LITMIR.BIZ

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into the overflowing kennel; a circumstance which perhaps had really no bad effect, for in all probability it brought the sober senses of the Charley a little more into action than the juice of the juniper had previously allowed. He was dragged from his birth, and his coat, which was of the blanket kind, brought with it a plentiful supply of the moistening fluid, being literally sous'd from head to foot.

      Bob fished for the darkey{4}—the musical instrument{5}—and the post of honour, alias the supporter of peace;{6} but he was not yet complete, for he had dropped his canister-cap,{7} which was at length found by a flash molisher, and drawn from the pool, full of water, who appeared to know him, and swore he was one of the best fellows on any of the beats round about; and that they had got hold of a Fire-prigger,{8} and bundled{9} him off to St. Giles's watch-house, because he was bolting with a bag of togs.

      1 Nob—The head.

      2 Bread-basket—The stomach.

      3 Keel upwards—Originally a sea phrase, and most in use

      among sailors, &c.

      4 Darkey—Generally made use of to signify a dark lantern.

      5 Musical instrument—a rattle.

      6 Post of honour, or supporter of his peace—Stick, or

      cudgel.

      7 “Canister-cap—& hat.

      8 Fire-prigger—No beast of prey can be more noxious to

      society or destitute of feeling than those who plunder the

      unfortunate sufferers under that dreadful and destructive

      calamity, fire. The tiger who leaps on the unguarded

      passenger will fly from the fire, and the traveller shall be

      protected by it; while these wretches, who attend on fires,

      and rob the unfortunate sufferers under pretence of

      coming to give assistance, and assuming the style and manner

      of neighbours, take advantage of distress and confusion.

      Such wretches have a more eminent claim to the detestation

      of society, than almost any other of those who prey upon it.

      9 Bundled—Took, or conveyed.

      The feeble old scout shook his dripping wardrobe, d——d the water and the boosy kid that wallof'd him into it, but without appearing to know which was him; till Bob stepped up, and passing some silver into his mawley, told him he hoped he was not hurt. And our party then, moved on in the direction for Russel-street, Covent-garden, when Sparkle again mentioned his wet condition, and particularly recommended a glass of Cogniac by way of preventive from taking cold. “A good motion well made (said Tom;) and here we are just by the Harp, where we can be fitted to a shaving; so come along.”

      Having taken this, as Sparkle observed, very necessary precaution, they pursued their way towards Piccadilly, taking their route under the Piazzas of Covent-garden, and thence up James-street into Long-acre, where they were amused by a circumstance of no very uncommon kind in London, but perfectly new to Tallyho. Two Charleys had in close custody a sturdy young man (who was surrounded by several others,) and was taking him to the neighbouring watch-house “What is the matter?” said Tom.

      “Oh, 'tis only a little bit of a dead body-snatcher,” said one of the guardians. “He has been up to the resurrection rig.{1} Here,” continued he, “I've got the bone-basket,”

      1 Resurrection rig—This subject, though a grave one, has

      been treated by many with a degree of comicality calculated

      to excite considerable risibility. A late well known

      humorist has related the following anecdote:

      Some young men, who had been out upon the spree, returning

      home pretty well primed after drinking plentifully, found

      themselves so dry as they passed a public house where they

      were well known, they could not resist the desire they had

      of calling on their old friend, and taking a glass of brandy

      with him by way of finish, as they termed it; and finding

      the door open, though it was late, were tempted to walk in.

      But their old friend was out of temper. “What is the

      matter?”—“Matter enough,” replied Boniface; “here have I

      got an old fool of a fellow occupying my parlour dead drunk,

      and what the devil to do with him I don't know. He can

      neither walk nor speak.”

      “Oh,” said one of the party, who knew that a resurrection

      Doctor resided in the next street, “I'll remove that

      nuisance, if that's all you have to complain of; only lend

      me a sack, and I'll sell him.”

      A sack was produced, and the Bacchanalian, who

      almost appeared void of animation, was without much

      difficulty thrust into it. “Give me a lift,” said the

      frolicsome blade, and away he went with the load. On

      arriving at the doctor's door, he pulled the night bell,

      when the Assistant made his appearance, not un-accustomed to

      this sort of nocturnal visitant.

      holding up a bag, “and it was taken off his shoulder as he went along Mercer-street, so he can't say nothing at all.

      “I have brought you a subject—all right.”

      “Come in. What is it, a man or a woman?”

      “A man.”

      “Down with him—that corner. D——n it, I was fast asleep.

      “Call for the sack in the morning, will you, for I want to get to bed.”

      “With all my heart.”

      Then going to a drawer, and bringing the customary fee, “Here, (said he) be quick and be off.” This was exactly what the other wanted; and having secured the rubbish,{1} the door was shut upon him. This, however, was no sooner done, than the Boosy Kid in the sack, feeling a sudden internal turn of the contents of his stomach, which brought with it a heaving, fell, from the upright situation in which he had been placed, on the floor. This so alarmed the young Doctor, that he ran with all speed after the vender, and just coming up to him at the corner of the street.

      “Why, (said he) you have left me a living man!”

      “Never mind, (replied the other;) kill him when you want him.” And making good use of his heels he quickly disappeared.

      A Comedian of some celebrity, but who is now too old for theatrical service, relates a circumstance which occurred to him upon his first arrival in town:—

      Having entered into an engagement to appear upon the boards of one of the London Theatres, he sought the metropolis some short time before the opening of the House; and conceiving it necessary to his profession to study life—real life as it is—he was accustomed to mingle promiscuously in almost all society. With this view he frequently entered the tap rooms of the lowest public houses, to enjoy his pipe and his pint, keeping the main object always in view—

      “To catch the manners living as they rise.”

      Calling one evening at one of these houses, not far from Drury Lane, he found some strapping fellows engaged in conversation, interlarded with much flash and low slang; but decently dressed, he mingled in a sort of general dialogue with them on the state of the weather, politics, &c. After sitting some time in their company, and particularly noticing their persons and apparent character—

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