AMONGST other occurrences of the preceding day, Cousin Bob adverted, at the breakfast table, to the confused intermixture of carriages, dissonant din of attendant lacqueys clamouring for vehicles, and the dangers occasioned by quarrelsome coachmen, precipitately, and at all hazards, rushing forwards to the doors of a mansion, on the breaking-up of a route, each claiming, and none willing to concede precedency in taking up their masters and mistresses,—” I am surprised,” said the Squire, “that any rational being would sacrifice his time and comfort in making one of an assemblage where within doors you are pressed to the dread of suffocation, and in making your exit, are environed by peril and difficulty.”

“Such,” rejoined Dashall, “are the follies of fashion. Its influence predominates universally; and the votarists of bon ton, are equally assiduous in the pursuit of their object, whether with the satellites in the gay and volatile regions of the court, or amongst those of 'sober fame' in the mercantile bustle of the city. In the purlieus of the great, bon ton is characterized by inconvenience; four or Ave hundred people, for example, invited to crowd a suite of rooms not calculated to accommodate half the number, the squeeze must be delightful! But

thence yield the followers of High Life in the West to the follies of fashion, where the enjoyment of ease is a subordinate, if not altogether exploded consideration.—Eastward on the other hand:

“Again,” added the Squire, “what a vast expence is incurred by these idle and ostentatious displays of luxury, without one object of advantage gained!”

“Unproductive result,” rejoined Tom, “is not always the case; it not unfrequently happens that a route and card-party are united; when the lady of the mansion generally contrives, by skill and finesse, to transfer a portion of the spoil into her own private treasury; and notwithstanding expense, there are those who have given splendid routes and entertainments, and at the same time, recruited their exhausted finances, at the sole charges of incautious tradesmen, who notwithstanding repeated losses, yet absorbed in the love of gain, become the dupes of avarice and credulity.—In the elucidation of my remark,—

“Not long since,” continued Dashall, “an aspiring young limb of the law, of property, in expectancy (but that is neither here nor there) and fertile in expedient, contrived to insinuate himself into the good fellowship of a few bon vivants; and resolving to irradiate with ?surprising glory' the galaxy of fashion, he furnished a house, by permission of an accommodating upholsterer, in a style of magnificence, and decorated a side-board with a splendid service of plate, borrowed auspiciously for the occasion from a respectable silversmith, on a promise of liberal remuneration and safe return; after effecting the object of its migration, in dazzling the eyes of his honourable friends at his projected entertainment.

“Amidst the busy 'note of preparation,' the important day at last arrived; the suite of apartments became thronged with company, and every one admired the elegance of the furniture; the tasteful ornaments of the rooms; the brilliancy of the lights and massive construction of the valuable family plate! In fact every thing conspired to give eclat to the scene, and confirm the friends of the founder of the feast in their belief alike of his exquisite judgment and high respectability.

“The silversmith, that he might not appear indelicately obtrusive, let a few days elapse after this grand gala had taken place, before he applied for restoration of his property, the borrower congratulated him on his good fortune, told him, that several friends had very much admired the plate, and even expressed an intention of ordering similar services; and that with regard to the borrowed plate, he had taken so strong a fancy to it, as to feel disposed to become a purchaser, if the price was reasonable, and an adequate consideration was made for prompt payment.

“The silversmith, who chuckled inwardly at the prospect of extending his business, and connecting himself with so many 'honourable men,' gratefully expressed his acknowledgments, and assuring him of liberal dealing, the several items of the borrowed plate were examined and dilated upon, the price of each article, after much higgling, was ultimately fixed, the sum total ascertained, and an early clay appointed for a final settlement of the accompt. It never was the intention of the borrower to return the plate, but he now had achieved a great object, by entirely changing the whole complexion of the business; he had now converted fraud into debt, and happen what might, the silversmith could only sue him on a civil process, which against a limb of the law, and as such, privileged from arrest, must be tedious and uncertain, whereas, had he made away with the plate, without accomplishing the object of this last manouvre, (such is the indiscriminating severity of English law,) that he might have been amenable to the punishment of felony!

