JONAS TUNKS.
The magistrate having heard the complaint (for the valiant Jonas scorned to say a word in defence) immediately sentenced him, under the statute above-mentioned, to pay the value of the glass he had broken—viz. twenty-five shillings; and in default of so doing, he was consigned to three months' imprisonment in Bridewell.
Now really this was a very ill-natured prosecution against Mr. Jonas Tunks; for, after all, what was his offence but a trifling matter of "back slum" Corinthianism?—as the great chronicler of Life in London would phrase it—a mere trifling ebullition of vitality—a slight manifestation of those lively principles which constitute a true "Corinthian," whether in Dyott-street or Pall mall.
There was a damsel—one Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, charged by the books of Covent Garden watch-house, with having robbed a young gentleman of a golden sovereign. The young gentleman made such a pathetic appeal against the publication of his name—being, as he said, "a young man just verging into the affairs of the world," that we shall content ourselves (and our readers also, we hope) with saying, he was simply a young gentleman of little person—and that little made the most of, secundum artem; that is to say, the boot-maker had lengthened him at one end, and the hair-dresser at the other; whilst his tailor had done all, that padding could do, to increase his bulk longitudinally.
The damsel—Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, was not the purest damsel in existence perhaps—certainly not the purest in attire; and her face, pretty as it was, would have been all the prettier for a commodity of soap and water. But in describing the persons of this rather ill-matched pair, we shall forget their adventures. They were thus then:—
The young gentleman left his home on the preceding night with the intention of going to the play, but in his way thither he met Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum. And she looked at him from under her black arched eye-brow with such a look as he could in no wise resist. Now, since he could not resist, he should have turned his back and fled; but instead of flying he stood still, and asked her how she did. She replied, that she should be very well if she was not so very cold; and sighing deeply, she added, "Oh! what a delightful thing is a glass of nice hot brandy-and-water on such a piercing night as this!" Here was a direct appeal to the young gentleman's generosity, and gallantry, and all that sort of thing, and everything in the world almost; and he could no more resist the appeal than he could the sparkling of her jet-black eye. So he gave her his arm and his heart together, and looking round, he saw the words "Fine Cognac Brandy, neat as imported," staring him full in the face from the windows of a tavern, most opportunely opposite. What was to be said for it? Nothing at all. In his opinion the brandy-and-water was inevitable, and they went into the tavern and drank a glass; and so delightful did they find it, that they had another, and another, and another. But still, as Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum poetically remarked—
"The sweetness that pleasure has in it,
Is always so slow to come forth,"
—that they had another glass or two to help it to come forth faster, and it did—to such a degree, that the young gentleman took up the song and sang—
"As onward we journey, how pleasant,
To pause, and inhabit awhile
These few gassy spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile[34]!"
By-and-by two other ladies, friends of Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum's, dropped in, and the gentleman insisting upon it, they also had some glasses of hot brandy-and-water, which they also found very delightful. In short, they were all so jocund, that at length the gentleman made up his mind to make a night of it:—"But first," said he, "I should like just to step home and tell them not to sit up for me."—"Tell the devil!" exclaimed Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum—"that's all a hum; for if you goes away you'll not come back again." The gentleman was shocked; but his love was not shaken, and he pledged his honour that he would return. "Honour is all my eye," said the gentle Juliana Shum?"—pledge your honour indeed!—will you pledge a sovereign?"—"I will!" said the gentleman; and he did—for, as we have already stated, he was a young gentleman. The ladies waited his return because they were not remarkably well able to go, in consequence of the cogniac. How they amused themselves during his absence did not appear, but when the gentleman returned, he very naturally expected the return of his sovereign; and the ladies very naturally knew nothing about it; whereupon the young gentleman's love exploded, with a bounce; and his love being all gone, he was ungallant enough to send his once-loved Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, all brandy-begone as she was, to the watch-house.
During the night, however, he repented himself of his cruelty; and he now told the magistrate that he did not wish to prosecute her. "I am a young man," said he, "just verging into the affairs of the world; and a business of this kind has such an ugly look with it, that I shall be much obliged to you, Sir, if you will let the lady go, and I am sure she is very welcome to keep my sovereign."
The gentle Juliana, seeing matters in this comfortable train, ventured to tender the gentleman his sovereign again, which he as tenderly refused; and then the magistrate dismissed them both with a rather untender admonition.
