534 NOVEL (Satirical) London, or a Month at' 
 Stevens's, 3 vols, 12mo, half calf^:. i 1819 
 These Novels are very curious and scarce, for'under 
 assumed names the Stories are quite true. 
 
 yi 
 
 ^iSirivftfe:- -V>tN.B-__ 
 
 L I E> R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 52 3 
 
 L8AA. 
 
 v./
 
 LONDON: 
 
 OR. 
 
 A MONTH AT STEVENS'S, 
 
 BY A LATE RESIDENT. 
 
 A SATIRICAL NOVEL. 
 
 IN THRKE VOLUMES. 
 
 TTtaque age a ses plaisirs sou esprit et ses trceurs. 
 
 BoiLEAr. 
 
 Veluti in speculum. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 seconu Cuition. 
 
 LONDOiV : 
 
 PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW, 
 
 1819.
 
 13. Clarke, Printer, Well Street, London.
 
 LS^^^ PREFACE 
 
 Without imposing more dry or se- 
 rious i^eflections on our reader than are 
 CO suited to hght reading and to light 
 . taste, we have chosen for our motto 
 
 jj Vcluti in speculum, 
 
 because we have ever wished to hold 
 up a glass to folly and depravity, 
 as the very best possible way of mak- 
 ing them perceive their deformity ; and 
 we can assure our readers that if 
 ^this be the mirror of fashion, it is not 
 less so the mirror of truth. Fictitious 
 names and fictitious circumstances have 
 been used to diversify and form a light 
 to the shade which we never can make 
 light of; and at the same time our 
 reader will find real personages^ real 
 situations, real embarrassments ; and 
 if they see themselves, we hope that
 
 11 PREFACE. 
 
 the lesson will have the irirtended eC 
 feet. 
 
 At a period when gentleman-UJie dis- 
 honesty, in the shape of greeking, lady- 
 lihe infidehty in the form of crim. con, 
 trials, laxity of principle, abandonment 
 of moralit}^, and public bad example, 
 under the garb of fashion, corrupt our 
 youth, and disgrace high-life, there 
 cannot be a more imperious duty than 
 to point out the evil, and to apply the 
 powerful remedies which freedom of 
 thought, and equally useful freedom of 
 the press, offer. Palliatives have never 
 cured wide-spread corruption. They 
 may remove inflammation, change ap- 
 pearances, conceal the deep-rooted evil, 
 and give a healthy appearance to the 
 exterior under which gangrene and the 
 foulest humours lurk. The amputative 
 knife, and the caustics biting property,, 
 can alone eradicate the disease. Satire 
 and exposure furnish these remedies.
 
 PREFACE. ni 
 
 The cap of folly, with its beTls, is frohc- 
 sonie and ridiculous ; it migrht suit anv 
 head > and he whom 
 
 " The cap fits may vrear it.'*^ 
 
 But the case becomes quite different 
 when we feel it imposed upon our own, 
 and looking in the glass, little imagine 
 that it can appear so frightful as on my 
 lord or Lady Betty, or Mr. or Mrs. 
 Such-a-one. 
 
 Should the severer, soberer moralist, 
 who does us the honour to cast his 
 grave examining eye over these pages^ 
 conceive that too much levity has been 
 blended with ciiticistn, or too little 
 delicacy mingled with facty we can 
 assure him that distinctions and discri- 
 minations in reproofs-, modes and mo- 
 difications in advice, are the unavailing: 
 simples which the hand of good-nature 
 and ignorance offer to the diseased body: 
 they are hke the bigotted and narrowed
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 notions of our great grandmothers' 
 nurses^ and are just as likely to avail 
 the present and rising generation. 
 Dissimulation and overreaching have 
 too long been deemed a hwwledge of 
 the world ; extravagance and debauch- 
 <?ry have too long been classed under 
 the head of thoughtlessness ; and ju- 
 venile indiscretion, lawless and uncon- 
 trolled love, have been too long ranked 
 as amiable foibles and unfortunate 
 weaknesses. It is high time that a new 
 nomenclature upon these heads should 
 be introduced into high life^ and from it 
 descend to the inferior orders of society. 
 For our part, we offer no further apology 
 for truisms than the Frenchman's motto^ 
 
 «( 
 
 Jencsais rien appelerque parson nom.'
 
 LONDON^ 
 
 A MONTH AT STEVENS'S. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " It will do well eneugh,'* said 
 Mr. M'Tavish, rubbing an old hat 
 (which had lost all the beaver, and had 
 acquired a purplish brown tinge) with 
 the sleeve of his coat. 
 
 " It is 'poseitively too bad," said 
 Mrs. M'Tavish, making the word posi- 
 tively as long as an attorney's bill — ^^ it 
 is poseitively too bad to wear that hat, 
 and your grandfather's velvet breeJcs, 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 2 LONDON. 
 
 when you are going on your travels with 
 your family. We shall all be affronted 
 by the time we get to Aberdeen ; for 
 it's no every body there that kens the 
 laird of Glenturret Castle : it's no there 
 as here, whar ye can walk aboot in your 
 bonnet and kilt^ or without a kilt at a' 
 if you choose, because a' the people ken 
 the laird, an respec him. A' things go 
 by appearances in the sooth'* 
 
 Not further to trouble our reader with 
 Mrs. M'Tavish's dialect, nor with her 
 arguments to induce Mr. M'Tavish to 
 brush up his appearance, be it briefly 
 known, that economy prevailed over 
 every other consideration, and that 
 the M'Tavish family set forth as fol- 
 |o\^s.
 
 LONDON. 3 
 
 Mr. M'Tavish wore a cidevant raven 
 grey, now turned to a mouse coloured, 
 coat, particularly long waisted, and 
 broad in the back, two buttons on it, 
 each nearly the circumference of a tea-^ 
 cup; a tartan stuff waistcoat; a pair of 
 black velvet indescribables of half a cen* 
 tury old, yet pretty well preserved; a 
 pair of long military boots, which be- 
 longed to Captain M'Tavish, who was 
 out in the forty-fifth %vith the prince ; 
 the hat which had become the subject 
 of contention ; a black wig ; a coloured 
 silk handkerchief round his neck ; and 
 an oak sapling in his hand, cut from a 
 small wood of stunted oaks on the 
 laird's own estate. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish, a great strapping 
 B 2"
 
 4 LONDON. 
 
 bony womarij was dressed in a riding- 
 habit of the tartan of her dan, with a 
 small black velvet bonnet, more like a 
 jockey or a hunting cap. 
 
 Susan M'Tavish, whose locks were 
 more red than auburn, but who, barring 
 this national colour, was strictly beau- 
 tiful, was in like manner clad in the 
 tartan of her clan, with a highland bon- 
 net and feathers ; but she was promised 
 a straw hat on her arrival at Aberdeen. 
 
 The party set forward on horseback, 
 mounted upon their native caval- 
 ry, stout, stumpy ponies ; with two 
 huge highlanders, in full costume, 
 carrying the laird's baggage, partly on 
 their heads, and partly in their hands.
 
 LONDON. 5 
 
 A lurcher shaggy greyhound, and two 
 Scotch terriers^ completed the group. 
 
 Pet pigs, and favourite animals of all 
 the species in the farm-yard, et cetera, 
 were recommended by Susan to the par- 
 ticular care of Mary M^Alpin, who 
 blessed her young mistress, and said 
 that she was afraid that some misfor- 
 tune would happen to her before she 
 returned, for she misdoubted all the 
 Sassenachs. She said she would not 
 go further south than Perth for ell the 
 world ; and that the Aberdeen people 
 even were of the race of Cain, and 
 traitorous ; and that there was no ho- 
 nesty, no generosity, no truth, nor hos- 
 pitality, out of the Highlands. She 
 added, that she had seen a winding- 
 
 Bd
 
 6 ^J^ONDOK. 
 
 sheet in the candle, and had read htf 
 young mistress's fortune in a tea-cup,; 
 that there was much trouble in stor« 
 for her; that her heart misgave her^ 
 and, finally, that she wished Miss Susan 
 would not go to wicked London. 
 
 Susan, now in blooming and blushing 
 sixteen, was a perfect patriot : she loved 
 her native land ; she trod the purple 
 hether like the bounding roe ; and glo- 
 ried in the garb and in the language of 
 the Gael : yet her pulse beat high with 
 the desire of seeing what, to her, was 
 like another world. She wished to re- 
 turn to the wide plain, to the antique 
 wood, and to the misty mountain, with 
 a knowledge and polish which might 
 set her above her peers* At present
 
 LONDON. 7 
 
 she could boast of a fine figure, a well- 
 turned form, elastic motions, activity 
 not unaccompanied with natural grace 
 in the dance, a pleasing voice, much 
 sprightliness, and a sweet civility of 
 manners, which sprang from the heart, 
 and which came very near to the refine- 
 ment of politeness. She had read a 
 great deal, for Yven M^Tavish, who was 
 tutor to her brothers, and who used to 
 shave the laird, and to play the fiddle 
 to the clan, had taught her arithmetic, 
 geography, a smattering of astronomy, 
 and had put into her hands the history 
 of every European nation, besides books 
 treating of more distant climes, such as 
 voyages, et cetera, et cetera. Susan had 
 also read a few novels, in which she was 
 most deeply interested. She had also 
 u 4
 
 ^ LONDON. 
 
 seen a line regiment once at Inverness ; 
 and she thought that a mihtary lover, 
 highly born, and romantically in love, 
 would be a delightful thing. Was it 
 not possible that she should meet v^^ith 
 one in her travels ? This idea warmed 
 her imagination on her rout, and in* 
 duced her to put the highland pony 
 into a hand gallop. 
 
 " Fair and softly," said the laird of 
 Glenturret Castle : " no wild tricks, 
 Susan, if you please: give us less of 
 your pavees, Miss." She obeyed, and 
 the caravan moved on as slowly as 
 before. 
 
 On their road, they had many ferries 
 to cross, som,etimes in a boat, and some-
 
 LONDON. 9 
 
 times by swimming the ponies ; and 
 the faithful Highlanders wading breast 
 high, with the lady of Glenturret and 
 fair Susan on their backs. In this office 
 the mountaineers took pride. At length 
 it became necessary to discharge their 
 faithful attendants, and to hire a chaise. 
 Here many regrets and prayers were 
 exchanged ; and the laird condescended 
 to give his hand to each of his clansmen; 
 and they, previously kissing their own 
 hands, presented the hard palm, and 
 shook their chief most heartily. The 
 pipers now struck up, and played the 
 laird out of sight ; and then returned 
 home slowly and regretfully, telling 
 many a legendary tale, and many a 
 frightful story about ghosts and goblins, 
 and sorrowing for the departure of their 
 B 5
 
 10 LiCN'DON. 
 
 chief, who, said they, had no business 
 to spend his ain good money, drawQ 
 from the produce of his ain native hill^, 
 in a foreign land, and particularly in 
 London, where there was all sort of 
 wickedness, and where a discreet man, 
 -and a modest woman, never ought to 
 show their faces^ 
 
 Susan purchased her straw bonnet a* 
 Aberdeen, but sojourned not long there. 
 There is an inextinguishable hatred be- 
 tween the Aberdanians and the High- 
 landers : the former affect to despise the 
 iatt^er, whilst the latter consider the 
 former as an artful and designing peo- 
 ple; which opinion is prevalent also 
 throughout the Lowlands of Scotland. 
 At Edinburgh Susan visited all the piiJk-
 
 I-ONDON. 1 1 
 
 lie buildings and places of amusement ; 
 and was as much struck with admiration 
 at what she had seen as a traveller could 
 possibly be at viewing the ruins of 
 Athens^ or the magnificent monuments 
 of Rome. She was^ besides, much 
 looked at by the officers of the garrison ; 
 and heard herself praised for her beauty 
 at Corri's concert room. She looked 
 more becoming than ever the ensuing 
 morning; and advanced daily in the 
 art of dressing well, and of imitating 
 the little airs and graces of ladies in 
 high life. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish bought a new ward- 
 robe at Edinburgh, for she had been 
 sadly quizzed by the bucks in Princes 
 Street, and on the bridges, for the length
 
 1 2 LONDON. 
 
 of her waist^ the rotundity of her ap- 
 pearance, the number of petticoats, 
 which gave her the appearance of a 
 Dutch toy, and the velvet bonnet, which 
 looked Hke a production of the last cen- 
 tury. The laird of M'Tavish had also 
 found his share of ridicule : his wig had 
 been smoked, his hat laughed at: his 
 jacohitical boots were made the subject 
 of great animadversion : strictures were 
 sported on the velvet breeches, with 
 rusty places on the knees and elsewhere: 
 and, but for the oak sapling, he would 
 have been mobbed in the streets. But 
 the highland plant had here, as it has 
 everywhere else, its due weight, and 
 made the prof anum vulgus stand jorocw/. 
 
 Economy being the order of the day.
 
 J.ONDON. 13 
 
 and the bill at Dumbree's hotel having 
 eased the laird of the price of two cows^ 
 he embarked his family and dog* on 
 board a Berwick smack, and sailed with 
 a favourable breeze, bowing to all the 
 numerous spectators, who were waving 
 handkerchiefs from the pier of Leith, 
 and who he imagined had come on pur- 
 pose to witness the departure of a man 
 of his consequence, and a foreigner of 
 such distinction. He, however, found 
 the twig of great utility in clearing his 
 way to the boat ; for he was sadly 
 squeezed and pressed; and his dog 
 Oscar was kicked ; and Mrs. M*Tavish 
 had her gown torn ; and Susan was to 
 admired, that he feared some adventur- 
 ous youth might attempt to bear off the 
 pride of the Highlands.
 
 14 LONDON. 
 
 In a Berwick smack, as in a Margate 
 hoy, all kinds of goods are embarked, 
 from the light milliner, bearing a band- 
 box, and voyaging to London to import 
 the fashions, up to that heavy bale of 
 goods, a too7i coo wci/- man, going up 
 upon a law plea, or on some speculative 
 errand, previous to his making his for- 
 tune, or breaking, or bringing up with 
 a wet sail, by obtaining a place under 
 government, through the M— — • or 
 other Scottish interest. There are also 
 generally some medical students, just 
 off the anvil of physical manufacture, 
 ready to slay, maim, and disable His 
 Majesty's liege subjects, in chariots, on 
 horseback, or in the pill-box gig, or 
 humbler walk of Apollo's light infantry ; 
 and a number of military men^ whose
 
 fobs have felt the electric influence of the 
 lightning with which an unlucky sub 
 is commonly struck on his first visit to 
 Auld Reekie, where many a one has 
 arrived with gold in his sack, and has 
 departed with nothing but quicksilver 
 or dross. 
 
 There were in the Eliza, the smack 
 which bore highland honour, highland 
 hospitality, and highland .beauty, all 
 these characters, besides a Scottish mi- 
 nister, and an itinerant fiddler, Avho 
 had lately enlisted as a recruit with pne 
 of the military beaux. The laird's hat 
 flew into the w^ater on his ascending 
 the deck ; and, as mother and daughter 
 were much affronted at his wearing it, 
 they rejoiced at the accident. Every
 
 l6 LONDON. 
 
 one had a laugh at this mishap, except 
 the laird, who said that it was an awe- 
 ful ill omen ; and that one of his clan 
 had a similar accident just before his 
 being taken in battle, and being exe- 
 cuted as a rebel. This idea made Mr. 
 M'Tavish very dull the first day ; and 
 as the lady of Glenturret castle was 
 dreadfully sick, the beautiful Susan be- 
 came the object of general attention, 
 and of general admiration. 
 
 Susan had divinity, physic, army, 
 trade, and commerce, all bowing at the 
 shrine of her attractions. She quite 
 disdained the minister, and, in a whis- 
 per to Captain Ogle, said that he was a 
 Dumfries-shire gaouke. The young 
 doctor wished first to practise on the
 
 LONDON* 17 
 
 \z\rdy probably with a view of keeping 
 him sick the whole voyage, whereby he 
 might engross the attention of his fair 
 daughter, or not improbably with the 
 perspective of putting him in train of 
 becoming a patient on his arrival in the 
 metropolis, where this sprig of medicine 
 Was destined to grow, like a w all-flower, 
 and to adorn the public haunts, without 
 being admired or cultivated by the un- 
 grateful undi seeming public ; so that to 
 ensure a patient on his arrival would 
 have been a masterly stroke. He pre- 
 scribed a little brandy and opium to the 
 old gentleman in the way of a prophj/- 
 lactic : he talked at large on the irrita- 
 bility produced by sea sickness, and how 
 fatal it might prove ; stated upon me- 
 mory or imagination the case of a pa-
 
 tient of his, who laboured under dys- 
 pepsy to such a degree, that nothing 
 would remain on his stomaeh, but who, 
 by his care and attention, was now per** 
 fectly recovered. The laird could nei- 
 ther swallow nor stomach the juvenile 
 doctor s remedies nor cures ; but calling 
 for a little keg of his ain whiskey, plied 
 the organ of digestion until he got it 
 into perfect tune, as he called it. The 
 laird's speedy recovery greatly disap- 
 pointed the doctor, and the more so, as 
 Mrs. M'Tavish took a dose of the whis- 
 key, which proved a specific in her case 
 as well as the laird's. But the most 
 mortifying circumstance of all was, that 
 whilst the doctor was angling for a pa- 
 tient, Susan, who had been fishing for a 
 compliment, was taken in the net of
 
 LONDON. %Q 
 
 Captain Ogle, who determined to gain 
 her attention by hook or by crook, and 
 who well knew how the female gudgeon 
 nibbles at the line. This fortunate line 
 officer had hung out the bait of power- 
 ful flattery, and had succeeded in be- 
 coming a great favourite on the very 
 first day of their voyage. Miss Susan 
 being dressed in a blue pelisse upon this 
 occasion, the bold, captain made his re- 
 cruit strike up the Blue Bells of Scot- 
 land, swearing that she was the bonny 
 blue belle of Scotland ; the sweetest 
 flower that ever grew 
 
 *' By fountain, shaw, or green ;'* 
 
 that she was an honour to the Hrgh- 
 lands ; that Walter Scott's heroine in 
 the Lady of the Lake was plain to her;
 
 so tONDON. 
 
 that the blue bell should be his toast, and 
 that its flower should be worn in his bo- 
 som as long as he lived. The captain 
 concluded by another desperate oath, to 
 the great astonishment of the ladies. 
 
 ^^ Aye," said Susan, sweetly, and in a 
 eprightly tone; " but you'll not sing 
 the Blue Bell when you get to London; 
 you'll find belles of all colours and of all 
 descriptions there, and forget ^" 
 
 Here the captain put his hand upon 
 his heart {secmidum artem in the 
 science of making love), and swore 
 again the greatest oath (except Lord 
 Thurlow's) that ever was heard ; by 
 which he attested heaven and earth, 
 air and water, the highest and the lowest
 
 LONDON. 21 
 
 things which came into his head (for 
 the noble captain went down swearing 
 to the lower regions), that the blue bell 
 should blossom in his hearty till the 
 wholfe face of nature faded from his 
 sight ; that blue w^as hope^ it was hea- 
 ven, it was love ; it was the colour of 
 the sky, and, what was higher in the 
 captain's imagination, it was the colour 
 of Susan's eye. He concluded by 
 swearing again, that his matin and his 
 midnight orisons should be addressed to 
 the blue bell of Scotland, outshining 
 every helle in London, 
 
 " And when I return home," said Su- 
 san, " what will you sing then r" 
 
 ^^ Why," replied the captain, with a 
 twenty-fifth oath, ^* I'll then sing ^
 
 22 LONDON. 
 
 ** My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is ua 
 
 here ; 
 My heart's in the Highlands a following the 
 
 deer."* 
 
 This happy thought quite captivated 
 Susan^ and she had no doubt but that 
 the captain was a man of wit^ as well 
 as a man of taste and courage, so that 
 no competitor had tlie smallest chance 
 during the remainder of the voyage. 
 
 Susan now set about making the cap- 
 tain acquainted with her father and mo- 
 ther, and began by telling pa that the 
 captain had travelled all over the High- 
 lands, and was very fond of the High- 
 landers, and admired their romantic 
 views (Susans views were very ro* 
 
 * For deer, gentle reader, /e^e — dear; i.t. 
 <lie dear creature.
 
 LONDON. fi\ 
 
 m antic) ; and that he had commanded 
 Highlanders, and that he thought them 
 the bravest men in the world. The 
 laird here looked stately, and put his 
 hand out to the noble captain, and 
 squeezed him as if he had got his hand 
 in a vice. This is a national vice ; for 
 we remember once being honoured by a 
 squeeze of the brave Sir Allan Cameron, 
 and we can assure our Lowland readers, 
 that one who has once felt that pleasure 
 will remember it. 
 
 The laird said that he wondered he 
 had not visited Glenturret, nor seen his 
 wood-house on a west coast property, 
 nor heard of the Grey Cairn, where his 
 ancestors slew seven thousand Danes; 
 nor of the blasted oak of Stravie ; nop 
 of the maid of Glenturret Hill, who
 
 24 LONDON. 
 
 was carried away by an eagle ; nor of 
 the affray which took place betwixt 
 their clan and the clan of Alpine, since 
 which time the M^Tavishes, who put 
 the Clan Alpi»es to flight, ever wore 
 the birchen branch in their bonnets. 
 The captain here swore most diabolically 
 that he had heard all these great feats ; 
 and added, that he understood the 
 M'Tavishes applied the birch in a very 
 particular manner to the flying rear 
 guard of Clan Alpine ; and that he was 
 actually on his road to pay his homage 
 to the chief of the M'Tavishes, when a 
 sudden order to join his regiment ar- 
 rived. 
 
