EVENING, AND IN HIGH SPIRITS.

A SCENE AT LONG'S HOTEL.

~192~~

Sketches of Character—Fashionable Notorieties—Modern Philosophy—The Man of Genius and the Buck—"A short Life and a merry one "—A Short Essay on—John Longs—Long Corks —Long Bills—Long Credits—Long-winded Customers—The Ancients and the Moderns, a Contrast by Old Crony.

Ye bucks who in manners, dress, fashion, and shiny, So often have hail'd me as lord of your gang— "O lend me your ears!" whilst I deign to relate The cause of my splendour, the way to be great; My own chequered life condescend to unfold, And give a receipt of more value than gold; Reveal t' ye the spot where the graces all dwell, And point out the path like myself to excel. —Pursuits of Fashion.

Only contrive to obtain the character of an eccentric, and you may ride the free horse round the circle of your acquaintance for the remainder of your life. If my readers are not by this time fully satisfied of my peculiar claims to the appellation of an oddity, I have no hopes of obtaining pardon for the past whims and fancies of a volatile muse, or anticipating patronage for the future wanderings of a restless and inquisitive humorist. But my bookseller, a steady, persevering, inflexible sort of personage, whose habits of business are as rigid as a citizen of the last century, or a puritan of the Cromwell commonwealth, has lately suffered the marble muscles of his frigid countenance to unbend with a sort of mechanical ~193~~inclination to an expression of—what shall I say—lib—lib—liberality; no, no, that will never do for a bookseller—graciousness—ay, that's a better phrase for the purpose; more characteristic of his manner, and more congenial to my own feelings. Well, to be plain then, whenever a young author can pass through an interview with the headman of the firm without hearing any thing in the shape of melancholy musings, serious disappointments, large numbers on hand, doubtful speculation, and such like pleasant innuendoes, he may rest satisfied that his book is selling well, and his publisher realizing a fair proportion of profit for his adventurous spirit. I am just now enjoying that pleasant gratification, the reflection of having added to my own comforts without having detracted from the happiness of others. In short, my scheme improves with every fresh essay, and my friend Bob Transit, who has just joined me in a bottle of iced claret at Long's, has been for some minutes busily engaged in booking mine host and his exhibits; while I, under pretence of writing a letter, have been penning this introduction to a chapter on fashion and its follies, annexing thereunto a few notes of characters, that may serve to illustrate that resort of all that is exquisite and superlative in the annals of high ton. "Evening, and in High Spirits," —a scene worthy of the acknowledged talent of the artist, and full of fearful and instructive narrative for the pen of the English Spy. Seated snugly in one corner of Long's new and splendid coffee-room, we had resolved on our entering to depart early; but the society we had the good fortune to be afterwards associated with might have tempted stronger heads than those of either Bob Transit the artist, or Bernard Blackmantle the moralist.



"Waiter, bring another bottle of iced claret, and tell Long to book it to the king's lieutenant." "By the honour of my ancestry," said the Honourable Lillyman Lionise, "but I am devilishly cut already."

~194~~"You do well, mighty well, sir, to swear by the honour of your ancestors; for very few of your modern stars have a ray of that same meteoric light to illumine their own milky way."

"That flash of your wit, lieutenant, comes upon one like the electric shock of an intended insult, and I must expect you will apologize."

"Then I fear, young valiant, you will die of the disease that has killed more brave men than the last twenty years' war."

"And what is that, sir, may I ask?"

"Expectation, my jewel! I've breakfasted, dined, supped, and slept upon it for the last half century, and am not one step higher in the army list yet."

"But, lieutenant, let me observe that—that—"

"That we are both pretty nigh bosky, and should not therefore be too fastidious in our jokes over the bottle."

Enter Waiter. "The claret, gentlemen. Mr. Long's compliments, and he requests permission to assure you that it is some of the late Duke of Queensberry's choice stock, marked A one."

"Which signifies, according to Long's edition of Cocker, that we must pay double for the liqueur. Come, Lionise, fill a bumper; and let us tails of the lion toast our caput, the sovereign, the first corinthian of his day, and the most polished prince in the world."

"Tiger, Tiger,"{1} ejaculated a soft voice in the adjoining box; "ask Tom who the trumps are in the next stall, and if they are known here, tell them the Honourable Thomas Optimus fills a bumper to their last toast."

1 Since the death of the Earl of Barrymore, Tom has succeeded to the "vacant chair" at Long's; nor is the Tiger Mercury the only point in which he closely resembles his great prototype.

~196~~A smart, clever-looking boy of about fifteen years of age darted forward to execute the honourable's commands; when having received the requisite information from the waiter, he approached the lieutenant and his friend, and with great politeness, but no lack of confidence, made the wishes of his master known to the bon vivants; the consequence was, an immediate interchange of civilities, which brought the honourable into close contact with his merry neighbours; and the result, a unanimous resolution to make a night of it.

At this moment our tete-a-tete was interrupted by the appearance of old Crony, who, stanch as a well-trained pointer to the scent of game, had tracked me hither from my lodgings; from him I learned the lieutenant was a fellow of infinite jest and sterling worth; a descendant of the O'Farellans of Tipperary, whose ancestry claimed precedence of King Bryan Baroch; a specimen of the antique in his composition, robust, gigantic, and courageous; time and intestine troubles had impaired the fortunes of his house, but the family character remained untainted amid the conflicting revolutions that had convulsed the emerald isle. Enough, however, was left to render the lieutenant independent of his military expectations: he had joined the army when young; seen service and the world in many climates; but the natural uncompromising spirit which distinguished him, partaking perhaps something too much of the pride of ancestry, had hitherto prevented his soliciting the promotion he was fairly entitled to. Like a majority of his countrymen, he was cold and sententious as a Laplander when sober, and warm and volatile as a Frenchman when in his cups; half a dozen duels had been the natural consequence of an equal number of intrigues; but although the scars of honour had seared his manly countenance, his heart and person were yet devoted to the service of the ladies. Fame had trumpeted forth his prowess in the wars of ~196~~Venus, until notoriety had marked him out an object of general remark, and the king's lieutenant was as proud of the myrtle-wreath as the hero of Waterloo might be of the laurel crown.

But see, the door opens; how perfumed, what style! Long bows to the earth. What an exquisite smile! Such a coffee-house visitor banishes pain: While Optimus rising, cries "Welcome, Joe Hayne! May you never want cash, boy—here, waiter, a glass; Lieutenant, you'll join us in toasting a lass. I'll give you an actress—Maria the fair." "I'll drink her; but, Tom, you have ruined me there. By my hopes! I am blown, cut, floor'd, and rejected, At the critical moment, sirs, when I expected To revel in bliss. But, here's white-headed Bob, My prime minister; he shall unravel the job. And if Jackson determines you've not acted well, I'll mill you, Tom Optimus, though you're a swell." "Sit down, Joe; be jolly—'twas Carter alone That has every obstacle in your way thrown. Nay, never despair, man—you'll yet be her liege; But rally again, boy, you'll carry the siege." Thus quieted, Joe sat him down to get mellow; For Joe at the bottom's a hearty good fellow.

"Have you heard the report," said Optimus, "that Harborough is actually about to follow your example, and marry an actress? ay, and his old flame, Mrs. Stonyhewer, is ready to die of love and a broken heart in consequence."

"Just as true, my jewel, as that I shall be gazetted field-marshal; or that you, Mr. Optimus, will be accused of faithfulness to Lady Emily. Our young friend here, the rich commoner, has given currency to such a variety of common reports, that the false jade grows bold enough to beard us in our very teeth."

"Why, zounds! lieutenant," said Lionise, "how very sentimental you are becoming."

"It's a way of mine, jewel, to appear singular in some sort of society."

~197~~"And satirical in all, I'll vouch for you, lieutenant;" said Optimus.

"By Jasus, you've hit it! if truth be satire, it's a language I love, although it's not very savoury to some palates."

"Will the duke marry the banker's widow, Joel that's the grand question at Tattersall's, now your match with Maria's off, and Earl Rivers's greyhounds are disposed of. Only give me the office, boy, in that particular, and I'll give you a company to-morrow, if money will purchase one; and realize a handsome fortune by betting on the event."

"Then I'll bet Cox and Greenwood's cash account against the commander-in-chief's, that the widow marries a Beau-clerc, becomes in due time Duchess of St. Alban's, and dies without issue, leaving her immense property as a charitable bequest to enrich a poor dukedom; and thus, having in earlier life degraded one part of the peerage, make amends to the Butes, the Guildfords, and the Burdetts, by a last redeeming act to another branch of the aristocracy."

"At it again, lieutenant; firing ricochet shot, and knocking down duck and drake at the same time."

"Sure, that has been the great amusement of my life; in battle and abroad I have contrived to knock down my share of the male enemies of my country; in peace and at home I've a mighty pleasant knack of winging a few female bush fighters."

"But the widow, my dear fellow, is now a woman of high {2} character; has not the moral Marquis of Hertford undertaken to remove all ———and disabilities? and did he not introduce the lady to the fashionable world at his own hotel, the Piccadilly (peccadillo) Guildhall? Was not the fete at Holly Grove attended by H.R.H. the Duke of York, and Mrs. C—y, and all the virtuous portion of our nobility? and has she not since been admitted to the parties at the Duke of "Query—did Mr. Optimus mean high as game is high?

~198~~Devonshire's, and what is still more wonderful, been permitted to appear at court, and since, in the royal presence, piously introduced to the whole bench of Bishops?"

"By Jasus, that's true; and I beg belle Harriette's pardon. But, I well remember, I commanded the cityguard in the old corn-market, Dublin, on the very night her reputed father, jolly Jack Kinnear, as the rebels called him, contrived to wish us good morning very suddenly, and took himself off to the sate of government."

