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 Francoise 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 pave.. 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.



REAL LIFE IN LONDON

OR, THE

FURTHER RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF BOB TALLYHO, ESQ.,

AND HIS COUSIN THE HON. TOM DASHALL, ETC., THROUGH

THE METROPOLIS; EXHIBITING A LIVING PICTURE

OF FASHIONABLE CHARACTERS, MANNERS, AND

AMUSEMENTS IN HIGH AND LOW LIFE

BY an AMATEUR

EMBELLISHED AND ILLUSTRATED WITH A SERIES OF

COLOURED PRINTS, DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED

BY MESSRS. HEATH, AIKEN, DIGHTON,

BROOKE, ROWLANDSON, ETC.

VOLUME II

A NEW EDITION

METHUEN & CO. LONDON

Chapter I.

A return to the metropolis, 2. Instance of exorbitant charges, 3. Field-marshal Count Bertrand, 4. Lines on the late Napoleon, 5. A mysterious vehicle, 6. The devil in Long Acre, 7. The child in the hay, 8. A family triumvirate, 9. Egyptian monuments, 10. Relations of Gog and Magog discovered, 11. The Theban ram, 12. Egyptian antiquities, 13. Egyptian mummies, &c. 14. Curiosities of the museum, 15. Statues of Bedford and Fox, 16. The knowing one deceived, 17. Covent Garden Market, 18. Miss Linwood's exhibition, 19.

Chapter II.

Tothill-fields Bridewell, 20. Perversion of justice, 21. A laudable resolution, 22. Success and disappointment, 23. A story out of the face, 24. A critical situation, 25. A hair- breadth escape, 26. Kidnappers, or crimps, 27. Summary justice averted, 28. Swindling manoeuvres, 29. Estates, &c. in nubibus, 30. Fetters and apathy, 31. Urchin thief picking-pockets, 32. Juvenile depravity, 33.

Chapter III.

Life in St. George's Fields, 34. Chums—Day rules, &c. 35. Hiring a horse—A bolter, 36. Characters of Abbot's priory, 37. Introductory sketch, 38. The flying pieman, 39. Commercial activity, 40. A cutting joke, 41. Magdalen Hospital, 42. Curious anecdote, 43. Surrey Theatre, &c, 44. Admixture of characters, &c. 45.

Chapter IV.

Entry to Abbott's park, 46. A world within walls, 47. Finding a friend at home, 48. Exterior of the chapel, 49. A finish to education, 50. The walking automaton, 51. The parliamentary don, 52. The tape merchant, &c. 53. A morning in the Bench, 54. Prison metamorphoses, 55. Friendly congratulations, 56. Preparations for a turn to, 57. The college cries, 58. Another real character, 59. A mutual take-in, 60. A college dinner, 61. Free from college rules, 62. A heavy-wet party, 63. Keeping the game alive, 64. An agreeable surprise, 65. Harmony disturbed, 66.

Chapter V.

London munificence, 67. Vauxhall Bridge, 68. Millbank Penitentiary, 69. Metamorphoses of time, 70. Cobourg Theatre, 71. Retrospection, 72. Intellectual progress, 73. Wonders of the moderns, 74. Bridge-Street association, 75. Infidel pertinacity, 76. City coffee house, 77. St. Paul's Cathedral, 78. Clockwork and great bell, 79. Serious cogitations disturbed, 80. A return homeward, 81.

Chapter VI.

Westminster Abbey, 82. Monuments—Poets' corner, 83. Henry Seventh's chapel, 84. Interesting prospect, 85. Fees exacted for admission, 86. Westminster Hall—Whitehall, 87. Sir Robert Wilson, 88. Temptations to depredation, 89. Sympathy excited, 90. A sad story strangely told, 91. Fleet Street— Doctor Johnson, 92. Fleet Market, 93. The market in an uproar, 94. The rabbit pole-girl, 95. Princess of Cumberland, 96. Doubts of royal legitimacy, 97. Mud-larks, picking up a living, 98. The boil'd beef house, 99. A spunger, 100. Gaol of Newgate, 101. Jonathan Wild's residence, 102. Entering the Holy Land, 103. The Holy Land, 104. Salt herrings and dumplings, 105. Deluge of beer, 106. Mrs. C*r*y, 107. Andrew Whiston, 108.

Chapter VII.

A dinner party, 109. Complimentary song, 110. Irish posting, 111. Extraordinary robbery, 112. Follies of fashion—ennui, 113. A set-to in a gambling house, 114. A nunnery—the Lady abbess, 115. Life in a cellar, 116. Advantageous offer rejected, 117. "Bilge water not whiskey," 118. Aqua fortis and aqua fifties, 119. A quarrel—appeal to justice, 120. Finale of a long story, 121.

Chapter VIII.

An unexpected visitor, 122. Private accommodations, 123. The hero of Waterloo, 124. "The lungs of the metropolis," 125. How to cut up a human carcass. 126. Resurrectionists, 127. A perambulation of discovery, 128. Irish recognition, 129. A discovery—Mother Cummings, 130. Wife hunting, 131. Elopement, 132. Female instability, 133. Manouvres Return to town, 134. Making the most of a good thing, 135. Ingenious female shop-lifter, 136.

Chapter IX.

Thieves of habit and necessity, 137. A felicitous meeting, 138. Shopping—Ludicrous anecdote, 139. A tribute of respect, 140. Royal waxworks, Fleet Street, 141. Sir Felix as Macbeth, 142. Irish love, 143. Apathy in the midst of danger, 144. "No wassel in the lob," 145. The bear at Kensington Palace, 146.

Chapter X.

A change of pursuits, 147. Almack's Rooms, 148. A fancy- dress ball, 149. Selection of partners, 150. Family portraits, 151. A rout and routed, 152. Pleasures of matrimony, 153. The discomfited Virtuoso, 154.