Mr. Timothy Clancey, landlord of the Robin Hood public-house in Holborn, appeared before Thomas Halls, Esq., to answer the complaint of Mrs. Penelope Roebuck; a fine, bouncing, well-dressed dame, fat, fair, and forty. She had her left eye in deep mourning; and he had as many black patches on his face as the renowned Munchausen.
"May it please your worship," said Mrs. Penelope Roebuck, wiping her comely cheeks and bruised eye with a lavender-scented cambric handkerchief—"May it please your worship, I am Mrs. Roebuck, the wife of Mr. Roebuck, of Somers Town; and yesterday I walked all the way from Chelsea, which very much fatigued me, as your worship may suppose; and being fatigued, I went into Mr. Clancey's, for I had always understood Mr. Clancey to be a mighty nice sort of a man. 'And pray, Mr. Clancey,' said I, 'would you have the goodness to make me sixpenn'orth of brandy and water, warm, with a little sugar in it?' 'No, mem,' said he, 'it is not in my power to make sixpenn'orth of brandy and water—the dooties are so high; but you may have eightpenn'orth. 'Very well,' says I, 'it's quite himmyterul; make me eightpenn'orth.' With that, your worship, he made me a very nice glass of brandy and water, and I sat myself down to take it by little and little; for I'm not a person what's given to take my liquor by lumps; but I had scarcely wetted my lips, when he took a very improper liberty—such a liberty, your worship, as I suffers no man to take with me, be he whomsoever he may; and, 'Mr. Clancey,' says I, 'I shouldn't have thought of it from such a fellur as you.' I might have said something else, your worship, but that's neither here nor there; Mr. Clancey, without saying another word, good, bad, nor indifferent, had the goodness to come out of his bar, and, turning my two hands behind my back, he conducted me out of the house, and had the goodness to fling me down on the hard pavement!—by which purlite behaviour my eye was blacked, as you see, and my dress, worth at least five pounds, completely remollished.
Mr. Timothy Clancey, mine host of the Robin Hood, in his defence, said, Mrs. Roebuck, whilst drinking her brandy and water, abused his wife so grossly, that he firmly, but civilly, desired her to leave the house; but he had no sooner done so, than she flung the goblet, she was drinking from, in his face. The goblet struck him full on the nose, by which it was shivered to pieces, and his nose and face sadly cut. In proof of these premises, he produced the broken goblet, and pointed to the black silk patches, which almost covered his countenance. "I then, and not till then," said he, "laid hands upon Mrs. Roebuck, and thrust her out of my house—and that, I assure your worship, was the only liberty I took with her."
Mrs. Roebuck did not attempt to rebut this statement, and the warrant was discharged.
This was a proceeding in limine, by which the plaintiff sought reparation for violence done to his religious scruples and bodily health, by the act of the defendant; inasmuch as he, the plaintiff, being a Jew, the defendant, on Wednesday, the twelfth of that present December, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, in the parish of St. Paul, Covent Garden, did, with malice afore-thought, knock him down with a pig's head, contrary to the statute, and against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his crown and dignity.
Both plaintiff and defendant pleaded each for himself; no counsel being retained on either side.
Ephraim Ephraim deposed, that he was by profession an orange merchant, carrying on his business in Covent-garden Market; that the defendant, Richard Stewart, was a dealer in pork and poultry in the said Market; and that he, the said Richard Stewart, on the day and hour above stated, did thrust a "pig's face" against his cheek with such violence, as to throw him backwards into a chest of oranges, whereby he sustained great damage both in mind, body, and merchandise. Plaintiff stated, moreover, that he had previously, and on sundry occasions, forewarned the said Richard that it was contrary to the tenets of his religion to come in contact with pork; and yet, nevertheless, the said Richard did frequently, and from time to time, obtrude pork upon his attention, by holding it up aloft in the market, and calling to him—"Ephraim! will you have a mouthful?" All this, he humbly submitted, betokened great malice and wickedness in the said Richard, and he therefore besought the magistrate to interpose the protection of the law in his behalf.
The magistrate observed, that he was astonished a person of Mr. Stewart's appearance and respectability should be guilty of such conduct; and having explained to him that the law afforded equal protection to the professors of every religion, he called upon him for his defence.
PIG WIT.
