"And do wine merchants give credit to persons in confinement?" enquired Bob.

"Certainly," was the reply, "for services done or promised to be done, or upon the security of some friend, who perhaps intends soon after to pay his engagements by a similar mode to that of the person whose debt he pretends to secure. No place can be found where the study of ways and means is more closely attended to than this. Of our prisons in general, much the same may be said as of our gaming houses; very few get out of them as they went in. A dupe is the general character of those who first enter; but they seldom fail to acquire that of knave before their departure. The air is infectious, the society fatal to morality and to honesty; few pass through the ordeal with purity, and return uncontaminated to the world; and yet, after all the frauds, tricks, and speculations practised, it is well to be acquainted with them, in order to guard against the recurrence, if a man can but have fortitude enough to avoid practising them himself.~56~~

"Think not that the action of the place Is all revealed upon this open space; The darkest portion of the picture lies Obscur'd and cover'd up from public eyes; Here much you see, that bids you all mistrust, Much that provokes aversion and disgust; New friends, who coolly ask a one pound note, Or borrow for an hour, then pawn, your coat. Such stuff as this upon the surface swims; He little sees who but the surface skims. How much of fraud and finished wickedness, How much of deep despair and keen distress, Thought of by few, and seen by none, the while, Is chamber'd in the niches of this pile!"

"Zounds," cried Dashall, "your pictures have so much light and shade, so much to admire, and so much to condemn, that there is scarcely any possibility of arriving at any conclusion.—Bless me, there is Dick Rakewell!"

"Do you know him?" said Merry well.

"What the devil are you doing here?" cried a young man advancing, and at the same time catching the Honourable Tom Dashall by the hand; "Are you initiated, or merely come to take a peep at the curiosities of this menagerie? Have you tipp'd and shewn yourself in due form; or do you still sport a game leg among the gallants of Bond Street?"

"Fortunately," said Dashall, "I can still boast of the latter, and have no very strong inclination to aspire to all the honour and happiness of the former."

"Grown serious and sedate; I suppose married, and ca'nt come—pretty wife—lots of children—love and fireside comfort at home—pleasure abroad—cash in hand, and care for nobody. That's the sort—give you joy with all my heart—never were such times."

"I am glad you find them so," continued Tom; "but your anticipations are a little too rapid, and your imagination rather too vivid for my proceeding; however, there is no knowing what we may come to; life is a labyrinth full of turnings and windings. But what brought you here?"

"Driven in by the Philistines," was the reply; "caught like a harmless dove by the Greeks—clean'd out.—By the cog, I was obliged to fly to this pigeon house, in order to avoid being cut up by my creditors; and, up to a little of the Newmarket logic, I am now crossing and justling though it is doubtful at present who will win the race."

"You have not far to run, however," replied Dashall, "and it is therefore fair to presume the heat will soon be over."

~57~~ "As usual," cried Rakewell, "always something short, but pungent, like a pinch of merry-go-up{1}—satire and sentiment—mirth, morality, and good humour—unmarried and still the same man. These are better subjects of congratulation than the former."

"We shall dine at half past three," said Merry well, "and if you are inclined to make one along with us, you will find me at home."

"I should have no objection to meet you abroad," exclaimed Rakewell; "but, however, I'm your man. Half past three, d——nd unfashionable; but never mind,

I'll pick a bone with you; and spite of dull care and high walls, 'locks, bolts, and bars, we'll defy you;' and my life for it we have a jolly afternoon. Is the cellar well stored, and the kitchen in good repair?"

"All right, my boy!" exclaimed Merrywell, "bring your bellows{2} in good order, and don't be afraid of your bread basket.{3} The dibs are in tune.{4} A ball of fire,{s} a dose of daffy, or a blow out of black strap, will set the blue devils at defiance, give a spur to harmony, and set the spirits a jogging."

"Then at half past three I'll have a turn to with you," continued Rakewell; "so no more at present from your loving Cousin. I am going now to call on Fred. Fearnought; that fellow has deceived me; I thought him a trump, but he's eaten up with hopes and fears, tormented in mind, body, and estate, no more pluck than a dunghill chick. I must stir him up with a long pole, give him a lesson or two, touch him to the quick, and then quickly adjourn to you; so adieu for the present."

Thus saying, he made his escape from his friends, and, passing through one of the entrances to the interior, was quickly out of sight.

"That," said Dashall, addressing his Cousin, "was one of the gayest of the gay in all the leading circles of haut ton."

"And I assure you," said Merrywell, "he has not lost one atom of his vivacity, notwithstanding the alteration in his circumstances; he is always full of humour, ready for a bit of fun even in confinement; he plays, laughs, sings, drinks, and is about one of the most cheerful companions I know."~58~~

1 Merry-go-up—Snuff.

2 Bellows—A cant term for the lungs.

3 Bread-basket—The stomach.

4 The dibs are in tune—There is plenty of money.

5 A ball of fire—A glass of brandy.

"Then," rejoined Bob, "he is a philosopher, for he has learned to bear."

"Yes," continued Dashall, "but the other, and by far the most important, part of philosophy is to forbear."

"That," said Merry well, "he yet has to learn, and I have my doubts whether he will accomplish that desirable object while here. He has, with a moderate allowance from his father, contrived to drive his four-in-hand at times, to keep seven or more horses on his hunting and Town establishments; has kept some of the most dashing and expensive ladies, expensive male company; indulged in extravagant habits of all sorts, and has twinkled for a while in the highest gambling circles. A run of ill luck has at last sent him here, but not before he had honoured almost all the horse-dealers, coach-makers, and saddlers, gunsmiths and tavern-keepers in Town, with his custom, or rather with his name on their books. His father is a man of considerable property, which must eventually come to him, and he may yet form a conspicuous figure in High Life."

"What have we here?" said Tallyho, stopping to read a paper displayed in the window of a barber's shop.

"The old and only established shop at the prison "price: shave well for one penny, hair fashionably cut "for twopence, at 17 in 16, first staircase round the corner."

"Seventeen in sixteen—I don't understand this."

"Each of the doors," said Merry well, "which lead to the apartments is numbered, as is likewise every room in each passage, by which means much facility is afforded to visitors who come to make a call upon their friends. The operator himself is a prisoner, and so are most of those who carry on trades; but opportunities are afforded for any person to come in and supply articles to the inhabitants; and at an early hour in the morning you may hear almost all the cries of London."~59~~

"Milk, matches, eggs, and Epping sausages, Greens, water-cresses, chips, geranium trees; A brush or broom, deal wood, cow-heel, and tripe, Fresh butter, oranges all round and ripe; Rabbits, a kettle, jug, or coffee pot, Eels, poultry, home-bak'd bread, and rolls all hot; Shirt buttons, nosegays, coals, and God knows what Such are the goods that pass the lobby door, Cried in all tones that vary, squeak, and roar."

"A little further on," said Merry well, "is the public kitchen, where, for a trifling fee, cooking is performed for the prisoners, and hot water supplied at a penny per kettle. Then there is a coffee-room and a tap-room for general accommodation, according to the circumstances of the inmates; so that in point of fact there is little to be regretted here, but the loss of liberty, and the want of money."

"Zounds," said Bob, "those two articles constitute all that is valuable in life, and in their absence it dwindles into mere existence.

"And bare existence man to live ordained, "Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight."

"I admit the justice of the remark, for to become an article of vegetation, were it sure of continuance, would be one of the most irksome, as well as degrading situations to which a man could be reduced. But you should recollect, that the generality of persons who study in this College expect an early termination of their privations, by which hope is kept alive; and when the cherished hope is realized, of escaping from these walls, all recollection of the past is banished; and it is doubtful whether the temporary absence from the possibility of indulging in folly does not increase the possibility as well as the power, when at liberty."

"Who do you call that man with his hands in his pockets?" pointing to a person at a short distance from them at the moment, in slovenly attire, and with a vacant countenance.

"Hush," replied Merry well, "for we have modest men here as well as elsewhere; men who, though they have rendered themselves famous (a more delicate term than notorious) are not emulous of having their deeds recorded in history, and are indeed very tenacious of satisfying enquiries: his name is F—rr—ter, not quite so vacant as he looks; for it is, generally speaking, not your empty-headed fellows who can arrive at the honour of a residence here, it is rather those of brilliant imagination, of aspiring talent, who have been determined to have money for a time, without heeding the source from which it was derived—who have been up to snuff, till they have reduced themselves to the necessity of resting contented with the marrow-bone stage instead of a phaeton or a ~60~~ curricle, and twopenny in lieu of claret The person you allude to, however, is brother to Cecil F—rr—ter of Court notoriety, and has really been in possession of considerable property. It is said that his principal failing has been too strong an inclination to resort to the law, and that upon the law and lawyers he has expended the bulk of his fortune."