Chapter XI.

Frolics of Greenwich fair, 155. Dr. Eady—Wall chalking, 156. Packwood and puffing, 157. Greenwich Hospital, 158. Greenwich pensioners, 159. Veterans at ease, 160. The old commodore, 161. "Fought his battles o'er again," 162. The Chapel—Hall, &e. 163.

Chapter XII.

An early hour in Piccadilly, 164. Cleopatra's needle, 165. A modest waterman, 166. Interesting scenery, 167. Philosophy in humble life, 168. Southwark Bridge, 169. London Bridge- The Shades, 170. Itinerant musicians, 171. "Do not leave your goods," 172. Riches of Lombard Street, 173. Mansion House, 174. Curious case in justice room, 175. A reasonable proposition, 176.

Chapter XIII.

An hour in the Sessions House, 177. A piteous tale of distress, 178. Low life, 179. Serious business, 180. A capture, 181. Johnny-raws and green-horns, 182. Decker the prophet, 183. A devotee in danger, 184.

Chapter XIV.

A morning at home, 185. High life, 186. Converting felony into debt, 187. Scene in a madhouse, 188. Apathy of undertakers, 189. A provident undertaker, 190. A bribe rejected, 191. Antiquated virginity, 192. Arrangements for Easter, 193. A Sunday morning lounge, 194. Setting out for Epping hunt, 195. Involuntary flight, 196. Motley groups on the road, 197. Disasters of cockney sportsmen, 198. A beautiful crature of sixty, 199. Tothill-fields fair, 200. Whimsical introduction, 201. Ball at the Mansion-House, 202.

Chapter XV.

Guildhall, 203. Palace Yard—Relieving Guard, 204. The regions below, 205. An old friend in the dark, 206. Seeing clear again, 207. A rattler, 208.

Chapter XVI.

Civic festivity, 209. Guildhall, 210. Council chamber— Paintings, 211. City public characters, 212. A modern Polyphemus, 213. A classic poet, 214. Rhyming contagious, 215. Smithfield prad-sellers, 216. Jockeyship in the east, 217. A peep at the Theatre, 218. The Finish, Covent Garden, 219. Wags of the Finish, 220. Smoking and joking, 222.

Chapter XVII.

A morning visit, 223. The fine arts, 224. Public exhibitions, 225. Living artists, 226. Horse Guards— Admiralty, 227. Westminster Bridge, 228. Promenade Rooms, 229. Improvements in the Park, 230. Ludicrous anecdote, 231. A crazy fabric, 232. Regal splendour, 233. Marlborough House, 234. Limmer's Hotel, 235. Laconic prescription, 236. How to take it all, 237. How to get a suit of clothes, 238. Ingenious swindling, 239. Talent perverted, 240.

Chapter XVIII.

The Harp, Drury Lane, 241. Wards of city of Lushington, 242. The social compact, 243. A popular election, 244. Close of the poll, 245. Oratorical effusions, 246. Harmony and conviviality, 247. Sprees of the Market, 248. A lecture on heads, 249. A stroll down Drury Lane, 250. A picture of real characters, 251. "The burning shame," 253. Ludicrous procession, 254.

Chapter XIX.

An old friend returned, 255. A good object in view, 256. An alarming situation, 257. Choice of professions, 258. Pursuit of fortune, 259. Advantages of law, 260. A curious law case, 261. Further arrangements, 262.

Chapter XX.

St. George's day, 263. Royalty on the wing, 264. Progress to the levee, 265. An unfortunate apothegm, 266. How to adjust a quarrel, 267. Wisdom in wigs, 268. A classical acquaintance, 269. Royal modesty, 270. Ludicrous anecdote, 271. A squeeze in the drawing-room, 272. Pollution of the sanctorum, 273. Procession of mail coaches, &c. 274. A parody, 275. Two negatives make a positive, 276. Remarkable anecdote, 277. Marrow-bones and cleavers, 278. The king and the laureat, 279. A remonstrance, 280. Hint at retrenchment, 281.

Chapter XXI.

Diversity of opinions, 282. A fresh start, 283. A critique on names, 284. The Cafe Royale, Regent Street, 285. A singular character, 286. Quite inexplicable, 287. Development, 288. Aquatic excursion, 289. A narrow escape, 290. Tower of London, 291. The lost pilot found, 295. River gaiety, 296. Rowing match, 297.

Chapter XXII.

The tame hare, 298. Ingenuity of man, 299. London sights and shows, 300. Automaton chess player, 301. South sea bubble, 302. New City of London tavern, 303. Moorfields, 304. Epitaph collector, 305. Monumental gleanings, 307. Voluminous collectors, 309. A horned cock, 310. Extraordinary performance, 311. Female salamander, 312. Regent's Canal, 313. Anecdote of a gormandizer, 314. Eating a general officer alive, 315. A field orator, 316.

Chapter XXIII.

Munster simplicity, 317. A visit to an astrologer, 318. A peep into futurity, 319. Treading-mill, 320. An unexpected occurrence, 321. The sage taken in, 322. Statue of ill luck, 323. A concatenation of exquisites, 324. How to walk the streets, 325. How to make a thoroughfare, 326. Dog stealers, 327. Canine knavery, 328. A vexatious affair, 329. How to recruit your finances, 330. A domestic civic dinner, 331. The very respectable man, 332.

Chapter XXIV.

Vauxhall Gardens, 334, Various amusements, 335. Sober advice, 336. Fashionable education, 337. University education, 338. Useful law proceedings, 339. How to punish a creditor, 340. Exalted characters, 341. Profligacy of a peer, 342. Mr. Spankalong, 343. Other characters of ton, 344. Sprig of fashion, 345. An everlasting prater, 346. And incorrigible fribble, 347. Kensington Gardens and Park, 348. Statue of Achilles, 349.

