Our two friends, in consequence of some allusions made by the company at the Finish, on a preceding day, to a house of great theatrical celebrity in Drury-lane, resolved on a visit the following evening; and it may here be necessary to introduce such of our readers as are not in the secret, to the same.

The Harp, opposite Drury-lane Theatre, is well known as the resort of theatrical amateurs and professors; but those who have not had an opportunity of visiting its interior, can scarcely form an idea of the mirth, wit, and humour constantly displayed within its walls. The circumstance here alluded to, though not exactly introduced in point of time, is one which generally takes place once in three years; viz. the election of a Mayor to represent the now City of Lushington, an event which is attended with as much of bustle, interest, and whimsicality, as a popular election for a member of Parliament. The generality of the persons who are frequent visitors to the house are termed Harponians, and by due qualification become citizens of Lushington. Although we cannot give a true and circumstantial history of this ancient city, we doubt not our numerous readers will discover that its title is derived from an important article in life, commonly called Lush. The four wards are also appropriately titled, as symbolical of the effects which are usually produced by its improper application. On entering the room, the first corner on the right hand is Suicide Ward, and derives its appellation from a society so named, in which each member is bound by an oath, that however he might feel inclined to lay violent hands upon his glass, he would not lay violent hands upon his own existence.

The left hand corner has also a name as appropriate as its neighbour, being called Poverty Ward; so termed from its vicinity to the door, and the ease with which a citizen, whose tanner case{1} and toggery{2} are out of repair, may make his entree and exit, without subjecting himself to the embarrassing gaze and scrutiny of his more fortunate fellow-citizens. Juniper Ward, which is directly opposite to Poverty Ward, may in a moral point of view be said to mark the natural gradation rom the one to the other. Whether these wards are so placed by the moral considerations of the ingenious citizens or not, we are at present unable to learn; but we have discovered that Juniper Ward is so called in consequence of a club, consisting of seven citizens, who bound themselves to meet every evening exactly on the spot, taking each upon himself to defray the expense of blue ruin for the whole party on each evening alternately. In the corner directly opposite to Suicide Ward is Lunatic Ward, indicative no doubt of the few steps there are between the one and the other: hence the four corner pillars of this ancient and honourable city are replete with moral instruction to the wise and discriminating part of society.

Each of these wards, like the wards of the City of London, has its alderman, and no doubt can be entertained of their being ably represented, as well as their rights and privileges being well secured and sustained. A gentleman who is well known and highly respected for his abilities and attentions as theatrical agent, which character he has sustained for many years, is high bailiff, and at proper periods issues his writ in the following form:—

“City of Lushington, (to wit.)

“The high bailiff having received a requisition to convene a meeting for the purpose of nominating aldermen to represent the different wards, and from them to elect a mayor for the above city for the year ensuing;

“The high bailiff, in pursuance thereof, fixes Saturday the 22d December inst. to nominate for the purpose aforesaid, and from thence proceed to the election, which election is to continue till the following Monday, being the 24th, when the poll is to be closed.

“Given under my hand, this 18th day of December, 1821. (Signed) “F. SIMS, high bailiff.”

“Lushington Hall.”

“The election to commence at 7 o'clock; the poll to be closed at half-past 10.”

After this official notice, preparations are made in due form for the election, and in the fitting up of the hustings the most skilful and ingenious artists are selected from the several wards, while the candidates are employed in forming their committees, and canvassing their friends and fellow-citizens, each of them professing an intention to intersect the city with canals of sky blue, to reduce the price of heavy wet, and to cultivate plantations of the weed, to be given away for the benefit and advantage of the community, thereby to render taxation useless, and the comforts of life comeatable by all ranks and degrees of society. To take the burthensome load of civic state upon themselves, in order that their friends and neighbours may be free; that independence may become universal, and that the suffrages of the people may be beyond controul nor can it be doubted but these professions are made with as much sincerity in many of a similar nature in larger cities, and in situations of much greater importance.