I shall be obliged to entertain the world with a few of her eccentricities some day or other; the ghost of poor Ralph Wewitzer cries loudly for revenge. The sapient police knight, when he secured the box of letters for his patroness, little suspected that they had all been previously copied by lieutenant Terence O'Farellan of the king's own. A mighty inquisitive sort of a personage, who will try his art to do her justice, spite of "leather or prunella."

The party was at this moment increased by the arrival of Lord William, on whose friendly arm reposed the Berkley Adonis—"par nobile fratrum."

"Give me leave, lieutenant," said his lordship, "to introduce my friend the colonel." "And give me leave," whispered Optimus, "to withdraw my friend Hayne, for 'two suns shine not in the same hemisphere.'"

"The man that makes a move in the direction of the door makes me his enemy," said the lieutenant, loudly. And the whole party were immediately seated.

Hitherto, my friend Crony and myself had been too pleasantly occupied with the whim, wit, and anecdote of the lieutenant, to pay much attention to the individuality of character that surrounded the festive board; but, having now entered upon our second bottle, the humorist commenced his satirical sketches.—

"Holding forth to the gaze of this fortunate time The extremes of the beautiful and the sublime."

~199~~"Suppose I commence with the pea-green count," said Crony. "I know the boy's ambition is notoriety; and an artist who means to rise in his profession should always aim at painting first-rate portraits, well-known characters; because they are sure to excite public inquiry, thus extending the artist's fame, and securing the good opinion of his patrons by the gratification of their unlimited vanity. The sketch too may be otherwise serviceable to the rising generation; the Mr. Greens and Newcomes of the world of fashion, if they would avoid the sharks who infest the waters of pleasure, and are always on the anxious look-up for a nibble at a new 'come out.'

"The young exquisite's connexion with the fancy, or rather with the lowest branch of that illustrious body, the bruising fraternity and their boon companions, had been, though not an avowed, a real source of jealousy to many of his dear bosom friends at Long's hotel, from the moment of the count's making his debut,

'Imberbis juvenis, tandem custode remote,'

into the fashionable world. That he would be ultimately floored by his milling proteges it did not require the sagacity of a conjurer to foresee; nor was it likely that the term of such a catastrophe would be so tediously delayed, as to subject any one who might be eager to witness its arrival to that sickness of the heart which arises from hope deferred. But this process for scooping out the Silver (or Foote) Ball, as he has since been designated, by no means suited the ideas of the worthies before alluded to. The learned Scriblerus makes mention of certain doctors,{3} frequently seen at White's in his day, of a modest and upright appearance, with no air of overbearing, and habited like true masters of arts in black and white only. They were justly styled, says the above high authority,

3 A cant phrase for dice,

~200~~subtiles and graves, but not always irrefragabiles, being sometimes examined and, by a nice distinction, divided and laid open. The descendants of these doctors still exist, and have not degenerated, either in their numbers or their merits, from their predecessors. They take up their principal residence in some well-known mansions about the neighbourhood of the court, and many of the gentlemen who honoured the count with their especial notice on his entree into public life are understood to be familiarly acquainted with them. Now could they have only instilled into the young gentleman a wish to be introduced to these doctors, or once prevailed upon him to take them in hand for the purpose of deciding what might be depending upon the result of the investigation; nay, could they even have spurred him on to an exhibition of his tactics, in manoeuvring

'Those party-colour'd troops, a shining train, Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain;'

they could have so delightfully abridged the task which to their impatient eyes appeared to be much too slow in executing, could have spared their dear friend so much unnecessary time and labour in disencumbering himself of the superfluity of worldly dross which had fallen to his share. A little cogging, sleeving, and palming; nay, a mere spindle judiciously planted, or a few long ones introduced on the weaving system, could have effected in one evening what fifty milling matches, considering the 'glorious uncertainty' attaching to pugilistic as well as legal contests, might fail to accomplish. By this method, too, the person in whom they kindly took so strong an interest would, even when he had lost every thing, have escaped the imputation of having dissipated his property. It would have been comfortably distributed in respectable dividends among a few gentlemen of acknowledged talent, instead of floating in air like the leaves of the

~201~~Sibyl, and alighting in various parts of the inner and outer ring; now depositing a few cool hundreds in the pockets of a sporting Priestley bookseller, or the brother of a Westminster Abbott; now contributing a small modicum to brighten the humbler speculations of the Dean-street casemen, or the Battersea gardener.

"But to this conclusion Horatio would not come. He was good for backing and betting on pugilists, but on the turf he would do little, and at the tables nothing. His zealous friends had therefore no chance in the way they would have liked best; but being men of the world, and knowing, like Gay's bear, that

'There might be picking Ev'n in the carving of a chicken,'

they did not disdain to make the most in their power by watching the motions of his hobby, and if this was not a sufficient prize to furnish much cause for exultation, it was at least one that it would have been unwise to reject.

"A contemporary writer has exerted to the utmost the very little talent he possesses to represent the peagreen's uniform resistance to all the temptations of cards and dice, as a proof of his possessing a strength of mind and decision of character rarely found in young men of his fortune and time of life. In the elegant language of this apologist, the count, by this prudent abstinence, 'has shown himself not half so green as some supposed, and the sharps, and those who have tried on the grand mace with him, have discovered that he was no flat.' How far this negative eulogium may be gratifying to the feelings of the individual on whom it is bestowed, I will not say; in my character of English Spy I have been under the necessity of carefully observing this fortunate youth, depuis que la rose venait d'eclore, in other words, from the time that he became, or rather might 202~have become, his own master; and I should certainly not attribute his refraining from the tables to any superior strength of mind: indeed, it would be singular if such a characteristic belonged to a man whose own hired advocate could only vindicate his client's heart at the expense of his head. Pope tells us, that to form a just estimate of any one's character, we must study his ruling passion; and by adopting this rule, we shall soon obtain a satisfactory clew both to the exquisite count's penchant for the prize-ring, and his aversion to the hells. Some persons exhibit an inexplicable union of avarice and extravagance, of parsimony and prodigality—something of this kind is observable in the gentleman in question. But self predominates with him in all; and being joined to rather alow species of vanity, and a strong inclination to be what is vulgarly called cock of the walk, it has uniformly displayed itself in an insatiate thirst for notoriety. Now pugilists, from the very nature of their profession, must be public characters; while the gamester, to the utmost of his power, does what he does 'by stealth, and blushes to find it fame.' To be the patron of some noted bruiser, to bear him to the field of action in your travelling barouche, accompanied by Tom Crib the XX champion, Tom Spring the X champion, Jack Langan and Tom Cannon the would-be champions, and Lily White Richmond, is sure to make your name as notorious, though perhaps not much more reputable, than those of your associates; but the man who, like 'the youth that fired the Ephesian dome,' aims at celebrity alone, in frequenting the purlieus of the gaming-house only 'wastes his sweetness on the desert air.' Moreover, the members of the Ebony Clubs being compelled to assume the appearance, and adopt the manners, insensibly imbibe too much of the feelings of gentlemen, to be likely to pay, to the most passive pigeon that ever submitted to rooking, the cap in hand homage rendered by a ~203~~practitioner within the pins and binders of the prize-ring to the swell who takes five pounds worth of benefit tickets, or stands a fifty in the stakes for a milling match.

"These motives seem to me sufficient to have prompted the count's predominating attachment to the prize-ring and its heroes, which, however, having as I have before remarked, been viewed with no favourable eye by some of his comrades, his recent ill-luck at Warwick could hardly be expected to escape the jests and sarcasms of his bottle companions."

"'Fore God," said Optimus, "this backing of your man against the black diamond has been but a bad spec. Out heavyish I suppose, ay, Joe?"

Count. Why, a stiffish bout, I must confess; and what's more, I'm not by any means without my suspicions about the correctness of the thing.

Optimus. What, cross and jostle work again? a second edition of Virginia Water? But I thought you felt assured that Cannon would not do wrong for the wealth of Windsor Castle?

Count. True, I did feel so, and others confirmed me in my assurance, but I believe I was wofully mistaken; and curse me if I don't think they were all in the concern of doing me.

Optimus. Was not there a floating report about the bargeman receiving a thousand to throw it over?

Count. Something of the sort; but 1 don't believe it. Two bills for five hundred, but so drawn that they could not be negotiated. I shall certainly, said the count, give notice to the stake-holders not to give up the battle-money for the present.

Optimus. Pshaw! that will never do. A thing of that nature must be done at the time. Besides, Cannon stood two hundred in his own money, and says he will freely pay his losses.

Count. A pretty do that, when he had a cheque ~204~~of mine for the sum he put down. But I've stopped payment of that at my banker's.

Optimus. And will as surely be obliged to revoke that order, as well as to give up disputing the stakes. No, no, Joe; get out of the business now as you can, and cut it. I always thought and told you, that I thought your man had no chance. But his going to fight so out of condition, in a contest where all his physical powers were necessary, does look as if you had been put in for a piece of ready made luck. But what could you expect? Can any good thing come out of Nazareth? That a gentleman can patronize such fellows!

Count. I am still of opinion that the spirit of national courage is much promoted————

Optimus. Spirit of a fiddle-stick! Nonsense, man; that card will win no trick now. You, like others might have thought so once; but you have seen enough by this time to know that the system is on altogether a different tack; that its stanchest upholders and admirers are bullies, sharpers, pickpockets, pothouse keepers, coachmen, fradulent bankrupts, the Jon Bee's and big B's, and all the lowest B's of society in station and character, whose only merit, if such it can be called, is the open disclaiming of any thing like honour or principle. And after having been a patron of such a set of wretches, you will end by becoming, according to circumstances, the object of their vulgar abuse, or the butt of their coarse ridicule.