Chapter XXV.

A medley of characters, 353. Fashionables, 354. More fashionables, 355. More life in St. Giles's, 356. Reconnoitring—a discovery, 357. Tragedy prevented, 358. Fat, fair, and forty, 359. Philosophic coxcombs, 360 Blanks in society, 361.

Chapter XXVI.

A ride, 362. Exceptions to trade rivalship, 363. Effects of superior education, 364. Affectation in names, 365. Portraits of governesses, 366. Road to matrimony, 367. Villainy of private madhouses, 369. Appearances may deceive, 370.

Chapter XXVII.

Pleasing intelligence, 371. Moralizing a little, 373. Cries of London, 374. The Blacking Poet, 375. Literary squabble 376. Curious Merchandise, 377.

Chapter XXVIII.

A new object of pursuit, 378. Royal visit to Scotland, 379. Embarkation, 381. Royal recollections, 38'2.

Chapter XXIX.

Port of London, 383. Descriptive entertainment, 384. A rea swell party, 385. An Irish dancing master, 386. Female disaster, 387. Blackwall—East India Docks, 388. Sir Robert Wigram, 389. Domestic happiness, 390. West India Docks, 391. Loudon Docks, 393. News from home, 394.

Chapter XXX.

Travelling preparations, 395. Whimsical associations, 396. Antiquity and origin of signs, 397. Signs of altered times, 398. Ludicrous corruptions, 399. A curious metamorphosis, 400. A sudden breeze, 401. A smell of powder, 402.

Chapter XXXI.

An unexpected visitor, 403. Sketches of fashionable life, 404. A Corinthian rout, 405. A Corinthian dinner party, 406. A new picture of real life, 409. More wise men of the East, 411.

Chapter XXXII.

Anticipation of danger, 415. Smoke without fire, 416. Fonthill Abbey, 417. Instability of fortune, 419. Wealth without ostentation, 420. Eccentricity of character, 421. Extremes meeting, 422.

Chapter XXXIII.

Sketches of new scenes, 423. A critical essay on taste, 424. The pleasures of the table, 425. A whimsical exhibition, 426. Canine sobriety, 427.

Chapter XXXIV.

Anticipation, 428. Obligation, 429. Change of subjects, 430 Magasin de Mode, 431. Bell, Warwick Lane, 432. Bull and Mouth Street, 433. Bull and Mouth Inn, 434. Jehu chaff, 435. Adieu to London, 436.



LIST OF THE PLATES

The Ladder of Life Frontispiece.

Illustrated Title Page.

British Museum 10

King's-Bench Prison 62

King Charles's Crib 130

Blue Ruin

Almack's Rooms 196

Easter Hunt

Coster-mongers

A Stroll down Drury-Lane 250

Presentation at the Levee 263

Ascot Races

A Real Swell Party 386

Bull and Mouth Inn 434



REAL LIFE IN LONDON



CHAPTER I

With what unequal tempers are we form'd! One day the soul, elate and satisfied, Revels secure, and fondly tells herself The hour of evil can return no more: The next, the spirit, pall'd and sick of riot, Turns all to discord, and we hate our being, Curse our past joys, and think them folly all.

~1~~MATTER and motion, say Philosophers, are inseparable, and the doctrine appears equally applicable to the human mind. Our country Squire, anxious to testify a grateful sense of the attentions paid him during his London visit, had assiduously exerted himself since his return, in contributing to the pleasures and amusements of his visitors; and Belville Hall presented a scene of festive hospitality, at once creditable to its liberal owner, and gratifying to the numerous gentry of the surrounding neighbourhood.

But however varied and numerous the sports and recreations of rural life, however refined and select the circle of its society, they possessed not the endless round of metropolitan amusement, nor those ever-varying delights produced amid "the busy hum of men," where every street is replete with incident and character, and every hour fraught with adventure.

Satiety had now evidently obtruded itself amid the party, and its attendants, lassitude and restlessness, were not long in bringing up the rear. The impression already made upon the mind of Bob by the cursory view he had taken of Life in London was indelible, and it required little persuasion on the part of his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, to induce him again to return to scenes of so much delight, and which afforded such inexhaustible stores of amusement to an ardent and youthful curiosity.

~2~~A return to the Metropolis having therefore been mutually agreed upon, and every previous arrangement being completed, the Squire once more abdicated for a season his paternal domains, and accompanied by his cousin Dashall, and the whole ci-devant party of Belville Hall, arrived safe at the elegant mansion of the latter, where they planned a new system of perambulation, having for its object a further investigation of manners, characters, objects, and incidents, connected with Real Life in London.

"Come," cried Dashall, one fine morning, starting up immediately after breakfast—

"——rouse for fresh game, and away let us haste, The regions to roam of wit, fashion, and taste; Like Quixote in quest of adventures set out, And learn what the crowds in the streets are about; And laugh when we must, and approve when we can, Where London displays ev'ry feature of man."

"The numerous hotels, bagnios, taverns, inns, coffee-houses, eating-houses, lodging-houses, &c. in endless variety, which meet the eye in all parts of the metropolis, afford an immediate choice of accommodation, as well to the temporary sojourner as the permanent resident; where may be obtained the necessaries and luxuries of life, commensurate with your means of payment, from one shilling to a guinea for a dinner, and from sixpence to thirty shillings a night for a lodging!

