil of mental toil and precarious result, who depends for scanty subsistence on the caprice of his more fortunate inferiors, whose minds, unexpanded by liberal feeling, and absorbed in the love of self, and the sordid consideration of interest, are callous to the impression of benevolence!—But let us hope that few such cases of genius in adversity occur, even in this widely extended and varied scene of human vicissitude."

"That hope," replied his Cousin, "is founded on

              "The baseless fabric of a vision!"

There are, at this moment, thousands in London of literary merit, of whom we may truly say,

              "Chill penury repress their noble rage,
              And freeze the genial current of the soul!"

Men unsustained by the hand of friendship, who pine in unheeded obscurity, suffering the daily privations of life's indispensable requisites, or obtaining a scanty pittance at the will of opulent ignorance, and under the humiliating contumely, as we have just been informed, even of Blacking Manufacturers!

"But here is a man, who, during a period of eight years, held a public situation, the duties of which he performed satisfactorily to the last; and yet, on the abolition of the establishment, while the Principal retires in the full enjoyment of his ample salary, this senior Clerk and his fellows in calamity are cast adrift upon the world, to live or starve, and in the dearth of employment suitable to their habits and education, the unfortunate outcasts are left to perish, perhaps by the hand of famine in the streets, or that of despondency in a garret; or, what is worse than either, consigned to linger out their remaining wretched [333] days under the "cold reluctant charity" of a parish workhouse.{1}

"When the principal of a Public-office has battened for many years on his liberal salary, and the sole duties required of him have been those of occasionally signing a few official papers, why not discontinue his salary on the abolition of the establishment, and partition it out in pensions to those disbanded Clerks by whose indefatigable exertions the business of the public has been satisfactorily conducted? These allowances, however inadequate to the purpose of substantiating all the comforts, might yet realise the necessaries of life, and, at least, would avert the dread of absolute destitution."

A pause ensued—Dashall continued in silent rumination—a few moments brought our Heroes to the Horse Guards; and as the acquirement "devoutly to be wished" was a general knowledge of metropolitan manners, they proceeded to the observance of Real Life in a Suttling House.

Child's Suttling House at the Horse Guards is the almost exclusive resort of military men, who, availing themselves of the intervals between duty, drop in to enjoy a pipe and pint.

              "To fight their battles o'er again,
              Thrice to conquer all their foes,
              And thrice to slay the slain."

In the entrance on the left is a small apartment, bearing the dignified inscription, in legible characters on the door, of "The Non-Commissioned Officers' Room." In front of the bar is a larger space, boxed off, and appropriated to the use of the more humble heroical aspirants, the private men; and passing through the bar, looking into Whitehall, is the Sanctum Sanctorum, for the reception of the more exalted rank, the golden-laced, three-striped, subordinate commandants, Serjeant-Majors and Serjeants, with the colour-clothed regimental appendants of Paymasters and Adjutants' Clerks, et cetera. Into this latter apartment our accomplished friends were ushered with becoming

         1 "Swells then thy feeling heart, and streams thine eye
            O'er the deserted being, poor and old,

           Whom cold reluctant parish-charity
           Consigns to mingle with his kindred mold."
           —Charlotte Smith.

[334] respect to their superior appearance, at the moment when a warm debate was carrying on as to the respective merits of the deceased Napoleon and the hero of Waterloo.

The advocate of the former seemed unconnected with the army: the adherent to the latter appeared in the gaudy array of a Colour-Serjeant of the Foot Guards, and was decorated with a Waterloo medal, conspicuously suspended by a blue ribbon to the upper button of his jacket; and of this honourable badge the possessor seemed not less vain than if he had been adorned with the insignia of the most noble order of the Garter.

"I contend, and I defy the universe to prove the contrary," exclaimed the pertinacious Serjeant in a tone of authoritative assertion, "that the Duke of Wellington is a greater man than ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!"

"By no means," answered the Civilian. "I admit, so far as a thorough knowledge of military tactics, and a brilliant career of victory constitutes greatness, his grace of Wellington to be a great hero, but certainly not the greatest 'inan that ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!" "Is there a greater man? Did there ever exist a greater?—when and where?" the Serjeant impatiently demanded.

"Buonaparte was a greater," answered the opposing disputant; "because to military renown unparalleled in the annals of ancient or modern history, he added the most consummate knowledge of government; and although his actions might frequently partake of arbitrary sway, (and who is the human being exempted from human frailty) yet he certainly created and sustained, in her most elevated zenith, the splendour of France, till crushed by the union of nations in arms; and if power is the criterion of greatness, who was, is, or ever can be greater than the man, who, emerging from obscurity, raised himself solely by his mental energies to the highest elevation of human glory; and who, this Island excepted, commanded the destinies of all Europe! The most determined of his enemies will not deny, calmly and duly appreciating his merits, that he possessed unrivalled talent; and this fact the hero, whose cause you so vehemently espouse, would, I have no doubt, be the foremost in acknowledging."

In deficiency of argument, the Serjeant resorted to invective; the vociferous disputation reached the next [335] room, and was taken up by the rank and file in a manner not less tumultuous; when an honest native of the "Emerald Isle" good-humouredly terminated the war of words, calling for half a quartern of gin, with which to qualify a pint of Whitbread's entire.

"To the immortal memory of St. Patrick, and long life to him!" exclaimed Patrick O'Shaughnessy. "If there did not exist but them two selves, bad luck to the spalpeen who will say that the Duke and my Lord Londondery would not be the greatest men in the universe!"

This sally led to a cessation of hostilities, which might have been followed by a definitive treaty of peace, but the dæmon of discord again made its appearance in the tangible shape of a diminutive personage, who, hitherto silently occupying a snug out-of-the-way corner by the fireplace, had escaped observation.

Dashall and his Cousin emerging from the Sanctum Sanctorum, where their presence seemed to have operated as a check on the freedom of discussion, had just seated themselves in the room allotted to the private soldiers, when, in a broad northern accent, the aforesaid taciturn gentleman, selecting the two strangers, who, of all the company, seemed alone worthy the honour of his notice, thus addressed them:

"I crave your pardon, Sirs—but I guess frae your manner that ye are no unacquainted wi' the movements o' high life—do you ken how lang the King means to prolong his abode amang our neebors owre the water, his hair-brain'd Irish subjects, whase notions o' loyalty hae excited sae mony preposterously antic exhibitions by that volatile race O' people?"

"I am not in possession," answered Dashall, "of any information on the subject."

"By the manes of the Priest," exclaimed Mr. O'Shaughnessy, "but the King (God bless him) has visited the land of green Erin, accompanied by the spirit of harmony, and praties without the sauce of butter-milk be his portion, who does not give them both a hearty welcome!—Arrah, what mane you by a preposterous exhibition? By hecky, the warm hearts of the sons and daughters of St. Patrick have exhibited an unsophisticated feeling of loyalty, very opposite indeed to the chilling indifference, not to say worse of it, of those his subjects at home; and as Sir William, the big Baronet of the City, said in the House [336] that gives laws to the land, Why should not his Majesty be cheered up a little?"

This effusion of loyalty was well received, and Dashall and his Cousin cordially united in the general expression of approbation.

"This is a' vera weel," said the Northern; "but an overstrained civility wears ay the semblance o' suspicion, and fulsome adulation canna be vera acceptable to the mind o' delicate feeling: for instance, there is my ain country, and a mair ancient or a mair loyal to its legitimate Sovereign there disna exist on the face o' the whole earth; wad the King condescend to honor wi' his presence the palace o' Holyrod House, he wad experience as ardent a manifestation o' fidelity to his person and government in Auld Reekie as that shown him in Dublin, though aiblins no quite sae tumultuous; forbye, it wadna hae been amiss to hae gaen the preference to a nation whare his ancestors held sway during sae mony centuries, and whare, in the castle of Edinburgh, is still preserved the sacred regalia, with which it migh no hae been unapropos to hae graced his royal head and hand amidst the gratifying pageantry o' a Scotch coronation. Sure I am that North Britain has never been honored publicly wi' a royal visit.—Whether ony branch o' the present reigning family hae been there incognita they best ken themselves."

"You seem to have forgot," observed Tallyho, "the visit of the Duke of Cumberland to Scotland in the year 1745."

"Begging your pardon for setting you right in that particular," answered the cynic, with a most significant expression of countenance, "that, Sir, was not a visit, but a visitation!"

"Appropriate enough," whispered Dashall to Tallyho.

"Augh, boderation to nice distinctions!" exclaimed O'Shaughnessy; "here, Mister Suttler be after tipping over anoder half quartern of the cratur, wid which to drink success to the royal visitant."

"And that the company may participate in the gratifying expression of attachment to their Sovereign, Landlord," said Dashall, "let the glass go round."

"Testifying our regard for the Sovereign," resumed the Northern, "it canna be understood that we include a' the underlings o' Government. We ought, as in duty bound, to venerate and obey the maister o' the house; bat it is [337] by no means necessary that we should pay a similar respect to his ox and his ass, his man-servant and his maid-servant. May be, had he been at hame on a late occasion o' melancholy solemnity, blood wadna hae been spilt, and mickle dool and sorrow wad hae been avoided."

"We perfectly understand your allusion," said one from the group of Life-guardsmen: "Of us now present there were none implicated in the unfortunate occurrences either of that day or a subsequent one: yet we must not silently hear our comrades traduced—perhaps then it may be as well to drop the subject."

"I canna think o' relinquishing a topic 0' discourse," answered the Northern, "replete wi' mickle interest, merely at your suggestion; it may be ye did your duty in obeying the commands, on that lamentable occasion, O' your superior officers, and it is to be hoped that the duty O' the country, towards those with whom originated the mischief, will not be forgotten; there is already on record against the honour 0' your corps a vera serious verdick."

Here the Life-guardsmen spontaneously started up; but the immediate interposition of Dashall averted me impending storm; while Tallyho, imitating the generosity of his Cousin, ordered the circulation once more of the bottle, to Unanimity betwixt the military and the people. Harmony thus restored, the two friends took their leave, amidst the grateful acknowledgments of the company, O'Shaughnessy swearing on their departure, that doubtless the two strangers were begot in Ireland, although they might have come over to England to be born! While the pertinacious Northern observed, that appearances were aften deceitful, although, to be sure, the twa friends had vera mickle the manners 0' perfectly well-bred gentlemen, and seem'd, forbye, to hae a proper sense o' national honor.

Proceeding into Whitehall, Tallyho much admired the statue-like figures of the mounted sentries in the recesses by the gate of the Horse-guards; the relief had just approached; the precision of retirement of the one party, and advance to its post of the other: the interesting appearance of the appropriately caparisoned and steady demeanour of the horses, and their instinctive knowledge of military duty, excited deservedly prolonged attention,

[338] "One would think," said Tallyho, "that these noble animals are really actuated by reasoning faculties."

"Hereafter," replied Dashall, "you will still more incline to this opinion, when we have an opportunity of being present on a cavalry field-day in Hyde Park, where manoeuvre will appear to have attained its acme of perfection, as much from the wonderful docility of the horse as the discipline of the rider."{l}

"But hold, who have we here?—Our friend Sparkle, gazing about him with an eye of inquisitive incertitude, as if in search of lost property."

As his two friends approached, he seemed bewildered in the labyrinth of conjecture.—"I have lost my horse!" he exclaimed, in answer to the inquiry of Dashall. "Having occasion to stop half an hour at Drummond's, I gave the animal in charge of an Israelite urchin, and now neither are to be seen."

Casting a look down the street, they at last discerned the Jew lad, quickly, yet carefully leading the horse along, with two boys mounted on its back. Thoroughly instructed in the maxim—Get money, honestly if you can, but get it by any means! young Moses had made the most of the present opportunity, by letting out the horse, at a penny a ride, from Charing Cross to the Horse Guards; this, by his own confession, was the fifteenth trip! Sparkle, highly exasperated, was about to apply the discipline of the whip to the shoulders of the thrifty speculator, when Tallyho, interceding in his behalf, he was released, with a suitable admonition.

         1 Not long since some cavalry horses, deemed "unfit for
         further service," were sold at Tattersal's. Of one of these
         a Miller happened to be the purchaser. Subservient now to
         the ignoble purposes of burthen, the horse one day was
         led,'with a sack of flour on his back, to the next market-
         town; there while the Miller entered a house for a few
         moments, and the animal quietly waited at the door, a
         squadron of dragoons drew up in an adjacent street, forming
         by sound of trumpet; the instant that the Miller's horse
         heard the well-known signal, it started off with as much
         celerity as its burthen admitted, and, to the great
         amusement of the troop, and astonishment of the spectators,
         took its station in the ranks, dressing in line, with the
         accustomed precision of an experienced veteran in the
         service; and it was with considerable difficulty that the
         Miller, who had now hastened to the spot, could induce the
         animal to relinquish its military ardour, to which it still
         appeared to cling with renewed and fond pertinacity!

Sparkle, mounting his recovered charger, left his [339] pedestrian friends for the present, to continue their excursion; who, proceeding up St. Martin's Lane, and admiring that noble edifice, the Church, reached, without other remarkable occurrence, the quietude of Leicester Square.

Close by is Barker's Panorama, an object of attraction too prominent to be passed without inspection. They now entered, and Tallyho stood mute with delight at the astonishing effect of the perspective; while, as if by the powers of enchantment, he seemed to have been transported into other regions. Amidst scenes of rich sublimity, in the centre of a vast amphitheatre, bounded only by the distant horizon, far remote from the noisy bustle of the Metropolis, he gave full scope to his imagination; and after an hour of pleasing reverie, left the fascinating delusion with evident reluctance.

Emerging once more into the gay world, the two associates, in search of Real Life in London, proceeded through Covent Garden Market, where fruit, flowers, and exotics in profusion, invite alike the eye and the appetite.

Onwards they reached the classic ground of Drury, "Where Catherine Street descends into the Strand."

"I never," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "pass this spot without a feeling of veneration—the scenes of "olden times" rise on my view, and the shades of Garrick, and our late loss, and not less illustrious Sheridan, flit before me! This was then, as now, the seat of Cyprian indulgence—the magnet of sensual attraction, where feminine youth and beauty in their most fascinating and voluptuous forms were let out by the unprincipled procuress, and the shrines of Venus and Apollo invited the votaries of each to nocturnal sacrifice.{1}

         1 The avenue to the boxes of Drury Lane Theatre was, in the
         time of Garrick, through Vinegar Yard. In this passage an
         old spider, better known, perhaps, by the name of a
         Procuress, had spread her web, alias, opened a Bagnio, and
         obtained a plentiful living by preying on those who
         unfortunately or imprudently fell into her clutches. Those
         who are not unacquainted with haddocks, will understand the
         loose fish alluded to, who beset her doors, and accosted
         with smiles or insults every one that passed. It happened
         that a noble Lord, in his way to the theatre, with his two
         daughters under his arm, was most grossly attacked by this
         band of "flaming ministers." He immediately went behind the
         scenes, and insisted on seeing Mr. Garrick, to whom he
         represented his case, and so roused the vengeance of the
         little Manager, that he instantly, full of wrath, betook
         himself to this unholy Sybil:—

         "Twin-child of Cacus; Vulcan was their sire, Full offspring
         both of healthless fume and fire!"

         Finding her at the mouth of her cavern, he quickly gave veut
         to his rage in the most buskin'd strain, and concluded by
         swearing that he would have her ousted. To this assault she
         was not backward in reply, but soon convinced him that she
         was much more powerful in abusive language than our Roscius,
         though he had recourse in his speech to Milton's "hell-born
         bitch," and other phrases of similar celebrity, whilst she
         entirely depended on her own natural resources. Those to
         whom this oratory is not new, have no need of our reporting
         any of it; and those to whom it is a perfect mystery, boast
         a "state the more gracious," and are the more happy in their
         ignorance. None of this rhapsody, however, although teeming
         with blasphemy and abuse, had any effect on Garrick, and he
         would have remained unmoved had she not terminated in the
         following manner, which so excited the laughter of the
         collected mob, and disconcerted "the soul of Richard,"
         that, without another word to say, he hastily took shelter
         in the theatre. Putting her arms akimbo, and letting down
         each side of her mouth with wonderful expression of
         contempt, she exclaimed—"You whipper snapper! you oust me!
         You be d——-d!    My house is as good as your's—aye, and
         better too.    I can come into your's whenever I like, and
         see the best that you can do for a shilling; but d——-me if
         you, or any body else, shall come into mine for less than a
         fifteen-penny negus."

[340] "This street and neighbourhood was wont to exhibit, nightly, a melancholy proof of early infamy. Here might be seen a prolonged succession of juvenile voluptuaries, females, many of them under fourteen years of age, offering themselves to indiscriminate prostitution, in a state verging on absolute nudity, alluring the passengers, by every seductive wile, to the haunts of depravity, from which retreat was seldom effected without pecuniary exaction, and frequently accompanied by personal violence. The nuisance has been partly abated, but entirely to remove it would be a task of more difficult accomplishment than that of cleansing the Augean stable, and would baffle all the labours of Hercules!"

"This fact," observed Tallyho, "throws an indelible stain on metropolitan police."

"Not so," answered his companion, "scarce a day passes without groups of these unfortunates being held before a magistrate, and humanely disposed of in various ways, with the view of preventing a recurrence to vicious habits,—but in vain;—the stain is more attributed to the depraved nature of man, who first seduces, and then casts off [341] to infamy and indigence the unhappy victim of credulity. Many of these wretched girls would, in all probability, gladly have abstained from the career of vice, if, on their first fall, they had experienced the consoling protection of parents or friends;—but, shut out from home,—exiled from humanity,—divested of character, and without resources,—no choice is left, other than mendicity or prostitution!"{1}

The sombre reflections occasioned by these remarks gradually gave way to those of a more enlivening hue, as the two friends proceeded along the Strand. The various display, at the tradesmen's shop windows, of useful and ornamental articles,—the continued bustle of the street,—the throng of passengers of every description, hurrying on in the activity of business, or more leisurely lounging their way under the impulse of curiosity,—the endless succession of new faces, and frequent occurrence of interesting incident;—these united in forming an inexhaustible fund of amusement and admiration.

         1 "Hatton Garden.—On Saturday, no less than fifteen
         unfortunate girls, all elegantly attired, were placed at the
         bar, charged by Cadby, the street-keeper on the Foundling
         Estate, with loitering about the neighbourhood for their
         nocturnal purposes. The constable stated, that repeated
         complaints had been made to him by many of the inhabitants,
         of the disgraceful practice of vast numbers of frail ones,
         who resort every night to Brunswick Square. He had been
         therefore instructed to endeavour to suppress the nuisance.
         About twelve o'clock on Friday night, while perambulating
         the district, he found the fifteen prisoners at the bar in
         Brunswick Square, at their usual pursuits, and all of them
         were in the act of picking up gentlemen. He procured
         assistance, and they were taken into custody, and conveyed
         to the watch-house.

         None of the prisoners could deny the charge, but expressed
         great contrition at being under the painful necessity of
         procuring their subsistence in so disgraceful a manner. They
         were examined individually, by the magistrates, as to the
         origin that brought them to disgrace. Some, from their
         admission, were farmers' daughters, and had been decoyed
         from their relatives, and brought to London, and
         subsequently deserted by their seducers. Some were nursery-
         maids—others, girls seduced from boarding schools. Their
         tales were truly distressing—some had only been six months
         in such infamy, others twelve months, and some two years and
         upwards.

         The worthy magistrate, with much feeling, admonished them on
         the evil course they were following, and pointed out the
         means still left for them to return to the paths of virtue;
         and on their severally promising never to appear again in
         that quarter, they were discharged."

Passing through Temple Bar, "Once more," said [342] Dashall, "we enter the dominions of another Sovereign,—the Monarch of the City,—than whom there is none more tenacious of the rights and immunities of his subjects. Professing a strictly civil government, and consequent hostility to military interference, it does not always happen that the regal sway of the East harmonizes with that of the West, and the limited reign of the former is generally most popular when most in opposition to that of the latter. Several important events have occurred wherein a late patriotic Right Honourable Chief Magistrate has had the opportunity of manifesting a zealous, firm, and determined attachment to the privileges of the community: the good wishes of his fellow-citizens have accompanied his retirement, and his private and public worth will be long held in deserved estimation."

Turning up the Old Bailey, and passing, with no pleasing sensations, that structure in front of which so many human beings expiate their offences with their lives, without, in any degree, the frequency of the dreadful example lessening the perpetration of crime,—"The crowd thickens," exclaimed the 'Squire; and advancing into Smithfield, a new scene opened on the view of the astonished Tallyho. An immense and motley crowd was wedged together in the open space of the market, which was surrounded by booths and shows of every description, while the pavement was rendered nearly impassable by a congregated multitude, attracted by the long line of stalls, exhibiting, in ample redundancy, the gorgeously gilt array of ginger-bread monarchs, savory spice-nuts, toys for children and those of elder growth, and the numerous other et cetera of Bartholomew Fair, which at that moment the Lord Mayor of London, with accustomed state and formality, was in the act of proclaiming.

