1 Turf-Jews and Greeks—Gamblers at races, trotting- matches, &c.

2 Rooks and Pigeons are frequenters of gaming-houses: the former signifying the successful adventurer, and the latter the unfortunate dupe.

~161~~depredations are committed upon the property of the unwary as in any other, and every one engaged in it thinks it a meritorious act to dupe his chapman. Even noblemen and gentlemen, who in other transactions of life are honest, will make no scruple of cheating you in horse-dealing: nor is this to be wondered at when we consider that the Lord and the Baronet take lessons from their grooms, jockeys, or coachmen, and the nearer approach they can make to the appearance and manners of their tutors, the fitter the pupils for turf-men, or gentlemen dealers; for the school in which they learn is of such a description that dereliction of principle is by no means surprising—fleecing each other is an every-day practice—every one looks upon his fellow as a bite, and young men of fashion learn how to buy and sell, from old whips, jockeys, or rum ostlers, whose practices have put them up to every thing, and by such ruffian preceptors are frequently taught to make three quarters or seventy-five per cent, profit, which is called turning an honest penny. This, though frequently practised at country fairs, &c. by horse-jobbers, &c. is here executed with all the dexterity and art imaginable: for instance, you have a distressed friend whom you know must sell; you commiserate his situation, and very kindly find all manner of faults with his horse, and buy it for half its value—you also know a Green-horn and an extravagant fellow, to whom you sell it for twice its value, and that is the neat thing. Again, if you have a horse you wish to dispose of, the same school will afford you instruction how to make the most of him, that is to say, to conceal his vices and defects, and by proper attention to put him into condition, to alter his whole appearance by hogging, cropping, and docking—by patching up his broken knees—blowing gun-powder in his dim eyes—bishoping, blistering, &c. so as to turn him out in good twig, scarcely to be known by those who have frequently seen and noticed him: besides which, at the time of sale one of these gentry will aid and assist your views by pointing out his recommendations in some such observations as the following:

'There's a horse truly good and well made.

'There's the appearance of a fine woman! broad breast, round hips, and long neck.

'There's the countenance, intrepidity, and fire of a lion.

'There's the eye, joint, and nostril of an ox.

~162~~'There's the nose, gentleness, and patience of a lamb.

'There's the strength, constancy, and foot of a mule.

'There's the hair, head, and leg of a deer.

'There's the throat, neck, and hearing of a wolf.

'There's the ear, brush, and trot of a fox.

'There's the memory, sight, and turning of a serpent.

'There's the running, suppleness, and innocence of the hare.

"And if a horse sold for sound wind, limb, and eyesight, with all the gentleness of a lamb, that a child might ride him with safety, should afterwards break the purchaser's neck, the seller has nothing to do with it, provided he has received the bit,{1} but laughs at the do.{2} Nay, they will sometimes sell a horse, warranted to go as steady as ever a horse went in harness, to a friend, assuring him at the same time that he has not a fault of any kind—that he is good as ever shoved a head through a horse-collar; and if he should afterwards rear up in the gig, and overturn the driver into a ditch, shatter the concern to pieces, spill Ma'am, and kill both her and the child of promise, the conscientious Horse-dealer has nothing to do with all this: How could he help it? he sold the horse for a good horse, and a good horse he was. This is all in the way of fair dealing. Again, if a horse is sold as sound, and he prove broken-winded, lame, or otherwise, not worth one fortieth part of the purchase-money, still it is only a piece of jockeyship—a fair manouvre, affording opportunities of merriment."

"A very laudable sort of company," said Bob.

"It is rather a mixed one," replied Tom—"it is indeed a complete mixture of all conditions, ranks, and orders of society. But let us take a peep at some of them. Do you observe that stout fellow yonder, with a stick in his hand? he has been a Daisy-kicker, and, by his arts and contrivances having saved a little money, is now a regular dealer, and may generally be seen here on selling days."

"Daisy-kicker," said Bob, "I don't comprehend the term."

"Then I will explain," was the reply. "Daisy-kickers are Ostlers belonging to large inns, who are known to each other by that title, and you may frequently hear them

1 Bit—A cant term for money.

2 Do—Any successful endeavour to over-reach another is by these gentlemen call'd a do, meaning—so and so has been done.

~163~~ask—When did you sell your Daisy-kicker or Grogham?—for these terms are made use of among themselves as cant for a horse. Do you also observe, he is now in close conversation with a person who he expects will become a purchaser."

"And who is he?"

"He is no other than a common informer, though in high life; keeps his carriage, horses, and servants—lives in the first style—he is shortly to be made a Consul of, and perhaps an Ambassador afterwards. The first is to all intents and purposes a Lord of Trade, and his Excellency nothing more than a titled spy, in the same way as a Bailiff is a follower of the law, and a man out of livery a Knight's companion or a Nobleman's gentleman."

Their attention was at this moment attracted by the appearance of two persons dressed in the extreme of fashion, who, upon meeting just by them, caught eagerly hold of each other's hand, and they overheard the following—'Why, Bill, how am you, my hearty?—where have you been trotting your galloper?—what is you arter?—how's Harry and Ben?—haven't seen you this blue moon.'{1}

'All tidy,' was the reply; 'Ben is getting better, and is going to sport a new curricle, which is now building for him in Long Acre, as soon as he is recovered.'

'Why what the devil's the matter with him, eh?'

'Nothing of any consequence, only he got mill'd a night or two ago about his blowen—he had one of his ribs broke, sprained his right wrist, and sports a painted peeper{2} upon the occasion, that's all.'

'Why you know he's no bad cock at the Fancy, and won't put up with any gammon.'

'No, but he was lushy, and so he got queer'd—But I say, have you sold your bay?'

'No, d——n me, I can't get my price.'

'Why, what is it you axes?'{3}

'Only a hundred and thirty—got by Agamemnon. Lord, it's no price at all—cheap as dirt—But I say, Bill,

1 Blue moon—This is usually intended to imply a long time.

2 Painted peeper—A black eye.

3 Axes—Among the swell lads, and those who affect the characters of knowing coveys, there is a common practice of endeavouring to coin new words and new modes of expression, evidently intended to be thought wit; and this affectation frequently has the effect of creating a laugh.

~164~~how do you come on with your grey, and the pie-bald poney?'

'All right and regular, my boy; matched the poney for a light curricle, and I swapped{1} the grey for an entire horse—such a rum one—when will you come and take a peep at him?—all bone, fine shape and action, figure beyond compare—I made a rare good chop of it.'

'I'm glad to hear it; I'll make a survey, and take a ride with you the first leisure day; but I'm full of business, no time to spare—I say, are, you a dealer?'

'No, no, it won't do, I lost too much at the Derby—besides, I must go and drive my Girl out—Avait, that's the time of day,{2} my boys—so good by—But if you should be able to pick up a brace of clever pointers, a prime spaniel, or a greyhound to match Smut, I'm your man—buy for me, and all's right—price, you know, is out of the question, I must have them if they are to be got, so look out—bid and buy; but mind, nothing but prime will do for me—that's the time of day, you know, d——n me—so good by—I'm off.' And away he went.

"Some great sporting character, I suppose," said Bob—"plenty of money."

"No such thing," said Tom, drawing him on one side—"you will hardly believe that Bill is nothing more than a Shopman to a Linen-draper, recently discharged for malpractices; and the other has been a Waiter at a Tavern, but is now out of place; and they are both upon the sharp look-out to gammon the flats. The former obtains his present livelihood by gambling—spends the most of his time in playing cards with greenhorns, always to be picked up at low flash houses, at fairs, races, milling-matches, &c. and is also in the holy keeping of the cast-off mistress of a nobleman whose family he was formerly in as a valet-de-chambre. The other pretends to teach sparring in the City, and occasionally has a benefit in the Minories, Duke's Place, and the Fives Court."

"They talk it well, however," said Bob.

1 Swapp'd—Exchanged.

2 That's the time of day—That's your sort—that's the barber—keep moving—what am you arter—what am you up to— there never was such times—that's the Dandy—Go along Bob, &c. are ex-pressions that are frequently made use of by the people of the Metropolis; and indeed fashion seems almost to have as much to do with our language as with our dress or manners.