"The stranger recommended to one of these hotels, who regales himself after the fatigues of a journey with moderate refreshment, and retires to rest, and preparing to depart in the morning, is frequently surprised at the longitudinal appearance and sum total of his bill, wherein every item is individually stated, and at a rate enormously extravagant. Remonstrance is unavailable; the charges are those common to the house, and in failure of payment your luggage is under detention, without the means of redress; ultimately the bill must be paid, and the only consolation left is, that you have acquired a useful, though expensive lesson, how to guard in future against similar exaction and inconvenience."{1}

1 Marlborough Street.—Yesterday, Mrs. Hickinbottom, the wife of Mr. Hickinbottom, the keeper of the St. Petersburgh Hotel in Dover Street, Piccadilly, appeared to a summons to answer the complaint of a gentleman for unlawfully detaining his luggage under the following circumstances: The complainant stated, that on Thursday evening last, on his arrival in town from Aberdeen, he went to the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly; but the house being full, he was recommended to the St. Petersburgh Hotel in Dover Street; where, having taken some refreshment and wrote a letter, he went to bed, and on the following morning after break-fast, he desired the waiter to bring him his bill, which he did, and the first item that presented itself was the moderate charge of one pound ten shillings for his bed; and then followed, amongst many others, sixpence for a pen, a shilling for wax, a shilling for the light, and two and sixpence for other lights; so that the bill amounted in the whole to the sum of two pounds one shilling for his night's lodging! To this very exorbitant charge he had refused to submit; in consequence of which he had been put to great inconvenience by the detention of his luggage. The magistrate animadverted with much severity on such extravagant charges on the part of the tavern-keeper, and advised that upon the gentleman paying fifteen shillings, the things might be immediately delivered up. To these terms, however, Mrs. Hickinbottom refused to accede, adding at the same time, that the gentleman had only been charged the regular prices of the house, and that she should insist upon the whole amount of the bill being paid, for that the persons who were in the habit of coming to their house never objected to such, the regular price of their lodgings being ten guineas per week! The magistrate lamented that he had no power to enforce the things being given up, but he recommended the complainant to bring an action against the tavern-keeper for the detention.

~3~~ These were the observations directed by Dashall to his friend, as they passed, one morning, the Hotel de la Sabloniere in Leicester Square.

"Doubtless," he continued, "in those places of affluent resort, the accommodations are in the first style of excellence; yet with reference to comfort and sociability, were I a country gentleman in the habit of occasionally visiting London, my temporary domicile should be the snug domesticated Coffee-house, economical in its charges and pleasurable in the variety of its visitors, where I might, at will, extend or abridge my evening intercourse, and in the retirement of my own apartment feel myself more at home than in the vacuum of an hotel."

The attention of our perambulators, in passing through the Square, was attracted by a fine boy, apparently about eight years of age, dressed in mourning, who, at the door of Brunet's Hotel, was endeavouring with all his little strength and influence to oppose the egress of a large Newfoundland dog, that, indignant of restraint, seemed desirous in a strange land of introducing himself to 4~ canine good fellowship. The boy, whose large dark eyes were full of animation, and his countenance, though bronzed, interestingly expressive, remonstrated with the dog in the French language. "The animal does not understand you," exclaimed Tallyho, in the vernacular idiom of the youth, "Speak to him in English." "He must be a clever dog," answered the boy, "to know English so soon, for neither him nor I have been in England above a week, and for the first time in our lives."—"And how is it," asked Tallyho, "that you speak the English language so fluently?" "O," said the little fellow, "my mother taught it me; she is an English woman, and for that reason I love the English, and am much fonder of talking their language than my own." There was something extremely captivating in the boy. The dog now struggling for freedom was nearly effecting his release, when the two friends interposed their assistance, and secured the pre-meditating fugitive at the moment when, to inquire the cause of the bustle, the father of the child made his appearance in the person of Field Marshal Count Bertrand. The Count, possessing all the characteristics of a gentleman, acknowledged politely the kind attention of the strangers to his son, while, on the other hand, they returned his obeisance with the due respect excited by his uniform friendship and undeviating attachment to greatness in adversity. The discerning eye of Field Marshal Bertrand justly appreciated the superior rank of the strangers, to whom he observed, that during the short period he had then been in England, he had experienced much courtesy, of which he should always retain a grateful recollection. This accidental interview was creative of reciprocal satisfaction, and the parties separated, not without an invitation on the part of the boy, that his newly found acquaintances would again visit the "friends of the Emperor."{1}~5~~

1 LINES SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY THE EX-EMPEROR NAPOLEON IN HIS LAST ILLNESS.

Too slowly the tide of existence recedes For him in captivity destined to languish, The Exile, abandon'd of fortune, who needs The friendship of Death to obliviate his anguish. Yet, even his last moments unmet by a sigh, Napoleon the Great uncomplaining shall die!

Though doom'd on thy rock, St. Helena, to close My life, that once presag'd ineffable glory, Unvisited here though my ashes repose, No tablet to tell the lone Exile's sad story,— Napoleon Buonaparte—still shall the name Exist on the records immortal of Fame!

Posterity, tracing the annals of France, The merits will own of her potent defender; Her greatness pre-eminent skill'd to advance, Creating, sustaining, her zenith of splendour; Who patroniz'd arts, and averted alarms, Till crush'd by the union of nations in arms!

I yield to my fate! nor should memory bring One moment of fruitless and painful reflection Of what I was lately—an Emperor and King, Unless for the bitter, yet fond recollection Of those, who my heart's best endearments have won, Remote from my death-bed—my Consort and SON!

Denied in their arms even to breathe my last sigh, No relatives' solace my exit attending; With strangers sojourning, 'midst strangers I die, No tear of regret with the last duties blending. To him, the lorn Exile, no obsequies paid, Whose fiat a Universe lately obey'd!

Make there then my tomb, where the willow trees wave, And, far in the Island, the streamlet meanders; If ever, by stealth, to my green grassy grave Some kind musing spirit of sympathy wanders— "Here rests," he will say, "from Adversity's pains, Napoleon Buonaparte's mortal remains!"