"He cuts a curious figure now, however," said Tallyho, "and every view at first sight would take him for a. fortunate youth."

"Do you observe that man in mustachios, now talking with P——s? That is Captain R——n, who bears a more striking resemblance in character to the celebrated youth you mention; he had at one time inspired a belief among those who knew him, that he was a man of property—married with a view to realize it; and upon comparing notes after the nuptial knot was tied, both parties discovered they were taken in; but it is not ascertained whether this mutual disappointment ended with smiles."

"Why, it was no laughing matter," said Tom; "the lucky hit was all a miss."

"Yes, there was a Miss taken, and a Biter bit. Love is a lottery as well as life, and the chances two to one against the adventurer," replied Dashall.

"It may be so," said Merrywell; "I am not fly{1} to the subject at present; perhaps Sparkle could by this time unravel some of its mysteries, and give beneficial lessons to us all: however, time is flying, we will just make one more turn, and then to dinner with what appetite we may. Do you observe the pericranium topp'd with a Prussian cap, and the wearer with a pipe in his mouth?"

1 Fit—To be up to any thing, to understand, to know, or be awake.

"I was on the point of enquiry," said Bob; "Pray who is he?"

"That is another Captain."

"Who! One would almost think you have the whole army of Martyrs confined here," said Tallyho; "at all events, your ranks are not deficient of officers."

"But then," said Dashall, "they are out of commission and out of practice."

"For want of command," continued Merrywell; "though Capt. S——, although never made a Commander in Chief, has been an exalted character, having once been made ~61~~inspector of the pavement,{1} or in other words knapp'd the stoop; and, if report says true, he has also figured away in other situations equally honourable—a flash turf man—a naval character, and a smuggler. But come, I have given you a sort of index by which you may read, mark, and learn more, when we are more at leisure. It is now half past three o'clock, and punctuality is always my motto."

1 Inspector of the pavement, or knapp'd the stoop—Cant term for the pillory.

"Humph," ejaculated Tom; "Cash down, and no grumbling."

"D——n severity," was the reply; "no more of that, or we cut: touch my honour, and you touch my life."

"Dot and go one," cried Dashall. "Come along, Bob!" and catching his Cousin by the arm, they followed Merrywell in silence to his apartment in the State House.

On arrival, they found the dinner on table; and Hakewell, true to his appointment, arrived before them. The keen air of Surrey, though rather confined, had furnished them with good appetites. Apologies were banished, and to it they went without "let, hinderance, or molestation"—the viands were good, the wines exquisite and plentiful. The cloth being removed, mirth and conviviality were the order of the day.

Confusion to soft heads and hard hearts!—Parks and pleasure ground s without priories! were drank in bumpers with enthusiastic applause. The merriment and hilarity of Merrywell and his fellow student crowned the afternoon with as much pleasure and delight, as Bob conceived he could have found under unlimited circumstances. The good humour and hospitality of the host was manifested in the perfect satisfaction of those he entertained; and about eight o'clock, when Rakewell began to mangle his mother tongue, our friends, after dropping their mites into the canisters held out for their bounty, repassed the gates, well pleased and highly diverted with the information they had obtained, and the occurrences of the day; and not a little exhilarated by the Bacchanalian juice.

"Well," said Tallyho, "this is a scene of Real Life, which I should judge could scarcely be equalled, and would almost induce one to wish for an opportunity of a residence along with the Collegians."

~62~~ "Provided always nevertheless with an equal opportunity of leaving it when we please," said Dashall; "and probably we have only seen one of the best pictures it contains, for although we have been as jolly as Sandboys, there is a large store of misery unseen. But let us proceed. We shall soon be free from College Rules, and a thought strikes me, that we can make a call on our road that will afford another view of society equally amusing and refreshing. I have often observed to you, that in order to see Life, there is no necessity to buz about with court flies, to waste time and money in getting introduced to the tip tops of the West, to join what are termed the fashionable circles, and to end a fashionable career by a whereas or a whitewashing. The true student of Real Life should occasionally mingle with all descriptions of persons, mark the characters and their conduct; and, believe me, there are those in the humblest situations, who enjoy themselves in their own way with as much of heartfelt satisfaction as those in the highest, of which, I think, I shall be able to give you a decided proof before we reach home."

They now pursued their way along the London Road and over Westminster Bridge, till Tom called a halt at the door of a friend.

"Come, Bob," said he, "here we must uncase—doff the present toggery, and turn out in new trim for the evening."

"What!" enquired Bob, "another masquerade?"

"No, no," was the reply, "a temporary suspension of the dress and character of a gentleman, in order to avoid being tormented and suspected by the company to which I intend to introduce you."

Finding his friend at home, they were quickly supplied with tatter'd garments and slouch'd hats, in which they again sallied forth, and about nine o'clock they entered a low public-house in Scotland-yard.



"Fear nothing," said Tom, as they passed the threshold; "don't be flurried by any thing said to you, 'tis only a heavy-wet party among the coal-heaving coves."

As Bob entered the room, his very first action betrayed him, for, being accustomed to genteel behaviour, he took off his hat, which was in a moment knocked out of his hand by a hard featured fellow near him, whose face indicated the want of water, although so near the river.

~63~~ "Order, order," was vociferated in an instant by a jolly good-natured looking man exalted above the rest, who, at the same moment, rapped the table with his knuckles—"This here vay, gentlemen—Bill Muggins, mind you I arn't had your penny in the plate for Backy."

"Vy, that's a lie!" roar'd out a Stentorian voice, "I never takes my seat before I sees my vay clear upon the board. I put a crooked ha' penny."

"Yes, and two bad fardens vhat an't vorth nothing,'' said another. "Make him tip" cried a third, "or else stick him in the nitch."{1}

1 Stick him in the nitch—Send him to Coventry.

Bob having regained his castor, followed his Cousin to the other end of the room, and after each depositing a penny in the plate, they took their seats at the table, where, being supplied with a flowing quart, they began to look around them.

The first thing which struck Tallyho's eye, was "No trust," printed in large letters at one end of the room; a sort of indication, that a man without money would not be likely to meet with agreeable entertainment: then turning his head the other way, he discovered they were in a house of call for Coal Porters. Before the president (who, by way of distinction, had turned the broad flap of his coal-heaving hat forward in the fashion of a huntsman's cap) was placed a small round table, on which stood a gallon measure of heavy wet. On his right sat a worn-out workman fast asleep, and occasionally affording his friends around him a snoring accompaniment to a roar of laughter.

"Silence, silence! vy don't you all be more quieter when I am going to begin?"

"Order, order, chair, chair!" now resounded from every one.

"Vell, you know its no use at all for to make me take this here chair, because vy—I an't got no woice."

"I knows better nor that," said Bill Muggins, "for, by ——ven you fell overboard the other day you roared like a rum un, and ven I pulled you out you squeaked like a pig, so that are proves vhat you have got two woices, and that's one more than you ought to have. Lord, Lord, if you had but seen him and I get drunk a'ter it, you would ha' laughed—Dick bolted blue ruin till his eyes sparkled just for all the vorld like a vooden spoon against a soot bag."

~64~~ A general laugh succeeded this sally, which was accompanied by the speaker with a violent blow upon the table, which threatened confusion to the candles, glasses, and porter-pots, with which it was loaded.

"Veil," continued the chairman, "you know its all my eye, I an't got no sing in me, so if you're a mind to be friendly, vill you heave out."

"Vy, you know Dick, for the matter o' that are, I never refuses you nothing; nor, vhat's more, I never vont, so here goes.

"Vhat a hearty blade am I, Care ca'nt never touch my heart, Every trouble I defy, Vhile I views the foaming quawt. A very good song, and very well sung; Jolly kimpanions, every one, Clap your hats on, keep your heads vann, A little more liquor will do us no harm. Blankets and pins, blankets and pins, When a man's married his sorrow begins."

The six last lines were repeated as a chorus, till every one appeared to be exhausted, and was succeeded by thunders of approbation, and reiterated cries of "Well done, Bill—go it, Bill—Bill Muggins for ever!" and the still unabated snoring of their companion in the corner.

"Bill Muggins a'nt nothing but a good'un, Gemmen,"said the President; "here's his health. Landlord, bring him a bolus of blue ruin. I say, Bill, vhat shall ve say a'ter that are good song?"