~165~~"Words are but wind, many a proud word comes off a weak stomach," was the reply; "and you may almost expect not to hear a word of truth in this place, which may be termed The Sporting Repository—it is the grand mart for horses and for other fashionable animals—for expensive asses, and all sorts of sporting-dogs, town-puppies, and second-hand vehicles. Here bets are made for races and fights—matches are made up here—bargains are struck, and engagements entered into, with as much form, regularity, and importance, as the progress of parliamentary proceedings—points of doubt upon all occasions of jockeyship are decided here; and no man of fashion can be received into what is termed polished society, without a knowledge of this place and some of the visitors. The proceedings however are generally so managed, that the ostlers, the jockeys, the grooms, and the dealers, come best off, from a superiority of knowledge and presumed judgment—they have a method of patching up deep matches to _diddle the dupes_, and to introduce _throws over, doubles, double doubles_, to ease the heavy pockets of their burdens. The system of puffing is also as much in use here as among the Lottery-office Keepers, the Quack Doctors, or the Auctioneers; and the _Knowing ones, by an understanding amongst each other, sell their cattle almost for what they please, if it so happens they are not immediately in want of the _ready_,{1} which, by the way, is an article too frequently in request—and here honest poverty is often obliged to sell at any rate, while the rich black-leg takes care only to sell to a good advantage, making a point at the same time not only to make the most of his cattle, but also of his friend or acquaintance."

"Liberal and patriotic-minded men!" said Bob; "it is a noble Society, and well worthy of cultivation."

"It is fashionable Society, at least," continued Tom, "and deserving of observation, for it is fraught with instruction."

"I think so, indeed," was the reply; "but I really begin to suspect that I shall scarcely have confidence to venture out alone, for there does not appear to be any part of your wonderful Metropolis but what is infested with some kind of shark or other."

"It is but too true, and it is therefore the more necessary to make yourself acquainted with them; it is rather a long lesson, but really deserving of being learnt. You

1 The ready—Money.

~166~~perceive what sort of company you are now in, as far as may be judged from their appearances; but they are not to be trusted, for I doubt not but you would form erroneous conclusions from such premises. The company that assembles here is generally composed of a great variety of characters—the Idler, the Swindler, the Dandy, the Exquisite, the full-pursed young Peer, the needy Sharper, the gaudy Pauper, and the aspiring School-boy, anxious to be thought a dealer and a judge of the article before him—looking at a horse with an air of importance and assumed intelligence, bidding with a trembling voice and palpitating heart, lest it should be knock'd down to him. Do you see that dashing fellow nearly opposite to us, in the green frock-coat, top-boots, and spurs?—do you mark how he nourishes his whip, and how familiar he seems to be with the knowing old covey in brown?"

"Yes; I suppose he is a dealer."

"You are right, he is a dealer, but it is in man's flesh, not horse flesh: he is a Bum trap{1} in search of some friend

1 Bum trap—A term pretty generally in use to denominate a Bailiff or his follower—they are also called Body- snatchers. The ways and means made use of by these gentry to make their captions are innumerable: they visit all places, assume all characters, and try all stratagems, to secure their friends, in order that they may have an opportunity of obliging them, which they have a happy facility in doing, provided the party can bleed free.* Among others, the following are curious facts:

A Gentleman, who laboured under some peculiar difficulties, found it desirable for the sake of his health to retire into the country, where he secluded himself pretty closely from the vigilant anxieties of his friends, who were in search of him and had made several fruitless attempts to obtain an interview. The Traps having ascertained the place of his retreat, from which it appeared that nothing but stratagem could draw him, a knowing old snatch determined to effect his purpose, and succeeded in the following manner:

One day as the Gentleman came to his window, he discovered a man, seemingly in great agitation, passing and re-passing; at length, however, he stopped suddenly, and with a great deal of attention fixed his eyes upon a tree which stood nearly opposite to the window. In a few minutes he returned to it, pulled out a book, in which he read for a few minutes, and then drew forth a rope from his pocket, with which he suspended himself from the tree. The Gentleman, eager to save the life of a fellow-creature, ran out and cut him down. This was scarcely accomplished, before he found the man whom he had rescued (as he thought) from death, slapp'd him on the shoulder, informed him that he was his prisoner, and in return robbed him of his liberty!

Another of these gentry assumed the character of a poor cripple, and stationed himself as a beggar, sweeping the crossing near the habitation of his shy cock, who, conceiving himself safe after three days voluntary imprisonment, was seized by the supposed Beggar, who threw away his broom to secure his man.

Yet, notwithstanding the many artifices to which this profession is obliged to conform itself, it must be acknowledged there are many of them who have hearts that would do honour to more exalted situations; especially when we reflect, that in general, whatever illiberality or invective may be cast upon them, they rarely if at all oppress those who are in their custody, and that they frequently endeavour to compromise for the Debtor, or at least recommend the Creditor to accept of those terms which can be complied with.

* Bleed free—

~167~~or other, with a writ in his pocket. These fellows have some protean qualities about them, and, as occasion requires, assume all shapes for the purpose of taking care of their customers; they are however a sort of necessary evil. The old one in brown is a well-known dealer, a deep old file, and knows every one around him—he is up to the sharps, down upon the flats, and not to be done. But in looking round you may perceive men booted and spurred, who perhaps never crossed a horse, and some with whips in their hands who deserve it on their backs—they hum lively airs, whistle and strut about with their quizzing-glasses in their hands, playing a tattoo upon their boots, and shewing themselves off with as many airs as if they were real actors engaged in the farce, that is to say, the buyers and sellers; when in truth they are nothing but loungers in search of employment, who may perhaps have to count the trees in the Park for a dinner without satisfying the cravings of nature, dining as it is termed with Duke Humphrey—others, perhaps, who have arrived in safety, are almost afraid to venture into the streets again, lest they should encounter those foes to liberty, John Doe and Richard Roe."

'If I do, may I be——' The remainder of the sentence was lost, by the speaker removing in conversation with another, when Tom turn'd round.

"O," said Tom, "I thought I knew who it was—that is one of the greatest reprobates in conversation that I ever met with."

"And who is he?"

"Why, I'll give you a brief sketch of him," continued Dashall: "It is said, and I fancy pretty well known, ~168~~that he has retired upon a small property, how acquired or accumulated I cannot say; but he has married a Bar-maid of very beautiful features and elegant form: having been brought up to the bar, she is not unaccustomed to confinement; but he has made her an absolute prisoner, for he shuts her up as closely as if she were in a monastery—he never dines at home, and she is left in complete solitude. He thinks his game all safe, but she has sometimes escaped the vigilance of her gaoler, and has been seen at places distant from home.{1}

1 It is related of this gentleman, whose severity and vigilance were so harshly spoken of, that one day at table, a dashing young Military Officer, who, while he was circulating the bottle, was boasting among his dissipated friends of his dexterity in conducting the wars of Venus, that he had a short time back met one of the most lovely creatures he ever saw, in the King's Road; but he had learned that her husband so strictly confined and watched her, that there was no possibility of his being admitted to her at any hour.

"Behave handsome, and I'll put you in possession of a gun that shall bring the game down in spite of locks, bolts and bars, or even the vigilance of the eyes of Argus himself."

"How? d——me if I don't stand a ten pound note."

"How! why easy enough; I've a plan that cannot but succeed— down with the cash, and I'll put you up to the scheme."

No sooner said than done, and he pocketed the ten pound note.

"Now," said the hoary old sinner, little suspecting that he was to be the dupe of his own artifice: "You get the husband invited out to dinner, have him well ply'd with wine by your friends: You assume the dress of a Postman—give a thundering rap at her door, which always denotes either the arrival of some important visitor or official communication; and when you can see her, flatter, lie, and swear that her company is necessary to your existence—that life is a burden without her—tell her, you know her husband is engaged, and can't come—that he is dining out with some jolly lads, and can't possibly be home for some hours—fall at her feet, and say that, having obtained the interview, you will not leave her. Your friends in the mean time must be engaged in making him as drunk as a piper. That's the way to do it, and if you execute it as well as it is plann'd, the day's your own."

"Bravo, bravo!" echoed from every one present.

It was a high thing—the breach thus made, the horn-work was soon to be carried, and there could be no doubt of a safe lodgement in the covert-way.

The gay Militaire met his inamorata shortly afterwards in Chelsea-fields, and after obtaining from her sundry particulars of inquiry, as to the name of her husband, &c. he acquainted her with his plan. The preliminaries were agreed upon, and it was deter-mined that the maid-servant, who was stationed as a spy upon her at all times, should be dispatched to some house in the neighbour-hood to procure change, while the man of letters was to be let in and concealed; and upon her return it was to be stated that the Postman was in a hurry, could not wait, and was to call again. This done, he was to make his escape by a rope-ladder from the window as soon as the old one should be heard upon the stairs, which it of course was presumed would be at a late hour, when he was drunk.

The train having been thus laid, Old Vigilance dined out, and expected to meet the Colonel; but being disappointed, and suspicious at all times, for

"Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind,"

The utmost endeavours of the party to make him drunk proved ineffectual; he was restless and uncomfortable, and he could not help fancying by the visible efforts to do him up, that some mischief was brewing, or some hoax was about to be played off. He had his master-key in his pocket, and retired early.

