CHAPTER IX

Ladies,—the chariot waits;—the toilet now Where erst so many hours were idly spent, Asks of its wonted due the tythe alone;— Braid then your tresses of luxuriant now, And wrap your forms angelic in the dress Simple, yet rich and elegant, that gives Your matchless beauties half revealed to view; The broad capacious bosom's luscious swell, Still heaving strong, and suing to be prest;— Grace then the vehicle.—We, observers Of Real Life, the while, in London go To “catch the living manners as they rise, “And give the age its very form and pressure.”

CONTINUING their route down Holborn, the adventure in the Linen-draper's shop became the theme of conversation.—“It is not alone,” said Dashall, “to the lower orders and necessitous that this system of Shop-lifting is confined; many recent instances have occurred of similar depredation, by women above the mediocrity of rank, who, however, frequently contrive to compromise prosecution, while the delinquent of poverty is visited by the utmost rigor of the law!—Of the two, certainly the thief from habit is more culpable than the thief from necessity.”

Sir Felix and the Squire entirely agreed with their friend in opinion.—“Shop-lifters,” continued Dashall, “are as pernicious to the trading part of the community as any of the cheats of London; there is not, on a moderate calculation, less than 5000 of these artful thieves in the metropolis, and the prejudice they do to the industrious tradesman is incalculable.”

“By the powers of safety, then,” exclaimed the baronet “the honest dealer should consider every stranger a thief until further acquaintance.”

“Not exactly so; however, it is necessary that the London tradesman should be upon his guard, and keep a sharp look out upon his customers, not knowing, by their appearance, whether they are honest or otherwise."{1}

Turning from Holborn into Chancery Lane, our pedestrians were encountered by a very handsome chariot, in which were two elegantly dressed and beautiful women, who, ordering the carriage to stop, saluted Dashall and the Squire in the most fascinating terms of friendly recognition.

“Your Ladyships render me,” said Dashall, “infinite happiness; this is a most unexpected pleasure!”

“You are a gallant cavalier,” observed one of the lovely inmates, “another gentleman would probably have used the word honor instead of happiness, but you are fertile in felicitous expression.”

“Not more felicitous than appropriate; but whither away, my fair captivators?”

“We are on a shopping expedition,” replied one of the ladies, “you and your friend of Belville-hall, are observers of Life in London generally;—ours is a mere circumscribed sphere of action; we go to view Life in a Mercer's shop.—When the Squire and you are not more pleasantly engaged, give us a call, and perhaps we may grant you the honor of an interview.—We would ask the Unknown,” said she, in a whisper, “who is he?”

1 A thief from habit.—Not long since, there existed in the fashionable world, a female of rank and property, who was an habitual, expert, and incorrigible thief.—She would frequently sally forth in her carriage, and alighting at the doors of perhaps, half a dozen different tradesmen, rummage over their goods, without mak-ing a purchase, and embrace the opportunity of purloining any portable article that lay in her way. Those tradesmen to whom her thieving propensities were known, used to watch, carefully, her manoeuvres, let her walk off with the spoil, and then send a bill of depredation, which she uniformly, and without hesitation, dis-charged. This unfortunate woman was one morning detected in the shop of a Mercer to whom she was a stranger, in the act of pilfering some article of value. He was about to detain her, when she burst into an agony of tears, acknowledged, and lamented deeply, the irresistible infatuation under which she acted, disclosed her rank and family, and the compassionate mercer suffered her to depart. At another time, being one of a card-party, a gold snuff-box vanished from the table. Every person present denied any knowledge of it;—“Madam, you are mistaken,” said one of the company, “you have got the snuff-box in your pocket.”—“How very absent I am!”exclaimed our heroine, producing the box.—“And I beg that you will continue absent!” said the lady of the mansion.

“Sir Felix O'Grady, Madam,” answered Dashall, “an Irish baronet, of recent acquaintance; like every other gentleman of the Emerald Isle, combining, with characteristic eccentricity, a sound head and a warm heart.”

“Then, of all things, bring him with you.” “So,” waving gracefully her hand, “adieu!” the trio responded, by respectfully raising their hats, “Allons donc,” she exclaimed, and the carriage drove off.

“There go,” exclaimed Dashall, “two of the most lovely and accomplished women in London, and perhaps the least tinctured with fashionable folly.”

“With the exception,” observed the Squire, “of shopping, that is, I presume, making the morning tour of tradesmen's shops, tumbling over their goods, giving them every possible trouble, and ultimately making no purchase."{1}

Dashall admitted the correctness of the Squire's observation, as generally applicable, but claimed an exemption for the ladies in question.

