And have you not heard of a jolly young Waterman,
At Blackfriar's Bridge who is used still to ply!
Who feathers his oars with such skill and dexterity.
Winning each heart, and delighting each eye:
He looks So neat, and he rows so steadily,
The maidens all flock to his boat so readily,
And he eyes the young rogues with so charming an air
That this Waterman ne'er is in want of a fare.
~164~~ IT was in one of those inviting mornings, mild and temperate,
that Dashall and Tallyho, lounged along Piccadilly, observant of passing
events, and anticipating those of more interest which might occur in
the course of another day devoted to the investigation of Real Life in
London.
The street already exhibited its usual bustle. The early coaches were
rattling along on their way to their respective inns, loaded with
passengers, inside and out, from the western parts of the country; the
ponderous waggon, the brewer's dray, and not less stunning din of the
lighter and more rapid vehicles, from the splendid chariot to the humble
tax-cart, combined to annoy the auricular organs of the contemplative
perambulator, and together with the incessant discord of the dust-bell,
accompanied by the hoarse stentorian voice of its athletic artist,
induced Squire Tallyho to accelerate his pace, in order to escape, as he
said, “this conspiration of villainous sounds,” more dissonant than that
of his hounds at fault, and followed by his friend Dashall, slackened
not his speed, until he reached the quietude of the new street leading
to the King's Palace, in Pall Mall.
In Regent Place (at the extremity of this fine street) the two friends
paused in admiration of the noble pile of buildings, which had on this
new interesting spot so rapidly risen, as if by the direction of that
necromantic and nocturnal architect, the Genius of the Wonderful Lamp.
~165~~ “Until lately, Carlton House, or more properly, now the King's
Palace, was hid from observation, and the Royal view, in front of his
princely mansion, was bounded to the opposite side of the way, the
distance of a few yards only; now the eye enjoys a perspective glance
of a spacious and magnificent street, terminating in a handsome public
edifice, and yet terminating in appearance only, for here the new
improvements sweep shortly to the left, and our attention is attracted
to a superb circus, or quadrant, from whence without further deviation,
Regent Street continues in lengthened magnificence, until it unites
itself in affinity of grandeur with Great Portland Place.”
Thus far had Dashall proceeded, when the Squire expressed his surprise
that the new street had not been so planned as to lead, in one direct
and uninterrupted line, from Pall Mall to its ultimate termination.
“Then indeed,” answered his friend, “it would have been one of the
finest streets in the world.” “Here too,” continued the Squire, “is a
manifest deficiency in Regent Place, there is a vacuum, it ought to be
supplied with something, be it what it may, for the eye to rest on.”
“True, and your idea has been anticipated. One of the most interesting
amongst the antiquities of Egypt, the column known as Cleopatra's
Needle{1} is destined to raise
1 CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE.
The Court of Common Council +
Fogrum, Botlieram, Gotham, &c. a full meeting.
Fog. (Laying down a newspaper.)
The City should be told of it.--They say
That Cleopatra's Needle's to be stuck
In front of Carlton House!
Got. They'll make the square
A pin-cushion.
Bot. No! worse--a needle-case.
Has my Lord Sidmouth sent no letter yet
To my Lord Mayor!--It should be pasted up.
Fog. 'Tis said the Deptford Sheer-hulk has been cleared
Of all its vagabonds, to bring it here.
Hot. This beats Whitechapel hollow. What's its weight?
Fog. About three hundred tons.
Bot. All solid steel?
A pond'rous weapon for a lady's handling!
Fog. No, stone with scratches on't; and here they say
They're making five-mile telescopes to read them!
But. Zounds! what a strapping hand she must have had!
Who was the sempstress?
Fog. Sir, a giantess,
About ten thousand yards--without her shoes,
Her thimble has been guessed, tho' rotten now,
To fill the place they call the Lake of Maris,
By Alexandria!--Nay, the noseless tilings
That sit upon their tails in Russell Street,
Were Cleopatra's pebbles, taws and dolls!
Bot. Why, what a monstrous thread she must have used!
Fog. The Chronicle here says--a patent twist
Of elephants' legs, and dromedaries' spines,
And buffaloes' horns!
Got. What was her favourite work?
Fog. (Rising majestically) Sir, she sewed pyramids!
All lift their hands and eyes in silence.--The Council adjourns.