“Now comes the reckoning when the banquet's o'er! the parties met for final settlement, when behold! the accepted purchaser offers the silversmith a bill at a month; he refuses it indignantly, and consults his solicitor as to the possibility of compelling the restoration of the plate; but the lawyer told him, that on his own shewing this could not be done. The silversmith had now no other resource than that of taking the proposed bill, and waiting the expiration of the month, for payment. In the meanwhile, the debtor exhibiting the talent of an able conveyancer, transmuted the silver into gold, and now laughs at the credulity of London tradesmen, and sets the silversmith at defiance!”{1}

This detail threw the Squire into a train of rumination, on the tricks and chicanery of metropolitan adventurers; while Dashall amused himself with the breakfast-table concomitant, the newspaper. A few minutes only elapsed, when he laid it aside, approached the window, and seeing a funeral pass, in procession, along the street, he turned towards his Cousin, and interrupted his reverie with the following extemporaneous address:—

Cousin Bob was very much surprised by this sudden effusion, and inquiring the source of inspiration, Dashall put into his hands the newspaper, pointing to the following extraordinary communication, extracted verbatim.{1}

The Squire having perused this appalling account of human depravity, expressed himself in energetic terms of indignation against the miscreant, who to the acute miseries of maternal affliction at the premature loss of a son, and by such a death! could add the bitter anguish of consigning his cold remains, unseen by any earthly spirit of sympathy, to the knife of the dissector, in breach of every law moral and divine! In the warmth of his kindly feelings, the Squire would have uttered a curse, had he not been prevented by the entrance of his old friend, Sir Felix O'Grady. The two friends received their quondam acquaintance with much cordiality. “Cuish la mevchree! exclaimed the Baronet, shaking heartily the hands of Tom and Bob; “and how have you done these many long days past?”—This inquiry having been satisfactorily answered, Sir Felix explained the object of his visit:—“Aunts of all sorts, or any sort, or no sort at all at all,” said he, “are cursed bad things, sure enough; as somebody in the play says.”

This abrupt commencement excited the risible feelings of Dashall and his Cousin, which were further stimulated by Sir Felix seriously appealing to their commiseration, under the pressure of misfortune,—“for this same respectable maiden lady, Mrs. Judith Macgilligan, my venerable aunt as aforesaid, has recently imported her antiquated piece of virginity from her native mountains near Belfast, and having had my address pat enough, the worse luck, the sowl, with an affected anxiety for my welfare, must take up her residence, while in town, in the same house with her dutiful nephew, that she may have the opportunity of watching over him in his erratic pursuits, as she says, with maternal solicitude; that is, in other words, to spy into all my actions, and bore me everlastingly with her intolerable company. It was but the blessed morning of yesterday that she took a fancy to exhibit her beautiful person at the lounge in Bond-street;—by-the-bye, this same paragon of perfection has passed her grand climacteric, being on the wrong side of sixty;—is as thin as a lath and as tall as a May-pole;—speaks an indescribable language of the mongrel kind, between Irish and Scotch, of which she is profuse to admiration; and forgetting the antiquity of her person, prides herself on the antiquity of her ancestry so much, that she is said to bear a strong resemblance to her grandmother, judging from the full-length portrait (painted seventy years ago,) of that worthy progenitor of our family, who was a descendent, lineally, from O'Brien king of Ulster, that she copies her dress on all public occasions, to the great amusement and edification of the spectators; and in these venerable habiliments she promenaded Bond-street, hanging on my arm;—by the Powers, till I felt ashamed of my precious charge, for all the world was abroad, and my reverend aunt was the universal magnet of attraction.”

“Well, and you find yourself comfortable,” said Dashall,—“we have all of us foibles, and why expect your aunt to be exempted from them?—Have you any thing in expectance,—is she rich?”