It is, however, proper to observe, that in the City of Lushington there are no sinecures, no placemen and pensioners, to exhaust the treasury; honour is the grand inducement for the acceptance of office, and highly honour'd are those who are fortunate enough to obtain the mark s of distinction to which they aspire.

The oath administered upon such occasions is of a most serious and solemn nature; which, however, notwithstanding the conscientious scruples of the voters, must be taken with suitable gravity before they can be, permitted to poll; being in substance nearly as follows:—

“I (A. B.) do swear that I have been an inhabitant of the City of Lushington for the space of — years; and that I have taken within its walls — pots of porter, — glasses of jackey, and smoked —pipes; (the blanks are filled in according to circumstances); that is to say, one pot of heavy wet, one glass of juniper, and one loading of weed at least annually; have been the cause of such acts in others, or have been present when such acts have been performed; and that I have not polled at this election.”

This oath is sworn with all due solemnity, by kissing the foot of a broken glass, and the vote is then recorded.

Tom and Bob, who had so little previous intimation of this important event, were informed as they proceeded to the scene of action, by a friend of one of the candidates, that the election was strongly contested between Sir William Sims, the son of the worthy high bailiff, Sir Benjamin Rosebud, Jessamine Sweetbriar, Sir Peter Paid, and Peregrine Foxall, the silver-toned orator, strongly supported by the Tag Rag and Bobtail Club. Sir Frederick Atkinson introduced and proposed by the Marquis of Huntley, a well known sporting character from the county of Surrey, and Mr. Alderman Whetman, of Lushington notoriety. The door of the house was well guarded by the posse comitatis, armed with staves, emblematical of the renowned city to which they belonged, and decorated with the favors of the different candidates by whom they were employed, or whose interest they espoused. The staves, instead of the crown, were surmounted by quartern measures, and produced a most striking and novel effect, as they appeared to be more reverenced and respected than that gaudy bauble which is a representative of Royalty.

At the moment of our friends entrance, large bodies of voters were brought up by canvassing parties from the surrounding habitations, with colours flying, and were introduced in succession to poll; and as time was fast escaping, every one was active in support of his favourite candidate. All was bustle and anxiety, and Tom and Bob approached the hustings with two chimney-sweepers, a hackney-coachman, and three light bearers, alias link-carriers, from Covent Garden Theatre. Having polled for Sir William Sims, who very politely returned thanks for the honour conferred on him, standing room was provided for them by the inhabitants of Lunatic Ward, who it should seem, like others under the influence of the moon, have their lucid intervals, and who upon this occasion displayed a more than usual portion of sanity, mingled with good humour and humanity.

In this quarter of the city, where our friends expected to find distracted, or at least abstracted intellect, they were very pleasingly disappointed at discovering they were associated with reasonable and intelligent beings; although some of them, fatigued by their exertions during the election, were so strongly attacked by Somnus, that notwithstanding the bustle with which they were surrounded, they occasionally dropped into the arms of the drowsy god, and accompanied the proceedings with a snore, till again roused to light and life by some more wakeful inhabitant.

At the appointed time, the high bailiff announced the election closed, and after an examination of the votes, declared the choice to have fallen on Sir William, a circumstance which drew forth a unanimous burst of approbation, long, loud, and deep, which in a few moments being communicated to those without. This was as cordially and as vociferously answered by anxious and admiring crowds.

The influx of citizens, upon the event being known, to hear the speeches of the different candidates, choaked up every avenue to the hustings, and beggars all description; the inimitable pencil of a Hogarth could hardly have done justice to the scene, and a Common Hall of the City of London might be considered a common fool to it; every voter had a right, established that right, and enjoyed it. Here stood the well-dressed Corinthian in his bang-up toggery, alongside of a man in armour, one of the Braziers Company, armed with a pot-lid and a spit, and decorated with a jack-chain round his neck. There stood a controller of the prads, a Jarvey, in close conversation with one of the lighters of the world, with his torch in hand. A flue faker in one corner, was endeavouring to explain a distinction between smoke and gas to a lamplighter, who declared it as his opinion, “that the City of Lushington,—at all times a luminous and deservedly revered City,—had had more light thrown upon it that election, by the introduction of the link carriers, than it ever had before; and likewise that his dissertation on smoke and gas was not worth one puff from his pipe.”