We have no disposition to enter into the character of the deceased Ex-Emperor; history will not fail to do justice alike to the merits and the crimes of one, who is inevitably destined to fill so portentous a page on its records. At the present time, to speak of the good of which he may have been either the intentional or the involuntary instrument, without some bias of party feeling would be impossible.

"Hard is his fate, on whom the public gaze Is fix'd for ever, to condemn or praise; Repose denies her requiem to his name, And folly loves the martyrdom of fame."

At all events, he is now no more; and "An English spirit wars not with the dead."

"The Count," said Dashall to his Cousin, as they pursued their walk, "remains in England until he obtain ~6~~ permission from the King of France to return to his native country: that such leave will be given, there is little doubt; the meritorious fidelity which the Count has uniformly exemplified to his late unfortunate and exiled Master, has obtained for him universal esteem, and the King of France is too generous to withhold, amidst the general feeling, his approbation."

Passing through Long Acre in their progress towards the British Museum, to which national establishment they had cards of admission, the two friends were intercepted in their way by a concourse at a coach-maker's shop, fronting which stood a chariot carefully matted round the body, firmly sewed together, and the wheels enveloped in hay-bands, preparatory to its being sent into the country. Scarcely had these precautionary measures of safety been completed, when a shrill cry, as if by a child inside the vehicle, was heard, loud and continuative, which, after the lapse of some minutes, broke out into the urgent and reiterated exclamation of—"Let me out!—I shall be suffocated!—pray let me out!"

The workmen, who had packed up the carriage, stared at each other in mute and appalling astonishment; they felt conscious that no child was within the vehicle; and when at last they recovered from the stupor of amazement, they resisted the importunity of the multitude to strip the chariot, and manfully swore, that if any one was inside, it must be the Devil himself, or one of his imps, and no human or visible being whatsoever.

Some, of the multitude were inclined to a similar opinion. The crowd increased, and the most intense interest was depicted in every countenance, when the cry of "Let me out!—I shall die!—For heaven's sake let me out!" was audibly and vehemently again and again repeated.

The impatient multitude now began to cut away the matting; when the workmen, apprehensive that the carriage might sustain some damage from the impetuosity of their proceedings, took upon themselves the act of dismantling the mysterious machine; during which operation, the cry of "Let me out!" became more and more clamorously importunate. At last the vehicle was laid bare, and its door thrown open; when, to the utter amazement of the crowd, no child was there—no trace was to be seen of aught, human or super-human! The ~7~~ assemblage gazed on the vacant space from whence the sounds had emanated, in confusion and dismay. During this momentary suspense, in which the country 'Squire participated, a voice from some invisible agent, as if descending the steps of the carriage, exclaimed—"Thank you, my good friends, I am very much obliged to you—I shall now go home, and where my home is you will all know by-and-by!"

With the exception of Dashall and Tallyho, the minds of the spectators, previously impressed with the legends of superstition and diablerie, gave way under the dread of the actual presence of his satanic majesty; and the congregated auditors of his ominous denunciation instantaneously dispersed themselves from the scene of witchery, and, re-assembling in groupes on distant parts of the street, cogitated and surmised on the Devil's visit to the Coachmakers of Long Acre!

Tallyho now turned an inquisitive eye on his Cousin, who answered the silent and anxious enquiry with an immoderate fit of laughter, declaring that this was the best and most ingenious hoax of any he had ever witnessed, and that he would not have missed, on any consideration whatsoever, the pleasure of enjoying it. "The Devil in Long Acre!—I shall never forget it," exclaimed the animated Cousin of the staring and discomfited 'Squire.

"Explain, explain," reiterated the 'Squire, impatiently.

"You shall have it in one word,"answered Dashall—"Ventriloquism!"{1}

1 This hoax was actually practised by a Ventriloquist in the manner described. It certainly is of a less offensive nature than that of many others which have been successfully brought for-ward in the Metropolis, the offspring of folly and idleness.—"A fellow," some years ago, certainly not "of infinite humour," considering an elderly maiden lady of Berner Street a "fit and proper subject" on whom to exercise his wit, was at the trouble of writing a vast number of letters to tradesmen and others, magistrates and professional men, ordering from the former various goods, and requiring the advice, in a case of emergency, of the latter, appointing the same hour, to all, of attendance; so that, in fact, at the time mentioned, the street, to the annoy-ance and astonishment of its inhabitants, was crowded with a motley group of visitants, equestrian and pedestrian, all eagerly pressing forward to their destination, the old lady's place of residence. In the heterogeneous assemblage there were seen Tradesmen of all denominations, accompanied by their Porters, bearing various articles of household furniture; Counsellors anticipating fees; Lawyers engaged to execute the last will and testament of the heroine of the drama, and, not the least conspicuous, an Undertaker preceded by his man with a coffin; and to crown the whole, "though last not least in our esteem," the then Lord Mayor of London, who, at the eager desire of the old Lady, had, with a commendable feeling of humanity, left his civic dominions, in order to administer, in a case of danger and difficulty, his consolation and assistance. When, behold! the clue was unravelled, the whole turn'd out an hoax, and the Author still remains in nubibus!!!

~8~~ "And who could have been the artist?" enquired Tallyho.

"Nay," answered his friend, "that is impossible to say; some one in the crowd, but the secret must remain with himself; neither do I think it would have been altogether prudent his revealing it to his alarmed and credulous auditory."

"A Ventriloquist," observed the 'Squire, "is so little known in the country, that I had lost all reminiscence of his surprising powers; however, I shall in future, from the occurrence of to-day, resist the obtrusion of superstition, and in all cases of 'doubtful dilemma' remember the Devil in Long Acre!"{l}

"Well resolved," answered Dashall; and in a few minutes they gained Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, without further incident or interruption.