“Twenty thousand pounds, twice told,” replied Sir Felix, “sterling money of Great Britain, in which I have a reversionary interest.”

“Why then,” said Tallyho, “you cannot do better than contribute all in your power to her ease and pleasure; and in exercising this commendable duty, you will gain present satisfaction, and may justly anticipate future benefit.”

“And,” added Dashall, “if my Cousin or myself can by any means further your object, in contributing towards the full attainment of your aunt's amusement while she remains in town, you may command our services.”

“By the powers of fortune,” exclaimed the Baronet, “you have just given me the opportunity I was wishing for; that is, I had a favour to ask, but which I could not find courage enough to do, notwithstanding my native assurance, until now. You must know, then, that on Easter Monday, the illustrious Judith Macgilligan, descendant lineally from O'Brien king of Ulster, means to honour the Civic entertainment with her sublime presence, and grace the Ball at the Mansion-house in a dress resembling that of her grandmother the princess, worn seventy years ago. Now, my dear friends, having pledged yourselves to contribute all in your power towards the pleasure of my venerable aunt, which of you will be her partner for the evening?”

The pause of a moment was succeeded by a hearty laugh; Tallyho had no objections to the hand, as a partner at the ball, of Miss Judith Macgilligan, even should she choose to array herself after the manner of the princess her grandmother. But Dashall observing that as no masque balls were given at the Mansion-house, it would be necessary that Miss Macgilligan should forego her intention of appearing otherwise than in modern costume. Sir Felix undertook to arrange this point with his relative, and in the name and on behalf of Squire Tallyho, of Belville-hall, to engage the distinguished honour of her hand at the ensuing Mansion-house Ball. This important affair having been satisfactorily adjusted, it was proposed by Dashall that, as his Cousin and the Baronet had neither of them ever been present at the Epping Hunt on Easter Monday, they should form themselves into a triumvirate for the purpose of enjoying that pleasure on the morrow. The Squire having in town two hunters from his own stud, embraced the proposition with the avidity of a true sportsman, and Sir Felix declining the offer of one of these fleet-footed coursers, it was agreed they should be under the guidance of Tom and Bob, and that Sir Felix should accompany them, mounted on his own sober gelding, early in the morning, to the field of Nimrod, from which they purposed to return to town in sufficient time to witness other holiday sports, before dressing for the entertainment at the Mansion-house.

These preliminaries settled, and Sir Felix agreeing to take a pot-luck dinner with his two friends, the trio resolved on a morning lounge of observation, and sallying forth, took their way along Piccadilly accordingly.

Although it was Sunday morning, this street presented, with the exception of the shops being closed, nearly the same appearance of bustle as on any other day; the number of pedestrians was not apparently less, and of equestrians and carriage-occupants, an increase; the two latter description of the ton, actually or would-be, passing onwards to the general Sunday rendezvous, Hyde-Park, where Real Life in London is amusingly diversified; and where may be seen frequently, amongst the promiscuous promenaders of the Mall, a prince of the blood-royal undistinguishable by external ornament from any of the most humble in the moving panorama; while an endless succession of carriages, in which are seated, what England beyond any other country may proudly boast of, some of the most beautiful women in the world, present the observer with an enlivening theme of admiration; and, together with the mounted exhibiters, from the man of fashion on the “pampered, prancing steed,” to the youth of hebdomadary emancipation on “the hacked Bucephalus of Rotten Row,” form an assemblage at once ludicrous and interesting.

Having circumambulated the “Ring,” our triumvirate returned by the gate in Piccadilly, and crossing from thence to Constitution-hill, Dashall pointed out to his companions the seat, as now fixed upon (on the summit of the Green Park) of a Military Pillar, intended to be raised in commemoration of the many victories achieved by British valour in the last war. “This plan, if properly carried into effect by the erection (said Dashall) of a column equal in splendor of execution with the glory it is meant to record, will be the greatest ornament of the metropolis.”