"The latter, I understand,"said Lord William, "is pretty much the case already. A friend of mine was telling me, that one of the precious brotherhood, on hearing that Joe meant to dispute his bets, asked what better could be expected from a Foote-mam out of place?"

"No more of that, Hal, if thou lovest him," exclaimed Optimus, who immediately perceived, by his ~205~~countenance, that the last hit had been too hard. Much more has been said upon this affair than it is worth. Let us change the subject.

"By my conscience," exclaimed the lieutenant, "and here's an excellent episode to wind up the drama with, headed, 'The Foote Ball's farewell to the Ring:' I'll read it you, with permission, and afterwards, colonel, you shall have a copy of it for next Sunday's 'Age;' it will save the magnanimous little B., your accommodating editor, or his locum tenens, the fat Gent, the trouble of straining their own weak noddles to produce any more soft attempts at the scandalous and the sarcastic.

"By the honour of my ancestry," rejoined the Gloucestershire colonel, "do you take me for a reporter to the paper in question?"

"Why not?" said the lieutenant, coolly: "if you are not a reporter and a supporter too, my gallant friend, by the powers of Poll Kelly but you are the most ill-used man in his majesty's dominions!"

"Sir, I stand upon my honour," said the colonel, petulantly.

"By the powers, you may, and very easily too," whispered O'Farellan, in a side speech to his left hand companion; "for it has been trodden under Foote by others these many months. To be plain with you, colonel, there are certain big whispers abroad, that you and your noble associate, the amiable yonder, with that beautiful obliquity of vision, which is said to have pierced the heart of a northern syren, are the joint Telegraphs of the Age. Sure no man in his senses can suspect Messieurs the Conducteurs of knowing any thing of what passes in polished life, or think—

"Ah, my dear Wewitzer," said Belle Harriet, now Mrs. Goutts, speaking to the late comedian, of some female friend, "she has an eye! an eye, that would pierce through a deal board." "By heavens," said Wewitzer, "that must be then a gimhlet eye." ~206~~of charging them with any personal knowledge of the amusing incidents they pretend to relate, beyond a certain little wanton's green room on dits, or the chaste conversations of the blushless naiads who sport and frolic in the Cytherian mysteries which are nightly performed in the dark groves of Vauxhall. Take a word of advice from an old soldier, colonel: It is worse than leading a forlorn hope to attempt to storm a garrison single handed; club secrets must be protected by club laws, for 'tis an old Eton maxim, that tales told out of school generally bring the relater to the block. But my friend Stanhope will no doubt explain this matter with a much better grace when he comes in contact with the tale-bearer."

"Hem," instinctively ejaculated Horace C——-t, the once elegant Apollo of Hyde Park, "thereby hangs a tale; 'tis a vile Age, and the sooner we forget it, the better—I am for love and peace." "i.e. a piece" responded the lieutenant. Horace smiled, and continued, "Come, Tom Duncombe, I'll give our mutual favourite, the female Giovanni. Lads, fill your glasses; we toast a deity, and one, too, who has equal claims upon most of us for the everlasting favours she has conferred."

"'Fore Gad, lieutenant," simpered out Lord William, squaring himself round to resume the conversation with the veteran, "if you do not mind your hits, we must positively cut. My friend, the colonel, will certainly set his blacks{5} upon you, and I shall be obliged to speak to little magnanimous, the ex-Brummagem director, to strike off a counterfeit impression of you in his scandalous Sunday chronicle, 'pon honour, I must."

5 A very curious tradition is connected with a certain castle near Gloucester, which foretells, that the family name shall be extinct when the race of the blacks* cease to be peculiar to the family; a prophecy that I think not very likely to be fulfilled, judging by the conduct of the present race of representatives.

* A species of Danish blood-hound, whose portraits and names are carved in the oaken cornice of one of the castle chambers.

~207~~"The divil a care," said the lieutenant, laughingly; "to arms with you, my lord William; my fire engine will soon damp the ardour of little magnanimous, and an extra dose of Tom Bish's compounds put his friend, the fat Gent, where his readers have long been, in sweet somniferous repose. But zounds, gentlemen, I am forgetting the count, whose pardon I crave, for bestowing my attention on minor constellations while indulged with the overpowering brilliancy of his meteoric presence."

"The 'Farewell to the Ring,'" vociferated the count. "Come, lieutenant, give us the episode: I long to hear all my misfortunes strung together in rhyme."

"By the powers, you shall have it, then; and a true history it is, as ever was said or sung in church, chapel, or conventicle, with only one little exception—by the free use of poetic license, the satirist has fixed his hero in a very embarrassing situation—just locked him up at Radford's steel Hotel in Carey Street, Chancery Lane, coning over a long bill of John Long's, and a still longer one of the lawyers, with a sort of codicil, by way of refresher, of the house charges, and a smoking detainer tacked on to its tail, by Hookah Hudson, long enough to put any gentleman's pipe out.



There's the argument, programme, or fable. Now for the characters; they are all drawn from the life by the English Spy (see plate), under the amusing title of 'Morning, and in Low Spirits, a scene in a Lock-up House;' a very appropriate spot for a lament to the past, and

"'Tis past, and the sun of my glory is set. How changed in my case is the fortune of war! With no money to back, and no credit to bet, No more in the Fancy I shine forth a star.

~208~~

"Accursed be the day when my bargeman I brought To fight with Jos. Hudson!—the thought is a sting. I sighing exclaim, by experience taught, Farewell to Tom Cannon, farewell to the ring!

"By the Blackwater vict'ry made drunk with success, Endless visions of milling enchanted my nob; I thought my luck in: so I could do no less Than match 'gainst the Streatham my White-headed Bob.

"I've some reason to think that there, too, I was done; For it oft has been hinted that battle was cross'd: But I well know that all which at Yately I won, With a thousand en outre at Bagshot I lost.

"At Warwick a turn in my favour again Appear'd, and my crest I anew rear'd with pride; Hudson's efforts to conquer my bargeman were vain, I took the long odds, and I floor'd the flash side.

"But with training, and treating, and sparring, and paying For all through the nose, as most do in beginning Their fancy career, I am borne out in saying, I was quite out of pocket in spite of my winning.

"So when Bob fought old George, being shortish of money, And bearing in mem'ry the Bagshot affair, In my former pal's stakes I stood only a pony, (Which was never return'd, so I'm done again there).

"To be perfectly safe, on the old one I betted; For the knowing ones told me the thing was made right: If it had been, a good bit of blunt I'd have netted; But a double X spoilt it, and Bob won the fight.

~209~~

"But the famed stage of Warwick, and Ward, were before me— I look'd at Tom Cannon, and thought of the past; I was sure he must win, and that wealth would show'r o'er me, So, like Richard, I set all my hopes on a cast;

"And the die was soon thrown, and my luck did not alter— I was floor'd at all points, and my hopes were a hum; I'm at Tattersall's all but believed a defaulter, And here, in a spunging house, shut by a bum.

"'Mid the lads of the fancy I needs must aspire To be quite au fait; and I have scarcely seen Of mills half a score, ere I'm fore'd to retire— O thou greenest among all the green ones, Pea Green!

"And what have I gain'd, but the queer reputation Of a whimsical dandy, half foolish, half flash? To bruisers and sharpers, in high and low station, A poor easy dupe, till deprived of my cash.

"All you who would enter the circle I've quitted, Reflect on my fate, and think what you're about: By brib'ry betray'd, or by cunning outwitted, In the Fancy each novice is quickly clean'd out.

"For me it has lost its attractions and lustre; The thing's done with me, and I've done with the thing: The blunt for my bets I must manage to muster, Then farewell to Tom Cannon, farewell to the ring!"

The reading of this morceau produced, as might have been expected, considerable merriment on the ~210~~one hand, and some little discussion upon the other; the angry feelings of the commander in chief and his pals overbalancing the mirthful by their solemnly protesting against the exposure of the secrets of the prison house, which, in this instance, they contended, were violently distorted by some enemy to the modern accomplishment of pugilism. In a few moments all was chaos, and the stormy confusion of tongues, prophetk: of the affair ending in a grand display and milling catastrophe; the apprehensions of which induced John Long, and John Long's man, to be on the alert in removing the service, en suite, of superb cut glass, which had given an additional lustre to the splendour of the dessert. The arrival of other characters, and the good humour of the count, joined to a plentiful supply of soda water and iced punch, had, however, the effect of cooling the malcontents, who had no sooner recovered their wonted hilarity, than old Crony proceeded to particularize, by a comparison of the past with the present, interspersing his remarks with anecdotes of the surrounding group. "These are your modern men of fashion," said Crony; "and the specimen you have this day had of their conduct and pursuits an authority you may safely quote as one generally characteristic.

'To support this new fashion in circles of ton. New habits, new thoughts, must of course be put on; Taste, feeling, and friendship, laid by on the shelf, And nothing or worshipp'd, or thought of, but—self.'



"It was not thus in the days of our ancestors: the farther we look back, the purer honour was. In the days of chivalry, a love promise was a law; the braver the knight, the truer in love: then, too, religion, delicacy, sentiment, romantic passion, disinterested friendship, loyalty to king, love of country, a thirst for fame, bravery, nay, heroism, characterized ~211~~the age, the nation, the noble, the knight, and esquire. Mercy! what 'squires we have now-a-days! At a more recent date, all was courtliness, feeling, high sentiment, proud and lofty bearing, principle, the word inviolable, politeness at its highest pitch of refinement: lovers perished to defend their ladies' honour; now they live to sully it: the nobility and the people were distinct in dress and address; but, above all, amenity and good-breeding marked the distinction, and the line was unbroken. Now, dress is all confusion, address far below par, amenity is a dead letter, and as to breeding, it is confined to the breeding of horses and dogs, except when law steps in to encourage the breeding of disputes; not to mention the evils arising from crossing the old breed; nor can we much wonder at it, when we reflect on the altered way of life, the change of habits, and the declension of virtue, arising from these very causes.