A more dissonant uproar now astounded the ears of Bob than ever issued from the hounds at falt in the field or at variance in the kennel! The prolonged stunning and vociferous acclamation of the mob, accompanied by the deeply sonorous clangor of the gong—the shrill blast of the trumpet—the hoarse-resounding voices of the mountebanks, straining their lungs to the pitch of extremity, through speaking tubes—the screams of women and children, and the universal combination of discord, announced the termination of the Civic Sovereign's performance in the drama; "the revelry now had began," [343] and all was obstreperous uproar, and "confusion worse confounded."

In the vortex of the vast assemblage, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin were more closely hemmed in than they probably would have been at the rout of female distinction, where inconvenience is the order of the night, and pressure, to the dread of suffocation, the criterion of rank and fashion. Borne on the confluent tide, retreat was impracticable; alternately then, stationary and advancing with the multitude, as it urged its slow and undulating progress; or paused at the attractions of Wombwell and Gillman's rival menageries—the equestrian shows of Clark and Astley—the theatres of Richardson and Gyngell, graced by the promenade of the dramatis personæ and lure of female nudity—the young giantess—the dwarfs—and the accomplished lady, who, born without arms, cuts out watch-papers with her toes, and takes your likeness with her teeth!—Amidst these and numerous other seductive impediments to their progress, our pedestrians, resisting alike temptation and invitation, penetrated the mass of spectators, and gained an egress at Long Lane, uninjured in person, and undamaged in property, "save and except" the loss, by Bob, of a shoe, and the rent frock of his honourable Cousin. To repair the one and replace the other was now the predominant consideration. By fortunate proximity to a descendant of St. Crispin, the latter object was speedily effected; but the difficulty of finding, in that neighbourhood, a knight of the thimble, appearing insurmountable, the two friends pursued their course, Dashall drawing under his arm the shattered skirts of his garment, until they reached Playhouse Yard, in Upper Whitecross Street, St. Luke's, to which they had been previously directed, the epitome of Monmouth Street, chiefly inhabited by tailors and old clothes retailers, where purchase and repair are equally available.

Entering a shop occupied by an intelligent Scotch tailor, who, with his son, was busily employed in making up black cloth and kerseymere waistcoats, his spouse, a native of Edinburgh, with a smile of complacency and avidity of utterance that strongly indicated a view to the main chance, put her usual inquiry:

"What is your wull, Gentlemen—what wad you please to want?"

"My good lady," answered Dashall, "we would be [344] glad to accept the services of your husband," exhibiting at same time the rent skirts of his frock. "This accident was sustained in passing, or rather in being squeezed through the Fair; my friend too, experienced a trifling loss; but, as it has been replaced, I believe that he does not require present amendment."

The materials destined to form the black waistcoats were then put aside, while the northern adept in the exercise of the needle proceeded to operate on the fractured garment; and a coat being supplied, ad interim, Tom and his friend accepted the "hospitable invitation of the guid wife, and seated themselves with unhesitating sociability.

"And sae ye hae been to the Fair, gentlemen?" "We have, madam," said Dashall, "and unintentionally so; we were not, until on the spot, aware of any such exhibition, and got within its vortex just as the Lord Mayor had licensed, by proclamation, the commencement of this annual scene of idleness, riot and dissipation!"

"Hoot awa, Sir, ye wadna wish to deprive us o' our amusements; poor folks dinna often enjoy pleasure, and why should na they hae a wee bit o' it now and then, as weel as the rich?"

"I know not, my good lady," exclaimed Bon, "that I can altogether assimilate with your's my ideas of pleasure; if it consists in being pressed nearly to death by a promiscuous rabble, in attempts on your pocket, shoes trod off your feet by the formidable iron-cased soles of a drayman's ponderous sandals, to say nothing of the pleasing effect thus produced upon your toes, and in having the coat torn off from your back, I would freely resign to the admirers of such pleasure the full benefit of its enjoyment."

"Accidents wull happen ony where and in ony situation," replied the garrulous wife; "ye may be thankfu', gentlemen, that its nae waur,—and, for the matter o' the rent frock, my guid man wull repair it in sic a way that the disaster wull no be seen, and the coat wull look as weel as ever."

The promise was verified; the reparation was made with equal neatness and celerity; something beyond the required remuneration was given; and Dashall inquiring if the worthy dame of Auld Reekie would take a drop of cordial, the friendly offer was accepted, and the glass of [345] good fellowship having been drank, and civilities interchanged, the strangers departed.

They were now in Whitecross Street, where sojourned their acquaintance of the morning, the distressed Poet; and, from the accuracy of description, had no difficulty in ascertaining his place of residence.

It was in a public-house; a convenient lodging for the forlorn being, who, exiled from friendship, and unconnected by any ties of consanguinity, can dress his scanty meal by a gratuitous fire, and where casual generosity may sometimes supply him with a draught of Hanbury's exhilarating beverage.

At the bar, directly facing the street door, the strangers, on inquiring for the Poet by name, were directed by the landlord, with a sarcastical expression of countenance, to "the first floor down the chimney!" while the Hostess, whose demeanour perfectly accorded with that of the well-manner'd gentlewoman, politely interfered, and, shewing the parlour, sent a domestic to acquaint her lodger that he was wanted below stairs.

The summons was instantaneously obeyed; but as the parlour precluded the opportunity of private conversation, being partly occupied by clamorous butchers, with whom this street abounds to redundancy, the Poet had no other alternative than that of inviting the respectable visitants to his attic, or, as the Landlord facetiously named the lofty domicile, his first floor down the chimney!

Real Life in London must be seen, to be believed. The Hon. Tom Dashall and his friend Tallyho were reared in the lap of luxury, and never until now formed an adequate conception of the distressing privations attendant on suffering humanity.

With a dejection of spirits evidently occasioned by the humiliating necessity of ushering his polished friends into the wretched asylum of penury, the Poet led the way with tardy reluctancy, while his visitors regretted every step of ascent, under the appalling circumstance of giving pain to adversity; yet they felt that to recede would be more indelicate than to advance.

The apartment which they now entered seemed a lumber room, for the reception of superfluous or unserviceable furniture, containing not fewer than eleven decayed and mutilated chairs of varied description; and the limited space, to make the most of it in a pecuniary point of view, [346] was encroached upon by three uncurtained beds, of most impoverished appearance,—while, exhibiting the ravages of time in divers fractures, the dingy walls and ceiling, retouched by the trowel in many places with a lighter shade of repairing material, bore no unapt resemblance to the Pye-bald Horse in Chiswell-street! Calculating on its utility and probable future use, the builder of the mansion had given to this room the appendage of a chimney, but evidently it had for many years been unconscious of its usual accompaniment, fire. Two windows had originally admitted the light of heaven, but to reduce the duty, one was internally blocked up, while externally uniformity was preserved. A demolished pane of glass in the remaining window, close to which stood a small dilapidated table, gave ingress to a current of air; the convenient household article denominated a clothes-horse, stood against the wall; and several parallel lines of cord were stretched across the room, on which to hang wet linen, a garret being considered of free access to all the house, and the comfort or health of its occupant held in utter derision and contempt!

Here then,—

              "In the worst Inn's worst room, with cobwebs hung,
              The walls of plaster and the floors of dung,"

entered Dashall and his Cousin Tallyho. The latter familiarly seating himself on the ricketty remains of what had once been an arm-chair, but now a cripple, having lost one of its legs, the precarious equilibrium gave way under the unaccustomed shock of the contact, and the 'Squire came to the ground, to his no small surprise, the confusion of the poet, and amusement of Dashall!

With many apologies for the awkwardness of their very humble accommodation, and grateful expression of thanks for the honour conferred upon him, the Poet replaced Tallyho in a firmer seat, and a silence of some few moments ensued, the two friends being at a loss in what manner to explain, and the Poet unwilling to inquire the object of their visit.

Dashall began at last, by observing that in pursuit of the knowledge of Real Life in London, he and his accompanying friend had met with many incidents both ludicrous and interesting; but that in the present instance their visit was rather influenced by sympathy than [347] curiosity, and that where they could be serviceable to the interest of merit in obscurity, they always should be happy in the exercise of a duty so perfectly congenial with their feelings.

Many years had elapsed since the person, to whom these remarks were addressed, had heard the voice of consolation, and its effect was instantaneous; his usual sombre cast of countenance became brightened by the glow of cheerful animation, and he even dwelt on the subject of his unfortunate circumstances with jocularity:

"The elevated proximity of a garret," he observed, "to the sublimer regions, has often been resorted to as the roost of genius; and why should I, of the most slender, if any, literary pretensions, complain? And yet my writings, scattered amongst the various fugitive periodical publications of this and our sister island, if collected together, would form a very voluminous compilation."

"I have always understood," said Bob, "that the quality, not the quantum, constituted the fame of an author's productions."

"True, Sir," answered the Poet; "and I meant not the vanity of arrogating to myself any merit from my writings, with reference either to quantum or quality. I alluded to the former, as merely proving the inefficacy of mental labour in realizing the necessaries of life to an author whom celebrity declines acknowledging. Similarly situated, it would appear was the Dutchman mentioned by the late Doctor Walcot,

              "My Broder is te poet, look,
              As all te world must please,
              For he heb wrote, py Got, a book
              So big as all this cheese!"

"On the other hand, Collins, Hammond, and Gray, wrote each of them but little, yet their names will descend to posterity!—And had Gray, of his poems the Bard, and the Elegy in a Country Church Yard, written only one, and written nothing else, he had required no other or better passport to immortality!"{1}

         1 Of that great and multitudinous writer, Doctor Samuel
         Johnson, the following anecdote is told: "Being one morning
         in the library at Buckingham House honoured with the
         presence of Royalty, the King, his late Majesty, inquired
         why he, (Mr. Johnson) did not continue to write.    "May it
         please your Majesty," answered the Doctor, "I think I have
         written enough."—"I should have thought so too," his
         Majesty replied, "if, Doctor Johnson, you had not written so
         well."

[348] In this opinion the visitants, who were both well conversant with our native literature, readily acquiesced.

"Have you never," asked Dashall, "thought of publishing a volume by subscription?"

"I meditated such intention," answered the Poet, "not long ago; drew up the necessary Prospectus, with a specimen of the Poetry, and perambulated the Metropolis in search of patronage. In some few instances I was successful, and, though limited the number, yet the high respectability of my few Subscribers gave me inexpressible satisfaction; several of our nobility honoured me with their names, and others, my patrons, were of the very first class of literature. Nevertheless, I encountered much contumelious reception; and after an irksome and unavailing perseverance of a month's continuance, I was at last compelled to relinquish all hope of success.

"Having then on my list the name of a very worthy Alderman who lately filled the Civic Chair with honour to himself and advantage to his fellow-citizens, I submitted my prospectus in an evil hour to another Alderman, a baronet, of this here and that there notoriety!

"Waiting in his Banking-house the result of my application, he condescended to stalk forth from the holy of holies, his inner room, with the lofty demeanour of conscious importance, when, in the presence of his Clerks and others, doubtless to their great edification and amusement, the following colloquy ensued, bearing in his hand my unlucky Prospectus, with a respectful epistle which had accompanied it:—

"Are you the writer," he asked in a majesterial tone, "of this here letter?"

"I am, Sir W*****m, unfortunately!"

"Then," he continued, "you may take them there papers back again, I have no time to read Prospectuses, and so Mister Poet my compliments, and good morning to you!!!"

"These literally were his words; and such was the astounding effect they produced on my mind, that, although I had meant to have passed through the Royal Exchange, I yet, in the depth of my reverie, wandered I knew not where, and, before recovering my recollection, found myself in the centre of London Bridge!"

[349] The detail of this fact, so characteristic of rude, ungentlemanly manners, and the barbarian ignorance of this great man of little soul, excited against him, with Dashall and his friend, a mingled feeling of ridicule, contempt and reprobation!

"Real Life in London still!" exclaimed Talltho; "intellect and indigence in a garret, and wealth and ignorance in a banking-house!—I would at least have given him, in deficiency of other means, the wholesome castigation of reproof."

"I did," said the Poet, "stung to the quick by such unmerited contumely, I retired to my attic, and produced a philippic named the Recantation: I cannot accommodate you at present with a copy of the Poem, but the concluding stanzas I can repeat from memory:—

              "C****s, thy house in Lombard Street
              Affords thee still employment meet,
              Thy consequence retaining;
              For there thy Partners and thy Clerks
              Must listen to thy sage remarks,
              Subservient, uncomplaining.

              And rob'd in Aldermanic gown,
              With look and language all thy own,
              Thou mak'st thy hearers stare,
              When this here cause, so wisely tried,
              Thou put'st with self-applause aside,
              To wisely try that there.

              Nor can thy brother Cits forget
              When thou at civic banquet sate,
              And ask'd of Heaven a boon,
              A toast is call'd, on thee all eyes
              Intent, when peals of laughter rise—
              A speedy peace and soon!

              Nor yet orthography nor grammar,
              Vain effort on thy pate to hammer,
              Impregnable that fort is!
              Witness thy toast again,—Three Cs;
              For who would think that thou by these
              Meant Cox, and King, and Curtis
              C****s, though scant thy sense, yet Heaven
              To thee the better boon hast given
              Or wealth—then sense despise,
              And deem not Fate's decrees amiss,
              For still "where ignorance is bliss
              'Tis folly to be wise!"

[350] "Bravo!" exclaimed Dashall; "re-issue your Prospectus, my friend, and we will accelerate, with our best interest and influence, the publication of your volume. Let it be dedicated to the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob Tallyho. In the meanwhile, accept this trifle, as a complimentary douceur uniformly given on such occasions; and, amidst the varied scenes of Real Life in London, I shall frequently recur to the present as the most gratifying to my feelings."

              "By this the sun was out of sight,
              And darker gloamin brought the night."

The benevolent associates now departed, pleased with the occurrences of the day, and, more than all, with the last, wherein the opportunity was afforded them of extending consolation and relief to genius in adversity![351]

## CHAPTER XXII

              ........"Mark!
              He who would cut the knot that does entwine
              And link two loving hearts in unison,
              May have man's form; but at his birth, be sure on't,
              Some devil thrust sweet nature's hand aside
              Ere she had pour'd her balm within his breast,
              To warm his gross and earthly mould with pity.

              .......I know what 'tis
              When worldly knaves step in with silver beards,
              To poison bliss, and pluck young souls asunder."

TOM and his Cousin were surprised the next morning by a visit from Mr. Mortimer and his friend Merrywell, whose dismal features and long visages plainly indicated some unpleasant disaster, and Tom began to fear blame would be attached to them for leaving his party at Darkhouse Lane.

"Pray," said Merrywell, "can you tell me where to find your friend Sparkle?"

"Indeed," replied Dashall, a little relieved by this question, "I am not Sparkle's keeper; but pray be seated—what is the matter, is it a duel, do you want a second?—I know he is a good shot."

"This levity, Sir," said Mortimer, "is not to be borne. The honour of a respectable family is at stake, and must be satisfied. No doubt you, as his very oldest friend, know where he is; and I desire you will immediately inform me, or———"

"Sir," said Dashall, who was as averse as unused to be desired by any person—"do you know whom you address, and that I am in my own house? if you do, you have certainly discarded all propriety of conduct and language before you cross'd the threshold."

"Gentlemen," said Merrywell, "perhaps some explanation is really necessary here. My friend Mortimer speaks under agonized feelings, for which, I am sure, your good sense will make every allowance. Miss Mortimer———"

"Miss Mortimer," exclaimed Dashall, rising from his [352] seat, "you interest me strongly, say, what of Miss Mortimer?"

"Alas," said Mortimer, evidently endeavouring to suppress emotions which appeared to agitate his whole frame, and absorb every mental faculty, "we are unable to account for her absence, and strongly suspect she is in company with your friend Sparkle—can you give us any information relative to either of them?"

Dashall assured them he knew nothing of the fugitives, but that he would certainly make every inquiry in his power, if possible to find out Sparkle. Upon which they departed, though not without hinting they expected Tom had the power of making a search more effectually than either Mortimer or Merrywell.

"Egad!" said Tom to Tallyho, "this absence of Sparkle means something more than I can at present conceive; and it appears that we must now venture forth in search of our guide. I hope he has taken a good direction himself."

"Mortimer appears hurt," continued Bob, "and I can scarcely wonder at it."

"It is a trifle in high life now-a-days," replied Dashall, "and my life for it we shall obtain some clue to his mode of operation before the day is out. Love is a species of madness, and oftentimes induces extraordinary movements. I have discovered its existence in his breast for some time past, and if he is really with the lady, I wonder myself that he has not given some sort of intimation; though I know he is very cautious in laying his plans, and very tenacious of admitting too many persons to know his intentions, for fear of some indiscreet friend unintentionally frustrating his designs."

"I apprehend we shall have a wild-goose chase of it," rejoined Bob.

"It serves however," continued Tom, "to diversify our peregrinations; and if it is his pleasure to be in love, we will endeavour to chase pleasure in pursuit of the Lover, and if guided by honourable motives, which I cannot doubt, we will wish him all the success he can wish himself, only regretting that we are deprived of his agreeable company.

              "Still free as air the active mind will rove,
              And search out proper objects for its love;
              But that once fix'd, 'tis past the pow'r of art
              To chase the dear idea from the heart.
              'Tis liberty of choice that sweetens life,
              Makes the glad husband and the happy wife."

[353] "But come, let us forth and see how the land lies; many persons obtain all their notoriety from an elopement; it makes a noise in the world, and even though frequently announced in our newspapers under fictitious titles, the parties soon become known and are recollected ever after; and some even acquire fame by the insertion of a paragraph announcing an elopement, in which they insinuate that themselves are parties; so that an elopement in high life may be considered as one of the sure roads to popularity."

"But not always a safe one," replied Bob.

"Life is full of casualties," rejoined Dashall, "and you are by this time fully aware that it requires something almost beyond human foresight to continue in the line of safety, while you are in pursuit of Real Life in London. Though it may fairly be said, 'That all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely passengers,' still they have their inside and their outside places, and each man in his time meets with strange adventures. It may also very properly be termed a Camera Obscura, reflecting not merely trees, sign-posts, houses, &c. but the human heart in all its folds, its feelings, its passions, and its motives. In it you may perceive conceit flirting its fan—arrogance adjusting its cravat—pedantry perverting its dictionary—vacuity humming a tune—vanity humming his neighbour—cunning shutting his eyes while listening to a pedagogue—and credulity opening his eyes and ears, willing and anxious to be deceived and duped."

"It is a strange world, indeed," said Tallyho; "and of all that I have ever heard or seen, this London of your's is the most extraordinary part."

"Yes,—

              "This world is a well-cover'd table,
              Where guests are promiscuously set;
              We all eat as long as we're able,
              And scramble for what we can get—"

answered his Cousin; "in fact, it is like every thing, and at the same time like nothing—[354]

              "The world is all nonsense and noise,
              Fantoccini, or Ombres Chinoises,
              Mere pantomime mummery
              Puppet-show flummery;
              A magical lantern, confounding the sight;

              Like players or puppets, we move
              On the wires of ambition and love;
              Poets write wittily,
              Maidens look prettily,
              'Till death drops the curtain
                    —all's over—good night!"

By this time they were at Long's, where, upon inquiry, all trace of Sparkle had been lost for two days. All was mystery and surprise, not so much that he should be absent, as that his servant could give no account of him, which was rather extraordinary. Tom ascertained, however, that no suspicion appeared to have been excited as to Miss Mortimer, and, with commendable discretion, avoided expressing a word which could create such an idea, merely observing, that most likely he had taken an unexpected trip into the country, and would be heard of before the day was out.

On leaving Long's however they were met again by Mortimer in breathless anxiety, evidently labouring under some new calamity.

"I am glad I have found you," said he, addressing himself to Dashall; "for I am left in this d———d wilderness of a place without a friend to speak to."

"How," inquired Ton, "what the d———l is the matter with you?"

"Why, you must know that Merry well is gone—"

"Gone—where to?"

"To—to—zounds, I've forgot the name of the people; but two genteel looking fellows just now very genteely told him he was wanted, and must come."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, and he told me to find you out, and let you know that he must become a bencher; and, without more todo, walked away with his new friends, leaving me forlorn enough. My Sister run away, my Uncle run after her—Sparkle absent, and Merrywell—"

"In the hands of the Nab-men—I see it all clear enough; and you have given a very concise, but comprehensive picture of your own situation; but don't despair, man, you will yet find all right, be assured; put yourself under my guidance, let the world wag as it will; it is useless to torment yourself with things you cannot prevent or cure.

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

[355] Mortimer scarcely knew how to relish this advice, and seemed to doubt within himself whether it was meant satirically or feelingly, till Dashall whispered in his ear a caution not to betray the circumstances that had transpired, for his Sister's sake. "But," continued he, "I never suffer these things, which are by no means uncommon in London, to interfere with my pursuits, though we are all somewhat at a loss. However, as the post is in by this time, some news may be expected, and we will call at home before we proceed any further.—Where do you think the Colonel is gone to?"

"Heaven only knows," replied Mortimer; "the whole family is in an uproar of surmise and alarm,—what may be the end of it I know not."