1 The child in the hat.—Not long since, a Waggoner coming to town with a load of hay, was overtaken by a stranger, who entered into familiar conversation with him. They had not pro-ceeded far, when, to the great terror of Giles Jolt, a plaintive cry, apparently that of a child, issued from the waggon. "Didst hear that, mon?" exclaimed Giles. The cry was renewed—"Luord! Luord! an there be na a babe aneath the hay, I'se be hanged; lend us a hand, mon, to get un out, for God's sake!" The stranger very promptly assisted in unloading the waggon, but no child was found. The hay now lay in a heap on the road, from whence the cry was once more long and loudly reiterated! In eager research, Giles next proceeded to scatter the hay over the road, the cry still continuing; but when, at last, he ascertained that the assumed infantine plaint was all a delusion, his hair stood erect with horror, and, running rapidly from his companion, announced that he had been associated on the road by the Devil, for that none else could play him such a trick! It was not without great difficulty that the people to whom he told this strange story prevailed on him to return, at last, to his waggon and horses; he did so with manifest reluctance. To his indescribable relief, his infernal companion hail vanished in the person of the Ventriloquist, and Jolt still believes in the supernatural visitation!

~9~~ Amongst the literary and scientific institutions of the Metropolis, the British Museum, situated in Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, stands pre-eminent.

Entering the spacious court, our two friends found a party in waiting for the Conductor. Of the individuals composing this party, the reconnoitering eye of Dashall observed a trio, from whence he anticipated considerable amusement. It was a family triumvirate, formed of an old Bachelor, whose cent per cent ideas predominated over every other, wheresoever situated or howsoever employed; his maiden Sister, prim, starch and antiquated; and their hopeful Nephew, a complete coxcomb, that is, in full possession of the requisite concomitants—ignorance and impudence, and arrayed in the first style of the most exquisite dandyism. This delectable triumviri had emerged from their chaotic recess in Bearbinder-lane; the Exquisite, to exhibit his sweet person along with the other curiosities of the Museum; his maiden Aunt, to see, as she expressed it, the "He-gipsyian munhuments, kivered with kerry-glee-fix;" and her Brother, to ascertain whether, independent of outlandish baubles, gimcracks and gewgaws, there was any thing of substantiality with which to enhance the per contra side in the Account Current between the British Museum and the Public!

Attaching themselves to this respectable trio, Dashall and Tallyho followed, with the other visitants, the Guide, whose duty it that day was to point out the various curiosities of this great national institution.

The British Museum was established by act of parliament, in 1753, in pursuance of the will of Sir Hans Sloane, who left his museum to the nation, on condition that Parliament should pay 20,000L. to his Executors, and purchase a house sufficiently commodious for it. The parliament acted with great liberality on the occasion; several other valuable collections were united to that of Sir Hans Sloane, and the whole establishment was completed for the sum of 85,000L. raised by lottery. At the institution of this grand treasury of learning, it was proposed that a competent part of 1800L. the annual sum granted by parliament for the support of the house, should be appropriated for the purchase of new books; but the salaries necessary for the officers, together with the contingent expenses, have always exceeded the allowance; so that the Trustees have been repeatedly ~10~~ obliged to make application to defray the necessary charges.

Mr. Timothy Surety, the before mentioned Bearbinder-lane resident, of cent per cent rumination; his accomplished sister, Tabitha; his exquisite nephew, Jasper; and the redoubtable heroes of our eventful history, were now associated in one party, and the remaining visitants were sociably amalgamated in another; and each having its separate Conductor, both proceeded to the inspection of the first and most valuable collection in the universe.



On entering the gate, the first objects which attracted attention were two large sheds, defending from the inclemency of the seasons a collection of Egyptian monuments, the whole of which were taken from the French at Alexandria, in the last war. The most curious of these, perhaps, is the large Sarcophagus beneath the shed to the left, which has been considered as the exterior coffin of Alexander the Great, used at his final interment. It is formed of variegated marble, and, as Mrs. Tabitha Surety observed, was "kivered with Kerry-glee-fix."

"Nephew Jasper," said his Uncle, "you are better acquainted with the nomenclature, I think you call it, of them there thing-um-bobs than I am—what is the name of this here?"

"My dear Sir," rejoined the Exquisite, "this here is called a Sark o' Fegus, implying the domicile, or rather, the winding-sheet of the dead, as the sark or chemise wound itself round the fair forms of the daughters of O'Fegus, a highland Chieftain, from whom descended Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; and thence originated the name subsequently given by the highland laird's successors, to the dormitory of the dead, the Sark o' Fegus, or in the corruption of modern orthography, Sarcophagus."

Timothy Surety cast an approving glance towards his Nephew, and whispering Dashall, "My Nephew, Sir, apparently a puppy, Sir, but well informed, nevertheless—what think you of his definition of that hard word? Is he not, I mean my Nephew Jaz, a most extraordinary young man?"

"Superlatively so," answered Dashall, "and I think you are happy in bearing affinity to a young man of such transcendent acquirements."

~11~~"D—n his acquirements!" exclaimed Timothy; "would you think it, they are of no use in the way of trade, and though I have given him many an opportunity of doing well, he knows no more of keeping a set of books by double-entry, than Timothy Surety does of keeping a pack of hounds, who was never twenty miles beyond the hearing of Bow bells in all his lifetime!"

This important communication, having been made apart from the recognition of the Aunt and Nephew, passed on their approach, unanswered; and Dashall and his friend remained in doubt whether or not the Nephew, in his late definition of the word Sarcophagus, was in jest or earnest: Tallyho inclined to think that he was hoaxing the old gentleman; on the other hand, his Cousin bethought himself, that the apparent ingenuity of Jaz's definition was attributable entirely to his ignorance.