'Each hopeful hero now essays to start To spoil the intellect, destroy the heart, To render useless all kind Nature gave, And live the dupe of ev'ry well dress'd knave; To herd with gamblers, be a blackleg king, And shine the monarch of the betting ring.'

"Men of family and fashion, in those golden days, passed their time in courts, in dancing-rooms, and at clubs composed of the very cream of birth and elegance. You heard occasionally of Lord Such-a-one being killed in a duel, or of the baronet or esquire dying from cold caught at a splendid fete, or by going lightly clad to his magnificent vis-a-vis, after a select masquerade; but you never read his death in a newspaper from a catarrh caught in the watch-house, from & fistic fight, or in a row at a hell—things now not astonishing, since even men with a title and a name of rank pass their time in the stable, at common hells, at the Fives-court—the hall of infamy; in the watch-house, the justice-room, and make the finish in ~212~~the Fleet, King's Bench, or die in misery and debt abroad. In the olden times, a star of fashion was quoted for dancing at court, for the splendour of his equipages, his running footmen and black servants, his expensive dress, his accomplishments, his celebrity at foreign courts, his fine form, delicate hand, jewels, library, &c. &c. Now fame (for notoriety is so called) may be obtained by being a Greek, or Pigeon, by being mistaken for John the coachman, when on the box behind four tits; by being a good gentleman miller, by feeding the fancy, standing in print for crim. con., breaking a promise of marriage once or twice, and breaking as many tradesmen as possible afterwards; breaking the watchman's head on the top of the morn; and lastly, breaking away (in the skirmish through life) for Calais, or the Low Countries. There is as much difference between the old English gentleman and him who ought to be the modern representative of that name, as there is between a racer and a hack, a fine spaniel and a cross of the terrier and bull dog. In our days of polish and refinement, we had a Lord Stair, a Sedley, a Sir John Stepney, a Sir William Hamilton, and many others, as our ambassadors, representing our nation as the best bred in the world; and by their grace and amiability, gaining the admiration of the whole continent. We had, in remoter times, our Lords Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, and Lyttleton, our Steele, &c, the celebrated poets, authors, and patterns of fashion and elegance of the age. We had our Argyle,

'The state's whole thunder form'd to wield, And shake at once the senate and the field.'

We had our virtuosi of the highest rank, our rich and noble authors in abundance. The departed Byron stood alone to fill their place. The classics were cultivated, not by the learned profession only, but by the votaries of fashion. Now, our Greek scholars are of ~213~~another cast.{6} In earlier days the chivalrous foe met his opponent in open combat, and broke a lance for the amusement of the spectators, while he revenged his injuries in public. Now, the practice of duelling{7} has become almost a profession, and the privacy with which it is of necessity conducted renders it always subject to suspicion (see plate); independent of which, the source of quarrel is too often beneath the dignity of gentlemen, and the wanton sacrifice of life rather an act of bravado than of true courage.{7}

6 "Adeipe nunc Danaum insidiai, et——ab uno, Disce omnes!"

The Greek population of the fashionable world comprises a very large portion of society, including among its members names and persons of illustrious and noble title, whose whole life and pleasure in life appears to "rest upon the hazard of a die." The modern Greek, though he cannot boast much resemblance to Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, or Nestor, is, nevertheless, a close imitator of the equally renowned chief of Ithaca. To describe his person, habits, pursuits, and manners, would be to sketch the portrait of one or more finished roues, who are to be found in most genteel societies. The mysteries of his art are manifold, and principally consist in the following rules and regulations, put forth by an old member of the corps, whose conscience returned to torture him when his reign of earthly vice was near its close.

ELEMENTS OF GREEKING. 1. A Greek should be like a mole, visible only at night. 2. He should be a niggard of his speech, and a profligate with his liquor, giving freely, but taking cautiously. 3. He must always deprecate play in public, and pretend an entire ignorance of his game. 4. He must be subtle as the fox, and vary as the well-trained hawk; never showing chase too soon, or losing his pigeon by an over eager desire to pluck him. 5. He must be content to lose a little at first, that he may thereby make a final hit decisive. 6. He must practise like a conjuror in private, that his slippery tricks in public may escape observation. Palming the digits requires no ordinary degree of agility. 7. He must secure a confederate, who having been pigeoned, has since been enlightened, and will consent to decoy others to the net. 8. He should have once held the rank of captain, as an introduction to good society, and a privilege to bully any one who may question his conduct. 9. He must always put on the show of generosity with those he has plucked—that is, while their bill, bond, post obit, or other legal security is worth having.

~214~~

10. He should be a prince of good fellows at his own table, have the choicest wines for particular companies, and when a grand hit cannot be made, refuse to permit play in his own house; or on a decisive occasion, let his decoy or partner pluck the pigeon, while he appears to lose to some confederate a much larger sum.

11. He must not be afraid to fight a duel, mill & rumbustical green one, or bully a brother sharper who attempts to poach upon his preserves.

12. He must concert certain signals with confederates for working the broads (i.e. cards), such as fingers at whist: toe to toe for an ace, or the left hand to the eye for a king, and so on, until he can make the fate of a rubber certain. On this point he must be well instructed in the arts of marked cards, briefs, broads, corner bends, middle ditto, curves, or Kingston Bridge, and other arch tricks of slipping, palming, forcing, or even substituting, whatever card may be necessary to win the game. Such are a few of the elements of modern Greeking, contained in the twelve golden rules recorded above, early attention to which may save the inexperienced from ruin.



7 ELEMENTS OF DUELLING.

"The British Code of Duel," a little work professing to give the necessary instructions for man-killing according to honour, lays down the following rules as indispensable for the practice of principals and seconds in the pleasant and humane amusement of shooting at each other. "1. To choose out a snug sequestered spot, where the ground is level, and no natural, terrestrial, or celestial line presenting itself to assist either party in his views of sending his opponent into eternity. 2. To examine the pistols; see that they are alike in quality and length, and load in presence of each other. 3. To measure the distance; ten paces of not less than thirty inches being the minimum, the parties to step to it, not from it. 4. To fire by signal and at random; it being considered unfair to take aim at the man whose life you go out to take. 5. Not to deliver the pistols cocked, lest they should go off un-expectedly; and after one fire the second should use his endeavours to produce a reconciliation. 6. If your opponent fire in the air, it is very unusual, and must be a case of extreme anguish when you are obliged to insist upon another shot at him. 7. Three fires must be the ultimatum in any case; any more reduces duel to a conflict for blood," says the code writer; "if the parties can afford it, there should be two surgeons in attendance, but if economical, one mutual friend will suffice; the person receiving the first fire, in case of wound, taking the first dressing. 8. It being always understood that wife, children, parents, and relations are no impediment with men of very different relative stations in society to their meeting on equal terms." The consistency, morality, justice, and humanity of this code, I leave to the gratifying reflection of those who have most honourably killed their man.

~215~~

'For, as duelling now is completely a science, And sets, the Old Bailey itself at defiance; Now Hibernians are met with in every street, 'Tis as needful to know how to shoot as to eat.'

The following singular challenge is contained in a letter from Sir William Herbert, of St. Julian's, in Monmouthshire, father-in-law to the famous Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, to a gentleman of the name of Morgan. The original is in the British Museum.

"Sir—Peruse this letter, in God's name. Be not disquieted. I reverence your hoary hair. Although in your son I find too much folly and lewdness, yet in you I expect gravity and wisdom.

"It hath pleased your son, late at Bristol, to deliver a challenge to a man of mine, on the behalf of a gentleman (as he said) as good as myself; who he was, he named not, neither do I know; but if he be as good as myself, it must either be for virtue, for birth, for ability, or for calling and dignity. For virtue I think he meant not, for it is a thing which exceeds his judgment: if for birth, he must be the heir male of an earl, the heir in blood of ten earls; for, in testimony thereof, I bear their several coats. Besides, he must be of the blood royal, for by my grandmother Devereux I am lineally and legitimately descended out of the body of Edward IV. If for ability he must have a thousand pounds a year in possession, a thousand pounds more in expectation, and must have some thousands in substance besides. If for calling and dignity, he must be knight or lord of several seignories in several kingdoms, a lieutenant of his county, and a counsellor of a province.

"Now to lay all circumstances aside, be it known to your son, or to any man else, that if there be any one who beareth the name of gentleman, and whose words are of reputation in his county, that doth say, or dare say, that I have done unjustly, spoken an untruth, stained my credit and reputation in this matter, or in any matter else, wherein your son is exasperated, I say he lieth in his throat, and my sword shall maintain my word upon him, in any place or province, wheresoever he dare, and where I stand not sworn to observe the peace. But if they be such as are within my governance, and over whom I have authority, I will for their re-formation chastise them with justice, and for their malaport misdemeanour bind them to their good behaviour. Of this sort, I account your son, and his like; against whom I will shortly issue my warrant, if this my warning doth not reform them. And so I thought fit to advertise you hereof, and leave you to God.

"I am, &c.

"WM. HERBERT."