In the midst of this bustle, noise and confusion, it was some time before the high bailiff could obtain silence; when Sir William made his appearance on the hustings, and in language well suited for the occasion, declared the heartfelt gratitude he entertained for the high and distinguished honour so handsomely conferred upon him, with his determination never to lose sight of the invaluable rights and privileges of his constituents, assuring them they were welcome to indulge themselves with any thing the house afforded. He next complimented his opponents on the very gentlemanlike way in which the election had been conducted, and alluded most emphatically to the introduction of those voters who endeavour to lighten the darkness of the world, the link-carriers, who by their manners and conduct had become on that occasion as it were links of a chain, which in point of friendship, good humour and independence, he sincerely hoped would never be broken. Rapturous applause followed this speech, which notwithstanding the almost overpowering load of gratitude with which the speaker was burthened, was given with good emphasis and corresponding effect.

The other candidates returned thanks to those of their fellow-citizens who had supported their interest; and no one seeming inclined to call for a scrutiny, Sir William took the official oath, and was invested with the cloathing of magistracy, which being done, Mr. Alderman Whetman arose to address the mayor.

The well known ability usually displayed by this gentleman, his patriotic zeal, and undeviating integrity, commanded immediate silence, while he informed the chief magistrate of a circumstance which had recently occurred, and which left one of the wards unrepresented, by a worthy alderman who in consequence of accepting an office in the board of controul, had by the laws of Lushington vacated his seat. An explanation being demanded, it appeared that the worthy alderman had become a deputy manager of a country theatre, and consequently must be considered under the board of controul; it was therefore necessary he should at least be re-elected before he could be allowed to continue in the distinguished station of alderman: this point being agreed to, the situation was declared vacant, and a time appointed for the election.

The official business of the election being over, harmony and conviviality became the order of the night; foaming bowls and flowing glasses decorated the tables; many of the citizens withdrawing to rest after their labours, made room for those who remained, and every one seemed desirous to

The song, the toast, the sentiment, followed each other in rapid succession; mirth and good humour prevailed, and time, while he exhausted himself, appeared to be inexhaustible. The beams of wit, the lively sallies of humour, and the interchange of good fellowship, eradiated the glass in its circulation, and doubly enhanced its contents; and in amusements so truly congenial with the disposition of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin, they joined till after four o'clock in the morning, thus rendering themselves true and devoted citizens of Lushington, when they sallied forth, tolerably well primed for any lark or spree which chance might throw in their way. It was a fine morning, and while the shopkeepers and trades-men were taking their rest, the market gardeners and others were directing their waggons and carts to Covent Garden.

“Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “we will just take a turn round the Garden, and a stroll down Drury-lane, for a walk will do us no harm after our night's amusement, and we can hardly fail to find subjects worthy of observation, though; in all probability we are too early to realize all the poet's description of a market:”

The streets that surround the theatres, and which of an evening are thronged with the elegant equipage of the visitors, were now filled with carts, waggons, and other vehicles of various denominations, for conveyance of the marketable commodities to and from the place of sale: here and there were groupes of Irishmen and basket-women, endeavouring to obtain a load, and squabbling with assiduous vociferations for the first call.

“This,” said Tom, “is the largest market for vegetables we have in the metropolis, and supplies numerous retail dealers with their stock in trade; who assemble here early in the morning to make their bargains, and get them home before the more important business of the day, that of selling, commences.” While Tom was explaining thus briefly to his Cousin, aloud laugh attracted their attention, and drew them to a part of the market where a crowd was collected, to witness a squabble between a Jew orange merchant and a pork butcher.{1}

The Israelite appeared to be in a great rage, swore he would have revenge of his insulting neighbour, and pull him up. The exasperation of the Jew afforded much merriment to the spectators, who seemed to enjoy his aggravation: our friends, however, had arrived too late to discover the cause, and although not very particular about discovering themselves amid the mob, conceived it most prudent to move onward without inquiry; “for,” as Tom observed, “if we ask any questions we are sure to be told lies: “they then passed through the Market, made their way up James-street to Long Acre, and thence to Drury-lane.