~166~~ its lofty summit in Regent Place, and the western will shortly
outrival the eastern wonder of the metropolis.{1}
1 The Monument.
“Where London's column pointing to the skies,
Like a tall bull! lifts its head and lies.”
“By the bye, let us once more extend our excursion to the Monument, the
day is delightful, and the atmosphere unclouded. We will approximate the
skies, and take a bird's-eye view of the metropolis.” In conformity
with this suggestion the Squire submitted himself to the guidance of
his friend, and an aquatic trip being agreed on, they directed their
progress to Spring Garden Gate, and thence across the Park, towards
Westminster Bridge.
“A boat, a boat, your honour,” vociferated several clamorous watermen,
all in a breath; of whose invitation Dashall took not any notice; “I
hate importunity,” he observed to his friend. Passing towards the stairs
he was silently but respectfully saluted by a modest looking young man,
without the obtrusive offer of service.--“Trim your boat, my lad,”
this was the business of a moment; “now pull away and land us at the
Shades--'of Elysium,'” said the Squire, terminating the instructions
rather abruptly, of the amphibious conveyancer. “I am rather at a loss
to know,” said the waterman, “where that place is, but if your honors
incline to the Shades at London Bridge, I'll row you there in the
twirling of a mop-stick.” “The very spot,” said Dashall, and the
waterman doffing his jacket, and encouraged to freedom by the familiar
manner of the two strangers, ~167~~ plied his oars lustily, humming, in
cadence, the old song:
“I was, d'ye see a waterman,
As tight and blythe as any,
'Twixt Chelsea town and Horsley-down,
I gain'd an honest penny.”
They now glided pleasantly on the serene bosom of the Thames, and
enjoyed, in mute admiration, the beauties of a variegated prospect,
which, if equalled, is at least not excelled by any other in the
universe. On either side of this noble river, a dense mass of buildings
presented itself to the eye, and as the buoyant vehicle proceeded,
the interest of the varying scene increased in progressive proportion.
Thousands of barges skirted the margin of the lordly stream, and seemed
like dependant vassals, whose creation and existence were derived from
and sustained by the fiat of old father Thames; and imagination might
well pourtray the figure of the venerable parent of this magnificent
stream regulating its rippling wave, and riding, in the triumph of regal
sway, over his spacious domains. The grandeur of the public edifices
on the left, the numerous indications of art on the right, the active
industry on both sides, and the fairy-like boats of pleasurable
conveyance gliding to and fro', and shooting, in the distance, through
one or other of the lofty arches of Waterloo Bridge, produced an effect
imposingly grand, and was dwelt upon by our hero of Belville Hall,
particularly with mingled sensations of surprise, admiration, and
delight.
Silence had prevailed for some time, with the exception of the waterman,
who now and then carroll'd a stanza responsive to the stroke of the oar,
when the attention of his fare was drawn towards him.
“You seem to enjoy a merry life, my good friend,” said the Squire.
“Ay, ay, your honour, God bless you, why should not I? At my poor home,
and your honour knows that the cottage of the peasant is equally dear to
him as is the Palace to the Prince, there is my old woman, with her five
little ones, all looking forward to the happiness of seeing me in the
evening, after the labours of the day; and to feel that one is cared
for by somebody, is a sweet consolation, amidst all our toils,--besides,
your honour, the old times are partly come round again; half-a-crown
will go farther, aye, thrice-told, now, than it did a few ~168~~years
ago;--then hang sorrow, I am a contented waterman, your honour; so
d----n the Pope, long life to King George the Fourth, and success to
the land that we live in!” “Here,” said Dashall, “is an heterogeneous
mixture of prejudice, simplicity and good nature.”
“You are but a young man, and cannot long have followed your present
profession.--Is it from choice that you continue it.”
“Why, your honour, I served an apprenticeship to it, am not long out
of my time, and continue it as well from choice as necessity; the first
because I like it, and lastly, as our parson says, because in any other
situation I could serve neither my neighbour nor myself.”