216~"The art of fencing formerly distinguished the gentleman, who then wore a sword as a part of his dress. He is now contented with a regular stand-up fight, and exhibits a fist like a knuckle-bone of mutton—hard, coarse, and of certain magnitude. The bludgeon hammer-headed whip, or a vulgar twig, succeeds the clouded and amber-headed cane; and instead of the snuff-box being rare, and an article of parade, to exhibit a beauty's miniature bestowed in love, or that of a crowned head, given for military or diplomatic services, all ranks take snuff out of cheap and vulgar boxes, mostly of inferior French manufacture, with, not unfrequently, indecent representations on them; or you have wooden concerns with stage coaches, fighting-cocks, a pugilistic combat, or an ill-drawn neck and neck race upon them. The frill of the nobleman and gentleman's linen once bore jewels of high price, or a conceit, like a noted beauty's eye, set in brilliants less sparkling than what formed the centre. Now, a fox, a stag, or a dog, worthily occupies the place of that enchanting resemblance. In equitation, we had Sir Sydney Meadows, a pattern and a prototype for gentlemen horsemen. The Melton hunt now is more in vogue, and the sons of our nobility ride like their own grooms and postboys—ay, and dress like them too. Autrefois, a man of fashion might be perceived ere he was seen, from a reunion ~217~~of rich and costly perfumes. Now, snuff and tobacco, the quid, the pinch, and the cigar, announce his good taste. The cambric pocket-handkerchief was the only one known in the olden times. The belcher (what a name! ) supplies its place, together with the bird's eye, or the colours of some black or white boxer. An accomplished man was the delight of all companies in former times. An out and outer, one up to every thing, down as a nail or the knocker of Newgate, a trump, or a Trojan, now carry the mode of praise; one that can patter flash, floor a charley, mill a coal-heaver, come coachey in prime style, up to every rig and row in town, and down to every move upon the board, from a nibble at the club to a dead hit at a hell; can swear, smoke, take snuff, lush, play at all games, and throw over both sexes in different ways—he is the finished man. The attributes of a modern fine gentleman are, to have his address at his club, and his residence any where; to lounge, laugh, lisp, and loll away the time from four to eight, when having dressed, eat his olives, he goes to Almack's if he can, or struts into Fop's Alley at the Opera in boots, in defiance of decency or the remonstrance of the door-keepers; talks loud to be noticed; and having handed some woman of fashion to her carriage, gets in after her without invitation, and, as a matter of course, behaves rudely in return; makes a last call at the club in his way home to learn the issue of the debate, and try his luck at French hazard or fleecing a novice. (See Plate.)



If his fortune should be one thousand per annum, his income may be extended to five, by virtue of credit and credulity. If he comes out very early in life, say eighteen, he will scarcely expect to be visible at twenty-four; but if he does not appear until he is twenty-one, and then lives all his days, he may die fairly of old age, infirmity, and insolvency, at twenty-six. His topographical knowledge of town is bounded by the fashionable ~218~~directory, which limits his recognition, on the north, by Oxford-street, on the east, by Bond-street, on the south, by Pall Mall, and on the west, by Park-lane. Ask him where is Russell Square, and he stares at you for a rustic; inquire what authors he reads, and he answers Weatherbey and Rhodes; ask what are their works, and he laughs outright at your ignorance of the 'Racing Calendar,' 'Annals of Sporting,' 'Boxiana,' and 'Turf Remembrancer;' question his knowledge of science, it consists in starch a la Brummel{8}; of mathematics, in working problems on the cards; of algebra, in calculating the long odds, or squaring the chances of the dice; he tells you, his favourite book is his betting account, that John Bull is the only newspaper worth reading, and that you must never expect to be admitted into good society if the cut of your coat does not bear outward proofs of its being fabricated either in Saint James's Street or Bond Street; that the great requisites are confidence, indifference, and nonchalance; as, for instance, George Wombwell being thrown out of his tilbury on High gate Hill, when driving Captain Burdett, and both being dreadfully bruised, George is picked

8 When Brummel fell into disgrace, he devised the starched neckcloth, with the design of putting the prince's neck out of fashion, and of bringing his Royal Highness's muslin, his bow, and wadding, into contempt. When he first appeared in this stiffened cravat, tradition says that the sensation in St. James's-street was prodigious; dandies were struck dumb with envy, and washerwomen miscarried. No one could conceive how the effect was produced—tin, card, a thousand contrivances were attempted, and innumerable men cut their throats in vain experiments; the secret, in fact, puzzled and baffled every one, and poor dandy L———d died raving mad of it; his mother, sister, and all his relations waited on Brummel, and on their knees implored him to save their kinsman's life by the explanation of the mystery; but the beau was obdurate, and L———d miserably perished.

When Brummel fled from England, he left this secret a legacy to his country; he wrote on a sheet of paper, on his dressing-table, the emphatic words, "Starch is the man."

~219 up by a countryman, when he inquires, very coolly, if 't'other blackguard is not quite dead:' his amours are more distinguished by their number than attractions, and the first point is, not attachment, but notoriety; the lady always being the more desirable, in proportion to the known variety of her gallants; that of all the pleasures of this life, there is nothing like a squeeze at court (see plate), or being wedged into a close room at a crowded rout.



A ruffian was never thought of by our forefathers; the exquisite was; but he was more sublimated than the exquisite of the nineteenth century. The dandy is of modern date; but there is some polish on him—suppose it be on his boots alone. Shape and make are attended to by him; witness the Cumberland corset, and his making what he can of every body. Then, again, he must have a smattering of French, and affect to be above old England. When he smokes, he does it from vanity, to show his ecume de mer pipe. He may have a gold snuff-box and a little diamond pin; and when he swears, he lisps it out like a baby's lesson. Sometimes (not often) he plays upon the guitar; and the peninsular war may have made a man of him, and a linguist too; but he is far below the ancient exquisites (who touched the lute, the lyre, and violoncello). And he is an egotist in every thing—in gallantry, in conversation, in principle, and in heart. Nor has the deterioration of the gentleman been confined to England only—polite and ceremonious France has felt her change. The Revolution brought in coarse and uncivilised manners. The awkward and unsuccessful attempt at Spartan and Roman republican manners; the citizen succeeding to Monsieur; the blasphemous, incredulous, atheistical principles instilled into the then growing generation of all classes; the system of equality, subversive of courtliness, and the obliging attentions and suavities of society, poisoned at once the source 220~of morals and of manners; for there can be nothing gentlemanlike in atheism, radicalism, and the level, ling system. To this state of things succeeded a reign of terror, assassination, and debauchery; and lastly, a military despotism, in which the private soldier rose to the marshals baton; a groom in the stables of the Prince of Conde saw himself ennobled; peers and generals had brothers still keeping little retail shops; and a drum-boy lived to see his wife—a washerwoman, or fish vender—a duchess (Madame Lefevre). How can we expect breeding from such materials? Bayonets gave brilliancy to the imperial court; and the youth of the country were all soldiers, without dreaming of the gentleman, except in a low bow and flourish of the hat; a greater flourish of self-praise, and a few warm, loose, and dangerous compliments to the fairer sex, became more than even the objects of their passion, but less so of their attentions and prepossessing assiduities. This military race taught us to smoke, to snuff, to drink brandy, and to swear; for although John Bull never was backward in that point, yet St. Giles's and not St. James's, was the rendezvous for those who possessed that brutal and invincible habit. These were not amongst the least miseries and curses which the war produced; and they have left such mischievous traces behind them, that the mature race in France laugh at the old court, and at all old civil and religious principles, whilst our demoralized youth play the same game at home. And if a Bolingbroke or a Chesterfield was now to appear, he would be quizzed by all the smokers, jokers, hoaxers, glass-cockers, blacklegs, and fancy-fellows of the town, amongst whom all ranks are perfectly lost, and morality is an absolute term. O tempora! O Moses! (as the would-be Lady Sckolard said.) Nor does Moses play second best in these characters of the day. Moses has crept into all circles; from the ring to the peerage and baronetage, the stage, the ~221~~race-course; and our clubs are tinged with the Israelitish: they may lend money, but they cannot lend a lustre to the court, or to the gilded and painted saloons of the beau monde. The style of things is altered; we mean not the old style and new in point of date, but in point of brilliancy in the higher circles. Our ancestors never bumped along the streets, with a stable-boy by their side, in a one-horse machine, which is now the bon ton in imitation of our Gallic neighbours, whose equipage is measured by their purse. Where do you now see a carriage with six horses, and three outriders, and an avant courier, except on Lord Mayor's day? Yet how common this was with the nobility d'autrefois. Two grooms are no longer his Grace's and my Lord's attendants, but each is followed by one groom in plain clothes, not very dissimilar from the man he serves. Do we ever see the star of nobility in the morning, to guard him who has a right to it from popular rudeness and a confusion of rank? All is now privacy, concealment, equality in exterior, musty and meanness: not that the plain style of dress would be exceptionable, if we could say in verity—

'We have within what far surpasseth show.'

But the lining is now no better (oftentimes worse) than the coat. Our principles and our politeness are on a par—at low-water mark. The tradesman lives like the gentleman, and the nobleman steps down a degree to be, like other people, up to all fashionable habits and modern customs; whilst the love for gain, at the clubs, on the turf, in the ring, and in private life, debases one part of society, and puts down the other, which becomes the pigeon to the rook. Whilst all this goes on, the press chronicles and invents follies for us; and there are men stupid enough to glory in their depravity, to be pleased with their own deformity of mind, body, or dress, of their affectations, ~222~~and their leading of a party. There is something manly in the Yacht Club, in a dexterously driving four fleet horses in hand, in reining in the proud barb, and in gymnastic exercises: but the whole merit of these ceases, when my Lord (like him of carroty beard) becomes the tar without his glory, and wears the check shirt without the heart of oak—when the driver becomes the imitator of the stage and hackney box—when the rider is the unsuccessful rival of the jockey; and the frequenter of the gymnastic arena becomes a bruiser, or one turning strength into money, be the bet or the race what it may.