"A pretty breeze Master Sparkle has kick'd up, indeed," continued Tom; "but I have for some time noticed an alteration in him. He always was a gay trump, and whenever I find him seriously inclined, I suspect some mischief brewing; for rapid transitions always wear portentous appearances, and your serious files are generally sly dogs. My life for it they have stolen a march upon your Uncle, queered some country Parson, and are by this time snugly stowed away in the harbour of matrimony. As for Merrywell, I dare be sworn his friends will take care of him."

Expectation was on tiptoe as Dashall broke the seal of a letter that was handed to him on arrival at home. Mortimer was on the fidget, and Tallyho straining his neck upon the full stretch of anxiety to hear the news, when Dashall burst into a laugh, but in which neither of the others could join in consequence of not knowing the cause of it. In a few minutes however the mystery was in some degree explained.

"Here," said Tom, "is news—extraordinary news—an official dispatch from head-quarters, but without any information as to where the tents are pitched. It is but a short epistle." He then read aloud,

"Dear Dashall,

"Please inform the Mortimer family and friends that all's well.

Your's truly,

C. Sparkle."

Then handing the laconic epistle to Mortimer—"I trust," said he, "you will now be a little more at ease."

[356] Mortimer eagerly examined the letter for the postmark, but was not able to make out from whence it came.

"I confess," said he, "I am better satisfied than I was, but am yet at a loss to judge of the motives which have induced them to pursue so strange a course."

"The motive," cried Tom, "that may be easily explained; and I doubt not but you will find, although it may at present appear a little mysterious, Sparkle will be fully able to shew cause and produce effect. He is however a man of honour and of property, and most likely we may by this time congratulate you upon the change of your Sister's name. What a blaze it will make, and she will now most certainly become a sparkling subject. Hang it, man, don't look so dull upon a bright occasion.

              "To prove pleasure but pain, some have hit on a project,
              We're duller the merrier we grow,
              Exactly the same unaccountable logic
              That talks of cold fire and warm snow.

              For me, born by nature
              For humour and satire,
              I sing and I roar and I quaff;
              Each muscle I twist it,
              I cannot resist it,
              A finger held up makes me laugh.

              For since pleasure's joy's parent, and joy begets mirth,
              Should the subtlest casuist or sophist on earth
              Contradict me, I'd call him an ass and a calf,
              And boldly insist once for all,
              That the only criterion of pleasure's to laugh,
              And sing tol de rol, loi de rol lol."

This mirth of Dash all's did not seem to be in consonance with the feelings of Mortimer, who hastily took his departure.

"Come," said Tom to his Cousin, "having gained some information respecting one friend, we will now take a stroll through Temple Bar, and have a peep at Merrywell; he may perhaps want assistance in his present situation, though I will answer for it he is in a place of perfect security."

"How," said Bob—"what do you mean?"

"Mean, why the traps have nibbled him. He is arrested, and gone to a lock-up shop, a place of mere accommodation for gentlemen to take up their abode, for the purpose of [357] arranging their affairs, and where they can uninterruptedly make up their minds whether to give bail, put in appearance and defend the suit, or take a trip to Abbott's Priory; become a three months' student in the college of art, and undergo the fashionable ceremony of white-washing."

"I begin to understand you now," said Bob, "and the only difference between our two friends is, that one has willingly put on a chain for life—"

"And the other may in all probability (continued Tom,) have to chaff his time away with a chum—perhaps not quite so agreeable, though it really is possible to be very comfortable, if a man can reconcile himself to the loss of liberty, even in "durance vile."

By this time they were walking leisurely along Piccadilly,

              "And marching without any cumbersome load,
              They mark'd every singular sight on the road."

"Who is that meagre looking man and waddling woman, who just passed us?" inquired Tallyho.

"An old Bencher," was the reply; "there you see all that is left of a man of haut ton, one who has moved in the highest circles; but alas! bad company and bad play have reduced him to what he now is. He has cut up and turn'd down very well among the usurers and attornies; but it is impossible to say of him, as of his sirloin of a wife (for she cannot be called a rib, or at all events a spare rib) that there is any thing like cut and come again. The poor worn-out Exquisite tack'd himself to his Lady, to enable him to wipe out a long score, and she determined on taking him for better for worse, after a little rural felicity in a walk to have her fortune told by a gipsy at Norwood. He is now crippled in pocket and person, and wholly dependent upon bounty for the chance of prolonging a miserable existence. His game is up. But what is life but a game, at which every one is willing to play? one wins and another loses: why there have been as many moves among titled persons, Kings, Queens, Bishops, Lords and Knights, within the last century, as there are in a game at chess. Pawns have been taken and restored in all classes, from the Sovereign, who pawns or loses his crown, to the Lady whose reputation is in pawn, and becomes at last not worth half a crown. Shuffling, cutting, dealing out and [358] dealing in, double dealing and double faces, have long been the order of the day. Some men's cards are all trumps, whilst others have carte blanche; some honours count, whilst others stand for nothing. For instance, did not the little man who cast up his final accounts a short time back at St. Helena, like a Corsican conjurer, shuffle and cut about among kings and queens, knaves and asses, (aces I mean) dealing out honours when he liked, and taking trumps as he thought fit?—did he not deal and take up again almost as he pleased, having generally an honour in his sleeve to be played at command, or un roi dans le marche; by which cheating, it was scarcely possible for any one to get fair play with him, till, flushed by success, and not knowing how to bear his prosperity, he played too desperately and too long? The tables were turned upon him, and his enemies cheated him, first of his liberty, and ultimately of his life."

At this moment Tallyho, who was listening in close attention to his Cousin, struck his foot against a brown paper parcel which rolled before him.—"Hallo!" exclaimed he, "what have we here?—somebody has dropped a prize."

"It is mine, Sir," said an old woman, dropping them a curtsey with a smile which shone through her features, though thickly begrimed with snuff.

"A bite," said Tom.

"I dropp'd it from my pocket, Sir, just now."

"And pray," inquired Tom, "what does it contain?" picking it up.

"Snuff, Sir," was the reply; "a kind, good-hearted Gentleman gave it to me—God bless him, and bless your Honour too!" with an additional smile, and a still lower curtsey.

Upon examining the paper, which had been broken by the kick, Tom perceived, that by some magic or other, the old woman's snuff had become sugar.

"Zounds!" said he, "they have played some trick upon you, and given you brimstone instead of snuff, or else you are throwing dust in our eyes."

The parcel, which contained a sample of sugar, was carefully rolled up again and tied, then dropped to be found by any body else who chose to stoop for it.

"This," said Dashall, "does not turn out to be what I first expected; for the practices of ring and money [359] dropping{1} have, at various times, been carried on with great success, and to the serious injury of the unsuspecting. The persons who generally apply themselves to this species of cheating are no other than gamblers who ingeniously contrive, by dropping a purse or a ring, to draw in some customer with a view to induce him to play; and notwithstanding their arts have frequently been exposed, we every now and then hear of some flat being done by these sharps, and indeed there are constantly customers in London to be had one way or another."

"Then you had an idea that that parcel was a bait of this kind," rejoined Bob.

"I did," replied his Cousin; "but it appears to be a legitimate letter from some industrious mechanic to his friend, and is a curious specimen of epistolary correspondence; and you perceive there was a person ready to claim it, which conspired rather to confirm my suspicions, being a little in the style of the gentry I have alluded to. They vary their mode of proceeding according to situation and circumstance. Your money-dropper contrives to find his own property, as if by chance. He picks up the purse with an exclamation of 'Hallo! what have we here?—Zounds! if here is not a prize—I'm in rare luck to-day—Ha, ha, ha, let's have a peep at it—it feels heavy, and no doubt is worth having.' While he is examining its contents, up comes his confederate, who claims a share on account of having been present at the finding. 'Nay, nay,' replies the finder, 'you are not in it. This Gentleman is the only person that was near me—was not you, Sir? 'By this means the novice is induced to assent, or perhaps assert his prior claim. The finder declares,

         1 The practice of ring-dropping is not wholly confined to
         London, as the following paragraph from the Glasgow Courier,
         a very short time ago, will sufficiently prove:—'On Monday
         afternoon, when three Highland women, who had been employed
         at a distance from home in the harvest, were returning to
         their habitations, they were accosted by a fellow who had
         walked out a short way with them, 'till he picked up a pair
         of ear-rings and a key for a watch. The fellow politely
         informed the females that they should have half the value of
         the articles, as they were in his company when they were
         found. While they were examining them, another fellow came
         up, who declared at once they were gold, and worth at least
         thirty shillings. After some conversation, the women were
         induced to give fifteen shillings for the articles, and came
         and offered them to a watch-maker for sale, when they
         learned to their mortification that they were not worth
         eighteen pence!'

[360] that sooner than have any dispute about it, he will divide the contents in three parts; recommends an adjournment to a public-house in the neighbourhood, to wet the business and drink over their good luck. This being consented to, the leading points are accomplished. The purse of course is found to contain counterfeit money—Flash-screens or Fleet-notes,{1} and the division cannot well be made without change can be procured. Now comes the touch-stone. The Countryman, for such they generally contrive to inveigle, is perhaps in cash, having sold his hay, or his cattle, tells them he can give change; which being understood, the draught-board, cards, or la bagatelle, are introduced, and as the job is a good one, they can afford to sport some of their newly-acquired wealth in this way. They drink and play, and fill their grog again. The Countryman bets; if he loses, he is called upon to pay; if he wins, 'tis added to what is coming to him out of the purse.

"If, after an experiment or two, they find he has but little money, or fight shy, they bolt, that is, brush off in quick time, leaving him to answer for the reckoning. But if he is what they term well-breeched, and full of cash, they stick to him until he is cleaned out,{2} make him drunk, and, if he turns restive, they mill him. If he should be an easy cove,{3} he perhaps give them change for their flash notes, or counterfeit coin, and they leave him as soon as possible, highly pleased with his fancied success, while they laugh in their sleeves at the dupe of their artifice."

"And is it possible?" inquired Tallyho—

              "Can such things be,  and overcome us
              Like a summer's cloud?"

"Not without our special wonder," continued Dashall; "but such things have been practised. Then again, your ring-droppers, or practisers of the fawney rig, are more cunning in their manoeuvres to turn their wares into the ready blunt.{4} The pretending to find a ring being one of the meanest and least profitable exercises of their ingenuity, it forms a part of their art to find articles of much more

         1 Flash-screens or Fleet-notes—Forged notes.

         2 Cleaned out—Having lost all your money.

         3 Easy cove—One whom there is no difficulty in gulling.

         4 Ready blunt—Cash in hand.

[361] value, such as rich jewelry, broaches, ear-rings, necklaces set with diamonds, pearls, &c. sometimes made into a paper parcel, at others in a small neat red morocco case, in which is stuck a bill of parcels, giving a high-flown description of the articles, and with an extravagant price. Proceeding nearly in the same way as the money-droppers with the dupe, the finder proposes, as he is rather short of steeven,{1} to swap{2}his share for a comparatively small part of the value stated in the bill of parcels: and if he succeeds in obtaining one-tenth of that amount in hard cash, his triumph is complete; for, upon examination, the diamonds turn out to be nothing but paste—the pearls, fishes' eyes—and the gold is merely polished brass gilt, and altogether of no value. But this cannot be discovered beforehand, because the bilk{3} is in a hurry, can't spare time to go to a shop to have the articles valued, but assures his intended victim, that, as they found together, he should like to smack the bit,{4 }without blowing the gap,{5} and so help him G—d, the thing wants no buttering up,{6} because he is willing to give his share for such a trifle."

         1 Steeven—A flash term for money.

         2 Swap—To make an exchange, to barter one article for
         another.

         3 A swindler or cheat.

         4 Smack the bit—To share the booty.

         5 Blowing the gap—Making any thing known.

         6 Buttering up—Praising or flattering.

This conversation was suddenly interrupted by a violent crash just behind them, as they passed Drury Lane Theatre in their way through Bussel Court; and Bob, upon turning to ascertain from whence such portentous sounds proceeded, discovered that he had brought all the Potentates of the Holy Alliance to his feet. The Alexanders, the Caesars, the Buonapartes, Shakespeares, Addisons and Popes, lay strewed upon the pavement, in one undistinguished heap, while a poor Italian lad with tears in his eyes gazed with indescribable anxiety on the shapeless ruin—' Vat shall me do?—dat man knock him down—all brokt—you pay—Oh! mine Godt, vat shall do! ' This appeal was made to Dashall and Tallyho, the latter of whom the poor Italian seemed to fix upon as the author of his misfortune in upsetting his board of plaster images; and although he was perfectly unconscious of the accident, the appeal of the vender of great personages had its desired effect upon them both; and [362] finding themselves quickly surrounded by spectators, they gave him some silver, and then pursued their way.

"These men," said Dashall, "are generally an industrious and hard-living people; they walk many miles in the course of a day to find sale for their images, which they will rather sell at any price than carry back with them at night; and it is really wonderful how they can make a living by their traffic."

"Ha, ha, ha," said a coarse spoken fellow following—"how the Jarman Duck diddled the Dandies just now—did you twig how he queered the coves out of seven bob for what was not worth thrums.{1} The Yelper{2} did his duty well, and finger'd the white wool{3} in good style. I'm d———d if he was not up to slum, and he whiddied their wattles with the velvet, and floored the town toddlers easy enough."

"How do you mean?" said his companion.

"Why you know that foreign blade is an ould tyke about this quarter, and makes a good deal of money—many a twelver{4} does he get by buying up broken images of persons who sell them by wholesale, and he of course gets them for little or nothing: then what does he do but dresses out his board, to give them the best appearance he can, and toddles into the streets, touting{5} for a good customer. The first genteel bit of flash he meets that he thinks will dub up the possibles,{6} he dashes down the board, breaks all the broken heads, and appeals in a pitiful way for remuneration for his loss; so that nine times out of ten he gets some Johnny-raw or other to stump up the rubbish."

"Zounds!" said Dashall, "these fellows are smoking us; and, in the midst of my instructions to guard you against the abuses of the Metropolis, we have ourselves become the dupes of an impostor."

         1 Thrums—A flash term for threepence.

         2 The Yelper—A common term given to a poor fellow subject,
         who makes very pitiful lamentations on the most trifling
         accidents.

         3 White wool—Silver.

         4 Twelver—A shilling.

         5 Touting—Is to be upon the sharp look out.

         6 To dub up the possibles—To stand the nonsense—are nearly
         synonimous, and mean—will pay up any demand rather than be
         detained.

[363] "Well," said Tallyho, "it is no more than a practical illustration of your own observation, that it is scarcely possible for any person to be at all times secure from the arts and contrivances of your ingenious friends the Londoners; though I confess I was little in expectation of finding you, as an old practitioner, so easily let in."

"It is not much to be wondered at," continued Tom, "for here we are in the midst of the very persons whose occupations, if such they may be termed, ought most to be avoided; for Covent Garden, and Drury Lane, with their neighbourhoods, are at all times infested with swindlers, sharpers, whores, thieves, and depredators of all descriptions, for ever on the look out. It is not long since a man was thrown from a two-pair of stairs window in Charles Street,{1} which is just by, having been decoyed into a house of ill fame by a Cyprian, and this in a situation within sight of the very Police Office itself in Bow Street!"

"Huzza! ha, ha, ha, there he goes," vociferated by a variety of voices, now called their attention, and put an end to their conversation; and the appearance of a large concourse of people running up Drury Lane, engrossed their notice as they approached the other end of Russel Court.

On coming up with the crowd, they found the cause of the vast assemblage of persons to be no other than a Quaker{2} decorated with a tri-coloured cockade, who was

         1 A circumstance of a truly alarming and distressing nature,
         to which Dashall alluded in this place, was recently made
         known to the public in the daily journals, and which should
         serve as a lesson to similar adventurers.

         It appeared that a young man had been induced to enter a
         house of ill fame in Charles Street, Covent Garden, by one
         of its cyprian inmates, to whom he gave some money in order
         for her to provide them with supper; that, upon her return,
         he desired to have the difference between what he had given
         and what she had expended returned to him, which being
         peremptorily refused, he determined to leave the house. On
         descending the stair-case for which purpose, he was met by
         some men, with whom he had a violent struggle to escape;
         they beat and bruised him most unmercifully, and afterwards
         threw him from a two-pair of stairs window into the street,
         where he was found by the Watchman with his skull fractured,
         and in a state of insensibility. We believe all attempts
         have hitherto proved fruitless to bring the actual
         perpetrator or perpetrators of this diabolical deed to
         punishment.

         2 Bow-street.—Thursday morning an eccentric personage, who
         has for some time been seen about the streets of the
         Metropolis in the habit of a Quaker, and wearing the tri-
         coloured cockade in his broad white hat, made his appearance
         at the door of this office, and presenting a large packet to
         one of the officers, desired him, in a tone of authority, to
         lay it instantly before the Magistrate. The Magistrate (G.
         R. Minshull, Esq.) having perused this singular paper,
         inquired for the person who brought it; and in the next
         moment a young man, in the garb of a Quaker, with a broad-
         brimmed, peaceful-looking, drab-coloured beaver on his
         head, surmounted by a furious tri-coloured cockade, was
         brought before him. This strange anomalous ' personage
         having placed himself very carefully directly in front of
         the bench, smiled complacently upon his Worship, and the
         following laconic colloquy ensued forthwith:—

         Magistrate—Did you bring this letter?

         Quaker—Thou hast said it.

         Magistrate—-What is your object in bringing it?

         Quaker—Merely to let thee know what is going on in the
         world—and, moreover, being informed that if I came to thy
         office, I should be taken into custody, I was desiroiis to
         ascertain whether that information was true.

         Magistrate—Then I certainly shall not gratify you by
         ordering you into custody.

         Quaker—Thou wilt do as seemeth right in thy eyes. I assure
         thee I have no inclination to occupy thy time longer than is
         profitable to us, and therefore I will retire whenever thou
         shalt signify that my stay is unpleasant to thee.

         Magistrate—Why do you wear your hat?—are you a Quaker?

         Quaker—Thou sayest it—but that is not my sole motive for
         wearing it. To be plain with thee, I wear it because I chose
         to do so.    Canst thee tell me of any law which compels me
         to take it off?

         Magistrate—I'll tell you what, friend, I would seriously
         recommend you to retire from this place as speedily as
         possible.

         Quaker—I take thy advice—farewell.

         Thus ended this comical conversation, and the eccentric
         friend immediately departed in peace.

         The brother of the above person attended at the office on
         Saturday, and stated that the Quaker is insane, that he was
         proprietor of an extensive farm near Ryegate, in Surrey, for
         some years; but that in May last his bodily health being
         impaired, he was confined for some time, and on his recovery
         it was found that his intellects were affected, and he was
         put under restraint, but recovered. Some time since he
         absconded from Ryegate, and his friends were unable to
         discover him, until they saw the account of his eccen-
         tricities in the newspapers. Mr. Squire was desirous, if he
         made his appearance again at the office, he should be
         detained. The Magistrate, as a cause for the detention of
         the Quaker, swore the brother to these facts. About three
         o'clock the Quaker walked up Bow-street, when an officer
         conducted him to the presence of the Magistrate, who
         detained him, and at seven o'clock delivered him into the
         care of his brother.

[365] very quietly walking with a Police Officer, and exhibiting a caricature of himself mounted on a velocipede, and riding over corruption, &c. It was soon ascertained that he had accepted an invitation from one of the Magistrates of Bow Street to pay him a visit, as he had done the day before, and was at that moment going before him.

"I apprehend he is a little cracked," said Tom; "but however that may be, he is a very harmless sort of person. But come, we have other game in view, and our way lies in a different direction to his."

"Clothes, Sir, any clothes to-day?" said an importunate young fellow at the corner of one of the courts, who at the same time almost obstructed their passage.

Making their way as quickly as they could from this very pressing personage, who invited them to walk in.

"This," said Tom, "is what we generally call a Barker. I believe the title originated with the Brokers in Moor-fields, where men of this description parade in the fronts of their employers' houses, incessantly pressing the passengers to walk in and buy household furniture, as they do clothes in Rosemary Lane, Seven Dials, Field Lane, Houndsditch, and several other parts of the town. Ladies' dresses also used to be barked in Cranbourn Alley and the neighbourhood of Leicester Fields; however, the nuisance has latterly in some measure abated. The Shop-women in that part content themselves now-a-days by merely inviting strangers to look at their goods; but Barkers are still to be found, stationed at the doors of Mock Auctions, who induce company to assemble, by bawling "Walk in, the auction is now on," or "Just going to begin." Of these mock auctions, there have been many opened of an evening, under the imposing glare of brilliant gas lights, which throws an unusual degree of lustre upon the articles put up for sale. It is not however very difficult to distinguish them from the real ones, notwithstanding they assume all the exterior appearances of genuineness, even up to advertisements in the newspapers, purporting to be held in the house of a person lately gone away under embarrassed circumstances, or deceased. They are denominated Mock Auctions, because no real intention exists on the part of the sellers to dispose of their articles under a certain price previously fixed upon, which, although it may not be high, is invariably more than they are actually worth: besides which, they may be easily discovered by the anxiety they evince to show the goods to strangers at

[366]the moment they enter, never failing to bestow over-strained panegyrics upon every lot they put up, and asking repeatedly—"What shall we say for this article? a better cannot be produced;" and promising, if not approved of when purchased, to change it. The Auctioneer has a language suited to all companies, and, according to his view of a customer, can occasionally jest, bully, or perplex him into a purchase.—"The goods must be sold at what they will fetch;" and he declares (notwithstanding among his confederates, who stand by as bidders, they are run up beyond the real value, in order to catch a flat,) that "the present bidding can never have paid the manufacturer for his labour."