 The honey of sweet flattery went 
 down much easier and quicker than the
 
 LONDON. 25 
 
 flimmery of physic. The noble cap- 
 tain now applied a gold smelling bottle 
 to Mrs. iVrTavish, whose dress had ra- 
 ther an unsavoury odeur. She admired 
 the bottle, which was gallantly presented 
 to her. Mrs. M'Tavish was soit dit en 
 passant, a good bottle companion on 
 every occasion. Next the bold captain 
 sat with Oscar on his knees, and offered 
 twenty guineas for the lurcher grey- 
 hound, having heard from Susan that 
 her father would not part with it for all 
 the world. He had become a general 
 favourite in the family ; and all was going 
 on most prosperously, when a sudden 
 stiff breeze springing up, they found 
 themselves in the river early on the 
 third day, and were now on the point of 
 landing. 
 
 VOL, I. C
 
 26 LONDON. 
 
 On their parting company, the phy- 
 sician said that he wished the old fool 
 might break his leg, doubtless with a 
 job in view ; the minister of the gospel 
 observed that all was vanity and vexa- 
 tion of spirit, and that he easily saw 
 how young Highland fish would bite at 
 a red rag ; the disregarded tradesmen 
 and mechanics observed, what a rude 
 uncultivated minx that norland wench 
 was ; whilst the captain gave them all a 
 contemptuous nod at parting, and bore 
 off his prize in triumph.
 
 CHAPTER ir. 
 
 Captain Ogle recommended the 
 laird and his ultra-mojitaine family to 
 Fladong*s hotel ; stating, at the same 
 timcj that he was on a visit to a friend in 
 the west end of the town, and that when 
 they were recovered from their fatigues, 
 he would call and pay his devoirs to- 
 them. 
 
 *^ Very proper/* replied the chief of 
 Glenturret ; then turning to his wife, 
 observed — " A very well bred young 
 man, and one who knows what is due ta 
 age and illustrious ancestry/* 
 
 The captain took his leave, tenderly 
 2
 
 28 LONDON, 
 
 pressing Susan s hand, unperceived by 
 the old folks. Love would have led 
 him to Fladong's hotel, or to the very 
 devil ; but economy, which is the soul 
 of the army, conducted him to a two- 
 pair of stairs back room, in one of the 
 streets in the Adelphi, where he was at 
 leisure to ponder on his passion, and to 
 make occasional excursions with the 
 view of living upon the enemy, or 
 counting the trees in St. James's Park 
 until six o'clock, and then making a fru- 
 gal repast, without wine, at some chop- 
 house. Yet when the captain sallied 
 out, he was attired in the most elegant 
 manner, and, very properly, did credit 
 by his appearance to his profession: 
 whilst fashionable dress is always a 
 passport to good company, and a pow-
 
 LONDON. 29 
 
 crfiil bait to the weaker sex^ which 
 often sets the heart upon an embroidered 
 pair of pantaloons and a morocco boot^ 
 with an elegantly wrought fixed spur of 
 Vincent's manufacturing. 
 
 Arrived at Fladong's, the grotesque 
 appearance of the laird obtained him a 
 denial. '^ There are no vacant rooms/* 
 said the head waiter, with a contemptu- 
 ous sneer ; " but I am sure Long's, or 
 the Petersburg, or any of the hotels in 
 Bond Street, will be proud to lodge a 
 person of your appearance." 
 
 " So they ought," said the laird, '^ for 
 if I was at home I should have twenties 
 upon twenties of men at my command, 
 all ready to take my baggage, and to do 
 me homage.'^
 
 30 LON DON. 
 
 This he uttered in an angry tone, and 
 with a grunt. Whilst the coach drovt 
 offy the waiters burst out, and gave 
 tongue together, hke a parcel of 
 hounds. One imitated the grunt, and 
 said that the gentleman was fit for Bar- 
 tholomew fair, being the largest hog iu 
 the world : another asked what baggage 
 he meant, impertinently adding that 
 there was one baggage many a on« 
 would be glad to take off his hands: 
 and a third said that he supposed the 
 twenties upon twenties of people at 
 home must either be the beggars of his 
 town or his beggarly relations. This 
 piece of wit sounded amusingly in the 
 servants' hall ; but the waiter paid for it 
 
 afterwards, as will be seen in due time 
 and place. At Long's hotel, two ruf-
 
 LONDON. 31 
 
 fians and an exquisite, standing at the 
 door, were nearly strangled with laugh- 
 ter ; and Long was so horrified at the 
 appearance of the laird and lady, that he 
 would not even go to the door ; whilst 
 his waiters sternly informed him that 
 there was no room. The chief of th« 
 Mn^avishes was so hurt by the rude- 
 ness of the three bloods, that he insiited 
 upon having their addresses. Two of 
 the number (the ruffians) gave him 
 fictitious names and addresses, lolling 
 out their tongues unperceived, in a 
 very coachman like way. The third, 
 who was a militaiy exquisite in the 
 Guards, let him know his name and 
 abode, adding, that upon his soul, he 
 would fight him or any other man to 
 indulge him ; but that, unless the wor- 
 C 4
 
 33 ' LONDON. 
 
 thy gentleman would change his taifor 
 and peruke-maker, he might even go 
 further and fare worse ; and that he 
 warned him, above all things, not to ba 
 found in the neighbourhood of Exeter 
 'Change, as the man habited in a Yeo- 
 man's coat would certainly secure hiiji 
 for one of his strayed animals. This 
 the laird did not understand, but he put 
 the card in his pocket, and assured the 
 scented beau that he should hear from 
 him the next day. 
 
 As the coach drove off, the fashion- 
 able triumvirate perceived Susan in the 
 corner, and exclaimed, " What an angel 
 that old Ostragath has got with him ! ' 
 One of them immediately despatched an 
 intriguing valet with instructions to dis-
 
 LONDON. 33 
 
 cover their quarters, and, if possible, to 
 cut off their retreat; but at all events 
 not to return until he had their whole 
 history by rote. The black wig, the coat 
 of antideluviau appearance, and a fis- 
 sure in his honour s breeches, occasion- 
 ed by climbing hastily out of the vessel, 
 with an unusual length of beard, and 
 rather an uncleanly appearance, en- 
 sured Mr. M'Tavish a refusal at every 
 Bond Street hotel; and he was just in 
 the act of making a fruitless attempt at 
 the hotel in Hanover Square, when the 
 intriguing valet came up. 
 
 This wicked and winged Mercury had 
 finished his education as an envoy extra- 
 ordinary under the very first masters. 
 He was the applier of raw meat to the 
 c5
 
 34 LONDON. 
 
 faded cheek of the withered Duke of 
 Venery, commonly called old Q. in the 
 corner. It was he who used to rrni 
 after young wretches whose bloom 
 peeped through their ragged weeds^ like 
 a wild flower encumbered by dirt^ and 
 choaked up by thorns and nettles. 
 For this service he sometimes received 
 a guinea from the duke when successful; 
 but oftener a broken head from the ath- 
 letic arm of the female mendicant or 
 labourer. He next served the peer 
 Ijeg, until economy suggested Tiger 
 minor, and next Tiger minimus, to his 
 lordship's superlative taste. The in- 
 sipid Lord Flageolet next took him into 
 his establishment ; but he made a Jaux 
 pas in his lordship's harem, and was 
 kicked out without a character; but, a«
 
 LONDON. Sa 
 
 tiie witty varlet remarked, '' wko could 
 keep a character with such a master ?** 
 which jew d* esprit, added to his consum- 
 mate impudence, recommended him to 
 the poetical Mr. Bathos Impotent, the 
 sentimental lover of common porcu* 
 pines, the proprietor of the harlot's 
 stage coach, and the prime favourite of 
 the mewses, from one of which Mrs, 
 Handy, his most delectable favourite, 
 sprung. Lastly, the ex-Mercury, being 
 out of place, was taken ad interiniy 
 and got an additional degree of infamy 
 from young Teasle, a Greek, who was 
 one of the committee uf ways and 
 means at the celebrated house before 
 named. 
 
 On hearing the old negative given at 
 this hotel, and perceiving the chief-
 
 36 LONDON. 
 
 tain's passion rising very high, this valet 
 de comedie stepped up with the pro- 
 foundest respect and reverence, and> 
 hat in hand, had the honour to give Mr. 
 M'Tavish the assurances of his perfect 
 consideration. He observed that these 
 upstart hotel keepers had grown so 
 saucy, that they would scarcely speak 
 to a gentleman in a carriage and pair ; 
 that they always expected a man to ar- 
 rive with four posters to his travelling 
 chaise, a splashing leather in front, two 
 liveried servants in the boot behind, 
 and at least one voiture de suite, con- 
 taining his servants out of livery, which 
 often was followed by a dog cart, con- 
 taining 
 
 ^^ The rest of his puppies," interrupt- 
 ed the laird.
 
 LONDON* 37 
 
 " True, honoured Sir ; very good in- 
 deed/' responded the accomplished la- 
 quais; ^^ and^" continued he, " in general 
 single men are preferred to respectable 
 families^ because they are more easily 
 cheated. Now/' concluded he^ ^^ I 
 know of a cheap, quiet^ respectable 
 house, where I should be happy to re- 
 commend your worship," (this delighted 
 the laird) " and where Miss would meet 
 with a good motherly woman, who 
 would purchase whatever she might 
 want, and would do every thing that 
 lay in her power to serve you all.'* 
 
 The laird remarked to his family that 
 he nev^r saw a finer young man in his 
 life ; that the lad appeared much above 
 his station (which was true enough in
 
 33 LONDON. 
 
 one sense); that he should certainly 
 adopt his suggestion ; and that he had 
 lalf a mind to take him into his service. 
 This last idea greatly pleased Madame 
 and Susan, for a sightly footman is no 
 small appendage to a fashionable 
 dame, as a Caledonian Magdaline 
 can well testify; and as the saucy 
 varlets with long canes, much more 
 suited to their backs than to their hands, 
 exemplify daily at the doors of the 
 theatres, and at the entree to Kensington 
 Gardens, where a modest woman can 
 scarcely pass without having her ears 
 offended by the loose remarks of these 
 liveried insects, who, like caterpillars 
 and moths, fruges consumere natty eat 
 up the poor industrious labourer's bread, 
 and destroy the clothing which might
 
 LONDON. ig 
 
 cover the shivering limbs of penury, 
 and warm the expiring children of mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 The domestic intriguant was soon in- 
 formed of the laird's good opinion and 
 better intentions towards him ; but he 
 excused himself from entering immedi- 
 ately into so good and respectable a ser- 
 vice, saying, that he had given his mastei 
 warning, but must stop out his month 
 with him : he added, however, that he 
 would dedicate all his spare time to the 
 ^imily, without fee or reward. 
 
 The mercurial messenger now con- 
 ducted the highland family to an ob- 
 scure looking house in the neighbour- 
 hood of Leicester Square. A handsome
 
 40 LONDON. 
 
 female servant opened the door: she 
 was very highly dressed^ and exchanged 
 many telegraphic communications and 
 private signals with this master of the 
 ceremonies. He^ however, accounted 
 both for lier dress and for her suspicious 
 behaviour, in a manner quite satisfac- 
 tory to Mrs. M^Tavish, by assuring her 
 that she never attended any but the no- 
 bility, for which reason she was obliged 
 to be dressed in a suitable manner ; and 
 that he had given her a number of pri- 
 vate hints how to treat so respectable a 
 family, who doubtless must have fashion 
 and economy in view at the same time. 
 
 Hereupon the laird gave him three- 
 pence, as an encouragement for his ho- 
 nesty. In the first instance Mr. Hermes
 
 LONDON. 41 
 
 was about to throw the money down ; 
 and a crimson hue spread itself over his 
 (commonly) unblushing cheek ; but 
 having great presence of mind^ he 
 pocketed the affront ; and when un- 
 perceived, he gave the pewter, as h« 
 called it^ to the handsome servant wo- 
 man, with instructions to purchase some 
 eanaster for him ; adding, that he would 
 sup, sleep, and smoke a pipe there that 
 night. Thus do servants ape the habits 
 and vices of the higher class. 
 
 A very motherly woman indeed made 
 her appearance, and ingratiated herself 
 into the good graces of the family. She 
 procured an excellent dinner, assured 
 the laird that they should not fall out as 
 to price, that she had got good beds for
 
 4^ LONDON. 
 
 the family, advised them to retire 
 to them early, and expressed a wish 
 that Miss might he allowed an apart- 
 ment to herself. But this was orer- 
 ruled by pa, who said that he never lost 
 sight of heii in a strange place, and that 
 she should go to bed first, on a sofa in 
 his room. The preposteroiity of this 
 was urged in vain by Mrs. Motherly ^ 
 and warmly opposed by Susan ; but the 
 laird shook his head at them, and stamp- 
 ed his stick upon the ground. This 
 was a clan signal, which always com- 
 manded silence and non-resistance ; and 
 therefore the point was surrendered. 
 
 The chieftain had now eaten hugely, 
 and drank in proportion. He gave his 
 hostess the whiskey bottle, to taste, who
 
 LONDON. 45 
 
 had nearly lost his good opinion by com- 
 paring it to fire and smoke : fire as to 
 its strength and taste ; smoke, as to its 
 smell, and its obnubilating property. 
 He was now enjoying the pleasures 
 (accruing from repletion, whilst Mrs. 
 M'Tavish, who was a little hazy, and 
 Susan, who was giddy with the perspec- 
 tive of pleasure, were reposing in their 
 bed- room, when the gaily dressed, hand- 
 some attendant made her appearance in 
 the drawing-room. She rubbed glasses 
 bright, seemed to dust tables highly po- 
 lished with wax, and dry-rubbed, until 
 they acted as so many mirrors ; and she 
 lingered and asked a great many trivial 
 questions, until the reflection of her 
 beauty in the mahogany pembroke table 
 so operated on the chieftain s excitabi*
 
 44 LONDON. 
 
 lities, that he honoured her with many 
 rough embraces and Bruin-like hugs ; 
 lost his wig by his friskiness ; violently 
 pulled the vestal on his knee ; and by 
 the sudden jirk^ and the pressure of 
 such corpulency upon a crazy chair, the 
 amorous couple came in contact with 
 the floor. 
 
 The noise alarmed the whole house •; 
 and the fright and the exposure cost the 
 laird a new gown for the fallen fair^ and 
 the laird's lady a shower of tears. Susan 
 despised her father for the first time ; 
 and Mrs. M^Tavish applied her high- 
 land hand to her chiefs nasal promon- 
 tory, for the^r^^ and last time with 
 impunity ; but " conscience doth make 
 cowards of us all," and therefore the
 
 LONDON. 45 
 
 humbled laird slunk off to his bed-room, 
 as meekly as one of his clansmen would 
 have fled from his frown, or the terrier 
 or lurcher would have crawled away 
 from a kick of his ponderous shooting 
 shoe. 
 
 During the performance of this tragic- 
 comedy near Leicester Square, the in- 
 triguing valet had warned his vicious 
 master of his success ; and both he and 
 Lord Lavender were summoned to come 
 down to the sham hotel at a decent hour 
 that night. The laird, in order to change 
 the subject on the tapis, had sent for 
 milliners and mantua-makers for his 
 deary, one of whom was turned out of 
 the room for laughing in the laird's face. 
 Things at last began to wear an amicable
 
 46 LONDON. 
 
 aspect, when a sudden and unforeseen 
 circumstance disorganized the whole 
 plot of the drama, broke up the family 
 party, made a second more tremendou* 
 exposure than ever, deprived Mrs. Mo- 
 therly of her now very valuable lodgers, 
 disappointed the Ruffian and Lord La- 
 vender of their game, and had nearly 
 produced a very triste interlude to the 
 intriguing valet, and his part iteps crimi- 
 niSy young Teasle.
 
 LONDON. 47 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Previous to the laird of Glenturret 
 embarking at Leith^ he had written to 
 Rorie M^Roy, a schoolfellow of his when 
 at Tain, to meet him in London, and to 
 take care that he might not be imposed 
 upon in that wicked place ; but the laird 
 had so quick a passage, that he was not 
 expected by his friend so soon ; and 
 Glenturret was affronted at not being 
 met, and capped, upon his setting foot 
 on English ground : he was, moreover, 
 too proud to send to an attorney's clerk^ 
 who ought to have known his duty bet- 
 ter. Rorie, faithful to his devoir , and 
 allegiance to a cousin by marriage, and 
 to the head of a numerous clan, had
 
 48 J-ONDON. 
 
 plied at the wharf about eight hours 
 after his arrival^ and had traced his kins- 
 man from hotel to hotel, by describing 
 his striking person, and the oak staff, 
 the emblem thereof; and the waiters 
 having taken the number of the coach, 
 for other purposes, he succeeded in un- 
 kenneling the innocent family from a 
 sink of vice, and from a scene of ruin. 
 
 Rorie M^Roy, after removing his 
 friends to Stevens's hotel, where he 
 obtained admission for them by stating 
 that his cousin was a man of great pro- 
 perty and influence in the Highlands, 
 and that he had ah only daughter, who 
 was an heiress, instituted prosecutions 
 against the winged Mercury, who soon 
 left town ; against Mrs. Motherly, who
 
 LONDON. 4Q 
 
 paid forfeit to the laws of her country, 
 for 
 
 Gold from law can fake out tbe sling ;" 
 
 and Mr. Teasle was afterwards doomed 
 to experience the heavy resentment of 
 the highland chief, who forgot no one 
 in that way, from the paltry waiter at 
 Fladong's up to the highest sneerer at 
 virtue in the land. 
 
 The laird's first motion towards his 
 kinsman was indignation ; hut a suita- 
 ble apology disarmed his resentment. 
 Rorie M'Roy having thus^ after much 
 trouble, got a lodging for his chief, and 
 purchased a ready-made suit of mourn- 
 ing for him, Susan sat up half the night 
 new modelling a dress to the present 
 fashion ; and ^Irs. IM'Tavish, strong 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LONDON. 
 
 in highland importance, said that she 
 should wear a tartan silk gown, the tar- 
 tan of her clan, which, though five years 
 old, looked as good as new. All these 
 arrangements were made for their first 
 appearance on the following day (Sun- 
 day) in Kensington Gardens. A job 
 coach was hired on the occasion ; and 
 Mr. M^Roy was to breakfast with and 
 accompany them thither. He assured 
 his kinsfolks that they would see all the 
 world ; and added, that as he had been 
 five years in Mr. Specious's (an eminent 
 attorney) office, he knew every person 
 of note by head mark, both married and 
 single ; that many of the nobility were 
 involved in debt, and had, directly or 
 indirectly, something to do in their 
 office.
 
 tONDON. 5 1 
 
 The happy Sunday arrived. Th6 
 chief, in a fire new suit of mourning, 
 and a new hat^ had a very imposing 
 aspect. Nothing now remained antique 
 about him but his wig; and that he 
 could not as yet be prevailed upon to 
 change. He was much mortified at 
 being obliged to leave his dogs and the 
 oak sapling at home ; but the fear of 
 having them shot decided him to con- 
 form to the rules of the place (a thing 
 which he was not very fond of), whilst 
 he substituted a long China headed cane 
 of his grandfather's for the rough em- 
 blem of authority, the twig of oak. 
 Mrs. M'Tavish came down all rustling 
 in silk, and assumed an air of dignity 
 which soon let the people know ivho she 
 was : she, moreover, bore a trifling de- 
 D 2
 
 62 LONDON. 
 
 gree of the flush of whiskey, which gave 
 her a very vivid complexion. Susan, 
 habited all in white, completely altered 
 to the present mode, looked all youth, 
 bloom, and sweetness, although she had 
 scarcely slept a wink, with the thoughts 
 of her entre into the world, the anxiety 
 of adjusting her dress, and the hope of 
 meeting the agreeable captain, of whom 
 she had lost sight by being rejected at 
 Fladong's. The attorney's clerk, who 
 made up the partie quarre, had a very 
 fashionable tunique on, and had pur- 
 chased a pair of boots, and fixed spurs, 
 in the hopes of being mistaken for a 
 military gentleman. 
 
 The regulation great coat of infantry, 
 we may here observe, the still more
 
 LONDON. 53 
 
 dslinguished pelisse of cavalry^ the 
 fixed spur and cossac pantaloon, have 
 at different times disguised the banker's 
 derk and the mechanic^ and thereby- 
 constituted them the heroes of a play- 
 house lobby, the tyrants of Cumberland 
 Gardens, and the usurpers of female 
 favour, designed for the militaire alone, 
 since ^^ none but the brave deserve the 
 fair." 
 
 The chief wished to start about nine 
 o'clock in the morning for the gardens, 
 in order to enjoy the fresh air, and to 
 have a long day, but Parckvient knew 
 the town too well to allow him to com- 
 mit so gross an error. He informed 
 him that four o'clock in the afternoon 
 was the time for a morning drive, and 
 D 3
 
 54 LONDON. 
 
 that nobody went to Kensington Gat- 
 dens to take the air : it was to give 
 themselves airs that these post meridian 
 promenades were taken. 
 
 " Hoot^ such nonsense !" said M'Ta- 
 tish the great : but he must needs be 
 in fashion ; and as for Susan, all her 
 ideas were already altered, and she only 
 panted to be enrolled in the legion of 
 the modish. 
 
 Four o'clock struck : the coach drove 
 up to their hotel ; and, after calling at 
 the British, to inquire, in vain, after a 
 highland cousin, it proceeded up Pall 
 Mall. When passing Carleton House, 
 the chief inquired if it was the Royal 
 Exchange, the Excise, or some other
 
 LONDW. 55 
 
 public office. He was told that it was 
 the Regent's palace. 
 
 *^ Palace !" exclaimed Glenturret t 
 *^ it would make a gude barrack ; but 
 it's no half like a palace. What/' again 
 continued he^ ^^ are a' they pillars for ? 
 Why they are supporting nothing." 
 
 '' Pardon me," said IVPRoy, " they 
 support the head of the nation." 
 