"May it please your worship," said Mr. Richard Stewart—an elderly, well-fed man, of a jolly and pleasant countenance—"May it please your worship, I keeps a stand in Covent-garden Market, and have done so any time these ten years; and Mr. Ephraim's stand is next to mine. Now, your worship, on Wednesday morning I'd a hamper o' pork up out o' Hertfordshire; and so I opened the hamper; and, at the top on it, lay a nice head; off of as sweet a pig as ever suck'd; and I takes the head, and holds it up; and, says I, 'Here's a bootiful head!' says I. 'Did ever any body see such a handsome un?'—And sure enough, your worship, it was the most bootiful as ever was; and would have done anybody's heart good to see it—it was cut so clean off the quarter (drawing his finger slowly and scientifically across the brawn of his own neck,) and was so short i' the snout, and as white as a sheet it was, your worship; quite remarkable handsome. And so I said, says I, 'Look here! Did ever anybody see sich a picture?' holding it up just in this manner. With that, 'Ah!' says Mr. Ephraim, says he, 'now my dream's out—I dreamt last night that I saw two pigs' heads together, and there they are!'—meaning my head and the pig's head, your worship. Well, I took no notice o' that, but I goes me gently behind Mr. Ephraim, and slides the pig's head by the side of his head, claps my own o' the other side—all a-row—with the pig's i' the middle, your worship; and says I to the folks, says I, 'Now, who'll say which is the honestest face of the three?' With that, your worship, all the folks fell a laughing, and I goes myself quietly back again to my stall. But poor Ephraim fell in such a passion!—Lord! Lord! it were a moral to see what a pucker he were in!—he danced, and he capered, and he rubbed his whiskers—though I verily believe the pig's head never touched him—and he jumped and fidgeted about all as one as if he was mad, till at last he tumbled into the orange-chest, your worship, of his own accord, as it were; and that's the long and short of it, your worship, as my neighbours here can specify."
His worship having listened attentively to these conflicting statements, decided that the defendant had acted indecently in insulting the religious feelings of the plaintiff; though, at the same time, the affair was hardly worth carrying to the sessions, and therefore he would recommend the plaintiff to be satisfied with an apology.
The defendant expressed the greatest willingness to apologise—"For," says he, leaning over the table, and sinking his voice to a whisper, "I asked another Jew what could make Mr. Ephraim in such a passion, and he told me, your worship, that if you get a rale Jew and rub him with a bit o' pork, it's the greatest crime as ever was."
Plaintiff and defendant then retired, and the matter was compromised.
Edward Leonard was charged with having assaulted Mary, the wife of Thomas Reid.
This was a watch-house charge, and appeared to have originated thus:—Mr. Leonard lodges in the house of Mr. Reid, and like most of his countrymen of the like class, he is given to imbibing more beer than his brains will bear. This seems to have been the case with him on Saturday night, for he came home at a most unseasonable hour, and because Mr. Reid would not get up and light a candle for him, he most unconscionably threatened to fracture his skull, break his back, and put his nose out of joint. Now Mr. Reid is a quiet, harmless, little man, and, being at that time warm and comfortable in his bed, he thought it best to lie still and take no notice. But Mrs. Reid—knowing Ted Leonard's furious propensities, and fearing he would really attempt to do some one or other of those things he had mentioned—got up to remonstrate with him; and in so doing she was rudely pushed about by Ted Leonard, who talked of the liberties he ought to be allowed as a lodger. The d——l a bit he cared for the whole house put together, he said; and, if it was not for the trouble of it, he would make every man and woman in the place fly out of the top of the chimney! And still he kept calling upon poor Mr. Reid to get up and have his nose put out of joint; and he made such a tremendous hubbub, not only in the house, but in the whole neighbourhood, that at last, by common consent, he was sent off to the watch-house.
The poor woman was either so unwell, or so much agitated, whilst she was telling this story, that the magistrate ordered her a chair, and Mr. Reid himself was pale as death with fear! but nevertheless they both said they had no wish to proceed in the business—all they wanted was to be allowed to sleep more quietly in future.
As for Teddy Leonard himself, he seemed perfectly at his ease, though he was in wretched case for so high-spirited a person! His principal garment had doubtless done good service to at least a dozen proprietors in succession, his inexpressibles (drab slacks) were napless, grease-spotted, and ventilated at the knees; and he had only one shoe—but then he had plenty of black eyes, and his large small-pox-indented cheeks were very handsomely overlaid with a fret-work of scratches.