'Shades of our ancestors! whose fame of old In ev'ry time the echoing world has told! Whose dauntless valour and heroic deeds, Each British bosom yet enraptur'd reads! Deeds, which in ev'ry country, clime, and age, Have fill'd the poet's and historian's page; Of ev'ry muse the theme, and ev'ry pen: Ye I invoke! and ye, my countrymen, If British blood yet flows within your veins, If for your country aught of love remains, O make your first, your chief, your only care, That which first rais'd and made you what you were.'"



CHELTONIAN CHARACTERS.

A TRIP TO THE SPAS.

CHAPTER I.

~223~~

Bernard Blackmantle and Bob Transit pay a Visit to the Chelts—Privileges of a Spy—Alarm at Chelten-him—The rival Editors—The setting of a great Son—How to sink in Popularity and Respect—A noble Title—An old Flame— Poetical jeu d'esprit, by Vinegar Penn—Muriatic Acid—An Attorney-General's Opinion on Family Propensities given without a Fee!!—The Cheltenham Dandy, or the Man in the Cloak, a Sketch from the Life-Noble Anecdote of the Fox- hunting Parson—Bury-ing alive at Berkeley—Public Theatricals in private—"A Michaelmas Preachment," by an Honest Reviewer—A few Words for Ourselves—The Grand Marshall—Interesting Story of a former M. C.

"Oh, I've been to countries rare; Seen such sights, 'twould make you stare."



"That last chapter of yours, Blackmantle, on John Long and John Long's customers, will long remain a memorial of your scrutinizing qualifications, and, as I think, will prevent your taking your port, punch, pines, or soda-water in Bond-street for some time to come, lest 'suspicion, which ever haunts the guilty mind,' should in the course of conversation convict you; and then, my dear fellow, you would certainly go off pop like the last-mentioned article in the above reference to the luxuries of Long's hotel." ~224~~"Bravo, Bob Transit!" said I; "this comes mighty well from you, sir, my fidus achates.—'A bon chat bon rat'—the fidus and audax satirists of the present times. And who, sir, dares to doubt our joint authority? are we not the very spies o' the age?

'Joint monarchs of all we survey; Our right there is none to dispute.'

From the throne to, the thatched cottage, wherever there is character, 'there fly we,' and, on the wings of merry humour, draw with pen and pencil a faithful portraiture of things as they are; not tearing aside the hallowed veil of private life, but seizing as of public right on public character, and with a playful vein of satire proving that we are of the poet's school;

'Form'd to delight at once and lash the age.'

At this season of the year fashion cries out of Town; so, pack up, Master Robert, and Let us to Chelt's retiring banks, Where beaux and beauties throng, To drink at Spas and play rum pranks, That here will live in song.

What Cheltenham was, is no business of ours; what it is, as regards its buildings, salubrious air, and saline springs, its walks, views, libraries, theatre, and varieties, my friend Williams, whose shop at the corner of the assembly rooms is the grand lounge of the literati, will put the visitor into possession of for the very moderate sum of five shillings. But, reader, if you would search deeper into society, and know something of the whim and character of the frequenters and residents of this fashionable place of public resort, you must consult the English Spy, and trace in his pages and the accompanying plates of his friend Bob Transit the faithful likenesses of the scenes and persons who figure in the maze of fashion, ~225~~or attract attention by the notoriety of their amours, the eccentricity of their manners, or the publicity of their attachments to the ball or the billiard-room, the card or the hazard-table, the turf or the chase; for in all of these does Cheltenham abound. From the cercle de la basse to the cercle de la haute, from the nadir to the zenith, 'I know ye, and have at ye all'—ye busy, buzzing, merry, amorous groups of laughter-loving, ogling, ambling, gambling Cheltenham folk.

'A chiel's among ye taking notes, And faith, he'll print them.'

To spy out your characteristic follies, ye sons and daughters of pleasure, have we, Bernard Blackmantle and Robert Transit, esquires, travelled down to Cheltenham to collect materials for an odd chapter of a very odd book, but one which has already established its fame by continued success, and, as I hope owes much of its increasing prosperity to its characteristic good-humour; so, without more preface, imagine a little dapper-looking fellow of about five feet something in altitude, attended by a tall sharp-visaged gentleman in very spruce costume, parading up and down the High-street, Cheltenham—lounging for a few minutes in Williams's library—making very inquisitive remarks upon the passing singularities—and then the little man most impertinently whispering to his friend with the Quixotic visage, book him, Bob—when out comes the note book of both parties, and down goes somebody. Afterwards see them popping into this shop, and then into the other, spying and prying about—occasionally nodding perhaps to a London actor, who shines forth here a star of the first magnitude; John Liston, for instance, or Tyrone Power—then posting off to the well walks, or disturbing the peaceful dead by ambling over their graves in search of humorous epitaphs—making their way down to the Berkeley kennel in North-street (See Plate), ~226~~or paying a visit to the Paphian divinities at the Oakland cottages under the Cleigh Hills—trotting here and there—making notes and sketches until all Cheltenham is in a state of high excitement, and the rival editors of the Chronicle and Journal, Messrs. Halpine and Judge, are so much alarmed that they are almost prepared to become friends, and unite their forces for the time against the common enemy.



Imagine such an animated, whispering, gazing, inquiring scene, as I have here presented you with a slight sketch of, and, reader, you will be able to form some idea of the first appearance of the English Spy and his friend the artist, among the ways and walks of merry Cheltenham. Then here

'At once, I dedicate my lay To the gay groups that round me swarm, Like May-bees round the honied hive, When fields are green, and skies are warm And all in nature seems alive.'

Time was, a certain amorous colonel carried every thing here, and bore away the belle from all competitors; the hunt, the ball, the theatre, and the card-party all owned his sovereign sway; although it must be admitted, that, in the latter amusement, he seldom or ever hazarded enough to disturb his financial recollections on the morrow. But time works wonders—notoriety is of two complexions, and what may render a man a very agreeable companion to foxhunters and frolicsome lordlings, is not always the best calculated to recommend him in the eyes of the accomplished and the rigid in matters of moral propriety. But other equally celebrated and less worthy predilections have been trumpeted forth in courts and newspapers, until the fame of the colonel has spread itself through every grade of society, and, unlike that wreath which usually decks the gallant soldier's brow, a cypress chaplet binds the early gray, and makes admonitory signal of the ill-spent past. The wrongs of an injured 227~and confiding husband, whose fortunes, wrecked by the false seducer, have left him a prey to shattered ruin, yet live in the remembrance of some honest Cheltenham hearts; and although these may feel for the now abandoned object of his illicit passion, there are but few who, while they drop a tear of pity as she passes them daily in the street, do not invoke a nobler feeling of indignation upon the ruthless head of him who forged the shafts of misery, and pierced at one fell blow the hearts of husband, wife, and children! What father that has read Maria's hapless tale of woe, and marked the progress of deceptive vice, will hereafter hazard the reputation of his daughters by suffering them to mix in Cheltenham society with the branded seducer and his profligate associates? Gallantry, an unrestricted love of the fair sex, and a predilection for variety, may all be indulged in this country to any extent, without betraying confidence on the one hand or innocence upon the other, without outraging decency, or violating the established usages of society. While the profligate confines his sensual pleasures with such objects as I allude to within the walls of his harem, the moralist has no right to trespass upon his privacy; it is only when they are blazoned forth to public view, and daringly opposed to public scorn, that the lash of the satirist is essentially useful, if not in correcting, at least in exposing the systematic seducer, and putting the inexperienced and the virtuous on their guard against the practice of profligacy. It is the frequency and notoriety of such scenes that has at last alarmed the Chelts, who, fearing more for their suffering interests than for their suffering fellow-creatures, begin to murmur rather loudly against the Berkeley Adonis, representing that the town itself suffers in respectability and increase of visitors, by its being known as the rendezvous of the bloods and blacks of Berkeley. The truth of this assertion may be gathered from the ~228~~following jeu d' esprit, only one among a hundred of such squibs that have been very freely circulated in Cheltenham and the neighbourhood within the last year.

'NEWS FROM CHELTENHAM.

'The season runs smartly in Cheltenham's town, The gossips are up, and the colonel is down; He has taken the place of the famous Old Gun {1} That exploded last year, and created some fun. Were no lives then lost? some say, Yes! and some, No! The report even shook the old walls of Glasgow.{2} And the Bushe was found out to be no safe retreat, For in love, as in war, you may chance to be beat; And a hell-shaming fellow can never be reckon'd, Whate'er he may publish, a capital second.'

"But now having had our fling at his vices, let us speak of him more agreeably; for the fellow hath some qualifications which, if humour suit, enables him to shine forth a star of the first magnitude among bons vivants and sporting characters, who ride, amble, and vegetate upon the banks of the Chelt. Such is his love of hunting, a pleasure in which he not only indulges himself, but enables others, his friends, to participate with him, by keeping up a numerous stud of thirty well trained horses, and a double pack of fox-hounds, that no appropriate day may be lost, nor any opportunity missed, of pursuing the sports of the chase. This is as it should be, and smacks of that glorious spirit which animated his ancestors; although the violence of his temper will sometimes break out even here, in the field, when some young and forward Nimrod, unable to restrain his fiery steed, o'er-caps the hounds, or crosses the scent. As the Chelts are, or have been, greatly benefited by the hounds being kept alternately during the hunting months between

1 A good-morrow to you, Captain Gun.

2 Miss Glasgow, divine perfection of antique virgin purity! what could the poet mean by this allusion?

~229~~Cheltenham and Gloucester, they must at least feel some little gratitude to be due to the man who is the cause of such an increase of society, and consequent expenditure of cash. But, say they, we lose in a fourfold degree; for the respectable portion of the fashionable visitants have of late cut us entirely, to save their sons and daughters from pollution and ruin, by association or the force of example. 'Tis not in the nature of the English Spy rudely to draw aside the curtain, even to expose the midnight revelries and debaucheries, of which he possesses some extraordinary anecdotes; events, which, if recorded here, would, in the language of the poet,

'Give ample room, and verge enough, The characters of hell to trace; How through each circling year, on many a night, Have Severn's waves re-echoed with affright The shrieks of (maids) through Berkeley's roofs that ring.'