 " Then he has but a weak understand- 
 ing,"' cried M'Tavish, " for they trumpe- 
 ry pillars are naething. A great and a no- 
 ble prince like him should have a castle 
 like a whole town ; moats, and bastions, 
 and cannon, and turrets, and gilded 
 roofs, and huge porticoes, and three or 
 
 D 4
 
 56 LONDON. 
 
 four acres of ground in front, to give an 
 air to the palace. Why, man, here yoU 
 might knock at the Prince's door, and 
 go Jlush in, as if it were a tavern or a 
 spirit shop. You're just humbugging 
 us, cousin Rorie : that's no the Prince's 
 house. I'll be bound, after a', its no a 
 trifle that supports the Prince." 
 
 Rorie assured him that it was the 
 Prince's palace — Carleton House, and 
 nothing else. 
 
 Tiicy next passed St. James's Palace. 
 
 '^ That I should easily ken," said the 
 laird. " That must be the county jail ; 
 and no bad accommodation neither for 
 ^ulr debtors."
 
 LONDON. 67 
 
 " You are all wrong," replied M^Roy, 
 quite vexed at the laird's ignorance. 
 " That's St. James's Palace, our beloved 
 king's palace, when he held his court." 
 
 " Court !'* exclaimed the laird :— 
 ^^ court ! — a pretty court ! I see nae- 
 thing but a court yard ; and there's a 
 better one at the inn at Inverness than 
 that same. Out upon sic palaces ! I'm 
 sure the good king, honest man ! de- 
 serves a better house than that. It's 
 mair like a poor-house, or a house of 
 correction, than any thing else. If it 
 were like Gordon Castle, weel and guid : 
 but sic an thing for a palace!" Then 
 turning to Rorie, and whispering him 
 confidentially, he said, ^^ Show me, lad_, 
 as we return, whar the Prince's ' j 
 
 is in yon Carleton House." 
 D 5
 
 58 LONDON. 
 
 ^^ Fie ! for shame !" answered the fol- 
 lower of the law. " What idiot could 
 have misinformed you so grossly ? Just 
 let me know who he is : I'll soon get 
 him tried for a libel — a traitor ! a de- 
 mocrat ! a lee-er 1" 
 
 Here the lawyer got very warm ; for 
 whilst he was indulging in his loyalty, 
 he had an eye to business. 
 
 " It was puir Rob Muckleweem, that 
 was killed in a gallant action on board 
 ship, where he was second lieutenant," 
 said the laird: ^^ but, bless you, he loved 
 the king as well as any man. What 
 soldier or sailor don't ?" continued he : 
 " but he had a nasty trick o' humbug- 
 ging country folk ; and gin he were 
 alive, I'd cudgel him for so misleading
 
 LONDON. 59 
 
 ^ body. Noo, I might have affronted 
 myself, an I had nae been speaking to 
 a kinsman/' concluded he. 
 
 '' Ah! ah!'^ added Mrs. MTavish, 
 who had held her tongue for ten whole 
 minutes : " how our kuzins do cram us 
 when they come from Lonnon !" 
 
 '^ And wha's palace is that r" asked 
 the laird^ pointing to Escudier s, as they 
 passed up Piccadilly. 
 
 " That/' said M'Roy, '' is a tavern, 
 a public hotel." 
 
 "D — nthe folk's hooses!" exclaimed 
 M'Tavish : " I'll no guess any mair. 
 There's nae kenning a duke from a
 
 60 J.ONDON. 
 
 waiter^ nor a palace from a ^^-" 
 
 Here the laird said something very in- 
 decorous, which we suppress ; after 
 which, he remained in sullen, silent 
 majesty, until he reached Hyde Park 
 Corner Gate. Here the crowd of car- 
 riages was immense. Coachmen endea- 
 voured to cut each other out, and strange 
 vociferations passed between them. 
 
 '' Aye," cried Mrs. M'Tavish, putting 
 both her hands to her ears, " what a 
 langage for the sabbath day !^' 
 
 A coach pole now struck the back of 
 the carriage, and a dashing buck drove 
 up against it on the other side, and al- 
 most upset it. Here the laird put three- 
 quarters of his body out of the window,
 
 LONDON. 61 
 
 with the intention of using the China 
 headed cane ; but the curricle flew by 
 like lightning ; and another carriage 
 passing after, with equal velocity, the 
 coachman s whip got foul of the laird's 
 liat, and both it and the black wig w ere 
 precipitated to the earth — caught up 
 again by the wheel of a barouche — 
 dropped a second time=- run over 
 by the lord-mayor — dissected and 
 pulverized — and^ finally, lost in the 
 crowd. 
 
 Whilst the laird was anathematiz- 
 ing the coachman^ the footman, the 
 buck in curriculo^ and the mirthful 
 spectators, who were laughing at his ex- 
 pense, the eyes of Mrs. M'Tavish and 
 of Susan were fixed upon the civic 
 honours of the lord-mayor s coach, in
 
 62 LONDON. 
 
 which a number of city helles were also 
 tittering at the mishap which attended 
 the strange gentleman. Had his lord- 
 ship been present, he might have been 
 a little more concerned for the wig in- 
 terest ; but it was excellent fun for the 
 merveilleuses of the east end of the 
 town, who generally do their best to 
 outdress their becoming prototypes at 
 the west end. " That must be the 
 Queen and the Princesses/' exclaimed 
 the lady of Glenturret. 
 
 " It is the queen of the city," said 
 M'Roy ; '' it's Mrs. Wood, the Lady 
 Mayoress. 
 
 ^^ A queen of wood! caustically obser- 
 ved the laird : ^^ there are mair wooden 
 kijigs and queens than that; and it would
 
 LONDON. 63 
 
 be no bad job for the j)Uir Spaniards if 
 they had a king of wood too ; but/' 
 continued he^ " Td rather see Ferdinand 
 the Beloved without his crown, than 
 find myself thus disgraced and deprived 
 of my new hat and of my auld wig." 
 
 Just at this instant a madcap of a 
 guardsman cantered by, and, hoaxing 
 the old gentleman, cried en passant^ 
 ^^ You have had a hair s-breadth escape, 
 governor. I should have thought that 
 your wig was old enough to have taken 
 care of itself, but I find it's otherwise ;" 
 then, making a swell, passed the laird 
 in a roar of laughter. 
 
 The laird was here again disposed to 
 show fight; but perceiving the youth
 
 64 LONDON. 
 
 galloping off^ he disdainfully turned 
 round to his kinsman, and said, 
 very significantly, " Hoo they boys 
 and brutes, and lordlings, and trash, 
 a flie before a man ? Why, Rorie, I 
 could scare a dizen of them oot o' their 
 life in a day.'^ 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish now tied a pocket 
 handkerchief round the laird's head, 
 and they proceeded by Rotten Row to 
 the gardens. Every eye was first on the 
 grotesque figure of M'Tavish, and next 
 on the beauties of his daughter. An 
 elegant carriage, with bright orange 
 coloured liveries, covered with lace, 
 passed by next. 
 
 « ril bet a penny," said M'Ta-
 
 LONfiON. 65 
 
 vkh, " that that'll be the Princess of 
 Wales." 
 
 " Why, man, you're mad/' said Mrs, 
 M'Tavish ; " she's in Naples, or Switz- 
 erland, or some other outlandish place." 
 
 '' Well," replied the laird, " yon's the 
 woman for my money ; she's a son- 
 sey, fine, noble looking person. She 
 might do vary weel for a queen or a 
 princess o' any place. I'm no for your 
 young dolls, wi' a false front before^ 
 upon which there's nae depending." 
 
 . ^' It's a marchioness,'' said the lawyer. 
 
 ^' Go, man," replied the laird : ^' an I 
 were king, Td make her a dutchess at 
 least."
 
 66 tONDON. 
 
 " Pull the cap over your face, and 
 you'd look as well again," cried a coun- 
 ter buck, half spurring, and half spar- 
 ing his hackneyed Bucephalous, a^ he 
 passed the carriage. 
 
 " Oh ! what an angel," exclaimed he, 
 on perceiving Susan, 'and addressing 
 himself to his companion, the gaudy 
 waiter of a common hell, who sport* 
 the gentleman once a week. 
 
 " The cap fits you best," roared out 
 the enraged chief; " and if a hundred of 
 you were hanged up by the neck, it 
 would be no loss to society." The cou- 
 ple rode off, whilst M'Roy assured his 
 kinsman that he never said a better 
 nor a truer thing in his life. He then 
 explained who they both were; re-
 
 LONDON. 67 
 
 marked that the linen-draper, the 
 master of the former, would miss many 
 a yard of cotton in order to pay his buck 
 shopman's half play, as it is called, i. e. 
 half price at the play, his petit soiiper, 
 with a cyprian, and his Sunday's ride in 
 the park; whilst t'other will have to sit 
 up all night, and to see the plunder of 
 the Greeks, in order to furnish the ways 
 which support his extravagance. 
 
 But we are arrived at the gardens : 
 let us call a council, and see what's to be 
 done. After mature deliberation, it was 
 agreed upon that the attomey^s clerk 
 should escort the ladies to the gardens, 
 whilst M'Tavish should sit in the car- 
 riage, in consequence of the loss of his 
 hat and wig. The ladies had not left 
 the carriage ^vq minutes, when the ex-
 
 ^8 LONDON. 
 
 quisite who had received the laird's chal- 
 lenge the day before pulled up along 
 side of him in his Tilbury. The ren- 
 dezvous vras for the ensuing day ; for 
 the laird would not fight on the sabbath 
 day. The young man accosted him, 
 and told him that he had by no means 
 forgotten his engagement, and was tou- 
 jours pret to turn out with his man at 
 five minutes warning ; but that, in the 
 interim, he was extremely sorry for 
 what he had witnessed respecting the 
 laird's accident, and sooner than that he 
 should have to sit thus exposed to 
 laughter, and be deprived of his walk, 
 he would send off a groom at full speed 
 to procure a hat and a peruke, with 
 which he would be back in two minutes; 
 ^^ for," concluded he, " I have my riding 
 horses waiting here, and I promise you
 
 LONDOX, 69 
 
 that none of my cattle will let the grass 
 grow under their feet/' 
 
 The old gentleman's heart overflowed 
 with gratitude for this kindness. He 
 shook him heartily by the hand; swore 
 that he would rather stand ten shots 
 than hurt so noble a fellow ; came to a 
 complete reconciliation respecting the 
 transaction of the day before ; and 
 begged that the young gentleman would 
 come in and sit beside him till the ar- 
 rival of the hat and wig^ and that he 
 would dine with him that day. The 
 exquisite excused himself from the for- 
 mer for fear of drawing on him the ridi- 
 cule of every dandy in town ; and equal- 
 ly waved the latter, in order to enhance 
 the value of his company. Besides^ he
 
 70 LONDON. 
 
 was engaged to dine with a Mr. ODau^ 
 hlem, lately emerged from the Bench, 
 where a throw over was to be practised ; 
 but he promised to call on his new 
 friend the next day ; and drove off, leav- 
 ing instructions to his groom to go for 
 the hat and wig, and to obey Mr. 
 M'Tavish*3 orders in any shape which 
 mig-ht be of use to him. 
 
 o 
 
 During this scene, Mrs. M'Tavish, Su- 
 san, and young Parchment, had gained 
 the gardens. They passed through the 
 fiery ordeal of pampered liverymen, 
 making their ignorant and impertinent 
 remarks. One powdered monkey ob- 
 served, that Mrs. M'Tavish had cer- 
 tainly come from the wax-work in 
 Fleet Street ; another lying rascal as-
 
 LONDON. jri 
 
 sured his fellows he knew that ere tit, 
 (meaning Susan) who was just fresh 
 upon the pavee, and who had been im- 
 ported by the Marquis of Headstrong, 
 his former master, who was so famous 
 for crim. con. and all that ere ; remark- 
 ing, at the same time, how foolish no- 
 blemen were to pay such sums, and 
 that ere, whilst a good looking young 
 man (meaning self) could get just as 
 good for nothing. 
 
 Susan was fortunate enough to meet 
 the bold captain after the first turn in 
 the gardens, and triumphantly passed 
 from the attorney's clerk's arm to that of 
 the well dressed militaire; and the cap- 
 tain thought himself the most lucky of 
 men to beau about the finest girl in the 
 gardens.
 
 72 LONDON/ 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish was all curiosity to 
 know something about every body, and 
 her kinsman took a list with his pencil^ 
 in order to relate their private histories 
 at breakfast the next day, and to make 
 up in some measure for the laird's dis- 
 appointment by the detail thereof; and, 
 after taking a turn or two round the 
 gardens, joined the laird, and returned 
 home to dinner, accompanied by Cap-^ 
 tain Ogle.
 
 LONDON. 73*^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The dinner went off most agreeably, 
 although Parchment was mortified to 
 be cut out by the soldier. The captain 
 kindly promised to dine with his friends 
 daily during their short stay in town. 
 Rorie came faithfully to his appoint- 
 ment to breakfast the ensuing mom_, 
 and gave the following portraits in 
 order. 
 
 The business of his office, as we have 
 before observed, made Rorie M'Roy ac- 
 quainted with a number of the noble^ 
 men and men of fashion in London, 
 whose difficulties came to light by the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 74 LONDON. 
 
 connexion which law and lawyers ever 
 have with matters of this nature. While 
 passing in review the company of Ken- 
 sington Gardens^ he began according to 
 promise, with 
 
 LORD LADy's-MAN. 
 
 ^^ This portly nobleman," said he, 
 
 ^^ is the son of the Earl of . You 
 
 would think by his appearance that he 
 was one of the richest men in Europe; 
 hwtf route nvlld Jides, as we say in La- 
 tin ; for if it were not for his connexion 
 
 with Mrs. G , he would not have 
 
 enough to support himself and his nu- 
 merous family, consisting of six chil- 
 dren. I have had writs upon writs out 
 against him; and have known him
 
 LONDON. fil 
 
 obliged to take a bailiff with him to 
 Epsom races^ he and his bum in one 
 carria£ce, as we sav in the office. His 
 comelv features and dark complexion 
 so3n, however^ bothered the heart 
 of dame G. and_, as we say in the 
 song, 
 
 ' His lordship she saw, 
 Had a.je ne sais quoiy^ 
 
 which made him a most agreeable com- 
 panion for an elderly lady, whose beau- 
 ties exist only in the bottom of her 
 purse. 
 
 *^ Previous to this connexion, his lord- 
 ship had seduced a Mrs. ^ from 
 her husband (an old man), and had the 
 six children above mentioned by her. 
 
 Mrs. is now no more ; and it was 
 
 E2
 
 76 LONDON. 
 
 immediately on Lord L.'s throwing off 
 his mourning for her that he got into 
 favour with the old lady in question. 
 Her neat habitation was found particu- 
 larly convenient, being contagious {sls we 
 say in the play) to his lordship's cottage. 
 
 His aged dulcinea has also a snug 
 town residence, and divers good set- 
 tlements, besides seventeen hundred 
 per annum from the old sugar baker ; 
 for goody has been very gay in her time, 
 and somehow or other managed to gra- 
 tify a sweet tooth (witness the sugar 
 trade) as much as if she had been a 
 Venus de Medicis. 
 
 ^^ My lord is wonderfully domesti- 
 cated with her, and listens, we are told>
 
 LONDON. 77 
 
 to her former love adventures with an 
 admirable complaisance. His lordship 
 has also one legitimate son, the Honor- 
 able Mr. y who, when he comes of 
 age, will be one of the richest men in 
 the kingdom. This period is fast ap- 
 proaching ; and it is then to be hoped 
 that he will give his honourable papa a 
 lift; for dame — has given him so 
 many lifts, that perchance, when age 
 makes havoc with his lordship's per- 
 sonal attractions, the amorous dowager 
 may make a change in her ministry, al- 
 lowing, doubtless, her former faithful 
 servant the otiutn cun dignitate, as we 
 say, for services so delicate and con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " You see the ways and means of our
 
 78 LONDON. 
 
 great folks in town extend in all shiipc? 
 and directions. Kissing literally goefi 
 by favour in town ; and kept gentlemen 
 are now as common as kept ladies were 
 in days of yore. Lord P , ano- 
 ther gay nobleman^ is nearly kept by 
 Mrs. H : and an honourable gene- 
 ral, M. M. has as many presents and 
 pensions for his services in the field of 
 Venus as ever the immortal Lord Nelson 
 received freedoms, boxes, gems, jewels, 
 titles, pensions, and emoluments, for 
 his glorious services in the cause of 
 -Mars. 
 
 ^'But to return to Lord L. The 
 cause of his son s riches is an inherit- 
 ance from his mother, who was co- 
 heiress with the Duke of — ; and.
 
 LONDON. 79 
 
 as^we have already observed^ it is to.be 
 hoped that he will render his father 
 independent of being obliged to subsist, 
 as at present, on the secret service 
 money of an amorous hag." 
 
 TH£ HOX. C. FRIARTON 
 
 Is the son of a lord. He belongs to 
 a most dashing corps, noted for its gal- 
 lantT}", and of powerful attractions for 
 town belles. You would think, from. 
 his very innocent appearance, that he 
 was a perfect immaculate : and he was 
 considered a sort of a methodist at 
 
 M by his companions ; but since 
 
 his quitting school, he, too, frequents 
 
 those abominable gaming house* which 
 
 E 4
 
 80 LONDON. 
 
 we call common hells ; shows his bad 
 taste by being much attached to a wo- 
 man, who by name is a second letter of 
 
 the alphabet, to wit, B ; and has 
 
 at different times entirely supported her, 
 protected, I ought to have said, for that 
 is the knowing term at the west end of 
 the town. To make the matter worse, 
 the lady is a great deal older than him- 
 self, not overburthened with beauty, and 
 as vulgar as a cook-maid. There is a 
 great deal of suaviter in modo about the 
 honourable militaire, and something, as 
 you might perceive, bashful and baby- 
 ish in his countenance ; yet he counte- 
 nances all sorts of fashionable excesses, 
 and is as bad as the most brazen faced 
 captain in the army, whose blushes 
 have turned to bronze, and whose vU
 
 LONDON. 8 1 
 
 notis countenance might serve for a lan- 
 tern by night. Young Friarton accord- 
 ingly, although perfectly fashionable, 
 and not wanting in self-complacency, 
 that reigning foible, is a little laughed 
 at by our fashionable ruffians, from 
 his extreme youthful appearance, and 
 from the pretty contrast betwixt appa- 
 rent simplicity and habitual riot and 
 excess. 
 
 His partiality to Mrs. B — has drawn 
 on him the envy and ridicule of other 
 cyprian aspirant es, as we say in French: 
 but this he heeds not, when wound up 
 to a certain pitch, and bacchi plenus. 
 Then, surrounded by his jovial compa- 
 nions, he turns day into night, and vice 
 versa, and is remarked by his unvaried
 
 82 LONDON. 
 
 song and toast, the morality of which 
 needs no comment, and is none other 
 than the following : 
 
 ** We'll drink a health to lawless love, 
 And d — n the world's opinion." 
 
 So much for Mr. Friarton. I next 
 come to a commercial blood ; but who 
 yields not the palm of extravagance or_ 
 fashionable fuibles to army, navy, or 
 any other profession. 
 
 MR, T^ DE, 
 
 The next who passed us, is not enno- 
 bled by heraldic honours, nor is he a 
 beau militaire, like Mr. Friarton. He 
 rejoices in the piping time of peace, be- 
 cause the pipe and hogshead might.
 
 LONDON. 83 
 
 have been his father s arms, as they were 
 the emblems of his trade, and the 
 sources from which he drew (you take) 
 his revenue. In the vernacular ton^e, 
 Mr. T de's father was a wine mer- 
 chant. In vino Veritas, as we say in 
 Latin ; but the son was for being above 
 his father, a very common thing now 
 a-days at the west end of the town, and 
 has set up for a blood. He is rather 
 of the genus, not genius (do not mis* 
 take me) of ruffians, so far as dress 
 goes ; looking more like a coachman 
 or a horse-dealer than any thing 
 else. 
 
 This gentleman does not live a hun- 
 dred miles from Somerset Street. He 
 too must have his c/iere amie^ like his
 
 84 LONDON. 
 
 betters, and accordingly he gives his 
 name and protection to a female wood- 
 nymph or gardener, who is the proudest 
 little biped I ever saw. Her protect- 
 or's sovereign conceit persuades him 
 that she is as true to him as the needle 
 is to the pole, particularly as her se- 
 duction is attributed to him ; but the 
 morniiig and evening reports (you take, 
 cousin) of the Tenth Hussards afford 
 a different statement. Whether right 
 or wrong, is not our province to ex- 
 plain. 
 
 You may see the little lady, whose 
 attractions are not few, every day in his 
 tilbury, lolling by his side as if in the 
 act of falling out ; but whether the 
 fond couple fall out together at times
 
 LOKDOy. S5 
 
 becomes us not to say. Sometimes, 
 however^ madame is walking with Mr. 
 G. from Cambridge, with whom the 
 honorable F. S. and the wine merchant's 
 son were when the former fell from 
 his tandem, and had his leg broken. 
 The chere amie of the said Mr. S. is 
 extremely jealous of Mrs. T. as her 
 protector flirted a little too openly with 
 that lady last winter, when Mrs. T. had 
 a private box at the theatre. All these 
 little flirtations, however, caused no jea- 
 lousy to the young son of the barrel, 
 as his confidence in her immaculacy was 
 proof against every thing. In order to 
 be completely in style, he and Mr. 
 S, fought a duel last winter, about 
 their ladies, I believe. Luckily it 
 was a bloodless contest, although it
 
 86 LONDON. 
 
 engendered a mortal hatred betwixt 
 them. 
 
