TOM is _sluicing_ the _ivories_ of some of the unfortunate heroines with

blue ruin, whom the breaking up of the SPELL _has turned-up_ without any

luck, in order to send them to their _pannies_ full of _spirits_. JERRY is

in _Tip Street_ on this occasion, and the _Mollishers_ are all _nutty_

upon him; putting it about, one to another, that he is a _well breeched_

SWELL. FAT BET is pretending to TOM, that she had a great objection to

every sort of _ruin_, no matter how _coloured_, since she had once been

_queered_ upon that suit. SWIPY BILL, _a translator of Soles_, who has

been out for a day’s _fuddle_, for fear his money should become too

troublesome to him, has just called in at the _Gin Spinner’s_ to get rid

of his last _duce_, by way of a finish, and to have another drop of _blue

ruin_. This last glass would have _floored_ him, had it not been for the

large butt of liquor which he staggered against. Hiccoughing, he swears

“he’ll stand by OLD TOM while he has a _sole_ left to support such a good

fellow.”

[Illustration]

GIN, GIN, SWEET, SWEET GIN!

AIR.--_Home, Sweet Home._

Walk through London town, in Alley, Lane or Street,

Eight to ten of all the folks you overtake or meet,

List to what they talk about, you’ll find amid the din,

The end of every conversation is a drop of Gin.

Gin, Gin, sweet, sweet Gin,

There’s no drops like Gin.

When the world was young, as we read in classic page,

The shepherds drank the purling stream, and pass’d the golden age;

For purling streams or golden age folks now don’t care a pin,

So that they can raise the brass to keep this age of Gin.

Gin, Gin, Hodge’s Gin, &c.

When the weather’s cold and bleak--in rain and frost and snow,

The Gin, the Gin they fly to, to warm them with its glow.

In summer time, to cool their heat, we see them all flock in

And joy or sorrow, heat or cold, all seek relief in Gin.

Gin, Gin, Seager and Evans’s Gin, &c.

[Illustration]

BATTLE OF--_A GIN COURT!_

Sir Richard Burnie sad, declares that never in his time,

Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime;

And all the brawls--the roitings--the day and nightly din,

Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin!

Gin, Gin, Booth’s Cordial Gin, &c.

In India, when a Husband dies--the Widow ne’er can smile,

She’s burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband’s pile;

In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin,

To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin.

Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett’s Gin, &c.

Decrepit age with furrow’d face, and one foot in the grave,

Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave;

Infants, e’er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin

And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby ’ont a d’op o’ din.

Gin, Gin, Currie’s strong Gin, &c.

[Illustration]

GIN LANE.

In former times we’d Goblins, Fairies, Witches, Ghosts and Sprites,

Who ruled the people’s minds by day, and play’d sad pranks o’ nights;

But now the tales of Ghosts and such the people can’t take in

They won’t believe in Spirits, yet put all their faith in Gin.

Gin, Gin, Gaitskell’s Cordial Gin, &c.

In the Reign of old Queen Bess good eating did prevail,

Her Majesty and all the Court would breakfast on strong ale;

But now through every Court, the folk the fashion to be in,

Would _ail_ all day, unless ’fore breakfast they could take some Gin.

Gin, Gin, renovating Gin, &c.

Old women used to cheer their hearts and found it did agree,

By sometimes taking with a friend a cup _too_ much of tea;

But now they’re much more _spirited_--for tea don’t care a pin,

And only use their tea pots for a cup _too much_ of Gin.

Gin, Gin, tongue-relaxing Gin, &c.

[Illustration]

GIN AND BITTERS.

Fighters take a “_a shove in the mouth_,” though it is their bane,

Jack Ketch often has a “_drop_”--Scavengers a “_drain_”;

Pris’ners “_half a yard of tape_” to get in merry pin

And Actors oft get “_mellow_” with a “_mellow dram_” of Gin.

Gin, Gin, Tragic, Comic Gin, &c.

Thompson’s shop on Holborn Hill is crowded like a fair,

All the taps continually running out are there;

Swing swang go the doors, while some pop out and some pop in,

Foreigners must surely think that John Bull lives on Gin.

Gin, Gin, dear seductive gin, &c.

This World was once deluged by water, drowning Son & Sire,

But when it is destroy’d again, we read ’twill be by fire;

And this must be the awful time, so prevalent is sin,

As all the wicked world do burn their insides out with Gin.

Gin, Gin, life-inspiring Gin, &c.

TOM AND JERRY CATCHING KATE AND SUE ON THE SLY HAVING THEIR FORTUNES TOLD.

[Illustration]

Here lives a Fortune-Telling Gipsy,

Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old:

And Tom and Jerry’s fancy ladies

Are gone to get their Fortunes told.

They slily view’d them, and pursued them,

For to have some glorious fun.

Behind the curtain, see them sporting,

This is life in London Town.

SCENE.--_Interior of Fortune Teller’s Garret._

_Enter_ JANE, KATE, SUE, TRIFLE, GREEN, _and_ LANDLORD.

GLEE.--_Omnes._

AIR.--“_Who has seen the Miller’s Wife._”

_Jane, Kate, Sue, Trifle, and Green.

Have you the Fortune Teller seen?

I, I for hours have waiting been;

A shilling o’er her palm I’ll pass

If she’ll but look in Fortune’s glass.

Have you, &c._

_Land._ Oh, here she comes at last.

_Enter_ FORTUNE TELLER.

_Land._ Now mother, stir your stumps; here are two ladies waiting for you,

and half a score more below.

_F. Teller._ Aye, aye! I turn hundreds away.

_Green._ Vhat an orrid hooman!

_F. Teller._ You must leave the room, gentlemen, (_To Green and Trifle_),

my charms never hold good in the presence of a third person.

_Sue._ You hear, Mr. Green, her charms never hold good in the presence of

a third person.

_Green._ I should vondor if they did--Her charms! Lord--I can take an int;

I’m to go--wery vell, I shall absconce--Vat an ugly old vitch!

_Trifle._ (_To Girls_). We shall meet again at Logic’s, so I’ll leave you

with the particularly frightful old hag, _pan ha_nour--demme!

[_Exeunt Green, Trifle, and Landlord._

_F. Teller._ (_Sitting at Table_). Now then, young women. I’ll tell

you--I’ll tell you--but you must let me shuffle the cards first!

(_Produces cards_) For its all done by shuffling! now then, cut them,

Miss. (_Sue cuts cards_).

_Kate._ Let us sit down while we stay--rather short of furniture; but

never mind, we must make shift.

(_Turns down chair lengthways to sit; she sits on one side, Sue on the

other--Sue is nearly let down by Kate suddenly rising_).

_F. Teller._ (_Looking over cards_). Hey day! what have we here? You’ll be

married soon.

_Sue._ I hope so, with all my heart!

_F. Teller._ There’s a fair man been paying some attention to you,

lately--Hum! a cradle--three!--nine!--fourteen!--have a large family.

_Sue._ Fourteen! mercy on me!

_Kate._ Enough to make one faint!

_F. Teller._ There’s nothing more that I see at present.

_Sue._ Nor there hadn’t need been; if I’m to have fourteen children, I

think I’ve heard quite enough.

_F. Teller._ (_To Kate_). Now, Miss, I’ll tell you your fortune; how many

husbands, and how many children, and all about it--all about it.

_Kate._ But I don’t want to hear “all about it.” (_Imitating her_). I only

want a peep into your magic mirror, and see who I’m to marry.

_F. Teller._ You should have told me that before, I always charge more for

that, but I suppose I must throw it you in! Now, then, stand there; and be

very still!----

(_Music.--Fortune teller places Kate and Sue in position at off end of the

stage--then advances to cabinet--waves her crutch; pulls curtain aside,

and discovers a large glass--Landlord passes rapidly behind_).

There! I told you I’d show him to you!

_Kate._ Wonderful! why that’s the man that opened the door to us! (_Aside

to Sue_).

_F. Teller._ Now, Miss, I’ll show you your sweetheart!

(_Music and ceremony as before:--Landlord repasses contrary way_).

_Kate._ Ha, ha, ha! that’s the same man again! We’re both to marry the

same husband!

_Sue._ Amazingly agreeable!

_Kate._ The old impostor!--Well, now you’ve told us our fortune; can’t you

tell your own? (_To Fortune Teller_).

_F. Teller._ No, no--I have no power over my own stars.

_Kate._ Then I’ll tell it for you--In half an hour, unless you make good

use of your time, you’ll have a visit from Union Hall.

_F. Teller._ O, dear me! It’s lucky I’ve a handy cockloft, and a safe way

over the houses--I’ll be off directly, I’ll be off directly! (_Throws down

crutch, cloak, &c., and exits hastily_).

_Kate._ “I’ll be off directly, off directly.” (_Imitating Fortune

Teller_). Ha, ha, ha!--She left all her things behind her!--We can now set

up in business for ourselves.

_Enter_ JANE _hastily_, L.

_Jane._ Oh, my dear girls, as I was keeping watch below, I saw Tom and

Jerry coming down the street, and making for this very house--depend on’t

they have traced you here.

_Kate._ What’s to be done?--Tom and Jerry!

_Sue._ Jerry and Tom coming here! (_Running about in confusion.--Knocking

at door_).

_Jane._ Don’t keep running about there, as if you were out of your senses,

but listen to me--get behind that glass and leave me to manage; I’ll play

the Fortune Teller, now!--Help me on with the things--there! there! that

will do; now then, away with you!

(_They hide behind Cabinet, after disguising Jane_).

_Tom._ (_As entering_). Come, Jerry, here they--Eh!--not here!--well, we

won’t have our walk for nothing--Let’s quiz the old one a bit. I say,

Mother Mummery, can you tell our fortunes for us?

_Jane._ (_As old woman_). Oh, yes; but you must cross my hand first.

_Tom._ She wants the tippery--there--(_Gives money_). There, that’s the

figure, Jerry.

_Jane._ (_Looks at Jerry_). Now, Sir!

_Jerry._ Oh! must I fork out, too. (_Gives money_)

_Jane._ (_Looking at their palms_). Dear me!--dear me!

_Tom._ You said that before, you know.

_Jane._ You’ve been sad rakes--sad rakes indeed!

_Tom._ (_Imitating her_). Have we, indeed?

_Jerry._ Why, you witch of Endor!

_Tom._ What! can the devil speak?--but come, I’ll find you out at once. I

conjure you by that which you profess, how’er you come to know it. Answer

me, though you untie the winds! unveil your magic mirror, and show us the

images of the women we are to marry. Come up with your little machine.

_Whew!_ appear--appear!--they won’t come!

_Jane._ I must have a little more money first!

_Tom._ Why, you old cormorant! more blunt, eh? there-- (_Gives money_).

_Jane._ There, then!

(_Draws Curtain; Kate and Sue appear behind it in their own dresses; Jane

slips away_).

_Tom._ Well, Jerry, what do you see?

_Jerry._ (_Going up to glass_). Susan Rosebud!--astonishing.----

_Tom._ Susan Rosebud! Oh, my dear Jerry, your ogles must be queer! (_Goes

up; sees Kate_). My Kate! by all that’s miraculous! Where is the juggling

hag? (_Looking for Jane_). Why, she’s mizzled! Holloa, Mother Damnable!

Oh, there’s some mystery in the infernal mirror, which thus I solve!

_Jerry._ What are you about, Tom?

_Tom._ I’m going to mill the glaze--I’ll----

(_Is about to break the glass, when Kate and Sue appear as the Miss

Trifles_).

_Tom._ The Miss Trifles! by all that’s----

JANE, KATE, _and_ SUE _come forward_.

_Kate._ Ha, ha! fairly caught, upon my word. (_Retires up the stage, then

says aside to Jane and Sue_). Now girls it is time we should bring our

plans to a conclusion. Logic’s imprudent ramblings have involved him in

difficulties which, unless timely met, must terminate in ruin. I have

bought up most of his debts; and in the midst of the gaiety of this

evening, it is my intention to have him arrested and conveyed to prison. I

have sent the officer my card of invitation, that he may be sure to gain

admittance. This will open the eyes of the thoughtless trio, and enable us

to put the money we took in trust at the gambling-house to its proper use;

so let’s away, and about it straight.

[_They run off._]

SCENE.--MR. MACE’S CRIB. “ALL MAX” IN THE EAST.[33]

“Oh! for a glass of Max.”--_Byron’s Don Juan._

_A plague on those malty cove fellows,

Who’d have us in spirits relax;

Drink, they say, and you’ll ne’er burn the bellows,

Half-water instead of all max;

A glass of good max, had they twigg’d it,

Would have made them, like us, lads of wax;

For Sal swigg’d, and Dick swigg’d,

And Bob swigg’d, and Nick swigg’d.

And I’ve swigg’d, and we’ve all of us swigg’d it,

And, by Jingo, there’s nothing like max.

All-Max!