"But let these tales be told hereafter, as no doubt they will be, by the creatures who now pander to vice, when the satiated and the sullen chief sinks into decay, or cuts from his emaciated trunk the filthy excrescences which, like poisonous fungus, suck the sap of honour and of life. The colonel hath had many trials in this life, and much to break down a noble and a proud spirit. In earlier days, a question of birthright, while it cut off one entail, brought on another, which entailed a name, not the ancient gift of a monarch, but one still more ancient, and, according to Dodsley's Chronology of the Kings of England, the origin of British sovereignty itself—a 'filius nullius,' a title that left it open to the wearer to have established his own fame, and to have been the architect of a nobler fortune; for

'Who nobly acts may hold to scorn The man who is but nobly born.'

"Had the colonel acted thus, there is little doubt but long ere this the kind heart of his Majesty would have ~230~~warmed into graciousness as he reflected upon the untoward circumstances which removed from the eldest born of an ancient house the honours of its armorial bearings; the engrailed bar might have been erased from the shield, and the coronet of nobility have graced the elder brother, without invading the legal designation or claims of the legitimate younger; but

I sing of a day that is gone and past, Of a chance that is lost, and a die that's cast.

And even now, while I am sermonizing on late events but too notorious, the busy hum of many voices buzzes a tale upon the ear that sickens with its unparalleled profligacy; but the English Spy, the faithful historian of the present times, refuses to stain his pages by giving credit to, or recording, the imputed profligate connexion. Adieu, monsieur the colonel; fain would I have passed you by without this comment; but your association with the black spirits of the 'Age'{3} has placed you upon a pedestal, the proper mark for satire to shoot her barbed arrows at.

"But let us take a turn down the High Street; and as I live here comes an old flame of the colonel's, Miss R*g*rs, who is now turned into Mrs. E***n, and who, it is said, most wickedly turned her pen, and pointed the following jeu d'esprit against her late protector, when he was laid up by a serious accident, which happened to his knee after the more serious loss of a—Foote.

3 "A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind" says Pope; and it would appear so from the intimacy which subsists between the colonel and his jackall Bunn, the would-be captain, who it is said is the filius nullius of old Ben Bunn the conveyancer, not of legal title or estate by roll of parchment, but of the very soil itself. Lord W. Lennox, too, no doubt, prides himself upon the illegitimate origin of his ancestry; and the publisher of the infamous scandals manufactured in the Quadrant is also of the same kidney, being the reputed natural son of jolly old Bardolph Jennyns. What the remaining portion of the coterie spring from, the Gents and Bs., the sensitive nose of a sensible man will very easily discover.

~231~~

'To Cupid's colonel help, ye people all; He's missed his Footing, 'Pride has had a fall;' The knee's uncapp'd, the calf laid open quite, The Foote presents the most distressing sight; Its form so perfect, pity none were nigh, With warning voice to guard from injury. Waltzers! your peerless partner view, The gallant gay Lothario quite perdu; Sans Foote to rest upon, his claims deny'd To take a birth by English nobles' side. Let him to Cheltenham, 'tis not to go far; He's sure to find a seat—on Irish car.'

"I am told, but I cannot discover the allusion myself, that Miss B*g*rs was prompted to this effusion of the satiric muse by the green-eyed monster, Jealousy, Observe that machine yonder, rumbling up the street like an Irish jaunting-car, that contains the numerous family of M***r, the vinegar merchant, whose lady being considered by the Chelts as lineally descended from the Tartar race, they have very facetiously nicknamed muriatic acid. The mad wag with the sandy whiskers yonder, and somewhat pleasant-looking countenance, is a second-hand friend of the colonel's; mark how he is ogling the young thing in the milliner's shop through the window: his daily occupation, making assignations, and his nightly amusement, a new favourite. A story is told of his father, a highly respected legal character in the Emerald Isle, that, on being asked by a friend why his son had left the country, replied, 'By Jasus, sir, it was high time: sure I am there's enough of the family left behind. Is not his lady in a promising way, and both his female servants, and those of two or three of his friends, and are not both mine in a similar situation? Zounds, sir, if he had remained here much longer, there would not have been a single female in the whole country. However, 'Good wine, they say, needs no Bushe,' so I shall leave him unmarked by his family cognomen, lest this ~232~~should be taken as a puff-card of his capabilities, and thereby add to the list of his Cytherean exploits. In a late affair, when the colonel was called out (but did not come), Sir Patrick beat about the Bushe for him very judiciously, and by great skill in diplomacy enabled his friend to come off second best. But here comes one who stands at odds with description, and attracts more notice in Cheltenham than even the colonel, his companions, and all the metropolitan visitory put together. If I was to lend myself to the circulation of half the strange tales related of him by the Chelts, I could fill a small-sized volume; but brevity is the soul of wit, and the eccentric Mackey, with all his peculiarities and strange fancies for midnight mastications, has a soul superior to the common herd, and a 'heart and hand, open as day, to melting charity.' It is strange, 'passing strange,' that one so rich and fond of society, and well-descended withal, should choose thus to ape the ridiculous; a man, too, if report speaks truly, of no ordinary talents as a writer on finance, and an expounder of the solar system. Vanity! vanity! what strange fantasies and eccentric fooleries dost thou sometimes fill the brain of the biped with, confining thy freaks, however, to that strange animal—man. The countenance of our eccentric is placid and agreeable, and, provided it was cleared of a load of snuff, which weighs down the upper lip, might be said to be, although in the sear o' the leaf, highly intellectual; but the old Scotch cloak, the broad-brimmed hat of the covenanter, the loose under vest, the thread-bare coat shaking in the wind, like the unmeasured garment of the scarecrow, and the colour-driven nankeens, grown short by age and frequent hard rubbings; then, too, the flowing locks of iron gray straggling over the shoulders like the withered tendrils of a blighted vine—all conspire to arrest the attention of an inquisitive eye; yet the Chelts know but little ~233~~about his history, beyond his being a man of good property, the proprietor of the Vittoria boarding-house, inoffensive in manners, obliging in disposition, and intelligent in conversation. His great penchant is a midnight supper, stewed chicken and mushrooms, or any other choice and highly-seasoned dish; to enjoy which in perfection, he hath a maiden sleeping at the foot of his bed ready to attend his commands, which, it is said, are communicated to her in a very singular way; no particle of speech being used to disturb the solemn silence of the night, but a long cane reaching downwards to the slumbering maid, by certain horizontal taps against her side, propelled forward by the hand of the craving gourmand, wakes her to action, and the banquet, piping-hot from the stew-pan, smokes upon the board, unlike a vision, sending up real and enchanting odoriferous perfumes beneath his olfactory organs. Extraordinary as this account may appear, it is, I believe, strictly true, and is the great feature of the eccentric's peculiarities, all the minor whims and fancies being of a subordinate and uninteresting nature. I shall conclude my notice of him by relating an action that would do honour to a king, and will excuse the eccentric with the world, although his follies were ten times more remarkable. During the suspension of payments by one of the Cheltenham banks, and when all the poorer class of mechanics and labourers were in a most piteous situation from the unprecedented number of one pound provincial notes then in circulation, Mr. Mackey, to his eternal-honour be it related, and without the remotest interest in the bank, stepped nobly forward, unsolicited and unsupported, gave to all the poor people who held the one pound notes the full value for them, reserving to himself only the chance of the dividend. Ye Berkeleys, Ducies, Lennoxes, Cravens, Hammonds, Bushes, Molineauxes, and Coventrys, and all the long list of Cheltenham gay! ~234~~show me an action like this ye have done—a spirit so noble, when did you display?—Do you see that rosy-gilled fellow coming this way, with a hunting-whip in his hand? in costume, more like a country horse-dealer than a country clergyman; yet such he was, until the bishop of the diocese removed the clerical incumbrance of the cassock, to give the wearer freer license to indulge his vein for hunting, coursing, cock-fighting, and the unrestricted pleasures of the table and the bottle. A good story is told of him and his friend, the colonel, who, having invited some unsophisticated farmer to partake of the festivities of the castle, laid him low with strong potations of black strap, and in that state had him carried forth to the stable-yard, where he was immured up to his neck in warm horse-dung, the pious ex-chaplain reading the burial-service over him in presence of the surviving members of the hunt."