By this time the tiny bark had shot the centre arch of Waterloo; and new
scenes of interest presented themselves, in ever-varying succession, as
they proceeded towards Blackfriars. Somerset House wore, particularly,
an aspect of great and imposing effect, and not less, as they ploughed
the liquid element, was the interest excited, and the reminiscence
of the Squire brought into action by the appearance of the Temple
Gardens.--The simple, yet neatly laid out green-sward, reminded him of
the verdant slope on part of his domains at Belville Hall, but here the
resemblance finished; a diminutive, although pure and limpid rivulet
only, passed the slope alluded to, and here was a world of waters, into
which the influx of ten thousand such rivulets would produce no apparent
increase. Amidst these cogitations by the Squire, and others of an
unknown description by Dashall, the boat passed underneath Blackfriars'
Bridge, and the lofty doom of St. Paul burst upon the view of the two
associates, with gigantic majesty, and withdrew from their minds every
impression save that of the towering object in view, superseding the
consideration of all else, either present or retrospective.
“Rest on your oars,” was the order now given by the two friends, and
while the waterman implicitly obeyed the mandate, they gazed with
enthusiasm, on the stupendous edifice, seen perhaps, to better advantage
from the river than from any other station, and felt proud in
their affinity to a country and countryman, capable, the former of
instituting, and the latter of carrying into effect so august an
undertaking.{1}
1 During the building of St. Paul's Church, a country
carpenter applied to the Overseer of the workmen for
employment as a carver. The Overseer smiling at the man's
temerity, hearing he had never worked in London, it was
observed by Sir Christopher Wren, who was present, who
calling the man to him, asked him what he had chiefly worked
at in the country? “Pig-troughs, &c.” was his answer. “Well
then,” says Sir Christopher, “let us see a specimen of your
workmanship in a sow and pigs.” The man returned in a few
days, having performed his part with such exquisite skill,
that he was immediately employed; and in tine, executed some
of the most difficult parts of the Cathedral, to the great
astonishment of all that knew the circumstance. So true it
is that genius is often lost in obscurity.
169~~ Again proceeding on their way, they arrived in a few minutes, at
another amongst the many in the metropolis, of those surprising works
of public utility which reflect the highest honor on the laudable
enterprize of the present times,--the Iron Bridge, known as Southwark
Bridge, leading from the bottom of Queen Street, Cheapside to
the Borough. It is constructed of cast-iron, and, from the river
particularly, presents an appearance of elegance and magnificence;
consisting of three arches only, the spacious span of each, stretching
across the Thames in towering majesty, affords an aquatic vista equally
novel and interesting.
Gliding on the pacific wave, the “trim-built wherry” now passed under
the lofty elevation of the centre arch; and our observers were struck
with the contrast between the object of their admiration and its ancient
neighbour, London Bridge, that “nameless, shapeless bulk of stone and
lime,” with its irregular narrow arches, through which the pent-up
stream rushes with such dangerous velocity.
“This gothic hulk,” said the Squire, “is a deformity in the aspect of
the river.” “And ought at least to be pulled down, if not rebuilt,”
added his Cousin. “Even on the principle of economy, the large and
incessant expenditure in support of this decayed structure, would
be much more profitably applied in the erection of a new bridge of
correspondent grandeur with the first metropolis in the universe; but
the citizens seem inclined to protract the existence of this heavy
fabric, as a memento of the bad taste of their progenitors.”
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness in the desert air.'
~170~~ The indefatigable waterman continued to ply his oars, sans
intermission, and in a few minutes our two associates in adventure
were safely landed a short distance westward of the bridge. After
remunerating the waterman, they ascended the stairs with an appetite
quickened by the water breeze, and retired into the Shades, close at
hand, for refreshment, previous to a renewal of their excursion.
The Shades, near London Bridge, is a house, or rather cellar, much
resorted to by respectable citizens of “sober fame,” induced chiefly by
the powerful attraction of genuine wines, which may here be had either
drawn immediately from the wood, and served in regular standard pewter
measures, or in bottles, also of full measure, containing the pure
beverage, of various age and vintages. To these cellars numbers of
the most respectable mercantile characters adjourn daily; enjoying
the exhilarating juice of the grape, and further attracted by the
pleasantness of situation, as commanding a full view of the river,
whence the refreshing breeze is inhaled and enjoyed.
Here then, our heroes recruited; and while taking their wine, Bob was
much gratified by the performance of an itinerant band of musicians,
playing outside, some of the latest and most popular airs, in a masterly
style of execution. “Among other numerous refinements and improvements
of the age,” observed Dashall, “may be considered that of our itinerant
metropolitan musicians, for instead of the vile, discordant and grating
hurdy-gurdy; the mechanical organ grinder, and the cat-gut scraper,
“sawing a tune,” we have now parties who form themselves into small
bands of really scientific and able performers, who from instruments
well selected produce a combination of delightful melody; and this
progress of harmony is equally evident with respect to vocalists, who
frequently posting themselves opposite some well frequented tavern or
coffee-house, amuse the inmates with catches, glees, duets, &c. and
trust to the liberal feelings which the “concord of sweet sounds may
have inspired, for remuneration and encouragement.”