 Strong in her personal charms, and 
 aware of her power of pleasing, Mrs; 
 T. casts even her chains over Mr. G. 
 the cantab, and has him so completely 
 in her pc\ve:% that he dares not, whilst 
 in town, accept of an engagement with- 
 out letting her know, which circum- 
 stance is by no means ill taken by her 
 secure paramour, who neither disap-? 
 proves of it, nor of his friend G's con- 
 stant dangling after her, which makes 
 the world in general consider this as a 
 family compact, a social airangement, 
 or what is more vulgarly called a joini 
 concern.
 
 LONDON. 37 
 
 COLONEL pi:f.rless. 
 
 The good ]ookii-ig gentleman who 
 nodded to me^ as we entered the gar- 
 dens^ has a good deal to do at times in 
 our office, in the way of protecting liis 
 game, letting leases, and the like. His 
 history is odd enough. His father did 
 not think that the marriage ceremony 
 was absolutely necessary to his domestic 
 happiness. Some people come together 
 sans ceremonie (as we say in French), 
 and live in great harmony. So it was 
 with my lord and his partner ; but after 
 this, his first son, came into the worlds 
 he felt some qualms of conscience ; and 
 he determined to marry Madame. 
 
 _ A natural tendency to honour his
 
 88 LONDON. 
 
 first-bom caused the report that he had 
 been married long before ; and in order 
 to strengthen this assertion, a conveni- 
 ent minister of the gospel was induced 
 to alter the parish register, which was 
 only a proof of his lordship's conversion, 
 by turning over a new leaf. The secret 
 was admirably kept during his lordship's 
 life, and during the minority of the co* 
 lonel ; but upon a question of his taking 
 his seat in a certain great house, some 
 of the broad bottoms who sit there made 
 a stir about it : and these upright and 
 downright ultras, in the cause of legiti- 
 macy, presented a petition against the 
 colonel, and threw him out, supersed- 
 ing him by his younger brother. Thus 
 the colonel, like duke and no duke, is 
 lord and no lord j and was at one time
 
 LONDON. Sg 
 
 a lord and a commoner in one body — a 
 nice Jaw-case you perceive. But in 
 taking away the title^ which we may 
 call the shadow, they could not take 
 away the fortune, which we call the 
 substance ; so that the colonel is a 
 noun substantive, without the adjective 
 right honourable. 
 
 If the ladies may be believed, he is 
 peerless in more ways than one ; for 
 since this little bustle and disappoint- 
 ment, he has solaced himself with 
 drinking, riding, racing, circulating the 
 dross (as we say in the office), and all 
 sorts of prime fun. His partiality to 
 the fair sex is such, that if ever you 
 meet any thing that looks game like, 
 as we say in high life, riding in a 
 carriage with crimson liveries, it is
 
 90 LONDON. 
 
 about ten to one but it is the colonel's,. 
 'Now, when T say the colonel's, mind ye, 
 J don t mean that he is a line colonel, 
 that's not in his line at all (you take); 
 but he is a militia colonel, and that's as 
 good ; nay better, for Horace says ' milU 
 tia est potior' Hem ! and a man may 
 be a colonel that way all his life, and 
 keep a whole skin too, and never see a 
 shot fired except grape (you take) : and 
 so does he too ; he fires a great deal of 
 grape, and takes a great deal of 
 grape, and is as good a shot that way as 
 any life guard's-man in Great Britain- 
 In short, he is a rare hard goer, I pro- 
 mise you. 
 
 It was once thought that he would 
 be called by another name, style, title, 
 and denomination, (as we say in the
 
 LONDON. 91 
 
 law) but that is not the case ; and there 
 is nothing in a name, as Shakespear in- 
 forms us. ' A rose would smell as sweet 
 by any other name.' So the colonel, 
 illumined with claret, and ^ a pretty 
 girl under the rose' as the song says, 
 and with his man-of-war's coat on, 
 id est, his regimentals, though militi^ 
 ones they be, may yet 
 
 * Bear his blushing honours thick upon him,^ 
 
 Indeed, there is no man in England 
 that is a better bottle companion, nor 
 more lauded by the frail and fair than 
 the truly honourable, though not right 
 honorable, colonel aforesaid, as we say 
 in our profession. 
 
 Here Rorey M'Roy took breath, no-
 
 1)2 LONDON. 
 
 thing dissatisfied with number one^ nor 
 with his frequent, if not successfal, at- 
 tempts at wit. 
 
 T. BENCHLEY, ESQ. 
 
 The Adonis who was one of the 
 group at Lotig's on your arrival in town, 
 and whom you afterwards saw in com- 
 pany with Lord Leg and Bert Allgoes 
 in the gardens, is his own idol. His 
 age is about twenty-two ; and although 
 twenty-one is deemed (as we call it) 
 being at years of discretion, the additi- 
 onal year has not coBstituted that term 
 with this youth. 
 
 Not long ago a writ in our office sent 
 this buck to the King s Bench ; from
 
 LONDON. 93 
 
 whence^ in common with many more of 
 our customers over the water, as we 
 call it in the office, he dashes about with 
 a day-rule in his pocket, as gay and as 
 consequential as if he had a thousand per 
 week. On one occasion he broke rules, 
 and was searched for by a special ori- 
 ginal at the notorious Mrs. B 's a 
 
 cyprian of high fame. To put himself 
 out ©f pain (or rather pane), he got out 
 of the back drawing-room window, 
 which threw a new light on the subject; 
 but subsequently to this he was arrested 
 on a Sunday, just as he and his fair 
 friend were going out to tea, te deceden- 
 te die, as we say in Latin. 
 
 Lord G 's tipstaff said in our 
 
 office that Mrs. B sold him for ten 
 
 pounds i and, Ukc the harlots in the Beg-
 
 94 LONDON. 
 
 gar s Opera, gave a private signal to the 
 officers for his apprehension ; but we do 
 not give credit to this report : the thing 
 appears to us foreign from her habits 
 and her heart, as we know that at ano- 
 ther time she kept him most generously 
 in her house, when he was a httle shy, 
 as the bloods of the west end of the 
 town call it, or when (to use a fashion- 
 able term) he was a Sunday man: be- 
 sides, we have had executions against 
 herself, and she always acted like a lady. 
 Then again, after playing the butterfly 
 with other belles, in full blow, he came 
 
 back to Mrs. B , which does not 
 
 seem as if the story of her selling him 
 were true. 
 
 In May last, he took a very expensive 
 house in Half Moon Street^ gave parties^
 
 LONDON. 9d 
 
 great dinners, et cetera, and used habi- 
 tually to entertain Lord Leg and his 
 friend Bert ; but I fancy the ji'imsey^ 
 is not quite so plentiful as formerly, or, 
 rather, that since he was a hencher, tick 
 don't flow in so copiously as heretofore. 
 Tradesmen are so often hit, as we call 
 it in the west end of the town, that they 
 grow a little squeamish. It is supposed 
 that his friends have compromised with 
 his creditors, which is the cause of his 
 being able to go about ; and, to tell you 
 the truth, half of the dashers you meet 
 in the park, gardens, and public places, 
 owe their liberty either to compromise, 
 whitewashing acts, or perhaps have a 
 day-rule or a letter of license in their 
 
 ' " '■'■ ■ ■ I 1 ■! ■ I I I .1 » 1 I 
 
 * The slang term for bank notes.
 
 96 LONDOX. 
 
 pocket, when you see them the gayest 
 of the gay, and as expensive as nabobs. 
 
 For instance, there is not a more ele- 
 gantly dressed youth in Bond Street, or 
 the St. James's end of the town, thgjj 
 Mr. Adonis Escape, none who cut 
 a better figure in public, none who more 
 exactly follow the fashion, and change 
 the cut of their clothes every month. 
 I do not mean that h,e cuts his coat 
 according to his cloth ; on the contrary, 
 he cuts his tailor according to his coats, 
 id est, when he won't tick any longer, as 
 we say in the fashionable world: at least, 
 this is the practice of all our fashion- 
 ables.
 
 LONDON. 97 
 
 CAPTAIN S- 
 
 Next passed in review. The captain is 
 a very dangerous man; for he possesses 
 the "^suaviter in modo et fort iter in re'' 
 He carries his point either by negotia- 
 tion, or by storm. If the white flag and 
 ihe par lenient aire fail, he discontinues 
 all diplomatic or warlike conference, and 
 assaults the place, or sits down before it 
 in form, as he did at a certain inn, 
 and summons the garrison to surrender 
 at discretion. His fair enemy, how- 
 ever, had too much discretion for that ; 
 and, after an attack upon her outworks, 
 he was beaten off with considerable loss, 
 and defeated in a most complete manner. 
 .The captain, who also comes from a 
 sister kingdom, was so deteraiined 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LONDON. 
 
 about getting a wife, that when the per- 
 suasive and agreeable failed, he had re- 
 course to the comnaanding and violent. 
 Time was, when in Ireland a man 
 boasted of either charming or affront- 
 ing a woman ; of either winning her, 
 or carrying her forcibly off; of either 
 wedding her or destroying her: and 
 the story of Miss Knox is still alive in 
 Hibernian memory, where the lover, 
 intending to bear away the daughter, 
 and to shoot the father, shot by mistake 
 the daughter, and was taken by her fa- 
 ther's friends. We had hoped that 
 these means, savouring of remote bar- 
 barity, had ceased with the old style ; 
 but the captain, who is a man of the 
 new style, appears to wish to revive 
 these ancient Vandalisms,
 
 LOXDo:«, 95 
 
 It has never been sufficiently illus- 
 trated why the young lady, after being 
 woo'd and won, could not be brought to 
 wed; but the coolness, alienation, and 
 breaking off came from her. It does 
 not frequently occur on that side of the 
 house ; but in this instance the general 
 rule was not absolute, as we say in the 
 law. 
 
 There are positive fops, comparative 
 fops, and superlative fops. O' Flou- 
 rish is a superlative- When abroad, 
 the ladies used to call him le heau 
 generate; and the waiters called him ^ 
 mon generate / and the jewellers called 
 him te generate, the general, as if he 
 was unique in his species, or as if 
 f2
 
 100 LONDON. 
 
 he was the general of all generals. 
 Whereas, he is either a deputy gene- 
 ral, or an assistant general, a general's 
 deputy, or a deputy's assistant; in 
 short, he is the fractional part of a ge- 
 neral account divided, and subdivided, 
 and so frittered away, that it becomes 
 like a general remark, a thing common 
 and scarcely worthy of attention, 
 though obvious to the vulgarest capaci- 
 ty. This general likewise bears the quill 
 instead of the sword, and works in the 
 cabinet, (aye and dans le petit cabinet, 
 as the ladies say) instead of the field. 
 Mr. OTlourish has however one title to 
 general, namely, being a general lover, 
 and bearing general contempt. The 
 lowness of his origin is one great cause ; 
 his personal conceit is another . with
 
 LONDON. 101 
 
 respect firhis origin, his father was a 
 boxkeeper at the theatre in Crow 
 Street, Dubhn; and the rest of his fa- 
 mily is as ignorant as unknown. Ig- 
 noti et ignascentes, hem ! as we say in 
 Latin. Now as to his conceit_, the 
 strongest proof of it is his personal at- 
 tachment to himself, and the immense 
 pains which he takes to deck out in 
 gaudy feathers the Crow Street bird of 
 the liberties of Dublin, nothing aware 
 that borrowed plumage is as easily 
 detected in men as in birds ; and that 
 many who cannot pluck a crow, may 
 at least pluck out a crow's feather, and 
 display it's native dingy poverty. 
 
 The general^ however, has kept in 
 view the feathering of his nest, which 
 F 3
 
 102 LONDON. 
 
 JMadame St. M ^ and othft French 
 
 courtesans, assert to be warm enough. 
 With m view (we presume) of being 
 considered a jewel of a fellow, he dis- 
 plays his own jewels to the weaker sex, 
 and makes presents of rings and 
 watches to the ladies of his choice, not 
 few in number. This dazzles their 
 eyes. Besides, there is a vulgarity in 
 common money ; and the money-ma- 
 king man soars higher by turning the 
 article into baubles and trinkets, which 
 he can gracefully offer at the shrine of 
 Venus, and thus outshine the mere 
 golden calf of the financier, who merely 
 deals in dross. I have often observed 
 that men who have nothing to boast of 
 at home go abroad for all their tastes 
 and fashions, for their habits and quo-
 
 LONDON. 103 
 
 tations. Thus it is that the unbloody 
 general despises home and homely fare, 
 nay, carries the matter so far as to look 
 down upon homely fair. His more 
 refined and sublimated taste leads him 
 to French females, to French cooks, 
 and to all sorts of French and other 
 foreign furniture in his house. 
 
 The general has also, as a matter of 
 particular taste, fancied himself into an 
 admirable dancer of quadrilles. The 
 ladies prefer him in a pas de deux ; 
 and the gentlemen leave him to dance 
 a pas seul ; whilst the step which 
 they take towards him is a dos a 
 dos^ as we say in France. The 
 pirouette he excels in, although he 
 tried a terre a terre with a certain 
 f4
 
 104 LONDON. 
 
 dandy, whose trial was occasioned 
 by this circumstance. The general, 
 however, did not make quite so 
 good a figure on paper, although he 
 had been at the trade of figures on pa- 
 per so long, as he did on the carpet ; 
 and whether he will make a good figure 
 in history is still a matter of doubt. In 
 the interim, he figures in the world, a 
 unit of much magnitude in his own 
 eyes, a cypher in the eyes of others ; 
 but so proud is he of his own dear 
 figure, that he sports it frequently 
 in three dresses of a morning, exhibit- 
 ing them all fro bono publico, as we 
 say, to the admiring public, independ- 
 ent of the last finish of evening dress. 
 His tailors, jewellers, and perfumers, 
 are particularly obliged to him ; but the
 
 LONDON. 105 
 
 greatest obligation which he can confer, 
 is his not noticing his mihtary acquaint- 
 ances on the continent, many of whom 
 have bound themselves to the recipro- 
 cal observance of the same discreet 
 conduct towards him. More might be 
 said on the subject, although it be a 
 paltry one ; but the public gazettes are 
 open to every eye, as every eye is 
 open to the foppery of the celebrated 
 pseudo General O Flourish. 
 
 MR. 
 
 The person who was so uncommonly 
 civil, in making way for Mrs. M'Tavish 
 at her entering the gardens, is one of 
 the many who live elegantly, and seem 
 like men of fortune, by the ways and 
 means of some underhand job, or secret
 
 106 LONDON. 
 
 source of wealth — such as partnerships 
 In infamous concerns, Greeking, ga- 
 ming, or low scheming. Mr. is no 
 
 other than one of the proprietors of a hell. 
 
 " What the deevirs a hell?'* inter- 
 rupted old M'Tavish. 
 
 Why, continued the young law- 
 yer, he is one of a firm whose re- 
 ceipts and gains far exceed any hank- 
 ing-house, or system of finance in 
 Christendom. His money-mill is in 
 — — , against which I warn you, 
 worthy cousin. There are three osten- 
 sible partners in the concern, which has 
 been a matter of concern to many. 
 
 There, every night, with the velocity 
 of a steam-engine, money is extracted
 
 LONDON. 107 
 
 from the fobs and pockets of pigeons, 
 upon the turn up of a few cards, which 
 nerer turn up trumps to them. There 
 are many odd tricks going ; and the cal- 
 culation in favour of the table is fright- 
 ful. Still it is a fashion to go to these 
 rookeries, to these hawks' nests, to these 
 fly traps, gudgeon fisheries, and pigeon 
 holes, and to be duped with open eyes. 
 The proprietors attend, look conceited, 
 watch the motion of their destructive 
 engine, perambulate the room, have an 
 eye to their interest, look to the con- 
 cern, and when the concern is closed up, 
 repose upon their honest earnings, and 
 play the gentleman the next day. 
 
 Mr. , I repeat it^ is one of 
 
 this tribe, who, although as injurious to 
 public morals and to civilized society as
 
 108 LONDON. 
 
 the Greeks, the legs, the sharpers, et 
 cetera, modestly call themselves proprie- 
 tors or bankers. The fortunes amassed 
 by these houses purchase army, rank, 
 boroughs, estates, freehold qualifica- 
 tions ; and support town and country 
 establishments, as well as equipages, 
 and furnish every species of luxury. 
 
 They have mistresses, (Mr. li^s 
 
 his amongst the number) whose finery 
 resembles that of the hordes of Turks 
 and Tartars, who glitter, and are covered 
 and harnessed with the spoils of the 
 plundered; and his fat sleeping part- 
 ner is saluted in her carriage by half the 
 male fashion in town ; on her part she 
 returns their advances, ^ nothing loth.' 
 
 Whilst debts and mortgages, an- 
 nuities and post-obits, oppress and ruin
 
 LONDON. 109 
 
 the gay spendthrifts of town, these 
 despoilers thrive, and flourish, and fat- 
 ten, in a manner, on the vitals of their 
 fellow creatures. Hence we see beg- 
 gars on horseback, and princes walking 
 on foot. Pall Mall, St. James's Street, 
 the Square, and that whole quarter, 
 swarms with these locusts. The actions 
 in our office, the distress, the di^«train- 
 ing, the ruin of families, desertion of 
 wives and children, are innumerable ; 
 
 yet Mrs. , the soit disavt Mrs, — , 
 
 no bad smith at forging love's bolts 
 and fetters, outshines many a noble- 
 mans wife ; and Mr. , as well as 
 
 the whole junta of these gaming-house 
 keepers, can drink his claret, and give 
 his dinners, and take a trip to the con- 
 tinent, and ape in every thing, nay
 
 110 LONDON. 
 
 outdo his betters. Their quick return 
 of money from the lure of a httle 
 gold and paper, which constitutes the 
 bank, is as incredible as is the trash 
 which compose these ruining specula- 
 tions—horse-dealers, builders, ex-tobac- 
 conists, sharers in banking-houses, dis- 
 graced professional men, et cetera. 
 
 ' One who was formerly concerned 
 in a ' bank, now wallows in 
 riches by this more thriving trade. A 
 Mr. P. as rich as a Jew, is just returned 
 from abroad, full of airs and impudence, 
 and expects to be mistaken for a gen- 
 tleman. Mr. O , to whom you 
 
 ?aw speak, who has the complete 
 
 cut of a w aiter, as we say at the court 
 end of the towp, ill made, and with car-
 
 LONDON. Ill 
 
 rotty locks, gives himself all the flippant 
 coxcomical airs of a young man of 
 birth, though vulgar in the extreme. 
 Another fellow, again, who retired, not 
 very respectably, from his old masters 
 in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, 
 now figures in this line of business, 
 which has led many a better although 
 less fortunate man to another line, high 
 and fatal in its operation. 
 
 I shall certainly single out all these 
 black sheep, and make my much valued 
 relation acquainted with their charac- 
 ters; for although a London man knows 
 the breed by head-mark, yet a country 
 gentleman might quite mistake them ; 
 and, as they are always too civil by 
 half, as we say, very officious, attentive.
 
 112 LONDON. 
 
 and easy of access^ he rrtigbt fall into 
 the same snare which has proved fatal 
 to others^ and which occasions more 
 suitSj writs, and other business in our 
 office, than all the other causes of liti- 
 gation. 
 
 Ere I conclude this subject, I can- 
 not help remarking, that a well-looking 
 man, now on the British staff in France, 
 had a share in (we believe) the Bee- 
 Aiye — a pretty industrious name. And 
 that he who used to sing on the stage, 
 and would make his best bow for half- 
 a-crown, on his benefit night, in a 
 minor theatre in Dublin, whose brother 
 is a musical man, and lives by this trade, 
 from his share in a pharo bank, and 
 from other play connexions, now struts
 
 LONDON. 113 
 
 about with all the importance of a gen- 
 tleman bred and born, and associates 
 with all our nobility and gentry in the 
 French metropolis— so has Paddy turn- 
 ed brass into eold. 
 
 JUDGE 
 
 This is a judge of whom I have 
 next to speak. You might perceive 
 that I bowed very profoundly to him, 
 because he is thought a great deal of in 
 our office. He is not a man of brilliant 
 abilities, but then he is a very zealous, 
 loyal, respectable gentleman. He is a 
 good king's man, and (I think) a very 
 sound lawyer. He is also an upright 
 man, and a proper man, and bitterly 
 hates dwarfs of all descriptions, and dc-
 
 114 LONDON. 
 
 formity of principle, as well as levellers 
 of all kinds. His own origin is not 
 very high to be sure, but then the great- 
 er his personal merit. He may fairly 
 say, with my favourite author, Ovid — 
 
 * Nam genus et proavas etquenon fecimus ipsi, 
 Vix ea nostra voco ; 
 
 for to be sure the good gentleman has 
 not much to do with ancestors and pe- 
 digree. It was complained against 
 him, that on a certain trial, he slurred 
 over the matter a little negligently, and 
 did not see the jury at all ; but, bless 
 you, the sentence was all right, and 
 that*s quite enough. They need not 
 have been so straight-laced with him, 
 although his mamma was a stay-maker; 
 nor have shaved him so close, although 
 his papa was a barber. The delinquent.
 
 LONDON. 115 
 
 at all events, had a hair s breadth es- 
 cape, and deserved to be lathered by the 
 country at large. These sort of fellows 
 think nothing of getting others in the 
 suds, but when there themselves, think 
 they are hardly dealt with. It is a 
 gi-eat pity that any blame should have 
 attached to the worthy judge, who 
 ought to have looked, however, a little 
 sharper. 
 
 No wonder that he should support 
 church and state -, for his papa was at 
 the very head of the clergy ; nay, 
 sometimes took bishops by the nose, 
 the edge of his wit was found so keen, 
 and his Canterbury tales helped the 
 digestion of many a fat prebend. In 
 elections he could give a history of the
 
 llG LONDON. 
 
 pole^ and stood up on all occasions for 
 church and king ; and, although in the 
 wig interest by profession, was a de- 
 cided tory at heart. It was thought by 
 many that the judge would have been 
 bred to the church, since the church 
 gave bread to his father, and because 
 his name fitted him for it, and there is 
 much in a name ; but perhaps he had 
 not a call that way. He was sent to 
 college by the exertions of the clergy, 
 and through their patronage advanced 
 to his present dignities. 
 