"Who the deuce is that pleasant-looking fellow," said Bob, "who appears to give and gain the quid pro quo from every body that passes him?" "That, my dear fellow, is the Grand Marshal of all the merry meetings here, and a very gentlemanly, jovial, and witty fellow; just such a man as should fill the office of master of the ceremonies, having both seen and experienced enough of the world to know how to estimate character almost at a first interview; he is highly and deservedly respected. There is a very affecting anecdote in circulation respecting his predecessor, the detail of which I much regret that I have lost; but the spirit of the affair was too strongly imprinted upon my memory to be easily obliterated. He had, it appears, loved a beauteous girl in early life, and met with a reciprocal return; but the stern mandate of parental authority prevented their union. The lover, almost broken-hearted, sought a distant clime, and, after years of peril, returned to England, bringing with him a wife. The match had been one 235~of interest, and they are seldom those of domestic bliss. It proved so here—he became dissipated, and squandered away the property he had possessed himself of by marriage. In this situation, he collected together the wreck of his fortunes, and retired to Cheltenham, where his amiable qualities and gentlemanly conduct endeared him to a large circle of acquaintance, and, in the end, he was induced to accept the situation of master of the ceremonies. Time rolled on, and his former partner being dead, he was, from his volatile and thoughtless disposition, again plunged in difficulties, and imprisoned for debt. The circumstance became known to her at whose shrine in early life he had vowed eternal devotion: with a still fond recollection of him, who alone had ever shared her heart, she hastened to the spot, and, being now a wealthy spinster, paid all his debts and released him from durance. Gratitude and love both pointed out the course for the obliged M. c. to pursue; but, alas! there is nothing certain in the anticipations of complete happiness in this life. The lady fell suddenly sick, and died on the very day they were to have been married, leaving him sole executor of her property. The calamitous event made such a deep impression upon a feeling mind, already shaken by trouble and disease, that finding his prospects of bliss again blighted without a chance of recovery, he fell into a state of despondency, and was, within a week, laid a corpse by the side of his first love. At the post-office,—purposely placed out of the way by the sagacious Chelts to give strangers the trouble of making inquiries,—I received the following whim from the same witty pen who wrote me, anonymously, an inauguration ode to commence my second volume with." "Who is this whimsical spirit in the clouds?" said Bob. "Ay, lad," I retorted, "that's just the inquiry I have been making for the last eight months: ~236~~although it would appear we have—ad interim—been running, riding, racing, rowing, and sailing together in various parts of the kingdom, you perceive, Bob, there are more Spies than ourselves at work. However, this must be some protecting geni who hovers over our heads and fans the air on silken wing, wafting zephyr-like the ambrosial breeze, where'er our merry fancies stray. Anon, 'we'll drink a measure the table round;' and if we forget the 'Honest Reviewer,' may we lose all relish for a racy joke, and be forgotten ourselves by the lovers of good fellowship and good things." "Which we never shall be," said Bob; "for those eccentric tomes of ours must and will continue to amuse a laughter-loving age, when we are booked inside and bound for t'other world." There was not a little egotism, methought, about friend Transit's eulogy; but as every parent has a sort of poetical licence allowed him in praising his own bantlings, perhaps the patronage bestowed by the public upon the English Spy may excuse a little vanity in either the author or the artist. "But you are the great magician o' the south yourself, Bernard," continued Transit, "and will you not use your power, you who can 'call spirits from the vasty deep'" "True, Bob; I can call, but will they come when I shall command? However, let us retire to our inn, and after dinner we'll chant his lay; and if he dances not to the music of his own metre, then hath he no true inspiration in him, and is a poet without vanity, a vara avis who delighteth not in receiving the reward of merit; so on, old fellow, to our quarters, where we will

'Carve the goose, and quaff the wine,' And wish our sprite were here to dine— We'd give him hearty cheer; A welcome such as hand and heart To kindred spirits should impart, Where friendship reigns sincere.'

~237~~We would punish him for sending his odes to us without sending his family cognomen therewith. Have we not done him immortal honour—placed him in front of our second volume like a golden dedication, and what is more, selected him from many a pleasant whim, to stand by our side; the only associate who can claim one line engrafted on to the never-ending fame of the English Spy?—But to the 'Preachment;' let us have another taste of his quality."



A SECOND ODE TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.

or A MICHAELMAS-DAY PREACHMENT.

BY AN HONEST REVIEWER.

"Iterumque, iterumque vocabo."—Ancient Classics.

"'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do goods on't." —Winter's Tale.

"Ours is the skie, Where at what fowle we please our hawks shall flie." —Anon.

Ay, here I come once more, great sir, Out of pure love to minister Some golden truths to thee; Faustus ye're not, nor Frankenstein, Yet, being up to trap, I ween You'll need a sprite like me.

Eve watch'd you closely, my young squire, Since at vol. two I cool'd the ire That left a little stain; And therefore wonder not, sweet Spy, Since both of us at follies fly, Your "Tonson comes again."

~238~~

This is the day of Michaelmas. Many would say, ay, "let that pass" As a forgotten thing. Not so with us, our rent we pay, And do we not, on quarter-day, Our taxes to the king?

Since, then, "our withers are unwrung," And we need wish no blister'd tongue To creditors and duns, Let's carve the goose, and quaff the wine, And toast September twenty-nine, Nor mark how fast time runs.

We've clone the same; that is, we've quaffd, And sung, and danced, and drunk, and laugh'd, When we were half seas over; I don't mean tipsy, bless you, no! But when we pass'd, like dart from bow, Cowes Roads on board the Rover.

So pipe all hands; for though no gale From sea-wash'd shores distend our sail, We'll man a vessel here. This room's our ship; this wine's our tide; And the good friends we sit beside, The messmates of our cheer.

Ay, this looks well; now till the glass To king, to country, and our lass, And all of pluck and feather; That done around, and nothing loth, Since we are "learned Thebans" both,

We'll have some talk together. You've been to Cheltenham, I find, And, zounds! you really ride the wind, To Bath and Worcester too; To South'ton and the Isle of Wight, As if increase of appetite With every new dish grew.

~239

But it was really infra dig. Spite of your old horse and new gig, You did not, some fine morn, Drive up to Malcolm Ghur, d'ye see,{4} And leave two pretty cards for me And Sir John Barleycorn.

We would have been your chorus, sir, Or, an' you pleased, your trumpeter, And lioned you about; Have shown you every pretty girl, And every nouvelle quadrille twirl, And every crowded rout.

At eight o' morns have call'd you down, (What would they say of that in town?) To swallow pump-room water; At eight o' nights have call'd you up, (Our grandams used just then to sup), To 'gin the dinner slaughter.

Have whisk'd you o'er to Colonel B's, Or drove you up to Captain P's, Dons unto Cheltenham steady. But I forget the world, good lack, Have play'd enough with such a pack Of great court-cards already.

4 Malcolm Ghur, one of the very prettiest of the many pretty newly-erected mansions that give a character to the environs of Cheltenham. To its proprietor do I owe much for hospitality; a merrier man, withal, dwells not in my remembrance; he is of your first-rate whist players, though he rarely now joins in the game. As the chaplain of the county-lodge of F. M. he is much distinguished; and, at the dinners of the Friendly Brothers—which are luxurious indeed, and all for the "immortal memory" of William, king of that name, and whose portrait ornaments their reading- room—who better than he can "set the table in a roar"?

~240~~

Have set you down at ten pound whist With A———-y, and the au fait list,{5} Turning your nights to days; Or, somewhat wiser, bid you mix Where less expensive are odd tricks, And where friend R———-n plays.{6}

Have made you try a double trade, By clapping you in masquerade, To jaunt at fancy-balls; You would have seen some merry sights On two or three particular nights, In good Miss—————-'s halls.{7}

You could have gone as harlequin, Or clad yourself in Zamiel's skin, Your tending spirits we; Or "Peeping Tom" may be more apt, Since all are in your record clapp'd We send to Coventry.

5 Colonel A———y, certainly tho first whist player of the rooms.

If he ever drilled a company of raw recruits half as well as he manages a handful of bad cards, he must have been the very admirable Crichton of soldiership.

6 Mr. R———n, a facetious and good-humoured son of Erin; true

as clock-work to the board of green cloth, though he has been an age making a fortune from it.

7 Among the most fashionable amusements of Cheltenham are the fancy-balls, given by two or three of the principal sojourners in that place, of card-playing, scandal, freemasonry, and hot water—God knows how many are in the latter ingredient! The most splendid I recollect was given by Colonel————-, or rather Miss————-, whose protege he married; touching which alliance, there is a story of some interest and much romance. Of that, as Pierce Egan says very wittily in every critique, "of that anon." There certainly was some fun and humour displayed by a few of the characters on the particular evening I mention; the two best performers were a reverend gentleman as one of Russell's waggoners, inimitably portrayed, and Captain B. A——-e, not the author of "To Day," but his brother, as an Indian prince. The dress, appearance, and language to the life.

~241~~

Yet still you've shown us, my smart beau, Things that we should and should not know, Vide the Oakland cots. Bernard Blackmantle, learned Spy, Don't you think hundreds will cry fie, If you expose such plots?

You should have told them as I do, And yet I love your hunters too, That nothing is so vile As strutting up and down a street,8 Dirt-spatter'd o'er from head to feet, In the horse-jockey style.

Ne sutor ultra crep, should tell These red-coats 'tis a paltry swell, Such careless customs backing; If they must strut in spurs and boots, For once I'd join the chalk recruits, And shout, "Use Turner's Blacking."

Howe'er, push on—there are of all, Good, bad, high, low, and short, and tall, That seek from you decrees. Fear not, strike strong—you must not fly— We will have shots enough—I'm by, A Mephistopheles.

8 There surely is much and offensive vanity in the practice adopted by many members of the B. H. of appearing on the pro-menades and in the rooms of Cheltenham, bespattered o'er with the slush and foam of the hunting field. Every situation has its decent appropriations, and one would suppose comfort would have taught these Nimrods a better lesson. It is pardonable for children to wear their Valentines on the 14th of February, or for a young ensign to strut about armed cap a pie for the first week of his appointment; but the fashion of showing off in a red jerkin, soiled smalls, mudded boots, and blooded spurs, is not imitable: there is nothing of the old manhood of sport in it; foppery and fox-hunting are not synonymous. Members of the B. H. look to it; follow no leader in this respect. Or, if you must needs persevere, turn your next fox out in the ball-room, and let the huntsman's horn and the view halloo supersede the necessity of harps and fiddle-strings.

~242~~

We'll learn and con them each by heart, Set them in note books by our art, Each lord, and duke, and tailor. From Dr. S———{9} to Peter K———, U———, O———, and I———, and E——-, and A———, Down to the ploughman Naylor.{10}