When Mr. and Mrs. Reid had said all that they had to say, he never attempted to reply; but stood lounging against the bar, sucking his teeth and twirling his hat, until the magistrate called upon him for his defence, and thereupon ensued the following colloquy:—
"What have you to say to all this, Mr. Leonard?"
"Humph, I don't know! they've served me pretty tidy going along, I think, punching at me with their shilaleghs as they would at a woolsack!"
"Perhaps you did not go along quietly?"
"No, 'faith, I wasn't likely, for I was thinking of going to bed at that time; and there's no fun in being pulled away to a watch-house when a man's thinking of going to bed."
"What are you? what is your trade?"
"My trade?—why I'm a tailor—the more's my luck!"
"Please your worship," said one of the watchmen—seemingly quite surprised at finding he had had so much trouble with a tailor—"please your worship, as we were taking him to the watch-house, he took up his fist and knocked me down like a bullock!"
"Are you the man that poked your stick in my eye?" said Teddy Leonard—turning very leisurely to the speaker—"When a watchman had hold of the two sides of me, each of 'em fast and sure; there was he jumping before me, and poking his stick at me like a cock sparrow. Och! but I wish I know'd you when I see'd you this morning!"
"Well, you know him now," said the magistrate.
"Know him!" replied Teddy Leonard—"not I faith, for it's a disgrace to be after knowing such a consarn; and by the same token, your worship, he, or some of the rest of 'em, pocketed my shoe that night—and I hav'n't got it since, but another."
"But how came you to alarm these honest people in the way you have done?" said the magistrate—"have you a wife of your own?"
"No, indeed—nor like to have; for I'm quite alone, and comfortable."
"Well, then," said his worship, "we must endeavour to make you let other folks be as comfortable as yourself, by calling upon you to find securities for your keeping the peace in future."
"Very good, your worship—that's all very right—and I dare say I'll keep the peace longer nor the peace keeps me," replied comfortable Teddy; and so saying he followed the jailer to his uncomfortable apartments.
Among the watch-house rubbish brought before the magistrate one morning, were three of that description of bipeds commonly called "Lobby Loungers," or "Box-Lobby-loungers," or "Half-and-half swells;" that is to say, half sharp and half flat—half a bottle and half price, half bully and half boor—in plain terms, idle young men, with empty heads and full stomachs; who, in all the magnificence of a full pint of cape, strut into a theatre at half price, and manifest their gentility by swaggering from box to box, pinching the strumpets, d——g the box-keepers, and annoying the sensible part of the audience as much as they dare.
Our three prisoners strutted into the box department at the English Opera-house, on the preceding night, at half price, and half seas over—whether with cape, black strap, or blue ruin, did not appear. Two of them were particularly half seas over, viz.—Mr. Bob Briggs, and Mr. Simeon Buck;—the other, Mr. Frederic William Diggles, was but so so. They first addressed themselves to the dress circle, when Mr. Bob Briggs, a slight-made, half-grown, flaxen-haired youth, instead of waiting for the box-keeper to open the door of the box in which he wished to make his début, set about kicking it with all his might. What gentleman of spirit would waste his breath in bawling for a box-keeper, when his own foot, well applied to the door, must inevitably compel the "spooneys" within to open it?—And so it turned out; some of the quiet ones within, hearing such a magnificent thundering, did open it; and Mr. Bob Briggs was just setting himself to make his entrée, room or no room, when one of the box-keepers came up and assured him the box was full, at the same time endeavouring to close the door again. "What d'ye mean by that, ye rascal!" cried Mr. Bob Briggs, "is that the way to treat a gentleman?" "Sir," said the box-keeper, "I mean no offence, and if you will walk this way I will endeavour to find you a seat upstairs." "Up stairs be d——d!" retorted Mr. Bob Briggs, "I shall go in here, come what come may, as old what's his name says; so come along, Sim Buck!—Hiccup." They instantly tried to force themselves into the box; the box-keeper and the company tried to keep them out; the constable was called; and, with some ado, he prevailed upon them to relinquish their attempt upon that particular box. But Mr. Constable had scarcely let them go, when the hubbub was renewed; and turning back, he found they had got the box-keeper up in a corner, and were trying, as he said, "to squeeze their money out of him;"—for they had made up their minds to stick to the dress circle, and since there was no room for them in the dress circle, they insisted upon having their half-crowns back again—"so fork out the blunt, you little rascal!" There was a great row; the entrance to the lobby was blocked up; the constable again interfered: Mr. Simeon Buck collared the constable; the constable collared Mr. Simeon Buck; Mr. Frederic W. Diggles caught hold of Mr. Simeon Buck's coat tail, and tried to pull him away from the constable; the constable only held him the faster, determined to send him to the watch-house; and there was poor Mr. Simeon Buck, see-sawing backwards and forwards, with the constable pulling away at his neck, and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles at his tail, for nearly ten minutes; whilst Mr. Bobby popped about the lobby like a pea upon a tobacco-pipe; squeaking for help, and wishing all contumacious constables, and "blackguard box-keepers," at the very diable! At length the constable prevailed, and Mr. Simeon Buck, half-strangled, and sadly damaged in his cravattery, was led away to the watch-house, followed by Mr. Bob Briggs, and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles; and there all three were safely stowed away for the night.
