And wish our sprite were here to dine—
We'd give him hearty cheer;
A welcome such as hand and heart
To kindred spirits should impart,
Where friendship reigns sincere.'
We would punish him for sending his odes to us without sending his family cognomen therewith. Have we not done him immortal honour—placed him in front of our second volume like a golden dedication, and what is more, selected him from many a pleasant whim, to stand by our side; the only associate who can claim one line engrafted on to the never-ending fame of the English Spy?—But to the 'Preachment;' let us have another taste of his quality."
A SECOND ODE TO BERNARD BLACKMANTLE, ESQ.
or A MICHAELMAS-DAY PREACHMENT.
BY AN HONEST REVIEWER.
"'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do goods on't."
—Winter's Tale.
"Ours is the skie,
Where at what fowle we please our hawks shall flie."
—Anon.
Ay, here I come once more, great sir,
Out of pure love to minister
Some golden truths to thee;
Faustus ye're not, nor Frankenstein,
Yet, being up to trap, I ween
You'll need a sprite like me.
Eve watch'd you closely, my young squire,
Since at vol. two I cool'd the ire
That left a little stain;
And therefore wonder not, sweet Spy,
Since both of us at follies fly,
Your "Tonson comes again."
Many would say, ay, "let that pass"
As a forgotten thing.
Not so with us, our rent we pay,
And do we not, on quarter-day,
Our taxes to the king?
Since, then, "our withers are unwrung,"
And we need wish no blister'd tongue
To creditors and duns,
Let's carve the goose, and quaff the wine,
And toast September twenty-nine,
Nor mark how fast time runs.
We've clone the same; that is, we've quaffd,
And sung, and danced, and drunk, and laugh'd,
When we were half seas over;
I don't mean tipsy, bless you, no!
But when we pass'd, like dart from bow,
Cowes Roads on board the Rover.
So pipe all hands; for though no gale
From sea-wash'd shores distend our sail,
We'll man a vessel here.
This room's our ship; this wine's our tide;
And the good friends we sit beside,
The messmates of our cheer.
Ay, this looks well; now till the glass
To king, to country, and our lass,
And all of pluck and feather;
That done around, and nothing loth,
Since we are "learned Thebans" both,
We'll have some talk together.
You've been to Cheltenham, I find,
And, zounds! you really ride the wind,
To Bath and Worcester too;
To South'ton and the Isle of Wight,
As if increase of appetite
With every new dish grew.
Spite of your old horse and new gig,
You did not, some fine morn,
Drive up to Malcolm Ghur, d'ye see,{4}
And leave two pretty cards for me
And Sir John Barleycorn.
We would have been your chorus, sir,
Or, an' you pleased, your trumpeter,
And lioned you about;
Have shown you every pretty girl,
And every nouvelle quadrille twirl,
And every crowded rout.
At eight o' morns have call'd you down,
(What would they say of that in town?)
To swallow pump-room water;
At eight o' nights have call'd you up,
(Our grandams used just then to sup),
To 'gin the dinner slaughter.
Have whisk'd you o'er to Colonel B's,
Or drove you up to Captain P's,
Dons unto Cheltenham steady.
But I forget the world, good lack,
Have play'd enough with such a pack
Of great court-cards already.
4 Malcolm Ghur, one of the very prettiest of the many pretty
newly-erected mansions that give a character to the environs
of Cheltenham. To its proprietor do I owe much for
hospitality; a merrier man, withal, dwells not in my
remembrance; he is of your first-rate whist players, though
he rarely now joins in the game. As the chaplain of the
county-lodge of F. M. he is much distinguished; and, at the
dinners of the Friendly Brothers—which are luxurious
indeed, and all for the "immortal memory" of William, king
of that name, and whose portrait ornaments their reading-
room—who better than he can "set the table in a roar"?