By Jingo, there’s nothing like max!_

Here the _tag-rag_ and _bob-tail_ squad who do not care how the _blunt_

comes or how it goes. _Togs_ or no _togs_! but nevertheless, who must live

at any price, and see a “_bit of life_,” let the world jog on how it will;

yet who can drop a _tear_ upon a sorrowful event--_laugh_ heartily at

fun--_shake_ with cold--_perspire_ with heat--and go to _roost_ much

sounder upon a dust-hill than many of the _swells_ can _snooze_ upon their

feather _dabs_; likewise in comparing _notes_, feel happy in the

presumption that there are hundreds worse off in society than themselves.

_Enter_ SAILORS, DUSTY BOB, AFRICAN SAL, MAHOGANY MARY, MRS. _and_ MISS

LILLYWHITE, ROSIN, &c., &c., _with gin measures, drinking--Mr. Mace in

attendance_.

_Bob._ Now, landlord, ’arter that ’ere drap of max, suppose ve have a

drain o’ heavy vet, just by vay of cooling our chaffers--mine’s as dry as

a chip--and, I say, do you hear, let’s have a twopenny burster, half a

quarten of bees’ vax, a ha’p’orth o’ ingens, and a dollop o’ salt along

vith it, vill you?

_Mace._ Here, Waiter! a burster and bees’vax--ingens and salt here.

(_Calling as he fetches the porter from the side wing_). Now, then, here

you are, Muster Grimmuzzle. (_Holding out his right hand for the money,

and keeping the porter away with the other_).

_Bob._ That’s your sort; give us hold on it. (_Takes Mace’s empty hand_).

Vy, vhere?

_Mace._ (_Keeping the porter back_). Vy, here.

_Bob._ Oh, you are afeard of the blunt, are you?

_Mace._ No, it ain’t that; only I’m no schollard--so I always takes the

blunt with von hand, and gives the pot vith t’other. It saves chalk and

prewents mistakes, you know.

_Bob._ Now then for the stumpy. (_Searching about in his pockets for the

money_). My tanners are like young colts; I’m obliged to hunt ’em into a

corner, afore I can get hold on ’em--there! hand us over three browns out

o’ that ’ere tizzy; and tip us the heavy. (_Landlord receives money and

delivers porter_). Vy don’t you fill the pot? Likes to have a head on the

pot.

_Mace._ How can you have a head on the pot, vhen the chill’s off?

_Bob._ Vell, then let me have the next vith the chill on, vill you? (_Bob

drinks_).

_Sal._ You leave some for me, Massa Bob. (_Drinks and empties the pot_).

_Bob._ Vy, Sarah, you seems fond on it--likes to see the end, eh?

(_Bob sits down on one stool and pulls another to the front of him on

which he arranges the bread, cheese, onions, &c., then tearing open the

loaf discovers a live mouse which he holds up by the tail, and walking up

to Mr. Mace, says_:--

I say guv’nor I didn’t axe ye for a hanimated sandvitch did I?

_Mace._ Oh! you is allus so werry partic’lar some times you is. But I say

ladies and gemmen, I hopes for the harmony of the evening, you’ll not be

back’ards in handing out your mags and duces to the teazer of the catgut

here.

_Bob._ Aye, aye!--lend us a tanner on the bell, vill you?

_Mace._ Lend you a tanner on the bell?--It’s vhat I don’t like, Muster

Bob; highly improper--you know I’ve a wery great objection to anything of

the kind; however, for vonce, I suppose I must; though it ’aint right--but

talking o’ that, I begs leave to hint, that I trusts heavy vet von’t be

the order of the evening!:--

_Tom._ (_Without_).--No, no, damn up stairs, we’ll go in here.

_Mace._ Zounds, I hope no traps isn’t abroad, and that there ’aint any

beaksmen out on the nose!

_Sal._ (_Looking out_). Law, lovee, no, it’s only some gemmen out on the

spree--I dare say dat dey’ll stand a drop o’ summat all round.

_Enter_ TOM, JERRY, _and_ LOGIC.

_Tom._ Now, my dear Jerry, here we are amongst the unsophisticated sons

and daughters of nature, at All Max in the East. Let the West boast of

their highfliers as they will, you’ll find there are still some choice

creatures of Society left here.

_Log._ What, my lily! here take a drop of mother’s milk. (_Gives black

child gin out of a measure he has received from Landlord_). Landlord, let

every one have a glass of what they like best, at our cost.

_Mace._ Regular trumps! I can charge vhat I likes here. (_Aside_). Now,

Muster Bob, vhat’ll you take?

_Bob._ Oh, ax my Sal.

_Mace._ Now, Marm Sal, give it a name!

_Sal._ Vy, bring me de kwarten of de Fuller’s earth.

_Tom._ Come, it shall be a night of revelry, my

pippins--Song--Dance--everything in the world!

_Mace._ Aye! a jig, a jig!--Remove the stand-stills--sit down, gemmen. Ve

shall be as merry as mudlarks, and as gay as sand-boys soon--It’s a poor

heart vhat never rejoices. Come, Muster Grimmuzzle, vhat say you to a

minnyvit vith your ould lady in mourning, here.

_Bob._ Vith all my heart; I am never backward at any thing of that ’ere

sort; am I Sal?

_Sal._ Dat you not, Massa Bob.--Massa Fiddler, you ought to be shame; your

fiddle drunk, and no play at all.

_Log._ I’ll gin him a little, my Snow-ball; then he’ll rasp away like a

young one; won’t you, my old one? (_Gives Fiddler gin and snuff_).

_Bob._ ‘Snowball,’--come, let’s have none o’your sinnywations, Mister

Barnacles; she’s none the vurser, though she is a little blackish or so!

_Log._ Here, Landlord, more Blue Ruin, my boy!

_Tom._ Ceremonies are not in use here, so there’s no occasion for the

master of them, Come, start off, my rum ones! the double shuffle.

_Jerry._ Aye, aye! come it strong my regulars.

[Illustration]

COMIC PAS DEUX--DUSTY BOB _and_ BLACK SAL.

_Accompanied by Rosin, on his cracked Cremona, and Jerry on a pair of

Tongs, to the Air--“Jack’s alive.” In the course of the Pas Deux, Sal, by

way of a variation, and in the fulness of her spirits, keeps twirling

about: at the same time going round the Stage--Bob runs after her, with

his hat in his hand, crying “Sarah! vy, Sarah, ’aint you well?” &c.--The

black child seeing this, and thinking there is something the matter with

its mother, also squalls violently; stretching its arms towards her: at

length, Sal, becoming tired of her vagaries, sets to Bob, who exclaims,

“Oh! it’s all right!” and the dance concludes._

_Jerry._ That would do honour to any crib; there’s nothing like pairing

off according to fancy. You’re quite fly to the trotter shaking

department, I see, my rum one!

_Tom._ To be sure he is a regular gravel digger; come, Sal, my lily.

(_Gives Sal gin_).

_Bob._ Vy, Sarah, vere’s your manners; vy don’t you kurchy to the gemman?

_Sal._ Me do dat de second time. (_Receives another glass_). Your good

helts, gemmen all. (_Drinks_).

_Tom._ Here, Dusty, my prince, now then, sluice your bolt. (_Gives Bob

gin_).

_Bob._ Vell, your honours, here’s your luck. (_Bolts gin_). That’s a

regular kwortern, I knows by my mouth.

_Tom._ There’s a swallow, Jerry, this fellow is a perfect mop.

_Jerry._ Now, Doctor, we must think of starting--Eh!--zounds! what’s the

matter with you? (_To Logic_).

_Log._ I’ve left off drinking in a great measure.

(_Merry and singing_). “_There’s a difference between_,” _&c., &c._

_Jerry._ Tom, see how snugly Captain Lushington’s getting abroad of Logic.

Come, my boy.

_Tom._ Remember your appointment with the ladies.

_Log._ I do like this fiddle, I will have this fiddle. (_Pulling Fiddler

along_).

_Tom._ Eh, zounds, Doctor, you’re going to smug the fiddler, and prig the

pewter. (_Taking gin measure away from him_). Now then, what’s to pay,

landlord?

_Mace._ All out, vill be fourteen bob and a kick, your honour.

_Tom._ Well, there’s a flimsy for you; serve the change out in max to the

coves and covesses. (_Gives money_).

_Mace._ Thank your honour--and good luck to you.

_Tom._ Now then, Doctor, this way, my boy; come, come along.

_Log._ (_Singing_). “_A Queen she cannot swagger._” I will have this

fiddle--“_nor get drunk like a beggar_.”--More max here--“_Nor be half so

merry as I_.”

[_Logic becoming obstreperous, they partly force him off, and exeunt with

him._]

_Mace._ Regular out-and-outers those ’ere! quite gemmen--I’ve stuck it

into ’em a bit! (_Aside_).

_Bob._ Aye, ay, ve knows it! vith the chill off!--you’re an out-and-out

_Stringer_, you are!

_Mace._ So I don’t mind standing a trifle of summat all round, just by way

of drinking their healths; and vhen ve’ve had the liquor, ve’ll kick up a

reel, and all go to our dabs.

_Bob._ Ay ay! but before that, mind you get us a bit of grub for me and my

Sal--about a pound and a half of rump steak--

_Sal._ No, two pound Massa Bob, for her rather peckish.

_Bob._ Very vell, two pound, vith a pickled cowcumber, and a pen’orth o’

ketchup, to make some gravy of; and stick it up to the bell!--d’ye hear?

_Mace._ You’ll melt that ’ere bell if you don’t mind, Muster Bob; this is

vhat I don’t like--vhy don’t you always take care and bring plenty of

money in your pockets?--You know I’m wery particular in things of this

here kind!--though I don’t mind obliging _you_----

_Bob._ Ay, ay, vith the chill off, I knows!--but it’s all right--must have

the bell in the morning, you know, even if I spout the togs for it.

_Mace._ Now then, strike up, my beauty!

_Bob._ Aye, aye, pull it out, my pink!

[_Comic Characteristic Reel by all the Characters; who, under the

influence of All Max, at last reel off._]

POOR LOGIC IN THE FLEET PRISON.

[Illustration]

All in the Fleet poor Logic’s moor’d

His swaggering’s now at an end!

And Tom and Jerry are gone on board,

Their friendly assistance to lend.

Now, all their sprees and gambols are closed

For Logic has vow’d and swore

When he’s from Limbo safe loosed,

He’ll marry----and rake no more.

SCENE.--_Interior of Whistling Shop; Master and Mistress of Whistling

Shop--Racket players--Poor Tradesman, Smuggler, and Debtors discovered._

CHORUS.--(_Omnes_).

_All in the fleet we’re safely moor’d,

But while we’ve trusty pals on board,

Law may to

The devil go;

Then, brother Debtors, sport and play._

_Let tempests whistle as they will,

Our Whistling Shops will drown them still;

A yard of tape

Will prove the Cape.

And drive each thought of care away,

Tol de rol._

_Enter_ TURNKEY _and_ LOGIC.

_Turn._ Here’s Doctor Logic come to pay you a visit, gentlemen--You’ll get

good accommodation here, Sir; and find some regular trumps among ’em.

_Log._ Thank’ye.----

_Turnkey._ Is that all?--Only thank’ye?

_Log._ Oh, want some tippery! (_Gives money_). There! (_Exit

Turnkey_)--Brothers, your most obedient. Some of my friends, thinking my

learning was not complete, have sent me to your College to finish my

education; not that I owe anything!--

_Omnes._ Oh, no!--we none of us owe anything!--Oh! dear no.

_Log._ I’m only here on suspicion of debt.

_Omnes._ That’s the case with all of us!--we’re all of us only here on

suspicion!

_Log._ You’ll not find me a bad chum--but ready to hunt down any game you

can start. Landlady, serve them with a glass of tape, all round; and I’ll

stand Sammy--

_Omnes._ A regular trump! (_Landlady serves them all with liquor, out of a

bladder, as directed; Logic pays_).

_Smug._ Well, while I can blow my cloud, and get a drop on the sly, I sets

the Excise at defiance. What’s a little smuggling?

_Poor T._ (_Aside_). Could I have conveyed the value of that liquor to my

wife and children, it might have saved them another day from starvation!

_Log._ (_Overhearing_). What! hard up!--wife and children starving!--that

sha’n’t be while Bob Logic has a quid left.--Here, my honest fellow, go

fill their bellies and make them happy. (_Gives money_).

_Poor T._ May heaven bless you, Sir--you know not half the good you have

done!

[_Exit poor T._]

_Log._ No: but I know one thing enough, and that is, the value of money--a

prison is the only place to learn that in; and if ever I get out again----

_Enter_ TOM _and_ JERRY.

_Log._ Ah, Tom and Jerry! my boys! this is kind indeed!

_Tom._ Never desert an old pal in limbo, Bob; but when you get safe out of

the river tick, take my advice, look _into_ not _over_ your affairs; if

young men would but deign to consider this, would but, in the flowery

wilds of pleasure, cast one glance at the guiding star of prudence--their

pockets would be more full, and the prisons of the law more empty.

_Log._ Never doubt me, Tom--but welcome to ‘Freshwater Bay,’ to my new

settlement on board the Never-Wag man of war;--homeward station--forced to

be on good _terms_ with others, if I am not with myself----

_Jerry._ Still as lively as ever, eh, Doctor?