"Here's bad luck and no blue ruin to bad masters, and leg o' mutton and turnups for trumps—that's all I got to say, so here goes."

The toast being drank,

"Who is ve to call on now, Bill?"

"Vy, Bob Martlet's the boy to come it strong."

Bob Martlet was accordingly called upon, but requested a few minutes to prepare himself, as he was rather hoarse.

During this interregnum, Dashall slipped out of the room, and gave the landlord an order to place two bowls of punch on the tables, cautioning him at the same time to say nothing of the party who paid for it, but to say that a Gentleman, passing by the door and hearing them all merry, had given an order for it at the bar.

~65~~ Upon re-entering the room, Bob Martlet, with one eye bound up and his hat in his hand, was bawling with lungs of leather,

Lovely nymph! assuage my anguish, At thy feet a tender swain, Prays you will not let him languish, One kind look would ease his pain. Did you know the lad who courts you, He not long need sue in vain— Prince of song and dance—you Scarce will meet his like again!

As this was a song to be sung in character, Bob Martlet determined to profit by the instructions of Shakspeare, "to suit the action to the word, and the word to the action," and consequently at the word "dance," he introduced some steps to the great entertainment of the company; but unfortunately jigging to another tune, in which all the broad brims joined, he forgot the connexion of the words, and was compelled to sing it over again, and to give his hornpipe by way of conclusion, which was accompanied by the barking of a dog.

Tallyho laughed heartily at this; the grotesque appearance of the "tender swain," and the dance in wooden shoes, were admirable, and highly relished by his companions. The room resounded with applauses, and it was some moments before silence could be obtained, when, lo and behold, the landlord entered the room as a peace-breaker with two bowls of punch.

Consternation and surprise were visible in every countenance. The confusion of tongues could scarcely equal the enquiries made in a moment; but the landlord, having his cue, made no reply. But there it is, will you drink it? It is all your own—and, to set you a good example, here goes—Success to trade!—and took a hearty swig from the bowl he placed before the President; then, taking the other bowl to the lower end of the room, he evaporated, but soon returned with glasses. Where he came from or how it was obtained, was banished from consideration, and to make more, the remnant of a pot of heavy wet was thrown into the bowl to mellow it, as the President observed, because vy he liked things mellow. The punch was handed about, the song and the toast passed merrily in succession till near twelve, when an unlucky disturber of harmony, with a candle set fire to the whisker of Phill the flue faker so called from his ~66~~having in his younger days been a chimney-sweeper. Phill, who had slept during the noise of the evening, was, notwithstanding his former trade, not fire-proof, awoke in a flame, and not knowing the real depredator, upset the President, and nearly knock'd him through a window just behind him—mill'd away in all directions, growling with as much melody as he had before snored. During the confusion of this affray, Tom and Bob took their departure from Charley's Crib, which they understood was a nickname given to the place, and, throwing themselves into a rattler, soon arrived in Piccadilly, where we shall for the present leave them to their repose.



CHAPTER V

"Since Life's but a jest, let us follow the rule, There's nothing so pleasant as playing the fool, In town we may practise, as well as at school.

The world turns about the same things o'er and o'er; We fool it—our forefathers fool'd it before; They did what we do, which our sons will encore.

Life's but a half holiday, lent us to stare; We wander and wonder in vanity's fair, All, baby-like, bawling for each bawble there:

We, children like, covet the glitter of gay things, Make racket for ribbands, and such sort of play-things, Which we cannot have tho'—without we can say things.

We take, or are in all our turns, taken in; The world to be sure—'tis a shame and a sin,— Might soon be much better—but who will begin?"

~67~~ "LONDON," said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his Cousin, "abounds with so much of munificence, that notwithstanding all its intricacies and inconveniences, he who travels through life without visiting it, may justly be said to know nothing; for it is all Life, its remotest corners are full of animation, and although it is difficult to fancy how all live, there are few but could give some satisfactory information if they chose, though I am willing to believe many would rather wish to avoid interrogation. We have already explored some parts of it, but be assured there is still much to admire, much to applaud, and much to deprecate. Our researches, after all, have been rather confined than extensive. It is such an ever varying and never ceasing mine of observation, that it is almost like the wishing cap of Fortunatus, with this exception, that although every wish may be supplied, it requires something more than putting on the cap to obtain the object desired."

~68~~ "From what I have already seen," replied Tallyho, "I perfectly coincide with you in the latter part of your observation, for I have no doubt but perseverance and integrity, with some portion of ability, is sure to meet reward."

"You are right," continued Tom; "many instances could be pointed out in proof of the justice of that remark: some of the greatest men of the present day have rose from the lowest origin. Shop-boys and porters have become tradesmen and merchants; shoe-blacks have become statesmen, and servants councillors. But on the other hand, many who have been born, as the old saying is, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high estates,' and lingered out the latter parts of their lives in prisons or work-houses, laying the blame on fate, rather than attributing failure to their own want of ability, prudence, or active exertion. But come, I perceive the curricle is ready; let us take a spank through the City, and look a little more minutely at the mercantile world."

This call was instantly obeyed by Tallyho, who never doubted but his Cousin had some object in view, though he frequently started from Piccadilly without being previously acquainted with it.

Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon remarked that he thought the City lay the other way.

"Never mind," replied Dashall, "we shall come to the point without doubt. Why, man, there are more ways than one, and I am not particularly partial to being blocked up in the public streets, amidst knowing jarveys and cramp carmen, sugar hogsheads, molasses, and slush carts, which is so frequently the case, when by a slight deviation from the direct way, we can give the tits a rattler on a good road without obstruction, and pocket a handful of time into the bargain."

He now turned into the road which leads directly to Vauxhall Bridge; on arriving at which, Tallyho was much delighted with an extensive view of the Thames.

"This," said Dashall, "will bring us to a favourite place of amusement, where you have already cut a conspicuous figure."

"What do you mean?" enquired his Cousin.

"A masquerade," replied he significantly. "Go along Bob."

~69~~ Passing gently over the Bridge, "Do you observe," continued he, "that extensive building? That is called the Penitentiary. It is a building designed for the punishment, employment, and reformation of offenders of secondary turpitude, usually punished by transportation for a term of years. It has been conceived since the commencement of the disputes which terminated in the separation of the American States. The plan of it is known to be partly that of Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The culprits are confined in circular buildings, the windows of which are so constructed, that the overseer from his room in the centre may be able to view every one of their rooms. The external wall encloses no less than eighteen acres of ground, within which are six of these circular buildings, each capable of lodging and employing from 150 to 200 prisoners, with a chapel, infirmary, and other conveniences. Its situation is called Millbank."

"It looks," said Bob, "like a castle, or tower, of impregnable strength."

"It is, however," continued Tom, "a useful institution, since it supersedes that indiscriminate transportation so long practised, and which, as applied to definite periods, was cruel and unjust, since the wretched objects were precluded from the power of ever returning to their native land, however short the intended period of their banishment. This part of the world is much improved of late years. The Bridge we are now passing, is an admirable light and elegant structure, but recently erected, according to the plan of Mr. J. Walker, and connects, as you perceive, by a straight line of road with Hyde Park Corner. The road before us leads to Newington Cross, and thence by various ways to the City. The Bridge consists of nine arches, of equal span, in squares of cast iron, on piers of rusticated stone formed of fragments, united by means of Parker's cement. Its width is 809 feet, the span of the arches 78 feet, the height 29 feet, and the clear breadth of the road way is 36 feet. It cost above 300,000L. But we shall shortly cross another bridge, far surpassing it in point of magnificence."

"It is wonderful indeed," said Bob, "that in a country complaining of a starving population, such serious sums of money should be expended in the erection of splendid mansions and magnificent bridges."

~70~~ "Not at all," was the reply, "for perhaps it is one of the best ways of expending, as it gives employment to thousands who would otherwise have become beggars on private charity, or paupers on public bounty, either of which is revolting to the mind of an Englishman: besides, if your observation applied at all, it would cut at every improvement of the day; and you should recollect, that, whether upon true foundations or not, every generation think the age they live in is the most enlightened: so it may be with respect to the preceding, and indeed, so much so, that the succeeding will rather decline than improve upon it, but it would be difficult to convince them of the fact. It is certain, however, that scarcely a day passes but some new invention or improvement is offered to public notice. The perusal of the newspapers is an evidence of my assertion; and as London is the centre of attraction, so it is the seat of knowledge, of science and information."