In such places, various articles of silver, plate, glass and household furniture are exposed to sale, but generally made up of damaged materials, and slight workmanship of little intrinsic value, for the self-same purpose as the Razor-seller states—

              "Friend, (cried the Razor-man) I'm no knave;
              As for the razors you have bought,
              Upon my soul!  I never thought
              That they would shave."

              "Not shave!" quoth Hodge, with wond'ring eyes,
              And voice not much unlike an Indian yell;
              "What were they made for then, you dog?"  he cries.
              "Made!  (quoth the fellow with a smile) to sell."

Passing the end of White Horse Yard—"Here," continued Tom, "in this yard and the various courts and alleys which lead into it, reside numerous Girls in the very lowest state of prostitution; and it is dangerous even in the day time to pass their habitations, at all events very dangerous to enter any one of them. Do you see the crowd of squalid, half-clad and half-starved creatures that surround the old woman at the corner?—Observe, that young thing without a stocking is stealing along with a bottle in one hand and a gown in the other; she is going to put the latter up the spout{1} with her

         1 Up the spout, or up the five—Are synonimous in their
         import, and mean the act of pledging property with a
         Pawnbroker for the loan of money—most probably derived from
         the practice of having a long spout, which reaches from the
         top of the house of the Pawn-broker (where the goods are
         deposited for safety till redeemed or sold) to the shop,
         where they are first received; through which a small bag is
         dropped upon the ringing of a bell, which conveys the
         tickets or duplicates to a person above stairs, who, upon
         finding them, (unless too bulky) saves himself the trouble
         and loss of time of coming down stairs, by more readily
         conveying them down the spout.

[367] accommodating Uncle,{1} in order to obtain a little of the enlivening juice of the juniper to fill the former."

         1 Uncle, sometimes called the Ferrit, or the Flint—Cant
         terms for Pawnbroker, though many of these gentlemen now
         assume the more reputable appellation of Silversmiths. They
         are willing to lend money upon all sorts of articles of
         household furniture, linen, plate, wearing apparel,
         jewellery, &c. with a certainty of making a very handsome
         profit upon the money so circulated.

         There are in this Metropolis upwards of two hundred and
         thirty Pawnbrokers, and in some cases they are a useful and
         serviceable class of people; and although doubtless many of
         them are honest and reputable persons, there are still among
         them a class of sharpers and swindlers, who obtain licences
         to carry on the business, and bring disgrace upon the
         respectable part of the profession. Every species of fraud
         which can add to the distresses of those who are compelled
         to raise temporary supplies of money is resorted to, and for
         which purpose there are abundance of opportunities. In many
         instances however the utility of these persons, in
         preventing a serious sacrifice of property, cannot be
         denied; for, by advancing to tradesmen and mechanics
         temporary loans upon articles of value at a period of
         necessity, an opportunity of redeeming them is afforded,
         when by their industrious exertions their circumstances are
         improved. Many of them however are receivers of stolen
         good.s, and, under cover of their licence, do much harm to
         the public. Indeed, the very easy mode of raising money by
         means of the Pawnbrokers, operates as an inducement, or at
         least an encouragement, to every species of vice. The
         fraudulent tradesman by their means is enabled to raise
         money on the goods of his creditors, the servant to pledge
         the property of his employer, and the idle or profligate
         mechanic to deposit his working tools, or his work in an
         unfinished state. Many persons in London are in the habit of
         pawning their apparel from Monday morning till Saturday
         night, when they are redeemed, in order to make a decent
         appearance on the next day. In low neighbourhoods, and among
         loose girls, much business is done by Pawnbrokers to good
         advantage; and considerable emolument is derived from women
         of the town. The articles they offer to pledge are generally
         of the most costly nature, and the pilferings of the night
         are usually placed in the hands of an Uncle the next
         morning; and the wary money-lenders, fully acquainted with
         their necessities, just lend what they please; by which
         means they derive a wonderful profit, from the almost
         certainty of these articles never being redeemed.

         The secresy with which a Pawnbroker's business is conducted,
         though very proper for the protection of the honest and
         well-meaning part of the population, to shield them from an
         exposure which might perhaps prove fatal to their business or
         credit, admits of great room for fraud on the part of the
         Money-lender; more particularly as it respects the interest
         allowed upon the pawns. Many persons are willing to pay any
         charge made, rather than expose their necessities by
         appearing before a Magistrate, and acknowledging they have
         been concerned in such transactions.

         Persons who are in the constant habit of pawning are
         generally known by the Pawnbrokers, in most instances
         governed by their will, and compelled to take and pay just
         what they please. Again, much injury arises from the want of
         care in the Pawnbroker to require a proper account, from the
         Pledgers, of the manner in which the goods offered have been
         obtained, as duplicates are commonly given upon fictitious
         names and residences.

         Notwithstanding the care and attention usually paid to the
         examination of the articles received as pledges, these
         gentlemen are sometimes to be duped by their customers. We
         remember an instance of an elderly man, who was in the habit
         of bringing a Dutch clock frequently to a Pawnbroker to
         raise the wind, and for safety, generally left it in a large
         canvass bag, till he became so regular a customer, that his
         clock and bag were often left without inspection; and as it
         was seldom deposited for long together, it was placed in
         some handy nook of the shop in order to lie ready for
         redemption. This system having been carried on for some
         time, no suspicion was entertained of the old man. Upon one
         occasion however the Pawnbroker's olfactory nerves were
         saluted with a smell of a most unsavoury nature, for which
         he could by no means account—day after day passed, and no
         discovery was made, till at length he determined to overhaul
         every article in his shop, and if possible discover the
         source of a nuisance which appeared rather to increase than
         abate: in doing which, to his utter astonishment, he found
         the old man's Dutch clock trans-formed into a sheep's head,
         enclosed in a small box similar in shape and size to that of
         the clock. It will scarcely be necessary to add, that, being
         in the heat of summer, the sheep's head when turned out was
         in a putrid state, and as green as grass. The Pawn-broker
         declared the old gentleman's works were out of repair, that
         he himself was out of tune, and eventually pledged himself
         never to be so taken in again. After all, however, it must
         be acknowledged that my Uncle is a very accommodating man.

              "My Uncle's the man, I've oft said it before,
              Who is ready and willing to open his door;
              Tho' some on the question may harbour a doubt,
              He's a mill to grind money, which I call a spout.
              Derry down.

              He has three golden balls which hang over his door,
              Which clearly denote that my Uncle's not poor;
              He has money to lend, and he's always so kind,
              He will lend it to such as leave something behind.
              Derry down.

              If to music inclin'd, there's no man can so soon
              Set the hooks of your gamut to excellent tune;
              All his tickets are prizes most carefully book'd,
              And your notes must be good, or you're presently hook'd.
              Derry down.

              Shirts, shoes, and flat-irons, hats, towels, and ruffs,
              To him are the same as rich satins or stuffs;
              From the pillows you lay on, chairs, tables, or sacks,
              He'll take all you have, to the togs on your backs.
              Derry down.

              Then ye who are needy, repair to your friend,
              Who is ready and willing your fortunes to mend;
              He's a purse full of rhino, and that's quite enough,
              Tho' short in his speech, he can shell out short stuff.
              Derry down.

              What a blessing it is, in this place of renown
              To know that we have such an Uncle in town;
              In all cases, degrees, in all places and stations,
              'Tis a good thing to know we've such friendly relations.
              Derry down.

"Surely," said Tallyho, "no person could possibly be inveigled by her charms?"

[369] "They are not very blooming just now," answered his Cousin—"you do not see her in a right light. It is impossible to contemplate the cases of these poor creatures without dropping a tear of pity. Originally seduced from a state of innocence, and eventually abandoned by their seducers, as well as their well-disposed parents or friends, they are left at an early age at large upon the world; loathed and avoided by those who formerly held them in estimation, what are they to do?—It is said by Shakespeare, that

"Sin will pluck on sin."

They seem to have no alternative, but that of continuing in the practice which they once too fatally begun, in which the major part of them end a short life of debauchery and wretchedness.

"Exposed to the rude insults of the inebriated and the vulgar—the impositions of brutal officers and watchmen—to the chilling blasts of the night during the most inclement weather, in thin apparel, partly in compliance with the fashion of the day, but more frequently from the

[370] Pawnbroker's shop rendering their necessary garments inaccessible, diseases (where their unhappy vocation does not produce them) are thus generated.

"Many are the gradations from the highest degree of prostitution down to the trulls that parade the streets by day, and one or two more steps still include those who keep out all night. Some of the miserable inhabitants of this quarter are night-birds, who seldom leave their beds during the day, except to refresh themselves with a drop of Old Tom; but as the evening approaches, their business commences, when you will see them decked out like fine ladies, for there are coves of cases,{1} and others in the vicinity of the Theatres, who live by letting out dresses for the evening, where they may be accommodated from a camesa{2} to a richly embroidered full-dress court suit, under the care of spies, who are upon the look-out that they don't brush off with the stock. Others, again, are boarded and lodged by the owners of houses of ill-fame, kept as dirty and as ragged as beggars all day, but who,

"Dress'd out at night, cut a figure."

It however not unfrequently happens to those unhappy Girls who have not been successful in their pursuits, and do not bring home with them the wages of their prostitution, that they are sent to bed without supper, and sometimes get a good beating into the bargain; besides which, the Mistress of the house takes care to search them immediately after they are left by their gallants, by which means they are deprived of every shilling."

Approaching the City, they espied a crowd of persons assembled together round the door of Money the perfumer. Upon inquiring, a species of depreciation was exposed, which had not yet come under their view.

It appeared that a note, purporting to come from a gentleman at the Tavistock Hotel, desiring Mr. Money to wait on him to take measure of his cranium for a fashionable peruke, had drawn him from home, and that during his absence, a lad, in breathless haste, as if dispatched by the principal, entered the shop, stating that Sir. Money wanted a wig which was in the window, with some combs and hair-brushes, for the Gentleman's inspection, and also a pot of his Circassian cream. The bait took, the articles

         1 Coves of cases—Keepers of houses of ill fame.

         2 Camesa—A shirt or shift.

[371] were packed up, and the wily cheat had made good his retreat before the return of the coiffeur, who was not pleased with being seduced from his home by a hoaxing letter, and less satisfied to find that his property was diminished in his absence by the successful artifices of a designing villain. This tale having got wind in the neighbourhood, persons were flocking round him to advise as to the mode of pursuit, and many were entertaining each other by relations of a similar nature; but our heroes having their friend Merrywell in view (or rather his interest) made the best of their way to the Lock-up-house.

## CHAPTER XXIII

              "The world its trite opinion holds of those
              That in a world apart these bars enclose;
              And thus methinks some sage, whose wisdom frames
              Old saws anew, complacently exclaims,
              Debt is like death—it levels all degrees;
              Their prey with death's fell grasp the bailiffs seize."

ON entering the Lock-up House, Bob felt a few uneasy sensations at hearing the key turned. The leary Bum-trap ushered the Gemmen up stairs, while Tallyho was endeavouring to compose his agitated spirits, and reconcile himself to the prospect before him, which, at the moment, was not of the most cheering nature.

"What, my gay fellow," said Merry well, "glad to see you—was just going to scribble a line to inform you of my disaster. Zounds! you look as melancholy as the first line of an humble petition, or the author of a new piece the day after its damnation."

"In truth," replied Bob, "this is no place to inspire a man with high spirits."

"That's as it may be," rejoined Merry well; "a man with money in his pocket may see as much Real Life in London within these walls as those who ramble at large through the mazes of what is termed liberty."

"But," continued Tom, "it must be admitted that the views are more limited."

"By no means," was the reply. "Here a man is at perfect liberty to contemplate and cogitate without fear of being agitated. Here he may trace over past recollections, and enjoy future anticipations free from the noise and bustle of crowded streets, or the fatigue of attending fashionable routs, balls, and assemblies. Besides which, it forms so important a part of Life in London, that few without a residence in a place of this kind can imagine its utility. It invigorates genius, concentrates ingenuity, and stimulates invention."

[373] "Hey dey!" said Tallyho, looking out of the window, and perceiving a dashing tandem draw up to the door—"who have we here? some high company, no doubt."

"Yes, you are right; that man in the great coat, who manages his cattle with such dexterity, is no other than the king of the castle. He is the major domo, or, in other words, the Bailiff himself. That short, stout-looking man in boots and buckskins, is his assistant, vulgarly called his Bum.{1} The other is a Gentleman desirous of lodging in a genteel neighbourhood, and is recommended by them to take up his residence here."

"What," inquired Bob, "do Bailiffs drive gigs and tandems?"

"To be sure they do," was the reply; "formerly they were low-bred fellows, who would undertake any dirty business for a maintenance, as you will see them represented in the old prints and caricatures, muffled up in Îreat coats, and carrying bludgeons; but, in present Real life, you will find them quite the reverse, unless they find it necessary to assume a disguise in order to nibble a queer cove who proves shy of their company'; but among Gentlemen, none are so stylish, and at the same time so accommodating—you are served with the process in a private and elegant way, and if not convenient to come to an immediate arrangement, a gig is ready in the highest taste, to convey you from your habitation to your place of retirement, and you may pass through the most crowded streets of the city, and recognise your friends, without fear of suspicion. Upon some occasions, they will also carry their politeness so far as to inform an individual he will be wanted on such a day, and must come—a circumstance which has the effect of preventing any person from knowing the period of departure, or the place of destination; consequently, the arrested party is gone out of town for a few days, and the matter all blows over without any injury sustained. This is the third time since I have been in the house that the tandem has started from the door, and returned with a new importation."

By this time, the gig having been discharged of its cargo, was reascended by the Master and his man, and bowl'd off again in gay style for the further accommodation of fashionable friends, whose society was in such high

         1 See Bum-trap), page 166.

[374] estimation, that no excuse or denial could avail, and who being so urgently wanted, must come.

"'Tis a happy age we live in," said Merry well; "the improvements are evident enough; every thing is done with so much facility and gentility, that even the race of bailiffs are transformed from frightful and ferocious-looking persons to the most dashing, polite and accommodating characters in the world. He however, like others, must have his assistant, and occasional substitute.

"A man in this happy era is really of no use whatever to himself. It is a principle on which every body, that is any body, acts, that no one should do any thing for himself, if he can procure another to do it for him. Accordingly, there is hardly the most simple performance in nature for the more easy execution of which an operator or machine of some kind' or other is not employed or invented; and a man who has had the misfortune to lose, or chuses not to use any of his limbs or senses, may meet with people ready to perform all their functions for him, from paring his nails and cutting his corns, to forming an opinion. No man cleans his own teeth who can afford to pay a dentist; and hundreds get their livelihood by shaving the chins and combing the hair of their neighbours, though many, it must be admitted, comb their neighbour's locks for nothing. The powers of man and the elements of nature even are set aside, the use of limbs and air being both superseded by steam; in short, every thing is done by proxy—death not excepted, for we are told that our soldiers and sailors die for us. Marriage in certain ranks is on this footing. A prince marries by proxy, and sometimes lives for ever after as if he thought all the obligations of wedlock were to be performed in a similar manner. A nobleman, it is true, will here take the trouble to officiate in the first instance in person; but there are plenty of cases to shew that nothing is further from his noble mind than the idea of continuing his slavery, while others can be found to take the labour off his hands. So numerous are the royal roads to every desideratum, and so averse is every true gentleman from doing any thing for himself, that it is to be dreaded lest it should grow impolite to chew one's own victuals; and we are aware that there are great numbers who, not getting their share of Heaven's provision, may be said to submit to have their food eat for them."

[375] Tallyho laugh'd, and Dashall signified his assent to the whimsical observations of Merrywell, by a shrug of the shoulders and an approving smile.

"Apropos," said Merrywell—"what is the news of our friend Sparkle?"

"O, (replied Tom) he is for trying a chance in the Lottery of Life, and has perhaps by this time gained the prize of Matrimony:{1} but what part of the globe he inhabits it is impossible for me to say—however, he is with Miss Mortimer probably on the road to Gretna."

"Success to his enterprise," continued Merrywell; "and if they are destined to travel through life together, may they have thumping luck and pretty children. Marriage to some is a bitter cup of continued misery—may the reverse be his lot."

"Amen," responded Dashall.

"By the way," said Merrywell, "I hope you will favour me with your company for the afternoon, and I doubt not we shall start some game within these walls well worthy of pursuit; and as I intend to remove to more commodious apartments within a day or two, I shall certainly expect to have a visit from you during my abode in the county of Surrey."

"Going to College?" inquired Tom.

"Yes; I am off upon a sporting excursion for a month or two, and I have an idea of making it yield both pleasure and profit. An occasional residence in Abbot's Park is one of the necessary measures for the completion of a Real Life in London education. It is a fashionable retreat absolutely necessary, and therefore I have voluntarily determined upon it. What rare advice a young man may pick up in the precincts of the Fleet and

1 It has often been said figuratively, that marriage is a lottery; but we do not recollect to have met with a practical illustration of the truth of the simile before the following, which is a free translation of an Advertisement in the Louisiana Gazette:—

         "A young man of good figure and disposition, unable though
         "desirous to procure a Wife without the preliminary trouble of
         "amassing a fortune, proposes the following expedient to obtain the
         "object of his wishes:—He offers himself as the prize of a Lottery
         "to all Widows and Virgins under 32: the number of tickets to be
         "600 at 50 dollars each; but one number to be drawn from the
         "wheel, the fortunate proprietor of which is to be entitled to
         "himself and the 30,000 dollars."—New York, America.

[376] the King's Bench! He may soon learn the art of sharp-shooting and skirmishing."

"And pray," says Tallyho, "what do you term skirmishing?"

"I will tell you," was the reply. "When you have got as deeply in debt every where as you can, you may still remain on the town as a Sunday-man for a brace of years, and with good management perhaps longer. Next you may toddle off to Scotland for another twelvemonth, and live in the sanctuary of Holyrood House, after seeing the North, where writs will not arrive in time to touch you. When tired of this, and in debt even in the sanctuary, and when you have worn out all your friends by borrowing of them to support you in style there, you can brush off on a Sunday to the Isle of Man, where you are sure to meet a parcel of blades who will be glad of your company if you are but a pleasant fellow. Here you may live awhile upon them, and get in debt (if you can, for the Manx-men have very little faith,) in the Island. From this, you must lastly effect your escape in an open boat, and make your appearance in London as a new face. Here you will find some flats of your acquaintance very glad to see you, even if you are indebted to them, from the pleasures of recollection accruing from past scenes of jollity and merriment. You must be sure to amuse them with a good tale of a law-suit, or the declining health of a rich old Uncle, from either of which you are certain of deriving a second fortune. Now manage to get arrested, and you will find some, who believe your story, ready to bail you. You can then put off these actions for two years more, and afterwards make a virtue of surrendering yourself in order to relieve your friends, who of course will begin to be alarmed, and feel so grateful for this supposed mark of propriety, that they will support you for a while in prison, until you get white-washed. In all this experience, and with such a long list of acquaintances, it will be hard if some will not give you a lift at getting over your difficulties. Then you start again as a nominal Land-surveyor, Money-scrivener, Horse-dealer, or as a Sleeping-partner in some mercantile concern—such, for instance, as coals, wine, &c. Your popularity and extensive acquaintance will get your Partner a number of customers, and then if you don't succeed, you have only to become a Bankrupt, secure your certificate, and start free again in some other line. Then [377] there are other good chances, for a man may marry once or twice. Old or sickly women are best suited for the purpose, and their fortunes will help you for a year or two at least, if only a thousand or two pounds. Lastly, make up a purse» laugh at the flats, and finish on the Continent."

"Very animated description indeed," cried Dashall, "and salutary advice, truly."

"Too good to be lost," continued Merrywell.

"And yet rather too frequently acted on, it is to be feared."

"Probably so—"

"But mark me, this is fancy's sketch," and may perhaps appear a little too highly coloured; but if you remain with me, we will clip deeper into the reality of the subject by a little information from the official personage himself, who holds dominion over these premises; and we may perhaps also find some agreeable and intelligent company in his house."

This proposition being agreed to, and directions given accordingly by Merrywell to prepare dinner, our party gave loose to opinions of life, observations on men and mariners, exactly as they presented themselves to the imagination of each speaker, and Merrywell evidently proved himself a close observer of character.