_Log._ And so will you be when the haberdasher has served you with a good

yard of tape.

_Jerry._ ‘Haberdasher! Tape!’ I’m at fault again.

_Logic._ The haberdasher is the whistler, otherwise the spirit-merchant

Jerry--and tape the commodity he deals in--It’s a contrabrand article

here--white is Max, and red is Cognac.

_Jerry._ Then give me a yard and a half of red, if you please. (_Landlady

gives Jerry liquor_).

_Enter_ TURNKEY, _with a letter_.

_Turn._ Here’s a stiffener for you, Doctor!----

_Log._ A letter for me!----

_Turn._ It ’aint paid for.

_Log._ More tip, eh! (_Pays him_). This fellow’s a regular leech! you

never use any chalk here?

_Turn._ Can’t afford it; besides it ain’t in our way, and then it makes

such a mess over the walls.

_Log._ (_Opening the letter_). Aye, aye, that will do, go along--(_Exit

Turnkey_) What’s this?--Five hundred pounds!--(_Takes out

note_).--Wheugh!--Let me read--“Sir Jeremy Brag and the Captain, present

compliments to Doctor Logic, request his acceptance of the enclosed, to

free him from his present difficulties; it is the same sum his friends

threw away on an _odd_ trick the other evening.--If Mr. Logic and his

friends will look in at the Venetian Carnival, this evening, they will be

joined by the Captain, Sir Jeremy, the Miss Trifles, and the Mendicants

from the Holy Land; when, if properly solicited, the Masqueraders may

unmask.” Prodigious!--_I’m_ at fault here. I’ll away at once; drop the

debt and costs in the hatchway, and be off to the Carnival.

_Tom._ We’ll go with you, Doctor.

[_Exeunt Tom, Jerry, and Logic._

_Smug._ Why, they’ve hoisted sails, lads--well, success to them--oh the

changes of life!

CHORUS.--(_Omnes_).

AIR.--“_Here we go up, up, up._”

_Some there are up, up, up,

And some there are down, down, down,

But whether above or below,

Let us always take care of the crown._

_They that are out may grin,

While those that are in may fret,

Yet poverty ne’er was a sin,

And we’re sure they can’t hang us for debt.

Fol, lol._

[_Exeunt._

[Illustration: LOTS OF FUN AND FROLIC.]

SCENE.--_Leicester Square.--Characters dressed in Masquerade, cross the

stage, as if going to the Carnival--Dominoes lead the way._

_Enter_ OLD MAID _and_ POODLE _followed by_ CLOWN--CLOWN _steals_ POODLE,

_and pops his own head in_ POODLE’S _place_--OLD MAID _enraged, pummels_

CLOWN’S _pate till she breaks her fan_--CLOWN _carries her off squalling_

R. _They are followed by grotesgue_ DWARF, _in chintz gown and cap, with

big head; preceded by servants with candles, who also exit_.

_Enter_ LILLIPUTIAN HARLEQUIN, COLUMBINE, _and_ CLOWN; L. _Characteristic_

PAS _de_ TRIOS, _to the_ “NATIONAL WALTZ;” _little_ COLUMBINE _coquetting

between_ HARLEQUIN _and_ CLOWN--_after they are off._ O. P. _various_

MASKS _enter severally--business ad libitum_.

SCENE.--_Venetian Carnival brilliantly illuminated--various characters

on--Music, Dancing, Tumbling, and masquerade business ad libitum, till

enter Jerry (as Sportsman) and Sue as Domino._

_Sue._ (_Coming down_). What game would you start here, Mr. Sportsman?

_Jerry._ None, my pretty Domino--I only hunt in Somersetshire; that’s my

manor.

_Sue._ Manners makes the man, certainly; but you’re making game of me.

_Jerry._ I speak truth, by heaven!--Oh, Susan, lovely Susan, never can I

forget thee, dear.

_Sue._ Indeed! then Susan takes you at your word. (_Unmasks_).

_Jerry._ Susan Rosebud!--Astonishment! then the Captain--Miss Trifle, and

the pretty ballad singer!----

_Susan._ Were one and the same person, your humble servant!--I followed to

preserve and reclaim you; I have done so, and I am happy--but your cousin

comes, stand aside.

[_They retire._

[Illustration]

_Enter_ TOM, _as Don Giovanni, with_ KATE _as Domino_.

_Tom._ (_Advancing with Kate_). Could I find one of your sex that would be

faithful, I would never rove again.

_Kate._ Are you sincere?--

_Tom._ By heaven!--I am!

_Kate._ Then behold the reward of your sincerity, the constancy of your

faithful Kate. (_Unmasks_).

_Tom._ Kate! oh, my dear Kate!

_Enter_ LOGIC, _as Doctor Pangloss, with_ JANE _in Domino_.

_Log._ (_Advancing with Jane_). I am an L.L.D. and A.S.S.

_Jane._ (_Unmasks_). You are indeed an A-S-S, not to have found me out

before.

_Log._ What! my Jenny!----

_Jerry._ Don’t be astonished, Bob--I’ll explain all:--Tom and I are going

to make two matches; you must make the third--form a bunch of

matches--exchange one imprisonment for another, her arms, you dog!--’aint

you up?--

_Log._ I’m fly--Oxford has no fellowship like this! (_Embracing Jane_).

_Tom._ (_Coming down with Kate_). You are right, Bob, it has not.--Well,

we have been amused by Life in London, now let us endeavour to profit by

it;--let our experience teach us to avoid its quicksands, and make the

most of its sunshine;--and in that anticipation let us hope our kind

friends will pardon Tom, Jerry, and Logic all their sprees and rambles.

JERRY GOING BACK TO THE COUNTRY.

[Illustration]

Three merry boys were Logic, Tom and Jerry,

And many funny larks they have seen;

Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again,

The coach moves on--the play is done--Goodbye, Goodbye.

THE WHITE HORSE CELLAR, PICCADILLY:--

Was now the parting scene, and the hand of the clock pointed very near to

the time for the departure of the coach. The bustle of this place

prevented the Trio from much conversation; but the _separation_ of such

_staunch pals_ was a trying moment to the feelings of poor JERRY: and

though he was above _blubbering_ like a _Johnny Raw_, yet his HEART was

rather _touched_, and his _ogles_ underwent some _queer_ sensations, which

he endeavoured to suppress, when _Coachy_ asked “if all was right” and

began to smack his whip.

The hearty grasps of the hand, and the _good-byes_ were over between

HAWTHORN and his _pals_, and TOM and LOGIC were only waiting to see the

coach start, when JERRY, with much eagerness of expression, as if he had

forgotten to mention the circumstance previously, said, “my dear Coz”--but

the coach was now fast rattling over the stones, and the last broken

sentence which the ear of the CORINTHIAN caught was, “Mention me in the

kindest manner to the lovely SUE; tell her I am only gone into _training_,

and in the course of a few weeks I shall most certainly return to London

to enjoy a few more _sprees_ (which I have so unexpectedly been deprived

of), and also to have with her the pleasure of another game at romps.”

THE END.

The Adelphi version of Tom and Jerry, or Life in London, was performed

ninety-three nights in succession; and its _golden_ career only stopped by

the termination of the season. At the end of which, _Little_ Bob Keeley,

who had made a _great_ hit as Jemmy Green--a character imported into the

piece by Mr. W. T. Moncrieff--went with Walbourn, the great Dusty Bob, and

Cooper, who played to the life, Little Jemmy, the cripple, to Sadler’s

Wells Theatre, were Pierce Egan’s own version was produced April 8th,

1822. Keeley was threatened by the Adelphi lessees--Messrs. Rodwell and

Jones--with an action for breach of engagement, but the action was never

brought. In the season of 1822-3 at the Adelphi, John Reeve--‘_Glorious

John!_’ became Jerry Hawthorn, Mr. Brown took the part of Jemmy Green, and

several other changes in the original cast were effected. At Christmas,

1822, TOM and JERRY was compressed so as to admit of the production of a

pantomime called _Beauty and the Beast_, or, _Harlequin and the Magic

Rose_. When the managers announced that:--

“In consequence of the astonishing Overflows to witness the admired

Extravaganza of TOM and JERRY, or Life in London, and to prevent, as

far as possible, any unpleasant Disappointment, the Public are

respectfully informed that:--

NO PLACES, IN FUTURE CAN BE KEPT, UNLESS PAID FOR WHEN TAKEN.

Shouts of Laughter and Applause attend each Representation of the New

Pantomime.”

When the long run of TOM and JERRY ended at the Adelphi, a spectacular

extravaganza of the same kind was produced with the title of “GREEN IN

FRANCE,” but it did not catch the fancy of the town like its

predecessors.[34]

In 1825, Mr. Moncrieff published his dramatic version of Tom and Jerry;

or, Life in London--which he dedicated to:--

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, FREDERICK DUKE OF YORK,

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HIGHNESS:--

The distinguished honour conferred by your Royal Highness on this

Drama, in commanding and witnessing its performance at the ADELPHI

THEATRE, (an honour unprecedented in the annals of the Minor Stage)

and the flattering manner in which your Royal Highness was afterwards

graciously pleased to express your high approbation of it, emboldens

me, with the most profound respect, to lay it at your Royal Highness’s

feet, and under the sanction of your illustrious name, commit it in

its present form to the world.

Having no higher pretensions than that of presenting a faithful

picture of the various scenes it pourtrays, the favourable opinion of

your Royal Highness stamps it with an authority that was alone wanted

to crown the success with which it has been received by the Public.

Like the illustrious Haroun al Raschid, your Royal Highness is said to

have made yourself acquainted with the many coloured changes of life;

presented in the people over whom you may be one day called to

preside, by wisely throwing off the restraint of rank, and witnessing

nature in its genuine state. That the scenes I have pourtrayed are not

caricatured for the sake of dramatic effect, but are actually those

which might have been seen by any one choosing to seek them, your

Royal Highness can therefore adequately testify; and your Royal

Highness’s imprimatur will effectually ward off all the imputations

that have been cast upon my motives and veracity, by the bigoted and

envious.

I have the honour to be,

With the most profound respect and devotion,

Your ROYAL HIGHNESS’S

Most obedient and very humble Servant,

W. T. MONCRIEFF.

104, Drury Lane,

Dec. 15, 1825.

Mr. Moncrieff in his Dedication--TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS: and in his Preface

that follows throws so much true light and shade on public opinion--_pro

et con_--of the period, that we deem it not only desirable but instructive

to the present generation to publish the same _in extenso_.

PREFACE.

“It is scarcely necessary to observe this Drama is founded on the

“LIFE IN LONDON” of my friends PIERCE EGAN, and the inimitable

CRUICKSHANK. Aided by PIERCE’S clever illustrations to the matchless

series of plates to that work, I have in this piece, endeavoured to

put them into dramatic motion; running a connecting story through the

whole, making such modifications and amplifications, and furnishing

such reflections and results, as I deemed necessary. From the

popularity of the subject, the novelty and acknowledged truth of the

various scenes comprised in it, and the beauty of the music I

fortunately selected, this Piece obtained a popularity, and excited a

sensation, totally unprecedented in Theatrical History; from the

highest to the lowest, all classes were alike anxious to witness its

representation; Dukes and Dustmen were equally interested in its

performance, and Peers might be seen mobbing it with Apprentices to

obtain admission. Seats were sold for weeks before they could be

occupied, every Theatre in the United Kingdom, even in the United

States, enriched its coffers by performing it; and the smallest

tithe-portion of its profits, would for ever have rendered it

unnecessary for its Author to have troubled the public with any

further productions of his Muse. It established the fortunes of most

of the Actors engaged in its representation, and gave birth to many

publications and several newspapers. The success of the “BEGGAR’S

OPERA,” the “CASTLE SPECTRE,” and “PIZARRO,” sunk into the shade

before it. In the _furore_ of its popularity, persons have been known

to travel post from the furthest parts of the Kingdom to see it; and

five guineas have been offered for a single seat.--These facts are not

recapitulated here from any feeling of egotism--the success of this

Drama, was the temporary rage of the moment, from time-serving

circumstances, and was never regarded in any other light by its

Author; they are merely noticed as curious events in theatrical

history.--With respect to the cry of immorality, so loudly raised by

those inimical to the success and plain-speaking of this piece, it is

soon answered! To say nothing of the envy of rival Theatres feeling

its attraction most sensibly in their Saturday Treasuries, those

notorious pests the Watchmen; dexterously joined in the war-howl of

detraction raised against it, and by converting every trifling

street-broil into a “_Tom and Jerry row_,” endeavoured to revenge

themselves for the _exposè_ its scenes afforded of their villany and

extortion; but all in vain. In vain, too, it was the Actor’s old

rivals, the _Methodists_, took the alarm--in vain they distributed the

whole of the stock of the _Religious Tract Society_ at the doors of

the Theatre--in vain they denounced “_Tom and Jerry_” from the

pulpit--in vain the puritanical portion of the Press prated of its

immorality--in vain the prejudices of the stiff-backed part of the

Bench--the hypocritical host of Saints cried it down, and preached woe

and destruction to those who supported it.--They but increased the

number of its followers, and added to its popularity. Vainly, too, was

the Lord Chamberlain called upon to suppress it--His Grace came one

night to see it, and brought his Duchess the next. It was nearly the

same with the Chief Magistrate of Bow Street: his experience rendered

him perfectly sensible, that, long before the appearance of “_Tom and

Jerry_,” young men and country gentlemen would in moments of hilarity,

sometimes exceed in their potations, be provoked into quarrels by

designing Watchmen, and consigned, for purposes of extortion on the

following morning, to His Honour, the Night Constable; but according

to the Saints’ accounts, to believe their tales, it must be held as a

point of faith, that no one, previous to the appearance of “_Tom and

Jerry_,” ever got into a row!--Oh, no--drinking and all its train of

follies were unknown to youth, until inculcated into their minds by

the example of “_Tom and Jerry_!” How many an unsuspecting _Country

Cousin_ has been converted, in the public newspapers, through an hour

of harmless frolic, into a JERRY; while his equally unconscious Town

relation figured as a TOM, and any honest plodder they may have had

with them is transformed into a BOB LOGIC--his first appearance in

that character. The thing speaks for itself: the hue and cry of the

immorality and danger of this piece was raised merely for the purposes

of plunder, by Watchmen and others. So far from being immoral, if the

piece be fairly examined, it will be found to be as correct in its

tendency as any production ever brought on the stage. The obnoxious

scenes of life are only shown that they may be avoided: the danger of

mixing in them is strikingly exemplified; and every incident tends to

prove, that happiness is only to be found in the domestic circle.