On the left, proceeding down Chancery Lane, Dashall pointed to a respectable house as the occasional residence of a lady in the first class of literature, whose writings have given universal satisfaction, and will continue to be read with increased avidity, as conveying the most admirable lessons of morality, told in a manner alike impressive and pathetic;—Mrs. Op*e; the widow of the late celebrated artist. This excellent woman is endeared to the circle of her numerous acquaintance by a pre-eminent

1 Tallyho had improved in his knowledge of Real Life in London.—His definition of Shopping was perfectly correct. One of those fashionable female idlers, who delight in occupying the time, and exercising the patience of the industrious, alighted, a short time since, at the shop of a tradesman in Ludgate-street, and after a couple of hours spent in examining and re-examining a variety of rich silks, made her election at last, and desired the mercer to cut her off a shilling's worth, throwing, at the same time, the money on the counter. The tradesman, with perfect coolness, took up the piece of coin, laid it on a corner of the silk, circum-scribed it with his scissors, and presented the part so cut out to the lady, as the shilling's worth required. We feel pleasure in recording the result. The lady admired the mercer's equanimity of temper, laughed heartily at his manner of illustrating it, and in atonement for trouble given and patience exemplified, became, and still continues, one of his most valued customers.

suavity of disposition, blended with superior mental endowments; to the unfortunate by her benevolent heart, to which the appeal of distress is never made in vain; and to the public generally, by her invaluable works, the uniform tendency of which is the advancement of virtue and the inculcation of the benign feelings of humanity.{1}

1 To the admirers of Mrs. Op*e, the following lines, never before published, will not prove unacceptable. TRIBUTE OF RESPECT. O Thou of matchless power to raise And bend the Passions to thy sway I— Whose pen with magic force portrays, Whose spell the shadowy forms obey. Of Joy and Grief, of Hope and Fear, And wiles from Apathy a tear,— Enchantress! take the duteous lays To Worth that Admiration pays. To thee, as to thy Op*e, given On Immortality a claim; His virtues pass'd from Earth to Heaven, Yet still exist in deathless fame;— His pencil to thy pen assign'd To charm, instruct, and grace mankind!— And Oh! could but my humble strains To thy impressive skill aspire, The Muse that faintly now sustains Thy worth, would make poetic fire, And glowing high, with fervid name, Would graft her honors on thy name.— But ah! bereft of every stay, From Hope exil'd, with Woe I keep My vigils, each sad sorrowing day, And wake, each dreary night, to weep!— By Penury chill'd poetic powers, No voice to soothe, no hand to save, And snatch a victim from the grave,— Around me Desolation lours, And glaring, midst the deep'ning gloom, Despair and Famine urge me to the tomb! If, all unmeet, my humble strain Is destin'd still to flow in vain;— Shouldst thou the tribute now refuse Essayed by Misery and the Muse; Reject not yet the lay with scorn, To thee by kindred feelings borne;— For still thy tales of plaintive tone Breathe pain and sufferings, like mine own.

Facing the entrance to the Royal Wax Works, Sir Felix made a full stop;—“That fellow,” said he, alluding to the whole length figure of the Centinel, “stands as motionless as a statue; by the powers, but half-a-dozen peep-o-day boys in his rear would be after putting life and mettle in his heels!—Shoulder and carry your arms, you spalpeen; and is this the way that you show the position of a soldier?” at same time enforcing his admonition with a smart stroke of his cane over the arm of the inanimated military representative. The attendant, a young man in the costume of the Yeomen of the Guards, remonstrated; Dashall and Tallyho laughed most immoderately; and the baronet, equally enjoying the joke, persisted in affecting to believe, that he was addressing himself to a living object, greatly to the amusement of the now congregating street passengers.

“Begging your pardon, ray jewel,” continued Sir Felix, “long life and good luck to you, in your stationary quarters, and may His Majesty never find a more active enemy than yourself!—By the soul of my grandmother, it would be well for poor Ireland, who has taken leave of her senses, if her bog-trotting marauders were as peaceably inclined as you are.—Fait and troth, but you're a fine looking lad after all, and with the assistance of your master, and a touch of Prometheus, we might raise a regiment of braver fellows than the King's Guards, without bounty or beat of drum, in the twinkling of an eye, honey; but with your leave, and saving yourself unnecessary trouble, we'll be after paying a visit to the company above stairs; “and the party proceeded to the exhibition room.—

Here were representatives of the living and mementos of the dead! Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses,

Ah! cease the sad resemblance here!— Thee, then, to every feeling dear Of tender sympathy,—thy way Illumin'd to life's remotest day. In bliss, in worth, in talent shine, Though pain, and want unsuccour'd, mine! Adorning this terrestrial sphere, Be long an Op*e's talents given; And Virtue consecrate the tear When call'd to join her native Heaven! A. K.

warriors, statesmen, poets, and philosophers, in social communion: not forgetting the lady who had three hundred and sixty-five children at a birth!!{1}

The baronet made many congees to the great and inferior personages by whom he was surrounded, admired the heterogeneity of the group, and regretted that their imperfect creation precluded the possibility of converse.