The watchmen were just leaving their stations, with an intention to partake of what they had all night been endeavouring to deprive others, and the humbler ranks of society were preparing for the business of the day; while the batter'd beau, the clean'd out buck, and the dissipated voluptuary, were occasionally to be seen gliding from holes and corners, and scampering home with less wisdom in their heads, and less money in their purses, than when they left. Here was to be seen the City shopman, hastening away from his dulcenea, to get down his master's shutters before the gouty old gentleman should be able to crawl down stairs; there, the dandy, half dressed, and more than half seas over, buttoning his toggery close round him to keep out the damp air of the morning, affecting to sing

slipped along, as he supposed, unobserved, between dustmen, scavengers, flue-fakers, gardeners, fish-fags, and brick-layer's labourers—to refit and put himself in a situation to recount the adventures of the night. At one door, stood a shivering group of half-starved chimney-sweepers, rending the air with their piercing cries of “sweep,” occasionally relieved by a few hearty d—-ns bestowed upon the servant, that she did not come down, in order to let a diminutive urchin yet up the flue; leaning against a post at the corner of the street was an overdone Irishman, making a bargain with pug-nosed Peg, a sort of half-bred pinafore cyprian, whose disappointments during the night induced her to try at obtaining a morning customer. The Hibernian was relating the ill usage he had been subjected to, and the necessity he had of making a hasty retreat from the quarters he had taken up; while Bet Brill, on her road to Billingsgate, was blowing him up for wearing odd boots, and being a hod man—blowing a cloud sufficient to enliven and revive the whole party.

“Poor fellow,” said Tom, “it would be a charity to pop him into a rattler, and drive him home; and do you see, he is standing close to a mud cart, the delicate drippings of which are gently replenishing his otherwise empty pockets.”

“Be aisy,” said Pat Murphy the hodman, “arn't he an Irish jontleman, arn't I a jontleman from Ireland; and arn't it lit and proper, and right and just, as well as jontlemanly, that two jontlemen should go together, so come along Peg, we'll just take a taste of the cratur, drink success to the lads of Shellaly, and put the matter in its right shape.” With this pug-nosed Peg seized him by one arm, and the last orator by the other, and in a short time they entered a sluicery in the neighbourhood, which enclosed the party from view.

Turning from the group which they had been paying attention to, they were suddenly attracted by a female purveyor for the stomach, who was serving out her tea, coffee, and saloop, from a boiling cauldron, and handing with due complaisance to her customers bread and butter, which was as eagerly swallowed and devoured by two dustmen, who appeared to relish their delicate meal with as much of appetite and gout, as the pampered palate of a City alderman would a plate of turtle. The figure of the lady, whose commodities were thus desirable and refreshing to the hungry dust-collectors, struck Bob at the first view as having something matronly and kind about it.

“These persons,” said Tom, “are really useful in their vocation; and while they provide a wholesome beverage for the industrious, are rather deserving of approbation than censure or molestation: the latter, however, they are frequently subjected to; for the kids of lark, in their moments of revelry, think lightly of such poor people's stock in trade, and consider it a prime spree to upset the whole concern, without caring who may be scalded by the downfall, or how many of their fellow-creatures may go without a breakfast and dinner in consequence; but do you mark the other woman behind her?”

“I do,” said Bob, “and it is impossible to view them both without noticing the striking contrast they form to each other.”

“Your observations are just,” continued Tom; “that is an old beldame of the neighbourhood, in search of the poor unhappy girl who has just taken the Irishman in tow, an encourager of all that is vicious and baneful in society.”

“I could almost judge that from her features,” replied Bob, “though I do not pretend to much skill in physiognomy.”