His Lady, whose plan had succeeded admirably at home, was fearful of having the door bolted till after twelve, lest the servant's suspicions should be aroused. In the mean time, the son of Mars considered all safe, and entertained no expectation of the old Gentleman's return till a very late hour. When lo and behold, to the great surprise and annoyance of the lovers, he gently opened the street door, and fearful of awaking his faithful charmer out of her first slumber, he ascended the stairs unshod. His phosphoric matches shortly threw a light upon the subject, and he entered the apartment; when, what was the surprise and astonishment of the whole party at the discovery of their situation!

The old Gentleman swore, stormed, and bullied, declaring he would have satisfaction! that he would commence a civil suit! The Military Hero told him it would be too civil by half, and was in fact more than he expected;—reminded him of the ten pounds he had received as agency for promoting his amours;—informed him he had performed the character recommended by him most admirably. The old man was almost choked with rage; but perceiving he had spread a snare for himself, was compelled to hear and forbear, while the lover bolted, wishing him a good night, and singing, "Locks, bolts, and bars, I defy you," as an admirable lesson in return for the blustering manner in which he had received information of the success of his own scheme.

"Mr. C—— on the opposite side is a Money-procurer or lender, a very accommodating sort of person, who negociates meetings and engagements between young borrowers, who care not what they pay for money, and old lenders, who care not who suffers, so they can obtain enormous interest for their loans. He is a venerable looking man, and is known to most of the young Bloods who visit here. His father was a German Cook in a certain kitchen. He set up for a Gentleman at his father's death, and was taken particular notice of by Lord G——, ~170~~and indeed by all the turf. He lived a gay and fashionable life, soon run out his fortune, and is now pensioned by a female whom he formerly supported. He is an excellent judge of a horse and horse-racing, upon which subjects his advice is frequently given. He is a very useful person among the generality of gentry who frequent this place of public resort. At the same time it ought to be observed, that among the various characters which infest and injure society, perhaps there are few more practised in guilt, fraud, and deceit, than the Money-lenders.

"They advertise to procure large sums of money to assist those under pecuniary embarrassment. They generally reside in obscure situations, and are to be found by anonymous signatures, such as A. B. I. R. D. V. &c. They chiefly prey upon young men of property, who have lost their money at play, horse-racing, betting, &c. or other expensive amusements, and are obliged to raise more upon any terms until their rents or incomes become payable: or such as have fortunes in prospect, as being heirs apparent to estates, but who require assistance in the mean time.

"These men avail themselves of the credit, or the ultimate responsibility of the giddy and thoughtless young spendthrift in his eager pursuit of criminal pleasures, and under the influence of those allurements, which the various places of fashionable resort hold out; and seldom fail to obtain from them securities and obligations for large sums; upon the credit of which they are enabled, perhaps at usurious interest, to borrow money or discount bills, and thus supply their unfortunate customers upon the most extravagant terms.

"There are others, who having some capital, advance money upon bonds, title-deeds, and other specialties, or tipon the bond of the parties having property in reversion. By these and other devices, large sums of money are most unwarrantably and illegally wrested from the dissipated and the thoughtless; and misery and distress are perhaps entailed upon them as long as they live, or they are driven by the prospect of utter ruin to acts of desperation or the commission of crimes.

"It generally happens upon application to the advertising party, that he, like Moses in The School for Scandal, is not really in possession of any money himself, but then he knows where and how to procure it from a very ~171~~unconscionable dog, who may, perhaps, not be satisfied with the security ottered; yet, if you have Bills at any reasonable date, he could get them discounted. If you should suffer yourself to be trick'd out of any Bills, he will contrive, in some way or other, to negotiate them—not, as he professes, for you, but for himself and his colleagues; and, very likely, after you have been at the additional expense of commencing a suit at law against them, they have disappeared, and are in the King's Bench or the Fleet, waiting there to defraud you of every hope and expectation, by obtaining their liberty through the White-washing Act.

"These gentry are for the most part Attorneys or Pettifoggers, or closely connected with such; and notwithstanding all legal provisions to preclude them from exacting large sums, either for their agency and introduction, or for the bonds which they draw, yet they contrive to bring themselves home, and escape detection, by some such means as the following:

"They pretend that it is necessary to have a deed drawn up to explain the uses of the Annuity-bond, which the grantor of the money, who is some usurious villain, immediately acknowledges and accedes to; for

"The bond that signs the mortgage pays the shot; so that an Act which is fraught with the best purposes for the protection of the honest, but unfortunate, is in this manner subjected to the grossest chicanery of pettifoggers and pretenders, and the vilest evasions of quirking low villains of the law.

"There is also another species of money-lender, not inaptly termed the Female Banker. These accommodate Barrow-women and others, who sell fruit, vegetables, &c. in the public streets, with five shillings a day (the usual diurnal stock in such cases;) for the use of which for twelve hours they obtain the moderate premium of sixpence when the money is returned in the evening, receiving at this rate about seven pounds ten shillings per year for every five pounds they can so employ. It is however very difficult to convince the borrowers of the correctness of this calculation, and of the serious loss to which they subject themselves by a continuation of the system, since it is evident that this improvident and dissolute class of people have no other idea than that of making the day and the way alike long. Their profits ~172~~(often considerably augmented by dealing in base money as well as the articles which they sell) seldom last over the day; for they never fail to have a luxurious dinner and a hot supper, with a plentiful supply of gin and porter: looking in general no farther than to keep the whole original stock with the sixpence interest, which is paid over to the female Banker in the evening, and a new loan obtained on the following morning to go to market, and to be disposed of in the same way.

"In contemplating this curious system of banking, or money lending (trifling as it may appear,) it is almost impossible not to be forcibly struck with the immense profits that are derived from it. It is only necessary for one of these sharpers to possess a capital of seventy shillings, or three pounds ten shillings, with fourteen steady and regular customers, in order to realize an income of one hundred guineas per year! So true it is, that one half of the world do not know how the other half live; for there are thousands who cannot have the least conception of the existence of such facts.

"Here comes a Buck of the first cut, one who pretends to know every thing and every body, but thinks of nobody but himself, and of that self in reality knows nothing.

Captain P——is acknowledged by all his acquaintance to be one of the best fellows in the world, and to beat every one at slang, but U——y and A——se. He is the terror of the Charleys, and of the poor unfortunate roofless nightly wanderers in the streets. You perceive his long white hair, and by no means engaging features. Yet he has vanity enough to think himself handsome, and that he is taken notice of on that account; when the attractions he presents are really such as excite wonder and surprise, mingled with disgust; yet he contemplates his figure in the looking-glass with self satisfaction, and asks the frail ones, with a tremulous voice, if, so help them——he is not a good-looking fellow 1 and they, knowing their customer, of course do not fail to reply in the affirmative.

"He is a well known leg, and is no doubt present on this occasion to bet upon the ensuing Epsom races; by the bye his losses have been very considerable in that way. He has also at all times been a dupe to the sex. It is said that Susan B——, a dashing Cyprian, eased his purse of a L500 bill, and whilst he was dancing in pursuit of her, she was dancing to the tune of a Fife; a clear proof she ~173~~had an ear for music as well as an eye to business. But I believe it was played in a different Key to what he expected; whether it was a minor Key or not I cannot exactly say.

"At a ball or assembly he conceives himself quite at home, satisfied that he is the admiration of the whole of the company present; and were he to give an account of himself, it would most likely be in substance nearly as follows:

"When I enter the room, what a whisp'ring is heard; My rivals, astonish'd, scarce utter a word; "How charming! (cry all; ) how enchanting a fellow! How neat are those small-clothes, how killingly yellow. Not for worlds would I honour these plebs with a smile, Tho' bursting with pride and delight all the while; So I turn to my cronies (a much honour'd few,); Crying, "S—z—m, how goes it?—Ah, Duchess, how do? Ton my life, yonder's B—uf, and Br—ke, and A—g—le, S-ff—d, W—tm—1—d, L—n, and old codger C—ri—le." Now tho', from this style of address, it appears That these folks I have known for at least fifty years, The fact is, my friends, that I scarcely know one, A mere "facon de parler," the way of the ton. What tho' they dislike it, I answer my ends, Country gentlemen stare, and suppose them my friends.

But my beautiful taste (as indeed you will guess) Is manifest most in my toilet and dress; My neckcloth of course forms my principal care, For by that we criterions of elegance swear, And costs me each morning some hours of flurry, To make it appear to be tied in a hurry. My boot-tops, those unerring marks of a blade, With Champagne are polish'd, and peach marmalade; And a violet coat, closely copied from B—ng, With a cluster of seals, and a large diamond ring; And troisiemes of buckskin, bewitchingly large, Give the finishing stroke to the "parfait ouvrage."