With A———-y, and the au fait list,{5}
Turning your nights to days;
Or, somewhat wiser, bid you mix
Where less expensive are odd tricks,
And where friend R———-n plays.{6}
Have made you try a double trade,
By clapping you in masquerade,
To jaunt at fancy-balls;
You would have seen some merry sights
On two or three particular nights,
In good Miss—————-'s halls.{7}
You could have gone as harlequin,
Or clad yourself in Zamiel's skin,
Your tending spirits we;
Or "Peeping Tom" may be more apt,
Since all are in your record clapp'd
We send to Coventry.
5 Colonel A———y, certainly tho first whist player of the
rooms.
If he ever drilled a company of raw recruits half as well as
he manages a handful of bad cards, he must have been the
very admirable Crichton of soldiership.
6 Mr. R———n, a facetious and good-humoured son of Erin;
true
as clock-work to the board of green cloth, though he has
been an age making a fortune from it.
7 Among the most fashionable amusements of Cheltenham are
the fancy-balls, given by two or three of the principal
sojourners in that place, of card-playing, scandal,
freemasonry, and hot water—God knows how many are in the
latter ingredient! The most splendid I recollect was
given by Colonel————-, or rather Miss————-, whose
protégé he married; touching which alliance, there is a
story of some interest and much romance. Of that, as Pierce
Egan says very wittily in every critique, "of that anon."
There certainly was some fun and humour displayed by a few
of the characters on the particular evening I mention; the
two best performers were a reverend gentleman as
one of Russell's waggoners, inimitably portrayed, and
Captain B. A——-e, not the author of "To Day," but his
brother, as an Indian prince. The dress, appearance, and
language to the life.
Things that we should and should not know,
Vide the Oakland cots.
Bernard Blackmantle, learned Spy,
Don't you think hundreds will cry fie,
If you expose such plots?
You should have told them as I do,
And yet I love your hunters too,
That nothing is so vile
As strutting up and down a street,8
Dirt-spatter'd o'er from head to feet,
In the horse-jockey style.
Ne sutor ultra crep, should tell
These red-coats 'tis a paltry swell,
Such careless customs backing;
If they must strut in spurs and boots,
For once I'd join the chalk recruits,
And shout, "Use Turner's Blacking."
Howe'er, push on—there are of all,
Good, bad, high, low, and short, and tall,
That seek from you decrees.
Fear not, strike strong—you must not fly—
We will have shots enough—I'm by,
A Mephistopheles.
8 There surely is much and offensive vanity in the practice
adopted by many members of the B. H. of appearing on the
pro-menades and in the rooms of Cheltenham, bespattered o'er
with the slush and foam of the hunting field. Every
situation has its decent appropriations, and one would
suppose comfort would have taught these Nimrods a better
lesson. It is pardonable for children to wear their
Valentines on the 14th of February, or for a young ensign to
strut about armed cap à pie for the first week of his
appointment; but the fashion of showing off in a red jerkin,
soiled smalls, mudded boots, and blooded spurs, is not
imitable: there is nothing of the old manhood of sport in
it; foppery and fox-hunting are not synonymous. Members of
the B. H. look to it; follow no leader in this respect. Or,
if you must needs persevere, turn your next fox out in the
ball-room, and let the huntsman's horn and the view halloo
supersede the necessity of harps and fiddle-strings.
We'll learn and con them each by heart, Set them in note books by our art, Each lord, and duke, and tailor. From Dr. S———{9} to Peter K———, U———, O———, and I———, and E——-, and A———, Down to the ploughman Naylor.{10}
Then let them sow their crop of cares, Their flowers, their weeds, their fruit, their tares, Not looking ere they leap. We, like the folks in Jamie's book{11} Will i' the dark sharp up our hook, And, my own Barnard, reap.
of Caleb Quotem. He has been soldier, and sailor, doctor,
and, I believe, divine. He is as well known at the best
parties as the Wells and the Market-house. He gives feasts
fit for the gods at home, and invariably credits his
neighbours' viands as being Jove's nectar or the fruits of
Paradise, so as to him they be not forbidden. Short commons
could not upset his politeness. His anecdotes have a spice
of the old courtier about them; but the line old chanson à
boire, from Gammar Gurton's Needle,
"Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But belly, God send good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old;"
he really gives beautifully, and with a spice of the olden
time quite delightful.