 In all times, the most remote and 
 barbarous, the tonsor has had influence 
 in court. He has such an opportunity 
 of collecting the news of the day, and 
 of carrying messages, and of hearing
 
 LONDON. '17 
 
 what is stirring in church and state, that 
 if he be clever, he is sure to pick up 
 something at last. Besides, he can 
 give a dressing to any one, and can 
 teach his progeny the utilit}^ of the puff, 
 guard against any bare-faced impostors, 
 and instruct them when and how to 
 curl up the nose in contempt, with ma- 
 ny other useful properties of the trade. 
 
 I am informed that old peruquier 
 always imaj^rined that his son would be- 
 come the j^udge's wig, and he was right. 
 No man looks more like the companion 
 of wisdom, Minerva's attendant — the 
 owl, the sage and comely owl ; and a 
 man's looking well on the bench, let me 
 tell you, is no small matter : it is at 
 least putting a good face on the cause.
 
 118 LONDON. 
 
 To conclude, there is no man more t# 
 be looked up to than the learned judge ; 
 and long may he sit in aweful dignity on 
 the bench, to be a credit to our profes- 
 sion, and to be a terror to the mobacrocy 
 of the country, and all the Spencean 
 speculators and mad theorists of the 
 day ! I must next call your attention to 
 
 MR. CHARMER. 
 
 Mr. Charmer is of our profession, 
 a conveyancer in the most respectable 
 line ; but so eat up with vanity, that 
 he quite departs from the dignity of his 
 cloth. His morning study is his look- 
 ing glass, his evening reflection is —his 
 looking glass. He is the plague of the 
 tailors and breeches makers, none of
 
 LONDON. 119 
 
 whom can fit him to his satisfaction. 
 He seems to imagine that his matchless 
 form is never done justice to ; and he 
 is as fanciful in his attire as the finest 
 lady in the land. Devoted to fash- 
 ion, he frequents the theatres, public 
 amusements, and watering places, more 
 to be seen than to see. His insepara- 
 ble companion is Mr. T , whose 
 
 amours we have already touched on. 
 
 Fond of the fair sex, he might, in his 
 turn, be a favourite with them ; but it is 
 alleged by the ladies, that one who so 
 idolizes self can love nothing else ; and 
 he has, some how or other, got Irather a 
 bad name with the cyprian corps. A 
 taste for female society leads him to 
 the chaniis of the fair ; but an idea
 
 120 LONDON. 
 
 that the attractions of his own person 
 are recompense enough for every kind- 
 ness, condescension, and attention which 
 he may receive, has disappointed many 
 an expecting belle ; and he has applied 
 the law which substitutes the paying in 
 person to liquidating the debt in coin, 
 in a manner particularly accommodating 
 to himself. 
 
 His female acquaintance do not stick 
 to the letter of the law in that point, 
 and accuse him of meanness, selfish- 
 ness, illiberality, conceit, and penury ; 
 whereas, I believe, that pride alone is 
 the cause; and that he is self-convinced 
 that he confers the greatest possible 
 favour on a woman by singling her out 
 as an object of pass-time, or of momen-
 
 lONDON. 121 
 
 tary admiration. Of his conduct Mrs. 
 B , Mrs. J ', Mrs. S , and 
 
 others^ complained loudly ; and it has 
 been hinted that he had better attend 
 to his business than play the superla- 
 tive fop in the manner he now does ; 
 and that a book most particularly re* 
 commended to his perusal, by dissatis- 
 fied fair, is Burn s Justice ; there being 
 even in matters of intrigue reciprocal 
 obligations to fulfil, of which the irre- 
 sistible Mr. Charmer seems not to be in 
 the least aware. 
 
 MR. WOULD-BE-LORD. 
 
 The old gentleman for whom you 
 kindly made way, and who seemed 
 worn out with infirmity and age^ is the 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 1-23 LONDON. 
 
 best customer to the law in the three 
 kingdoms. He has been in our office 
 a dozen times, and has employed nine- 
 tenths of the lawyers and solicitors in 
 England. One single chancer}^ suit has 
 lasted him exactly half a century; and he 
 has worn out half a score of attornies, 
 who have either died in his service, given 
 him up, or been broke or dismissed. 
 One in particular has been struck off the 
 roll, and two have become bankrupts 
 in his service ; and although he has 
 spent a fortune in litigation, yet he is 
 as fond of it as ever. He has always 
 one and sometimes two clerks writing 
 for sixteen hours in the day in his 
 room ; and I believe that he could not 
 exist without parchments, seals^ papers, 
 stamps, acts of parliament, legal records.
 
 - LONDON. 123 
 
 and cobwebs surrounding him^ in all di* 
 tections. * 
 
 A very ridiculous occurrence took 
 place a little while ago at an attorney's 
 of some eminence. Mr. W. having, for 
 the fiftieth time, changed his lawyer, 
 called in a hackney coach upon this 
 professional gentleman, in order to em- 
 ploy him in his affairs. The attorney, 
 after three hours audience, begged to 
 see his papers, with which the new cli- 
 ent complied, requesting first that a 
 large table should be cleared of all other 
 matter, for fear of confusion. When 
 this w^asdone, Mr. W. shot from a pillow-- 
 case such a mountain of papers, that 
 the affrighted lawyer declined his busi- 
 ness, observing, that it would take a 
 G 2
 
 I 34 LONDON. 
 
 man s whole life to go through them ; 
 and as for any hope of concluding his 
 suit, it was entirely out of the question. 
 The disappointed litigator withdrew, 
 and has since had his business resigned 
 by divers other practitioners. 
 
 At his first outset in life, this gentle- 
 man was noted for a carriage, which put 
 to shame all the lord-mayors, sheriffs, 
 foreign ambassadors, and mountebanks' 
 vehicles in the world : it beat even his 
 countryman's, Mr. Roche's, known by 
 the name of the silver fish, and of the 
 fighting Roche. It put down also Lord 
 
 C 's, brought from Italy, with the 
 
 finest designs and paintings on its pan- 
 nels; and with winged spirits, and 
 naked cupids, represented as flying
 
 LONDON. 125 
 
 in all directions, of which, the wit- 
 ty George Selvvyn, when asked by 
 the great Charles Fox whose carriage 
 it was, said he supposed it to be the am- 
 bassador of Gomort'hds, The carriagfe 
 we allude to of this litigious gentleman 
 was a mass of gilding, or-moulu, and 
 burnished mouldings, and cost him in 
 those days one thousand guineas, now 
 equal to two thousand. He was also 
 remarked for the splendour of his dress, 
 the foppishness of his appearance, the 
 magnificence of his furniture, and the 
 expensive style of his living. He set 
 up for a peerage ; for he is of a very 
 ancient family, and not a little proud of 
 his ancestry : but, somehow or other, 
 some play transactions cast a slur upon 
 his name, and the peerage was never 
 G3
 
 126 LONDON, 
 
 more heard of: he even submitted to 
 make a compromise with an Irish ad- 
 venturer of desperate fortune, and ca- 
 pable of any thing, who advertised the 
 pubHcation of the cause of this gentle- 
 man losing the peerage, with some pri- 
 yate anecdotes of his life ; for which he 
 received much money. This adventurer 
 
 was a clergyman, the Rev. B. O'S . 
 
 After that, the old gentleman became a 
 marked man, and he now 
 
 '' Walks like Contempt, alone." 
 
 . From the appearance of the most ex- 
 travagant and luxurious habits, he be- 
 came a miser. The velvet and satin 
 hangings in his house are now all in 
 rags. The triumphal car slept for a 
 dozen years in a hen house, and was
 
 LONDON. 137 
 
 sold for the wood-work two or three 
 years ago. The wardrobe is merely 
 kept to be looked at; and he goes about, 
 as you see, shabby, and uncleanly in 
 his exterior, whilst the most penurious 
 economy reigns in the interior of his 
 house : he has at length, also, come to 
 a stand still in his law-suit ; for, after 
 seeing out a generation of lawyers, he 
 has lost it, and is immediately to set off 
 for the continent, with the view of oifer* 
 ing a compromise of near one hundred 
 thousand pounds for estates of three times 
 the value, taken possession of by him 
 more than half a century ago. 
 
 His name and family have been ce- 
 lebrated by a notorious fighting Greek, 
 a cousin of his, and by a young man 
 g4
 
 12b LONDON. 
 
 nicknamed Adonis, who married a half- 
 witted heiress, fitter for confinement 
 than wedlock, who made his fortune. 
 You may easily suppose, that as the 
 old gentleman has got out of law, he 
 certainly must very soon get out of the 
 world, unable to survive being thus dis- 
 placed from his element. He has an 
 only son, half bred, and half begotten, 
 who endeavoured to give returning 
 fashion to his father s house by private 
 theatricals ; but it would not do : the 
 audience was promiscuous, and the ac- 
 tors worse; and Mr. L C— — and 
 
 Sir George S— — were the greatest 
 ornaments to the party. 
 
 We beg the Honorable Miss H , 
 
 the poetess's pardon. She too attended
 
 LONDON. 1 29 
 
 these dramatic dainties ; and addresses 
 red morocco bound poems, printed and 
 read almost by herself alone, to this an- 
 tiquated beau and faded peer, nipped in 
 the bud of quality. 
 
 MRS. BEWITCHEM. 
 
 Miss M^Tavish asked me who the 
 
 handsome lady was who was speaking 
 
 to Lord W— — — . I made her a sign 
 
 at that time, because I consider her as 
 
 not orthodox, as we say in Greek ; and 
 
 I did not like to mention her name in 
 
 the gardens. This character, although 
 
 taken by the hand by princes, dukes^ 
 
 lords, and adventurers, is one of the 
 
 vet-y lowest origin ; yet, like Catherine 
 
 the Great, with a mind and abilities to 
 
 gtasp at any thing, and an ambition 
 G 5
 
 130 X.ONDON. 
 
 equal to any enterprise, far better bred 
 than born, and a woman of breeding 
 besides. You take (I hope not,, said 
 Mrs. M'Tavish) as witness her appear- 
 ance, two to one in her favour — 
 hem ! She has accomphshments and 
 allurements far above what might 
 be expected, and which have capti- 
 vated and attaciied a number of men 
 of high quality and not unadorned 
 minds. 
 
 ■ With respect to her pedigree, her 
 mother was a bathing woman, a dipper 
 of ladies in the sea, so we'll wave her 
 birth (you perceive). No wonder then 
 that her salt water parent should have 
 pickled her well. Early in life she 
 could not avoid the rocks of temptation, 
 nor stem the tide of fortune ; no, nor
 
 LONDON. 131 
 
 keep her head above water^ without in- 
 dustry or intrigue. The latter she pre- 
 ferred ; so, unfortunately, do many la- 
 dies. 
 
 . Idleness is the root of all evil, as 
 we say in the proverbs. She came to 
 town, struck the eye of vicious fancy, 
 became a prime mistress, next a noted 
 Lady Townly, and then connected 
 herself with a Greek, until a tragical 
 scene put an end to that play. The 
 remembrance of this preys heavily 
 on her spirits at times, and the spirits 
 as constantly lie heavily upon her 
 stomach. 
 
 In spite, however, of the part she acted 
 in this black scene, she still holds her em*
 
 132 LONDON. 
 
 pire over many hearts ; for, were she 
 to sing Moore's melody — ^^ Come, tell 
 me," says Rosa, When she came to the 
 lines, " come, tell me the numher, re- 
 peat me the list," she must go back 
 almost to her childhood, and using 
 the simplest, most innocent, prettiest 
 method, must begin with — I love 
 my love with an A, and so go on to 
 the end of the alphabet ; for instance. 
 
 Lord A ; then coming to B. C , 
 
 who protects her openly, and takes her 
 to Brighton, so that there is no secret 
 in his name ; then go through the 
 guards with the initials thereof; and, 
 as you see, come down to an infamous 
 W. and to a proud but respectable Lord 
 
 W 1. Then, as for X. Y's, she 
 
 has had plenty of them amongst the
 
 LONDON. i33 
 
 money lenders ; and the Z. generally 
 exists amongst the Jews, with whom 
 this fair one is by no means unac- 
 quainted. 
 
 The Peer Cripplegate has a great 
 regard for her, and frequently sings 
 and plays second to her ; but her soci* 
 ety^ when she is oh her guard, and when 
 native vulgarity does not break out 
 through the haze of wine, is not dis- 
 agreeable. Ere she grew lusty, her 
 figure was worthy the chissel of a Gre- 
 cian, I don't mean of a Greek, but of a 
 Zeuxis, for instance. She dances like 
 a sylph, sings most agreeably ; and 
 has rude, coarse, and unhewn wit, 
 which, if polished by the chaste hand 
 of propriety, would strike every one 
 with admiration.
 
 134 LONDON. 
 
 Rorie INPRoy was proceeding to state, 
 that in spite of her many faults, she had 
 a good heart, when Mrs. IVPTavish 
 overwhelmed him with abuse ; asked 
 him how he came to name such a 
 creature ; whether he meant to make 
 her husband in love with her; whe- 
 ther he had an mterest in misleading the 
 laird ; with such a flood of obloquy, 
 that the lawyer was silent for many 
 minutes, and could with diflSculty be 
 prevailed upon to resume his narrative, 
 and to draw the other portraits in the 
 garden. The laird, however, looked 
 very sly and inquisitive all the while ; 
 twice licked his lips ; and almost rubbed 
 out the knees of his pantaloons. What 
 could this mean ?
 
 LONDON. 133 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Laird of Glenturret was all 
 amazement at the recital which his 
 highland cousin had just made. How 
 little did he know of mankind ! What a 
 knowledge of the world Cousin Rorie 
 had gained by living in a great metro- 
 polis, and by passing a few years as an 
 attorney ! How he regretted the adven- 
 ture of the hat and wig! His only re- 
 medy was to return the next Sunday to 
 the same haunt of fashion, and in the 
 meanwhile to make the most of his 
 time by seeing the curiosities of Lon- 
 don. 
 
 But to return to the wig— Colonel
 
 13(5 LONDON. 
 
 Bergamotte, such was the exquisite's 
 name, had ordered his groom to take 
 the measure of the highland laird's 
 head, and to make Beaumont, in Bond 
 Street, select one of his most tasty 
 perukes for a new customer. A round 
 hat, of about an inch in the brim, 
 and a very high crown, was also pro- 
 cured in Bond Street; and the servant 
 returning at full speed, got it placed 
 upon the gaefs head time enough to 
 quit the park decently, but not until 
 Mrs. M'Tavish and Susan had returned 
 to their carriage. The broad face of 
 the laird, "flushed with a purple grace," 
 a carbunculous prommence on his nose, 
 fierce black eyes, and grey bushy eye- 
 brows, made a strange contrast to a 
 light brown wig, and a hat which just
 
 LONDON. 137 
 
 seemed perched upon the promontory 
 of a head, Hke a wren, or a water-wag- 
 tail, seated on a highland hill. There 
 was something truly ridiculous in his 
 appearance ; but Colonel Bergamotte, 
 who now made his morning visit, as- 
 sured Glenturret that he looked incom- 
 parably well, and might pass for a buck 
 of the first water. ^^ You're pleased to 
 flatter," said the laird, '' but I shall 
 never forget your civility yestreen.** 
 
 Colonel B. now prevailed upon the 
 laird to have his eye- brows dyed, in 
 order to suit the colour of his peruke ; 
 and by some mismanagement or other, 
 he burned one of the chieftain s eye- 
 lids, and made him roar like a bull, 
 there being something caustic in
 
 138 LONDON. 
 
 the composition of the dye. The 
 colonel now withdrew, promising to 
 return next day, and the bold captain 
 came to offer his arm to the mountain 
 beauty ; whilst Rorie got leave from his 
 office to attend his grand relatives, under 
 condition, that if the laird should want 
 to borrow money, or get into some 
 scrape,, out of which a law-suit might 
 grow, he was to be recommended 
 to Mr. Specious, as his man of busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Westminster Abbey, the Tower, the 
 Bank, and other public buildings, were 
 to form the morning's amusement. In 
 the course of the round. Captain Ogle 
 said a thousand pretty things to Susan, 
 and in particular, that he was afraid his
 
 LONDON. 139 
 
 peace of mind would be sacrificed to 
 his trip in a Berwick smack ; for' that 
 it would break his heart to see such an 
 angel quit her present sphere, and be 
 obscured in the mist of a mountain. 
 This had a prodigious effect upon Su- 
 san s sensibility : she was silent for 
 many seconds, and only broke that si- 
 lence by a sigh. This the captain well 
 knew how to intei-pret. He tried to 
 look very fond and interesting at her, 
 and tenderly squeezed her hand. At 
 the same time, he took this fortunate 
 opportunity of warning her against 
 Colonel Bergamotte : he informed her 
 that he was the greatest rake in town, 
 the very terror of nusbands, and that 
 he had ruined half a dozen women. 
 He begged that she would never give 
 him her arm, and be as little seen with
 
 140 LONDON. 
 
 him as possible. Here Captain Ogle 
 out-manoeuvered himself; for such warn* 
 ing, and such account of amorous cele- 
 brity, ot fashion and of gallantry, was 
 equal to pleading the colonel's cause. 
 Susan promised fair, of course, and re- 
 turned the captain's affection with the 
 sincerest reciprocity. 
 
 The limb of the law thought this a 
 happy moment to hint to his kinsman 
 that he thought Cousin Susan made 
 herself a little particular with Captain 
 Ogle, and that it would be as well if 
 they were not so constantly together ; 
 that the captain had nothing but his 
 commission; and that he had known 
 many young women who had been 
 ta'en off their feet (a Scotch expression) 
 by red coats, and who had to regret it
 
 LONDOX. 141 
 
 all their lives. The laird was as anxi- 
 ous as any body could be that his 
 daughter should not be thrown away ; 
 that she should make a good match; 
 and that the accession of riches might 
 rub off what the Highlanders call the 
 original sin entailed on his property 
 i. e. hereditary mortgages, which ge- 
 nerally descend from father to son in 
 highland inheritance. The reason is 
 obvious: the Highlander is generous, 
 unsuspecting, and ambitious. When 
 he comes south, he wishes to cut a 
 figure; and he will always find people 
 enough lo drain his purse, and legal 
 advice to hamper his property, which 
 alone survives all these shocks, from 
 being often closely intailed for the 
 honour of the clan.
 
 142 LONDON. 
 
 The laird^ therefore, very much ap- 
 proved of his kinsman's advice; but 
 pride was still more powerful than pru- 
 dence with hiiii. Besides, he almost 
 adored his daughter, and thought that 
 she could not do wrong. He^ there- 
 fore, drily answered, that Susan was 
 too prudent to do any thing wrong, or 
 without his advice ; that they had come 
 to town for her amusement; and that 
 she should not be controlled. He con- 
 cluded by ordering Rorie never to give 
 his advice unasked, and by putting him 
 in mind that he was the head of the 
 clan; that Rorie only belonged to it 
 by his mother's side, and that the 
 best feather in his wing was being 
 M'Tavish's vassal. Master Parchment 
 did not much admire this piece of arro-
 
 LONDON. 143 
 
 gance; but the chain of interest was his 
 strongest tie to M'Tavish; and he there- 
 fore brooked the rebuke, harsh as it 
 was^ with a deceitful smile. 
 
 The impertinent remark of the foot- 
 man, that Mrs. M'Tavish had es- 
 caped from the wax-work ; the frequent 
 observations on the length of her waist 
 which had fallen from contemptuous 
 ladies passing her in the gardens; the 
 bewitching allurements of fashion, and 
 the conviction that she looked differ- 
 ent from the London belles, had acted 
 most powerfully on her; and she filled 
 the lodging with milliners, dress and 
 corset- makers, and hair-dressers, whilst 
 she emptied her husband's canvas 
 bags of his last guinea, and forced
 
 14(4 LONDON. 
 
 him to borrow money three days after 
 his arrival in town. She was, however, 
 quite the quintessence of fashion, and 
 far outdressed her daughter. Her frock 
 was four inches below her shoulder, and 
 nearly even in front with the pit of 
 her stomach: her petticoat was only a 
 few inches below her knees : her sandy 
 hair, which hung formerly straight, 
 now hung in ringlets, by the aid of 
 a curling fluid, and assumed the glossy 
 blackness of the raven, by the appli- 
 cation of an imperial dye. In short, 
 Mrs. M'Tavish was quite the thing. 
 
 Just as the party was proceeding to 
 Westminster Abbey, a portly porpoise, 
 in a shabby gig, pulled up, and dis- 
 patched his little Ganymede, yclept
 
 LONDOy. 145 
 
 Tiger Minimus, to speak to Mrs. M'Ta- 
 vish. The young emissary gently touch- 
 ed her elbow; and putting a one pound 
 note into her hand, said, in a low tone 
 of voice, '^ My lord sends you this trifle 
 to buy a pair of gloves, on condition 
 that you will give him that young lady's 
 address," pointing to Susan. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish was delighted at so 
 high a compliment from a lord, and 
 mentioned the flattering circumstance 
 to her husband, who, understanding 
 what was meant better than his lady, 
 made use of the China headed cane on 
 the miniature ambassador, who flew off 
 as though he had wings at his heels ; 
 and in a minute, gig, and peer, and petty 
 procurer, were all out of sight. The 
 
 VOL, I. H
 
 1 46 LONDON. 
 
 lawyer, however, had just time to get 
 a glimpse of the peer, who, he informed 
 his friends, was Lord Leg, the worn-out 
 Anacreon of the age, who is the friendly 
 adviser and amusing companion of all 
 the cyprians and demireps in town; 
 and who, with his talent for mimicry, 
 and agreeable voice, chases care from 
 admiring frail ones, and passes the long 
 night in Lisle Street, Leicester Square, 
 Crawfurd Street, and other equally re- 
 spectable neighbourhoods. 
 