During this animated description of the gay personage alluded to, Bob had listened with the most undeviating attention, keeping his eye all the time on this extravagant piece of elegance and fashion, but could not help bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter at its conclusion. In the mean time the crowd of visitors had continued to increase; all appeared to be bustle and confusion; small parties were seen in groups communicating together in different places, and every face appeared to be animated by hopes or fears. Dashall was exchanging familiar ~174~~nods and winks with those whom lie knew; but as their object was not to buy, they paid but little attention to the sales of the day, rather contenting themselves with a view of the human cattle by which they were surrounded, when they were pleasingly surprised to observe their friend Sparkle enter, booted and spurred.

"Just the thing! (said Sparkle,) I had some suspicion of finding you here. Are you buyers? Does your Cousin want a horse, an ass, or a filly?"

Tom smiled; "Always upon the ramble, eh, Sparkle. Why ask such questions? You know we are well horsed; but I suppose if the truth was known, you are prad sellers; if so, shew your article, and name your price."

"Apropos," said Sparkle; "Here is a friend of mine, to whom I must introduce you, so say no more about articles and prices—I have an article in view above all price—excuse me." And with this he made his way among the tribe of Jockeys, Sharpers, and Blacklegs, and in a minute returned, bringing with him a well-dressed young man, whose manners and appearance indicated the Gentleman, and whose company was considered by Tom and his Cousin as a valuable acquisition.

"Mr. Richard Mortimer," said Sparkle, as he introduced his friend—"the Hon. Mr. Dashall, and Mr. Robert Tallyho."

After the mutual interchanges of politeness which naturally succeeded this introduction—"Come," said Sparkle, "we are horsed, and our nags waiting—we are for a ride, which way do you bend your course?"

"A lucky meeting," replied Tom; "for we are upon the same scent; I expect my curricle at Hyde-Park Corner in ten minutes, and have no particular line of destination."

"Good," said Sparkle; "then we may hope to have your company; and how disposed for the evening?"

"Even as chance may direct."

"Good, again—all right—then as you are neither buyers nor sellers, let us employ the remaining ten minutes in looking around us—there is nothing to attract here—Epsom Races are all the talk, and all of business that is doing—come along, let us walk through the Park—let the horses meet us at Kensington Gate, and then for a twist among the briers and brambles."

This was readily agreed to: orders were given to the servants, and the party proceeded towards the Park.~175~~



CHAPTER XIII

What is Bon Ton? Oh d—— me (cries a Buck, Half drunk, ) ask me, my dear, and you're in luck: Bon Ton's to swear, break windows, beat the Watch, Pick up a wench, drink healths, and roar a catch. Keep it up, keep it up! d—— me, take your swing— Bon Ton is Life, my boy! Bon Ton's the thing! "Ah, I loves Life and all the joys it yields— (Says Madam Fussock. warm from Spitalfields; ) Bon Ton's the space 'twixt Saturday and Monday, And riding out in one-horse shay o' Sunday; 'Tis drinking tea on summer afternoons At Bagnigge Wells, with china and gilt spoons; 'Tis laying by our stuffs, red cloaks and pattens, To dance cowtillions all in silks and satins." "Vulgar! (cries Miss) observe in higher Life The feather'd spinster and three feather'd wife; The Club's Bon Ton—Bon Ton's a constant trade Of rout, festino, ball and masquerade; 'Tis plays and puppet shows—'tis something new— 'Tis losing thousands every night at loo; Nature it thwarts, and contradicts all reason; 'Tis stiff French stays, and fruit when out of season, A rose, when half a guinea is the price; A set of bays scarce bigger than six mice; To visit friends you never wish to see— Marriage 'twixt those who never can agree; Old dowagers, dress'd, painted, patch'd and curl'd— This is Bon Ton, and this we call the World!

AS they passed through the gate, Tom observed it was rather too early to expect much company. "Never mind," said Sparkle, "we are company enough among ourselves; the morning is fine, the curricle not arrived, and we shall find plenty of conversation, if we do not discover interesting character, to diversify our promenade. Travelling spoils conversation, unless you are squeezed like an Egyptian mummy into a stage or a mail-coach; and perhaps in that case you may meet with animals who have voices, without possessing the power of intellect to direct them to any useful or agreeable purpose."

~176~~Tallyho, who was at all times delighted with Sparkle's descriptions of society and manners, appeared pleased with the proposition.

"Your absence from town," continued Sparkle, addressing himself to Dashall, "has prevented my introduction of Mr. Mortimer before, though you have heard me mention his Sister. They are now inhabitants of our own sphere of action, and I trust we shall all become better known to each other."

This piece of information appeared to be truly acceptable to all parties. Young Mortimer was a good-looking and well made young man; his features were animated and intelligent; his manners polished, though not quite so unrestrained as those which are to be acquired by an acquaintance with metropolitan associations.

"I am happy," said he, "to be introduced to any friends of your's, and shall be proud to number them among mine."

"You may," replied Sparkle, "with great safety place them on your list; though you know I have already made it appear to you that friendship is a term more generally made use of than understood in London—

"For what is Friendship but a name, A charm which lulls to sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, And leaves the wretch to weep?

And Love is still an emptier sound, The modern fair one's jest; On earth unseen, or only found To warm the turtle's nest."

"These sentiments are excellently expressed," said Tom, pinching him by the arm—"and I suppose in perfect consonance with your own?"

Sparkle felt 'the rebuke, look'd down, and seem'd confused; but in a moment recovering himself,

"Not exactly so," replied he; "but then you know, and I don't mind confessing it among friends, though you are aware it is very unfashionable to acknowledge the existence of any thing of the kind, I am a pupil of nature."

"You seem to be in a serious humour all at once," said young Mortimer.

~177~~"Can't help it," continued Sparkle—"for,

"Let them all say what they will, Nature will be nature still."

"And that usurper, or I should rather say, would be usurper, Fashion, is in no way in alliance with our natures. I remember the old Duchess of Marlborough used to say 'That to love some persons very much, and to see often those we love, is the greatest happiness I can enjoy;' but it appears almost impossible for any person in London to secure such an enjoyment, and I can't help feeling it."

By the look and manner with which this last sentiment was uttered, Tom plainly discovered there was a something labouring at his heart which prompted it. "Moralizing!" said he. "Ah, Charley, you are a happy fellow. I never yet knew one who could so rapidly change 'from grave to gay, from lively to severe; and for the benefit of our friends, I can't help thinking you could further elucidate the very subject you have so feelingly introduced."

"You are a quiz" said Sparkle; "but there is one thing to be said, I know you, and have no great objection to your hits now and then, provided they are not knock down blows."

"But," said Mortimer, "what has this to do with friendship and love? I thought you were going to give something like a London definition of the terms."

"Why," said Sparkle, "in London it is equally difficult to get to love any body very much, or often to meet those that we love. There are such numbers of acquaintances, such a constant succession of engagements of one sort or other, such a round of delights, that the town resembles Vauxhall, where the nearest and dearest friends may walk round and round all night without once meeting: for instance, at dinner you should see a person whose manners and conversation are agreeable and pleasing to you; you may wish in vain to become more intimate, for the chance is, that you will not meet so as to converse a second time for many months; for no one can tell when the dice-box of society may turn up the same numbers again. I do not mean to infer that you may not barely see the same features again; it is possible that you may catch a glimpse of them on the opposite side of Pall ~178~~Mall or Bond-street, or see them near to you at a crowded rout, without a possibility of approaching.

"It is from this cause, that those who live in London are so totally indifferent to each other; the waves follow so quick, that every vacancy is immediately filled up, and the want is not perceived. The well-bred civility of modern times, and the example of some 'very popular people,' it is true, have introduced a shaking of hands, a pretended warmth, a dissembled cordiality, into the manners of the cold and warm, alike the dear friend and the acquaintance of yesterday. Consequently we continually hear such conversation as the following:—' Ah, how d'ye do? I'm delighted to see you! How is Mrs. M——?'

'She's very well, thank you.' 'Has she any increase in family?' 'Any increase! why I've only been married three months. I see you are talking of my former wife: bless you, she has been dead these three years.'—Or, 'Ah, my dear friend, how d'ye do? You have been out of town some time; where have you been? In Norfolk?' 'No, I have been two years in India.'"

This description of a friendly salutation appeared to interest and amuse both Talltho and Mortimer. Tom laughed, shrugg'd up his shoulders, acknowledged the picture was too true, and Sparkle continued.