“If again,” added the Squire, “it does not prove like some other recent projections, a Castle in the air!”{1}

Without any other occurrence worthy of remark, the perambulators reached home, and enjoyed the comfortable quietude of an excellent domestic dinner, without interruption. Every arrangement having been made for the amusements of next day, the party broke up, Sir Felix returning to his lodgings, to gladden the heart of Miss Judith Macgilligan with the anticipation of conquest; and Dashall and Tallyho retiring to early repose, that they might encounter the business of the morning with recruited renovation.—Next day

When the Baronet made his appearance “on a milk-white steed,” before the mansion of Dashall. In a few moments the friendly trio were assembled in the breakfast-parlour, and partook of a hasty repast while the coursers from the Belville-stud, destined to perform a prominent part in the forthcoming adventures of the day, were getting in readiness. The preparations were soon completed,—the hunters, two noble animals, were brought to the door,

was the order of Richard,” said the Baronet; “but had he been in possession of such a horse as either of these, 'White Surrey' might have gone to the devil.”

“I'll warrant them both, sound, wind and limb, and gentle to boot,” said the Squire,—“Come then, if you wish to be well-mounted, and would really look like a “baron bold,” seat yourself fearlessly on either, and bear yourself through the streets of London with the dignity befitting a true, magnanimous and puissant knight of Munster!”—This address had the desired effect,—it implied a doubt of the Baronet's courage, and he seated himself on the “gallant steed” immediately.—Tom and Bob at same time betook themselves, the former to the other “high mettled racer,” and the latter to the unassuming rejected Rosinante of Sir Felix. A trifling delay, however, occurred; the stirrups of the Baronet's charger were too short, and he alighted while the groom repaired the defect.

Whether, like the Calenderer's horse under the its guidance of the celebrated John Gilpin, the disdainful steed now in the management of Sir Felix, “wondered what thing he'd got upon his back,” we are not competent to decide; but he certainly in his progress “o'er the stones” manifested frequent impatience of restraint. These symptoms of contumaciousness were nevertheless borne by the Baronet without complaint,—

And, as if intuitively knowing the incapacity of his rider to restrain him, and despising curb and rein, the indignant animal set off at full speed, to the great dismay of Dashall and the Squire, who putting their horses to the pith of their mettle, hurried after their friend with the utmost solicitude. Luckily, however, the career of the spirited animal was impeded, and finally stopped, by the frequent interposition of the passengers on the road, and the Baronet was safely set down, ready to exclaim with Hawser Trunnion, “If ever I get astride the back of such another harum scarum son of a bitch again, my name is not Felix O'Grady.”

The pursuers speedily rejoined the pursued, and felt happy in the knowledge of his welfare. The abashment of the baronet, occasioned by this untoward adventure, soon gave way to his characteristic good-humour; and having resigned all further government of the Squire's unruly quadruped, and resumed possession of his own, the triumvirate proceeded towards the place of destination.

In the meanwhile, the city horsemen arose with Phoebus, to mount their rosinantes, to be present at the enlargement of the stag, and were roused from their slumbers according to order by the watchmen. The motley group, that was early in the field, furnished a capital subject for the caricaturist. Carts, horses, lame mares, and refractory donkies, with their grotesque riders, covered the field, together with dandies in chaises, and the lassies from St. Giles's, Chick-lane, Wapping, and St. Catherine's, in market carts, with their sweet-hearts, considerably swelled the number of the hunters. The stag was decorated with bunches of ribbons, and seemed when enlarged much more frightened at the appearance of the Londoners, than at the hounds, his natural enemies. When the chase commenced, never was witnessed such a scene of confusion and disorder. Upset carts, and unhorsed huntsmen, were seen in all directions. The stag went off in good style, and out of hundreds of horsemen, not above a dozen were able to keep their seats, but a number of fellows were on the lurk to take care of the stray horses.