 When the laird had recovered from 
 his indignation, he viewed with open 
 mouth the tombs of Westminster Ab- 
 bey; and Mrs. M'Tavish dropped a tear 
 of pity over the illustrious dead. She 
 had a drop in her eye ; and the slight-
 
 LONDON. 147 
 
 est impulse called it forth. From 
 Westminster Abbey the party proceed- 
 ed to the Tower, where the ladies were 
 veiy much frightened at the wild beasts^ 
 and where the laird took off his hat to 
 the semblance of men in armour in the 
 horse armoury. Nothing very particu- 
 lar occurred during the rest of the day, 
 except Glenturret having his pocket 
 picked, and Mrs. M'Tavish being vio- 
 lently laughed at by a party at the Bank. 
 
 Returned to Stevens's hotel, the 
 limb of the law and his cousin were 
 closetted, in order to treat about rais- 
 ing money by way of an annuity, 
 which was to be negotiated the next 
 day, through the medium of Mr. Spe- 
 cious. Colonel Bergamotte called in 
 H 2
 
 148 LONDON. 
 
 to give Susan four Opera tickets^ and 
 to inform her that he had secured a 
 box at the Opera for her for the next 
 night (Tuesday). He tried to outsit 
 Captain Ogle, but did not succeed ; and 
 from this moment they were decided 
 rivals. 
 
 This evening was spent at the play, 
 where the laird was very proud of be- 
 coming acquainted with a most amiable 
 gentleman, Mr. Apollo Bathos, whom 
 he had seen before; and of introducing 
 his wife and daughter to two very 
 agreeable ladies, who promised to call 
 on them the ensuing day: but how was 
 he mortified upon learning afterwards 
 that the one was a Mrs. , a notori- 
 ous cyprian, and that the other was the
 
 London. I4g 
 
 Wife of a linen-draper in High Holbom. 
 At first the laird was for ealHng out the 
 favourite of the muses ; but he was dis- 
 suaded from it by Colonel Bergamotte, 
 who came in at the last act of the play, 
 three parts intoxicated, and who escort- 
 ed the family home ; the captain and 
 lawyer not being able to attend them 
 this evening. 
 
 The French very properly say that 
 "*' Les ahsens out toujours tort ;" so it 
 occurred on this occasion ; for in Cap- 
 tain Ogle's absence the colonel gained 
 such ground on poor Susan's heart, 
 that it was like completing the first 
 parallel in a siege. He plied her with 
 extravagant compliments ; talked of his 
 horses and his hounds ; invited her to 
 H 3
 
 150 LOxNDON. 
 
 ride by his side the next day to see si 
 turn-out of the four-horse club, of 
 which he was a member; depreciated 
 Ogle^ by saying that he was a very 
 good sort of fellow, but that he was 
 nobody ; nobody knew him ; he could 
 not afford to live with people of rank- 
 fellows of fashion ; he resided in an ob- 
 scure lodging ; kept no horses ; and, 
 for his part, he would not be seen with 
 him at a bull-bait. 
 
 Susan's heart now began to vacillate ; 
 but still she leant towards Ogle. There 
 was, however, a degree of indecision, 
 which the four-horse club determined 
 in favour of the colonel. Thus does the 
 affection of woman often depend upon 
 idle parade and external appearances.
 
 LONDON. 151 
 
 The morning was fine. Susan agreed 
 to deny herself to Captain Ogle ; and 
 at about three o'clock Colonel Berga- 
 motte drove up to the door in his light 
 mail. Four thorough-bred horses, 
 which cost him his note of hand for a 
 thousand guineas, were his turm-out. 
 They were jet-black, and were admi- 
 rably driven by this fashionable whip. 
 Pa and ma were left at home ; and the 
 colonel had it all his own way. He 
 dashed down the Park twice ; then out 
 at Hyde Park Corner ; flew down the 
 King's Road ; and then took her to 
 the spot appointed for these modem 
 Phaetons to perform their mail exercise; 
 and conducted her safe back to Stevens's 
 hotel, giddy with pleasure, dazzled by 
 fashionable appearance, and alienated 
 H 4
 
 152 LONDON. 
 
 entirely from her former admirer. Pa 
 and ma had walked out in the Park, 
 and had passed Susan, with the four 
 bloods, two stylish grooms, et cetera ; 
 but Susan pretended not to see them, 
 and cut the old folks, by the colonels 
 spirited advice. 
 
 Amongst the four-horse gentry was 
 Sir Felix Flimsey, Bart, who was 
 pointed out to the old folks by Rory 
 M^Roy : but what was the laird's 
 astonishment when he afterwards found 
 that the money which he borrowed by 
 annuity, at above sixteen per cent, 
 was lent by this mixture of pride and 
 meanness, of avarice and extravagance, 
 
 of nobility and — ! But he 
 
 was not the only odd character of the
 
 LONDON. 153 
 
 four-horse club. Of this flashy set was 
 Captain Polygam^ who now has st 
 turn-out of donkies at Botany Bay, 
 and is the king of the dandy convicts 
 of that popular settlement. 
 
 Captain Ogle dined with the M^Ta- 
 vish family this day, but perceived a 
 coolness in Susan. They had a dispute 
 respecting Colonel Bergamotte, who 
 Susan said was a charming man. The 
 captain assured her that he had passed 
 her oflf for his mistress to all the club ; 
 and that he kept a very worthless 
 woman ; and associated with young 
 Teasle, and a notorious set of Legs. 
 Susan hastily replied, that she did not 
 care ; and that she was going in his 
 curricle with a fresh set of horses the 
 H 5
 
 154 LONDON. 
 
 very next day. Coolness engendered 
 distance ; and at last the captain set off 
 for Bath^ leaving behind him a very 
 kind but melancholy letter of admoni- 
 tion for Susan. 
 
 Previous to visiting the Opera^ the 
 laird was engaged to dine with the co- 
 lonel at the St. James's hotel. He 
 went according to appointment^ and 
 met Sir Godfrey Horsemagog, young 
 Teasle, and a number of other Greeks 
 and pigeons. An attempt was made 
 to Greek the old gentleman by a round 
 of hazard being introduced after din- 
 ner ; but he would not play. He also, 
 took young Teasle aside^ reminding 
 him of his conduct on coming to town; 
 and, without disturbing the harmony of
 
 LONDON. 156 
 
 the party^ gave him his choice of meet- 
 ing him the next day at Chalk Farm, 
 or of making a pubhc apology. 
 
 Teasle prefeiTed the former; and it 
 being known to M'Roy that a meeting 
 was to take place, he got the parties 
 stopped on the ground, and bound over 
 to keep the peace. This was not the 
 worst: young Teasle was arrested by 
 M^Roy s interference for a large sum, 
 and must remain three months in pri- 
 son, until he fashionably throws over 
 his creditors ; so that old M'Tavish 
 had ample revenge, though greatly dis- 
 appointed at not getting a fight, and 
 indignant at the lawyer for such ungen- 
 tleman-like conduct. 
 
 The hour now arrived, when tlie
 
 156 LONDOX. 
 
 highland beauty and her high-dressed 
 mamma were to make their first appear- 
 ance at the Opera. Colonel Berga- 
 motte's dashing chariot, with two foot- 
 men^ w^aited at the door of Stevens's to 
 conduct them. The many beaux who 
 frequent that fashionable hotel were on 
 the tiptoe of expectation to see the Ca- 
 ledonian belle; and stared her out of 
 countenance as she passed to the car- 
 riage. The colonel dined at a club 
 dinner, but was to make his appearance 
 at the ballet, to be in time to talk 
 some soft nonsense co his new con- 
 quest, and to hand her triumphantly 
 through lisping insipids, gay ruffians, 
 and more sober dilettanti^ to the car- 
 riage. 
 
 The laird's appearance on entering
 
 LoNJDoy. 157 
 
 theT)ox set a host of guardsmen and 
 other exquisites in convulsions of laugh- 
 ter; and as the opera was begun^ and 
 the laird wished to appear as if he un- 
 derstood what w^as going on, he joined 
 in the laugh, imagining that it was the 
 comic scene which called forth the ge- 
 neral risibility. This circumstance 
 tended to increase the laugh, which 
 drew every eye in the house upon him. 
 The laird was upon this occasion ha- 
 bited in the very excess of fashion. 
 Scott of Pall-Mall had literally sewed 
 the Highlander in a tight coat, the but- 
 tons on the back touching, the pigeon 
 tail hanging over his immense postern 
 protuberance, the waist up to his arm- 
 pits ; and moreover, he was persuaded 
 by the colonel (who joined in the laugh
 
 158 LONDON. 
 
 against him) to wear a belt, i. e. some- 
 thing nearly bordering on a pair of 
 stays, which propelled the blood to his 
 face, and gave his countenance the ap- 
 pearance of a sunflower in full blow. 
 
 When the roar of laughter had 
 ceased, a legion of fops, in the passage 
 to the pit, named Fop's Alley, pointed 
 the artillery of their opera glasses at 
 the fair Caledonian ; and one of them 
 had the impudence to kiss his hand to 
 her, which the chieftain taking to him- 
 self, went down to discover his friend. 
 During his absence, Sir Claud Pea- 
 cock, a city exquisite, who fancies 
 himself into a man of fashion and con- 
 sequence, and conceives that his militia 
 honours pass for the Guards or the line.
 
 LONDON. 159 
 
 introduced himself into the box, and 
 was very well received by madame, 
 who supposed the simple knight to be 
 some illustrious baronet of fashion^ for- 
 tmie, and renown. He had with him a 
 young banker, who, though the very 
 model o{ fausses manieres and counter 
 consequence, gained credit for being a 
 man of bon ton with Jilrs. M'Tavish, 
 to whom he made violent love. 
 
 Whilst this scene was acting in the 
 Opera box, the laird was affording am- 
 ple amusement to half-intoxicated dan- 
 dies in the pit. One quizzing him by 
 pretending to mistake him for the 
 
 Duke of S , to whom he was about 
 
 as like as a cavalry officer is to a wind- 
 mill. Another put a fulminating ball
 
 l60 LONDON, 
 
 near him, on which he trod^ to the 
 great annoyance of a party of sickly 
 looking tradesmen s wives in the high 
 caricature of dress, and talking the vul- 
 gar tongue In the vulgarest manner. 
 Next he seated himself between two 
 notorious demireps, who slipped their 
 cards into his pocket, which cost him 
 the bitterest reproaches from his en- 
 raged rib. The colonel, however, now 
 made his appearance, and the ballet 
 concluded.
 
 LONDON. 161 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The colonel handed his fair favourite 
 to his carriage, and then appointed to 
 meet them at Stevens's, and to sup toge- 
 ther ; adding, that Dick Dangle would 
 give him a cast in his vis a vis, and that 
 he should be at the hotel in an hour. 
 He took special care to say this loud 
 enough to be heard ; at the same time 
 he squeezed Susan's hand, and winked 
 at some of his friends, who believed that 
 he was on the most easy and familiar 
 footing with the highland beauty. 
 
 After supper, many regrets were ex- 
 pressed that, he had come so late to the 
 Opera, as he might otherwise have point-
 
 1 62 LONDON. 
 
 cd out the heau monde to his highland 
 friends. This was however made 
 amends for, by his engaging to tell them 
 the history of every one present worth 
 knowing, which he did accordingly. 
 
 LORD LEG. 
 
 That Comus-like nobleman, who, 
 barring his club foot, had a portly ap- 
 pearance enough, spends his time in a 
 most profligate manner ; but he has the 
 rare quality of consistency ; for his lord- 
 ship is no changling — his course has 
 been like that of the Sun, ever the 
 same — he has daily shone in the same 
 haunts of dissipation— ro^e inflamed 
 with wine and fevered appetite, and set 
 in the lowest habitations of vice, except
 
 LONDON. 163 
 
 when the haze of champagne, or the 
 obnubilation of indigestion and debauch, 
 have prevented his appearance, '^ inter 
 minora sidera^' as Horace says. 
 
 Of his illustrious equally dissipated 
 predecessors and family, we shall say 
 nothing, nor mention any trite and well- 
 known anecdote of his pleasurable life, 
 but confine ourselves to more secret 
 anecdotes, which have come to owr know- 
 ledge in a manner too delicate to be re- 
 vealed. 
 
 Women and wine, mirth, fun, gri- 
 mace, mimicry, and revels of all kinds, 
 are his lordship's delight. He is a good 
 bottle companion, and a good judge of 
 wine, sings agreeably, and equals Liston
 
 1 64 LONDON. 
 
 in mimicry ; but, above all, he is the 
 king of a certain pleasurable house, 
 which tisage du monde and Men sceance^ 
 as we say in t^rench, forbids us to name. 
 There, seated in cathedra^ he is listened 
 to like an oracle : his fat visage is pat- 
 ted on, stroked down by a Mary Ann 
 or a Louisa, or an Eliza, or some such 
 respectable female pupil ; and the wine 
 which he brings in an attending hack- 
 ney-coach is quaffed to his health in 
 the family parlour of the old dowager 
 sybil, whose voice, whose manner, and 
 whose expressions, are admirably imi- 
 tated by the noble peer. 
 
 When the morning is far consumed, 
 he retires to his couch; and you see him 
 the next day, not in a solo^ although it
 
 LONDON. 1S9 
 
 is SO low a ge?ius of conveyance, (a 
 shabby tilbury) with his young Gany- 
 mede, Tiger Minimus, seated by his 
 side, who acts at once as his Mercury 
 and as his cup-bearer. Tiger Minor, 
 w^hose morals he has completely cor- 
 rupted, having cut him, and resolved 
 to live more decently for the future. 
 My lord is one of the protectors of 
 the republic of women, but is uncon- 
 nected with all commotiwealthy being 
 too poor to do much for the frail 
 fair, but well inclined to do all that he 
 can. 
 
 Amongst his female adventures, the 
 following may be relied on : In the 
 spring of 18 16, he brought three sisters 
 to town. Hannah, his favourite, and
 
 l66 LONDON. 
 
 two daughters of mis-fortune, Jemima 
 and Mary by name. He lodged them 
 in Seymour Place, grew jealous of Han- 
 nah for being discovered with a bank 
 note in her bosom given her by Lord 
 
 Ch y, on which account he parted 
 
 with his reigning favourite. The two 
 daughters of misfortune have got mar- 
 ried : w^iat a fortune-ate thing for 
 their husbands ! and Hannah, after 
 being common property in London, 
 has returned to service at Brigh- 
 ton, whence these three graces all 
 come. 
 
 From Epsom also his lordship trans- 
 lated a young girl to town, supposed to 
 be the daughter of a butcher (demo- 
 cracy is no disgrace in love, as his lord-
 
 LONDON. 167 
 
 ship thinks.) She was lodged about 
 Leicester Square, whence her brother 
 bore her away ; but our clumsy Cupid, 
 fancying her a second Psyche, recovered 
 her, and lodged her beside the old 
 
 Doctor E and George, at a house 
 
 not a hundred miles from Carshal- 
 ton. 
 
 A second female of the same name 
 next occupied his enlarged mind and 
 heart. She had more accomplishments ; 
 for she danced, sung, and spoke French ; 
 but the stocks having fallen upon this 
 occasion, only a two pound note could 
 be raised to reward talent so striking : 
 the lady followed him and upbraided 
 him, and " ainsijinit VHistoirey' as we 
 soy in French.
 
 l68 LONDON. 
 
 Mra. B m was once a great flame 
 
 of his, and still is honoured with his 
 friendship. To her, in melting mood, 
 he addresses sentimental melodies, and 
 sings with her this favourite duet, 
 
 Loid. Will you never from me part, 
 Nor ncTer from me stray ? 
 
 I will never from thee part, 
 
 Never, never from thee stray; 
 
 How simple and harmonious ! I re- 
 member once being on the race-course, 
 and saw the peer and Mrs. B — at din- 
 ner at the Greyhound at Carshalton. I 
 afterwards heard a strange story of her 
 cook being found asleep in her car- 
 riage, and of a transfer of the peer's 
 favours !
 
 LONDON. 169 
 
 His present flame is Mrs. W , 
 
 the name of a town not far distant from 
 Manchester. Tiger Minimus, acting as 
 winged Mercury, went on an embassy 
 to her house in the Edgeware Road. She 
 was accused of being pretty, in spite 
 of her teetliy which were mostly de- 
 ficient. 
 * * # * # # 
 
 With a hfe so luxurious, so pamper- 
 ed, and dissipated, you cannot wonder 
 that the peer is so bloated and so rotund ; 
 but the great miracle is how, with such 
 a succession of ardent spirits, and of 
 lively flames, he is not quite burned out. 
 Spirits of wine, however, still light up 
 his lamp, whilst many purer spirits 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LONDON. 
 
 have decayed, and left nothing but 
 an unpleasant vapour as a trace of their 
 existence. 
 
 The person who looked so ardently 
 at Miss Susan is 
 
 CAPTAIN SELF-LOVE. 
 
 Whole hours does this blood pass 
 in mustering his graces, and review- 
 ing his charms in his looking-glass. 
 Then turning to some of his female 
 loose acquaintance, he modestly asks 
 them on oath, " So help them," is 
 he not a good-looking man ? His lady- 
 like complexion, and rough white hair, 
 not very dissimilar from a mop, have 
 great merit in his own eyes; and he
 
 LONDON. 171 
 
 thinks they must be equally valuable in 
 those of others. 
 
 With the view of preserving his 
 bloom, he is wonderfully abstemious ; 
 but unfortunately he has not the same 
 regard for his circumstances as he has 
 for his looks. On the contrary, his rage 
 for betting has entangled him in innu- 
 merable difficulties. A fatality attends 
 his betting: he never wins ; or, perhaps, 
 his friends are particularly fortunate. 
 But it is strange to mark the contrast 
 betwixt self-love and simplicity ; the lat- 
 ter invariably undoing the former ; so 
 that whilst he is the object of his own 
 idolatiy, he becomes the dupe and tool 
 of many. 
 
 In love matters, no one can be more 
 I 2
 
 172 LONDON. 
 
 completely duj^ed. A certain Susannah 
 (not the chaste) struck him, to use the 
 captain s own language, as having good 
 points. He made her the object of his 
 election; nor did he look too high ; for, 
 issuing from an area, not a hundred 
 miles from South Street, Manchester 
 Square, Susannah, blithe and gay, 
 used to trundle mops, and brush off 
 spiders. But none of these menial 
 offices, nor her descending still lower 
 in the discharge of household duties, 
 debarred the captain from singling her 
 out from the swinish drone, and from 
 making her the partner of his retired and 
 confidential hours. 
 
 The return made for this preference 
 was her absconding with a bill for five
 
 LONDON. 1^3 
 
 hundred pounds, with which she left 
 Newmarket ; her lover in full chase after 
 her, and awkwardly travelling forty 
 miles out of his road. This occurred 
 after two years of social intercourse. 
 
 Equally blind to her failings, he 
 hugs himself with the idea of being a 
 sans pareil; and will not believe that 
 she has bestowed her blandishments 
 " on a legion of lovers beside." Once^ 
 in particular, he travelled one hundred 
 and sixty miles to meet her ; but his 
 warmth on this occasion was ill requit- 
 ed. She slept (she said) with a sister ; 
 she must be retired and circumspect ; 
 yet the scandalous 07i dits assert that 
 she was otherwise engaged, to follow, 
 not the drum ; — perhaps then the Jife, 
 I 3
 
 174 LONDON. 
 
 which pleased her in a flat key^ as it has 
 amused many others ; and that she was 
 detected in her infideUty by the serving 
 man of her slave of a lover; however, 
 a tremendous oath, as to her down- 
 right honesty and plain dealing, per- 
 fectly satisfied the captain (it had satis- 
 fied more than one), and he was as much 
 convinced as ever of her preference and 
 inviolable attachment. 
 
 With the exception of these weak- 
 nesses. Captain Self-love is what we 
 call an honest dashing blade: nay, some 
 say the very best fellow in the world. 
 He, too, affects the ruffian ; and al- 
 most equals the accomplished AUgoes 
 and the dashing Ud— -y in slang, in 
 flooring of watchmen, and in out-doing
 
 LONDON. 175 
 
 in profligacy of speech the shivering 
 wanderers^ who^ with an assumption of 
 mirth, a decided taste for ardent spirits, 
 habitual blasphemy, and hardened inde- 
 licacy, waste their decaying lives by the 
 midnight lamp, and whither in the night- 
 ly damps and the unwholesome vapour 
 of a London fog. These are the merits of 
 Captain Self-love, and are the fashiona- 
 ble qualifications of a first-rate fellow, as 
 we call it at the west end of the town. 
 
 The next three whom we observed 
 were Lieutenant Birdling, Mr. B ant- 
 ler, and Mr. Stopshort, of the cavalry. 
 
 LIEUTENANT BIRDLING 
 
 Is nick-named by some the Gold- 
 finch, which only applies to his 
 I 4
 
 176 LONDON. 
 
 gold-laced coat^ otherwise it would be 
 a mis-nomer^ for he is as poor as 
 a rat, and has all his gold out- 
 side of his pantaloon pockets, none 
 within. By others he is called the 
 Bullfinch, which suits him better ; for 
 he comes from the country of bulls, 
 and he makes some himself; besides 
 having that kind of disposition which 
 that animal, when enraged, demon- 
 strates, when (as we say in Latin) ^^Jam 
 cornu petit" 
 
 He has of late made himself very 
 notorious by getting into the papers 
 for an assault, and for coming under 
 the lash of the law for applying 
 his lash to a limb of the law. The 
 ease stands pretty much thus. The
 
 LONDON. 177 
 
 captain, or rather the Ueutenant, but as 
 the former is a good travelUng name, 
 we more generally use it in courtesy, 
 the captain then {pro forma) met with 
 a lady who thought that he seemed 
 like a gentleman, who had every- 
 thing comfortable about him ; and 
 as the bird pleased her, they paired 
 oiF together. Getting tired either 
 of the attractions, or (as others say) 
 of the tyranny of her mate, she 
 has left him, but whether to chuse 
 another valentine, we presume not to 
 say. 
 