10 Mr. Naylor, of the Plough hotel; an excellent Boniface,
a good friend, and a merry companion. As a boy, I recollect
him keeping the Castle at Marlborough; at "frisky
eighteen," I have contributed to his success at the Crown at
Portsmouth; and I now, older, and it may be, a little wiser
grown, patronize him occasionally at Cheltenham.
11 Vide Hogg's Brownie of Bodsbeck.
A TRIP TO THE SPAS.
CHAPTER II.
the Picturesque—"Spasmodic Affections from Spa Waters"—
Grotesque Scripture—The Goddess Hygeia—Humorous Epitaph—
Characters in the High Street—Traveller's Hall, or Sketches
in the Commercial Room at the Bell Inn, Cheltenham.
"For walks and for waters, for beaux and for belles,
There's nothing in nature to rival their wells."
Inquisitive traveller, if you would see the Well-walks in perfection, you must rise early, and take a sip of the saline aperients before you taste of the more substantial meal which the Plough-man. Naylor, or the Cheltenham Bell-man, or the Shep-herd of the Fleece, will be sure to prepare for your morning mastication. Fashion always requires some talismanic power to draw her votaries together, beyond the mere healthful attractions of salubrious air, pleasant rides, romantic scenery, and cheerful society; and this magnet the Chelts possess in the acknowledged medicinal properties of their numerous spas, the superior qualities of which have been thus pleasantly poetized:—
And as purely saline as the wave of the ocean,
Whilst their rapid effects like a——
——Hush! never mind;
We'll leave their effects altogether behind."
In short, if you wish to obtain benefit by the drinking of the waters, you must do it dulcius ex ipso fonte, as my Lord Bottle-it-out's system, the nobleman who originally planned the Well-walks, of sending it home to the drinkers in bed, has long since been completely exploded; while, on the other hand, its rapid effects have been very faithfully delineated by my friend Transit's view of the Royal Wells, as they appeared on the morning of our visitation, presenting some very interesting specimens of the picturesque in the Cruikshank style, actually drawn upon the spot, and affording to the eye of a common observer the most indubitable proofs of the active properties of the
And gases, that none but the muse of a Byron
Would attempt to describe in the magic of sound,
Lest it made a report ere he'd quitted the ground;
And poets are costive, as all the world knows,
And value no fame that smells under their nose.
"Would you like to take off a glass of the waters, sir?" said a very respectable-looking old lady to my friend Transit, who was at that moment too busily engaged in taking off the water-drinkers to pay attention to her request. "There's a beautiful contortion!" exclaimed Bob; sketching a beau who exhibited in his countenance all the horrors of cholera, and was running away as fast as his legs could carry him. "See, with what alacrity the old gentleman is moving off yonder, making as many wry faces as if he had swallowed an ounce of corrosive sublimate—and the ladies too, bless me, how their angelic smiles evaporate, and the roseate bloom of their cheeks is changed to the delicate tint of the lily, as they partake of these waters. What an admirable school for study is this! here we can observe every transition the human countenance is capable of expressing, from a ruddy state of health and happiness, to one of extreme torture, without charging our feelings with violence, and knowing that the pains are those of the patient's own seeking, and the penalties not of any long duration." In short, my friend Bob furnished, instanter, the subject of "Spasmodic Affections from, Spa Waters," (see plate); certainly one of his most spirited efforts.
But we must not pass by the elegant structure of Montpelier Spa, the property of Pearson Thompson, esquire, whose gentlemanly manners, superior talents, and kind conduct, have much endeared him to all who know him as an acquaintance, and more to those who call him their friend. Passing on the left-hand side of the upper well-walk, we found ourselves before this tasteful structure, and were much delighted with the arrangement of the extensive walks and grounds by which it is surrounded:—a health-inspiring spot, and as we are told,
Has a paradise form'd from a wilderness waste;
With his walks rectilineous, all shelter'd with trees,
That shut out the sunshine and baffle the breeze,
And a field, where the daughters of Erin{12}may roam
In a fence of sweet-brier, and think they're at home."