"And thus it is, that, ignorant of one another's interests and occupations, the generality of friendships of London contain nothing more tender than a visiting card: nor are they much better, indeed they are much worse, if you renounce the world, and determine to live only with your relations and nearest connexions; for if you go to see them at one o'clock, they are not stirring; at two, the room is full of different acquaintances, who talk over the occurrences of the last night's ball, and, of course, are paid more attention to than yourself; at three, they are out shopping; at four, they are in this place dashing among the Pinks, from which they do not return till seven, then they are dressing; at eight, they are dining with two dozen friends; at nine and ten the same; at eleven, they are dressing for the ball; and at twelve, when you are retiring to rest, they are gone into society for the evening: so that you are left in solitude; you soon begin again to try the world—and we will endeavour to discover what it produces.

"The first inconvenience of a London Life is the late ~179~~hour of a fashionable dinner. To pass the day in fasting, and then sit down to a great dinner at eight o'clock, is entirely against the first dictates of common sense and common stomachs. But what is to be done? he who rails against the fashion of the times will be considered a most unfashionable dog, and perhaps I have already said more than sufficient to entitle me to that appellation."

"Don't turn King's Evidence against yourself," said Tom; "for, if you plead guilty in this happy country, you must be tried by your Peers."

"Nay," said Mortimer, "while fashion and reason appear to be in such direct opposition to each other, I must confess their merits deserve to be impartially tried; though I cannot, for one moment, doubt but the latter must ultimately prevail with the generality, however her dictates may be disregarded by the votaries of the former."

"You are a good one at a ramble" said Tom, "and not a bad one in a spree, but I cannot help thinking you are rambling out of your road; you seem to have lost the thread of your subject, and, having been disappointed with love and friendship, you are just going to sit down to dinner."

"Pardon me," replied Sparkle, "I was proceeding naturally, and not fashionably, to my subject; but I know you are so great an admirer of the latter, that you care but little about the former."

"Hit for hit," said Tom; "but go on—you are certainly growing old, Sparkle; at all events, you appear very grave this morning, and if you continue in this humour long, I shall expect you are about taking Orders."

"There is a time for all things, but the time for that has not yet arrived."

"Well, then, proceed without sermonizing."

"I don't like to be interrupted," replied Sparkle; "and there is yet much to be said on the subject. I find there are many difficulties to encounter in contending with the fashionable customs. Some learned persons have endeavoured to support the practice of late dinners by precedent, and quoted the Roman supper; but it ought to be recollected that those suppers were at three o'clock in the afternoon, and should be a subject of contempt, instead of imitation, in Grosvenor Square. Women, ~180~~however, are not quite so irrational as men, in London, for they generally sit down to a substantial lunch about three or four; if men would do the same, the meal at eight might be relieved of many of its weighty dishes, and conversation would be a gainer by it; for it must be allowed on all hands, that conversation suffers great interruption from the manner in which fashionable dinners are managed. First, the host and hostess (or her unfortunate coadjutor) are employed during three parts of the dinner in doing the work of servants, helping fish, or carving venison to twenty hungry guests, to the total loss of the host's powers of amusement, and the entire disfigurement of the fair hostess's face. Again, much time is lost by the attention every one is obliged to pay, in order to find out (which, by the way, he cannot do if he is short-sighted) what dishes are at the extreme end of the table; and if a guest is desirous of a glass of wine, he must peep through the Apollos and Cupids of the plateau, in order to find some one to take it with; otherwise he is compelled to wait till some one asks him, which will probably happen in succession; so that after having had no wine for half an hour, he will have to swallow five glasses in five minutes. Convenience teaches, that the best manner of enjoying society at dinner, is to leave every thing to the servants that servants can do; so that no farther trouble may be experienced than to accept the dishes that are presented, and to drink at your own time the wines which are handed round. A fashionable dinner, on the contrary, seems to presume beforehand on the silence, dulness, and insipidity of the guests, and to have provided little interruptions, like the jerks which the Chaplain gives to the Archbishop to prevent his going to sleep during a sermon."

"Accurate descriptions, as usual," said Tom, "and highly amusing."

Tallyho and Mortimer were intent upon hearing the remainder of Sparkle's account, though they occasionally joined in the laugh, and observed that Sparkle seemed to be in a very sentimental mood. As they continued to walk on, he resumed—

"Well then, some time after dinner comes the hour for the ball, or rout; but this is sooner said than done: it often requires as much time to go from St. James's Square to Cleveland Row, as to go from London to Hounslow.

~181~~It would require volumes to describe the disappointment which occurs on arriving in the brilliant mob of a ball-room. Sometimes, as it has been before said, a friend is seen squeezed like yourself, at the other end of the room, without a possibility of your communicating, except by signs; and as the whole arrangement of the society is regulated by mechanical pressure, you may happen to be pushed against those to whom you do not wish to speak, whether bores, slight acquaintances, or determined enemies. Confined by the crowd, stifled by the heat, dazzled by the light, all powers of intellect are obscured; wit loses its point, and sagacity its observation; indeed, the limbs are so crushed, and the tongue so parched, that, except particularly undressed ladies, all are in the case of the traveller, Mr. Clarke, when he says, that in the plains of Syria some might blame him for not making moral reflections on the state of the country; but that he must own that the heat quite deprived him of all power of thought. Hence it is, that the conversation you hear around you is generally nothing more than—"Have you been here long?—Have you been at Mrs. H——'s?—Are you going to Lady D——'s?"—Hence too,

Madam de Stael said very justly to an Englishman, "Dans vos routes le corps fait plus de frai que l'esprit." But even if there are persons of a constitution robust enough to talk, they dare not do so, when twenty heads are forced into the compass of one square foot; nay, even if, to your great delight, you see a person to whom you have much to say, and by fair means or foul, elbows and toes, knees and shoulders, have got near him, he often dismisses you with shaking you by the hand, and saying—My dear Mr.—— how do you do? and then continues a conversation with a person whose ear is three inches nearer. At one o'clock, however, the crowd diminishes; and if you are not tired by the five or six hours of playing at company, which you have already had, you may be very comfortable for the rest of the evening. This however is the round of fashionable company. But I begin to be tired even of the description."

"A very luminous and comprehensive view of fashionable society however," said Tom, "sketched by a natural hand in glowing colours, though not exactly in the usual style. I shall not venture to assert whether the subjects are well chosen, but the figures are well grouped, and ~182~~display considerable ability and lively imagination in the painter, though a little confused."

"It appears to be a study from nature," said Mortimer.

"At least," continued Sparkle, "it is a study from Real Life, and delineates the London manners; for although I have been a mingler in the gaieties and varieties of a London Life, I have always held the same opinions with respect to the propriety of the manners and customs adopted, and have endeavoured to read as I ran; and it cannot be denied, that, in the eye of fashion, nothing can be more amiable than to deviate, or at least to affect a deviation, from nature, for to speak or act according to her dictates, would be considered vulgar and common-place in the last degree; to hear a story and not express an emotion you do not feel, perfectly rude and unmannerly, and among the ladies particularly. To move and think as the heart feels inclined, are offences against politeness that no person can ever in honour or delicacy forgive."

"Come, come," said Tom, "don't you be so hard on the blessings of Life—

"For who, that knows the thrilling touch Which Woman's love can give, Would wish to live for aught so much, As bid those beauties live?

For what is life, which all so prize, And all who live approve, Without the fire of Woman's eyes, To bid man live and love?"

Sparkle affected to laugh, appeared confused, and look'd down for a few moments, and they walk'd on in silence.

"I perceive," said Tom, "how the matter stands—well, I shall not be a tormentor—but remember I expect an introduction to the fair enslaver. I thought you 'defy'd the mighty conqueror of hearts,' and resolved to be free."

"Resolutions, as well as promises, are easily made," said Sparkle, "but not always so easily accomplished or performed—nor are you always accurate in your conceptions of circumstances; but no matter, your voyages are always made in search of discoveries, and, in spite of your resolutions, ~183~~you may perchance be entrapp'd. But no more of this; I perceive your raillery is directed to me, and I hope you enjoy it."

"Faith," replied Tom, "you know I always enjoy your company, but I don't recollect to have found you in so prosing a humour before—Pray, which way are you directing your coursel?"

During the latter part of this conversation, Bob and young Mortimer were employed in admiring the fine piece of water which presented itself to their notice in the Serpentine River.

"Merely for a ride," was the reply; "any way you please, to pass away the time."

"Mighty cavalier, truly," said Tom; "but come, here we are at Kensington, let us mount, and away."

"Remember, I expect you and Mr. Tallyho to accompany me in the evening to a family-party. I have already stated my intention, and you are both expected."