“A debauched body and a vitiated mind are perceptible in her face, and having remained on the town till these were too visible for her to hope for a continuance, she is now a tutoress of others, to make the most of those with whom they promiscuously associate. She furnishes the finery, and shares the plunder. It is, however, a melancholy and disgusting picture of Real Life in London, and merely deserves to be known in order to be avoided, for there is no species of villainy to which persons of her stamp”—

“Of whom it is to be hoped there are but few,” cried Tallyho, interrupting him.

“For the sake of human nature,” replied Dashalt., “it is to be hoped so; but there is no species of villainy to which they will not stoop.” {1}

At this moment their attention was suddenly called to another subject, by a loud huzza from a combination of voices at no great distance from where they then were, and in a few minutes a considerable concourse of dustmen and others appeared in view.

“There is something in the wind,” said Dashall, “we must have a look at these gentry, for there is frequently some humour among them.

“I hope,” replied Bob, “they have not overturned the dustcart in the wind, for I am apprehensive in such a case we should scarcely have eyes to view their frolics.”

Tom laughed at the ready turn of his Cousin, and remarking that all flesh was dust, proceeded towards the increasing party: here they soon found out; that, as a venerable son of the fan-tailed-hat fraternity described it, “a screw was loose.”

“Perhaps,” inquired Bob, “it is the linch-pin.” “Why aye, mayhap as how that there may be the case for aught I knows about it. Howsomdever, I'll tell you all about it:—first and foremost you must know that Dick Nobbs lives down here in Charles-street, and Dick Nobbs has got a wife. Now she is the devil's own darling, and Dick is a match for her or the devil himself, come from wherever he may, but as good a fellow as ever lapp'd up a pail full of water-gruel; and so you must know as how Dick has this here very morning been found out, in bed with another man's wife. The other man is a nightman, and rubbish-carter, vhat lives in the same house with Dick; so this here man being out all night at a job, Dick gets lushy, and so help me———, he finds his way steady enough into that there man's bed, and vhen that there man comes home, my eyes vhat a blow up! There lays Dick Nobbs fast asleep in the man's wife's arms, so he kicks up a row—Dick shews fight—and the man comes and tells us all about it; so we are going to try him for a misdemeanor, and he can't help himself no how whatsomedever.”

Tom was alive to the story, and in a few minutes the culprit was conducted to a neighbouring public-house, tried before a whole bench of the society, cast, and condemned to undergo the usual sentence in such cases made and provided, entitled, “Burning Shame,” and active preparations were making by those of the fraternity without, to carry into immediate execution the sentence pronounced by those within.

The offender was decorated with a bunch of Christmas in his hat, and two large carrots in the front, to represent horns. In this manner he was mounted on the brawny shoulders of four of his companions, preceded by the crier of the court, another dustman, with a bell, which he rung lustily, and at intervals proclaimed the crime of which the culprit had been found guilty. After the crier, followed eight more of the brotherhood, two and two, their hats ornamented with bunches of holly, and a burning candle in the front of each hat. Then came the culprit, carried as already described, with a pot of heavy wet in one hand, and a pipe of tobacco in the other, which he occasionally smoaked, stooping forward to light it at one of the candles in the fantail hats of his two front supporters. The rear of this ludicrous procession was brought up by several other dustmen and coalheavers, and their ladies. The procession set out from Charles-street, down Drury-lane, Great Queen-street, Wild-street, and round Clare Market, followed by an immense crowd, which kept increasing as they went, and nearly rendered the streets impassable. Two collectors were appointed, one on each side of the street, and were very active in levying contributions among the spectators to defray the expenses. They stopped at several public-houses, where they quaffed off oceans of heavy wet, and numerous streamlets of old Jamaica, and then returned to headquarters in Charles-street, where the offence was drowned in drink, and they and their ladies passed the remainder of the evening, as happy as beer and gin, rum and tobacco, could make them.

Having witnessed a considerable part of this ceremonious proceeding, and been informed of the intended finale, our friends, who began to feel somewhat uncomfortable for want of refreshment and rest, proposed returning home; and having thrown themselves into a hack, they in a short time arrived at Piccadilly.