The Sherborne Spa, but recently erected, is indeed a very splendid building, and forms a very beautiful object from the High-street, from which it is plainly seen through a grove of trees, forming a vista of nearly half a mile in length, standing on a gentle eminence, presenting on both sides gravelled walks, with gardens and elegant buildings, that display great taste in architecture. The Pump-room is a good specimen of the Grecian Ionic, said to be correctly modelled from the temple on the river Ilissus at Athens, and certainly is altogether a work worthy of admiration. The grotesque colossal piece of sculpture which crowns the central dome, as well as the building, has been wittily described by the author of the "Cheltenham Mail."
congregate at Cheltenham fully justifies the poet's
particular allusion to the fair daughters of Erin.
We've the fane of Ilissus in miniature shown;
And crown'd with Hygeia—a bouncer, my lud!
And as plump, ay, as any princess of the blood,
Carved in stone, but a good imitation of wood:
With her vest all in plaits, like some ancient costume,
But or Roman or Grecian, I'm loth to presume,
So I cannot be poz yet I blush to confess,
That her limbs are shown off in a little undress;
Whilst the goddess herself, en bon point as she is,
With her curls à la Grecque, and but little chemise,
Is so plump and so round, my dear sir, it is plain,
She must bring the robust into fashion again."
Coming back through the churchyard from Alstone Spa, we discovered the following humorous epitaph.
An unfortunate fall,
By crossing a wall,
Brought him to his end."
Peace to his manes! But, with such a notice above him to excite attention, it is well he hears not, or ten times a clay his sleep might be sadly disturbed. Once more we are in the High Street, where I shall just sketch two or three singularities, without which my notice of the eccentrics of Cheltenham might be deemed imperfect.
The dashing knight coming this way on horseback, with his double-pommelled saddle, is a well-known Cheltenham resident, whose love of the good things of this world induced him to look into the kitchen for a helpmate, and he found one, who not only supplies his table with excellent dishes, but also furnishes the banquet with a liberal quantity of sauce. The group of roués to the right, standing under the portico (I suppose I must call it) to the rooms, is composed of that good-humoured fellow Ormsby, who sometimes figures here as an amateur actor, and, whether on or off the stage, is generally respected for the amiable qualities of his heart. The gentleman with the blue bauble round his neck is, or was, a lieutenant-colonel, and still loves to fire a great gun now and then, when he gets into the trenches before Seringapatam; but I must leave others to unriddle the character, while I pay my respects to another military hero, who is no less famous among the Chelts for his attachment to the stage—Lieutenant-colonel B*****ll, of whom it would be difficult for any one who knew him to speak disrespectfully. Sir John N****tt and his son, who are here called the inseparables, finish the picture upon this spot, with the exception of my old friend the jack of trumps, R*l*y, whose arch-looking visage I perceive peeping out like the first glance of a court card in the rear of a bad hand; but let him pass: the mirror of the English Spy reflects good qualities as well as bad ones, and I should not do him justice if I denied him a fair proportion of both. Descending to observe the eccentrics in a more humble sphere, who can pass by the dandy candy man with his box of sweetmeats, clean in person as a new penny, and his sturdy figure most religiously decorated with lawn sleeves, and a churchman's tablier in front; while his ruddy weather-beaten countenance, and hairy foraging cap, give him the appearance of a Scotch presbyterian militant in the days of the covenanters. Then, too, his wares cure all diseases, from a ravaging consumption to a frame-shaking hooping cough; and not unlikely are as efficacious as the nostrums of the less Mundivagant professors of patent empiricism. Of all men in the world your coach cad has the quickest eye for detecting a stranger; and who but Sam Spring, the box-book keeper of Drury Lane, whose eternal bow has grown proverbial, could ask an impudent question with more politeness than Mr. Court, the chargé de affaires in the High Street, for the conflicting interests of half a hundred coach proprietors 1 "Do you travel to-day, sir?—Very happy to send for your luggage—Go by the early coach, sir?—Our porter shall call you up, only let me put you down at our office." Thus actually bowing you into his book a week before you had any serious intention of travelling, by the very circumstance of reminding you of the mode by which you intend to reach home. I could add to these sketches a few singularities among the trading brotherhood of the Chelts; but we may meet again: and after all it would, perhaps, be considered invidious to point out the honest tradesman to public notice, merely because he has caught something of the eccentricities of his betters, or, like them, is led away by the force of example.