"Places like this," said he, "are generally inhabited by the profligate of fashion, the ingenious artist, or the plodding mechanic. The first is one who cares not who suffers, so he obtains a discharge from his incumberances: having figured away for some time in the labyrinths of folly and extravagance, till finding the needful run taper, he yields to John Doe and Richard Roe as a matter of course, passes through his degrees in the study of the laws by retiring to the Fleet or King's Bench, and returns to the world with a clean face, and an increased stock of information to continue his career. The second are men who have heads to contrive and hands to execute improvements in scientific pursuits, probably exhausting their time, their health, and their property, in the completion of their projects, but who are impeded in their progress, and compelled to finish their intentions in durance vile, by the rapacity of their creditors. And the last are persons subjected to all the casualties of trade and the arts of the former, and unable to meet the peremptory demands of [378] those they are indebted to; but they seldom inhabit these places long, unless they can pay well for their accommodations. Money is therefore as useful in a lock-up-house or a prison as in any other situation of life.

"Money, with the generality of people, is every thing; it is the universal Talisman; there is magic in its very name. It ameliorates all the miserable circumstances of life, and the sound of it may almost be termed life itself. It is the balm, the comfort, and the restorative. It must indeed be truly mortifying to the opulent, to observe that the attachment of their dependents, and even the apparent esteem of their friends, arises from the respect paid to riches. The vulgar herd bow with reverence and respect before the wealthy; but it is in fact the money, and not the individual, which they worship. Doubtless, a philosophic Tallow-chandler would hasten from the contemplation of the starry heavens to vend a farthing rushlight; and it therefore cannot be wondered at that the Sheriffs-officer, who serves you with a writ because you have not money enough to discharge the just demands against you, should determine at least to get as much as he can out of you, and, when he finds your resources exhausted, that he should remove you to the common receptacle of debtors; which however cannot be done to your own satisfaction without some money; for if you wish a particular place of residence, or the most trifling accommodation, there are fees to pay, even on entering a prison."

"In that case then," said Tallyho, "a man is actually obliged to pay for going to a prison."

"Precisely so, unless he is willing to mingle with the very lowest order of society. But come, we will walk into the Coffee-room, and take a view of the inmates."

Upon entering this, which was a small dark room, they heard a great number of voices, and in one corner found several of the prisoners surrounding a Bagatelle-board, and playing for porter, ale, &c; in another corner was a young man in close conversation with an Attorney; and a little further distant, was a hard-featured man taking instructions from the Turnkey how to act. Here was a poor Player, who declared he would take the benefit of the Act, and afterwards take a benefit at the Theatre to reestablish himself. There a Poet racking his imagination, and roving amidst the flowers of fancy, giving a few touches by way of finish to an Ode to Liberty, with the [379] produce of which he indulged himself in a hope of obtaining the subject of his Muse. The conversation was of a mingled nature. The vociferations of the Bagatelle-players—the whispers of the Attorney and his Client—and the declarations of the prisoner to the Turnkey, "That he would be d———d if he did not sarve 'em out, and floor the whole boiling of them," were now and then interrupted by the notes of a violin playing the most lively airs in an animated and tasteful style. The Performer however was not visible, but appeared to be so near, that Merrywell, who was a great lover of music, beckoned his friends to follow him. They now entered a small yard at the back of the house, the usual promenade of those who resided in it, and found the Musician seated on one of the benches, which were continued nearly round the yard, and which of itself formed a panorama of rural scenery. Here was the bubbling cascade and the lofty fountain—there the shady grove of majestic poplars, and the meandering stream glittering in the resplendent lustre of a rising sun. The waving foliage however and the bubbling fountain were not to be seen or heard, (as these beauties were only to be contemplated in the labours of the painter;) but to make up for the absence of these with the harmony of the birds and the ripplings of the stream, the Musician was endeavouring, like an Arcadian shepherd with his pipe, to make the woods resound with the notes of his fiddle, surrounded by some of his fellow-prisoners, who did not fail to applaud his skill and reward his kindness, by supplying him with rosin, as they termed it, which was by handing him the heavy-wet as often as they found his elbow at rest. In one place was to be seen a Butcher, who upon his capture was visited by his wife with a child in her arms, upon whom the melody seemed to have no effect. She was an interesting and delicate-looking woman, whose agitation of spirits upon so melancholy an occasion were evidenced by streaming tears from a pair of lovely dark eyes; and the Butcher, as evidently forgetful of his usual calling, was sympathising with, and endeavouring to soothe her into composure, and fondling the child. In another, a person who had the appearance of an Half-pay Officer, with Hessian boots, blue pantaloons, and a black silk handkerchief, sat with his arms folded almost without taking notice of what was passing around him, though a rough Sailor with a pipe in his mouth occasionally [380] enlivened the scene by accompanying the notes of the Musician with a characteristic dance, which he termed a Horn-spike.

It was a fine scene of Real Life, and after taking a few turns in the gardens of the Lock-up or Sponging-house, they returned to Merrywell's apartments, which they had scarcely entered, when the tandem drew up to the door.

"More company," said Merry well.

"And perhaps the more the merrier," replied Tom.

"That is as it may prove," was the reply; "for the company of this house ace as various at times as can be met with in any other situation. However, this appears to wear the form of one of our fashionable, high-life Gentlemen; but appearances are often deceitful, we shall perhaps hear more of him presently—he may turn out to be one of the prodigals who calculate the duration of life at about ten years, that is, to have a short life and a merry one."

"That seems to me to be rather a short career, too," exclaimed Bob.

"Nay, nay, that is a long calculation, for it frequently cannot be made to last half the number. In the first place, the Pupil learns every kind of extravagance, which he practises en maitre the two next years. These make an end of his fortune. He lives two more on credit, established while his property lasted. The next two years he has a letter of licence, and contrives to live by ways and means (for he has grown comparatively knowing.) Then he marries, and the wife has the honour of discharging his debts, her fortune proving just sufficient for the purpose. Then he manages to live a couple of years more on credit, and retires to one of his Majesty's prisons."

By this time Mr. Safebind made his appearance, and with great politeness inquired if the Gentlemen were accommodated in the way they wished? Upon being assured of this, and requested to take a seat, after some introductory conversation, he gave them the following account of himself and his business:—

"We have brought nine Gemmen into the house this morning; and, though I say it, no Gemman goes out that would have any objection to come into it again."

Tallyho shrugg'd up his shoulders in a way that seemed to imply a doubt.

[381] "For," continued he, "a Gemman that is a Gemman shall always find genteel treatment here. I always acts upon honour and secrecy; and if as how a Gemman can't bring his affairs into a comfortable shape here, why then he is convey'd away without exposure, that is, if he understands things."

With assurances of this kind, the veracity of which no one present could doubt, they were entertained for some time by their loquacious Host, who, having the gift of the gab,{1} would probably have continued long in the same strain of important information; when dinner was placed on the table, and they fell to with good appetites, seeming almost to have made use of the customary grace among theatricals.{2}

"The table cleared, the frequent glass goes round, And joke and song and merriment abound."

"Your house," said Dashall, "might well be termed the Temple of the Arts, since their real votaries are so frequently its inhabitants."

"Very true, Sir," said Safebind, "and as the Poet observes, it is as often graced by the presence of the devotees to the Sciences: in point of company he says we may almost call it multum in parvo, or the Camera Obscura of Life. There are at this time within these walls, a learned Alchymist, two Students in Anatomy, and a Physician—a Poet, a Player, and a Musician. The Player is an adept at mimicry, the Musician a good player, and the Poet no bad stick at a rhyme; all anxious to turn their talents to good account, and, when mingled together, productive of harmony, though the situation they are in at present is rather discordant to their feelings; but then you know 'tis said, that discord is the soul of harmony, and they knocked up a duet among themselves yesterday, which I thought highly amusing."

"I am fond of music," said Merry well—"do you think they would take a glass of wine with us?"

         1 Gift of the gab—Fluency of speech.

         2 It is a very common thing among the minor theatricals,
         when detained at rehearsals, &c. to adjourn to some
         convenient room in the neighbourhood for refreshment, and
         equally common for them to commence operations in a truly
         dramatic way, by ex-claiming to each other in the language
         of Shakespeare,

              "Come on, Macbeth—come on, Macduff,
              And d——-d be he who first cries—hold, enough."

[382] "Most readily, no doubt," was the reply. "I will introduce them in a minute." Thus saying, he left the room, and in a very few minutes returned with the three votaries of Apollo, who soon joined in the conversation upon general subjects. The Player now discovered his loquacity; the Poet his sagacity; and the Musician his pertinacity, for he thought no tones so good as those produced by himself, nor no notes—we beg pardon, none but bank notes—equal to his own.

It will be sufficient for our present purpose to add, that the bottle circulated 'quickly, and what with the songs of the Poet, the recitations of the Player, and the notes of the Fiddler, time, which perfects all intellectual ability, and also destroys the most stupendous monuments of art, brought the sons of Apollo under the table, and admonished Dashall and his Cousin to depart; which they accordingly did, after a promise to see their friend Merry well in his intended new quarters.[383]

## CHAPTER XXIV

              "All nations boast some men of nobler mind,
              Their scholars, heroes, benefactors kind:
              And Britain has her share among the rest,
              Of men the wisest, boldest and the best:
              Yet we of knaves and fools have ample share,
              And eccentricities beyond compare.
              Full many a life is spent, and many a purse,
              In mighty nothings, or in something worse."

THE next scene which Tom was anxious to introduce to his Cousin's notice was that of a Political Dinner; but while they were preparing for departure, a letter arrived which completely satisfied the mind of the Hon. Tom Dashall as to the motives and views of their friend Sparkle, and ran as follows:

"Dear Dashall,

"Having rivetted the chains of matrimony on the religious anvil of Gretna Green, I am now one of the happiest fellows in existence. My election is crowned with success, and I venture to presume all after-petitions will be rejected as frivolous and vexatious. The once lovely Miss Mortimer is now the ever to be loved Mrs. Sparkle. I shall not now detain your attention by an account of our proceedings or adventures on the road: we shall have many more convenient opportunities of indulging in such details when we meet, replete as I can assure you they are with interest.

"I have written instructions to my agent in town for the immediate disposal of my paternal estate in Wiltshire, and mean hereafter to take up my abode on one I have recently purchased in the neighbourhood of Belville Hall, where I anticipate many pleasurable opportunities of seeing you and our friend Tallyho surrounding my hospitable and (hereafter) family board. We shall be there within a month, as we mean to reach our place of destination by easy stages, and look about us.

"Please remember me to all old friends in Town, and believe as ever,

Your's truly,

"Charles Sparkle."

"Carlisle."

[384 ] The receipt of this letter and its contents were immediately communicated to young Mortimer, who had already received some intelligence of a similar nature, which had the effect of allaying apprehension and dismissing fear for his Sister's safety. The mysterious circumstances were at once explained, and harmony was restored to the previously agitated family.

"I am truly glad of this information," said Tom, "and as we are at present likely to be politically engaged, we cannot do less than take a bumper or two after dinner, to the health and happiness of the Candidate who so emphatically observes, he has gained his election, and, in the true language of every Patriot, declares he is the happiest man alive, notwithstanding the rivets by which he is bound."

"You are inclined to be severe," said Tallyho.

"By no means," replied Dashall; "the language of the letter certainly seems a little in consonance with my observation, but I am sincere in my good wishes towards the writer and his amiable wife. Come, we must now take a view of other scenes, hear long speeches, drink repeated bumpers, and shout with lungs of leather till the air resounds with peals of approbation.

"We shall there see and hear the great men of the nation, Or at least who are such in their own estimation."

              "Great in the name a patriot father bore,
              Behold a youth of promise boldly soar,
              Outstrip his fellows, clamb'ring height extreme,
              And reach to eminence almost supreme.
              With well-worn mask, and virtue's fair pretence,
              And all the art of smooth-tongued eloquence,
              He talks of wise reform, of rights most dear,
              Till half the nation thinks the man sincere."

"Hey day," said Tallyho, "who do you apply this to?"

"Those who find the cap fit may wear it," was the reply—"

I leave it wholly to the discriminating few who can discover what belongs to themselves, without further comment."

[385] By this time they had arrived at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, in the Strand, where they found a great number of persons assembled, Sir F. B——— having been announced as President. In a few minutes he was ushered into the room with all due pomp and ceremony, preceded by the Stewards for the occasion, and accompanied by a numerous body of friends, consisting of Mr. H———, Major C———, and others, though not equally prominent, equally zealous. During dinner time all went on smoothly, except in some instances, where the voracity of some of the visitors almost occasioned a chopping off the fingers of their neighbours; but the cloth once removed, and 'Non nobis Domine' sung by professional Gentlemen, had the effect of calling the attention of the company to harmony. The Band in the orchestra played, 'O give me Death or Liberty'—'Erin go brach'—'Britons strike home'—and 'Whilst happy in my native Land.' The Singers introduced 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled'—'Peruvians wake to Glory'—and the 'Tyrolese Hymn.' But the spirit of oratory, enlivened by the fire of the bottle, exhibited its illuminating sparks in a blaze of lustre which eclipsed even the gas lights by which they were surrounded; so much so, that the Waiters themselves became confused, and remained stationary, or, when they moved, were so dazzled by the patriotic effusions of the various Speakers, that they fell over each other, spilt the wine in the pockets of the company, and, by making afterwards a hasty retreat, left them to fight or argue between each other for supposed liberties taken even by their immediate friends.

Unbridled feelings of patriotic ardour appeared to pervade every one present; and what with the splendid oratory of the speakers, and the deafening vociferations of the hearers, at the conclusion of what was generally considered a good point, a sufficient indication of the feelings by which they were all animated was evinced.

At the lower end of the table sat a facetious clerical Gentleman, who, unmindful of his ministerial duties, was loud in his condemnation of ministers, and as loud in his approbation of those who gave them what he repeatedly called a good hit. But here a subject of great laughter occurred; for Mr. Marrowfat, the Pea-merchant of Covent-Garden, and Mr. Barrowbed, the Feathermonger of Drury Lane, in their zeal for the good cause, arising at the same moment, big with ardour and sentiment, to address the [386] Chair on a subject of the most momentous importance in their consideration, and desirous to signalize themselves individually, so completely defeated their objects by over anxiety to gain precedence, that they rolled over each other on the floor, to the inexpressible amusement of the company, and the total obliteration of their intended observations; so much so, that the harangue meant to enlighten their friends, ended in a fine colloquy of abuse upon each other.

The bottles, the glasses, and the other paraphernalia of the table suffered considerable diminution in the descent of these modern Ciceros, and a variety of speakers arising upon their downfall, created so much confusion, that our Heroes, fearing it would be some time before harmony could be restored, took up their hats and walked.

"Now," said Dashall, as they left the house, "you have had a full view of the pleasantries of a Political Dinner; and having seen the characters by which such an entertainment is generally attended, any further account of them is almost rendered useless."

"At least," replied Tallyho, "I have been gratified by the view of some of the leading men who contribute to fill up the columns of your London Newspapers."

"Egad!" said his Cousin, "now I think of it, there is a tine opportunity of amusing ourselves for the remainder of the evening by a peep at another certain house in Westminster: whether it may be assimilated, in point of character or contents, to what we have just witnessed, I shall leave you, after taking a review, to determine."

"What do you mean?" inquired Tallyho.

"Charley's, my boy, that's the place for sport, something in the old style. The Professors there are all of the ancient school, and we shall just be in time for the first Lecture. It is a school of science, and though established upon the ancient construction, is highly suitable to the taste of the moderns."

"Zounds!" replied Bob, "our heads are hardly in cue for philosophy after so much wine and noise; we had better defer it to another opportunity."

"Nay, nay, now's the very time for it—it will revive the recollection of some of your former sports;

              For, midst our luxuries be it understood,
              Some traits remain of rugged hardihood."

[387] Charley is a good caterer for the public appetite, and, to diversify the amusements of a Life in London, we will have a little chaff among the Bear-baiters."

Tally-ho stared for a moment; then burst into laughter at the curious introduction his Cousin had given to this subject. "I have long perceived your talent for embellishment, but certainly was not prepared for the conclusion; but you ought rather to have denominated them Students in Natural History."

"And what is that but a branch of Philosophy?" inquired Dashall. "However, we are discussing points of opinion rather than hastening to the scene of action to become judges of facts—Allons."

Upon saying this, they moved forward with increased celerity towards Tothill-fields, and soon reached their proposed place of destination.

On entering, Tallyho was reminded by his Cousin to button up his toggery, keep his ogles in action, and be awake. "For," said he, "you will here have to mingle with some of the queer Gills and rum Covies of all ranks."

This advice being taken, they soon found themselves in this temple of torment, where Bob surveyed a motly group assembled, and at that moment engaged in the sports of the evening. The generality of the company bore the appearance of Butchers, Dog-fanciers and Ruffians, intermingled here and there with a few Sprigs of Fashion, a few Corinthian Sicells, Coster-mongers, Coal-heavers, Watermen, Soldiers, and Livery-servants.

The bear was just then pinn'd by a dog belonging to a real lover of the game, who, with his shirt-sleeves tuck'd up, declared he was a d———d good one, and nothing but a good one, so help him G———d. This dog, at the hazard of his life, had seized poor Bruin by the under lip, who sent forth a tremendous howl indicative of his sufferings, and was endeavouring to give him a fraternal hug; many other dogs were barking aloud with anxiety to take an active share in the amusement, while the bear, who was chained by the neck to a staple in the wall, and compelled to keep an almost erect posture, shook his antagonist with all the fury of madness produced by excessive torture. In the mean time bets were made and watches pull'd forth, to decide how long the bow-wow would bother the ragged Russian. The Dog-breeders were chaffing each other upon the value of their canine property, each holding his [388] brother-puppy between his legs, till a fair opportunity for a let-loose offered, and many wagers were won and lost in a short space of time. Bob remained a silent spectator; while his Cousin, who was better up to the gossip, mixt with the hard-featured sportsmen, inquired the names of their dogs, what prices were fix'd upon, when they had fought last, and other questions equally important to amateurs.

Bruin got rid of his customers in succession as they came up to him, and when they had once made a seizure, it was generally by a hug which almost deprived them of life, at least it took from them the power of continuing their hold; but his release from one was only the signal for attack from another.

While this exhibition continued, Tom could not help calling his Cousin's attention to an almost bald-headed man, who occupied a front seat, and sat with his dog, which was something of the bull breed, between his legs, while the paws of the animal rested on the top rail, and which forcibly brought to his recollection the well-known anecdote of Garrick and the Butcher's dog with his master's wig on, while the greasy carcass-dealer was wiping the perspiration from his uncovered pericranium.

Bob, who had seen a badger-bait, and occasionally at fairs in the country a dancing bear, had never before seen a bear-bait, stood up most of the time, observing those around him, and paying attention to their proceedings while entertaining sentiments somewhat similar to the following lines:—

              "What boisterous shouts, what blasphemies obscene,
              What eager movements urge each threatening mien!
              Present the spectacle of human kind,
              Devoid of feeling—destitute of mind;
              With ev'ry dreadful passion rous'd to flame,
              All sense of justice lost and sense of shame."

When Charley the proprietor thought his bear was sufficiently exercised for the night, he was led to his den, lacerated and almost lamed, to recover of his wounds, with an intention that he should "fight his battles o'er again." Meanwhile Tom and Bob walk'd homeward.

The next day having been appointed for the coronation of our most gracious Sovereign, our friends were off at an early hour in the morning, to secure their seats in [389] Westminster Hall; and on their way they met the carriage of our disappointed and now much lamented Queen, her endeavours to obtain admission to the Abbey having proved fruitless.

              "Oh that the Monarch had as firmly stood
              In all his acts to serve the public good,
              As in that moment of heartfelt joy
              That firmness acted only to destroy
              A nation's hope—to every heart allied,
              Who lived in sorrow, and lamented died!"

It was a painful circumstance to Dashall, who was seldom severe in his judgments, or harsh in his censures. He regretted its occurrence, and it operated in some degree to rob a splendid ceremony of its magnificence, and to sever from royalty half its dignity.

The preparations however were arranged upon a scale of grandeur suited to the occasion. The exterior of Westminster Hall and Abbey presented a most interesting appearance. Commodious seats were erected for the accommodation of spectators to view the procession in its moving order, and were thronged with thousands of anxious subjects to greet their Sovereign with demonstrations of loyalty and love.

It was certainly a proud day of national festivity. The firing of guns and the ringing of bells announced the progress of the Coronation in its various stages to completion; and in the evening Hyde Park was brilliantly and tastefully illuminated, and an extensive range of excellent fireworks were discharged under the direction of Sir William Congreve. We must however confine ourselves to that which came under the view of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin, who, being seated in the Hall, had a fine opportunity of witnessing the banquet, and the challenge of the Champion.

A flooring of wood had been laid down in the Hall at an elevation of fourteen inches above the flags. Three tiers of galleries were erected on each side, covered with a rich and profuse scarlet drapery falling from a cornice formed of a double row of gold-twisted rope, and ornamented with a succession of magnificent gold pelmets and rosettes. The front of the door which entered from the passage without, was covered with a curtain of scarlet, trimmed with deep gold fringe, and looped up on each side with [390] silken ropes. The floor, and to the extremity of the first three steps of the Throne, was covered with a splendid Persian-pattern Wilton carpet, and the remainder of the steps with scarlet baize.