“It has been said, that many of the scenes of this piece should not

have been exhibited, being scenes of dissipation, riot, and

impropriety--ridiculous!--Has not Shakespeare asserted that the proper

use of the drama is--“to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature, to

show virtue her own feature, and vice her own image, and the very age

and body of the time its form and pressure:” could any piece do this

more effectually than “_Tom and Jerry_?” take away the scenes

complained of, it ceases to show the form and pressure of the age and

time.

“I should not have published this piece had not its success produced

such a host of imitations and plagiarisms, that more to prevent myself

suffering from the demerits of others than to avail myself of any

merits of my own. I give it with all its imperfections on its head, to

the world; willing to pay _smart blunt_ for my own misdeeds, but not

_stand Sammy_ for those of others. To those venerable noodles who

complain that I and my prototype, PIERCE, have made this the age of

flash; I answer any age is better than _The age of cant_! I tell my

pious lecturers, in plain terms, I shall always feel pleasure in

reflecting that I have in this piece, _nosed_ every _move_ on the

_board_, in the _game_ of the _spell_; opened the _ogles_ of the

_green_ and the _yokel_, and the _muff_, and the _raw_; struck a light

on the _darky_ of their _knowledge boxes_, _flashed_ the _gab_ of the

_prig_, the _leg_, the _scamp_ and the _stringer_, in their

_listeners_, put them _fly_ and _awake_ to all they should be _up_ and

_down_ to, and enabled them, if their _lugs_ are at all _wing_ to the

_bits_ of _good truth_, _pattered_ to them in every scene of this

piece, _bank_ their _rag_, _chivey_ their _nurses_, _nash_ their

_leading strings_, and keep out of the way of the _cut-along-coaches_

as they travel the high _toby_ of existence; and having so done, can

lay my _mawley_ on my _core_, and conscienciously _chaunt_ my

conviction, in which my _reader_ will bear me out, “that I’ve cut all

the _buzmen_, and _done_ the _thing right_.”

W. T. M.

104, Drury Lane,

Dec. 15, 1825.

[Illustration]

THE DUSTMAN.

Bring out your dust the dustman cries,

Whilst ringing of his bell:

If the wind blows, pray guard your eyes,

To keep them clear and well.

PIERCE EGAN ON MR. WALBOURN’S “DUSTY BOB.”

“It is the greatest possible praise to be praised by a man who is

himself deserving of praise.”

“Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley is praise indeed.”

Mr. Walbourn’s theatrical fame was made by, and, strange to say, expired

with the character of Dusty Bob. Pierce Egan, in his “Life of an

Actor,”--which he dedicated to Edmund Kean--classes his performance of

this part, as giving him a title in the niche of fame beside John Kemble,

Mrs. Siddons, and all the great actors contained in his “Catalogues of

Parts Acted”--which can never be forgotten by those who witnessed them.

Here is the note, and will be found at page twelve of the work:--“The

personification of Dusty Bob, by the above actor, has been unanimously

decided by the public to be one of the greatest triumphs of the histrionic

art ever exhibited on any stage. The first tragedian of the day,[35] with

the utmost liberality, gave it as his opinion, that, during the whole

course of his theatrical life, he had never seen any performance equal to

it. Also, a comic actor of the greatest celebrity[36] exclaimed, ‘Good

heaven! is it possible? Do my eyes deceive me? Most certainly it is a real

_dustman_ they have got upon the stage. I am very sorry the profession has

descended so low as to be compelled to resort to the streets to procure a

person of that description to sustain the character.’ He left the body of

the theatre in utter disgust--nor was it until introduced to Mr. Walbourn

in person, behind the scenes, that he would believe it was an actor.

_Further praise than this is superfluous._”

Mr. Walbourn as “Dusty Bob,” was drawn and engraved by George Cruikshank,

and sold, with other character-portraits, at the Adelphi Theatre. During

the long run of the piece, he exchanged one species of _hops_ for another,

as he gave up his business as a private and stage dancing-master, and took

the “Maidenhead” public-house at Battle Bridge. The house, previous to his

taking it was doing only a small trade; but, when he became the landlord,

and put out a spick-span new and a “not so dusty” sign of himself as

“DUSTY BOB,” painted in oil by George Cruikshank, it drew together many of

the “Dusty” fraternity--and their doxies. After that, “Dusty Bob,”

together with “Black Sal,” became to be bye words, as, near to the house,

was Smith’s dust-yard, at which hundreds were employed, male and female.

But:--

“A heap of dust alone remains of thee;

’Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!”

[Illustration]

THE LITERARY DUSTMAN.

My dawning genus fust did peep,

Near Battle Bridge ’tis plain, sirs--

You recollect the cinder heap,

Vot stood in Gray’s Inn Lane, sirs?[37]

’Twas there I studied pic--turesque,

Vhile I my bread vos yarning,

And there, inhailing the fresh _breeze_,

I sifted out my larnin’!

They calls me Adam Bell, ’tis clear,

(As Adam vos the furst man),

And by a co--in--side--ance queer,

Vy, I’m the fust of dustmen!--

A Literary Dustman!

The “Old Pub.” of sixty years ago is now THE VICTORIA TAVERN, Great

Northern Railway. Maiden Lane is York Road, and Battle Bridge is known as

King’s Cross, from a statue of George IV.--a most execrable

performance--taken down in 1842.

Great sculptors all conwarse wi’ me,

And call my taste diwine, sirs--

King George’s statty at King’s Cross

Vas built from my design, sirs.

The Literary Dustman.

Besides the authors already mentioned. Tom Dibden, Farrell, and Douglas

Jerrold, each produced dramas upon the popular theme; and during the

seasons of 1821-2, “Life in London” was performed with great _éclat_, at

ten theatres in and around the metropolis, to overflowing houses. But

Pierce Egan at length became tired of the successes of the playwrights in

using his book, and resolved to try his own hand at a dramatic

version--or, as he termed it, “to take a leaf or two out of his own

book”--and the AUTHOR’S PIECE was “got up” and performed for the first

time at Sadler’s Wells, under the respectable management of Mr. Egerton,

on Monday, April 8, 1822, with most decided success.

It was thus announced by Mrs. Egerton, in the address written for the

occasion by T. Greenwood, Esq.

“To-night, my friends, this modern taste to meet,

We show you JERRY at his country seat;

Then up to town transport the rustic beau,

And show him ‘Life in London,’ HIGH and LOW.”

SADLER’S WELLS THEATRE.

Under the Direction of MR. EGERTON, of the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden,

Sole Proprietor.

The Brilliant Success, and increasing Attraction of PIERCE EGAN’S “TOM and

JERRY”: not exceeded by any performance ever yet produced; and the

celebrated PONY RACES, exciting an interest equal to the RACE COURSE

ITSELF: being nightly performed to crowded Audiences, amidst Roars of

Laughter and Shouts of applause, will be repeated EVERY EVENING, at

half-past six o’clock precisely:--

The new Pedestrian, Equestrian, and Operatic Extravaganza: in Three

Acts--of Gaiety, Frisk, Lark, and Patter, called

TOM AND JERRY.

_Put into Shape, exclusively for this Theatre, by_ PIERCE EGAN.

Who trusts it will not be deemed unfair that he should take a LEAF or TWO

_out of his own_ BOOK, several other persons having made free with the

Work. The Piece now prepared for representation is not entitled to the

appellation of TRAGEDY, COMEDY, _Opera_, PLAY, _Farce_, BALLET, or

_Melodrama_, yet partaking of the Qualities _of all_, and possessing

scenes HIGH and LOW in abundance, from the “_Sky Parlour_” to the

“_Diamond Vault_.” OUT _and_ OUT, Rambles and Sprees, East and West, and

Lots of Characters, UP and DOWN. A variety of _Swells_ but no DONS:

CORINTHIANS and COSTARD-MONGERS of many _Hues and Colours_: FLATS and

SHARPS without a _Note_--PINKS _and_ TULIPS, but no FLOWERS, yet always in

the _Hot Houses_: and HELLS _without_ DEVILS, only having _Black Legs_:

MUSLIN _and_ HOPSACKS, according as the _creatures_ wear them: the whole

forming a “BIT OF GOOD TRUTH,” _en passant_, in a Review of LIFE IN

LONDON, developed by a precious TRIO, in the Persons of a

TOP-of-THE-TREE-HERO _Up_ and _Dressed_ in all _suits_: seconded by a

_slap-bang_ countryman, that neither _hedge_ nor _ditch_ baulk his

pursuits; and in unison with a _prime_ piece of LOGIC without PREMISES,

yet always so much at HOME, that LOCKE and BACON were muffs to him: also

representing the NOBLE, RESPECTABLE, MECHANICAL, and _Tag Rag_ and

_Bob-tail part of Society_, which constitute the CORINTHIAN CAPITAL, and

the _Base_ of the Pillar.

The Overture, with the New and Selected Music, by Mr. Nicholson. The

Scenes from Drawings taken on the spot, by Mr. Greenwood, assisted by Mr.

Milldenhall and others. The Sporting Subjects, by MR. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK,

from designs by himself and Brother, MR. I. R. CRUIKSHANK. The Quadrilles

and Country Dances, by Mr. Kirby. The Machinery, Platforms, and Race

Course, by MR. COPPING. Dresses by MR. TOWNLEY and MRS. BALDING.

Corinthian Tom Mr. Elliott.

Jerry Hawthorn Mr. Keeley.

Bob Logic Mr. Vale.

Dusty Bob Mr. Walbourn.

African Sal Mr. Brady.

Little Jemmy Mr. Cooper.

Billy Waters Mr. Hartland.

To Start from the Winning Post on the Stage; Run three times Round the

Course.

Separate Matches, and afterwards for the GRAND SWEEPSTAKES.

PONY RACES.

Passing INTO AND ROUND THE Pit.

_Ponies._ _Colours._

1.--The Corinthian _Pink._

2.--Bob Logic’s Miss Sly _Stripe._

3.--Jerry’s Never to be beat _Blue._

4.--Dusty Bob _Black._

5.--Touch and-Go _Blue and Pink._

6.--The Out-and-Outer _Scarlet._

Stewards of the Race LOGIC, TOM, and JERRY.

Clerk of the Course DUSTY BOB.

☞ The eagerness of several Ladies and Gentlemen to Promenade the Course

during the Race, having at times produced a temporary delay and

inconvenience, they are respectfully intreated to observe the directions

of the Clerk of the Course, who will attend with MRS. DUSTY BOB (_African

Sal_) in their _Carriage from Maiden Lane, Battle Bridge_, for the purpose

of preserving order.

[Illustration]

THE CORINTHIAN’S DIARY.

_A Celebrated Comic Song, written by_

T. GREENWOOD, ESQ.

And Sung by Mr. Vale, at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, in the Character of BOB

LOGIC.

SUNDAY, got _floor’d_, in _groggy_ plight,

MONDAY, quite stale, took anti-bilious,

Pester’d by nausea, nerves not quite right,

And noisy _duns_ quite supercilious:

A dish of Mocha, ’chovy toast,

Remov’d the spasms--increased attrition,

So started, when I’d skimm’d the _Post_,

To TATTERSALL’S, in high condition.

TUESDAY, got clean’d at _Rouge et Noir_,

And, done quite brown, was forc’d to toddle;

So then I vow’d to play no more,

Lest, like a lame duck, I should waddle.