In Chapter I, page 223, Contents, dele hi, and for Penn,
read pun. The Man in the Cloak, noble Anecdote of, instead
of the Fox* hunting Parson,—Printer.
TRAVELLER'S HALL.
Cheltenltam—The Traveller's Ordinary—Trade Puns—Bolton
Trotters and Trottees—Song, All the Booksellers—Curious
Sporting Anecdote of a Commercial Man—Song, The Knight of
the Saddle Bags—Private Theatricals in Public—Visit to
the Oakland Cottages, a Night Scene.
An invitation to dine with the traveller to a London house in the paper and print line, yclept booksellers, introduced the English Spy and his friend, the artist, to the scene here presented (see plate).
Reader, if you wish to make a figure among the Chelts and be thought any thing of, you will, of course, domicile at the Plough; but if your object is a knowledge of life, social conversation, a great variety of character, and a never-failing fund of mirth and anecdote, join the gentleman travellers who congregate at the Bell or the Fleece, where you will meet with merry fellows, choice viands, good wine, excellent beds, and a pretty chambermaid into the bargain. Your commercial man is often a fellow of infinite jest, a travelling vocabulary of provincial knowledge, and a faithful narrator of the passing events of the time. Who can speak of the increasing prosperity, or calculate upon the falling interests of a town, so well as your flying man of business 1 The moment he enters a new place he expects the landlord to be ready, cap in hand, to welcome him; he first sees his horse into a stall, and lectures the ostler upon the art of rubbing him down—orders boots to bring in his travelling bags or his driving box, and bids the waiter send the chambermaid to show him his bed-room—grumbles that it is too high up, has no chimney in the apartment, or is situate over the kitchen or the tap-room—swears a tremendous oath that he will order his baggage to be taken to the next house, and frightens the poor girl into the giving him one of the best bed-apartments, usually reserved for the coffee-room company. Returning below, he abuses the waiter for not giving him his letters, that have been waiting his arrival a week, before he went up stairs—directs boots to be ready to make the circuit of the town with him after dinner, carrying his pattern-books, perhaps half a hundred-weight of Birmingham wares, brass articles, or patterns of coffin furniture; and having thus succeeded in putting the whole house into confusion, only to let them know that the Brummagem gentleman has arrived on his annual visit to the Chelts, with a new stock of every thing astonishing in the brass line, he places himself down at a side table, to answer to his principals for being some days later on his march than they had concluded—remits a good sum in bills and acceptances, and adds thereunto a sheet of orders, that will suffice to keep the firm in good temper for a week to come: sometimes, indeed, the postscript contains a hint of an expected "whereas," or strong suspicions of an act of insolvency, but always couched in the most consolatory terms, hoping the dividend will turn out to be better than present circumstances might lead them to expect. In his visits to his customers he is the most courteous, obliging fellow imaginable; there is no trouble he thinks too much if he is likely to obtain his last account and a fresh order; then, too, his generosity is unbounded: he invites the tradesman to take wine with him at his inn, inquires kindly after all the family, hopes business is thriving, makes an offer of doing any thing for him along the road, and bows himself and his pattern-cards out of the shop, with as much humility and apparent sense of obligation as the most expert courtier could put on when his sovereign deigns to confer upon him some special mark of his royal favour. It is at his inn alone that his independence breaks forth, and here he often assumes as much consequence as if he was the head of the firm he represents, and always carried about him a plum at least in his breeches pocket. This is a general character, and one, too, formed upon no slight knowledge of commercial men; but with all this, the man of the world will admire them and seek their company; first, that his accommodations are generally better, and the charges not subject to the caprice of the landlord; and, secondly, for the sake of society; for what on earth can be more horrible than to be shut up in a lone room, a stranger in a provincial town, to eat, drink, and pass the cheerless hour, a prey to solitude and ennui?