Scarcely had Dashall concluded his remarks, when the musical
party ceased their instrumental exertions, and, diversifying the
entertainment, one of the performers struck up a song, which we here
present to the reader as a subject not inapplicable to our work.~171~~
In London where comical jokes go free,
There are comical modes of cheating,
Birch-brooms are cut up for Souchong and Bohea,
And plaster for bread you are eating!
And plaster for bread you are eating!
(Spoken) “How do you do, Mrs. Caphusalent I hope you
approved of the genuine tea.” “O yes, new brooms sweep
clean, and I have no occasion to buy birch ones, while I
deal at your shop for tea.” “There's nothing like my cheap
bread,” says Doughy the baker. “O yes,” says Neddy, “you
forget plaster of Paris is very like it.”
What are you at? each knave may cry,
Who feels my honest rhymes;
What are you after's? my reply,--
There never were such times!
There never were such times!
In Accum's test you'll find it clear,
For spirits of wine read Royal gin!
Quashee and drugs they call strong beer,
And Turtle soup is Ox's shin!
And Turtle soup is Ox's shin!
(Spoken) “By the powers of Moll Kelly, Mr. Max, but you've
murdered my dear friend Patrick O'Shaughnessy, for after
taking a noggin of your blue ruin, he went to blow out the
candle on stepping into bed, when the poor dear creature
went off in a blaze, and set fire to the house. Its all
nothing at all but spirits of wine, you bog-trotting
swindler!”
Moist sugar is made from the best red sand,
New milk from whiting and water!
Sloe juice poisons half the land,
And the weights get shorter and shorter!
And the weights get shorter and shorter!
(Spoken) “I hope,” says Mr. Deputy Doublethroat, “you found
the port I sent you last of the right sort: six years in
bottle, Sir, I warrant it made your heart glad.” “You mean
my bowels sad, Mr. Deputy. Out of six friends whom I invited
to partake of it four have already been booked inside
passengers for the other world, and my dear Mrs. Fribble and
me have been confined with inflammation ever since. Instead
of importer of foreign wines, Mr. Deputy, I'd have you write
up retailer of English poisons.” {1}
1 The following receipt is copied from a book, which is
there said to be worth the price of the volume. “What is
drank as port wine, is very often only a mixture of malt
liquors, red wine, and turnip juice. For the benefit of
economical readers, the following are the proportions: forty-
eight gallons of liquor pressed from turnips, eight gallons
of malt spirits, and eight gallons of good port wine,
coloured with cochineal, and roughened with elder tops. It
should stand two years in casks, and one in bottles. If
rough cider is substituted for turnip juice, and Coniac
brandy for malt spirits, the wine will be the better.”
Turkey-coffee is Horse-beans ground,
Irish eggs are boil'd in lime:
In every trade deception's found,
Except it be in yours or mine!
Except it be in yours or mine!
(Spoken) “There's more milk drank in London in a week than
all the Cows in England could give in a fortnight;” says
Blunderskull. “How can that be?” “Why to be sure, because
two-thirds of it is white-wash!”
What are you at? each knave may cry,
Who feels my honest rhymes:
What are you after's? my reply,--
There never were such times!
There never were such times!
It was but a few steps from the Shades to the Monument, to which our
adventurers were now pursuing their way, when they met with an incident
not unworthy of observation. Do not leave your goods, is the friendly
admonition generally inscribed, in large characters, over the resting
place for porters, throughout the metropolis. Opposite the church of
Saint Magnus, close by London Bridge, a porter having pitched his
load, turned his back upon it, and reclined himself against the post in
careless ease, and security. It was just as our heroes approached, that
the porter had turned himself round to resume his burden, when lo! it
had vanished; in what manner no one can tell! without doubt, one of
those numerous street-prowlers who are continually on the look out for
prey, observing the remissness of the porter, had availed himself of the
favourable opportunity, and quietly walked off with his booty. A crowd
collected round the sufferer, but it afforded him neither sympathy nor
relief. Our associates, however, contributed in mitigation of his loss,
and proceeding up Fish-street Hill, were, in a few moments, shrouded
under the towering column of the Monument.