 Having been deserted by his fair, the 
 captain grew enraged, followed her to 
 the spot where she was under a mother s 
 I 5
 
 178 LONDON. 
 
 wing, broke the windows, used the 
 most abusive language, and behaved 
 more hke a mad bull than a tame bull- 
 finch, or any other domestic bird. 
 When all this would not do, he selected 
 
 out a certain Mr. for the object 
 
 of his resentment, because he (it ap- 
 peared) had advised the separation, and 
 had given counsel to that effect to the 
 lady-bird. Him then he threatened 
 to gore, to toss, to embowel, to immo- 
 late, by which he was placed in a very 
 awkward predicament; and being in 
 hourly fear of his life, and prefering 
 a whole skin to a lacerated one, and 
 whole bones to broken ones, he lodged 
 an information against the enraged ani- 
 mal ; and stating the bodily fear and
 
 LONDON. 179 
 
 mental uneasiness under which he la- 
 boured, hinted at the propriety of chp- 
 ping the wing of the bird of prey, and 
 of confining the animal in a cage, or 
 some other place of security. 
 
 This well-drawn petition had the ef- 
 fect of bringing the delinquent before a 
 magistrate ; and he was bound over to 
 keep the peace. But I would ask, what 
 use there could be in binding a man over 
 to keep the peace who could not keep 
 his wife, or, at least, who broke the peace 
 with his wife, and her windows also. 
 This is making light of that great law 
 on which our liberties so much depend, 
 and which makes every Englishmans' 
 house his castle. This law, window,
 
 180 LONDON. 
 
 and peace-breaker, then proceeded to 
 another outrage ; for, meeting Mr. W. 
 in the Irish fashion, i. e. by coming be- 
 hind him and knocking him down, he 
 proceeded to pay off old scores, by 
 scoring them up upon the poor gentle- 
 man's back, which is the cause of the 
 action now pending. 
 
 It ought to be observed, that Lieute- 
 nant Birdl in g had, previous to Mrs. Bird- 
 ling's leaving him, raised money by 
 w^ay of annuity on her property ; and 
 it is conceived that her fortune being 
 tied up, was one great cause of uneasi- 
 ness and disappointment to him ; and 
 that differences on this subject first pro- 
 duced domestic dissension and strife*
 
 LONDON. 181 
 
 He is thought a good-natured fellow 
 in his regiment, from which, however^ 
 he is about to exchange ; but I should 
 differ in opinion. I have seen many 
 quiet oxen; but then it would not 
 be adviseable to take them by the 
 horn. 
 
 MR. BATTLER 
 
 Is a son of fortune, to whom how- 
 ever the world has thought fit to at- 
 tach the title of fortune-hunter. If he 
 be a fortune-hunter, he has not hunted 
 in vain, although his game has escaped 
 from him when taken. His country- 
 men, indeed, are more famous for bring- 
 ing down than for bagging their game ;
 
 182 LONDON. 
 
 but^ as the proverb says, ^^ lightly come, 
 lightly go." 
 
 His paternal estate is— good looks ; 
 and probably such is his maternal pro- 
 perty also. With this estate, either 
 in tail or fee simple, we pretend not to 
 say which, Paddy came to town as an 
 officer in an Irish regiment of militia, 
 and contrived through petticoat in- 
 terest and influence (an interest ever 
 favourable to his country) to get a cor- 
 netcy in a very deservedly celebrated 
 regiment of cavalry. Some say that he 
 bought his commission on tick, and that 
 it never was paid for ; but this is dis- 
 believed, for he is considered honourable 
 though poor.
 
 LONDON. 1 S3 
 
 Thus equipped^ he set out for Bath, 
 and hung out for a wife. The lady was 
 attracted by the cloth, as a red rag can 
 drive geese at any time, when more so- 
 lid attraction could not even lead them. 
 Returning from thence, he bought a 
 curricle, lived in St. James's quarter, 
 kept a good house, got in debt, and did 
 every thing that a fashionable man 
 ought to do. Finding, however, to his 
 sorrow, that his rib's property w^as set- 
 tled completely on herself, he at last 
 cast her from his side, if not from his 
 heart ; and this was got rid of without 
 any particular suffering on his part, and 
 she returned to live with her mother. 
 His first female patron and chere 
 amiey much to her credit (doubtless, she
 
 184 LONDON* 
 
 has plenty of it) does not desert him in 
 the hour of need; but, daily visiting him, 
 cheers his hours of retirement, and is to 
 set him up again, if the fama clarnosa 
 may be believed. The withdrawing of 
 a friendly action, and a short suspension 
 of hostilities, have enlarged him at pre- 
 sent ; but whether it will be found ne- 
 cessary to return again for final arrange- 
 ment to the quarter of " bonny St, 
 George and the Dragon,'' as the song 
 says, remains yet to be determined. It 
 would astonish you to learn to what 
 shifts these bucks owe their public ap- 
 pearance in the most polished circles 
 of the town. .
 
 LONDON. 185 
 
 LIEUTENANT STOPSHORT. 
 
 This triumvir^ or this third personage 
 of the tonish triumvirate^ alluded to, is 
 in the same gay regiment with Birdhng. 
 He is a sightly agreeable young man, 
 but fond of play to excess, and has paid 
 for his taste that way. He is, however, 
 not only a dupe to this passion, but 
 equally so to the tenderer passion. He 
 keeps a very pretty young woman, 
 by whom he is completely enslaved ; 
 and whose violence of temper, jea- 
 lousy of disposition, and ungoverna- 
 ble passions, are such, that his life 
 has frequently been in danger with 
 her. The disturbances which she
 
 1S6 LONDON* 
 
 gave rise to in the barracks drove him 
 from thence, and the heaviest com-^ 
 plaints attend them on her account in 
 every lodging which they occupy. Yet 
 such is his weakness, that he cannot 
 get rid of her, and such her attachment 
 (to give every one their due) that she 
 would sooner undergo poverty, starva- 
 tion, or misery of every kind, than be 
 parted from her ami du cceur. 
 
 At one time he made a feint to have 
 lost so much at play that he could not 
 support her. Unappalled with the fear 
 of poverty, she told him that she could 
 not live without him. He, however, 
 went into the country, in order to break 
 off the connexion. She discovered his 
 abode, and as he returned, she walked
 
 LONDON. 187 
 
 nearly sixty miles to meet him, almost 
 sans le sol, for she had scarcely enough 
 to pay for food, et cetera, on the road. 
 At another time he left her, and ceased 
 to ftirnish her with money. On this 
 occasion she used to waylay him 
 coming home from the hells and hotels 
 in the St. James's quarter, and to walk 
 in all weathers until she could meet 
 him. His return, with his inseparable 
 friend P— , of the same regiment, was 
 seldom until three or four in the morn- 
 ing; yet would she wait in the hopes 
 of meeting him ; and on one occasion 
 such a riot was created by the parties, 
 in the form of upbraiding, threats, tears, 
 entreaties, oaths, and promises, with all 
 the like artilleiy of the frail fair, that
 
 1 88 LONDON. 
 
 the whole three were very near being^ 
 put into the watch-house;, and escaped 
 only by the silver hey. 
 
 Talking of keys, I may observe 
 that the silver key silences a watchman 
 in the first instance; and if strong 
 enough will shut up the mouth of 
 a hackney coachman, as to the ad- 
 ventures of his coach — the where, the 
 how, the when, he went with such and 
 such a one. The golden key may be 
 applied to bailiffs, constables, attornies, 
 and to all law-officers: it blinds the 
 former by shutting out information 
 detrimental to the donor; it prevents 
 the office from being searched ; hinders 
 a man from seeing the debtor ; puts
 
 LONDON. 18[^ 
 
 off a suit ; brings bail cum multis aliis: 
 it opens the door to escapes^ and shuts 
 it to enquiries ; it bribes the male and 
 female attendant to let out their mas- 
 ter, and to let in the lover ; it opens the 
 mouths of evidence in crim. con. and in 
 other trials : it also discovers a beauty's 
 name, or a fright's fortune. 
 
 They got off I say by the silver 
 key, but the lover still wears his chains, 
 and the lady still continues as violent as 
 ever; and, if I mistake not, young Stop- 
 short will stop short altogether ; for the 
 tavern and the gaming table, the pro- 
 tecting a friend, and extravagance in 
 dress, must thus end. She must have 
 a powerful charm so to attach her 
 paramour, and to induce him to sup-
 
 igO LONDON. 
 
 port a tyranny, for which all his com- 
 rades, friends, and acquaintance, either 
 pity or blame him. 
 
 GENERAL o'bLARNEYSTONE. 
 
 The tall, raw-boned, fierce-looking 
 Irish general, whom Mrs. M'Tavish 
 took notice of, observing "that is a 
 man !" is what we call in French an 
 officier de fortune : not that the gentle- 
 man has not plenty of pedigree ; on the 
 contrary, he has as much as would 
 reach across the Channel, or measure 
 the length of the giant's causeway; and, 
 as you might observe, he is what we 
 call a bottomed animal in horse deal- 
 ing; for he has as much bone as blood. 
 There is not a peer in the Court Calen-
 
 LONDON. 191 
 
 dar that can measure names with him : 
 he has them from maternal grandfa- 
 thers^ and from paternal great grandfa- 
 thers, from grand uncles and aunts, and 
 from all his grand relations ; we have — 
 Terence, Roderic, O'Lucius, O'Regan^ 
 O^Ryan, O^Rourke, O^Dowde, O'Blun- 
 der, O'Blarneystone. 
 
 When introduced many years ago to 
 the Lord-Lieutenant, he looked round, 
 and expected to see a whole family ; 
 but in finding all the family concen- 
 trated in the (then) captain, the Lord- 
 Lieutenant exclaimed, ^^ Oh ! mercy, 
 or oh ! murder," or some such exclama- 
 tion, cr}4ng for quarter in the listening 
 to any more names, to which the ge- 
 neral gracefully and solemnly answered.
 
 192 LONDON. 
 
 '^ Not oh ! murder, your excellence, 
 but O^Blarneystone.'^ 
 
 Montagu Melville, Norman Nevil, 
 Horatio Courtney, and such novel names, 
 suit remarkably well the Georgina Wal- 
 singhams, the Henrietta Matilda Har- 
 courts, the Emily Nettervilles, Emma 
 Percys, etcetera, who assume these well- 
 reading appellations ; but your Terences, 
 and Lucius's,yourPhelims andRoderics, 
 alarm every lady except dowagers, su- 
 perannuated maids, ladies of deformed 
 person, or second-hand character. 
 
 The (then) captain came to London, 
 like many a compatriot, as we say in 
 French, and got into good company. 
 He had exchanged from horse to foot, 
 and from foot to horse again, ringing
 
 LONDON. 193 
 
 changes on many numbers in the line, 
 but he took care never to lose by an 
 exchange, and was considered as a good 
 fellow in each. Boasting, fighting, and 
 performing feats, were his great pride 
 and whim. In Dublin, he cut off a 
 fellow's queue of immense length, for 
 a wager, and took his chance of fight- 
 ing the fellow for thus curtailing his 
 ornaments. In London, he offered to 
 drink three bottles of wine, to ride 
 thirty miles on three horses, and to 
 tell a long love-tale to three different 
 fair ladies, within three hours, for a con- 
 siderable bet; and for aught we know 
 he won it. 
 
 He next went through the cam- 
 paign under the Duke of York ; and in 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LONDON. 
 
 a paroxysm of madness and gallantry 
 put spurs to his horse, and charged 
 the whole French Une. On this occa- 
 sion he had the mortification to get 
 only a scratch; but, liowever, he had the 
 glory of wearing his arm in a sling, 
 whilst many observed that he had bet- 
 ter have put it into his pocket. Whe- 
 ther he had pocketed the affront or not 
 we forget ; but he is the last man upon 
 whose toe a man ought to tread, if he 
 expects to escape with impunity. Re- 
 turned the first time from the conti- 
 nent, he figured about town, and was 
 ogled by many a widow Flin, '^ with 
 his long sword, saddle, bridle, etcetera." 
 
 A thorough knowledge of horse-flesh, 
 and honourable success at play, helped
 
 LONDON. 19b 
 
 a little his good appearance in the me- 
 tropolis ; for by the first he always 
 gained, and by the second he seldom 
 lost : his honour (we must say, for 
 justice sake) never was impeached; and 
 although he anxiously informed every 
 one that he was born in Greek Street, 
 Soho, he had nothing further of the 
 Greek about him. The Soho neio:h- 
 bourhood however had no effect upon 
 his tongue ; for in spite of all localities, 
 his honour spoke as rich, pure, and 
 thick Irish as ever flowed from the 
 tongue of a borderer of the Shannon, or 
 of the Liffey. 
 
 At length, " The soldier, tired of war's 
 alarms," bestowed his noble name and 
 lengthy person upon a wdfe, whose 
 
 K2
 
 igS LONDON. 
 
 person, measured in proportion to hi» 
 names, and was not moreover a mere 
 nominal thing. Here again he shewed 
 himself to be a man of true courage ; 
 for he did what scarcely any other man 
 would do— he had the bravery to face 
 the ugliest woman in Europe ; thereby 
 proving that he was a man of ten 
 thousand. How they live together we 
 do not pretend to say; but the general 
 humourously, or, if you please, good 
 naturedly, calls her Charley, as a nom 
 de tendresse, or perhaps because she 
 would have made a less plain man than 
 a woman. This must be allowed to be 
 making the best of a wife. 
 
 Since the general has committed ma- 
 trimony, which he would not have done
 
 LONDON. 197 
 
 unless it were blended with patrimo- 
 ny, he has lived in a handsome style, 
 and has deservedly attained his present 
 high army rank. He makes many 
 unsuccessful attempts to get rid of the 
 brogue, which however sticks to him 
 like a burr. To play the fine gentle- 
 man late in hfe seldom succeeds ; but 
 he can play his part at a fight, or a 
 horse-race, as well as any man I know. 
 He is now on the staff of Ireland ; and 
 the staff is in no bad hands ; but at 
 present he is come over to take a look 
 at London, and to change air. 
 
 SIR EDGAR BEAGLE. 
 
 The fat elderly gentleman, whom I 
 informed you was so great a favourite 
 k3
 
 198 LONDON. 
 
 with the that many called him 
 
 the ■ jester, and some villain- 
 
 ously named him the ■ fool, is a 
 
 sad instance how the smiles of princes 
 and ill-conducted ambition may mis- 
 lead a man, be his merit, age, and ex- 
 perience what they may. Here, for 
 instance, is the gallant Sir Edgar, who 
 never run before an enemy's whole 
 squadron^, and whose opponents dared 
 not to say a word to his disadvantage, 
 — one who had caiTied fire and sword 
 into the enemy's fleet, unable to stand 
 before the '^ Danaos puppes,'' alias 
 the Trojan puppies, of Brighton. It 
 is pitiful to see a naval hero fol- 
 lowing greatness like a beagle or a 
 terrier, and fawning like a spaniel, 
 who could roar and bristle before the
 
 LONDON. 199 
 
 enemy like a lion. What a shame ! to 
 become the fat Falstaff of modern times; 
 to laugh at stale jokes, and to labour at 
 unsuccessful witticisms, with a view of 
 
 making his laugh with him, or 
 
 even at him ; to be set up like a red 
 pimple on a drunkard's nose, for every 
 fly and moth which buzzes about the 
 light of royalty, to tcaze, and bite, and 
 play with ; to be thus suiTounded by 
 ephemeral insects, who bask in the sun- 
 shine of favour, and to be pointed out 
 like the rum commodore, or as a quiet 
 fellow, a funny dog, a maker of bulls, 
 or a retailer of funny puns. Oh, fie! oh, 
 He! 
 
 How much more respectable would 
 it be for this venerable son of Neptune 
 to live in seclusion with his old wife, 
 
 K 4
 
 200 LONDON. 
 
 to smoke his pipe, and tell his merry 
 tale at home, and to thrive and flourish 
 in the honourable remembra«ce of pe- 
 rils past, of hard earned laurels, of me- 
 ritorious services in his king's and 
 country's cause. But the admiral must 
 be a sportsman! he loves hunting; aye 
 
 hunting ; and he must have his 
 
 game, even if he is made game of. 
 And for these trifling considerations 
 he exposes himself to all the whims 
 and pranks of the ' 
 
 At one time his horse, which he 
 deemed as matchless, was painted, and 
 so disguised, that although he rode it. 
 Tie could not recognize the animal, and 
 called it the veriest rip m England, 
 which produced a broad roar of laugh-
 
 LONDON. 201 
 
 ter at the aquatic hero's expense. At 
 another time an artificial horse was 
 constructed^ on which Sir Edgar 
 mounted; but which when mounted 
 fell all to pieces, and let down the ad- 
 miral in more senses than one. 
 
 It would be endless to name the 
 many funny tricks played off upon 
 this very respected commodore, and 
 which are no ways befitting his gallant 
 profession, his grey hairs, or his ma- 
 turity of years. Whilst beholding 
 himself on the wrong horse, or serving 
 as a hobby, or a stalking horse, it 
 ought never to be forgotten that this 
 ocean warrior was one " whose deck it 
 was their field of fight, &c." If the rat- 
 tle-brained and shattered courtier for- 
 K 5
 
 202 LONDON. 
 
 got this circumstance, the grey-bearded 
 veteran should at least remember it 
 himself; and it is to be regretted that 
 the illustrious person does not remem- 
 ber the following lines, which no doubt 
 he must have perused in his youth : 
 
 The colonel now begged to retire^ 
 promising to resume his sketches at an 
 early period. 
 
 *' Solve sencscentcm mature sanus equum 
 
 *' Ne peccet at exiremum ridendus et illia ducat 
 
 HORAT,
 
 LONDON. 203 
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 Colonel Bergamotte had the feH- 
 city of parading Susan in his cumcle the 
 next day ; and her figure had now be- 
 come quite well known to the Bond 
 Street loungers, and to the park dan- 
 dies, to all the colonel's friends, and to 
 every member of the four-horse club. 
 This would have been a trifle ; but her 
 character was now completely lost by 
 the publicity of her appearance with the 
 colonel, and by the exposure which his 
 arts and familiarities occasioned. He 
 was now more demonstrative in his at- 
 tentions, more warm in his expressi- 
 ons, less guarded and decorous in his 
 behaviour. He had now completed
 
 204 LONDON. 
 
 the second parallel, Susan always mis- 
 taking his free and famihar manner for 
 fashion and stylish habit, his attentions 
 for affection, and his intentions for the 
 purest in the world. These diurnal 
 drives in his mail-box and in his cur- 
 ricle had quite grown into habit ; and 
 he had thereby acquired the full con- 
 fidence of the whole family. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish had now got an ad- 
 mirer, the counter coxcomb, who had 
 visited her daily. She had taken it 
 into her head that she had grown 
 young again, that dress had fully re- 
 paired the ravages of time, and that art 
 had done as much for her as nature 
 had bestowed upon her daughter. Su- 
 san now was almost looked upon as a
 
 LONDON. 205 
 
 rival in admiration, and her absence in 
 the morning walks was not regretted. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish also learned that 
 married women never go out with their 
 husbands in town ; and she advised the 
 laird to walk out by himself as other 
 married men of fashion did. This ad- 
 vice was by no means unwelcome to 
 the husband ; and he passed his time at 
 the racket-court, and in visiting a 
 chance acquaintance in Crawfurd Street, 
 who was the cause of another annuity 
 being raised, with the honour and se- 
 crecy of the advertising A. B*s and X. 
 Y's, who hold out lures to assist in 
 ruining the devoted children of fashion. 
 
 Whilst the laird was thus going
 
 206 LONDOV. 
 
 astray in one quarter of the town^ ma- 
 dame was taking retired walks in the 
 Regent's Park, and in the fields, with 
 her city swain, who had most com- 
 pletely misled her mind, and estranged 
 her from that duty which, until conta- 
 minated by the ambition of being in 
 high life, she had so honourably and 
 scrupulously discharged. The surprise 
 and novelty however of having a lover 
 at so advanced a stage of life, and 
 without any extreme personal attract- 
 ions, were irresistible, and caused the 
 most discreditable reports. 
 
 At length disunion was established 
 in her house, a sad prelude of its fall. 
 The laird was estranged by the high 
 complexion, fascinating smile, and prac-
 
 LONDON. 207 
 
 tised attractions of Mrs. B ~ ; and Mrs. 
 M'Tavish was alienated from the laird 
 by the youth and flattery of her beau, 
 whilst Susan was daily more and more 
 separated from her parents, cooled in 
 duty and attachment to them, ond be- 
 wildered and dazzled by the extrava- 
 gance and expensive magniticence ot the 
 colonel. Each morning passed in ex- 
 cursions together ; and a public place 
 and late hours concluded the day of 
 pleasure and dissipation. Epsom races 
 now drew all the beauty and fashion of 
 town to their attractions. The Leg had 
 business in view ; the belle and beau 
 had merely pleasure ; frail fair ones 
 went there on a trading voyage ; de- 
 bauchees to meet the frail : the colonel, 
 who had a horse to run, blended busi-
 
 208 LONDON. 
 
 ness with pleasure, and deemed it a fine 
 opportunity for completing the third 
 parallel, could he but so manage that the 
 old folks should stay at home. This he 
 effected by getting the Crawfiird Street 
 lady to make an appointment with 
 the laird, and by promising Mrs. M'Ta- 
 vish to take her the ensuing day, a pro- 
 mise which he never meant to perform. 
 All things being arranged, he started 
 with his light mail, having led horses, 
 and a numerous retinue, sent forward to 
 the race-course. 
 