When brought before the magistrate, they defended themselves vigorously—alleging that there was plenty of room in the box they sought to enter, and that they had done nothing worthy of the misery that had been inflicted on them.
The magistrate told them he could see plainly how their case stood. They were young men of great respectability, he had no doubt; but on the night in question they had taken a little too much wine; and the wine had made them a little too presuming; and the presumption had excited them to disorderly conduct; a riot had ensued, assaults had been committed, and by a very natural consequence, they passed the remainder of the night in the watch-house.
Messrs. Simeon Buck and Bob Briggs were then ordered to find bail for the general riot; and Mr. Frederic W. Diggles, for assaulting the constable in the execution of his duty.
Mrs. O'Reilly, wife of Laurence O'Reilly, "coal and potaty merchant, handy by Clear market," charged Mr. Ralph Hogan, a comely young man, of five-and-twenty, with attempting to make her a false woman to her own lawful married husband!
"And please your magistrate," said Mrs. O'Reilly, "Misther Hogan is a lodger of ours, and a civilish sort of a jantleman in gineral, and turncock to the New River Company"—
"Faith that I am, Misthress O'Reilly," responded Mr. Hogan, "any time these three years—come a fortnight after last St. Patrick's-day!"
"Very good, Misther Hogan; and ye see I wouldn't be telling a lie for the matter—why should I?" rejoined Mrs. O'Reilly very complacently;—and then, turning to the magistrate, she proceeded—"And plase your magistrate, Misther Hogan is a nice civilish sort of a young jantleman as a body would wish to be spaking to—ounly that time he couldna withstand timptation; and that was last Sathurday, after tay, when my husband wasn't in the place, and the childer were abed, and I was ironing their best bits of frocks for the Sunday, plase your magistrate. And Misther Hogan sat down by the fire mighty quiet—'And what do I owe you, Misthress O'Reilly,' says he—'for the rint?' says he. 'Just one week of it, Misther Hogan,' say I, 'for you're a nice man, and always true for the rint, and I likes to have you for a lodger overmuch.' Och! bad luck to me for saying that! for Mr. Hogan couldna stand the kind word at all, but must be flinging out his coortships at me—against both the law and the gospel—saving your magistrate's presence. 'And what would ye be after, Misther Hogan?' says I—'Don't you know I'm the mother of my husband's childer any time these thirteen long years—and himself coming in every minute may be, Misther Hogan!' says I. 'Gad's blood! Misthress O'Reilly,' says he, 'to the devil I will pitch him, for myself can't do without ye any longer at all!' and down on his knees he went to me at that time, mighty queer; and up he gathers himself again, and comed at me; and I tried to smooth him down with the hot-iron, but he wouldn't be quiet by no manes for me; and a noise comed to the door, and I squaled, and the neighbours comed trembling into the place, and there was an end on't—plase your magistrate."
Whilst Mrs. O'Reilly was telling her story, Mr. Hogan stood carefully wiping his hat; and when she had done, the magistrate asked him what he had to say for himself; at the same time telling him he thought he had behaved very grossly.