Ascending the spiral stair-case of black marble, consisting of three
hundred and forty-five steps, winding like a cork-screw, to the summit,
our aspirants reached their aerial station in the gallery of this lofty
edifice, and enjoyed one of the most variegated and extensively ~173~~
interesting prospects of any in the metropolis. Far as the eye could
reach, skirting itself down the river, a forest of tall masts appeared,
and the colours of all nations, waving gaily in the breeze, gave a
splendid idea of the opulence and industry of the first commercial city
in the universe. The moving panorama, far beneath the giddy height,
resembled the flitting figures of a _camera obscura_; the spacious
Thames was reduced to a brook; the stately vessels riding on its
undulating wave seemed the dwarfish boats of the school-boy navigator;
and glancing on the streets and along London Bridge, horses dwindled
in appearance to mice, and carriages to children's toys! after having
enjoyed, during several minutes, the prospects afforded by their
elevated position, the two friends descended, and with a feeling of
relief again trod the safer and less difficult path of _terra firma_.
Our observers now turned their direction westward, and passed into
Lombard Street, chiefly formed of banking-houses and other public
edifices. “This street,” said Dashall, “is noted as the focus of wealth,
the point of convergence of civic riches, and its respectable bankers
are not more dignified by the possession of superabundant property
than enhanced in the estimation of their fellow-citizens by strictly
conscientious honour and integrity.
“And of these not the least important in self-consequence is the jolly
civic Baronet,” continued Dashall, “who has already come more than once
within the scope of our observation.”
“Ecce homo! behold the man!” responded the Squire, and the Baronet
was descried rolling his ponderous form from the opposite alley to his
banking-house.
“It is rather unfortunate,” observed Dashall, “that nature has not kept
pace with fortune, in liberality to the Baronet. Profuse in giving him
a colossal magnitude of person, he exhibits a most disproportionable
endowment of intellect. Unlike his great prototype Sir John, in one
sense, but yet resembling him in another, 'He is not witty himself, but
he occasions wit in others.'”
“You are very fond of making a butt of me,” observed the Baronet to a
brother Alderman.--“By no means,” rejoined the latter, “I never was fond
of an empty butt in my life.” “Is the worthy Baronet inclined at times,
(asked the Squire) in his capacity of M.P. to irradiate the gloom of St.
Stephens?”
~174~~ “O yes, frequently, particularly so when in the plenitude of his
wisdom he conceives that he can enlighten the house with a modicum of
information. The last time I heard him hold forth was as an apologist
for the tumultuary loyalists at the Mansion House Meeting, when he
delivered himself in a manner so heterogeneal of commonsense, and
so completely in a style of egotism, as to excite the ridicule and
risibility of the whole house, and discompose the gravity of even the
speaker himself.”{1}
1 The following is a strictly literal versification of the Speech
alluded to:
THE MANSION-HOUSE ROW, AND APOLOGY FOR
THE LOYALISTS.
Being a literal versification of the eloquent Speech of Sir
W--ll--m C--RT--s, Baronet, in the House of Commons, Friday,
February 2, on the presentation, by Mr. John Smith, of the
Petition of the Merchants of London.
I rise, Mr. Speaker, indulgence entreating
A Speech while I make on the Mansion-house Meeting.
The prior Requisition was certainly signed
By men of good substance, with pockets well lin'd!
With such I am ever good humour'd and civil,
But worth, without wealth, I would pitch to the devil'.
The Lord Mayor, I think, then, assum'd a position
Of duty, in yielding to said Requisition;
For may my oration be given to scorn,
If ever I saw, from the day I was born,
A list of more honoured, more propertied men,
And probably never may see such again.
Now high as I prize both the merits and station,
Of loyalists signing the first declaration;
Permit me to say, it was too mild by half,
Too much milk and water--Some Members may laugh--
I care not;--I say that it did not inherit
The tythe of a loyal and time serving spirit.
I'm charged too with signing it, nevertheless,
I DID,--for I knew not how else to express
My zeal, in supporting, with firm resolution,
The Crown,--and Old England's decay'd Constitution!
Who they are, Constitution and Crown that sustain,
The people should now,--else we labour in vain!
And, therefore, I sign'd the fore-named declaration.
Altho' such a weak milk and water potation!
For why should the loyalists smother their cause,
And lose the high gain,--ministerial applause.