WEDNESDAY, reflected; curs’d each star,

Swore never more a card to handle:

Went to the FIVES COURT, saw them spar,

And patronis’d CRIBB, NEAT, and RANDALL.

THURSDAY, _bowl’d_ down to ASCOT HEATH,

To sport my _blunt_ upon the races:

Rode my own mare almost to death,

For I had won three steeplechases:

Clean’d out again, I came away

Quite undismay’d, though out of feather,

At night I bolted to the play,

To drown ill-luck and care together.

Met with a _spree_, two glorious frays,

So went to work--I hate long parleys;

Kick’d up a row, then _starr’d_ the _glaze_,

And _mill’d_, in style, a brace of _Charley’s_:

_Morris’d_ away to ALMACK’S ROOMS,

Danc’d a quadrille, alert and showy,

Call’d at the FINISH, mops and brooms,

And tumbled to bed as drunk as Chloe.

FRIDAY, I went to see dear NANCY,

But found a _Covey_ there before me,

Was forc’d to _bolt_, I’d lost my chance,

But KATE, I knew, would still adore me:

So off I set, stay’d SATURDAY,

My comforts took, then home departed;

Book’d for next week, with spirits gay,

I for a fresh game, on SUNDAY started.

SADLER’S WELLS.

PIERCE EGAN,

_The Author_

of

TOM & JERRY;

or,

_Life in London_.

Most respectfully informs the Public, and his numerous Friends in the

Sporting World, that:

(Before “all the GOLD _is taken off the_ GINGERBREAD,” being contented

with a Small Slice of it,) his

BENEFIT

is fixed for

Wednesday

_The 25th September, 1822_.

When a Variety Entertainment, will be performed, in which

THE AUTHOR

_Will make his First and only Appearance on this Stage, in a_

PRINCIPAL CHARACTER.

LIFE IN A SPREE.

A Spree’s the thing, with potent port made merry,

“Go it BOB LOGIC,” “Keep it up,” cries JERRY.

The _Upper Story_ all abroad--Mr. Lushington at Work; and when the Wine is

in, the Wit is out--Ripe for any thing--How to make a Stop--Watch go--And

getting the best of the Timekeepers--Must make a noise in the World:--

No way but this left to obtain renown,

_Kick up a Row_, and knock the CHARLIE’S down!

LIFE IN THE EAST.

ALL-MAX ...... _A bit of good Truth!_

Tickets not necessary--Any Port in a Storm--Never a Jack without a

Jill--All happiness: no questions asked: and one half the world don’t

know how the other half lives--(_or dies!_)--No matter! Plenty of

_Taste_--_Patter_ without ceremony--And not particular to a _shade_

about _Lingo_. Spoting a _toe_ without a _shoe_, and no enquiry after

the _Snob’s_ Bill--_Reeling_ without _steps_--_Flooring_ instead of

_Waltzing_, and nothing the matter. _Country_ or _colour_ no

objection--_Ladies in mourning_ not prohibited--Black Sall don’t blush

for her appearance--And Dusty Bob not uneasy about his toggery--All

the same ONE HUNDRED Years hence!--PHILOSOPHY.

⁂ To prevent the trouble and fatigue of ascending the numerous Steps

to the Author’s SKY PARLOUR, (in Days of Yore, denominated a _Garret_,

as well as Tumbling over lots of Kids,) Tickets to be had of Messrs.

SHERWOOD, NEELY, and JONES, Paternoster Row; Office of the Weekly

Dispatch, Wine Office Court, Fleet Street; at all the Sporting Houses;

and Places for the Boxes can be taken of Mr. Parker, at the Box

Offices, Sadler’s Wells, from 10 till 4.

Full Particulars will be duly Announced.

BOXES 4s. PIT 2s. GALLERY 1s.

Glendinning, Printer, 25, Hatton Garden, London.

Brighton, of course, in common with all other large provincial towns had

its version of “Life in London.” The theatre was then under the management

of Mr. Samuel--or, as he was commonly known, Jerry Sneak Russell, from the

inimitable manner in which he personated that character in Foote’s farce

of “The Mayor of Garrat.” We have a copy of the play-bill before us, and

as we think the manager’s remarks and the selection of criticisms are in

their way curious, we here append them, including the cast of characters:

THEATRE ROYAL, BRIGHTON.

LAST NIGHT BUT ONE.

TOM AND JERRY.

In announcing the successful piece of “Tom and Jerry” for this evening,

the manager feels great satisfaction in being able to quote in its favour

the following observations from the critiques in the London and other

newspapers. “The scenery, dresses, &c., are good throughout, and much

credit is due to the manager for the style in which it is got up. It is

with pleasure we remark that this piece has been most judiciously freed

from the impurities of dialogue, which rendered it improper to meet the

delicate ear of the gentler sex. We therefore venture, without subjecting

ourselves to reproach, to recommend our readers to see ‘Life in London,’

to witness an exposure of many impositions practised in real life, and be

made ‘fly’ (the plain English of _au fait_) to the _multum in parvo_

phrases which are now introduced into passing conversations.”

“BRIGHTON.--The theatre at this place has just produced its ‘Tom and

Jerry’ with great success, and, we may say, deservedly--every

objectionable point that might be thought to infringe on decorum having

been most ingeniously suppressed, without any diminution of the whim and

fire of its varied and entertaining scenes. This regard to propriety

argues much discretion, and seems to meet the approbation of the _beau

monde_ resorting hither, for the theatre is graced with abundance of

fashion and beauty.”

“The ‘Tom and Jerry’ of the Brighton Theatre has good scenery, good

acting, and, what in such a piece is perhaps still better, good and chaste

dialogue to recommend it; it has been cleansed of its impurities without

injuring its life and spirit. As thus represented, it cannot raise a blush

on the cheek of the most fastidious female.”

On Wednesday Evening, September 12, 1822, will be reproduced the highly

popular and amusing Burletta of

TOM AND JERRY.

Corinthian Tom Mr. Power.

Bob Logic Mr. Chapman.

Jerry Hawthorn Mr. Russell.

Squire Hawthorn Mr. Chambers.

Tattersall Mr. Mortimer.

Yorkshire Cove Mr. Hatton.

Primefit Mr. Julian.

Bill Chaunt Mr. Whatford.

Dusty Bob Mr. Starmer.

Mr. Mace (Landlord of All Max in the East) Mr. Jenkins.

Billy Waters Mr. Sheen.

Mr. Muff Mr. Collier.

Gammoning Jack Mr. Mills.

Snoozy Mr. Cole.

Trifle Mr. Dale.

Little Jemmy Master Williams.

Chaffing Sam Mr. Wiber.

Tom Belcher Mr. Jones.

President of the Daffy Club Mr. Campbell.

Huntsmen, Watchmen, Villagers, Cadgers, &c., &c.

Corinthian Kate Miss M. Cooke.

Hon. Mrs. Gadabout Mrs. Clarke.

Patty Primrose Miss Carr.

Mary Miss Cramer.

Hon. Mrs. Trifle Miss Grosette.

Fortune Teller Mrs. Grosette.

Mrs. Allright Miss H. Grosette.

African Sal Miss Black.

Country Lasses, Ladies at Almack’s in the West, &c., &c.; Prospectus of

Scenery, &c., &c., as before.

To conclude with the Romantic Melo-drama of

VALENTINE AND ORSON.

Valentine Mr. Power.

Orson Mr. S. Chapman.

Creasy, Printer, _Gazette Office_, Brighton.

The notoriety which Tom and Jerry obtained in England, became the topic of

conversation amongst our Gallic neighbours--nay, it crept so much into

favour with the gay folks of Paris, LIFE IN LONDON was speedily translated

into French, under the title of “The Diorama; or, Picturesque Rambles in

London--containing the most faithful _Notices of the Character, Manners,

and Customs of the English Nation_, in the various classes of Society. By

M. S----.” The translation had a most extensive circulation in France.

The reception of Tom and Jerry was equally flattering--notwithstanding the

great prejudices that had previously existed against it--in Dublin. Mr.

Wrench, from the Adelphi Theatre, was specially engaged to play the part

of Corinthian Tom. The first seven nights produced £1300; and the house,

on Mr. Wrench’s benefit night, held £345.

The great success of “Life in London,” in its dramatic form in the Irish

capital lead up to the publication of:--

“REAL LIFE IN IRELAND; or, the Day and Night Scenes, Rovings, Rambles,

and Sprees, Bulls, Blunders, Bodderation, and Blarney of Brian Born,

Esq., and his elegant friend _Sir Shawn O’Dogherty_. 1829. Coloured

plates.”

In which the pictorial style of the Brothers Cruikshank was imitated from

an Hibernian point of view and colouring.

At both the Theatres in Edinburgh, Tom and Jerry attracted crowded

audiences, according to the Editor of the _Edinburgh Dramatic Review_, who

states thus:--

“At length the public of Edinburgh had opportunity of judging of the

merits of the above celebrated Extravaganza. From the general tendency of

the remarks which appeared in the newspapers, we were led to suppose that

this piece consisted of indecency and gross vulgarity. From what we heard

reported as to the numerous indelicacies which this sketch of Fun, Frolic,

Fashion, and Flash contained, we were afraid that its success with our

sober citizens would have been precarious; but, we are happy to say, that

the applause which was bestowed on it by the unprecedentedly numerous

assemblage on Saturday evening, January 25, 1823, which crowded the

Caledonian Theatre, is a sufficient answer to the chimerical doubts which

were industriously circulated against its propriety. There is nothing, as

we before remarked, associated with disgust or offence. There is neither

one word, action, or situation, in the whole course of the piece, that can

possibly raise a blush, or offend the most fastidious moralist!”

The Burletta of TOM and JERRY had been repeated so often all over the

kingdom, and particularly in the metropolis, that the performers,

notwithstanding the great applause they nightly received in the above

piece, absolutely became tired and worn-out with the repetition of their

characters, when the following piece of satire, written by T. Greenwood,

Esq., was published, entitled, “The Tears of Pierce Egan, Esq., for the

Death of ‘Life in London’; or, The Funeral of Tom and Jerry. Dedicated to

Robert and George Cruikshank, Esqs. Price Two Shillings, with an engraving

by George Cruikshank.”

“Beat out of the Pit, and thrown over the Ropes,

TOM and JERRY resign’d their last breath,

With them, too, expired the Manager’s hopes,

Who are left to deplore their sad death!

“Odd and various reports of the cause are about,

But the real one was _this_ I opine:

They were run to a _standstill_, and, therefore, no doubt,

That the cause was a rapid _decline_.

“When death showed his _Nob_, out of _Time_ they were beat,

And neither would come to the _scratch_;

They hung down their heads and gave up the last heat,

Not prepared with the Spectre to _match_.

“All wept at the FUNERAL! the Fancy and all--

Some new, but a great many mended:

And EGAN, while CRUIKSHANK and _Bob_ held the pall,

As _Chief Mourner_ in person attended!!!

“Their _Sprees_ and their _Rambles_ no more shall amuse,

Farewell to all nocturnal parleys:

The Town felt regret, as the bell tolled the news,

And no one rejoiced--but the _Charleys_!

“A monument, too, their kind Patrons will raise,

Inscribed on--‘Here lies TOM and JERRY,

Who, departing the _Stage_, to their immortal praise,

ONE THOUSAND NIGHTS made the _Town merry_!!!’

“May their souls rest in peace, since they’ve chosen to flit,

Like other great heroes departed;

May no mischief arise from their _sudden_ exit,

Nor PIERCE EGAN die--_broken-hearted_!”

In reference to the above, Pierce Egan states that Jemmy Catnach, the

renowned Ballad-monger of the Seven Dials, in less than twelves hours

after the publication, produced a pirated edition for street sale, for

two-pence.

Mr. Pierce Egan, in his “_Finish_,” states that he reckoned no less than

sixty-five separate publications, which he enumerates _in extenso_, all

derived from his own work, and adds, with his usual amount of large and

small CAPITALS and _italics_--“We have been _pirated_, COPIED, _traduced_;

but, unfortunately, not ENRICHED by our indefatigable exertions; therefore

NOTORIETY must satisfy us, instead of the smiles of FORTUNE. Our efforts

have given rise to numerous productions in the market of literature, yet

we can assert, with a degree of confidence hitherto unshaken, that none of

our _Imitators_ have dared to think for themselves during the long period

of seven years, neither have they shown any originality upon the subject

of ‘LIFE IN LONDON’; but who have left it--_disinterested_ souls!--to the

Author and Artist to put a CLIMAX to the adventures of TOM, JERRY, and

LOGIC.” The last remark is in reference to the publication of “PIERCE

EGAN’S FINISH to the Adventures of TOM, JERRY, and LOGIC, in their

Pursuits through LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON. With numerous coloured

illustrations by Robert Cruikshank. London: George Virtue & Co., Ivy Lane,

Paternoster Row.” Seven years after the date of “The Life in London.” In

common with almost all other sequels, or “continuations” it was not

successful--the fact being that Pierce Egan, and the subject of his work

were alike literally and financially “used up!”