One of the figures, by an unobserved excitement of the attendant, now inclined its head to Sir Felix, who, nothing daunted, immediately assumed the attitude of Macbeth in the banquet scene, and exclaimed,

“Nay, if thou canst nod, speak too! if our graves And charnel houses give those we bury back, Our monuments shall be the maws of kites.”

The company present pronounced the baronet a player, and a lady, to whom the manly and athletic form of the supposed tragedian had given apparent pleasure, assured him she had never heard the passage more impressively delivered, and that certainly, in the character of the Scottish Usurper, there was no doubt of his becoming to Mr. Kran a very formidable rival!

Sir Felix sustained his part admirably, expressing his high acknowledgment of the lady's favorable opinion; but the enquiry when and in which theatre, he meant to make his first appearance, had so nearly deranged his gravity and that of his two friends, as to induce them to hasten their retreat.

Dashall and Tallyho congratulated the baronet on his promising dramatic talent, and advised him still further to court the favors of the tragic Muse.

“May the devil burn the tragic Muse!” he exclaimed;

1 Thus runs the legend.— A lady in former times, who, it seems, like some of our modern visionaries, was an enemy to superabundant population, and would have restricted the procreation of children to those only who could maintain them; was applied to for alms by a poor woman, with no less than five little famishing urchins in her train. The haughty dame not only refused to relieve the unfortunate mendicant, but poured upon her a torrent of abuse, adding that she had no right to put herself in the way of having children whom she could not support.—The woman dropped on her knees, and prayed “that the lady might have as many children at one birth as there were days in the year!” and so, (as the legend runs,) it actually happened!

“Arrah, give me the favors of that sweet pretty crature, the comical Muse at the Wax-works, who took me for a player,—Och! the fascination of her smile and the witchery of her eye before all the Muses that ever fuddled the brain of a garreteer!”

“Why baronet,” said the Squire, “you are love-struck,—deeply lurched,—taken in by the knowing one!”

“Taken in, that is as it may hereafter happen, but an Irishman, my jewel, is never so desperately in love with one girl but he can spare a bit of affection for another.

“Sure love is the soul of a nate Irishman, He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can With his sprig of shilleleagh and shamrock so green.”—

The three friends had now rounded the corner at the bottom of Fleet-street, in the direction of Blackfriars, when Dashall claimed the attention of his associates.—

“This is the domicil,” said he, “of the patriotic Alderman, who, during so many years has uniformly and ably opposed the civic hirelings of Corruption, advocated the cause of Freedom, and acquired the well-earned meed of high estimation by all the respectable and independent portion of his fellow-citizens.

“Firm in principle, and resolute in difficulty, the conscientious discharge of his duty has ever been his prominent object. But perhaps in no instance has he so greatly endeared himself to humanity, than in that of the long protracted inquest on the bodies of the two unfortunate men, Honey and Francis, the victims of military outrage; his constant attendance and indefatigable exertions on that occasion, were the means of eliciting many particulars which otherways might not have been known, and which ultimately led the Jury to record the atrociousness of the crime by the several verdicts of murder and manslaughter.

“Again, on the memorable day of the funeral of these two immolated men, Mr. W. in his capacity of Sheriff, supported with becoming dignity, his high station, and undaunted amidst imminent danger, enforced obedience even from the military, and saved the effusion of human blood.”

London exhibits, daily, a series of depravity perhaps unparalleled in any other part of the British Empire.—

Dashall had just finished his eulogium on the worthy Alderman, in which his friends heartily coincided, when the attention of the triumvirate was attracted by the appalling appearance of five men rivetted together, and conducted along the street by officers of justice. Tallyho enquired into the nature of their crimes, and was informed that they were in custody under suspicion of house-breaking in the night-time, and that two of them, particularly, had been taken in the house which they had plundered, regaling themselves, in perfect ease, with cold meat, wine, and liquors, and the stolen property tied up in a bag, with which, on the moment of alarm, they attempted an escape, but were intercepted in their retreat, and taken in charge by the officers after a desperate resistance, in which shots and hurts were received both by the victors and the vanquished. It is almost beyond belief, that men engaged in an enterprise wherein ignominious death awaits discovery, would sit down to regale themselves after having secured their booty, with as much composure, as if in their own homes; yet so it is; such is the daring callousness of mind attached to long confirmed and successful habits of guilt.{1}