"I should judge, that if a person who had lived some two hundred years ago, even in this wild place, were to rise up amongst us, his surprise and astonishment would be strongly excited," said Bob, endeavouring to draw forth more of his observations as they bowled along the road.

"There can be no question on that subject," said Tom, "for how would the high ideas he entertained of the ingenuity of the age in which he had lived, dwindle into nothing! Nay, should he appear in the country first, what would he think of the various implements of husbandry, for ploughing, and preparing the land; the different machines for sowing the corn, for threshing, grinding, and dressing it; and in numerous instances (though perhaps not quite so much now as it has been, on account of the present agricultural distresses) he would find something else too which he might not consider an improvement: instead of meeting the honest homely farmer, assisting personally in the gathering in his crops, and his daughter following the cart with a rake, he would find the former mounted on his Prad following the hounds, and the latter at boarding school. Instead of the farmer's son bringing home his cows of an evening, and his sister going out to meet him at the sound of his well known voice, with her milk-white pail, he would find the one poring over Latin and Greek, and the other running her fingers over the chords of a harp or piano-forte."

~71 "These," said Bob, "are refinements in manners at least."

"Then, should he take a peep at London, as we are now doing, he would be struck dumb with admiration. But here we are on the Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, so named in compliment to the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the unfortunate Princess Charlotte of Wales, the much regretted daughter of our present King. Before us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally denominated the Strand Bridge; it is acknowledged to be one of the most majestic structures of the kind, perhaps, in the known world, and was built under the direction of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory it is said a monument is intended to be erected. The Bridge consists of nine equal arches, and like the bridges of the ancients, is perfectly flat, which you perceive the road we are now travelling is not, for in some instances you may look over the wall upon another world below, as we are above the tops of the houses. Its being level is a circumstance highly favourable to the draught of carriages across it, and without any apparent subtraction from its beauty. We will alight here and walk leisurely across, taking time for remark."

The servants now took charge of the curricle, with orders to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, having each deposited his penny at the toll-house, strolled forward.

Tallyho appeared delighted with the views around him: In the front, a fine prospect of one of the finest cities in the world, and behind an equally pleasing sight over the Surrey Hills. The day being fine, and the sun darting his refulgent beams on the bosom of the Thames, contributed to form, altogether, one of the most enraptured sights he had ever beheld. The passing and repassing of boats and barges below; and carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, crossing the bridge, alternately attracted his attention.

"Each arch of this bridge," said Dashall, "is 120 feet span; the piers 20 feet thick, with Tuscan columns; the width between the parapets 42 feet; these footpaths are seven feet each, and the road-way is 28 feet. The cost has been immense, and it is not likely that the original subscribers will ever realize the capital expended."

~72~~ At this moment the sound of music attracted the ears of Tallyho.

"What have we here?" said he, thrusting his head through the balustrades, by which he found himself almost suffocated with smoke, which stopped further enquiry.

"Behold," said Tom, "another improvement of the age; that is the Richmond Steam Boat, proceeding with a cargo of live stock to that celebrated place of public resort, and, in spite of wind and weather, will return in the evening. They always have a band of music on board, for the amusement of their passengers."

"Zounds," said Bob, "they ought to have a smoke-consumer."

"They had one just now," replied Tom; "for I apprehend you assisted them in some degree, though not voluntarily."

"You are smoking me," said Bob.

"Never mind, you have only been puffing a cloud."

"However, as the mist is dispelled," said Tallyho, "and we have, a clear sky before us again, let us make use of our senses."

"To the right you perceive Blackfriars' Bridge, and beyond that the Southwark Bridge. By the way, we were speaking of the alterations to be witnessed in a country life. We will now pursue the subject, and suppose for a moment our two-thousand-years-ago friend, after his visit among the Swains, inclined to transfer his observations to the Great Town. The first question would be, How shall I get there? Oh, there are plenty of night coaches, and day coaches too, Sir. Well, then "fancy him seated in a night coach, and having supped on the road, on resuming his corner of the vehicle, he falls into a sound sleep. Guess what must be his surprise on waking in the morning, to find himself in the bustle and apparent confusion of the streets of the Metropolis. But how altered! Wide streets and upright houses, instead of narrow lanes with houses meeting each other at the tops. Then what elegant shops!—He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Why, this is all a dream

"Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain!"

~73~~ 'It cannot be reality!'—However, he swallows a hasty breakfast, and sallies out again to look about him. From London Bridge he espies the one I have just mentioned, the Southwark Bridge.—'What have we here?'—'Oh, Sir, that is the cast-iron bridge, with three arches, over the Thames.' He hastens to it, and when upon it, what must be his astonishment, at the power of the human mind to form, and of the human body to bring together, such immense pieces of iron? To connect Queen Street, Cheapside, with the Kent and Surrey Roads by three arches, the centre of which is 240 feet span, and the side ones 210 feet each, the arches all composed of cast iron, the piers and abutments of stone. 'Zounds,' he would exclaim, 'if the race of man dwindle in stature, they grow daily more stupendous in intellect! 'But we will suppose, like you, with an anxiety to see all that can be seen, he perceives a machine sailing down the river with astonishing velocity; 'Why, formerly,' said he, 'wind and tide against a vessel were insurmountable obstacles in its passage, but now they seem to add to its swiftness; how is this to be accounted for? '—'Easily enough,' replies a bye-stander; 'Lord bless you, it's all done by steam. Hot water and smoke do every thing now-a-days! Why there are a great number of machines, which formerly required from two to forty or more horses each to put and keep in motion, entirely worked by the steam arising from boiling water.'—' Prodigious! Steam do all that! Astonishing!'"

"And truly," replied Bob, "notwithstanding I have witnessed many improvements, I confess I am astonished at the various uses to which this discovery has already been devoted, and the extraordinary powers it possesses.

"Well, we will pursue the train of thought a little further: Suppose, perambulating the streets till he is quite tired, and seeing alterations and changes out of number, he enters a Coffee House, eats a hearty meal, and taking a glass or two of wine, he falls into a musing train of ideas of the wonders he has been witnessing, from which he is not disturbed, till the hoarse voice of a Charley sounds in his ear, 'Past ten o'clock, and a cloudy night,' at which he hastily starts up, discharges his bill, and prepares, by buttoning up close and securing his trusty stick, for (as he would naturally expect) a dull dreary walk. He sallies out thus equipped, and, to his utter astonishment, finds the streets as busy as in the middle of the day, and almost as light. He steps up to one of the lights to ~74~~ examine it—'What can this be? It is not oil, there is no vessel to contain it; surely this can't be steam also! But what can it be?'—'Gas, Sir,' says a passenger, who overhears the question, 'Gas; it is produced from coals set on fire and confined in a furnace, the subtle vapour from which is conveyed by means of pipes, and, light applied to it, immediately bursts into a flame.' His astonishment would now be complete, and if he did sleep after, it would be difficult to persuade him it was not all a dream."

"Our wise forefathers knew the worth of land, And bank'd the Thames out with laborious hand; From fresh encroachments bound it's restless tide Within a spacious channel deep and wide. With equal pains, revers'd, their grandsons make On the same spot a little inland lake; Where browsing sheep or grazing cattle fed, The wondrous waters new dominion spread; Where rows of houses stood through many a street Now rows of ships present a little fleet. Nay, we had made, had Nature not refus'd, Had Father Thames not begg'd to be excus'd, A pretty tunnel underneath his bed, And left him running, grumbling, over head; Had scratch'd a track out, like a grubbing mole, Through a long, dark, and damp and dirty hole— Like rats in sewers, had flounder'd through the mud, Instead of sailing, duck-like, o'er the flood; But bubbling springs chok'd up the project deep, And trickling waters on our folly weep."