But there is sometimes a little fastidiousness about these knights of the saddle-bag, in admitting a stranger to hob and nob with them; to prevent a knowledge, therefore, of our pursuits, my friend Bob was instructed, before entering the room, to sink the arts, and if any inquisitive fellow should inquire what line he travelled in, to reply, in the print line; while your humble servant, it was agreed, should represent some firm in the spring trade; and thus armed against suspicion, we boldly marched into the commercial-room just as the assembled group of men of business were sitting down to dinner, hung our hats upon a peg, drew our chairs, uninvited, to the table, fully prepared to feel ourselves at home, and do ample justice to the "bagmen's banquet."
The important preliminary point settled, of whom the duty of chairman devolved on, a situation, as I understood, always filled in a commercial room by the last gentleman traveller who makes it his residence, we proceeded to business. The privilege of finding fault with the dinner, which, by the by, was excellent, is always conceded to the ancients of the fraternity of traders; these gentlemen who, having been half a century upon the road, remember all the previous proprietors of the hotel to the fifteenth or twentieth generation removed, make a point of enumerating their gracious qualities upon such occasions, to keep the living host and representative up to the mark, as they phrase it. For instance—the old buck in the chair, who was a city tea broker, found fault with the fish: "There vas nothing of that ere sort to be had good but at Billingsgate, where all the best fish from all the vorld vas, as he contended, to be bought cheaper as butcher's meat." The result of which remark induced the young wags at the table to finish a very fine brill, without leaving him a taste, while he was abusing it. "This soup is not like friend Birch's," said Mr. Obadiah Pure, a gentleman in the drug line; "it hath a watery and unchristianlike taste with it." "Ay," replied a youngster at the bottom of the table, with whom it appeared to be in request, "I quake for fear while I am eating it, only I know there can be no drugs in it, or you would not find fault with a customer." "Thou art one of the newly imported, friend," replied Mr. Pure, "and art yet like a young bear, with all thy troubles to come." "True," said the wag, "thou may be right, friend; but I shall not be found a bruin with thy materials for all that." This sally put down the drug merchant for the rest of the dinner-time. "You had better take a little fish or soup before they are cold," said the chairman, to a bluff-looking beef-eater at his back, who was arranging his papers and samples. "Sir, I never eat warm wittals, drink hot liquors, wear a great coat, or have my bed warmed." "The natural heat of your constitution, I suppose, excuses you," said I, venturing upon a joke. "Sir, you had better heat your natural meal, while it is hot, without attempting to heat other people's tempers," was the reply; to which Bob retorted, by saying, "It was quite clear the gentleman was not mealy-mouthed." "This beef smells a little of Hounslow Heath," said a jeweller's gentleman, on my right. "Why so, sir?" was inquired by one who knew him. "Because it has hung rather too long to be sightly." "You should not have left out the chains in that joke, Sam," said his friend; "they would have linked it well together, and sealed the subject." "Who takes port?" inquired the chairman. "I must sherry directly after dinner, gentlemen," said one. "What," retorted the company, "boxing the wine bin! committing treason, by making a sovereign go farther than he is required by law. Fine him, Mr. Chairman." "Gentlemen, it is not in my power; he is a bottle conjuror, I assure you, 'a good man and true;' he only retires to bleed a patient, and will return instanter." "Happy to take a glass of wine with you, sir." "What do you think of that port, sir?" "Excellent." "Ay, I knew you would say so; the house of Barnaby Blackstrap, Brothers, and Company, of Upper Thames Street, have always been famous for selling wines of the choicest vintage. Do me the honour, sir, of putting a card of ours in your pocket: I sent this wine into this house in Jennings's time, for the grand dinner, when the first stone of the new rooms over the way was laid, and John Kelly, the proprietor, took the chair. You are lucky, sir, in meeting me here; they always pull out an odd bottle from the family bin, marked A—1, when I visit them." "Yes, and some odd sort of wine at any other time," grumbled out a queer-looking character at a side table opposite. "That's nothing but spleen, Mr. Sable," said the knight of the ruby countenance: "you and I have met occasionally at this house together now for three and twenty years; and although I never come a journey without taking an order from them, I thank heaven, I never knew you to receive one yet: many a dead man have we seen in this room, but none of them requiring a coffin plate to tell their age, and very few of them that were like to receive the benefit