The canopy of the throne, which was square, was surrounded by a beautiful carved and gilt cornice, prepared by Mr. Evans. Beneath the cornice hung a succession of crimson-velvet pelmet drapery, each pelmet having embroidered upon it a rose, a thistle, a crown, or a harp. Surmounting the cornice in front was a gilt crown upon a velvet cushion, over the letters "Geo. IV." supported on each side by an antique gilt ornament. The entire back of the throne, as well as the interior of the canopy, were covered with crimson Genoa velvet, which was relieved by a treble row of broad and narrow gold lace which surrounded the whole. In the centre of the back were the royal arms, the lion and the unicorn rampant, embroidered in the most costly style. Under this stood the chair of state, and near the throne were six splendid chairs placed for the other members of the royal family. These decorations, and the Hall being splendidly illuminated, presented to the eye a spectacle of the most imposing nature, heightened by the brilliant assemblage of elegantly dressed personages. The Ladies universally wore ostrich feathers, and the Gentlemen were attired in the most sumptuous dresses.

About four o'clock, his Majesty having gone through the other fatiguing ceremonies of the day, entered the Hall with the crown upon his head, and was greeted with shouts of "Long live the King!" from all quarters; shortly after which, the banquet was served by the necessary officers. But that part of the ceremony which most attracted the attention of Tallyho, was the challenge of the Champion, whose entrance was announced by the sound of the trumpets thrice; and who having proceeded on a beautiful horse in a full suit of armour, under the porch of a triumphal arch, attended by the Duke of Wellington on his right, and the Deputy Earl Marshal on his left, to the place assigned him, the challenge was read aloud by the Herald: he then threw down his gauntlet, which having lain a short time, was returned to him. This ceremony was repeated three times; when he drank to his Majesty, and received the gold cup and cover as his fee.

[391] The whole of this magnificent national pageant was conducted throughout with the most scrupulous attention to the customary etiquette of such occasions; and Tallyho, who had never witnessed any thing of the kind before, and consequently could have no conception of its splendour, was at various parts of the ceremony enraptured; he fancied himself in Fairy-land, and that every thing he saw and heard was the effect of enchantment. Our friends returned home highly gratified with their day's amusement.

## CHAPTER XXV

              "Behold the Ring! how strange the group appears
              Of dirty blackguards, commoners and peers;
              Jews, who regard not Moses nor his laws,
              All ranks of Christians eager in the cause.
              What eager bets—what oaths at every breath,
              Who first shall shrink, or first be beat to death.
              Thick fall the blows, and oft the boxers fall,
              While deaf'ning shouts for fresh exertions call;
              Till, bruised and blinded, batter'd sore and maim'd,
              One gives up vanquish'd, and the other lam'd.
              Say, men of wealth! say what applause is due
              For scenes like these, when patronised by you?
              These are your scholars, who in humbler way,
              But with less malice, at destruction play.
              You, like game cocks, strike death with polish'd steel;
              They, dung-hill-bred, use only nature's heel;
              They fight for something—you for nothing fight;
              They box for love, but you destroy in spite."

[392 ] THE following Tuesday having been appointed by the knowing ones for a pugilistic encounter between Jack Randall, commonly called the Nonpareil, and Martin, as well known by the appellation of The Master of the Rolls, from his profession being that of a baker; an excellent day's sport was anticipated, and the lads of the fancy were all upon the "qui vive."

Our friends had consequently arranged, on the previous night, to breakfast at an early hour, and take a gentle ride along the road, with a determination to see as much as possible of the attractive amusements of a milling-match, and to take a view as they went along of the company they were afterwards to mingle with.

"We shall now," said Dashall (as they sat down to breakfast) "have a peep at the lads of the ring, and see a little of the real science of Boxing."

"We have been boxing the compass through the difficult straits of a London life for some time," replied Bob, "and I begin to think that, with all its variety, its gaiety, and

[393] its pride, the most legitimate joys of life may fairly be said to exist in the country."

"I confess," said Dashall, "that most of the pleasures of life are comparative, and arise from contrast. Thus the bustle of London heightens the serenity of the country, while again the monotony of the country gives additional zest to the ever-varying scenes of London. But why this observation at a moment when we are in pursuit of fresh game?"

"Nay," said Tallyho, "I know not why; but I spoke as I thought, feeling as I do a desire to have a pop at the partridges as the season is now fast approaching, and having serious thoughts of shifting my quarters."

"We will talk of that hereafter," was the reply. "You have an excellent day's sport in view, let us not throw a cloud upon the prospect before us—you seem rather in the doldrums. The amusements of this day will perhaps inspire more lively ideas; and then we shall be present at the masquerade, which will doubtless be well attended; all the fashion of the Metropolis will be present, and there you will find a new world, such as surpasses the powers of imagination—a sort of Elysium unexplored before, full of mirth, frolic, whim, wit and variety, to charm every sense in nature. But come, we must not delay participating in immediate gratifications by the anticipations of those intended for the future. Besides, I have engaged to give the Champion a cast to the scene of action in my barouche."

By this time Piccadilly was all in motion—coaches, carts, gigs, tilburies, whiskies, buggies, dog-carts, sociables, dennets, curricles, and sulkies, were passing in rapid succession, intermingled with tax-carts and waggons decorated with laurel, conveying company of the most varied description. In a few minutes, the barouche being at the door, crack went the whip, and off they bowled. Bob's eyes were attracted on all sides. Here, was to be seen the dashing Corinthian tickling up his tits, and his bang-up set-out of blood and bone, giving the go-by to a heavy drag laden with eight brawney bull-faced blades, smoking their way down behind a skeleton of a horse, to whom in all probability a good feed of corn would have been a luxury; pattering among themselves, occasionally chaffing the more elevated drivers by whom they were surrounded, and pushing forward their nags with all the ardour of a British [394] merchant intent upon disposing of a valuable cargo of foreign goods on 'Change. There, was a waggon, full of all sorts upon the lark, succeeded by a donkey-cart with four insides; but Neddy, not liking his burthen, stopt short on the way of a Dandy, whose horse's head coming plump up to the back of the crazy vehicle at the moment of its stoppage, threw the rider into the arms of a Dustman, who, hugging his customer with the determined grasp of a bear, swore d———n his eyes he had saved his life, and he expected he would stand something handsome for the Gemmen all round, for if he had not pitched into their cart, he would certainly have broke his neck; which being complied with, though reluctantly, he regained his saddle, and proceeded a little more cautiously along the remainder of the road, while groups of pedestrians of all ranks and appearances lined each side.

At Hyde-Park Corner, Tom having appointed to take up the prime hammer-man, drew up, and was instantly greeted by a welcome from the expected party, who being as quickly seated, they proceeded on their journey.

"This match appears to occupy general attention," said Tom.

"I should think so," was the reply—"why it will be a prime thing as ever was seen. Betting is all alive—the Daffy Club in tip-top spirits—lots of money sported on both sides—somebody must make a mull{1}—but Randall's the man—he is the favourite of the day, all the world to a penny-roll."

The simile of the penny roll being quite in point with the known title of one of the combatants, caused a smile on Dashall's countenance, which was caught by the eye of Tallyho, and created some mirth, as it was a proof of what has frequently been witnessed, that the lovers of the fancy are as apt in their imaginations at times, as they are ready for the accommodating one, two, or the friendly flush hit which floors their opponents.

The morning was fine, and the numerous persons who appeared travelling on the road called forth many inquiries from Bob.

"Now," said he, "I think I recollect that the admirable author of the Sentimental Journey used to read as he went along—is it possible to read as we journey forward?" "Doubtless," replied Tom, "it is, and will produce

         1 Mull—Defeat, loss, or disappointment.

[395] a fund of amusing speculation as we jog on. Lavater founded his judgment of men upon the formation of their features; Gall and Spurzheim by the lumps, bumps and cavities of their pericraniums; but I doubt not we shall be right in our views of the society we are likely to meet, without the help of either—do you see that group?"

Bob nodded assent.

"These," continued Tom, "are profitable characters, or rather men of profit, who, kindly considering the constitution of their friends, provide themselves with refreshments of various kinds, to supply the hungry visitors round the ring—oranges, nuts, apples, gingerbread, biscuits and peppermint drops."

"Not forgetting blue ruin and French lace,"{1} said the man of fist; "but you have only half done it—don't you see the Cash-cove{2} behind, with his stick across his shoulder, padding the hoof{3} in breathless speed? he has shell'd out the lour{4} for the occasion, and is travelling down to keep a wakeful winker{5} on his retailers, and to take care that however they may chuse to lush away the profit, they shall at least take care of the principal. The little Dandy just before him also acts as Whipper-in; between them they mark out the ground,{6} watch the progress, and pocket the proceeds. They lend the money for the others to traffic."

"I confess," said Tom, "I was not exactly up to this."

"Aye, aye, but I know the Blunt-monger,{7} and am up to his ways and means," was the reply.—"Hallo, my eyes, here he comes!" continued he, rising from his seat, and bowing obsequiously to a Gentleman who passed them in a tandem—"all right, I am glad of it—always good sport when he is present—no want of sauce or seasoning—he always comes it strong."{8}

"I perceive," replied Tom, "you allude to the noble Marquis of W———."

         1 French lace—A flash or cant term for brandy.

         2 Cash-cove—A monied man.

         3 Padding the hoof—Travelling on Shanks's mare, or taking
         a turn by the marrow-bone stage, i.e. walking.

         4 Shell'd out the lour—Supplied the cash.

         5  Wakeful winker—A sharp eye.

         6 Mark out the ground—Is to place his retailers in various
         parts of the Ring for the accommodation of the company, any
         where he may expect to find them himself.

         7 Blunt-monger—Money-dealer, or money-lender.

         8 Comes it strong—No flincher, a real good one.

[396] Travelling gently along the road, they were presently impeded by a crowd of persons who surrounded a long cart or waggon, which had just been overturned, and had shot out a motley group of personages, who were being lifted on their legs, growling and howling at this unforeseen disaster. A hard-featured sailor, whose leg had been broken by the fall, brandished a splinter of the fractured limb, and swore—"That although his timbers were shivered, and he had lost a leg in the service, he would not be the last in the Ring, but he'd be d———d if he mount the rubbish-cart any more." It is needless to observe his leg was a wooden one.

Upon examining the inscription on the cart, it was found to contain the following words:—"Household Furniture, Building Materials, and Lumber carefully removed." As it was ascertained that no real injury had been sustained, our party speedily passed the overturned vehicle and proceeded.

The next object of attraction was a small cart drawn by one poor animal, sweating and snorting under the weight of six Swells, led by an old man, who seemed almost as incapable as his horse seemed unwilling to perform the journey. A label on the outside of the cart intimated that its contents was soap, which created some laughter between Tom and Bob. The man in the front, whose Jew-looking appearance attracted attention, was endeavouring to increase the speed of the conveyance by belabouring the boney rump of the prad{1} with his hat, while some of their pedestrian palls{2} were following close in the rear, and taking occasionally a drap of the cratur, which was handed out behind and returned after refreshment.

"These," said Tom to his Cousin, "are also men of profit, but not exactly in the way of those we passed—second-rate Swells and broken-down Gamesters, determined, as the saying is, to have a shy, even if they lose their sticks, and more properly may be termed men of plunder; desperate in their pursuits, they turn out with intent to make the best of the day, and will not fail to nibble all they can come easily at."

"They are not worth the blood from a broken nose," said the Pugilist, with a feeling for the honour of his profession which did him credit.—"They are all prigs, their company

         1 Prad—A cant term for a horse.

         2 Palls—Partners, accomplices, colleagues.

[397] spoils all genteel society, and frequently brings disgrace upon others with whom they are unworthy to associate, or even to be seen—there's no getting rid of such gentry. Is it not d———d hard a man can't have a pleasant bit of a turn-up, without having his friends filched?—But here comes the gay fellows, here they come upon the trot, all eager and anxious to mark the first blow, start the odds, and curry the coal.{1} These are the lads of life—true lovers of the sport—up to the manouvre—clear and quick-sighted, nothing but good ones—aye aye, and here comes Bill Gibbons, furnished with the fashionables."

"What do you call the fashionables?" inquired Bob.

"Why, the Binders."

Here he was as much at a loss as ever, which the other perceiving, he continued—"The Binders are the stakes and ropes, to fence in the Ring."

Bill Gibbons, who was well known on the road, and was speeding down pretty sharp, was followed by crowds of vehicles of all descriptions; as many to whom the place of meeting was but conjectured, upon seeing him felt assured of being in the right track. Here were to be seen the Swells in their tandems—the Nib Sprigs in their gigs, buggies, and dog-carts—and the Tidy Ones on their trotters, all alive and leaping. Mirth and merriment appeared spread over every countenance, though expectation and anxiety were intermingled here and there in the features of the real lads of the fancy; many of whom, upon this very interesting occasion, had bets to a considerable amount depending upon the result of the day. The bang-up blades were pushing their prads along in gay style, accompanied by two friends, that is to say, a biped and a quadruped. The queer fancy lads, who had hired hacks from the livery-stable keepers, were kicking up a dust, and here and there rolling from their prancers in their native soil; while the neck or nothing boys, with no prospect but a whereas before their eyes, were as heedless of their personal safety as they were of their Creditor's property. Jaded hacks and crazy vehicles were to be seen on all sides—here lay a bankrupt-cart with the panels knock'din, and its driver with an eye knock'd out, the horse lamed, and the concern completely knock'd up, just before the period when the hammer of the Auctioneer was to be called in, and his effects knock'd down. There was another

         1 Curry the coal—Make sure of the money.

[398] of the same description, with a harum-scarum devil of a half-bred, making his way at all risks, at a full gallop, as unmanageable in his career as his driver had been in his speculations; dust flying, women sprawling, men bawling, dogs barking, and the multitude continually increasing. Scouts, Scamps, Lords, Loungers and Lacqueys—Coster-mongers from—To the Hill Fields—and The Bloods from Bermondsey, completely lined the road as far as the eye could reach, both before and behind; it was a day of the utmost importance to the pugilistic school, as the contest had excited a most unparalleled degree of interest!

It would be scarcely possible to give a full and accurate description of the appearances as they went along; imagination would labour in vain, and words are altogether incapable of conveying a picture of the road to this memorable fight; the various instances in which they could discover that things were not all right were admirably contrasted by others, where care and good coachmanship, with a perfect management of the bloods, proved the reverse—while the single horsemen, whose hearts were really engaged in the sport, were picking their way with celerity, and posting to the point of attraction.—The public-houses were thronged to excess, and the Turnpike-keepers made a market of the mirth-moving throng.

Our party arrived in the neighbourhood of Copthorne about half-past twelve, where all was bustle and confusion. The commissary in chief, Mr. Jackson, being out of town, some of the subalterns, who had taken the command pro tempore, had, for divers weighty reasons,principally founded on a view to the profits of certain of the Surrey Trusts, and to accommodate the sporting circles at Brighton, fixed the combat to take place in a meadow belonging to a farmer named Jarvis, near this place.

On this spot accordingly the ring was formed, and an immense mass of all descriptions of vehicles was admitted, not much, it may naturally be supposed, to the prejudice of the owner of the premises, whose agents were praise-worthily active in levying proper contributions. Some Gentlemen however in the neighbourhood, observing that the strictest delicacy was not maintained towards the sacredness of their fences, insisted that the place was too confined, and intimated that a move must be made, or they should make application to the Magistrates; and at the same time suggested Crawley Downs, the site of so [399] many former skirmishes, as the most convenient spot for their accommodation.

In this state of things, a move immediately took place, and a fresh ring was established on the spot alluded to; but, in effecting this new lodgment, much mortification was experienced, not alone by those, who, after a dreadful drag up one of the worst by-roads in England, had obtained a comfortable situation, but by those, who, speculating on the formation of the ring, had expended considerable sums in the hire of waggons for their purpose from the surrounding farmers. The waggons it was found impossible to move in due time, and thus the new area was composed of such vehicles as were first to reach the appointed ground.

The general confusion now was inconceivable, for, notwithstanding the departure of connoisseurs from Jarvis's Farm, Martin still maintained his post, alleging, that he was on the ground originally fixed, and that he should expect Randall to meet him there; in which demand he was supported by his backers. This tended to increase the embarrassment of the amateurs; however, about one, Randall arrived at Crawley Downs, in a post-chaise, and took up his quarters at a cottage near the ground, waiting for his man; and at two, General Barton, who had just mounted his charger, intending to consult the head-quarters of the Magistrates, to ascertain their intention in case of proceeding to action at Jarvis's Farm, was suddenly arrested in his progress by an express from the Martinites, announcing that their champion had yielded his claim to the choice of ground, and was so anxious for the mill, that he would meet Randall even in a saw-pit. Bill Gibbons arriving soon after, the Ring, with the assistance of many hands, was quickly formed; by which time, Tom and Bob had secured themselves excellent situations to view the combat.

About twenty minutes before three, Randall entered the outer Ring, attended by General Barton and Mr. Griffiths. He was attired in a Whitehall upper Benjamin, and threw his hat into the Ring amidst loud applause. In a few minutes after, Martin approached from an opposite direction, accompanied by Mr. Sant and Mr. Elliott; he was also warmly greeted.

The men now passed the ropes, and were assisted by their immediate friends in peeling for action. Martin was [400] attended by Spring and Thurton; Randall, by Harry Holt and Paddington Jones.

The men stript well, and both appeared to be in excellent health, good spirits, and high condition; but the symmetry of Randall's bust excited general admiration; and the muscular strength of his arms, neck, and shoulders, bore testimony to his Herculean qualities; the whole force of his body, in fact, seem'd to be concentrated above his waistband. Martin stood considerably above him, his arms were much longer, but they wanted that bold and imposing weight which characterized those of Randall. They walked up to the scratch, and shook hands in perfect good fellowship. Every man now took his station, and the heroes threw themselves into their guard.

It was rumoured that Martin intended to lose no time in manoeuvring, but to go to work instanter. This however he found was not so easily to be effected as suggested, for Randall had no favour to grant, and was therefore perfectly on his guard. He was all wary caution, and had clearly no intention of throwing away a chance, but was evidently waiting for Martin to commence. Martin once or twice made play, but Randall was not skittishly inclined, all was "war hawk." Randall made a left-handed hit to draw his adversary, but found it would not do. Martin then hit right and left, but was stopped. Randall was feeling for Martin's wind, but hit above his mark, though not without leaving one of a red colour, which told "a flattering tale." Randall returned with his left, and the men got to a smart rally, when Randall got a konker, which tapped the claret. An almost instantaneous close followed, in which Randall, grasping Martin round the neck with his right arm, and bringing his head to a convenient posture, sarved out punishment with his left. This was indeed a terrific position. Randall was always famous for the dreadful force of his short left-handed hits, and on this occasion they lost none of their former character. Martin's nob was completely in a vice; and while in that hopeless condition, Randall fibbed away with the solid weight of the hammer of a tuck-mill. His aim was principally at the neck, where every blow told with horrible violence. Eight or ten times did he repeat the dose, and then, with a violent swing, threw Martin to the ground, falling on him as he; went with all his weight. The Ring resounded with applause, and Jack coolly took [401] his seat on the knee of his Second. Martin's friends began to look blue, but still expected, the fight being young, there was yet much to be done.

All eyes were now turned to Martin, who being lifted on Spring's knee, in a second discovered that he was done. His head fell back lifeless, and all the efforts of Spring to keep it straight were in vain. Water was thrown on him in abundance, but without effect: he was, in fact, completely senseless; and the half-minute having transpired, the Nonpareil was hailed the victor.

Randall appeared almost without a scratch, while poor Martin lay like a lump of unleavened dough; he was removed and bled, but it was some time before he was conscious of his defeat.

Nothing could exceed the astonishment which so sudden and complete a finish to the business produced. The round lasted but seven minutes and a half, of which four minutes and a half had elapsed before a blow was attempted. Thus ended one of the most extraordinary battles between two known game men on the pugilistic records. Very heavy bets had been made upon it in all parts of the kingdom. One gentleman is said to have had five thousand pounds, and another one thousand eight hundred guineas. The gains of the conqueror were supposed to be about a thousand pounds.

The amusements of the day were concluded by a second fight between Parish and Lashbroke, which proved a manly and determined contest for upwards of an hour, and in which the combatants evinced considerable skill and bravery, and was finally decided in favour of Parish. All amusement which might have been derived from this spectacle, however, was completely destroyed by the daring outrages of an immense gang of pickpockets, who broke in the Ring, and closed completely up to the ropes, carrying with them every person, of decent appearance, and openly robbing them of their watches, pocket-books and purses. And the lateness of the hour, it being five o'clock, and almost dark, favoured the depredators.