Old Jemmy Catnach, true to his line of life, soon joined what Pierce Egan

designates as the “Mob of Literary Pirates” who irritate the poor author

almost to madness, blast his prospects, impose on the unwary by their

imitations, and render his cash account all but nugatory, and, just as he

may be congratulating himself on the success of his genius, receiving the

smiles of Fame, and a _trifling sweetener_ from Threadneedle Street, as a

reward for his exertions, he may be attacked by _Sappers_ and

_Miners_--those pickers and stealers who do not absolutely come under the

denomination of _pickpockets_, yet _thieves_ to all intents and purposes,

and, certainly, _robbers_ of the most unprincipled description--a set of

vampires--living upon “the brains” of other persons, and who dare not to

think for themselves.

Catnach brought out a broadside, or “whole-sheet,” for street-sale,

entitled:--

_LIFE IN LONDON_;

OR, THE SPREES OF

TOM AND JERRY;

ATTEMPTED IN CUTS AND VERSE.

[Illustration: TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK IN A ROW.]

MERCY! what a din and clatter

Breaks the stillness of the night,

Lamps do rattle--’tis a battle,

Quick, and let us see the sight.

NOTICE:--This is to give Notice to those persons who are in the habit

of pirating my copyrights that if they dare to print any part of this

Sheet, they shall be proceeded against according to Law. JAMES

CATNACH.

_EIGHTEENTH EDITION._

LONDON: Printed & Sold by Jas. Catnach,

2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials, of whom may be had

The Queen’s Life, in Cuts & Verse.

PRICE TWO PENCE.

The “broadside,” which Pierce Egan calls--“Another wicked piracy, by

Catnach,” consists of twelve woodcuts,--of which we have given

_facsimiles_ in our pages--it will be seen that they are reduced and very

roughly executed copies of the original plates by the Brothers Cruikshank,

but in reverse. Therefore the swaggering NOTICE TO PIRATES which Jemmy

Catnach published reads funny enough. The letter-press matter consists of

flash songs, and a poetical epitome of the plot and design of the original

work of “Life in London.” And taking it as it stands, and from where it

emanated, rather a creditable performance, particularly when we take into

consideration--as duly announced by the street-patterer, that it

was--“Just printed and pub--lish--ed, all for the low charge of

“Twopence.”

On the rarity of this Catnachian and piratical edition of “Life in London”

it is superfluous to enlarge, and it is easy to account for this

circumstance, if we reflect that the broadside form of publication is by

no means calculated for preservation; hundreds of similar pieces printed

at the “Catnach Press” and at other offices publishing for street-sale

must have perished. The more generally acceptable a broadside or

street-ballad became, and was handed about for perusal, the more it was

exposed to the danger of destruction. No copy of Catnach’s version is

preserved in the British Museum, therefore, and for reason above stated,

it must be considered as a great “Literary Curiosity.”[38]

[Illustration: OLD STAGE WAGGON.]

As we have before observed, “Life in London” was dedicated by permission

to George IV., and it is a circumstance in itself which looks singular

enough in this Victorian age, that royalty should have condescended to

have had such a work dedicated to it. One paragraph, which we are about to

quote, strikes us as being a very peculiar and free-and-easy style for an

author to address himself to a King of England. It is as follows:--

“Indeed, the whole chapter of ‘Life in London’ has been so repeatedly

perused by your Majesty in such a variety of shapes--from the elegant A,

the refined B, the polite C, the lively D, the eloquent E, the honest F,

the stately G, the peep-o’-day H, the tasteful I, the manly J, the good

K, the noble L, the stylish M, the brave N, the liberal O, the proud P,

the long-headed Q, the animated R, the witty S, the flash T, the knowing

U, the honourable V, the consummate W, the funny X, the musical Y, and the

poetical Z,--that it would only be a waste of your Majesty’s valuable time

to expatiate further upon this subject.”

One notable effect of “Life in London,” particularly in its dramatised

form, must be recorded. It broke the heart of poor Billy Waters, the

one-legged musical negro, who died in St. Giles’s workhouse, on Friday,

March 21, 1823, whispering with his ebbing breath, a mild anathema, which

sounded very much like: “Cuss him, dam Tom--meē--Tom--meē Jerry!”

Poor Billy endeavoured, up to the period of his last illness, to obtain

for a wife and two children what he termed, “An honest living by scraping

de cat-gut!” by which he originally collected considerable sums of money

at the West-end of the town, where his ribbon-decked cocked hat and

feathers, with the grin on his countenance, and sudden turn and kick out

of his wooden limb, and other antics and efforts to please, excited much

mirth and attention, and were well rewarded from the pockets of John Bull.

The burden of Billy’s ditty “from morn to dewy eve,” and from January to

December, was:--

Polly will you marry me--Polly don’t you cry,

Polly will you marry me--Polly don’t you cry:--

Cry--cry--cry!

[Illustration]

[Illustration: BILLY WATERS.]

Mr. W. T. Moncrieff, the dramatist, is responsible for the following

biographical notice of this old London Street Character:--“Of this

meritorious and lamented individual, we had with great trouble collected

from various sources, an ample and interesting Biography. But

unfortunately for posterity, in the same classic regions where he lost his

life, _we_ also lost his life; and, to tell the truth under the influence

of the same seductive fluid too--_Daffy!_--we can therefore only present

our reader with a few brief notices from memory.”

BILLY WATERS, was born in the powerful African kingdom of TONGOCONGOTABOO,

where he was a native Prince, and bore the name of POKIKOKIQUANKO; from

this place he was at an early age, to the universal regret of his loving

subjects, kidnapped, by ‘an auld Quaker,’ who bought him from his

treacherous attendants, for two axes, a frying-pan and a bag of nails.

This _black_ piece of business made him a slave, in the French settlement,

at Demarara, from whence however he speedly took _French leave_, and

entered, we believe, the British navy as a cook _par excellence_ on board

the Ganymede sloop of war, under the command of Sir John Purvis, where,

during a fierce engagement, he lost a leg, some say gallantly fighting the

enemies of old England, though others insinuate it was through falling

down the cockpit ladder, in his great hurry to hide himself. His own

version was that he fell from the top-sail yard to the quarter deck during

a storm, we cannot pretend to decide which was the fact, it however

occasioned his being sent to England, as unfit for service. Arriving in

London, he betook himself to that wild mode of life, which best suited his

origin; the trammels of civilized society, had no charm for him; he

scorned the mechanical rules of man, and picked up his living wherever he

could find it. Born a Prince, and bearing a native princeliness in his

appearance it is not to be wondered at that his associates should speedly

elect him to the regal dignity of their tribe.

In the year 1812 Billy was solemnly inauguared _ex cathedra_ into the

sovereignty of mendicityship--King of the Beggars--at the cellar of St.

Patrick in St Giles’, a rank he supported with great satisfaction and

majesty, till the luckless period when a rival _Billy_ (BODKIN), by

being placed at the head of the mendicity society, virtually became King

of the Beggars in his own right. This--as he conceived it, cruel

usurpation by Bodkin, pricked Billy just a leetle too hard. From that

moment he drooped as a blighted _lily_, and like another black hero he

exclaimed--‘Othello’s occupation’s gone.’ The fickle British public

refused to be as liberal as they had been, which he attributed to the

production of “_Tom and Jerry_” with whom he was made to partake of:--

“Shoulder of veal and garnish--Turkey and appendages--Parmesan and

Filberts--Port and Madeira.” Billy on hearing the above list given out

as forming the “peck and booze for the evening,” exclaimed “Dat dam

goot, me like a de Madery--Landlord, here, you give this bag of broken

wittals, vot I had give to me to day, to some genteel dog vot pass

your door: and you make haste wid de supper, you curse devil you.”

_Enter_ LANDLORD _with Supper_.

_Landlord._ Now, your honours, here’s the rum peck, here’s the supper.

_Billy._ Eh, de supper! de supper! come along. (_After striking_

CREEPING JACK _on the fingers with a knife_) you damn nasty dog! what

for you put yur dirty fingers in de gravy? you call dat gentlemans?

you want your fingers in de pie, now you got him dere!

_Jack._ I only wish’d to taste the stuffining.

_Billy._ And now you taste de carver knife instead! (_Takes candle,

and looks at supper_). Vy, what him call dis?

_Landlord._ Why the turkey and the pie, to be sure.

_Billy._ De turkey and de pie! I tink you said de turkey and de

pie,----what! de turkey widout de sassinger! him shock----him wouldn’t

give pin for turkey widout dem----me like a de Alderman in chain.

_Landlord._ I’m very sorry, Mr. Waters, but----

_Billy._ You sorry!----I sorry for my supper, you damn dog, you serve

up de turkey without de sassinger--no lemon to de weal--no hoyster

saase to de rum’-steaks, who you tink eat rum’-steaks widout de

hoyster saase? You send no filberts to de Port, nor debils to de

Madery nather. Mee must use some other hot-hell--you dog.

However, by a combination of events, Billy became very poor, and was

obliged, prior to his going into the workhouse, to part with his old

friend, the fiddle.--“Him lend him ole fiddle to him uncle at de pop

shop,” and the wooden _pin_ (leg) which had so often supported Billy,

would have shared the same fate, but its extensive service had rendered it

worthless though it had twice saved poor Billy from the penalties of the

_Treadmill_. At length, in the full belief that his spirit was about to

flee to meet his coloured ancestors in the realms of bliss and a free

hunting ground, he duly made his will, in which he bequeathed to W.

Bodkin, Esq,--_Billy Bodkin_, the Hon. Sec. to the Mendicity Society: a

bodkin that had so often pierced Billy to the heart--his wooden leg,

earnestly desiring he might receive it in his _latter end_.

In life he had been accustomed to wear a military cocked hat, a judge’s

full-bottomed cauliflower wig, and a naval officer’s jacket and trousers,

symbolical of his being the head and arbiter of the naval, military, and

judicial departments in his eleemosynary kingdom, these he bequeathed in

the following manner: His _wig_ he left to the COURT OF CHANCERY, in the

vague hope that they might obtain with it a little of his decision in

equity, and promptness in justice. His _military hat_ he left to the HEADS

of the HORSE GUARDS, and his _naval jacket_ and _trousers_ to the _old

washerwomen_ that manage the GREENWICH HOSPITAL. The DEAL FIDDLE, on which

he had been used to scrape his _native_ WOOD _notes wild_, we are happy to

state, was taken out of lavender, and is now in the possession of the

TYBURN _Ketch_ and Glee Club--the duplicate having been bequeathed to them

for that purpose.

In conclusion we have only to state, that Billy was an accomplished

cadger, a skilful musician, and adroit dancer--doing more on one leg than

many others on two, and possessed abilities that as an actor would have

rendered him a _shining_ ornament to the stage--“to hold, as t’were, the

mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own black

_image_!”

[Illustration]

Billy was considered of sufficient public importance, when in the _flesh_,

to be moulded and well _baked_ by a Potter, who taking up and moistening a

lump of clay, said, “_Be ware!_” and then turned Billy out in one of his

happiest moods and positions, with a broad grin on his black _mug_--a

perfect _image_, suitable for a chimney or sideboard ornament; which found

a ready sale at the time of its manufacture, but has now become very rare

in perfect condition, and, much coveted by collectors to add to their

Class, or Section of “ENGLISH CHARACTERS.” Specimens of this style of ware

are exhibited in the Bethnal Green Museum, London. Henry Willett, Esq. of

Brighton, also exhibits his fine collection of the same class of ware at

the Brighton Free Public Library.

LINES ON BILLY WATERS.

BY W. REEVES, _June, 1823_.

Peace to the manes of Black Billy Waters,

Well-known throughout the Town!

The reason that he left these quarters--

Is plain--He was by Death done _brown_.

His life was one continu’d round

Of pleasure and of glee;

His fiddle caus’d the hearts to bound

Of children as big as me.

_Mags_ came thick, this made him merry;

Fortune changes in a crack--

Folks they went t’see Tom and Jerry,

And on Billy turn’d their back.

Justice, at length, seiz’d on poor Bill,

Who quickly took his _peg_ off;

So they didn’t send him to the _Mill_,

’Cause, why? he’d got a leg off.

His day was o’er, he soon found out

Poverty with rapid stride

Follow’d him, and clamor’s shout

Meant poor Billy to deride.

In vain he fiddl’d, danc’d and sung,

Until he was out of breath;

Starving he was, his bow unstrung,

Till he danc’d--_The Dance of Death_.

[Illustration: LITTLE JEMMY.]

The real name of this notorious street-character was Andrew Whiston. He

was a born cripple, and in every respect a most miserable object of

charity. Moncrieff imported him into his Adelphi version of “Tom and

Jerry; or, Life in London,” as “Little Jemmy,” and there figures in the

SCENE: _Back Slums in the Holy Land_: in company with Mr. Jenkins, Soldier

Suke, Dingy Bet, Creeping Jack, Billy Waters, Ragged Dick, and other

well-known characters.--_Vide_ page 46.

For many years Andrew, _alias_ “Little Jemmy,” had been in the habit of

propelling himself about the streets of London in a little truck, or box

on wheels, assisted by the aid of two small crutches. He always wore a

white apron to conceal the deformity of his legs, which were curved, and

had the appearance of thin planks, having no calves.