"Upon these terms then, I am your man, and I think I may answer for my Cousin."

By this time they were at the gate, where, finding the curricle and the nags all in readiness, Sparkle and Mortimer were soon horsed, and Tom and Bob seated in the curricle. They proceeded to Richmond, taking surveys of the scenery on the road, and discoursing on the usual topics of such a journey, which being foreign to the professed intention of this work, are omitted. Suffice it to say they returned refreshed from the excursion, and parted with a promise to meet again at nine o'clock, in Grosvenor Square.

"Egad!" said Dashall, as they entered the diningroom, "there is something very mysterious in all this. Sparkle has hitherto been the life and soul of society: he seems to be deeply smitten with this young Lady, Miss Mortimer, and promises fairly, by his manner, to prove a deserter from our standard, and to inlist under the banners of Hymen."

"Not unlikely," replied Tallyho, "if what we are told be true—that it is what we must all come to."

"Be that as it may, it ought not to interfere with our pursuits, Real Life in London, though, to be sure, the Ladies, dear creatures, ought not to be forgotten: they are so nearly and dearly interwoven with our existence, that, without them, Life would be insupportable."

~184~~After dinner, they prepared for the evening party, and made their appearance in Grosvenor Squire at the appointed hour. But as this will introduce new characters to the Reader, we shall defer our account of them till the next Chapter.



CHAPTER XIV

Ye are stars of the night, ye are gems of the morn, Ye are dew-drops whose lustre illumines the thorn; And rayless that night is, that morning unblest, When no beam in your eye, lights up peace in the breast; And the sharp thorn of sorrow sinks deep in the heart, Till the sweet lip of Woman assuages the smart; 'Tis her's o'er the couch of misfortune to bend, In fondness a lover, in firmness a friend; And prosperity's hour, be it ever confest, From Woman receives both refinement and zest; And adorn'd by the bays, or enwreath'd with the willow, Her smile is our meed, and her bosom our pillow.

ARRIVED at Grosvenor Square, they found the party consisted of Colonel B——, his son and daughter, Miss Mortimer, and her brother, Mr. Sparkle, Mr. Merrywell, and Lady Lovelace. The first salutations of introduction being over, there was time to observe the company, among whom, Miss Mortimer appeared to be the principal magnet of attraction. The old Colonel was proud to see the friends of Mr. Sparkle, and had previously given a hearty welcome to Mr. Merrywell, as the friend of his nephew, the young Mortimer. Sparkle now appeared the gayest of the gay, and had been amusing the company with some of his liveliest descriptions of character and manners, that are to be witnessed in the metropolis. While Merrywell, who did not seem to be pleased with the particular attentions he paid to Miss Mortimer, was in close conversation with her brother.

Tom could not but acknowledge that it was scarcely possible to see Miss Mortimer, without feelings of a nature which he had scarcely experienced before. The elegant neatness of her dress was calculated to display the beauty of her form, and the vivid flashes of a dark eye were so many irresistible attacks upon the heart; a sweet voice, and smiling countenance, appeared to throw a radiance around the room, and illuminate the visages of the whole ~186~~party, while Lady Lovelace and Maria B—— served as a contrast to heighten that effect which they envied and reproved. While tea was preparing, after which it was proposed to take a rubber at cards, a sort of general conversation took place: the preparations for the Coronation, the new novels of the day, and the amusements of the theatre, were canvassed in turn; and speaking of the writings of Sir Walter Scott, as the presumed author of the celebrated Scotch novels, Lady Lovelace declared she found it impossible to procure the last published from the library, notwithstanding her name has been long on the list, so much was it in request.

Sparkle replied, "That he had purchased the Novel, and would willingly lend it to the Ladies. As for the Libraries," continued he, "they are good places of accommodation, but it is impossible to please every one, either there or any where else; they are however very amusing at times, and as a proof of it, I strolled the other morning to a Circulating Library, for the express purpose of lounging away an hour in digesting the politics and news of the day; but the curious scenes to which I was witness during this short period, so distracted my attention, that, despite of the grave subjects on which I was meditating, I could not resist lending an attentive ear to all that passed around me. There was something of originality in the countenance of the Master of the Library which struck me forcibly; and the whimsical answers which he made to his numerous subscribers, and the yet more whimsical tone in which they were pronounced, more than once provoked a smile. The first person who attracted my notice was a fine showy looking woman, dressed in the extreme of fashion, with a bloom upon her cheek, which might have emulated that of the rose, with this exception, that it wanted the charm of nature. Putting a list into the hands of the Bookseller, she inquired if he had any of the productions the names of which were there transcribed. Glancing his eye over the paper, he replied (with an archness which not a little disconcerted her, and which probably occasioned her abrupt disappearance, "The Fine Lady, Madam, is seldom or ever at home; but Family Secrets we are always ready to let out." 'Characters of Eminent Men' growled out a little vulgar consequential Citizen, whose countenance bore the stamp of that insufferable dulness that might almost tempt ~187~~one to imagine him incapable of comprehending the meaning of the words which he pronounced with an air of so much self-importance; 'Characters of Eminent Men, 195,' repeated the Snarler, in the same tone, 'I much fear if we can boast a quarter of that number, eh! Mr. Margin?' "I fear not, Sir," replied Margin; "but such as we have are very much at your service." 'Better be in the service of the nation than in mine, by far,' said the little purse-proud gentleman, shrugging his shoulders very significantly. "Shall I send it for you, Sir?" said Margin, without noticing the last remark. 'By no means, by no means; the volume is not so large, it won't encumber me much; I believe I shall find it small enough to put in my pocket,' pursued the little great man, grinning at the shrewdness of his own observations, and stalking out with as much self-complacency as he had stalked in. I knew the man well, and could not help laughing at the lofty airs he assumed, at the manner in which he affected to decry all his countrymen without mercy, at his unwillingness to acknowledge any talent amongst them, though he himself was a man of that plodding description who neither ever had done, nor ever could do any thing to entitle him to claim distinction of any sort. The young Coxcomb who next entered, was a direct contrast to the last applicant, both in person and manner. Approaching with a fashionable contortion, he stretched out his lady-like hand, and in the most languid and affected tone imaginable, inquired for The Idler. "That, Sir," said Margin, "is amongst the works we have unhappily lost, but you will be sure to meet with it at any of the fashionable libraries in the neighbourhood of Bond Street or St. James's." The young Fop had just sense enough to perceive that the shaft was aimed at him, but not enough to relish the joke, or correct the follies which provoked it, and turned abruptly on his heel. He was met at the door by a sentimental boarding-school Miss, who came flying into the shop in defiance of her governess, and inquired, in a very pathetic tone, for The Constant Lover. "That, I am afraid," said Margin, "is not amongst our collection." 'Dear me,' lisped the young Lady, with an air of chagrin, 'that's very provoking, I thought that was what every one had.' "Give me leave to assure you, Ma'am, that you are quite mistaken. I fancy you will find that it is not to be met with all over London."

188~An old Gentleman of the old school, whose clothes were decidedly the cut of the last century, and whose stiff and formal manners were precisely of the same date with his habiliments, next came hobbling in. Poring through his spectacles over the catalogue which lay upon the counter, the first thing which caught his eye, was An Essay upon Old Maids. "Tom, Tom," said the complaisant Librarian, calling to a lad at the other end of the shop, "reach down the Old Maids for the gentleman. They won't appear to advantage, I'm afraid, a little dusty or damaged, with having laid so long upon the shelf," he added, with a simper, which was not lost upon any one present. A melancholy looking man, in whose countenance meekness and insipidity were alike plainly depicted, now came forward, inquiring, in an under, and what might almost be designated an alarmed tone of voice, for The Impertinent Wife; a female, who hung upon his arm, interrupted him by entreating, or rather insisting in no very gentle tone, 'that he would ask for something better worth having.' Margin, affecting only to hear the former speaker, immediately produced the book in question, and observed, with much naivete, "that the Impertinent Wife was sure to be in the way at all hours," at the same time not omitting to recommend Discipline as "a better work." A young man, whom I knew to be one of the greatest fortune hunters about town, with an air of consummate assurance, put out his hand for Disinterested Marriage. "That's a thing quite out of date—never thought of now, Sir," said Margin, who knew him as well as myself; "Allow me to recommend something of more recent date, something more sought after in the fashionable world, Splendid Misery, Sir, or—"The young man heard no more: spite of his impudence, he was so abashed by the reply, that he made a hasty retreat. The last person whom I thought it worth my while to notice, was a tall, meagre looking man, whom I recollected to have seen pointed out to me as a wit, and a genius of the first order. His wit was, however, of that dangerous sort which caused his company to be rather shunned than courted; and it was very evident, from his appearance, that he had not had the wit to work himself into the good graces of those who might have had it in their power to befriend him. Though he spoke in a very low tone, I soon found that he was inquiring for Plain Sense. On Margin's replying, ~189~~with much nonchalance, that Plain Sense had of late become very rare, finding himself disappointed in his first application, his next aim was Patronage. "That, Sir, (said the wary bookseller) is so much sought after, that I really cannot promise it to you at present; but if, as I conclude, you merely want something to beguile a leisure hour or two, probably The Discontented Man will answer the purpose very well."