 Previous to this gay morning's de- 
 parture for Epsom, Susan's head had 
 been so filled with the perspective de- 
 light, that she had lain awake almost 
 all night : she had never seen a horse-
 
 LONDON. 209 
 
 race in her life. She was informed 
 that all the elegants and elegantes were 
 to be on the course, and that the very 
 cream of London bon-ton were to pour 
 to that centre of fashionable union. She 
 had a particularly stylish habit to sport 
 on the occasion ; and she flattered her- 
 self, that near a fortnight's residence at 
 Stevens's, and the frequenting all the 
 public places, had given her a kind of 
 celebrity. She had heard herself often 
 admired by the Bond Street loungers : 
 she had been stared at by the habitu- 
 ated visitors at her hotel : she had heard 
 that she had acquired the nick -name of 
 the highland beauty in the house ; and 
 she triumphed in the degree of noto- 
 riety which she had obtained. 
 
 Unfortunately, she did not know that
 
 210 LONDON. 
 
 the breath of calumny had blown upon 
 her charms ; that the vain-boasting of a 
 coxcomb had bhghted her reputation ; 
 and that the report had spread from ear 
 to ear of her being the colonel's mis- 
 tress. Whilst thus she kept her vigil, 
 the slisrhts which she had offered to 
 Ogle presented themselves to her mind's 
 eye : he appeared to be her most de- 
 voted lover : he was more ; he had al- 
 ways acted like a friend ; then again, 
 the colonel was acknowledged to be 
 (nor did he deny it) a finished rake, and 
 what was very strange, he never men- 
 tioned marriage to her, but seemed to 
 play with her affections, to allure her 
 admiration without any ostensible ap- 
 pearance of an intention of fixing his 
 ownheart, or of giving permanence and 
 character to his attachment.
 
 LONDON* 211 
 
 These reflections staggered her ; but 
 treacherous sleep now weighed heavy 
 on her eyehds, and she was glad of the 
 relief. When thought is painful to wo- 
 man, it produces a kind of unwelcome 
 confusion in her brain ; she sometimes 
 styles it a sick head-ache, nervousness, 
 and want of rest; she is bewildered, and 
 generally seeks relief by banishing it 
 entirely. Thus did Susan, promising 
 herself at the same time that the day 
 after the race, or at least the day after 
 the next opera, she would think se- 
 riously on this matter ; that she would 
 try the colonel's attachment, sound his 
 sentiments, refuse to accompany him in 
 the morning's excursion ; be more cir- 
 cumspect, more guarded, and — she fell 
 asleep. Sleep stole upon her in the 
 midst of her prudent resolutions.
 
 212 LONDON. 
 
 She was awakened by a hair-dresser 
 and a dress-maker^ a habit-maker^ and 
 a vender of smuggled lace, all announc- 
 ed at the same time. She arose ; she 
 looked heated; she was not pleased with 
 her first self-examination in the look- 
 ing-glass. This scrutiny is generally 
 performed by females to a long extent, 
 but with a partial eye. Rose-water, 
 odoriferous oils, the hair-brush, and the 
 adjustment of dress, soon overcame her 
 first doubts, and she foresaw that she 
 was to be admired more than ever on the 
 race-course. " Perhaps,^* said she to 
 herself, " I may succeed in making 
 the colonel jealous, and then my 
 empire over him will be solidly esta- 
 blished." 
 
 The lace-merchant produced a very
 
 LONDON. 213 
 
 long bill: she could not discharge it: 
 pa had become less generous than 
 usual ; nay, even less kind ; but the fact 
 was, that he had grown more extrava- 
 gant, his wife had played her part in 
 expense, and he had fallen into the 
 toils of a female seducer, which always 
 produces alienation of domestic senti- 
 ment, diminution of parental tender- 
 ness, and generally total abandonment 
 of all the duties connected with and de- 
 pendent on these ties. She knew not 
 what to do ; but just as she was fra- 
 ming an excuse for delay, just as false- 
 hood, which could never lodge on Su- 
 san's lip or in Susan's eye, had flushed 
 on the surface of her cheek, and rapidly 
 retreated back to her discomposed mind, 
 a small billet was brought in by the
 
 214 LONDON. 
 
 waiter, conceived in the following terms, 
 bearing an inclosure, and evidently in 
 the hand-writing of the colonel. 
 
 Dear and lovely Susan, 
 The silly woman who sells you lace 
 has become importunate I fear. She 
 has blabbed about in the hotel that 
 your father does not pay his bills so ex- 
 actly as he used to do, and that she is 
 not easy about her demand. Pay her 
 off with the inclosed, and deal no more 
 with her. I have reason to think her 
 an artful and designing woman : have 
 nothing to do with her. Should you 
 want any more than the inclosed, al- 
 ways command my purse. I burn with 
 the expectation of seeing you almost 
 eclipse yourself in beauty this day, and
 
 LONDON'. 215 
 
 of bein^ overpowered by the refulgence 
 of your charms. You are, indeed, the 
 sunbeam of my eyes, the bright planet 
 to which I pay my devotions and ado- 
 rations. I know that you will look like 
 a divinity in your new habit; it will 
 just become that lovely wood-nymph 
 form of thine ; although I am convinced 
 at the same time, entre nous, fascinat- 
 ing Susan ! that you may fairly say 
 with Thompson, that 
 
 Beauty needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 
 But is when unadorned, adorned the most. 
 
 Your s most faithfully, 
 
 Albert. 
 
 Was Albert the colonel's name ? No, 
 it was an assumed name, as his letter
 
 21 6 LONDON. 
 
 was a studied artifice. Overcome with 
 gratitude to her lover, with admiration 
 of his warm, careless, and attractive 
 style, with shame for having involved 
 herself, and with a trepidation which 
 she knew not how to account for, she 
 sunk into her chair : the rose forsook 
 her cheek, and a practised coquette 
 would here have had a graceful swoon, or 
 a strong convulsion, in which the heav- 
 ing of her bosom, and the adjustment of 
 her languishing limbs, the attitude of 
 arms, and the dejection of eye-lid, with 
 a gentle reclining of the head, would 
 all have been performed secundum 
 artem. 
 
 Not so with Susan. She felt as if 
 she had forgotten herself merely for a
 
 LONDON. 217 
 
 few seconds. She complained to the 
 lace-maker of a pain in her chesty of 
 want of rest merely ; and rallying with 
 a sprightly look^ the flush of health en- 
 livened her eye once more ; she paid 
 the importunate dun, and was about to 
 dismiss her, when she begged to say 
 a few words in her defence. She was 
 ashamed to have been so bold in seekinjr 
 cash ; but really Lady Longtick had 
 almost ruined her, and she fondly 
 hoped to be forgiven by so sweet a 
 young lady, and so good a customer. 
 She then run on in a farago of eulogistic 
 trash ; and concluding by saying that 
 all the men were in love with Miss 
 M'Tavish : she left a letter on the toilet 
 table, and observed that she would call 
 again to-morrow, when she hoped that 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LONDON. 
 
 she would take the Valenciennes lace 
 dress, as it was fit only for so fine a 
 figure as her s. 
 
 SECOND BILLET DOUX. 
 
 Honoured and admired Madam, 
 The most boundless respect, min- 
 gled with the tenderest interest, prompt 
 me to submit a few words to the peru- 
 sial and reflection of the most angelic of 
 her sex. Beware of Colonel B. Trust 
 in a friend whose sentiments are of 
 the purest kind. Your father is dissi- 
 pating his property : your mother is 
 injuring her reputation: you are not 
 safe at this hotel. If these important 
 hints appear worthy of your attention, 
 let me know, through the lace mer- 
 chant, at what hour you can see me to-
 
 LONDON. ^19 
 
 morrow, and where. In the interim 
 I remain 
 
 Your most zealous devoted slave, 
 
 George Oldhand. 
 
 Susan was indignant at this presump- 
 tion in a stranger : she would not be- 
 lieve a word against her father, and she 
 had doubts merely respecting her mo- 
 ther. She was equally hurt at the insinu- 
 ation which pointed at her generous 
 friend Colonel Bergamotte. She should 
 how ever like to tell her father what had 
 been said. Then again he was so very 
 passionate : it might cause a duel. Her 
 mother ought to be put upon her guard; 
 but she was grown of late so very 
 cross. Ha(| she time, it might be 
 worth while lo consider what could be 
 
 L 2
 
 220 LONDON. 
 
 meant by her not being safe at Stevens's; 
 but she had not time: the coloneF* 
 mail was at the door, the servants were 
 looking out at the windows ; led horses, 
 curricles, and chaises-in-four, were 
 waiting for the other lodgers ; and all 
 was in preparation for a trip to Epsom. 
 She sprung up to the box seat: two 
 favourite dogs were the company inside 
 the mail ; two grooms as usual behind. 
 
 The colonel looked unusually irresist- 
 ible: he had taken four hours at his 
 toilet ; besides, he was perfumed like 
 a milliner. The ribbands were put into 
 his hand ; and off he dashed with his 
 highland prize, amidst the various re- 
 marks of the very different inhabitants 
 of the hotel. Pa and ma lolled out of
 
 LONDON. 221 
 
 the window. " She looks hke a httle 
 queen," said pa, with an air of pride. 
 ^^Bybye,darHng," '^Don t answer him," 
 said the colonel, whirling his lash to hit 
 one of the leaders. *^ I don't think that 
 she looks well at all in that habit," 
 said Mrs. M'Tavish. '^ T say, Su- 
 sey, don t break your neck. I hope the 
 colonel won t upset you!" "A d — d fool," 
 muttered the colonel. ^^ I would not for 
 a brace of hundreds have had those 
 fellows who lodge in the hotel hear 
 her stuff." 
 
 " What a leg !" cried Mirabel, the 
 Jew dandy. " Which do you mean, 
 tlie colonel or the lady ?'* said old Caus- 
 tic, a veteran on the turf. " A beauti- 
 ild face; but I don't like the colour of 
 l3
 
 222 LONDON. 
 
 her hair/' observed Sir Jeny Jumps, 
 with his quizzing glass fixed into the 
 socket of his eye, and his hands in his 
 loose trowser pockets, counting his 
 notes unperceived, which were pre- 
 pared for the race. " I wouldn't give a 
 guinea for her/' said a beardless guards- 
 man: "she's too saucy and conceited for 
 me." " Sour grapes, my young gen- 
 tleman," replied his captain. " Apro- 
 pos : do you know that she is Berga- 
 mottcs?" "Hold your tongue, you 
 fool," said Sir Jacky Jehu (adjusting 
 another man's harness and turn out) • 
 ^" don't you see the girl's father and 
 mother at the window ?" *^ My eyes, 
 what a swell !" says the ostler in the 
 street. " She's no great shakes," cried 
 the chamber-maid, from the garret
 
 LONDON. i223 
 
 window : '^ fine feathers makes fine 
 birds." " Ah^ he'll feather her/' replied 
 the waiter: ^' she's with a good hand 
 for ruining her reputation." 
 
 Whilst all this was going on at the 
 windows and from without, the laird 
 and his rib had come to high words 
 respecting their daughter within doors. 
 " I tell you she don't become a riding 
 habit at all ; but she must be indulged 
 in every thing: she grows more and 
 more spoiled every day," angrily utter- 
 ed xVIrs. M'Tavish. " I suppose, Ma- 
 dam, that you would have looked very 
 well in that habit," said her spouse. 
 " Just as well as she," tartly responded 
 madam. '^Oh! so you think, I dare 
 say, and so vou do m short petticoats, 
 
 L 4
 
 224 LONDON. 
 
 though you have as ugly a pair of legs as 
 could be found in the Highlands^ and 
 which you expose as if they were for 
 sale." Here Mrs. M'Tavish could not 
 contain her rage : she wept^ she swore, 
 she flew at the laird's wig ; but the 
 laird seeing the storm gather, seized 
 the oaken twig, and drove her to 
 her apartment: then, seeing the field 
 his own, he smoothed the furrows of his 
 face, adjusted his wig, smiled at his vic- 
 tory, pulled up his trowsers, and thought 
 what a snug tcte-d-tete he should enjoy 
 with the Pyrrha, to whom he had be- 
 come a slave. 
 
 The waiter now brou2:ht in a letter 
 from Bath. The laird did not know the 
 hand- writing. He was anxious to learn
 
 LONDON. 225 
 
 from whom it came ; but on looking at 
 his watch, he perceived that he was five 
 minutes behind his time ; and his fa- 
 vourite, who kept him in special order, 
 had assured him that if he did not keep 
 to his time she would get another beau. 
 Thus, he dared not waste a precious 
 second of time ; but, posting to the first 
 stand of coaches, proceeded with all 
 speed to Crawfurd Street. 
 
 Mrs. M'Tavish peeped out of her 
 bed-room to see if all was safe ; and 
 thence proceeded on tip-toe to the draw- 
 ing-room; there, going to the window, 
 she beheld her faithful partner in the 
 street, making about eight knots an 
 hour, in full sail. *^ The highland mon- 
 ster!" cried she, in an audible voice. 
 
 L 5
 
 226 LONDON. 
 
 ^' How he flusters one with his airs. I 
 wish he may break his neck." Then 
 continuing the monologue to dear self — 
 " I declare I look as red as a roast cock : 
 I look as if I'd been doing I don t 
 know what." Then returning to her 
 room, dying her lips^ putting on ano- 
 ther wig^ washing with olympian dew, 
 combing her eye-brows, and — drink- 
 ing a cordial/ she returned a second 
 time to the drawing-room, seated her- 
 self in order, rung the bell, and said, 
 '* Waiter, not at home to any one but 
 that tall oentleman who comes in 
 general about two." Here she looked 
 in the glass, raised up her eye-brows, 
 and called up a smile. " Very well. 
 Ma'am," said the saucy waiter, leering 
 at the kitchen-maid, as she passed on
 
 LONDON. 227 
 
 the stairs^ and hitting her a slap on her 
 back. 
 
 Whilst Mrs. M^Tavish anxiously 
 awaits her beau at the hotel, and the 
 laird of Glenturret makes himself a 
 fool with our modern Pyrrha, the colo- 
 nel and blooming Susan are approach- 
 ing Epsom race-course. Thither we 
 shall follow them ; for this was a great 
 and eventful day. They arrive in 
 clouds of dust ; steer their nice course 
 through gigs and curricles, through 
 barouches and barouchettes, through 
 tandems and dennets, through tilburies 
 and dog carts, amidst the confusion of 
 cockney-iiorsemen, lads of the fancy, 
 and dollies in gigs or in a shay, through 
 the rows of ragged spectators, and the 
 lines of light-fingered skirmishers^
 
 228 LONDON. 
 
 amidst the admiration of battered beaux 
 and amateurs, and the envious glances 
 of mounted demireps, infantry cyprians, 
 boys on donkies, and sweep-chimneys 
 in those carts which furnish the last go 
 to a poor quadruped which is the next 
 day to be given to the dogs. 
 
 The bustle of a race-course, the food 
 which it produces for caricature, the 
 alternate rovv^s of Greeks and pigeons 
 exhibited on these occasions, are all too 
 well-known for description. It is noto- 
 rious that as much deceit is practised 
 here as in any other species of gaming : 
 often the horse-race is the least part of 
 the game ; and that a deep episode is 
 contrived, in which the morning win- 
 ner becomes the evening dupe, or in 
 ^hich those who merely went from
 
 LONDON. 229 
 
 vanity, pleasure, or desoeuvremenf, to 
 see perhaps a friend's horse run, or to 
 show a new turn-out upon the ground, 
 or (which constitutes the majority of 
 the company^s object) merely to see 
 and be seen, fall into a snare laid by the 
 artful, in the form of a future dinner, 
 or dealing together for a horse or horses, 
 where double deal ins: i-^ in word and in 
 deed the basis of the transaction. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, Epsom has 
 powerful attractions, from the facility it 
 affords of bringing a strong muster from 
 town on account of its vicinity. To 
 Susan the whole scene was new, and 
 novelty to woman is a powerful charm. 
 ■She had, moreover, the triumphant sa- 
 tisfaction of being better appointed than 
 almost any dashing belle on the ground.
 
 230 LONDON. 
 
 The coloneFs carriages, horses, attend- 
 ants, and self, though last, not least in 
 her dear love, were of the very first 
 order of perfection. More eyes w^ere 
 upon Susan than upon either the horses 
 or the brilliant vehicles which paraded 
 about. Every buck saw a new face ; 
 some admired, some pitied ; all gazed 
 at her. Comparisons and conjectures 
 were many, but she was ignorant of 
 their tendency, and of the stain which 
 they fixed upon her. 
 
 The first heat was going to begin. 
 Her heart was in the race. She was a* 
 staunch a partisan in the success of the 
 colonei^s horse as an ally or a subsidizei^ 
 could be in a battle, or in the event of 
 a campaign. At starting, however, the 
 colonel, with an air of exquisite apathy
 
 LONDON. 231 
 
 and bon-ton, which never allows the 
 heart to be engaged in any thing, in- 
 formed her that his horse was not to 
 win; that he did not wish it; that it was 
 settled otherwise. He smiled at her ig- 
 norance, and the disappointment which 
 succeeded a blushing, broad-eyed, heart- 
 felt anxiety of interest, and observed, 
 "My dear Susan, running is the least part 
 of a race : I have much more business 
 than that to attend to." This was really 
 marvellous to poor honest Susan ; it di- 
 minished her interest in the sport, let 
 down her highly wound-up expecta- 
 tions, and damped her spirits ; but this 
 was not the worst, as we shall learn 
 hereafter. Suffice it for the present to 
 observe, that the colonel's horse lost ; 
 that he won, and that the race went off 
 extremely well, there being a great
 
 232 LONDON. 
 
 show of company, and three seemingly 
 well-contested heats. 
 
 We now return for a time to Stevens's 
 hotel. Mrs. M'Tavish had met with a 
 severe disappointment^ as hereafter will 
 appear. The laird got into a dreadful 
 scrape, being obliged to bail his new 
 female acquaintance^ whom he found 
 like a modern Niobe, drowned in easy- 
 flowing tears, seated betwixt a brace of 
 bai lifts, who rudely intruded on her 
 privacy, and spoiled the intended charm- 
 ing tite-d-tite. The laird's hand being 
 put to the bail-bond, had a wonderful 
 effect as a refrigerent to his passion, 
 and he returned tamely home ; after, 
 however, professing many kind things to 
 Mrs. B. which he regretted as sincerely 
 when passing the threshold of her door.
 
 LONDON. 233 
 
 On his road home many painful re- 
 flections crowded on his mind. He 
 had seen London ; yes, and fashionable 
 life : he had learned many things, but 
 he had paid dearly for them. He was 
 far from home : he had involved his 
 property considerably, and he had many 
 things at heart. Susan was, in fact, 
 the main object of his affections, for all 
 the rest was uncertain and unsatisfactory. 
 He wished to see her well married. 
 He now recollected the unopened 
 letter : he broke the seal : it was from 
 Captain Ogle, containing the real sen- 
 timents of a friend, and the most salu- 
 tary advice. He informed him that 
 Colonel B. had boasted every where of 
 favours unobtained; and that if Mr. 
 M'Tavish did not leave London, and 
 break the connexion, ruin must ensue*
 
 234 LONDON. 
 
 Here all the father crowded on his 
 heart : he bit his lips, and resolved to 
 immolate to his just resentment the 
 foul author of so base a scheme, in 
 which vestal innocence and maiden 
 pride were to be sacrificed at the pol- 
 luted shrine of vicious vanity. How 
 bitter was the reflection, that, at this 
 very moment, the lovely victim was 
 gracing the car of her base traducer ! 
 
 Mr. M'Tavish arrived at home more 
 dead than alive, overpowered with rage 
 and with paternal tenderness. Where 
 was Mrs. M'Tavish ? In her own room. 
 Call ner : she could not be spoken 
 with : she had a sick head-ache : she 
 had lain down : she would not open 
 the door. At length highland muscle 
 forced it ; and she received him with all
 
 LONDON. 235 
 
 the upbraidings of unkindness and ill- 
 temper. She had secret cause of com- 
 plaining unperceived by him. At length 
 she condescended to join him in the 
 drawing-room^ and afterwards at din- 
 ner. They differed upon every subject. 
 Poor man ! he had no need of this ag- 
 gravation of his sufferings. The fowls 
 were over-roasted; the fish was not 
 done to her mind : Mr. M^Tavish drank 
 too much : he was just ruining the fa- 
 mily : she begun to dislike Colonel 
 Bergamotte: had changed her opinion 
 upon almost every subject : Rorie was 
 become a complete brute ; he never now 
 came near them : perhaps he had the 
 impudence to look up to Susan; or now 
 that he found they had borrowed mo- 
 ney, he thought less of them, or he had 
 served his own turn, and made all that
 
 ^36 LONDON. 
 
 he could of them ; with many other re- 
 marks as httle comforting to her hus- 
 band as advantageous to the cousin. 
 
 The laird's bottle was now finished : 
 it grew dark : he took out his watch a 
 dozen times. Where was Susan ? Ex- 
 presses were sent to Epsom : M'Roy 
 was fetched to give advice : every effort 
 was made to discover what had become 
 of her^ but in vain : neither the colonel 
 nor Susan, nor even the horses and car- 
 riages, returned that night to the hotel. 
 All was conjecture, doubt, dread, and 
 dismay. The day dawned, but no Su- 
 san appeared. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 ti. Clarke, Printer, Weil Street, London.
 
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