"Devil burn me! your worchip," replied Mr. Hogan—"but I'm just fit to split for spaking! Och! woman, woman! what is there half?——but my honour's consarned, your worchip, and I won't—I won't say nothing, come what will!"
The gallant Turncock persisted in this generous forbearance, and he was held to bail to answer for the loving assault at the ensuing Sessions.
THE END.
Footnotes:
[1] This was before the passing of the New Vagrant Act—
"When free to follow nature was the mode,
And tyrant tread-mills had not shackled man."
[2] A tailor, when asked what he is, never replies simply, "I am a tailor;" but, "I am a tailor, by trade"—thereby seeming to signify that he is not a tailor by nature.
[3] An ultra-napped driving, or box coat.
[4] Toggery, from the Roman toga.
[5] Gumption, strength, either bodily or mental.
[6] Peel, to strip, to disrobe.
[7] Done, caught, beat.
[8] A dram, a drop of max.
[9] Spouted—Pawned. The business of the pawnbrokers has so much increased in London of late years, that they find it necessary to have extensive ware-rooms at the top of the house; and in order to save the trouble of running up and down stairs, they have invented a spout of communication between the ware-rooms and the shop. So that, whenever an unfortunate takes his unmentionables, or any other article to pledge, the pawnbroker places them at the bottom of the spout, and "by some cantrip slight" or other, up the spout they go slap into the ware-rooms in an instant, where they remain until the day of redemption, and then, up goes the duplicate ticket, and down comes the unmentionables again.
[10] The Waits—Those wandering minstrels, who, on the approach of Christmas, nightly serenade the sleeping public by license of the king's sergeant trumpeter.
[11] Bread-basket, dumpling depot, victualling office, &c., are terms given by the "Fancy" to the digestive organ.
[12] Gin.—Deady is, or was, a celebrated distiller of that lively liquid.
[13] Charley—Corinthianish for Watchman.
[14] Canisters—Corinthianish for Heads.
[15] Riddled it—made it full of holes, like a riddle.
[16] Bilk, from the Gothic Bilaican, to cheat, to defraud.
[17] What a pity it is that the poor gentleman never thought of cutting his boots away with a knife! But nemo mortalium, &c.
[18] Something which may be drank in a short time, and yet have a lengthy effect.
[19] A dodger is ginshop-ish for a dram.
[20] "This is a sessionable assault; that is to say, an assault worthy of trial at Quarter Sessions."—Country Justice.
[21] Kennedy—St. Giles's for the poker, from a man of that name being killed by a poker, or a man of that name killing another with that instrument.
[22] Query inured.
[23] Gal—cockney for girl.
[24] Heavy wet—Porter;—because, the more a man drinks of it, the heavier he becomes.
[25] A back room on the third floor.
[26] A jemmy is a sheep's head—a favourite dish with those who can get no other. For jugg'd, see Dr. Kitchiner on "jugg'd hare," &c.
[27] Max-upon-tick—pronounced, maxapóntic—a very gentleman-like term, invented by certain learned tailors, signifying scored gin—or gin upon credit—max being cockneyish for gin, and tick being synonymous with credit, all the world over.
"Bleak winter wears a coat of snow."
Recit.—Mr. Gluckman.
"A lily-white benjamin—is it not so?"
Air—Lord Mops.
[29] These lads were tried at the Old Bailey, and being found guilty, they were sentenced to seven years' transportation,—which sentence was afterwards commuted to five years' imprisonment in the Millbank Penitentiary.
[30] Squad—diminutive of squadron; applied generally to little parties, of little sense—as, an awkward squad, a blackguard squad, a squandering squad, &c.
[31] Seedy—a highly fashionable term, applied chiefly to dress. Thus when a man's coat begins to manifest symptoms of worn-out-ishness, he is said to look seedy—run to seed, and ready for cutting; and whenever this is the case, all his acquaintance cut him as fast as they can, until he is quite cut down and done with. Holywell-street is a famous mart for these ripe garments.
[32] Bub and Grub—drink and victual—
—"And we'll broach a tub,
Of humming bub,
With lots of hot and chilly grub,
To welcome you home with a rub a dub dub."
Old Song.
[33] Ramshackle—corrupted from ramshatter, to shatter as with a battering ram.
[34] A resplendent gas-light was just then shedding its radiance over the happy pair.
Transcriber's Notes:
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