By this time they had crossed the Bridge, and having regained the curricle, the Hon. Tom Dashall tickled the tits in prime style along the Strand, in the road to the City. Soon after passing Temple Bar, they were attracted by a vast concourse of persons surrounding the shop of Mr. Carlile,{1} from whence upon enquiry they learnt the

1 Perhaps some of the most remarkable occurrences in the City of London have taken place at the house of Carlile. The whole family have been tried and convicted of selling treasonable or seditious works, and are now suffering the sentence of the law. But, notwithstanding the combined efforts of a powerful body, the shop is kept open, and it is more than likely that a greater business is carried on now than ever. In a recent Number of the Re-publican, published by him, he makes the following observations:—

"Since my last went to press, we have thought it prudent to resort to stratagem to defeat the schemes of the Gang, in taking out every new hand from the shop by a warrant. We now sell all publications, to suspicious and unsuspicious customers, through a hole in a part of the shop, where it is impossible for the purchaser to identify the seller, as there are always two or three serving in the back ground, none of whom can be seen or heard, to be identified individually. These persons are frequently changed, so that even if the enemy resorted to burglary and house-breaking, upon the strength of any warrant, the seller of any pamphlet or pamphlets could not be identified. Where the statue of Paine stood, we are about to caricature the defeat of Murray and Sharpe, and make them watch the hole through which the money and pamphlets pass, without being able to prevent it. There are fifty stratagems by which I could give full effect to the sale of my publications, as well as if they were sold openly, and which would defy prosecution, as the vender could not be identified. I dislike this mode of doing business; I like open, fair play; and I now make a proposition to Stoddart, Clarke, Murray, and Sharp, that I will do every thing openly, and give them the name of every individual in my employ from time to time, if they will confine themselves to the professions they have made through "Cato," their scribe, and not arrest until a Grand Jury have pronounced a true Bill against the individual. If they will not accept this proposition, they shall arrest no more, and my business shall go on just the same. I tell them, for their comfort, that the pamphlets sold daily through the hole, have doubled the number of those sold openly heretofore. Public curiosity they have excited, and am reaping the benefit. They cannot put-me down. I will put them down. Let the result bear witness. My friend in the enemy's camp and councils, has my thanks for his valuable information. He will perceive that all his information and instructions have been acted upon."

The previous observations of Mr. Carlile are admirably elucidated by the following Police Report of one of the Newspapers:

The Bridge-street Association.—After a cessation of hostilities for two or three days, Mr. Secretary Murray, and the forces of the Bridge Street Association under his command, re-assembled at this Justice-room [Guildhall] on Saturday.

Mr. Honorary Secretary Sharp was also in attendance, and remained in the public room with the Yeomen, while the Co- Secretary was indulged with a private interview with the Magistrate, Mr. Alderman Birch, in the parlour. Mr. Newman, the City Solicitor, was also called into council, and remained iu consultation with Secretary Murray some time; there was much marching and countermarching in and out of the office on the part of the Secretary and the Yeomen, but no public application on the part of the Association was made to the Alderman, and it was understood that there was much difficulty in determining the manner of renewing, with any prospect of success, the attacks upon the inmates of "The Temple of Reason."

The difficulty, it seems, arose from the new mode of defence adopted by the besieged. The little parlour which adjoins the shop has been converted into a citadel, the glass partition which separates them is closely blinded, and the operations carried on in ambush behind it; two of the squares of glass have been taken out, and in the place of one of them is erected a box with an aperture for the receipt of money, over which is an inscription, "Put your money in here;" and in the other, a contrivance by which the pamphlet wanted is slid down to the purchaser from the inside of the citadel. This machinery, however, is used only for the sale of such works as have already been made the object of prosecution. The seller is invisible, and the identification of his person rendered impracticable, unless the citadel be taken by storm. Little Waddington, heretofore the Radical standard-bearer, whose own experience has procured for him an extensive acquaintance with the persons of officers and informers, has assumed the command, and conducts the operations in the front shop, where the sale of such of Carlile's publications as have not as yet come under the censure of the law, is carried on as usual.

~76~~ officers of the Police had just taken one of the shopmen in custody, for vending an alleged seditious or treasonable publication, upon the information of a Yeoman in the pay of the Bridge Street Gang. The crowd of persons induced our friends to make a little further enquiry into the cause, who were soon informed, that in consequence of the repeated attempts to stop the issue of books and pamphlets sold, at what is denominated the Temple of Reason, a part of the shop had been boarded off, so as completely to screen the venders of any publication from the eye of the purchaser, and by this means to render abortive all future attempts to identify any supposed offender.

"Why," said Dashall, "it is an old saying, and I believe a very true one, If you tread upon a worm it will turn. Such appears to be exemplified in the case of this man. You have also heard me remark, that in London it signifies little by what means a man obtains popularity, and here is a case exactly in point. An extensive body of rich men have combined their efforts to crush an individual of little importance in the world, and who perhaps would before this have been forgotten, but for their indiscreet interference with his pursuits. They are now not only foiled in their endeavours to obtain fresh exercise for their Yeomen, and more work for their Lawyers, but, in consequence of their determined opposition, the world is likely to be deluged with every obnoxious publication, without any chance of detecting the sellers."

"It is a curious manouvre," said Tallyho.

"Yes, and it appears to have the desired effect with the Carliles and their adherents. They carry on the war in ambuscade, and are selling, without fear, books and ~77~~ pamphlets, of which but for the Constitutional Committee, as they call themselves, perhaps half the world would have known nothing. Such, however, is frequently the effect of intemperate zeal, and these Gentlemen have blown into notoriety that which they intended to suppress, whether upon the substantial grounds of reason or propriety, I leave others to decide."

Becoming now entangled in a double row of carriages, with little prospect of making further progress for some time, our friends resigned the curricle to the care of the servant, and proceeded on foot to the City Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, for refreshment.{1}

1 When the City Coffee House was first opened, Dr. Johnson frequently called there, and one morning observing a large book upon the table, took it up, and after inspecting the outside with great attention, he found it to be Minshew's Dictionary of Twelve Languages; upon which he turned round to the master of the house and asked him, "What use he could have for such a book?" "To amuse literary Gentlemen," was the reply. "Do you under-stand any of these languages?" "I find it a very difficult task, Sir, to understand my own, and I am not possessed of the erudition of a Johnson." The Doctor looked at him stedfastly and replied, "Sir, you are a very impudent fellow." "Sir, I am sorry you think so," replied the proprietor, "and I hope we shall both of us mend our manners." On this the Doctor drank his chocolate, and marched out of the house.

This Coffee House is much resorted to, and, in point of comfortable accommodation, is perhaps not surpassed by any in London.

Having regaled themselves, and looked over the leading papers of the day, they proceeded to inspect the interior of that noble edifice, the pride of the British empire, St. Paul's Cathedral.

"According to vulgar tradition," said Dashall, "this church occupies the site of a Roman temple, which was consecrated to Diana; but the son of Sir Christopher Wren, in his Parentalia, controverts this opinion, and contends, that the first cathedral of the Episcopal see of London was built in the area, the seat of the Roman Praetorian camp, the precise spot on which the present church stands. It is supposed to have been destroyed in the general persecution under the emperor Dioclesian, to have been re-edified under Constantine, to have been demolished by the Pagan Saxons, and to have been restored in the seventh century, when the Saxons embraced ~78~~ Christianity. From this period it has been four times rebuilt, and at the great fire of London was totally destroyed."

These remarks premised by Dashall for the information of his friend, they proceeded to view the several statues and funeral monuments, displayed with uniformity and executed with considerable taste, by which the interior of the church has been much improved in appearance.{1}

After having examined these stately and expressive mementos of mortality, the two visitors were asked by their attendant, whether they would pass to the stone and iron galleries outside of the church; but this, having so lately enjoyed the extensive prospect from the Monument, they declined, and proceeded at once to the Library, the first object to be seen in the ascent.

Our two visitors were very much pleased with this handsome room, which in its dimensions is about fifty feet by forty, having shelves of books to the top, with a gallery

1 The statues of Dr. Johnson, and Howard the philanthropist, both executed by the late Mr. Bacon, were opened for public inspection in 1796. That of Dr. Johnson represents a moral philosopher, with the attitude and expression of intense thought, leaning against a column, indicative of the firmness of mind and stability of principles of the man whom it is intended to commemorate.

The statue of Howard, in which the character of active benevolence is well expressed, stands upon a pedestal of white marble, on which is a group of bas-relief, representing a scene in a prison, where the philanthropist, having broken the chains of the prisoners, is bringing provision and clothing for their relief.

The statue of Sir William Jones, a man well known for his extensive and multifarious erudition, whose study it was to make the British name honoured and revered amongst the nations of the East, is also the work of Bacon, and was erected by the East India Company.

Amongst the monuments lately raised in commemoration of de- parted worth, is that of Nelson, and in design and execution it is not exceeded by any in the Cathedral.

In the open part of the Cathedral, the stranger will be struck with the appearance of numerous tattered flags, the trophies of British valour. Those over the aisle leading from the western door, were taken in part during the American War, and the rest by the Duke of York at Valenciennes. Those on both sides near the north door, were reprisals made from the French by Lord Howe, on the 1st of June, 1794; opposite to which, on the right hand, are the flags taken from the Spaniards by Lord Nelson, in 1797; and on the left are those taken from the Dutch by Lord Duncan, at Camperdown, and by Lord Keith at the Cape of Good Hope.