of resurrection." "I shall book you inside, Mr. Blackstrap,'' replied Sable, "for joking on my articles of trade, which is contrary to the established usage of a commercial room." "Do any thing you like but bury me," said the bon vivant." Gentlemen, as chairman, it is my duty to put an end to all grave subjects. Will you be kind enough to dissect that turkey?" "I don't see the bee's wing in this port, Mr. Blackstrap, that you are bouncing about," said a London traveller to a timber-merchant. "No, sir," said the humorist, "it is not to be seen until you are a deal higher in spirits; the film of the wing is seldom discernible in such mahogany-coloured wine as this." "Sir, I blush like rose wood at your impertinence." "Ay, sir, and you'll soon be as red as logwood, or as black as ebony, if you will but do justice to the bottle," was the reply. "There is no being cross-grained with you," said the timber-merchant. "Not unless you cut me," retorted Blackstrap, "and you are not sap enough for that." "Gentlemen," continued the facetious wine-merchant, "if we do not get a little fruit, I shall think we have not met with our dessert; and although there may be some among us whose principals are worth a plum, there are very few of their representatives, I suspect, who will offer any objections to my reasons." Thus pleasantly apostrophised, the fruit made its appearance, and with it a fresh supply of the genuine Oporto, which our merry companion, Blackstrap, called "his old particular." One of his stories, relative to a joke played off upon the Bolton trotters, by his friend Sable, the travelling undertaker, is too good to be lost. In Lancashire the custom of hoaxing is called trotting, and in many instances, particularly at Bolton, is still continued, and has frequently been played off upon strangers with a ruinous success. Sable had, it would appear, taken up his quarters at a commercial inn, and, as is usual with travellers, joined the tradesmen in the smoking room at night to enjoy his pipe, and profit, perhaps, by introduction in the way of business. The pursuit of the undertaker and dealer in coffin furniture was no sooner made generally known, than it was unanimously agreed to trot him, by giving him various orders for articles in his line, which none of the parties had any serious intention of paying for or receiving. With this view, one ordered a splendid coffin for himself, and another one for his wife; a third gave instructions for an engraved plate and gilt ornaments; and a fourth chose to order an elegant suite of silver ornaments to decorate the last abode of frail mortality: in this way the company were much amused with the apparent unsuspecting manner of Sable, who carefully noted down all their orders, and pledged himself to execute them faithfully. The Bolton people did not fail to circulate this good joke, as they then thought it, among their neighbours, and having given fictitious names, expected to have had additional cause for exultation when the articles arrived; but how great was their surprise and dismay, when in a short time every order came, directed properly to the person who had given it! Coffins and coffin-plates, silk shrouds and velvet palls, and all the expensive paraphernalia of the charnel-house were to be seen carried about from the waggon-office in Bolton, to be delivered at the residences of the principal inhabitants. Many refused to receive these mementoes of their terrestrial life, and others denied having ever ordered the same. Sable, however, proved himself too fast a trotter for the Bolton people; for having, by the assistance of the waiter, obtained the true description of his customers on the night of the joke, and finding they were most of them wealthy tradesmen, he very wisely determined to humour the whim, and execute the orders given, and in due course of time insisted upon payment for the same. Thus ended the story of the Bolton trotters, which our merry companion concluded, by observing, that it put an end to sporting, in that way, for some time; and by the chagrin it caused to many of the trottees, distanced them in this life, and sent them off the course in a galloping consumption.{1} "There's honour for you," said Sable, "civilized a
pro-posed, the Athenians (for that Bolton is the Athens of
Lancashire no one can doubt) could not well understand how
boats were to be raised above the level of the sea. A lock
to them was as incom-prehensible as Locke on the Human
Understanding. A celebrated member of a celebrated trotting
club was amongst the number of those who could not
comprehend the mystery. Unwilling to appear ignorant upon a
question which formed the common topic of conversation, he
applied to a scientific gentleman in the neighbourhood for
an accurate description of a lock. It happened that the man
of science had on one occasion been a trottee, and was
glad to have an opportunity of retaliation. "A lock," said
he, "is a quantity of sawdust congealed into boards, which,
being let down into the water in a perpendicular slope-
level, raises it to the declivity of the sea above!"—" Eh?"