To this description of Sparkle, the whole company listened with attention and delight, frequently interrupting him with bursts of laughter. Tea was handed round, and then cards introduced. Young Mortimer and Merrywell seemed to take but little interest in the play, and evidently discovered their anxiety to be liberated, having some other object in view. Mortimer felt no great portion of pleasure in passing his time with his uncle, the Colonel, nor with his sister, Lady Lovelace, who was a perfect model of London affectation; besides, his friend Mr. Merrywell, who was to him what Tom Dashall and Sparkle had been to Tallyho, had made an engagement to introduce him to some of his dashing acquaintances in the West. Nods and winks were interchanged between them, and could not but be noticed by Tom and Bob, though Sparkle was so intent upon the amusements of the moment, and the company of the lovely Caroline, as to appear immoveable.

Mr. Merrywell at length stated that he must be compelled to quit the party. Young Mortimer also apologized; for as he and his friend were engaged for an early excursion in the morning, he should take a bed at his habitation, in order to be fully prepared. This was the first step to breaking up the party.

Merrywell called Sparkle on one side, saying he had something of importance to communicate. It was twelve o'clock, and the gentlemen, after taking a formal leave of the ladies and the Colonel, and a promise on the part of Sparkle to meet them again the next morning at twelve, to escort them to the Exhibition, left the house.

"I am really happy," said Merrywell to Sparkle as they passed the door, "to have had the honour of this introduction, and shall have much pleasure in becoming better acquainted with Mr. Sparkle, who, though personally unknown to me, his name and fame are familiar.

~190~~Mr. Mortimer and myself are going to take a review of the neighbourhood of St. James's, probably to shake an elbow."

"Excellent," said Tom; "here is a fine opportunity for Mr. Tallyho to take a like survey, and, if agreeable, we will join the party. Though I am by no means a friend to gaming, I conceive it necessary that every person should see the haunts of its votaries, and the arts they make use of, in order to avoid them."

"You are right, and therefore let us have a peep at them." With this they 'walk'd on, listening with attention to the following lines, which were recited by Sparkle:

"Behold yon group, fast fix'd at break of day, Whose haggard looks a sleepless night betray, With stern attention, silent and profound, The mystic table closely they surround; Their eager eyes with eager motions join, As men who meditate some vast design: Sure, these are Statesmen, met for public good, For some among them boast of noble blood: Or are they traitors, holding close debate On desp'rate means to overthrow the State? For there are men among them whose domains And goods and chattels lie within their brains. No, these are students of the blackest art That can corrupt the morals or the heart; Yet are they oft in fashion's ranks preferred, And men of honour, if you take their word. But they can plunder, pillage, and devour, More than poor robbers, at the midnight hour; Lay deeper schemes to manage lucky hits, Than artful swindlers, living by their wits. Like cunning fowlers, spread th' alluring snare, And glory when they pluck a pigeon bare. These are our gamesters, who have basely made The cards and dice their study and their trade."{1}

1 Gaming is generally understood to have been invented by the Lydians, when they were under the pressure of a great famine. To divert themselves from dwelling on their sufferings, they contrived the balls, tables, &c. and, in order to bear their calamity the better, were accustomed to play for the whole day together, without interruption, that they might not be rack'd with the thought of food, which they could not obtain. It is not a little extraordinary that this invention, which was originally intended as a remedy for hunger, is now a very common cause of that very evil.

~191~~"True," said Merry well, as Sparkle concluded, though he did not like the satire upon his own favourite pursuit; "those delineations are correct, and the versification good, as far as it applies to the worst species of the gaminghouse."

"O," said Tom, "then pray, Sir, which is the worst?"

"Nonsense," said Sparkle, "there is neither worse nor best; these Hells are all alike. Sharks, Greeks, Gamblers, Knowing Ones, Black-legs, and Levanters, are to be met with at them all, and they meet to bite one another's heads off."

"An admirable description, truly, of the company you are about to introduce us to, Gentlemen," said Tallyho.

"I don't understand Greeks, Hells, and Black-legs," said Mortimer, "and should like an explanation."

"With all my heart," replied Sparkle—"Hell is the general title now given to any well-known gaming-house, and really appears to be well chosen; for all the miseries that can fall to the lot of human nature, are to be found in those receptacles of idleness, duplicity, and villany. Gaming is an estate to which all the world has a pretence, though few espouse it who are willing to secure either their estates or reputations: and these Hells may fairly be considered as so many half-way houses to the Fleet or King's Bench Prisons, or some more desperate end. The love of play is the most incurable of insanities: robbery, suicide, and the extensive ruin of whole families, have been known to proceed from this unfortunate and fatal propensity.

"Greeks, Gamblers, Knowing Ones, and Black-legs, are synonimous terms, applied to the frequenters of the modern Hells, or Gaming-houses, and may be distinguished from the rest of society by the following peculiarities in pursuits and manners.

"The Greeks of the present day, though they may not lay claim to, or boast of all the attributes of the Greeks of antiquity, must certainly be allowed to possess that quality for which the latter were ever so celebrated, namely, cunning and wariness: for although no modern Greek can be said to have any resemblance to Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, or Nestor, in point of courage, strength, fidelity, or wisdom, he may nevertheless boast of being a close copier of the equally renowned chief of Ithaca. You will find him in most societies, habited like a gentleman; ~192~~his clothes are of the newest fashion, and his manners of the highest polish, with every appearance of candour and honour; while he subsists by unfair play at dice, cards, and billiards, deceiving and defrauding all those with whom he may engage; disregarding the professions of friendship and intimacy, which are continually falling from his lips.

"To become a good Greek (which, by the way, is a contradiction) it will be found necessary to follow these instructions:

"In the first place, lie should be able to command his temper; he should speak but little, and when he does mingle in conversation, he should most decidedly deprecate play, as a source of the greatest evil that can prey upon society, and elucidate its tendencies by striking examples which are well known to himself, and which are so forcibly impressed upon his recollection, that he is determined never to play deep again, but has no objection to a sociable and friendly game now and then, just to pass the time away a little agreeably. By this means he may readily mark down his man, and the game once in view, he should not appear too eager in the pursuit of it, but take good care, as the proverb says, to give a sprat, in order to catch a herring. This should be done by allowing some temporary success, before he make a final hit.

"There is perhaps no art which requires so much of continual practice as that of Greekery. It is therefore necessary, that the professor should frequently exercise himself in private with cards and dice, in order that his digits may be trained to a proper degree of agility, upon which the success of his art principally depends. He should also be accustomed to work with some younger man than himself, who, having once been a pigeon, is become a naute, that is enlightened and will not peach—consequently, he serves as an excellent decoy to others.

"To ascertain the property of the pigeon he intends to pluck, is another essential requisite; and when this important information is obtained, (which should be before he commences operations) he should affect the utmost liberality as to time, &c. and make a show of extending every honourable facility to his opponent, even by offers of pecuniary assistance; by which means, (if he should be fortunate enough to have it accepted) he may probably, by good management, obtain a legal ~193~~security from him, and thus be enabled to fasten on his prey whenever he pleases.

"The title of a military man, such as Captain, is very useful to the Greek, as it introduces him well to society, and if he has once held a commission in the army, so much the better. If not, it can be assumed, so that if any unpleasant regimental peculation should be introduced, he may place his hand on the left side of his breast, declare he is astonished and alarmed at the calumnious spirit of the times, shake his head, and interlard his conversation with common-place ejaculations; such as the following—Indeed—No—Why I know Harry very well—he's a bit of a blood—can it be possible—I should not have thought it—bless my heart—exactly so—good God—a devilish good joke tho'—that's very true, says I—so says he, &c. &c.