~79~~running along the sides. The floor is of oak, consisting of 2376 small square pieces, and is not only curious for its being inlaid, without a nail or a peg to fasten the parts, but is very neat in the workmanship, and beautiful in its appearance. The principal things pointed out to a stranger, are several carved stone pillars, some Latin manuscripts, written by Monks 800 years ago, and an English manuscript illuminated, containing rules for the government of a convent, written in old English, about 500 years since, all in fine preservation.

The clock-work and the great bell were the next curiosities that attracted the attention of our visitants. On the latter, weighing 11,470lbs. the hammer of the clock strikes the hours. It was now noon, and the ponderous hammer put itself into motion, and slowly, yet with astounding impetus, struck the bell, and the reverberation tingled on the auricular organs of the two strangers with painful and stunning effect throughout the long protracted intimation of the hour; nor was it until a considerable time had elapsed, that their hearing recovered from the clanging agitation.{1}

1 This bell is never tolled but upon the death of some of the Royal Family, of the Bishop of London, or of the Dean of St. Paul's, and then the clapper is moved and not the bell. In the stillness of night, the indication of the hour by the deeply sonorous tone of this bell may be heard, not merely over the immense Metropolis, but in distant parts of the country. The fact is well known of the sentry at Windsor, who, when accused of having been asleep one night on his post, denied the charge, saying, "That he had been listening to St. Paul's in London, which had just struck thirteen!" And this assertion was, upon enquiry, satisfactorily corroborated.

They were now ushered into the Whispering Gallery, which is constructed on the very simple principle of an unbroken communication. It is 140 yards in circumference, and a stone seat runs round the gallery along the foot of the wall. On the side directly opposite to the entrance door, Dashall and his friend seated themselves, when the person who shewed the gallery whispered close to the door, at the distance of 140 feet, and yet they heard his voice seemingly at their ear. The shutting of the door resembled a clap of thunder. From this gallery, round the inner circle of which is an iron balustrade, the marble pavement of the church exhibits a beautiful appearance, and the paintings of the dome, which have ~80~~ greatly suffered by time, are thence seen to the greatest advantage.

The ascent to the ball is attended by some difficulty, and is not encountered by many. Our two visitants therefore declined its inspection. The interior diameter of the ball is six feet two inches, and will contain twelve persons.{1}

1 A new ball and cross have lately replaced the former, of similar dimensions. The erection of the scaffolding, and subsequent proceedings of the workmen, at so fearful a height from the "haunts of men," excited a very general interest, more particularly so on the recent happy accomplishment of the undertaking, when the in-trepid aeronauts cheered the admiring multitude far beneath, and, seated in the clouds like the deities of Mount Olympus, drank to the prosperity of their friends in the nether regions.

The best view of the metropolis is obtained, in a clear day, from the gallery at the foot of the lantern. The diminutive appearance of the passengers and other objects beneath is extremely amusing, and resembles the Elfin Panorama of the capital of Lilliput.

The calm serenity of the interior, the awful grandeur of the structure itself, and the reflections arising from the contemplation of monuments erected to the memory of departed worth, with the splendid achievements of heroic minds, formed a strange contrast to the scene which presented itself to their view on leaving this magnificent pile. The hurry, bustle, and confusion of the street, the noisy vociferations of coachmen, carmen, &c. burst upon their senses at a moment when the mind had been soothed by reflection, and the eye gratified with a sight which led imagination into futurity, before which the past and the present had appeared to evaporate. The Hon. Tom Dashall, however, was quickly recalled by observing his curricle so completely hemmed in between contending parties to obtain liberation at the corner of Paul's chain, as to afford but little chance of escape from its intricate situation for some time.

"Zounds," said Tom, "we had better return and take a seat among the worthies within, for I have no idea of mounting the curricle, to sit and be quizzed."

"Any chance," said Bob, "is better than that; but at all events your man is able to take care of the carriage and cattle, and we are competent to the care of ourselves."

"Well hinted," replied Tom, "and it shall be acted upon."

~81~~ Thus saying, he made his way through the throng, and gave orders for the curricle to proceed home as soon as it could be extricated from its present confinement. Then returning to his Cousin,

"It is not the first time I have been disappointed; I had made up my mind to proceed much farther; but the very scenes we have been inspecting are proofs of the inability of man to perform all his wishes, although equally' a proof of the splendid talents and determined valour of our renowned and deservedly remembered countrymen, and are well calculated to inspire us with patience, fortitude, and forbearance. At the other door we can escape from the bustle of this side; and perhaps the best thing we can do under existing circumstances, will be to speed homewards, and after dinner relax a little from our toils, in order to recruit for further activity."

"Have with you," said Bob; "we have enjoyed the first part of the day on a variety of interesting subjects, and after a cheerful and refreshing ride, have at last arrived at the threshold of eternity. We may as well escape for this time if we can, and cheat the grim tyrant of mankind. Although our ride has been a long one, our walk back is but short, so let us lose no time."

In accordance with this recommendation, he caught hold of Dashall's arm, proceeded through the Cathedral, and arrived at Piccadilly without any thing remarkable or particular to record, where we shall for the present leave them to their enjoyments among the able writers with which Tom's bookcase was well stored.



CHAPTER VI

Hail! venerable pile! with awe I tread The sacred mansion of th' illustrious dead! Where rise, o'er forms now mould'ring into dust, The "storied urn" and "animated West."— Beneath the fretted dome, aspiring high, Here monarchs, heroes, poets, sages, lie! "Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue," Here sleeps the bard with those whom erst he sung; And all consigned to one impartial doom, Lo! kings and subjects levelled in the tomb!

IN a perambulation westward, our friends shortly reached the precinct of Westminster Abbey, or the collegiate Church of Saint Peter; the most ancient religious structure in the metropolis.

Divested of fabulous narration, its history is briefly as follows. Its name is obviously derived from its situation, in the west, and from its original destination as the church of a monastery. It was founded by Sebert, king of the East Saxons; was destroyed afterwards by the Danes; was subsequently re-built by king Edgar in 958; the church was again re-built by Edward the Confessor in 1065; and by Pope Nicholas II. it was constituted a place of inauguration of the English Monarchs. Henry III. re-built it from the ground, and Henry VII. added a magnificent chapel at the east end of it. The monastery was surrendered by the abbot and monks to Henry VIII. who first converted it into a college of secular canons, and afterwards into a cathedral, of which the county of Middlesex was the see. His successor, Edward VI. dissolved the see, and restored the college, which was again converted by Mary into an abbey. That institution was dissolved by Elizabeth in 1560; she founded the present establishment, which is a college consisting of a dean, 12 secular canons, and 30 petty canons; to which is attached a school of 40 boys, denominated the Queen's or King's scholars, with a master and usher; and also twelve alms-men, an organist, and choristers.

Its greatest length is 489 feet; the breadth of the west front 66 feet; the length of the cross aisle 189 feet; and the height of the roof 92 feet; the west end is adorned with two towers, which were built by Sir Christopher Wren. The nave and cross aisles are supported by two rows of arches, of Sussex marble, one above the other, each of the pillars of which is a union of one massy round pillar, and tour others of a similar form, but slender. These aisles are lofty, and each of the small pillars being extended from the base to the roof, they produce an idea at once sublime and awful. Besides the cross aisle there are two side aisles, which are lower than the nave; and, being in a just proportion, they unite with the other parts of the edifice to produce a harmonious effect. The choir, from which there is an ascent by several steps to a magnificent altar-piece of white marble, is divided from the western part of the great aisle by two iron gates, and is perhaps the most beautiful choir in Europe: its roof was materially injured by fire, occasioned by the carelessness of the plumbers who were repairing it in 1803, but it has since been completely restored, at an expence of upwards of L4000. In this choir is performed the coronation of the Kings and Queens of England.

This succinct account will not prove unacceptable, we hope, to our readers.

The attractive spot at the southern extremity of the cross aisle was now entered by the two friends. "This," said Dashall, "is called Poet's Corner, and never could a place be named with more propriety."

Tallyho cast an eye of intense observation on these sacred records of departed excellence. Here he found the names of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Johnson, Milton, Dryden, Butler, Thomson, Gay, Goldsmith, &c. There also, as though the spot were dedicated to genius of the highest rank, are the tombs of Handel and Garrick. The Squire in his admiration of the British Poets, now gave full scope to the ardency of his feelings, and surrounded by the sculptured images of the bards of former days, he seemed as if environed by a re-animated constellation of genius, and wrapt in the delirium of its inspiritive influence.