Here also were two statues of Roman workmanship, supposed to be those of Marcus Aurelius and Severus, ancient, but evidently of provincial sculpture.

Mrs. Tabitha, shading her eyes with her fan, and casting a glance askew at the two naked figures, which exhibited the perfection of symmetry, enquired of her Nephew who they were meant to represent.

His answer was equally eccentric with that accorded to his Uncle on the subject of the Sarcophagus.

"My dear Madam!" said Jaz, "these two figures are consanguineous to those of Gog and Magog in Guildhall, being the lineal descendants of these mighty associates of the Livery of London!"

"But, Jaz" rejoined the antique dame, "I always understood that Messieurs Gog and Magog derived their origin from quite a different family."

"Aunt of mine," responded Jaz, "the lofty rubicunded Civic Baronet shall not be 'shorn of his beams;' he claims the same honour with his brainless brothers before us-he is a scion of the same tree; Sir W*ll**m, the twin brothers of Guildhall, and these two sedate Gentlemen of stone, all boast the honour of the same extraction!"

Behind them, on the right, was a ram's head of very curious workmanship, from Thebes.

"Perhaps, Sir," said Mrs. Tabitha, graciously addressing herself to 'Squire Tallyho, "you can inform us what may be the import of this singular exhibition?"

"On my honour, Madam," answered the 'Squire, "I cannot satisfactorily resolve the enquiry; I am a country ~12~~ gentleman, and though conversant with rains and rams' horns in my own neighbourhood, have no knowledge of them with reference to the connexion of the latter with the Citizens of London or Westminster!"

Jaz again assumed the office of expositor.—"My very reverend Aunt," said Jaz, "I must prolegomenize the required explanation with a simple anecdote:—

"When Charles the Second returned from one of his northern tours, accompanied by the Earl of Rochester, he passed through Shoreditch. On each side the road was a huge pile of rams' horns, for what purpose tradition saith not. 'What is the meaning of all this?' asked the King, pointing towards the symbolics. 'I know not,' rejoined Rochester, 'unless it implies that the Citizens of London have laid their heads together, to welcome your Majesty's return!' In commemoration of this witticism, the ram's head is to the Citizens of London a prominent feature of exhibition in the British Museum."

This interpretation raised a laugh at the expense of Timothy Surety, who, nevertheless, bore it with great good humour, being a bachelor, and consequently not within the scope of that ridicule on the basis of which was founded the present sarcastic fabric.

It was now obvious to Dash all and his friend, that this young man, Jasper Surety, was not altogether the ignoramus at first presumed. They had already been entertained by his remarks, and his annotations were of a description to warrant the expectancy of further amusement in the progress of their inspection.

From the hall the visitors were led through an iron gateway to the great staircase, opposite the bottom of which is preserved a model in mahogany, exhibiting the method used by Mr. Milne in constructing the works of Blackfriars' Bridge; and beneath it are some curious fragments from the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.

These fragments, however highly estimated by the naturalist and the antiquary, were held in derision by the worldly-minded Tim. Surety, who exclaimed against the folly of expending money in the purchase of articles of no intrinsic value, calculated only to gratify the curiosity of those inquisitive idlers who affect their admiration of every uninteresting production of Nature, and neglect the pursuit of the main chance, so necessary in realizing the comforts of life.

~13~~ These sordid ideas were opposed by Dashall and the 'Squire, to whom they seemed particularly directed. Mrs. Tabitha smiled a gracious acquiescence in the sentiments of the two strangers, and Jasper expressed his regret that Nuncle was not gifted and fated as Midas of ancient times, who transformed every thing that he touched into gold!

The Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities next attracted the attention of the visitors. Over a doorway in this room is a fine portrait of Sir William Hamilton, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Dashall and Tallyho remarked with enthusiasm on these beautiful relics of the sculpture of former ages, several of which were mutilated and disfigured by the dilapidations of time and accident. Of the company present, there stood on the left a diminutive elderly gentleman in the act of contemplating the fragment of a statue in a posterior position, and which certainly exhibited somewhat of a ludicrous appearance; on the right, the exquisite Jasper pointed out, with the self-sufficiency of an amateur, the masculine symmetry of a Colossian statue to his Aunt of antiquated virginity, whose maiden purity recoiling from the view of nudation, seemed to say, "Jaz, wrap an apron round him!" while in the foreground stood the rotunditive form of Timothy Surety, who declared, after a cursory and contemptuous glance at the venerable representatives of mythology, "That with the exception of the portrait of Sir William Hamilton, there was not in the room an object worth looking at; and as for them there ancient statutes," (such was his vernacular idiom and Bearbinder barbarism) "I would not give twopence for the whole of this here collection, if it was never for nothing else than to set them up as scare-crows in the garden of my country house at Edmonton!"

Jasper whispered his aunt, that nuncks was a vile bore; and the sacrilegious declaration gave great offence to the diminutive gentleman aforesaid, who hesitated not in pronouncing Timothy Surety destitute of taste and vertu; to which accusation Timothy, rearing his squat form to its utmost altitude, indignantly replied, "that there was not an alderman in the City of London of better taste than himself in the qualities of callipash and callipee, and that if the little gemmen presumed again to asperse his vartue, he would bring an action against him tor slander and defamation of character." The minikin man gave Timothy a glance of ineffable disdain, and left the room. Mrs. ~14~~ Tabitha, in the full consciousness of her superior acquirements, now directed a lecture of edification to her brother, who, however, manfully resisted her interference, and swore, that "where his taste and vartue were called in question he would not submit to any she in the universe."