To avoid the penalties attached to begging and vagrancy he usually carried

a few quill pens stuck in his coat and apron; declaring it to be the only

trade to which he had been brought up, whence he was called _The

Penmaker_! He has been heard to acknowledge he derived as much in his

perambulations through the streets as amounted to £2 per week. It was his

custom every morning to cross over Blackfriars Bridge for the purpose of

gathering alms. He always prided himself as _leader_ of the “_Cadgers_,”

in the metropolis, and was one of the most dissipated of the class to

which he belonged; never returning to the hovel, in which he took up his

abode, in the Borough, except in a state of intoxication. In his fits of

inebriety, when at a distance from home, and incapable of proceeding, he

was generally picked up by some of the numerous coalheavers, residing in

the same quarter of the town, and carried to his dwelling on their

shoulders; this, from his diminutive stature, was no very difficult task

to perform.

On the night of his death, which occurred Monday, April 3, 1826, he had

been drinking spirits, and porter, during the day, and was as usual

carried home by two men; for which they were to receive a pot of beer. On

setting down their burden, the unfortunate man--who had been conveyed with

his head downwards, was discovered to be in a dying state. Surgical

assistance was immediately procured, but poor “_Little Jemmy_,” was quite

dead ere it arrived. Information of his death was given at 11 o’clock to

the night constable of St. Saviour’s Parish, who proceeded to the house,

the inmates of which refused to give up the body, on the ground that their

late lodger died in their debt a month’s rent. Another strong reason for

their refusal in delivering up the corpse, was a report that prevailed in

the neighbourhood, that the surgeons of both the hospitals in the Borough

had offered no less a sum than £100 for the body after death, for the

purpose of dissection, in consequence of its extraordinary formation. The

constable, however, claimed the body of the deceased, as none of his

relations were on the spot, and conveyed it away to the watch-house,

clearly perceiving that if it was left behind, the inmates would dispose

of it to the highest bidder.

On Friday, April 7, an inquest was held at the Rose and Ball public-house,

Bankside, Southwark, before R. Carter, Esq. Upon the return of the jury

after viewing the body, all of whom expressed their astonishment at the

decrepitude and peculiar formation of the singular little man. The surgeon

in attendance having described the death to have occurred in consequence

of apoplexy. The jury brought in a verdict in accordance with the medical

evidence that the deceased died of “APOPLEXY.”

The day after the inquest sat on the body it was conveyed to St. Saviour’s

Burial ground, and interred in a grave dug 14 feet in depth from the

surface, over which were placed three other coffins, in order to secure it

against the resurrection-men, who were anxious to have the corpse to

dispose of.

Subsequently to the death of BILLY WATERS, the notorious black mendicant

fiddler--March, 1823; “LITTLE JEMMY” acquired the soubriquet of The King

of the Beggars.

[Illustration]

The Tread-Mill at Brixton.

[Illustration]

In the year 1817, Mr.--afterwards Sir William--Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected

a Tread-Mill at Brixton Gaol--and soon afterwards in other large prisons,

as a species of _preventive punishment_, which excited much attention and

terror to evil doers, and proved eminently useful in decreasing the number

of commitments; the strict discipline had a most salutary effect upon the

prisoners not easily to be forgotten. Yet, the inventor’s name gave rise

to many jokes on the subject among such of the prisoners who could laugh

at their own crimes, who said that they were now punished by the _cubit_!

In nearly all the new and fa--vour--ite comic songs of the day allusion

was made to the TREADMILL OF BRIXTON as--_The Everlasting Stairs!--The

Stepping Mill!--The New Dancing Academy! &c._ A street-ballad on the

subject was issued from the “Catnach Press” and had a most unprecedented

sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks:--

“And we’re all treading, tread, tread, treading,

And we’re all treading, at fam’d Brixton Mill.”

The following punning ditty was very popular at the period:--

THE TREADMILL.

This Brixton Mill’s a fearful ill,

And he who brought the Bill in,

Is threatn’d by the _cribbing_ coves,

That he shall have a _milling_.

They say he shew’d a simple pate,

To think of felons mending:

As every _step_ which here they take,

They’re still in crime _ascending_.

And when releas’d, and in the streets

Their former snares they’re spreading,

They swear ’tis Parliament, which wills

They must their old ways _tread in_.

The Radicals begin to think

’Twill touch the Constitution,

For as the _wheel_ moves round and round,

It brings a _Revolution_.

But though these snarlers show their teeth,

And try to vex the nation,

Their actions soon are _tried_ and _judg’d_,

And _grinding_ is their station.

The _Gambling swells_ who near St. James’

Have _play’d_ their double dealings,

Say ’tis not fair that Bow-street should

Thus _work_ upon their feelings.

Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs,

Find here they cannot _come_ it,

For though their _fancy_ soars aloft,

They ne’er will reach the _summit_.

Corinthian Kate and buxom Sue

Must change their _warm_ direction,

For if they make one _false step_ more

They’ll have _Cold Bath Correction_.

The moon-struck youths who haunt the stage,

And spend their master’s siller,

Must here play to another tune,

’Tis called the _Dusty Miller_.

Ye bits of blood (the watchman’s dread)

Who love to floor a _Charley_,

As you delight to strip and fight,

Come forth and _mill_ the _barley_.

_John Barleycorn’s_ a stout old blade,

As every man puts trust in,

And you will make no _meal_ of him,

But he’ll give you a _dusting_.

But here we’ll stay, for _puns_ they say,

Are bad as stealing purses

And I to _Brixton_ may be sent,

To _grind_ some _floury verses_.

[Illustration: GOING TO THE MILL!]

THE WARNING.

_Supposed to have been sung by a Cadger to his Companions on his Return

from “The New Dancing Academy,” Brixton._

_Tune._--“BOW WOW, &C.”

You Cadgers all, both great and small,

Attend to vat I say, Sirs,

All prigging stow, or you vill go

Where I com’d from to day, Sirs.

As down the Strand, a Gent so grand,

Was strutting, mighty fine, Sirs,

His hankercher hung out so fur,

I really thought ’twas mine, Sirs.

Tol de rol, &c.

I made a grab--he did me nab,

To quod I quick vas taken;

The magistrate he sat in state:

I trembl’d for my bacon.

Evidence o’er--oh vhat a bore!--

His eyes on me he fix’d on;

Says he to me, “Go, have a spree

At the _Treading Mill at Brixton_.”

Tol de rol, &c.

Vhen I reach’d there, a surly bear,

The steps he bid me mount, Sirs--

From Dirty Dick, up to the kick,

Ve’d a swelling black legg’d Count, Sirs.

Both high and low, they have a go:

Oh! ’tis a decent pill, Sirs.

They step avay, and cry all day,

“The devil take the Mill, Sirs.”

Tol de rol, &c.

Then varning take, and keep avake,

For _Traps_ are not asleep, Sirs;

They prowl about, to find us out,

Like volves do after sheep, Sirs.

My life I’ll change--don’t think it strange,

I’ll vork, that’s vat I vill, Sirs,

Both night and day, to keep away

From the curs’d _Treading Mill_, Sirs,

Tol de rol, &c.

In the Adelphi version of “Tom & Jerry,” there is as follow:--

_Black Slums in the Holy Land._

_Mr. J._ Does any gemmen understand these here Tread Mills, that have

lately got such a footing?

_Jack._ Silence! Gemmen: I’m a-going to make a hobservation, Mr. Jenkins

means them there Mills as makes you vork vether there’s any vork or no--I

can only say this here, gemmen, if them there Mills are encouraged, it

von’t be vorth no body’s vile to exercise vone’s calling--because, vy, von

may as vell go and vork for vone’s living at once--but the subject von’t

bear not no thinking on.

_Omnes._ Not by no means. (_General groans_).

_Billy Waters._ Oh, curse a de Tread Mill, me no like a de “here we go up,

up, up,” and “down you go down, down, down,”--an’ if you no work, a great

big lump of wood come and knock you down so--(_Strikes beggar on head with

his fiddle, who falls down_). Poor fellow, him werry sorry.

[Illustration]

_Tom and Jerry; or, Life in London._

TUNE.--“Picture of a Playhouse.”

Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry, and Logic I sing,

’Tis a subject (I hope it will please)

Men and boys in my ears long time they did ding,

So I determined to risk a good squeeze--

To the Strand then I toddled--the mob it was great--

My watch I found gone--pockets undone:

I fretted, at first, and rail’d against fate,

For I paid well to see “Life in London.”

_Spoken._-“La, vel now, if I a’n’t all of a perspiration,--positively, I’m

in a _melting_ mood;” this was uttered by a tallow chandler’s fat wife.

Her hubby, Mr. Wicks, cries out “What the devil are you talking about

_melting_?--for my part, I hate mention of business when I’m out on

pleasure.” “Come, don’t be _dipping_ in my pocket, if you please, Sir.”

“Vat, vat is de matter?” “Wat! who’s talking of wats?” “Vy, my dear Mr.

Vicks, I think this man’s making a reticule of me.” “By the powers! it is

a very fortunate circumstance he be making a reticule for you, Ma’am, for

that there young man, in the drab great coat, has just cut yours from the

chain, and put it in his pocket.” “Mind what you’re arter, mind your

pockets.” “Where are you pushing to?” “Where am I pushing to? I’m pushing

To see Tom and Jerry,

The lads who delight in

A bottle of Sherry

And watch to be fighting,

For that’s the time o’ day.

In the course of the piece is the parlour of Cribb,

There they chaunted their songs full of glee;

In the chair sits blythe Tom, he’s the real boy to fib,

And he’s also the boy for a spree.

The street-row comes next, and is kept up so well,

That I laugh’d and never wish’d the fun done,

Those who play Charlies, I’m sure they can tell

What a street-row is in fam’d London.

_Spoken._--“La! now, is this not a delightful picture of life! how do you

like it, my dear?” “Oh Mamma, I likes it very well, only one thing is, I’m

sorry I didn’t bring some hapennies out of my money-box, to give the poor

beggar-people.” “Dear little innocent!” “Was you innocent when you was

little, Mamma?” “Yes, my love.” “But, are you innocent now, Mamma?” “Why,

yes--that is to say--as most women of my age are, my dear.” “Well. Mr.

O’Quiz, how do you like the piece?” “Faith, now, the piece is very well,

only one thing.” “And what may that be, pray?” “Why, I’m not inclined to

make any objection at all, at all: but, by my soul! this is the first time

I ever saw or heard of Life in St. Giles’s, without an Irishman being

concerned in it.” “Hollo! what is all this hubbubboo?” “Why, it’s the half

price, pushing in

To see Tom and Jerry, &c.

High life and low life are correctly pourtrayed

At Almack’s, I mean both the East and the West.

The actor’s look life, they so well are arrayed,

But the Back Slums to my mind is surely the best.

Logic a party invites to give them a treat,

The bailiff comes in and Bob’s undone;

He by Nab’em is _press’d_ and ta’en to the _Fleet_,

Which brings to a close Life in London.

_Spoken._--The piece being over, there’s a grand rush to the doors: then,

hey for the pleasures of a soaking wet night. “Well, positively, ’pon

honor, if it does’nt rain; its enough to make any one _cross_ when one’s

going out to a _ball_.” “Want a coach your honor?” “Yes, drive me to _St.

Paul’s_.” “What, in the name of St. Patrick, can he want at the _cross_

and _ball_ of _St. Paul’s_ at this time of night?” “Oh! bless my soul! I

think I’ve broken my leg.” “Coach to Cripplegate.” “I say, look at that

Cove diving at that Gent’s pocket.” “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’ve got

a cold, therefore want my hankerchief; but, as you’re so fond of _diving_,

I’ll accommodate you--the Thames is near, and you shall have a dam’d good

_ducking_.” “All right, Coachee.” “Watch! Watch!” “Hark! the Pianos

going.” “Watch! Watch!” “What’s the row?” “Oh! only some fancy Lads, who,

having seen the Charlies well mill’d inside, have already commenced

milling them outside, and the word with them is

We’re like Tom and Jerry, &c.

The following ballad is from the “Catnach Press:”--

_PIERCE EGAN; OR, LIFE IN LONDON._

Written by a Corinthian, and sung in Prime Twig by an Out-and-Outer.

In the country, our squire

Had a very large book,

Which into my hands

I quite often had took;

Life in London, I think,

Were the name that it had,

And ’twas wrote by Pierce Egan,

That comical lad.

Oh, Pierce Egan! knowing Pierce Egan,

You must in your time have seen wonderful fun.

When I first came from country

Into this great town,

I laugh’d at each joke

As I walked up and down;

Till three fellows I met,

They were bold as could be;

And Tom, Jerry, and Logic,

Say they, you now see.

Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

At night, in the street,

You are sure of a row,

And the Charlies are bother’d

I cannot tell how;

But if to the watch-house

The chaps be all taken,

You’ll find Egan’s heroes

To be there, sure as bacon.

Oh, Pierce Egan &c.