said the Athenian, "what dun yo' say?" The gentleman
repeated his description, and the worthy Boltonian recorded
every word in the tablet of his memory. Sometime afterwards
he had the honour of dining with some worshipful brothers of
the quorum, men as profoundly ignorant of the law as any of
the unpaid magistracy need to be, but who, having seen
canals, knew well enough what locks were. Our Athenian took
an early opportunity of adverting to the proposed "cut," and
introduced his newly-acquired learning in the following
terms: "Ah! Measter Fletcher, it's a foine thing a lock;
yo' know'n I loike to look into them theere things; a lock
is a perpendicular slop level, which, being let into the
sea, is revealed into boards, that raises it to the
declivity of the sea above!"—As it is the province and
privilege of the ignorant to laugh at a greater degree of
ignorance than their own, it may be supposed that their
worships enjoyed a hearty laugh at the expense of their
Attic brother.
whole district of English barbarians by one action, and, what is more, they have never ventured to trot with any one of our fraternity since."
The conversation now took a turn relative to the affairs of trade; and if any one had been desirous of knowing the exact degree of solvency in which the whole population of the county of Gloucester was held by these flying merchants and factors, they might easily have summed up the estimate from the remarks of the company. They were, however, a jovial party; and my friend Bob and myself had rarely found ourselves more pleasantly circumstanced, either as regarded our social comforts, or the continued variety of new character with which the successive speakers presented us. As the evening approached our numbers gradually diminished, some to pursue their journeys, and others to facilitate the purposes of trade. The representative of the house of Blackstrap and Co., his friend Sable, the timber merchant, our inviter the bookseller, and the two interlopers, remained fixed as fate to the festive board, until the chairman, and scarce any one of the company, could clearly define, divide, and arrange the exact arithmetical proportions of the dinner bill. After a short cessation of hostilities, during which our commercial friends despatched their London letters, and Bob and the English Spy, to escape the suspicion of not having any definable pursuit, emigrated to the High Street; we returned to our quarters, and found the whole party debating upon a proposition of the bon vivants, to have another bottle, and make a night of it by going to the theatre at half price; a question that was immediately carried, nemine contradicente. Mr. Margin, our esteemed companion, who represented the old established house of Sherwood and Co., was known to sing a good stave, and what was still more attractive, was himself a child of song—one of the inspired of the nine, who, at the Anacreontic Club, held in Ivy Lane, would often amuse the society with an original chant; "whose fame," as Blackstrap expressed it, "had extended itself to the four corners of the island, wherever the sporting works of Sherwood and Co., or the travelled histories of the Messrs. Longmans, have found readers and admirers." "Gentlemen," said Mr. Margin, "my songs are all of a local nature; whims written to amuse a meeting of the trade for a dinner at the Albion or the London, when the booksellers congregate together to buy copyrights, or sell at a reduced price the refuse of their stock. But, such as it is, you shall have it instanter."