"A Greek should be a man of some personal courage, never shrink from a row, nor be afraid to' fight a duel. He should be able to bully, bluster, swagger and swear, as occasion may require; nay, in desperate cases, such us peaching, &c. he should not object even to assassination. He should invite large parties to dine with him frequently, and have a particular sort of wine for particular companies. He should likewise be able to swallow a tolerable quantity of the juice of the grape himself, as well as know how to appear as if he were drinking, when he is merely passing the bottle, and so manage it passing, as to seem drunk at proper times. When good opportunities present themselves for the exercise of his art, and when a hit is really to be made, he should positively refuse to suffer play of any kind in his house, alleging that he has seen enough of it, and cut the concern. This serves to increase the desire for it in others. On any decisive occasion, when a train is known to be well laid, he should appear to be drunk before any one of the party; in which case he should take care beforehand to instruct his decoy to pluck the pigeon, while he, as a supposed observer, is betting with some one in the company, (of course an accomplice) and is also a loser.

"Greeks, who know each other, are enabled to convey information by means of private signals, without uttering a word, and consequently without detection. At whist, or other games on the cards, fingers are admirable conveyancers of intelligence, and by dexterous performers ~194~~are so managed, as to defy the closest scrutiny, so as to have the natural appearance of pliancy, while, among the knowing ones, their movements are actually deciding the fate of a rubber."

"Egad!" said Mortimer, "you seem to understand the business so well, I wonder you don't open shop."

"My knowledge," continued Sparkle, "is but theoretical. I cannot boast of much practical information, for it is long since I shook the lucky castor."

"O, then, you are discontented because you have no luck."

"Not so," said Sparkle, "for I never play very deep, so that, win or lose, I can never suffer much; but I am willing to give information to others, and with that view I have detailed the nature of the houses and the general character of their frequenters, according to my own conception of them. The Levanter is a Black-leg, who lives by the broads{l} and the turf,{2} and is accustomed to work as it were by telegraph{3} with his pal; and if you take the broads in hand in their company, you are sure to be work'd, either by glazing, that is, putting you in the front of a looking-glass, by which means your hand is discovered by your antagonist, or by private signals from the pal. On the turf he will pick up some nobleman or gentleman, who he knows is not up to the rig—bet him fifty or a hundred on a horse—pull out his pocket-book—set down the name, and promise to be at the stand when the race is over; but takes care to be seen no more, unless he is the winner, which he easily ascertains by the direction his pal takes immediately on the arrival of the horses. But hold, we must dismiss the present subject of contemplation, for here we are at the very scene of action, and now for ocular demonstration."

No. 40, now 32, Pall Mall, was the place of destination, a house well known, said, in Koubel's time, to be more a la Francaise, and of course more of a gambling-house, than any other of the same description in London. The former were good judges of their business, and did things in prime order; but, if report say true, the new Establishment

1 Broads—A cant term for cards.

2 Turf—A cant term for horse-racing.

3 Telegraph—To work the telegraph, is to impart information by secret signs and motions, previously concerted between the parties.

~195~~has completely eclipsed their precursors: it is now conducted wholly by aliens—by Frenchmen!!! who are said to have realized 80,000L. within a very short space of time; and that a certain nobleman, whose name is not Dormouse, has serious reason to remember that he has been a visitor.

These concerns are considered of so much importance, and are found to be so very productive, that regular co-partnerships are entered into, the business is conducted almost with the precision of a mercantile establishment; all kinds of characters embark in these speculations, and rapid fortunes are to be made by them; this alone ought to deter young men from play, since it sufficiently indicates how much the chances are in favour of the tables. But many high and noble names resort to them.

"There's N—g—nts proud Lord, who, to angle for pelf, Will soon find the secret of diddling himself; There's Herbert, who lately, as knowing one's tell, Won a tight seven hundred at a House in Pall Mall.

Captain D—v—s, who now is a chick of the game, For altho' in high feather, the odds will soon tame; And the Marquis of Bl—ndf—rd, who touch'd 'em up rare For a thousand in Bennet Street (all on the square); There's Li—d and C—m—ck, who'd a marine to be, For none drills a guinea more ably than he; There's a certain rum Baronet, every one knows, Who on Saturday nights to the Two Sevens{1} goes,

With J—— and Cl——, Billy W—— and two more, So drunk, that they keep merry hell in a roar. Long D—ll—n, their C—rt—r, a son of a gun; Bill B——, the Doctor, that figure of fun;

Bankers, Dealers and Demireps, Cuckolds in droves, A T—l—r, a T—nf—Id, a Cr—kf—Id, and CI—ves; A H—rtf—rd, a Y—rm—th, of frail ones ten score; X—ft—e, S—br—gt and E—ll—s, and still many more."

"Come along," said Merrywell, "let us see what they are made of; are either of you known? for Cerberus, who keeps the door, is d——d particular, in consequence of some rows they have recently had, and the devil is careful to pick his customers."

"To pluck them, you mean," said Tom; "but perhaps you are in possession of the pass-word—if so, lead on."

1 The Two Sevens—A nick-name for the well-known house, No. 77, Jermyn Street.

~196~~Tallyho had already heard so much about Hells, Gambling-houses, and Subscription-houses, that he was all anxiety for an interior view, and the same feeling animated Mortimer. As they were about to enter, they were not a little surprised to find that houses which are spoken of so publicly, have in general the appearance of private dwellings, with the exception that the hall-door is left ajar during the hours usually devoted to play, like those of trap-cages, to catch the passing pigeons, and to obviate the delay which might be occasioned by the necessity of knocking—a delay which might expose the customers to the glances of an unsuspecting creditor—a confiding father, or a starving wife; and, as Merrywell observed, "It was to be understood that the entrance was well guarded, and that no gentleman could be permitted to risk or lose his money, without an introduction." A very necessary precaution to obviate the danger of being surprised by the officers of the law; but that rule is too easily to be broken, for any gentleman whom the door-keeper has sufficient reason to think is not an Officer of Justice, finds the avenues to these labyrinths too ready for his admission.



On passing the outer-door, they found themselves impeded by a second, and a third, and each door constructed with a small spy-hole, exhibiting the ball of a ruffian's eye, intently gazing on and examining their figures. It is necessary to observe, that if the visitor is known to be a fair pigeon, or an old crow, he is at once admitted by these gentlemen, and politely bowed up stairs; and as Merrywell appeared to be well known, no obstruction was offered, and they proceeded through the last, which was an iron door, and were shewn directly into the room, which presented a scene of dazzling astonishment.

On entering, they discovered the votaries of gaming around an oblong table, covered with green cloth, and the priests of the ceremony in the centre, one to deal cards and decide events, and another to assist him in collecting the plunder which should follow such decisions. Being engaged in the play, but little notice was taken of the arrival of the party, except by two or three eagle-eyed gentlemen, who, perceiving there were some New-comes{1}

1. Newcomes—The name given to any new faces discovered among the usual visitants.

~197~~and always keeping business in view, made up to Merrywell, began to be very talkative—was happy to see him—hoped he had been well—and congratulated him on the introduction of his friends—took snuff, and handed the box round with all the appearance of unaffected friendship.

"These," said Tom Dashall to his Cousin, drawing him on one side, "are the Proprietors{1} of this concern;

1 In order that the class of men by whom houses of this description are generally kept, and to shew the certainty they have of accumulating riches, as well as to guard the young and inexperienced against being decoyed, it may not be amiss to animadvert upon a few of the most prominent and well known.

No. 7, Pall Mall, is kept by B——l, who has been a public and noted gambler for these forty years, and is generally termed the Father of the Houses. He was at one time a poor man, but now, by his honest earnings, is in possession of some tens of thousands. It is said that he was originally a stable-boy, and, in process of time, arose to be a jobber in horse-flesh, but has at length feathered his nest with pigeons down.

No. 77, St. James's Street, nick-named the Two Sevens, kept by Messrs. T. C. C. T. is a well-known House, where things are conducted with great civility and attention, and the best possible treatment may generally be relied upon, though they are rather sparing of refreshments, and apt to grumble if a customer has a run of good luck. A Prussian Officer, however, not long ago, kick'd up a devil of a row about losing a very large sum of money; but it is scarcely necessary to add it was all in vain, for there was no redress.

The produce of this Bank, (which Paddy B—— calls the Devil's Exchequer, whence you can draw neither principal nor interest,) furnishes elegant houses and equipages, both in town and country, and, it is possible, may one day or other send a Member to Parliament, or a General to the field.

No. 10, King Street, St. James's, is conducted by old and young D——s L——r; the father is too old in iniquity to remember his progress from poverty to affluence.

No. 5, King-street, is kept by Mr. A——l; the former residing at No. 3, Leicester-place, the latter No. 3,—— Street; and both live in prime style. The former, in his youth, was an errand boy, and he became so willing in doing little jobs, that his employers have paid him most handsomely. The latter gentleman, who may be seen frequently driving a dennet, and looking both sides of the road at once, is a chip of the old block: but as it is not our intention to visit the sins of the sou upon the father, we shall not enter into a minute examination of him.