In the midst of this struggle, Tom Dashall had nearly lost his fancy topper,{1} and Tallyho was secretly eased of his clicker.{2} From the scene of tumult and confusion they were glad to escape; and being again safely seated in the

         1 Topper—A flash term given to a hat.

         2 Clicker—A flash term given to a watch,

[402] barouche, they made the best of their way home; in doing which, they found the roads almost as much clogg'd as they were in the morning. The Randallites were meritorious, and, flushed with good fortune, lined the public-houses on the road to wet their whistles, singing and shouting his name in strains to them equally inspiring as

              "See the conquering hero comes!
              Sound your trumpets, beat your drums;"

while the Martinites rolled along the road in sullen silence; and, by the time they reached town, an account of the Battle was hawking about the streets, and songs singing to the praise of the successful combatant in all the melodious cadences of a last dying speech and confession: such is the promptitude of London Printers, Poets, and News-venders.

"Well," said Dashall, as they re-entered the house, "the events of this day have completely disappointed some of the knowing ones."

"That may be," replied Bob, "but they have been too knowing for me, notwithstanding your previous instructions. However, I don't regret seeing the humours of a Prize Ring; and the next time you catch me there, I must take a lesson from the man of profit, and keep a wakeful winker on the possibles. Really, I could not help feeling astonished at the immense number of persons assembled on such an occasion."

"Zounds!" said Tom, "'tis the real centre of attraction, the thing, the tippy, and the twig, among the Lads of the Fancy. Why, it is pretty generally known, through the medium of the newspapers, that a certain Nobleman paid the debts of one of these Pugilists, amounting to 300L. that he might be released from Newgate in order to fight a prize battle; and it is not long since that the Marquis of T—ed—e, whilst entertaining a large party, after dinner introduced the subject with so much effect, that a purse of 100 guineas was subscribed among them for a turn up between two of the prime hammermen; who, being introduced, actually set-to in his drawing-room for the amusement of his friends. Nor is it less true, that this sporting Nobleman gloriously took up the conqueror, (as the saying is) and evinced his patronage and his power at once, by actually subduing his antagonist, proving to certitude, that if his Lordship would but practise this sublime art, he [403] could hardly fail of adding to his present title that of the Champion of England! It is the theme of constant conversation, and in many cases there is more anxiety about contests of this sort than there is about the arrival of a Monarch on the Irish coast among the lads of praties, whiskey, and buttermilk—thoughts are busy, energies are active—and money in galore is circulated upon it."

Bob laughed heartily at these observations of his Cousin upon what he termed the sublime art.

"You don't appear to enter into the spirit of it," continued Tom; "but I can assure you, it is a very animating subject, and has occupied the attention of all classes, from the peer to the prelate, the peasant and the pot-boy; it is said that one of the lower order of ranting Preachers, not many miles from Bolton-on-the-Moors, lately addressed his auditory in the following metaphorical language, accompanied with striking and appropriate attitudes:—'I dare say, now, you'd pay to see a boxing-match between Randall and Turner, or Martin—yet you don't like to pay for seeing a pitched-battle between me and the Black Champion Beelzebub. Oh! my friends, many a hard knock, and many a cross-buttock have I given the arch bruiser of mankind—aye, and all for your dear sakes—pull—do pull off those gay garments of Mammon, strike the devil a straight-forward blow in the mouth, darken his spiritual daylights. At him manfully, give it him right and left, and I'll be your bottle-holder—I ask nothing but the money, which you'll not forget before you go.' "

"The true spirit moved him," said Bob, "and a very laudable one too; but he very emphatically deprecated the votaries of Mammon."

"Certainly, he being called, would have been unworthy of his calling if he had not."

This conversation was carried on over a glass of generous wine, and, dwindling into indifferent subjects, is not necessary to be detailed; suffice it to say, that, fatigued with the day's exertions, they sought repose in the arms of Morpheus at an early hour, determined on the pursuit of fresh game with the dawn of the morning.[404]

## CHAPTER XXVI

              "See yonder beaux, so delicately gay;
              And yonder belles, so'deck'd in thin array—
              Ah! rather see not what a decent pride
              Would teach a maiden modestly to hide;
              The dress so flimsy, the exposure such,
              "twould almost make a very wanton blush.
              E'en married dames, forgetting what is due
              To sacred ties, give half clad charms to view.
              What calls them forth to brave the daring glance,
              The public ball, the midnight wanton dance?
              There many a blooming nymph, by fashion led,
              Has felt her health, her peace, her honour fled;
              Truss'd her fine form to strange fantastic shapes,
              To be admir'd, and twirl'd about by apes;
              Or, mingling in the motley masquerade,
              Found innocence by visor'd vice betrayed."

AN agreeable lounge through the Parks in the morning afforded them an opportunity of recalling in idea the pleasures of the past Real Life in London, of which Tallyho had been enabled to partake, and during which he again signified a desire to change the scene, by a departure at an early period for his native vales, to breathe, as he observed, the uncontaminated air of the country—to watch the wary pointer, and mark the rising covey—to pursue the timid hare, or chase the cunning fox; and Dashall finding him inflexible, notwithstanding his glowing descriptions of scenes yet unexplored, at length consented to accompany him to Belville Hall, upon condition that they should return again in a month. This mode of arrangement seemed perfectly satisfactory to Bob; and a view of the Panorama and a peep at the Tennis Court would have finished their rambles for the day, but at the latter place of amusement and healthful exercise, meeting with young Mortimer, a further developement of facts relative to Sparkle and his Bride transpired; in which it appeared that they had arrived at their place of destination, and had forwarded an invitation to his brother-in-law to [405] pay them an early visit, and who proposed starting in a few days.

"Well," said Dashall, "we will all go together, and no doubt with our old friend Sparkle we shall be able to endure the unchanging prospects of a country life."

              "In the Country how blest, when it rains in the fields,
              To feast upon transports that shuttle-cock yields;
              Or go crawling from window to window, to see
              An ass on a common, a crow on a tree.

              In the Country you're nail'd, like some pale in your park,
              To some stick of a neighbour, crammed into the ark;
              And if you are sick, or in fits tumble down,
              You reach death ere the Doctor can reach you from town."

"Never mind," cried Tallyho, "a change of scene will no doubt be useful, and, at all events, by enduring the one, we may learn more judiciously to appreciate the other."

"True," said Tom, "and I shall like myself all the better for being in good company. But pray, Mr. Mortimer, what do you mean to do at the approaching masquerade?"

"Not quite decided yet," was the reply.

"You go, of course?"

"Certainly—as Orpheus, or Apollo. But pray what character do you intend to sustain?"

"That's a secret—"

"Worth knowing, I suppose—well, well, I shall find you out, never fear."

"Time's a tell-tale," said Dashall, "and will most likely unfold all mysteries; but I always think the life and spirit of a masquerade is much injured by a knowledge of the characters assumed by friends, unless it be where two or more have an intention of playing, as it were, to, and with each other; for where there is mystery, there is always interest. I shall therefore propose that we keep to ourselves the characters in which we mean to appear; for I am determined, if possible, to have a merry night of it."

              "On the lightly sportive wing,
              At pleasure's call we fly;
              Hark! they dance, they play, they sing,
              In merry merry revelry;
              Hark! the tabors lively beat,
              And the flute in numbers sweet,
              Fill the night with delight
              At the Masquerade.
              Let the grave ones warn us as they may,
              Of every harmless joy afraid;
              Whilst we're young and gay,
              We'll frolic and play
              At the Masquerade."

[406] Tom's observations upon this subject were in perfect accordance with those of. Mortimer and Tallyho; though he had intended to consult his Cousin as to the character he should appear in, he now determined to take his own direction, or to have advice from Fentum in the Strand, whose advertisements to supply dresses, &c. he had observed in the newspapers.

These preliminaries being decided upon, as far as appeared needful at the moment, Mortimer departed towards home, where he expected to meet his Uncle upon his return from the chase after the fugitives, Sparkle and Miss Mortimer, now Mrs. Sparkle; and Tom and Bob to Piccadilly, where a select party of Dashall's friends were invited to dinner, and where they enjoyed a pleasant evening, drank rather freely, and had but little to regret after it, except certain qualmish feelings of the head and stomach the next morning.

The anticipated Masquerade had been the principal subject of conversation, so long as reason held her sway; but the hard exercise of the arm, and the generosity of the wine, had an early and visible effect upon some of the party, who did not separate till a late hour, leaving Bob just strength and intelligence enough to find the way to his dormitory.

By the arrival of the appointed evening for the grand Masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens, Tom Dashall, who had a particular view in keeping his intended proceedings a secret, had arranged all to his wishes, and anticipated considerable amusement from the interest he should take in the safety of his Cousin, whom he entertained no doubt of quickly discovering, and with whom he determined to promote as much mirth as possible.

Tallyho, in the mean time, had also made occasional calls upon Merrywell in his confinement, and, under his direction, been preparing for the occasion, equally determined, if possible, to turn the laugh on his Cousin; [407] and it must be acknowledged, he could scarcely have found a more able tutor, though he was doomed rather to suffer by his confidence in his instructor, as will hereafter be seen; for, in escaping the intended torment of one, he was unexpectedly subjected to the continual harassing of another.

It was about half after eleven o'clock, when Tallyho, duly equipped in his country costume, as a Huntsman, entered this splendid and spacious scene of brilliancy. The blaze of light which burst upon him, and the variety of characters in constant motion, appeared almost to render him motionless; and several of the would-be characters passed him with a vacant stare, declaring he was no character at all! nor was he roused from his lethargic position till he heard a view halloo, which seemed to come from a distant part of the Garden, and was so delivered, as actually to give him an idea of the party being in pursuit of game, by growing fainter towards the close, as if receding from him. The sound immediately animated him, and answering it in a truly sportsman-like style, he burst from his situation, and cracking his whip, at full speed followed in the direction from which it came, under the impression that he knew the voice of Dashall, and should discover him. In his speed, however, he was rather rudely attacked by a small dandy personage, whose outward appearance indicated some pretensions to manhood, with a "Demmee, Sir, how dare you be rude to my voman! for egad I shall have you clapped in the Round-house—here, Vatchman, take this here man in charge—Vatch! Vatch!" The voice however soon told him he had a lady to deal with, and he entered into a long harangue by way of apology. This not being acceptable to the offended party, he was surrounded by a host of Charleys springing their rattles all at once, and, notwithstanding the dexterous use of his whip, he was obliged to yield. At this moment, Tallyho was again sounded in his ears, issuing from another quarter; but his struggles to pursue the party from whom it came were ineffectual. A rough-hewn Sailor with a pipe in his mouth, and an immense cudgel in his hand, however, arrived to his assistance, accompanied by an Irish Chairman in a large blue coat, and a cock'd hat bound with gold lace, armed with a chair-pole, who effected his liberty; and he again scoured off in pursuit [408] of his friend, but without success. He now began to think his situation not altogether so pleasant as he could wish. He listened to every voice, examined every form that passed him in rapid succession; yet he felt himself alone, and determined not to be led away by sounds such as had already occupied his attention, but rather to look about him, and notice the eccentricities with which he was surrounded. Sauntering along in this mood, he was presently assailed by a voice behind him, exclaiming, "Bob—

              "Bob, if you wish to go safely on,
              Tarn round about, and look out for the Don."

Upon hearing this, he turned hastily around, and encountered a group of Chimney-sweepers, who immediately set up such a clatter with their brushes and shovels, dancing at the same time in the true May-day style round him and a strapping Irish fish-woman, that he was completely prevented from pursuit, and almost from observation, while a universal laugh from those near him bespoke the mirth his situation excited; and the Hibernian damsel, with true Irish sympathy, attempted to allay his chagrin by clasping him in her brawny arms, and imprinting on his ruddy cheek a kiss. This only served to heighten their merriment and increase his embarrassment, particularly as his Cher ami swore she had not had a buss like it since the death of her own dear dead and departed Phelim, the last of her four husbands, who died of a whiskey fever, bawling for pratees and buttermilk, and was waked in a coal-shed.

This mark of the Lady's favour was not so favourably received by Tallyho, and, determined to make his escape, he gave Moll a violent fling from him, overturned her and her basket, knock'd down two of the Chimney-sweepers, and then with a leap as if he had been springing at a five-barred gate, jumped over his late companion, who lay sprawling among the flue-fakers, and effected his purpose, to the inexpressible amusement of those, who, after enjoying a hearty laugh at him, now transferred their risibility to those he left behind. Finding himself once more unshackled, he smack'd his whip with enthusiasm, and repeated his Tallyho with increased effect; for it was immediately answered, and, without waiting for its final close, he found the person from whom it was [409] proceeding to be no other than a Turk, who was precipitately entering one of the rooms, and was as quickly recognized by him to be the Hon. Tom Dashall. The alteration which a Turkish turban and pelisse had effected in his person, would however have operated as an effectual bar to this discovery, had he not seized him in the very moment of vociferation; and although his Cousin had been the chief cause of the adventures he had already met with, he had at the same time kept an eye upon Bob, and been equally instrumental in effecting his release from embarrassment.

"Come," said Tom, "I am for a little gig in the Room—how long have you been here?—I thought I should find you out, very few can disguise themselves from me; we will now be spectators for half an hour, and enjoy the mirth excited by others."

"With all my heart," rejoined Bob, "for I am almost as tired already as if I had spent a whole day in a fox-chase, and have run as many risks of my neck; so that a cool half hour's observation will be very acceptable."

They had scarcely entered the Room, as a Priscilla Tomboy passed them at full speed with a skipping-rope, for whose accommodation every one made way; and who, having skipped round the room to shew her fine formed ancle and flexibility of limbs, left it for a moment, and returned with a large doll, which she appeared as pleased with as a child of eight or ten years of age. A Jemmy Jumps assured Tom, that his garments were altogether unsuitable to the nation in which he was residing, and recommended that he should not exist another day without that now very fashionable appendage of a Gentleman's dress called stays—An excellent Caleb Quotem, by his smartness of repartee and unceasing volubility of speech in recounting his labours of a day—"a summer's day," as the poet says, afforded much amusement by his powers of out-talking the fribble of a Staymaker, who, finding himself confused by his eternal clack, fled in search of another customer. A Don Quixote was conferring the honour of knighthood on a clumsy representative of the God of Love, and invoking his aid in return, to accomplish the object of finding his lost Dulcinea. An outlandish fancy-dressed character was making an assignation with a Lady, who, having taken the veil and renounced the sex, kindly consented to forego [410] her vows and meet him again; while a Devil behind her was hooking the cock'd-hat of the gay deceiver to the veil of the Nun, which created considerable laughter, for as they attempted to separate, they were both completely unmasked, and discovered, to the amazement of Tallyho, two well-known faces, little expected there by him—no other than Merrywell as the Dandy Officer, and his friend Mr. Safebind as the Nun. The exposure rather confused them, while Tom and Bob joined the merry Devil in a loud burst of laughter—they however bustled through the room and were quickly lost.

A French Frisseur, without any knowledge of the language of the nation from which he appeared to come, could only answer a question a la Françoise from the accomplished Tom Dashall, by a volume of scented powder from his puff, which being observed by a Chimney-sweeper, was returned by dust of another colour from his soot-bag, till the intermixture of white and black left it difficult to decide which was the Barber and which the Sweep. They were now suddenly attracted by a grotesque dance between a Clown of the Grimaldi school and a fancy Old Woman in a garment of patch-work made in an ancient fashion. A red nose, long rows of beads for ear-rings, and a pair of spectacles surmounted by a high cauled-cap, decorated with ribbons of various hues, rendered her the most conspicuous character in the room: and notwithstanding her high-heeled shoes, she proved herself an excellent partner for the Clown.

By this time, Bob, who was anxious to carry his plan into execution, began to be fidgetty, and proposed a walk into the open air again. As they left the room, his ears were attracted by the following song by a Watchman, which he could not help stopping to catch, and which afforded his Cousin an excellent opportunity of giving him the slip:

              "Fly, ye prigs,{1} for now's the hour,
              (Tho' boosey kids{2} have lost their power,)
              When watchful Charleys,{3} like the Sun,
              Their nightly course of duty run
              Beneath the pale-faced moon;

         1 Prigs—Pickpockets.

         2 Boosey kids—Drunken men.

         3 Charleys—A cant term for watchmen.

              But take this warning while ye fly,
              That if you nibble, click,{1} or clye,{2}
              My sight's so dim, I cannot see,
              Unless while you the blunt{3} tip me:
              Then stay, then stay;
              For I shall make this music speak,{4}
              And bring you up before the Beak,{5}
              Unless the chink's in tune.

              Now, ye rambling sons of night,
              Or peep-o'-day boys{6} on your flight,
              Well prim'd with Jack or Child Tom's juice,
              While you the silver key{7} produce,
              Your safety then is clear.
              But snuffy,{8} and not up to snuff,{9}
              You'll And your case is queer enough;
              Shell out the nonsense;{10} half a quid{11}
              Will speak more truth than all your whid:{12}

              Then go, then go;
              For, if you linger on your way,
              You'll for my music dearly pay,
              I'll quod you, never fear."

Turning round with laughter from this character, who had attracted many hearers, he look'd in vain for Dashall, and was not displeased to find he had fled. He therefore hastily withdrew from the scene of merriment, and according to the instructions previously received, and for which he had prepared, quickly changed his dress, and appeared again in the character of a Judge, under the impression hinted by his counsellor, that the gravity of his wig and gown, with a steady countenance,

         1  Click—A contraction of the word clicker, for a watch.

         2 Clye—A pocket-handkerchief.

         3 Blunt—Money.

         4 Music—Alluding to the rattle.

         5 Beak—A magistrate.

         6 Peep-o'-day boys—Staunch good ones—reeling home after
         the frolics of the night.

         7 Silver key—Money which is thus termed, as it is supposed
         to open all places, and all hearts.

              "If you are sick and like to die,
              And for the Doctor send,
              Or have the cholic in your eye,
              Still money is your friend—is it not?"

         8 Snuffy—Drunk.

         9  Up to Snuff—-Elevation of ideas.

         10 Shell out the nonsense—To pay money.

         11 Half a quid—Half a guinea.

         12  Whid—Words or talk.

[412] would be a quiet and peaceable part to get through, and shield him from the torment of those whom Bob suspected willing to play tricks with him should he be discovered. Here however he again found himself at fait, for he had scarcely entered the Gardens, before a host of depredators were brought before him for trial. The Charleys brought in succession, drunken Fiddlers, Tinkers and Barbers; and appeals were made to his patience in so many voices, and under so many varying circumstances, that Justice was nearly running mad, and poor Tallyho could find no chance of making a reply. An uproar from the approaching crowd, announced some more than ordinary culprit; and, in a moment, who should appear before him but a Don Giovanni, and the hooking Devil, Here was a fine case for decision; the Devil claimed the Don as his property, and addressed the Representative of Justice as follows:—

"Most learned and puissant Judge!

"Protect my rights as you would the rights of man; I claim my property, and will have my claim allowed."

"Hold," replied Bob, "if that is the case, you have no occasion to appeal to me—begone, black wretch, and in thy native shades yell forth thy discordant screams."

"Most righteous Judge!—a second Daniel!" cried a bearded Shylock, with his knife and scales, "he shan't escape me—I'll have my bond—so bare his bosom 'next the heart'—let me come near him."

"This is playing the Devil, indeed," said the Don.

"By the Powers!" cried a 'Looney Mackwolteb,' "he's jump'd out of the fire into the frying-pan; and, when the Smouchee has done wid him, he may be grill'd in his own fat."

At this moment, a Leporello, who caught the last words of the Irishman, burst into the presence of the Judge, singing—

"Zounds, Sir, they'll grill you now, lean or fat, I know what games you were always at, And told you before what harm you would hatch: Now the old Gentleman's found you out, He'll clap us all in the round-about; Let us be off, ere they call for the Watch."

The word Watch was re-echoed in a thousand voices; the vociferations of the callers, the noise of the rattles, [413] and the laughter of those immediately surrounding the judgment-seat, offered so good an opportunity for escape, that Giovanni, determining to have another chance, burst from the grasp of the arch enemy of mankind, to pursue his wonted vagaries, to the no small gratification of Bob, who, without actually acquitting the prisoner, rejoiced at his own escape.

He had however scarcely time to congratulate himself, before he was annoyed by a Postman, in the usual costume, whom he had already seen delivering letters to the company; the contents of which appeared to afford considerable amusement; and who, presenting a letter addressed to The Lord Chief Justice Bunglecause, in a moment disappeared. Breaking open the envelope, he read with astonishment the following lines:—

              "Tho' justice prevails
              Under big wigs and tails,
              You've not much of law in your nob;
              So this warning pray take,
              Your big wig forsake,
              And try a more modern scratch, Bob."

"Go along Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob in a scratch," cried a Waterman at his elbow, (who had heard him reading) in a voice loud enough to be heard at some distance.

"There he'll be at home to a hair," squeaked a little finicking personification of a modern Peruquier, sidling up to him, picking his teeth with a tortoise-shell comb.