~84~~ Westminster Abbey contains a great number of monuments of kings, statesmen, heroes, poets, and persons distinguished by genius, learning, and science; but many of these monuments can be regarded as little better than so many disfigurements of the buildings. Some however are to be spoken of with praise, and the best are the productions of Reubilliac and Bacon.

The curiosities of Westminster Abbey consist chiefly of twelve chapels, the principal of which were visited by Dashall and his cousin; but to the chapel of Henry VII. their chief attention was directed. This chapel is contiguous to the eastern extremity of the church, and opens into it: it is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and is one of the finest specimens of Gothic antiquity in the world. On its site formerly stood a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and also a tavern, distinguished by the sign of the White Rose: Henry resolving to erect a superb mausoleum for himself and his family, pulled down the old chapel and tavern, and on the 11th of February in the year 1503, the first stone of the new structure was laid by Abbot Islip, at the King's command. It cost L14,000, an immense sum for that period, particularly considering the rapacious temper of the king. The exterior of the chapel is distinguished by the richness and variety of its form, occasioned chiefly by 14 towers, elegantly proportioned to the body of the edifice, and projecting in different angles from the outer-most wall: the inside is approached by the area at the back of the chapels of Edward the Confessor and Henry v. The floor of this chapel is elevated above that of the area, and the ascent is by a flight of marble steps: the entrance is ornamented with a handsome gothic portico of stone, within which are three large gates of gilt brass, of curious open workmanship, every pannel being enriched with a rose and a portcullis alternately. The chapel consists of the nave and two small aisles: the centre is 99 feet in length, 66 in breadth, and 54 in height, terminating at the east in a curve, and having five deep recesses of a similar form: the entrance to these recesses is by open arches, and they add greatly to the relief and beauty of the building: it is not improbable that they were originally so many smaller chapels, destined to various uses. The side aisles are in a just proportion to the centre, with which they communicate by four arches, turned on gothic pillars; each of them is relieved by four recesses, a window, with minute and curious ~85~~divisions, running the whole height of each recess. The upper part of the nave has four windows on each side, and ten in the eastern extremity, five above and five below. The whole of the roof of the chapel, including the side aisles and the curve at the end, is of wrought stone, in the gothic style, and of exquisite beauty. An altar-tomb erected by Henry, at the cost of L1000, to receive his last remains, stands in the centre of the chapel. It is of basaltic stone, ornamented and surrounded with a magnificent railing of gilt brass. This monument was constructed by Peter Torregiano, a Florentine artist, and possesses extraordinary merit. Six devices in bas-relief, and four statues, all of gilt brass, adorn the tomb.

In addition to these venerable antiquities, which all deserve to be seen, a variety of figures in wax, and in cases with glazed doors, are shewn as curiosities to the stranger; but they ought to be removed, as disgraceful to the grandeur and solemnity of the other parts of the scene, and as a satire on the national taste, which can scarcely be excused, when such things are exhibited in a room for children's amusement.

Every lover of the arts must lament that this beautiful relic of gothic taste is falling rapidly to decay; notwithstanding, within the last twenty-four years, the Dean and Chapter of Westminster have expended the sum of L28,749 in general repairs of the abbey. Parliament, however, has at last granted the requisite aid, and the sum of L20,000 has been voted to commence the repairs, which are now going on. It has been estimated that the necessary repairs of Henry the VIIth's chapel will cost about L14,800 and the ornamental repairs about L10,400.

The prospect from the western tower of the abbey is more beautiful and picturesque, though less extensive, than that from St. Paul's. The west end of the town and its environs, the Banquetting-house at Whitehall, St. James's park, the gardens of the Queen's palace, the extremity of Piccadilly and Hyde-park, with the Serpentine River, and the distant groves of Kensington Gardens, present a varied and magnificent view towards the west. On the other hand, the bridges of Westminster, Waterloo, and Blackfriars, with the broad expanse of the Thames, and Somerset-house on its banks, and St. Paul's towering pile, together with the light Gothic steeple of St. Dunstan's in the East, present a most noble and ~86~~ interesting prospect. From this tower the exterior form of St. Paul's, when the sun falls upon it, is distinctly seen, and here its exquisite beauty will be more fully comprehended than in any part of the city, for a sufficient area to take in the entire outline is not to be found there.

This prolixity of description will not, we presume, be considered by our readers, as a tedious digression from the main subject.—Real Life in London cannot be better elucidated, than by uniting incident with appropriate anecdote, and amidst the perambulations of our respectable associates, which led them to the ancient and interesting edifice of Westminster Abbey, it necessarily followed that we should illustrate the subject, by a brief, yet accurate and interesting account of the antiquity, et cetera, of the object under consideration.

Having gratified their wishes by a cursory inspection of what their guides were pleased to denominate "Curiosities," our two heroes were on the eve of departure from the Abbey, when Bob begged that the guide would repeat the terms of admission to view these repositories of mortality.

"The tombs," said the conductor, "at the east end of the church, with the chapel of Henry VIIth, the price of admission to view these, sir, is six-pence; the models three-pence; the tombs at the northern part of the cross aisle three-pence; and the west end and tower of the abbey six-pence."

Tallyho expressed his surprise that the house of God and the depository of the dead, should be so shamefully assigned over to the influence of Mammon, and a price of admission as into a place of public amusement, exacted by those to whose mercenary government the ancient structure of Westminster Abbey had devolved. "Was it thus, always," asked he, "from the time of Henry IIId?" To this enquiry, the guide replied merely by a shrug of his shoulders, rather indicative of contempt than otherways, and to a further question of "Who is the receiver general of these exactions, and to what purpose are they applied?" he preserved a sullen taciturnity.

From the south aisle of the abbey there are two entrances into the cloisters, which are entire, and consist of four arched walks on the sides of an open quadrangle. There are many monuments in these walks, but four of them, beneath which are the remains of four of the abbots ~87~~of Westminster, at the east end of the south walk, are all which merit particular attention.—

Amongst the ancient records deposited here, the two friends were gratified with a sight of those of the Court of Star-chamber, and of the original Domesday-book, which is still as legible as the first hour it was written.

Against the south-west part of the west front of the abbey, is the north front of the Jerusalem chamber, remarkable for being the place where king Henry IV. breathed his last.{1}

North from the abbey stood the Sanctuary, the place of refuge allowed in old times, to criminals of a certain description; and, on the south side, was the eleemosynary or almonry, where the alms of the abbot were distributed.—This place is remarkable for being the spot in which the first printing-press ever used in England was set up; and here, in 1474, Caxton printed the Game and Play of Chesse, the first book ever printed in England.—A new Court House is now built on the site of the sanctuary.

Having seen in the Abbey every curiosity of note, its two visitants directed their course into Westminster Hall, the great national seat of justice.—This together with the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, are the remains of the palace of Westminster, built by Edward the Confessor, the situation of which was close to the river Thames, and the stairs leading from it still retain the name of palace stairs. The hall itself is the largest room in Europe, except the theatre at Oxford, unsupported by columns. It is 275 feet in length, 74 in breadth, and 90 in height, the roof being of oak, of curious gothic architecture. It was originally used as a place of festivity, and Richard IId entertained 10,000 guests within its walls. In this hall Charles I.. was tried and condemned; and at present it is occasionally fitted up for the trial of peers or of any person impeached by the Commons.

Our heroes now relinquishing the contemplation of the olden times for the enjoyment of the passing scenes of the modern, turned their steps in the direction of Whitehall; passing through which, and facing the Banquetting-House,{2} their observation was attracted to a gentleman on

1 See Shakespeare's Play of Henry IV. Part II.

2 In front of the Banquetting House, on a scaffold, Charles I. was beheaded on the 30th of January, 1648;—His Majesty passed from the Banquetting House to the scaffold through one of the windows.

~88~~horseback, followed by a number of people, by whom he was frequently and warmly cheered; and en passant was recognized with other popular feeling of regard and respect. Dashall stept forward to reconnoitre, and ascertained that the favourite was no other than the worthy representative of the borough of Southwark, Sir Robert Wilson, Knt. lately deprived of his rank as a General, "for," continued Dashall, "nobody knows what, unless the enormous crime of paying his last tribute of respect to the memory of an "injured Queen;" and endeavouring, in the temperate language of remonstrance, to prevent the effusion of human blood! His character however, is too firmly rooted to sustain injury from the breath of slander; and the malignity of his enemies has recoiled on themselves: thanks to a brave, just, and generous people, who are ever prone to save whom persecution aims to destroy."