After a cursory glance at the variegated and boisterous assemblage, the stag bounded forward with the velocity of lightning, amidst the astounding shouts of the multitude, and was instantly followed by his biped and quadruped foes of indescribable diversity, from the amateur of the turf on his spirited and well caparisoned steed, to the spavined gelding, bearing its cockney rider, and numerous other annual equestrians, preceded by every description of the canine race, from the high bred beagle to the “cur of low degree.” All was tumultuous dissonance, and confusion worse confounded. Tallyho enjoyed the scene to the very acme of delight, and giving the reins to his experienced courser, high in blood, and eager for accustomed exercise, the noble animal accompanied by its companion under the guidance of Dashall, started off with unrivalled celerity, and in a few moments set all competition at defiance. Sir Felix, in an attempt to follow his friends, leaped a fence, but gaining the opposite side, horse and rider came to the ground: fortunately neither of them sustained any injury.—Sir Felix, however, on regaining his footing, found that his horse, which had gone forward, was in possession of a stranger, who losing his own, had availed himself of this opportunity of remounting, and now pursued his way bare-headed; for the wind had uncourteously uncovered his pericranium, and he abandoned his castor to its fate rather than by stopping to pick it up, risque the restitution of his prize, and the wrath of the baronet, who stood spell-bound against the fence, vociferously demanding his gelding, and extending his arm in reiterated denunciation of vengeance. The unceremonious intruder turning round on the saddle, without slackening his career.—” Bide you where you are, my fine fellow,” he provokingly exclaimed, “until the chase is over, and your gelding shall then be forthcoming.” If the sense of misfortune is alleviated by seeing it participated by others, the baronet had ample fund of consolation, for numbers around him were involved in similar calamity. He profited too, by an admirable lesson of patience under disaster. On the right of his runaway gelding, and its rider, he perceived a dismounted horseman, quietly submitting to adversity, by seating himself on a bank, while his unburthened steed pursued the chase with unabating celerity, leaving its owner to wait, at leisure, its return. Two cockney equestrians now approached, at full speed, the fence where Sir Felix still stood, in the attitude of remonstrance and irritation; and attempting the leap, one, like the baronet, gained the opposite side, but with a less successful result; for the rider was pitched over with some violence, with his heels aloft in the air, as if about to perambulate the field on his hands, while his horse came to the ground on its face and knees, suspended by its hind legs from the upper bar of the fence, and vainly essaying at extrication. The other cockney sportsman was similarly situated: his horse had not cleared the fence, neither had the rider, although he had reached the neck of his rosinante in his progress to the opposite side; in this position he assumed a permanent aspect, for his horse rested with his fore-legs over the fence, and seemed incapable of either retrograding or proceeding. These lessons taught the baronet resignation in mishap; the result of which was the return, in about an hour, of his friends Tom and Bob, to his great comfort, which was further increased by their bringing with them his gelding, having recognized the animal in the possession of a stranger, who, on their claiming it as belonging to Sir Felix O'Grady, very readily gave it up, saying, that the baronet had not forgot in the midst of his threats, frequently to announce his name, and hoping that he would excuse him for having resorted to the privilege which every person claims on this day, of taking care of the stray horses. The party now fully satisfied with the humours and disasters of the Easter Hunt, turned their steeds homewards, and journeying unimpeded, notwithstanding the throng of the road, they quickly gained town, without the occurrence of any other memorable incident.

Having reached the mansion of Dashall, Sir Felix acquainted Tallyho with the success of his mission respecting the hand, as a partner, at the Mansion-house Ball, of the august descendant of the Kings of Ulster, the sage and venerable Miss Judith Macgilligan. “O, the beautiful illustrissimo! the sweet crature” exclaimed the baronet, “with commendable care of her virgin purity, and fair unsullied fame, is tenacious of etiquette, and insists that she shall be asked with all due form and respect, (after I have introduced your Squireship to the honour of her notice) at the Mansion-house. By my conscience, I believe she is in love with your character, and no doubt will prove desperately so with your person. Faith and troth now, she is both too young and too old for matrimony; too young, because she may live to torment you these twenty years to come, which is a penance no sprightly lad should voluntarily undergo for all her fortune; and too old, being in all respects disqualified by age, for the important object of marriage, which was instituted for the procreation of children.”