1 Police. Mansion House.—William Johnson was charged by Mr. Miller of Lower Thames Street, on suspicion of having com- mitted a robbery on Thursday night, under circumstances of rather an extraordinary kind.. Mr. Miller's evidence was to the following effect. He has a cut glass and earthenware warehouse in Thames Street, but does not reside there. Upon visiting his warehouse yesterday morning, he found that thieves had been very busy upon the concern the night before. They did not get much, but while they were in the house they enjoyed themselves. They lighted a fire, and paid a visit to the wine-cellar, from which they took two bottles of wine and three bottles of perry, which it seemed they drank warm with sugar, and Mr. Miller received a very polite letter from one of them, acknowledging the obligations they were under to him for the excellent beverage his cellar afforded. Upon examining other parts of the premises. Mr. Miller found that his iron chest had been forced open. The instrument (a large chissel) with which this feat was performed was lying on the premises, and a dark lanthorn, which the thieves had forgotten, was also picked up in the course of the search. The petty cash drawers of the iron chest lay open empty, but Mr. Miller believed there had been in them when he left the Warehouse, a sum perhaps not exceeding a couple of pounds. The bills and papers were not taken away, neither had any thing been removed that was likely to be recovered. Some silver cruet-tops were taken, but the cruets were left behind. The chissel, which, though very strong, had been broken in the effort to open the chest, was of the largest size. All the rooms of the building, except those in front, had been visited by the depredators, and there were various circumstances concurring to fix a very strong suspicion on the prisoner, besides the probability that he was the writer of the letter “of thanks” to Mr. Miller for the entertainment afforded. The letter, which was written in a good hand, began with the word “Gemmen,” and stated that they (the writer and his friends) had called, regretted that there was no “wassel in the lob,” (money in the chest) but expressed the highest opinion of the wine, begged pardon for disturbing the papers, and expressed how happy those who drank the wine would be to visit the premises upon a future occasion! The prisoner was remanded.

It sometimes happens that even juvenile depredators who have imbibed a propensity for liquor, have been caught in the snare thus laid by themselves. Of this fact Dashall gave the following very curious illustration.—“A few evenings ago,” said he, “the family of my next door neighbour retired to rest, leaving every thing, as they imagined, in a state of perfect security. On the servant however, coming down stairs in the morning, he was surprised to find a new and unexpected inmate, fast asleep in the kitchen, a quantity of plate packed up lay by his side, and before him were a bottle of brandy and another of wine. He was a lad not more than sixteen years of age, who had ingeniously contrived, in the nighttime, to get access to the house, and having secured his spoil, had resorted to the pantry and wine-cellar for refreshment. Of the stores from the latter receptacle, he had partaken so liberally that he was thrown into a deep slumber, from which he was roused by the unwelcome voice of the Officer who had been sent for to take him into custody.”

Our perambulators had now passed along the bridge, and advanced a short distance on Blackfriar's road, when they observed a spacious travelling caravan, stationary by the side of the high way, intimating that there was to be seen within, the great northern bear, known by the name of “Autocrat of All the Russias,” while a fellow with a speaking tube invited in the most alluring terms of itinerant oratory, the gaping multitude to walk in,—“Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, and behold this most wonderous of all wonders that ever was wondered at in this wonderful world,—the Ursa major,—that gives its name to one of the constellations, and was taken by a ruse de guerre in one of the hitherto undiscovered deserts of the remotest Siberia! This stupendous animal was sent from these unknown regions as a present to a certain great personage in this country, who having a superabundancy of native bears already prowling about him, was pleased to order the dismission of this northern stranger, without a pension; and thus it came into the possession of its present exhibiter!”

This irresistible invitation was accepted by several of the auditory, including the baronet, Dashall, and the Squire, who were gratified beyond their anticipations, with a sight of the great polar bear, the desolate inhabitant of a frigid and dismal clime, where Nature has forbid the vegetative, and stinted the growth of the animal creation, with the exception of the shaggy wanderer of the desert and the floundering leviathan of the ocean. The animal was perfectly tractable; and its exhibition well compensated both for time and gratuity.

The proprietor, however, in answer to an enquiry apart by Dashall, acknowledged that his Ursine companion had never been attached to the household of any great personage; although a northern quadruped of lesser interest was under the protection of one of the Royal Dukes and frequently played its mischievous gambols in the environs of Kensington Palace.{1}

1 The Bear at Kensington Palace. Early on Sunday morn-ing it was discovered, that a large black bear, sent as a present to His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, had contrived to break out of his cage, which was placed in a coach-house, and Bruin, having an inclination to explore these premises, containing a hand-some new chariot, mounted the foot-board, and began to play with the tassels; he next ascended the roof and the box, the covering of which became a prey to his claws; after enjoying himself as an outside passenger, as long as he thought proper, he proceeded to examine the interior of the vehicle, and turning from the box, made his entre through the front windows into the carriage, which bore serious marks of his savage curiosity. No one dared to approach this northern visitor, and in order to prevent further depredations in his probable rambles, guards were placed, with fixed bayonets, until some keepers arrived from a Menagerie, who secured him, after great difficulty, in one of their strong cages.