Bob, in bursting hastily away, under the reiterated cries of "Go along Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob," with the idea of overtaking the Postman, found himself in a moment lock'd in the close embraces of a Meg Merrilies; while a little bandy-legg'd representative of the late Sir Jeffery Dunstan, bawling out, Ould wigs, Ould wigs, made a snatch at the grave appendage of Justice, and completely dismantled the head of its august representative. This delayed him in his progress, but it was merely to witness the wig flying in the air, with as much mirth to the surrounding company as when the greasy night-cap of the Rev. George Harvest was toss'd about the pit at the theatre, each one giving it a swing who could get within reach of it. Thus mutilated in his [414] apparel, and probably conceiving, according to the song,

              "The wig's the thing, the wig, the wig,
              The wisdom's in the wig,"

Bob Tallyho took flight into a dressing-room, declaring justice was abroad and propriety not at home. He was however rather at a loss, as in his last character he had not been able to meet with the Turk, but determined to resume the search in a 'Domino. Having therefore equipped himself as a spectator, he again sallied forth with intention to explore the room, and for a time remained comparatively unmolested; but as he could no where find his Cousin, he strolled indiscriminately among the characters, viewing whatever appeared amusing or interesting in his way. The fineness of the weather greatly animated the scene, and gave increased brilliancy and effect to the illuminations, which were disposed in a numerous variety of splendid devices, representing national trophies, stars, wreaths, and crowns of laurel. It was the first moment he had found an opportunity of viewing the place in which he had been acting.

The amusements of the evening were judiciously varied, and protracted by a constant succession of entertainments of various descriptions. Mr. Chalons exhibited many of his most surprising deceptions in the rotunda; where also young Gyngell displayed some capital performances on the slack-wire. In the long room the celebrated fantoccini exhibition, with groupes of quadrille dancers, enlivened the scene. In one walk of the garden, Mr. Gyngell's theatre of arts was erected, where were exhibited balancing, the Ombres Chinoises, gymnastic exercises, and other feats, and Mr. Gyngell performed several airs on the musical glasses; in another, Punchinello delighted the beholders with his antics; in a third a very expert Juggler played a variety of clever tricks and sleight-of-hand deceptions, and a couple of itinerant Italians exhibited their musical and mechanical show-boxes; in another part of the gardens the celebrated Diavolo Antonio went through his truly astonishing evolutions on the corde volante. The Duke of Gloucester's fine military band occupied the grand orchestra; an excellent quadrille band played throughout the night in the long room, while a Scottish reel band in the rotunda, and [415] a Pandean band in the gardens, played alternately reels, waltzes, and country dances.

This interval of peace was truly acceptable to Bob, and he did not fail to make the most of it, roving like the bee from one delight to another, sipping pleasure as he went, almost regretting he had not taken the last dress first, though he was every now and then importuned by Mendicants and Servant girls, very desirous to obtain places of all work. The introduction of a Dancing Bear, who appeared to possess more Christian qualities than his Leader, attracted his attention; but, in pressing to the scene of action, he received a floorer from a Bruiser in gloves, who mill'd indiscriminately all who came in his way, till the Bear took the shine out of him by a fraternal embrace; and his Leader very politely asked those around which they thought the greater bear of the two. Upon rising, Bob found himself in the hands of two itinerant Quack Doctors, each holding an arm, and each feeling for his pulse. One declared the case was mortal, a dislocation of the neck had taken place, and there was no chance of preserving life except by amputation of the head. The other shook his head, look'd grave, pull'd out his lancet, and prescribed phlebotomy and warm water.

Bob, who had received no injury, except a little contusion occasioned by the blow, seized the ignorant practitioners by the throat, and knocking their heads together, exclaimed with a stentorian voice,

"Throw physic to the clogs, I'll none on't." "Go along Bob," was repeated again, as loud and as long as before; he however burst from those around him in pursuit of fresh game; nor was he disappointed, for he presently found a dapper young Clergyman in gown and surplice, and who, with book in hand, was fervently engaged in exhortations and endeavours to turn from the evil of their ways a drunken Sailor and a hardened thief, (the Orson of the Iron Chest,) when the group were surrounded by a detachment of the Imps and Devils of Giovanni in London, a truly horrid and diabolical crew, who, by their hideous yells, frantic capers, violent gestures, and the flaring of their torches, scared the affrighted Parson from his task, made his intended penitents their own, and became an almost intolerable [416] nuisance to the rest of the company for the remainder of the evening.

While he was thus engaged, the supper-boxes were thrown open, and the company appeared to be all on the move towards the more substantial entertainments of the evening. He was next suddenly detained by a Jew Pedlar, who was anxious to shew him his wares.

"Get out, Smouchee," said Bob.

"Ant is dat all vat you can say to a poor honesht Jew, what vants to live by his 'trade, for vye you trow my religionsh in my teeth? I'm so honesht vat I never cheats nobody—vill you puy a gould———l Vat you take for your gown? I shall puy or sell, it's all the same to me.

"Now whatsoever country by chance I travel through, 'Tis all the same to I, so the monies but comes in; Some people call me tief, just because I am a Jew; So to make them tell the truth, vy I tinks there is no sin. So I shows them all mine coots vid a sober, winning grace, And I sometimes picks dere pockets whilst they're smiling in my face."

Bob laugh'd, but declared he'd have nothing to do with him.

"Then," said the Hon. Tom Dashall, "you may go along Bob."

"What! is it possible? I have been looking for you these two hours."

"I can't eat pork," said Dashall, resuming his character.

"Come along," said Bob, happy to find his relation; and catching him by the arm, they proceeded to refreshment, and partook of an excellent supper of cold viands plentifully supplied, and accompanied with a profusion of ices and jellies, served up in a style highly creditable to the managers.

Here they were joined by Mortimer, who had been as frolicsome as any imp in the Gardens, in the character of the Devil, but who had lost sight of the Dandy Officer and the Nun, whom he had so ingeniously hooked together. The wine was good, and after enjoying their repast, Tom and Mortimer enshrined themselves in dominos for the remainder of the evening. The usual masquerade frolics and dancing were afterwards continued, and about five in the morning they left this region of fun, mirth and good humour.[417]

## CHAPTER XXVII

              That Life is a picture of strange things and ways,
              A grand exhibition, each hour displays;
              And for London there's no place can with it compare,
              'Tis a jumble of every thing curious and rare.
              Cheap-side Bustlers—Fleet Street Hustlers,
              Jockeys, Doctors—Agents, Proctors,
              Bow Street Slangups—Bond Street Bangups,
              Hide and Seekers—Opera Squeakers,
              Lawyers, Tailors—Bailiffs, Jailors,
              Shopmen, Butlers—Alderman Gutters,
              Patriot Talkers—Sunday Walkers,
              Dancers, Actors—Jews, Contractors,
              Placemen, Croakers—Boxers, Brokers,
              Swindlers, Coroners—Spies, and Foreigners,
              And all, all to keep up the bubble of strife,
              And prove ways and means—is the picture of Life.

THE bustle and merriment of the Masquerade were long remembered in the mind of Bob Tallyho, and furnished frequent conversations between him and his Cousin; and the laughable occurrences of the evening, in which they had been engaged, were re-enjoyed in recollection, notwithstanding the preparations they were making for an excursion of another kind in the country, which though not exactly to the taste of Dashall, was inflexibly persevered in by Tallyho.

Tom tried every effort in his power to prolong the appointed period of departure in A'ain. The heart and mind of his Cousin appeared to be occupied with anticipated delights, which he described in the most glowing colours of imagination. The healthful fields, the enlivening fox chase, and the sportive exercises of a country life, were detailed with ecstacy; and though last, not least, the additional zest for the more attractive scenes (in Tom's idea) that would present themselves for inspection upon a return to the Metropolis. At length it was finally arranged that their country excursion should not exceed [418] one month in duration, and that they would leave London time enough to reach Belville Hall on or before the first day of September.

Dashall, after consenting to this arrangement, finding there was not much time to spare, was anxious to improve it in the pursuit of such lively and interesting amusements as chance and accident might throw in their way. "Come," said he, a few mornings after the masquerade, "it must not be said that you have been so long in London without viewing as many of its important curiosities as the time would admit; though I am sure we shall not have an opportunity of glancing at all those I could point out, and I am pretty sure that persons from the country frequently see more in a few days residence in the Metropolis, than those who have inhabited it for their whole lives. We will therefore take a stroll out, without any determined line of pursuit, and survey what chance may bring in our way; for the places deserving of particular inspection are so numerous, and lay in so many directions, that it is scarcely possible for us to turn round without finding some objects and subjects yet in store.

Thus saying, and taking the arm of his Cousin, they walked along Piccadilly in a direction for the City; for as it was a clear morning, Tom, although he had not mentioned the road he meant to take, still had an object in view.

"It is certainly much to be deplored," said he, as they were just entering Leicester Square by Sydney's Alley, "that the abominable nuisance of barrows being driven on the pavement cannot be removed; it is a great shame that lusty and able fellows should be wheeling foul linen, hogwash, and other filthy articles along the street, to the annoyance and inconvenience of pedestrians."

"I am of your opinion," replied his Cousin; "but during the short time I have been here, I have discovered many other equally objectionable annoyances. There is, for instance, the carrying of milk pails, which, unless great care is taken, are so likely to break people's shins; and in dirty weather the trundling of boys' hoops, to the discomfiture of many a well-dressed Lady."

At this moment a butcher was passing with a tray heavily loaded, and Bob narrowly escaped a blow from the projecting corner, which immediately induced him to add that to the number of what he termed street [419] grievances, and almost to overturn both the carrier and his load.

"A lucky escape," said Dashall, "for you might have lost an eye by coming in contact with that tray, and I wonder a stop is not put to the probability of such fatal accidents. It is related that a certain City Alderman, whose constitution, it may be presumed, is rather of a combustible nature, by the alarms he spread during his mayoralty, of the intention to burn the City of London, and destroy all its peaceable inhabitants, thrashed a butcher who ran against him in the public street. This it must be admitted was a summary mode of punishment, although it was not likely to remove the nuisance; but there are still many that are not enumerated in your list. Both by day and night in the most frequented streets of the Metropolis and its environs, the unoffending passengers of either sex are frequently obstructed on, or absolutely pushed off the pavement by a trio of arm-in-arm puppies; nay they will sometimes sweep the whole of the space from the wall to the curb stone, by walking four abreast, a practice brutally infringing the laws of civil society in pedestrian excursions through a crowded Metropolis.

"I have however with pleasure, upon some occasions, seen these vile trespassers meet with a just resentment in the unexpected pugilistic exertions of the insulted party; and have almost rejoiced to see them packed into a coach and sent home with bruises, black eyes, and bloody noses, serving, it is to be hoped, as wholesome lessons for their future conduct. In some cases duels have arisen from this violation of decorum in the King's highway, and by this means, scoundrels have been admitted to the undeserved honour of being met on a level by gentlemen.

"These," continued he, "are the polite encroachers on the pavé.. There are, however, many others, but of a less censurable, though certainly of a finable description; such as journeymen bakers wheeling barrows conveying the staff of life—publicans' boys collecting pewter pots—lady drivers of similar vehicles, containing oysters, inferior or damaged fruit, delicate prog for pug dogs, cats, &c.

"After all, the most prominent offenders, or at least obstructors of the public way, in my opinion, are those sturdy John Bulls, brewers' servants, by means of ropes [420] and pulleys affixed to their drays, lowering down beer into, or drawing up empty casks from the cellars of public-houses. Now although this may be unavoidable, ask one of these bluff bipeds to let you pass, the consequence frequently will be, instead of rough civility, an insolent reply accompanied with vulgar oaths; in short, a torrent of abuse, if not a shove into the kennel; perhaps a grimy rope thrown against your white stockings. Private, emolument and convenience certainly ought to give way to public accommodation."

"Confound that dustman's bell," said Bob, as they passed down Wych-street; "it is as bad as any thing we nave mentioned yet; it absolutely deafens one."

"Oh, if you call noises nuisances, we may go on with a list from this time to this day month, and scarcely comprehend them. The cries of London are many of them very laughable, and many very lamentable, and by way of contrast to the deafening dustman, take care of the bespatterings from the mud cart. The garlick-eating rogues, the drivers of these inconvenient conveniences, grinning horribly their ghastly smiles, enjoy a most malicious pleasure in the opportunities which chance affords them, of lending a little additional decoration from the contents of their carts, by way of embellishment to a cleanly dressed passenger. Therefore keep, if possible, at such a respectful distance as to avoid the effects of this low envy, and steer clear of the mudlarks."

By this time they had passed through the line of leading thoroughfares, and had St. Paul's in their view, when Tom took occasion to remark, "He was sorry the scaffolding was not removed, or," continued he, "we would soon have mounted above these petty considerations, and looked down upon the world. However, we can take a tolerable survey of the metropolis from the Monument, and as it is not much farther, we may as well extend our walk to that celebrated pillar, said to be one of the finest in the world, and erected by Sir Christopher Wren in memory of the great fire which in 1666 broke out at a house on the spot, and destroyed the metropolis from Tower Hill to Temple Bar. From this pillar you will have a fine panoramic view of London, Westminster, and Southwark; and as we are about to leave its noise, its bustle, and its inconveniences in a day or two, we may as well take a general survey."

[421] Bob having signified his consent to this proposal, they made the best of their way to the Monument, where having deposited the customary entrance money with the door-keeper, they were allowed to ascend by the winding staircase to the top, when a prospect was presented to the eye of Tallyho, of which he could not have formed any previous conception. The view of the river as far as the eye could reach, each way, the moving of the boats, the bustle and activity of the streets, and the continued hum which arose to their ears, formed altogether a subject of delightful contemplation; while the appearance of being as it were suspended in the air, rendered it awful and terrific. Bob had almost grown giddy in his ascension, and for some time took care to keep a fast hold of the iron railings at top, in order to secure himself from falling; till Dashall drew from his pocket a telescope, and directed his attention to Greenwich Hospital, Shooter's Hill, and the public buildings at a distance, where they were scarcely discernible by the naked eye. Bob was delighted with the view of Greenwich Hospital, and the account which his Cousin gave him of the establishment; and upon descending they took a complete walk round this celebrated pillar, marking its decorations and reading the inscription.

"It is," said Tom, "a fluted column of the Doric order; the total height is 202 feet, the diameter at the base 15 feet, and the height of the column 120 feet; the cone at the top, with its urn, are 42 feet; the height of the massy pedestal is 40 feet; there are 345 steps inside; but," continued he, ''it is really a great pity that this beautiful Monument should be in such a confined situation, for in a proper place it would form one of the most striking objects of the kind that architecture is capable of producing.

"The inscription, it is true," continued Dashall, "had better be erased, it contains a libel, or more properly a lie, which almost contradicts itself, for no rational being can entertain the notion that the Catholics, or indeed any religious sect, could wilfully have perpetrated so horrible a deed as this pillar was intended to impute to them; nor can so much credit be given to human foresight as for it to be concluded that a fire, which broke out in a single house, could upon this, rather than upon other occasions, have extended its ravages in so extraordinary a manner.—

[422] While we arc on the spot we will take a peep at a curious piece of antiquity; not that I am so great a lover of such curiosities, but it would appear almost unpardonable for you to have been in London without seeing London Stone."

"I have heard of it," said Tallyho, "and if we are near, let us have a view."

"Come on then," said Dashall; "This same London Stone is at present fixed close under the south wall of St. Swithin's Church, Cannon Street. It has by some been supposed of British origin, a kind of solemn boundary, or some other object probably of a religious nature, which through every change and convulsion of the State has been preserved with reverential care. But this is the very place," said he.

Bob stared about him with surprise, to discover this curious and apparently valuable relic, without finding it, till at length his Cousin directed his attention to the spot, which at present is under a pitching-block, or resting-place for persons carrying heavy loads, and almost burst into laughter, for he had raised his Cousin's expectation by the previous description.

"How!" said Tallyho, "and is this your curiosity?"

"Even so," replied Tom, "that is the celebrated London Stone; it formerly stood nearer the middle of the street, was placed deep in the ground, and strongly fixed with iron bars. According to account, the first mention of it was in the reign of Ethelstan, king of the West Saxons, and it has been usually viewed by our antiquaries as a military stone, from which the Romans began the computation of their miles, a conjecture which certainly appears very reasonable, not only from the discovery of the Roman road after the year 1666, running directly to this stone from Watling Street, but from the exact coincidence which its distance bears with the neighbouring station, mentioned in Antonine's Itinerary, the principal of whose Journeys either begin or end with London."

The sound of a horn interrupted this conversation.

"Apropos," said Tom, "we can take the Post Office in our way, a place of considerable importance; so allons."

They now pursued their way to Lombard Street.

"This collection of buildings," said Dashall, as they entered, "important as its concerns are to the nation, claims no praise as a building. It stands behind Lombard [423] Street, from which, on the south side of the street, there is a passage leading to it, under an arched gateway.

"A plan has, however, been adopted for erecting a building worthy of this great establishment, on the site now called St. Martin's-le-grand, and to improve the access to it by pulling down the east ends of Newgate Street and Paternoster-Row. It is now proceeding rapidly.

"The Post-office system is, however, one of the most perfect regulations of finance and convenience existing under any government. It has gradually been brought to its present perfection, being at first in the hands of individuals, and replete with abuses. In its present form it not only supplies the government with a great revenue, but accomplishes that by means highly beneficial to the persons contributing.

"The Post-office is the most important spot on the surface of the globe. It receives information from all countries; it distributes instructions to the antipodes; it connects together more numerous and distant interests of men than any similar establishment. It is in the highest degree hitherto realized, the seat of terrestrial perception and volition—the brain of the whole earth; and hitherto it has been in a narrow valley, misshapen even to deformity, and scarcely accessible to the few mail coaches which collect there for their nightly freights.

"The present Post-office was erected in 1660; but great additions have been made to it from time to time, though the whole is disjointed and inconvenient.

"The mode of carrying letters by the General Post was greatly improved a few years since, by a most admirable plan, invented by Mr. Palmer. Previously to its adoption, letters were conveyed by carts, without protection from robbery, and subject to delays. At present they are carried, according to Mr. Palmer's plan, by coaches, distinguished by the name of mail-coaches, provided with a well-armed guard, and forwarded at the rate of eight miles an hour, including stoppages. Government contracts with coach-keepers merely for carrying the mail, the coach-owner making a profitable business besides, of carrying passengers and parcels. It is not easy to imagine a combination of different interests to one purpose, more complete than this. The wretched situation, however, of the horses, on account of the length of the stages which they are frequently driven, is a disgrace to the character [424] of the British nation, and requires the interference of the legislature. No stage should exceed twelve miles in length.

"The rapidity of this mode of conveyance is unequalled in any country, and the present rate of charge for each passenger is little more than sixpence per mile.

"Houses having boxes, for receiving letters before five o'clock, are open in every part of the Metropolis; and after that hour bell-men collect the, letters during another hour, receiving a fee of one 'penny for each letter. But, at the General Post-office, in Lombard Street, letters are received till seven o'clock: after which time, till half an hour after seven, a fee of sixpence must be paid; and from half after seven till a quarter before eight, the postage must also be paid, as well as the fee of sixpence."

"Well," said Tallyho, "for a place of such public utility and constant resort, I must confess I expected to see a building of the most magnificent kind; but I am also puzzled to conceive how such extensive business can be carried on with so much regularity as it is."

"Your observation," replied his Cousin, "exactly coincides with that of many others; but you will some day or other be as much surprised on other subjects, for there are places in London where mercantile and legal business is conducted in situations of obscurity, of which you can have no conception; but as a national establishment, though its internal regulations are good, its external appearance is no recommendation to it. But come, let us proceed towards home, I have a call or two to make on the road, for as we depart quickly for the open fields, and are to bid adieu to London smoke as well as London Stone, we have but little time to spare, so let us post away."

Bob, alive to this subject, did not require a second hint, but taking the arm of Dashall, they proceeded along Cheapside, made a call at Mortimer's, the Gun-smith's on Ludgate hill, provided themselves with all necessary shooting apparatus; and Tom, ever mindful of the variety which he conceived would be needful to render rusticity agreeable on their way, purchased a pair of boxing gloves, a backgammon board, and other amusing articles, to provide, as he said, against a rainy day.

On arrival at home, they were presented with a letter from Sparkle, announcing his arrival at his new mansion, and expressing a hope that he should have the pleasure of [425] meeting his friends within a day or two; expatiating with great apparent delight upon the happiness of his own situation, and promising lots of amusement, in detailing to them the events of his peregrinations. This operated as an additional spur to the speed of their departure, and it was agreed that they should start the next morning.

"I don't know," said Bob, "whether I should really like a continued Life in London; I have seen many of its comforts and many of its inconveniences." "Then," replied Tom, "you may certainly, by the exercise of your reason, and the decision of your judgment, upon mature reflection, strike the balance; and if you do not give it in favour of the former, I shall entertain doubts upon your sagacity."

"Well," continued Bob, "I shall now have a fine opportunity for drawing out a distinct account, and when done, I will submit the result to your inspection."

Every thing being prepared, they were on the road to Belville Hall at an early hour the next morning.

As the occurrences of a Country excursion, or the delineation of a Country Life, form no part of the intended plan of this Work, we shall not enter into any detailed account; but leaving our Heroes in the pursuit of fresh game, under new circumstances, and in somewhat new situations, bear in our minds their intended return, to engage, contemplate, and enjoy a future review of the complicated, yet ever new and ever varying scenes of a Real Life in London, with a determination to meet them on arrival, and not lose sight of them in their future rambles.

END OF VOL. I.

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