Mrs. Tabitha, finding that on the present occasion her usual success would not predominate, suspended, like a skilful manoeuvreist, unavailable attack, and, turning to her nephew, required to know what personage the tall figure before them was meant to represent. Jasper felt not qualified correctly to answer this enquiry, yet unwilling to acknowledge his ignorance, unhesitatingly replied, "One of the ancient race of architects who built the Giant's Causeway in the north of Ireland." This sapient remark excited a smile from the two friends, who shortly afterwards took an opportunity of withdrawing from further intercourse with the Bearbinder triumviri, and enjoyed with a more congenial party the remaining gratification which this splendid national institution is so well calculated to inspire.

Extending their observations to the various interesting objects of this magnificent establishment, the two prominent heroes of our eventful history derived a pleasure only known to minds of superior intelligence, to whom the wonders of art and nature impart the acme of intellectual enjoyment.

Having been conducted through all the different apartments, the two friends, preparing to depart, the 'Squire tendered a pecuniary compliment to the Guide, in return for his politeness, but which, to the surprise of the donor, was refused; the regulations of the institution strictly prohibiting the acceptance by any of its servants of fee or reward from a visitor, under the penalty of dismissal.{1}

1 Although the limits of this work admit not a minute detail of the rarities of the British Museum, yet a succinct enumeration of a few particulars may not prove unacceptable to our Readers.

In the first room, which we have already noticed, besides the Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities, is a stand filled with reliques of ancient Egypt, amongst which are numerous small representatives of mummies that were used as patterns for those who chose and could afford to be embalmed at their decease.

The second apartment is principally devoted to works of art, be-ginning with Mexican curiosities. The corners opposite the light are occupied by two Egyptian mummies, richly painted, which were both brought from the catacombs of Sakkara, near Grand Cairo.

The third room exhibits a rich collection of curiosities from the South Pacific Ocean, brought by Capt. Cook. In the left corner is the mourning dress of an Otaheitean lady, in which taste and barbarity are curiously blended. Opposite are the rich cloaks and helmets of feathers from the Sandwich Islands.

The visitor next enters the manuscript department, the first room of which is small, and appropriated chiefly to the collections of Sir Hans Sloane. The next room is completely filled with Sir Robert Harley's manuscripts, afterwards Earl of Oxford, one of the most curious of which is a volume of royal letters, from 1437 to the time of Charles I.. The next and last room of the manuscript department is appropriated to the ancient royal library of manuscripts, and Sir Robert Cotton's, with a few-later donations. On the table, in the middle of the room, is the famous Magna Charta of King John; it is written on a large roll of parchment, and was much damaged in the year 1738, when the Cotton library took fire at Westminster, but a part of the broad seal is yet annexed.

We next reach the great saloon, which is finely ornamented with fresco paintings by Baptiste. Here are a variety of Roman remains, such as dice, tickets for the Roman theatres, mirrors, seals for the wine casks, lamps, &c. and a beautiful bronze head of Homer, which was found near Constantinople.

The mineral room is the next object of attention. Here are fossils of a thousand kinds, and precious stones, of various colours and splendours, composing a collection of astonishing beauty and magnificence.

Next follows the bird room; and the last apartment contains animals in spirits, in endless variety. And here the usual exhibition of the house closes.

~15~~ Issuing from the portals of the Museum, "Apropos," said Dashall, "we are in the vicinity of Russell-square, the residence of my stock-broker; I have business of a few moments continuance to transact with him—let us proceed to his residence."

A lackey, whose habiliment, neat but not gaudy, indicated the unostentatious disposition of his master,, answered the summons of the knocker: "Mr. C. was gone to his office at the Royal Exchange."

"The gentleman who occupies this mansion," observed Dashall to his friend, as they retired from the door, "illustrates by his success in life, the truth of the maxim so frequently impressed on the mind of the school-boy, that perseverance conquers all difficulties. Mr. C, unaided by any other recommendation than that of his own unassuming modest merit, entered the very ~16~~ respectable office of which he is now the distinguished principal, in the situation of a young man who has no other prospect of advancement than such as may accrue from rectitude of conduct, and the consequent approbation and patronage of his employer. By a long exemplary series of diligence and fidelity, he acquired the confidence of, and ultimately became a partner in the firm. His strictly conscientious integrity and uniform gentlemanly urbanity have thus gained him a preference in his profession, and an ample competency is now the well-merited meed of his industry."

"Combining with its enjoyment," responded the 'Squire, "the exercise of benevolent propensities."

"Exactly so much so, that his name appears as an annual subscriber to nearly all the philanthropic institutions of the metropolis, and his private charities besides are numerous and reiterated."

"This, then, is one of the few instances (said the 'Squire) of Real Life in London, where private fortune is so liberally applied in relief of suffering humanity—it is worthy of indelible record."

Circumambulating the square, the two observers paused opposite the fine statue of the late Francis Duke of Bedford.

The graceful proportion, imposing elevation, and commanding attitude of the figure, together with the happy combination of skill and judgment by the artist, in the display on the pedestal of various agricultural implements, indicating the favourite and useful pursuits of this estimable nobleman, give to the whole an interesting appearance, and strongly excite those feelings of regret which attend the recollection of departed worth and genius. Proceeding down the spacious new street directly facing the statue, our perambulators were presently in Bedford-square, in which is the effigy of the late eminent statesman Charles James Fox: the figure is in a sitting posture, unfavourable to our reminiscences of the first orator of any age or country, and is arrayed in the Roman toga: the face is a striking likeness, but the effect on the whole is not remarkable. The two statues face each other, as if still in friendly recognition; but the sombre reflections of Dashall and his friend were broke in upon by a countryman with, "Beant that Measter Fox, zur?" "His effigy, my ~17~~friend." "Aye, aye, but what the dickens ha've they wrapt a blanket round un vor?"