“My dear sir,” rejoined the Squire, “immaculate may the lady remain in her person and property, I have no views on either.”

“By the powers of charity retract that 'stern decree,'” exclaimed the baronet, “would you break the heart of the love-sick nymph, by chilling indifference to the potency of her charms and the magnitude of her fortune? However, all joking apart, my good friends, will you do my aunt and your humble servant the honour of calling at our lodgings; we shall wait your coming and proceed together to the civic entertainment?” This was agreed to;—the baronet retired, and the two cousins having the best part of the day still before them, set out on a stroll to Tothill-fields Fair, with the view of ascertaining Real Life in Westminster, amongst the middle and lower orders of its extensive population.

Crossing St. James's Park, our two observers soon reached the scene of jollity. Here, as in all the fairs held in London, and its vicinity, was a vast assemblage of idlers, including both sexes and all ages. “They talk of the severity of the times,” said Dashall, “and the distress of the lower orders of society; I cannot say, however, that I have witnessed any semblance of distress or privation amongst such in this metropolis to the extent represented,1 in the whole course of my observation. These fairs, for instance, more properly marts of iniquity, are crammed to excess; and in pursuit of low enjoyment there appears no deficiency of pecuniary means. In all these resorts of dissipation, not only the shows are filled with spectators, but the booths and neighbouring public-houses are crowded with male and female revellers.”

The Squire acquiesced in the correctness of his friend's remark, and both coincided in opinion that the regular daily public places of amusement in the metropolis afford ample opportunity for rational recreation, independent of the continuance of fairs, which have no other tendency than facilitating the progress of licentiousness.

Dashall observed, that on the present occasion, in the midst of so much alleged distress,-the booths and shows of Tothill-fields Fair were much more extensive than in former years. “We must, however,” said he, “although the evil continues, do the Magistrates the justice to say that they have acted meritoriously in preventing the erection of those dangerous machines named round-abouts, by which, at former fairs, many serious accidents were occasioned.”

While Ton and Bob were quizzing the costermongers and the Venuses, they in their turn were queered out of their wipes; thus another cogent argument was afforded as to the necessity of suppressing these nuisances, as being the rendezvous of infamy, and the harvest of depredation. The visitors appeared in all their glory, as elegant and boisterous as usual; the consumption of gin and gingerbread was apparently prodigious, and the great luxury amongst the fashionables was fried sausages and the bolting of oysters with sugar for wagers. Having lost their wipes, the two friends resolved at least to save their tattlers; and having seen a sufficiency of Westminster jollification, they left the fair to those visitors who might better appreciate its enjoyment.

Returning home, they were not encountered by farther mischance, and having shortly reached their destination, and dressed for the evening gala, a chariot was ordered, and they were set down at the lodgings of Sir Felix O'Grady.

The baronet introduced his two friends to his aunt, with much affected form, and with an arch leer of expression, which, on an occasion of minor import, would have excited the risibility of Bob, but this was no laughing affair; the presentation therefore was conducted with all due solemnity, and Miss Judith Macgilligan received him with a maidenish diffidence and complacency, yet with the dignity becoming a descendant of O'Brien, King of Ulster.

Having partaken of a slight repast, the party drove off, in the lady's temporary vehicle, and rattling rapidly along the streets, were in a very short time arrived at the Mansion-house. The company was select and elegant; the ladies particularly, might vie in splendour of ornament and fascination of personal charms, with first rate beauties of the west; and what gave the entertainment a superior zest above every other consideration, was the condescending affability of the Civic Queen, who received her numerous and delighted guests with a truly hospitable, yet dignified politeness; nor was there any deficiency on the part of her lord; all that the most excellent arrangements and the most minute attention could accomplish was done, to the entire gratification and comfort of the company.{1}