E’en the boys in the street

Do talk flash, you must know,

And the real out-and-outers

Do strut to and fro;

While a _gemmen_ in powder

From none will retreat,

But will _peel_, a coal-heaver,

Or dustman to beat.

Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

And since Life in London

Has been all the rage,

There’s nothing else now

That will do for the stage;

And parsons, and tailors,

And barbers likewise

Go to Spring, Cribb, or Belcher,

To learn to black eyes.

Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

But this I must say

To my friends in this place,

That _chaffing_ and _milling_

Does puppies disgrace;

And if they would know

How such knaves may be undone,

They’ll read that same book

Which is called Life in London.

Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.

J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

[Illustration: THE LAST CHARLEY.]

“Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.”

St. Giles’s clock had sounded two,

The moon was on the wane,

And bitterly the north wind blew;

In torrents fell the rain.

When like a goblin from the grave,

A ghastly form appear’d,

And thrice a grievous groan it gave,

Thrice scratch’d its grisly beard.

Tall, wretched, shiv’ring, pale and thin,

It brav’d the pelting storm,

Without an upper Benjamin

To keep the carcase warm.

Prostrate upon the flags it lay,

Where Seven Dials meet;

And “Och!” it cried, “is this the way

A jontleman to treat?

“I soon must haste to join the throng

On Pluto’s dreary coast--

I’ve given up my _spirits_ long,

Now I’ll give up the _ghost_.

“Yes! I must go, at fate’s command,

In Charon’s ferry boat,

And change the _rattle_ in my hand

For _rattles_ in my throat.

“That rattle which the prigs to catch

Would other Charleys bring,

_Watchmen_, we know, are like a _watch_--

Nothing without a _spring_.

“My lanthorn!--and the thought, I vow,

The sob of sorrow draws;

No _lanthorn_ can I carry now,

Except my _lanthorn jaws_.

“With grief unfeign’d my heart is big--

The power of utterance fails,

And losing thee, my old _Welsh_ wig,

This tortur’d heart be-_Wails_.

“My night-cap red, which this poor head

Hath screen’d from damp and dew,

Like my poor cap, I’ve lost my _nap_,

And I am _worsted_ too.

“Snug in my _box_ I bore the shocks

Of drunkard’s jeer and scoffing;

Now the vile _cough_ will take me off,

And _box_ me in a _coffin_.

“To thee, my pipe, my bosom yearns--

Those moments, free from pain,

In which I sat and smok’d _returns_,

Will ne’er _return_ again.

“This New Police has laid me flat--

Let Christian hearts condole;

And in the mud they _roll_ poor _Pat_,

Who once was a _Patrol_.

“Och! when I think of former years,

It almost drives me crazy;

Bear up, my sowl--be dry, my tears--

My throbbing heart be azy.

“Once I was young, but now I’m owld,

Once full of fun and frisky--

But now I shudder with the cowld

And the devil a drop of whisky!”

He spoke, and sadly gaz’d around

(The last words he could utter),

Then with a mournful _guttural_ sound,

Roll’d headlong in the _gutter_.

Printed by T. BIRT, 10, Great St. Andrew-Street,

(wholesale and retail,) Seven Dials, London.

Country Orders punctually attended to.

Every description of Printing on the most reasonable terms,

Children’s Books, Battledores, Pictures, &c.

[Illustration]

THE SPREES OF TOM, JERRY AND LOGIC;

_A New Song, of Flash, Fashion, Frolic, and Fun._

Come all ye swells and sporting blades who love to see good fun,

Who in the dark, to have a lark, a mile or two would run;

Here’s a dish of entertainment which cannot fail to please,

The rigs of Tom and Jerry, and all their jolly sprees.

With their dash along, flash along, to Life and London haste away,

Where sprees and rambles, larks and gambols, is the time of day.

From Hawthorn-Hall young Jerry came to see his cousin Tom,

And with his friend Bob Logic acquainted soon became,

Then to cut a dash, he learns the flash, to act high life and low,

And up and down through all the town at night they rambling go.

In a morning at Tattersall’s you may them often see,

’Mong jockies, grooms, and chaunters, a knowing company;

In the afternoon they’re lounging in Burlington Arcade,

And at night they’re at the Opera, Ball, or Masquerade.

Among the milling kiddy coves young Jerry took delight,

And was always first to raise a purse to have a glorious fight.

A Fancy blade he then became, and his courage ran so high,

That in his room, he floor’d his groom, and black’d his valet’s eye.

Then off to Leicester-fields they’d march, the Strand, or Drury-lane

Among the sporting ladies to carry on the game,

They’d take them to a gin-shop and treat them round so civil,

Then spur them on to fight and scratch each other like the devil.

While rambling up and down one night they came to Temple-Bar,

And to have a spree, they did agree, ’gainst the Charlies to make war,

Then in the twinkling of an eye a watch-box was upset,

The Watchy roar’d till all was blue, but out he could not get.

They smash’d their lanterns, kick’d their shins, and did their pipkins

crack,

And laid them down so neatly one by one upon their backs,

The prigs and sporting ladies all joined in the row,

But Jerry, Tom, and Logic by the pigs [watchmen] were ta’en in tow.

Then to the Holy Land they went disguis’d from top to toe,

To see the Beggar’s Opera where all the Cadgers go,

With Mahogany Bet they had a lark, Black Moll, and Dumpling Kate,

And treated all the apple-women with a yard of tape [gin].

Now, with your leave good folks I will conclude my flashy song,

I hope you’re entertained, and I’ve not detain’d you long,

And Logic, Tom, and Jerry, do cordially unite,

To thank you for your patronage, and wish you all Good Night.

With their dash along, &c.

LONDON:

Printed by J. CATNACH, 2 Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.

Battledores, Lotteries, and Primers sold cheap.

Travellers and Shopkeepers supplied with Sheet Hymns. Patter and Slips.

Songs as Cheap and Good as any Shop in London. Where an

Immense number of songs are always ready.

☞ Cards, &c., Printed cheap.

I’M A CONSTABLE IN MY OWN RIGHT.

I’m a Constable in my own right,

I think that I am of some use;

A searching by day and by night;

Correcting of every abuse.

I carries my staff in my hand,

My power to let the folks see;

I’m certain all over the land

There’s no one so busy as me.

And I’m a Constable, &c.

A Beggar I know by his rags,

A thief I can tell by his looks;

My eyes and my nose never flags,

I puts ’em down in my black books;

The blind beggars when they sees me

A coming ne’er stops to stand still;

Tho’ ever so lame, they walk free,

Or else they would walk to the mill.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

The Publicans all are polite,

As soon as they sees me come in,

They press, and entreat, and invite

To choose of rum, brandy, or gin;

But from me they gets a rebuff,

The offer I always decline;

I scorns to take such vile stuff,

As I never drinks nothing but wine.

And I’m a Constable, &c.

The Watchmen don’t dare go to sleep,

They knows they’d be fined if they do;

Round with the Patroles I creep,

Each morning between one and two.

The Patrole’s don’t like it, ’tis true,

But of me they all are afraid,

And I’m resolved my duty to do,

For I know there’s some cash to be made.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

Old women who sits with the fruit,

Had better not come in my claw;

I pulls ’em up----won’t let ’em do’t,

Because ’tis contrary to law:

Such nuisances ought to be fin’d

And I get a share of the pelf;

My trouble I never don’t mind,

’Cause I keeps a green-grocer’s myself.

And I’m a Constable, &c.

The Watch-house owns me for its king,

I reigns there without a control;

If any blackguards they bring,

I sends ’em down to the black hole;

But if a gentleman gets drunk, so free,

And is brought in----mayhap for a whim

If he behaves genteel to me,

Why I behaves genteel to him.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

When I sits in my chair of a night,

Should any unfortunate _gals_

Be brought in, I thinks it but right

To commit ’em along with their pals.

The Toms and the Jerrys I hooks,

And takes them to Bow Street, next day;

Tho’ when very sorry they looks,

I lets them off if they can pay.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

The butchers’ and chandlers’ shops,

What used to be serving o’ Sunday,

So shockingly wicked, I stops;

I pulls them all up on the Monday,

I shows no favours to none,

My labours they seem to prove double,

And thinks before I have done,

I shall save Mr. Johnson some trouble.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

Our Parish has got a bad plan,

’Tis always to quarrel and storm;

I’m sure I shall do all I can

To bring on a speedy reform:

Our Overseers are all quite strange,

And that any body may see;

It would make a most wonderful change,

If they all were as busy as me.

For I’m a Constable, &c.

LONDON:

Printed by GOLD and WALTON, Wardour Street, Oxford Street,

For T. Hudson, Kean’s Head, Russell Court, Drury Lane,

1828.

When again shall we THREE meet,

Amongst the _Swells_ in Regent Street?

Come soon, my boy--come with glee,

For lots of FUN--another _Spree_!

With respect to the publication of LIFE IN LONDON; or, the Day and Night

Scenes of Tom and Jerry. The proverbial everybody seems for the _nonce_ to

have been pleased with the work. The thirty-six scenes from Real Life,

designed and etched by the Brothers Cruikshank had much to do with its

success, and everybody seems to have made a great deal of money out of the

circumstance--save and except the author, Pierce Egan, for he very loudly

and frequently, and also “_cry-baby-like_,” declared _inter alia_, that he

received--“more of the kicks than the halfpence” by reason of the

_Pirates_ and _Thieves_ being ever on the alert to _prig_ his thoughts and

ideas, and that the whole crew of them united to _grab_ all the “_lively

things!_” out of his head, and so render the “cash account” at his bankers

all but nugatory. Then--“came the cry of immorality, so loudly raised by

the Actor’s old rivals the Religious Tract Society, the Methodists, and

other sectarian parties.” Yet, in spite of all that could be said or sung

in the matter Pierce wrote that--“he was _too game_ to be made a _dummy_

of: therefore he was determined _to take the leap_, and have another

“_shy-up_,” and go “_double or quits_,” with that supreme goddess of the

gods FAME!!! and try his luck once more in the field of literature and

announced the publication of his new work _The Finish_ thus:--

THE AUTHOR TO THE READERS OF

LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON.

After the lapse of Seven Years the Author has once more seized hold of the

_feather_, and the Artist his _pencil_, with an earnest endeavour to

follow the advice of our immortal bard, or rather adopt him as a model,

“nothing to extenuate, or set down aught in malice!” and:--

To hold as ’twere

The Mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own feature,

Vice her own image, and the very age

And body of the Time, its form and pressure.

Then thus it is--the “glorious uncertainty” of pleasing every class of

society respecting a knowledge of LIFE IN LONDON being essential towards

the improvement of the junior branches of mankind; and although contrary

to the established and sapient rules of the College of Physicians, and the

practice pursued by our learned friends in Westminster Hall, we are,

nevertheless, anxious to give advice without a fee, in order to prove

that, in all cases, whether connected with youth or more mature age,

PREVENTION is much better than CURE; indeed, so anxious are we to set

ourselves right with the public, as to our future intentions respecting

this work, and that we may see our way clearly, and tread on the firmest

ground, we feel inclined to adopt the latin proverb so often quoted by BOB

LOGIC to the unsuspecting JERRY, on his first arrival in the metropolis:--

_Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim._

The necessity is absolute; or, rather, an apology is required for the

introduction of the Author and Artist to the notice of reader, previous to

the second appearance of those heroes--CORINTHIAN TOM, LOGIC and JERRY, on

the great theatre of the world! _pour quoi?_ to vindicate the characters

of the Author and Artist from unmerited aspersion of having attempted, by

the joint efforts of real tales, original anecdotes, and animated

sketches, to demoralize the rising generation; and likewise to refute the

charge of having turned the heads of older folks towards the commission of

acts of folly and intemperance enough! To our task----“Hark forward’s the

word, see the game is in view!” and our exertions will be vigorously

directed to establish, if possible. “_Tâche sans tâche._” Our principal

aim being to realize, to the utmost extent, the attractive motto:--

PRO BONO PUBLICO!

Proceed, my boy, nor heed their further call,

Vain his attempts who strives to please you all!

THE

_FINISH TO THE ADVENTURES_

OF

TOM, JERRY, AND LOGIC,

In their Pursuits through

LIFE IN AND OUT OF LONDON,

BY PIERCE EGAN.

With numerous Coloured Illustrations by

ROBERT CRUIKSHANK.

[Illustration]

London:

George Virtue and Co.,

Ivy Lane,

Paternoster Row.

The _Finish_ to Life in London is embellished with thirty six

illustrations by Robert Cruikshank, and contains XV. CHAPTERS of

letter-press matter. Tom, Jerry and Logic are again brought on the scene,

and several additional characters are introduced into the work, notably

_Sir_ John Blubber, _Knt._, a second Falstaff, without stuffing, a most

facetious, jolly, good-natured soul, one of that class of persons deemed

independent, and his property enabled him to “care for nobody.” The

adventures of the personnæ in their pursuits of Life in and Out of London

are fully described, and the “_Finish!_” of LOGIC, the Oxonian, and

CORINTHIAN TOM narrated as follow.