'Pon honour,--aye, even in detractions despite--
In corners and holes, Sir, I take no delight;
And, never on any pursuit do I go,
Of which 1 don't want the Almighty to know!
I signed, Sir, the loyal, luke-warm declaration,
To bring to its senses a turbulent nation!
To cheer up His Majesty,--win his good graces,
And keep his lov'd Ministers still in their places!
The hon'rable member, my friend, who spoke last,
Is not quite correct in detailing what pass'd
At the Mansion-house Meeting; for patiently heard
He was, until symptoms of riot appear'd.
At last it broke out, with a vengeance 'tis true,
And dire was the fracas! but what could we do,
Where adverse opinion so warmly prevail'd,
And each with revilings his neighbour assail'd?
Why, Sir, to this house, I could prove in a minute,
That greater majorities out than now in it,
Of sound thinking persons, in these fair dominions,
Are scouting the hon'rable member's opinions.
Well-bred, Sir, believe me, and good-looking people,
Were wedg'd in the Mansion-house quite of a heap all;
Whilst I, most politely, besought their attention,
But no,--not a word was I suffer'd to mention!
A party oppos'd me, altho' no long speeches
I make,--(a kind lesson that prudence still teaches;)
And waiting a hearing an hour, perhaps longer,
The dissonant clamour grew fiercer and stronger!
In fact, when I open'd my mouth, the commotion
Exceeded in fury the storms of the ocean!
Some hale stout young men, who had mix'd with the throng,
And press'd, the conflicting addressers among,
Escap'd from the Meeting in tumult and smother,
And swore that they never would visit another!
I well recollect, in the year ninety-three,
A similar fracas I happen'd to see;
The place, Grocers' Hall, where contention was wrought,
So high, that a stout battle-royal was fought!
Indeed, save one Meeting, I ne'er knew a case,
Where wrangling and fighting had not taken place!
In that one, so happen'd, good luck to betide,
Its fortunate members--were all on one side!
Reverting again to the Mansion-house Row,
When next our staunch loyalists mean to avow
Their zeal,----may they issue a strong declaration,
Then mix'd with a water and milk preparation!
The gout in my toe, for I wore a great shoe,
At last sent me home, without bidding adieu.
And now having said, Mr. Speaker, thus much
I hope on this house the impression is such,
The loyalists fully to clear, and their leader
From charge, at that Meeting, of boisterous proceedure.
The Honourable Baronet now sat down, amid the ironical cheers,
of the Treasury, and the tumultuous laughter of the whole house.
~175~~ The two partners in adventure had now reached the Mansion House.
The Justice Room was open, and the friends ascended the stairs in order
to witness the equitable dispensation of right by the Civic Sovereign.
The case now under investigation was a curious one, and excited the
interest and amusement of a numerous auditory.
The itinerant exhibitor of a dancing bear, complained that the person
(proprietor of a small menage) now summoned into the presence of his
lordship, illegally withheld from him a monkey, his property, and the
ci-devant associate of the ursine dancer aforesaid.
On the other hand, the master of the menage roundly asserted that he was
the rightful proprietor of the monkey, and had been in possession of the
animal for several years.
“My lord,” said the master of the bear, “let the monkey be produced, and
I will abide by his choice between this man and me as his master.” This
proposition appearing reasonable, and pug having been brought forward as
evidence, before giving his testimony made a respectful obeisance to the
Chief Magistrate, and so far as chattering and grinning were indicative
of his good intentions, seemed desirous of expressing his courtesy to
the auditory in general. After having stared about him for some time,
with an inquisitive eye, and corresponding gesticulation, he discerned
the bear-master, and springing into his arms with all the eagerness of
affectionate recognition, expressed the utmost joy at the unexpected
meeting, and when the other claimant attempted to approach, he repulsed
him in the most furious manner, and clung to the friend of his election
with renewed pertinacity.
Under these circumstances, the monkey was adjudged to the bear-master
as his proper owner, and pug and his friend left the Justice Room, with
mutual exchange of endearments.
Nothing else meriting notice, occurred to the two strangers in this
their new scene of observation. The Civic Sovereign having resigned the
chair to one of the Aldermen, in order that he might attend the Sessions
at the Old Bailey, Dashall and the Squire, at the same time, retired
with the intention (the day now waning apace) of making the best of
their way home, which they reached without further adventure.~177~~