Dashall seemed warm in defending the cause of this gallant officer, and the Squire listened with correspondent satisfaction.

"The allied Sovereigns," observed Dashall, "in General Sir Robert Wilson, found all the essential requisites of a good soldier: of skill to plan, and of valour to execute. They were chiefly indebted to his judgment and intrepidity for the victory of Leipsic; to which ample testimony was given by the Emperors of Russia and Austria; the latter of whom, during the intensity and perils of the engagement, he extricated from the imminent hazard of captivity. His services have not been of less importance in the armies of his own country, as acknowledged by the Commander in Chief, who has now rewarded him by recommending his dismissal, at the instance, no doubt, of Ministers; anxious by this procedure to annihilate his independent feelings, and render them more subservient to the doctrine of non-resistance and of passive obedience to the existing authorities!"{1}

1 This object is already defeated.—Amongst all classes Sir Robert Wilson's dismissal has excited strong feelings of reprobation. Certainly, whatsoever other name may be given to the act, it cannot be called a just one, to degrade an honourable man from his rank, and deprive him of the half pay (which in a great measure accrued to him from purchase,) without accusation, arbitrarily, and on secret and suborned information of having; merited the inflicted contumely. But futile has been the effort of malevolence; Sir Robert Wilson's half pay was L460 per annum, and the subscriptions in indemnification of his loss already exceed L10,000.

~89~~Pursuing their course along the Strand, and ruminating on the alarming increase of juvenile depravity, Tallyho could not avoid remarking on the numerous temptations held out to the vicious and necessitous in this wide-spreading and wealthy metropolis—"For instance," making a full halt, with his friend, against the spacious and unlatticed window of a jeweller's shop, Dashall admitted the truth of his companion's observation. Here on promiscuous display were seen most valuable articles of jewelry, stretching multitudinously from one extremity to the other of the window, consisting of gold and silver watches, elegant and richly wrought seals, musical snuff-boxes, diamond rings, diamond pins, &c. embracing, in vast variety, a property of immense value, divided from the street by "thin and undefended squares of glass only; and that the lure might prove still more attractive, each article marked at its price, some 25, some 50, 75, 100, and 200 guineas each! A dash and a grab might secure to the depredator possession of wealth; and while such temptations are held out, the surprise is, not that so many street robberies are, but that a great many more are not committed. The many thousands in London out of employment, and of these perhaps the greatest number unhoused and famishing, would it be much to be wondered at if some of these sons of misery, goaded onwards to crime by the extremity of human suffering, were to attempt the possession of spoil, so carelessly exposed, and apparently so easily obtainable?{1}

1 Lord Mansfield once presided as Judge, when an unfortunate man was tried for stealing an article of jewellery from a shop-window, exposed by its unguarded state to depredation, and more encouraging than otherwise, the hope of success.— It proved differently, and the prosecutor seeming determined to proceed against the wretched man, even to capital punishment, Lord Mansfield, indignant at the severity of the owner of the trinket, and compassionating the state of misery and destitution, under the influence of which the poor prisoner at the bar, stimulated too by its careless exposure, had committed the felony, desired the Jury to value the trinket in question at ten pence.—The prosecutor started up in surprise, and exclaimed, "Tenpence, my Lord! why the very fashion of it cost me ten times the sum!" "That may be," returned his Lordship, "but we must not hang a man for fashion's sake!"

~90~~"Here conies silly Tom and staggering Bob," exclaimed a fellow, as he approached towards our pedestrians. Tallyho had grasped more firmly his oaken sprig, with the intention of trying the crankness of the observer's pericranium, when Dashall perceived that the obnoxious remark was directed to a simple looking old man, dejectedly leading a horse "done up," and apparently destined for the slaughter-house.

"Where now, Tommy," continued the querist, "with thy decayed bit of blood?"

"Aye, aye," answered Tommy, despondingly, "even to the naggers,{1}—'tis what we must all come to."

1 A Naggerman is a wholesale horse-butcher! his business is frequently so extensive as to enable him to employ a vast many hands, and so lucrative as to ensure him a fortune in a very few years; the carcases are sold to the dealers by whom they are cut up, and sold in quarters to the retailers, and purchased by the street venders; these latter form one of the prominent itinerant avocations, and supply with food all the dogs and cats of the metropolis!

"And so thy master has passed the doom of death against his old servant Bob, on whose back he has been safely borne, in the chase, "many a time and oft," as the song says, "o'er hedges, gaps, ditches and gates; and fleet of foot as thou wert," patting the animal with feelings of commiseration," and often as thou hast replenished thy master's purse, thou art now going to the slaughter-house!"

"Even so—the faithful servant, now no longer useful, is discarded."

"And put to death!—Why man, thy master is a d——d unfeeling, ungrateful scoundrel, else he would have turned this poor nag at large on the green sward, to roam as he list in summer, with a warm stable in winter, and have left him to die the death of nature."

An assemblage of passengers had now collected round the doom'd horse and his sympathizing friend, whose vehemence of expression had attracted much attention. The feelings of his auditory were in full unison with his own, and as the throng increased, with inquisitive curiosity, the advocate in the cause of humanity repeated the following lines:

"And hast thou doom'd my death, sweet master, say, And wilt thou kill thy servant, old and poor? A little longer let me live, I pray; A little longer hobble round thy door!"

~91~~The spectators were evidently affected. He next sung the stanza of an old song, extemporaneously produced (with the exception of the first two lines)

At last having labored, drudg'd early and late, Bow'd down by degrees he draws on to his fate: His blood must the Naggerman's sluicing knife spill; His carcase the Naggerman's slaughter-house fill! Now led to his doom, while with pity we view Poor Bob, may mishap still his master pursue; Who callously spurning humanity's bounds, Now sells his old servant as food for the hounds.

The Squire having occasion to call at a banker's in Fleet Street, the two friends entered at the moment when a countryman with a most rueful expression of countenance, stood transfixed to the floor, like the statue of Despair, incapable either of speech or motion. After an absorption of mental faculty of several minutes duration, he burst out into the incoherent exclamations of

"Murrian take un, zay I!—Icod, I'ze in a voine pickle! I ha brought my pigs to market wi a vengeance! O luord! O luord! whoa would ha thought en't?"

He then began exercising his feet by stamping each alternately on the floor, with a violence that shook the room to its foundation; and this vehement thunder he accompanied by correspondent energy of gesticulation; distorting his visage, and casting about his arms with the action of an infuriated maniac. The place was thrown into alarm, and business was suspended. Dashall now addressing himself to the presumed lunatic, begged him to compose himself, and endeavour briefly to state what had happened, that if he had sustained an injury, redress might be obtained.

After several fruitless attempts at narration, he at length told his story; and that it may lose nothing of its originality, we shall give it in the first person.

"I'ze cuom zur, frae Zumersetzshire to Lunnon, first time o' my loife, by coach, where it putt en at a pleace called the two Gooses necks, and zo having a cheque on this house for Fifty Pounds, and not knowing the way, I axed a vera civil gentleman whom I met wi' hovering about Inn-yard; and telling him my business, Pze go with you, zaid he, vera kindly, and help thee to take care o! thy money, vor there be a desperate set o' sharp fellows in Lunnon ready to take every advantage of a stranger; ~92~~ and zoa we came along, and just avore we gotten into house here, he said to I, zays he, I'ze take thy money and zee that all's right, vor there be a vast many bad sovereigns about.—Well, zur, zoa he did; and just as I wur looking about, it seems he had taen himself off wi'the money, vor when I looked round he wur no where to be zeen; and zoa zur, I have lost Fifty good Pounds to my sorrow. Who would ha thought it!—I wish the murrian had ha hold on me avore I had come to this wicked world o' Lunnon!"

Here the countryman concluded his narrative, exciting the amusement of some and the sympathy of others of his auditory.—The banker dispatched one of his clerks with the unlucky wight to one of the Public Offices, for the purpose of describing the depredator, altho' with very small chance of recovering the property.{1}

Eliminating on the folly of this credulous countryman, our perambulators now proceeded down Fleet Street, where casting a look into Bolt Court—"Here," said Dashall, "lived and died the colossus of English literature, Doctor Samuel Johnson,{2} a man whose like the world may

1 In all the Coach and Waggon yards in London there are fellows loitering about with the view of plunder; they frequently are taken by the unwary countryman, for domestics of the Inn, and as such are entrusted with property with which they immediately decamp, and by many other artful manouvres secure their spoil.